"You never mentioned that," Declan says, leaning forward.
"Didn't get a chance, did I? By the time I got back to the house the next day, we were..." I trail off, not needing to finish. We both remember exactly what happened next. "Anyway, itmeans whoever's been after her is still out there. And she just sent away the only people who gave a damn about protecting her."
Declan's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Timing's interesting."
"What do you mean?"
"You find out the real threat is still out there, and suddenly she can't get rid of us fast enough."
I hadn't thought about it that way. Had been too consumed by the personal betrayal to connect those dots. "You think they're related?"
Declan shrugs his massive shoulders. "Don't know. Just seems convenient."
"Mateo thinks there's more to it," I say, the wheels in my mind starting to turn.
"And what do you think?"
I consider the question, turning it over in my mind like a puzzle with missing pieces. "I think..." I begin, then stop, wrestling with the conflicting emotions warring inside me. "I think we're doing exactly what she wants us to do. Speculating. Questioning. Driving ourselves crazy trying to make sense of it."
"So what's the alternative? We just walk away? Pretend none of it happened?"
The question hangs in the air between us. Can we just walk away? Can I forgetthe way she felt in my arms, the way she trusted me enough to show me her darkest fears, the way she fit so perfectly against me, as if she'd been made to be there?
"Maybe we should," I say, the words tasting like ash. "God knows we've all been here before. You, me, Mateo. We've all had someone choose to walk away."
"Not like this," Declan says. "Not overnight. Not without reason."
I lean forward, frustration building. "What's your theory, then? What's the grand explanation for why she flipped?"
Declan is quiet for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. "Don't know," he finally says. "But Kid's right. There's something we're missing."
"We checked everything," I remind him. "The house. The security system. Her staff. Nothing explains why she flipped."
"Something has to."
I rub a hand over my face, exhaustion making my thoughts fuzzy around the edges. "Or maybe we just don't want to accept that we got played."
Declan's expression turns grim. "Wouldn't be the first time."
No, it wouldn't. My ex-wife's betrayal. His time in prison for defending a woman who then refused to testify on his behalf. Mateo's string of women who broke his heart. We've allbeen burned before. All learned the hard way that trusting someone is the quickest route to getting gutted.
Yet we'd trusted Jade. All of us. Despite our better judgment. Despite our history. Despite everything.
"Speaking of Mateo," I say, changing the subject, "what's he doing tonight?"
Declan's mouth quirks in a humorless smile. "Same thing we are, I guess. Except he's probably on his second bottle, not his second glass."
"He fell hard," I repeat Declan's earlier assessment.
"We all did," Declan says, the words not a question but a statement of fact.
We sit in silence again, the rain tapping against the window, the distant sounds of the city a muted backdrop to our shared misery.
"The question is," Declan finally says, "what are we going to do about it?"
I look up, meeting his gaze. "About what?"
"About Jade. About whatever the hell happened. About the fact that none of us believes this is really over."
