“The third reason I asked for this meet.” I nodded to the new guys. “These men are going to go with you.”

  “What?” He went still, his eyes bulging out. “I can’t do that. Your grandfather’s really fucking paranoid.”

  “Exactly.” I stepped closer. “You are gone right now. You brought with you the rest of my men. He still has men with him that aren’t mine, and I’m a selfish bastard. I want to control everyone around him. To do that, I will leak information back to him, making him think the current team with him right now is turning on him. I will keep at it, and when you return with the coordinates for the person he sent you to search for, he will then promote you. He will tell you to get more men. You will bring in mine.” There was no room for kindness in this world. I wanted to choke the life out of my grandfather. “I want every goddamn man surrounding him to be mine first. Got it?”

  He stared at me, long and hard.

  Five seconds.

  Ten.

  Thirty.

  A minute passed before his mouth thinned. He abruptly nodded, his neck looking stiff. “I’m assuming you’ve arranged travel for all your men?”

  “You assume correct.” I nodded to Scott, who came forward, pulling a folder from his bag. He handed it over to Harden. “That’s everything. Instructions are all in there.”

  He leafed through the file before handing it over to one of his men. Turning back to me, his eyebrows were pinched together. “You said you were watching Calhoun? You partly pulled us out to test him? See if he trusted us or not.”

  “I did. He’s paranoid, and he hasn’t sent anyone to watch you. That means he trusts you enough not to double-cross him. It also tells me he’s stretched to the point where he doesn’t have anyone to send after you.” Which gave me the best satisfaction.

  It told me Chrissy’s murder was the ace in his sleeve and he was hurting.

  It was time to set the trap, to draw him in, and then to close it while he was inside. I was salivating over that meeting.

  “You didn’t need to do this face-to-face.”

  I shook my head. “A part of me needed to look you in the eye. You reached out right after Chrissy Hayes’s murder and reassured me you were not in the loop on that one. It was a small team project and was kept quiet from everyone. I wanted to believe you, but I couldn’t know for sure. I saw your reaction to Chrissy’s death. You reacted. So did your men.”

  “We’re not in the business of murdering innocent women.”

  I nodded. “Take care of the rest of my men. They’re about to become your brothers down there.”

  Scott was debriefed on the way here, so he approached, giving Harden and the new team further instructions. Josh went with me, following me back into the small plane. He took his seat, watching me, and after a few moments of silence, he whistled under his breath.

  “What?”

  “I heard stories about your grandfather. Being in our business, you can’t not hear about him. The rumors are all true. I’ve seen enough firsthand. But you. No one’s ready for you. You’re going to make a lot of powerful people very nervous.”

  He was right.

  I didn’t care.

  I shifted back in my seat, took my phone out, and texted Bailey.

  Coming back. Are you sleeping?

  Her response came through right as we were circling to start taxiing for liftoff.

  Waiting for you.

  FIVE

  Bailey

  I woke to an empty bed.

  The good news: I woke. That meant I had slept. The bad news: Kash was gone after only just returning late last night.

  I rolled over, pulling up the blankets, snuggling in. I’d give myself only a second, because I’d learned that if I didn’t move right away I would space on time. That meant that if I said five minutes, I could remain there for hours.

  With the two kidnapping attempts, I thought I knew trauma.

  I did not.

  I never lost complete moments of time before. But now, after my mom, I could lose an entire day and not know it. Then, at other moments, I couldn’t get my brain to stop thinking and rest. I would go into an altered state of mind where I was me, I was here, but I wasn’t. There was an edge of irrationality, a biting feel to my brain, and I would only know if I was in that state when I left that state. It was exhausting and perplexing. Simple things. Like now, I was giving myself just a beat before I pushed back the blankets and got up.

  Padding barefoot, I went to the bathroom first.

  I washed my hands.

  I forgot to flush the toilet, one second.

  I was back.

  I rewashed my hands.

  I dried my hands.

  I brushed my teeth.

  I put my toothbrush back. I recapped the toothpaste.

  I turned the sink back on, testing it. Making sure it was lukewarm.

  And bending, I wet my face.

  I reached for my face cleanser, lathered it on my hands and then applied to my face.

  Slow circles, tracing my entire face.

  My eyes were closed, and I worked around them.

  I cleaned behind my ears. A little down my neck. Under my chin.

  Over my lips.

  The bridge between my eyes.

  Over my forehead, lingering on my temples, and I applied pressure. That felt good, but I released and the pressure from inside built up again.

  I sighed, reaching and testing the water once more. It was still lukewarm.

  I bent, and this time I splashed my face. I cleaned most of the cleanser off, reaching for the washcloth to get the rest. When that was done, I put the washcloth aside and reached for the towel. Everything had been in the same spot for the last three weeks.

  I could move around this bathroom without opening my eyes, not once, and I would know where it all was.

  I touched the towel, snaking it off the rack, and I dried my face.

  That was done.

  I stopped, regrouping. My mind was still not turned on, so I went through the motions.

  Oh. I forgot.

  I laid out the washcloth so it would dry, and then I turned and folded the towel back over the rack. It was a little damp, so I spread it all out. Later I would come in and fold it back up. I would match the corners to line up together perfectly.

  My arm was reaching as soon as I was done with the towel. I snagged my hair comb and, turning from the sink, I brought it through my hair.

  No snarls.

  No knots.

  I put the comb back down, back into its spot. I patted it, making sure it was in the right place.

  Then, with another sigh, I reached up and began parting my hair. Three different sections. Starting at the base of my forehead, I moved the right section under the center, over the left. I swung the left under the center and over the right. I kept moving, just like that, all the way down to the ends of my hair. Grabbing a tie, I wrapped it three times around the end of my braid, and when that was done, I went to my closet.

  Simple things. Simple movements.

  I didn’t know the day. I rarely did these days, but I knew I couldn’t do schoolwork. I couldn’t work on the computer, and Kash was gone, so that meant Matt might be around. Or Seraphina. Or Cyclone. Or I might wander down to the kitchen, have Theresa put me to work and help out. I could do dishes. She always balked, but I didn’t care.

  The motion of cleaning, of spraying away the dirt, of putting the dishes through the dishwasher, of pulling them out the other end and knowing they were clean gave me satisfaction. I didn’t know why, but I wasn’t going to question it.

  I knew there would be a time when I would.

  I would look back at all these little routines I did now, that got me through each day, and I would analyze the reason I did them, the reason they helped me, but for now, I didn’t do any of that.

  I grabbed jeans, a shirt, a sweater, and I put on socks and sneakers. I was comfortable, ready for anything, and only then, after snagging my phone and putting it in my pocket, did I leave the room.

  I never once looked in the mirror.

  * * *

  “We should day drink today.”

  Matt found me in the kitchen corner, cutting board in front of me, knife in my hand, and thirty carrots spread out, ready to be chopped. I’d just been victorious in getting Theresa to let me use the knife. She kept worrying I was going to miss the carrot and cut a finger off.

  “Nope.” I waved the knife in the air. “I’m good here.”

  Matt cocked an eyebrow, leaning against the counter beside me. His arms crossed over his chest and he hooked one ankle over the other. He took me in, the knife, the cutting board, the carrots, the knife, the rest of the room, Theresa, and back to the knife.

  He murmured, “Uh-huh. Yeah.”

  I shot him a grin, lining up the first carrot. “Thirty minutes.”

  “You’ll be done in thirty minutes?”

  I shook my head, making the first slice through the middle of the carrot. “That’s how long it took me to talk Theresa into letting me help prepare lunch.”

  “Theresa.” Matt turned to her.

  She was standing beside another line cook, who was chopping up the rest of the vegetables for the soup. She didn’t look up, just started shaking her head. “Nope. Not going to happen.” She raised a hand up, pointing at me. “She came in this morning and started doing dishes. I kicked her out. She came back ten minutes later and started making coffee for everyone. I kicked her out again. Came back and you’re now seeing our compromise. She wanted to man the grill, and no way am I letting one of you Francis children near that grill. You all are good staying out of my kitchen, thank you very much.”

  Matt gestured to me. “But she’s in here.”

  “Yeah, ’cause she wouldn’t stop coming in—”

  I spoke up, looking down. “It’s because I’m a Hayes.”

  The other chopping stopped.

  The guy at the grill stopped scraping.

  The dishes were held suspended.

  Theresa didn’t talk.

  Matt didn’t say a word.

  The only sound that filled the room was water boiling on the stove and the dishwasher machine doing a load.

  I could feel how pregnant that silence was, but I kept chopping all the while, and I could almost feel my mom patting my back, saying, “You tell ’em, Bailey. You tell ’em how we Hayeses handle ourselves.”

  I sucked in my breath, stopped seeing the carrot under my hand, felt the tears swelling up, but I’d gotten damn good at doing things without seeing. I sliced the carrot, moved it aside, and grabbed another. I lined it up and I was putting the knife through it when Matt coughed, clearing his throat.

  He leaned in close and said quietly, “How about we go day drinking when you’re done with the carrots?”

  I couldn’t do that.

  I’d drink. Then I’d feel. Then I’d think.

  I could handle it now, working, and feeling her. But if I started feeling my own emotions and then also feeling her, nope.

  Not gonna happen.

  But I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t explain it like that.

  My throat was swelling up, and I couldn’t get any words out.

  Theresa called, in that tone of hers, telling me she understood exactly what I was going through at this very moment. “Leave her be, Matthew. The time for day drinking will hit, but it ain’t here yet.”

  Matt was quiet next to me.

  I was tense, holding my breath, and then I heard him sigh, too. “Okay.” He patted my shoulder. “Call if you want to hang. I’m going to Naveah then.”

  He left.

  Those tears didn’t fall.

  I never stopped cutting the carrots.

  That seemed important to me for some reason.

  Kash

  I was leaving a meeting and going to another meeting when my phone started ringing. Glancing down, seeing it was Matt calling, and knowing he was back at the Chesapeake, I answered just as I was sliding into the back of the SUV.

  “Yeah?”

  Josh shut my door and went around to the front passenger side. I was alone in the back and I heard a biting greeting: “She’s cutting carrots, Kash.”

  I frowned.

  “Bailey?”

  He snapped, “No. Payton. Yes, Bailey. I wanted her to go to Naveah with me today, and she wouldn’t stop cutting those fucking carrots. Carrots. She’s begging to work in the kitchen. Theresa couldn’t get rid of her this morning, so she put her to work. My sister, who is one of the smartest people I know—and I come from a family of geniuses—is dicing through carrots like her life depends on it. What the fuck, Kash? What the fuck?”

  I sighed on the inside.

  On the inside, I wanted to swear with him, rage on the phone.

  On the inside, I wanted to go back to the Chesapeake and hold Bailey until she could start feeling again.

  But all I did was murmur quietly, resting my head back against the seat, because suddenly I was fucking wiped. “She’s in mourning.”

  “Yeah.” Another biting word from him. “Three weeks ago. Chrissy died three weeks ago. She—Bailey—she should—”

  “He waited.”

  Matt swallowed his words. He was silent.

  I said again, “He waited, Matt. He waited until she could see and then he killed Chrissy. Bailey knows this. She’s done the math in her head. She is probably haunted by that day every minute of every hour. She has a photographic memory. She is a genius—”

  “I know!”

  Another sigh, from me. “She needs time.”

  He was silent again.

  Then a strained, “I can’t lose my sister. I just got her.”

  “I know.” My head was too heavy to rest. I let it hang. I let my shoulders slump. “I know.”

  “I want her back.”

  I did, too.

  “I’m going to get wasted today,” he said. “Like, you better send a full detail on me, because I’m letting you know ahead of time. I’m drinking. I’ll probably fuck a few girls today, maybe a few more tonight. I’ll try and not do drugs, but I can’t make promises. I can only promise that I’m going to be stupid today. I need it, Kash.” He was breathing heavily into the phone. I could hear his restraint slipping. “Watching Bailey choose to remain a zombie every day is killing me. And I liked Chrissy. I really liked her, too, but I can’t handle this shit. It’s too close. It’s just like…”

  It was just like when his own mother died.

  Matt was a brother to me. My meetings weren’t saving lives today. I had done as much as I could today in regard to my war against Calhoun.

  I squared my shoulders up and addressed Josh. “Cancel the rest of my meetings for the day and take me to Naveah.”

  Matt stopped talking on his end. “You serious?”

  I heard his happiness and my gut shifted.

  I’d been neglecting someone I considered a brother.

  “I’m coming to you.”

  “What about Bailey?” His voice had grown hoarse.

  “Bailey is doing what Bailey can do right now. She’d be happy that I’m coming to you.”

  “Thank you.” Still hoarse. I heard something else there, a tone that had me blinking my eyes rapidly. “I’ll have a drink ready for you, man.”

  I grinned into the phone. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something too stupid today.”

  “You’re right. That was always your job.”

  We hung up and I sent off an email to my assistant. She would reschedule the meetings that Josh didn’t know about. Two different worlds that I was walking between. The business world and the shadow world. I went over the line daily, and one of these days there’d be a time when I would only exist in one.

  Moves. One at a time. I was making them.

  I was finding my grandfather.

  I was tracking my grandfather.

  I was cornering my grandfather. He just didn’t know it, but when he did, when everything was lined up, then and only then I would cross that line for the last time.

  I only hoped I’d be able to return to this world.

  I also called Torie. “I want you to take Tamara and Melissa and go to the Chesapeake. I’m coming to Naveah to spend the day with Matt, so I’d like you to be at the house with Bailey.”

  There was no hesitation on her end, just the background music playing. “You got it. We’re just hanging?”

  “Spend time with her. Meet her where she’s at. Right now, she’s cutting carrots.”

  “Carrots?”

  I grinned. “Carrots. Try and make her laugh. Be there, pull in Seraphina and Cyclone if you can.”

  “Got it. Maybe I’ll wash the potatoes.”

  A brief chuckle, but that’s all I had in me. “I’m sure Theresa has that under wraps, but you can force the issue if you’d like.”

  “Take Theresa on? I don’t think so.” She snorted. “I’ll take care of your girl, boss. I care about her, too.”

  “I know.”

  We hung up, and then I texted Bailey.

  Love you. With Matt today. Check in later, please.

  But I knew she wouldn’t. She had started not carrying her phone with her, so I handed mine to Josh when we pulled up to Naveah. I wasn’t here to work, for once.

  SIX

  Bailey

  A week later

  Kash was holding me.

  He was kissing me. I was kissing him back.

  Then he was sliding inside, and I stopped wanting to cry.

  Another week later

  I was sitting on the couches by the bowling lanes.

  Seraphina shrieked with laughter and fell to the floor just as she let loose the bowling ball. It went right into the gutter, but she turned her face toward Tony—Matt’s dickhead friend Tony. He had said something that made her laugh, and he was laughing, too. He held a hand down, helping her stand back up.

  They were both chuckling as they returned to the couches.

  I didn’t like that, for some reason. I didn’t know why.

  I noted who else was there.

  Friends. Guy. Chester. Torie. Tamara. Melissa was on the end, tucked next to Matt, who was whispering into her ear.