“I’m on my way,” I say as a greeting.

“The jury called to come back after dinner. They reached a decision.”

“Oh shit!” I sit up straight and look around for some indication of where I’m at. I see a mile marker flit by. “I’m still a good two hours away, man. How long until they’re going back to court?”

“They’re getting everyone back now.”

I sigh.

Damn!

“Maybe they’ll piddle around and I’ll still make it. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep me posted.”

“Sure thing.”

After we hang up, I feel the nervous energy start. I can’t seem to sit still in the backseat. I feel like I should be doing something to hurry this god-awful ride along. But there’s nothing I can do. All I know is that there’s no way in the deepest part of hell that I’ll be falling asleep again.

* * *

One hour and twenty-three minutes later, my phone rings. It’s Cash again.

“What’s going on?”

“Guilty. On all charges.” He’s about to bust. I can hear it in his voice. It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. Then I’m flip-flopping between elation that we won and irritation that I missed being with them for the verdict.

“Holy fu—Holy crap, man! That’s great news! Hot damn! Hot. Damn!”

Cash whoops into the phone and his excitement pushes me more toward elation and less toward irritation. There will be lots to celebrate tonight. Lots.

I hear him laughing. And, in the background, I hear feminine voices laughing, too. They’re already celebrating.

“So what’s next?”

Cash collects himself enough to answer me. “Sentencing. I don’t know when that will happen yet, but Georgia state law set a maximum sentence of twenty years for a RICO conviction. I hope they get every day of it! We’re already discussing civil suits, too. And then, of course, there will be Dad’s appeal, since Duffy admitted to . . . what he did. I’ll get Duffy’s signed affidavit and start the process as soon as I can.”

I know how Cash feels. It’s hard to say it sometimes, to say out loud that our mother was murdered. Especially on a day like today, a day full of good things.

Cash is hurried and vague. And I know why. It’s the same reason it’s hard to talk about Mom. Today is a day for celebration. This was a huge victory. Tomorrow, there will be plenty of time for . . . everything else.

“Well, we can talk about all that later. Right now, we’ve got some celebrating to do. Where are you gonna be?”

“Just come to the club. We’ll be taking over the VIP room tonight.”

I like the sound of that. “Sounds good, man. See you in an hour or so.”

FORTY

Marissa

I must admit, I can see why criminal prosecutors become obsessed with their jobs. Not only is the fight consuming, but the verdict . . . Oh God! There are few better feelings I’ve experienced in life than getting the conviction, none of which took place in a courtroom.

Velvety black eyes flash through my mind, and I push them out.

Not today. Let me just have this one day of peace and happiness.

It was hard enough not seeing him for the verdict. Olivia had said he would be there, and the disappointment was pretty devastating when he didn’t show up. But I’m past that. I’m trying to just enjoy the glow of victory. I know it won’t feel complete without him, but that’s something I’ll have to get used to. I doubt anything in life will ever feel complete without Nash. I hope it will. I truly, truly hope so. But something in me doubts it ever will.

I take the next left, drawing ever closer to Dual. Rather than show up there in my work clothes, I opted to go home and change before heading over to join in the festivities. I have a feeling there will be drinking and celebrating into the wee hours and I wanted to be comfortable for it. The jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt—my nod to the early spring nip in the night air—have already put me at ease.

I walk through the front door of the club, speaking to Gavin as I pass.

“You working the door tonight?”

“Yeah. Evidently there’s been an unexpected party upstairs that’s left us a bit shorthanded. Maybe I’ll get lucky down here with some young bucks that need a lesson in ass-kicking. Or maybe a beautiful attorney will need a ride home.”

The wink of his blue, blue eye assures me he’s teasing. He’s an incorrigible flirt.

“Well, if it’s calm, come up and have a drink. We’ve got a lot to celebrate today.”

“So I hear. I guess congratulations are in order to you, as well. That’s some show you must’ve put on out there.”

I shrug, pleasantly flattered. “Well, it wasn’t just me. There were a lot of people responsible for tonight’s success.”

“There’s nothing hotter than a gorgeous woman who doesn’t know how to take a compliment.”

I laugh.

Incorrigible!

“Then I’ll just say thank you and be on my way. How’s that?”

“You don’t have to rush off now.”

“Cash might have my hide if I distract you from your work.”

“Don’t you worry about Cash, pretty little dove. I’ll take care of him.”

His smile is devilish and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. I laugh again, shaking my head at him. “You could be dangerous,” I say as I turn and make my way toward the stairs.

“Only in the best possible way,” I hear him say before the ambient sounds drown out his voice.

Stopping on the top step, in front of the door, I smile. I can hear the wild celebration coming from inside the VIP room, even above the loud music from downstairs in the club. And that’s saying a lot.

I open the door to find chaos. I give all the faces a cursory glance. Except for the bartender, whom I haven’t seen before, I recognize everyone. Each was involved in the trial in some form or fashion, from Cindy, the paralegal who dug up some invaluable information for us on more than one occasion, to Stephen, the court reporter. We all got to know him very well over the past few months, too.

During a case like the one we just won, a bond is formed that gives you the feeling that this is your family-away-from-family. Or, in my case, my family-in-place-of-my-family. I learned to trust and depend on them in ways I’ve never felt comfortable doing with the people in my life, family or not. All in all, this was one of the most treasured, rewarding experiences of my life.

But where to go now?

The troubling thought sneaks in before I can stop it, stealing my smile for a second. But before I can start stressing over life questions like that, Jensen yells at me from across the room where he’s waiting at the bar.

He grabs two shot glasses and starts toward me. All eyes turn in my direction and I feel my smile return. Just for tonight, I refuse to think of anything more serious than what to drink next.

Jensen stops in front of me and the room gets quiet. Well, as quiet as a room situated above a club filled with this many people can get. Jensen clears his throat.

“To the woman of the hour, without whom we probably wouldn’t have been handed down a victory.” He raises his glass, as does everyone else in the room. “To Marissa.”

The glow of adulation is surpassed only by the lump of emotion in my throat. I toss back my shot, wondering for a second if the liquid can pass the obstruction. But it does. And it burns all the way down, making my eyes water.

“Marissa!” Everyone yells.

I feel a laugh bubble up just as Jensen wraps his arm around my waist and swings me around. I let the laugh go, thinking that this might be the first night in a long, long time that I can find some semblance of happiness.

Until he sets me on my feet and my eyes collide with Nash’s.

FORTY-ONE

Nash

Of all the things I expected to see when I walked in, that shit wasn’t even on the list. Jensen’s arms wrapped around Marissa, her laughing and clinging to him. All their friends crowded around, cheering them on. A room full of people I don’t belong with.

More than ever, I see that this is no longer my world. And it never will be. I don’t fit in here. Buying the boat and planning for a life at sea was a good choice. I guess I just always thought that someday . . . Maybe . . .

Marissa’s smile dies as I watch. Jensen sets her on her feet and I slide my eyes over to him. He’s staring at me. I squelch the urge to walk over and rip his throat out.

I glance around the room. Everyone is staring at me. I know only a few of them. Not that it would make any difference if I knew them all. These aren’t my people. This isn’t my world. But it’s hers. And it will forever separate us. A gulf. A chasm. An immeasurable ocean.

Turning away from her, I locate Cash. He’s grinning from ear to ear. It reminds me to keep this all in perspective. Ultimately, we got what we wanted. The men behind my mother’s death and my father’s subsequent incarceration are going to prison for a long time. And Duffy, even though he was the actual triggerman and deserves a painful death, will be on the run for the rest of his life. He’ll have to leave this country if he doesn’t accept witness protection. Either way, life as he knows it is over. Maybe that’s an even better punishment. I choose to look at it that way. It’s the only way I can really let it go.

And I need to do that. I need to take this victory and move on.

To what?

I push the question out of my mind, reminding myself that I have a plan and that’s that. I ignore the bright blue eyes that drift through my mind, the ones I can practically feel burning a hole through me.

I walk to my brother and stop in front of him. I stick out my hand and he takes it. He pumps it several times as we smile at each other. Impulsively, I pull him in for a hug. We clap each other on the back.

I lean away from him. He’s still smiling broadly.

“It’s over, man. It’s finally over,” he says, obviously relieved.

I nod. “Finally.”

On what should be the happiest day, I feel bereft. And partying is the last thing I want to do right now. But I don’t want anyone to see me struggle, so I ask Cash quietly, “Can I use your apartment for a little while? I need to clean up.”

I see the crease appear between his eyebrows for an instant before it smooths out. “Sure.”

I nod and turn, walking straight from the room and not looking back.

What the hell did you expect to happen?

I chastise myself as I make my way down the steps and across the floor of the crowded club. Evidently, on some level, I thought Marissa would be thrilled to see me, that she’d declare that she’s been miserable without me, beg me to take her with me and we’d sail off into the sunset. As ridiculous as that sounds, that’s the scenario that I had hidden somewhere deep, deep down.

You’re a fuc—You’re an idiot!

It infuriates me that I’m still censoring myself for her, like she gives a shit. Like she can hear me. Like she cares. I mutter a blistering string of raunchy expletives as I stomp into Cash’s office and slam the door shut behind me.

I walk through to his apartment and slam that door as well, feeling infinitesimally better having gotten some of my aggression out. What would really help me is the opportunity to beat the hell out of that stuffed shirt that was wrapped around Marissa. But since that wouldn’t win me points with anyone and would likely land me in jail, I settle for flinging my duffel across the room and heading for the shower.

I barely turn the cold spigot on. The burn of the hot water temporarily deadens the intensity of everything else. By the time I get out, my skin is on fire, but it calms soon enough, leaving me right back at square one.

Before getting dressed, I stretch out across the bed to let the air dry me. I concentrate on the dull throb of the music outside and will my anger away.

I make myself think of things I can control, or things that give me some small amount of peace, like Dad getting out of prison or watching the bright red sun set over the clear waters of the Caribbean.

I don’t know how long I lie there. The noise from the club outside two closed doors seems less and I can’t find a clock in the dark room to tell me the time.

I get up and get dressed, looking out into the office at the clock on the wall. I’ve been down here for almost two hours.

How the hell did that happen?

I head back out into the club. The crowd has thinned considerably. Looks like the night is winding down. Of course, it is a weeknight . . .

I glance up at the two-way glass that fronts the VIP room. I don’t know if they’re still up there, but I suppose I should at least make an appearance before I ask Cash for his car and get the hell out of here. The quiet of his condo will do just fine for the night. Anything to be away from here. Away from her.

I take the steps two at a time. Before I can reach the top, the door opens and Jensen appears in the opening, shuffling a wobbly Marissa toward the steps.

“I told you I’m fine to drive,” she slurs.

“And I told you there’s no way I’m letting you leave here behind the wheel.”

“But you’re drunk, too. Who’s gonna drive?”

“I’m not that drunk,” he’s saying.

I stop in the center of the steps, crossing my arms over my chest. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah. This one wants to go home, but she’s had too much to drink.”

“And you? Have you been drinking?”

“Not that much.”

“Any is too much to be driving her home. I’ll take her.”

“That’s all right, Cash. I’ve got her.”

He starts to lead Marissa around me. I don’t know what makes me angrier—him calling me Cash or seeing his hands on Marissa again.