He hustled over and grabbed her arm. I told you. One rule. You dont go in my stallions stall.

Aint going to muck itself"

His hand squeezed down hard of its own volition. He killed a stable hand a year ago. Trampled him to death in there. Dont ever do that again.

Those sky- blue eyes of hers got wide. He was fine with me.

Im the only one who goes in there. Do we understand each other?

You do that one more time, Ill pack your shit up, he said deliberately, and send you back where you came from.

Yessir.

He stepped away and tried not to stumble. Okay, then.

All right.

She blew a stray hair out of her face and resumed her trek, her shoulders as tense as her walk.

Uncapping the vodka, Edward took a long pull off the bottle, and probably should have stopped to notice how the liquor didnt sting at all.

But that was yet another thing he didnt want to think about.

Just like anything happening to Jeb Landiss daughter on his watch.

Damn it.

{ 153 }.

SEV ENTEEN.

T he Washington County Courthouse and Jail was a complex of modern buildings that took up two entire city blocks downtown, the facilitys halves linked by a pedi- way that stretched over the traffic below. There were a number of entrances, and as Lane pulled up in his Porsche, countless people were streaming in and out of them, men and women in suits striding up and down the marble steps, officers in patrol cars and sheriffs SUVs parking and unparking in specially marked spots, people with ratty clothes smoking on the fringes.

His 911 Turbo let out a low cough as he decelerated and stared up at the looming buildings. No logical layout that he could see. No street addresses, either.

Like if you had to ask where to go, you didnt belong there"

From out of nowhere, a uniformed African- American man stepped directly in front of his car.

Shit! Lane nailed the brakes hard. What the hell are you" Mitch?

Deputy Sheriff Mitchell Ramsey didnt answer. He just pointed to a marked spot directly behind him that was vacant.

As Lane shot forward and parallel parked on the first try, he was { 154 }.

aware of the deputy standing right along his bumpers, arms thick as cruise- ship ropes crossed over the chest of a professional football player. Those dark eyes were hidden behind a pair of Ray Bans, and his shaved head made his neck and shoulders look even bigger than they were.

Lane uncurled his body from the sports car. Hey, do you know where my sister"

I gotchu.

The two of them clapped palms and went in for a hard embrace. As they stood chest to chest, Lane was transported back to nearly two years prior, to the private airstrip west of town, to the night when Ed- ward had finally come home from his captivity.

Mitch had brought him back to the States. Back to the family.

God only knew how. No one had ever asked the details, and Lane had always had the sense that the former Army Ranger wouldnt have shared the hows and whos anyway.

Shes not doing well in there, Mitch said.

Not surprised.

Lane followed the sheriff, the pair of them taking the fifty steps up to one of the many revolving entrances two at a time. When they got in range, Mitch routed them over to something marked Law Enforce- ment Only and then the man barged them through security, the other officers waving them past with nods of respect.

I worked fast as soon as I saw the name, Mitch said as their foot- steps joined all the others echoing into the high ceiling of the main concourse. Shes up for stolen vehicle, no license, no proof of insurance"

How the hell did this happen?

" and resisting arrest. Ive already quarantined the incident, but I cant keep it off the police blotter indefinitely.

Wait. Lane pulled the man to a halt. My sister stole a car?

Rolls- Royce. Registered in the Bradford Bourbon Company name.

You mean . . . our Rolls. The Phantom Drophead?

Your father called the Metro Police personally and told them to pick her up, stating that she did not have permission to operate the vehicle.

{ 155 }.

You cant be serious. Lane dragged a hand through his hair. What am I saying" of course he can do that. Hes done worse.

You got a lawyer?

Samuel T. should be here"

Lane, came a shout.

Samuel T. strode through the teeming crowd, standing out for so many reasons. For one, his blue and white seersucker suit made him look like he should have been on the grand porch of his gentlemans farm, sipping a mint julep with a pair of hunting dogs asleep at his feet. For another, he was too good- looking to be among mortals.

Thanks for coming quick, Lane said as they shook hands. You know Mitch"

Certainly do. Deputy.

Mr. Lodge.

With the greetings over, the three of them made fast time to esca- lators that went up to the open second floor.

Shes in general. Mitch led the way to the pedi- way. But Ive cleared the delays for her bail hearing. As soon as youre ready, Mr.

Lodge"

Call me Samuel or Sam.

Samuel. Mitch nodded. Soon as youre ready, Ill slide her in with Judge McQuaid. Ive spoken with the prosecutor. His hands are tied, especially with Mr. Baldwine pushing as hard as he is. The only thing I can really do is expedite, expedite, expedite.

Lane gritted his molars. Gin was a lot to handle, and clearly, their father had had it with her" but this was so damned public. Im going to owe you for this one, Mitch.

Not the way I see it.

The deputy got them through the various security points, and then they were in the jail portion of the facility. Although Lane had pulled a number of less- than- legal stunts as a kid, all of his transgressions had been discreetly taken care of. So this was his first trip into the county clink, and he couldnt say he was in a big hurry to ever come back.

{ 156 }.

The waiting area had cream concrete walls. Cream floor. Plastic chairs in orange and yellow and red. The smell in the air was old sweat, dirty clothes, and Lysol.

Thanks to Mitch, they steamed right over to the registration counter with its bulletproof glass windows and lineups of officers with their various catches of the day. Talk about a wake- up call on the other half. Oily men and stringy young boys . . . barely clothed working girls . . . seedy, worn- out older women . . . all of them stood or weaved in place next to their arresting officers, their faces showing the grind of hard lives lived badly.

Over here, Deputy Ramsey, someone called out by a reinforced door.

After going through the checkpoint, they headed by a number of conference rooms that had red lights above the entrances and bars over little chicken- wired windows.

If youll wait in here, the officer said by one of the rooms, Ill bring her down.

Thanks, Stu. Mitch opened the door and stood to the side. Ill be out here.

Much appreciated. Lane clapped the guy on the shoulder. And were probably going to need more of your help.

Anything you want, Im here.

Samuel T. paused by the deputy. Has anyone talked to the press yet?

Not on our side, Mitch replied. And Ill try to keep it that way.

My sister doesnt have the best reputation. Lane shook his head.

The fewer people who know about this, the better.

Mitch closed them in together, and although there were four chairs bolted to the floor around a steel table that was likewise secured, Lane couldnt sit down. Samuel T. did, though, putting his ancient briefcase to the side and steepling his hands.

The attorney shook his head. Shes going to be pissed to high heaven you brought me here.

{ 157 }.

Like Id call anyone else? Lane rubbed his aching eyes. And after this, youre still helping me with my divorce, right?

Just another busy morning with the Bradfords.

A t least they let her keep her own clothes on, Gin thought as she was led down yet another concrete corridor painted the color of month- old vichyssoise.

Shed had a terror of undressing in front of some hairy- chested fe- male officer and then getting violated by a gloved hand before being thrown into an orange jumpsuit the size of a circus tent. When that had not happened, shed then become obsessed about being put in some kind of filthy holding cell with a bunch of drug- addled prostitutes coughing AIDS all over her.

Instead, shed been put in a cell by herself. A cold cell, with just a bench and a stainless- steel toilet with no seat or toilet paper.

Not that she would ever use something like that.

Her diamond stud earrings and her Chanel watch had been confis- cated, along with her LV bag, her phone, and those hundred- dollar bills and useless credit cards she had in her wallet.

One call. That was all shed been allowed" just like in the movies.

In here, the guard said, stopping by an African- American man in uniform and opening a thick door.

Lane" ! Except she stopped rushing toward her brother when she saw who was sitting at the table. Oh, God. Not him.

Lane came in for a tight embrace as the door was shut. You need a lawyer.

And Im free, Samuel T. drawled. Relatively speaking.

I am not talking in front of him. She crossed her arms over her chest. Not one word.

Gin"

Samuel T. cut her brother off. Told you. Guess Ill just take my things and go.

Sit. Down, Lane barked. Both of you.

{ 158 }.

There was a heartbeat of silence" which Gin took as a sign that Samuel T. was as surprised by that tone of command as she was. Lane had always been, out of the four Baldwine children, the go- with- the- flow type. Now, he sounded like Edward.

Or the way Edward had used to be.

After she settled uneasily in a chair as hard and chilly as an ice block, Lane jabbed a finger in her direction. What did you do?

Excuse me? she said on a recoil. Why is this my fault? Why do you think it was me"

Because it usually is, Gin. He slashed his hand through the air when she started to argue. Cut the shit, Ive known you too long. What did you do this time to piss him off? I will get you out of this, but I gotta know what Im dealing with.

As Gin glared up at her brother, she wanted nothing more than to tell him to fuck off. But all she could think of was that image of her credit cards going into the slot of that gas pump and the words Not Approved flashing on the digital screen. Who else was going to help her?

She glanced over at Samuel T. He wasnt looking at her, and his face was impassive, but the haughty disapproval he was enjoying was as ob- vious as the scent of his cologne in the air.

Well? Lane demanded.

Weighing her options, she realized she was wholly unfamiliar with situations involving rocks and hard places. With enough money and amnesia, there was nothing shed been unable to opt out of, whether it was through paying someone off, refusing to stay, or refusing to go.

Unfortunately, those endless arrays of options had been funded by a lifestyle that had only looked like something that was hers. In fact, it had been owned by someone else. She simply hadnt known that until this morning.

She cleared her throat. Samuel T., will you . . . give me a moment alone with my brother. She put her hand out. Im not" Im not saying you cant be my lawyer, I just need to be in private with him. Please.