He and Blane were locked in a staring contest, the tension thick between them as the cops hovered in the background. I glanced from one to the other, confused. Was I missing something?

Finally, Blane’s lips curved in a cold smile. “Well played, Detective,” he said calmly. “There’s no need to take Miss Turner in for questioning. As I’m sure you know, she was out of town the night Kandi was killed.”

“Blane!” I exclaimed in dismay. He’d just blown the alibi I’d concocted for him. His hand tightened painfully on mine and I shut up.

“Do you have another witness who can vouch for your whereabouts that night?” Walker said, looking wholly unsurprised by Blane’s confession.

“I do not.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us,” he said, motioning to the two uniformed cops. They moved forward to flank Blane.

I panicked. “No! You can’t arrest him!”

“Give us just a moment, if you would,” Blane said to Walker, who nodded, a flash of sympathy or maybe pity crossing his face as he glanced at me.

Blane took me by the elbow, moving me a few steps away from the door and out of earshot. “It’s okay, Kat,” he said softly. “I knew this was coming.”

“Y-you can’t—they can’t!” I stammered, tears flooding my eyes. “You didn’t kill her!”

“Shhh, Kat, it’s okay,” he said, folding me in his arms. “Be strong. I need you to be strong.”

I swallowed the sob building in my chest, nodding and clutching his shirt. I inhaled deeply, memorizing the scent of him, the warmth of his body, the strength in his arms, the press of his lips to the top of my head.

“Stay here,” Blane whispered in my ear. “I can’t think of you anywhere else right now. Promise me.”

I nodded again, unable to speak.

“Kiss me.”

I obediently tipped my face up to his.

Blane’s lips met mine with a sweet tenderness that sent a shaft of pure pain through me. He cupped my jaw, lightly brushing my cheek with his thumb. There was the softest touch of his tongue against mine, then he was pulling back.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

It took every ounce of willpower I had to stand there and do nothing as they cuffed his hands behind his back. Blane never took his eyes off me while Walker read him his rights, as though he were memorizing me the same way I was him. Then they turned him, leading him out the door and into one of the squad cars. I watched, standing silently in the doorway, as they took Blane away.

Hands settled on my shoulders and I turned to lean into Kade, the tears flowing freely now. His arms circled me in a tight embrace.

“What now?” I asked, raising my tearstained face to look at him.

“We need to call that chick, his lawyer,” Kade said, gently brushing the wetness from my cheeks. “And the cop, Jared, who said he’d help Blane.”

I nodded, trying to push away the despair I felt and concentrate on how to best help Blane.

“Did he tell you how to reach that guy?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Go call the lawyer,” Kade said. “Tell her Blane’s been arrested. She needs to get over there ASAP and make sure they keep him in isolation.”

“Why?”

Kade’s face was stark when he answered. “If they put him with other inmates, they’ll kill him.”

I stared at Kade, horrified. “They wouldn’t… he’s running for governor…”

“That won’t matter. I’ll scour the den, find that guy’s number—he may be able to help. Now go.”

“Okay.” I scurried off to the telephone, terrified of what was going to happen to Blane. A few minutes later, I was punching in Charlotte’s phone number. She answered on the second ring.

“Charlotte, it’s Kathleen,” I said. “The cops—Blane’s been arrested.”

It took only a few moments to give the details of how Blane had confessed my fake alibi and the subsequent arrest.

“Kade’s worried Blane may get hurt if they don’t put him in isolation,” I said. “Please, can you get down there?”

“I’ll go right away,” she said, “but I don’t know whether there’s anything I can do if they decide to ‘accidentally’ put him in with other prisoners.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Cops sometimes have their own idea of justice. A murder like Kandi’s—they might put him with other inmates just to teach him a lesson, prod him into confessing.”

Oh God. I felt nausea rise in my throat.

“Do what you can,” I said.

We hung up after she said again that she would go downtown immediately. I went back to the den, where Kade was searching Blane’s desk.

“Did you find it?” I asked.

“Not yet,” he answered, pulling open the desk’s bottom drawer and rifling through it.

My throat had a lump in it that felt the size of a golf ball, but I forced the words out. “Charlotte said she can request isolation but that the cops sometimes will ignore it and put him with other inmates anyway.”

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?” My voice was too shrill, but I couldn’t help it.

“One thing at a time,” he said, shoving the drawer shut and yanking open the top drawer. He paused.

“What is it?” I asked, peering over the desk, but I couldn’t see what he was looking at.

Kade pulled out a photograph. Curious, I rounded the desk, then sucked in a breath.

It was one of the photos Keaston had given Blane. Kade and I were at Bar Sinister in Denver, me in my leather prostitute ensemble, standing between his knees as he sat on the barstool. His hands were nearly hidden, they were so far up the back of my skirt.

The obvious heat between us in that photograph made my cheeks burn.

“Where did Blane get this?” Kade asked, and the ice in his voice made me look at him in surprise.

“Keaston,” I said. “That’s what he gave Blane to prove to him that you and me…” I couldn’t finish that sentence.

“Didn’t you wonder how Keaston could possibly have had photos of us in that bar? No one knew we were going there.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. It had never occurred to me, the circumstances of my and Blane’s breakup overshadowing everything else.

“The only person who knew was Garrett,” Kade continued, “and he never said who he was working for before he died.”

“You don’t think—”

“What other possible explanation could there be?”

“But… he’s your uncle, too,” I spluttered. “Why would he try to kill you?”

“Because he knows I can tie him to Sheffield,” Kade said.

Ron Sheffield. The former CIA agent who’d masqueraded as a Navy JAG officer. He’d threatened and killed witnesses, nearly killed me, all to coerce Blane into losing a trial. “But… you’re family!” I couldn’t comprehend it. Keaston would knowingly send Garrett to kill his own flesh and blood?

“Not to him,” Kade said flatly. “He tolerates me because of Blane. That’s all.”

Kade pulled out a booklet and started flipping through it. “Ah,” he said, “here’s his numbers. Should’ve known. Only Blane would be so cliché as to keep a literal little black book. Here it is.”

Kade pulled out his cell and dialed. After a moment, he said, “Jared—it’s Kade. They’ve arrested Blane. I have evidence I need tested for that DNA match.”

I listened as they arranged when and where they were going to meet. When he hung up, he said, “Get me the DNA you got off James.”

I ran upstairs to Blane’s bedroom, catching sight of the baggie with my bra stuffed inside. I grabbed it, then hurried back to the den and handed it to Kade. He looked at it, then seemed to realize what it was.

“Why is James’s DNA on your bra?” he asked.

“It was all I had at the time,” I answered with a shrug, watching as he pulled the piece of red lingerie out of the bag. He examined the fabric, paying particular attention to where James had cut the elastic.

“He cut it off you.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. I knew that tone of voice, and I could only be grateful that Kade hadn’t been the one to walk in on James and me last night. If he had, James would be dead.