The Best of Us

by Brittney Sahin

Genres: Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

A man driven by duty and a woman who never gave up hope are thrust together by fate and a secret he never saw coming in a captivating novel of love, danger, and sacrifice by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Brittney Sahin.

Constantine Costa has spent his life shielding others from harm. As the eldest brother and a former clandestine operative, he’s made it his mission to help those who can’t help themselves. But despite his strength and dedication, there’s always been something missing—a void he’s never been able to fill.

Juliette Carmichael had her future mapped out with medical school, a bright career, and a stable life all within her grasp. But on her twenty-first birthday, she threw caution to the wind and embraced a moment of freedom. No names. No expectations. An unforgettable connection with a stranger who made her feel truly alive. A night that left her with more than just memories . . .

Seventeen years later, Constantine’s world shatters after the thief he tracks down turns out to be his own son. And when his latest mission collides with his son’s troubled world, reuniting him with the woman who left a mark on his soul, all their lives are thrown into chaos.

As the intense attraction between them ignites once again—fierce, raw, and impossible to resist—so do old wounds, doubts, and unspoken fears. The past they never confronted threatens to tear them apart as danger closes in.

Protecting his family becomes Constantine’s only mission. But surrendering his heart to the woman he never forgot may be the only way to save them all.

Release date: May 15, 2025

Sample

Chapter 1 - CONSTANTINE

New York, New York

I didn’t make it a habit of grabbing low-level drug dealers off street corners, but for this asshole, I made an exception.

He was trying to outrun me inside an abandoned factory in Hell’s Kitchen. And while running was my least favorite of all heart rate–raising activities, I was willing to do it. For Daniel O’Brien? Yeah, I’d do it. Run all night if I had to.

The twenty-three-year-old Dublin native (and possibly a track star back home) had no current address. Well, outside that street corner. From what I’d learned through my research, he sold drugs to trust-fund kids who were willing to pay a premium.

He was also the lowlife who’d hit one of my interns on her way home from work while attempting to mug her.

While Blair had reluctantly admitted why she’d shown up to work with a black eye, tracking him down didn’t take long.

So here we were. Daniel and I, burning calories while navigating death traps inside a condemned building, all for his high-stakes game of hide-and-seek.

Reaching the third floor, I slowed my pace, listening carefully.

Every sound reverberated around me. The walls and floors moaned as if something evil was trying to protect the bastard.

I inhaled deeply, catching the scent of cheap cologne. He was close.

“Only one of us has night vision.” I never went hunting unprepared. NVGs in place. A ghost mask concealing my face. And, of course, strapped.

“Leave me the bloody hell alone. I don’t know what you want, but—”

“I want a lot of things, Daniel. For men like you not to exist is one of them.” I followed my green-hued path around a corner, tracking his voice.

“How do you know my name? Who are you?” The rattle of fear in his voice guided me closer. “You a parent of that kid who almost OD’d last week? I swear I didn’t know about the fentanyl in the batch of E I sold him.”

Was he trying to dig himself an early grave?

Based on the sound of metal scraping the ground, he was scrambling for an object to turn into a weapon.

I knew he didn’t have a gun, or he’d have already fired off rounds. And I wasn’t there to kill him, only to teach him a lesson, so I didn’t draw my pistol.

“What do you want?” he hollered.

Given that he kept announcing his location, he clearly had zero tactical training. He didn’t even know the basics a kid would learn playing Call of Duty. It took me less than thirty seconds to make visual contact.

He came at me swinging a pipe. He may have lacked common sense, but he had balls to try and take me on.

I knocked him out within a minute. Now I’d have to drag his heavy ass down multiple flights of stairs if I wanted to have that talk.

After taking a moment to catch my breath, I transmitted over comms, “He’s detained. You feel like helping me carry two hundred pounds of dead weight down some stairs?”

My teammate, who also happened to be my best friend and brother-in-law, responded, “Weren’t you just complaining the other day that you need to get in more cardio?”

“Sex,” I grunted. “I was talking about sex.” The only kind of cardio I enjoyed. “Now get your ass up here and help me.”

Hudson laughed. “Roger that.”

Back at our security office in Chelsea, I let Hudson kick things off with Daniel so I could shower and change. I had a date later, and with any luck, it’d end with my preferred type of cardio.

Once dressed and in the basement, I stepped inside the observation area. While Hudson did his thing in the interrogation room, I went to the bar cart and poured a drink.

I picked up the bag of pills Hudson must’ve found on Daniel. The white tablets had a green four-leaf clover stamped on them. I’d heard rumors that a new dealer was flooding the streets with E as underground raves began making a comeback. But mixing MDMA with fentanyl? That made it even worse.

Now that we knew about these pills, we couldn’t overlook there was a new guy in town, a bigger fish than Daniel, selling fentanyl-laced ecstasy tablets.

I tossed the bag in disgust, went to the window, and knocked, letting him know I was back. Palm to the glass, I sipped my whiskey while looking on.

Daniel was shirtless and barefoot, his wrists bound overhead, and his ankles tied by rope, feet touching the floor. I assumed Hudson had already given him hell for what he’d done to Blair. The stain at the front of his jeans suggested he’d pissed himself. Doubt he got his rocks off on being interrogated, but who the hell knew?

“Trust me when I say you’d rather talk to me than the man on the other side of the mirror.” Hudson stared at him through the eye holes of his balaclava ghost mask.

We were both from high-profile families, so we had to hide our faces whenever possible. His father was the governor, and my family ran one of New York’s wealthiest corporate empires. We’d make front-page headlines if word got out we took down criminals in our spare time.

Daniel twisted his neck, looking over at the mirror. “The guy who hunted me is here?” He returned his attention to his current problem.

Hudson answered him with a nod.

“You’re not cops or DEA agents. So, who are you?”

“Consider us concerned citizens.” Hudson offered a politer response than I would have. “You’ve given your word never to lift a hand to a woman again, and you know what will happen if you break that promise. Now, I need to know who you’re working for.” He unsheathed the knife strapped to the side of his cargo pants.

If Daniel’s common sense were ever to return (if he had any in the first place), now would be the time. Hudson didn’t fuck around. Same as me.

“Nah, man. I can’t talk about that.” Daniel spit out blood.

“Fine.” Hudson shrugged. “You’re just some street-corner dealer, right? I suppose your boss won’t notice if you don’t show up.”

“You have no idea who you’re messing with,” he snarled, and more blood came from his mouth along with his words.

Shouldn’t have made me run.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell us, then?” Hudson kept his tone casual, circling him.

“You’re treating me like a terrorist,” he said instead of answering. “Ain’t this a little extreme for drugs and that, uh . . . other thing?”

Other thing? Hitting a woman? I rotated my neck side to side, doing my best to dial down my anger before I got blood on my clean shirt. I’d rather not change again.

“Extreme, really?” Hudson scoffed. “Tell that to the parents of the kid you said almost died last week.”

Daniel’s throat bobbed, his expression flickering between remorse and fear. “You just don’t understand.”

Hudson dragged the tip of his blade along the man’s sternum, slow and deliberate. “Then help us understand.”

A quick check of my watch confirmed I was already late for my date. Time to speed this up.

Setting down my whiskey, I knocked at the glass again, signaling to Hudson I was stepping in.

I undid the top two buttons of my white dress shirt. Spectacular color to wear for this. Then I rolled the sleeves to my elbows before covering my head and face with the same mask I’d had on earlier.

Door open, no weapon in hand, I remained standing there without fully entering the space.

Daniel’s green eyes immediately flew to my forearms, and his breath hitched. “Your scars.”

I followed Daniel’s line of sight to the jagged marks—permanent reminders of my past imprinted on my arms. Mostly along the insides where the skin was thinner, the pain deeper. The physical scars would always be there, but the invisible ones? They were the real burden.

“Is that what you plan to do to me if I don’t tell you what I know? What kind of good guys are you?”

“Who said we’re the good guys?” My voice came out calm and measured. Any trace of my Sicilian accent was buried beneath my mask. I took one step forward, the door closing behind me, and it had him breaking.

“Fine.” He’d rushed out the word as if it had been forced from his lungs. “I, uh . . . don’t know who’s running things. I’ve never met him in person.”

He lifted his head, a plea in his eyes to believe him.

“Try again.” I shoved one hand in my pocket, my voice flat. “You said, and I quote, ‘you have no idea who you’re messing with.’ That tells me you do have a name for us.”

Silence.

He was contemplative. Still fearful.

Good, just how I wanted him.

I lifted my chin to Hudson, a request to talk next.

“Let’s start with something easier and go from there.” Hudson stood in front of him, blade still in hand. “Who do you get your stash from? Where can we find him?”

A low hiss left Daniel’s mouth, and he rolled his lips inward, trying to suppress the truth I could easily drag out of him. “You going to press him for answers the way you are me?”

“A life for a life.” I accepted the knife from Hudson, swapping places with him. “What’s it going to be? Save yourself, or save the asshole who you’re selling drugs for?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, sweat rolling from his temples, streaking the dried blood on his face. His wrists tugged against the bindings.

“I just needed some extra cash,” he gritted out. “I wasn’t trying to hurt her.” His voice broke as he added, “He can’t find out I did that.”

“Did what? Find out you tried to steal from a woman?” Hudson pressed. “What, your gang have a moral code and you crossed the line?”

I exchanged a look with Hudson. Even he thought that was laughable.

Daniel’s shoulders hunched, his breath coming fast. “No one can know I told you anything.”

I leaned in slightly. “Then let’s make this simple. Where can we find your boss?”

He hesitated.

I wasn’t a total asshole. I could be amenable when necessary.

“There’s a party Friday night. A rave at a closed-down factory in SoHo. The guy I work directly for will be there.” He rattled off the address, and I made a mental note. “You can’t keep me until then, or he’ll know something is up.”

I handed Hudson his knife back. “We’ll let you go, but we’ll be monitoring your every step. Bodycam on you inside the rave as well.” Rolling down my sleeves, I buttoned them at the wrists, my voice low as I warned, “You bought yourself time with this information, but staying alive after the rave depends on if you told us the truth.”

While we only killed in self-defense now, or if left with no choice on an op, he didn’t need to know that. Fear of the unknown was a much better motivator in getting someone to walk the path of righteousness.

“Don’t make me hunt you down again. I won’t be so nice next time. Am I making myself clear?” I maintained eye contact so he could see the truth in my eyes. Read it. Believe it. Accept it as fact. His life was in my hands.

“Understood.” The word left his mouth low and bitter, but his compliance was appreciated.

Keeping my white shirt clean of blood was also a wise choice on his part.

Hudson returned his knife to its leather holder and tipped his head toward the door. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

Right. He followed me into the other room, and we both tossed our masks now that we were alone.

“I think we can handle going after his boss at the rave without calling anyone else in for help.”

“I agree.” There was no need to drag my brothers up here for an easy op. Enzo was home with his family in Charlotte. Alessandro was with his pregnant wife in Nashville. And I highly doubted we’d need to bring in the other guys we worked with for a quick grab and bag of a drug dealer from a rave.

Hudson tamed his messy hair with his fingers, and I did the same, remembering I had a date to get to. “So, was that too easy, or are we just getting too good at this?”

“You having doubts about what we do?” Was my sister’s wholesomeness starting to get into his head? While Izzy’s moral line was still much farther north than all of ours, mine no longer sat comfortably below murder like it once had. “It’s Izzy, isn’t it?”

“She works with us. She knows what we have to do sometimes.”

That wasn’t an answer. He was buying time to tell me what was really on his mind. I could only imagine the influence she was having on him.

Unfortunately, his hesitation left space for other thoughts to creep in. Ones about the room I’d once been shackled in years ago. PTSD. Fucking A, I hated when it tried to find its way back. And I couldn’t deal with it how I usually did at the moment.

“You all right?” Hudson asked, opting to sidestep my question.

No, but I’ll shake it off and try to be later. “Just need to get outta here.” Get some fresh air. “Are you okay?”

“Things have been different ever since we found out . . .” He didn’t need to finish that sentence. I was fully aware that things were no longer the same. How could they be?

Izzy and my sister-in-law had been kidnapped and nearly died last fall, and it had been a consequence of our past actions. The result of us taking justice into our own hands. Now, we were all on edge when it came to our decisions, knowing one mistake could lead to those we loved being hurt or killed.

“I know,” was all I managed out.

“Maybe we talk about this later?”

Or never.

“You have a date to get to, and I have a wife waiting for me.” He tipped his head toward the other room. “I’ll handle him. Go.”

I reached for my whiskey and finished it off. “Yeah, okay.”

“Out of curiosity, do you even like this woman you’re dating?”

I set down the tumbler as he hit me with a heavy dose of reality. Where’d that come from?

Given his history with women pre-Izzy, I knew Hudson wouldn’t give me shit for my life choices. He probably wanted me to have what he did now, but it’d more than likely never happen for me.

“It’s supposed to be my job to give advice to everyone. Tables aren’t allowed to be turned.” I was only partially kidding. “But define ‘like.’”

“Do you see a future with her?”

We’d gone on a handful of dates in the last six weeks, all resulting in sex at the end of the evening. A mutually beneficial agreement between two adults. That was all it was. We weren’t exclusive. And did I see a future outside of sex? “No.”

He didn’t have to say more. The look he was shooting me was enough.

Message received. I was wasting this woman’s time. Mine, too, like always. Break it off. No sex tonight that I badly need. Check, motherfucking check. “Roger that,” I said as if he’d been attuned to my thoughts.

Hudson smirked, lightly shaking his head.

“And here I thought it’d be Daniel ruining my plans tonight.”

We exchanged a few more words, and I took off before he could say anything else that might force me to self-reflect. I preferred battling real demons to my own.

Deciding I’d end things with Leah face to face instead of over text, I headed for her place in my Maserati and parked in the garage across the street from her complex.

Me: I just parked. Coming up to get you.

Leah: You’re the only ultra-rich guy I know who prefers to park his own car instead of using a valet.

She didn’t know about my side activities or how often I washed blood from my clothes. She also didn’t know why I’d never hand my keys over to a valet: the 9mm in my glove compartment.

Me: Can we skip going out for drinks and talk?

Leah: I was hoping you’d say that. Already dressed for the occasion.

She sent me a photo of herself wearing only underwear, waiting on her bed. Maybe one more night wouldn’t hurt?

I hesitated.

Had a brief moral debate with myself.

Damn you, Hudson.

Me: We should talk.

Leah: Oh.

Leah: No need to come up. I get it.

Before I could think of an appropriate response, a flash of movement in my rearview mirror caught my eye. Because my night needed to get worse.

I tossed my phone on the passenger seat and unbuckled. It wasn’t my car they were trying to boost, so it wasn’t my problem. But when in my life had I ever been the it’s-not-my-problem-just-ignore-it type?

When their lookout man came around to the back of the Aston Martin, I realized he was only a teenager. His hood was drawn tight around his face, but it was still obvious he was young. When I opened the door, the kid startled backward and bumped into the vehicle. He quickly warned his two buddies they had company.

“You have five seconds to rethink your actions and get out of here.” I kept my tone stern and father-like as I stepped forward. I wasn’t in the mood to play a game of chicken with three teens, but I was in even less of a mood to accidentally injure one.

The other delinquents came over and flanked their lookout man. The shorter of the three decided to play with fire, flipping open a pocketknife.

I held up the only tool I had to scare them off since I didn’t plan to fight. Thumb hovering over the alarm button as if it were a trigger, I warned, “Put down that Boy Scout knife and get out of here, and I won’t sound the alarm.” With a lift of my chin, I indicated they were on camera and security guards would notice what was going on any minute.

“How about you give us the keys to your Gran Turismo, and you won’t get hurt.” The Boy Scout decided it’d be smart to step closer while lifting his knife.

I jutted my chin forward, letting him get a good look at me. To see I wasn’t the kind of man to play a game of “fuck around and find out” with. “If you’re going to be in the grand theft auto business, you should at least know your cars. It’s an MC20 Cielo. Grigio incognito is the color. You like it?”

The kid’s blue eyes flicked to my car and back to me. A touch of fear finally cut across his face. About damn time.

“Grigio incognito. That’s asshole talk for solid gray, by the way.” I winked. “I’m trying to give you kids a chance to walk away here.” As the lookout drew my eyes, I lowered the keys to my side.

“Come on, let’s just go,” the lookout said, elbowing the Boy Scout.

Knife returned to his pocket, he flipped me the bird. “You’re lucky, man.”

“Mm-hmm.” The sound buzzed low from my mouth as I shook my head.

The Boy Scout and the other teen took off, leaving only their lookout behind. He quietly stared at me. There was something oddly familiar about him.

Please tell me you’re not having a change of heart after being the voice of reason. “Go.” I pocketed my keys, and he blinked twice, then finally moved. Of course, he opted to bump into me on the way out. I stood there and took it since I didn’t want to hurt him.

Once the exit door was closed, and I was finally alone, I returned to my car, remembering I had another mission to complete. Officially end things with Leah.

Sitting behind the wheel, I sent her another text.

Me: You sure you don’t want to talk in person?

Leah: I’ve already moved on. Nothing to say.

Damn. Okay. I let go of a deep breath, then realized . . .

My left pocket was light. My wallet was missing.

You got the drop on me.

I was mildly impressed for a few seconds until I remembered something important. Something important to me was now gone.

I called Hudson, not wanting to waste any time. I needed to get the kid’s name and location before it was too late.

“Hey, you good?” he answered after a few rings.

“Just tell me you broke it off with Leah.” Izzy. Of course I was on speakerphone. She must’ve joined Hudson at the office after I left. “How you felt about my ex is how I feel about her.”

“Sorry, I, uh . . . you know I can never keep anything from her,” Hudson was quick to remind me.

I was well aware. “It’s over.” I thought back to that kid, whose face I’d now never forget. “And someone stole my wallet.”

I told them how my need to intervene in a not-my-problem situation had just become my problem.

“Ugh, well, that’s a pain in the ass. Can’t believe he”—she cleared her throat—“managed to do that.” Not my finest moment. Also aware. “But we can get all your cards canceled. It’ll be fine.”

“No, you don’t get it. I had something irreplaceable in my wallet.” I dragged a hand through my hair, bowing my head as memories of our sister filled my mind. Our sister who’d been murdered almost fifteen years ago. “Something from Bianca.” My body tensed at my admission. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to get it back.”

--

CHAPTER TWO - JULIETTE

“I don’t need a lecture,” Colin muttered, arms crossed over his chest, his back to the bedroom window. “But I know you’ll give me one anyway.”

His downturned mouth and eyes locked on the floor contradicted the Superman pose he was trying to pull off. I doubted it was guilt battling his confident stance, causing his shoulders to slump.

No, my son didn’t regret getting into a fight at school. He only regretted the outcome.

“I’m sorry about your job. I really am.”

At least look me in the eyes when you say that. “This is the third time since we’ve moved to New York I’ve had to cut out of work, abandoning people who need me, because you got into trouble.” I didn’t sugarcoat the truth. He needed to understand his actions didn’t just affect him. “One more time, and I’ll get fired.”

“I couldn’t stand by and let him go unpunished for what he did.” His brown eyes finally lifted, but only so far as the neckline of my scrubs.

He wasn’t ready to meet my gaze and spell out why he did what he did. He’d also refused to tell his story in the principal’s office.

“You can’t go around handing out judgment on kids in school. That’s not your job. You should have reported him if you thought—”

A low, deep laugh rumbled from his chest, cutting me off. “And what?” His voice was sharp and bitter. “You know who his dad is, which is why Zach gets away with everything.”

Zacharias Bauer. Senior. Superstar quarterback. Son of one of the most powerful litigators in Manhattan. A man who had donated an entire wing to the school. Yeah, I knew him now.

I also knew Colin was one suspension away from getting kicked out of the private school my father was generously paying for after calling in a big favor to get him accepted in the first place.

Colin pushed away from the window. “His asshole father made you get on your hands and knees in Mrs. Pope’s office and beg him not to press assault charges.”

“I was there.” I remembered the oh-so-humbling experience of bowing before a man and pleading while the principal watched on and kept quiet.

He frowned and lifted one shoulder. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.” Back to scowling, he tossed out, “But I’m not sorry for what I did.”

Being a single mom raising a teenage son had me feeling like debris the size of cars kept falling from the sky. And every day, I narrowly avoided being hit. One of these days, though, I was worried I’d be outright crushed.

“And why’d you do it?” I asked, my voice straining.

Colin focused on the hand he’d used to punch Zach. Thank God Colin hadn’t badly hurt Zach, or I’d be bailing him out of jail. I’d consider a one-week suspension a gift.

“I couldn’t stand by and let him . . .” He allowed his sentence to remain hanging in the air.

I knew him well enough to know he’d eventually complete that sentence if I gave him time.

So, I stood there patiently, across from a boy who’d grown into a handsome man overnight. He was sixteen and towered over me at six feet tall. He even had scruff covering his cheeks and jawline, a jaw that was far too chiseled for a teenager.

“Zach’s a piece of shit like his father. And his old man didn’t press charges because Mrs. Pope must’ve shown him why I swung at his son in the first place.”

And there it is. The truth. I just needed him to continue laying it out for me. Build that skyscraper back up, so it wasn’t falling on me anymore. Give me a reason to understand he wasn’t misguided, just a little lost. To explain why I had to grovel to that piece of shit (he was right about that) an hour ago.

“I had a hall pass, and I was on my way to take a piss when I saw Zach shove his girlfriend against the lockers. He smacked her, then told me to get lost and act like I didn’t see anything.” He paused, letting his admission sink in, and the sad image planted roots, turning into understanding. “I couldn’t do that.”

My stepbrother taught Colin self-defense a few years ago, and he’d taken those lessons to heart. I just never anticipated that he’d use them to get into fights.

“You should have reported him instead. The cameras would’ve backed up what you saw. They’d suspend him, not you.”

He scoffed. “She did see the footage.”

“After you beat him up.”

He shoved the sleeves of his black shirt up, exposing his corded forearms, as if itching to hit Zach again.

“His dad probably threw money at the problem, so he didn’t also end up suspended. Or arrested, like he should’ve been for laying a hand on his girlfriend.”

I blew out my cheeks, taking a moment to think. “Next time, protect without hitting. Try to get help first. Only switch over to plan B if plan A fails.”

“What’s plan B?” He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d inherited those thick, dark locks from his father.

“Kick his ass.” I gave him a knowing smile.

I’d blame my words on my stepbrother. He lived in the land of the morally gray, often taking justice into his own hands. If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe Easton and I did share blood since my son was so much like him.

I earned my son’s approval with that comment. His lips twitched into a quick smile that came and went fast. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you losing your job.” He placed his hand on his chest, emphasizing his sincerity. “Then we’ll have to move, and you know how much I don’t want to leave. This is our home now.”

After I’d applied for and landed the job I never thought I’d get, we’d moved here this past January. “New York is just so different from what we’re used to, but yes, I know how much you want to live here. And if you’re happy, I’m happy.” Just stay out of trouble. “I suppose it is starting to grow on me.”

The New York skyline was becoming a comforting blanket wrapped around us. I never thought I’d feel that way so fast, but it was happening anyway.

I ate up the space between us and touched his shoulder.

“I love you.” I needed him to know I’d always be there for him, no matter what. We were all we had, and I was beginning to think that’d never change. I’d never find a father for him, and he’d made it clear from a young age that he didn’t want a replacement for his biological one.

He hugged me, and I resisted crying into his shoulder. I’d save those tears for when I was alone at night. I’d let the guilt and sadness come back to me when I thought about the letters he wrote to Santa as a kid, asking for his father as his Christmas present.

He stopped believing in Santa, and maybe God, too, when his letters and prayers always went unanswered. It broke my heart. And it was my fault. All because of three wild hours at twenty-one, playing a game of “strangers in the night” on a tropical island.

My mystery man and I hadn’t been reckless. We’d used protection. But condoms weren’t a hundred percent effective, which I realized when I was four weeks pregnant. So, I’d said goodbye to medical school and my dream of becoming a doctor and welcomed motherhood.

Although being a mom so young hadn’t been my plan, I considered Colin a gift from God. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give him back the gift of a father. Heck, I couldn’t even provide him with his dad’s name.

“Maybe Uncle Easton can visit soon,” I suggested once he let me go. “He promised to come once we were settled in. I think what you need is—”

“My dad. That’s who I need.” His eyes widened, regret cutting across his face. He knew the impact his words would have on me, especially after I’d been through the wringer this afternoon already.

“I’m sorry.” That was the best I could come up with. I wasn’t sure how many ways I could apologize to him for his father not being in his life. He knew the real reason why now that he was older, but I’d had to white lie my way out of it when he was too young to understand.

At the doorbell ringing, my shoulders startled, and he abruptly turned for the hall. A man on a mission. Probably to go off and get into more trouble. Nope, not happening.

“And where do you think you’re going?” I folded my arms, staring him down, giving him the best “mom look” I could summon.

He groaned but relented without putting up a fight. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”

I nodded my thanks, and once he left, I sat on his bed and picked up the lone stuffed animal there.

Patches had been with him since he was born. My grandmother, who had long since passed, had stitched the bear herself. He only had one eye now, but the fact my son held on to him, unashamed to have a stuffed animal at his age, gave me a little bit of hope. All wasn’t lost, was it?

Holding the animal tight to my chest, I quickly prayed to God that my son would find his way because I was failing at every turn on my own.

“Where’s my wallet?” At the deep voice and words being snarled from down the hall, I sprang into action, letting go of Patches to rush toward the sounds of commotion.

“Don’t you even think about coming in.” Colin’s back was to me as he shoved at someone on the other side of the door.

Where’s my phone? “I’ll call the cops. Leave!” Panic set in, and a tremor shot through my body and into my words as I shouted to whoever was trying to get into our home.

“Please do. Your son stole my wallet,” the guy hollered back, shifting to the side to look at me. “And nothing better be missing.” There was a definite growl packed into those rage-filled words.

You must have the wrong home.

The moment the man met my eyes, his brows stitched together as if surprised by something. My son seized the opportunity to employ a self-defense technique, a right elbow to his jaw.

The guy didn’t flinch. He focused back on my son like a target, doubling down on trying to get inside our home. “I need my wallet. I won’t hurt either of you.”

I stepped alongside Colin to help him, but that only distracted him. Colin lost his footing and stumbled back, which sent the door swinging open and the stranger falling forward and right into me. His hands flew up to the wall on each side of me to brace himself, so he didn’t crush me.

The three of us were now in the foyer as the door hit the opposite wall and rebounded, slamming shut. The man dipped his chin, dark eyes on me in shock.

“Sorry.” His gruff apology caught me off guard as Colin tried to peel the guy away from me.

All I could do was keep my arms prisoner at my sides as a confusing feeling of something washed over me with this man’s brown, nearly charcoal-colored, eyes pinned on me.

“Get away from my mom!”

“I will if you’d stop hitting me and step back,” he answered steadily.

I lifted my hands, and they landed on his hard chest. His heartbeat was thrashing, almost as intensely as mine was.

“Colin, do what he said.” It was now clear Colin was the reason I was stuck up against this stranger, a man who didn’t seem to want to accidentally hurt one of us if he made the first move.

I guess I should stop touching him.

I lowered my hands to my sides, but he didn’t unlock his possessive hold of my eyes. We were in gridlock traffic and not going anywhere.

Colin groaned, but thankfully, he listened and backed off.

The man pushed away from the wall and held his hands up, but he didn’t turn away from me. “I don’t want to fight you, kid. I just want my wallet and everything that’s supposed to be inside it,” he said before disengaging from our staring contest. “I’ll be on my way once you return it.”

He had an accent I hadn’t noticed initially. Not too strong, but it was still there. It dipped and swerved around in his words, a mix of New York and a touch of . . . something.

His suit jacket fell in place when he shifted to the side, drawing his arms down.

Colin pushed past him to stand in front of me like a shield.

Hand to his shoulder, I whispered the question that hurt to ask. “Did you really take his wallet?”

Hearing his answer, “Yes,” hurt me even more.

The dam of what felt like despair broke, but I refused to cry in front of either of them. So, I sucked it up and forged ahead with an awkward sniffle and throat clear. “I’m so sorry.” Apparently, my son didn’t just defend the innocent, he stole from them as well.

“Your wallet is in my room. My mother is coming with me. I won’t leave you two alone.”

“Nothing better be missing,” he repeated, and the husky bass of his voice shocked its way under my skin.

Before I could understand that strange reaction to a man’s voice, Colin grabbed my arm and guided me around the dominating force in our foyer.

I followed him into his bedroom, wasting no time to state the obvious. “What were you thinking? You’re stealing now?”

Colin went to his knees in front of his bed and reached under it for a shoebox. I thought he only kept the valuable football cards my father had given him inside it. “I’m sorry.”

Ha. Not gonna cut it, mister.

He removed the wallet from the box and stood. Giving me an Oscar-worthy forlorn expression, he shared, “While you were on shift the other night, I was out with some friends, and I ran into that guy.”

“And what, his wallet accidentally fell into your hand, and you decided to take it?” If we were acting here, I supposed I’d act sarcastic. Because what the hell? “Please tell me nothing is missing.”

Guilty eyes whipped up to my face, but he nodded. I hoped that was a real yes. We’d soon find out.

I took the wallet, ready to end this showdown. I’d had enough action, acting, and groveling for one day.

When we returned to the foyer, the guy quickly lowered his hand from where he’d been rubbing his granite jawline. Don’t want me to know he hurt you, huh? “Here.” I extended what I hoped would be a get-out-of-jail-free card.

The moment he reached for the wallet and our fingers brushed, his hand and mine went still. The olive branch of leather between us was now in both hands, and we remained quietly staring at one another.

The little shock from his hand to mine at the touch of skin somehow slipped up my body and shot right down my back.

Those eyes. That mouth. How do I know you?

He finally pulled away, taking his wallet with him. He opened it, ignored the cash and cards, and went straight for a yellow folded-up piece of paper.

Relief passed over the hard features of his face, and his chest visibly fell as well. It was like watching a demon leave a possessed man right before my eyes. Not that I’d ever witnessed that in real time. Or, well, anytime.

He quietly tucked the paper back into his wallet and pocketed the billfold.

“I really am sorry.” I elbowed my son, hoping he’d remember his manners, locate his morals, and offer the only appropriate response.

He managed a terse, “Sorry.” No remorse, no emotion.

Nope, that wasn’t going to win my son any sincerity awards. Where were those acting skills he’d mustered up for me just a minute ago in his room? If there was ever a time for them.

The man adjusted the knot of his black tie, which was paired with a dark suit jacket and black dress shirt. He was taller than Colin, and his shoulders were even broader. A five-o’clock shadow covered his hard jawline.

I’d swear I felt the strong aura surrounding him cut into me, hitting me deep down inside, especially when he zeroed in on my face.

“How’d you even track me down? I had a hood on.”

Oh, Colin. Really?

The man shot a well-deserved, disgruntled look at my son. “You lowered your hood once you were on the street. I tapped into the CCTV footage outside. You have a record, so I got a hit.”

Oh shit. “Are you law enforcement?” Did my son rob a . . . Are you a detective? FBI? Did officers dress in custom-fit suits that looked like it cost more than my rent?

“No, I’m not.” He was looking at my son now. Piercing him with a steely gaze that I’d prefer to be pointed at me. “You should make new friends.”

I’d always take the hits for my son, even when he was in the wrong.

And it appeared the hits would keep coming because he made my day even worse by informing me, “His buddies were attempting to boost an Aston Martin when I advised against it.”

“He’s lying.” Colin’s protest was weak, and all I had to do was look him in the eyes to know he was the dishonest one.

“Go to your room,” I ordered, trying not to tear up. “Now.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with this rich asshole.”

“You looked me up, did you? Checked my ID. What else did you do while you had my wallet?”

Colin stepped forward like a dare. Not what he should have done, dang it. “All I know is it looks like you own Park Place, Boardwalk, and all of—”

“This isn’t Monopoly,” the man grunted. “This is real life.”

“Just go to your room while I beg for mercy for you for the second time today.” My voice nearly shattered that time as my son’s dark eyes found mine. How did I steer you so wrong?

Colin opened his mouth to protest but smartly backed down. Before heading to his room, he turned his stare back on the man. “If you so much as touch my mother, I’ll kill you.”

Perfect. We made two enemies today. One of the best defense attorneys in New York and possibly one of the city’s wealthiest men.

Once Colin finally retreated, I turned toward problem two of the day. “Come to the kitchen. The least I can do is get you an ice pack while I apologize again.” I used my motherly voice, which meant I wasn’t giving him a choice. He seemed to understand that and followed me into our narrow galley kitchen. “Please, sit.”

We only had a three-person table by the bay window, and when he went over and chose that seat of all seats, my chest tightened.

When Colin was only six, he’d selected that chair for his dad, saving the one with a semi-wobbly leg for the day he’d show up. Since then, there was an unspoken rule that only his father would be allowed to sit in it.

And although I thought Colin gave up hope he’d ever be in his life, he didn’t give up the chair.

The last thing I needed was for Colin to come into the kitchen and see this man sitting in it, filling it out like it was the perfect fit, even if it was too small for him.

I blinked a few times, trying to keep my composure as the man put his palms on the underside of the seat, shifting around as if realizing it was slightly off-balance.

Doing my best to hush my thoughts and resolve this, I ripped my gaze away from him and swung open the freezer door. I welcomed the blast of cold air on my face.

“Why is this the second time you’re seeking mercy on your son’s behalf today?”

His words had me nearly sticking my whole head into the freezer. Someone wake me up from this nightmare.

“He was in a fight at school. Suspended.” My words were no doubt muffled by the door, which blocked me from his view. I finally snatched the ice pack, closed up, and faced him.

His eyes journeyed from my Nikes to my scrubs, to the messy bun crowning my head, then back to my face. “Have we met before?” His tone had an edge of roughness, like he was trying to draw up a memory and was frustrated by his failure to do so.

Well, that’s how I was feeling, at least. I was probably projecting. “I don’t think so. Um, but maybe?” I finally approached him, offering the ice pack. “I’m Juliette. With a T and E at the end. French spelling. But, seeing how you tracked down my son, you probably already know my name.” Did I really just say all that? Geez. “Your name?”

He looked me up and down again, then leaned back in the seat, and I couldn’t help but notice the lift of his hips as he adjusted his position.

Stop staring at his crotch. I went over to my usual chair and parked myself in it before I broke out into a blush all over my body. I was three-quarters Scottish, and my fair skin had a habit of betraying my emotions by very noticeably pinking it.

“Constantine Costa,” he finally answered.

“Um.” The nervous lip biting didn’t do wonders for concealing my feelings, either. “Is that with a C or a K? Er, um, both names?” When I dared to look at the man, the handsome grin on his face had me stirring in my seat. “I’m sorry.” He was likely smiling at my question in a ha-ha what’s-wrong-with-this-chick way and nothing more. “I work mostly with kids who are missing their two front teeth,” I explained. “Sometimes, I forget who I’m talking to.”

“And what is it that you do?” He brought the ice pack to the side of his face, stretching his jaw muscle from left to right.

“I’m a pediatric nurse at New York-Presbyterian. Lower Manhattan location. Hence the teddy-bear blue scrubs.” I eyed my chipped nails that desperately needed a new coat. “Do you have kids? Maybe you brought them there recently? We’ve only been living here since January, though.”

“No kids.” He set the ice pack on his thigh, staring at me in the strangest way, like someone seeing color for the first time after living in only black and white.

I’m projecting again. But your eyes. That smile. Voice. It was . . . familiar. Intimately so. But it can’t possibly be you. No. No way.

“Where were you before here?” he asked.

I didn’t feel the need to give him an entire play-by-play of my life and accompanying addresses, so I offered up “Florida,” ready to move on.

He lifted one questioning brow and asked, “And his father?”

Not what I was interested in talking about with a stranger, even if he didn’t feel like one. “Not in the picture.” Best I’d give him.

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Excuse me?” I stood, my chair sliding back. “Not your business.” While I needed to play nice with him since he could call in the cavalry and have my son arrested, I didn’t owe him answers about my personal life.

“I apologize.” He set the ice pack on the table and rose. Resting a hand over his heart, he requested, “Forgive me?” He lifted his chin, catching my eyes. The sparkle in those deep brownish-black irises was dangerously alluring. And once again, very much familiar.

I toyed with the drawstring of my pants, and he tracked the movement of my fingers, so I let go. “We could consider it a wash. You know, I forgive you for your inappropriate question, and you forgive my son for stealing?”

He hid his hands in his pockets, straightening to his full height. “Feels a little off-balance of a trade.”

“Well, a mom has to try, right?” I attempted an easygoing smile, hoping to keep my son out of jail.

He glanced off to the side and at the floors that needed refinishing. “And you’re certain we haven’t met before?”

There’s just no way it’s you. So, I suppose we haven’t met.

I bit the inside of my cheek as I battled memories from my past. I drew a picture of the him I’d held on to for so long in my mind. An image that was now blurry after so many years had gone by.

“Are you going to press charges?” I asked instead of answering because he’d think I was nuts if I questioned whether or not he was the him from my past.

“I got what I came for.” He removed his hands from his pockets and rubbed his jawline. “Got a little more than I planned on, too.”

“I’m sorry about that. He’s a bit protective of me.”

“As a son should be of his mother.” His hand fell to his side, and he expelled a breath that was so deep, it was as if he’d sighed on my behalf, too.

As he studied me like I was a mirage, memories continued to tug and pull, but they didn’t fully form into anything tangible.

Maybe I reminded him of someone in his past as he was doing for me? But it couldn’t possibly be the him.

“I really am sorry. I’ll do my best to ensure he never does something like this again.” That was the best I could come up with. And the most honest answer I could give anyone.

He nodded, then sidestepped me to leave. He stopped in the doorway, resting a hand on the frame while peering at me over his shoulder. “Juliette?”

“Yeah?” I pretty much breathed that word out.

“My name, it’s with a C. First and last.” He gave me another nod, brows drawing together, and then took off.

The second he was gone, my body broke out with goose bumps, and I couldn’t stop the trembling from happening.

I looked over at the chair he’d sat in, tears welling in my eyes.

You can’t be him. Not after all this time. I couldn’t get my hopes up. It’s just not possible.

The chances had to be one in a million that my son stole the wallet of a man I hadn’t seen in seventeen years. From a man who didn’t even know he had a son.