“Do you have any leads at all? What’s the next step?” I want to wrap my hands around Doherty’s neck and shake him until everything he knows falls out of him.

“We don’t have a lot, to be quite honest,” he replies, his voice low. “The thing I keep coming back to is the text that came from your phone, arranging the meeting. Whoever sent that message had to know your role in her life and had to manage to get your phone away from you. It can’t be a coincidence that the day your phone just happened to disappear, this whole thing went down. It was premeditated. And either someone close to the situation is the mastermind, or was used as a middleman.”

Emerson. I still think she’s involved. I need to figure out a way to get her to talk.

Clearing his throat, he squirms uncomfortably in his seat. “Are you sure you don’t remember when you had your phone last? What you could’ve done with it?”

Blood roars in my ears at the accusation in his tone. “Are you fucking serious?” I hiss incredulously. “You think I’m involved? That I’ve been making this all up? That I would nearly get myself killed by those guys if I had something to do with this?”

He holds his hands up in surrender as he scoots as far away from me as the armrest will allow. “No! No! Not anymore, at least. Before you showed up in Chicago, I have to admit you were moving up the board of potential suspects, but after your rash and reckless near-suicide mission, you’ve been removed.”

Blowing a huge sigh of relief through my pursed lips, it takes me a few seconds to calm down before I can speak. I was about to lose my fucking shit on this guy. Thinking I was somehow involved with Blake’s abduction . . . I want to beat his ass just for entertaining such a preposterous idea.

“Madden, we have to carefully explore every possible option . . . including you,” he continues, relaxing his posture once he sees I’m cooling down. “I understand your life has been completely flipped upside down in the last week. The woman you’re in love with goes missing. You find out she’s a member of the WITSEC, and the life she lived before you met her was something you only thought happened in twisted, psychological thrillers. And to top it all off, someone used your phone to set the whole thing in motion. I know you feel like you’re spinning out of control, but you can’t make impulsive, thoughtless decisions. It hinders our efforts, puts you in danger, and possibly jeopardizes Blake’s life.”

I nod my understanding. Before I made the trip to Chicago, I hadn’t really thought about any other consequences besides me getting hurt, and I was willing to risk myself if I could save her. The overwhelming need to do something, anything, controlled my actions, and though the trip was successful in finding out Vincent Ricci isn’t who kidnapped Blake and clearing my name from the list of suspects, I’m now afraid I’ve made things worse for her.

“I told you I wouldn’t make any more careless decisions,” I grit through my teeth, more upset with myself than anything.

“Good.” He tips his chin approvingly. “I expect, with the excitement we just left in Chicago, for whoever has her to lie low for a bit, but if you are contacted in any way, or if anything seems off to you, call me immediately. We’ll have to act quickly.”

Mumbling my concurrence, I’ve already started to tune him out and focus on what all I need to do when I get home. In my head, all signs still point directly to Emerson, and I’ve got a plan.

RAZE’S PHONE CHIRPS WITH AN incoming text, and I jump nearly ten feet in the air, praying it’s an update on Madden. Yesterday evening we learned about the FBI’s raid on Vincent’s car shop and Madden’s subsequent hospitalization. It was now over twenty-four hours after everything had gone down in Chicago and since then, there’s been minimal contact with whoever it is feeding him the information.

According to Raze, the feds had done everything possible to keep it off the radar, trying to prevent an all-out uproar among both the allies and enemies of the Ricci family throughout the country. But of course, the details eventually leaked, and now the power play for Chicago has begun. His exact words were, “People like me, we’re sharks. A family gets the tiniest nick in the skin of their operation and a single drop of blood escapes . . . the rest of us smell their vulnerability from miles away.”

He seems pleased that Vincent’s empire is faltering, and if I thought about it long enough, I’m sure I would be too, but I can’t think about anything but Madden. If he’s going to be okay. Why he was there. What all he knows about me now. If I’ll ever get a chance to tell him I love him.

“Well?” I stare expectantly at Raze from my couch to where he’s typing out a return message, standing by the dinette. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Yes, impatient girl. Hold on one minute. I’m trying to find out as much as I can.”

Chewing on the inside of my cheek while I wait, it seems like an eternity passes by the time he finally raises his head and locks his gaze on me.

“Your boy was discharged from the hospital this afternoon and was on a flight back to L.A. this evening with U.S. Marshal Owen Doherty. I still don’t have confirmation of his exact injuries, but obviously he’s well enough to travel. No one knows for sure why he was at Capo’s, what he hoped to accomplish, but my informant at the bureau confirmed he was there on his own and ended up getting into a skirmish with some of Vincent’s men. Things got out of hand and, luckily for him, surveillance was being run on the place, so the FBI was able to stop it before he got in too much trouble.” Pausing, he shakes his head in disbelief. “This guy is either really fucking stupid or he really fucking loves you.”

A flood of emotions washes over me when he finishes the recap, and immediately, I burst into uncontrollable tears. Relieved Madden isn’t seriously hurt. Angry at myself for getting him involved in my mess of a life. Worried he’s already begun to resent me. Scared he’ll do something else reckless and put himself in another dangerous situation—one he may not be able to walk away from. Confident he truly meant it when he whispered he loved me. Devastated I may never be able to tell him the same.

“Why are you crying, kotyonok?” In a flash, I’m cradled in Raze’s arms, my face buried in his chest. I welcome the human contact and melt into him. “I thought you’d be happy to hear he’s okay and going home. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I . . . I . . . I . . .” Each time I try to start talking, I hiccup back a sob. “I n-never told him . . . I never told him I love him.”

The moment the confession leaves my lips, I erupt into another fit of hysteria, clinging to his brawny back while I use his shirt as a handkerchief. He tightens his arms around me, holding me closer while he soothingly strokes my hair.

“Shh, there. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he whispers softly. “Once this is all over, you’ll be able to tell him whatever you want. Just calm down, sweet girl. No need to get this upset.”

Sweet girl—Madden’s nickname for me—echoes loudly in my ears, and instead of calming me down, the words rip my soul from me. Breathing is difficult. I can’t get enough air. My chest feels as if it’s cracked open, exposing the carnage of what’s left of my shattered heart.

In a last-ditch effort to anchor myself to reality, I dig my fingernails into the soft flesh beneath them, craving the pain that follows, the pain that reminds me I’m alive. Except, it never comes. Frustrated, I bite deeper, burying the keratin into my sides and dragging downward, and when I still don’t feel anything, I realize it’s because I’m holding onto Raze and not myself.

Hastily releasing him, I gasp with horror as I lean back to look into his face. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you? I thought I was—”