Four Seconds to Lose

Bob, to make sure they wouldn’t be a threat. As hard as it was to say goodbye to him at the airport, he was right.

And this time, I knew it wasn’t goodbye forever.

A few weeks later, cops nabbed Bob on a minor drug offense. I don’t know if it was sheer luck or John- and-Cain-inspired luck. Truthfully, I’m not sure I need to know. According to Dan, Bob squealed like a pig facing the slaughterhouse, turning on Eddie, Manny . . . even his own mother and the small marijuana plant she grows in her backyard for medicinal purposes.

The Feds found Eddie hiding in Missouri with a distant relative, but they couldn’t track down Manny. Unfortunately for Manny—and Jimmy, who it appears went into business with him—the cartel did.

The threat to me ended there.

It was mid-December when Cain pulled up in his Nav outside Becker’s, and he hasn’t left my side since.

Even now, as we step into his office, his hand is firmly entwined within mine.

We find Nate there sitting behind the desk, doing paperwork, and a fiery red-haired Ginger in a microscopic silver dress, muttering to herself about Cain’s shitty organization skills and the lack of premium scotch in this place.

“What? Do you still own this place?” Nate’s wink my way tells me he’s not really mad about taking the burden on while Cain stayed in New Orleans with me.

Cain is handing the club over to him in August, but no one besides the four of us and Storm knows yet. He was going to just shut it down, unwilling to sell and have it turned into another Sin City, but Nate stepped in, expressing his desire to keep it going.

Cain thinks he’s nuts but he has agreed, on the condition that Nate shuts it down the second he’s had enough.

“You’re back!” The hunt for scotch is abandoned as Ginger skips over to throw her arms around me. We picked up right where we left off the day I moved back to Miami. The only difference was that she wanted to know absolutely nothing about where I was or what happened.

Grabbing my left hand, she exclaims, “Oh, thank God. I thought you had betrayed me and eloped.”

I roll my eyes as the heat crawls up my neck. If it were up to Cain, my legal name would already be Penny Ford. As much as I love the sound of that and as sure as I am that there will never be another man for me, I don’t want to rush through life.

Not when I’m finally able to enjoy it.

“Just remember where your wedding is going to be,” she reminds with a finger waggle in Cain’s face.

Ginger bought a dilapidated old house in Napa Valley, which she is fully renovating. She had a lot of money saved, but not quite enough for her elaborate four-sided double-balcony design, so Cain and Storm are chipping in as silent partners to help her get on her feet.

Cain is actually venturing into the real estate market in a bigger way, investing in more properties and expecting a lucrative return. His latest purchase? A stunning and exorbitantly priced two-bedroom condo a few blocks away from my campus. Not exactly the life of a student, but, then again, nothing about my life has ever been ordinary.

And I have a feeling that with Cain, nothing ever will be.

But it will be different in all the best ways.

“All right, out!” Cain barks, but there’s no bite to his tone.

Nate slams the books shut and rounds the desk, clasping hands with Cain as he passes. “Ginger,” he says, wrapping a giant paw around the back of her neck. “I’m going to need a manager.”

“And I’m going to need to set myself on fire,” I hear her retort as they head down the hall. I catch the wink over her shoulder a second before Cain shuts and locks the door.

“Where were we?” Cain murmurs, pinning my body against the wall with his. Being in my grandparents’ house limited our nightly “activities” somewhat. Cain has already promised that we’ll be making up for it. By the feel of his hardness against me, I’m thinking he plans on starting right now.

I’m fine with that. I’ll give Cain anything he wants, because he’s given me everything.

There are no secrets between us anymore. He knows about every single one of my drops, and he knows about Sal Pal. I, in turn, know what happened to the two men who murdered his family.

I know how the cartel found Sam.

And I don’t think any less of Cain for it. In fact, if possible, I love him more. We are simply two good people with equally flawed pasts, looking for perfect futures.

And I think we’ve found it, in each other.

Acknowledgments

Writing books doesn’t seem to be getting any easier. I thought this particular one was going to kill me. Thanks to some amazing people in my corner, it didn’t. In fact, I came out a stronger writer because of it.

First and foremost, to all of my readers who have supported me over the years. Your words of encouragement and your love of my work is what keeps me pushing forward on the more difficult days and helps me celebrate the best of them.

To all of the bloggers who continue to spread the word and read my books, thank you. A million times, thank you. Your support behind Cain’s book has been overwhelming.

To Heather Self, my crit partner, my U.S. term checker, my Texan friend. You know how much I struggled through this book (right down to the title). Thank you for your invaluable feedback to my ideas and challenges at all hours of the day and night.

To Autumn Hull, for being a fantastic blogger and friend. There’s no one I trust to provide feedback on one of those scenes more than I trust you.

To K.P., I can’t believe it’s been a year since I first asked you to represent me for Ten Tiny Breaths. Man, has it been a wild ride? Here we are now, with a third book together. One day I will meet you in real life. On that day, I will give you an enormous hug.

To Stacey, what can I say, except that I am one lucky writer to have an agent who will meet me for coffee and sit through hours of random plot ramblings. And then go shopping to Target with me. Irrational fear of wasps and all, I’m so happy to have you in my corner.

To Sarah, you, more than anyone, knows how much I struggled with Charlie and Cain. You were there with me through it all, reading the ugly first draft, answering my questions, and calming my worries while letting me write the story I was meant to write. Your talent and unfailing support made this book what it is.

To my publisher, Judith Curr, and the team at Atria Books: Ben Lee, Valerie Vennix, Kimberly Goldstein, and Alysha Bullock, for working so collaboratively with me to get this story into readers’ hands.

To my family and friends, for tolerating my bouts of reclusiveness while in the depths of this book.