"Okay, I have to wrap up a few things here. I'll swing by when I'm done and pick you up."

My phone beeped. "I have another call coming in. I'll see you after."

"I'll call you when I get there."

I pulled the phone away and saw Daniel's name on my phone.

Shit. What impeccable timing. I considered ignoring the call but worried that he'd simply keep calling.

"Daniel." I swallowed and tried to sound firm.

"Where are you?" he barked.

I tensed, remembering his wrath from the last time we spoke.

"I think I told you to stop yelling at me."

"I don't have time for discussing manners, Erica. Where the fuck are you?"

I started losing my cool. I was pissed, but I was scared too. I glanced up and down the street, suddenly petrified that he could find out where I was.

"This isn't a good time," I said quickly.

"Erica, you're-"

I hung up the phone and silenced the ringer, dropping it back into my purse. No way in hell was I telling him where I was. All I needed was him and his henchman Connor showing up at the restaurant confronting Richard. I closed my eyes and asked myself why I cared, why I still let him be a part of my life in any way. I'd be better off without him. Just like my mother wanted. Why hadn't anyone given me the cliff notes on him before I'd stupidly started seeking him out?

My purse vibrated against me. I knew it was Daniel again. All he cared about was his campaign. All he ever did was hurt me. Physically, and emotionally, he'd put me through hell. Yet here I was, fishing for what Richard might know that could damage him or compromise his freedom.

I reached for the door handle of the restaurant, determined to push thoughts of Daniel out of my mind. I caught Richard's profile ahead of me. He held his cell phone to his ear. I approached, not caring that I was interrupting. Dropping down into the chair across from him, I leveled a contentious look his way. Expressionless, he looked over at the front window, repeating the name of the restaurant to whoever was on the other line.

"See you then."

He hung up and set his phone down between us. "We meet again."

"What do you want?" I snapped, eager to let him know how unimpressed I was with him and how he'd hurt one of my best friends to further his own career.

"I'm not here to fight. I just want to ask you a few questions."

I let out a short laugh. "Right. For the record, I have nothing to say to you."

"I had a feeling you'd say that. So why are you here?"

I leaned in. "I want to know how you sleep at night."

His eyes narrowed. "Listen, I just want the truth."

"So you manipulated someone I love for information? What kind of person does that?"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I care about Marie."

"For someone who wants the truth, you're full of shit. Does she even know what you did?"

He worked his jaw, avoiding my eyes. "We talked."

"And?" I waited. I wanted him to tell me he'd revealed his true self to her. But if he had, he would have destroyed her too. I couldn't forget the hurt look on her face when I'd called Richard out. She loved him.

"Not surprisingly, she didn't understand my reasons or my obligations as a member of the press."

"What about your obligations as a decent person? Marie is a good, kind person, and you probably broke her heart. For what? A story?"

He shook his head and looked past me. "Look, I know there's more to Daniel Fitzgerald than meets the eye. He's skirted past every major controversy that's come close to him over the past decade, and no one digs any deeper with this guy. I want to know why, and I'm going to find out."

I stared at him, my lips sealed into a tight line. He wasn't getting shit out of me.

He leaned in as if he were warming up to convince me of something. "You come into Daniel's life out of the blue, right? Weeks later, his stepson is dead. Apparent suicide. And he's carrying on his campaign as if nothing's happened."

"He's a politician. Do you have any idea how many people they answer to, how much money they sink into these things? This is years in the making."

He shook his head. "No, there's more to this story. The police know something, and I have a feeling you do too."

My heart sped up at the mention of the police. Richard digging around was one thing, but as much as I respected the law, I was scared to death that I'd lied to cover Daniel's crimes.

"Erica, this is your last chance."

My questioning gaze flew to his. "Last chance for what exactly?"

"To tell the truth. He's going down. You have to ask yourself whether you want to let him take you down with him. I realize he's your father, but how far are you willing to go to protect him?"

I grimaced. "You have nothing on him. Or me. He's my father. So what?"

He smiled, and my stomach fell.

"I have a lot more than that, sweetheart."

"Then why isn't he in jail?" I hope he couldn't hear the growing hysteria in my voice. What else could he possibly know?

"I've been researching his affiliations. Making connections."

"And?" I held my breath, wondering how much Richard would actually divulge to me in an effort to get me to talk.

"I found someone."

I held my breath. "Who?"

"Someone from his network in Southie who wants to talk. In fact, I'm meeting with him as soon as I'm done here. He has information about what happened the night Mark MacLeod died."

My heart beat loudly in my ears, fading out the quiet murmur of the restaurant.

"So like I said. This might be your last chance."

"This has nothing to do with me." I wished that were true. I wanted nothing to do with what Daniel had done. I didn't regret that Mark was gone, but I didn't want to know anything more about it. I didn't want to walk around with the knowledge that he might have died because of me and that I'd lied to keep Daniel from justice.

"This has everything to do with you. I've been a reporter for half my life, and this has you written all over it. Talk to me, goddamnit."

The sound of my phone vibrating in my purse distracted my rising panic.

"I have to go. Good luck, Richard." I rushed up out of my seat. He called my name, but I wanted nothing more to do with this. I wasn't going to help him. And an insane part of me wanted to warn Daniel.

I stepped out of the cafe and paused in the middle of the sidewalk. I scanned the street for a cab to take me away from here, but my eyes fixed on a man across the street.

He was tall and thickly built, a faded gray scally cap shading his face.

Our eyes locked. I knew him. I knit my eyebrows as I tried to place him.

"Erica, wait."

Richard was beside me, but I couldn't tear my gaze away from the man. He didn't belong here, but his eyes were trained on me. He must know me too, but how...

Before I could piece it together, he raised his arms in front of him, the shiny metallic of a weapon pressed firmly in his hands.

No.

My mouth fell open in a silent scream, but I couldn't move fast enough. The loud blast of shots echoed through the air.

An explosive pain ripped through me. The world stood still.

I had no idea how badly I'd been hurt because all I could see was blood. I was soaked. I dropped to my knees.

Oh God. This isn't happening. This isn't real.

The street was chaos. The blur of frightened faces running from the danger. The noise. Screams and more shots and the screech of a car. More commotion on the street and men's angry voices.

I held my shaking hands against the places on my belly that radiated with pain. Richard lay unmoving beside me. More blood.

My head swam, and I dropped down onto my side on the pavement. With waning strength, I gritted my teeth, trying to hold on for help.

"Erica!"

Like an angel's, Blake's arms came around me. With careful speed, he lifted me and carried me into the restaurant. He lowered me onto the carpeted floor in the back of the restaurant. The tension I'd been holding onto released, and I grabbed his hand as he reached for me. I squeezed it hard, unwilling to let him go.

"I've got you, baby. Everything's going to be okay. Help is coming."

His voice sounded foreign, like he didn't believe his own words. I looked into his eyes, fixed on that single point, but the pain there was almost as unbearable as the pain pulsing through me. He twisted out of my grasp and lifted my shirt up past my bra.

He exhaled in a rush.

"Fuck."

He pulled off his T-shirt and pressed the cloth hard against my belly. I cried out.

He hushed me, never moving his hands or easing the pressure. "You're okay," he said again.

I wanted to believe him. I closed my eyes, feeling weaker with each passing second. Blake's warm hand cupped my cheek. Warm, he was so warm.

"Look at me, baby. Keep your eyes open."

I opened my eyes halfway. Somehow that was as far as they could go. Everything felt slower, the breath that filled my lungs, the beat of my heart. The chaos around us moved in slow motion, a blur of sounds and activity. But he was all I could see, the only voice I could hear.

The heaviness of the pain had waned, and my body felt lighter in its weakness. Using all my strength, I raised my hand to his face.

"Blake...I love you."

I didn't recognize my own voice, but I felt the words in my heart. I loved this man. With every ounce of my being, faded as the world was becoming. I closed my eyes again, lightness wrapping around me in the dark.

"No," he ground out. "Don't say that. You stay with me."

I rested my hand over his. The wet blood sopping his shirt was barely warm on my skin now. I couldn't. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I wanted to. I wanted to be home, with Blake, wrapped up in his arms.

I let out a breath, relief and a sudden dizzy rush washing over me when I imagined that's where we were.

"Stay awake, baby. Please try to stay awake for me."

He was hurting. The agony in his voice lanced through me, one last strike through the numbing pain.

Blake... His name was a whisper, or maybe just a whisper in my own mind. I repeated the word like a mantra until he was gone. I couldn't hear him or feel him anymore. His voice, his face, even the dream of us had vanished into nothing.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

The persistent beep was like a fly that wouldn't go away. I frowned, searching for the strength to make it stop. I was cold. I didn't know this place. Everything was blurry, but the room was brightly lit, lights buzzing a quiet hum above me.

Slowly and with great effort, I brought more things into focus. The rough texture of the white blanket covering me. The hard tubing invading my nostrils. A soft rustling sound beside me.

Then Blake's face filled the widening frame of my vision. I wanted to reach for him, but a needling pain shot through my hand as I went to move it. I winced. He caught it between his palms, stroking softly and warming it at the same time.

"Blake." My voice cracked when I spoke. My throat was dry, but suddenly grew moist with the tears and emotion. Seeing Blake overwhelmed me. We'd been apart for too long, yet I couldn't explain why. "What happened?"

"You were shot."

I closed my eyes and reached for the memories. Everything was so blurry, but slowly, like the room, the last memories of my conscious mind came into focus.