them in, so he was able to keep to the periphery of the party, unnoticed. Most of the action appeared to be poolside, and he stood in the shadows of the spacious backyard observing the other guests. Men and women were dressed in summer SoCal casual—that ran the gamut from crinkly cotton worn with shandals—rope-soled, awning-striped canvas footwear—to silk sundresses studded with sequins and glittery beads. A dozen kids were playing in the pool, the smallest at the shallows of the beach entry, while others scooted around the large Baja shelf like stingrays. Above the chatter of the partygoers, he heard “Marco!” and the expected response, “Polo!”
The pool game took him straight back to his own childhood. He’d lived in a place just like this—a family neighborhood that revolved around kids and comfort. It had chafed at him, growing up. It wasn’t that he hadn’t appreciated his family and the privilege of his comfortable upbringing; it was just that it had felt so between-the-lines to him, and he’d never been good at coloring that way.
His gaze caught on a figure stationed by the children playing in the water. It was his sister’s husband, David Quincy. Deadly Dull David. Gage had called him that from the very beginning, and the memory made him feel like a louse. David was an accountant, the head numbers guy for a big talent agency. Sure, he was the type to dot all i’s and leave no t’s uncrossed, but he’d also made his wife happy for fourteen years, and seeing him smile at his youngest son, Russ, sent a second pang of guilt through Gage. Where the hell had he gotten off criticizing the other man? There was a good, thriving family here.
In a good, thriving place. After what he’d seen over the past decade, he wasn’t going to bitch about first-world luxury. Maybe it took third-world experience for him to see it with fresh eyes. All he knew was that the atmosphere didn’t hem in his spirit as it had done before.
Probably because once you experienced a real cage, you recognized the difference.
“There you are!”
Gage stiffened at the sound of his brother’s voice, already on guard. Then, reminding himself of the reason for the occasion, he turned toward him, hand outstretched. “Hey. Congratulations again. Great day for a party.”
His twin’s grasp was strong, his gaze sharp. “Thought maybe we’d have to send out a posse to round you up.”
“I’m not late.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Jane said, coming up to the men and kissing Gage’s cheek.
He took her hand, admiring her crisp, lemon-colored sundress and ribbon-laced shoes. “Every time I look at you, I have this pressing urge to put you away somewhere safe, like a pretty, perfect toy. You know, Griff is going to smudge your dress with his grubby fingers or rip a seam by playing too rough.”
Jane laughed, and flashed a look at her groom-to-be. “I sure hope so.”
His brother sent her a private smile that caused Gage to avert his eyes. Yeesh, he thought, feeling scorched by the heat they were giving off. Maybe Griff was right and there was something special about committed sex.
“Can you two excuse me?” Jane said. “I see someone waving at me.”
As she walked away, Griffin followed her with avid eyes. Gage whistled, noting his brother’s hyperalert gaze. “You don’t have to go guard dog, bro. Not a cloud in the sky, so a lightning strike is out. Runaway buses tend to avoid backyard garden parties.”
“I’m not taking any chances,” he murmured, still looking after her. “I almost lost her once.”
Skye popped into Gage’s mind. “I was...touched. Threatened sexually. I was sure I would be raped.” He pulled out his phone, filled with a sudden desperate need to know she was okay. His thumbs flew. Where r u?
“I wonder if I almost lost you, too,” Griffin continued.
“Huh?” Gage responded, distracted by the concern he felt for Skye. He stared at the small screen of his phone, willing it to light up with her answer.
“Did I almost lose you?”
“They let me go,” he murmured, this time texting, WHERE R U???
“Sweet Jesus.” Griffin breathed it out like a curse. “I knew it. What happened? Who had you?” he asked.
At the same time that Skye texted, Look up.
Gage did, and his breath caught in his chest, a sharp, painful ache.
She stood on the other side of the pool. Twenty or so people surrounded her, but their colors ran together, their figures fading like a watercolor picture left out in