Life just sucked sometimes.

That's what Daniel's psy...psychol...that's what the stupid doctor his uncle made him talk to had said. Life just sucked, for kids most of all. But when you get through the bad stuff, Dr. Steve said, there's a world of good things waiting on the other side.

Just wait and see.

Life will get better.

Trudging down the hallway of White Elementary School, headed for the principal's office for the second time that week, Daniel rolled his eyes. Dr. Steve didn't have a clue about his life.

The beige cinderblock walls closing in on either side of him made it hard to breathe. He had to get out of this place. But out where? Where did he have to go? Back home, to his uncle's lame attempts at making everything all right? There was only there or here, where he was never going to fit in no matter how hard he tried. Which left Daniel exactly where he'd been for the last six months.

Nowhere.

Forget Dr. Steve. There was no bright side just around the corner.

Daniel's mother was dead. His old man had thankfully split years ago, never to be heard from again. Living in Sweetbrook with his uncle wasn't working. Trying to be good enough was a pointless waste of time, when he just kept making things worse.

Life sucked. Period.

He turned left at the end of the hall and shuffled into the bustling school office. His sneaker caught as he stepped from the tiled floor onto carpet. Arms and legs flailing, he managed not to fall on his face. Barely. But he'd announced his presence with gusto, when what he really wanted was to fade into the beige couch across from the principal's door, until it was time for him to go in.

It wasn't like he needed an introduction. Like he didn't know the drill.

"Have a seat." Mrs. Lyons pointed to the couch the kids called death row. "Principal White's expecting you, but he's on the phone."

Mrs. Lyons had worked here for over forty years, he'd heard. She'd worked here when his uncle was in elementary school. Rumor had it, the man had done his own time on death row. Maybe she'd pointed that same bony finger at him. Maybe she'd stared him down like she'd rather be dealing with any other kid in the school.

Probably not. What could his by-the-book uncle, with his perfect manners and family connections, have done to match the mess Daniel made out of school every day? Everyone in Sweetbrook loved the man.

Daniel dropped onto the couch and gave Mrs. Lyons his best glare. He kept right on staring, until she looked away. He knew exactly what she was thinking. What they were all thinking--the teachers and everyone. He'd heard them talking when they didn't think he was listening, the looks on their faces just like the one on Mrs. Lyons' now. And he hated them all. Hated their nosey questions, the way they pretended to understand...

He's always been such an angry little boy... But he could be such a good student, before the accident... It's just so sad... And his poor uncle... Can you imagine trying to deal with a troubled child he barely knows on top of everything else?...

What did they know?

What did he care?

"Daniel." The door to the principal's office opened. Sweetbrook's local hero appeared, a tall, blond man, wearing freshly pressed dress clothes, plus the frown he didn't even try to hide from Daniel anymore. "Ready to step inside?"

Daniel decided staring at his shoes sounded like a better plan. Not because he was afraid. Adults found unresponsive kids annoying, Dr. Steve had told him, and being annoying suited Daniel just fine today.

He reached a finger down to tug at the hole in the toe of the falling-apart sneakers his uncle had forbidden him to wear to school again.

"Daniel?" The man's voice was full of the forced patience that made Daniel want to punch something. "In my office, please. Now."

Swallowing both the comeback that would buy him more trouble and the tears he refused to let anyone see, Daniel surged to his feet. He shuffled into the inner office, still not looking up.

No doubt about it. His life sucked.

And he hated them all.

But this man, this man who daily tempted Daniel to believe that things really could be different, this man he hated more than anyone.

***

Principal Joshua White shut the office door as ten-year-old Daniel threw himself into the guest chair that was his honorary second home.

Shrugging off a wave of discouragement that he couldn't afford, Joshua rounded his desk, giving the scared, defiant kid dressed in jeans and a dirt-smudged tee shirt some space. He remained standing as he re-read his notes from the phone call he'd just concluded with Becky Reese's grandmother, Gwen Loar.

Becky had once again been the focus of Daniel's acting out in class. According to their fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cole, Becky had instigated their latest tussle. Then Daniel took things way too far, again. Before Mrs. Cole could intervene, the confrontation had escalated into classroom warfare, complete with the kids throwing anything they could lay their hands on at each other.

Joshua and Gwen had discussed Becky's role in the altercation, trying to formulate a plan for better settling the little girl into her new school. For compensating for the fact that a month ago her mother had shipped Becky off to live with grandma, so mom could dedicate twenty-four-seven to her career in Atlanta.

Amy Loar. Joshua's memory produced an image of his childhood friend, dazzling in pink, smiling at him from across the dance floor at their senior prom. He'd been most likely to succeed, and she'd somehow blossomed from just one of the guys into the most beautiful girl in the room. Since leaving for college, she'd come home for a visit every now and then. She kept in touch with her mother regularly, he heard, but it had been years since he'd talked with her in person. Busy building their separate happily ever afters, they'd let their friendship fade along with their childhood memories.

Her beauty, brains, and ambition had taken her far. Marriage to one of Atlanta's top laywers. A job in a high-profile consulting firm. Successful and a mother by thirty, she'd carved out the dream life she'd wanted. Except he'd heard her wealthy husband was out of the picture now. And as far as he could remember, being divorced and a single parent to boot hadn't been part of Amy's plans.

Life usually found a way to mess up most people's dreams. And if Joshua had learned one thing from his years as principal of a small, rural elementary school, it was that kids paid the biggest price when their parents' plans crashed and burned.

He refocused on his young visitor, shoving aside the unwanted trip down memory lane. Daniel sat in a belligerent sprawl, digging at the monstrous hole in his right sneaker. No doubt waiting for Joshua to make the first move, so the kid could ignore him some more.

Well, let him wait a little longer. Nothing else had worked. Not exactly what they taught you at principal school, but it was worth a shot. Joshua flipped through his notes, still standing.

"So?!" Daniel finally sputtered, making eye contact for the first time.

Joshua sat as if he was in no particular hurry to get to the point. He exchanged Becky Reese's file for Daniel's even weightier one. The boy got points for trying to settle into Sweetbrook. Joshua had seen it for himself: the struggles to conform, the confusion, the emotional explosions that so quickly built from simple disappointments. And Daniel internalize each failure, each bit of negative feedback--making it that much more difficult for him to try the next time.

"So." Joshua crossed his arms on the desk, leaning forward in a reassuring pose that put neither one of them at ease. "You and Becky got together this morning and decided to toss your classroom?"

Daniel shrugged and picked some more at the shoes that Joshua knew were less than a month old, even though they looked like last year's Salvation Army rejects.

"She started it," the kid mumbled.

"Someone else always does."

Joshua shifted his shoulders and the lingering weight of his own personal failures--none of which had seemed his fault at the time. The disappointments and pain of the last two years had taught him to be philosophical about life's let-downs. Wallowing in them accomplished nothing. His energies were better spent making the best of things and forgetting. But helping a kid as angry as Daniel understand that loss and crushing defeat was just part of the game was a different story. What could Joshua say that wouldn't sound like a bunch of psychological whooie?

Welcome to the club, kid. Life bites the big one. Get used to it.

He gave his head a mental thunk.

"We've talked about throwing things in the classroom," he offered instead. "We can't keep you with the other kids if we have to worry about one of them getting brained with a book..." He flipped through Daniel's file. "...your backpack...your shoe--"

"I didn't hurt anyone."

"You're down here almost every day, and you can't seem to get along with any of your classmates--especially Becky Reese."

"She's a pain in the--"

"She's not your problem."

"She said--"

"She said that your mom was as big a loser as hers." Joshua sighed. "Mrs. Cole told me, and I just got off the phone with Becky's grandmother. The girl owes you an apology, but you can't completely lose it every time someone mentions your mother. You and your therapist have talked about that."

"Good old Dr. Steve."

Cynicism sounded God-awful coming out of the mouth of a ten-year-old. Redirecting Daniel's sarcasm was a battle Joshua was tired of losing.

"If you can't keep it together with the other kids in class--"

"No one talks bad about my mom."

"Having temper tantrums isn't the answer." Joshua was as disturbed as Daniel by what the little girl had said. It made him want to throw things himself, when up until a few months ago he'd been a pro at keeping his emotions and his job separate.

Everyone at school, including the kids, knew what Daniel had been through--at least part of it. Sweetbrook might be small and antiquated by most standards, but tiny South Carolina towns took care of their own. People were giving Daniel the break he needed to fight his way back from the mess his life had become. Everyone except Becky. From her first day here, the child had seemed hell bent on baiting Daniel with the one thing she knew would hurt him the most--trash talking the boy's mother right along with her own.

Damn Amy Loar for dumping her problems here, while she kicked back and did whatever she was doing in Atlanta.

"I know Sweetbrook has been a bum deal for you." Sounding soothing and understanding was a bitch, when he barely understood anything anymore. "Moving here with your mom a year ago to be near family. Not knowing anyone. Starting over. Then losing her in that car accident."

Daniel's scowl rearranged itself into something fiercer. Something near tears.

Emotion clawed its way up Joshua's chest. "You have to keep your hands and things to yourself if you want to stay in school."

"When did this become about what I want? I don't want to be in trouble all the time, but that's what keeps happening." The kid looked up then. Eyes the same green as the mother he'd never see again glistened. "Maybe everyone would be better off if I wasn't here."

"That's not an option, Daniel."

Josh refused to let it be. He watched resignation crowd out the grief on Daniel's face. He knew exactly how the boy felt. The situation everyone in Sweetbrook expected Joshua to handle like a pro was speed-balling from bad to worse with each passing day.

He'd grilled the Family Services caseworker assigned to Daniel after his mother's death. He'd read ever book available on dealing with kids with Daniel's unique issues. He was using every tool at his disposal to help the little boy believe he was wanted. That he belonged here. That he could succeed. But the demons that drove Daniel to strike out every time someone got too close, every time the vulnerability he tried to hide swam to the surface, were proving to be stronger than Joshua's well thought out plans of attack. Just like when Joshua's ex left him to build the dream-life he couldn't provide for her, the situation with Daniel was defying every logical step he took.

"It's going to get better, you know," he finally said, following Dr. Steve Rhode's lead, even though the words sounded ridiculously shallow. Maybe if he kept saying them, he could will the platitude into reality.

Daniel's total lack of reaction announced that the kid wasn't born yesterday.

Joshua checked his copy of Mrs. Cole's schedule. "Your class is at recess. You think you and Becky can retire to neutral corners until the end of the day?"

A mumble and a shrug were all he got in response.

"Give it your best shot." He stood and walked around the desk, his stomach tightening at the realization of just how close he was to losing Daniel. And he never lost when it came to his kids. "We'll deal with the rest later."

He reached to smooth Daniel's shaggy bangs. The boy flinched away, and Joshua let his hand drop, fresh out of answers and next steps. It shouldn't have to be this hard.

Daniel inched to his feet, putting more space between them.

Joshua let him go, like a principal should. He stared at his dress shoes, his hands sinking into his pockets, when everything in him wanted to pull the lonely kid close and hug it all better. Like that had worked every other time he'd tried.

It was some kind of sick, cosmic joke, that he was Daniel's best shot at a normal life. The kid needed love so badly, and neither one of them knew how to make sure he got it.

"Hey, buddy," he rushed to say as the ten-year-old reached the door. He hated the strained silence between them, almost as much as he hated the thought of Daniel leaving his office in worse emotional shape than when he'd come in. "Hotdogs for dinner again tonight?"

He held his breath, praying Dr. Rhodes hadn't been blowing sunshine up his ass when he'd said to play the intense times loose and easy.

Daniel looked back, his eyes too-old, too lost, and so much like his mother's the last time Joshua had seen her.

The last time he'd seen his baby sister.

"Sure." The ten-year-old yanked open the door, his bored expression an improvement over the wariness that had been there just a moment ago. "Why not?"

Joshua watched his nephew amble through the outer office and disappear down the hall.

What the hell do I do now?

He'd asked himself the same question when his wife left him a little over a year ago. After over a decade of marriage to his college sweetheart, he'd thought he had it all under control. Sure they'd had some trouble getting pregnant, but they were team. They'd get through it. He'd had the perfect plan. Then one day Lisa's bags were packed and she announced she'd been accepted to law school. That she needed more than what they had together--a life of her own that didn't include him and his dream of raising a family in the small town he'd grown up in.

He'd known she'd been unhappy, even a bit depressed about not being able to have a baby naturally. But nothing had prepared him for her anger. Her accusations that he'd never understood what she needed. One minute he was standing in their living room, listening to Lisa recite everything he couldn't give her. The next she was gone. And for the first time in his life, he'd had no idea what to do next.

He could educate the one hundred and fifty kids in his school like nobody's business. He was organized, compassionate, hard working, even progressive by Sweetbrook standards. But those talents hadn't won him points as a husband. His wife's unhappiness and longing for more had gone unnoticed and unchecked until it was too late. And now he was making a mess out of caring for his kid sister's troubled child.

He had to find a way to do more for Daniel. To be more.

The boy was part of Joshua's sister. He was family. And Joshua was done watching the people he loved slip away one piece at a time.

***

"I know Becky's not happy there, Mama." Amy Loar rested her head in her hands, her elbows atop the Kramer Industries files that would take her the rest of the night to organize for tomorrow's meeting.

It was only Wednesday, but she'd already billed sixty hours to her client's account this week. She had at least another sixty to go. "I'd give anything to have her here with me."

She fingered the heart-shaped pendant dangling from the chain around her neck. Last year's Christmas present from Becky, back before things with Richard exploded one time too many. She never took the necklace off. It reminded her why she was doing all this. Why she wouldn't stop until she could provide the safety and security her daughter deserved.

"I hate to say it, because I know it's impossible for you to get away right now," was her mother's pensive reply. "But Becky needs you, honey."

Gwen Loar never meddled. She never passed judgement nor laid blame. So the touch of disapproval in her voice told Amy how dicey things were getting in Sweetbrook. Simple, solid, no nonsense living and unconditional love. Those were Gwen's gifts. The very gifts Amy prayed could reach through her daughter's anger and confusion.

Becky was staying with Gwen temporarily, while Amy moved them from the pricey Buckhead condo into a two-bedroom apartment closer to her job in midtown. While she fought to pull the shredded pieces of their lives back together.

Gwen's's tiny house, her small life in Sweetbrook, had been Amy's heaven on earth growing up. When she'd left for college, it had been to make a better life for herself and her mother. Then she'd met Richard her senior year. And after that, she'd gradually lost sight of the simple beauty of the small-town life she'd left behind. Richard had made sure of it.

Her dreams and plans had taken a back seat to pleasing him--a man ten years he senior, whom she realized now had been more of a father figure she yearned to satisfy than a husband. Her promising career, her visits home to Sweetbrook--even after Becky was born--were increasingly pushed down the priority list. Her very thoughts and wishes stopped seeming important after a while. She'd followed her husband's domineering lead, loving him, trusting him, and blindly letting him dictate the future he assured her would make everything better. A future full of escalating hostility and pain that had instead taught her just how much she'd underestimated the simple perfection of what she'd left behind in South Carolina.

Now the small-town life she'd neglected for far too long would work its magic on Becky. It had to. If only her little girl would give this a chance.

Just hold on for a little while longer, honey. I'll make it up to you.

Amy wilted into her desk chair. She checked the clock at the corner of her computer monitor and winced. It was almost nine. She'd meant to call home hours ago.

She forced herself to straighten. Smoothed a manicured hand across her wrinkled but conspicuously expensive, cream silk blouse. Her career uniform. One more tool she wielded to get her where she needed to be. A world away from her abusive marriage. A reality where she could provided for her daughter and regain a speck of the independence she'd forfeited years ago.

"Put Becky on the phone," she said. "Let her vent about what happened at school today. It'll do her some good to talk about it and blame me for a while."

"I've tried to get her to talk." Gwen's sigh sounded like it came from her toes. "All afternoon. But she just headed straight to her bedroom and locked her door until dinner. She's finally asleep. I don't think it's a good idea to wake her and start things all over again. Maybe you could be here when she wakes up in the morning? You could talk to her before she gets on the bus--"

"I can't come home right now, Mama."

"It's only a four-hour drive."

"I have the Kramer Industries sign-off meeting at three tomorrow afternoon. We're finalizing the project plan with the senior management."

She was a project leader for Atlanta's high-profile Enterprise Consulting Group, a position she'd fought for once her divorce was a sure thing. The partners had agreed to give her this shot, their reservations clear about whether or not she could handle such an important client. The Kramer account was going to land her the manager's slot she'd passed over three years running at Richard's urging. The promotion would come with an immediate bonus and a hefty increase in her annual salary. And tomorrow's meeting was the last step before they presented the contract to the CEO in two weeks.

"I can't pull out now for personal reasons," she said, working as hard to convince herself as her mother. " Phillip Hutchinson's watching me like a hawk. There's no chance he'll push my promotion through if I don't stay on top of this project."

"Of course, you're right." Her mother sounded disappointment, nevertheless her voice rang with the support and encouragement Amy could always count on.

Gwen understood the sacrifices required of single mothers. Amy's father had died when she was just a baby. Gwen had worked three part-time jobs some years to give Amy the chance for a college degree. In return, Amy had busted her butt making something of herself. She'd vowed to provide for her mother, so Gwen would never have to work another dead-end job. And that's exactly what she'd done, even though her mother had insisted on keeping her position as a part-time teller at Sweetbrook's one and only bank. Gwen had never been comfortable with the idea of relinquishing her independence completely.

"I wish I had another solution, Mama. But we need this promotion. I don't mind giving up the condo, the car, or that fancy private school Richard insisted Becky attend. But I can't afford to live in Atlanta on my current salary."

"Then move back home," her mother urged, as she had for months. "You two can stay here, and I'll help out financially until you find a job."

"I can't move Becky away from her friends and ask her to start over with nothing. Atlanta's the only home she's ever known."

"There are worse things than starting over with nothing, honey."

Yes," she sighed. "There's going back to Richard and asking him for more money--"

"Of course you're not going back to him!" her mother interjected.

"There's proving to my daughter that a woman really can support her family on her own. That Richard was dead wrong when he said we'd never make it without him."

She'd never seen Richard as angry as the day she worked up the nerve to leave him. He could have fought her for custody. Considering his connections as a high-priced corporate lawyer, he would have won. The only thing that had stopped him was the risk of scandal if their private battles had moved to a courtroom stage. She'd agreed to his demands of no alimony and the barest minimum child support allowed by law. In return, he'd conceded full custody.

You'll come crawling back, he'd said in front of their daughter the last time they'd seen him. As soon as you realize how tough the world is when you're on your own. Maybe then you'll have some appreciation for all I've given you.

He'd set Amy up to fail, just for the satisfaction of watching her crawl back into his abusive control. And as usual, he didn't even care about his own daughter, except for how he could use her to control Amy.

"I'm going to make things work for Becky and me here in Atlanta," she continued out loud to her mother. "She needs to see me finally standing up to her father. She needs to understand that a woman doesn't have to put up with the way he treated me to be financially secure. She was there all those years when her father belittled me and I just took it. She saw the bruises after he hit me. I can't even imagine what that did to her.

"You're working around the clock now," Gwen countered. "I have no doubt that you'll get your promotion. But what about when Becky moves back in with you? You're at the office nearly twenty-four hours a day working on this project. Do you really think you'll have any more time to spend with her after you make manager?"

"I'll figure it out." She was going to be the strong woman her daughter needed her to be, just like Gwen had been for her.

"If you moved back home--"

"There's no work for me in Sweetbrook."

Amy's other phone line chirped at the same time that her email dinged. She juggled the receiver between her shoulder and ear, checked the phone display, and clicked the email prompt with her mouse.

It was Phillip Hutchinson. Her senior partner and personal slave-driver.

She didn't bother to read the body of the email or pick up the receiver. Not a man to worry about the constructive use of other's time, Phillip Hutchinson didn't stoop to discussing details until those he'd summonsed had quick-stepped their way to his corner office. His two-pronged bid for Amy's attention didn't bode well. The staff had been on notice for the last month not to interrupt her for anything short of a deal-ending emergency.

"I've got to go, Mama." She typed and sent a quick I'll be right there response to the email. "I'll clear a few hours Saturday to come down for a day-trip."

"Joshua White wants to set up a meeting with you and Becky's teacher on Friday--"

"Joshua White no doubt thinks the entire world rocks at the snail's pace he runs his elementary school." Amy winced at the bitchiness in her voice, rubbing at her building headache. No one listening would have guessed she was talking about one of the best friends she'd ever had.

"Honey, I really think you should talk with the man." Gwen's tone was something Amy had only heard from her easy-going mother once or twice before. When she was saying something that couldn't be left unvoiced, something she was certain others weren't interested in hearing. "He's taken such a personal interest in Becky since she came here."

"I know he has." Gwen had gone on and on about the time Josh was spending trying to make sure Becky settled into his school. He sounded like a bang-up principal. But why had he picked tonight of all nights to work her mother into a tizzy about Becky's harmless antics at school? Wasn't there something more important for the wealthiest man in Sweetbrook to be doing besides shoving her over the edge of sanity? "I'm sorry to saddle you with all this, Mama. If there was any other way..."

"I love having Becky," Gwen reassured her. "And she can stay as long as you need her to. But she thinks you've abandoned her. In a town, I might add, that she's only visited a couple of times in her life. She needs to know that you want to be with her, that you think Sweetbrook is the best place for her right now. That you care what's going on at school."

"I've told her how much I care. I tell her every time we talk." Another email message from Hutchinson dinged for her attention. The subject line read simply, NOW.

Amy emailed back a polite, On my way, curbing the stream of obscenities she longed to spew at the man instead. Her head throbbed. She was making compromises she'd promised herself she'd never make. Her personal definition of hell. But sometimes a bad decision was the only alternative.

God forgive me if I'm wrong.

"If I could get my hands around Richard's neck right now..." She flexed her fingers at the thought of returning even an ounce of the pain he'd dealt out to her.

"Don't you dare go near that man." Gwen's warning crackled with equal parts fear and fury. "After what he did to you--"

"I've got to go, Mama." She'd wasted enough time dwelling on her ex for one night.

Besides, Hutchinson was waiting.

"You'll call Becky tomorrow?" In her mother's voice was that hint of the steel which had taught Amy how to survive.

"Around three, when she gets off the bus." Amy stacked the Kramer Industry papers, shuffling the files. "Tell Becky I love her, and that I know she's going to do better with the other kids at school tomorrow. She'll be fine."

"I hope you're right."

"So do I." Becky and Gwen were everything good left in Amy's life. "I love you both."

Her mother's I love you, too had barely sounded in her ear when her office door jerked open. Amy pushed to her feet and hung up the phone.

"Mrs. Reese." Phillip Hutchinson frowned his displeasure. Even though she'd legally changed her name back to Loar the same day she'd signed her divorce papers, he refused to call her anything but Reese. "I've got the Kramer IT Director on the phone, and he wants to discuss the pay-out schedule."

"Those papers are right here." She shuffled through her folders, wincing as the one she needed slid from under the others, papers flittering to the ground between her and the desk. "Um, why don't you transfer the call down here."

"Pick up what you need," he said with a shake of his head. "Leave the rest. I've already got him conferenced in on the speakerphone in my office. If you're too overwhelmed to handle a client's unexpected requests, maybe we need to get you some back-up on this project."

She slapped the remaining folders onto her desk. She'd managed every detail of this project from day one. This was her baby. She had a mother to support and a daughter to raise, and no one was taking this opportunity away from her. Not her ex, and the shambles of a life Richard had left her in his wake. Not Phillip Hutchinson, and his single-minded campaign to flush out her every weakness.

"I'll be right there," she said in as close to a civil tone as she could muster, a slight smile on her lips.

Mr. Hutchinson's eyebrow twitched upward He turned on his heels and left. One final backward glance at the disorganized mess covering Amy's normally immaculate desk told her he hadn't missed a single detail.

"Damn it," she muttered once he was out of earshot. She dropped to her knees to re-sort the five-year pay-out schedule for the mid-range computer system and HR applications she was determined Kramer Industries would contract to lease-purchase.

Damn Phillip Hutchinson. Damn Richard. And damn Joshua White, while she was at it. Damn any man who dared get in her way again. She'd taken all the crap from men she ever intended to take.

She marched through her doorway, down the wide hall that doubled as offices for the executive secretaries. Everything around her looked expensive. Smelled expensive. Mahogany furniture glistened. She caught the subtle aroma of the polish the cleaning crew applied to keep everything sparkling new. State-of-the-art computers and other office systems dominated each work space, the technological miracles that made the insane pace of corporate business possible. Even the exquisitely maintained potted plants atop each desk had been arranged to present just the right image.

This was where the powerful and the beautiful worked. The Enterprise Consulting Group was where you wanted to entrust the future of your company's computer systems and human resource applications. And every square inch of the place was a prison Amy had never seen coming.

She shrugged off her introspection and the melancholy following close behind. So what if she wanted to be anyone but herself right now--a desperate woman at rock bottom and starting over at thirty-five? So what if she wanted to be anywhere but where she was, doing what she was doing? She was going to make this deal work, and she was bagging her promotion.

She and her loved ones were coming out on top this time. They were going to be safe and out of Richard Reese's control once and for all.

No matter what it took.