I frown, trying to think where I’ve heard it before. “It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“The Sullivans own half of this town. Prostitution, drugs, weapons—you name it, they have their fingers in it. Patrick Sullivan heads up the family, and he’s got just about every local politician and police chief in his pocket.”

“Ah.” It makes sense now. I haven’t had dealings with the Sullivan organization, but I’d made it my business to know potential clients in the US and elsewhere. Sullivan’s name must’ve come up in my research—which means we might indeed have a problem. “What does Patrick Sullivan have to do with this?”

“He has two sons,” Lucas says. “Or rather, he had two sons. Brian and Sean. Brian is currently marinating in lye at our rented warehouse, and Sean is the owner of the white SUV.”

“I see.” So the fuckers who attacked Rosa and my wife are connected. More than connected, in fact—which explains their idiotic arrogance in assaulting two women at a public club. With their daddy running this town, they must be used to being the biggest sharks in the pool.

“Also,” Lucas continues, “the kid we’ve got strung up in that warehouse is their seventeen-year-old cousin, Sullivan’s nephew. His name is Jimmy. Apparently, he and the two brothers are close. Or were close, I should say.”

My eyes narrow in sudden suspicion. “Do they have any idea who we are? Could they have singled out Rosa to get at me?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Lucas’s face tightens. “The Sullivan brothers have a nasty history with women. Date-rape drugs, sexual assault, gang bangs of sorority girls—the list goes on and on. If it weren’t for their father, they’d be rotting in prison right now.”

“I see.” My mouth twists. “Well, by the time we’re done with them, they’ll wish they were.”

Lucas nods grimly. “Should I organize a strike team?”

“No,” I say. “Not yet.” I turn and walk over to stand by the window, gazing out into the dark, tree-lined yard. It’s four in the morning, and the only light visible through the trees comes from the half-moon hanging in the sky.

This community is a quiet, peaceful place, but it won’t stay that way for long. Once Sullivan figures out who killed his sons and nephew, these neat, landscaped streets will run red with blood.

“I want Nora and her parents taken to the estate before we do anything,” I say, turning back to face Lucas. “Sean Sullivan will have to wait. For now, we’ll focus on the nephew.”

“All right.” Lucas inclines his head. “I’ll begin making the arrangements.”

He walks out of the room, and I turn to look out the window again.

Despite the half-moon, all I see out there is the darkness.

Chapter 29

Nora

“Nora, honey. . .” A familiar gentle touch pulls me out of my restless slumber. Forcing my heavy eyelids open, I stare uncomprehendingly at my mom, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking my hair. My head aches so much that it takes me a few moments to process her presence in our bedroom—and notice her red-rimmed, swollen eyes.

“Mom?” Holding the blanket, I sit up, suppressing a groan at the pain caused by the movement. My back feels stiff and sore, and my lower abdomen is cramping dully. “What are you doing here?”

“Julian called us this morning,” she says, her voice shaking. “He said you and Rosa were attacked at a club last night.”

“Oh.” A flash of anger wakes me fully. How dare Julian worry my parents like this? I would’ve come up with something less frightening to tell them, some gentler way to explain the loss of the baby.

The loss of the baby.

The agony is so sharp and sudden that I can’t hold it in. A raw, jagged sob bursts out of my throat, bringing with it a flood of burning tears. Shaking, I clamp my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. The pain wells up and spills out, the tears like acid on my skin. I can feel my mom’s arms around me, hear her crying, and I know I have to stop, but I can’t. It’s too much, the grief, the knowledge that I did this.

Suddenly, it’s no longer my mom who holds me. Instead, I’m bundled in the blanket on Julian’s lap, his strong arms wrapped around me as he cradles me against him, rocking me like a child. I can hear my dad’s voice, the timbre low and soothing, and I know Dad is consoling Mom, trying to calm her in her pain. At some point, he and Julian must’ve come into the room, but I don’t know how or when it happened.

Eventually, Julian carries me to the shower. It’s there, away from my parents’ eyes, that I’m finally able to regain control. “I’m sorry,” I whisper as Julian towels me off and dresses me in a thick, terrycloth robe. “I’m so sorry. Where’s Rosa? How is she?”

“She’s all right,” he says quietly. His eyes are bloodshot, making me suspect he didn’t sleep much last night. “Well, as all right as can be expected. She’s still in her room, but Lucas spoke to her and said she’s doing better. And you have nothing to be sorry for, baby. Nothing.”

I shake my head, the awful guilt seizing me again. “I need to go see her—”

“Wait, Nora.” He grabs my arm just as I’m about to rush back into the bedroom. “Before you do, there’s something you and I need to discuss with your parents.”