The answer came to him, and he felt his throat close up and his stomach drop. She knows I’ve been watching her. Somehow, she found out and she came here to put a stop to it.

No. Ava wouldn’t have come all the way here to deliver that message. Or maybe she would. The Ava he had known had no problem with confrontation.

But she wouldn’t have brought a Fed with her.

Faye had come around from the other side of the Jaguar.

“Go inside,” he said to Faye. “I’ll come get you when I’m ready.”

Then he walked away, down the driveway, to meet Ava. The Fed—and Sebastian was sure the guy was a Fed—lingered a few paces behind her.

Sebastian felt an odd collection of feelings flapping around inside his chest, like bats trapped in an attic. He wanted a chance to catch his breath, take a few minutes to process what was happening. Shore up his mental defenses, maybe. He wasn’t quite sure why, other than that seeing her up close felt more real and more intimate than watching her through a pair of binoculars.

Ava came to a stop. Her face went slack, and she seemed unsteady on her feet, maybe a second or two away from crumbling.

“What is it?” he asked, rushing to her. “What’s wrong?”

The last time he had seen Ava cry was the day he got sentenced to life in prison. She was crying now.

Sebastian reached for her. She didn’t flinch or pull away, and when he took her in his arms and rubbed her back and told her whatever was wrong, it was okay, he was here, he would help her fix it, she sobbed hard against his chest and he held her, thinking back to how, once upon a time, it was just the two of them, blessed.

* * *

Sebastian didn’t want to invite Ava inside—the agent would come in with her, too, and he’d have to introduce Faye, and Ron’s men, which he didn’t want to do—so he took her out back, so they could have some privacy. The agent, who Ava introduced as Trevor Roosevelt, mercifully stayed in the driveway—at least for the moment.

As Sebastian waited for her to speak, he reminded himself that he was safe, out here in the open. The house where Bradley Guidry had positioned himself was now occupied by some of Ron Wolff’s men. Still, Sebastian couldn’t shed the feeling that he had a target painted on his back.

Ava cleared her throat.

“It’s my daughter. Grace. She’s a carrier.”

Sebastian felt a hollow core in the pit of his stomach.

“They took her,” she said. “Bloodnappers.”

The hollow core in his stomach expanded, pressing against the soft tissues of his heart and lungs, making it hard to breathe. He felt for her, yes, no question, but he felt some . . . excitement was the wrong word, but it was something close to it. Ava needed him. He didn’t know what for, not yet, but she needed him, and that filled him with hope.