My stomach churns and I fist my hands and dig my nails into my palms.

“By the time she was identified after being picked up by the cops for prostitution, her adoptive family wanted nothing to do with her, so she went back into the system, got lost, then fell back into the only life where she really felt she was wanted.”

“Where is she now?” I ask scared to know but sure that was not the end of her story.

“She passed away from a drug overdose in Vegas while partying with a group of men who flew her in and paid to spend the weekend with her.”

“No.” My throat gets tight.

“She didn’t know that we had been looking for her.” His jaw clenches.

My heart breaks for him, for all of them.

“I’m so sorry.” I know the words are meaningless. I can’t imagine finding out that someone I loved was no longer alive and because of such horrific circumstances. And with his brothers and him all growing up in foster care, I imagine that would make them value the bond they share even more, so it had to be devastating for them to find out someone they considered family had passed away. And knowing what I do of him, I can’t help but think that he would believe he failed her in some way—they all probably think that.

“The system failed her, then we failed her.”

“You guys were just kids,” I remind him gently, even though I’m sure he felt far beyond his age even when he was just a kid himself. “And now your brothers are working cases where women are being targeted, and you’re somehow involved with helping them?”

He lifts his chin. “We—” He cuts himself off when his cell phone rings, and he reaches over to grab it off the counter. He puts it to his ear, then tells whoever is calling that he will meet them downstairs before he hangs up. “Pizza’s here. I’ll be right back.” He steps back, then in a blink, he’s out the door.

I sit there on the island and stare at where he disappeared for a long time, trying to wrap my head around what he just told me and what that says about him.

Clay Raven is beyond complicated, and something tells me I’m just now scratching the surface of who he really is. Logically, I know I should walk away and cut my losses before I’m in too deep, but he’s already got his claws in me, and I doubt I could walk away, even if I wanted to. He’s a good man—the kind of man who would do whatever is necessary to protect the people he cares about. Another thing I know is he’s got his own walls, even if they are not as obvious as mine. His are made out of things like live-wires and hidden booby-traps that could possibly explode before you even realize they are there and that makes him dangerous for a multitude of reasons.