Even as a boy Zack Grant had a sense of  responsibility, a heavy weight that had become part of his shoulders through his teen years and into his police career. No friend, family member or partner ever questioned that he’d stand there at their side, bound and determined to defend and protect, whatever the cost. He’d escaped the military, paying for his college education by delivering pizzas and doing yard work in the summers, shoveling snow in the winter. Once he worked his way through the NYPD and joined the FBI, he thought things would improve.

The only thing that hadn’t improved was his luck. Zack Grant’s batting average would’ve kept him in the minors, but he had superiors who believed in him and gave him far more opportunities than a fuck up deserved. Then … Victor Serlano kidnapped his son.

Getting Erik back was a life altering experience for Zack. He still broke procedure, but took it ten steps further and managed to excel, advancing into a department that specialized in kidnap cases. It went well … until lightening struck again.

No. No, he couldn’t go there. The nightmares had been rough enough lately with Robert’s arrival and all the shit surrounding the Wendell case. He was alone in his bedroom, sulking like a grounded school kid. Roberts was off, no doubt getting laid and three armed bodyguards were just outside his door, stinking up the suite with bad pizza and beer, farts and lousy conversation.

He poured himself a slug of bourbon, wondering if it was a waste of time. Maybe he should just dump the bottle down his throat and eliminate one step? He stood with a groan and looked out the window. Desolate. The Badlands in winter. Snow drifted slowly making it all look like a fairyland, but Zack knew better. His eyes rose to take in the Black Hills and he thought about the people who had fought for generations to protect what was theirs.

That’s what he’d been doing since he arrived in this world … protect his own. One thing he never learned was when to give up. Until now. He was more than ready to call it quits, big time.

He turned to the sound of voices and his door swung opened. Biebe stood, wearing that God awful plaid wool coat and boots.

“S’go, Grant. Takin’ you to the house for dinner.”

Zack grunted and lifted the half empty bottle. “Drinking my dinner tonight, buddy.”

“Come on,” John gripped his upper arm and pulled.

“Hey! Lemme get my damn shoes on. What’s the fucking hurry?”

He left with John, two guards behind and one in front. The one in front climbed into the back seat of John’s jeep. “What’s for dinner?” he teased, knowing Clair always provided a hot meal for them. Pizza be damned, he was getting home cooking.

“Ordering Chinese,” John said and they drove in silence. As he pulled into the driveway the guard asked.

“Who’s here, Mr. Biebe?”

John parked and twisted to look back. “No big deal, just a friend of the family. Go on, you can check him out.”

“Roger that,” the brute growled out and stomped to the front door.

Zack sniggered. “What friends you got, John?” he said as he stepped into the living room and bent to get out of his snow packed shoes. His eyes rose and he gawked, slowly stood. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

In the center of the living room stood Russell Crowe, holding his arms wide to be frisked but he too was glaring disbelief, his mouth agape and eyes blinking.

“He’s clean,” announced the guard to his partners then they were all staring like loons. “Ah … sorry Mr. Crowe.”

“Fuck,” Zack finally spat. “Biebe, are you fucking nuts, bringing him into the middle of this goddamn mess? Jesus!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Crowe said then he turned to Clair. “Sorry love, I guess I really didn’t believe you. But this,” he pointed to John then Zack, “this adds a whole new bloody dimension to all this, now doesn’t it?”

John cleared his throat. “Why don’t you two talk?”

“I got nothing to say to him,” Zack spat, thinking maybe he was a little drunker than he realized.

“Bugger that. There someplace private?” Crowe growled and John pointed to the study.

Another hand gripped his upper arm and Zack rebelled so Crowe waved him ahead with a scowl.

The door closed between them and the rest of the house. Zack stood still while Crowe took a walk around him. “Bloody hell,” the man sighed and pushed his hair back.

Zack grinned and gave a belligerent shrug before dropping into a big chair. Slouching to hide his trepidation, he watched Crowe pace. “Look,” he said calmly. “We ain’t long lost brothers and you don’t owe me nothing. I have no fucking idea why Biebe would do this. Why don’t you get your ass back to Tinseltown … that’s were you are right now, right? Hollywood? Making another fucking movie that’s gonna drop another dude in our laps to take care of? Be nice if you took like a … I donno … ten year break, give us all a little rest.” He chuckled and rolled his neck. “We don’t need you. Go home and take care of the wife and kiddies.”

Crowe didn’t wait to digest the attitude. He was all too familiar with it; after all, he’d put it into the bloke. “Are you trying to get your bloody arse killed, Grant?”

“Who’s that talking? You doing Ben Wade? Or maybe it’s Bud White, but it ain’t as good as White himself. Ah … must be your impersonation of Richie Roberts. It’s his style to go straight for the jugular.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Answer me.”

Bourbon and irritation slammed into Zack. He stood nose to nose with the man and hissed. “What the fuck do you care? Just what do you know about me? Nothin’. Not a damn thing. Whether I live through this or not is none of your goddamn business!”

Crowe’s hiss was just a substantial. “Ya bloody bastard. I sure as fuck wasn’t expecting such a fool! You have any idea what people would give for another chance to live? To breathe and do things different? You’d throw that away?”

“In a New York minute.”

“Why?”

Zack huffed back down into the chair and rubbed his eyes.

“I wanna know why.”

“Trust me, you don’t. What? You feeling responsible?”

Russ was silent.

“Well, you ain’t God, buddy. You didn’t do this and this particular situation is not so good for your health, much less your career. Fuck. What do you think is gonna happen if the press gets wind of you hanging around with men named Terry Thorne and John Biebe and … Zack Grant. You’ll be looking at years in a fucking mental institution.”

Crowe grinned. “That’d give you the break you want, now wouldn’t it?”

“Funny. Get your ass back to Hollywood, man.”

Crowe stood still, staring down at the man, remembering what he liked and didn’t like about the character he’d created. Yeah, he looked like Zack Grant, same fucked up hair, same snarl … but there was a lot different. A whole hell of a lot. “What happened to you, mate? After the closing credits, what the bloody hell happened to you?”

Zack had tracked down sixteen of the Crowe characters, stood face to face with ten and come to personally know six. Every one of them had asked the same damn question and he’d always shrugged it off as unimportant. Looking into this man’s eyes, something came to a boil in his guts, something he just plain couldn’t stop from overflowing. It was like it had taken over; all he could hope for was control over how it would all fall out of his mouth. “Lots,” he choked. “Lots.”

“Tell me,” Crowe said quietly, sat with elbows propped on knees and eyes on Zack.

“I did good. Real good. For nine years … nine great fucking years,” he stared off into the distance as he talked, letting the words flow just as they wanted to, cringing against the agony they were going to bring. “Married a beautiful woman. Cara. We had a daughter. Erik was sixteen, little Lisa was eight.” He cleared his throat. “Got a call to go on a case … so I kissed my family and headed to Mexico.” Zack swallowed hard several times and rubbed his eyes.

“How did the case go?”

“Good. Good. Three weeks into it and I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. So fucking smooth it was almost too easy. No need for military intervention, enough ransom cash collected. This was one for the books and the Bureau wanted it over and done with.

“Called home often. Cara got the idea to pack up the kids and bring them down to Cancun, that way I could meet them there for a little vacation when I was done.” His eyes squeezed tight but he couldn’t stop the words. “What the fucking FBI neglected to tell me was that my family was taken. They’d put someone else on the goddamn case while I was blissfully closing things out and looking forward to some time at the beach.

“So fucking smooth, almost too easy. There I was, eight hundred grand in a bag and going to trade money for a life. Simple. But … when I got there … when they opened the door …”

Crowe moved to crouch near Zack and gripped the man’s trembling shoulder.

“When they opened the door they fucking dragged my ass inside. The captive was dead, in the corner, a pool of blood … and … next to his mutilated body … fuck … right next to him … was my family, bound and gagged … terrified.” Zack blinked and focused on Crowe’s eyes. “In the Bureau’s abounding goddamn wisdom, they never thought to put two and fucking two together. Never recognized it was a vendetta. I’d battled this particular contact before, several times and most of those times it didn’t turn out so good for him. They should’ve never put me on the case … they should’ve been watching for it. I put my trust in them and …”

For several moments Zack couldn’t speak, he struggled, shaking hard and desperate for control. Crowe’s hand tightened on his shoulder. His voice had gone raw, almost unrecognizable.

“They held me … and I watched as they put a gin to Cara’s head and pulled the trigger … her eyes were still speaking to me after the lights went out, man. Still telling me she understood, she was sorry, she didn’t blame me, but she should have. Fuck, it was my fault! My fault! All my fault!” Tears soaked his face, dripped from his beard. “Then they killed Erik … then … my daughter but not before pulling away the gag so I could listen to her cry.” Zack blinked and looked again into Crowe’s shocked, compassionate eyes. “They did all that before they killed me.”

“Jesus!” Crowe gasped and gripped both Zack’s shoulders. “My God, mate! Jesus.”

Zack pushed him away and fought to catch his breath. The repeated nightmares had become actual words and it shook him to the bone. When he finally calmed, Crowe had leaned back on his haunches, never taking his eyes from him so he continued. If the man wanted to know what happened, he’d fucking hear it all.

Attempting to appear relaxed in the chair, Grant pushed back his hair then dragged a sleeve across his face to wipe away tears. “Imagine my shock to wake up from that?”

Crowe’s head shook slowly.

“Woke in a filthy Los Angeles alley … no ID, no money.”

“What the bloody hell did you do?”

Zack shrugged, grinned sadly. “I climbed to the roof of the nearest building and tried to throw myself off, that’s what I did. But, you gotta hand it to the LAPD, they do good work.

“While I … recovered … all I could do was hope to wake from this whole nightmare, that I’d be back home and it never happened. I talked to nobody in that place, said nothing to the doctors. Swallowed all the meds they handed me in those little paper cups to numb the pain.

“September twenty-second, three thirty … a Saturday afternoon … I was sitting in my stupid bathrobe in the common room with all the other fucking nut bags and watched TV.” He eyed Crowe. “I was watching myself on that goddamn television screen. Watched it from beginning to end and I couldn’t fucking understand why the story ended there.” He grunted a miserable chuckle. “Wasn’t your best work, man. Wasn’t even a good film. But it was so fucking real, so intense. It made all the difference.

“Kinda got my act together after seeing that. Started talking to the shrinks, made up an elaborate but believable story about why I tried to off myself and within weeks I was released to a halfway house … which I promptly left.

“Went to New York and got all my ducks in line. Know how to work the system so it was easy as hell. Managed to get everything I needed, all fake of course but I dare anyone to recognize that. Then I presented myself to the FBI, a new transfer from the Dallas office. Even had paperwork to back it all up.” He grinned.

“Kidnap division?”

“Nope. I did whatever they told me to do. It’s how I came across this William Wendell mess. What I was really doing was using the resources to track down the others … and hell yeah, I knew they were here. Wasn’t about to let myself believe I was the only one.”

Crowe had moved to sit across the room and Zack chuckled. “You would be amazed how resourceful these guys are. I located most of them, but some might be outside the States. Many know the connection with their film and you, but a few don’t have a fucking clue … and they’re all doing fine. What I do is keep an eye on them, step up and help out if they need assistance or get into a jam. Bailed Cort out of a drunk tank once,” he pointed out the window, “not ten miles from here in fact. Hooked up with Thorne to get Aubrey out of one hell of a mess.” He shrugged. “Most manage fine once they get acclimated, even the Roman General, who probably thinks he’s in Elysium. But some … well some run on dumb luck.” He laughed and ran a hand down his beard. “Take O’Brien. Not the luckiest or smartest dude walking the planet, but that man managed to find his way into a rich old lady’s heart. Helen MacDonald was something like, I dunno … sixty? I really think they were lovers too.”

“Bloody hell,” Crowe grinned like a proud pop.

“Yeah, she died recently and left millions to him. Millions! He stepped forward and made a deal with Thorne. He’d finance Thorne’s business if Thorne kept an eye on the others, made sure they were all taken care of.

“So, you can see we’re all just fine. Funded and fat, using our expertise to take care of each other … we really don’t need you, man.”

Crowe sighed and shook his head. “I’m thinkin’ maybe you need me. You got yourself into one hell of a fuckin’ mess, stealing somethin’ from the FBI.”

Zack shrugged. “Just my style, ya know.”

“Why don’t you come down to Australia, stay hidden, just ‘til the trial?”

“Ain’t happening. You think for one fucking minute I’d put you and yours in this kinda danger? Forget it.”

“Tell me somethin’, mate. You’re always takin’ care of everyone. You’re doin’ it so well … what’s with this suicide wish? Makes no bloody sense?”

Zack’s heart shivered then softened and he spoke quietly. “I’m tired, Russ. And … we both know my luck is due to run out. I can’t watch another family member die. I can’t and I won’t.”

“No one’s gonna die; you got money and expertise, just like you said. You’re not alone in this, mate. You got the others and you got me.”

“Don’t got you, get that stupid idea right out of your head.”

Crowe’s head tilted and he bestowed a glare that clearly caught Zack’s attention. “You got me until I know you’re not looking to jump off a building. I ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til I’m sure your head’s on straight, mate. Period.”

Either the man was serious … insane … or smarter than the average bear. There was no way Zack would risk him, no way he wanted anyone to face this kind of danger. The Feds were gunning for him and they didn’t care who got in the way. Easier to take it on alone, face the dragon and get burned to a crisp in the end. He opened his mouth but Crowe cut him off with a huff.

“You’re doin’ it again. Ya know that, don’t you?”

Zack blinked.

“You did this when Sam died … fuckin’ buried yourself so deep you couldn’t even touch your son. Couldn’t even love the poor little bloke! Granted, no one should have to go through this twice in any lifetime … but Zack, don’t do this again. Fuck all, look at you. You’re doin’ it with all these men you call family … steering clear, staying closed, apart. You know instinctively that they need help but mate … when are ya gonna take the time to get your own sorry arse acclimated? When are ya gonna let someone help you?” Crowe was again on his feet and pacing, his eyes fire and voice dangerously low.

“There’s only one way to heal from this … you need to start honoring your family and what they were to you. Honor their lives, Zack … don’t focus so much on their deaths. No, no. I’m not bein’ callous here, I’m tellin’ you the truth. You think this is what they want for you?”

His pace slowed and stopped as he watched Zack struggle. “They loved you and you loved them. They are gone, mate. Nothin’ is gonna change that. This second chance you got is for a reason. You’ve come far … found your way and found purpose. This isn’t the time to check out … it’s the time to really … really … start livin’.”

Zack’s eyes dropped to his locked hands and he groaned.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Zack. You keep your head on straight … get through this whole mess and let Clair and Richie and Thorne cover your arse … you do whatever it takes to stay alive … and I’ll get outta your hair. I’m gonna do what I can on the sly, get as much media coverage for the case as possible in as many countries as I can. Got my own connections and I know how to work that system too, ya know,” he grinned. “Nobody’s gonna connect me with it, trust me. This’ll be blasted everywhere and the Feds won’t dare take a shot at you.

“Then, when it’s all over, and hopefully you’re not incarcerated for ten to twenty years, you and me, we’ll talk again. You make me this deal and I’ll walk right out of here, stay clear of you all. But you gotta do what I’m askin’, Zack.”

He thought it all through. The added media exposure sure would help, but was he really ready to change his personal plans? Then there was that one thing Crowe said about honoring the lives of his lost family, honoring Erik and Lisa and Cara’s life … doing what he’d been doing … doing it for them. Living. Really, truly living again. Zack cleared his throat. “You saying you wanna keep in touch?” he teased and Crowe shrugged.

“I try keeping in touch with Biebe but he doesn’t talk to me, I hear it all from Clair … granted I really hadn’t swallowed the reality of all this until today. But yeah, I wanna keep in touch. Wanna know you’re gonna be okay, mate. We got a deal or what?” His hand reached out and Zack looked at it.

“All I can do it try.”

“I’ll take it.” Their hands gripped tight and Crowe dragged him to his feet, slamming a bear hug that nearly knocked the wind from Zack’s lungs.

But even as he stood at the window, watching Crowe and his personal handler drive away, all Zack could do was repeat the deal he made.