Fucking. Hell.
Cam waited in the parking lot, propped against his new ride, a newer model of the 4Runner that was blown up in the same bomb blast that had put Vaughn in the hospital for a month.
“I know your doctor hasn’t cleared you to fight,” Cam started as soon as he appeared.
“Do I look like I give a fuck what the doctor says?”
“You look like you have a death wish.” Cam pushed away from the SUV and followed Vaughn over to his Hummer. “Last week, you waited until the very last second to open your chute when we went skydiving—”
“C’mon, man. How many jumps have I done? I knew what I was doing.”
“It was an unnecessary risk, another in a long line of many recently. And now you’re illegally cage fighting. You know who runs this place?”
“Yeah.” Unfortunately. He shrugged on his jacket and casually slipped Giuseppe’s card into his pocket.
“You could lose your P.I. license,” Cam said.
He should probably care—Wilde Security was his bread and butter now that he’d left the SEALs—but he didn’t and pretending to was getting fucking old. And hell no was he telling Cam that, so he grunted in response and tried to open the Hummer’s door.
Cam slapped a hand down, holding it shut. “You’re in a tailspin, bro.”
The warehouse’s door squealed open behind them, and Vaughn’s heart thumped hard. If any of the Bellisarios walked out and saw Cam…
No. His twin was not getting caught up in the pile of shit he’d just stepped in.
He peeled Cam’s hand off his door. “We’re not doing this here.”
“Here’s as good a place as any.”
Two men emerged from the warehouse. Just a couple of guys from the crowd, nobody to worry about, but having Cam in direct line of sight of that door set his teeth on edge. “Get in your car, Cam, and drive to the office. I’ll be right behind you.”
Cam’s eyes narrowed, then his gaze slid over to the door. Yeah, he knew something was up. That was the problem with having an identical twin. Couldn’t hide any-fucking-thing from him.
Vaughn crossed his arms over his chest and stared Cam down. Lesser men withered under his glare, but after thirty-one years of living with him, his twin was indifferent.
“Fine,” Cam said and started toward his vehicle. He opened the driver’s door but stopped before getting behind the wheel. “You better be right on my ass all the way there, got it? And then you’re gonna tell me why you’re all tied up in knots.”
Right.
Vaughn waited until Cam’s 4Runner pulled out of the parking spot before climbing into his own vehicle. But after sticking the key in the ignition, he sat back and closed his eyes.
Cam was right. He was in a tailspin, one he hadn’t been able pull himself out of, one that had just landed him on the Bellisario family’s radar. And yet he was still humming with restless, edgy energy. The fight and the encounter with Giuseppe should have burned it off, but it seemed like nothing helped anymore.
Nothing…except for a blue-eyed brunette who had once gone by the name Lark.
And that had abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with why he was determined to find her. She was a criminal, an identity thief who had stolen something from him while he was incapacitated in the hospital. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. What got him was that Lark had used Libby, his sister-in-law. Lark had pretended to be Libby’s friend, had used her to get a good job and a foot into a higher social circle, and then broke Libby’s heart with the disappearing act.
Fuck with him? Fine. But fuck with his family? He wasn’t about to let anyone get away with that.
If only he could find her.
Chapter Two
New Orleans, LA
The two men weaving their way through the drunken crowd toward Lark Warren reminded her of Vaughn. They had the same tough, ready-for-anything air about them, and her heart kicked hard with a familiar panic.
Had she been found?
No, that was impossible. On all counts.
And, dammit, she had to stop thinking of herself as Lark. She was Sage Evans now. Sage. Evans.
It had been three months since she’d erased Lark and became Sage, but she still couldn’t get used to the new name. Every other time she’d swapped identities, the mental shift had happened instantaneously—from her birth name to Violet Smith, then Violet to Rose Davis, Rose to Summer Harrison, Summer to Autumn Clark, Autumn to Robin Jones, and Robin to Lark Warren. It was a matter of survival, because she couldn’t slip up. Ever. But maybe she’d changed her name one too many times? Or maybe it was because she’d met Vaughn as Lark Warren. It was the name he knew her by, and she couldn’t shake the sentimental attachment to it.