'Marcus?' she said gently, respecting his wish for the moment. 'Is it Phillip? Or Edgar?'

'No. They're both still unconscious.'

'Then what are you doing?'

'Had to work it out.'

'Work what out, baby?' she asked, although she thought she knew. I shouldn't have pushed about that damn gun. He told me he was putting it away. That should have been enough.

But even as she said the words in her mind, she knew they weren't true. Marcus needed to confront whatever was haunting him.

He lifted his head, looked around the room without looking at her. 'What is all this stuff? You've got gym-quality equipment here.'

She walked around him, giving him a wide berth, and sat down on the weight bench he'd found in the back room. He'd found the weight set as well. She tallied the sum of the plates at a glance and bit back a frown. He'd been lifting far more weight than a man without a spotter should have been.

'It was all Phin's.'

He still wasn't looking at her. 'Your brother. The one with PTSD that left home.'

'Yes. My twin. When he cleared out, he didn't take anything with him. All this stuff was the contents of his apartment. It was either bring it here or have the landlord haul it to the dumpster. I keep hoping Phin will come home and reclaim it.'

Marcus leaned his forehead against the bag. 'I hope for your sake he does. For his sake too.'

Scarlett needed him ready to roll, physically and emotionally, but she knew that right now, that wasn't a possibility. 'I'm sorry,' she said quietly. 'This is my fault. You weren't ready to answer my questions about that stupid gun and I forced you. I'm sorry, Marcus.'

He shook his head, his forehead a pivot point against the bag. 'No, it's not your fault. It's mine. You had every right to ask. I just didn't know how to tell you.'

'But you did. You were a terrified child and it was your talisman.' She winced. 'I hope it wasn't loaded when you put it under your pillow.'

He pushed off the bag to lean against the wall, sinking to sit on the floor, elbows on his bent knees. Just as he'd done yesterday when he'd talked Stone down from whatever episode his brother had had. And just like yesterday, she joined him there, sliding down the wall to sit beside him. She tucked her knees under the full skirt of the sundress.

'You're pretty in that dress,' he whispered.

'Thank you.' She didn't tell him why she'd dressed this way. Not yet. 'Talk to me, Marcus. Please. I want to help you.'

'To fix me, like all those broken chairs upstairs, or rescue me like your mutt? He's a nice dog, by the way. He likes salami.'

Her lips curved. 'It gives him gas. I'll let him sleep on your side of the bed tonight.'

He huffed a weary chuckle, then bowed his head. 'God, I'm fucked up.'

'Then let me help un-fuck you,' she said, and he laughed, but it sounded forced. Feeling helpless, she stroked his arm and he pulled away.

'I'm sweaty. Your dress is too pretty to be messed up.'

'I have others, and I don't mind sweat.' Tentatively she stroked him again, shoulder all the way down his arm to his glove. She tugged at the Velcro strap and pulled it off, then repeated it with the other. 'Let me see your hands.' She held them to the light. 'Oh Marcus, your knuckles are already starting to swell. Stay here and don't hit anything else.'

She slipped into the basement's utility room and sent a quick text to her uncle saying they'd hit a snag and would be at least an hour later than she'd expected, then lifted the lid of the big chest freezer that had come with the house and rearranged the microwave meals and bags of frozen veggies until she found a couple of gel packs. Her phone buzzed as she closed the freezer lid, a text from her uncle telling her not to worry, that the women had fallen asleep and that he'd watch over them.

Secure in Trace's word, she returned to sit in front of Marcus, putting the ice packs on his knuckles and watching him wince. He said nothing for several minutes, so neither did she. Finally she took the ice packs off and kissed his knuckles, one at a time, and felt him shudder.

'Marcus, I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong.'

'You can't help me.'

The finality of his statement made her heart ache. 'Then let me hurt with you.'

He lifted his head, unshed tears in his eyes. 'I won't do that to you.'

She got on her knees and took his face in her hands. 'I won't give up.' She kissed him softly. 'I can't give up. I don't know how. My mother always said I was intractable. All those cop genes. But I can wait until you're ready to tell me.'

He pulled free of her touch, but gently, bowing his head again, his hands hanging limply between his knees. 'The kidnapping was an inside job,' he said, startling her.

'That's what the newspapers said, that one of the kidnappers was thought to be part of a handyman crew working in your apartment.'

'My father hired them.'

Her gut did a queasy roll at the tone of his voice, remembering how bitter he'd been when he talked about his father. Which was the start of the emotional distance that led up to this. This was not going to be good. 'Hired them how?'

'He hired them to kidnap us. For the ransom.'

'Your father wanted the ransom?' She frowned, confused. 'But it was his money.'

'No. It was Mom's money. One hundred percent Yarborough money. My biological father was a gold-digger who lived the high life and had a gambling problem. My mother had bailed him out too many times and they fought about his spending when it got out of hand. I was a quiet kid. A listener. I knew what was going on. I hated him.'

'Did your mother cut him off?'

'Not totally. She finally put him on an allowance and got angry. He hit her.'

'Oh, Marcus, I'm sorry.'

'I wanted to kill him, but he was the size I am now and I was scrawny.'

'You were eight.'

'And so angry. He begged her to forgive him and bought her an expensive bracelet with her money as an apology. I wanted her to make him leave, but she forgave him. Turned out it wasn't the first time. He'd run up gambling debts in the past.'

'So he figured he'd stage a kidnapping, get the ransom and pay off his debts.'

He nodded once. 'She didn't know. Doesn't know. Please don't tell her.'

She took his hand, kissed it again. She needed answers, but he needed reassurance even more. 'I won't. I wish I could say I can't imagine a father risking his sons for money, but I can. I've seen it too many times.'

His strong shoulders sagged. 'All those things you can't unsee,' he said. 'And now I just added one more.'

She considered her words carefully. 'If I told you that I'm not visualizing a frightened young boy betrayed by his father, afraid to sleep at night, I'd be lying. If I told you that the image doesn't break my heart, I'd be lying even more. If that hurts your pride, then I'm sorry. But you're mine now, and I will hurt for you if I want to.'

Slowly his head lifted, his eyes intense. Hungry again. 'Say that again,' he whispered.

She didn't pretend to misunderstand. This was too important. 'You're mine, Marcus.'

His eyes slid closed, his swallow audible, his throat working as he fought to contain his emotion. 'God.'

Hoarsely uttered, she couldn't tell if it was plea or prayer. Maybe a little bit of both, she thought, her eyes stinging. Still on her knees, she crawled to his side and drew him into her arms. He turned his head, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist. She held him as the minutes ticked by, rocking him gently, letting him restore his composure.

Finally he drew a deep breath, lifted his head and ran one hand up her back, pulling her down for a hot kiss that left her reeling. 'You're mine, Detective. You have been since that first day I saw you.'

When he'd been shot protecting a woman he'd never even met. She smiled at him. 'I know. But it's nice to hear, isn't it?'

His lips curved, just a little. 'Hell, yeah.' Effortlessly he scooped her into his arms, setting her on his lap, gently pressing her cheek into his chest when she tried to look at him. 'I have something to tell you. It'll be easier if you're not looking at me while I do it.'

She braced herself. Not gonna be good, she thought. 'Okay. I'm ready when you are.'

Twenty-eight.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 6.25 A.M.

'I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to tell anyone, but I need you to know.' He grew still, his only movement the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed. 'You didn't ask me how I knew my father had hired the kidnappers.'

'I wanted to, but I figured you'd tell me when you were ready.'

His arms tightened around her. 'Why am I so lucky?' he murmured, then sighed. 'Mom sent a car to drop us off and pick us up from school every day. Stone and I were taken when our driver was overpowered. He was found a few hours later, wandering the streets in Lexington, drugged and confused. By then, Matty had been taken too.'

'From his bed.'

'Yes. They took us to a warehouse by the river, but we didn't know that. They locked us in an old beef freezer that was no longer used. It smelled bad, but it wasn't cold. Stone and Matty were so scared. I tried to be brave, but I was terrified too. I knew we were rich. I knew my mother worried that something like this might happen one day.' He was quiet for a moment, rubbing a lock of her tangled hair between his thumb and forefinger. 'We weren't tied up at first. I guess they figured three little boys couldn't cause them any trouble.'

'I guess they didn't know the O'Bannion boys,' she said, and he huffed a small laugh.

'The day Jeremy O'Bannion adopted us and gave us his name was the best day of my life, up until that point. I couldn't stand introducing myself as Marcus Gargano. Gargano was his name and I hated him.' He'd grown stiff, but he drew a few breaths, his hold on her relaxing. 'The freezer had a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, but the light switch was on the outside wall so we couldn't turn it on.'

'You were trapped, alone in the dark,' she murmured. His littlest brother had died in the dark. Like Tala. 'Oh, Marcus.'

Another audible swallow. 'Yeah.' His voice broke and he cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry. I haven't talked about this in twenty-seven years.'

'Your mother didn't get you counseling?' she asked, appalled.

'Sure, but . . . I didn't tell the counselors anything. I couldn't. I wouldn't. I didn't want my mother to know what I'd done and I didn't trust the counselors not to tell her.'

Didn't want his mother to know? Hell. 'What did you do?' she asked gently.

'I climbed on a box and unscrewed the light bulb so that they wouldn't have any light when they came in to check on us, then I used a paperclip in my pocket to loosen some of the screws on the metal shelving unit against the wall. I used one of the rods as a club and hit one of the kidnappers with it.'

She jerked in surprise, even as the knowledge registered that he was not answering her question. But this was his story and she'd let him tell it. 'Wow. You were very resourceful.'

'I watched way too much television. It was foolish, actually. I was only eight years old, and even though I hit him with all my might, it didn't hurt him. It just made him mad. He wanted to kill me, but the other kidnapper calmed him down. The two of them brought in a chair and tied me to it, then turned me so that I couldn't see my brothers. They tied Stone and Matty too. Didn't blindfold or gag us.' He shook his head. 'It was winter and we all had colds. The calm one was afraid we'd suffocate if they covered our mouths with duct tape. I couldn't get to my brothers, but I could hear them crying.' He shuddered out a breath. 'Stone kept asking me to make the men go away, saying he just wanted to go home. I kept promising him it would be all right.'

She remembered Stone's near meltdown in Marcus's office the day before. 'He said that yesterday. Said to make me go away. You promised him it would be all right.'

Another shuddering exhale. 'Certain things set him off. One of the kidnappers was the security guard for the warehouse. Told Stone he was a cop and would shoot him if he cried. For a long time he couldn't look at anyone in uniform without unraveling, but he got past that eventually. Jeremy helped a lot. He's a calm man and helped us calm down too.'

'But Stone was in the Army. He wore a uniform.'

'That was a personal challenge to himself. The ultimate "fuck you, world, I'm over that shit". He wore a uniform, served with uniforms, took commands. He served his time and got out. His issue with cops, though . . . It's still there. If he feels threatened by a cop . . .'

'I don't wear a uniform.'

'Doesn't matter. I've always thought that for him to get over his fear of uniforms, he had to transfer it somewhere, so it's generalized to all cops.'

'But . . . He didn't trust me when I met him nine months ago, but he didn't melt down.'

'Not while you were there. He melted down later.'

'That's why you were so fierce that day in the hospital, when I criticized him for lying to us. You told me that when I'd walked a mile in his shoes, then I could judge him. I didn't understand.'

He kissed her temple. 'Of course you didn't. How could you have? I wasn't going to tell you, because it's Stone's secret. But it's mine too.'

She petted his chest, soothing him. 'I won't let him know that I know. I think we've achieved a truce and I don't want to ruin it. Or hurt him any more.'

A shrug of his muscled shoulders. 'Thank you. At this point he doesn't think you're Satan.' His huffed chuckle was sad. 'You made some kind of impression. A good one, I think. It's hard to tell with Stone sometimes.' He straightened his spine against the wall, jostling her a little in his lap, but his arms kept her close.

'There are other things I can't tell you. Things . . . they did to him.' His voice was stark, filled with pain. 'They knew I was listening. Saw how hard I fought to get loose so I could make them stop. I . . .' His chest heaved once. 'That was . . . Oh God. I still hear his voice, crying for me to help him. They didn't touch me. I wish they had. I begged them to, to leave Stone and Matty alone. They just laughed and said I'd get my turn.'

Scarlett was trembling with anger, her fists clenching helplessly. She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything, knowing her fury would spill out into her words.

Marcus stroked her hair. 'More things you can't unsee,' he murmured.

'I hope they're dead.' Because if they weren't, she'd find them and kill them.

'They are very dead.'

The darkly satisfied way he said it made her pull away to try to see his face, but he held her tighter. 'Not yet,' he said harshly. 'Don't look at me yet.'