Touchable.

I could breathe again, the tight thing gripping my chest finally loosening, my hands running over her.

Time passed.   And I held her.

"I owe you an apology," she said eventually.  "I'm sorry that for that little blip in time, I felt some doubt in you.  It was just, everything was laid out so convincingly, so fitted to my own insecurities.  Those pictures were so awful, and then to find out you had slept with her and told me otherwise.  The idea that you would hide it from me and be working with her, it really messed with my head."

"I swear, I didn't know, didn't remember her at all.

"I know.  I know.  I believe you.  I just, when you've led a life like mine, with so much heartache, and then become so happy you can hardly stand, I guess I was just waiting for something, something to ruin it all.  I'm sorry I was susceptible to that awful stunt.  I swear to you that it will not happen again.

It took about three days, but finally the rest of the story came out, or most of it.

The woman was mentally unstable, obviously, but the press found proof of it now, and released it.

And the rest of the video was found (thanks to ninja Clark and Lenny's hard drive) the part that showed the whole interaction, un-doctored.  Even without audio, it was pretty obvious I'd been ambushed by a crazy woman, and had not been an active or willing participant.

My phone rang.  It was my buddy Parker.  "Hey, man," I answered.  "How are you?  How are Sophia and Elliot?"

"We're fine.  Listen, I have something to tell you, something I just found out that I figure you need to know."

"Okay.  Go on," I said slowly.  His tone spoke of something ominous.

"That scandal.  That setup with the na**d woman in your office that was plastered all over the press—"

"Yes, I'm well aware of all of that.  What about it?"  It was the last thing I wanted to talk about.

"Jules was behind it.  She was working with your office manager.  She was sleeping with him.  She set it up.  All of it.  She was working with that deranged woman.  They were old friends from college."

I was shocked, though maybe I shouldn't have been.  "Why?  What on earth could she possibly have to gain from it?"

"I think she's come unhinged, to be honest.  Either she's deluded herself that if your wife left you, she'd have a shot, or it was just some sick sort of revenge.  Whatever her motivation, things are going to change now for her.  She's won't bother you anymore, I assure you.  I just wanted you to know.  You see, my parents are aware of her part in it.  With you being married now, with no contact with Jules, even they are seeing just how serious her problems are.  They've cut her off, won't support her, won't give her a dime unless she gets herself help."

"God, your sister is a psycho bitch."

He wasn't offended.  "Yes, yes she is."

"Thank you letting me know."

"Of course.  Hopefully it will bring you some peace of mind to understand what all was behind that."

"It does."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

MY JOB

"Bronson Giles," I said as soon as Tristan answered his phone.

There was a pregnant silence and then, "Who?"

I sighed.  "I'm not the police.  I need to hear the entire story."

"No clue what you're talking about."

"Just tell me this:  Why him?  What on earth set you off about some washed-up old actor?"

I knew it had something to do with Danika.  That was a given.  When Tristan started breaking things or hurting people, there was only ever one answer.

"This is feeling an awful lot like that Milton Sagar incident," I prompted him.  "Remember that?"

"Nope, doesn't ring a bell," he said, sounding perfectly innocent, which of course he wasn't.

"You're an ass," I told him.  "I remember damn well when you rearranged Milton's face, just like we both know that, for some reason that can only involve your temper, you broke Bronson's nose at a gallery showing, and then proceeded to knee him so hard in the groin that he had to ice his balls for a week?"

"A week, huh?" he asked, sounding entirely too cheerful about it.

"Yes, a week, at least, you bloodthirsty bastard.  And somehow his son talked him out of pressing any charges, or even talking about it.  How the hell did you manage that?"

"None of this has anything to do with me."

"Let's pretend, for just a minute, that it did."

"Hmm."

"How about you just give me a hypothetical reason why a thing like this might happen?"

"Hypothetically, I could see the appeal of beating up some old ass**le for 1. Being a lowlife and a deadbeat dad, and 2. Hitting on his own daughter.  Hypothetically, if I heard about a thing like that, even if it happened years ago, I could see me doing something about it the first time that bastard was unlucky enough to run into me somewhere, even if that somewhere happened to be one of your galleries."

That certainly shocked me speechless.  I pieced it together right away.  Tristan was not a subtle man, and he'd given me all the clues.  I'd had no idea, no idea at all that Bronson Giles was Danika's biological father.