Jackson never took his gaze off Arizona. “You know who it might have been?”

As Arizona squeezed her eyes shut, Spencer stepped from the car. “I do.” He leaned on the car beside the open door. “Chandra Silverman.”

“No.” Arizona shook her head. “She’s dead. Tell him, Jackson. They’re all dead!”

Under normal circumstances, Arizona would never betray any aspect of his work, he knew that. What she implied was not something condoned by the legal system. But this wasn’t normal circumstances, and Arizona edged on hysteria.

When he didn’t reply, she grabbed his shirt. Almost pleading, she whispered, “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

His big hand wrapped around her fragile wrist, and with his thumb he soothed over her chilled skin. “I know of three men, Arizona. That’s all.”

She tried to shake him. “The bitch who ran the show?”

“Other than you, I didn’t see any women that day.” Jackson had a horrible feeling about things.

“But…” Arizona searched his face. “She was there. She was always there.”

“Probably enjoying herself.” Spencer ran a hand over his head. “She’s more evil than any man I’ve ever met. And I know for a fact Chandra is alive and well, because she’s the main one I’ve been tracking.”

By small degrees, Arizona gathered herself. “All this time…”

“You thought she was gone?” Spencer asked. “Then who the hell have you been tracking?”

“Her lackeys. Her associates. Anyone who ever took part in her sick games.” Wrapping her arms around herself, Arizona laughed. “God, this is a twist, huh?”

Spencer pulled her around to him. “Whatever she did to you, Arizona, she’ll pay.”

Arizona laughed even harder. “I thought she was dead, and that wasn’t payment enough.” She tried to shove away from him, but he only tightened his hold.

Alani walked to their side of the car. She leaned into Jackson. “I’m so sorry.”

Arizona looked at her. “We need to get out of here.”

Grim, Jackson moved Alani behind him. “Too late.” A silver BMW, headlights off, pulled in and blocked them.

“Ohmigod.” Alani clutched her purse against her chest. “It’s the car.”

Not comforting Alani was one of the hardest things Jackson had ever done, but he had to focus on that car. “Both of you, stay behind me.”

Arizona snorted. “Spencer just booked.”

Perfect. “He knows what he’s doing.” At least, Jackson hoped he hadn’t misjudged things there. “Show a little faith.”

“I could—”

Alani interrupted her, saying, “We’ll do exactly what Jackson tells us to!”

As the car stopped, Jackson backed up, forcing the women behind the car. “Alani?”

“What?”

Terror made her voice high and thin, torturing him. “I’m asking nice.”

“Asking what?”

“For you to trust me now.”

He heard her draw a deep breath, then another—and finally she smoothed her hand down his back. “I do.”

One day, she’d be saying that in front of a preacher. “Thanks, babe.” Smiling in satisfaction, Jackson stepped forward, more than ready to get the show on the road.

TAKING ARIZONA’S HAND, Alani hunkered down behind the car. Her heart beat so fast that she thought she might pass out.

It was Arizona who whispered, “Breathe. I’m strong, but I’m not sure I can carry you if we need to run.”

Under less dire circumstances, Alani might have laughed. “I won’t faint, I promise.”

“Glad to hear it.”

God, she sounded like Jackson. In some ways, they were so much alike that it made perfect sense for them to be pseudosiblings. Alani was very glad that they’d had each other.

She peeked around to see what was happening.

As the BMW’s doors opened and people stepped out, Jackson stood beside the driver’s door, the epitome of confidence. Three men…and one woman.

Lousy odds, but when it came to handling bad situations, she’d put her money, and her heart, on Jackson. Please, please, please don’t let him be hurt.

The woman held a gun loosely in her hand, her arm down at her side. And she smiled.

“That’s her,” Alani whispered to Arizona. “That’s the woman who drugged Jackson.”

“Chandra.” Arizona stared at her with a laser beam of red-hot hatred. “If ever a person needed killing, she’s it.”

Smug, the woman—Chandra—stepped toward Jackson. “I wouldn’t suggest you try anything.”

Behind her, arms crossed, the musclemen waited.

“No?” As if bored, Jackson stepped away from the car—moving the danger farther away. “Why not?”

“Your backup is done for. They think they’ve solved everything.” She shrugged. “Of course, that was just part of my plan.”

“Yeah?” He took another step away. “What plan is that?”

“The plan to keep them preoccupied with others. The plan to set up all of you.” Her eyes glittered. “The plan to get even, of course.”

“Huh.” With a lack of concern, Jackson said, “I’m surprised you came yourself. Even a complete psycho has to realize that’s a risky move. Or is it just that you couldn’t afford any more henchmen?”