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fresh shirts and a few sweaters. He went to his closet and selected a couple pairs of khakis and a few pairs of jeans. He yanked some running pants from the shelf and added them to the bag, too. Confidently, he zipped the bag shut and shoved it under the bed.

    Now he just had to wait. Adam wanted to stay hidden in his room, but he figured that his absence, given his reputation, would draw more attention than his presence. That’s why he made his way back out to the living room. He sprawled on the sofa and waited. He had one hand over his eyes, one arm stretched across the back of the leather couch. He was surprisingly relaxed, until she came over.

    “I need to apologize,” Cammie began quietly.

    Slowly, he lifted his hand from over his eyes. Crap. It really was that bartender. And now she wanted to apologize. “Not necessary,” he said evenly. “Everything is fine. I’m not going to raise hell, report you, try to get to you fired, or ruin the business. You can tell your boss that I will tell all my friends what a lovely party this was.” Then he laid his hand back over his eyes. In his experience, he had said all the magic words, everything that would encourage her to get back to work, to leave him alone, to hurry up and get the hell out of his loft so that he could, too.

    At the moment, he was busy imagining Kiki’s reaction when she woke in the morning and discovered that he was long gone. He had even made preparations to ensure that he could stay gone for the week that his brother had forced him to agree to. He smiled. Damn. It was too easy. His brother was gone. And there was no way Kiki was going to be able to stop him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it really was too simple. Sam hadn’t asked him for his keys to the Mercedes. He hadn’t threatened to cut off his money if he was difficult. Sam must really think him weak and fragile.

    As he sat there considering everything, his grin faded. In its place was a look of doubt bordering on fear. Sam was a businessman. He was accustomed to looking at every situation from multiple angles to mad problem solving to ensure the outcome that he desired. It just didn’t seem like he fought very hard this time. It should have been so much more intense; clear-the-room intense, make-strangers-and-staff-flee intense. Instead, as he ranked their arguments through the years, this one barely qualified as a spat. There was only one reason for that.

    One horrifying thought gripped him. Sam wouldn’t have. He couldn’t have. Adam flew off the couch and rushed to his side table at the entrance, and peeked into the large glass bowl that always held his keys, and sometimes his phone and wallet ever since that one fateful laundry day. He wasn’t built for manual labor. Dammit. He peered into the bowl. There was no reason for him to stare so long. It was obvious that his keys, wallet, and phone were missing. He might as well have been kidnapped. He glanced at the wooden cane that he had left leaned against the table. Sure. That was still there. He picked it up and hit the concrete dividing wall with it as hard as he could. He heard the sound of it splintering, but it didn’t break, instead becoming just one more disappointment for him to contend with. Apparently he was already getting weaker with his advanced years. Thirty was a miserable bitch.

    His left eye started twitching. He pushed on it with the palm of his left hand, hoping that might stop it. This was certainly shaping up to be quite the night. As he stood there trying to calm down, he remembered that he kept a set of spare keys in his top drawer. He laughed as he scurried off to his room. The minute he opened the drawer, he knew Sam had thought of that, too. His clothes were disheveled, as if someone had rummaged through looking for something…like his spare keys. Sure enough, they were all gone.

    “Damn you, Sam!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, even though he knew his brother could never