"Yeah, not unlike the beauties the rest of us have made." He waited. "Have you seen her?"

Dylan shook his head.

"Think the column will help?"

He gripped the bottle for control. "Help what, Liam? Our family can never accept her, even if Pat and Aidan thaw on what I did. Thats a deal breaker for anyone I bring into our lives."

His brother got that you idiot look in his eyes. "Okay, then I wont tell you what was announced on her show last night."

Of course, Dylan had stopped watching her program. He couldnt bear to see her going on with her life. "I dont want to know."

"Tough. You need to. She got the job she wanted. Shes going to Syria this week."

"Good for her." He steeled himself against the fear that tried to invade him. He preferred, now, to keep his emotions at bay.

Liam got up. "Go easy on yourself, bro."

Thatll be the day , Dylan thought, turning back to the computer. He was going to regret the last few weeks course of events for the rest of his life.

Rachel heard the buzz in the outer office as she packed some items shed need to take with her. Across the world. She looked up when Jeannine came to the doorway. "Theres some people here to see you."

At first she didnt recognize the three women who stood behind Jeannine. One in a severe business suit. One in a firefighters uniform and one in...Armani. Ah, now she got it.

"Its okay, Jeannine. Let them in."

First was Brie ONeil, who tossed back her blunt-cut, auburn hair. "h.e.l.lo, Rachel. Wed like to talk to you."

What could they want? If it was to rail on her, shed... Shed shut up and take it. "All right."

Sophie Tyler followed Brie inside, as did C.J. Ludzecky, whose baby b.u.mp was just starting to show.

"Dont worry," Sophie said. "We come in peace, so to speak."

C.J. smiled. "And with advice."

Rachel didnt realize how stiff shed been holding herself until she deflated. Thank G.o.d there would be no battle. They all gathered at the conference table.

Rachel was puzzled. "Arent you all mad at me, too?"

"Nope." Sophie leaned forward, her reddish hair pulled back in a clip. "Dylans miserable. He and Pat and Aidan are on the outs because he told them everything about you two."

"Well, that makes me feel like s.h.i.t. You sure youre here in peace?"

Brie sniffed. "My husbands being an a.s.s about this."

C.J. nodded. "Mine, too. Theyll go through this funk or pity party or little-boy spat, then theyll work it out with Dylan."

Rachel remembered the pictures on her show of the ONeils as little boys, teens and adult men. She heard Dylans confession that night of the gala, made to make her feel better.

I still dream about the day Pa left. And because of that, Ive been overly protective of my family...like n.o.body will do it if I dont. I try to cover it with bravado and arrogance, but down deep Im a wimp about them.

"I hope they work it out with him. I know how he feels about your family. Im sorry for the divisiveness Ive caused."

Arching a sculpted brow, Brie asked, "Do you love him?"

Rachel was taken aback.

On the heels of that, Sophie said, "Because we think he loves you."

She bit her lip at what shed lost. "If he ever loved me, he doesnt anymore. Besides, it doesnt matter. The guys might make up with Dylan, but theyll never accept me."

"We dont agree," Brie answered.

"Why exactly did you come?"

"Because we heard about the Syria job." Again, Brie.

Sophie, the firefighter, added, "So, if you die over there, we wanted you to know the truth."

C.J., the agent put in, "Yeah, and well be able to tell Dylan you were sorry."

Rachels jaw dropped, then she realized the two women who spoke so bluntly put their lives on the line every day. Despite the hollowness inside her, she chuckled. "Okay, thanks."

They stood. Brie took her hand. "Go do what you have to do and then come home to him. Maybe this will blow over by the time you get back."

"Be safe, Rachel," C.J. said.

Sophie handed her a paper. "Um, read this before you go. And watch your back."

They walked out. It took Rachel a minute before she could compose herself. Then she looked down. On the paper was one of Dylans columns. About her.

It had been a h.e.l.l of a week getting ready for her trip to Syria, not the least of which was her visit with her parents. As she waited for Becca to pick her up to go to the airport, she recalled the conversation...

Shed asked them to meet her for lunch at a little place on the Upper East Side. When her mother and father arrived-harried as usual-they ordered quickly. Shed imposed on their workday.

"So, what is it that you wanted to talk to us about?" her father asked.

She would just tell them and wait for the fallout. "Im leaving for a stint in Syria for a month. I thought you should know."

Her mother dropped her cup. Coffee spilled in rivulets over the white tablecloth. Her father only dropped his jaw.

"Why on earth would you do that?" Marian asked after a waiter cleaned up the mess.

"Ive gone to the Middle East a few times in my career, with other journalists. Reporting from there is exciting. And I liked the outreach in Africa I did when I was younger."

Her father was still openmouthed. "Youve done foreign reporting?"

"Um, yes, with other reporters in charge. To get some experience."

"Why didnt we know about this?" he demanded.

"I told you, but you must have forgotten." And if theyd watched her show every night, which they didnt, they would have been aware of her absence.

Her mothers face had gotten pale. "Again, Rachel, dear, I dont understand."

Shed faced her parents and sighed. If Dylan could be honest with his family, she could be honest with hers. "Mom, I know you dont think my work is as important as the jobs you two and Becca have, but I do significant work for the world. This is one of the ways."

Her mothers brow furrowed in honest puzzlement. "We what?"

Her father stated, "We never said that!"

For the first time, Rachel realized that everything theyd done, how they treated her all her life had been unconscious. Should she take them to task on all that? Because no matter what they said, she knew in her heart their lack of pride in her was real.

She remembered Sophies words, earlier this week. So, if you die over there, we wanted you to know the truth.

"Ive had that impression pretty much all my life."

"Were sorry, Rachel Anne." Her dad seemed genuinely confused. "I know we dont get to see the show every night, but were busy people." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which, I only have an hour. Do you want to talk about this more?"

It was time to let go of her resentment. "No, Dad, I just wanted to tell you my plans."

"When?" her father asked.

"Friday."

Again theyd voiced their concern. And, despite their treatment, shed known theyd loved her...

Shed been watching out the window for Beccas car and when she saw it pull up, Rachel headed out with her suitcase. She slid inside the Volvo-and Becca burst into tears.

Rachel grasped her by the shoulders. "Whats this all about?"

"I dont want you to go."

So caught up in herself, she hadnt thought about her familys reaction to her choices, and now she was ashamed. "Oh, honey, Im sorry."

"I wish you didnt have to do this to prove something to Mom and Dad."

"Thats not why Im going. I want to be part of the solution to some of our worlds problems, just like you do."

Becca nodded. "Okay. Im just worried."

Rachel couldnt say there was nothing to worry about, because there was, of course. After they got on their way, she wondered if Dylan would worry about her, too.

Chapter 18.

Syria REPORT #1 Two days after they landed in Syria, Rachel, Crane and Tommy Parks, her favorite photographer, arrived at the city where they were to film a segment on the children of Syria. Their contact/guide/interpreter said this area had been advanced upon by the government forces and many of the rebels had left. The visit would give them a feel for the country, and they might be a bit safer.

Rachel felt as if shed walked into a combat zone, not the small, middle-cla.s.s village sprawled out around her. Off to the side, two kids ravaged through garbage left from the last bombing. Buildings had crumbled, and signs of attack were everywhere.

A small dark-haired girl, with owl eyes, approached them. "h.e.l.lo, there," Rachel said, smiling at the child.

Waiting for the translation, the girl returned her smile. "h.e.l.lo. Im Rhoula. Youre pretty."

"Why thank you, Rhoula." Rachel pointed to Rhoulas hands. In some ways, the girl could be an ordinary kid anywhere. "I like your blue nail polish."

The girl giggled and picked up a stuffed animal. There were patches on its stomach, indicating it had once been a pretty, light blue. Now the toys fur was parched brown, and it was missing an eye. "My brother found Benjie." She pointed to the rubble off to the side.

The camera panned the house next door. The building had no roof, and one of the walls had been blown off. A rocket literally was wedged in the remaining concrete.

"Do you know what happened there?" Rachel asked.

"Papa said missiles came from men who dont want us here."

Rachel faced the rolling camera. "More than three hundred thousand have fled the fighting here in Syria, but the Free Syrian Army remains. Rhoulas father is a leader of the rebels, and his wife and kids stayed in town with him."

Shots rang out in the distance. A previously filmed segment would show military headquarters, close to here. Later, Tommy would get a picture of Rhoulas father, who worked there.

"Those are rockets," the girl stated matter-of-factly. "Papa pretends theyre fireworks, but I know the difference."

At only nine years old, Rhoula knew the difference. That said it all.

Dylan walked into Clive Masons office, which overlooked Madison Avenue, not far from Franklin House. His appointment was at ten, and he was shown right into an office much like Carolyn Jermaines. Clive sat behind a similar oak desk, in a corner office, backdropped by the city. He was on the phone. For a minute, Dylan got a clutch in his chest at the notion of what he was giving up. The feeling joined the abyss of loss that had been his constant companion for weeks.

"Great." Clive motioned Dylan to sit down. "Ill get right on it." Disconnecting, Clive leaned across the desk and shook his hand. "I hope you have an answer for me."

"I do. Im sorry it took so long." Dylan dropped down onto a chair. "But the answer is no. I dont want the book deal with Franklin House."

Clives face blanked. "Youre kidding, right?"

"Im not. I cant compromise my principles. KPRAY isnt my cup of tea, but it isnt corrupt, either. After scrutiny, Ive found that the organization doesnt coerce anyone. And Rachel Scott isnt the stone-cold b.i.t.c.h they want me to portray her as."

"None of that matters, Dylan. You know how to fudge the truth. Pick and choose details. Get the tenor you want. This is your chance to break into mainstream publishing."His gaze turned hard. "Rachel Scott have something to do with this?"

Dylan c.o.c.ked his head. "Why would you say that?"