She thought she did. A young boy unwanted by his father. He begins to admire his new brother, and then feels deserted by him, as well. He loses his mother and finds himself alone with a man old enough to be his grandfather, a man who couldn’t relate to him.

Nothing permanent in his life—except rejection.

“I’m not a psychologist, Zack, but I’d say he needs time to trust that you mean to stay part of his life this time around. And I don’t think taking a firm hand is wrong. In fact, I think that’s just what he’d understand from you, and respect in the long run. Maybe that just needs to be balanced a bit.” She sighed and set her notes aside. “Which is where I come in. So far, I’ve been just as rough on him. Let’s try a little good-cop/bad-cop. I’ll be the sympathetic ear. Believe me, I understand hotheads and bad boys. I grew up with them. We can start by—” The phone rang and she snagged it. “Hello. Uh-huh. Good. That’s good. Thanks, Alex.” She could see the relief in Zack’s eyes before she hung up. “They spotted him on his way back to the bar.”

Relief sparked quickly into anger. “When I get my hands on him—”

“You’ll ask, in a very reasonable fashion, where he was,” Rachel told him. “And to make certain you do, I’m going with you.”

Nick let himself into Zack’s apartment. He figured he’d been pretty clever. He’d managed to slip in and out of the kitchen without setting off Rio’s radar. The way they were watching him around here, he thought, he might as well be doing time.

Everything was going wrong, anyway. He ducked into the kitchen and, since Zack wasn’t around to say any different, opened a beer. He’d just wanted to check in with the guys, see what was happening on the street.

And they’d treated him like an outsider.

They didn’t trust him, Nick thought resentfully as he swigged one long swallow, then two. Reece had decided that since he’d gotten out so quickly, he must have ratted. He thought he’d convinced most of the gang that he was clean, but when he’d spilled the whole story—from how he’d been caught to how he’d ended up washing dishes in Zack’s bar, they’d laughed at him.

It hadn’t been the good, communal laughter he’d shared with the Cobras in the past. It had been snide and nasty, with T.J. giggling like a fool and Reece smirking and playing with his switchblade. Only Cash had been the least bit sympathetic, saying how it was a raw deal.

Not one of them had bothered to explain why they’d left him hanging when the cop showed up.