You better run for the hills before they burn.
Listen to the sound of the world, and watch it turn.
I just want to show you what I know,
And catch you when the current lets you go.

Or should I just get along with myself?
I never did get along with everybody else.
I've been trying hard to do what's right,
But you know I could stay here all night…

And watch the clouds fall from the sky.
Because this river is wild.
God speed your boy -
This river is wild.

- This River is Wild, the Killers

BEVERLY HILLS, CA

Dean McGrath grinned against the pillow when he felt Rozzie's hand smooth up his back to knead his shoulder. His body was pleasantly sore from exertion, and her caress was just what he needed to ease the ache. He purred sleepily as the events of the night before came back to him in a flood of images and sensory recall: apprehending Helen Colbert at the red carpet before the Grammys, watching Isis Knox's amazing performance from the wings of the stage, then witnessing Terry's equally impressive performance at the Sony/BMG after party. Dino couldn't help feeling jealous, watching his partner schmooze the high rollers while he pulled guard duty like a grunt. But T was definitely in fine form, leading those music industry execs in a courting ritual nearly as flawlessly as he lead Isis Knox out on the dance floor. Terry Thorne definitely played his 'A' game last night, and Dean forgot his jealousy when his best friend called him over to meet Roslyn Moore.

Rozzie was the highlight of an incredible evening. Gorgeous, sexy, and smart, as a Hollywood player, she had all the perks of a starlet, and none of the detractions of fame. Now it was Dino's turn to wheel and deal, and he closed that deal with a vengeance, like he was making up for lost time.

"Vidi, vici, veni …" Dean muttered happily into the pillow.

"What's that, handsome?" Roz purred.

"Sorry, just talking in my sleep," he said as he turned over. Smiling into her blue eyes, he plucked a kiss from her slightly swollen lips. "Morning, honey. Can I tempt you to stay for breakfast?"

She arched a delicate brow wickedly. "I was hoping to have you for breakfast."

"Well, yeah," he chuckled. Christ, she was sexy. No wonder Terry had kept her his dirty little secret for so long. If he was cutting her loose now, things must really be heating up with Isis. Maybe even getting serious. "But you gotta keep your strength up, and I make a mean omelet."

"You cook, Dean?" she asked, impressed.

He nodded. "I like to play in the kitchen. It relaxes me."

She petted a hand over his bed mussed red hair, smoothing it back from his face. It wasn't Terry Thorne's thick mane, but Dean McGrath was an attractive man. Anything he lacked physically, he made up for with charm. She could see why the men were such good friends. "If you're half as good in the kitchen as you are in the bedroom, I may never leave. What's your schedule today?"

"Eighteen hours on yesterday, so I got the day off. You?"

"I need to make some calls, but they can wait," Roz's hand moved under the covers to stroke his waking cock. McGrath certainly lacked nothing there. "You're making me so hungry, baby…"

"You'll never starve on my watch, honey," he encouraged.

Resting back against the pillow, Dino enjoyed her pre-breakfast meal as much as she did. When she'd had her fill, he returned the favor with relish.

w

Looking out the high rise window, Dino appreciated the view of the Hollywood sign as he cracked eggs in a bowl and began whisking. In the kitchen, he wore the black kimono Utsumi-san had presented to him on his last trip to Tokyo. The flat screen television mounted in the minimalist living room droned CNN softly, but his attention was really on the sound of the shower in the bedroom, timing Roz's omelet while he imagined her incredible body all wet and warm and slick with soap. When the shower finally snapped off, eggs sizzled in the hot pan, and he swirled for even coverage. It's all in the wrist, he thought, smiling.

A few minutes later, Roz walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but his white tuxedo shirt. He paused a moment to appreciate her approach, then set the pan down to pour fresh coffee into a mug. She took it gratefully with a kiss.

"Smells good, McGrath-san. Love the robe."

"Makes me feel like a Shogun," he grinned. "Maybe later you can be my Geisha."

Rozzie's red hair was wet and fragrant from her shower, and he nuzzled in to drink her scent, nibbled her ear and made her giggle. But from the TV, when they heard the anchor read the headline, "More misfortune for Isis Knox," both Dino and Roz forgot their game and turned to listen to the story.

"After a winning Best Female Vocal Performance at the 49th annual Grammy Awards last night, Isis Knox, lead singer of the popular rock band Unforgiven was admitted to Cedars-Sinai hospital early this morning with a lacerated wrist. Reports indicate that the injury was self inflicted. Though her manager has denied the charges, calling the injury an accident, hospital authorities are treating the incident as an attempted suicide."

"Oh my God," Rozzie gasped. "What happened?"

Dino took the eggs off the stove and went for his phone, while Roz moved into the living room to watch the continued story.

"A hospital source reports that Knox's blood tests were positive for Ecstasy, a popular party drug, which is known to cause violent mood swings in some users. Knox, is currently being held for observation."

"That's why Terry hustled her out of there," she breathed.

"Earlier on the red carpet, shown here…"

The screen showed Isis smiling for the cameras on the red carpet, holding Terry's arm. They made a beautiful couple, Terry so striking in his beautiful tux, and Isis in her incredible gown. But even wearing dark glasses, Roz could see that Thorne was preoccupied, his attention on the crowd and not the cameras. When the camera swung around, it became apparent what had caught his eye. She recognized Dino's red hair in the crowd as he and another tuxedoed agent flanked Helen Colbert.

"…Knox faced shocking accusations from the mother of Court Colbert, including murder. Helen Colbert was taken in to custody by LAPD and charged with violating a restraining order recently filed by Knox. Court Colbert, Knox's husband and lead singer of the influential rock band Rapture, was found dead in his Seattle home in early 2005 of a heroin overdose."

The screen flashed images from concert footage, Court Colbert singing into a microphone, surrounded by white lilies and candles. Roz felt a rush of sorrow. Such a talented young man, and such a waste. Any jealousy she'd felt for Isis Knox evaporated, replaced by sympathy.

"According to Knox's manager and publicist, David Goldman, the singer is resting comfortably, and eager to get home to her daughter, two year old Kore Colbert."

"Ah Christ," Dino breathed. The voicemail alert on his phone flashed, and he berated himself for not checking in earlier. In the message, Terry sounded bad: exhausted, frazzled, and emotionally drained. The news about Henry Thorne joining the Army was icing on a shit cake. When he hit the speed dial, it went right to voicemail. He left a simple message: "T, take all the time you need hermano. I've got your back."

"Where's Terry?" Roz demanded, concerned. "Is he okay?"

"He's okay, Roz. On top of all this shit, he had a family emergency. Had to fly to London. He's going to be out of the country for a while."

"God, poor Terry." Roz hugged Dino around the waist, felt grateful for the strong arms that wrapped around her. Looking up to him with furrowed brows, she asked, "What about Isis?"

Dean tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry, honey, we'll take care of her."

Roz looked disappointed. "There goes your day off, huh?" When he sighed, she saw the quick mind working behind his blue eyes.

"Well, if they're holding Isis for observation, there's really nothing for us to do but wait. Let me make a few calls, honey. I'll be right back."

While Dean retreated into the spare bedroom office, Roz gazed out the kitchen window and sighed. The Hollywood sign beckoned, promised paradise. But at what price? For some, like Court Colbert, fame and fortune gave him the world, then took his life. She felt suddenly despondent, wondered if she should just go home. Instead, she looked for something to busy her hands. Turning the gas burner on high, she pulled the pan of eggs back over the fire. When the omelet looked done, Roz tried to flip it like she'd seen Anthony Bourdain do it on the Food Network. It ended up on the floor.

When she turned, Dino was leaning in the doorway in the black kimono with an amused smile on his face. "Very avant garde," he quipped. "I usually put it on a plate, but if this is the latest thing, I'm down."

She smiled, embarrassed. "Sorry, Dean. I'm a disaster in the kitchen."

Dino chuckled, felt a sudden swell of affection for Roslyn Moore. Hey, she tried. And she looked so damned cute standing there in his tuxedo shirt and nothing else; so damned sexy. He didn't give a flying fuck if she couldn't cook. Red hot Rozzie cooked in the sack.

And he'd been right; when he called Chris, he reported that there was nothing more to do. Wyatt was in Malibu with Julie and Kore, and everyone was fine beyond wishing Isis were home. David Goldman said he'd handle the press. Hurry up and wait, just like the service. McGrath had his day off, and he was glad he didn't have to spend it alone.

"Here honey, let me show you the secret to the perfect omelet."

LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Waiting in the Virgin Airlines business lounge at LAX, Terry watched the news on the TV mounted over the bar and sipped Scotch. Isis' "suicide attempt" was the lead story on nearly every channel. His flight to London wouldn't be boarding for another hour. If he had to listen to this crap the entire time...

"Rubbish," he muttered into his glass and turned away, disgusted.

His sour stomach churned. Terry knew he should eat something before the flight, but though he was hungry, nothing sounded palatable. Something made Jim Morrison's old rule come to mind: when you're hungry, put fruit in your drink. So he ordered a Bloody Mary instead and retreated to a table against the wall where he could be alone.

Fishing the Treo smartphone from his pocket, Terry stared at it and felt helpless. The hospital wouldn't give him an update on Isis because he wasn't a family member. The only family she had was Kore. They must have updated Julie as the child's guardian, though he hated the thought of calling Isis' personal assistant and best friend. The way she'd looked at him last night, pink hair wild around her angry face, she scared him nearly as much as Isis had. Julie Cruise blamed him for this mess, made no bones about it. Sad thing was, she was right.

Scrolling through his text messages, Terry saw an old one from Isis with a picture attached. He clicked the link and brought up the image of Kore on the beach, grinning with her little pink sand pail on her head. It made him smile and want to cry in the same moment. Seventy-two hours. He wondered if the mother and child had ever been separated for so long. Isis must be despondent.

Putting his trepidation aside, he dialed Isis' number. Julie picked up angrily, as he expected, but at least she took his call.

"What do you want, Thorne?" she demanded.

"Julie, I understand you're upset with me. I just wanted to check on Kore. Is she all right?"

"Kore wants her mother," Cruise said, her tone sharp. "And she'd be here if you'd done your job."

Christ, she knows how to aim those poison darts. That stung. But he didn't try to deny it. "I probably deserved that," Terry said, tried to placate her. "Please, have they updated you on the extent of her injuries?"

"She just needed a couple stitches, but now they won't release her until Wednesday because they think she's suicidal. They're fucking nuts."

"I know," he insisted. "I reported exactly what happened, told them it was most likely a reaction to the drugs, but they have to follow their procedure." Terry sighed before he continued. "Listen, Jules. I've had a personal emergency. I need to go to London for a week or so. Please tell Isis that I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but I'll call as soon as I get back. If you need anything, Chris and Dino are there for you, as always."

"Oh great," she said sarcastically. "I'll tell Isis you couldn't wait to leave town. Thanks for nothing, you sorry bastard."

The line clicked as she hung up abruptly.

"You're welcome, bitch," he muttered angrily.

Rubbing his aching head, Terry breathed deeply to calm his pulse, racing with adrenaline. After a moment, he couldn't really be angry with Julie. He blamed himself as well. She was just protecting her friend, but Christ…what a wicked tongue. She reminded him of Marion. "Perfect," he nearly laughed. "That's exactly who I need right now, the ex wife."

And that was exactly who he had to deal with if he wanted to see Henry. Looking at his watch, he drained his glass and dialed his son. He'd better check in, make sure he knew he was coming. With the eight hour time difference, Terry calculated quickly that it was early evening in the UK. He hoped to catch Henry before he headed out with friends for the night.

Henry picked up on the second ring, didn't let him say hello before he asked, "Dad, I've seen the news. What happened to Isis?"

Terry tried to smile, put confidence in his voice that he didn't really feel. "She's fine, son. They've blown it all out of proportion as usual."

"She didn't try to kill herself?"

"Christ, no," he replied. "She'd never do that to her daughter."

Henry sighed with relief. "Well that's good news. You'll give her my best, won't you Dad?"

"When I see her," Terry promised. "But I didn't call to talk about Isis Knox. Henry, I'm sorry I missed your call yesterday, but I got your message. I'm on my way to London now, calling from the airport."

"You're coming here?"

"I'll be in around noon tomorrow. Will you be home? I expect you've got a lot to do before you report for duty, but I hope you can make some time for me."

"Of course, Sir," Henry said, sounding formal, but then softened. "I'm happy you're coming, Dad. I'd hoped we could chat."

"A nice long one, Henry. I've cleared my schedule for the week. I'm completely at your disposal." Terry promised.

"Cor…" he breathed, sounding surprised. "Thanks Dad."

Terry was grateful to hear the pleased tone in his son's voice. At least someone wants me around. "So, Henry," he began gently. "What happened to being a pilot and getting all the girls?"

"Too much math," Henry chuckled, sounding like a boy again. "Thought I might do a tour, get some action in Iraq while the war's still on. Then use that experience, try for the SAS."

Terry felt his blood chill, but tried to make his tone light. "What does your mother say?"

Henry's measured pause told him all he needed to know. His mother didn't like the idea at all. "It's my decision, Dad. I'm eighteen now. I thought at least you'd understand."

Terry breathed deeply, calmed himself. Talk fast, mate. "Listen, Henry. We should talk about this, all of us. Your mother, Michael, and me." Present a united front. That's what Henry needed to see.

"What, and give you a chance to finesse me?" Terry was shocked at the vitriol in his son's tone. He'd never spoken to him like this before. "This is not a crisis to be negotiated. This is my life, and it's my decision." But he was even more tormented by the hurt he heard in his son's words. "Christ, Dad. I thought of all people, you'd take my side! But its not the first time you've disappointed me, is it?"

Terry felt the wind knocked out of him. "Henry…"

After a long pause, Henry seemed to regain his composure. He apologized sincerely. "Dad, I'm sorry. This isn't what I wanted."

Terry shoved the hurt and anger down, separated emotion from reason. He had to put his Son's needs before his own. "Don't apologize, Son. I'm glad to hear it actually, been expecting it for a long time." Terry breathed deeply before he made his confession. "You're right, Henry. I've been a shitty father, and I'm the first to admit it. The man you've become, that credit goes to your mother and to Michael. I had nothing to do with it."

"Dad, don't say that," he begged softly.

"It's the truth. But no matter what, I am your father, and I am on your side. The Royal Service is a noble and honorable pursuit. It will make a man of you. But Henry," his voice broke. "I know a bit about it, hey? You need to understand the sacrifices they're going to ask you to make. It's not in the bloody pamphlets, nothing any recruiter will tell you. You will learn, and you will grow, but it will take a piece of your soul that you'll never get back. I wanted something better for you."

Henry's voice was a challenge. "You don't think I'm man enough."

"Henry," Terry breathed, defeated. "If that's what you think, then I really have failed you."

The young man had no response. They shared a long uncomfortable pause, until Terry put every ounce of honest emotion into his voice and spoke into the silence: "You're a fine young man, Henry Thorne, and I'm proud of you. I know your mother and Michael are as well. Any man should be so lucky as to have a son like you. Understand?"

"Yes Sir," Henry responded, the good soldier. "Thank you, Sir."

Over the lounge speakers, Terry recognized his flight number being called for pre-boarding.

"Henry, they've just called my flight number. I've got to go, but I'll see you tomorrow. Let your mother know. You'll be there, yeah?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'll be here."

"You'd better," he smiled, feeling a little relief ease the tight muscles in his shoulders. "I've got a lot to make up to you, Son. I need a second chance."