Breaking the Rules

CHAPTER

NINETEEN



FRIDAY, 8 MAY 2009


It was close to noon before they made it back to the apartment. Ben had really screwed the pooch by sneaking out of the pediatrics ward.

The nurses who’d discovered he was missing last night had called the police, thinking it was Greg who’d somehow snatched him. They’d sent a squad car over to the house, where they’d found Ben’s stepfather in the middle of a honking nasty bender, thanks to Izzy’s creative gifting. The man had been halfway through his second bottle of scotch and had answered the door buck naked. The abusive comments he’d made to the female police officer had resulted in his fugly ass being dragged to the station, where he’d spent the rest of the night in the drunk tank.

And normally, Izzy and Eden both would’ve celebrated Greg’s impending court date, but in this case? With Greg the only so-called adult at home, with Ivette still off the map, and Ben gone walkabout from the hospital? It had sent the alarm lights over at Child Protective Services into a real tizzy of a red alert.

And that dreaded three-day preliminary investigation had been opened.

The caseworker—a nice but harried man named Larry—had told Izzy that if Ivette didn’t turn up in these next few days, he would be required to launch a full inquiry, which would take thirty very long days. And probably result in Ben being placed in foster care for the duration. Only after that could Izzy and Eden and Dan petition for custody of the kid—and they might not get it, on account of their wanting to live out of state, in San Diego.

Because of that, they’d quickly devised a new plan. It was the same as their old plan, but now they had a limited amount of time to make it happen: find Ivette and get her to convince Greg—who was Ben’s adoptive father, as it turned out—to join her in giving permission for Ben to move to San Diego to live with Danny, Eden, and Izzy. And then go before the state social workers and psychologists and put on the show of a lifetime and convince them that there was no need for that further investigation. Convince them that it would be in Ben’s best interest to live in the happy, stress-free, sunshine-and-rainbows home that Dan, Eden, and Izzy would provide for him, in loving three-part harmony, together in California.

Izzy was ready to do it. When push came to shove, he could lie his balls off about how happy he’d be to share an apartment with his dear friend and teammate Danny. It was Dan he was worried about, gagging as he told that massive untruth.

“Don’t you have to get back to San Diego soon?” Eden asked him as they went up the stairs to her apartment. Dan and Jenn had gone with Ben to his first round of official interviews at CPS. Izzy and Eden weren’t needed until the family session, which had been scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

“I’m good at least until the end of next week,” he reassured her. “I already spoke to the senior chief.”

She nodded. She looked exhausted, and this was probably not the time to bring this up, but they were alone, and he had to grab the opportunity.

“Speaking of work,” Izzy said as he followed her down the outside corridor to her apartment door. “You should probably call your boss at D’Amato’s and tender your resignation. That way, tomorrow? When you’re asked about your employment, you won’t have to lie.”

Eden nodded again as she unlocked the door and he followed her inside. “It’s just such good money.” She put her handbag down, kicked off her sandals, and flopped onto the mattress on the living-room floor. “Lord, I’m tired.”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” he started.

“Believe me, you’ve made that more than clear,” she said, eyes closed, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Well, good then,” he said.

She didn’t say anything more. She just turned over onto her back and looked up at him. “Why are you still standing there? Aren’t you tired, too?”

Izzy sighed because that bed, especially with Eden in it, was looking pretty freaking tempting. “Yeah, but … Duty calls.”

She sat up. “Seriously?”

He nodded as he found his duffel bag and started emptying it—both his clean and his dirty clothes, onto the shelf next to the VCR. “Agonizingly so. Why don’t you nap—I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Whatever you’re doing, I can help.”

“Yeeeah,” he said, drawing the word out. “I’m not so sure about that. Ben gave me his key. I’m going to do a little authorized B&E over at Greg and Ivette’s, before Greg comes home from his truly big adventure at the police station.”

She knew one of the reasons why. “You’re taking possession of his gun.”

“Handgun,” he corrected her. “Gun is … Never mind. Yes. That’s one of the things I’m doing, including making sure he’s only got the one.”

“What else?” she asked, then answered her own question. “Ben’s clothes and money—he’s got money hidden in his room.”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “He told me where, and … I’m also in charge of finding the name of the home-health-care agency that Ivette works for. We gotta locate her ASAP. We should be able to get the address where she’s working from them, so we can go over there and talk to her.”

Eden pushed herself to her feet. “I can definitely help with that.”

“Sweetheart, thank you, but I don’t want you to have to go back there.”

“If no one’s there,” she pointed out, “it’s just a … really ugly place. If home has everything to do with people, then hell probably does, too. Right?”

“I’m not completely sure about that,” Izzy told her. “There are places I wouldn’t want to go back to, even if the people who made them hell were long dead and gone.”

“But if you’re going to be there, too,” Eden told him as she unzipped her dress and let it pool at her feet, where she stepped out of it in his own private strip show, “I can go anywhere. I just want to put on sneakers, in case we have to run.”

“Sneakers,” Izzy repeated, unable not to laugh. “I assume you’re going to put on more than sneakers. Which is not to say the look wouldn’t work for me …”

She was heading into the bedroom, where she kept her clothes, but now she stopped and gazed back at him. Dressed as she was in only those barely-there white panties, she was impossibly beautiful.

Maybe stopping to take a quick nap—fifteen, twenty minutes tops—wasn’t such a bad idea.

Eden smiled, because, as always, she knew what he was thinking.

“I honestly don’t know how long I’ve got before Greg gets home,” he told her, hefting the empty bag. “So really, I should go now, and I should go alone.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“I know you’re not,” he said. “But if I’m in there, and he does come home? I can get out and he won’t even know I’ve been there. If you’re with me, it’s not going to be as easy.”

“I could wait by the front door,” she said. “Be your lookout.”

“Eden, please get dressed,” he said. “You’re killing me.”

“Is that a yes?” she asked him, crossing first one arm and then the other over her breasts, which really didn’t help all that much, in the giant cosmic scheme of things. She persisted. “Is it?”

Izzy sighed again. “Wouldn’t you rather take a nap? I’d rather take a nap.”

But she shook her head, no. “I just like it better when I’m with you,” she said quietly. “I like being with you. So, no. Unless you’re going to take a nap, too …”

And okay. She had him with that.

“Get dressed,” he said, bending down to pick up her sundress and toss it to her, so she could hang it in her closet. “But if Greg comes home while we’re there? You don’t mix it up with him, do you understand? Even if he pisses the shit out of you.”

She smiled at that as she nodded, and he felt compelled to add, “Eden, I’m serious, here. If we’re over there, and he comes home, you go out the back door and you get into the car and you lock the doors. And you turn the radio up loud and you stick your fingers in your ears so you can’t hear his crap. Whatever he says and does, we don’t touch him.”

She understood. She nodded again, very seriously. “Thank you.”

“Please get dressed,” he said again, and she left the room to do just that.


The house was silent and smelled of stale cigarette smoke and garbage.

Greg’s dishes were still out on the coffee table, exactly where they’d been the last time Eden was in here, just a few short days ago.

Her stepfather had added to the mess—an empty bottle of liquor was on the table, along with mustard-smeared take-out wrappers from McDonald’s.

Izzy had come in first, and now he motioned for her to be quiet and wait by the front door. His eyes were dark with his concern—she wasn’t trying to keep the repugnancy she was feeling from her face—and he leaned in close to ask her, “You want to wait in the car?”

“I’m okay,” she told him. It was hard to hold his gaze. He scared her a little bit when he got like this—all hard intensity, no lurking amusement.

“I’m trusting you here, to be honest with me,” he told her.

“It’s harder than I thought,” she admitted. “I want him to come home so I can take another swing at him with that pickax, for sending Ben to that place.”

Izzy smiled then at that—briefly, fiercely—before the intensity was back. “But you won’t, though, right?”

“I won’t,” she promised.

“Hold this, I’ll be right back.”

Izzy had brought his empty bag inside with them, and he handed it to her now before he swiftly and silently went through the house, checking all of the rooms to make sure that Ivette hadn’t returned.

But Eden knew that if her mother was home, the cigarette smell wouldn’t be stale. There’d be smoke in the air. Unless, of course, she’d passed out on the couch. Or the bed. Or the floor.

“We’re clear.” Izzy came back and locked the front door, putting the chain on it. This way, if Greg came home, he wouldn’t be able to come right inside. He took his bag back from her. “Our priority is to get his handgun. Ben said Greg kept it in the closet in the master bedroom. What I need you to do while I’m looking for that—if you’re up for it—”

“I am.”

“—is to search the living room, under the sofa and chair cushions. I want to make sure he doesn’t have a second weapon that he keeps hidden. So if he’s got a favorite place to sit and watch TV—”

“I’m on it,” Eden said.

He was still standing there, watching her as she started taking apart the couch, clearly loath to leave her, so she told him again, “I’m really okay. Go get the gun we know about. I’ll feel that much safer when it’s in your hands.”

He nodded and vanished down the hall.

There was nothing under the sofa cushions aside from some popcorn and petrified Cheez Doodles. The upholstery was sticky and gross, but Eden searched carefully, sticking her hands down into the recesses of the furniture.

Izzy was back pretty quickly, and she could tell that he’d been successful by the way he was holding his bag. It was no longer empty, and sure enough, he set it on the floor with a heavy-sounding thump.

With the two of them working together, the search of the room went that much more quickly.

“Let’s put everything back the way we found it,” Izzy said. “No need to tip him off that we were here.”

“Was there anything that led you to believe there’s a second gun?” she asked him, looking up from putting the cushions back on the reclining chair. “An empty box, or a different type of ammo or …?”

“No,” he said. “We just wanted to be extra careful.”

That we referred to Izzy and Dan.

“This must’ve made Danny crazy,” Eden said. “I remember him always asking that, first thing, whenever Ivette got a new boyfriend. Does he own a weapon? It really freaked him out, the idea of some stranger bringing a gun into the house.”

“I bet,” Izzy said.

“Do you want me to go into Ben’s room and help decide which of his things to take?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go back there,” he said.

Eden looked at him. “Why not?”

“There’s a deadbolt on the bedroom door.”

“In Ben’s room?” she asked. “That used to be my room. I installed that lock.”

“Not the way it’s currently working,” Izzy said. “Plus Greg boarded up the other window.”

“Seriously?” she said, moving swiftly down the hall to look.

In doing so, she passed the bathroom where Greg had locked her, not quite a year ago—where Izzy had come and rescued her.

She paused at the door of the bedroom that had been hers when they’d first moved in. Ben had moved in with her, sometime later, when Greg had decided he needed the third bedroom for a home office—probably when he realized that Eden really wasn’t open to the idea of him visiting her in her room at night.

And there it was—the deadbolt she’d installed on her bedroom door. But Greg had removed it and turned it around, so that it could be used to lock someone—Ben—in the room instead of keeping creepy, lecherous old drunks out.

Izzy was right—Greg had also boarded up the second window. She’d broken the first one by throwing a chair through it.

And yet, good, positive things had happened in this very room.

It was in here, sitting on the bed, that Izzy had asked her to marry him. She’d thought at first that he was kidding, but he’d been dead serious.

“Y’okay?” Izzy said, appearing now beside her, solid and tall, and still, as always, concerned for her.

She nodded and flipped on the light and went inside. “Good thing he didn’t have a gun when I lived here, too.”

“That very thought crossed my mind,” Izzy said as he followed her and looked around.

Eden got right to work, making a pile of the few things Ben would want them to take. His CDs. He only had about a dozen, given to him as gifts. He had a few DVDs, too, even though there wasn’t a DVD player anywhere in the house.

Izzy put his bag down on the bed and pushed aside the shabby dresser, revealing a spot in the corner where the tired wall-to-wall carpeting had come free from beneath the molding. He lifted it up and pulled out a manila envelope that had a rubber band tightly around it.

It was Ben’s stash of money.

“You should just keep that,” Eden told Izzy now as she took an extra pair of black jeans and Ben’s work boots from the closet. “He told me you gave it to him, while I was … away.”

“Gave is gave,” Izzy said evenly. “I’m not taking it back. Besides, it’s pretty impressive that a kid his age didn’t just go out and spend it.”

“He was keeping it for an emergency,” Eden told him as she gave the boots a second look and put them back. They were already too small. “He’s a Gillman, even though he doesn’t really think he is. We learn from an early age that the sky could fall any minute and you better have a backup plan, because sooner or later, disaster is coming.”

T-shirts, socks, underwear—everything they took, they wouldn’t have to buy later. At least not until Ben grew out of it all in another few months.

“That’s a hard way to live.” As Izzy packed it all in his bag, Eden gave the top of Ben’s battered desk a quick glance.

He had a small collection of little toys and action figures—things he probably got with his Happy Meals back when he was twelve. She’d had a similar collection—Ariel from The Little Mermaid, and Aladdin’s monkey, Abu; the Brave Little Toaster and a bendable Gumby and Pokey—all of which had been swept away when the levees broke.

So she took Ben’s Toy Story figures and his Pokémon cards, his Transformers and several other action figures she didn’t recognize, and jammed them into Izzy’s bag along with the far more logical socks and briefs.

Izzy noticed—he noticed everything. But he didn’t comment.

“That everything?” he asked.

Eden nodded. “What’s next?”

“Ivette,” Izzy said. “We need to find out where she’s working so we can get an address and pay her a visit.”

“Kitchen,” Eden said. “There might be something stuck to the fridge with a magnet. If not, there’s a place on the counter where we always put the mail. I don’t know if they still do that now, but …”

“Mail as in, maybe there’s a paycheck?” Izzy asked.

Eden made the sound of the raspberry. “Greg would’ve cashed that. They share a bank account. I’m thinking pay stub or envelope left in the rubble—something with the company’s return address.”

“Show me,” Izzy said.


After they’d returned from Ben’s interview with the social worker named Larry over at CPS, Jennilyn and Ben sat at the kitchen table, heads together. They were using Jenn’s laptop to surf the Internet, searching for three-bedroom apartments in San Diego.

“There are definitely more two-bedrooms than three,” Jenni told Dan as he came in to get a glass of water. “Even when I expand the search to include houses. And the prices …” She made a face. “Well, they’re great compared to New York City, but …”

“Then maybe we should look for a two-bedroom,” Dan said. “I can bunk in with Ben—which won’t be that often,” he added as his little brother’s discomfort levels increased. Jenn had been right—the kid didn’t know him very well, and vice versa. Dan didn’t have even a fraction of the relationship with Ben that Eden did. And clearly the thought of having to share a room was not a happy one. “The teams’ve been spending a lot of time overseas and, um …”

And as those words left his mouth, Dan realized that they weren’t going to inspire any kind of a yay response, this time from Jenn, considering the last time he’d gone wheels up he’d nearly died.

Way to work the room, Gillman. Freak everyone out.

But Jenn took it in stride. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t look perturbed. “If it’ll mostly be Eden and Ben living there,” she said evenly, “then a two-bedroom makes sense. And with Izzy and Eden chipping in …”

“Are they really back together?” Ben asked. He’d already learned to look to Jenn for a bullshit-free answer. “Enough to want to live together? I mean, even just a few days ago, Eden was pretty adamant that it was over.”

“Well, you know Eden,” Dan started, but Jenn cut him off.

“People sometimes think they know what they want,” she told the kid, “and then they find out they’re completely wrong. Go figure, you know?”

“I just don’t want her to do something she doesn’t want to do, for my sake.” Ben looked up at Dan. “You, too. I don’t want you to have to—”

“I’m actually looking forward to getting to know you better,” Danny told him. He tried to make a joke, because the kid was looking so serious. “Although to be honest—I can’t lie—I’d rather be sharing a room with Jennilyn.”

“I would, you know, sleep on the couch whenever Jenn comes to visit,” Ben told Danny, still so painfully somber. It was clear he was trying to be as small a pain in the ass as possible.

“That’d be great, buddy,” Dan said, even though his heart sank as he looked over their shoulders and saw the monthly rents of the two-bedroom apartments that were available. Even if he paid half? Along with the money he was going to have to keep sending to his mother … They were going to be eating a lot of pasta and taking a lot of staycations. Good-bye weekend trips to Manhattan, to visit Jenn …

She reached for him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “We’re going to make this work,” she said. “I’ll be visiting a lot”—She poked Ben in the ribs and actually made him laugh—“so I’ll be taking you up on that sleep-on-the-couch offer.”

“Home again, home again, jiggity-jig.”

Izzy and Eden were back, and Jenni and Ben both turned to greet them, eager for news.

“Was my money still there?” Ben asked.

“It was, thanks to your continued brilliance in finding hiding places where Greg and Ivette would never look,” Eden answered as she crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out an apple from the crisper drawer. “You always were good at that.”

Izzy, meanwhile, had set his bag down on the floor, and he met Dan’s eyes and nodded curtly, just once. His message was clear—he’d taken Greg’s handgun. He also had a shopping bag, and Dan saw that they’d stopped to buy a portable gun safe so they could store the weapon safely, here in the apartment.

It was necessary, but Jesus, it couldn’t have been cheap.

Izzy saw Dan looking and said, “It’s my contribution.”

“That’s not necessary,” Dan said, but Izzy breezed past, ignoring him as he dropped a rubber-banded envelope in front of Ben.

“What are we looking at here?” Izzy asked. “Whoa, wait, I thought we were going for a three-bedroom?”

“I’m going to share with Dan,” Ben said.

“Wow,” Izzy said, grabbing the kid around the shoulders, hugging him from behind. “And isn’t that every fifteen-year-old’s dream come true? Not just having a roommate, but having one who’s twice your age?”

Ben laughed. He didn’t pull back the way he’d done when Dan had tried to hug him. “Believe me, I’d sleep on the kitchen floor, if it meant I didn’t have to live in the same house as Greg.”

“Hey, so we got everything you wanted,” Izzy told him, “except for your porn.”

Ben nearly choked in his haste to say, “But I don’t have any porn.” He looked at Jenn. “I don’t have any porn.”

“Told you he didn’t have any porn,” Eden said between bites of her apple. She was grinning and it was clear she and Izzy were teasing the kid.

Izzy straightened back up. “Trust me, he’s got plenty of porn,” he said. “But he’s smart, like me. He keeps it all up here.” He tapped Ben’s head, then tousled the kid’s hair. “How’d the interview with ol’ Larry go? You hit it outta the park?”

Ben was laughing now, too, and it was clear, despite the way he was blushing, that he loved the attention and acceptance. “Yeah, it went okay. Particularly since he failed to ask me anything about, you know. Porn.”

“I’m sure those questions will come.” Izzy grinned back at the kid. “He’s just waiting to catch you off guard.”

“Porn?” Ben said in a ultra-fake voice, as if he were a terrible actor. “What is this thing, porn, of which you speak …?”

“There you go,” Izzy said. “Good boy.”

It was also clear, from the way Ben looked at Izzy, that he thought the SEAL was some kind of superhero.

“You have lunch yet?” Eden asked Ben, who shook his head, no. “How about your blood sugar levels? You take ’em?”

“I was just about to,” he said.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Izzy said as he picked up and looked at the cast-iron Buddha that sat on the kitchen counter next to the stove.

“No,” Ben said, laughing. “I really was.”

“Do it, please,” Eden told him. She was smiling, too, but her words were pure no-nonsense. “Don’t wait until you’re dizzy, and then go, wow, how’d that happen?”

“I know the drill.” He stood up, pocketing the packet Izzy had given him. “You, um, looking for some privacy? Trying to get me out of the room?”

Eden seemed surprised. “No, actually, I wasn’t.”

“Because I was wondering if you found Ivette.”

As Dan watched, Eden exchanged a look with Izzy, who rubbed the Buddha’s belly before he put it back. “Yes and no,” she said.

“Aw, shit,” Dan heard himself say, because that didn’t sound like good news.

Izzy cut to the chase. “Bottom line, she’s AWOL.”

Danny swore again.

“As of right now, anyway,” Izzy added. “I mean, maybe she’s heading home …”

“We found the name of the service she’s working for,” Eden told them. “A-Plus Home Companions.”

“I spoke to Eliza from their main office,” Izzy said, “who told me that Ivette was working for a client who was in hospice, who died early yesterday morning.”

“I spoke to her … When was it?” Dan turned to Jenn.

“It was late, on the sixth, probably right before he died,” Jenn told him. “Maybe she’s been dealing with the funeral arrangements—that’s why she hasn’t called you back?”

But Izzy and Eden both were shaking their heads.

“She was working for the deceased,” Izzy said. “His kids apparently hated her. According to Eliza, she was officially off the clock at 0400, yesterday.”

“Great,” Dan said. “She’s on a bender.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Eden said. “That she absconded with the dead guy’s pain meds.”

“And because she was in a hurry to avoid the police,” Ben chimed in, “she left her cell phone behind.”

“Wow,” Izzy said, applauding. “If worst-case scenario thinking was a sport, you Gillmans would win the gold.”

“Worst case,” Ben corrected him, “would have her ditching Greg along the way, for someone even more stupid.”

“An ex-con polygamist who’d cook crystal meth in the bathroom,” Eden added.

“While selling grenade launchers out of the trunk of his car,” Dan contributed, and it was weird. Even though the idea of Ivette being so freaking irresponsible royally pissed him off, he and Eden and Ben were all standing there, smiling at each other ruefully, in a rare moment of harmony.

Maybe because it was either smile or cry. And they’d all lived this nightmare long enough to know that crying wouldn’t change anything.

“Even if we don’t find her in time,” Dan told his sister and brother, “it’s going to be okay. One way or the other, we’re going to win this thing.”

But Ben was clearly worried. “Maybe we could get insulin on the street, and—”

“And your picture will end up on a milk carton,” Eden pointed out.

“So I’ll dye my hair,” he countered. “I’ll go surfer blond. I’ve been wanting to make a change—”

“If you really think that’s all that would have to change—” Eden started to say.

But Izzy stopped her. “Let’s not escalate this yet,” he said, aiming his words at Ben, too. “We’ve still got time to find her.”

“Did you get the address,” Jenn asked, “where Ivette was working? Maybe we can start there.”

“She’s in Montana,” Izzy told them. “Apparently the old guy knew he was going to kick, and wanted to spend his last few days at his cabin, outside of Missoula.”

“Missoula, Montana,” Dan repeated. “Fantastic.”

“Would it be useful,” Jenn suggested, “if one of us flew up there and—”

“No.” Dan cut her off a little too sharply, but then reached for her, pulling her up and out of her seat and into his arms. “I’m sorry, baby,” he told her, closing his eyes as she hugged him back. “But it would be a waste of time.”

“Her air travel was negotiated by the client,” Izzy reported. “It’s hard to imagine her agreeing to go up there without having a way to get back home.”

“But it’s not hard to imagine,” Dan said, “Ivette cashing in a plane ticket and buying a much cheaper seat on a bus.” He looked at Jenn. “Which is why it would be a waste of time. She could be anywhere.”

“Including on her way back to Vegas,” Izzy pointed out. “If she lost her cell phone—”

“Abandoned it while making her getaway,” Ben corrected him.

“Lost or abandoned it,” Izzy said. “That explains why she hasn’t called you back.” He looked around the room from Dan to Jenni to Ben to Eden. “I haven’t given up hope. Eden and I left her a message back at the house. We stuck it to the fridge.”

“Assuming Greg doesn’t come home first, see it, and tear it up,” Eden interjected. “Come on, Ben. Get your meter.”

As Ben left the little kitchen, Dan saw that Jenn was watching him.

“This is going to work,” she said quietly, so only he could hear, as she hugged him again.

“I’m going to cry like a baby when you leave,” he told her just as softly.

Across the room, Izzy had to be tired—Eden, too. They both were silent, Eden finishing up her apple and Izzy staring almost hypnotically at Eden’s ass, which, in the extremely tight shorts she was wearing, left little to the imagination.

Except maybe Izzy was just taking a quick combat nap with his eyes open, because when Eden moved to throw her apple core into the trash, he didn’t track her. He just stared into space.

But the SEAL looked up, snapping back to present and alert when Eden quietly asked, “Any luck finding Neesha?”

Dan let Jenn answer. “None,” she told them. “I went to that mall, while Dan stayed with Ben down at Child Services, but I didn’t see her—or anyone who looked like the man who chased you. Ben would still very much like to find her, though. And oh, while I’m thinking about it! I completely forgot last night … Neesha left you a twenty-dollar bill. She asked us to give it to you, Eden. She said that she took it from you—or maybe, Izzy—I guess, the last time she was here?”

Eden shook her head, refusing the bill that Jenn had pulled from the pocket of her jeans. “I’m not missing any money.”

“Twenty bucks?” Izzy asked. “Whoa, that’s great. That’s actually mine. Wow, yeah. It clears up a … big mystery.”

Eden looked at him. “What big mystery?”

“Um,” Izzy said. “Well, I was missing some money and … Now I know what happened to it.” He smiled brightly. “Mystery solved. Yay?”

Eden didn’t smile back at him. “You were missing some money,” she repeated.

And Danny knew exactly where this was going, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. He beat a retreat, pulling Jenn with him toward the living room. She didn’t resist—in fact, she hurried him along, and even stopped Ben and pulled him with them, too.

“Show me how that works,” Jenni told Ben, pointing to his blood glucose meter.

It was a valiant attempt at giving his sister and Zanella privacy, but it was completely in vain. This apartment was so small, there was no way someone in the living room could help but overhear a conversation going down in the kitchen.

“First you have to wash your hands,” Ben told Jenn. “And then you take one of these test strips and put it right here …”

“Great,” Dan heard Eden say to Izzy. “My brother only thought I was a prostitute. But you? You thought I was a thief. Thanks so much.”

“Then you prick your finger on the side, because it hurts less,” Ben said. “At least that’s what they say. It’s all pretty much the same.”

“Sweetheart …”

“Don’t touch me,” Eden said sharply, and Ben looked up, looked at Dan, clearly ready to go to their sister’s assistance if he needed to.

“It’s okay,” Jenn murmured to Ben, even as she met Dan’s eyes. “He would never hurt her.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Eden asked from the kitchen. “Hey, Eden, I’m missing some money. Have you seen it?”

“Because it wasn’t that important?” Izzy said, phrasing it as a question, as if hoping it was the right answer.

“Because you thought I stole it,” she countered.

“Can we talk about this later?” Izzy asked, a tad desperately. “We’re both really tired and—”

“Neesha didn’t take it last night,” Eden said. “It had to be, what? The night before? Which means that all this time, you’ve been willingly—eagerly—sleeping with someone you think would steal money from you.”

“It’s not that simple,” Izzy told her.

“Isn’t it?” she asked. “Because from my end? It’s extremely simple. In fact, I can simplify it down to three little words: go to hell.”

And with that, she marched out of the kitchen, grabbed her handbag, and left the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her.

Zanella, meanwhile, was silent.

They were also silent there in the living room. Ben looked from Dan to Jenni, as if hoping either of them would do something. When they didn’t—Izzy and Eden weren’t the only ones who were exhausted—Ben stood up.

Jenn tried to stop him. “Honey, we should probably just—”

He shook her off, heading for the kitchen as he asked Izzy, “Aren’t you gonna go after her?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Izzy said quietly. “Because … she’s right.”

“Well, I’m sorry might be a good way to start,” Ben pointed out. “Are you sorry?”

“More than you can imagine,” Izzy admitted.

“Then tell her that,” Ben said.

There was silence, then somewhere—from the kitchen?—a cell phone began to blast, its ring tone one of the songs from the South Park movie.

“Shit!” Izzy swore.

Ben gave voice to the obvious. “She left her phone home.”

“Fan-f*cking-tastic,” Izzy said as he clomped his way out of the kitchen and over to the door. “Someone call me if she comes back, all right?”

“We will,” Ben promised as Izzy left, closing the door far more gently than Eden had.

It was obvious the kid was worried, and Dan tried to smile at him reassuringly. “You know, even if things don’t work out between Izzy and Eden,” he told his brother, “we’re still going to be okay. We’ll win custody anyway. We’re going to do whatever it takes.” He looked at Jenni for support, but she was looking at him slightly quizzically—in fact, her expression was a gentler variation of Ben’s what the hell are you talking about?

“This isn’t about me,” Ben told Dan indignantly. “Not at all. This is about Eden and Izzy. She loves him. She always has—and he thought she stole from him. That’s gotta hurt.”

“Well, yeah,” Dan said. “That’s … Yeah. I mean, I’m sure she, you know, loves him in her own way.”

“What other way is there?” Ben asked. He wasn’t being a smart-ass. He was seriously asking.

“Um,” Danny said, and when he glanced at Jenn for help, she was wearing her yeah, you can be an idiot, but I love you anyway face. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know Eden very well, either,” his little brother told him, but it wasn’t with judgment, it was matter-of-fact, as he came back to sit next to Jenni, who was still holding his meter. He pointed to the display. “This number tells me how I’m doing—if my blood sugar’s too high or too low. Either is bad. It’s got to be right in the middle.”

“And what does this particular number mean?” Jenn asked.

“It means I’m doing great, which also means it’s okay if I have some carbs, like pizza for an afternoon snack. Hint, hint.”

As Jenn laughed, Dan left them there, talking about Ben’s diabetes, knowing that he’d need to take a crash refresher course himself, but far too tired to do it now. Of course, knowing Jenni, she’d be an expert in a matter of hours, and would be able to teach Dan everything he needed to know.

“So you can eat pizza?” he heard her ask his brother as Danny went into the bedroom and lowered himself carefully onto the bed.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling as they talked about carbs and insulin adjustments and their favorite pizza toppings, as Jenni made Ben laugh, as they called for a pizza to be delivered, as they went back into the kitchen because Ben wanted to check something on Facebook, on Jenn’s computer, and she was happy to help him.

This was what having a family was supposed to sound like—it was what he’d always imagined it would sound like. And Dan closed his eyes and let their words and laughter wash over him as he relaxed enough to fall fast asleep.


After taking a too-long hike through the mall where he and Eden had been fired upon last night and coming up cold, Izzy finally went downtown. He more than half expected to find Eden at D’Amato’s working one of the poles.

It was where he would have gone—if he were her, and he wanted to give himself the biggest f*ck you he could possibly deliver.

Or maybe it wouldn’t be a f*ck you.

She thought her stripping didn’t bother him. Because he’d told her as much. Except, at the time that he’d said it? He’d pretty much meant it.

Damn, maybe her truthiness-in-the-heat-of-the-moment-itis was contagious, because this was totally her MO. Say something and mean it at the time, but then feel something completely different when a new day dawned and a new situation arose.

A situation such as Izzy’s walking into this place and fearing that he was going to see her up on that stage with a crowd of drooling men around her—all those eyes on her, all those reaching, grasping fingers …

As Izzy went into the club, he stopped just inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the cool darkness. He looked down at the stage through his eyelashes, as if he were watching a particularly gruesome horror movie, but he didn’t see Eden and he didn’t see her, and nope, she definitely wasn’t there.

Which didn’t mean she wasn’t in the dressing room, taking a break.

In theory, he wanted to be in agreement that Eden had the prerogative to do what she wanted, to make her own choices, to live her life the way she deemed best. In theory, he could understand the whole seemingly neo-feminist viewpoint that a body was a body, and if people wanted to pay outrageous sums to see her unclad, so be it, and more power to her.

But in practice?

It was a totally different animal.

Either that, or something had changed between today and the night they’d discussed Eden’s career as an exotic dancer. Something was different. Some switch had been flipped in Izzy’s brain that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the mere thought of Eden smiling into other men’s eyes, and letting them touch her—just enough to slip their money into her panties, but touch her just the same.

That bill roll she’d showed him only seemed impressive as long as he didn’t think about what it meant. Each of those bills came from a hand, which was attached to a man, who’d probably gotten at least a little hard from watching Eden dance.

And no, Izzy didn’t like that. At all.

But he hadn’t communicated that fact to Eden, so if she had come to work, maybe it was just her way of being practical and efficient and earning the most money that she possibly could, while she still could.

Maybe she was going to take his advice so that she wouldn’t have to lie to the social worker about where she worked, at tomorrow’s meeting. Maybe she’d come here so she could quit—right after she left the stage tonight.

The bouncer with the Marine tattoo was back by the bar, and Izzy nodded to him as he ordered a coffee from the bartender.

“We’re out,” the man told him, without an apology.

“Seriously?” Izzy asked, because damn, he was tired. A beer was out of the question, and the burst of energy he’d get from a cola would rapidly decay into a sugar crash, leaving him even more fatigued. And to him, diet soda tasted like tea made from metal shards.

“Kitchen’s closed tonight.”

“Last time I checked,” Izzy pointed out, “coffee wasn’t food.”

“There’s a Starbucks three blocks down, across from the McDonald’s—for when you’re heading home.”

That was a solution? “But I want coffee now,” Izzy argued, even though he knew it wasn’t going to make a cup magically appear.

What did magically appear was the bouncer, who shifted closer.

“All right, how about an iced tea, no sugar, heavy on the lemon,” Izzy said wearily, then looked at the bouncer. “Name’s Zanella, I’m with SEAL Team Sixteen. I’m going on forty-eight hours without significant sleep. My wife’s kid brother was in the hospital and … Long story. Bottom line, he’s fine, but I’m freaking tired. Anyway, she works here—Jenny—do you know her? Is she on today?”

The big man definitely knew her, and the look he gave Izzy was filled with disbelief. Like, You really expect me to believe she’s married to a dirtbag like you? “I’d have to check,” he said. “But I’m not sure why she didn’t just tell you. You know. Her schedule?”

“It’s been a crazy coupla days,” Izzy said.

He nodded. “Navy SEAL, huh?” He gestured to Izzy’s hand with his many chins. “Where’s your wedding ring?”

“Back in San Diego,” Izzy said. “I came here via Germany.”

Any American—forget former military—who gave half of a shit about the servicemen and -women who were fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq knew that Germany was one of the places you went when you were wounded.

The bouncer took that in and nodded, but then said, “I don’t want any trouble.”

“I’m not looking for trouble,” Izzy said. “I’m looking for my wife. If you see her before I do, please tell her I’m here. I’ll be sitting down in front.”

And with that, he took his plastic cup of mostly ice and a little tea and went down the aisle to one of the few empty tables that was directly in front of the stage. It wasn’t as close as he would’ve liked, but it was close enough for her to see him, should she appear.

And if she did appear? Whether her being there was a f*ck you message or a whatever, there was one thing he knew.

He didn’t have the right to tell her what to do.

So he’d sit and watch while his stomach churned, and he’d make sure she wasn’t harmed or disrespected—at least not more than she already was, simply by climbing onto that stage—and then he’d see her safely home.


“Guy who says he’s your husband’s out front.”

Eden looked up at Big John in surprise, and then turned to peek out from behind the curtains that let Alan, the manager, keep an eye on the floor even while he was up here in his office.

“Center,” John told her. “About halfway back.”

And sure enough. There was Izzy, dwarfing the little round table he was sitting behind.

He looked exhausted.

And sad.

Far more like the man Eden had first encountered here at D’Amato’s just a few short days ago than the troublemaker who’d tried to talk her into having a quickie in the bathroom while they waited for Ben at the hospital.

Izzy had been kidding about the going-into-the-bathroom thing—but his kidding was definitely on the square. Which meant if she’d called his bluff, he would have done it. Without hesitation.

Despite the fact that there wasn’t a lock on the bathroom door.

And even though he’d thought, at the time, that she’d stolen money from him.

“I didn’t know you were married,” John said in his deep-woods Arkansas drawl.

“He’s been … out of the country.”

“He was in here a few days ago.” John was definitely suspicious, and determined to protect her—even from herself.

“Yeah,” she said. “We were separated and I thought we were breaking up, but then we weren’t, and … I think we probably are again. Doomed, you know?”

“You need to slip out the back?” John asked. “I could give you a ride home.”

“No,” Eden said. “That’s all right. I’ll just get him and … He’s a good guy, John. Really. He’s just … not the right guy.” She corrected herself. “Well, right guy, wrong time. You know what I mean?”

John nodded seriously. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. You can tell him that. Navy SEAL or not.”

Eden forced a smile, even though she felt more like crying. “Give Ricki a hug for me, and tell her I say hey.”

“I will,” John said.

“Thank you,” Eden said, “for everything.” And she headed out of the office and down the stairs. The dancers weren’t supposed to use the door that led directly out onto the club’s floor, but she opened it anyway and slipped through.

Izzy didn’t see her. Not at first.

But then, even though his back was to her, he somehow sensed that she was there, because he turned. He did a double take—probably because he hadn’t expected to see her here while wearing all of her clothes. Or maybe it was because she was coming toward him, not running away.

“I hate you,” she said as she sat down next to him. “You suck.”

He was definitely tired because he didn’t try to hide the emotions that crossed his face. More of that surprise was mixed with a flash of very real gratitude—no doubt because he wasn’t going to have to chase her back across Las Vegas.

“I know,” he said. “Eden, look, I’m really sorry—”

“The money went missing from … where?” she asked, cutting off his apology, as she looked up to watch Darlene dance. She was new, and even though she was delicately pretty, she wasn’t very good. She definitely needed a how-to session with Nicola, of the basketball boobs. “From out of your wallet?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “It went missing from, um … Yeah.”

“Nice,” she said. She didn’t want him to see the hurt in her eyes, but she turned to look at him because she needed to ask, “Why would I take your money?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, gazing back at her steadily. “That’s why it was a mystery. I couldn’t figure it out.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to ask?”

He looked away from her then, and she knew—exactly—why he hadn’t asked. He didn’t think she’d tell him the truth.

“Great,” she said, unable to look at him as she fought the rush of tears to her eyes. “You didn’t ask because you wouldn’t’ve believed me. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I mean, why should you be different than anyone else? You think I’m a liar. And a thief. Big fricking deal. I wouldn’t believe me, either, if push came to shove. It just …”

He reached for her hand. “Eden—”

“It gets old after a while.” She jerked her hand out of his grasp, aware that Big John was hovering not too far away, as she caught her breath and steeled herself, forcing herself not to cry.

Which gave Izzy the opportunity to say, “I really am sorry.”

“Sorry for thinking I’m a thief and a liar, or sorry that I am one?”

He didn’t answer right away, which was telling. “Sorry for everything,” he finally said. “Starting back the night we met.”

“Wow,” Eden said. “That’s … an awful lot to be sorry about.”

Izzy nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“So … What? You’d rather just have never met me?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “No.” He started to reach for her again, but this time stopped before he connected. “I just would’ve done everything really differently.”

“Like what?”

“Like, I wouldn’t have slept with you,” he told her. “Not that night, and not the night we got married, either.”

Eden looked at him. “Even though that’s the one indisputable fact that we both agree on—that we have the world’s greatest sex?”

“Is it really?” he asked quietly, his dark eyes so somber. “If I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust me …?”

“So … you think our not having sex—ever—would have made us trust each other?” she asked, struggling to comprehend.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure there’s anything I could’ve done to make you trust me,” Izzy told her.

Eden nodded, feeling sick. “So what do we do now?” she asked. If he left, they’d be at a disadvantage at tomorrow’s meeting. If he left, they might not get custody of Ben. If he left …

As usual, he knew what she was thinking. “I’m not going anywhere.” But then he amended it. “Unless you want me to.”

“I want Ben to be safe,” she told him. She wanted so much more than that, but she knew better than to couch their relationship in terms that dealt with anything other than sex and her little brother.

“Well, good,” Izzy said, “because I want that, too.”

“Enough to live with me?” she asked. “For an undetermined amount of time—but possibly as long as three years? That’s crazy. That’s longer than most jail terms.”

He sighed at that. “Living with you isn’t a hardship,” he told her.

“Despite the fact that the sex isn’t really all that great?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said. “I said it’s not as great as, I don’t know, as maybe it could be. And … maybe this is a good thing. That this happened. Maybe we could, I don’t know, start over.”

“Start over,” she said, unable to keep her hurt from making her sound surly.

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “If we both promise not to lie to each other—”

“I thought I did that,” she said. “Last night.”

“You didn’t say it,” he countered.

“Cross my heart and hope to die?” Eden asked. “What are you, twelve?”

“No,” he said, clearly frustrated with her, too, but like her, he was hyperaware that Big John was watching them. So he lowered his voice. “I just—”

“How does that work, anyway?” Eden interrupted him. She kept her voice low, too, but she didn’t try to hide her upset. “Because if you think I’m a liar, then I could be lying when I promise I won’t lie to you. So what’s the point?”

“It’s just … I don’t know. A way to start over,” he said again. “To start clean.”

“Okay, then. I promise I won’t lie to you—about anything,” Eden told him, sitting back in her chair. “Not even to be nice. Cross my heart and hope to die. So look out if your ass looks fat in those pants, because I’m not going to lie about it.”

Izzy smiled at that. “I’m not really that worried about—”

“That was a bad example,” she said. “A stupid haircut. If you get one, watch out.”

“That’s a possibility,” he said, “having had my share of stupid haircuts. I’ll consider myself warned.”

“Your turn,” she said.

Izzy looked at her and his smile faded. “I promise I won’t lie to you anymore, either,” he said.

“Have you?” she asked. “Lied to me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“About what?”

“About you working here. I don’t want you stripping, I don’t,” he said, then closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. “I was pretending that I wanted it to be your choice. I think you should quit because yada yada, but if we’re going to move forward from here?” He opened his eyes and looked at her, and it was clear that he was dead serious. “No more. Not here, and not in California, either.”

Eden gazed back at him.

But he wasn’t done. “Not even when I’m away,” he said. “Especially not when I’m away. I know you think you found yourself a good situation and that you felt safe. Safe enough, anyway, but the truth is, it’s dangerous. Besides, you’re better than that and … The idea of all those hands on you? I know they’re not supposed to touch, but I also know that they do. And I don’t want it. I don’t want to share.”

Eden could tell from his body language that he was expecting her to argue or to come out with some kind of You’re not the boss of me exclamation. Instead, she nodded. She’d already handwritten her letter of resignation and left it up on Alan’s desk. Because this way she wouldn’t have to lie to the social workers tomorrow. Plus she knew Danny was going to raise a stink if she tried to keep it up. Besides, she didn’t like being touched, either. “Okay,” she said.

“Really? Just like that?” He was surprised.

“No,” she said, a touch snarkishly. “I’m lying.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, “because you promised you wouldn’t.”

There was something in his eyes, now, that looked a lot like hope.

“You know what sucks?” Eden asked him, “almost as much as you do?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “When I work some stupid minimum-wage job, and the manager puts his hands all over me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Yeah, there is something—”

“Something that won’t get you arrested,” she added.

“How about you let me help you find a job?” Izzy asked. “When we get to San Diego.”

Eden shrugged. “I’m happy to let you try,” she said.

He smiled at that. “There is no try.”

“Yeah, well, people generally don’t want to hire me,” she told him. “Unless they want to get in my pants. Try to get in my pants. And there definitely is a try, because they do it. But they don’t succeed.”

“I’ll help you find a job,” he said again, “with people who’ll respect you.”

And there he sat, just looking at Eden, as just a few feet away, up on that stage, Darlene danced. She might as well have been invisible as far as Izzy was concerned.

And Eden opened her mouth and said, “If you get to tell me where I can or can’t work, then I get to tell you … No more Marias. If you’re with me, you’re only with me. For as long as we’re together. Whether it’s three days or three years.”

“That goes both ways,” he said.

“Of course.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, too.

And she should have felt better. They’d reached an understanding. Like Izzy’d said, they’d started over. They’d set up some guidelines and rules for their relationship. It should have been a good thing.

But all she felt was as if they’d started a giant clock ticking, counting down to the moment Ben would turn eighteen and Izzy would say good-bye.

It wasn’t an if—he’d made that more than clear. It was a very definite when.

And that was on top of the fact that nothing they’d said, not even Izzy’s apology, had soothed the hurt that came from knowing he’d believed she’d taken that money right out of his wallet.

Izzy cleared his throat. “About Maria …”

Eden briefly closed her eyes. Way to bring her down to another, as of yet unexplored, level of hell. “I really don’t want to know.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You do. She hit on me, but I turned her down.”

She looked at him then as her emotions twisted within her. She didn’t want to feel so stupidly happy at that news. “And … you want some kind of congratulatory medal …?”

He smiled at that. “No, I’m just trying to be forthright. I kind of lied to you about her. You know, by omission.”

“Anything else?” she asked. “I mean, as long as we’re here in the confessional?”

Izzy laughed, because this place was about as far from churchlike as it could possibly be. But this time, when he reached for her hand, Eden didn’t pull away. She just gave up and let him link their fingers together.

“Thanks,” he said. “For forgiving me.”

“But I haven’t yet,” she admitted. “I’ll get there eventually …” Probably the next time they made love—or had sex, as Izzy called it. She felt tears welling again in her eyes, so she took her hand back to brush them away. “Just not tonight. Tonight I’m just going to wallow in hating you.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

She stood up. “I already quit,” she told him. “So let’s go make Ben happy and cruise the strip, see if we can’t find Neesha.”

Izzy looked as if he’d far rather go back to her apartment and sleep for eighteen hours, but he nodded valiantly and even managed a smile. “Just let me stop for coffee, and I’m up for anything.”