“Enzo’s being held captive,” he explains. “I have to free him.”

“Who has him?” I ask as we reach the main level.

“The cartel he tried to steal from.”

“Oh God,” I murmur, following him down the hallway to our room. “Tell me no.”

He opens the bedroom door. “I wish I could.” He heads inside and makes a beeline for the security room.

I follow and once I’m in the doorway, I ask, “How can I help?”

“Stay here until I get back, so I know you’re safe. I can’t worry about my men and you, too.” He holds out the chair for me. “Sit down; I need to show you some things.”

I do as he says and he kneels beside me. “A quick lesson.” He punches a key and the visual on the security feed changes. “Every time you punch it, you alter the location of the view. You can see every single part of the castle if you need to.” He indicates yet another key. “That turns on the volume. The only places you can’t see and hear are the private bedrooms and the War Room. Got it?”

“Yes. Got it.”

“Good.” He stands and walks to the wall in one corner and hits a button. A panel rotates and displays a selection of guns, two of which he attaches to various parts of his body, and a sick feeling forms in my belly.

He turns to face me and he must read the terror I feel for him, because he kneels in front of me again. “I told you I walk the line of legal and illegal. You don’t deal with a cartel without crossing lines. Not even the FBI and CIA manage that, I promise you.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. But I will do whatever is necessary to save my men, just like I will for you.”

I cup his cheek. “I know. I can handle this.”

He draws my hand in his. “If you call, I’ll answer, so don’t call unless it’s an emergency. Matteo is staying here in the War Room as field support and in case you need him. We won’t make a move to retrieve Enzo until nightfall, so don’t worry when I’m not back until late.” He pushes to his feet and takes me with him. “I’ll text you if I can to check in, but I can’t promise.” He leans in and kisses me. “I’m crazy about you. You know that, right?”

I grab his shirt, balling my fingers around the cotton. “Prove it and come back safe.”

He gives me a nod—no promise, no words—and I move to the doorway to watch him stride across the bedroom and disappear. I inhale and face the panel of guns, and turn away. I can’t think about guns and death right now. I need to do something to stay busy. I cross to the bathroom, place my purse on the vanity, then shrug out of my coat, which I toss on the edge of the tub.

I stare at myself in the mirror a minute, starting to get used to this me. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but if it involves Kayden, I vote good. My mind flickers back to those last happy moments with my mother, and I dig my phone out of my purse and dial Marabella.

“Ella,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I was just wondering if you wanted to come bake chocolate chip cookies with me.”

“I would love to bake cookies with you. I’ll run to the corner store and be in the kitchen in half an hour.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” I set my phone down and head into the closet, where I exchange my boots for flats, throw on a hoodie, and head to the kitchen. There I make coffee and stand at the window Kayden favors, staring at the amazing view of a church with high steeples and stunning architecture.

Fifteen minutes later Marabella breezes into the kitchen, and my mood lightens with her infectious happiness. I help her bake, and we both decide it’s not my thing, though we get some good laughs at my efforts. Baking complete, we settle at the table and I tell her what I remember about my mother, and listen to her stories of Kevin, Kayden, and her husband.

Eventually though, our tongues are tired, the sun has set, and she sighs and stands. “I’m tired, honey. I need to rest. Are you okay here alone?”

“I am. Thank you for the cookies and the great conversation.”

It’s then that she says what has been in the air but not discussed. “This is his life. He needs you. I see it in his eyes, but be sure you can handle this before you do something like fall in love with him.”

Love. It’s a big word, and it’s not the first time I’ve wondered if that is where I’m headed with Kayden. “I can handle it. I just might need cookies and talk sessions here or there.”

She smiles her approval. “Cookies and conversations I can do.” She waves, and just like Kayden, she is gone, and I’m alone inside the tower.

I sit there and don’t move for quite some time. Just blank. No memories. No real thoughts. I think I am blocking it all out. Oh, how my mind likes to protect me and then turn around and destroy me.

An idea hits me and I stand, rushing to the bedroom closet, where I dig out my ballet slippers. Excited to give them a try, I hurry back to the hallway and open the panel leading to the gym. I all but run until I hit the fork in the path again and stop dead in my tracks, curiosity killing me. I have lots of time to kill, and exploring would be fun. So, hmmmm. Which way to go?

I choose left, and a short hallway leads me to a door. I open it and find an office with a giant, curved blond wood desk in the center, a fancy etched design in the wood, with two tan leather chairs, and bookshelves framing it. I inhale and smile; the sweet, spicy scent of Kayden is everywhere. I’m definitely staying a while. I move forward, rounding the desk to sit down, placing my slippers on the shiny surface, trailing my hands over the smooth wood and admiring the knobs that are in the shape of hawks. “The Hawk,” I whisper. “Kayden is The Hawk. He has to protect his people.”

I rest my elbows on the leather desk pad, thinking of what that kind of responsibility must feel like, my eyes catching on a file sticking out that reads Gallo. Frowning, I grab it and flip it open to find every piece of Gallo’s life since childhood inside. It’s very personal, and I feel like I’m invading his privacy by reading it. I shut it and set it aside. Why would Kayden have this? Unless . . . he’s planning something involving Gallo? Maybe he just wants to know the man who’s clearly out to get him. That, I can see for sure.

Then I see another file, one that reads Ella on the front. My breath hitches and a sense of foreboding washes over me that I don’t understand. Of course he has a file on me. He’s trying to figure out who I am.

Still, I have to inhale a calming breath, air trickling from my lips as I open it. My heart begins to race, charging so fast, it feels like it might explode from my chest. There’s only one thing in the file: a snapshot of the butterfly necklace.

Not a drawing. An actual photo.

I only just told him about the necklace, and why would he have Tyler draw it, if he knew what it looked like?

Kayden knew about the necklace but didn’t tell me.

I tell myself there’s a good reason, but I can’t think of what that can be.

I stand up, barely able to breathe. I need air. I need space. I run out of the room and down the stairs, and don’t stop until my purse is over my shoulder. I leave my coat behind, needing the realness of the cold. I need to decide whether I talk to Kayden about this or dig for answers on my own. I’m also reminded that he felt familiar from day one. Why? Why? And damn it, I do not want to doubt the one person I have trusted, the man I feel so connected to.

But I can’t be a fool, either. The idea drives me forward, and my mind and emotions are so jumbled that I blink—I am at the front door of the castle and don’t even remember the walk. I reach for the knob and it bursts open. I back up and watch in disbelief as the men from the bar last night carry a bleeding man inside.

Kayden follows, speaking into his phone. “Why the fuck aren’t you here already, Nathan? Hurry the hell up.” He ends the call and the men charge toward the center tower steps, blood dripping everywhere, and a series of images flashes through my mind. My father was a medic in the army, and he taught me about that, too.