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them all.
    A great cast iron gate with a lion's head crest blocked our
entrance into the palatial estates. Gar took a moment to confirm with the
guard, and, after a grating buzz and a few groans, the lion gate opened to
allow us in. All around us, bushes trimmed into lion sentries stood guard as we
passed. Someone had read too much C.S. Lewis.
    My breath hitched in my throat when we arrived at the front
door and a tall, lean man in a suit came out to greet us. He smiled at me
through the tinted windows, but the smile looked painted on, like a clown's.
    The driver opened the car door and I stepped out, straightened
my spine and forced myself to meet my client's eyes.
    He played his part well and held out his arms for me. Did he
want a hug? Not happening. I shifted back, slightly, but enough to get my point
across. His eyes flickered a flame of anger before he smothered it with false
sincerity.
    "You must be Sam. I haven't seen you since you were a
baby, but your father says such great things about you. I'm sorry for
everything you're going through, but rest assured, no harm will come to you
while you're here."
    Before I could reply, a small boy of about six ran out the
front door with all the enthusiasm of youth. "Is she here? Is she here
yet, Uncle Henry?"
    "This must be Tommy." I raised an eyebrow.
"Your nephew?"
    He mussed the boy's hair while maintaining eye contact with
me. "The Beaumont's son. We've been partners so long we're practically
family."
    I choked on his words. Right, family that's ready to throw
each other under the bus for a buck. I shoved the judgment deep down and played
my part in this farce—this family that wasn't a family—with as much enthusiasm
as I could.
    "Daddy says to say hi, and that he still remembers the
night you drank too much and threw up on his date." I giggled like a rich,
ditzy teenage girl and then smiled down at the boy, who hadn't stopped staring
at me. For a moment, I let my real self come through. "Hi there. I'm Sam,
what's your name?"
    All boyish boldness fled as he dropped his big brown eyes
and shyly muttered, "Tommy."
    "Well, Tommy, did you know that I can draw any animal
you can think of? Even animals that don't exist?"
    His cherub face lit up in the happiest smile I'd ever seen,
and I instantly fell in love with the little kid. A pang of guilt hit my heart.
    Tommy belonged to the Beaumonts—the family I had been hired
to ruin.

Chapter 5 – Drake
     
    At four in the morning, Drake woke and couldn't fall back
asleep. He hadn't told Father Patrick about his car or reported it to the
police. Brad had given him enough grief as it was.
    He rose, made coffee and sat on their balcony that
overlooked the beach. His cell phone beeped—another text from Kylie asking if
he planned to come over before the competition. His annoyance mounted, and he
turned off the phone and ignored it.
    The sun hadn't found its way to the coast yet, so Drake
waited for sunrise in silence.
    The crashing waves and smell of saltwater tried to calm him,
but this time they failed. Despite his still body, his mind hammered out worry
after worry. Brad had made him swear he'd at least consider dropping the competition,
but Drake knew he wouldn't. He refused to run away from his dreams because of a
few slashed tires and a bad feeling.
    Oranges, reds and purples filled the dark sky as the sun
reflected against the ocean's waves. He waited for the sun like a man waiting
for a lover to come home. When the bright morning rays reached the balcony, he
closed his eyes, basked in the warmth, and let all worry go for just a moment.
    Brad's voice broke the spell. "You're going through
with it, aren't you?"
    Drake nodded.
    "Come on, then, I'll walk with you."
    They left for Venice Beach, where hordes of people would be
gathered to see the competition—winning would earn him a place in the U.S. Open
in Hawaii.
    This had been Drake's dream since childhood. Each time he
landed in a new foster home, he prayed it would be near