Demetrius rolled his eyes. 'Fuck. Too bad I took care of the PI,' he muttered. 'I could have hired him to keep tailing Reuben. I'll check with Burton and see who we can send to watch the girl. Maybe one of those new guys he was talking about. We just want to know if Reuben shows up. If he does, I'll zip up to New York and take care of him myself. He can't be allowed to continue down this road. Like you said, he's become a liability.'

Ken sighed. 'I know. Do what you need to-' He was cut off by the sudden ringing of the phone on his desk with Sean's caller ID. 'What do you have?' he answered brusquely and put his son on speaker phone.

'The information you requested.'

Ken realized he was holding his breath. 'You found Reuben.'

'No, sir,' Sean said. 'But I did find the identity of the man who was with the tracker wearer when she was murdered this morning. One of the local papers carried the story online. I-' He was interrupted by a loud squealing klaxon on his end.

'What the hell?' Demetrius barked. 'What is that?'

'Another tampered tracker alert,' Sean said. The klaxon was abruptly silenced, the only sound the clacking of Sean's keyboard. 'After this morning, I had the alerts transferred to my computer. I've got the tracker ID numbers here, and I'm searching for their current location.' A short pause. 'Both are at Chip Anders's house.'

'The other two women Anders purchased,' Ken said grimly.

'Fuck, Sean,' Demetrius hissed. 'Don't tell us about the tracker alarm. Tell Burton he's acting security manager, at least for now. He's got men watching Anders's house, and Burton is on his way there with Decker now to bring in Anders and his family. Burton and Decker can actually do something about the alarm.'

'On it,' Sean said. 'I'll call you back when I know something. Oh, and I just sent you a link to the online article about the man who was with the girl in the alley this morning.'

Ken disconnected the speaker phone, brought up the email Sean had sent, clicked on the link . . . then stared at the screen. 'No,' he whispered, all the raging anger he'd felt toward Reuben coalescing into a hard, icy ball, deep in his chest. 'No fucking way.'

'What?' Demetrius demanded.

Ken lifted his eyes. 'Marcus O'Bannion.'

Demetrius's face went flat with shock. 'You are shitting me.'

Ken turned the screen around so that Demetrius could see for himself.

Demetrius's fists clenched on the arms of the wingback chair. 'Fucking hell. O'Bannion was the guy with Anders's bitch when she was killed? Motherfucking hell.'

Ken wanted to clench his own fists but maintained his calm, turning his laptop back to face him. 'This time, he dies. I do not want a repeat of nine months ago. This is not a democracy. No arguments. If he'd been dealt with properly then, we wouldn't be in this shithole of a mess right now. Are we clear?'

Demetrius nodded stiffly. 'Crystal.'

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 9.30 A.M.

Drake was nearly a mile from Stephanie's house when his phone started buzzing. 'Stephanie,' he muttered when he saw the caller ID. He should have known she would never be able to play it cool in front of her father. If she'd said a goddamn word . . . I should have killed her this morning.

He pressed the accelerator a little harder, speeding up as he answered the phone. 'Yeah? What's wrong now?'

'Hurry,' Stephanie hissed on a whispered sob. 'You have to hurry. He's killing her. He's gonna come after me next. You gotta hurry, Drake. Please.'

'Killing who? What are you talking about? What the hell is that racket?'

'Another alarm. The other two trackers, they're cut. Daddy is screaming. He's going to think I did it! Hurry!'

Drake slowed down. Dealing directly with her screaming father was more than he'd bargained for. 'Who cut the other two trackers?'

'I don't know. I didn't. Maybe they got knives and did it themselves. They won't get far. He's running outside to look for them, and he's going to kill them,' Stephanie whispered, panic in her voice. 'And then he's going to beat the truth out of me. He said so. He thinks I took the baby. He thinks I'm hiding it.'

'Wait. The baby's gone?'

'Yeah. You have to come, Drake. You have to help me.'

What Drake had to do was make sure he shut her up. He urged the car to go a little faster. 'I'll be there in a few minutes, babe. Get out of the house. Wait for me in our spot.'

'He's locked me in. I don't know if can sneak-' Stephanie screamed as shots rang out at her end of the call. 'Somebody's breaking down the door.'

'Who?' Drake demanded. 'Who's breaking down your door? Who's shooting?'

'Daddy. He's got out his guns. I don't know who's coming. Oh God. They're coming up the stairs. I'll try to make a run for it when they unlock my door. Just be ready to pick me up and get me out of here. Hurry! Hurry!'

Then silence. She'd either hung up or had her throwaway cell taken.

Or she'd been shot. Maybe she was already dead and his problem was solved. Either way, he didn't want to get any more involved than he already was. Especially with people waving guns around. Her father was a major prick, but he was a good shot and had a huge gun collection. A fucking arsenal, even. And that he was firing his weapons meant he'd been in his gun safe, which meant he'd have seen by now that one of his guns was missing.

The gun Drake had hidden under the driver's seat. The same one he'd used this morning on Tala and the man she'd been meeting.

He slowed his sister's car, turned around and headed for the interstate. There was no way he was getting caught up in any more Anders craziness. His sister had filled her gas tank last night. That meant he could get to Canada without stopping.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 9.30 A.M.

'Good morning, Marcus.'

Marcus hadn't been startled at Gayle's greeting, even though his eyes had been glued to his computer screen for the better part of two hours. Her perfume had given her away as soon as she'd come through his office door. It wasn't that she wore too much, or that it was offensive. Not at all. It was the same scent she'd worn every day of his life. It was the scent that had calmed him back into sleep when the nightmares had shaken him awake when he was still a little boy, nightmares filled with the things he'd seen. And the things he'd done.

Because at eight years old, Marcus had stared evil in the face. And then he'd killed it.

Gayle's scent had reminded him of a time when his childhood home had been a safe place. She'd made him feel protected again . . . after. She'd made him believe that he wasn't really a monster. And she'd understood when that belief wasn't enough to wash away his guilt, silently supporting him in whatever he'd done to balance the scales in the years that followed.

But today her scent wasn't calming. Marcus stared at the screen, not looking up to meet her eyes even though he knew she'd stopped on the other side of his desk. He'd showered and shaved and no longer looked like he'd been shot only hours before. He'd known he'd have to confront Gayle about her heart attack and her allowing her niece access to company files. He'd figured he'd know exactly what to say, how to address the issue without revealing that his information had come from Jill. But now that she stood before him, he found himself completely speechless and realized he'd never been angry with her before. He was very angry now. She should have trusted me. Like he'd trusted her. With everything.

Well, not everything. He hadn't told her about Scarlett Bishop. Aside from Stone's guessing this morning, he hadn't told a soul about Scarlett Bishop and how she'd occupied a corner of his mind from the moment he'd opened his eyes and seen her standing over his hospital bed nine months before. He hadn't needed to tell Gayle, because she'd never met Scarlett. Because Gayle hadn't been with him in the hospital or at Mikhail's funeral. Because she'd had a heart attack and hadn't told him.

A cup of coffee appeared in front of his face and Marcus knew it would be strong and full of enough sugar to make most people grimace. It was one of his only dietary vices and he dared anyone in the office to say a word.

'Marcus? Are you all right? You're scaring me here.'

Finally he looked up. Met her eyes and saw her flinch. 'I'm okay,' he said quietly. 'I hear that you're not.'

'No,' she denied with a smile. 'I'm just fine.'

'Would your cardiologist agree?' he asked, unable or maybe unwilling to hide the edge of hurt that sharpened his tone.

Closing her eyes, she sank into the chair in front of his desk. 'Who told you?' she asked, her skin taking on a grayish hue that made Marcus sit up straighter and reach for his phone.

'Do you need a doctor?' he asked.

'No. I'll be okay.' Her eyes opened and in them he saw regret. 'I didn't want to keep this from you, but I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want to worry your mother.'

'And yet you did. She sent someone to look for you, but you'd just disappeared. Without a word. Did you really think that wouldn't worry her?'

She lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, looking up to meet his eyes. 'She was worried enough about you then, and she doesn't even know what you really do every day. I know, and I more than worry. You seem to have this need to punish yourself, Marcus, and it terrifies me.'

He frowned at her. 'No I don't.'

You want to die. You sonofabitch. Marcus winced, Stone's words shoving into his mind before he could stop them. He shoved them back out, narrowing his eyes at Gayle.

'Besides, this isn't about me. This is about you and your heart attack. How do you think it makes me feel knowing you might have died?'

Gayle pulled her body straight, giving him her nanny look. 'About the same as it makes me feel knowing you might have,' she returned evenly. 'Nine months ago or last night.' She held up her tablet, Stone's story front and center. 'I got to enjoy this with my morning coffee. Did you even think about warning your mother and me first?'

'I called Mom. She was still asleep. I told her maid to make sure she called me before she read the story.'

Gayle pursed lips that trembled with anger. 'I guess I should be thankful I made you promise to wear Kevlar.'

He'd told Scarlett it had been his mother who'd made him promise, because it was easier than explaining that Gayle had been the one to mother him when he'd needed it most. She'd want to know why and he wasn't ready to tell her about all that yet. 'Gayle,' he sighed.

'I'm serious. Maybe I should make you promise to wear a combat helmet too.'

Marcus fought the urge to squirm in his chair. He was the publisher of this paper, not a small boy. And certainly not an idiot. But telling himself so was about as successful as telling her. Resolutely he pulled the topic back to her health. 'At least I didn't hide what happened last night. I've never hidden anything from you. You hid a damn heart attack, Gayle.'

'You didn't need to know,' she insisted, raising her voice.

'Didn't need to know?' The lock on his temper popped. 'Goddammit, Gayle!' he thundered. 'You didn't let me take care of you!' He realized he was on his feet, leaning forward, hands propped on his desk, shouting like a lunatic. 'Fuck,' he muttered, easing back into his chair.

'I didn't let you take care of me because you couldn't even take care of yourself,' Gayle said firmly, back at a normal volume.

'That might have been true when it happened. But what about now? Don't you go there,' he warned, jabbing his index finger in her direction when she lifted the tablet to point at Stone's story again, as if to say that Marcus still wasn't taking care of himself. 'This is about you.'

Gayle's jaw tightened. 'Don't you point your finger at me, Marcus O'Bannion.'

Marcus drew a breath, slowly let it out. He lowered his hand and calmed his tone. 'I understand why you didn't tell me nine months ago. Even eight months ago. Maybe even six months ago. But I am no longer injured. I am fine. You should have told me.'

Her eyes snapped fire. 'You were shot just a few hours ago,' she whispered fiercely, 'and you can say that you are fine with a straight face?'

Marcus looked down at his desk, measuring his words. The personal approach was not cutting it. They were both too angry. He'd stick to business. He lifted his eyes, meeting hers squarely. 'You suffered a heart attack, Gayle. And then you missed a week of work. In a normal situation, HR would have moved you to the disability roster until your doctor cleared you to return, ensuring you received disability pay for that week. But your doctor didn't clear you. You came back prematurely, allowing another employee to fulfill at least some of your responsibilities. You gave that entry-level employee access to confidential company records for which she was not authorized. That is a violation of company policy.' He drew a breath that hurt his chest. 'More than that, it's a violation of my trust.'

Her mouth fell open in shock. 'You think I let Jill see confidential information?'

'She's been screening your emails, Gayle. So no, I don't think you let her see confidential information. I know you did.'

Gayle paled. 'She's been screening my emails? I didn't tell her she could do that.'

'She's been doing it anyway. She's been tending the threat list.'

Gayle sat back in her chair in shock. 'Oh no.'

'Oh yes. She confronted me with it this morning. Told me that I was expecting too much from you, that my family and I have been taking advantage of you for years. That you would have retired and had your own life if it weren't for us. That the threat list was what caused your heart attack to begin with. Is that true?'

Gayle pressed trembling fingers to her lips. 'No. No one has taken advantage of me. I'm here because you're my family, Marcus. You and Stone and Audrey and your mother. Jeremy, too, even though he doesn't live with us anymore. You're all my family.'

He exhaled abruptly, not even realizing he'd been holding his breath. 'I'm glad. You're our family too. I . . .' The words trailed away under a wave of emotion. 'You've always been there for me. I would never want you to feel like I didn't appreciate what it's cost you. You could have had a husband and children. A home of your own. Yet you stayed with us.'

Gayle leaned forward in her chair, her expression fierce. 'I have a home. I have children you and Stone and Audrey. And Mikhail.' Pain flickered in her eyes. 'And Matty too,' she added in a barely audible whisper. 'God, how I miss them.'

Marcus bowed his head, his chest suddenly too tight to breathe. Matty's name was rarely spoken in his family. And when it was, it was always a whisper, as if speaking his name at a normal volume would . . . wake him up. Because to imagine him sleeping was so much easier than to imagine him dead. Of course, Marcus didn't need to imagine. He'd seen Matty's body close up and very personal. He still saw it in his nightmares and the occasional flash of memory while awake. Now the image of Mikhail's body had become part of the nightmare too. He wondered if Mikhail's name would soon meet the same fate as Matty's. No, he thought. I won't let it. 'I miss them too,' he answered, his voice cracking. 'Both of them.'

They sat in silence for a long, long moment before Marcus finally looked up to find Gayle hugging herself tight, eyes scrunched shut, her body shaking with silent sobs. If she didn't stop crying, she was going to give herself another heart attack.

He walked around his desk, crouching in front of her chair, a box of tissues in one hand. 'Hey. Don't cry anymore. Please. You're scaring me.'

She glared down at him through her tears. 'I'm scaring you? I'm scaring you?' She grabbed a handful of tissues and dried her cheeks. 'I could have been burying you, Marcus O'Bannion, and you don't even seem to care.'

He'd lost two brothers. She'd lost two boys who'd been sons of her heart. Yet the tears she cried now? They're because of me. Because she'd nearly lost him too.

It could have been different. The shooter could have finished me off with a shot to my head just as easily. Lying there with the breath knocked out of him, his face scraping the asphalt, he'd been a sitting duck.

Y'think, dumbass? It was Stone's voice in his head, clear as a bell, and Marcus nearly smiled.

Fine. I can be taught. When two people who knew you best told you the exact same thing on the same day . . . Maybe it was time he listened.

He rose from his crouch to sit on the edge of his desk. 'I'm sorry, Gayle. You're right. I didn't mean to upset you. I promise I'll be more careful from now on.'

She sniffed, turning her face away. She was still crying, but the intensity had wound down. At least she wouldn't have another heart attack sitting here in his office.

'I, uh, noticed you didn't include Keith as part of your family,' he said dryly, trying to distract her from her tears. Gayle's dislike of Jeremy's husband was no secret.