He looked lost, as if his thoughts were disorganized, muddled, and fighting to gain exit. Questions with no time left for answers ...

"Does he love you? Just as you are." His expression was now serious.

The out-of-sequence question gave her pause. "You mean Tucker?" Her father nodded. Even given these harsh circumstances, a warm smile lit her face just from the thought of him. "Yes, Father. He loves me just as I am."

For the second time in as many minutes, his lips turned up at the corners. "Don't settle for anything less, Katie."

A soft chuckle bubbled up. "Everybody knows I don't settle."

The melancholy returned to his face, dragged it down in its gray grip. "I wish I'd known you." She gasped at the regret thick in his voice and worked hard to keep a lid on her own.

His hand dropped to her shoulder and squeezed it as his face shaded with anxiety. "You'll need to be careful. I'm going to help you do that." His curled finger motioned her forward.

His lips at her ear, he whispered answers wrapped in more riddles, jumbled strings of words he promised she'd understand later. He begged her forgiveness, brushed his cold lips to her cheek, and apologized for the difficult road ahead.

And then he whispered ... "Goodbye."

Henry James's funeral had been a grand spectacle. A pretentious display of pomp and circumstance. Flourishes and finery only Sarah James could have envisioned and implemented with such flare, such cold precision. It had felt like a charade to Kat, a joke without a punch line. Somber photo ops for the media, a lavish dinner at the Ritz, an endless parade of condolences and subdued well wishes. Henry James's life had streamed across the stage in high-definition, while eloquent speakers had memorialized a tycoon, not her father. Not the man she'd glimpsed in those final hours before the light had extinguished, before the lid had closed. The final moments that would now forever haunt her with what might have been, with the father she'd wished she'd known. In the end, all the fuss, all the blather, had amounted to the relentless scratch of white noise, an unworthy distraction from the empty seat at the table.

The elite of New York and elsewhere had gathered to rub shoulders and pay their respects, to shake hands with the heirs apparent, the brothers who would lead the conglomerate their father, and his father before him, had built.

Or so they had all presumed.

Instead, Henry James shattered the status quo and accomplished in death what he'd failed to achieve in life. He yanked back the reins and revoked privileges. He aggravated discord and deepened hostilities. He upended the charted course and exposed the fallibility of the James family, all with his final act.

The recitation of the Last Will and Testament of Henry James launched chaos.

The disbelief buzzing in Kat's ears receded, only to be flooded with the irate protests of her family who now crowded around her like hungry vultures in her father's study. After the reading of Henry James's will, Lawrence Sapperstein presented copies to each of the heirs before making his hasty exit-probably to prepare for the will contests his firm expected from her mother and brothers.

Tucker's raised voice pulled her to the present and she rose to stand beside him.

"How long have you two really known each other?" Charlie asked Tucker, accusation sharp in his voice.

Before Tucker could respond, Kat did. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She stepped closer to Charlie. He raised his hand, finger ready to make a point but then he changed his mind, shoving his fist into his trouser pocket. "Good call, Charlie," Kat said.

Charlie's chin jutted toward Tucker. "Did you use his playbook to run your scam with our father? Because this sounds awfully familiar to me." Heads bobbed in agreement around the family spokesman.

Kat gripped Tucker's forearm to stop his forward advance. "I spent the least amount of time with Father than anyone in this room." Her eyes skipped around the angry mob. "The longest conversation I ever had with him was at his bedside."

"Yes. How convenient," Parker said, sliding closer.

"Convenient? We all have copies of his will. Look at the damn date! He made these decisions a long time ago. I had nothing to do with any of this."

"That remains to be seen," Parker said, his tone cool, jaw ticking.

She threw her hands up. "You cannot be serious. You really think this is what I wanted? You all know better than that. I never wanted to work at JAMESCO, let alone run it."

"Really?" Charlie asked with skepticism.

"Yes, really!"

"Then prove it. Disclaim your interest," Parker said, daring her.

She looked around for Kyle. She needed his support. He stood off at the back away from the others, his face a mixture of confusion and distrust. Her stomach churned. She shook her head, pleaded with her eyes, but he grabbed his suit jacket and bolted out the door.

Kat drew a deep, disappointed breath, and then refocused. She scanned the angry bunch and then surprised them with her mirthless laughter. Tucker gave her shoulder a squeeze of reassurance.

Kat glanced to Sarah. "You have anything to say, Mother? You're unusually quiet today."

Sarah squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "It's obvious to me that my husband could not have been of sound mind to have made the poor judgments we've all been witness to here today. Your own declarations support my case, Kathryn. He clearly fell victim to some sort of mental deterioration, or manipulation. Perhaps both." Sarah's eyes bore into Kat's.

"He fell victim to his own conscience, Mother. Too bad he didn't have the guts to deal with it himself while he was alive." Kat's eyes darted between Charlie and Parker. "You're the reason he did this, not me." The huffs of indignation ricocheted around the room. She held up her copy of the will. "Consider this a report card from the grave. You both failed, miserably. And I know from my own research that Nebraska is only the tip of the iceberg." Her eyes flitted to Parker. "I can only imagine what I'm going to uncover when I have access to company files. Or you could just come clean, Parker."

"You need to leave," Charlie said, bitterness ratcheting in his voice.

"No. I have every right to be here." She flapped the papers in her hand. "And I think Father would want me to be."

"This is outrageous. I won't listen to any more of your slander," Parker said, guiding his wife away from the scene and holding his hand out to Sarah. "Mother, come along, I'll take you to the terrace. You need to distance yourself from this drivel. Her behavior is utterly disgraceful in your time of mourning." He herded the two women out and launched a hateful look over his shoulder at Kat. "Any discussions about this matter will be handled by our lawyers from this point forward."

"You won't hide for long, Parker. That's a promise," she yelled as he disappeared around the corner.

"Rest assured this will not stand," Charlie said, slapping the legal documents against his palm. "I'd better not see you at headquarters."

"You don't have the authority to keep me out. Not anymore."

He held his tongue and rolled up the will, pointing it at her from a safe distance as he and Cecily walked out. "This is far from over, Kat."

Kat waved, fake smile in place. "You have a good day, Charlie. I'll catch you at the office. We can do lunch." He grunted at her in response.

Tucker's arms circled around her, pulled her close, her back to his front. "You okay?"

She snorted. "I have a feeling this is going to seem like a good day compared to what's coming."

She looked around her father's study and the three walls divided with shelves and loaded with books. She started at one corner, counted in her head across and then down. Her eyes landed on the location Henry James had described.

Kat freed herself from Tucker's embrace. "I need to grab something before we leave."

The days following the imbroglio after the reading of Henry James's will had been brutal. The media loved a good scandal, even where one didn't really exist. And through it all, Tucker had remained at Kat's side, had provided counsel, a strong shoulder, and a steady arm to guide her through the crush of cameras, the flurry of questions, and the sting of accusations. Tucker Williams had done what no one else ever had. He'd made Kat believe in someone other than herself; he'd made her trust someone other than herself.

For that feat, and for so much more, she had thanked the stars above each and every night as she'd watched him sleep while in the grips of her own insomnia. The caress of his warm breath on her skin, the tug of his arm pulling her closer in the dark, and the steady beat of his heart coaxed her to join him in peace, away from the madness, night after night.

But this she had to do alone. She didn't know what she'd find when she went inside. She just knew, for now, she needed to keep it to herself. Above all else, she needed to be careful. And she'd taken precautions on the journey to Queens to shake off anyone who might be interested in her whereabouts. Over the past few weeks, she'd become accustomed to entering buildings through the front and exiting out the back, then walking a few blocks in a sea of people to hail a different taxi or take the subway.

She snorted in disdain. There had to be countless more important things to report in the papers than the feuding within the James family. It was a ridiculous waste of newsprint and cyberspace. Of course, when people within the family hand-fed gossip and specious stories to the media, or had them planted by others, it served to fan the flames.

She inserted the key she'd recovered from the book in her father's study and then tripped the lever to operate the motor-driven door. She glanced up and down the hallway, her eyes stumbling across the worn, slime-green paint, not at all enhanced by the fluorescent tubes flickering above. She smirked at the surveillance camera tucked in the corner of the quadrant where her father's storage unit resided on the map the manager had provided.

The withered banner she'd seen draped across the rundown building had advertised climate-controlled units. Kat doubted the claim. The indoor temperature felt downright tropical. She swiped away the perspiration above her lip and closed her eyes, allowing the complaining roll-up door the extra time it needed to complete its task.

For a brief moment in the humid corridor she questioned her decision to leave Tucker behind, but then she renewed her conviction. He needed space to concentrate on his own problems. She knew he would spend most of the day on calls and video conferences-issues with a mine inspection, the IRS opening an investigation into Diamond Industries, and Hank suffering a mild stroke. Claire had assured them Hank would be fine, that he'd be as good as new in no time. Tucker seemed to have taken the avalanche of bad news, his and hers, in stride.

The door finally grumbled to a halt, and Kat reached in to flip on the light. Two fluorescents buzzed to life overhead. Her eyes agreed with her wrinkled-up nose when she spotted cardboard boxes with telltale signs of water damage. Her father's unfinished transfer from cardboard to plastic storage containers was evident in the cluttered space.

Then she saw the small table and chair. A leather-bound journal sat on top with an envelope as he'd said it would be. She stepped closer and saw Katie scrawled in his choppy hand across the white rectangle. Her lungs locked, her heart ticked up a beat, and a bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. She stepped closer, reached for the envelope, and ignored the shake in her hand. She released the breath she'd been holding and traced the sharp strokes of her name with a nervous finger. Her face was marked with trepidation, and resolve, even as her stomach tilted in warning.

Things were about to get worse.

Tucker grabbed another bottle of beer and slammed the refrigerator shut. The shake, rattle, and roll from inside caused him to stop, take a deep breath, and release the tension on the count of ten. Then his boot stomped down on the foot lever of the trash can before he thumbed the cap off on top of the waste inside. He stalked to a window, pulled back the sheer curtain, and scanned the area. He took a long pull of the ice-cold brew. Nothing but buildings and people as far as the eye could see. He let the curtain fall back into place and then dropped down in the nearby club chair with an irritated sigh. He took another swig from the bottle and rubbed at the lines etched across his forehead.

The shit had hit the fan from all sides. His name had popped up in more news stories this week about Kat and her family, insinuating his past had somehow tainted Kat. Had he helped her swindle her family? Helped her coerce her father into leaving her with controlling interest in JAMESCO and a disproportionate share of his estate? Certainly sounded familiar, didn't it? The press harped on the similarities, the coincidences. Would Tucker then turn around and scam Kat in order to rid himself of his own problems back home? He dragged his hand down his troubled face, tried to shake off the tabloid dirt. Nobody seemed to like the truth anymore, because speculation, rumors, and lies sold more papers, more online subscriptions.

His eyes skipped around the room and landed on a picture of him and Kat, cheeks pressed together, smiles wide. The selfie they'd taken in the stands at a Yankees game, a lifetime ago it now seemed. His lids dropped. The accusations her family had made after the will reading had conveniently leaked their way into the papers. No surprise there. But hearing it in private and seeing it in print were two different things. Tucker had been down this road many times, and knowing the truth from the lies didn't make the situation any easier to handle. But Kat had told him to let it go. She knew her family wanted to pressure her with the hype of a scandal so she'd throw in the towel and disclaim her interest in JAMESCO and anything else they deemed went beyond her fair share. He'd lost count of how many times she said, "They can all just kiss my ass."

He slid down in the chair, spun the almost empty bottle on his knee, and watched the golden liquid swirl and slosh around the bottom. Kat's family weren't the only ones causing problems. He'd had one principal enemy for thirty years now. A devoted adversary, a prick of the highest order who stirred the pot every chance he got, just like now. Tucker's jaw clenched tight.

His whole life had amounted to one shitstorm after another, and he'd always hunkered down, had ridden through them all. He'd no more than get out of one and he'd feel the surge of the next storm brewing over the horizon. All he'd ever had to look forward to were the clear skies in between those turbulent times.

Until Kat James had stepped into his path on that rainy day. The day he'd dared to think the worst had been put to rest, had felt for the first time a long-overdue dry spell had finally headed his way. He chuckled out loud at the absurdity and then he was pissed. His face darkened. He should've known better.

He glanced up at the wall clock. He thought Kat would've been home by now. He pulled out his phone to call her but decided to make another call first. Get it out of the way.

His lip jerked up in loathing as he waited for the call to connect.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Mr. Headline News himself."

Tucker flinched. "Havin' fun, Cam?" His ice-cold stare burned straight ahead.

"Oh, now, you know how much I enjoy current events. Especially when they're at your expense." He sniggered and Tucker heard the draw of a cigarette.

"I was just thinkin' about you, Cam, and all the fun we've had over the years."

The gravel of a smoker's laugh spilled across the airwaves. "Yes, we certainly have, haven't we?" Another deep draw. "I'd say fuckin' Molly Lancaster was one of my all-time favorites. That was a real win-win. The look on your face was priceless." He chuckled. "Etched in my memory, and worth all the dental work after." Tucker's jaw ticked. "You were all soft on that girl, weren't you?"

Tucker's fingers pounded an angry beat on the armrest. "Aw, Cam, what did I really know back then? I can see it for what it was now. You takin' out the trash, that's all. You were just doin' me a favor. That's what brothers are for, right?" Cameron snorted. "Can't tell ya how much I appreciate that, and how happy I am you're the one payin' child support. Even though you tried your best to pin it on me." Cameron muttered a string of unintelligible words. "And who would know the smell of trash better than you? That's where you waste all your time diggin' around lookin' for any little bit of anything. And when you can't find anything? Well, you just make shit up." Tucker sighed in exasperation, squeezed at his forehead. "It's time to return the favor, brother. I should have a long time ago."

"Is that some kind of weak-ass threat, Williams?"

Tucker filled the room with humorless laughter. "Pressed record as soon as you saw who was callin', right?"

His tormentor spat in disgust. "Hardly matters. You're gonna be up to your eyeballs in shit so fast you won't know which end is up. I just hope this time you choke on it."

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet. I always end up on top. You should know that better than anyone, with my boot print branded on your ass!"

"Fuck you, Williams! You're gonna have inspectors and Feds so far up your ass, you'll wish your junkie whore of a mother had never sold you!"

Tucker's lungs stopped midbreath. His grip on the cell tightened to the breaking point, his focus pinpointing all his fury like a laser. He should've left the son of a bitch to die all those years ago. He released his bottled rage in a slow exhale, followed by a measured inhale that always managed to pull some of the expelled rancor back inside.

"Get your house in order, Cam. Your time's almost up." The icy chill in his tone cut with clean precision. He ended the call with a jab to the screen, shutting down the incoherent bluster on the other end.

Then he waited like a statue. Waited for the buzz in his ears to stop, the tightness in his chest to abate, the relentless pound of his pulse to slow. His eyes flicked back to the photo of him and Kat. Happier times, better days. He felt the razor-sharp edges soften, the bite of words and the sting of memories dissolve into the shadows. He could do this. He could reel it in-for her. For the future he wanted, and the woman he wanted to spend it with.

Kat's eyes darted around the concrete space, strewn papers, old photos, and medical records scattered about. She looked down at the coroner's report now quivering in her hand. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. A bead of sweat streamed down her face. Or was it a tear? She dropped the papers and swiped under her eyes.

As she towered in judgment above her family's secrets, she eyed her father's journal. His words were a jumbled mess fighting for equal time in her brain. However, one sentence screamed louder than all the others right now: She loved you more than anything. Kat gulped in air as if she were drowning, suffocating under the weight of emotions, images, and betrayals. She needed to focus. She needed to be in control.

She closed her eyes and pictured Tucker, her business, her goals. Everything she'd worked hard for, everything that mattered. As her erratic breathing calmed, her lashes lifted with a flutter. A bored voice echoed over the PA system, announcing the facility's closure in a half hour. Kat surveyed the mess she'd made as she'd unearthed one lie after another in this muggy tomb.

She pushed off the wall and in stiff movements dumped cardboard contents into empty plastic containers. She made quick work of collecting all the loose papers and returned the small humid area back to some semblance of organization. She hated leaving any of it here, but had been told by her father in their final conversation, and again in his letter, it would keep her safe. He wanted her to be safe, to be smart.

Those words, spoken and written, clamored in her head, although she already knew her idea of how to stay safe wasn't exactly the same as his. Unlike her father, she had no qualms about bringing the James family to their knees. She'd relish dragging them through the mud, kicking and screaming all the way.

She desperately needed to right her world, now hanging precariously on the edge, the truth now having colored everything in its cold, unforgiving brushstrokes, including a swipe across her heart.

Kat watched the door grind closed on what seemed like someone else's life. Couldn't be hers. Could it? A part of her wanted to hold on to the life she'd known before today. That part of her wanted to wake up tomorrow still perplexed by her mother's aloofness and Parker's animosity.

Her life had bisected without warning. And from this point on, there would only be her life before stepping into this storage room, and her life after.

She yanked the taxi door shut as the first fat raindrops pelted the window. The driver merged into traffic, headed to the Queens Plaza Station while Kat swiped and scrolled through her phone. Tucker had left voice and text messages, but the reception had been nonexistent inside the hive of concrete walls. Just as well. She didn't know what to say, what not to say. She needed time to think, alone. She fired off a text so he wouldn't worry. Told him not to wait up, it would be late before she got back, and then switched her phone to airplane mode.

Heavy traffic and rain-slicked streets made for a slow trek to the subway terminal, but Kat used the time to reboot her brain. Get back online somehow. But no combination of keystrokes seemed able to reset the endless loop running in her brain.

After riding the line with its stinging stench and rocking locomotion, she'd hailed another cab and now found herself outside the plaza where J&P Enterprise occupied space high above. Kat shielded her eyes from the sun as it slid free from the clouds above, the humidity clinging to her skin in the early summer evening.

She entered the building and rode the elevator to her floor, staring at her reflection in the shiny doors, scrutinizing the stranger's face glaring back at her. The doors slid open to a gush of refreshing, cooler air. Distraction and confusion stretched tight across her face, she entered J&P, keyed in the security code around the corner, and headed for her office. She dropped her bag on the bureau behind her desk and plopped down in her chair. Her eyes roamed the stacks of files and papers littering her desktop. The blinking message light on her direct line drew her attention along with the paper messages piled next to her phone. She'd neglected work since her father died-and left her with a target on her back. Lawyers had counseled her on her rights regarding Henry James's will, and she would bring the hammer down on her brothers. But she hadn't yet. There'd been too much to process, not to mention the unexpected void she still felt from missing a man she hadn't even known that well. A man who had become even more of a stranger after the revelations in the storage room today.

She swiped away unruly hair from her eyes and slipped the strands behind her ears. How could she ever manage to keep up with her own business and clean up her family's mess at the same time? She shook off the doubts and plowed with single-minded determination through the paperwork. She returned emails and rearranged her work calendar, blocking off sections of time and days she would need to spend at JAMESCO. Delegation would be the key at J&P. And she had a bright staff who could handle the additional responsibilities.

She already knew Parker and Charlie would do everything in their power to make her time at JAMESCO as difficult as possible. They would do anything to distract her, to cause her failure at both companies. But they didn't know she was counting on their conceit to help her pull the rug out from under them. And Kyle? Well, he'd ignored her after the fiasco at the reading of their father's will. And he was conveniently out of town, again.

Kat swiveled in her seat, dug her cell out of her bag, and circled back to flop her feet on top of her desk. She reclined, scrolling through her contacts. She landed on a handsome face, a number she'd promised herself she'd never call again: Dan Walsh. Christ, he was going to love winning their bet.

She contemplated hiring him to investigate JAMESCO back when she was still in Montana. But that was before her father's death pushed her down a different track, toward the secrets and lies in the storage unit ... Now she needed Dan more than ever. He'd been a police officer turned private investigator, had made quite a name for himself back in the day. Now he ran a highly successful security firm with upscale clientele and a pricey menu of services and high-end monitoring systems. He'd always wanted to be a business owner, call the shots, and he'd made his dream come true. Dan Walsh was a man who knew how to get things done.

After the fourth ring he answered.

"Kat! How the hell are you?"

He was joking, right? He'd sent a sympathy card and flowers. She'd noticed him squeezed in at the back of the church; they'd even made eye contact before he'd ducked out.

"How the hell do you think I am, Dan? My father not only died but he left me with a stinking pile of shit to clean up."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about your father. I know it's tough. And," he cleared his throat, "you are a tabloid darling right now. Kind of hard to miss."