“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I lied.

He watched me a beat then repeated, “Who the f**k is Bogey One?”

“Erm…”

“Start talkin’, Stel a,” he demanded and his voice had gone scary. “Is it Turner?”

I blinked at him, taken aback that he thought I’d hide a cal from Eric.

Then I cried, “No! Of course not.”

“Then you do know who it is.”

Damn it!

Why was I such an idiot?

“Mace –”

“Is it Chavez?” Mace went on.

“No! Mace, I can’t tel you. You have to trust me. Just give me the phone.” I held out my hand to him, palm up, hoping that would work.

It didn’t.

“Last night you sat there singing to me ‘nothing to hide, believe what I say’ and not ten hours later you’re standin’ in front of me lyin’.”

I closed my eyes then opened them again. “Please Mace, you just have to trust me.”

“Trust you with what?” he asked, voice impatient.

“Mace –”

“Trust you with what?” Now his voice was short and pissed off.

“Your heart!” I shouted, his body went tight then he blinked. I ignored al that and went on, “You have to trust me with your heart, damn it. A couple of days ago, you asked me if I wanted into your heart. Wel , I’m guessing by now you know that I do. So I’m trying to work my way in there but you have to trust me. Now give me the effing phone!” He just stood there, frozen, staring at me. This was weird and highly uncharacteristic of Mace but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I took my opportunity, reached in and snatched the phone out of his hand.

I walked (okay, more like stomped) away while flipping it open and finding my way to voicemail. By the time I made it to the kitchen and turned to face him, Mace was tugging on his jeans and Lana’s voice was tel ing me she was on a plane and just about to take off. Red-eye to LA. She’d have to turn off her phone soon but she wanted me to know she’d cal ed Chloe. She finished, “See you soon, sweetie.” Even though I wanted to keep a message that had Lana’s soft, musical voice cal ing me sweetie, I deleted it immediately.

Mace had his jeans buttoned and was pul ing on the henley he discarded last night by the time I was done.

I opened my mouth to speak but he got there before me, his voice coming at me like a whiplash. “They cut off her hand.”

My breath packed up and, on a direct trajectory, shot straight toward the sun, disintegrating in the heat.

I tried to suck in air but it wasn’t coming mainly because the guard was down, the demons were out, nothing to hide them. Even across the room, I could see they were cavorting malevolently in Mace’s eyes and having the times of their lives. Looking at that kind of pain in the eyes of the man I loved, I couldn’t breathe.

“Caitlin was kidnapped. My father didn’t involve the cops. Instead he hired some f**kin’ guys…” He paused then continued, “You wouldn’t believe these guys. Knowin’

what I know now, f**k, they were the K Mart of commandos.”

I started toward him but he put his hand up and clipped,

“Don’t get near me.”

Effing.

Bloody.

Hel .

I stopped.

Juno, feeling the vibe, whined.

Mace kept talking.

“They f**ked it up, botched the job. They left a man behind. The kidnappers sent him back in pieces. No f**kin’

joke. In pieces.”

No gut kick this time. This time, my stomach turned and I was worried I might get sick right there.

Duke hadn’t told me that part.

“As retribution for that stunt, they cut off Caitlin’s hand, sent it to my father. After she died and they examined her, I found out they did it surgical, precise. These guys knew what they were f**kin’ doin’. They had training. They had resources. They weren’t guys you messed with. My father knew that. He knew it the whole f**kin’ time.” I chanced a question. “What did they want?”

“They wanted my father. Even exchange. Caitlin for him.” Duke hadn’t told me that either.

“I take it he wasn’t wil ing to make that deal?” I asked.

Mace laughed but there was no humor in the sound. “No f**kin’ way. Preston Mason sacrifice himself for his daughter? Not a chance.”

Mace stopped talking.

It cost me but I stood stil and waited.

After awhile, he went on, “I lost patience with my father f**kin’ around. I got the police involved, the FBI. Offered myself instead.”

I felt my heart squeeze and closed my eyes but opened them when he continued talking.

“I had no idea who they were, what they wanted. I was relatively famous, I had money. I thought I could bargain with them. I didn’t know they wanted my father dead or they wanted him to pay, not with money, they wanted revenge. It was about revenge. They had no clue our father didn’t give a shit about us and I had no idea what I was doin’ but I was desperate so I did it anyway.”

He paused and stared at me.

I waited then asked careful y, “What happened then?” He kept staring at me a beat then he continued, “I got cocky and gettin’ cocky means bein’ stupid but I was desperate and cocky so that’s a whole other scale of stupid. I fed the media stories. I thought to put pressure on them, a sixteen year old girl losin’ a hand, didn’t read wel in the papers. They didn’t give a shit about their reputations.

They didn’t even care if they came out alive. They were kamikazes, workin’ for a larger organization, doin’ a job for the greater whole. Makin’ a statement in a world that didn’t see the light of day. It wouldn’t matter how much the papers tried to dig up, they wouldn’t find anything. These guys were underground, when I say that I mean underground.” He paused, his intense eyes burning into me and I nodded, thinking he wanted to know that I understood.

Once I nodded, Mace kept speaking.

“The FBI knew what they were up against but they didn’t share this with me. I put pressure on them too. Fed what I thought was their bul shit to the media to get them to move.

It worked. They moved. They had to. It was a PR nightmare for them, Caitlin’s pictures in the paper and on the news every day. The way she looked. They had to make it go away. They knew Caitlin wouldn’t survive. What I didn’t know was, they were tryin’ to keep me alive.” He stopped, I nodded again and he kept going.