“Yes, yours. You’re going to have to get used to the fact that I’m not going away. I’m here for you. I don’t care what kind of crap we have to deal with. I’ve got some relationship baggage with an ex-wife and you’ve got some with an ex-husband, but I think we’re both mature adults. I’m not going to run at the first sign of adversity. And I won’t let you either.”

She swallowed and her shoulders relaxed a fraction.

He exhaled, but his mind was still spinning. Holy shit, that was close.

Victoria studied his face. Seth was determined. As determined as she’d ever seen him. They were both too rational to allow a misunderstanding to undermine what they wanted. He’d told Eden she was his first priority, and Victoria had felt like an intruder. Hell, she’d felt like “the other woman” even though they were both single and available. Her first instinct had been to disappear. She would have been in a cab by now if he hadn’t grabbed her arm.

She was thankful he’d held on. At that precise moment, she’d needed to know he wanted her. Her anger had shot up that he’d manhandled her, but right then her mind hadn’t been rational. She’d been ready to run without asking him what’d happened on the phone.

What did she want? Didn’t she want to have a future with him? Is that why she’d tried to vanish? Was she not fully committed to moving forward with him? She drew in a shuddering breath.

“I love you, Seth. But—”

“There are no buts,” he cut her off.

“Yes, there are,” she asserted. “You’ve been here a week and we’ve rushed headlong into this. We both need to take a careful—”

“Damn it, Tori. Do you hear yourself? Can’t you go with your heart? Why are you doubting yourself? You know as well as I do that we belong together. Why do we need to analyze everything first? We’re not in relationships with anyone else. I’m not wanted by the police. I’ve got good credit and a clean medical history. What else do you need to think about? I love you!” he shouted, lifting his arms in exasperation.

A naked man was shouting at her.

Tears welled. She brushed at her eyes, frustrated at the sudden surge. Where was her self-control? The last few days had ripped her open. Next she’d be texting cute pictures of kittens to her friends. She felt like she stood on a precarious peak, and the wind blew at her from every direction, trying to push her off balance. Her emotional balance was threatened.

Seth put his hands on his hips and stared at her, waiting. Did he know how hard it was to argue with him when he was naked? He stood as if dressed in a suit, completely unconcerned with how he looked. He’d always been fearless in front of her.

She sucked in a ragged breath. “I love you, too. I got rattled. I heard you talking to your daughter, and I felt like I’d interfered somehow… that we’d interfered, messing up your priorities. I was just trying to make it easier for you.”

Sadness filled his eyes. “Ah, Tori. Not having you won’t make anything easier. I know how to love my daughter. Being with you won’t interfere with that. You need to trust me on this,” he pleaded.

She shut off her rational brain and stepped into his arms. Inhaling, she smelled her scent on his skin. He smelled like her, and she liked it. She’d marked him, and he’d firmly imprinted on her heart.

“We’re going to make this work,” he promised.

“Okay, that was one of the weirder interviews I’ve ever done,” Ray stated as he and Mason ducked out of the downpour and inside a noisy Starbucks. Mason couldn’t agree more. They brushed the rain off their shoulders, wiped their feet on the soaking wet mat, and stepped carefully across the damp tiles to the long line.

Perpetual rain in Portland had a way of driving people out of their homes and into businesses. Residents grew restless with the drizzle and needed interaction, even if that contact was simply reading a book in a coffeehouse with a bunch of strangers. Mason scanned the seated crowd, seeking Michael Brody’s tall frame. No luck yet. The reporter had asked for a meeting.

“I feel like I need a shower. Or something to wash all the conspiracy theories out of my head,” Ray muttered. “So far, Cavallo’s progeny are a bunch of nuts.”

Mason nodded. They’d spent twenty minutes talking in circles with Nico Cavallo. Nico was the second son they’d tracked down. The first son was still too ill to talk with police, according to his wife-of-few-words. Flu, she’d claimed. At least they’d actually proved that the man existed. Instead of sending over a uniform to check, Ray and Mason had decided to pop in themselves. A quiet woman had shown them a feverish man.

She’d given Mason the creeps, rarely making eye contact. A lot of people were intimidated by the badge, but this woman appeared to be cowed by humans in general. She’d given them the address of another son. Mason asked her to call ahead and inform Nico that two detectives would like to discuss his father’s murder. Her eyes had widened, fear crossing her face.

It’d been a look that’d haunted Mason for the last hour. “Do you think she was scared of calling her brother-in-law? Scared of telling him she’d given his address to us? Or was it the mention of murder?” he’d asked Ray as they dashed down her walkway to Ray’s vehicle.

“She knew he was murdered. That wasn’t news. I gotta think it’s something about the brother-in-law.”

Nico Cavallo was his father’s clone from twenty years before. He had the same coloring, mannerisms, and proud speech. He’d greeted the detectives at his door and led them into a formal but severely dated living room of orange and green. Ray and Mason had sat politely and accepted his offer of tea.