“Should I ask how it went?”

“They grilled me pretty good. I was glad to have the lawyer there. But they have nothing to hold me on. The guard who they think killed Larry has disappeared, and he wasn’t one of the two I gave money to.”

“Did you tell them about that?”

“Yeah. The attorney advised me to tell the truth.”

“Are you going to get in trouble for bribing a guard?”

“No. They’re not interested in that, thank God. Last time I’ll ever throw money around like that. Though I can’t say I regret it.”

“It’s okay. Let’s just get this shit over with so we can get the hell out of town and deal with Mathias once and for all.”

Joe rubbed his hands together, looking down at his lap. “I can’t, Ry. They want me to stay in town because they might have more questions.”

“Shit.” I didn’t blame my brother for bribing the guards, but this definitely hurled a wrench in our plans.

We didn’t talk anymore, and a few minutes later, Talon emerged from the room.

“Wow,” Joe said. “They kept me in there a lot longer.”

“I only saw Larry once while he was in prison, and I freaked and didn’t stay long. There wasn’t much they could ask me.”

Surprising that they hadn’t asked him about what Larry had done to him—or allegedly done to him. Seemed like Talon had just as much of a motive—or more so—than Joe to do Larry in. But I wasn’t going to bring that up.

“Ryan?” The attorney stuck her head out of the room. “They’re ready for you.”

I inhaled. “All right.” I walked in the door. The walls were a sterile white, and a large mirror hung on one side. A two-way mirror? Most likely. I resisted the urge to make a face. Even the smell in the room was sterile, as if it had just been doused in alcohol.

A man in plain clothes sat behind a table. He stood. “Mr. Steel, I’m Detective Andrew Benjamin. Please, have a seat.”

I sat down, and Catherine sat next to me.

“This is just routine questioning. No need to be nervous.”

I wasn’t—not for myself, anyway—though my fidgeting need to get out of town might have looked like nerves to the detective.

“Please just answer all of my questions honestly, unless your attorney instructs you not to respond. Do you understand?”

Yes, I’m not an idiot. “Yes.”

“All right. I have here the visitors log from the prison.” He went on to list the few times I’d been to the prison to see Larry Wade. He asked me about the visits, and I answered as best I could remember.

The detective was a middle-aged man who was graying and balding. He most likely knew Ruby, though I wasn’t going to bring her up.

He, however, did. “The last time you saw Mr. Wade you were accompanied by Detective Ruby Lee.”

“I was.”

“Why did Detective Lee accompany you? This isn’t her case.”

“She’s my”—I cleared my throat—“fiancée.”

“Oh? That’s news to us.”

“It just happened.” And she hadn’t yet said yes, but that was a minor detail I planned to fix as soon as possible.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” I wasn’t going to tell him that Ruby had a personal interest in the case. He probably already knew anyway.

“Mr. Steel, I don’t think I have any more questions. Thank you for your honesty. You’re free to go.”

I stood. He hadn’t said anything about not leaving town. I turned to Catherine. “We need to go on a trip. Soon.”

She addressed Detective Benjamin. “I assume you’re fine with Ryan and Talon Steel leaving town?”

He nodded. “That’s fine. Only Jonah Steel needs to remain available. I don’t anticipate having any more questions for either Ryan or Talon.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Joe might be stuck here—and with Melanie pregnant, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—but Talon and I could get moving.

Together, we’d find our father and bring Theodore Mathias down.

Chapter Two

Ruby

“Don’t pull that trigger, Ruby,” he said, a bead of sweat dripping from his hairline. “If you do, you’ll never find Brad Steel. You’ll never find Gina.”

“They could be dead for all I know.”

“They aren’t. They’re both alive, and I can take you to them.”

“I don’t believe anything you say. You’re history.” I steadied my hand, itching to turn my head and survey my surroundings. I didn’t think my father was working with anyone—Simpson was dead and Wade was incarcerated, after all—but something niggled at the back of my neck. I began moving slowly backward toward the nearest wall.

“You won’t kill me,” he said, “because you need me. Now that Larry Wade is dead, I’m the only—”

“What? Wade is dead?” I tightened my hold on my weapon to keep my hand from shaking. If Larry was dead, Ryan and his brothers would never get the information they needed. My father was their only chance.

“That’s right. So you need me alive. We’re leaving here together. Right now.”

“Like hell we are. I’m not going anywhere with y—”

A moist handkerchief covered my mouth and nose, and I inhaled instinctively. Red wine, rum, and chemicals. Sweet and rotten at the same time.

Chloroform.

If only I’d turned my head when I’d had the urge.

I dropped my gun and grabbed at the person—who was it?—behind me.

In front of me, my father’s image blurred.

Don’t breathe in. Don’t breathe in.

The sickly sweet aroma permeated the cotton fabric.

Don’t breathe in. Don’t breathe—

But I had to. I inhaled, and my feet fell from under me. I crumpled onto the floor. My father and another fuzzy figure—I squinted but couldn’t make out any features—loomed over me.

Then, blackness.

* * *

Ryan was thrusting into me in a primitive rhythm. “I love you, Ruby. I love you, baby.” His words beat in time with his thrusts.

I love you. I love you.

Then—

A pounding headache, like a bass drum with each beat of my pulse. Something cold and hard pressed against my cheek. My eyes were open in slits, but I couldn’t see anything but gray. My tongue was pasted to the roof of my mouth. I tried to move but couldn’t. Slowly I detached my tongue, feeling like I’d torn off a layer of skin along with it.

Water. Needed water.

I opened my eyes wider. Still gray, but something sat a few feet in front of me. A white blob. A scent of decay hung in the air, as if we were next to a compost pile.

I closed my eyes, trying to orient myself. Where was I? I’d been making love with Ryan…

No. That had been a dream. The last thing I remembered was—

“Hey,” a soft voice said. “Are you awake?”

The voice was female. I tried to reach forward to the white thing… I squinted. It was a…pitcher. Yes! Maybe it held water! My dry mouth rejoiced. I reached again—why was it sideways?—but my arm didn’t want to work. Signals weren’t getting from my brain to my limb. Then my hand twitched, and my arm moved an inch. Then another.

“I’d help if I could,” the voice said.

I didn’t need help. I just needed everything to be right side up. What was happening?

My body hurt. Not a bruising, achy hurt but an allover malaise—like I was getting over the flu. Something wasn’t right.

“It’ll be all right.” The voice again. “I’m so glad you’re here, Ruby.”

Ruby? That was me. Ruby. This person knew me?

As my eyes adjusted to the dark grayness, I noticed a figure, also sitting sideways. Why was everything all convoluted? I tried again to move, and something scratched my cheek. I tried to swat it away, but my other arm wouldn’t move. In fact, I couldn’t even feel my other arm.

What the—

Then it dawned on me. I was lying down. On gray concrete. My cheek was scratching against the roughness of the concrete floor, and my other arm was trapped under my body. That’s why everything was sideways.

“Go slowly. You’ll be all right. The drugs are wearing off.”

Drugs?

Right. The chloroform. Fragmented images rushed into my mind. My father had drugged me and brought me here. Wherever here was.

I should have killed the motherfucker when I had the chance. Should have pulled that trigger. Should have…

“Where are we?” I asked. At least that was what I asked in my head. What came out of my mouth sounded more like “wheee awww weee?”

But the voice seemed to understand. “In the dorms. That’s what they call them, anyway. They’re actually more like prison cells.”

Prison cells? That got me moving. I forced my muscles out of rigidity and scraped myself off the floor and into a slumped-over sitting position.

“You’re lucky,” the voice said. “You aren’t chained up. Yet.”

I squinted at her form, my eyes still adjusting to the darkness. She was dressed in a ragged T-shirt and sweatpants. One of her hands appeared to be cuffed, attached to a chain that ended somewhere I couldn’t see.