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  “Sir. Where are you?” Clark asked, impatient emphasis oneachword.

  “I told youI don’t fuckingknow!”

  Clark was silent for a few seconds, and Lucian had sense enough to feel bad for yelling but not enough compassion to apologize. “If you’re near the farm, you’re closer to us than you are to home,” Clark said. “You’re in no shape to drive, but I know I won’t be able to convince you to stay there until I can get this goddamned software to work to pinpoint your location.”

  “Let me see,” Daniel said, close enough to the phone for Lucian to hear. There was a rustle, a low sound, and Clark spoke to Daniel with a hand blurring the speaker before comingback to Lucian.

  “Get here,” Clark pleaded. “We’ll talk about what happened. Please, sir, just--”

  “Fine.” Lucian tossed the phone into the passenger seat, and for once the GPS didn’t fight Lucian as he called up maps and directions to Clark and Daniel’s townhouse. He defied the speed limits and dared a cop to show up. He replayed every single second of the night over and over. He wanted to live inthe memoryof Shea’s kiss and hands, Shea’s moans and words, Shea’s taste and smell. He wanted to die at his own incompetence, at his inability to string facts together fast or tight enough to see the problem. He knew Shea, and the gun and the violence and the scars didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense, and he knew he should retreat. Leave Shea alone. He’d gotten his chance with Shea, had fucked it up, and Lucian was still reeling at how life was continuing despite his expectations. Lucian wasn’t supposed to survive losing Shea, and without Shea, nothingwould ever matter again.

  “Fucking idiot.” Lucian flew through traffic in the Fashion District of New Amsterdam, and avoided hitting the gang of drunk coeds stumbling to cross the street. Lucian tried to get a grip. He wasn’t melodramatic, he wasn’t a quitter, and he most certainly didn’t lose that whichmattered to him. Except for-

  “No. Not again.” Lucian dove into a parking spot on Lily Avenue a block away from Clark’s home. He slammed the Rover’s door and walked into the freezing wind, hands shoved into his pockets. His shirttails flapped, his tie was loose, his hair wrapped in tangles around his head. He couldn’t think straight, and it was driving him mad. Lucian could always sort the data, make the intuitive leap, figure out the root of a problem. He didn’t understand the what or the why of current happenings, but he knew he was gratefulwhen the door under his upraised fist opened without him needing to knock.

  “Jesus,” Clark said, and the tone made Lucian want to shrink in on himself. Clark yanked Lucian into the townhouse, and Daniel rounded the corner. The professor and Clark wore matching black robes and studied Lucianwiththe same intensity.

  “I’ll make cocoa,” Daniel said softly, retreating downthe narrow hallway.

  “Thank you,” Lucian mumbled, and he clawed at his tie and shirt. It was suffocatinglyhot.

  “Here,” Clark said, undoing the fuzzy robe. “Let’s get you--”

  “I’mfine,”Luciangritted.

  “You’re not.” Clark put an arm around Lucian’s shoulders.

  “Go fuck yourself.” Lucian tried to spin away, and Clark caught himbefore he fell. Just like Shea had done not an hour ago. A thousand stumbles and always a hand to catch him, and Lucian hated with such purity that his visionblurred.

  “Lucian...”

  “Don’t... just... d-don’t do...” Lucian’s teeth wouldn’t quit chattering, and Clark wouldn’t let go of him, and the damnable man wrapped the robe and warmbody around Lucian, winning the struggle without contest.

  “We’ll make it right,” Clark promised, and Lucian heard the oath in Clark’s voice. “Whatever it is, whatever happened, we’ll make it right and get him back to you.”

  “Damn it,” Lucian whispered, knees giving out, hands grabbing Clark’s resolute form, and Clark was there. Holding Lucian up and protecting himlike Lucian was twelve, in love with the dark-haired sensei, and Clark thought affection was tugging Lucian’s hair and callinghimLittle Prince Luke. “Damnme.”

  “Got you,” Clark said, and Lucian didn’t know when they’d sat down, when Clark started rocking him, or when the professor had appeared to rub Lucian’s back. But it felt so good, and Lucian was so tired. So very, verytired.

  “We’ve got you, sir. Just rest.”

  And Lucianclosed his eyes and obeyed.

  Chapter 4

  Lucian rested an elbow on his desk in his office at A Time for Peace, the Gray family benevolence organization that Lucian had started after law school, and he watched it snow. The narrow windows overlooked a side street, cars covered in snow piles a foot deep lining the road. The slush on the walk was smog-soot dirty, and he idly counted the heads in a cluster of smokers standing near the rear entrance of an office building next door. He thought about the view of the city he had in his penthouse office of Gray Tower, how the skyline and the harbor shrouded in low clouds would be clearly visible out ofthe two walls offloor-toceiling glass, but his father was there, today. The last thing Lucian needed was an encounter with Hendrick to inspire another panic attack.

  Daniel was the one who filled Lucian in on the details of Lucian’s Friday night fit. He calmly explained all the symptoms, including Lucian’s shortness of breath, chest pains, and the feeling like Lucian wasn’t going to live until morning. Clark fed Lucian a Xanax, told him to rest, and Lucian had spent the weekend in the spare suite of the couple’s townhouse. Lucian would have argued harder to leave, and if it had just been Clark insisting, Lucian was sure it would have worked.

  Daniel, however, turned out to be completely unreasonable when it came to recovery and selfpreservation, and Luciancaved beneaththe man’s deep ocean gaze and Clark’s gentle insistence. Lucian had to admit, the sleep had done himwonders, and Danielwas a genius inthe kitchen.

  A knock sounded at the door, and a woman with blonde curls stuck her head into the room. “Sir?” Melody, Lucian’s secretary, said. “Maxwell Clark here to see youfor your teno’clock.”

  “Thank you.”Luciansmoothed a hand over his hair, caught back ina half-tailbya metalclasp, and tugged at the rolled cuffs of his white dress shirt. The narrow black tie matched the dullshine on the leather pants that Lucian had acquired off the runway during Fashion Week. Lucian adjusted the knobs on the space heater next to his desk that kept him warm enough that he could shed the dark outer sweater lying over his spare woolcoat ona nearbychair.

  “Good morning,” Clark said, and Lucian sat up to smile at Clark in the man’s usual jeans and royalcolored layers. One blue and one brown eye gave Lucian the once-over, and Clark flopped into a seat across fromLucian. “You’re lookingbetter.”

  “Thank you,” Lucian replied. “Please extend my thanks againto Danielfor grantingme convalescence.”

  Clark grinned and handed Lucian a flash drive. “Oh, I’m happy to tell him you enjoyed being his prisoner.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Lucian said, putting the drive into the USB port on his laptop. “Do mention that next time it might be more believable an illusion were there chains involved.”

  “You left before he got the chance to work up to them.”

  “Silly me,” Lucian said, eyes on the screen while he keyed in various passwords and sifted through folders. There were two new ones. “Is there something happening with Phoenix Investments of which I should be aware?”

  “Only that Jon sent me some names of candidates to be your next whippingboy.”

  Lucian chuckled. “Of course he sent themto you. I do love how that manworks. Subtle.”

  “It’s a gift,”Clark said, seriously.

  “Joseph Smith?” Lucian asked. “Why do I know that one?”

  “He was in the papers recently. Brought down the embezzling African art importer with a history of subordinate abuse.”

  “Interesting.”

  Clark rested his ankle on the opposite knee, hands up behind his head and a smug smirk tilting his lips. “Thought you’d like that. I took the liberty of doing
a full background check. It’s all there.” Clark smiled at Lucian’s dark look. “Don’t worry, sir. Your little fascinationwithintegrityis safe withme.”

  “How deeply reassuring,” Lucian deadpanned, closingfiles. “Next itemonthe agenda.”

  “Not much to report on the current puzzle,” Clark said with a sigh. “I put together the sketchy conjecture about Miss Higgins.”

  “So I see,”Luciansaid, shuttingdownthe drive.

  “And I’ve got a guy in forensics at the university analyzing the chemical compound. Probably not going to tell us much more than we already know.” Clark hesitated, and Lucian paid attention. “I’ve got one more lead I could follow, but it’d be a risk, and--”

  “Don’t bother.” Lucian closed the laptop with a decisive click. “This is a puzzle that will be ongoing until something else falls into our laps that makes the pieces fit. If it takes months or years, I will have my way, and I’m willing to allocate patience to such goals.” He forced his mouth to morph into a chilly smile. “I’msure youanticipated that we’re changingfocus.”

  Clark hummed, and he ran a hand through his gray hair. “Before and after lacing your food with antianxiety meds, I spent all weekend going through my entire study on Project Recently Turned Not So Unrequited.”

  “And?” Lucian prompted, not letting Clark stall or deflect withthe humor.

  “At first glance, nothing. I reviewed the family like I didn’t know them. Went over known boyfriends, liaisons, credit card statements, bank accounts, you name it. The entire folder down to parking tickets, and nothingthat was there was amiss.”

  Luciandrummed fingers onthe desk. “But?”

  Clark’s expression turned proud and devious. “I started adding in the changes we talked about in between your naps in our guest room. Your boy’s new body, the attitude, the gun. I factored that in with the change of job, the rift between your boy and his family, friends, evenpossessions.”

  Lucian appreciated how Clark referred to Shea as Lucian’s despite the current circumstances. It was the kind of subtle respect that Lucian craved from Clark, but could never, obviously, acknowledge. “I assume there’s a point cominginthis monologue, eventually.”

  “Several, sir.” Clark grew calculating, and Lucian told himself it most certainly did not turn him on when the ex-marine did that.

  “For a manto act like your boydid, there had to be an altercation. Probably a few of them. That would explain the muscle gain and the weaponry. He’s protecting himself from something. Said ‘something’ probably physically hurt him, so I called in a favor for some medicalrecords.”

  Lucian lifted eyebrows. “Must have been a hell of a favor.”

  “Guy has a daughter who used to have a boyfriend problem.”

  “Ah,” Lucian chuckled. “I do love the way your world works, Maxwell. Continue.”

  “Sure, Luke.” Clark grinned, and Lucian rolled eyes, waiting. “Three years ago, Shea did a lot more than start to build a house and sell his motorcycle. He changed doctors, dentists, banks, cell phone carriers, the works. Anythingthat could be swapped, he did.”

  Worry and realization gnawed at Lucian. “Erasing...”

  “Exactly. A lot of the transactions went down in cash from what I can cobble together, but Shea sold damned near everything he owned. Even clothing.” Clark’s gaze was bright. “And about two years and nine months ago, he had minor surgery. Seems he’d broken his finger, it healed badly, and he had it reset. He paid incash.”

  “Work related?”Lucianasked.

  Clark shook his head. “This was before he sought means of new employment. Speaking of that, however, I had an interesting conversation with Shea’s former boss this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s amazing what a jilted supervisor will tell a charming, obsequious inquirer looking to hire an exgenius. Mostly the man wanted to talk about how unreliable your boyis.”

  Lucian bristled. Shea had issues with time, it was true, and liked to annoy Lucian’s exaggerated sense of punctuality by being late, but when it came to his work or other people counting on him, he set six alarms if necessary. Even for unpaid internships in college. “Explain.”

  Clark’s focus intensified. “Toward the end of Shea’s stint at Arthur Stanton as a corporate finance associate, he took a lot of personal leave and vacation. Usuallyat the beginningofthe week.”

  “Recovering fromthe weekend, not planning for it,” Luciandeducted.

  “Yes, sir. His old boss seemed to think Shea had a drinkingproblem.”

  “No,” Lucian denied. “Man dilutes fine whiskey enoughto make it flavored water.”

  “I understand, sir,” Clark said gently. “But the impression is that Shea was unreliable, erratic, and troubled. He quit without notice.”

  Lucian digested for a moment. “So what happened three years ago wasn’t about finally doing something for himself instead of his family’s expectations. He was hurt by someone or something, and it was bad enough that he felt like he needed to hide and disconnect from anybodyhe cared about.”

  “Yes, sir. Appears that way.”

  “And youhave no idea what did the damage?”

  “Not a goddamned clue, sir,” Clark said, clearly impressed. “There’s not even so much as an unusual money withdrawal or expenditure. He pulled out an allowance for himself every couple of weeks, and there’s quite a bit of money missing from when he yanked it from one set of banks and put it in another, but that’s easily explained by moving, building materials for the cabin, that sort of thing. Whatever he’s covering up, he’s doingit well.”

  “I suppose if anyone could hide fromyou...” Lucian began, pride flickering amidst the panic and formulating strategies.

  “It’d be your boy, sir, absolutely.”

  Sleet started to peck at the windows, and Lucian looked forward to engaging the storm. “Very well,” Lucian said, hands folding on his desk. Clark sat at attentionand met Lucian’s stare, awaitingorders.

  “This is what we’re goingto do.”

  ***

  Stopping just inside Clover Field Elementary School, Lucian took a moment to shake ice from his coat and wipe his shoes on a piece of industrial-grade carpet. It was winter break for the students, and the schoolwas having some repairs done after a water leak flooded the kindergarten and first grade wing. Lucian knew this because Clark had told him where Shea’s crew was currently working. Shea was putting in some overtime during the holidays, probably giving Shea the ideal excuse to miss the family Christmas feast. Lucian knew better than to try to call Shea when the man was in avoidance mode. Phone calls, texts, and emails could be ignored, but a visit during lunch hour at the job site? That would be a bit more difficult to sidestep. Lucian did enjoy employing the direct approach whenever possible.

  Lucian unbuttoned his coat and undid his scarf, following the trail of extension cords out of the lobby and down a darkened hallway papered in drawings of stick figures and decals of Santa Claus. Light from the fourth classroomspilled in regular shapes across the tile floor, and classic rock dissonance reached Lucian’s ears. He heard voices, laughter, and cursing, and knew he was inthe right place.

  Sweeping into the room, Lucian knocked one gloved hand on the door and glanced around as conversation completely died. Two men with black hair and red-brown complexions sat at a low table, food spread out before them. An impossibly skinny man perched on a heater near the windows, half a sandwich stuffed in an open mouth. Another man, this one nondescript with brown hair and a small paunch, stood next to the skinny guy, eating from a bag of chips. A massive humanbeingwithglasses and a kind expression sat on the floor, back against a row of lockers. Next to the giant sat Shea in jeans, flannel, and work boots, spoon frozen in midair and eyes flashing toward the windows like he might make a run for it. Hardhats lay scattered about with a collection of tool belts, and Lucian smiled benignly as his Gucci boots squeaked on the laminate.

  “Hey! Boss! Fancy man here ta see ya!” shouted one
ofthe Hispanics at the table.

  Lucian cocked a brow at the volume and at the amused and curious expressions gettingthrownhis way. He took off his gloves, exceedingly happy that he hadn’t brought Aaron or Cale along for this run. They took respecting Lucian a little too seriously, sometimes. A middle-aged man with a beer belly, tool belt, and hardhat still in place stepped in from the adjoining classroom. Shea stood, wiping hands on denim, and Luciandidn’t miss how Shea noted allavailable exits.

  Uncertainly, the foremanapproached and held out a hand to Lucian. “I’mSteve Walker. CanI help you?”

  “Lucian Gray,” he said, shaking Steve’s hand. “Apologies for the intrusion on your schedule, Mr. Walker, but I have some business with Mr. Ollivander that unfortunatelycannot wait.”

  “Ollivander?” Steve repeated, confused until light dawned. “Oh!” He turned toward Shea. “You mean Shea... right.”

  “Yes, I do meanShea,”Lucianconfirmed.

  “Uh, so, hey. You want to take it out in the hallway?” Steve asked Shea. All the heads in the room turned to stare at Shea, and the skinny guy ate a chip that crunched too loudlyinthe silence.

  Shea froze and then shook his head. “Nah. Here’s fine, boss. I’m--”

  “The hallway would be preferable, yes, thank you,” Lucian said, and Steve looked fromLucian to Shea and back againlike he reallydidn’t want inonthis firefight.

  “Ah, fuck.” Shea sounded resigned. “We’ll... yeah. Inthe hallway. Sorry, boss.”

  “It’s your lunch, boy. Go on.”

  There was a hiss ofSpanish fromthe tiny table, and Shea’s head whipped about. “Shut it, Cheetah.”

  The slender Hispanic showed crooked teeth at Shea, and Shea scowled. Lucian followed Shea out of the classroom, but Shea stopped right past the door, didn’t close it, and set his broad shoulders against the wallwithhis arms crossed.

  Lucian gave the entirely quiet and attentive construction crew an unimpressed look and sighed when they didn’t even bother to appear interested elsewhere. “My apologies,” he said, stuffing his gloves inone coat pocket. “But I didn’t want to miss you.”