“Can I see you,” he blurted with a desperation that would have shocked him under normal circumstances.

“Yes.”

Vin was surprised by the quick answer, but sure as shit not going to argue with it. “I’m at home over in the Commodore, so I can meet you anywhere, anytime.”

“I’ll come to you as soon as I’m done with the CPD.”

“I’m on the twenty-eighth floor. I’ll tell the doorman to expect you.”

“I’m not sure how long I’m going to be, but I can text you when I’m on my way.”

Vin shifted his eyes over to the left, imagining her however many blocks west and south of where he was. “Marie-Terese…”

“Yes?”

He thought of her and her son…thought of the kind of people she’d managed to get away from—thus far. Her ex could easily reach out from prison, maybe already had: even if those attacks weren’t tied to her, or were being done by someone else, she still needed to keep the lowest profile she could.

“Don’t try to protect me.”

“Vin—”

“I’ll explain more when you get here,” he said gruffly. “But let’s just say I know how much you have to lose if your face gets into the media channels.”

Silence. Then: “How.”

He could tell by the tightness in her voice that she didn’t appreciate the look-see into her background. “Jim, my friend…he has connections. I didn’t ask him to do it, by the way, but he told me what he found.”

Long pause. The kind that made him wish to hell he’d waited to drop that little bomb until she was in front of him. But then she exhaled. “It’s kind of a relief, actually. That you know.”

“It goes without saying that I’ll tell no one.”

“I trust you.”

“Good, because I would never do anything to hurt you.” Now it was Vin’s turn to get quiet. “God, Marie-Terese…”

There was the slight squeak of brakes. “I’m just at the club now. We’ll talk in a little bit.”

“Don’t protect me. Please.”

“See you soon—”

“Stay quiet. Don’t get yourself involved with the shit that’s on my tail. For your son’s sake and yours. It’s not worth the risk.”

He stopped himself right there. No way he was going into the whole truth about Devina—partially because he didn’t understand it fully himself, and mostly because he hated the idea of Marie-Terese thinking he was crazy.

“It’s not right.” Her voice broke. “What she’s accusing you of. It’s not—”

“I know. Just believe me when I say I’m going to take care of it. I’m going to handle this.”

“Vin—”