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“Scotch,no.”

“Yes! I’m safer at the police station evenifit’s behind bars! They’ve got guns, guards, and the law on their side.”

“They won’t keep you safe!”he snarled, hunching over the steering wheel. There were thunderclouds in his eyes. When he looked at me, I shrank. “Theycan’tkeep you safe.”

A long beat passed between us; I swallowed. “Why do you think that?”

“Because I know it.” The car slowed, the road turning a shade of purple as the sun began to rise. How many hours had passed between our sweet kiss and our panicked escape? “If you put your life in the hands of the cops, they’ll hand you over to the first person with enough cash in their pockets.”

“No,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You’re wrong. There are bad cops, sure, but not all of them are like that.” I said it with such confidence that Costello eyeballed me with suspicion. Looking down at my lap, I asked the question that had been burning in me since the start. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I promised—”

“No. Why did you even make the promise?”

I didn’t like this choking silence. I wished we were back at long looks and tantalizing chemistry. Sometimes Costello let me forget about who he was. I’d managed as much when he kissed me ... and when we’d lain skin to skin. He pulled into a truck stop and parked the car as far away from the few vehicles as he could. The engine died; our silence became fuller at the edges. Flexing his hands, he let go of the wheel. I expected to see his fingerprints on the upholstery.

Leaning back in his seat, he watched the ceiling. “When I saw you begging for help, you reminded me of someone else. Someone I failed to protect a long time ago.” Rolling his head my way, he watched me with a gentleness in the depths of his eyes. “Turning you over to my father would be easier for me. You’re right. But since when is life about being easy?”

I knew this was special. In my gut I was sure he’d just revealed a secret part of his past. I wanted to treasure it like some rare vein of silver running through a rocky mountain, but all he’d done was burden me with a thousand more questions.

The air in the car was cooling, my words leaving a trail of white from my lips. “The person you failed to protect,” I said, “and your distrust of cops. They’re related, aren’t they?”

That familiar hardness returned to his tight mouth. “If I say yes, will you agree to not try and go to them?” Costello leaned closer, draping his arm over the back of my seat.

My tongue was heavy, but I made it move. “You’ll think of something else? A way to prove I didn’t hurt Darien and get his family off my back?”

Within that shrinking cave of a car, Costello became a colossus. Large hands contained my whole face, his hawkish nose pressing to mine. I wilted beneath him; it was easy because there was no room to move.

And it was easy because Iwantedto.

“I keep telling you that everything will be okay. That I’ll keep you safe. My word is more solid than my soul, and that’s good, because my soul was shredded a long time ago.” The agony in his words was the only thing keeping me from kissing him. My eyes had gone dry from my not blinking. “Yes, I’ll think of something. I’ll lie cold in the ground before I letanyonehurt you, Scotch.”

His mouth changed shape—from a grimace to a gentle curve. He went to kiss me and I said, “Heather. Myrealname is Heather.” Heat crept up my neck. “Scotch is just what I picked when they asked me what I wanted to go by at the Dirty Dolls.”

He’d frozen, still holding me close, his thumbs resting on my cheekbones. Suddenly he shook with laughter. I felt the shudders through my skin. “So when I said to pick a fake name, you picked Heather—your genuine name.”

“I didn’t mean to trick you.”

“You didn’t fool me into believing Scotch was your real name, if that’s what you think. The Dirty Dolls is the kind of place that requires lies to keep its girls safe.”

That wasn’twrong, but the pity in his soft voice made my hackles rise. “I’ve done that job for the past eight years. Try and be less obvious about how disgusting you think it is.” I struggled to pull away; his hold was as solid as a vise.

“I’d never think you were disgusting, Scotch—Heather—dammit, what should I call you?”

“It’s all the same to me,” I said. But I was curious what he’d pick.

“I knew you as Scotch. That’s how I’ll always think of you.”

My stomach shifted, as if I’d swallowed several goldfish and they were tickling inside me. “After so long, it’s how I think of myself, too. My mom would be heartbroken if she learned that.”

“Your mom,” he whispered, eyes narrowing. “Will the Valentines ... will anyone be able to find her? Or anyone else in your family?”

“I doubt it. I never filled out any employment paperwork at the club.” The memory made me grin. “All they cared about was that I was eighteen. Which I wasn’t.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I was seventeen with a fake ID. They always paid me under the table in cash. There’s no trail anyone could follow.”