Matt let the kid into the too-white apartment, turned off the burglar alarm, and locked up behind him. “You got information?”

  “Hello to you, too. You’re late,” Ethan quipped.

  “Hi. I’ve been running down clues. It’s a shit show. My contact is talking and cobbling information together, but it’s a lot to wade through, and it’s taking longer than either of us thought. I’m fucking tired.” Matt hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours each night since leaving Madison for worrying about her and their baby. His composure was shot. “So I’d appreciate an answer to my question.”

  “Yeah, I have updates. But you’re not going to like them.”

  At least the kid had something since Matt needed every crumb of information he could get his hands on. But first things first. The not knowing was killing him. “How is she?”

  “Madison? Pale. Withdrawn. She tries to put on a happy face when we watch movies, but…” Ethan shook his head. “The good news is, she isn’t shutting herself in her room anymore. And the minute Todd gets in her grill, she gives it right back. I love that she’s refusing to take his bullshit and won’t give him an ounce of her power.”

  That made Matt damn proud. “But…?”

  “Morning sickness finally set in. She looks green when she first gets up. The nausea lasts until ten or eleven. I went through this with my stepmom during her first pregnancy, so I help Madison walk, make sure she gets plenty of water…and steer her clear of Todd’s surveillance if she needs to puke.”

  Matt hated that he wasn’t the one helping her, and he tried not to resent that the kid got to spend his days with the woman he loved. She was protected; that was most important. “Does Todd have any inkling about Madison’s morning sickness?”

  “Nah, he’s not getting up much before noon. She usually feels fine by then. And since you’re not around to fuck her into oblivion and stir the pot, Todd is getting bored. He finally went out earlier tonight. Apparently, his little friends have missed him at their frequent hookers-and-blow meetings.”

  “Good to hear Toddhole is back to his contemptible self,” Matt quipped. He should get to the point since Ethan had to be back at the apartment in just under an hour to relieve Nash of duty, but the worry wrenching Matt’s gut wouldn’t let him. “You want coffee before we get into this?”

  “We’re probably going to need it.”

  Matt began making the brew. “So the baby is all right? Did Madison go to the first appointment with the obstetrician?”

  “Yesterday. The doctor said she looks good. She’s scheduled for a follow-up in a month. By then, we should be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat.”

  That fucking hurt. Matt wished like hell he could be by Madison’s side, holding her hand, when they first heard the beating heart of the child they had conceived together. But unless something blew this case open soon, the timing wasn’t on his side. And after the horrible things Todd had cornered him into saying and doing that fucking awful night… “Does she ask about me?”

  “No.”

  Right. Why would she ask about the son of a bitch who ripped her heart out, especially since the wound was so fresh. That rationalization didn’t make him feel any better. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

  As soon as the question left his mouth, Matt wished he could take it back. He knew the answer. He was an idiot for torturing himself. When Ethan hesitated, Matt shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “Yeah. Probably better if I don’t answer that.”

  Though Matt had expected it, the kid’s reply was a knife to the fucking heart.

  “Listen…” Ethan sighed. “You crushed her. I know why you did it. You couldn’t run any risk of Pershing deciding you didn’t do the job well enough, getting pissed off, and ending her, but⁠—”

  “It was brutal and unforgivable. I know.” It had torn Matt apart to prey on her insecurities, and he had to live with that look of fucking betrayal on her beloved face. It replayed over and over in his head every day. And again every night when he shut his eyes and tried to sleep. She would probably hate him for the rest of her life. But she and their baby would be alive. He had to be grateful for that.

  “I only watched through the crack in my bedroom door, and it was…” Ethan trailed off. “I don’t even have words. But she’s resilient, man. She’ll pull through.”

  She would. And he had to brace for the day she found love again. If someone else made her happy, Matt would learn to stifle his heartbreak and wish her well.

  Right now, the idea of her with another man left him fucking homicidal.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “How’s Graciela? That girl is fucking hottttt. I know she isn’t looking for any action⁠—”

  “She’s not.”

  “I can see where being kidnapped by some random dudes who found her on the internet would scare a woman away from strangers.”

  “Gee, you think?”

  The kid scowled. “Just making an observation. I don’t need sarcasm.”

  “Too bad. I’m all out of Sammy Sunshine. I’m just feeling mean motherfucker these days.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. That’s what happens when you’re not getting laid.” Ethan rolled his shoulders. “I’m starting to get wound up.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “So…where’s Graciela?”

  “Your horny ass isn’t her problem, either.”

  “I know. I just wanted to ask if she’s okay. Geez…”

  “She’s in the bedroom.” Matt nodded toward the dungeon door, thankful she’d gotten past her fear of the place once she’d realized he had zero intention of utilizing the room’s equipment or trying to share a bed with her. “Asleep. She’s adjusting, but she’s on edge all the time.”

  “After being plucked from her home by merciless bastards just because they thought she would fetch a pretty penny from assholes who decided that her freedom and her virginity have a price they’re willing to pay? No doubt.”

  “Yeah. I’ve told her that, once this is all over, she’ll be able to either go home or start somewhere else and live a peaceful life.” Matt shrugged. “She says she wants to live on a cattle ranch, miles from anyone.”

  “Right now, that’s sounding good to me, too—minus the actual cows because their shit stinks. Come to think of it, cows are better than politicians.”

  “Amen.”

  “So…you said last time we touched base that Graciela had information?”

  “A trove of it. Coupled with the intelligence I collected from the source I’m in contact with, I’ve hit up Kane to investigate at the border to see what he could verify or even expand on. I’m waiting on a callback. If this pans out, we might have something solid. It could lead to evidence that will blow the whole thing wide-open.” At least Matt hoped so. If he was right…he could keep his promise to Madison to take Todd down. Then he’d come for her again, and he’d do everything in his power—fair or not—to win her back forever.

  Unfortunately, he doubted she would ever take him back.

  “Trees still working on hacking into Todd’s surveillance records?”

  “Yeah. The bosses had him on another case, but he cracked that one, so he’ll be full-steam ahead on solving this mystery starting Monday. He says he’ll try to capture any security footage from the senator’s place, too.” But Matt suspected Winston Pershing didn’t surveil the inside of his estate the way he did his grandson’s place.

  “Good. I don’t know what this means, how it might fit in, or if it will even help the cause, but…” Ethan pulled his phone from his pocket and flashed Matt a picture of a scrap of paper containing a scribble of numbers. “This is what I’ve got for you. It’s everything Todd kept in that safe in his closet. Front”—Ethan flipped to the next image, which was a shorter version of the same—“and back.”

  Fuck. Matt had been hoping for more. Then again, Toddhole was probably too slippery to keep anything incriminating at home. “Any idea what those numbers mean? The front looks like a complicated subtraction problem. Why would he write that down? What do the two numbers, each with two digits before the decimal point and six digits after, represent?”

  Ethan shrugged. “It’s not a bank account number or a routing number. Google was no help. So I did the math on it. The answer is negative seventy-one point nine nine nine two one one. That mean anything to you?’

  “Not a fucking thing.” Matt sighed tiredly. “Maybe they’re coordinates? I don’t know. The answer is staring us in the goddamn face. I know it. And the three-digit code on the back doesn’t ring any bells, either? Todd never mentioned it? There was nothing else in the safe to explain it?”

  The kid shook his head. “Sorry.”

  Matt resisted the urge to destroy everything in the room with his bare hands to purge his frustration. He’d had such high hopes for the contents of Todd’s hidden floor safe, and this felt like a dead end. “So what do a complex subtraction problem and the number two forty-two have in common?”

  “Maybe nothing.”

  Matt didn’t believe that. Todd had written those numbers on opposite sides of the same scrap of paper for a reason.

  “Let me see the pictures again.” He held out his hand for the phone.

  Ethan set it in his palm. “Have at it. In the meantime, I’m grabbing coffee. I’ll think better with caffeine.”

  “Same.” Matt poured a mug next, still flipping back and forth between the images.

  The java hit his system, and the lifeblood of the brew kickstarted his brain. Goddamn it, he should be able to figure this out. He needed to. His entire fucking life he’d been good at compartmentalizing his feelings from his objectives. Now…Madison filled his head, cluttered his thoughts, and fucked his concentration.

  “We also have to decide what to do about the ER doctor spilling Madison’s pregnancy to the family,” Ethan pointed out.

  Thankfully, that was one problem Matt had been able to both identify and solve. “Turns out our buddy, Dr. Connard, is fucking his nanny. When I pointed out that his wife might be really interested in that information, he was suddenly willing to negotiate. We both agreed that since the Pershings have hinted to the public that Madison is pregnant as a means of explaining her ‘fainting incident,’ that the family must know she’s expecting, so he’s not really keeping anything from them. That should be that—unless Connard is down for a messy divorce.”

  “Glad that’s one less cluster to deal with.”

  “For now.” Matt didn’t trust anyone who wiggled on a hook, depending on who applied the most pressure. But threats had taken a load off this situation. Matt would have to work fast and resolve it in case the Pershings squeezed Connard even harder and he blabbed.

  Two steps forward, one step back.

  “What’s the latest out of the Pershing camp? Have they picked a date yet for the event where they’ll announce Madison’s pregnancy?”

  “Yeah. But Winston only has a razor-thin lead, so they’re milking this. It’s not a simple one-location, one-speech event. They want to make it a full-splash extravaganza. They’ll be addressing a public audience and simultaneously hosting remote events around the state, along with loads of press in attendance and a social media live stream. After a fiery speech from Winston, they’ll show a video tribute to Todd and Madison”—Ethan made gagging noises—“before announcing their fictional bundle of joy. They’ll end by celebrating their resilient residents with free strawberry shortcake and a partridge in a pear tree.”

  Matt gritted his teeth, hating that the world would think, even for an instant, that Madison was pregnant by that repugnant asswipe. “When?”

  “Two weeks from tomorrow.”

  Two fucking weeks? “Anything else?”

  “I chucked Todd’s ‘scary’ skull ring into the back of one of his bathroom drawers. He’ll find it…eventually, and think he misplaced it while he was toasted.”

  Unless the ring’s resting place tipped off Toddhole, Matt didn’t care. “Had he mentioned missing it?”

  “No, but I’ve seen him searching all over the apartment for something this past week or so.”

  “Took him long enough to realize it wasn’t on his finger,” Matt drawled.

  “Way longer than it should have. But that’s not our biggest problem. Listen, the Pershings are brewing something. I don’t like it. The sooner we figure out these numbers and you extract all the information possible from your contact and from Trees, the sooner we can game-plan.”

  Matt couldn’t disagree. His prickling gut told him they needed to find some way to nail the crooked senator and his corrupt family before that pregnancy announcement…or it would be too late.

  Chapter Eleven

  September 1

  * * *

  Matt is coming for you.

  Ethan’s out-of-the-blue warning in Madison’s ear an hour ago as he’d helped her from the limousine still had her reeling. Since then, she hadn’t had the opportunity to ask her brash, tattooed bodyguard what he’d meant, and his words kept dive-bombing her brain.

  She fidgeted in the makeshift backstage area at the holiday-weekend statewide fundraiser. Despite this barbecue’s end-of-summer timing, the heat showed no signs of letting up. For weeks, Madison had been dreading that she and her womb would be the star of this ridiculous, packed-with-lies show.

  Now all she could think about was Matt.

  After twenty-six agonizing days, why would he suddenly return for her?

  Before he’d left that terrible night with his ill-gotten millions and his Instagram-worthy virgin, she would have sworn he loved her, that nothing and no one else was more important to him. They had bared their hearts, secrets, and souls to each other. He had proclaimed her his in every way possible. He had asked her to be his wife.

  No matter what happens. No matter where you go or what you do, you always belong to me. Don’t ever forget that.

  His fervent whisper rattled again through her head. Despite everything, some part of her still desperately yearned to believe that.

  You’re my everything. I tell you all the time that you’re mine, but do you need to hear that I’m yours, too? I am. Totally. Always. Forever.

  None of that was true…but Matt had never been a liar, much less the type who would BS about something as important as the rest of their lives. In the past, he’d only ever pulled back from her because something or someone had jerked him away.

  So what could suddenly have changed his mind? Or maybe who was the better question…

  Madison glanced over her shoulder and found the most likely answer. Todd. He could have threatened Matt into changing his mind. After all, her smirking husband had been jerking him around from the minute they’d returned to DC.

  For-fucking-ever, Madison. Tell me this pussy is mine forever. That you’re mine forever.

  If he hadn’t meant those words, why would Matt have snarled them a mere hour before stomping on her heart?

  Tell me you trust me.

  In the moment, she had been a good girl and assured him she did because it had been true. She had surrendered her heart, her body, and her future to him. Now her faith in him seemed like a mistake, but…

  You trust me, remember? Never forget that.

  Some part of her swore that Matt had been driving home his point for a reason before ripping her heart to shreds.

  All that suffering because you trust I’ll make it perfect for you.

  Stupidly, she still wanted to believe that Matt would swoop in, explain that Todd had been responsible for her pain, then swear he loved her. God, her cope was embarrassing. And more hurtful than a rusty blade across her wrists. And yet…she couldn’t stop.

  Total trust. Give it to me, and I’ll reward you.

  But in the past twenty-six days, he’d given her no reason to cling to her silly fantasies. Besides, after Matt’s terrible desertion, she should despise him, not ache for him. After all, he’d known exactly how to hurt her—and he’d used it ruthlessly.

  Guys like Zy had made her wary of men. Todd’s perfidy had driven home the ugly truth about them. But Matt had shattered her on purpose. And because she had never purged him from her heart, he had wriggled under her defenses and destroyed her from the inside out.

  You have a naive little heart that wants to believe every fairy tale any man ever whispered in your ear.

  Matt’s slur boomeranged through her head, slicing her soul open a little more with each lap. She had cried over those words just yesterday. Then again, she was so hormonal, she practically cried at commercials for toilet-bowl cleansers.

  You’re too smart to be this dumb. Use your head, Ethan had demanded when he’d found her sobbing over lunch.

  But all attempts to wipe away the emotional cobwebs and reexamine Matt’s breach of faith rationally left her emotions spinning in dizzying circles. She was exhausted, confused, and desperate for today’s farce to end, so she could go home and start rebuilding herself, not as Todd Pershing’s wife or Matt Montgomery’s discarded lover. She would simply be Madison again—daughter, teacher, friend, and now mother-to-be. She would build her own happiness from there.

  As upbeat introductory music began to play from the overhead speakers, families who had come with picnics and Frisbees settled into their lawn chairs. Children, many with heavy lids, sat on spread blankets. Conversation stopped as everyone focused on the main event.

  A popular local newscaster the campaign had hired to emcee the event breezed past Madison and grabbed the microphone to hearty applause. As he welcomed the crowd, she swallowed down nerves. Then, upon her introduction, Agatha Pershing traipsed onto the makeshift stage, all waves and smiles.

  Madison followed next, feeling the curious crowd’s eyes glued to her. She wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t been seen in public since she’d fainted at the community rally nearly a month ago. Speculation abounded. The Pershings had used that to lure more people to the event, both here and at satellite celebrations all over the state receiving the event’s live feed.