“So you sold out.” For once, Angie didn’t sound as if she were accusing her of a deadly sin. More like acceptance.

“I did. I sought after a solution that would give me the financial freedom I needed at the same time I would make Mom and Dad proud. The difference was, I knew my marriage would end in divorce.”

Angie pulled away, stared at her. “You played him?”

Shannon shook her head. “God, no. I don’t think I would even know how to do that. It was an arrangement. His idea, actually. Two years, a quiet divorce . . . I got the money, and with a wife at his side, Paul won the seat as governor.”

Angie shoved her shoulder with her own. “Holy cow, Shannon. That’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, but then I went and fell in love with the bastard. Not so brilliant. I’ve spent the first half of my thirties pining for a man I can’t have, and now that I find one I can, he doesn’t trust me.”

“Does Victor know about your marriage with Paul? The truth about it, I mean?”

“Not completely. I’ve hinted. I’ve been open with him about everything else. The details of why Paul and I married are irrelevant.”

“If Victor thinks you’re still in love with your ex, then your previous husband would be a pretty big obstacle.”

“I told him it was over. I meant that. And Victor chose to listen to the lies of the newspapers instead of coming to me first. He doesn’t trust me, Angie.” And where were they if there wasn’t trust? On different sides of the planet, that’s where.

Angie leaned her head against Shannon’s shoulder. “Don’t you think you might be overreacting just a little?”

“Have you ever been in love?” Shannon asked.

“Yeah.”

“And when it ended, how did you feel?”

“Like my world was over.”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a little while. “The world is still here, you know.”

Shannon leaned against her sister. “I know. But I’m going to ignore it for a little while. Don’t worry, I won’t take up residency on your couch forever. I need to adjust my lens and make things come into focus again.”

Angie nudged her. “Will a stupid amount of tequila help?”

Shannon laughed. “Maybe not a stupid amount, but I think a couple of shots might be in order.”

Angie pushed to her feet and reached out for Shannon to follow. “I know the perfect place where birthday shots are always on the house.”

“Tequila . . . I have a feeling this might not end well.”

Angie laughed. “I’ll take care of you. I owe you.”

Shannon brushed sand off her butt once she stood. “How do you figure that?”

“Mom and Dad picked on you when I ran off. You took on the burden of pleasing them, and I skipped that altogether.”

“You were the rebel, I was the peacemaker. It’s just how we’re wired.”

Angie shook her head. “No, I acted like a child and you acted like the adult. I’m not sure either of us were right, but there is no changing it now.”

Shannon hugged her sister. “Lead the way to my birthday shots, little sister.”

They turned toward the path that would take them back to Angie’s apartment and stopped.

A woman stood leaning against the wall that divided the beach access from the parking lot above.

She wore a wide-brimmed hat, a long coat, boots, and dark sunglasses.

Sasha.

“Do you know her?” Angie asked.

Shannon nodded. “Yeah. I do. Can you give me a few minutes?”

Her sister moved to the path leading home and stood by, waiting.

“That didn’t take long,” Shannon said to Sasha, a woman who worked alongside Reed in matters of security and finding people.

“You weren’t trying hard to hide.” Her thick accent, a mix of Russian and German, cut as much as her stare.

“It’s silly that they sent you.”

“They didn’t. Trina is pregnant and upset. So I came.” Sasha was Trina’s sister-in-law from her first husband. And even though the woman pretended she couldn’t care less about everyone around her, it was obvious by her actions that she was a walking contradiction.

Guilt rolled in Shannon’s stomach. “I didn’t think—”

“No. You didn’t.” She pushed off the wall. “Call her, or I will.”

Shannon turned to her sister, and when she looked back, Sasha was walking away.

Before they hit the bar, Shannon called each of her friends individually, told them she was in Spain and that she was fine.

No, she didn’t want to talk about it.

Yes, she was about to get drunk with her sister.

And when she learned that Victor was looking for her, she asked that they keep her location to themselves for now. She needed to figure out where the man fit in her life, if he fit in her life.

Victor sat in Shannon’s living room, his knee bouncing as he glared at the boarded up window.

It was two in the morning.

He wasn’t leaving until he talked to her. Logically, he knew she wasn’t coming home that night, but that didn’t stop him taking up space in her home.

And if Corrie returned to do something stupid a second time, he’d catch her in the act.

Besides, he’d told Reed where to find him once he found out where Shannon had run off to.

Such an idiot.

His phone rang. The sound startled him.

“Reed?” he asked, recognizing the number.

“You’re still there?”

“What kind of question is that? Yes, I’m still here. Have you heard anything?”

“She’s fine, Victor.”

He released a long breath. “Where is she?”

Reed hesitated. “In a civilized place, doing civilized things.”

The answer pissed Victor off. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means she’s not in a hut contracting malaria.”

“Elaborate.”

“Dude, I like my balls where they are. My wife and I have an understanding.”

“And I respect that. Now tell me where she is.”

“Victor . . .”

“We’re talking about the woman I love. I made her angry and she ran off. Do you know how it feels to be shut out?” He was yelling. “I know it’s my fault, but I can’t make it right without seeing her.”

For a second Victor thought maybe Reed hung up the phone.

“Her sister’s name is Angie Redding. Barcelona, Spain. You didn’t hear it from me.”

Victor smiled, grabbed his coat. “I owe you.”

“If I’m singing soprano the next time I see you, you’ll know why.”

Victor hung up the phone and headed toward the airport.

“Shannon?”

Angie called her from the front of the apartment. When Shannon walked around the corner from the kitchen, she noticed her sister leaning with one hand against the frame of the front door, staring into the hall.

Shannon walked up beside her and looked over her shoulder.

“Does this one belong to you?”

Victor was fast asleep, his head propped up against the corner of an adjacent apartment, his tie gone, his suit looking like he’d been sleeping in it for days.

“Yeah,” Shannon said.

“Let me guess, Victor?”

One of her friends had ratted her out.

Or maybe it was Sasha.

That was more likely.

Shannon turned back to the room.

“It’s kinda sweet that he flew all this way.”

She turned around, watched his even breathing a few minutes longer.

“Are you just going to leave him there?” Angie asked.

“I’m considering it.”

“Does he speak Spanish?”

“I don’t think so.”

Angie motioned toward apartment number 305. “Mrs. Hernandez always comes out around nine to walk her dog. Dogs barking and a woman screaming in Spanish is quite the sight to wake up to.”

“Might be worth it.”

Angie started to shut the door. “Your call.”

“Wait.”

Angie grinned.

She wasn’t up to this. Their morning had been a little slow, taking into account the amount of drinking they’d done the night before. Angie had reminded her that she was only thirty-five and had a whole life to find the right man. By the end of the night, Shannon was promising to return to Spain every year to listen to her wiser, younger sister.

Right now Shannon needed to deal with the one passed out in the hall.

Using her right foot, Shannon nudged Victor’s shoe twice.

He didn’t budge.

She pushed it again.

Nothing.

His chest rose and fell. So, not dead.

Just kinda dead to the world.

She pushed the side of his leg, the second time a little harder, and she called his name. “Victor.”

He jumped as if the hounds of hell were waking him from death. “Shannon!” He called her name before his eyes came into focus.

Victor scurried to his feet and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He looked between the two of them. “You didn’t tell me you were twins.”

“We’re not,” Angie told him. “I’m a year and a half younger.”

They both moved away from the doorway.