But Carolina. She had to be let down in the gentlest of ways so I said, “Uh, Miss-Professional-Marathoner-that-was-just-bragging-how-one-mile-is-a-walk-in-the-park-moments-before,” I gave her the sweetest of smiles, “a walk back to your house won’t put you out.”

She stiffened. “Sheldon,” she hissed. “Seriously?”

“Okay, seriously.” All jokes aside. “Like Bryce said, the less you know the better.” I emphasized, “For your sake.”

“Oh.” She moved back a step, frowning.

Corrigan pounded on the roof of the car, turning for his door. “All right then. We’re off. See you at the mixer this weekend.” Then he placed his hand on the top of my head and shoved me into the car before he hopped in himself. Bryce got behind the wheel, and all doors shut in an instant.

That was the end of the exchange.

I knew what was going to happen next, and I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t need to know where they had Ritt, but the farther we drove to the outskirts of the city, the more my adrenaline was kicking up.

I wish I could’ve gone on that run now. I had a feeling the one mile would’ve been a cakewalk for me, too. Then Bryce turned into a storage facility and wound the car around a bunch of tall warehouses. He pulled up to one on the end. When we got out, I asked, “Whose is this?”

“Denton’s.”

“He knows what’s going on?”

“He.” Bryce shared a look with Corrigan as we headed for the door. Pocketing the keys, he said, “He offered it if we needed privacy.”

Corrigan opened the door and said as I passed by him going inside, “He said these warehouses are owned by a few other celebrities, and they hardly ever come out here, if we knew what he meant.”

“He said those words?” The inside was dark, but I could feel the emptiness of it. The air was stale, and our voices echoed all around us.

“He did.” Then Corrigan came in, shutting the door after Bryce followed me inside. We were in complete darkness for a second, then the light was switched on and my heart dropped.

Michael Reveritt was tied up to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. The only things in the place were a private plane and a car. Storage shelves lined up one end of the warehouse, but that was it.

The plane. The car. The shelves. And Michael Reveritt.

“Guys,” I murmured, stepping backward. I just evaded going to jail. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to risk it again.

Bryce and Corrigan weren’t listening, though. They started forward. Bryce ripped off the duct tape on Michael’s mouth.

I cringed, hearing it pulled off and the cry of pain from him. Then he gazed up at them, moved as far as he could to the side so he could see me.

I jerked my gaze away. If Guadalupe and Maria hadn’t killed Grace, he was our best shot for answers. This had to be done. I closed my eyes and prayed to myself. We’d figure a way out of this. We had to. I had to trust Corrigan and Bryce. They wouldn’t have taken him if they didn’t have an out.

Then Michael began laughing. “This is hilarious.”

Corrigan smirked at him. “Your tone says otherwise.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

Bryce circled to his side and folded his arms over his chest. “How long have you been stalking Sheldon?”

“What?” A look of panic was settling in his eyes and he swallowed, glancing from Corrigan to Bryce. Then he found me again. A pleading tone entered his voice, along with a slight tremble. “Sheldon, come on.”

Corrigan blocked me. “Don’t look at her. We’re asking the questions.”

“Guys,” Michael choked out now. “Come on.”

Bryce barked at him, “Come on, Ritt. Start talking. We know you have surveillance photos of her.”

“You what?”

“The cops told us.” Bryce began circling him, talking in a low voice.

If he wasn’t going for scary as shit, then he was grossly missing his mark because, damn, I had shivers going up and down my spine, and I wasn’t the one in the chair. Ritt’s trembling was contagious. I was starting to feel it in my gut, too. Along with it was hesitation. What the hell were we doing?

Then Corrigan added, a dangerous aura coming off him, “You think we’d let you go? Let the cops cut you loose and not do a thing? They told us what they had on you for a reason, Ritt. Over fifty photos of Sheldon. Please.” He stopped in front of his chair and leaned down, placing his hands on the arm rests. His face was so close to Ritt’s. He was almost breathing on him. “Explain to us how you’re not the one stalking her?”

“Did you kill Grace?” Bryce asked from behind him.

Corrigan added next. “Did you frame Sheldon for Grace’s murder?”

I watched and realized they were tag teaming. They were both going at him from different angles, different tone of voices, different threat levels. Corrigan was soft and menacing. Bryce was commanding and angry. Both were a threat, and they were both going full-force at Ritt.

They wanted to scare him off-balance. He might crack then.

It wasn’t going to work. Ritt was already panicked, but there was also a calmness in him. He wasn’t jerking around his chair. He was still perplexed he was even in this situation.

He wasn’t going to take it seriously.

He knew Bryce and Corrigan wouldn’t really do anything to him, at least, nothing permanent like death or paralysis. They’d kick his ass, but that was it.

It had to be me. I had to do it. I was the wild card. Ritt really had no clue who I really was. My chin lifted.

It was time he met the real me.

As I made the decision, I felt something melting away in me. The old Sheldon was coming out to play, and she was going to have fun. No. She was going to relish this moment. As I stepped forward, the guys sensed the switch in me. Corrigan stiffened with his back to me. Bryce looked up, and his eyes widened. His shoulders jerked back, and he narrowed his eyes next. Ritt saw me as I stood next to Corrigan.

He looked confused.

Poor guy.

Corrigan glanced sideways at me, but he didn’t say anything. Neither did Bryce. They were waiting.

Our old dynamic really was back.

Then I spied the knife in Corrigan’s back pocket. As I took it out, he frowned at me. He still didn’t say anything.

Ritt sucked in his breath. His eyes got even bigger. “Uh, what? What are you going to do with that, Sheldon?” His wrists were taped to the chair, and his hands curled into the armrests. His feet were planted against the floor, and he tried to scoot the chair back.