My grip on the gun wavers.

  "I don't believe you.” Yet I can’t keep a note of doubt out of my voice. It wouldn’t be beyond Alexander. He’s ruthless. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  "It was after that event you went to in San Francisco a few weeks ago. Some conference that Alexander gave a talk at. Pictures came out, and I saw one. I know you had a black eye that night. I know he hit you."

  My lips quiver. "You knew?"

  I can’t believe it; I'd worked so hard on the makeup getting ready for that night; makeup to cover the consequences I received for asking to skip a conference where I'd do nothing but humanize my monstrous fiance. Instead, I wanted to focus on my thesis paper and finish the night with a few drinks with my friends. His reply was a backhand and a biting comment that told me to remember my place in our relationship. I thought I'd done so well covering up the bruise. Even Alexander said so, and he's never sparing in his criticism of me, especially involving things that could reflect on him.

  But someone noticed.

  Jackson.

  "Maddy, I know every angle of your face better than I know my own. Every part of you. Even after all these years, I never forgot it. I see it all every time I close my eyes. The second I saw that photo, I knew. The bruise on your face, the fear in your eyes, the cockiness in his… It was as clear as day what he’d done."

  The gun goes lower. I'm pointing it at the floor, yet my finger is still near the trigger, ready.

  "Tell me what happened."

  "The second I saw that picture, I took off. I came to Costa Oscura. Rode right for Alexander's house. All I could think about was calling him out for what he'd done to you." He looks down, a pained, wry smile briefly flashes across his rugged, lifeworn features. "It didn't work out like I planned."

  "What did he do?"

  "They caught me before I even made it up the driveway. I wasn't subtle. They weren't gentle," Jackson chuckles. It's an action that makes pain spread across his face. "They beat me. Alexander watched. Directed them. Then Victor put a bullet in me, and they dumped me in the harbor. He thought I was dead, but I held on long enough for someone to find me and bring me to the hospital. Then Alexander's men came looking for me. They wanted to finish the job, make sure I was dead this time. That's when this angel here stepped in." He nods towards the nurse. "She saved me."

  I stare at the nurse, taking in her calm demeanor and kind eyes.

  "Thank you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who you are, but thank you so much.”

  “I’m Eliza.” She smiles faintly. "It's my job to save lives."

  "She's damn good at it, too," says the big biker.

  "Thank you, Rook, but let these two have their moment," Eliza says.

  "Yes, ma'am," Rook responds.

  I blink away the tears in my eyes, though all that does is to make room for more tears to roll in. The boy I love, the boy who broke my heart, is now a man who came back for me, who nearly died because of me.

  "What do we do now, Jackson? If I even stay—and I don't know if I will, because you hurt me so much, so very much; for years, I thought you were dead and now you just come back like it’s nothing, like it isn’t torture—what do we do?" My voice is rich, burns with heat and hate, with love and loss. "What can I do? What can you do? Alexander, his family, they have so much money, so much power. What do you have other than a couple of friends and a crappy lighthouse? How do I know you won't break my heart again? Because I refuse, absolutely refuse, to let you do that. I would rather die than go through that pain again. I would rather marry Alexander than suffer again at your hands."

  He looks to the ceiling, and the eyes that return to look at mine are a blue shade of heartbreak. "I know I hurt you. But I still care for you. That's why I came back: to give you the freedom that I promised you before. I'm not asking you to care about me the way you used to... To love me…" His voice hitches, the words jagged, damaged. "All I'm asking is for you to trust me. I can get you free from Alexander, and you'll never have to worry about him again."

  "If you want me to trust you, you’ll need to give me more than just words."

  He frowns, though I don't understand why; I'm a finance expert. Understanding risk is second nature to me, and after everything he put me through, asking me to trust him again is about as sure of an investment as trading Bitcoin pegged to the value of Beanie Babies.

  "You want to know the plan? Fine. Alexander needs you. You're valuable to him, though he doesn't know just how valuable you really are. We're going to hold you for ransom. A big ransom."

  "How much?"

  "Not nearly as much as you're really worth, because that amount of money doesn't exist. But enough that, when we give you your share—the biggest share—you can give some to your family and disappear with the rest and never have to worry about working again." He gives me a smile that's both inviting and confident. One that reminds me of the rebellious boy who romanced me beneath the midnight moon and promised me the world—freedom, rebellion, love. It tugs at my heart in the most unwelcome way. "What do you say, Maddy? Will you be my hostage?"

  It's insane.

  It's reckless.

  Because, even though he was shot by him, Jackson Reid doesn't fully understand just how dangerous Alexander is.

  But that smile.

  And those eyes that promise me the sun, moon, and stars... They’re impossible to resist.

  "I'm in."

  “I knew you would be.” His smile grows. Confident, but premature.

  Because I know what I’m doing; I raise my eyes to stare into his, unblinking, steady.

  "But I have terms."

  Chapter Ten

  Bullet

  "You have terms? What terms?"

  Rook snorts and mutters. "This isn't how kidnappings work, girl."

  "Hush, Rook. They're doing their best," Eliza admonishes. "Let them handle this."

  "Fucking kids, fumbling at this kidnapping like a couple of virgins under a blanket."

  "Be nice," she hisses.

  "No, you're not getting my cooperation or my gun, not until we reach an agreement. And, yes, I have terms," Maddy says. Her eyes flicker to Rook and then back to me. Her fingers idly tap the gun in her hand. "Because, unlike what Rook seems to think, this is more a negotiation than a kidnapping. Kidnappings involve an implied threat toward the victim, a promise of violence, or even murder, if their demands aren't met. I know you’re not going to hurt me, which makes this a business deal. And, when it comes to those, I know what I’m talking about."

  She stands straight, confident. It's frustrating as hell that she's resisting when I'm just trying to do the right thing for her. Marrying Alexander is a gigantic mistake, and she knows it. Yet, I'm proud of her, too. Proud of the confidence in her voice and the steel in her spine; Maddy's grown from the scared young woman I met years ago, a girl who was shaking and afraid of her future and the fact that her car had broken down in a bad part of town.

  "Fine, Warren Buffett. What are your terms?" Rook snaps.

  I give him a sharp look, as does Eliza, and he grumbles something that might be an apology.

  "What are your terms, Maddy?" I say.

  "College is important to me. More important than you know, Jackson. I had to fight so hard just to go, and I won't let you or anyone else take my degree away from me. Do you understand that?"

  "I get that it's important. What do you want, Maddy?"

  "To finish it. I have a thesis paper I need to complete. I need to--"

  Rook interrupts with a sharp laugh. Marcus laughs, too.

  "You're fine with being kidnapped, as long as you can still go to class? What are you smoking?" Rook says.

  "Maddy, that's too risky," I say. "Someone could see you, then this entire thing will be blown."

  She shakes her head. "It's a risk you'll have to take. Besides, you're overestimating just how much interest Alexander and his family have in me attending school. Or in my life. Or even in me, period. They don't know what classes I have. Alexander has only once come by the campus. They don't know my friends. They just don't care, because I'm a name to them. That’s it."

  "He doesn't care? How the fuck could he not care?" The way she says it all makes me clench my fists and I’m tempted to ram it into the wall.

  "All he wants is my name. He wants to run for office—governor, state senator, honestly, I don't remember, because every time he rants about his aspirations, I end up thinking about statistics or something else more interesting—and all I am is some achievement he thinks he can stick on his resume, a name that will dull the sharp feelings so many people in the area have toward the Covington family. Sharp feelings that are, frankly, justified. The Covingtons suck."

  “Bullet, I'm getting the impression these Covingtons are some real fucking assholes," Marcus says. “However it shakes out, I think we should help Maddy purely for the sake of fucking over these rich bastards.”

  "I think I agree," I say as I grin at Marcus. Then I look back at Madison, at the determined set to her lips; lips I ache to kiss, to make moan like I used to before our worlds fell apart. "You know this is crazy, right?"

  "Crazy or not, this is non-negotiable. Call me Buffett if it makes you feel better, but I am not budging. In fact, if you don’t give this to me, I will make your life absolute hell."

  "I like her," Rook says. He’s having way too much fun; there's a twisted grin on his normally grumpy face. "She's making you squirm, Bullet Boy."

  She is. There's nothing I wouldn't do for Maddy. The barely healed bullet wound is proof of that, but her demands are absolutely too risky; one wrong move, and not only would she be recaptured by Alexander, but he and his men would finish off me and everyone else in this room.

  Maddy’s eyes narrow, and she advances toward me.

  "You owe me, Jackson," she says. "After everything you've done to me, and everything you're doing to me right now, you owe me this."

  "Do you know what would happen if you got caught?"

  "Do you know what will happen to me if I don't do this? I fought tooth and nail with my father and with Alexander just to go to college. I have plans, I have dreams, I have ambitions, and if you think you can make me give them up, you are sorely mistaken."

  My eyes leave hers for a moment. I see Rook staring right at me, his face unreadable, but I know what he's thinking: you kidnapped her, you need to take control. When my eyes go to Marcus, I see the same look on his face. Even Eliza seems to urge me to remind Madison just who is in charge of this kidnapping.

  "It's not happening. You're staying here where it's safe. As for college, you can write to your professors, tell them you're taking an emergency leave or whatever you have to do. You can finish your degree next year."

  "You're just like Alexander," she snaps. Her eyes flare into bewitching green fire, her mouth curls into a seductive snarl. Even enraged, she's the most beautiful woman on earth. "Thinking that you can control me, that I don't have free will, that I'm not a person with a life of her own… it’s pathetic. Pathetic and small-minded. What? Am I just supposed to meekly accept your orders during this insane enterprise? Is it not supposed to bother me you’ve literally ripped my life to pieces for a second time?"

  "Maddy, calm down. Think about this logically—"

  "Oh, so now you introduce logic? After you hijack a car off the freeway at gunpoint and abduct me? That's the time for logic? No, Jackson Reid, that's not how this works. If you're going to treat me like I don't have any say in this, like my dreams and desires don't matter, like my life doesn't matter, then I'm going to take it to heart."

  "What are you saying?"

  Even before the words leave my mouth, she moves.

  Raises her gun.

  It's a movement that provokes a warning shout from Rook, who puts himself in front of Eliza and reaches for his gun. It sends Marcus running forward in some desperate attempt to reach Madison.

  But the sight of what she does keeps me rooted, stunned.

  Because she doesn't point the gun in my direction.

  Not at me, not at Marcus, not at Rook or Eliza.

  Instead, Madison Sinclair raises the gun to her own head.

  Chapter Eleven

  Madison

  Perspiration beads on my brow, droplets that trickle down my forehead and into my eyes, forcing me to blink away the salty sweat. I do so quickly so I can keep my gaze focused on Jackson, relentlessly locked on him. He's everything at this moment—this kidnapping is his idea, and now, he has to face the consequences of his decision: either accept that I will come to harm, or give in to my demands.

  I crook my finger around the trigger.

  Swallow once, twice, to force my throat to stay steady as I speak.

  With effort, I remind myself that Jackson is an enemy right now. He's been an enemy ever since he ran off and broke my heart, and if he wants to be anything more than that, he'll need to prove himself.

  "What am I doing? Finding out how much you value my life. So far, all you've done is hurt me. Just like Alexander. Welcome to the put up or shut up phase of negotiation. Either you let me try to salvage what's important to me, or I do quickly what you and Alexander seem determined to do slowly."

  His eyes are wide. Pupils dilated. Veins in his neck and forehead throb rapidly. There is a war going on in those conniving blue eyes of his. I pray the right side wins.

  "Fine."

  "You swear?"

  "I swear."

  I lower the gun. Rook lowers his. Eliza smiles and lets out a loud, relieved sigh.

  "Holy smokes, I have the shakes," she says, and Rook gingerly reaches over and rubs her shoulder.

  Then I hand the gun over to Jackson, handle first.

  "You're crazy, you know that, Maddy?"

  I smile at him. "Desperate, too."

  He does not know how close I actually was to pulling that trigger.

  Jackson grins at me. One of those cocksure, conquer-the-world smiles that stole my heart the first time I saw him.

  "Trust me, getting shot isn't all it's cracked up to be."

  "That so, Bullet Boy?" I say. When he frowns, I quickly add, "Kidding."

  He just shakes his head and laughs.

  "What now?" Marcus says. "Because, whatever it is, I hope it includes a fucking break. I didn't think we'd have our prisoner—sorry, Maddy, I know that's not the right word and I don't mean any disrespect, but I don't have a college education like you, so I don’t know what else to call you—holding herself hostage. I need a fucking beer."

  Jackson laughs again and slaps Marcus on the shoulder. "We're taking shifts watching Maddy, making sure she's safe and comfortable. We need to let some time pass so the Covingtons can realize that their future daughter-in-law is actually missing. Once they're on edge, we'll make our move. Until then, Rook, you're up first for guard duty. Every eight hours, we switch. So, Marcus, go get a beer. You'll be after Rook. I'll be last."

  * * * * *

  Rook glowers at me the second we're alone, just the two of us in this drafty, ancient, could-fall-down-at-any-second lighthouse. It's raining outside. I know this because some of the rain is leaking through cracks in the walls and forming an ominously large pool on the floor.

  "Don't try any shit," he says. "Just sit there, read a book, listen to the radio, and behave like the hostage you are."

  "Yes, sir," I say, doing a mock salute.

  "Don't get cute.”

  I turn on the radio. Navigate the stations until I find something decently acceptable. Taylor Swift, Adele, Megan Thee Stallion. Enjoyable stuff for passing the time in a crumbling lighthouse with a grumpy ogre for a guard.

  "Turn that shit off."

  "You're awful."

  "I've got better shit to do than listen to that garbage."

  "Yet here you are."

  "Yet here I am."

  "I'm not changing it, nor am I turning it off," I say. Defiant. While the masterful "Shake it Off" plays and Rook's eyeballs look ready to extricate themselves from his skull out of pure rage.

  Why is he so grumpy?

  "Change it. Turn it off. One of those two. Now."

  "Why are you the worst person alive?"

  "Turn it off."

  "If you tell me, I'll change the station to whatever you want."

  He grabs a chair and sets it just feet from me. With his back military straight, he sits across from me and stares at me like he wants to bore through my skull with his eyeballs.

  "You want to know my story? You want to know why I don't care for shit like this? I’ll tell you, if you promise to change the music." When I nod and turn the dial, winding upon some random Jazz station, Rook chuckles. It's a dark sound, like the deep ocean on a stormy, moonless night, and I feel the strongest pang of regret I’ve ever felt in my life. "We only have eight hours, so take a seat, and we'll get started."

  Suddenly, I'd rather be listening to Taylor than listening to whatever story this angry, dark, grumpy ogre wants to tell me.

  But I made a bluff, he called it, and I have to follow through.

  Besides, how bad can it be?

  * * * * *

  "Do you have any alcohol?" I say to Marcus the second he steps through the door to relieve Rook. He's carrying a large pack with him, and the sound of tinkling glass emanates from it as he sets it down, which fills me with hope. “Wine, maybe? Or, heck, even a beer?”

  I need it. Desperately.

  I'm shaken to my core. Nauseous. Forever changed. Everything light seems more than a little dimmer after my conversation with Rook while smooth jazz played in the background on the radio. I don't even like smooth jazz. Rook doesn't, either. It was just the first station I turned to and then he started talking and I forgot all about the radio.

  Except now, thinking back, I didn’t forget about it, and the memories of hearing Rook describe the violent horrors perpetrated by his inhuman brother are forever intertwined with the music of Kenny G. I'll never be able to ride in an elevator without being triggered, and any time I go to the dentist, sitting in the lobby will be like stepping into a flashback full of blood, gore, and misery.