"Fair enough." Tucker stood aside.

Dan shot him a perturbed look, shook his head, then knocked hard on the door several times before announcing himself. "Mr. James. I'm from the hotel VIP services. I have a delivery that requires your signature." Dan faked his best lackey smile at the peephole. The sound of shuffling feet and the rattle of a smoker's cough could be heard from behind the door.

"Who's it from?" the voice grumbled in irritation.

Dan looked down at his empty hands. "It doesn't say, sir. I was just told that it requires a signature, and that someone will be back shortly to verify its receipt by you."

Fingers thumped in apparent impatience on the other side of the door.

"Slide it under the door."

"Um, I'm sorry, sir, it's too thick for that." Dan's tone was hesitant, apologetic. He continued to stare into the peephole with the same cheesy smile.

"Let me see it."

Tucker stiffened, readied himself to take over. Then approval curved the corners of his mouth as Dan pulled out a bulky envelope from his suit coat, ready for anything. He held it up to the glass eye in the door.

Mumbled words and more coughs echoed behind the door as the barriers to entry were unlatched and finally opened.

Tucker pushed in front of Dan to tower above Cameron. "Well, look who's in town. Miss me, Cam?" He shoved the dumbstruck man back into the suite and into the open lounge area with its spectacular view of the city. "Look at you in this fancy hotel, thinkin' you're holdin' all the cards." Tucker scanned the room. He kept Cameron cornered while Dan nosed around and snooped in drawers.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Why do you need so many cell phones?" Dan held them up in his hands. "They look like burners to me." Dan picked one, turned it on, and scrolled through the history. "You have business with someone here who doesn't want to be traced back to you?" His keen focus remained glued on the lit screen as he put one phone down and picked up another, then repeated his search. "Someone in the James family, perhaps?" His sharp stare flicked to Cameron.

Tucker glared at his resentful brother. "You holdin' onto those phones as leverage against Parker James?" The two men held each other's scowls. "You might be smarter than I gave you credit for."

"No. You were right. He's an idiot." Dan shook his head in disbelief and snorted. He looked at Cameron in astonishment. "You've called his home? And his personal cell?" Dan sniggered. "Christ, he could not have been happy about those fuck-ups. Not to mention the times you addressed him by name in some of your texts." Dan dragged a hand down his face, rocking his head in doubt. "Well, Diamond, you just made my job a whole lot easier. Thank you."

Tucker angled closer to his captive audience of one. "By the way, we're just the welcoming crew. The rest of the gang's on their way." Cameron's face scrunched in question. "The chickens have come home to roost, Cam. You've fallen out of favor back home. People have finally stopped lookin' the other way. They especially don't like it when a grown man gets a fourteen-year-old girl pregnant." Beads of sweat broke out on the accused's upper lip. "As you might imagine, her folks are none too happy, and they've pressed charges. Of course, I was more than happy to tell the authorities where they could find you. After all, I've done it before. It's the only reason you're even wastin' space right now."

"What the hell are you talking about, Williams?"

Tucker recalled the past before he answered, remembering the scene from years ago. Coming up on the wreck. Smelling the fuel. Almost turning to leave ...

He pulled back to the present, focused his judgment on Cameron.

"I'm the Good Samaritan who pulled you outta your car. Left you alongside the road, so you didn't burn up. Even called 911." Tucker's jaw ticked in agitation. "You have no idea how close I came to drivin' away that night, when I saw it was you hangin' upside down in that heap of metal.

"You had more liquor in your system than blood that night, I could smell it on you. Talk around town at the time said it was probably the only reason you survived the crash." Tucker snorted. "Well, and me, of course."

"You're the one who left me for dead along the road?"

"If only I'd been so lucky," Tucker said, his words strained through clenched teeth.

"Then why didn't you leave me in the car?" Cameron taunted.

"Because you're not worth one second of my conscience."

The vibration of a phone broke the tension. Dan picked it up, read the text as his own ringtone blared inside his jacket. The concern on Dan's face caused Tucker's chest to tighten with worry.

"Yeah, Jeremy, what's going on?" Dan turned his back to the room, then his shoulders slumped. Tucker couldn't make out the mumbled words, some of them harsh. Walsh ended the call, tossed the throwaway to Tucker, and returned his own phone to the pocket inside his jacket.

Tucker read the text. The words turned his blood cold.

Dan stepped closer, leaned in for Tucker's ears only. "She's missing. My guy lost her."

The words blared in his head.

A low snicker mocked them from one corner of the room.

"What's the matter, Williams? Things not goin' your way now?" Cameron's head cocked to one side. "I guess you can't have everything after all."

In a flash, Tucker's fist knocked the smug look off his brother's face. Then he grabbed the crumpled man by the collar, pulled him up, and slammed him against the wall. "Tell me everything! Now! Where is she?"

Cameron bucked and cursed to no avail. "I'm not telling you shit!"

With the crisp click and lock of metal, the shiny steel pressed hard against Cameron's cheek.

"You're going to tell us everything." Dan's words were spoken with a cool, dead calm.

"You'd better listen to him, Cam. He's havin' a bad day." A lifetime of bitterness and contempt rolled off Tucker's tongue. "And whatever happens here in the next few minutes, I'm backin' him all the way," Tucker's eyes flicked to the barrel digging into flesh, "with a clear conscience."

Kyle's text seemed off, stilted, not his usual flow. With no voice to gauge, no body language to read, it somehow felt ... wrong. But at the time, she'd convinced herself with their relationship in the toilet, what else could she expect? And nothing in this world could keep her from doing whatever Kyle needed, to heal the sting of her words. Nasty words that still tasted sour on her lips, and hurt her heart ...

She'd been thrilled-no, relieved-to hear from her brother. The fact that the text itself hadn't sounded like him had been pushed away in her mind, overshadowed by her urgency to gain his trust again-his love.

After the exchange of messages with Kyle, she'd left her office at J&P without word to anyone. No call or text to Tucker about her change of plans, or where she'd be. At the time, she'd figured he deserved an information blackout after the ridiculously vague note he'd left behind for her. Now she kicked herself for having more pride than sense, for not having heard his voice, one last time ... Because as she stared at her brother, who held a gun and a killer's smile, all the pieces finally snapped into place.

Everything in her life had led to this moment. She couldn't have stopped any of it.

Tucker was right. Control was an illusion.

A shiver tickled along her spine as the memory of words whispered in that husky voice and slow cadence she'd come to love reminded her of what she could control. The hint of a smile, filled with melancholy and regret, curved her lips. She dragged in a ragged breath at the realization her life had not flashed before her eyes, as she'd always heard recounted by others who found themselves greeted with the Reaper's chilling stare. No. One image flashed in her mind.

One.

And she wanted to see those blue eyes again.

Kat squared her shoulders, prepared to do this her way, whatever the outcome. She swallowed the bile that had inched up her throat and focused her mind on easing the relentless terror twisting into her gut. Then she recalled her father's dying words, and the humid, damp storage unit where she'd read his confessions and the psychiatric reports of the man who now played with her life. The day when her world had become a mess heaped at her feet.

A calm clarity washed over her as a fresh understanding took hold. Yes, her world had changed, but she hadn't. She was still the same girl. The girl who had grown into a strong, confident, independent woman. A woman who, even now, could still control her own actions and reactions, if little else. The world around her could fall apart, but she didn't have to ...

And then a plan took shape, a plan with many risks. But Kat was no stranger to risk. This would simply be the biggest, most dangerous one she'd ever taken.

"Where's Kyle?" Her words were barely above a whisper, but calm. Her stare remained locked on his, not the gun in his hand.

"I should think that would be least of your concerns at the moment." He waved the weapon at her, self-satisfaction creasing the corners of his eyes.

She laughed a little. A quick flash of confusion crossed his face.

"Come on, Parker. We both know that's not your weapon of choice." His black eyes narrowed slightly as he reclined in Kyle's midcentury lounge chair. "I'm sure you have something very different planned for me." The spark of agreement in his eyes churned her stomach. "I want to see Kyle."

"You won't be demanding anything. You will be following orders, for a change."

"Unlikely."

He laughed at her. "It's very likely, if you ever want to see your beloved, bootlicking brother again. Watching you two over the years has been revolting. All of your inside jokes. The way he defends you, has always defended you-"

"You sound jealous, Parker."

He snorted, held the gun aimed at her chest with one hand, and pushed up out of his seat with the other. Kat stood her ground even as her knees threatened to buckle, her heart thundering in her ears.

"Give me your phone." His empty hand, palm up, hovered in front of her.

"Why?"

He reached for her bag, but she instinctively stepped back, angling away the side of her body shouldering the tote. She read his hesitation to act. That alone told her a lot, coupled with the fact he hadn't killed her as soon as she'd arrived at Kyle's loft. She knew he wanted to use her phone to lure Tucker here, just as he'd used Kyle's to trap her. Whatever his plan, he clearly wanted to stay on course. Not get his hands dirty. Yet.

"Give me your phone. I won't ask again."

She reached into her bag and gripped her phone. She'd never been particularly fond of Kyle's concrete floors, but now, she loved them. She pulled out her phone and smashed the thin device hard against the unforgiving surface. Pieces, big and small, popped and rolled, scattered and bounced underneath furnishings; the battery slid into a darkened corner. She hadn't been prepared for the heavy-handed smack to her face that dropped her on all fours and blurred her vision.

Leveraged on the coffee table, Kat reoriented her balance, cheek throbbing, the taste of iron on her tongue. She steadied herself to meet Parker's furious stare. She dabbed at the warm blood pooled at the corner of her mouth while her eyes roamed the pristine white canvas of his starched business shirt, the narrow silk tie hanging perfectly straight. She swirled and centered the metal flavor in her mouth, then launched the red spray at him. He jumped back in obvious disgust, gawking at the contamination splattered on his custom-tailored shirt. His eyes, filled with loathing, flicked back to her, her sentence easy to read in them.

But he still hadn't used the gun ...

"If you haven't already killed Kyle, you will." The words, hard to think let alone speak, stuck in her throat. She swallowed the knot of emotion. "So I'm not negotiating with you. And you won't use me to bring anyone else here. This is between you and me. And if these are my final hours, then they're happening on my terms, not yours."

Courage propelled her to take a step toward him.

The bewilderment on his face at her bold move empowered her. "I will make this messy. And I will make sure it all points back to you. This will not go according to your plan." She paused. Her jaw ticked, and her lips turned up at one corner. "It will go according to mine."

Her audacity had stunned him into momentary silence as he formulated a new plan. He'd never been one who could adapt quickly to change. In order to function properly, Parker required a predetermined course wherein each and every step followed as expected. He fancied himself a sort of puppet master with a script that must be followed by all involved; Kat had read about it in the doctor's evaluation. When players improvised, he'd short-circuit ... even kill ...

Her best chance at survival was to keep him mentally off balance, constantly rerouting. She needed him to put the gun down. She needed him to want to hurt her with his bare hands. Only then would she have the chance to get close enough to do her damage.

Her eyes darted between his. She could never physically overpower a man, but she could outthink one any day of the week. And that was the muscle she had to flex right now. That, and the intimate knowledge of the precise buttons to push.

"Even if you manage to get rid of everyone standing in your way, Parker, the end for you is right around the corner. I've already seen to it. It's been set in motion." His body stiffened, face hardening further. "And you have our father to thank for that. The father you shamed. The father who always favored me over you."

He aimed the gun at her face. Her stomach flipped and her heart hammered what she thought might be its last beat.

"What are you doing? Do you really think you're going to outmaneuver me? Me? You're not going to talk your way out of this. You've got nothing. He destroyed everything, because it was in his best interest to do so."

She ignored the black barrel leveled at her face and instead reached for the nearby granite bar top. She tried to appear nonchalant, as if she'd had a gun in her face many times before today. But she needed to steady herself, look at something that didn't conjure stark images of toe tags and cold metal tables.

She concentrated on the exotic granite in front of her. The bold colorful piece she'd implored Kyle not to purchase last year; she'd hated it. They'd had an animated argument, and he'd dropped the kitten-bomb more than once in front of the sales rep. They'd laughed and teased that whole day. That's what she remembered most: the laughter; their arms circled around one another as they'd critiqued each and every slab.

The echo of his warm laugh in her ear faded away, replaced with the painful memory of her bitter words to him and the cold emptiness she'd been forsaken to since speaking them. Her eyes closed, as she held back the tears of so many regrets and swallowed the burn of heartache.

"Our father loved the classics. Did you know that?" she said, her voice a rough, wet whisper. She focused forward, away from Parker. Resounding silence filled the airy loft. "I didn't. Not until I read his journal. That's when I understood why he'd hidden a key in the binding of one particular book: Romeo and Juliet."

She pivoted, slowly, to face the madman. "The book was a gift from my mother, when they were much, much younger." Surprise registered on his stony face. "That's right. Rose Kelley wasn't the opportunistic, homewrecking slut your mother told you she was. My mother was the woman our father should have married from the beginning.

"But family duty and society kept them apart; it's a familiar story. Our father regretted his mistake, caving to the pressure and marrying your mother. He regretted not living the life he wanted, with the woman he wanted. My mother was the only woman he loved, and she was the other woman from the beginning. Your mother knew that. She agreed to that arrangement. A condition of marriage our father insisted upon." He stood like a statue, no sign of life except for a hint lurking behind his dark eyes. "Father wrote everything down for me. All of it. I know everything you don't."

Her lips lifted in a quick, sad smile. "She lived above her bakery in Queens instead of in Manhattan, where he wanted to set her up, because she refused to take his money. That's not what she wanted-unlike your mother."

He grunted in obvious distaste. "Oh yes, I'm sure Rose Kelley was quite the saint. Spare me the violins. Whether he was happy is irrelevant. Period. My mother did everything asked of her, and Father thought he could just cast her, and us, aside-for his little baker girl, for you!" He smoothed his hand down his shirt and straightened his tie and shoulders. "He thought he could unilaterally change the rules without thought to the consequences. I showed him the error in his judgment."

She replayed his words in her head.

"Yes, consequences. I'm all for that."

The deliberate thrum of her fingers on the cool stone surface filled the space with looming apprehension. Then her feet followed her line of sight as she wandered to the array of tall windows, forgetting the threat pointed at her back.

"He left me boxes filled with pictures and love letters. Police reports, crime scene photos, a bloodstained knife in a plastic bag ..." Her palms squeezed at each side of her head as she shook the horrific images from her memory. "And I read all about you in Dr. Carr's reports."

Parker's stunned expression reflected in the glass as muted flashes of light sparked in the distance. Black clouds rolled in to blanket the city, rinse it clean.

There would never be enough water to wash away the sins of the fathers in her family.

"Where are these boxes?"

As much as he'd tried to mask his concern, Kat had heard the thread of panic wound tight in his words. She angled away from the approaching storm to face her mother's killer, the man who had irrevocably changed her life without her even knowing it, when she was but an infant and he was only a boy of barely eighteen.

"They're finally where they belong, with the proper authorities. You'll be taken in for questioning any day now." She paused. "Along with Mother Dearest, who is every bit as sick and twisted as you are." She stepped toward him, enjoying the wince he attempted to hide. "I think she'll claim innocence, blame it all on you. Are you prepared for that? For her to turn on you?"

She cocked her head in an effort to catch his focus, which had scattered to points around her. She could feel him unraveling.

"I have no doubt she's the one who wound you up, and then pointed you in my mother's direction. There should be a price to pay for her complicity, don't you think?"

"Let's pretend for a moment I believe you." He stepped closer, menace in his eyes. "It changes nothing. I should have finished this a long time ago. You have been a constant reminder of my failure that night. My failure for having listened to him, begging me to stop, making me promises ..." Voice rough with bitterness, his head swiveled in disgust as his eyes shifted back in time. "I was so close ... so very close ... standing over your crib, ready ..." A macabre smile slid onto his face.

"I was left-handed when I was a boy." His eyes flicked back to Kat's. Then he raised his fist, unfurled his fingers with dramatic flair, his eyes never leaving hers. Thick scars crisscrossing his palm and fingers came into focus. "After all the damage, I had to learn to use my right hand for everything." The gun swayed, like a taunt, in his other hand.

He answered the question furrowed across her brow. "A knife thick with blood becomes quite slippery."

The admission seemed to excite him.

A lone tear streaked a fiery trail down Kat's cheek. He reveled in her torment, watched with rapt attention as the salty bead clung at her jawline, then dropped, leaving a dark stain on her blouse.

"I've wondered one thing ever since that night. Just one thing."

His remorseless eyes lifted, inch by slow inch, to finally clamp onto hers.