If he noticed my distress at all, Cyrus didn’t say a thing. “That was the key. No one else, not my wives, not my brothers, not even my father, ever told me they loved me. I think I must have endeavored to make myself…unlovable, for lack of a better term. I was daring someone to prove my perception of myself wrong.”

“I’m glad you know yourself so well.” Torn between remorse and rage, I kept my eyes on the road, not trusting myself to look at him.

“I had a lot of time to think today.” The noise of his seat belt releasing indicated he was preparing to move into the back. “I’m going to go to sleep.”

As he half stood, easing between the seats, he put his hand on my arm. His touched burned, just as I remembered. “I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you, Carrie. Whether or not you believe it, I needed you to hear it.”

Pointedly, I removed his hand from my body. “I appreciate the sentiment.” I knew it sounded sarcastic, and I wanted to take the words back, because I had truly meant them. It did mean something to me to know he was sorry.

I just couldn’t trust him yet.

When I was sure Cyrus slept—I could tell by the atrocious snores only truly exhausted people produce—I took the cell phone from the glove compartment and dialed Max.

It took him forever to answer, and for a moment I grew alarmed. Nothing short of death or dismemberment could stop that man from answering a phone. Finally, he did pick up, obviously out of breath as he greeted me with a curt, “Harrison.”

“What’s the matter?” My first thought was that something had happened to Nathan.

Max’s thin laughter did nothing to assure me. “Nothing, nothing. I’m just…you know…getting ready to go out and fight the good fight.”

“You’re supposed to be looking for Nathan, not fighting anyone.” I was used to Max acting nonchalant in dire circumstances, but he sounded strange, even for him. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

He laughed again. There was a definite edge of nervousness in his tone. “Oh, yeah. I’m just, you know…So, are you there yet?”

I’d almost forgotten why I’d called him in the first place. “Actually, I’m on the way back.”

“With Cyrus?”

“With Cyrus.” I glanced guiltily into the rearview mirror, afraid for a second I would see him there, eavesdropping. Then he exhaled loudly in his sleep, and I almost laughed with relief. “And he snores.”

“Did he have any information?”