As I reach for a bag of Twizzlers, a familiar voice surprises me from behind.

“Ace?”

Turning on my heel with my mouth open wide and my hands raised defensively, I see him. “Jack?” I clutch my chest and release a sigh of relief. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“You scared the shit out of me!” he returns angrily. “Where the hell have you been? You fucking disappeared, Ace. I’ve been worried sick about you.”

A familiar sense of guilt churns in my stomach as I see the distress written across his face that I’ve clearly caused. Dropping my gaze down to my shoes, I dig my teeth into my lower lip before offering an apology because even though I don’t want to admit it, he deserves one.

“I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’ve just been…”

Shit. What have I been? Busy? Running for my life? Shacking up with the head of the Romano family? I’m at a loss for words, and he can sense it.

“You’ve been what exactly?” he probes, his voice dripping with accusation.

Wincing, I mutter, “Preoccupied?”

“With what?”

“Life?” It’s a question, not an answer.

He runs his fingers through his short, blonde hair, and I can feel the frustration radiating from him. It seems to intensify my guilt, and if I were a dog, I can guarantee my tail would be tucked between my legs.

“I went by your apartment the other day,” he tells me. “Some homeless guy was loitering in the parking lot and mentioned you’d moved. I thought he was full of shit.” With a dry laugh, he shakes his head in disbelief. “I thought you were dead, Ace.”

“Nope. Definitely not dead—”

“Just mixed up in some shit with the mob?” he finishes for me with a look of disgust. I don’t blame him, but he’s got it all wrong. He doesn’t know Kingston like I do. He doesn’t know what Burlone has done or the situation we’re all in. He knows nothing.

“Jack—”

“Look, I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do. When those girls went missing, it scared me. You…” Groaning, he rubs his hands against his face before scrutinizing me with bloodshot eyes. “You’re messing with the wrong people, Ace.”

I can see how much this is killing him, seeing me with Kingston when he’s probably heard rumors of what a terrible person he is. But Kingston isn’t like that with me. And I just wish I could relieve his worries or explain that he doesn’t need to be stressing about my well-being. That I’m okay. Or at least, I will be once we get everything taken care of.

“Jack, we’ve had this conversation before.”

“And we’re going to have it again,” he replies sharply. “I can help you if you let me.”

“You can’t help me, Jack. And honestly? I’m not so sure I want to be saved. Kingston isn’t a bad guy.”

“You don’t know him,” he grits out while scanning the empty aisle for any ears that might be listening.

“I do know him.”

“And what about Burlone, huh? Do you know him too? What he does to women? What I thought he did to you?”

“Yeah, I do,” I bite out, bristling at his comment. “Trust me, Jack. I learned about Burlone a long time ago, and I’ll never forget what a scumbag he is, which is why I’m helping Kingston take him down.” I pull my lips into a thin line to keep from spewing anything else in the middle of a freaking grocery store.

“Wait…what?” Jack probes, reaching for my wrist.

I pull away from him to keep a decent amount of space between us. “I gotta go, Jack.”

“Wait.” Sticking his hand into his pocket, he removes a small business card and gives it to me while looking over my shoulder. “Don’t let anyone see this, Ace. It could literally kill me.”

I take a peek down at the cardstock, my heart racing as the words register in my head. Jack Connelly, Federal Bureau of Investigation. I freeze.

Shit. Shit. Shit.