He fucked up.

He screams out in rage again. The club owner comes out of the back door, causing him to immediately calm himself.

"Are you alright?" he asks Vincent.

"Yeah," he says, rolling his eyes. "Women."

"I hear ya, man. Come back inside. Did you see the cluster that just happened? I don't give a shit how popular that Twisted Dreams gets, that asshole is never coming back. To leave like that. Like those rockstars don't love girls jumping them on and off stage."

"You'd think," Vincent says. "A drink sounds good."

As the man turns around and walks back in the club, something shiny catches Vincent's eye. He reaches down and picks it up.

It's a dainty necklace. The one Lacy was wearing around her perfect neck. A delicate chain decorated with silver stars, like the night sky when Lacy and Vince are together after he kills off everyone for her. She left it for him. It's a sign.

And now he understands what is really going on. She didn't want to leave. Someone made her. They are making her stay away from him.

But she doesn't want to.

He must find and rescue her.

He slips the chain in his pocket and decides not to follow the man into the club. Instead, he runs down the alley, around the corner, and to the front of the club, where he tosses a hundred dollar bill and a stub to a valet.

"I'm in a hurry," he says, noting the long line waiting to get their cars.

The valet looks at the tip and says, "Yes, sir."

Soon Vincent is behind the wheel of his rental and back in his hotel room.

He grabs his laptop and calls every five-star hotel in the city, telling the same story. That Keatyn Douglas, best friend of Damian Moran, lost her necklace at the club Damian was performing at. That he needs to be connected to his room.

The trucks split up and we go flying down the street, slowing only to make numerous turns.

Dallas doesn't say anything, but I can tell he's as tense and scared as I am.

I put my shaking hand on his leg and start to say something. He gives me a slight head shake and moves his eyes toward the guys.

How did Dallas get these men here so fast? And just who are they?

After a fifteen minute drive full of turns and doubling back, we pull into an underground parking lot and are hustled to a nondescript elevator.

After a short ride, we enter a plush hallway to a huge Presidential suite with sweeping views of Biscayne Bay.

Dallas stops to give me hug and whispers in my ear. "They are going to want to debrief us. Just agree with me. I'll explain everything to you later. I'm so sorry that I put you in danger."

"But . . ."

"We'll talk later," he says firmly.

I nod as he leads me to a sofa, which I promptly collapse on.

I look out at the beach.

Try to pretend I'm back in Malibu and Vincent doesn't exist.

Two guys in suits sit down.

"Tell us what happened," one of them says to Dallas.

"I did what I was told to do if I ever felt threatened. An old guy had ahold of her on the dance floor and wouldn't let go. He grabbed her arm hard. At first, I thought it was just because she's pretty and turned him down or something. But I could tell he was threatening her. Riley and I decided to get her away from him. When we did, she told me he had a gun. That's when I texted."

The guy in the suit turns to me. "What did he say to you and did he threaten the Senator's son directly?"

"He told me he had a gun and that if I didn't dance with him he'd start shooting."

"But he never mentioned his name?"

I shake my head. What is going on here? Do they think Vincent was after Dallas? "No, he didn't say anything about Dallas. He only mentioned Damian, the guy you put in the other truck. He's my friend. That's why we were at the club in the first place. To hear him sing."

Another black-suited guy stands in front of us. "We'd still like to question him. I have a man in the club. Can you give us a physical description of the assailant?"

"He was white, dark haired, about six-two, and was wearing a dark jacket," Dallas replies.

"That's half the people at the club."

I could give them his name and a much better physical description, but I'm a little confused right now, because I think they think he was going to shoot Dallas, not me and Damian.

"Look, guys," Dallas says to the suits as he takes a calming breath. "I'm sorry for the hassle. It's the first time I've ever been in a situation like this and I panicked."

"Well, you're safe. That's all that matters," the suit says.

The other guy in the suit, who has been on his phone the whole time we've been talking, raises his head. "The senator will be calling you shortly. We've kept him abreast of the situation and we'll make sure you get safely back to school. You're free to retire, Miss Monroe."

I'm pretty sure I'm being dismissed.

"My friend, Damian, where did you take him?"

"We took him to where you were staying. He was not followed and is secure. We'll get your belongings brought here."

"Thank you," I say, because I can't come up with anything else.

I'm led to the door of a large bedroom. I walk in and collapse on the bed.

A few minutes later, Dallas and Riley walk in. Dallas grabs the bottle of champagne that was chilling in the corner. Probably waiting for the senator's arrival.

He pops it and pours us each a glass.

"So now that we're safe, I need to apologize to you," Dallas says as he climbs on the bed with me.

"Why would you apologize? You helped me."

"Because I've told you more than once not to lie to me, but I told you a lie."

"You did?"

He sighs and runs his hand through his short blond hair. "Yeah."

"What did you lie about?"

"I told you I got caught smoking weed and that I was an embarrassment to my dad."

"Yeah, I kinda thought your dad sounded like a dick."

"He's not. My dad is awesome."

"So why did you lie?"

Riley has been pacing the floor. "You lied too, Keatyn. About why you're here."

I lower my head. "Yeah."

"We'll talk about you next," Dallas says. "I need to get this off my chest."

He leans back on the pillows. I pull my feet under my legs and snuggle up next to him.

Riley turns from the window and leaps across the room and onto the bed. "How 'bout we all get naked and do something worth lying about?"

Dallas and I laugh.

Riley pulls me back into a hug. "You seem like you're doing better. Are you?"

I kiss his arm and nod.

Dallas says, "Okay, so I'm the youngest of five kids. I was the oops baby. I'm the same age as most of my brothers' and sisters' kids. They are all grown, married, and spread across the country." He pauses and sighs. "So, my dad was threatened by this extremist group. They specifically threatened our family. My mom and me. They were going to make me leave my normal school and go live in Washington with them, but I didn't want that." He rolls his eyes. "I threw a bit of a fit. So the drug thing was a lie. Dad let it be publicized. Said he was sending me to military school. That drugs are killing our youth, blah, blah, blah, and I went to Eastbrooke. To stay safe."

"I keep dangerous company," Riley says with a laugh. Then he looks at me seriously. "So that guy at the club. Is he the guy you told me about? Your mom's ex?"

"Um, yeah. He . . ." I don't know what to say. I want to tell them both the truth so badly. But I can't. Just yesterday, I was going to tell Dawson everything. I can't fully trust anyone. And even though I do trust these boys, I also know they are human. They could accidentally say something about Abby being my mom. If that happened, the whole school would find out in seconds. And I can't risk it.

My phone rings, startling me.

Shit. It's Garrett.

"I need to answer this," I say to the boys.

I try to act nonchalant. "Hey, what's up?"

"Keatyn."

"Yes?"

"Where are you and why aren't you wearing your necklace?"

"I'm out of town, but I think you already know that."

"Yes, I know that you're in Miami. I know that you went to see Damian. I know that you had a run in with Vincent. I know that you tackled Damian on stage and were whisked into black Suburbans by what might have been the Secret Service."

"That about covers it. I'm fine."

"I need to know what he said to you. Damian has already filled me in on the rest."

"I can't now," I say and hang up.

I get tears in my eyes. What could have happened to me is sinking in.

I'm gonna start crying.

I look at Riley. He's helped me so much. I'm not going to have another meltdown in front of him.

But it's coming.

"Uh, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go shower," I say, pointing toward the palatial bathroom.

"That's fine," Dallas says. "My dad is going to be here soon. He's here in Miami but he's out on a boat somewhere. They are choppering him in. He'll want to talk to me alone."

He chugs his champagne then goes back into the living room, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm just going to lie on the bed, drink champagne, and think about how bad-ass that was," Riley states. "I felt like I was in a spy movie or something."

I nod, walk into the bathroom, shut the doors, turn on the shower, strip off my clothes, and stand under the warm water.

I let the water fall and start crying.

I look at the tattoo. It's supposed to remind me of my first love, but now it feels violated and dirty.

I grab a washcloth and try to scrub it off.

I scrub and scrub and scrub.

When it won't come off, I sit on the shower floor, pull my knees up to my chest, drop my head to my knees, and let my emotions rack through me.

I cry about everything.

The way Dawson looked standing there in his closet.

How much I miss Damian.

The things Vincent said to me.