Still, she could never forgive him for handing her to Buck Baer. But if Brock felt love the way Sugar felt love, then, in a backward, screwed-up way, she understood, because nothing in the world would keep her sane if she lost Jared. She shook her head, snapping back to reality when Jared’s phone rang.

He snapped his fingers at Rocco, who spoke to a mic on his wrist. Rocco nodded back, and Jared accepted the call. “Baer, how am I not surprised a pussy like you would use women and children so often? Just when I thought you were the bottom of the shit-can, you take it down another notch.” He shook his head. “Man up, dick. Show yourself, and let’s do this.”

He let go of Sugar’s leg, and a wicked grin worked across his face. Jared was in the zone. This was his element, and he was good. Calm. Relaxed. Antagonizing. Exactly what he needed to be to provoke Buck Baer and let Titan, and whoever the hell Delta Team was, make life a-okay again.

He shook his head and gave a hand signal to Rocco, who powered into GUNS. “No go, Baer. But here’s my counter—”

She could hear Buck yelling into the phone but couldn’t make out the words. Jared reached over and squeezed her shoulder, mouthing, “It’s okay.” And she believed him. She felt it in her gut, which given the copper-penny taste she’d had in her mouth five minutes ago, was unexpected.

He laughed harshly. “Wrong again. Let me explain something to you. You might have used one of my men against me, but your trust was blind. That flash stick you gave Brock? You think you hacked Titan, but you didn’t do anything but give me access to GSI.”

There was a long pause interrupted by Buck’s garbled barks.

Jared slowly shook his head. “My tech genius is better than GSI’s. Here’s how it’s going to go. Show up in the next ten minutes. If you don’t, every US Government-funded lie and cover-up will be e-mailed to Congress.”

Buck started in again, and Sugar wished she could tell what he was saying.

Jared cut him off. “Better than that, it’ll hit the inboxes of every reporter, from the New York Times to the LA Times. I know you, man. You love yourself too much. Your ego’s too big to take this hit.”

Jared paused, bounced eyebrows at Sugar, and cracked a knuckle against the steering wheel. He loved this back-and-forth routine. She couldn’t wrap her head around it, but she understood him, so it all made sense—enough sense to give her a migraine, but sense, nonetheless. Sugar pinched her eyes shut. This relationship-connection mumbo jumbo was deeper than she’d realized.

He continued, “And if it could get any worse, Baer, then here it is. If you don’t show up, I will personally make sure that every cartel king, every arms dealer, every fuckin’ person you’ve ever made a buck off, knows who you are, where you live, and that you like eating cock for dinner. You’ve got eight minutes by my count. Show up, and may the best man win.”