Emergency room.

Grandmother called in.

Brothers and sister told.

Job nearly lost.

Rock bottom.

There had been moments in those early days when he'd have given his left arm for another gla.s.s and his right for a handful of pills. Now, with eight years clean-no slips, no relapses, no just one drinks-he felt steady and calm. He'd made it through the h.e.l.l of withdrawal, he'd had the support of friends and family in getting sober, and he relied on a solid network of like-minded men in his recovery support group. Every day, he aimed to live according to a new way of thinking-a sober way-and he honestly wasn't tempted anymore when he walked past tequila on the shelf, or saw a gla.s.s being served at a bar.

But beer? That s.h.i.t was nasty. He didn't have a clue what anyone liked, so he grabbed some Corona and headed to the self-checkout. As he slipped his debit card through the register, a flurry of nerves skated up his spine. What if his sponsor Kevin saw him? Sure, he had an ironclad reason to be buying, but s.h.i.t, he would sound like such a liar.

"Oh, it's for my brother."

That was the kind of stuff addicts said when they were falling off the wagon. n.o.body lied better than an alcoholic ready to sidle up to the bottle again. Colin took solace in the truth, though. He wasn't going to touch this stuff. That was why Shannon had asked him to stop by the store. She knew he could handle it. h.e.l.l, he was d.a.m.n proud of himself for proving to his family that every day he was recovering.

And to himself, too. He intended to do that by competing in this year's Bada.s.s Triathlon at the end of the summer. He hadn't attempted it since his epic fail. But it was his personal quest to finish it this time. Whether he came in first or last didn't matter. Finishing sober was all he wanted.

Colin paid for the beer and headed out of the store, ready to see Ryan. His brother had had a h.e.l.l of a day. He'd spent it at Hawthorne, visiting their murderess mother in prison. Apparently she'd finally confessed to him that she'd had their father killed. Colin had never doubted she was guilty, but Ryan had held out hope she'd been framed, and that with the case reopened someone else would be nabbed. True, the detectives were still looking for the gunman's potential accomplices, but for once and for all, Ryan was as sure of their mother's guilt as the rest of them were. Now it was Colin's job, along with Shannon and Michael, to lend some support to their brother.

As he got behind the wheel of his Audi, something nagged at him. Something he'd meant to do last night after he said good-bye to Elle. He snapped his fingers.

"The picture," he said. The hot s.e.x must have fried his brain. He'd forgotten to text her the image of the kid in the Buick who'd been stalking Shannon-Colin was sure he'd seen the guy around the community center playing basketball. He hunted for it now. But as he scrolled through his photo gallery to fire the picture off to Elle, all his recent images were gone. Right, he'd reset everything on his phone the other day after testing a new fitness app that downloaded a virus. Needless to say, his venture firm wasn't going to fund that app.

He'd simply get the image from Brent another time. Now, he needed to be with his family.

And later this week, he had a date with Elle.

Well, it was hardly a date.

More like a plan to f.u.c.k.

But that was okay. He loved f.u.c.king her, and if f.u.c.king her was the way to win the heart that he wanted badly, he'd be up to the challenge.

"No one was there." Marcus blew out a long stream of air.

"So you try again another time," Elle said, trying to cheer him up as she untied her roller skates while chatting with Marcus on the phone.

"I guess so," he said, his voice trailing off.

"Look, just because he wasn't there this morning doesn't mean he won't be the next time. Besides, who's at their house anymore these days?" she said with a laugh. She'd just finished her workout at the rink, and over at the arcade, Alex hammered the joystick in what looked like a furious game of Frogger. "It'll probably take a few tries before you find them."

"Yeah, you're right," he answered, sounding a touch more hopeful.

She smiled as she tugged off her skates, glad that her words were giving Marcus some kind of courage. "So just go again until you do it. Life is all about risks, right?"

"Risks," he said, as if he were letting the word marinate. "Right. Risks."

As she finished the call, she dropped her skates into her bag then joined her son for a round of Frogger, soundly schooling him in the arcade game she'd aced at this very rink back in high school. "It is so much easier to crush you in games at the roller rink than on the Xbox," Elle said, pumping a fist in victory when her frog successfully evaded more cars, trucks, and traffic than her son's.

"As if your retro games even count," he said with a smirk.

"Hey! I didn't see you complaining about my retro games during practice. You were glued to the screen."

He shrugged. "I pretended to like it."

She answered him with a noogie. "What do you say to you, me, fries, and a shake?"

"Mix in a burger and you're on, T," he said, calling her by her roller derby name. Only the "T" stood for more than just her alias it was her word to live by.

"It's a deal."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

The basketball arced through the air, swirling once, then twice, around the rim and dropping with a whoosh into the basket.

"No f.u.c.king way!"

Rex stared at the ball in amazement as it bounced on the concrete of the court.

Colin held his arms out wide as he stood on the free-throw line. I told you so. "Angle. It's all angle."

"You have got to be kidding me!" the boy said, his big eyes rounder than ever. He'd been doubting Colin, all right. Rex was one of the teens who played in the rec center basketball league. He grabbed the ball and held it as if he were weighing it, then he narrowed his eyes at Colin. "Is this like Playoff Gate all over again?"

Colin laughed and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. "I a.s.sure you, I did not deflate the basketball. But if I did, I would tell you that no matter what the PSI, I'd still have a greater chance at landing a free throw if I had my arms at this angle," he said, demonstrating a wider placement of his arms, "than at this angle." He returned to a tighter alignment. "And I can tell you, too, that if you're behind the free throw line, you need a smaller angle to make the shot, and if you're dribbling..." He began moving down the court, while Rex picked up his pace to stay with him. "And you pa.s.s the ball to get away from a defender, pa.s.sing it at a nice straight angle gives you better odds of keeping the ball on your team. Like this." Colin tossed it neatly to Rex, who s.n.a.t.c.hed the ball and lifted it above his head.

"Smaller angle," Colin said, correcting him, and Rex made a quick adjustment then watched the ball sail into the net.

"Holy s.h.i.t," the teen said as the ball bounced on the court. Rex's younger brother, Tyler, had joined them, watching from the sidelines, and looked less impressed.

Rex marched over to Colin and slapped his palm. "I still don't believe you, but a deal is a deal is a deal. You get to tutor me now in business math."

Colin beamed. For the last year he'd been coaching the rec league and tutoring the teens at the center in business math as part of his personal decision to devote more time to service. He'd lost out on a big deal a year ago, and had felt the first inklings of the familiar urge to bury his frustrations in liquor. Rather than give in, he'd refocused his energies, pouring his time into others. That had helped him fight the good fight and stay on the straight and narrow path.

"It's all math, man. Everything is math," he said, grabbing the ball from the ground and dribbling it in place. "You will use math in every f.u.c.king area of your life. Chance of hitting a free throw from one-third of the way up the court? Math. Chance of landing a slam-dunk? Math. How much money do I need to pay my bills? Math. Is it worth missing cla.s.s to sleep in? Comes down to math."

"What he's saying is-math is everything," Tyler said.

"What? You're on his team now?" Rex said jokingly to his brother.

"Listen to Tyler. He knows what he's talking about," Colin said. A few years younger, Rex's brother dabbled in basketball, but his asthma slowed him down.

"And this is the s.h.i.t you do for a living?"

Colin took aim at the net and watched the ball soar. "See, I'm not some natural basketball player. I only learned how to hold my own on the court by applying math to the way I play. And yes-this is the s.h.i.t I do for a living. Every day. Evaluate risk. Study balance sheets. Look at profit and loss statements. And take a gamble as to whether some new technology for phones, or TVs, or gaming, or whatever, is going to change the world." The ball slinked neatly through the basket. He tossed it to Rex, who took his shot.

"How much green did you bring home last year?" Rex asked.

Colin laughed, shaking his head, as the younger man landed a shot.

"You're not going to tell me?"

"No. I'm not going to tell you. But I will say this: my portfolio of companies had a twenty-four percent return, and that's well ahead of the stock market, and it's also ahead of the twenty percent benchmark for a venture capital firm, so there you go. Plus, one of the early seed startups I invested in five years ago went public, and my firm netted a beautiful profit from that sale. A thirty times return."

Rex's eyes practically turned into dollar signs, and Colin chuckled. "Don't get ahead of yourself. That money goes back into the portfolio. So we can invest in more companies," he explained, dribbling the ball. Rex was eighteen and headed to community college. He didn't know what he wanted to major in, and Colin was hoping he'd lean toward business. He had some innate interest in it. He just needed a push to see the value in the long term.

"But that's your goal, right?" he asked.

"You got it. Find the diamond in the rough. Bet big on it before anyone else does. Grow it and watch it turn into a money tree."

Rex waved his arms enthusiastically. "Oh man, I want a money tree. I want a big, fat money tree that grows greenbacks all year round. Ty, let's go grow us a money tree."

"Yeah, right, in the concrete pit at our c.r.a.ppy apartment complex," Tyler said with a snort from his spot on the sidelines.

"Hey! Watch it. We'll move up someday." Rex turned back at Colin and pointed his thumb at Tyler. "I gotta look out for him. Mom's working too many jobs. She's never around."

"That's why she makes sure you're here instead of wandering the streets," Colin said, pa.s.sing the ball to Rex. "And if you study business, you'll have a h.e.l.l of a better shot at growing a money tree than you would by chasing after some get-rich-quick scheme. Invest, nurture, grow, make more. That's what I do. That's my job. That's my pa.s.sion." He held out his arm, showing the tattoo there. Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.

Rex tucked the ball beneath his elbow and walked closer to see.

"Hey, Rex. I'm hungry," Tyler interjected.

"Give me a second, Ty. I'll make you mac and cheese when we get home. My man Colin is training me to be a venture capitalist. Get over here and join us." Rex turned his attention back to Colin's ink. "So that's your mission at work or something? Nothing ventured, nothing gained?"

"Yeah, but in life, too. Means more to me than just work."

"Like what?" Rex asked.

"It means take big chances. It means stay away from drugs," Colin said, talking bluntly to the boys as he always did.

Rex sneered. "What do you know about that, Mr. Richie Rich? You probably bathe in Cristal."

Colin rolled his eyes. "Dude. You think I was born rich? You think I was rolling in cash as a kid? Wrong," he said, as if he'd just slammed a buzzer on a game show. "My family was f.u.c.ked up, and I was the most messed up of them all. Painkillers, tequila, and speed in college. I was a mess. All this," he said, gesturing to his arms, covered in ink, "they're my reminders. Eight years clean." He pointed to the art on his body, naming each one. "Lotus, new beginning. Sunburst, truth and bravery. This Chinese character-it's for strength."

Rex raised his chin and peered at an infinity symbol with four interlocking circles on Colin's wrist. "What's that one?"

"Me and my brothers and sister. The four of us. Our unbreakable bond, no matter what."

"That's like us," Rex said, patting his arm where the sleeve of his T-shirt hit.

"What do you mean?"

Rex pointed to his little brother. "Him. I always look out for Tyler. That's why I have this." He pulled up his sleeve to his shoulder. At first Colin saw only a few letters of the word protect. His hackles rose, remembering what Ryan had told him a week ago. The guy who'd been following Shannon around had some ink on his arm that said Protect Our Own-the tattoo of the Royal Sinners.

Colin spoke sharply. "Do not even. That better not be what I think it is."

Rex furrowed his brow. "Way to freak out, dude. What the f.u.c.k do you think it says?"

"That better not be Protect Our Own."

Rex laughed deeply, clutching his belly, letting the sound resonate through him. "No. No. No," he said, catching his breath. "No way. No how. Our ink says Protector. We got ours together." Rex stepped closer to Colin and showed him the full wrap of the word around his bicep. Tyler yanked up his shirtsleeve, displaying matching ink.

"I would whip him good if he messed around with that gang." Rex draped an arm around his little brother.

"Whew," Colin said, wiping his hand across his brow in exaggerated relief.

"I saw some of them a few blocks away the other day."

"Here?" Colin asked, pointing to the basketball court.

Rex nodded. "Nearby. We made sure they didn't come any closer."

Colin didn't like the sound of gang members hovering so close to the community center. He was well aware that it was a risk-this center was located in a section of town that had been a hot bed of crime years ago, but the surrounding neighborhood was improving now. Still, he wanted the center, the kids, and Elle as safe as could be.

"Who's we? What is Protector?" he asked, returning to the ink.

"A group of us who are trying to look out for others," Tyler said, chiming in proudly. He seemed to idolize his older brother.

Colin arched an eyebrow. "Like the Guardian Angels?"

Rex nodded. "We model ourselves after them. We're all volunteers. We do safety patrols. Walk the streets. Keep an eye out. Elle inspired me to do it. Rise above, as she would say."

"Did someone say my name?"

Colin turned in the direction of the sultry, s.e.xy voice. She wore tight jeans and a little white summery blouse. The outfit did wondrous things to her fantastic t.i.ts and her fabulous a.s.s. Her long, dark hair spilled down her spine, and she gathered it up, creating a makeshift ponytail, then fanned her face with her free hand. A small part of him wished the woman wasn't so d.a.m.n hot. As Rex and Tyler snapped their gazes to Elle, he could see it in their eyes-she'd featured in their whack-off fantasies. A primal, territorial instinct licked through his veins, and he wanted to pounce on Elle, wrap his arms around her, and claim her.

"Mine," he'd say with a snarl, toss her over his shoulder and cart her off to the woods to take her, mark her, and leave his imprint on her.

Of course, the rational, adult portion of his brain knew that was ludicrous. She was hardly his, and even with what they had, he needn't be jealous of teenage boys. They were boys, and while they might l.u.s.t after her, they also admired her.

"We're quoting you, Elle. Rise above," Tyler said, raising his fist in the air. Yup, it was a mix of feelings they possessed for the hot-as-sin and caring-as-h.e.l.l director of the center where they spent many days and evenings.

She held up a hand to high-five Tyler then slapped the older brother's hand, too. "Excellent. You boys do me proud. Are you staying to get a bite to eat? I hear there are turkey sandwiches on the menu tonight."

"I love turkey!"

"More than my mac and cheese?" Rex asked his brother.