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  Cael had a wild look in his eyes, like he’d been thrown completely off balance. He gripped Mace’s sweatshirt and shook him. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

  “As of now, you know everything I do.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “What, Cael? That I woke up with my throat slit? That you came into the room carrying a knife? I assumed you killed the men who tried to kill me.”

  If there were bodies, Cael had hidden them well and Mace could only hope he would remember that eventually. That would go a long way toward his healing, toward clearing himself of any wrongdoing if he was the one to take down their captors singlehandedly.

  Mace wouldn’t put it past him.

  But Cael was still freaked. “How the hell … you brought me here not knowing if I tried to kill you? Or if I’m responsible for Gray’s murder?”

  “I brought you here to recover. To get your memory back. I’ve never thought you’d hurt any of us.”

  “Correction, you didn’t want to think that I could.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth,” Mace shot back and Caleb finally released him.

  “Does Paige know?”

  “She knows.”

  “Jesus.” Cael rubbed his hands together. “You should’ve told me.”

  “The doctor told me not to plant memories. He said you’d have a hard time differentiating between the true memories and the stories. When you remember things, I’m allowed to confirm that those memories are real.”

  “I can’t see beyond the knife. How do you know I didn’t try to kill you, and realized what I was doing halfway through?”

  “Cael—”

  “You said yourself that I’ve been different since the mission. Wilder. Not like myself.”

  Mace nodded. “You were pretty much on the straight and narrow. Now you’re sort of like … like your brother Zane. He used to never leave a party early.”

  “Olivia really changed him,” Cael agreed. “At least that’s what he told me.”

  “They saved each other. They found each other. I guess after you find the right woman, you want your parties to be more … private.”

  Cael gave him a pointed look. “Did you and Paige have your own party?”

  “No.”

  “Because of the hand thing.”

  “I guess. Gray knew a lot of my secrets. I don’t want anyone else to, not without my consent.”

  “Gray. Jesus.” Cael shook his head and stared at his hands.

  “Cael, you didn’t do it,” Mace told him. “There’s no way.”

  “Right. There’s no way you know that for sure.”

  “I know. So do you.”

  “What if, Mace. If those drugs fucked me up enough. Maybe it’s not that I can’t remember. Maybe it’s that I don’t want to.”

  Mace stared up at the storm-threatened sky for a long moment and then looked at his friend again.

  “I should go,” Cael said. “Since Paige knows she won’t be comfortable with me here. Not after this. This”—he pointed to Harvey’s body—“is enough to spook anyone.”

  “She doesn’t believe you’d harm Gray any more than I do,” Mace said fiercely. “You’re not going anywhere. You need to be around people you trust when you do remember. What they did to me wasn’t pretty, but what they did to you …”

  Unspeakable. And yet, he was still standing.

  “I need to … I need to run for longer,” Cael told him.

  “That’s not a good idea. I’m sure Ed will want to talk to us,” Mace said quietly as he dialed the number and waited for Ed to pick up. “Come on—come back into the bar and we’ll deal with everything, the way we’ve been dealing.”

  “The way we’ve been dealing isn’t going to work anymore,” Cael said as Ed’s voice said, “Hello, police,” over the line.

  Caleb was right, of course. But there was a killer in this town, in these woods, and Mace needed to catch that person, for all their sakes.

  Paige hadn’t gotten much sleep at all—tossed and turned with the horrors of what Mace had shared on her mind.

  She’d asked for it, couldn’t blame Mace for telling her what she’d wanted to know. And she replayed his story over and over, the way Mace had obviously been doing for the past months. Thought about the way Gray died. The way Mace almost did.

  The way Caleb couldn’t remember anything about it.

  She felt so incredibly helpless, had sensed the same emotion from Mace. Something terrible had happened to all of them in that prison camp, something far worse than the story she’d imagined.

  “Gray, I’m so sorry you suffered,” she said quietly. Thought about how much this information could hurt Caleb. He was the one who could truly fill in the gaps about what happened.

  More than once, she thought about ignoring Mace’s instructions—and her better judgment—and telling Caleb she would use her ability to help him. Although that was more out of a selfish need to know.

  Would she be comfortable staying here with Caleb now? Mace didn’t think he could’ve harmed any of them; she wished she could be as sure.

  So many times during the night, she’d wanted to pad out of the room and find Mace, bring him back into bed, exorcize their demons together. But they’d gone too far, too fast, at a time neither of them were ready.

  Whether he would continue to push her away—and eventually out of his house—remained to be seen. For now, no one was leaving.

  She rustled around in her suitcase and pulled out a T-shirt and leggings, along with fresh underwear and a new bra, and headed to the shower. Let the hot water wash over her, banishing all traces of Mace from her skin. A fresh start.

  After her shower, she grabbed one of Mace’s flannel shirts for warmth and headed downstairs.

  She was at the coffeepot behind the bar when Caleb pushed through the door, his face frozen with tension. Mace was right behind him and it was obvious that something had happened and she swallowed hard as Caleb continued walking toward her.

  “I need your help, Paige.” His words were a determined growl and she knew exactly what he wanted.

  She shook her head. Tried to back away, but before she could stop him, he had her by the wrists, was pushing her back against the wall hard, pressing her with his body even as she heard Mace’s shouts in the background, felt Mace trying to pull Caleb away from her.

  On instinct, she pressed her hands hard against his chest because he was smothering her, and in those seconds she realized what a mistake she’d made.

  Flashes came—brutal enough that she became instantly sick to her stomach. She struggled, attempted to stop the images, but Caleb had far too much weight and experience on her. Not to mention a will that cut her to the bone.

  “Caleb, please …”

  Danger. Fear. Murder. All those things she’d felt a quick flash of when she’d first touched Mace the other night … but beyond that, nothing was clear.

  And still, she felt as though she’d been as broken as he’d been.

  “Tell me what you know, Paige,” Caleb said as Mace succeeded in pulling him away. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know anything,” she said, her voice sounding strangled. “I couldn’t see … not what you wanted me to see.”

  “You were drugged out of your fucking mind,” Mace told his friend as he held Cael by the shoulders. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “Why the hell did you bring me back here? How the hell can I look at you now, see that.” He pointed to the long scar across Mace’s throat. “How can I see that every day and know I might’ve done that to you?”

  He pushed Mace off of him and went out the back door. Mace stood there, then sagged against the bar as if the responsibility of what he’d just done might take him right down to the ground.

  She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but she was shaking. Shivering, even with Mace next to her, telling her to breathe.

  She hadn’t realized she’d stopped, but the panic attack was
coming on swiftly. She’d thought she was fine. In control.

  But her hands still vibrated with Caleb’s danger and confusion.

  “He shouldn’t have done that to you,” Mace told her.

  “I don’t know if I can stay here with him, not like this,” she whispered, her voice ragged.

  “What the hell did you see when you touched him? I saw it in your face—there was something.”

  “Of course there was. Fear. Confusion. Death. And murder. But how am I supposed to pick it all apart? How am I supposed to tell the difference between the men he’s been ordered to kill in the line of duty and the men he hasn’t?” she demanded, and he recoiled as if she’d slapped him.

  “I can’t ask Cael to leave. Won’t,” he told her, his voice tight.

  “I wouldn’t ask that,” she said. But she’d grown up living in a house with evil all around her. Avoided it as much as she could, but after a while, the cloying nature was just too oppressive to escape.

  She’d felt as though she was being strangled. She couldn’t go through that again.

  “Cael isn’t Jeffrey,” Mace told her.

  “No, he’s nothing like him,” she agreed. “But he was given a lot of drugs, from what you say. Some people never come back from that.”

  “He did. He is,” Mace said with the easy conviction of someone who truly believed.

  Caleb’s energy was nothing like Jeffrey’s. There was no evil there, just confusion and fear—although there was death. Things a man in his position as a Special Forces soldier might experience.

  And it still terrified her. “I know Caleb’s not evil. But what if—”

  “Don’t go there.”

  She didn’t want to. She would try to believe what Mace did.

  Another time and place, she would’ve crumbled harder than she had from those images, it could’ve taken her down for days. But for Gray’s sake, for Mace and for Caleb, she’d keep herself together.

  Still, she felt useless. If she didn’t start using her gift to heal, it would just continue to be a burden to her.

  There’s a reason for everything, Paige, Gray used to tell her. Sometimes the reasons suck, but they get us where we need to be.

  Why she’d needed to be in the cafeteria, in the ER when Wayne came in, why she needed to drive up here and let Caleb try to find his memories through her …

  Maybe all would be revealed.

  “I keep feeling this sense of evil but I don’t think it has anything to do with Caleb.” She pressed her palms together. “It’s following me. For a while, when Gray was alive, it stopped. But now it’s back. And I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  “Nothing’s going to hurt you while you’re with me, Paige,” Mace promised.

  “Whatever it is, I don’t know if even you’re strong enough to stop it.”

  “That’s because you don’t know me very well.”

  Even as Mace spoke, sirens whined up the hill, the flashing lights casting shadows as they passed the bar’s windows and headed toward the back of the parking lot.

  Paige scrambled to the window quickly and Mace followed. His head throbbing in time with the noise, he watched Ed park the police car at the edge of the woods, which was county property. He and the doc got out of the car and headed right into the woods, despite the foot of heavy snow.

  In this town, Doc doubled as coroner when the need arose.

  “What’s wrong?” Paige asked quietly. She was wearing one of his flannel shirts, her hair was loose—she was barefoot.

  She looked like a fucking angel and he was well beyond salvation already.

  She brought all this on by coming here. And as much as he tried to hate her, he couldn’t. “Big Harvey’s dead.”

  “What? When?”

  “Sometime last night—Caleb found his body in the woods behind the bar. He was stabbed. That’s why Caleb came in completely freaked out. The knife triggered his memory. Not enough, though.”

  “It felt like enough to me. And that man … murdered.” She moved away from the window and into the bar area and sat down at the closest table, visibly shaken.

  “Paige, the guy was a member of the Outlaw Angels—he lived a rough life. This was probably just gang justice.” Even he didn’t believe his words, though he wasn’t sure why.

  “While we were … Harvey was being killed. Right near us.”

  “Just a shitty coincidence,” he told her.

  “I’m guessing he had a lot of enemies,” she said finally, staring down at her hands.

  “I’d have expected someone to do this when he was more active in the OA.” Still, it might be a message to the local chapter. Keagen could for sure find that out.

  It didn’t change the fact that the murder was way too close for Mace’s comfort—and Paige’s too.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said.

  “What do you want, Paige? You don’t like the truth when you hear it.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “That’s not fair.”

  “None of this is fair, all right? Let’s just try to keep it together until after Ed leaves.”

  Caleb came through the back door then, before she could answer.

  “What’s up?” Mace asked his friend, who still looked unnerved.

  “Ed’s got some questions, sent me in here to tell you guys to sit tight.” Cael didn’t say anything else, just headed toward the kitchen as Ed walked in.

  “Hey, Mace,” Ed said, and Mace nodded. And then Ed directed his gaze toward Paige. “Ma’am, I didn’t catch your name the other night.”

  “It’s Paige Grayson,” she said, her voice steady, her eyes meeting Ed’s.

  “Miss Grayson, I need to ask you about the knife found at the scene,” he said.

  Caleb came out from the kitchen with a mug of coffee just then, and Mace told Paige, “The knife found by Big Harvey was one Cael saw in your car the other night.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “The KA-BAR with the broken handle?”

  “That’s the one, ma’am,” Ed said. “When was the last time you saw it?”

  “Two nights ago when I was packing my trunk.”

  “Was it there when you unpacked it?”

  “I did that,” Cael broke in. “Night before last. The knife was in the trunk. I locked it up and that’s the last any of us have touched the car.”

  “The lock to the trunk’s been popped,” Ed confirmed. “Any particular reason you keep a knife in your car?”

  She tucked some hair behind her ear and Mace wondered if she’d talk about Jeffrey. “It was my brother’s—Gray’s. He gave it to me when I started working the night shift at the ER in Manhattan. I’d kept it in my car for so long I’d pretty much forgotten about it until I was packing up the other night.”

  “You’re Gray’s sister?” Ed said, and Mace saw a moment of softness in the man’s eyes. But only a moment, and then he said, “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to have to run the knife for prints,” Ed told her.

  “My fingerprints are on file—I’m an RN,” she said, and he nodded.

  “I’d expect to see your prints on the knife, then?”

  “I can’t tell you the last time I touched it, but I’m guessing they’d be there,” she said.

  “Can you tell me where you were last night?” Ed continued, and Mace felt his muscles tense.

  “What’s going on, Ed?” Mace stepped in front of Paige so the man was forced to look at him, not her.

  Caleb hadn’t moved from where he stood, just processing it all. Waiting.

  “I heard Paige had a confrontation with Harvey—that’s what started the fight the other night, when we were called here. And again, last night—all three of you.”

  Mace wanted to strangle Ed rather than talk, but he forced patience into his voice, pretended his CO was right behind him, making sure his ass toed the line. “Harvey threatened Paige two nights ago when she first
came to town. Touched her inappropriately. She defended herself. When he saw her last night, he started something again. She told him to back off and I stepped in and escorted him out of my bar, explained that he wasn’t welcome back here until he treated women respectfully in my establishment. End of story.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Around midnight. And that’s the last any of us saw him.”

  Ed rubbed his temple with the side of his hand thoughtfully before he said, “Doc says Harvey’s been dead for at least six hours—the time line fits.”

  Mace ground his teeth to keep his mouth shut. The less said the better—so far this was purely circumstantial.

  And then Ed reached into his pocket and drew out two plastic evidence bags, which he laid on the table in front of Paige. One contained a small medal like you’d wear on a necklace. The other contained a pair of light pink, lacey underwear.

  “So what? Harvey found religion and pussy at the same time?” Caleb asked.

  But Mace was watching Paige as carefully as Ed. Her face was slightly paler than it had been, and she reached forward to touch the medal through the plastic.

  “St. Christopher,” she whispered.

  “Is that yours?” Ed asked, and she shook her head no. But then she pointed to the other bag.

  “Those are mine, I think.”

  “You think?”

  She gave an annoyed glance at Ed, the color coming back to her cheeks in force. “I can check my bag.”

  “Why don’t you do that?”

  There was dead silence as Paige went upstairs. Mace fought the urge to join her, knowing Ed would read into that and think Mace was coaching her.

  Caleb caught Mace’s eye as Ed asked, “Any idea how Harvey would’ve obtained them?”

  “Maybe he went upstairs when we were busy,” Caleb offered, not doing a great job of holding back his annoyance. The agitation from earlier was still coming off him in waves and Mace knew there was just no way for him to tamp it down. It was still too raw.

  “Door’s usually locked, right?” Ed asked.

  “I’m sure Harvey had his ways,” Mace muttered, because that was a bigger concern than Caleb’s instability. Harvey—or whoever killed him—had been upstairs in his goddamned house, right under his nose.

  “I’ll make sure to dust for prints upstairs, then,” Ed told him.