Her expression softens, and she walks over to where I stand. “You’re right. You’re not a baby, and you’re fully capable of handling your business.” Sliding a curl behind my ear, she tilts her head. “Still, even the strongest people like having backup in stressful situations.”

  Nodding, I think about Scar again. Another internal growl as I resist him.

  “Thank you for setting this up for me.” I wrap my arms around her waist for a hug. “You’ve always believed in me, and it means more than you know.”

  “You’re my little sister.” Her voice is warm.

  “I know, but not all sisters are that way.”

  “We have the evening and the place to ourselves. Run shower. I’ll make us some plates, and we can watch a Sandra Bullock movie.”

  More internal growling. “Not Miss Congeniality.”

  Her brow furrows. “You love that movie!”

  “Not tonight,” I shout as I head for the bathroom, ready to scrub him out of my mind.

  24

  Scar

  We arrived in New York this morning after taking the redeye out of Charlotte. I didn’t even unpack before heading to the Andover to stake out a good place to sit and wait for Hana to emerge.

  Dirk offered to take the first shift, but I let him know I’d be taking all the shifts as far as she’s concerned. She’s pissed at me, but we’re back at home base, ground zero for all the bad guys.

  He can keep an eye on Blake for his brother, who at the last minute decided to stay home and deal with the Pepper situation, and while he’s at it, he’s also running his surveillance programs, hacking into street cameras and tracing cell-phone pings to see who all’s in the city and where.

  I do my best to blend in with the masses of people crowding the streets. Hana took a cab from the apartment building to the Milo gallery, which made my job easy. Still, I’m in all-gray from my hoodie to my gray jeans, doing my best to blend with the masses of people crowding the streets.

  Once she went inside the gallery, Dirk connected to the security cameras in the building to monitor her movements. I found a comfortable spot at a park across the street to wait.

  It’s a mild spring day, but the wind blows in sharp gusts around the tall buildings and bits of trash and Bradford pear petals swirl in the air like urban snow.

  Four hours later, when she still hasn’t emerged, I get a little worried. Sliding out my phone, I send Dirk a quick text, Still have eyes on her?

  It takes him a minute to reply which ratchets my anxiety higher. Is it possible she went out a different door? Finally he answers, Still inside. Guess who else is in the city?

  Exhaling a growl, I roughly tap my reply. I don’t like guessing games.

  Dirk is nonplussed. Trip Alexander. Home with Mommy Dearest.

  I’m not happy with that information. If Trip is staying with his mother, he’s in the same building as Hana, which means they’ll be in contact.

  I only know of one thing to do. Keep tabs on him.

  That guy knows at least as much as I do, and probably more. He knows where all the bodies are buried–and who has the shovels.

  Another half hour passes, and I’m growing restless. Finally, like a drop of sunlight, Hana emerges from the small gallery on the first floor of the black, Manhattan highrise. Her blonde curls fly in wisps around her face, and she’s wearing a long-sleeved, cream sweater and white pants.

  I slowly rise, filtering into the pedestrian crowd across the street and down the block from where she stands looking up and down the wide sidewalk. It almost seems like she’s looking for me. She knows Dirk and I are here, watching over her and her sister.

  She hesitates a moment longer then seems to give up. I expect her to hail a cab, but she surprises me. She takes her phone from her pocket and begins walking north.

  I hang back when she stops at the intersections, watching as she taps on her phone quickly. I wonder who she’s texting. I wish I were at her side, holding her hand. Instead, I continue shadowing her, letting my eyes trace down the sway of her curls, the bounce of her little ass in those baggy pants.

  It’s like following my heart as it leaves my body, painfully dragging me behind. At least I can be close to her this way, keeping my eyes on her, ensuring her safety.

  In Midtown, she almost sees me when she stops in front of the Empire State Building. She’s making good time, and I’m moving at a rapid clip before I realize she’s stopped. I quickly side-step around a corner, out of sight.

  It’s not necessarily a bad thing if she sees me. She knows one of us is here, after all. It’s more other people seeing us together we want to avoid. She’s more inclined to be angry if she sees me… and perhaps I want to see what she’ll do now that she’s back near all her old haunts with her old running buddies close at hand.

  We never had that conversation before we left Hamiltown.

  Her pretty eyes scan both sides of the street before crossing, and I give her a little more space before doing the same. We’re at the southern border of Central Park, entering her Upper East Side neighborhood, and now that I know Trip is in town, I have to be doubly cautious not to be seen outside their building.

  One last time she hesitates, looking around before entering. I exhale a sigh of relief, knowing she’s indoors. It’s not late, but my hope is she’ll stay in for the night. I enter the hotel across the street and take the elevator to the small, empty room we reserved with windows facing the street entrance to their building.

  Surveillance is the most grueling part of our job, but in this case, I’m highly motivated. It would be easier if she were speaking to me. I could ask her to text when she’s coming and going. I could tell her I’m here, not to worry.

  Hell, I could get one good night’s sleep holding her in my arms instead of gradually wearing myself down, night after night, thinking about her. I miss the warmth of her small body curved into mine, the light-floral scent of her hair when her head rests on my shoulder. The space she filled is hollow and aching.

  Closing my eyes, I see her gaze hooded and full of love, her soft, full lips curling with a smile as she leans forward to trace them along my brow as she straddles my lap.

  My cock stirs, but I open my eyes again. No point going down that road to torture. I fix them on the front of the building as the pain of longing settles in my chest.

  Our precious times were so short-lived, and I have no one to blame but me. Will I ever get her back?

  The sun is setting, orange-purple over the park. Clouds create a low ceiling, and the twin spires of the San Remo rise over the trees behind her building. Dirk communicated with Blake, and they’re staying in for the night. Still, I won’t be able to sleep. I remember how Hana used to slip out after hours, when everyone was asleep, without her sister’s knowledge.

  I almost wish she hadn’t told me all the things she did in her past. My one consolation is her determination to make Blake proud, to be better than how she was. She already is in so many ways.

  I lean my back against the wall, sitting in the cushioned window seat of the small apartment-style hotel room. My gaze is focused on the street below as the streetlights flicker on, creating arcs of yellow light on the pavement.

  Dirk promised to set an alert if she leaves the building. He texts me to get some rest. We’re going on twenty-four hours of no sleep, but it’s difficult to relax without her beside me. I haven’t slept well since the day we split apart.

  Reaching in my pocket, I take out my wallet. Inside is the small print she made of the two of us in my bed. It was the first time we’d made love, the day she changed me forever. Her pretty eyes glow, and I look fucking awestruck. I promised to keep her safe always–even when she’s angry, even when it’s my fault.

  Looking at the sidewalk far below, my heart is heavy, my eyes weary. It’s possible I might slip into a tentative rest when my phone buzzes, and adrenaline spikes in my veins. I’m on my feet, ready to head out the door.

  It’s a text from Dirk. Check out what I just captured, fresh from the street cam outside Gibson’s.

  Fuck, is it Hana? I’m on edge waiting for the grainy, night-vision picture to come into focus on my phone. An invisible fist closes around my throat as I recognize the flat-brimmed hat and the baggy jeans. His puffer jacket is off the shoulders, wrapped like a cape.

  Of course, anyone could dress this way. It’s a popular street style, not a positive identification. Still, going into Gibson’s, dressed like a wannabe gangster…

  Can you verify his ID?

  Dirk’s reply comes fast, Working on it. Checking the pings of the last cell number we found.

  My breath is shallow as I wait, as the seconds tick past, and I picture the bots combing through the tendrils of the dark web. The final rat emerged from hiding the same day Trip appeared at his mother’s.

  Hutch had hoped sending the girls to the city alone might provoke movement in the organization. It’s possible this is all a coincidence, but I’m feeling more certain my partner is right. These guys have been waiting almost a year, and most criminals are not patient. It’s why they get caught.

  Finally, Dirk’s text appears. Positive ID. Ivan X.

  Our threat level switches to high, and I quickly text, Time to catch that rat.

  25

  Hana

  My head is on my sister’s lap, my belly is full of beef and broccoli, and we’re giggling as Sandra Bullock slams naked into Ryan Reynolds then to the floor.

  “I’m so glad you never had a dog like that.” Blake groans, and I push to a sitting position.

  “Excuse me, you were the one lobbying hard for a Yorkie all last year. I only wanted a kitten. Which I never got.”

  “Yorkies are not like that dog.” She slips a bite of salted caramel ice cream into her mouth. “Anyway, Uncle Hugh has a million barn cats running around. Just claim one.”

  “Maybe I already have.” I haven’t, but she makes a good point.

  “Not the solid orange one. He’s mine. I named him Mr. Puffinstuff.”

  I pretend to be angry. “Mr. Puffinstuff is mine. I claimed him the first day we were back visiting the house!”

  “That wasn’t Mr. Puffinstuff. That was Lady Ginger. She has the little white boots on her front paws.”

  “Oh my God, you’ve named every freakin cat.” I give her arm a shove. “Did you even leave one for me?”

  “Trust me, there are plenty more to spare. Although I did tell Pepper she could take a couple. It’s good to have cats in pairs. They keep each other company.”

  “That does it. I’m getting a white puffball dog.”

  “No!” she cries.

  We finish watching the movie, cackling at Betty White wrapped in an Indian Blanket, dancing to “Get Low,” squealing at the male striptease, and swooning at the final proposal scene.

  I haven’t felt this light since all that shit went down with Scar, and we bump hips every time we pass each other, carrying our ice cream bowls to the kitchen to clean up.

  “I like seeing you smile again.” Blake puts her arm around my shoulder as we head to bed.

  Walking through the living room, I glance at the doors of our separate bedrooms. “What if we sleep together tonight? It’s been a while since we shared a room.”

  My sister doesn’t even hesitate, giving me a wink. “I think that’s a great idea, since we’re both used to having bed partners these days.”

  Sadness pinches my chest, but I force a smile. “I’ll just change into my PJs real quick.”

  We’re curled up in her king-sized bed a few minutes later with the lights of the park outside her floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “I’ll close the curtains in a minute,” she says softly. “As much as I love being in Hamiltown with Hutch, I miss the lights of the city sometimes.”

  Snuggling closer to her side, I prop my head on her shoulder looking at the skyline of the Upper West Side.

  “You seem so happy with Hutch. No regrets?” She inhales slowly, and my eyebrows rise. I lift my head to study her serious expression. “What?”

  “I’m really worried about Pepper and all this Marie Kondo stuff. She just started all that after our engagement, and now she’s quitting softball when she’s so good at it? It’s because she doesn’t like me. It’s because I’m marrying Hutch.”

  Pressing my lips together, I think about this. “I don’t think it’s you.”

  She rolls in the bed to face me, gray eyes round. “What is it, then? It can’t be a coincidence.”

  “No…” I wrinkle my nose. “I really think it’s puberty. She feels lost and things are changing. Oh, and she’s having trouble in her English class.”

  “English?” Blake’s voice is thoughtful. “I was always good at English.”

  “Maybe when we get back you can help her. I know she likes you.”

  “You think so?” I’ve never seen Blake so distressed, and I feel really protective of her all of a sudden.

  Cuddling close, I give her a squeeze. “I know she likes you. She told me!”

  “What about you?” She rubs my arm. “I want you to be happy, and this Scar thing…”

  A knot twists in my throat, and I close my eyes. “He lied to me, Blake.” My voice is so small. “About that. About him.”

  “Hutch said he’s really broken over this. I don’t think he had a choice in working for Victor, and when he knew… Hutch said he walked away.”

  “How can I trust him when he’d hide something like that?”

  “Do you think maybe that’s why he hid it?” Her voice is gentle. “I know I was on the fence for a while, but after seeing you together. I believe he really cares about you.”

  Her words hurt so much. I turn away, pulling my knees to my chest and holding them, assuming my usual position when I know I’m going to have to survive something unsurvivable.

  “Hana…” She curls around my back, wrapping her arms over my waist. “I love you. I only want what’s best for you.”

  “I know.” My voice is a whisper, thick with unshed tears.

  “Let’s rest.” Her cool hand smooths my curls off my forehead. “I’m here for you, and you’ve got all the time in the world.”

  Placing my hands over hers, I close my eyes. I don’t want to cry anymore, so I let my big sister comfort me like she’s always wanted to do.

  Standing in the darkroom as the massive, blown-up image of Scar slowly comes into focus, I think about Blake’s words. His eyes, that intense gaze, looking back at me like I hold his heart in my hand hasn’t changed.

  The last time he stood in my bedroom, his eyes were so sad, so much like the pain tearing me apart. Still, I couldn’t stop my automatic, internal response. It was the same as that morning in his bed, when his sexy words sent me into a tailspin.

  I can’t help that my body won’t let me trust so easily, even with my heart bleeding out inside my chest. He withheld information he knew would crush me–does that make it okay? What happens next time?

  Perhaps my sister is right. Perhaps there won’t be a next time. Maybe this was the battle we had to face. Using the plastic tongs, I lift the massive print from the final bath and pin it to the line. I can’t think about this right now. Now I have to think about the second big reason I’m here. Putting my past to rest.

  When I left the apartment, I put the envelope holding the three checks in my bag. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s after five. Too early for the party crowd, but hopefully not too early for the people who run this town.

  Tapping quickly on my phone, I text Trip. Picking you up in an hour. You’re going with me to Gibson’s.

  Mama scheduled Roman to pick me up at five, so I’m sure he’s out there waiting to take me back to the apartment. I’ve got to figure out a way to lose either Dirk or Scar, whoever is tailing me today.

  Shaking my head, I know it's Scar, and the last thing I need is him bursting into the room when I’m trying to do business, especially if he has ties to Victor’s old crew. It would ruin all my plans.

  I’m in the limo when Trip responds. No thanks. Trying to curtail my day drinking.

  Exhaling a little growl, I text back. Then have a soda. You’re going with me. Also, plan an escape route. Don’t want to be seen leaving the building.

  Gray dots bounce as I wait for his reply. Back to your old ways, I see. Fine. Can’t have you winding up dead, too. Who would I play with then?

  I don’t respond. I have no intention of turning up dead or being reduced to one of his playthings. I’m not going back to my old ways. I’m burning those bridges tonight, hopefully for good.

  26

  Scar

  We’ve hacked into Ivan’s phone, and Dirk is filtering through his text messages trying to figure out his reason for being in the city. I’m in my position outside the Milo gallery waiting for Hana to emerge again.

  She arrived later in the day today, but Dirk confirmed she did not leave the apartment last night. I’ve been on edge since Ivan showed up again. Blake was his primary target before Hana turned twenty-one and her trust fund matured.

  Dirk was able to track down their conversations on the dark web to learn they were blackmailing Blake to get the money they claimed Hana owed in gambling debts and bar charges.

  Now my only guess is they’ll go after Hana directly, and guys like him don’t mess around. They get their money or they take it out of your hide.

  Anger prickles over my skin at the thought of that bastard touching my girl. He’d better pray I’m not around or nothing will be left of him.

  It’s after five before Hana emerges from the gallery, and she gets straight in her mother’s waiting limo. While the exercise was nice yesterday, I’m glad she’s not out on the street alone today–not that she’s ever alone while I'm here.

  I text Dirk she’s on the move and hail a cab back to the hotel where my partner has set up a makeshift headquarters.