No police. No Tisha, who despised Vince and would probably show up with a kitchen knife and stab him. No other options.

A real “take stock of your shitty, solitary life” kind of moment.

The door groaned under another blow. A drop of sweat ran down my spine as my alternatives narrowed, then shrank to a single one.

My phone was on the couch. I picked it up and tapped on an unsaved number. Waited two, three rings. And when the person on the other side of the line picked up, I didn’t wait for them to talk before whispering, “I’m sorry to do this, but I really need your help.”

27

BELIEVE ME, I’VE TRIED

ELI

The scene wasn’t as bleak as he’d expected.

Vincent, who looked as sullen as the last time they’d met, was taking a rest from his breaking and entering efforts and sat on the hallway floor, head tipped back against the wall. When he heard footsteps against the linoleum, he glanced lazily in Eli’s direction, then did a double take.

Eli had been ready to go nuts on him, but the berserker rage he’d felt during Rue’s call extinguished almost instantly. What a sad, miserable asshole her brother was. Not even worth a couple of educational slaps.

“Go home,” Eli ordered, bored. Rue wasn’t going to open her door until Vince left, which meant that he stood between Eli and where Eli wanted to be.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was invited. What are you doing here?”

“Are you seeing my sister?”

“Yes.” Not even a lie. He’d seen Rue several times. Had fully expected not to see her for a while after last night, but now, thanks to her asshole brother, he was about to see her again. “You need to drop this. You know that, right?” Vince was Rue’s brother, and Eli was going to keep his own temper in check out of respect for her. But he had his limits, which was why he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “You can’t act this way around her, okay? Because she’s going to get sad. And if she gets sad, then I’m going to get mad. And there will be consequences.”

Vince scrambled to his feet. Perfect punching height for Eli, but once again—not what Rue wanted. “If you don’t stop interfering—”

“Here’s the deal.” He dropped his voice further, angling his back so that if Rue was watching, she wouldn’t be able to read his lips. “Your sister obviously cares about you. She called me here because literally anyone else, from the doorman to her neighbors to the fucking mailman, would not hesitate to call the authorities. But here’s what she doesn’t know.” He leaned forward. “I have an entire team of lawyers at my disposal who can make your life very, very hard. Which means that I can ruin you without getting you arrested or beating you to a pulp. I wouldn’t even need to make her sad.” He straightened, pleased at the narrowing in Vincent’s eyes.

“I just want to talk to her,” he bit out.

“Then schedule a fucking meeting.”

“We have a buyer right now. She’s being selfish.”

“Good. She should put herself first. Now, will you get the fuck out of this building, or do I have to make a couple of calls?” He took his phone out of his jeans and dangled it until Vincent shook his head and stalked away, stopping to kick the banister on the landing like the childish fool he so clearly was. Once he was gone for good, Eli knocked softly.

“It’s me.”

A few beats and the door opened. Rue stood in the middle, half in the shadows, looking like a paler, less substantial version of herself. She didn’t quite meet his eyes, and Eli was tempted to make a detour for the parking lot to rough Vincent up.

“I wasn’t sure who to call—”

“No need to explain. Can I come in?”

Her eyes widened, like the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know.”

She tensed. “I didn’t call you here because . . . I don’t think that just because we had sex you should be at my—”

“I am, though. At your disposal.” He smiled at her, small but reassuring. If she needed to tell herself that this was just fucking, she was welcome to do so. He refused to play the game any longer. I’m not going to follow the rules, Rue. I’m not going to behave. I’m not going to pretend this is enough. “I’ll stay for twenty minutes, just in case Vincent’s waiting for me to drive off.”

Her head bent low, and there was a slight tremor to the hands she stuffed in her pants. But it wasn’t until they entered the living room that he could fully see her expression. Ever-armored Rue Siebert looked forlorn, and ten years younger, and a hundred times more fragile. The sight of how much she hurt hit him with violence. He wrapped his hand around her forearm, pulled her closer, and it was more for himself than for her. “Hey. It’s okay.”

They’d hugged dozens of times by now, always within the constraints of sex. This embrace was different: It had no direction and existed only to provide comfort. It was warm and eviscerating and dangerous. More forbidden than anything they’d done so far. And then he felt it: the small shivers running through her back, her forehead pressing between his pecs, a choked sound she swallowed. She was crying.

Eli’s heart sank.

“It’s okay, baby.” He kissed the crown of her hair and held her as tight and as long as she allowed. “It’ll be okay.” Minutes later, when she slid two hands on his chest and pushed him away, he had to clench his fists to avoid drawing her back into his arms. And that was when his vision broadened from its Rue-induced tunnel and shifted to his surroundings.

The apartment was magnificent. Or, what she’d done with it. The place wasn’t large, and the layout was nothing special, but Rue hadn’t lied about having plants. In fact, the entire room was lush, every surface covered in green. Cacti, flowers, a few ornamental pots. But Rue’s favorite cultivation method was clearly hydroponics. There were towers, and shelves, and a couple of kits she may have built on her own. Most of what she grew was produce: Eli spotted basil, tomatoes, mini cucumbers, peppers, lettuce, and that was just at first glance.

Her house was a beautiful, honest-to-god garden.

He puffed out a laugh, thinking about the raised bed he’d bought two years ago to grow herbs for the kitchen, the one he’d never gotten around to putting together. In fact, it was still packed in the garage. Had been there for so long, Maya had given it a name.

Fucking Herbert.

He glanced back at Rue, wanting to say something, but it wasn’t the right time to compliment her agricultural skills. She’d walked to the couch and collapsed herself in front of it, on the floor, back pressed against the cushions, knees to her chin. Like her brother, in the hallway earlier.

Eli sighed and sat next to her, allowing his arm to brush against hers.

“I don’t usually cry,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I figured.”

“How?”

“Just a hunch.” She hadn’t cried last night, and that fucking deposition had given her plenty of reason. “Your general vibe, as Maya would say.”

She smiled through her sniffles. “It’s because he’s my brother.”

“I know.”

“He’s younger. My brain is wired to constantly feel that I have to take care of him.”

“I know.”

“He’s being a total asshole. I’m being a complete pushover. This could escalate to a really dangerous level. I need to figure out a solution to this. It’s just . . .”

“Believe me, I know.”

His sincerity made her finally look up from her knees. “It’s embarrassing,” she admitted.