Lust (Vegas Nights #2) - Emma Hart(ang.)

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Notice LUST Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Coming Soon About the Author Books by Emma Hart

LUST (Vegas Nights, #2) Emma Hart

For Angie Doyle McKeon. For your wild passion. For your unparalleled enthusiasm. For your support, endlessly and freely given. For your friendship. For your heart. For the crazy conversation that turned from a playful idea into this entire book. Thank you for being you. You are a bright spot in my life every single day.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Photography: Sara Eirew Photography and Design Cover Design and Formatting: Emma Hart

LUST

Chapter One Perrie Sometimes, a girl just didn’t need a finger up her asshole. Today was that day. Unfortunately, whether I needed it or not hadn’t mattered to the selfish, married guy lying on the bed in the next room. He wanted his finger in my ass, so I had to deal with his finger in my ass. Thank god I made him pay before I fucked him. I wanted to get the hell out of this room—and before he did. I’d been stiffed with a hotel bill before, which basically meant all the degrading bullshit I’d put myself through that evening had been for nothing. I brushed my hair up into a ponytail. The band snapped against my fingers right as the sound of a phone ringing shrilly crept through the crack in the bathroom door. The sounds of a scramble ensued, followed by a very clear, very bright, “Hi, honey!” Yeah. I’d be bright and happy if I were a guy who’d just got my dick sucked by a professional. If I had business cards, that’s what I’d put on them. Perrie Fox: Professional dick sucker. It had a ring to it. As much as I wanted to stand here and cuss

out the guy, I couldn’t complain. One, I was as bad as he was. Two, he’d paid me enough to keep the roof over mine and my daughter’s heads and feed us for the next several days. This was also my cue to leave. I knew how it went. He’d speak to his wife for at least fifteen minutes, telling her all the things he’d done. Then, when she inevitably saw the credit card bill or bank statement—or she’d been online—he’d explain away the cash withdrawal as a little gambling he’d inevitably lost. Welcome to Sin City. Not even Satan wanted half these fucktards. I stuffed my heels in my purse and slipped on my flats. They allowed me to escape through the suite unnoticed. I didn’t know which room the guy was in, but he didn’t hear the click or creak of the door as I made my getaway. Thank god. I’d learned to read people in the few years I’d been doing this. It came in handy—if I had to approach anyone in a busy place, it made it easy to pick out who I could sidle up next to at the bar or the gambling table and get lucky with. I was rarely wrong. I couldn’t afford to be wrong—if I was, by the time I’d realized it, someone else had grabbed the right guy. Anyway, this meant I knew exactly what kind of man the guy I’d just disappeared on was.

Aside from being a sleazeball cheat, he was one those. He’d ask for my number to call every time he was in Vegas since he was here for business. The fact he’d told me, mid-screw, that I was the best hooker he’d ever paid for gave that away. Unfortunately, I’d had virgins give me a better time, so he could suck it. I certainly wouldn’t be doing any more sucking for him. I handed my ticket to the hotel valet. He’d already been slipped a hundred bucks by the guy, whatever his name actually was, so the valet retrieved my car and handed me the keys without a word. He knew exactly what I was. I wasn’t exactly a stranger at any of the hotels in Vegas, but as long as they kept getting business out of me, they didn’t really care that much. Because, let’s face it. This was Vegas. Hookers weren’t exactly unique here. Or, maybe they did care. Maybe they simply realized that for every moment they did care, there was someone else who didn’t. It was whatever to me. I slipped the valet ten dollars and got into my car. It wasn’t the newest car—hell, it was older than my daughter, so I stood out like a sore thumb at this high-end hotel, but no amount of luxury could disguise what I was, and it was just that simple.

No matter how you looked at it or even considered the fact my family owned half the strip clubs in Las Vegas. I always was and always would be a whore, because they were all but dead to me. Stuck in traffic, I tapped my fingers against the top of the steering wheel. The minutes were clicking over on the clock, and I was ever more aware of the fact that if those minutes ticked over the hour, my sitter was going to cost me even more money. Which was a joke in itself, because my daughter, Lola, would be asleep. And if she wasn’t, I needed a new damn sitter since it was a quarter to midnight. Thankfully, I managed to escape down a side road and made it home minutes before the clock hit twelve. I hastily paid my sitter, bid her goodnight, and locked the door as she left. I watched through the window as she got into her car and drove off down the street into the darkness. I rolled my shoulders. I felt dirty—dirtier than normal. There was no other reason than the one that had caused my absence from my house that evening. The man who’d defied what I’d wanted and done whatever he wanted, regardless of how it would make me feel. I should have been used to it. Really, it should have been something so normal to me after all these years. Yet, it wasn’t. It never would be. I was, after

all, the embodiment of the seedy underbelly of the city that could be so beautiful. I was the lie in the fancy dress, the deceit on the arm of the rich businessman, and the humiliating truth of what really went on between the sheets. Tonight, not even scalding hot water of my shower could wash away the regret. The humiliation. The dull ache inside. It never would. *** I hit ‘send’ on the email seconds before I heard the elephant-like stomps as Lola made her way down the stairs. My seven-year-old daughter was many things—bright, inquisitive, imaginative, but quiet was not one of them. “Mommmmmmy!” she shrieked, skidding to a standstill in the doorway next to me. “Right here,” I said, clicking off the browser screen. “Oh.” She turned to look at me. “Is it breakfast time yet?” I glanced at the clock. “Almost. Ten minutes, okay?” She sighed dramatically and threw herself onto the sofa. Her braid was half undone, and her

flop through the air allowed the loose strands of hair to circle her head like a halo. “This is so unfair!” “Welcome to real life.” I snorted and walked into the kitchen. “Oh, Mommy! You don’t know. I’m starving! My tummy is eating itself. Nom nom nom nom.” She made chomping noises and clapped her hands together to coincide with each one. “I won’t survive.” “That’s slightly dramatic, given that all you want is a bowl of cereal.” “And an apple, some grapes, and a juice.” “A bowl of cereal is all you’re gonna get if you carry on speaking to me like that.” I swear, seven-year-old attitude was going to kill me one day. I didn’t much care about how bad teenagers were. They were old enough to know better. Lola, however, seemed to have one setting: Full attitude. There was no ‘off’ button. Sadly. One day, maybe evolution would get around to installing that off button on children. Preferably with ‘sleep’ and ‘mute’ ones to cover all the bases. I’d just pulled a bowl from the cupboard when I felt a small hand tugging on the bottom of my ratty, old NKOTB shirt that I’d worn to bed last night. “Yes?” I said, looking down at my daughter’s angelic face.

“Mommy, please may I have an apple, some grapes, and a juice with my cereal?” She blinked her dark blond eyelashes, staring at me with those big, brown eyes that got me every time. “Of course. Go sit at the table, okay?” “Okay. Thank you!” She ran away, and the scrape of a chair against the hard flooring in the next room made it clear that she’d actually done as she was told. Wow. There was a first. I fixed her breakfast and took it in for her. She’d switched the TV on and was jabbing at the DVD player controller to start the disc. A tiny growl escaped her mouth, and when her lips curled back, I could see her teeth clenched in frustration. “Here.” I set the breakfast down and took the controller. “You just gotta wait, Lo. See? It’s not ready yet.” “I know that, but it just takes so long.” She groaned, picking up her spoon. “Mommy, why is it so slow?” Probably made by a man, I wanted to say. “That’s just how it is,” was my actual response. “Don’t forget you’re sleeping over at Felicity’s house tonight. She’s coming with her mom to pick you up at two.” “How many hours is that?” I glanced at the clock. “Five.”

“So, when the big hand is on the twelve and the little one is on the two?” “Exactly right, chickpea.” I chucked her under the chin. “Are you excited?” “Mhmm,” she said around a mouthful of cereal. Milk dribbled down her chin, and she reached up to wipe it away. “Yuck.” “You’re a messy eater.” I threw her a cloth, turned on her DVD, and headed back into the kitchen. “I’m seven, Mom! I have to be messy. It’s in the rulebook.” “I don’t think there are rulebooks for children except the ones their parents make,” I called over my shoulder. Her sigh was so loud I could hear it perfectly. “Obviously, you don’t know about this one. It’s a secret.” “Oh, fair enough.” Shaking my head, I hit the button on the small coffee machine in the corner. It looked like I was gonna need it. *** I adjusted the top of my stocking, the elastic snapping against my skin as I released it. Sitting on the edge of my bed in front of my mirror, I looked like the complete opposite of the thing I was. All right—so my dress was bunched

around my hips, but still. My hair was perfectly curled, hanging around my shoulders in big, loose ringlets that framed my face well. I’d perfected it over the years, knowing exactly how to style it so I showed off my features the best I could. My make-up may as well have been applied by a professional. My slick, dark pink lip followed the curves of my mouth, while my bright-blue eyes were extenuated by the darkness of the smoky powder on my lids and jet-black mascara curling my lashes. I stood, pushing the skirt of my dress down. Falling to mid-thigh, the floaty skirt highlighted my curves in a way I knew would tempt any redblooded man to look my way at the very least. If only I wasn’t so hollow inside, I might actually think I looked beautiful. As it was, I was nothing more than a plaything to whoever picked me up tonight. I was an expensive plaything, but a plaything all the same. I swallowed that feeling and slipped my feet into a pair of heels. There was a way out this life, I knew that, but there were so many bridges to cross. A hateful family and a father who wasn’t really my father were my obstacles—ones I would probably never be able to get past. I’d made my bed when I got pregnant, and

their insistences upon an abortion I refused to have was when I laid in that bed. This was my life. I accepted it—I had no choice. I’d given myself no choice. I went downstairs, locked the door, and got into my car. Thinking about the ‘why’ always got me. Why did I do this? Why had my life gone this way? Why was I allowing it? Why couldn’t I do better? Maybe one day I would understand that the ‘why’ didn’t matter. I was here, and it was my job, and I had to get on with it. No matter how badly I wanted to change things, unless someone was willing to take that chance on me, there was nothing I could do about it. Not a damn thing.

Chapter Two Perrie The smoky air of casino surrounded me within minutes of me stepping inside it. It was thick and choking, but it was almost normal to me now. Sure, I’d need to scrub it off my skin when I got home, but that was my routine anyway. It’d just need a little more washing to get rid of the smell. I ordered my drink at the bar and looked around the room while I waited. The smoke wasn’t as thick here, so now only could I breathe again, but everything was clearer. Scanning the men sitting alone, I picked out the three who looked as though they would be the easiest targets. One of them I recognized, but the other two just had that look. They glanced around constantly, almost as if they were looking for someone to catch them doing something they shouldn’t be. Those were the ones looking for someone like me. “One strawberry margarita. Fifteen bucks.” The bored-sounded bartender slid a red margarita toward me. “Virgin?” I asked pointing to it. He stared at me. “No.” “I asked for a virgin one.”

He sighed heavily, taking the glass back. I rolled my eyes and leaned against the bar when he turned around. There was nothing like manners, was there? I tapped my fingers against the bar so he knew I wasn’t happy and focused my attention on a man sitting a few feet away from me at a blackjack table. He looked antsy, and he kept glancing at me like a piece of meat. The next time he caught my eye, I smiled. He paused, holding my gaze for a second too long before turning away. “One virgin strawberry margarita,” the bartender said, shoving it toward me. “Are you sure?” “Take a sip and find out,” he said dryly. I did just that. No tequila. “Perfect. It’d be better served without the attitude, though.” I set my purse on the top of the bar and pulled out my wallet. “How much?” “Fifteen dollars.” “Are you in the habit of charging the same for non-alcoholic drinks as you do for alcoholic ones?” “Fifteen dollars, ma’am.” “The drinks menu at the end of the bar says twelve,” a deep, husky voice said from beside me. “And this is on me. I’ll have a Coors, when you’re ready.”

I swivelled around and the second I laid eyes on the person the voice belonged to, I stilled. He wasn’t like the guys who usually bought me drinks, that much was for sure. He had dark hair cut close to his head, and a thick stubble of the same color coated his strong jaw, breaking way for thick, full, pink lips that were currently pursed in mild annoyance. His eyes were a stunning blue with a hint of green at the edges of his irises, and the dark lashes that framed his eyes only served to accentuate the brightness of them. He slid those eyes to me. “Sorry, do you mind?” “Mind what?” I blinked. His lips curved into a smirk, and he scratched at his jaw. His white shirt was rolled up to the elbow, hugging sizable biceps and revealing dark ink on his forearm. “I kinda jumped in here when he was telling you the wrong price, even though you looked like you had it handled.” He was hot, inked, and was asking if I minded that he’d saved me from throwing my drink at the bartender. Have mercy. Not that I would have thrown my drink at him. Well, maybe. I’d learned a thing or ten from watching Real Housewives.

“No. Actually, thank you. I hadn’t looked at the menu for the pricing, I just assumed from experience that a drink minus tequila would be cheaper,” I said. “And it is.” Hot Guy handed the bartender money to pay for the drinks with a, “I’ll have the change back,” and a nod. Well. He received his change and made a show of counting it in front of the guy before pocketing it. “With an attitude like that, who can trust him?” “Good point.” I smiled. “Again, thank you. I appreciate it.” “You’re welcome. I watched you for a moment and thought your husband might come and rescue you.” I stared at him. “My husband? Oh—I’m not married.” I awkwardly waved my left hand at him to prove it. “Single, actually.” “Single?” His eyebrows shot up, and amusement curled his lips. “Huh. I never would have pegged you for a single person. So, my next question is: are you here alone, or with friends?” “Alone. Yourself?” “Couple friends somewhere around here. My best friend is getting married, so we’re here for his bachelor party this weekend. I’m not really a gambler,” he added. “How come you’re here alone?”

Questions. I liked questions. This meant he probably knew exactly what I was and was talking to me for one reason and one reason only. And, hey—saving a lady from a rude ass bartender trying to overcharge her was a good way to start a conversation. “My daughter is at a friend’s house, and there’s only so much silence one person can take on a Saturday night.” “Do you gamble?” I tilted my head to the side. “You ask a lot of questions.” “I’m an inquisitive person.” He grinned, leaning against the bar. “And a beautiful, single woman in the middle of a casino in Las Vegas drinking a virgin cocktail invites a lot of questions.” It did? “It’s more common than you’d think,” I said cryptically. “To answer all your questions, I’m single because I haven’t found the right man yet—” “Ooh, cliché.” “But true.” I sipped my drink. “I like the atmosphere in casinos because I don’t go out often, and I’m drinking a virgin cocktail because I’m not a big drinker. My daughter will come home tomorrow morning and the last thing I want with a hyperactive seven-year-old and her encyclopaedia of questions is a hangover.” He laughed. And god, it was a nice laugh.

Just as low and husky as his voice was. “That makes a lot of sense. I don’t understand it, but hey.” He swigged from his beer. “So, do you just stand here all night?” “I people-watch.” “What do you watch them for?” “My own amusement.” He laughed again. “What are you, a body language expert?” I perched on the bar stool behind me and clasped my drink. “No, I’m just one of those weird people who can sit alone for hours and watch other people have fun.” “That sounds dreadful.” “Clearly, you don’t have children. Otherwise, you’d know that’s what I do every second of my life.” He reached behind him for a stool and pulled it under him to sit down. His dark jeans stretched across thick thighs that had to be just as muscular as his upper body was. He didn’t look like a guy who skipped legday. “Actually, I do have children. Well, a child. My son is eight,” he answered awkwardly. “Ahh, so are you married?” “As far from married as one person can get. He’s with his mom for the weekend.” Hmm. “For the weekend? So, you have

custody?” He nodded. “So, I understand where you’re coming from about having a break.” His smile was wry. “I love him, but there’s only so much baseball even a grown ass man with a love for the sport can take.” I laughed and set my drink on the bar. “I feel the same way about Moana.” “Thankfully, princesses aren’t an issue in my house. Marvel, however…” “Don’t start dissing Marvel. They brought me Chris Hemsworth as Thor.” He sighed. “Always with Thor. My sister and mom are the same.” I shrugged, leaning over to sip my drink. “Then, they have good taste.” “Debateable.” He swigged from his bottle again. “So, people-watcher. What can you tell me about the people in this bar? Who are the people to avoid?” “To avoid?” I laughed. “Well, anyone with a bulge in their pocket and a cigar in their mouth.” “That sounds stereotypical of the mob.” “You’d be surprised,” I said dryly. “I don’t know who you should avoid, but…” Glancing around, I picked a relatively obvious target. “That woman there, by the slot machines. Wearing the purple scarf.” He craned his neck, leaning into me a little.

“Oh, yeah. I see her.” “She’s what we call a lurker. Most of the machines are rigged to pay out every, say, twenty coins,” I said in a lower voice, “so, she hovers, figures out the pattern, and as soon as you give up, jumps on your machine.” He snapped his fingers. “And steals what should be your winnings.” “Exactly. There are a few in every casino. They amble from machine to machine, just waiting for the big win. Actually, wait. That lady in the blue dress? She sat down real quick. Watch her.” “All right.” He kept leaning over until his fingers brushed the top of my back. A shiver tickled down my spine, but I ignored it. We both drank and watched her in silence as she played the machine four times before she got the jackpot. The lights and celebratory sounds went crazy. “Well, hell,” Hot Guy said. “That’s impressive.” “Yep. And very time-consuming.” “Isn’t it illegal?” “Probably not. Morally wrong, possibly.” I turned my face and he was right there. Too close. “Oh, sorry.” He sat back, withdrawing his feather-light touch from my back. “Who else?”

Dear god, if this guy ever took me to his room, he better pay me a ton of money or be a damn good fuck for the amount of time I have to put into this. “That guy in the black and gold shirt. Which should be a crime,” I added as an afterthought. “He’s here with what I think is his mistress. Or a hooker.” “Unless he’s paying her to be his mistress.” “Hence the hooker comment.” I’d been there. “He’s wearing a ring and she’s not, simply.” “How the hell can you see that?” His eyes widened. I shrugged a shoulder. Because I was good at putting men into boxes? That probably wasn’t a good answer. “The way she’s dressed, she’d have a rock the size of a cliff on her finger if they were married,” I said instead. “Look—she’s going over there.” The woman in red sauntered across to the table he was sitting at. Slowly, she slid her arm across his shoulders and bent forward, giving him a full view of his chest. She kissed his cheek before perching next to him, still with her hand on his back. When she flicked her hair over her shoulder, my stomach clenched with recognition. She was no mistress. She was a bought and

paid for whore pretending to be his mistress. “What do you reckon?” Hot Guy asked me. “Mistress or whore?” “Paid to be a mistress,” I answered. “She’s quite obvious. A real mistress wouldn’t be so in his face.” “You seem to know a lot about this.” “I grew up in the…hospitality…business.” Strip clubs counted as hospitality, right? “So, I’m used to the different people. I’ve seen all kinds.” “Hmm.” He finished his beer and put the bottle down. “Do you think he picked her up here tonight?” I shrugged. Probably, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “She could be an escort from an agency. That’s pretty common.” “How many prostitutes do you reckon are in this casino right now?” Boy, that was a loaded question. One that made me slightly uncomfortable. “You know…We’ve been talking this whole time and we didn’t actually introduce ourselves.” I spun on my seat to face him. A slow smile spread across his face. “You’re right, we didn’t. Shall we start over?” “Let’s cut to the chase.” I put my glass down. “You don’t really care how many prostitutes are in this place, because you know exactly who you’re talking to. If not, surprise.”

“I did know.” Thank god for that. “So, kindly, if you’re not going to make my night useful, it was fun chatting with you, but, you know. No hard feelings.” I stood up. Once again, he scratched his jaw, lips still curved. “Maybe I am going to make your night useful. You still didn’t tell me your name.” “Liane Carter,” I lied smoothly, holding my hand out to him. He took it in a firm grip, standing in one quick movement. He pulled me close to him, dipping his head to my ear. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Carter. My name is Detective Adrian Potter, and I’d like you to come with me, please.” Oh. Fuck. “Now, we can do this one of two ways.” He released my hand and touched my waist, making it look to anyone else that we were a couple. “You can put your arm through mine and we can leave quietly into my unmarked car.” “I presume the second option includes handcuffs,” I muttered. “You presume correctly. For the record,” he said, bringing his mouth closer to my ear, “you are under arrest for solicitation of sexual services. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say may or may not be used against you in a court of

law. Do you understand?” “Yes.” The word was no more than a whisper. “How are we doing this? Are you leaving in cuffs or out of them?” “I’ll go quietly.” There was no use me fighting. He’d caught me red-handed, and hey—I’d made a rookie mistake. I’d outed myself first. I was an idiot. Plain and simple. “Take my arm,” he instructed. I did as I was told. All I could hope was that I could get a phone call and ask Felicity’s mom to keep Lola for a little longer. He’d already said I was under arrest, and that meant I was spending my night somewhere other than my own house, and it wasn’t even as though I had spare money to pay any kind of bail. Panic flowered in my chest. I had no idea how I managed to walk calmly beside Detective Adrian Potter as he lead me out of the casino and the hotel, but I did. Nobody even gave me a second look. Would they have if they knew what was happening? If they knew that panic from seconds ago was now a borderline anxiety attack? My chest burned. Nausea rolled through my stomach, and my hands trembled with the fight to keep it all inside. Even my eyes stung, and it took

all I had to blink back the tears that threatened. I’d gotten away with it for so long, I should have known that one day I’d get caught. Detective Potter handed his ticket to the valet without a word. I looked down at my feet and tried to focus on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. It was barely possible, but by the time a sleek, black car rolled up in front of us, I almost had my breathing back under my control. “Your keys, sir.” “Thank you.” Detective Potter took the keys from the valet and opened the passenger door for me. “Liane.” He smiled and motioned for me. This was the weirdest arrest I’d ever experienced. “Thank you.” I forced a half-smile and got in the car. He slammed the door behind me and, when he went to the driver’s side, the valet caught my eye. He offered me a sympathetic smile. I barely shrugged my shoulder in response. Not only would I have to pay to presumably bail my ass out of jail, I’d have an astronomical valet parking fee on top of it. Awesome. We drove away from the front of the hotel. I kept my head down, staring at my purse instead of

out of the window as the silence weighed down on me. We drove for hours, but at the same time, by the time we pulled into a semi-deserted parking lot with dim lights, the clock had only ticked over five minutes since I’d gotten in. Detective Potter killed the engine and got out. I didn’t have long to wonder what was going on, because he yanked open my door, took hold of my arm, and half-pulled me from the car. Then, he put me in the backseat. The childlock clicked on when he shut the door. Now, I felt like a criminal. Seemed a little extreme for someone who only trying to bring a poor, unfaithful bastard an orgasm, but whatever. He fiddled around in the front seat for a moment before he said, “Name?” “I already told you.” “Your real name.” I sighed. “Perrie Fox.” He paused for a moment. “Related to Benedict and Damien?” “Unfortunately,” was my answer. He tapped his pen against whatever he was writing on before turning and looking at me. “Color me surprised.” “Like I said: unfortunately, we’re related.”

“Uncle? Cousin?” “Adoptive father and half-brother,” I answered. “And it’s unfortunate no matter the relation.” “Hm.” He turned back in the seat properly and proceeded to ask me questions. Age? Date of birth? Address? Phone number? Was I with an agency or lone? How long had I been doing this? How often did I do this? Did I have another place of employment? Did I have a criminal record? I answered every last thing he asked me. The only problem was, with every question, my earlier anxiety returned. Every answer I gave made my heart beat a little faster and my breathing came a little harsher. This time, it was uncontrollable. Nothing I could do would stop it. But it wasn’t because I was being arrested—it was because I was alone, and because of that, what would happen to Lola? Felicity’s mom could take her one more night, but what if I couldn’t bail myself out or I was offered a fine and then jail if I couldn’t pay? I didn’t know the penalties or sentences for being a prostitute. I’d been a stupid idiot who’d assumed I’d never get caught. Now, I had been, and I had no idea what would happen with my daughter.

“All right, Ms. Fox. Thank you.” He slapped something shut and put it on the front, passenger seat. “Seatbelt on, and if you continue to come quietly, I won’t need to put cuffs on you.” Gripping the seatbelt, I asked, “Will I get a phone call? I just—like I said, my daughter is with a friend, and I—I’ll probably need to call her parents.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror, his blue eyes dazzlingly bright despite the low light of the parking lot. “That wasn’t you spinning a line?” Oh god, he thought I was lying. I was never going to be able to handle this. I inhaled shakily until my entire body burned with the pressure of it and shook my head. “No, I…” The emotion took me. This time, there was no fighting it. Panic flushed through my veins with the sick force of adrenaline, and the tears I’d successfully held back stung cruelly as they fell down my cheeks. Every attempted breath hitched, closer to hiccups than an actual attempt at calming myself down. My ears even throbbed as blood rushed through my body. The swishing pulse of my own heartbeat pounded through my mind. Somehow, through it, I heard the opening and closing of doors, but my face was in my hands and I couldn’t breathe or think or process or—

“Breathe into this,” a softer, but still husky, voice said to me. “Here. Breathe on my counts.” Paper covered my mouth. Fingers brushed against my cheek as they held the bag in place and slowly counted me down from full-scale panic to hysterical crying to, finally, subdued tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “Here. Tissue.” He handed me a small, pocket-sized packet of tissues. Gratefully, I took them. I had no idea what I looked like, and there was nothing this packet of tissues could do to fix the inevitable mess I was in, but I had wipes in my bag. Whether I could use them or not… “I’m sorry,” I whispered, blowing my nose. “I’m just worried.” He said nothing. “I, um, I have some facial wipes in my purse. Do you mind if I get them?” “I would advise you do before going out in public again.” He reached between the seats and grabbed my purse from the floor of the front seat. The man could stretch. “Here.” “Thank you. I didn’t want you thinking I had a gun or anything.” I pulled the packet from my purse, along with my compact mirror, and examined the damage. Black streaks across my cheeks, lipstick smudged…Yeah, that was about

right. “Do you have a gun?” I shook my head, cleaning my right eye. “I couldn’t hit a dartboard with a meteor. I definitely do not own a gun.” He chuckled quietly. When I was done cleaning my face, he held up a small bottle of water. “Water?” I stared at him. “You’re looking at me like I have two heads.” He was clearly attempting to control his laughter. “It’s only water. I promise I didn’t poison it. It’s sealed, see?” “No, I…Weird situation…” I trailed off. Gathering myself with a quick, jerking shake of my head, I said, “Yes, please. Water would be great.” He handed me the bottle and I opened it—it was actually sealed—and drank. My throat was raw from my attempt at controlling my breathing, so even though the water was warm, it was soothing all the same. “Feeling better?” he asked, eyes fixed on me. “Yes. Thank you.” I recapped the bottle and cleared my throat. “Can we just go and get this over with?” “Good idea.” He got back into the front seat, and I put my seatbelt on like he asked. I trained my attention on the bottle in my hands. I didn’t want to watch my

journey to the police station. Plus, the longer I looked out of the window, the longer the journey would take. How many ways could I explain this when I called Felicity’s parents? I could say it’s a family emergency—a recent reconnection. A sick grandparent from out of town? I didn’t want to lie about that kind of thing, but at this point, everything was a lie. The only truth in my life was my daughter, and all I was doing was tainting her perfect life with my bad choices. This was one step too far, and if I ever got out of this on the other side, something would have to change. Like it was that easy. Like I could make my life change in a heartbeat. I didn’t want my family’s dirty money—they weren’t really my family anyway. But if it meant Lola couldn’t get hurt… “Here.” I looked up. He’d pulled up at the side of a road just feet from the hotel. “Did you forget something?” I asked, looking from the hotel to him. He reached over to the folder and ripped out the sheet. “You’re free to go, Ms. Fox. Unless you need a ride home.” My heart thumped. “I don’t understand.”

The sound of the sheet crumpling into a ball filled the car, and he dropped it on the floor in front of the empty front seat. Turning back to me, he rested his elbow on the back of his seat and his hand on the back of the other. “Listen,” he said quietly, his gaze holding mine steadily. “I’m a single parent, too. I get it. If I arrest you right now, am I helping you? No. I’m making your life harder. Despite the luxury your family lives in, clearly, you don’t live in that, or you wouldn’t be whoring yourself out, would you?” I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t disagree, so I settled for saying nothing. “So, tonight, you’re free to go. Go get your car, go home, then tomorrow, get your daughter and do the thing you’re best at—being her mom. Me throwing you in jail tonight is a waste of everyone’s time.” I wet my lips with my tongue. “I…I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. “Start with thank you.” His lips pulled upward. “Thank you.” I clutched my purse to my stomach as he got out of the car to let me out. I couldn’t believe it. He was letting me go. This was insane. He opened the door and stepped aside, holding it for me to get out. I stepped out onto the curb, straight into his outstretched arm.

“If I see you again, I won’t be so nice.” His tone was light enough, but there was a firmness in his gaze as it met mine that told me I’d gotten lucky tonight. That, next time, I’d be screwed. “I understand.” I hooked my purse over my shoulder. He closed the car door. “Goodnight, Ms. Fox.” As fast as I could, I ran to the valet, paid him, got my car, and got the fuck out of there.

Chapter Three Adrian If anyone had pointed at Perrie Fox and told me she was a whore, I’d have laughed them out of the goddamn building. Hookers didn’t look like her. I knew that. I’d seen a fuck ton of them in the six months I’d been heading up the LVPD’s prostitution task force, and hundreds more in the years before that. The only ones who came close to her kind of good looks had paid for their faces. And their tits, and their stomachs. I’d seen them before the damn surgery. But her? Shit. No, Perrie Fox was in a world she didn’t belong in, that much was painfully clear. Not only were her family rich as shit, but the way she’d reacted when I’d arrested her… Motherfucker. Perrie Fox. Blonde hair. Blrown eyes. Curves for fuckin’ days. I couldn’t get her out of my goddamn mind. Not the way she’d looked standing at the bar while the jackass bartender tried to overcharge her. Not the way she’d laughed and pointed out the people she could recognize in a heartbeat. Not the

way her face had fallen when she realized who I was and what was happening. And I sure as hell couldn’t forget the way she’d broken down on the backseat of my car, sobbing hysterically as she tried and failed to catch her breath. I’d have to be a cold-hearted motherfucker to have gone through with that arrest. ‘Cause as she’d cried, I hadn’t seen a hooker with a disregard for the law. I’d seen a single mother doing everything she could for her child, even if it didn’t make sense to me given who she was. There was no damn way she was going anywhere but back to her house that night. I couldn’t take her away from her daughter. I’d once been where she was—single and struggling and desperate. I wasn’t fucking cruel. The only saving grace from last night was the fact she’d tipped me off about the woman in the red dress. That was the only reason my unimpressed partner wasn’t kicking my ass and telling the chief of police what I’d done. I was the head of the fucking task force designed to rid the city of sex workers—something I was passionate about—yet I’d let one go. Just because she’d cried on the backseat of my damn car. The worst part was that I didn’t regret it.

“A hooker crying in your fucking car doesn’t equal ripping up a report,” Sam said, sipping his coffee. “That bitch in red saved your ass last night. Without her, you know I’d have had to report you to the chief.” I always loved it when he stated the fucking obvious. “Watch your language. Zac’s around. If he hears you, I’ll have to punch you.” “And I’ll owe the kid five bucks for cussing.” “Exactly. It ain’t worth it.” I sat down in the chair opposite him. “Don’t think I don’t know what I did wrong, all right?” “I know exactly what you did wrong. You heard her last name and shit your balls right out of your ass.” He snorted. “I know, language. Can’t help it.” I only just stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “He’s gonna hear you in a minute.” “Stop using your son as a deflection because you’re a giant pussy.” “Nah, Sam. If she’d been hysterical in the back of your car, you’d have let her go, too. Trust me. She didn’t care I was arresting her—she cared about her kid.” “You’re too fuckin’ soft.” “You swear too much.” “Thirty bucks.” Zac slid into the kitchen in a mess of muddy feet and unruly, dark brown curls. He shook his head to push those wild ringlets out of

his eyes and held out a dirty hand to Sam. Sam shook his head. “I count twenty.” “You used the p-word outside of a cat and I added one for luck to teach you a lesson.” I rubbed my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. “If you don’t pay up, I’ll make Dad give you a citation.” Sam glanced between me and Zac. “This kid for real?” “Do I look fake?” “Zac. Attitude,” I said, shooting him a stern look. “Sam, you owe him twenty-five bucks. Call it even. Pay up.” With a sigh, my partner and closest friend dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed my eight-year-old son twenty-five bucks in fives, proof he was fully expecting to pay up. At this point, I wondered who was playing who. Zac had Sam pegged as the serial cusser, but Sam always had a stash of fives in his wallet. It was a mystery I was pretty sure I’d never solve. Zac counted out each note slowly, then repeated it, just to make sure. “Thanks, Sam. Keep swearing,” he added, disappearing from the room in seconds. “Go shower!” I yelled. “I don’t wanna!” came the response. “It’s shower here by yourself or Nan’s gonna

do it for you!” Zac poked his head back in the kitchen door. “Where’s the shampoo?” “Second shelf.” “Thanks.” He left as quickly as he’d briefly reappeared. Of course, he did. There was nothing worse, in his eyes, than his nan bathing him. I’d seen him wash his hair in the sink to pretend he’d showered right before showing up. “That kid.” Sam shook his head, but he smiled. “How do you deal with that every day?” I laughed a little. “It’s just me and him, isn’t it? That’s how. His attitude might suck, but he knows respect.” “Is that why you let the hooker go? Did she know respect?” Sam raised his eyebrows, but there was teasing in his eyes. I gave him a flat, hard look. I wasn’t willing to discuss it. The more I thought about her, the more prevalent she became in my mind. I didn’t fucking care about her, yet I couldn’t escape the image of her crying. Couldn’t escape the questions. How old was her daughter? Didn’t she have family to look after her? What about the kid’s dad? Why was she whoring herself out? Who the fuck was Perrie Fox, really?

I knew the Fox family. I knew Benedict and I knew Damien—shit, everyone did. After all, they owned the places the sex workers frequented, but I didn’t know her. Why? Why was she so different to her family? What set her apart? What was the reason? “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Sam asked, slamming his coffee cup on the table. “I know that look. It’s the same one you got when we were younger and you thought about—” “No.” I cut him off before he could say her name. “We’re not going there. One, Zac hates talking about her, and two, I just found a little bit of peace in my life that doesn’t involve her consuming every second of my thoughts after all these years.” “By saving others like her?” I got up and yanked open the dishwasher. He meant well, but that didn’t change the fact he was a damn bad listener. Some things—some people—in life didn’t always need discussion. Dead or alive, I’ve learned that not everyone is worth being talked about. She was one of those people. She’d been poison for the five years she’d been in my life, and she’d been poison ever since she hadn’t. The only good thing that had ever come from her was my son. “You still don’t speak about her, huh?” Sam was quieter this time.

“His choice,” I answered, referring to Zac. “I ask him from time to time, but he doesn’t want to talk.” Thanks to my sister and her big mouth, he knew more than he needed to about his mother. The things I never wanted him to know, to be precise. Things he never should have known about her. “Makes sense.” Sam’s chair screeched against the hard floor when he stood. He put his mug in the dishwasher next to mine and pushed the rack in. “I’m going to shower and shit. I’ll see you at the station to brief the guys?” Nodding, I closed the dishwasher. “Get there early, wouldja? I have a question I want to ask the chief.” He slid me a questioning gaze. “What?” “Still figuring it out. Can you get there early or not?” “Half hour good?” “Perfect.” The sound of water running to the dishwasher ended the conversation. “Daaaaaad!” Zac yelled from upstairs. “I need a towel!” Sam burst out laughing and headed for the front door. “There’s my cue.” I sighed as he left and went upstairs. A towel was sitting on the end of Zac’s bed, crumpled, but dry and clean, so I grabbed that to give to him.

“Zac?” I knocked on the bathroom door. “I’m throwing it in, all right?” I tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s locked,” came his reply. “Can you unlock it?” “I’ll get cold.” “You should have remembered your towel then, huh?” The shower water cut off, and I heard the tell-tale slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he ran from the cubicle to the door and got the lock. “Uh, Dad?” My stomach hit the floor like a brick. “What?” “I can’t unlock the door.” I banged my head against the door and sighed. “Hold that thought.” *** Three hours later after successfully rescuing my forgetful son from the bathroom, I’d replaced the lock, delivered him to my parents, and managed to get myself ready for work. How I’d done it and still got here early was anyone’s guess. It was a shame there was no time for coffee. I felt as though that or a shot of whiskey was all that would get me through the conversation I

was about to have with the chief. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Sam said, adjusting his shirt sleeve. “Wait—I don’t even know what you’re doing.” “Listen to me.” I turned and grabbed his arm. “Just smile and nod with whatever I say, all right? I’ve got an idea that can get out of the shit we’re in with this assignment. Chief is at the end of his fucking patience with us.” “That’s because Smithson decided to fuck the prostitute on the backseat instead of arrest her.” He had a point. “Still, he’s gonna put an end to our project or move us off it if we don’t get our shit together.” “Have I ever mentioned to you that you let your mouth go wild when Zac isn’t around?” “That’s ‘cause I deal with fuckers like you. Let’s go.” I let go of him and turned down the hall to Chief Sandford’s office to the sound of Sam’s laughter. I wasn’t going to argue with him, because he had a point on that, too. I made every effort to not swear around Zac, but when he wasn’t here, all bets were off. “Sir?” I knocked on the ajar door of the chief’s office. “Detective. Come in.” He waited until we’d both entered before looking up at us over the top rims of his thin glasses. “Detectives,” he corrected

himself. “How can I help you?” I nodded for Sam to shut the door and when he did, took a seat in front of the desk. “As you know, we’ve been struggling with our assignment.” “I have noticed that between ten men, you only seem to be able to pick up one worker a night, if that. Smithson not included,” Chief said dryly. The reminder of our failings was always nice. “I have an idea that might help us.” He pulled off his glasses. Dark, calculating eyes flitted between both me and Sam, filling the silence with thick tension. “All right. Go. You have two minutes.” Fucking hell. “Last night, when I was in the Haas Hotel, I met a woman who, I believe, was a prostitute.” His eyes narrowed, but I pushed on. “We spoke for a while and she was able to positively identify another woman as a sex worker.” “The lady Samuel booked last night?” “Yes, sir,” Sam answered. “Go on.” Chief nodded to me. Sam’s eyes were hot on me as I continued. “Our struggle is successfully finding and identifying our targets. If we have someone to help us…” “You want to bring this woman in as an informant?” “Yes, sir.”

“Paid or unpaid?” “Your decision.” The chief rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I have some questions, Potter. Number one being why in God’s name you let this woman go suspecting she was a prostitute.” Sam shifted behind me. “I couldn’t prove it,” I answered, looking him dead in the eye as I lied. “She excused herself to the bathroom and didn’t come back, which confirmed my suspicions.” “Why don’t you arrest her now instead of using her as an informant?” Goddamn, he was making this hard. “Because she was very amicable, and I don’t believe she was there by choice. I think, given the opportunity, she’d help us.” “So, you’re going to sit around at the damn hotel all night and hope she shows up.” “No, sir. I have her real name. The bartender carded her before I could purchase her a drink.” The second lie rolled right off my tongue, just as smoothly as the first. “Name,” he barked, harsh and impatiently. “Perrie Fox.” He froze. Sam did, too. I hadn’t told him her name, and this was why. I knew the way they’d react on hearing her name. Shit, I’d reacted that way, too.

“Perrie Fox.” Chief said it slowly, as if he were rolling her name around on her tongue. “Fox. Hmm. Are you sure this isn’t why she wasn’t arrested?” I shook my head. “No, sir. Like I said—she went to the restroom and never came back.” He ran his fingers over his salt-and-pepper colored beard and studied me. “I’m sure she did,” he said with all the dryness of a man who knew I was lying. “What makes you think she’ll help you and your team?” I swallowed before I answered. “She has a daughter. She’s either an informant, or I’ll arrest her on the spot.” His eyebrows shot up. “That’s ruthless. I like it.” I forced a smile. “What do you think?” “I think it doesn’t benefit our force at all to arrest a Fox, no matter who they are.” Bitterness tinged his tone. “Convince her to help you, Detective Potter. If you don’t, you’re off the assignment.” My nod was short and sharp. “Understood. I’ll go and visit her tonight.” He waved his hand to dismiss us. We both left quickly, closing the door behind us on the way out. “You know,” Sam said when we got halfway down the hallway, “If he ever gets proof you just

lied to him, you’re in so much shit.” “I know.” I rolled my shoulders and opened the door to my office. “But he already knows. As long as I don’t fuck her on the backseat of a cop car, I don’t think he’s too bothered. She’s too useful for my lies to matter.” I grabbed my keys and phone from my desk. The sheet of paper with her address was still in my car, so I locked my office door once again and with a raised hand in goodbye to Sam, headed out of the station to my car. Would Perrie even talk to me? Maybe she’d take one look at me and decide that she wasn’t going to open the door. I was going in the unmarked car because I didn’t think she’d react too well to me showing up in a normal one. Hell, she wasn’t gonna react well to me showing up at all. I was probably making a stupid mistake, but desperate times and all that shit. I plugged her address into the built-in GPS and took the turn out of the parking lot it told me to take. What was I doing? Aside from the obvious, which was something stupid. The last time she’d seen me she’d been in pieces and completely distraught. Now, I was going to show up at her house and ask her to help me. There was something fucked up about that. What the hell was I even going to say to her?

“Hey, I know I just arrested you last night, but now I need you to help me arrest some of the other people just like you. Good news is, if you do, you won’t be arrested anymore!” Fucking hell. I hadn’t thought this through— which was ironic, given that I’d done nothing but think about her since I’d watched her walk away from my car. The neighborhood she lived in was familiar to me by name only. I knew the drugs squad were called here on a regular basis, and the homicide team had been out here once or twice. It begged more questions about this woman and why she was living a different life to the one she’d been given. She was a goddamn Fox. Worth a shit ton of money. Why was she slumming it one level above homeless in a drug-infested, gang-infiltrated neighborhood? A few minutes later, I turned onto her street. Trash fluttered down alongside the kerb, and I had to swerve slightly to avoid a beer can in the middle of the street. The houses I passed were run down and shoddy, in need of more than a deadbolt for protection. Front lawns were either used as miniature dumping grounds or had nothing but old, tatted footballs and empty alcohol bottles in. It was hard to pick out the family houses from the ones used by addicts and gang members.

Hell, maybe they were all one and the same. Except for Perrie’s house. Just like my shiny, new unmarked car stood out like a sore thumb against the older wrecks and rusted bikes parked on the street and up driveways, her house looked as though it’d been picked up and planted on this street from somewhere better. It wasn’t perfect, but there were potted plants just outside the door, a stark brightness to the dull white the house was painted. An old slide lay on its side in the corner of the yard, next to a bright pink ball. I pulled up behind the car in the driveway and killed the engine. Uncertainty tugged inside me —I needed a deep breath before I could drag myself out of the car. A little face surrounded by wild, blonde curls peered out at me from a downstairs window. No sooner had I made eye contact with her than she disappeared from my view. Well. There went any chance I had of backing out of this decision. Straightening my spine, I approached the house and knocked on the light-blue door. It swung open. Perrie Fox stood in front of me in a loose white tank and tiny red shorts, her hair pulled up into a scruffy ponytail, and her expression could only be described as one thing: thunderous.

She popped a hip and rested her hand on it, a movement that made her tits bounce under the low neckline of her shirt. “Can I help you?” God fuckin’ damn it, no. I wasn’t here to think about her round tits, her full lips, or her wildly long legs. If I were, she most definitely could help me. “Can we talk?” She pursed her lips. “Give me one good reason why.” I pulled my badge out of my pocket and flashed it at her. Hard, narrowed eyes joined those pursed lips. “Give me five minutes.” Then, she slammed the door in my face. Yeah. She was pissed.

Chapter Four Perrie “Lola!” I called, grabbing her ragdoll from the bottom stair. “Bedtime.” “Who’s that man?” Ugh. “Nobody you need to concern yourself with. Bed, please.” “Why is he leaning against our front door?” An excellent question. “Something else that’s none of your business. Don’t make me ask you a third time to get your butt upstairs.” Her sigh echoed through the house, and there was a thud as she jumped off the sofa onto the floor. “Fine,” she whined, tugging on a loose thread at the bottom of her pajama top. “But I just want to know.” “You don’t need to know.” I handed her the ragdoll. “Thank you, pumpkin.” “I want to know.” “I know you do.” Grabbing her shoulders, I steered her toward the stairs. “And I want you to go to bed.” “This isn’t fair!” “Neither is the fact you ate my ice-cream when you’d finished yours earlier. Life sucks.” I

followed her up the stairs. She sighed with every step she took, each one getting louder and making her sound more hard-done-by than the last. Being seven was terrible, clearly. Lola stomped into her room and threw herself on her bed. “Hollywood will be calling to award you your Oscar any moment,” I said dryly. She peered at me out of one eye, not moving a muscle from where she’d faceplanted her pillow. “Mommy, you’re not funny.” “Neither is your attitude, so quit it. Leave it in your sleep.” I pulled her covers over her and kissed her hair. “Night, Lolo.” “Night,” she murmured, rolling over with another small huff. Apparently, nobody told my daughter that the attitude comes with puberty. I was in for a long, rough ride with her. “Mommy?” she said in a small voice. “Uh-huh?” “I love you.” “I love you, too, Lolo.” I shut off her light and closed her door, waiting for a moment for any signs of movement before going back downstairs. To where Detective Adrian Potter was waiting outside my front door…to talk. Talk. Right.

About what? Why he’d let me go? Why I’d cried so hard? Why he’d taken pity on me? I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear his sympathy or his pity or whatever bullshit he was inevitably going to spew at me, but I couldn’t turn him away. He’d made that clear the moment he’d flashed his badge in my face. I didn’t want his judgement, either. Because I knew he was judging me. For what I did, for where I lived, for my whole life. Everyone did. People liked to judge what they knew nothing about. The problem was, they didn’t care enough about who they were judging to find anything out. I brushed my bangs back from my face and took a deep breath. My stomach twisted into nauseating knots, and for a moment, I stood perfectly still a few feet from the door. Everything inside me did not want to open it. Common sense told me I had to, but that didn’t make it any more appealing. Dragging my feet, I forced myself to walk to the door and open it. He was leaning against the side of the house, feet crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the ink that decorated his lower arm and back of his hand.

I ignored that, and the way the material hugged his biceps, and glared at his face. “Hurry up. I don’t have long.” Slowly, he turned his face and his blue-green eyes found mine. “Why? Got somewhere to be?” “No, but my patience is about to run out with today.” I stepped back from the door. “Excuse the mess in the front room. You interrupted bedtime.” “That explains the door slamming.” He shut the door behind him and followed me through. I knelt where Barbie and Ken and co. were, as usual, naked, and picked up two of the dolls. “You call this a mess?” I glanced up. “It is a mess.” “Looks like a plastic doll orgy to me,” he replied. “But if you think this is messy, you should see my front room after my son has tipped out his entire collection of Lego to find one measly brick. You can bet your ass he doesn’t pick it back up, either.” “You do actually have a son? That wasn’t a line to trap me?” “I didn’t trap you.” “You approached me and led me to believe you were a potential client. How is that not trapping me?” I threw Barbie’s brunette friend into the tub a little too harshly. Adrian Potter opened his mouth briefly before closing it again. “You have to understand,

that’s my job.” “Right back atcha.” With the last of Barbie’s apparently unnecessary clothes put away, I pushed the tub into its space on the unit. “Doesn’t matter,” I said, standing up. “It’s done, and I’m very grateful that you did what you did.” He inclined his head slightly. “I’m a single parent. I get it, Perrie. I know how hard this is. I couldn’t live with myself if I’d made your life worse than it already is.” “You have no idea how hard my life is.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my tone. “So, don’t stand in front of me and pretend that you do.” “With all due respect—” “Which means you’re probably going to offend me.” “—You’re a Fox. I don’t understand how your life can be hard.” Resting my hands on my hips, I fixed him with a glare. “Not all people, even members of the same family, are created equal. And if you’d paid any attention to what I’d said in your car, you’d know that Benedict Fox is my adoptive father, not my biological one. Thank God.” Not that my biological bastard of a father was much better. Was he sick of the walls of inside a jail cell yet? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know. I didn’t care. Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Understood.

Now, I don’t have all evening, but I have something I’d like to talk to you about.” Right. The reason he was standing in front of me and annoying me in the first place. “Then sit down.” I waved toward the sofa, taking a seat on one end. He lowered himself onto the cushion at the other end and turned to face me. “Last night, at the casino, you easily picked out that the lady in red was a prostitute.” I winced. “You arrested her, didn’t you?” “Not me personally, but yes, we did.” He flattened his tie against his stomach. “A friend of yours?” “I’d never seen her in my life. Educated guess.” “I was hoping you’d say that.” Damn him for piquing my interest. Damn me for being interested in the reason why. “Why?” I said slowly. “What does that matter?” He linked his fingers and stretched, staring at me. I could almost hear the cogs of his mind turning in the silence as he thought about what to say. What was he thinking? Why did my ability to pick her out matter? “I’m the head of a taskforce designed to cut down on sex workers in the city.” Adrian finally spoke, but it was slow, as if he had to think about

every single word he was saying. “We’ve been running for a few months with some success, but lately, we’ve struggled.” Careful. Calculated. That was the continuation of his words. “If we don’t pick it back up, I, for one, am in some serious trouble. Not to mention the entire operation could be disbanded or assigned to another department.” “Okay…I don’t understand what this has to do with me.” “We could benefit from having someone on the inside who can help us.” Was he—what? His gaze flitted over my face, searching for a reaction I wasn’t willing to give him. “If you agreed, there would be benefits for you, of course. Immunity from arrest. Anonymity both on the case and in court.” “You want me to be an informant for you?” Was I hearing him correctly? “Yes.” “In exchange for immunity.” “Yes.” “Are you paying me?” “That would be for you to discuss with Chief Sandford.” I folded my arms. “And what if I don’t want to?”

Adrian shrugged a shoulder, but he tapped his belt…right where the handcuffs were. “You’ll arrest me if I don’t help you?” “You’re a self-confessed prostitute, Perrie. The chief already isn’t entirely on board with my plan, but we both get what we want. I get to improve the records of the boys working with me, and you don’t have to worry about leaving your daughter alone.” “That’s a low blow.” I stood up and walked away from him. What he was saying made sense, but I had friends like me. All right, maybe they weren’t friends, but they were kindred spirits. Would I be expected to have them arrested? “I’m not above hitting you where it hurts.” He’d followed me into the kitchen. “It’s your choice. You can come into the station and discuss with the chief when your daughter is in school and set forth any demands you might have. He’s a little more reasonable than I am.” “This sounds like an elaborate plan to get me into a police station without arresting me. Feeling guilty for letting me go last night?” “Not at all. As far as the chief is concerned, I didn’t. You visited the restrooms and escaped because you saw me for what I was.” That made me pause. He’d lied to his boss about what happened? Why?

“Why would you lie about that?” I pushed my bangs from my eyes and peered over my shoulder at him. “Because I don’t want to arrest you.” His biceps stretched against the material of his shirt when he folded his arms over his chest. “If I wanted to, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?” “How can I trust you?” I turned, mirroring his pose. “Your entire job is to rid the city of people like me. I’d be walking into the lion’s den and offering myself to the vultures if I did as you say.” “It’s your choice, baby. Help or get yourself arrested.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta go. If you’re not at the station by three p.m. tomorrow, we’ll assume you’re choosing the latter and a warrant will be served for you. You got that?” Stony-faced, I said, “If you call me ‘baby’ again, I’ll ram my fist down your throat.” “Threatening an officer of the law probably isn’t your smartest idea.” His lips tugged to one side as his eyes sparked with silent laughter. “That was no threat.” The smirk that crossed his goddamn handsome face swiftly morphed into a full-blown grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Perrie.” “You sound awfully sure of that.” I followed him to the front door.

He yanked it open and, when he was standing just outside, turned to face me. The smile was gone and so was the laughter in his eyes. Replacing it was a smug, self-assured, arrogant glimmer that sent annoyance dancing down my spine. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated. Then, after a quick up-and-down glance of my casually but scantily clad body, he tipped an invisible hat and made his way to his car. I stood and stared after him as he started the car’s engine and pulled away. His words mulled around in my mind as his car disappeared. Was it worth what he was offering me? What the LVPD were? Could I trust him? Could I trust them? My family had instilled in me a healthy dose of fear regarding the police, especially after my sister died. The clashes between my parents and the force had been legendary in my then-social circle. I avoided them at all costs. At least, I tried to. That seemed to be near impossible. I didn’t have many friends, but I sure as hell had dealt with enough enemies in my life thanks to my father. If Adrian Potter was an enemy, surely it was better to keep him close. I closed the front door with a sigh and wrapped my arms around my body. My thumb brushed the side of my left boob, and I paused in

the hall. My boobs felt awfully free. I glanced down. I wasn’t wearing a bra. And my nipples were shouting that to the world. Mother. Fucker. It was obviously time for bed. Tomorrow had to be better, right? Right. *** After double and triple checking that I was wearing a bra, I drove to the police station. I’d somehow had a full night’s sleep and successfully avoiding any and all questions about “the strange man in the black car” from one very inquisitive little girl. After enough insistence from me, Lola had eventually decided over a bowl of apple slices and grapes that it was a Secret Service agent who was taking me to marry Prince Harry and we’d move to London and play with “the Queen’s short, fat puppies.” Nobody could accuse her of being a pessimist, that was for sure. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’d already called ahead to make sure the chief of police knew I was coming so I’d be in and—

hopefully—out by the time Lola got out of school. That made it so I couldn’t back out. I had to go. I had to walk into the lion’s den with my demands, just like Adrian had said. I could only hope I wouldn’t be eaten alive. As I pulled up outside the station, I felt like I was starting a joke. A hooker walks into a police station… I checked my make-up in the mirror. Picking my clothes had been the hardest. Most people in there wouldn’t know who or what I was, but if I’d gone too conservative in my clothes, then it would have looked like over-compensation to those who did. All the thinking had made me tired. I needed a damn nap, but here I was, walking into the police station. Almost right into Adrian Potter, who was standing in the reception area…Who I almost didn’t notice because I wasn’t paying any attention. “Whoa.” He laughed, resting his hands on my upper arms. “You know your eyes are for watching where you’re going, right?” I stepped back, shrugging his hands off me. A lingering tingle stayed on my skin where he’d touched me. “Sorry. I’m in my own little world. Are you going somewhere?” His lips pulled to the side. “I’m taking you back. Chief isn’t quite ready for you yet. You can

wait in my office. Luce, do you have her badge?” “Sign here first.” A woman, presumably Luce, slid him a clipboard and a pen. Adrian handed me the pen and held the clipboard. I signed my name and dated it on the correct lines before handing it back. “Here’s her badge.” Luce handed him a clipon badge proclaiming me to be a ‘Visitor,’ with a sniff of distaste. “Thanks, Luce. Perrie, come with me.” Adrian nodded his head toward a door. He punched in a code and held it open for me to pass through. The entire time, Luce’s hard gaze followed me, and the eerie sensation of her watching me only disappeared when Adrian pulled the door shut. “Sorry about her. She’s not exactly the friendliest person in the world. And she’s still pissed I turned her down six months ago.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing. “Humble. An admirable quality in a man.” He flashed me a crooked grin over his shoulder. “My office is right here. Chief shouldn’t be too long. We had a homicide in the early hours, so he’s working overtime.” “I can come back.” “What’s the point in that?” Adrian closed the door behind him and motioned for me to take a seat. “A rushed and under pressure Chief Sandford

is the best Chief Sandford. He’ll agree to anything.” “If anyone asks, I’ll make sure to tell him you said that.” He laughed. “You do that. He’s well aware of that fact. He’s probably gonna agree to whatever you want anyway. He’s getting sick of the boys not being able to hook any hookers.” “Sounds like a bachelor party game. Hook the Hooker.” “I think that’s the way some of them do it. A game.” “That’s probably why you’re not getting serious results.” Adrian perched on the edge of his desk. “You’re probably not far wrong. Which is why we need someone who can help us.” “I still don’t understand it,” I admitted, folding my hands in my lap. “You’re the ones who are trained. Are you seriously telling me that a bunch of guys who live and work in Las Vegas can’t recognize a hooker when they see one?” He paused. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. You have the bonus they don’t, and that’s the ability to put yourself in their shoes, because you’ve lived it for so long.” I didn’t understand how or why these people who were trained officers were doing a job they obviously couldn’t do, but I didn’t get a chance to ask, because at that moment, the shrill ring of

Adrian’s phone cut through the air. He leaned over the desk. “Detective Potter…. Yes, sir. We’ll be right there.” He put the phone back on the cradle and stood up. “Let’s go. Chief is waiting for us in his office.” My stomach flipped. The nerves were doing some kind of tap dance in the pit of my belly. Not that it mattered—I was already here, if there was a trap, I’d fallen for it. Except it didn’t feel like a trap, but still. The skeptic in the back of my mind said it was. I beat down the butterflies and followed him through the building, ignoring the curious glances of those who passed us. Did these people know who I was? Why did I care? I really, really needed a nap. Adrian knocked on the door and followed it up with a, “Sir?” “Come in. Make it quick,” a harsh voice responded. “Ladies first.” Adrian swept an arm toward the now open door. I swallowed hard and stepped into the office. Chief Sandford glanced up. Dark amber eyes peered through thin, rounded glasses, piercing me firmly but not unkindly. “Ms. Fox. Lovely to meet you.” “Hi,” I said.

Could I have been any more awkward? Adrian coughed back a chuckle and shut the door. “Ms. Fox, this is Chief Sandford. Chief, Perrie Fox.” “We’ve established that, thank you, Detective. Ms. Fox, please take a seat.” He waved his hand toward a chair and obediently, I sat. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for a long conversation, so here is my offer. The department will pay you twenty-five dollars an hour, plus any costs for a uniform, i.e., disguises, wigs and so forth.” He dropped his attention to the file in front of him. That was a cut. A big cut. “When would I be…needed?” I asked hesitantly. “Every evening. At least six days a week.” “For how long?” “Two to five hours each night.” “Make it five hours a night, six nights a week, and pay for my babysitter. Then you’ve got a deal.” Adrian’s eyebrows shot up. “A shrewd negotiator. I’d expect nothing less from a Fox.” He peered over the top rims of his glasses. “That seems fair to me. As long as we get two to three arrests every single night, that deal will be upheld.” No pressure, then.

“Done.” The word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Needless to say, Ms. Fox, even with immunity, I expect you to cease your work immediately.” I nodded in agreement. It was still a pay cut, but it was enough to live on and this gave me enough time to find a job. Even if I only had two weeks… In the short-term, it got me out of the thing I was trying to escape, so there was that. “Excellent. Detective Potter, can you arrange everything with Ms. Fox? I have to get back to work.” Just like that, we were dismissed. Adrian led me out of the room and back through the building to his office. There, he shut the door and locked it behind him. He whipped a form out from one of the drawers on his side and handed it to me. “Fill that out,” he said, sitting down. “You’ll be needed tonight, so if you need to, call a sitter.” “Tonight?” I blinked. “How quickly do you think I can get a sitter?” “Family?” he said. “Her dad? A friend? How you usually do it. Make it regular.” He moved his belt over, clinking the cuffs that were attached to it. Deliberate or not, it worked. I filled out the form, and with a promise to

meet him here at six-thirty, left, armed with a mission to find a sitter.

Chapter Five Perrie It didn’t happen often, but life was kind to me. My regular sitter somehow was free, apparently under the assumption she’d be minding Lola as normal tonight anyway. I’d obviously forgotten to cancel her after I’d been arrested and ‘quit.’ I didn’t want to say it was a coincidence, but it was definitely a nice surprise. The butterflies that fluttered through my stomach weren’t unlike the ones from earlier. They were rampant and heavy, wild and sickly, making the nerves that came with them feel like they were ten times worse than they were. How was I going to get away with this without a disguise? I hadn’t had time to come up with one. I wasn’t exactly unrecognizable. There were places in this city I wasn’t allowed to go, places I was banned from because of what my job was. Had been. What it had been. I wasn’t that person anymore. With any luck, I never would have to be again. Those were points I’d have to bring up with Adrian when I saw him. How was I supposed to

pretend to be someone I wasn’t? How would he get me into these places I’d been banned from? I sighed heavily as I walked into the police station. Luce was gone, and after quickly showing my new ID card to the guy behind the counter, I punched in the code for the door and slipped through. I was so out of place here. Everyone around me was wearing suits or uniforms, and here I was, tentatively making my way through the building wearing jeans, a fancy shirt, and heels. All I was told was to show up looking like I was meant to be in a casino. Awkward signs directed me to the briefing room I was supposed to be in. All right, I asked for help. I had assumed Adrian or somebody would meet me and show me where to go, but I’d been wrong. He was, however, waiting outside the briefing room for me. “Feeling okay?” he asked, his blue-green eyes searching mine as I stopped in front of him. “Uh, not really.” “Great—you have to say a few words tonight on how to spot a hooker.” “Sounds like a weird, slumber party game,” I muttered. He laughed, running his hand through his hair. “You’re not wrong. Do you think you can do

that?” Not. At. All. “If I really have to. Will they know who I am?” I fidgeted on the spot. “Well…” He hesitated. “We used some artistic license. As far as they’re concerned, you’re a former prostitute who has agreed to help us clean up the city’s tourist hotspots.” “Technically speaking, that’s correct.” “There you go, then. Let’s get started.” He shoved open the door to the briefing room before I had a chance to eke out my disagreement with this entire situation. “Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Perrie. She’s a former sex worker who has graciously dedicated her evenings to us to help us identify our targets.” Adrian shot me a look that told me to move my ass, so I shuffled into the room. At least a dozen pairs of eyes pinned themselves on me, and I froze halfway to where Adrian was standing. Thankfully, Adrian obviously recognized this, because he walked toward me and touched a hand to my upper back. “Perrie will be undercover with me every night. She’ll be working both as an insider and as a potential client for male prostitutes, since we’re short on female associates for this case.” I was? “Her expertise will be available to us all, and

she’s going to give us all a few insider tips on the things we should be looking out for when identifying our targets.” Adrian tapped a finger against my shoulderblade, and it took all my strength not to turn to him and look at him as if he’d lost his mind. What the hell? I didn’t agree to this. It was instinctual. I couldn’t have a single person identify a hooker from a goddamn virgin without a gut feeling, and now I had to tell twelve guys how to do just that? Fuck. My. Life. With a cactus. There was no gentle way to handle this. “Hi.” The word left me shakily and uncertainly. “So, I guess it might seem obvious, but really pay attention to the way couples interact with each other. If they aren’t a genuine couple, they’ll either have an air of awkwardness about them or they’ll be overly touchy-feely. If you’re looking for someone before she finds a client, keep a special eye out on single women who don’t talk to anyone or seem to have any friends around them. The bar is a good place to start and monitor that. It’s a good spot to keep an eye on other people and pick out potential clients. It’s also a perfect meeting place because you can always find your client there.” I glanced over at Adrian.

He nodded. “Right. Focus on the bar and anyone who doesn’t have interactions with friends or anyone around them. Perrie will be with me at the Roma Hotel. Because of this, we’ll probably make the first arrest, then we’ll make our way around to everyone else. Chief is pissed, so be extra vigilant and let’s get a good result tonight. Let’s go.” *** “Are you all right?” Adrian looked over the car at me. “You haven’t said a word since we left the station.” I sighed, leaning my head right back on the seat. “This feels…wrong, that’s all.” “Because you’re effectively giving me a direct line to your friends?” “They’re not my friends,” I said, looking out of the window despite his numerous glances my way. “They’re people I understand.” “I get that.” “No, you don’t. I don’t think you get it at all.” “Then help me to.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Why? Do you expect me to believe that you’ll suddenly understand and turn this car around? Because you know as well as I do that you won’t.”

“This is my job.” “And you’re stopping people from doing theirs.” “Then I’ll correct myself: This is my legal job.” Whatever. “If you stopped for a second to think about the fact that probably fifty percent of the women you arrest aren’t doing it because they want to, then you might view what you’re doing a little differently.” “All due respect, Perrie, it doesn’t matter to the law if they want to do it or not. They are. They’re making the decision to work illegally against the county laws. It’s not like prostitution isn’t legal in other counties in Nevada.” “That might be so, but there isn’t the work there compared to here. If you have a child or a family to support, you’re gonna go where the work is.” “I suggest trying Walmart or somewhere like that.” I snapped my head around to look at him. “Not everyone in this industry has a choice. If you think they’re all selling themselves for fun on a Saturday night, you’re sorely mistaken.” “Then tell me more.” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. “Explain to me why they’re doing it.” “So you can arrest them anyway?”

“No, because maybe there’s another problem in the city we’re not aware of. Are there trafficking rings working under this guise that we don’t know about? Are they secretly porn stars recruiting unwitting men? Is there a problem we can solve? Get to the bottom of it?” He shot me a glance once again. “Are they like you and is there anything we can do, any charities or safe places we can send them instead?” “Gee,” I said dryly, “You almost sound as though you’ll let them go if they cry like I did. Which would be ridiculous, because I know you have a quota of whores to collect like little trophies, so don’t pretend like you actually care about it.” His jaw twitched, and the skin over his knuckles went completely right. “Don’t assume I don’t care. I asked for this job, not because I’m a spiteful asshole who wants to deny people the opportunity to support their families, but because I want to help them.” “Throwing people in jail doesn’t help them. It costs them the money you won’t let them earn.” “This conversation is going nowhere. You can believe what you want to believe, but us arguing like a pair of teenagers isn’t going to help us do what we’re here to do.” “I don’t want to be here. I only am because you blackmailed me.” “That wasn’t blackmail.”

“For an officer of the law, you have a skewed idea of what that is. You told me I had two choices: work with you or be arrested by you. That’s blackmail.” “You seem real certain you know the ins and outs of that law.” “I’m a Fox,” I said dryly. “I’ve probably seen more blackmail than you have, and I haven’t spoken to my family in seven years.” He raised an eyebrow at that. Thankfully, he didn’t push it. “Perrie, us fighting isn’t going to make this work. The quicker we get our quota and we can do this without you, the quicker you can go back to your life and get a proper job.” “You assume I haven’t been trying? Like I said, not all of us want to sell our bodies.” “But you do.” “Doing and wanting are different things. Sometimes I let my kid eat cookies for breakfast. Doesn’t mean I want to let her.” His lips twitched as we pulled into the hotel valet area. “If we can’t get along, our cover is blown. To convince people we’re a couple, we have to pretend to like each other at the very least.” “But I don’t like you, and I don’t want to like you.” “I’m not that bad once you get to know me.” I blinked at him. “I would rather get to know a scorpion poised to kill me than get to know you.”

For some reason, that made him laugh. A deep, husky laugh that sent shivers up my arms, making the hairs stand on end. “God. You’re so adorable.” He got out of the car before I could process his words. “Yes, thank you,” I heard him say to the valet as I got out and shut the door. Adrian held his arm out for me. I stared at it and then him. “Take my arm,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. The eyes of the valet hovering on us questioningly made me move. I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow, standing as close to him as I could bear. Which wasn’t very close. Anyone watching us would think— Never mind. Adrian closed the few inches between us and leaned his head down as we walked into the airconditioned lobby of the hotel. “Nobody here knows who we are,” he whispered, his mouth almost touching my ear. “Swallow your annoyance for a damn hour and pretend, would you?” “I don’t want to.” “Tough shit.” He held his arm closer to his side, trapping my hand against him. “You agreed to this, regardless of how you think I made you do it. The other option is always available to you.”

“You’re a bastard.” “Only when I’m dealing with a stubborn, insufferable woman.” “Thank you. I take great pleasure in knowing I’m pissing you off.” He laughed again. “Keep that pleasure for the next hour and people might believe that you’re my girlfriend.” “Idiots,” I muttered, glancing around as we entered the casino. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the smoky, stale air that enveloped us only a few steps inside the vast area. I coughed as the thickness jolted me for a moment. Adrian rested his hand over mine on his arm and guided us away from the worst area, over to where the bar was surrounded by clearer air. “Worst part of this job—going home smelling like an ashtray,” he said under his breath. I wasn’t going to argue it. But if that was the worst part of his job… “I’d say getting a load full of semen on your face beats that.” He froze. I froze. Whoops. I didn’t mean to say that. He blinked his bright eyes at me for a moment before he smirked. He let my arm go, only to wrap his around my back and grip the edge of

the bar, trapping me right against him. “Think about this on the bright side,” he said into my ear. “The worst part of your job tonight is that you’ll go home smelling like an ashtray.” “Stop talking sense.” My face dipped down, my head tilting toward his. “It doesn’t suit you.” He laughed, lifting his head and flagging the bartender. “One Budweiser and a virgin strawberry margarita, please.” She nodded. “You got it.” I leaned back, which unfortunately was onto his arm, and looked at him. “You remembered what I drink.” He winked. “Mine is the same.” “Same what? A margarita in beer bottle? “No. Non-alcoholic.” “But you just—” He pressed a finger to my lips and bent down once again. “The bar workers all know us. If I ask for a beer, they know to bring me a non-alcoholic one.” “So, the one you had when you saved my ass from the asshole tender…” He nodded, pulling back. “It’s also why he shut up pretty quick.” Our drinks were brought over. Adrian paid, then grabbed a bar stool for me to sit on. I perched on the edge of it as he came and stood behind me, coming in close and resting one arm along the bar

between my glass and me. My spine straightened. “Relax,” he murmured in my ear. “I need you to be able to see the casino floor. I need people to think we’re together. I promise I won’t touch you inappropriately.” Not that it would be a hardship. Wait. No. I wasn’t thinking about that, not even with his hard chest pressed against my back and his breath fluttering across my cheek. I was here under duress, potentially putting someone through the same, distressing emotions I went through the other night. I wasn’t here to think about the hot cop behind me. I took a sip of my drink and cast my gaze out over the casino, like I had so many times before. Except this time I wasn’t looking for someone looking for me. I was looking for someone trying to avoid the man behind me. I hoped whoever I was looking for was smarter than I was. That they could sense they were being watched or were smoother than many I knew. The saddest part was the people we were more likely to arrest were the new girls. The ones who were desperate enough to skip from stripping to sex just to pay their way. The people the LVPD were really interested in were smart enough to not get found out. Like I

had been until my own frustration had trapped me. The guilt crept through me like poison. I already recognized one woman by the blackjack table. In a casino as busy as this one was, there would be several more. A quiet half an hour and the emptying of my sadly non-alcoholic drink passed before I saw it. The woman in her thirties, draping herself over a gentleman at the poker table. She tickled her fingers over his shoulder, pushing herself against him as she whispered in his ear. He laughed, wrapping an arm around her. His hand crept across her thigh and tugged up her dress. Nobody noticed—of course they didn’t. They didn’t care. They didn’t need to notice. But I did. I didn’t know who either of them were. Maybe she was just a mistress. Maybe our paths had never crossed. Maybe she’d even come with him. Those things all made it easier. I turned into Adrian and with my eyes down, said, “Poker table. Blue dress. Black hair. The guy with the light blue shirt.” “You sure?” came his gruff reply. I nodded. My throat was swollen, the lump there too thick to speak past. And as he pulled out his phone, I felt nothing but the acute sense of betrayal on her behalf.

What if she had a child? What if she had an ill mother? What if, what if, what if? “Let’s go.” Adrian pushed away from the bar and pulled me up. I glanced at the table. “They’re still there.” “You want to watch them be arrested in about twenty seconds?” He flattened his hand on the small of my back, holding me against his hard body. I shook my head. No. I didn’t. Not at all. “Then let’s go.” Halfway out of the casino, with his arm still around my waist, I peered back across the room, just in time to see the guy swing for an officer and get himself cuffed for his effort.

Chapter Six Adrian She looked like she wanted to be anywhere other than with me. Not that I was taking it personally. I was surprised she hadn’t thrown up when she’d pointed out our first arrest of the night to me. I didn’t believe it was the first person she’d noticed, more that it was the first she felt comfortable mentioning. Same with the second arrest of the night. My boys were delighted, but she was getting quieter and quieter as each minute ticked on. I doubted we’d get an arrest on our current attempt. My gut told me she was done for the night. That she’d help, but she’d do so on her terms and her terms alone. It annoyed me, but at the same time, I understood why she was so against this. If her role were reversed with someone else and she ran the risk of being outed without an escape—well. She wouldn’t have got as lucky as she did with me. Lady One and Lady Two, as we’d taken to calling them, were both at the station. They hadn’t gotten lucky. They were the price for Perrie’s freedom, and I was pretty sure that was the other reason why she was so reluctant to do it.

Unfortunately for her, that was the way this was. If we had to have some push and pull until she finally did it properly, then that was fine. I’d play her game the hesitant way. As long as we were making arrests, that kept our taskforce—and potentially our jobs—safe. I glanced over at her across the table. Her eyes were flitting side to side, but she wasn’t really seeing anything. They were shiny but unfocused, an act that said she was looking without ever paying attention to what it was she was looking at. It gave me a chance to look at her. Really look at her, under the guise that I was making sure she was doing her job. I was, but still. There were worse things I could do that sit opposite Perrie Fox and enjoy the view in front of me, even with the knowledge that she was untouchable. Her blond hair hung just above her shoulders, the ends of the loose waves tickling her skin. Wide, dark eyes looked everywhere but at me, and the lashes that framed them were lightly coated with mascara, just enough to darken them to a stunning black that looked almost natural. High cheekbones were highlighted with pale pink, making an almost perfectly curved path down to her full, dark pink lips. A tiny mole decorated the corner of her mouth, and another sat partially hidden on her opposite cheek by the way her bangs

swept over her forehead and across her face. She was, simply, beautiful. The kind of beauty that needed no work or correction. The kind of beauty that could roll out of bed without washing her hair for four days, wearing yesterday’s makeup, and spaghetti sauce on a shirt of questionable cleanliness, and still make you look twice for all the right reasons. But maybe that was less about her looks and more about her. Despite all the torment she clearly faced, beneath it was a strange kind of peace. One that gripped on to everyone around her. She was off-limits. Untouchable. We were on opposite sides. I upheld the law while she flaunted it. She fucked for money while I took down the people who did the very same thing. Why had I saved her? Why hadn’t I sent her to a goddamn cell? Looking at her right here, right now, it was obvious. It wasn’t because I felt bad for her. It wasn’t because she was a single mom. She was broken. At some point in her life, something or someone had broken her. It took one broken person to see another, and here I was, in the middle of a crowded, smoky casino, one step away from a motherfucking cliché, seeing her.

Seeing the brokenness that she hid, the heartbreak she tried to conceal, and all the lies for the reasons why she was doing what we doing. And fuck, I couldn’t have her, but I wanted to strip all those layers away and find out what why she was the way she was. Why the heir of one of Vegas’ richest families, a legitimate dynasty, had been selling herself for sex and hadn’t spoken to her family in years. Whose fault was it? Who was to blame? What the hell had happened to her to make her this way? “Stop staring at me like there aren’t another million places to look,” she snapped, finally bringing her attention to me. “I’m not a bedtime snack.” I wouldn’t complain if she were. “I’m simply trying to figure you out,” I replied. “Grab a pen and paper. You’ll need to take notes. There are a hell of a lot of pieces that need putting together.” Raising my eyebrows, I fought the smirk that willed its way onto my lips. “I like puzzles. Unless my son is in charge of them. In that case, I’d rather swim with crocodiles.” “Now, you’re just stating the obvious.” She sighed, playing with the corner of a napkin. “I can’t

see anyone here. At least, they’re not as obvious as you.” I let the smirk go, and my lips curved up. “All right.” Perrie blinked at me. “All right? Is that all you have to say?” “You don’t want to hear all the things I have to say to you.” “I assure you that I do.” “And I’m assuring you that you don’t. If we’re done here, let’s go. I have paperwork to do.” She glanced at her watch. “Fine. I suppose this has been worth my time.” I took her hand in mine before she’d even stood up and all but dragged her out of the casino. I hadn’t spent that much time staring at a woman in a while. I hadn’t had time—all the women I’d been focused on were potential sex workers. And fuck if I didn’t wish she weren’t one of them. If she weren’t, I didn’t doubt I’d have given her my number before I walked away. Now she had it—and not the one I wanted her to have. I dug the valet ticket out of my back pocket and handed it to the valet. He nodded and briskly walked off to get my keys and my car. Perrie didn’t say a word as she stood beside me, waiting for it to show up.

When it did, I took the keys and opened the passenger door for her. She hit me with her gaze for a split second before she got in and closed the door herself. Of course she did. I walked around the car and got in, shoving the keys into the ignition with a little too much vigor. The engine roared to life with one twist of the key as far as it would go, so I slammed my door and yanked my belt right across me until I clicked it into place. Her glance of surprise didn’t register until I’d pulled away from the hotel and almost reached the main road. Frustration nudged at me. Why? Why was I so frustrated? There was no reason for it. Except for the woman sitting across the car from me—the first woman I’d wanted in a long time, and she’d turned out to be so much my polar-opposite that there was no way the gap between us would ever be bridged. I’d been there, after all. With someone like her. She’d given me the greatest gift and fucked me up at the very same time. I gripped the steering wheel tightly. My knuckles whitened with my tightening grip, but it kept me focused as I pulled out into the traffic on

the main road. Ever since I’d met Perrie, my mind had slipped more and more into the past. I didn’t want to think about the past—I wanted to make a fucking difference to the here and now. To the people whose lives I could change by my choices. The blond bombshell opposite me might have seen me as the biggest fucking asshole known to man, but she knew nothing. She said I didn’t understand her life, and she was right. But she didn’t understand mine, either. That was something she’d never be able to get. Why people like her—why people who did what she did affected me the way they did. That was a thing she’d never understand and something I had no intention of sharing. I pulled into my space at the station after a few minutes of stony silence. Without a word, Perrie got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. I yanked the key from the ignition and hurried out after her before she reached her own car. “So, you don’t want to get paid tonight?” I raised my eyebrow, leaning on the back of her car. She paused. “I’m getting paid nightly?” “Probably not permanently, but for the first few days. Because, you know…” “Of the way I normally get paid,” she finished. “Right.”

“Come on inside. I’ll see the chief and get your check.” I motioned to the door, touching my other hand to her back and guiding her in the direction of the station. She allowed me to lead her in, and when we got through the door, I left her in my office. She’d returned to her silence, so I left her to it. All our short conversation had done was reminded me of how very different we are. The chief had finished for the day, but he’d left a slim, brown envelope on his desk with a note that it contained a check for Perrie. I guessed he figured after the second arrest we were done for the night and estimated what she was owed. I found her sitting on the chair opposite my desk when I walked back into my office. “Here.” I held out the envelope for her. “Your check is in there.” She took the envelope quietly. Using her pinky finger, she ripped through the seal. She peered down into it with a raise of her eyebrows before tucking it into her purse. “What? Something wrong?” Perrie shook her head. “Not at all. Thanks. Do you need me here tomorrow, or can I meet you wherever we need to be?” “Let me check tomorrow. I’ll call you. Same time, though.” “Okay. Thanks.” She smiled and stood up,

sliding her purse strap up over her shoulder. “If I don’t answer, leave a message.” She headed for the door, but I shot my hand out toward the handle and grabbed hold of it before she could. The action stopped her in her tracks, and she slowly moved her attention from the handle to meet my gaze. “Perrie.” I said her name in a low voice, stepping closer to her so her breasts brushed my chest before she leaned back. “Tomorrow…Leave your bullshit and protestations at the door. You’re not being forced to do this—it’s your choice. You’re here to bring us results, not argue the toss because you feel guilty.” “Don’t tell me how to feel.” Her dark eyes pierced into me, anger swirling in their chocolatebrown depths. Not even the amber-gold hints at the edge of her irises brightened her emotion-filled stare. “You can make me do this because I don’t want to go to jail, but you can’t make me feel another way about it. Or you, for the matter.” “I could, but it would be completely inappropriate for me to do so.” “What the hell does that mean?” “It means,” I said slowly, taking a lock of that wavy, blonde hair between my finger and thumb and twisting it, “That if I really wanted to, I could make you leave this room liking me a hell of a lot more than you did when you walked in here

ten minutes ago. Don’t doubt that.” She smacked my hand away from her and took a step back. “I’d think very carefully about what you want to say next, if I were you. I’ve dealt with enough selfish assholes in my life to give a crap about you, too.” A vulnerability shaded her voice, making her eyes drop for a split second. If I weren’t so focused on her, I’d have missed it. I lifted my hand back up and touched two fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head back so she was looking at me again. “Selfish is something I’m not. Honest, yes. And I’m being honest when I tell you that if I pushed you against the wall behind you and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, you’d like me a lot.” She stared at me for a moment as a light flush rose in her cheeks. “But you won’t.” “Not today.” “Not today? Not ever, thank you very much.” She lifted her purse so it was between us. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get home to my daughter now.” I kept the contact between us for a second longer before I took a step back and opened the door for her. “Same time tomorrow, Perrie. Remember—leave the emotion and bring something worth my time.” Her response was to flip me the finger over

her shoulder. Rubbing my hand over my mouth suppressed the laugh I so desperately wanted to let go of. Anyone else, and I would have felt pissed off. But there was something about her. Something that made it hard to be annoyed at her. No matter how bad I wanted to be.

Chapter Seven Perrie The sound of Lola’s high-pitched, majorly off-key singing seemed to bounce right off the walls. If I heard that damn song from Sing one more time, I was going to bang my head against a brick wall. I didn’t care if the little porcupine wanted to set it all fucking free. I wanted to set my daughter free after hearing it sung fifty times in the past three hours. “Lola.” I sighed, closing the fridge. “Can you not sing something else?” She stopped singing. “Like the call me maybe song?” Oh god. This was going from bad to worse. “No. Definitely not that song.” “Shake It Off?” Taylor Swift was better, but… “Why don’t you read quietly for a little bit?” She pouted, jutting her bottom lip right out. “I don’t want to be quiet.” I was well aware of that fact, funnily enough. “Go read for a bit, okay? Or play quietly. Mommy has a headache and has to work tonight.” Lola sighed heavily. “Okay, okay. Can I take

my pens to my room?” Normally, I would say no, but… “Sure. Just take the paper, too.” She grinned and skipped off. By the time she’d grabbed her pens and had reached the bottom of the stairs, she was humming Shake It Off. It was a partial win. I’d take it. Lord knew I needed as much sanity as possible to be able to handle another night like the previous one. Not only because of what I was doing, but because of the man who’d been a thorn in my side ever since he’d approached me at the bar. And the fact my skin had tingled where he’d touched me and mentioned kissing me. Something that was completely off-limits. There was no way that man was allowed to kiss me. I didn’t care that he was handsome or that I’d gotten a little thrill at the thought of feeling his lips against mine. He was an asshole. Sure, he’d never been anything but perfectly nice to me—if you ignored the handcuffing thing— but still. That made him an asshole and I was going to stick by it. Only because if I thought about him like that, I didn’t think so much about the fact I kinda wanted to kiss him. Just a little bit.

My phone buzzed loudly on the side, prompting me to reach for it. My stomach sank at the sight of my babysitter’s name flashing at me on the screen. She only ever called me when she had to cancel, and three hours before she was due to be here… No, no, no, please no. “Hello?” I answered tentatively. “Oh, Perrie!” Alison’s voice was thick and scratchy. “I’m so sorry. I’m sick. I can’t watch Lola tonight.” Damn it. “Oh. Are you all right?” Obviously not. She was sick. “I think it’s some kind of stomach virus. I waited to see if it would pass, but…” She coughed, and I winced at the half-retch that came down the line. “It’s okay. Don’t worry—I have time to get someone else to have Lola. You take yourself to bed and feel better soon, okay?” “Okay, thank—” She cut off the line, and no matter how sick I felt, I was glad I didn’t have to hear her being sick. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Now what the hell was I gonna do? I’d flat out lied to Alison —I didn’t have anyone else I could call, and it was too late to try to get a brand new sitter. I had Adrian’s number from when he called me this morning. Did this class as an emergency? If

I backed out tonight, would that go against me? I had to try. I pulled up my call log, tapped his number, and started a new text message. Me: Are you there? I have a problem. The sound of Lola breaking into song from upstairs accompanied the tapping of my nails against the kitchen counter. After what seemed like an excruciatingly long wait but my clock said was only a minute, his response popped up on-screen. Adrian: What? Me: My sitter just bailed on me. She’s sick. It’s too late to get another. Minutes passed, but he didn’t reply. My stomach tied up into knots and mild panic accompanied that sick feeling. Why wasn’t he replying? The silence was a killer. Was he angry? Did he pity me? No. He was probably annoyed. Night two of this agreement and I was already flaking on him. He had to understand, though, right? He was a single parent. He had his son. This was sometimes how it worked. Surely he’d missed work because he had nobody to look after his child.

On second thought, probably not. He had his parents around, after all. I leaned over on my counter and covered my face with my hands. The hard surface was cold against my elbows, but the real shock came from the loud buzz of my phone. I peered over. He was calling me. Nothing inside me wanted to answer it, but I knew I didn’t have a choice. I swiped the screen and held it to my ear. “Hello?” “I just called my babysitter,” he said gruffly. “If you bring your daughter to my house, she’ll have both her and Zac.” Zac? Right. His son. “Why?” was all I replied. “Why would you call her and ask that?” “Because I have to work, and in order to do my job, I need you.” I swallowed. “How old is your son?” “He’s eight and will probably spend the entire evening with his face in front of Minecraft or something else like that. He won’t bother her at all.” He paused, and when I didn’t speak, he continued. “Look—I get it, it’s not ideal, but it makes some sense. I have a spare room for her, and you just take her home when you’re done.”

I opened and closed my mouth for a moment. I didn’t know how to feel about Lola being at his house and potentially making friends with his son, especially since they were so close in age, but at the same time, I fully recognized that I didn’t have a choice. “Fine,” I said softly. “Thank you. That helps, I guess.” He laughed quietly, and the line crackled with the deepness of his chuckles. “All right. See you at six-thirty?” I swallowed my sigh. “All right. Six-thirty.” “I’ll text you my address.” *** “But, Mommy, why?” Lola moaned, clutching the foot of her beloved ragdoll who was currently decorated with pasta sauce. “I don’t wanna go there. Where’s Alison?” “She’s sick. I have to go to work, so one of my work friends is letting you stay at his house for a few hours with his son, okay?” She screwed her face up, wrinkling her nose until she felt she’d accurately displayed her level of disgust over this new development. “But I don’t like boys. They stink.” Well, yeah. “Sorry, Lo. Adrian said he’ll probably play

games and leave you alone, ‘kay?” I zipped up her rucksack. “You’ll have your own room.” “What’s his name? The boy?” “Zac.” I scooped up my purse and my own bag with an alternate outfit in. “It’s only for a few hours. As soon as I’m finished, I’ll pick you up and bring you home.” Lola looked down at her upside-down ragdoll and pursed her lips. “What do you think, Dolly?” She was still for a moment, and then she nodded. “I agree. I think we should avoid him, too.” More silence before she shook her head. “No, maybe he won’t be as smelly as the boys in school. Especially Ryan. He really smells.” “Okay,” I interrupted the one-sided conversation. “Can you continue this little chat in the car? We have to go.” “I suppose. But I’m not very happy about this, Mommy. I hope you know that. You know I don’t like boys.” I rolled my eyes, but what I really wanted to say was, “I know, Lo. I’m not happy about this either, but life sucks, kid.” Somehow, I managed to keep myself in check while I locked the front door and she climbed into her booster on the backseat. After making sure she was safely belted in, I got in the car myself, putting our bags on the front passenger seat. I’d never wanted to do anything less.

Actually, that was a big, fat lie. There were a ton of things I’d wanted to do less than this, but right now, in this moment, it had to be the worst possible idea. Goddamn Alison for getting sick. I didn’t have time for her to be sick. I didn’t want her to be sick either, but still. Time, want, whatever. “Mommy?” Lola asked a few minutes into our drive. “Mm?” I glanced at the rearview mirror to see her. Dolly was sitting on her lap, her knitted, blond hair tied together by a red ribbon that matched her dress. “Is Zac nice?” “I’ve never met him,” I said honestly, focusing on the road. “But, I’m sure he’s very friendly.” “Hmm. I don’t know. He is a boy. I don’t trust them very much.” “Why’s that?” “Well, Anthony Parsons took Millie Bond’s favorite pens during class this week. He hid them, then promised he’d give them back, but he threw them all in the trash!” “That’s why you don’t trust boys?” “He took her pens, Mommy. He’s so mean! She cried and everything, so Mrs. Fonten made him say sorry.” “Did he say sorry?”

“Yes, but he had his fingers crossed behind his back. He didn’t mean it at all,” she said earnestly, and when I glanced in the mirror again, I saw her wide eyes and righteous expression. “Did you bring your pens in your bag?” “No.” “Then, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, pumpkin. Your pens are perfectly safe.” I turned off the main road. “What about Dolly?” “I don’t think Zac will care about Dolly.” “Hmmm.” Another glance at her and she was looking out of the window. “We’ll see,” she said, hugging Dolly a little tighter. I bit the inside of my cheek to hide my smile and turned down the road where Adrian had said he lived. I slowed down so I could see the numbers on the houses, and just like he’d said in his text, there was a black BMW in the driveway, right next to a bright yellow, flowering bush. Lola muttered to Dolly about the untrustworthiness of boys as I parked, making sure not to block in the driveway. I turned off the ignition and sat for a moment, blowing out a long breath. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with this, but that was no more than my own personal feelings toward this situation and the man I was about to

spend yet another evening with. I knew three things: my daughter would be safe, I would see her again within six hours, and this night was one night closer to my freedom from this agreement. Optimism at its finest. “Come on, Lo. Let’s go.” I got out of the car, leaving the bags inside so I could safely get her out, too. With her safe on the sidewalk, I grabbed our bags and headed toward the house where the door was already opening. A little boy the spitting image of Adrian, from the blue-green eyes to the dark hair and bright half-smile stuck his face between the door and the frame and looked at us. “Are you Perrie and her daughter?” Ah. Of course. I’d never actually said Lola’s name. “That’s us,” I answered with a smile that said I was more confident than I felt. “You’re Zac, right?” Zac nodded his head and looked at Lola. “What’s your name?” Lola leaned into my leg and gripped the back of my shirt. “Lola,” she said shyly. He looked at her. Not in a cruel or dismissive way, but in a way that said he was an eight-year-old kid sizing up another child and deciding whether or

not this shy little girl invading his home was worthy of his attention or not. I knew, behind the shyness, Lola was probably doing the same thing. “You wanna come in?” Zac asked her. Her. Not me. Her. I fought a smile. Lola hesitated, but she nodded when I gently knocked my hip into her. Zac opened the door wide for us both to come in, and we did. “Zac, what are you—” Adrian appeared right behind him, wearing dark jeans and a white shirt. He rubbed a towel over his head until he noticed us and froze. “Zac. What did I tell you about opening the door?” “Relax, Dad. I looked through the window.” “The last time you looked through the window before opening the door was Halloween and you got egged because you made a bad choice.” Lola grinned. “Daaaaad!” Zac let go of the door like it was on fire. Adrian smirked and dropped the towel from his head. “You know the deal. You give attitude in front of company, and I get to embarrass you.” Huh. That seemed like a strangely effective

plan… He turned to me and smiled before crouching down in front of Lola. “Well, hey there, pretty girl. Who did you bring with you?” He touched a finger to Dolly’s nose. I expected Lola to shrink away, because she was naturally shy with people she didn’t know, and nobody was allowed to touch Dolly. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, summed Adrian up, and pointed to Dolly. “This is Dolly.” Then, she pointed to herself. “And I’m Lola.” “It’s nice to meet you, Lola and Dolly. I’m Adrian.” He held out his hand, palm up, and waited for her to react to his offer. Lola narrowed her eyes, but after a moment of staring at him, put her hand on top of his. He wrapped his fingers slowly and gently around hers, and then, he kissed her tiny fingers. And my heart skipped right out of my chest. It bounced off the walls and slammed back into me, freaking choking me. This six-foot-plus guy with muscles on every inch of his body had my baby girl’s hand in his and kissed it like she was a damn princess, and the lump in my throat was thicker than it had ever been. “Hi. I’m Zac.” Zac held his hand out, the way his dad just had to Lola. “Hi, Zac. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Perrie.”

He already knew that, but hey. I lightly set my hand on top of his, and his little mouth touched my knuckles in a kiss. Adrian dipped his head to hide his smile. All right. Now? Now I couldn’t breathe through the thickness in my throat. Lola giggled. “Mommy, he likes you.” Zac bristled. “I’m just being a gentleman.” Adrian stood, running his tongue over his upper lip, a smile still fixed on his face. I watched as his tongue swept over his mouth. I wanted it to be my tongue. Shit. “You don’t need to be so mad,” Lola said, hugging Dolly tight to her chest. “I was only telling my mom that you like her. God, Mommy.” She looked at me. “Boys are so sensitive.” I touched my fingers to my mouth. “I’m not sensitive!” Zac yelled. “I don’t even know why you’re here. Can’t your dad look after you?” “Zachary,” Adrian warned in a low, hard voice. “He’s dead. Why can’t your mommy look after you?” Lola shot back with all the logic—and venom—of an angry seven-year-old. “Lola Louise!” I dumped the bags and bent down, grabbing her wrist.

“She’s dead, too!” Zac replied, the shouting gone. I watched as their little eyes met. In the silent moment that hung between the four of us, I learned far more about Adrian and Zac Potter than I’d ever needed, or wanted, to know. As Adrian’s eyes burned into the side of my head, I knew he felt the same as I did. “Okay,” he said softly, crouching in front of Zac. “Do you need five minutes?” Zac’s nostrils flared, but he shook his head, then turned to Lola. “Do you like Minecraft?” “I don’t know what it is,” she replied softly. “You wanna come with me? I’ll show you. Oh, wait.” He looked to Adrian. “Is that okay, Dad? Can she come in my room?” Lola wrinkled up her face. “Does it smell like boys?” Zac stared at her. Adrian smacked his lips together, stood, and looked at me. “If it doesn’t smell like boys, is that all right with you, Mom?” The boyish glint in his eye had me biting the inside of my lower lip. “I mean, that’s a hard bargain. As long as Her Highness deems it not to smell like boys, it’s fine by me.” “Ugh.” Lola sighed. “Mommy.” “Hey, you started it.” Zac grabbed hold of Lola’s hand, their

earlier, tense exchange forgotten, and pulled her toward the bottom of the stairs. “Come on, I have another Xbox controller. We can start a new game. You can build cool stuff like castles and houses and dig pits to throw criminals in.” “Can we build unicorns?” Lola asked, dutifully allowing herself to be dragged up the stairs, staring after him with wide eyes. “It’s more fun to throw the criminals in pits they can’t climb out of.” Adrian lifted a finger, opening his mouth. Lola’s laugh of, “Cool!” stopped whatever he was about to say. Instead, he dropped his hand, closed his mouth, and turned to me. “He watches too much TV.” I put a hand on my hip and raised my eyebrows. “You play that with him, don’t you?” Adrian grimaced, his lips twitching at their corners despite his best efforts. “I might have done. Once or twice.” “Or three or four or five…” “All right, all right. It’s fun bonding time. He likes it.” He grabbed the bags. “Let me take these to the spare room.” “Oh, wait. One is mine. I need to get changed.” I separated Lola’s bag from mine and my purse. “Can I use your bathroom?” “Sure. Second door on the left upstairs.

Come on.” He led me up them and pointed to the right door. “My sitter will be here in ten minutes. We have to head to the station for a quick briefing, then we’ll be ready head out. Sound good?” No. Not at all. Netflix and ice-cream sounded good. This, however, did not. “Sounds good.” I smiled, turned, and locked myself in the bathroom. I leaned back against the door and blew out a heavy breath. Quiet giggles came from a room to my left, and that was the reminder I needed of why I was doing this. This wasn’t happening the way I’d planned for it to, but the most annoying part was the chink in my dislike of Adrian. He couldn’t be a completely bad guy given that I was at his house and my daughter would be for several hours. Not that it made any of this much easier, but still. Lola’s laughter reached me again. I glanced up. The sink was directly opposite the door, and the mirror that hung above it was large and clear, and I met the eyes of my reflection. Time to get on with it.

Chapter Eight Perrie “Stop looking at me,” I hissed over my shoulder. We were just leaving the police station after the briefing, and already, I was severely regretting my dress choice. I’d worn a coat over the dress when I’d left Adrian’s bathroom, so the first time he’d seen it was, well, now. A plunging neckline probably wasn’t my best idea, given the situation. “I’m just getting into character,” he said, unlocking the car and reaching for the door handle. He swung open my door, eyes hot on me as I sat on the front seat. “I’m here to work, not here to be undressed with your eyes.” I grabbed the inside handle and yanked the door shut, much to his amusement. The sound of his laughter carried as he walked around the car and got in the other side. “Sorry, sorry.” “Oh, please. That’s the most pathetic apology I’ve ever heard.” “Ouch. If kids are more believable nonapologizers than I am…” “Oh, they’re better. That was abysmal. Not to mention I’m a woman so naturally assume that

your apology is bullshit anyway.” I raised my eyebrow. He didn’t try to deny it. “I thought as much.” “In my defense,” he paused as the engine hummed to life, “I didn’t know you were wearing that dress. I didn’t know you owned a dress like that.” “Why would you? You haven’t been inside my closet. Plus: I wore my coat.” “All I’m saying is that you need to give a guy a little warning before stepping out in a dress that would give the elderly a heart attack.” I rolled my head to the side and gave him a flat look. “You’re not supposed to be looking at me like that. Remember, Detective?” Still keeping his grip on the steering wheel, he moved his hand back and forth, flexing his arm. “The fact I’m not supposed to be looking at you the way I am is the only reason you’re not on the backseat with the dress around your hips.” “That’s inappropriate.” I cleared my throat, turning my head so quick my neck cricked. “So is that fucking dress.” “I’m only here because of you. This is a torture of your own making. You want me to fit in, then I’m gonna wear what I used to.” “Bit of a departure from the jeans of last night, isn’t it?” “I didn’t know what was expected of me.

Now, I do. So, tough.” Adrian took a deep breath, his eyes fixated on the road. I was glad of that—I wanted to just drive and drive, where he had to keep his eyes on where we were going as opposed to me. I really, really hadn’t thought it through when I’d picked this dress out of my closet. I didn’t even remember buying it. The tags were still on, and it was languishing at the back of my more regularly worn dresses, so there was a good reason I didn’t remembering ever having bought it. It’d been a long damn time since I had. Tonight, I’d just picked it up, shoved it in the bag, and moved on with my packing. Unless it was my wedding day or a prom, a dress was just a dress, right? Wrong. Apparently, a dress was a torture weapon…I just hadn’t meant to wield it around Adrian Potter. Whatever. I still maintained this was all his fault, of his own doing, and it wasn’t my fault if he found me attractive in it. That was his fault for staring at me. That was my story, and by damn, I was sticking to it. “You heard the chief,” he said, making a welcome u-turn in our conversation. “Three arrests tonight. And we even have a target.” “And like I said, I know the woman publicly

known as Jenna Rose. You won’t find her during the week.” I rolled my eyes. Everyone who’d been in the seedy prostitution life in Vegas for a considerable amount of time knew who Jenna Rose was. Not many actually knew her, and at this point, she was closer to a sugar baby than she was a whore. She’d made money by being damn good at what she did. Rumor had it there were even a couple of sex tapes. And she was the one. The one the LVPD wanted more than anything. The problem was, there was a very gray area between being a sugar baby and a whore. One got paid for sex, the other got paid to show up somewhere and be pretty. I’d taken the wrong path. “We have to try to find her,” Adrian asserted, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Then you should probably look in the Caribbean, because last I heard, she was spending the month there.” He shot me a look as we pulled into the hotel. “You could attempt optimism, you know. It might do you some good.” “And you could try to do a little thing called listening. That’s what these are for.” I tugged on his earlobe right before unclipping my seatbelt and getting out. He stayed in the car.

I bent down and looked at him. “Are you coming?” His eyes flitted to the cleavage caused by both the low neckline of my dress and by gravity. “With you or on you?” I stood up. Fast. There was a line, and we were very, very close to crossing it. “Please excuse him,” I said to the displeased valet waiting for him to get out. “The doctor’s trip this morning was unsuccessful and he’s still very concerned about his little…issue.” I waved my hand in the general vicinity of my hips. The valet’s eyebrows shot up as my words sank in. Adrian slammed his car door shut and shoved the keys at the valet. I dipped my head to hide my smile, checking the road before I walked across it and stepped up to the pavement outside the doors. I didn’t even make it inside before Adrian pulled me against his body. His fingers dug into my waist with his tight grip, and he pressed his mouth against my hair. “Did you just tell the valet that I can’t get it up?” “I merely insinuated you had issues in that area. That could be crabs or herpes for all he knew.” “Perrie.”

“If you want to be inappropriate, I can be, too.” “You told him I can’t get it up because I can’t stop thinking about how fucking sexy you are in that dress?” Well, there went the line. “And I’ll tell everyone else if you carry on!” I nudged my elbow into his side so he was forced to release me. Storming ahead, I didn’t even care that I knew he was looking at my ass. Tomorrow, I was going to wear a fucking parka and a pair of sweatpants. I walked up to the bar and tapped my nails against the thick, black, glass surface. Glass bar. That sounded like a recipe for disaster for me. A hard body pressed against mine from behind. Familiar hands landed on the bar either side of me, and Adrian’s lips hovered right by my ear, his breath tickling across my cheek. “I don’t know if you’re PMSing or you’re generally just this prickly, but remember who you are when you step into the casino.” He leaned into me. “You’re my girlfriend, and you need to act like it.” “I am. I’m just your pissed off girlfriend. Doubly so now that you suggested I’m PMSing.” I snapped the last few words and shoved at his arm. He took a deep breath, but moved his arm and stood beside me instead of behind me.

Thank fucking god. I’d been starting to feel something I had no place feeling—his cock. Hard and pressed right against me. “What can I get for you?” A young woman who looked no older than me put her hand on the bar in front of us and shot Adrian a flirty smile. “I’ll have a beer, please. Budweiser.” He smiled right back. Hers grew a little wider, and she leaned forward, the scooping neckline of her shirt giving the people on the other side of the damn casino a full view of her cleavage. I cleared my throat, catching her attention. “I’ll have a strawberry margarita, please. Nonvirgin.” “She’ll have it virg—” “No. She won’t.” I glared at Adrian. He stared back at me before saying, “Whatever she wants,” without taking his eyes off me. The bar girl hovered for a moment, clearly undecided over whether we were together or who she should listen to. With a slight grimace, she nodded, then turned. “I could have gotten her number.” Adrian perched on the edge of a stool and looked over at the girl behind the bar. “You’re more than welcome to ask her.” I sniffed, turning away from him.

He was bluffing. I knew it. He was only trying to piss me off and get back at me for my comment to the valet. Whatever. I didn’t care—not at all. “Twenty-two-thirty,” the tender said, sliding both drinks across the bar, a move I caught in the corner of my eye. “Keep the change. And sorry about my girlfriend. It’s, you know.” He bent forward as he handed her the money. “That time of the month.” My jaw dropped at his words. What the hell? Slowly, I turned my head to look at him. His expression was deceptively plain, but there was no denying the fact he was laughing inside. All right, so he’d gotten me back. I hoped it felt good. I pulled my drink toward me and sipped. Immediately, I had to fight the scrunching up of my face as the alcohol burned on its way down my throat. It was strong—stronger than usual. I’d have to drink it slowly. Then again, it wasn’t my money, so if I was able to get out of here before I could finish drinking it, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “Shall we sit down?” Adrian motioned to an empty table with two chairs a couple feet away from the bar. “Let’s.” The word escaped through my gritted teeth. It went against my desire to flee, but

hey. If it meant I had a vantage point away from the bartender, I’d take it. I took the first seat, the one with the better view. He stiffened. His beer clinked against the table when he put it down so he could move his chair. It was only a few inches closer to me, but closer was closer, and if you asked me, we’d already had enough closeness tonight. “Non-virgin, huh?” “I’m surprised you let me.” I took the tiniest sip of my drink, refusing to look at him. “I thought better than to argue with a lady so obviously on her period.” “Not on my period.” “Doesn’t PMS come first?” “Stupid questions can come before murder.” He laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?” I angled myself away from him slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You can’t blame me for your anger because you can’t get it up.” “I can get it up.” “Your temper or your cock?” “If you carry on, you’ll see both by the end of the night.” I jerked my head around to him. “You’re crossing the lines, Adrian. Stop it.” Holding his hands up, he bowed his head.

“Sorry. Looks like you bring out the worst in me, baby.” “Looks like you’re determined to have my stiletto pierce your ballsac with that stupid little endearment.” “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Is this why the Fox family is feared?” “That’s because my father and brother are assholes beyond comprehension. You wouldn’t believe we’re related if you ever met them.” “We’ve met.” His tone was dry. “You have to know that.” I sipped my drink again. “Can we talk about something else? Like how inappropriate you’re being tonight?” Silence. Then, “We could, but if you’re the one wearing that dress,” escaped his mouth. If eyes were daggers, my stare would have sliced two sharp knives through his head. “I’m not responsible for the bullshit that comes out of your mouth, Adrian Potter. You are. I can wear whatever I like, and should be able to without being subjected to your shit.” His eyes softened, but only a little. “You’re right. Doesn’t change the fact you look damn good, though.” “I know.” My lips curved. “I didn’t pick my wardrobe in my sleep.”

His gaze darted downward before he recovered and looked at me again. “Is our fake relationship still in disarray?” “It’s on the rocks. PMS does that to a woman’s thought process.” “That’ll do.” Gripping the back of my chair, he tugged hard. A squeal escaped my mouth as my chair knocked into his and our bodies came perilously close to touching. Instead of grabbing me, he simply laid his arm over the back of my seat. The only part of me he touched was my hair, but that didn’t stop the sharpness with which I inhaled at the move. The ends of my hair tickled against his bare lower arm. He twitched when I moved my head, and I swallowed to dispel the tiny lump that had formed in my throat and seemed to be stuck there. A light pop reached my ears when he drunk from his bottle. “Have you looked yet?” “I’ve been too busy fighting with someone,” was my reply. His light chuckles shook his whole body. I wasn’t looking at him, and he was barely touching me, but still, I knew. There was something in the way my chair vibrated at the movement of his own. In the way each laughing breath shuddered out of him as the main amusement petered off. I was damned. Barely there, that laugh sent a shudder down my spine that was only just fightable.

Any stronger and I would have been helpless to the way it’d affected me. Not that I wasn’t already. The after-effects of something so simple and stupid were astounding— the goosebumps tickling my lower arms were itchy and unwanted. “I’ll be quiet.” Adrian stretched his fingers to touch my collarbone and pushed me back. “Look like you want to be here with me.” “I’m a prostitute, not an actress.” “Ever faked an orgasm?” “More than you’ve ever had real ones.” He laughed again. “Then apply that same logic.” “I would, but then I’m afraid you might believe I want to be here.” He sat forward, still laughing, and tucked my hair behind my ear. From behind, his breath was hotter. His fingers lingered at the curve where my neck met my shoulder, rough and heavy against my skin. “I promise, no matter how well you act, I will never believe you actually want to be with me.” He paused. “Does that help?” “That sounds like a legally binding agreement to me,” I said in a low voice. “Be careful what you wish for, Detective Potter.” “I am,” he said, lips against my ear. “That’s why I’m not saying that out loud.”

I took a deep breath once more. “Then, it’s a deal. This is all business. No matter how either of us act when we’re working, it’s just that. An act. Done?” “Done.” He hadn’t moved. “Now, find me a prostitute.” *** Detective Samuel Allen handed me a glass of cranberry juice dressed up to look like a cocktail. “You’re on a roll tonight.” “A desire to get home has an awful lot to do with that,” I replied dryly. I knew very little about the man in front of me, except that Adrian had introduced him as his best friend. I was pretty sure that was a real introduction, one that probably served them well in this undercover work. “So, Sam,” I said, sipping on the tart juice. “Are you the best friend who was apparently getting married when Adrian arrested me?” He promptly choked on his Coke. “That’s direct.” “Who ever beat around the bush and got a straight answer?” “Good point. And he ever said, but I assume I must be.” He grinned, a boyish, playful grin that said he was the best best friend you could have.

“For what it’s worth, if it were my bachelor party and he picked you up, he’d have my blessing.” I bit the inside of my lip. “Good to know. He was all over the bartender at the last hotel.” Sam waved his hand. “Did he get her number?” “No, he told her I was on my period.” “He did? Does he still have his dick in place?” I laughed. “He does, but if you ask the valet there, it doesn’t matter because he can’t get it up, so…” “I think I just fell in love with you.” My hand covered my mouth to hide the extra laugh that wanted to escape. “Well, thank you.” “Who left the two of you alone?” Adrian slinked up behind Sam and smacked his shoulder. “Did you get her?” Sam asked, looking at him. He nodded. “Jerome is taking her in right now.” He slid his bright eyes to me. “You did good.” I swallowed, mimicking the head movement he just made. “Thanks.” Averting my eyes was all I could do. I didn’t want to look into that fucking blue-green ocean and feel like I’d done something good. I hadn’t. And here I was, standing with two cops, and

I’d just been laughing with one of them. I rubbed the back of my neck and ignored the next few minutes of their conversation. I had no place in it. I didn’t care for it and I didn’t want to hear it. “Perrie?” I peered up through my lashes when Adrian said my name. “You good?” He met my gaze. I nodded. “You noticed more than one here, right?” Now, the lump in my throat was thick. “The woman in black and pink by the door the poker room to the right. Brown hair to her shoulders and chunky, pink shoes.” “Sam? You wanna get Lloyd to handle this one?” Sam nodded once and, with a gentle touch to my arm, disappeared through the crowds in front of us. Warmth spread across my skin. I appreciated the gesture more than he knew. Adrian closed the distance between us. “Three in two. We should be able to go soon.” I nodded, dropping my eyes once again. “Still not okay with this, huh?” “Never will be.” My answer was short and sharp. “Doesn’t matter how many times your best friend over there makes me laugh or how you try to

dress it up. I will never be okay with what I’m doing.” His fingertips were hot against my skin as he slowly moved his hand to push my hair behind my ear. They were rough yet comforting, and he stepped closer into me, something that meant his hand swept right through my hair until he was cupping the back of my neck. “Perrie,” he said softly, my name smooth and easy on his tongue. “You’re doing a good thing. You have to know that.” “It doesn’t feel like it, and you know that.” He cupped my cheek with his other hand, forcing me to look up at him. His bright eyes were wide and honest. Wide and honest and guarded. Like he didn’t believe what he was saying to me. “You could be—and are—changing lives with your help to us. We’d be floundering around with no direction without you.” “I’m not questioning that. That question comes with whose lives I’m changing. I doubt any of it is for the better—except for all of you who get to keep your jobs.” “So cynical.” “So realistic.” Adrian smiled, dropping his hand from my cheek. “Whatever you say, firecracker.” “I hate that nickname, too.” “I know.” His smile widened before

momentarily dropping. “Perrie, you’re doing a good thing.” He brought his face close to mine, so close I could almost feel his lips touching mine, so close the stubble that lined his jaw threatened to scratch across my skin. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear it. Rough hair tickled my jaw with his barelythere laugh. “No, you won’t. You’ll question it even after that.” “Am I that obvious?” He moved as if to reply, but stilled. He released me and pulled his phone out of his pocket. The screen was bright in this dark corner of the casino—bright enough that I saw the way his lips curved up in a smile. “Done.” He locked his phone and pushed it back into his pocket. “Target met. You ready to go?”

Chapter Nine Adrian She hesitated, despite the conversation we’d just had. Her teeth crept out from between her darkpink lips, catching the bottom one and releasing it in a slow drag I couldn’t take my eyes off. Three hours. Three fucking hours I’d been by her side while she wore the kind of dress that could only be described as sure to be illegal in the fucking future. Black and simple, it hugged her tight little body from her chest to her knees. The thin straps that curved over her shoulders only added to the deep ‘v’ of the neckline. How the fuck her tits stayed inside that dress was anyone’s guess. Anyone’s guess, the thing I wanted to find out. Fuck, why had I ever suggested this? It’d been mere days since I’d found her in a bar the same as so many others in this town. If I’d had any brains the next day, I never would have suggested this shit. I knew why I did, though. I did it because I thought she’d be unable to resist the allure of the lifestyle she’d lived for so long. A part of me believed I could trap her back into it easily.

I didn’t expect I’d meet with resistance at every corner. Resistance that came with the sexiest, sassiest mouth I’d ever encountered and the hottest goddamn body to ever cross my path. I wanted to rip the fucking dress from her body. Straps. Bust. Zipper. Seams. All of it. “Let’s stay a little longer,” she finally said, pressing her hand flat against her stomach. “If…if we can.” “We can stay as long as you need,” I replied. “Do you want to go somewhere else, or…?” “Here’s good.” Her voice was small again. “I know there are more people here.” My eyebrows shot up. She’d just told me how much she hated this. Now she wanted to stay longer and in this exact place? “All right. Do you wanna walk around, or…?” “Lets.” She grabbed her glass of cranberry juice, tucked her purse against her, and tilted her chin upward as if she were looking for an empty space at a table. “Do you gamble?”

“Didn’t we already have this conversation?” “I think so, but I’m unsure whether or not the conversation I had with you then was you being real or not.” “It was real.” She shook her head slowly, looking out over the busyness of the room before us. “Good to know. I just wanted to go somewhere different other than the bar. Sometimes it helps to wander.” “So, let’s wander.” I pushed off the bar and touched my hand to her back. She stiffened, but it was more of a twitch than anything else. “Where are we wandering?” “Just around. Your guidelines for arrest are pretty strict, you know?” “I do know,” I confirmed, sliding my hand around to her hip and moving closer to her. “I can’t arrest someone just because of someone else’s assurance. It’s like a guy walking up to me in the middle of Wal-Mart and telling me he’s just seen the guy in a suit, looking at toasters, kill someone. Not only is it unlikely and improbable in that moment, but the DA would laugh the testimony out of the building.” “Good to know that my word is worth nothing.” Foot. Meet Mouth. “No.” I pulled her off to the side, to a quieter corner where the only person who eyed us was a

bouncer who nodded when he recognized me. “Listen to me, Perrie.” She didn’t look at me. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the damn floor. “Perrie.” I cupped her chin and forced her head back until we were eye-to-eye. “Your word is worth everything. You find our target and all we have to do is wait until we have a genuine reason to arrest them. Don’t think about it the way you are.” She sighed, averting her gaze. “Fine. Can we just finish this?” “I can take you home if you’re done.” “Let’s do one last walk-through before we do that.” She extracted herself from my arms. Putting her half-full glass on the bar, she turned, leaving me staring after her. How she could walk so fast in the shoes she was wearing, I didn’t know. They were at least four inches, and while they were the kinds of shoes I’d love to have wrapped around my neck, they were also the stuff of nightmares. I caught up with her after almost losing her as she zig-zagged through the tables. If it weren’t for the fact her daughter was at my house, probably sleeping by now, I’d have guessed that she was trying to escape me. Hell, she probably still was. I wouldn’t put it past her. “Slow down,” I murmured, catching her and

pulling her back against me. She squealed when our bodies made contact. I slid an arm around her stomach, holding her in place against me. Her chest heaved, each breath forcing her stomach to move in and out at the same rate as she was breathing. “Let me go,” she muttered, wriggling against me. I did as she asked—almost. Instead of releasing her, I stepped to the side and kept my arm secured around her waist. Only a few hours ago we’d agreed that everything we did was just work, just keeping up appearances, but fuck if my cock didn’t get the memo. “We’re probably done here,” I said into her ear, guiding her through the maze of tables and chairs and people. “The boys will stay out longer. It’s getting late—you need to get Lola home.” She opened her mouth before nodding. “Right. She’s not at home.” Her sigh cut through me. “Damn, I’m gonna have to wake her up now.” I nodded. “Come on. You did good tonight.” I squeezed her into me. “And the good news is that tomorrow is my day off, which means it’s yours too.” Her expression brightened considerably at that knowledge. “Well, then, let’s go!” ***

The bed creaked as I rolled over. My cock was rock hard and straining against my boxers, and every position I’d attempted to lie in had been anything but comfortable. I was tired and frustrated thanks to my inability to sleep for very long last night. If it hadn’t been the neighbor’s dog barking at god knows what in the middle of the night, it’d been the ridiculous dreams I’d had involving a certain blond. No matter how hard I’d tried, I’d been unable to shake the filthy as fuck dreams about Perrie. I still couldn’t shake it. My erection was borderline fucking painful, and the clock told me it wasn’t even six in the morning yet. I flopped onto my back and threw my arm over my eyes. Even with my eyes open, I could still make out the ink that adorned my forearm. The lines and curves that swept across my skin were an intricate pattern of thick and thin, of dark and light, forming roses and letters and dates that mattered. I pulled my arm away and sat up. The house was completely silent, the echoes of my creaking bedsprings the only sign of life. My cock throbbed again, and a sleepy lust crept through my veins. There was only one way I was getting rid of this—something I didn’t want to

do. Apparently, my body didn’t get that memo. Groaning, I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. It still smelled like a woman—all flowery, powdery shit. It lingered in a heavy, almost sickly way, but the undertone was clear. My bathroom smelled like fucking Perrie, and it didn’t help my hard-on at all. I locked the door and started the shower. I needed to work this out of my system as quickly as I possibly could, even if it meant I would struggle to look her in the eye tomorrow. I’d never been so fucking thankful for a day off in my life. Steam filled the room as the shower got up to temperature. I stripped out of my underwear and kicked it into the laundry basket before stepping into the cubicle. The water was almost scalding. Any other day I would have flinched away from it, but working so closely with Perrie in such dank places…I was thankful for it. I wanted it to burn away the memories of the hours we’d spent together over the past couple of days. Wanted it to burn away the things I was thinking and feeling. This misplaced attraction, this unwanted desire. I wanted the water to strip it away until I couldn’t feel it any longer. My cock bobbed as the water hit it. I hissed as it bounced off the tip of my erection, bowing my

head so it hit my neck instead. I reached for the soap—that was my first attempt at ignoring the throbbing that pulsed through the length of my dick. Closing my eyes, I soaped up my body. It didn’t fucking help. I was still hard. Pressing my forearm against the shower wall, I bent right forward and rested my forehead against my arm. The shower water streamed down my back, and I muttered a curse. I hadn’t been in this position since I was fifteen. Why the fuck did it have to be now? Why the hell did she have to be the cause of it? Of all the women in the world…It was the one who was off limits who had my hand grasping the base of my cock so I could stroke the frustration out. I did just that. Gripped tightly, hoping it would hurt. Hoping it would be more painful than fucking pleasurable, because I felt nothing but dirty doing this. Jerking off over a woman I wrongly wanted. In my shower. Like a fucking teenager. When I came, the rush was purely hormonal. I scrubbed myself again right after, like it would wash away the feelings on the inside. It didn’t.

*** “Dad?” I paused. “Dad?” Looked over my shoulder. Nothing. “Dad!” Still nobody in the doorway. “Dad! Dad! Daaaaaaaaaaad!” “Are you dying, Zac?” I yelled back at him. “No!” “Are ya bleeding?” “No!” “Well, then why are you shouting?” “Daaaad! I have a question!” “Then come and ask me!” His groan was so loud I heard it right across the house. His stomps, too. They increased in sound until they finally stopped and he appeared in the door of my small office. “What are you doing?” I minimized my browser window and spun around on the computer chair to face him. “Was that seriously your question?” He shook his head, his wild hair flying everywhere. “No. I was just wondering.” “What’s your question?” “Is Lola coming back tonight?”

“Uh, no.” I raised an eyebrow. “It’s my day off. No work today. Same for Perrie. Why?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I was gonna make my bed if she was coming.” “Zachary,” I said slowly. He sighed and dropped his lanky frame onto the small armchair in the corner. Picking at a scab on his knee, he muttered, “It was nice to talk to a kid like me.” I leaned forward and gently tapped his fingers away from the healing cut. “What do you mean, a kid like you?” “With one parent.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at me through a curtain of unruly curls. “You know. Does that make you mad?” “Mad? Why would it make me mad?” “Because talking about her always makes you angry.” “Talking about your mom doesn’t make me angry, Zacco. It makes me upset because you don’t have her anymore.” He blinked at me. “Do you miss her?” “Sometimes,” I answered honestly. “But not very often. Do you miss her?” His eyebrows drew together, causing little creases to form on his forehead. “I’m not sure. She was never really here, was she?” “Not really.” “Can you miss somebody you don’t

remember very much?” I leaned back in my seat. How did I answer that? Could you? Did you miss the person or what they were? Did he miss having a mom although she’d never really been one for him? “See. Now, you’re angry.” He gripped the edge of the chair and shuffled to stand up. “I’m not angry.” I got up and crouched in front of him. “I don’t know how to answer that question. I’m sorry. I don’t know if you can miss someone you don’t remember. I wish I could answer it for you, though.” “Oh. Okay.” He eased up on his grip on the chair and relaxed back down. “Lola said she didn’t miss her dad because she couldn’t remember him. So, I thought maybe that’s why I don’t miss mom.” I dragged my lower lip through my teeth. “Maybe. That could make sense.” “I think that’s right. Can Lola come back to play soon?” “We’ll see.” “Aw, that always means no,” he huffed out and got up. “It doesn’t always mean no!” “When has it ever meant yes?” Shit. “That,” I said slowly, “I’m gonna have to think about.” Zac stuck his tongue out to the side and

wrinkled his eyes up in a silly face. “See? Never.” He disappeared before I could come up with a retort, but either way, the kid was right. “We’ll see” had never meant no. But maybe, this time, it meaning yes wouldn’t hurt.

Chapter Ten Perrie The man had gone and lost his goddamn mind. That was the only explanation for the text message that had flashed up on my screen. Never mind that he was the last person I wanted to see today—his proposal was completely ridiculous. Adrian: Zac wants to hang out with Lola. Do you want to take them for dinner somewhere? Did I want to take my kid to dinner? Sure. With him and Zac? Zac I could deal with. But Adrian? No way. No. Way. Jose. Last night we’d gotten too close. He’d been too all-up-in-my-business for me to be comfortable with this…whatever the hell this was. We were strictly business. We were supposed to be strictly business. Meeting outside of that was inappropriate. Me: I’m not sure it’s appropriate for us to hang out. His response came quickly.

Adrian: We won’t be. Our kids will be. Me: Not happening. I’d barely put my phone down when it rang, flashing his name up on screen. I ignored it, pushing it closer to the wall and turning to the coffee machine. “Moooooommy! Your phone’s ringing!” Lola called from the other room. I sent the call to the robotic message lady. “Thank you, Lo. I’m right here next to it!” It rang again when I pushed the button. “It’s interrupting my show!” she shouted. “It’s interrupting my sanity,” I muttered, watching as the coffee dripped down into the glass. The call ended and god damn it, the ringing started again. “Mommy!” Lola stomped into the kitchen. “Will you please answer that phone? I can’t take it anymore!” On that final note, she turned on her bare heels and stormed right back out, leaving me blinking after her. I mean…she had a point. I snatched up the phone and answered it. “I’m only answering so Lola doesn’t have a cow,” I immediately said. “Something I might do myself if you don’t stop calling.”

Adrian’s chuckle crackled down the line. “Sorry. Zac made me keep calling until you answered or he was gonna come over there and ask himself.” “He doesn’t know where I live.” “Lola told him.” Of course she did. “What are they? Best friends now?” “Are you talking to Zac?” Lola screeched. A thump sounded, followed by an, “Ouch! I’m all right!” “What the…” I breathed out. “Apparently, yes,” Adrian replied as Lola hopped back into the kitchen. “Hold on,” I said to him, moving the mouthpiece down to my shoulder. “Lola. What are you doing?” She shot her arm out and pointed at the phone. “Is that Zac?” “No.” “Is that Zac’s dad?” “Yes.” “I want to talk to Zac.” “Go and sit down.” “I want to talk to Zac!” “Zac’s here,” Adrian said warily. “Let them talk.” “But I don’t—” “Mommy, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease,” she

whined, cutting off what was going to be my protest. “Two minutes.” I held up two fingers and passed her my phone. She nodded and held the phone up to her ear. “Hi, Zac…Mhmm…Okay…Yes!...Okay. Bye now.” She passed it back to me. “Here you go, Mommy.” I barely had my fingers wrapped around the pone when she let go of it and ran off out of the room. “Hello?” “Perrie?” Adrian’s voice answered me. “That you?” “Yeah…What the hell was that about?” “Uh, well, that dinner thing? It was Zac’s idea.” “Don’t you dare carry on talking.” “See you in an hour at Polka’s.” I opened my mouth. He hung up. Fucking hell. *** I got out of the car in the parking lot of Polka’s and slammed the door behind me. If there was anything worse that a forced dinner with Adrian, it was one at Polka’s. Bright colors. Loud, happy-go-fucking-lucky,

claw-your-eyeballs-out music. Greasy, shitty food that somehow tasted amazing…if you could get past the kids screaming in the extortionately big play area. I usually couldn’t, which is why we didn’t come here often. The upside was that it was cheap, so I could cope with it…kinda. “MommyaretheyhereyetcanyouseethecarIcan’tseeitM Lola took a deep breath and got out of the backseat when I opened the door. “Can you, can you, can you?” This was gonna be a long dinner. A glance around the parking lot confirmed that they weren’t here yet, so instead of answering her, I said, “Let’s go inside and see.” “Did you see the car? Are they here? Mommy, isn’t that their car? Mommy, will you answer me?” “Lola, I don’t know. Inside now.” I sent up a small prayer to whoever was unfortunate enough to be privy to my life and pulled open the door. Oh god, the screams. The shouts. The wails. They slammed into me like freaking tidal wave that had been held back. It was all I could do not to wince at it. Lola, however, didn’t seem to notice as she skipped in and up to the hostesses table. “Hi,” I said to the young girl with a bored expression. “We’re meeting some friends here—

Dad’s tall, dark-haired, tattoos on his arm—” “Dreamy like a Disney prince,” Lola interjected, earning herself a small smile from the girl. I cut her a look. “And his son is a few inches taller than her,” I said, holding my hand over Lola’s head. “Crazy brown hair.” “I think I know who you’re talking about. He said he was waiting for a couple blondes to show up.” I’d heard that before. At least it was in a kids’ restaurant and not a bar this time around. Small victories and all that. She led us toward a table relatively close to the children’s area. This was both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you didn’t have to get up to see your child, but a curse because, well, you didn’t have to get up to see your child since you were so close. It was always a bittersweet spot to sit. The second Lola saw Zac, she squealed and took off toward the table. Even my protest at her running didn’t slow her down, and what happened next was in slow motion. She tripped on her shoelace. She flew forward, her arms outstretched, ponytail flying through the air, and her face contorted into an ‘o’ of horror as she got closer to the floor.

Adrian darted forward. His big hands grasped hold of her waist, and he caught her before she hit the ground like a goddamn ninja. Lola, of course, screamed. “Hey!” Adrian pulled her up onto his knee. “It’s all right. I caught you.” “Mommy.” Her lower lip wobbled as she turned her head toward me. “Did I tell you not to run?” I asked her, eyebrows raised. She nodded her head. “Did you run?” Another nod. “Are you bleeding?” Her head shook side to side. “Then thank Adrian for catching you and making sure you didn’t hurt yourself, because there’s nothing wrong with you.” I looked at her pointedly and sat down. Zac grinned. “Thank you,” Lola muttered, clambering off him and taking her own seat. Adrian fought a smile. “You’re welcome.” “Hey, Lola, you wanna go play?” Zac asked. Her cheeks flushed light pink. “Okay. Mommy, can I please have the cheeseburger and strawberry shake?” “Of course.” I bit the inside of my cheek as

she jumped off her chair. “Oh, and I wanna sit next to Zac.” He rolled his eyes, but he smiled anyway. “I guess I’ll move up then.” Adrian snorted, sliding over to take the seat Lola had just vacated. We were thankfully distracted from the ensuing silence by the waitress coming back for our drinks order which I was thankful to place. If I was drinking, it meant I didn’t have to talk to him. And I had something else to focus on other than the fact that he looked stupidly handsome when he wasn’t in work clothes. Sure. He was only wearing a plain, gray tshirt and a pair of light jeans, but whatever. I was used to seeing him in shirts at the very least. There was something about the way the t-shirt— No, no, there wasn’t. There was nothing about the way that t-shirt did anything, never mind hugged his upper arms or his broad shoulders or his — God fucking damn it. “Would you believe that twenty-four hours ago, Zac was disgusted at the idea of a “stupid girl” sleeping in his house?” Adrian asked as soon as our drinks were brought over. I picked up my towering Oreo shake. “No. This time yesterday, Lola was horrified she was sleeping at a mean and stinky boy’s house. Or something like that.”

“Yet, here we are…” “Trapped at the most irritating children’s restaurant in Las Vegas, while I’d rather be at home without pants on?” I offered. “I’d rather be at home with you without pants on, too.” “That’s not an option.” “Shame. I think you’d rather me be there without pants on.” “Can we stop talking about pants?” “You brought them up. Even though you’re not actually wearing any,” he pointed out. True. I was wearing a dress. Clearly, it was a horrible mistake. I shook my head. “Unless I’m wearing nothing but a strappy top and my underwear, I’m wearing pants.” Adrian frowned, not even hiding the fact he was staring at my legs. “But you aren’t wearing pants.” “It’s not my fault if we have a different definition of pants.” “There’s only one definition of pants.” “Oh, what a sheltered life you lead.” I patted him on the shoulder and sipped my shake. Ice-cold and oh-so-good, I let out a tiny moan of appreciation. Adrian darted his eyes to me. The straw let out a little pop as I pulled it

from my lips. He muttered something under his breath— something I couldn’t hear—and turned his face away from me. I frowned just in time for the waitress to come back. “Can I take your food order?” she asked, looking between the two of us. I rattled off my order and Lola’s, then waited as Adrian did his. We’d both ordered the chicken wings, and I was hoping that was coincidence… Because we both just liked chicken wings. Dear god, why would it be anything else? What was wrong with me? It was goddamn chicken wings! I inhaled sharply and took another drink of my shake—sans moan, this time. Thank god for that. I didn’t need any more of those awkward side-eyes from the hot cop, thank you very much. “I’m not happy about how this was arranged.” I was just gonna throw it out there. “Our kids are never speaking on the phone again.” “That might be tricky. Zac has already concocted a plan to arrange with her. I heard him explaining it to Michelangelo earlier.” “Michelangelo?” “The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.” Right. “Of course. That’s the perfect person

to tell.” Adrian laughed at me rolling my eyes. “If you were wondering, Lola is supposed to steal your phone at four-thirty every day for a five-minute phone call in the bathroom.” “So, keep my phone in my bra is what you’re saying.” “That’s a good place to start. I’ll keep mine in my boxers.” “That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing there to hold it in place. Bras are the best holders, ever. I once woke up with eight-fifty in change in my bra.” He raised his eyebrows. “You woke up with it there?” “It’s sweaty, the cups are padded… You’re drunk. It’s not as uncomfortable as you’d think.” He covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. “No, I think it’s exactly as uncomfortable as I think. Doesn’t it poke you in the night?” “Yes, but so do men.” “Point well made.” “I thought so.” He laughed again, this time dropping his hand. “I thought you said you were unhappy you were here.” I turned to face him. “I am. I just can’t cuss you out with all these kids around. It’s not exactly family-friendly what I want to say.” “I’m sure you’ll let it all out at work

tomorrow.” “Mmmm. Like I can do that.” “You can say whatever you want to me at work. There, I can’t do a damn thing about it.” What the hell did that mean? “And what are you gonna do if I pulled you outside now and told you exactly what I think about this impromptu little dinner meeting?” “I’d push you against the wall and shut you up with my mouth on yours.” His answer was so nonchalant, so flat, that it was hard to tell if he really meant that. It was always the same, whenever he went across the line, it was almost as if he disconnected himself from it. Well, no thank you. I’d had enough disconnection in my life. “This is ridiculous. As soon as our food arrives and Lola’s done, we’re leaving. This was a terrible idea,” I finished on a mutter, scooting my chair over a few inches. “They’re friends, Perrie. You don’t have to like it, but you have to humor them.” “I don’t have to do anything unless I want to where my daughter is concerned.” My voice had an edge—the same edge that had annoyance trickling through my veins. Who was he to tell me that I had to humor my daughter’s friendship with his son? He had no right to do that, just like I didn’t have to humor this

strange little comradery they’d struck up. I mean, Jesus Christ. I didn’t want any of this. I never had any intention for my daughter to meet his son, yet life had gotten in the way. And right now? Right now, I shouldn’t have been at Polka’s having this conversation. It never should have gone this far. What I should have done was put my foot down and told Lola no. That we weren’t having dinner with them. That this wasn’t going to happen. Working with Adrian on a regular basis was hard enough. I didn’t need to see him in my down time, too. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” “Like what?” I snapped. “That I have to like the fact I was tricked into this dinner tonight?” “You think I want to be here anymore than you do?” “You’re not showing me otherwise.” His jaw set, his eyes hardening as he shifted in his seat. “I’m here because Zac begged me to see Lola. He has a ton of other friends, but he wanted her.” “Then next time, do me a favor and convince him to hang out with someone else, all right?” “Not as long as he feels like he has a friend with Lola. You think their like of each other is built on Minecraft?”

“I don’t know, but if I hear one more thing about that damn game I’m going to throw myself out of a window.” “I agree with you there.” He inclined his head, but he followed it up by sighing and running his hand through his hair, turning away from me. “Zac talked about his mom for the first time in a long time this afternoon.” I didn’t speak. All I knew about her was that she was dead, because Zac had so very brutally said so yesterday. “He likes Lola because she’s like him. She only has one parent. The other is dead. She’s a kindred spirit for him.” I dropped my eyes to my lap. There, I fidgeted, clicking my thumb nails against the other. I hadn’t thought of that. Why would I? They’d spent mere hours in each other’s presence. Lola knew next to nothing about her dad, nor had she ever asked me what had really happened to him. I don’t think she truly understood, and maybe that’s what I hadn’t pushed it. Did she want to know? “I still don’t appreciate being tricked into this,” I said, this time much quieter than I was a moment ago. “And Lola never said any of this to me.” “I didn’t expect she would. Zac told me she

never asks you because she’s afraid.” “Afraid? Of what?” “Making you cry.” I shook my head and looked up at the play area. “I’ll never cry over him. He doesn’t deserve the tears of me or her. Excuse me.” I stood. “If our food comes over, will you tell Lola I’m in the restroom?” Adrian stared at me for a moment, his eyes questioning. “Of course.” “Will you watch my purse?” “Absolutely.” “Thank you.” I pushed away from the table and made my way through the throng of tables and peoples, of servers and food and drinks, of happiness and brightness. The ladies restroom was mercifully quiet. Almost as if they had soundproof doors on the things. I welcomed the silence as it wrapped around me as I stood in front of the sinks. Glancing up, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like a stranger. One hour from call to restaurant. I’d barely had time to shower and get ready, let alone do a full face of make-up or make myself look like the Perrie the world knew. No, here I was, with hair that was wavy and barely-blow dried. Eyelashes all but void of mascara. The tiniest hint of freckles dancing across my cheeks where there was no thick

make-up to hide them. The only hint I’d been inside my bag at all was the gloss that was only marginally slicked across my lips. I looked like me. The stranger I rarely showed to the world—and a big part of that was the sadness that lingered in my eyes. Would I cry over the shit, Linc, that was my daughter’s father? No. He didn’t deserve that. He made the choices he did. I didn’t hold responsibility for his actions, and even if he was dead, I would never give him that power. More to the point, I didn’t want her to cry over him, either. I didn’t want her to feel responsible for what he did. I didn’t want to think about the actions in my family that lead to that. All thinking about Linc did was lead to the inevitable path of thinking about my family—of my dead mother and sister, of my estranged father. Of Damien. Of the brother who told me to kill my daughter yet still tried to help me. Of the brother who was too much of a coward to show his face despite all that pretense… Because that’s all it was. Pretense. Some things in life were meant to be kept close to your chest. My life was an entire deck of cards meant to be played closely to myself.

No matter what Adrian Potter thought. I splashed water on my face and grabbed a paper towel to dry it off. The moment’s breather was so welcomed. From the conversation and from the man who’d instigated it. Pushing out of the bathroom, I headed back to the table. The kids were both sitting there, eating, and Adrian was leaning across it with a red, squeezy bottle in his hands. I joined them right as he was done squirting ketchup onto the side of Lola’s plate. “Thank you.” Lola grinned. A third of the plate was covered in ketchup. “Got enough ketchup, Lo?” I asked, sitting down in front of my meal. She shrugged. “We’ll see in half a burger and a portion of fries.” Seemed fair. “Can I have that much ketchup, Dad?” Zac asked, hope glancing his expression. “No,” Adrian answered. “Why not?” “Because I don’t have to clean Lola up when she’s done.” My mouth dropped open. “That’s not fair!” Adrian shrugged while Lola giggled. “Move your fries, Zac.” I grabbed the ketchup bottle.

He laughed gleefully and sis as I’d said. No sooner had he released the fries than I squeezed the bottle with all my might, leaving a huge dollop of it on the side of his plate. It was more than enough for the both of them, but whatever. Payback was a bitch. So was I when I wanted to be. Adrian gave me a dark look, but I simply smiled sweetly at him. What was good for him to do was good for me, too. That was how this worked, after all. Aside from the kids giggling at each other, we all ate in relative silence. Lola lagged halfway through, and I knew she’d be asleep before we even got home. The purple-red bags beneath her legs were growing with every mouthful she swallowed. By the time they’d finished, Adrian and I had been waiting for a few minutes. I’d studiously ignored him, though, by checking my phone. I’d had enough conversation with him today to last me a week, but that hadn’t stopped him trying. “Mommy, I’m finished.” Lola pushed her plate toward me. She’d eaten a little over half her plate, which was another reason we rarely came here. “Tired?” I asked her. She glanced at Zac and shook her head in the negative.

Not sure who she was trying to convince, but it wasn’t me. Our waitress came past, and I managed to flag her down and ask for the bill to be split in two. “One is fine,” Adrian said. “Two,” I insisted. “Me and my daughter’s will be separate, thank you.” She hovered for a moment before she paused and nodded. “Mommy,” Lola whispered. “I need the restroom.” I sighed. “Do you mind watching my purse again?” I asked Adrian. His lips tugged to the side. “It’s not really my color, but sure.” “Funny,” I whispered before getting up and taking Lola’s hand. “Come on, pumpkin.” I led her to the bathroom to do her business. She was in there for all of two minutes before she left, tugging on her underwear behind her. “Lola,” I said, bending down and tugging at her shorts. “We sort our underwear out inside the cubicle, remember?” She looked at me, eyes wide, and shrugged. “I’m tired, Mommy.” No shit, kid. No freaking shit. “I know. Let’s go now, okay?” She tucked her hand into mine and leaned against me. “Okay.”

“I just have to pay.” I took her back over to the table. Adrian and Zac were already standing, their things gathered, and Zac had my purse in his hands. “Here.” Zac held it out to me. “Thanks.” I smiled as I took it. “How much was my check?” “I took care of it,” Adrian said. “I made you come, so don’t worry about it.” I blinked at him. “You took care of it? What do you mean?” “I covered the bill.” “I don’t know what to say to that.” “You might wanna try “thank you.”” He winked and tapped Zac on the shoulder. I forced a smile, and it took everything I had to eke out, “Thank you.” He grinned smugly. “You’re welcome.” “Okay, Lo, say goodbye. Time for you to go to bed.” I squeezed her hand and gave her a soft smile. “Bye. Thank you for dinner, Mister Adrian.” Lola smiled shyly and tucked herself behind me. With the echoes of their goodbyes, I ushered her out of the restaurant and straight into the car. I pulled out of the lot before Adrian and Zac had even left. By the time I arrived home, Lola was fast asleep. Her head lolled to one side, and her mouth

was wide open. I couldn’t help but smile as I got up and out of the car, keys in hand. I wouldn’t even be able to undress her and put her in pajamas. Tonight, laziness would win out and she could crash in her clothes. Parenting at its finest. I’d just turned the key in the door when the sound of a car rumbling caught my attention. I turned in time to see the bright red Toyota pull up in front of my driveway. My stomach sank. Only one person had ever pulled up there before. “What are you doing here?” I asked when Adrian got out. He held up a white block. “You left your phone on the table. Zac noticed it before we left.” Damn it. “Oh, well, thank you for bringing it over.” He bounded up the path to me and handed it over. “You’re welcome,” he said, his tone full of warmth, and his eyes reflecting the very same thing. “I know you hated every second, but I had fun tonight.” I stared at him. He didn’t even try to fight the smirk that tugged his lips to one side. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night. By the way,” he said, tapping the side of his chin. “You’ve got a little…”

I rubbed at the spot he indicated. “Is it gone?” Still smirking, he shook his head. “No. It’s right…” He stepped closer to me and, meeting my eyes, brought his hand up to my face. My heart skipped a beat. “Here,” he murmured, wiping his thumb across the corner of my lower lip. Slowly and gently, tingles erupted from the point where he’d made contact with my lip. “Got it.” I swallowed. “That’s not—that’s not where you said.” “I know.” His thumb lingered on my mouth for a second longer. Then, without another word, he dropped his hand and turned away. I waited, my hand on the door, and watched as he got into his car and drove away. Drove away like my heart wasn’t thumping a million miles an hour thanks to that touch. That man—he’d be the death of me one day.

Chapter Eleven Perrie My phone rang loudly, as seemed to be the norm lately. Thankfully, Lola was at school and not around to tell me how annoying it was. I wasn’t even going to look at it. I knew for a fact it would be Adrian—nobody had called me since I was arrested. I guessed it had gotten around that I was working for the police now. It sucked, but it also reminded me that the people I’d once considered friends were only friends of convenience. Like that was a new thing in my life. The ping of a new message immediately after the phone stopped ringing had my attention. That meant I had a voice message, and if it were Adrian calling, that wouldn’t happen. He’d just call again and again and again. And again. I got up and retrieved my phone from the computer desk. The missed call was from a number I didn’t know but had the Las Vegas area code, so I dialed the service to get my message. “Hey, Perrie,” a familiar, lilting yet masculine tone carried down the line. “How are you, darling? It’s Fergus. I’m calling for a catchup. Are you free right now? Let me know.”

My eyebrows shot right up. It’d been years since I’d spoken to the guy who was formerly the best male stripper in the Fox empire. Why was he suddenly calling me now, and how the hell had he gotten my number? Those facts were enough to make me call him back. “Perrie, darling!” Fergus trilled. “You got my message!” “I just missed your call,” I lied. “It’s good to hear your voice, Ferg. How are you?” “Fabulous as ever. Are you free now? Let’s get a drink. I have a break from work.” “Uh…” I looked around the room as if something to do would jump out at me. “Sure? I guess. Where?” “Stanley’s work for you?” The cocktail bar was fifteen minutes from my house. “Sure. I’ll get changed and make my way over there.” “Fabulous, honey! See you then!” He hung up on that note. I stared at my phone for a moment. My life was getting weirder and weirder. *** “It’s so good to see you!” Fergus wrapped his muscular arms around me and squeezed me

tightly. “You look amazing, of course. That haircut is outstanding.” “Good to see you, too, Ferg, but you’re laying it on a bit thick, don’tcha think?” I squeaked, wriggling to extract myself from his tight hold. “Ugh. I know. I’m so obvious.” He sighed dramatically, flipping his hair back from his face. “Here’s the deal, darling. My boss is inside there and she wants to talk to talk to you. I’m afraid I got you here by quite nefarious means.” “So, you lied?” I simplified it for him. “What does your boss want with me? Wait—who is your boss these days?” He puffed out a breath. “I’m not getting dragged any further into this. I promise she won’t hurt you. Can you speak with her? For me?” I blinked at him. We hadn’t spoken in years, but now he was calling in a favor? What the hell was up with that? I wavered. I couldn’t even make sense of his phonecall, never mind why his boss wanted to speak with me. Who was his boss? Why did she want me? Why the hell hadn’t I told him where to stick it and gone yet? “I suppose I’m here now,” was what my mouth said. “Fine. But I’m not happy you lied to me.” “Spoken like a true Fox.”

“Of which I am not,” I reminded him. He shrugged and opened the door. The whole adopted thing had never bothered him, and he’d never bothered to make the distinction that I was only a Fox because my mom had married into them before I was even born. “She’s at the back. Oh—you should know, she wants to discuss your brother, and I am wholly responsible for this.” “Damien? What the—Fergus!” “Whoopsie. Shouldn’t have said that. Onward!” A nervous giggle escaped me. My stomach twisted, and I pressed my hand against my chest. My brother? What could possibly be the point of this conversation? Fergus led me right to the back where the booths were, and then even further into the corner. He motioned for me to wait back behind him. I could barely see the profile of a young woman sitting in the booth. Fergus approached her, and with a hand to her shoulder, said, “Dahlia?” She turned her head toward him with a smile. “Dahlia, this is Perrie. Perrie, Dahlia.” He did an awkward hand wave between us as he stepped back. The woman—Dahlia—stood up. I was first struck by her height—she was a good inch or two taller than I was. Second, it was how beautiful she

was. Not just in her looks, not that her long, dark hair, warm face, and dark blue eyes weren’t beautiful, because they were, but because of the aura she gave off. Kind. Caring. The kind of person you could trust instantly. If you weren’t me. Her eyes flitted across my body, looking me over head to toe. Uncomfortable with both her scrutiny and the silence, I decided to break it. “Dahlia. It’s lovely to meet you,” I said softly, offering her my hand. She took it. “You, too.” Her smile was just as warm as her eyes were, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile. I wasn’t fucking happy about this, and I didn’t understand what the hell was happening or why I was here. I let go of her hand and moved to sit opposite her, but not without shooting Fergus a death glare. The look obviously jerked him into motion, because he clapped his hands with a, “Bye, now,” and disappeared like the jerk he was. “You want to talk about my brother.” Folding my hands on the table in front of me, I cut right to the point. “I’m sorry for the deception.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Fergus already assured me it was all his

doing.” My lips twitched despite my unwillingness to smile. “If he hasn’t changed in the past few years, I have no reason to doubt it.” “I’m almost entirely certain he’ll never change.” “We’re already finding something we agree on, so that’s a good start.” I paused for a moment. “What about my brother?” She balked a little at the coldness of my tone, but discussing Damien Fox had never been a favorite pastime of mine as an adult. Or as a child. As a teen, he’d been everything to me. That had changed. She tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what to say. This was a good idea in theory, but now, not so much.” She reached for her water and sipped. No shit, lady. “Discussing my family is never a good idea, theoretically or otherwise.” I pulled my clutch purse onto my lap and looked her in the eye. “If all we’re discovering is that this is a waste of both our time, then you’ll excuse me. I have to get my daughter from school soon, and I’d rather change if I have the time.” I stood, gripping the end of the table. What a waste of my goddamn time. “Do you ever think about contacting them?” I froze. No, I didn’t. I hadn’t for a long time, and I didn’t want to. I peered at this woman over

my shoulder. “No. I have no reason or need to contact them. Listen to me, Dahlia. I don’t know how you’re involved with my brother and frankly, I don’t give a shit. But if you have any sense, you’ll run away now. Those men are nothing but poison, and if you let them, they’ll destroy you.” “With all due respect, I think you’re wrong.” Her voice was soft. My eyebrows shot up, and I barely managed to fight a snort. “Have you met the ruthless bastard that is my father? Did he con you, too?” “No, but he’s spent enough time trying to harass me into selling my bar.” I’m sorry, what? Goddamn it, she had me. “All right. I’ll bite.” Sliding back into my seat, I kept a tight grip on my purse. “Tell me more.” “My father died at the beginning of this year, and after a couple of months, yours apparently decided he wanted to buy my bar.” “I’m sorry. On both accounts,” I said honestly, pushing my hair behind my ear. “Thank you. For both.” She half-smiled. “He sent your brother to do the dirty work. I left for California to be with family right after the funeral, and I admit, I dropped the ball. My best friend picked it up, and it wasn’t until close to the threemonth mark that Damien contacted us. He pretty much harassed Abby until she called me and forced

me to come home. I’d like to say he was nicer to me, but he wasn’t, not exactly.” Oh, boy. I was so surprised at that. Not. I shook my head. “Intimidation. I’m sorry. That’s the way he does things. Like he thinks fear is a greater tool than respect. I’m ever more thankful I don’t share his blood.” “I would be, if I were you,” she admitted. “My point is, I recently found out the extent of his…I don’t want to say control, but influence over your brother.” “Color me surprised.” This time, I didn’t hide the dryness of my tone. Of course Benedict Fox held control over Damien—the brother I knew and loved would never have treated me the way he did. “Like I said,” I continued. “Benedict values fear over respect. I’m sure that Damien didn’t necessarily want to be so aggressive in his attempts to buy it. Out of curiosity, were they successful?” “Like hell they were.” The vehemence in her tone had me smiling. “Good. Now, tell me about your relationship with my brother. If you’ve gone to the trouble of seeking me out, I can only assume it’s now personal.” “You’d be right.” “And if you’re here, that means he finally talked to someone about our childhood.”

She paused, drew in a breath, and then nodded. “Last night. He told me everything.” “Everything as it happened, or everything as he sees it?” Bitterness tinged my tone, but sadness trickled through me. There was always more than one version of the truth. In this case, there was mine, Damien’s, and Benedict’s. Then everyone else’s. “We have two different views on my estrangement from them. The truth is their reluctance to accept the fact I wouldn’t abort my daughter just because her father plowed his car into a tree and killed himself.” Dahlia froze. I kept the eye contact with her. If he’d said, the only thing she needed to be shocked about was my delivery of it. “That’s the story he told me. A little less graphically, but the same.” Well, shit. “Damn. There’s one for the books. So, he sent you to check up on me? You’re not as subtle as the investigator who shows up with a check every six months.” She paused again. “Actually,” she said slowly, meeting my gaze again. “He has no idea I’m here or that I even wanted to contact you.” O-ho! Was that so? “Really,” I said flatly. “That’s interesting.” “Is it?” “Yes. Because you’re either stupid enough to

fall for my brother and care enough to do this or he’s manipulated you into believing what he says.” I leaned back on my seat, tilting my head to the side. “Thing is, you don’t strike me as easily manipulated or stupid.” She hesitated only a second before she said words I never thought I’d hear in my life. “I love your brother. He’s not the man you’ve painted him to be. I thought he was, but he proved me wrong. He’s nothing like your father.” I opened my mouth, but she cut me off. “And I don’t agree with what he said to you. It was wrong and cruel. He should have supported you regardless, but I also don’t think he meant it. He misses you too much to have believed in the words he spoke to you.” A lump formed in my throat. The memory of my father’s demands to abort Lola wasn’t nearly as painful as the way my brother had refused to meet my eye as he’d agreed with the self-centered bastard. It was no wonder I couldn’t forgive him. Damien had once been my best friend. Yet, in being so, he’d hurt me more than anyone had, ever. “Now, you don’t have to believe me,” Dahlia continued gently, hands wrapped around her glass. “I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking you to listen to me. This is a man who keeps sending you checks and has a bank account for your daughter for when

she’s old enough to go to college.” He did—he does—what? “He has what?” “Shit,” she muttered. “Damn it. I assumed you knew that.” “No.” My voice was scratchy, quiet, barely a whisper, the perfect sound for the way I was feeling. Confusion, frustration, misunderstanding. Why would he do that? He’d met her once and never cared—only out of duty. “He basically has a college fund for your daughter, in her name, for when she’s old enough to need it. He cares about you. This isn’t a man who believes you made the wrong choice. It’s a man who, I think, was intimidated by the words he said.” Dahlia reached into her purse and pulled out a small, silver business card holder. She pulled one out and rifled through her bag again. The whole time, my heartbeat thundered in my ears. Had I been misunderstanding my brother this whole time? She placed two hands on the card and pushed it over to me. “That’s my personal cell. If you want to talk or you want to see him…Call me.” I stared at it for a long moment. Emotion warred inside me, beating me up until I couldn’t make sense of anything. “Does he want to see me?” I couldn’t take

my eyes off the card. “I think he’d move a mountain to see you if he could,” she replied gently. Swallowing hard, I bobbed my head twice in acknowledgement. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.” “You’re welcome. Sorry this wasn’t what you expected.” “Are you kidding?” I peered up. “This is the first conversation I’ve had in weeks that didn’t involve my boobs or why I’m stepping on Barbie’s shoes every five minutes. It wasn’t enjoyable, but I’ve had worse.” I tucked the card into an inside picket of my purse with a sigh. “Bye, Dahlia. Thank you.” I tapped the table and offered her a grateful smile right before I got up and headed for the door. Fergus was nowhere in sight, luckily for him. I had a few choice words I intended to share with him when I fixed the clusterfuck inside my head. “Perrie!” Dahlia’s voice traveled across the bar, and she stopped me before I could close the door behind me. “Perrie!” Sunglasses in my hand, I turned to face her. “Yeah?” “Hold on.” She stepped outside, and a young guy passed us, going into the bar. “Can you tend bar?” I glanced away before bringing my eyes to meet hers. “I have before. Why?”

“On that card. If you’re interested, I need another staff member. Someone just left and we haven’t replaced him yet. Call the number for The Scarlet Letter and ask for Abby.” Awesome. Here came the charity. “You don’t need to offer me a job just because you’re sleeping with my brother.” “You’re right, but I’m not.” She pulled her own, oversized glasses from her purse and touched my arm. “I’m offering you an interview.” Suspicion made me narrow my eyes. “Why? You don’t even know me.” She pushed her glasses over her own. “Because I believe you deserve more than the shit your life has thrown at you. Think about it.” With that, she turned, leaving me standing and staring after her. Something I’d done an awful lot of lately. *** By the time I’d gotten home and picked Lola up from school and gone through the routine, I hadn’t had a chance to think about Dahlia Lloyd and our meeting from this afternoon. Thanks to the fact I had to be leaving my house in the next five minutes to work, I doubted I’d get much more than the drive to the police station which was a whopping twenty or so minutes

on a good day. My brother had a trust fund for my daughter. That was all I could think about. He was providing her with a future I didn’t have the option to, because the dirty money that was in my name was in a locked account. Benedict Fox would never buy out the ten percent of the company I owned, but he was gonna make damned sure I was unable to get any of the money that belonged to me. Not that I wanted it, but still. Why was Damien doing that? Were the checks he sometimes sent to me not, in fact, out of pity or duty, but because he wanted to help me? Who was my brother? What kind of a person was he? And how had he changed from the young man who’d stood in front of me and told me to kill my baby? Could I ever get past that? I doubted it. We’d been through so much together, and as a pregnant teen who was alone, all I wanted was my brother to help me through what was the scariest time of my life. But he hadn’t been. He’d made that clear. And why did he want to buy Dahlia’s bar? Him or our father. Why did he want it? What was so special about it? What was so amazing that he had to harass her for it? So many questions I’d probably never get a

straight answer to, no matter how many times I asked them. Mostly because there was nobody who could tell me the answer. Dahlia’s card burned a hole in my car door. That’s where I’d dumped it after leaving the cocktail bar. I’d whipped it out of my purse, stared at it for the longest time until my phone alarm trilled at me, and dropped it into the door. Now, as I drove over a pothole, it rattled in the emptiness. Tsh-tsh-tsh against the plastic inside of the door like an irritating fly buzzing around your head. I ignored it. I wasn’t interested. Not right now. How could I possibly process all the things she’d told me when I had a job to do? Tonight, I’d get it done. In. Locate the hookers. Get out. I wasn’t interested in playing Adrian’s girlfriend and having him get all close to me. I’d had enough of that. The sooner I achieved all the things I needed to, the better. I was going to handle the night with a military-like precision. If I told myself that enough, maybe I’d start to believe it.

Chapter Twelve Adrian She was distracted. Hyper-focused on her job, yet at the same time, distracted, for all the fucking sense it made. It was almost as if she was a lightbulb, working on a switch. On for five minutes, off for ten. If I had to watch her jab her straw into the cherry in her glass one more time, I was going to lose my fucking mind. Perrie sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. We’d been in this bar an hour, and I was running out of patience with her inability to hold her focus for very long. Mostly because when she did, you could see the cogs in her mind working as she laid everything out before her and assessed the people around us. I didn’t know what had happened—maybe it was me—but something was under her skin. I could tell, because she was fucking under mine. Ever since she’d skipped out on our conversation in Polka’s to use the restroom in an obvious escape ploy, I’d done nothing but think about her. Think about the sadness in her eyes.

The anger when I’d shown up at her house. The way her breath had hitched when I’d touched her lip to wipe away a lingering bit of sauce. The way I’d kept my thumb on her mouth for a little too long, because if I hadn’t, I’d have kissed the hell out of her right there and then. The way I wanted to do nothing but spin her around on this goddamn barstool and do just that— kiss her. Annoyance was definitely preferable. Kissing her was the line. The big, black, fucking line that screamed with neon lights. The one I couldn’t cross. Not now, and not ever. I’d been there. I’d done that. Leopards like her never changed their spots, and that meant I’d never do it again. “Can you focus?” I snapped when she jabbed the cherry with her straw one final time. “I’m trying,” she ground out, dropping the straw into the glass with frustration. “I have a lot on my mind today.” “Get it out, then.” She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath. I could have sworn it sounded an awful lot like she was calling me a flip-flopping bastard, whatever the hell that meant, but it wasn’t clear enough to call her on it. Ignoring it instead, I leaned against the bar

and scanned the room. I’d never admit it, but I was tiring of this job. Of the late nights, of never getting a full night’s sleep, of spending more hours inside smoky, dank casinos and bars than I did anywhere else. I missed when I was just a cop doing my normal job. No matter that I had a private interest in getting these people off the streets of my city, I still missed not having to spend all my time here in places I hated. If only I were brave enough to step off the task squad. But no, my fucking hero complex kept me here. The same damn thing kept the woman in front of me out of jail. “I need the bathroom.” Perrie slid off her chair and walked past me without a word. I pinched the bridge of my nose. That was the second time in the last hour. It was another distraction tactic and one I was growing very tired of. There wasn’t much I could do without her, and she knew it. Was this another way she could get out of us making arrests? Was she slipping away anytime she saw somebody we could arrest? Was she giving them a chance to escape? Leaving it up to fate, maybe? If they were still there after she’d come back, then she’d tell

me? Whatever it was, was ridiculous. I didn’t have the patience for it. Zac hadn’t mentioned his mom since our conversation in my office, but the problem was that every single time I saw a prostitute, I saw her face on their body. The constant reminder of why I did this job. The only person I hadn’t seen her face on was Perrie. I didn’t fucking know why, and that bugged me, too. Bugged me more than I ever wanted to admit. I was all over the fucking place—an emotional mess of royal proportions. Nothing made sense to me, and I was thinking that I really needed a vacation. Unfortunately, duty called before that. My phone buzzed in my pocket. When I pulled it out, I saw it was a message from Sam. Sam: Arrested Monica Kennedy. Me: Good. Where next? Sam: Got a tip that one of the strippers in Goldies is doing overtime. Me: Thirty minutes to get information then you get out of there. Understood? Sam: Got it. I let go of a long breath. My nostrils flared as I tucked my phone back into my office. Goldies

was risky. It was the original strip club set up by the Fox family way back when, and that family had nothing if not a damn good eye for spotting undercover cops. If Benedict Fox got wind of us sniffing around, he’d cause a hell of a scene. As for Damien Fox—who knew? I’d never had to deal with him aside from passing meetings, but from the way Perrie balked every time his name was mentioned, I had to assume he was much the same as his father. Perrie sighed as she took her seat back in front of me. She’d forgone the skintight dress tonight, instead opting for a black and gray number that hugged her to the waist before flaring out. It was shorter, and the high neck was no less tempting that the plunging one of the other night. “Better now?” I asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. She turned and looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “What’s bitten your balls?” “Whatever bullshit you’re playing tonight.” Her eyes darkened, and her lips twitched together in a little purse. “Don’t go there, Adrian. Trust me when I say I’m not in the mood.” “You leave your personal life at the door. You don’t bring it in here with you. Mope in the car —not in the bar.” “Sounds like a feisty life motto,” she said drolly. “Like I said—leave it, okay? I just want to

do my job. If I need a few more breaks, let me take them. I’m not hurting anyone.” “You’re hurting my patience.” “You’re mistaken in thinking I give a flying fuck about your patience.” The snap in her voice had drawn the attention of a few people around us. Something I didn’t want—attention. I pushed our drinks back across the bar and grabbed hold of her hand. Yanking her off the seat before she even had a second to protest what I was doing, I pulled her through the people and out of the casino. The lobby was still too full of people, so I kept us moving until we were outside in a small garden area. Bright flowers escaped from between green leaves, and dim, outdoor lighting counteracted the setting of the sun. “What the hell was that?” She snatched her hand out of my grip, her dark eyes alight with anger. “That was you drawing too much attention to us.” “Oh, yeah, because grabbing my hand and hauling me away like a caveman was the way to avoid a little extra.” I stared at her flatly for a moment. Then, I took a step toward her. She wavered as if she wanted to step back, and for a second, I thought she would.

She didn’t. She planted her feet, straightened her spine, and looked me dead in the eye. “What the hell is your problem with me tonight?” “I just made it perfectly clear,” I said in a low voice, one much lower than hers. “You’re unfocused. Your head isn’t where it needs to be. You keep disappearing for bathroom breaks. I’ve never seen so much bullshit in my life.” “You have no idea what I’m dealing with right now.” “Your personal life has no place where we are right this second.” “Excuse me for being unable to just flip the emotional switch and pretend like I don’t care.” “Don’t care about what? Have you considered I might be more understanding if you tried talking to me?” She averted her eyes before bringing them back, but the original fire was diminished. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her chest shuddered with her exhale. “I don’t want to tell you another damn thing about me, Adrian Potter. You already know too much.” But that was the thing, wasn’t it? I didn’t know nearly enough about her. “Then my point still stands. Get yourself together. You’re not being paid to fuck off, Perrie. You’re being paid to locate hookers.” Now, she took that step back.

Stepped back. Hooked her purse strap over her arm. Held her hands out, palms up, wrists together. Expression flat and unfeeling, eyes cold and detached, she said in the most unemotional voice I’d ever heard, “Stop looking. You already found your hooker for the night.” I looked at her hands. Pink nails dug into her palms where she’d balled them into fists. Teeny, tiny scars dotted the inside of her left wrist, but her right one was unblemished, completely perfect in comparison. Slowly, I reached and took her hands in mine. I pulled her arms apart and lowered her hands to her sides, then released her. “I’m not arresting you. If I wanted you in jail, you’d already be there,” I said quietly. “Save yourself the hard work.” “I’m not arresting you, Perrie. End of.” She lifted her hands once more, fists ready, wrists already turning upward. I grabbed them. I pulled her into me. And I kissed her. I pressed my rough lips against her soft ones, hearing and feeling her sharp intake of air. She froze against me, but she didn’t move. She didn’t move and she didn’t fight.

She kissed me back. Releasing her wrists, I cupped the sides of her face as her hands fisted the sides of my shirt. Sweetness battled with the faint taste of mint as she parted her lips and our tongues met. She leaned into me a little more, grasping at more of my shirt at the same time my fingers snaked around her neck and teased her hair. My thumbs brushed her jaw as our tongues battled. Heat thumped through my body ferociously, desire and need forming an almost undeniable urge as blood rushed right down to my cock. This was wrong, and I knew it. Just minutes ago, I’d been telling myself this was the line I wouldn’t cross, but here I was, crossing it and doing nothing to stop myself. Truth was, I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stop kissing her. She tasted of more than sweetness and mint. She tasted of obsession and she smelled like addiction. She felt like danger. Not a danger to anyone else, but to me. I’d kissed her but once and thought about it a thousand times, yet now, with my lips on hers, it felt as though I’d just found my Achilles Heel. Her name was Perrie Fox. She had blond hair and dark eyes and a killer body and a soul just waiting for someone brave enough to understand

her. Perrie broke the kiss with a tiny gasp, but she didn’t release my shirt. I rested my forehead against hers and squeezed my eyes shut tightly. That was so fucking wrong—a huge ass mistake, yet I didn’t regret it. How could I? My heart was pumping faster than it had in years, and never, ever had I so badly wanted to push a woman against a wall and fuck her where anyone could find us at any second. “That was unexpected,” she whispered. I laughed. It was the only thing I could do. She’d summed it up so damn perfectly, because I hadn’t expected me to do that, either. “Uh, I’m sorry?” I offered, letting my hands fall from her neck, no matter how little I wanted to. “Are you sorry?” She peered up at me through her eyelashes, finally letting go of my shirt and stepping back. “Do you want me to be?” “Is this a trick question?” I paused. “I don’t know. That’s why I wanted you to answer.” She opened her mouth, then stilled. A blush rose up her cheeks before she finally answered me. “You don’t have to be sorry. Unless you want to be.” My lips tugged to the side in a half-smile. “I don’t want to be.”

“Okay. Good.” Perrie nodded her head once, almost as if she were telling herself it was okay for her to not want me to be sorry. “So…Should we go back to work now?” I glanced at my watch. We’d been gone ten minutes, and my phone was buzzing in my pocket. Sam. “Hey,” I answered. “What’s up?” “They wouldn’t let us in,” he answered grimly. “We waited in line, but we couldn’t even flash our badges because it’d give us away.” “Not a lot you could do even then.” I stepped away from Perrie, holding my finger up. “How reliable was your information?” “Rumor mill, if I’m honest. One of the girls we took in last night offered up some places we should check out as part of a deal.” “What fucking deal?” “No fucking deal, but she doesn’t know that.” He chuckled. “Goldies was one of ‘em.” “It’s not the first time we’ve barked up this tree. They run a squeaky-clean ship, Sam, you know that.” “Nah. There’s no way they’ve been as successful as they are without breaking some laws along the way.” “We can agree to disagree.” “Whatever. We’re gonna head over to the Milton Casino and see if we can get lucky. Will we

be seeing you and your lovely lady friend?” “Fuck yourself. I’ll let you know.” I hung up and stuffed my phone back into my pocket before I had a chance to hear his laughter. I had no idea how I put up with his shit—and he was also the reason Zac never caught me swearing. I got it all out of my system at work while dealing with my best friend. “So. Goldies, huh?” Perrie didn’t even try to hide her amusement. “You heard that?” “I’ve heard elephants quieter than him on the phone.” She smirked. “Yep. Goldies. I’m guessing then you heard the whole thing?” “About him being told by someone trying to break a deal? Yep. Getting turned away? Yep. Good luck to him. He isn’t getting past security at any of those clubs.” “Why not?” She laughed. “Back inside first. Nobody wants to know the Fox family secrets, except absolutely everyone.” She winked over her shoulder and headed back inside. “One—that makes no sense. Two—we’re gonna discuss it in an overcrowded bar instead?” I caught up with her and touched my hand to her back. “Of course. Less chance of anyone who

actually cares being able to overhear you.” She shot me a half-smile, and the look in her eye reminded me that she was way smarter and savvier in this side of the city than I would ever be. A flash of ruthlessness with a side of arrogance. She’d seen both sides—she knew how they both worked, what made both the glitz and glamor tick and the seedy, sexy underbelly roll. She was not the woman you underestimated, but I’d been doing just that. Back at the bar, I motioned for another pair of drinks to be brought over. Perrie situated herself in a stool in the corner, closest to the casino, and crossed one leg over the other. “Talk,” I demanded, taking the seat right in front of her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and with her elbow on the bar, rested her chin on her hand. “For as long as I can remember, Benedict has had the most complex screening process you can imagine for his security. He’s never trusted the police, and that distrust got worse after my sister died and—” “Your sister died?” “Uh, yeah.” She bit her lower lip and dragged it between her teeth. “About eight years ago now. Can I carry on?” “Sure.”

“He’s always had people of interest be known to all the security. They have to literally memorize the faces of most of the police force on a semi-regular basis. Sam is never gonna get in there —neither are you.” I rubbed my hand down my face. “You’re sure about this?” “Sure as I can be.” She smirked. “I’m the one who used to print the info for the security team.” “Fair enough.” “If you really want to get into Goldies, you need to send a new officer in. A total rookie who’s been on the force less than three months.” I blinked at her. That was a terrible idea. “Can you get in there?” “With a good enough disguise,” she admitted slowly. Very. Slowly. “But that doesn’t mean I want to. In fact, I can’t think of a worse idea than that one right there.” Our drinks were put in front of us, and I handed the tender a bill with a, “Keep the change,” then turned back to Perrie. “If it really makes you that uncomfortable…But I don’t want to exactly send a rookie in there, either. We don’t have them on our team for this. They’re not skilled enough.” She tilted her head to the side. “Isn’t that why I’m here? Because you’re all useless?” Goddamn it. Her being right was becoming

an annoying regularity. “All right, all right. I’ll consider it.” She smiled serenely, her eyes twinkling. “I need the bathroom again.” I rolled my eyes. She slid off her chair gracefully and placed a hand on my shoulder. Leaning into me so that her hair brushed my cheek, she whispered, “The blond in black, ten o’clock by the slot machines. Send someone over there. She looks lonely.” I spun on the stool to face her, but all I got was the faint whiff of her perfume and a view of her ass as she sauntered away to the bathroom. It could have been worse.

Chapter Thirteen Perrie There were some things I didn’t do. I didn’t sleep a lot. I didn’t pair socks before I put them back in the drawer. I didn’t dust as often as I probably should. I didn’t visit the graves of my mother and sister. In fact, I blocked them out completely. Those few years of my life where Penelope had overdosed and my mom had hung herself were little more than a blur to me. Their actions had set the course for my own, but to an extent, it felt like my destiny to be left alone was always written in the stars. I was an accident, after all. The product of a risky affair that was never meant to be serious. My biological father had been the first person to leave me, happily signing over all parental rights if my mom paid his legal bills. She did. Penelope was next. My perfect baby sister let the drugs take over, and eventually, they took her. Then Mom. The only reason I was even a part of that rich, obnoxious family took her life because she couldn’t bear to live in a world that Penelope wasn’t a part of.

Then it was Dennis. Two weeks after I said the two magic words to him—“I’m pregnant”—he decided it was a good idea to get in his car when he was drunk as all get out and wrapped the shitty little Honda around a tree. Right about the time my father and brother told me I should abort my baby because I couldn’t do it alone. There was a strange sense of pride and selfrighteousness about the fact I’d proved them wrong. Lola was the only person I had in this world, and it’d always been that way. Just the two of us, always. Now, sitting in front of the headstones that marked the final resting places of my mom and sister, I understood something. I hadn’t tried to find a real job as hard as I should have. I’d been abandoned by everyone in my life I’d ever loved. Pushed aside and forgotten or doubted. How was I supposed to get a real job when I knew I’d eventually be fired because I wasn’t good enough? I couldn’t live easily because the money that was mine, that Mom had left me as my share of the business, was inaccessible. Selling myself was the only job that made me worthless, that fit into the way I viewed myself every time I looked in the mirror. I was used and discarded like the shit I’d always thought myself to

be, with nobody to lean on except my precious girl who I never wanted to be subjected to that side of her mom. I took a deep breath and perched on the edge of the wall. There were footprints in the dusty area before me, and two small bouquets of flowers brightened their graves. My gut told me my brother was the person responsible for those, and although I’d wanted to bring some, I was glad I hadn’t. He might know I was here if I had. Wrapping my arms around my stomach, my gaze flitted from stone to stone. It’d been years, literally, since I’d dragged myself to this side of town and made any form of connection with my family. Granted, making a connection with a living member was probably a smarter idea, but not everything I did was smart. As evidenced by my current work situation. Adrian seemed surprised when I’d mentioned that I had a dead sister. In turn, that had surprised me. I’d assumed he’d looked up everything he could find about the Fox family in the police archives. He wouldn’t have to look far. The fight my parents had put up for the coroner to label Penny’s death a homicide or accidental homicide was well-documented. It was probably used in crime classes. How to deal with parents who won’t let go, or something

like that. I slowly exhaled. Their names were etched so perfectly in the stones, and I traced the letters over and over and over with my eyes. Every time, the memory of them cut a little deeper. The pain of losing them sliced a little harder. The way I missed them twisted a little more violently. Tears burned, but there was no way I was letting them go. I’d cried enough when they’d died. The flowers on their graves were bright and colorful. The tears stung at the sight of those. If I’d have come before, would I have met my brother in passing? Would I have stayed or ran? Would I have wanted to? My conversation with Dahlia swirled around and around in my mind. Why had she contacted me? Had he really told her everything? The idea that this stranger knew more about me than I did about her threw me. Why had he told her, if he had? Who was she to him? She was in love with him, but was he with her? I’d thought he loved me, once. He was my big brother. My protector. My confidante. The person I’d shared everyone with—my safe space, my best friend. There was nothing I couldn’t tell him.

Losing Damien hurt almost more than my mom and sister. We’d gotten each other through it. He’d covered for me more times than I cared to count. The last time I’d seen his face was in the middle of a grocery store a few weeks after Lola was born. We’d stared at each other, then he’d asked me how I was. Asked me about her. Held her for mere seconds before she’d cried. I’d missed him ever since. I was staring the stones with the names of my mom and sister on, but I only could think of the very alive brother I’d lost right along with them. Death. Lies. Pain. Life. I slid down the wall, the scraping of it against my back less painful than the ache that coursed through my veins, and cried. On the dirty, dry ground of the cemetery with my back grazed thanks to the stone, I cried harder than I had in years. *** “Mommy.” Lola crept into my bedroom with the skill and silence of a hunting lioness. Her fluffy socks masked her usual loudness, and it was

obvious my child didn’t feel the heat at all. At least, not at home. “Yes?” I released my hair from the curler and turned to her. “I have a question.” “Okay.” She sat on the edge of the bed next to me and looked over at me. “Why can’t penguins fly?” I blinked at my reflection in the mirror. “I, er, I’m not sure. Did you try to Google it?” “Yeah, but I can’t spell penguin. How do you spell it?” “P-e-n-g-u-i-n.” “P-e-n-g-u-i-n,” she repeated. “Thanks, Mommy.” “You’re welcome.” Honestly, you’d think it’d be on their suggested searches at this point. Why couldn’t penguins fly? That was serious business. Why didn’t I know the answer? Because I was too damn busy doing laundry and spotting hookers for a living, that was why. She got up and disappeared quicker than I could say a word to her. I went back to curling my hair. She got more random as time went on, and I was at a point where going along with whatever she had to ask was the smarter option. Also: I wanted to know if penguins could fly.

This one benefitted us both. I released the final lock of my hair from curling iron and turned it off. It beeped right before I did, and I set it on the heatproof mat that conveniently covered up the burn mark from the time I didn’t use the mat. I loosened the curls with my fingers, pausing at the sound of several knocks on the door. Who was that? If it was a solicitor, I was going to move my robe to the side and show them my stocking, because no doubt, they were a religious nut. Nobody else came into this neighborhood—just the ones who thought Jesus would save us. Sadly for them, Satan already claimed me. I didn’t know exactly how Jesus felt about prostitutes. “Mommy, it’s Zac! Zac’s here!” What the— “Lola! Do not answer the door!” I tripped over the curling iron cord on my way out of my room, grabbing the door handle. My arm grazed the edge of the door, but I could barely feel the sting, because my heart was pounding. Why was Zac here? More to the point—if Zac was here, so was Adrian. And why? “Zac! Hi!” The door creaked open.

“Lola!” My voice was hard. “What did I just tell you?” From my position on the stairs, I could see her. She froze, hand still on the doorknob. I tugged my robe around me and tightened the belt before I was fully in view. “Get back inside. Now.” “But—” she started, turning. I hit her with a look that asked, “Do you think I care about your “but?”” and she did as I’d told her. Not without dipping her head and shuffling off with a sniff or three. All in the hopes of making me feel bad, of course. Unfortunately for her, it didn’t work. Conscious of the fact my robe wasn’t the most modest, I clutched it at my chest as I approached the front door. As I’d assumed, Zac was standing there, Adrian right behind him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Zac wore shorts and a Marvel t-shirt, and Adrian was dressed for work. White shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbow, showing his dark ink off, and smart, black pants with shiny shoes. I looked at them both before meeting Adrian’s eyes. “Uh, hello?” “Hey.” He grimaced, almost looking sheepish as he returned my gaze. “Sorry—I tried to call. Could we talk?” I paused, the urge to be snarky rising inside

me, but then I remembered…Zac. “Sure.” I stepped aside, gripping my robe a little tighter. “Zac, you wanna go through to the front room? Lola’s in there watching TV. Just down there.” I pointed in the direction of the room and with a nod, he walked off to find her. After a mutual moment of silence while he left, I motioned for Adrian to come inside and walked into the kitchen. He pushed the door closed, wringing his hands together before he turned. His hesitant gaze met mine, and I bit the inside of my cheek at his expression. “I have a problem.” He paused. “My sitter got called into work, my parents are out of town, and my sister’s sitter refuses to have Zac.” I blinked several times before going to the easiest point for me to respond to. “Why won’t your sister’s sitter have Zac?” “Well.” He shuffled side to side, looking more like an awkward teen than a muscular, tattooed cop for a moment. “Last time she watched him, he kinda stripped down naked aside from a hand towel around his waist—” “Oh god,” I whispered. “—Then jumped on the coffee table with a foam sword yelling, “I am Sparta!” She was sitting on the floor, and, yeah…He wasn’t wearing underpants.”

“Oh god,” I repeated, this time with a groan. “That makes perfect sense. I wouldn’t watch him after.” “He was six.” Adrian rubbed his jaw, his lips twitching. “That’s two long years.” “I can imagine. So, what are you asking? If my sitter can return the favor yours gave?” “Yeah…” More pausing. “Normally, my parents would have him and I wouldn’t dream of asking, but they’re somewhere in Montana right now.” I wanted to be in Montana right now. Or, you know. On Mars. I didn’t want our kids together anymore. Not because I was a horrible person or that I begrudged them the friendship forged on the connection they clearly had, but because it was one more connection between me and the godly man in front of me. I was already having issues forgetting that kiss. The way his lips had swept mine, how his tongue had teased across my own, the way his fingers had wound into my hair and he’d held me close until I was drowning in him. Yeah. This was a bad, bad idea. “I can text her,” I said after a moment of his intense scrutiny. “It’ll probably cost you, though, and I’m not as nice a person as you were.”

The grin that stretched across his face was heart-stopping. “Baby, I’ll pay her fee for Lola, too.” Snatching up my phone, I shot him a dark look as I passed him and said six words. “Don’t call me fucking baby, asshole.”

Chapter Fourteen Perrie Four hours of being inside clubs and bars and casinos and I felt grimier and dirtier than usual for some reason. I wanted three hot showers in a row, and that was just to wash the sensation of Adrian’s hands off me. Not because he was dirty, but because he’d touched me so many times that I needed to wash away the lingering sensation of him. Sitting in my drive, I pulled the wig off my head and systemically pulled out every single bobby pin holding my hair against my scalp. I’d spent thirty minutes curling my hair only to be told it was time for a disguise and forced to hide it under a dark brown wig. My eyebrows matched, and as my light blond curls tumbled away from my head, I looked more and more stupid. Granted, I was looking in a one-by-threeinch mirror on the eye shade in my car, but still. The eyebrows currently framing my eyes were way too dark for me with my natural hair color. I didn’t even own an eyebrow pencil or powder this dark— I’d had to borrow a young rookie’s kit just so my brows matched the wig. For future reference, I’d demanded to be

informed ahead of time if I needed to be in disguise with a wig. Only a man wouldn’t appreciate the arm-ache that thirty-plus minutes of curling iron usage would bring. Next time, I wouldn’t bother washing my hair, never mind doing anything else with it. “Ugh.” The word was no more than muttered to myself as I got out of the car, leaving the cause of my itchy scalp sitting on the passenger seat. All right, it was on the floor. It didn’t deserve the seat. I scratched my nails hard against my scalp. Dear god, it was like I was in fucking elementary school with a breakout of headlice all over again. Not only did I now need prior warning before I’d wear a wig—I’d be informing them the itchiness would have to be tested first, or Adrian could dress up. The only good that had come out of tonight was locating the first male prostitute. We—and by ‘we,’ I mean Adrian and his team—hadn’t been able to arrest him, but the bartender had given us a positive ID and a rundown of his personality. He was the only one I didn’t mind snaring. That thought lingered on my mind as I headed inside. I batted it away just long enough to pay Alison and see her drive off down the street. It came back full force as I made my way upstairs to check on the kids.

Zac coughed and rolled over at me pushing the door open, but he was still sound asleep on the blow-up mattress on the floor, curled up right under his covers. Lola was totally crashed, too, one leg thrown out of her pink covers, arm over her head, and mouth open like she was catching flies. I stifled a giggle at their polar opposite sleeping positions and quietly closed the door. Certain they were both still sleeping—the tiny snore from one of them clued me in—I headed for the bathroom and turned on the shower. Within seconds, the small room filled with steam. I stripped and jumped into the shower, make-up still on, and instantly regretted it. Mascara stung my eyes, and it was a blind scramble toward the sink to reach my wipes to clean it off. I scrubbed at my eyes, still standing in the shower with the curtain pulled back. The mirror was steaming up a little more with each wipe at my face, but inch by inch, I stared at my reflection as the make-up disappeared from my skin and my eyelashes. Harder and harder I pressed, getting rougher with each rub of the wipe across my face. Soon enough, the make-up was gone, and I looked like myself again. Light lashes and brows, a lightly freckled nose and pale pink lips. The skin around my eyebrows was red where I’d wiped so hard, but I threw the final wet wipe into the sink to trash later and stepped back fully into the flow of

water. The water washed over me as my thoughts returned. The gigolo. We’d named him. Confirmed it through the police record. Had a pin on his whereabouts for tomorrow night. Taking him down was my job. It would be the first arrest I would be completely responsible for, and after seeing him tonight, I was strangely okay with it. Whether it was because he was the biggest asshole I’d ever seen pick up women—and that was saying something—or because I was becoming desensitized to this whole thing, I didn’t know, but I wanted to put my money on the first option. The way he’d approached potential female clients as if they owed him something had made me cringe. He was handsome and he knew it—he worked it, he played it, and he abused it. The thought I had to worm my way into being on the other side of had me wanting to throw up. But, I would. Not only did I not have a choice, I wanted to. You could be paid for sex and still be a decent damn human being. I washed the soap from my body, made sure the conditioner was fully out of my hair, and killed the water. I wrapped a towel around my hair and grabbed a second for my body. The bathroom was humid with the steam that swirled thanks to the

heat of the water. Wiping my hand over the condensationcoated mirror, I sighed. Was this what my life had become? Was this what my choices had really lead me to? From loneliness and disrespect to loneliness and disrespect? Self-loathing trickled through my veins. I’d distanced myself from my family because they’d hurt me, because I knew they didn’t see my life the way I did, but in doing so, I’d fucked myself and my daughter. How had my showers gone from scrubbing another man from my body to wanting to take one of the motherfuckers down? How had my life gone from riches to rags? I was the reverse Cinderella. I’d been a princess before I’d ever been a servant. And that’s all I was, really. I was a servant to others’ pleasure for years and now I was a slave of the Las Vegas police force. I’d gone from one to the other without batting an eyelid to save my ass because I’d been caught in the act. And all for my pint-sized mini-me. The same person who benefit far more from me righting the wrongs with my family. The same family who had the chance to give her the world. But would they? My brother wanted to see me, if his new bit of stuff could be believed, but how much of it was

truly real? Would he accept Lola? Me? Was it from a true place or borne of regret and a need to right the wrong? There was only one way to find out, but the idea was stomach-turning. Despite it all, I loved Damien. I loved my big brother the way any little girl did, and I would give anything I had to have the man I once knew and loved back in my life. Those facts made it worse—harder, more nerve-wracking. It’d been almost a decade. There was no way he was the young man who’d put me on a pedestal all those years ago until the second line on my pregnancy test faded into view. He had to be older and more jaded. He had to be crueler and harsher. He was bred to be Benedict Fox the Second, after all. He was born to be his successor and his heir and nothing less than the ruthless perfection his father embodied. Perfection was a ruse. Perfection would be allowing me access to the money I was entitled to, but that would never happen. Perfection would be accepting that his wife—my mother—fucked up twenty-something years ago, but that would be too easy. Or hard, whatever. Perfection would be accepting that I was a Fox, if only because Benedict loved my mom

enough to make it happen. No matter how he felt about the little black sheep with blond hair who was a million miles away from his other children. Tears stung the backs of my eyes and I pushed the thoughts away. It’d been years since I’d really thought about it all. I’d buried all that shit when I’d moved on, but Dahlia Lloyd’s appearance in my life had dredged it all back up. Not to mention that the fact I was seeing prostitutes from another angle now. I was seeing them for the desperate neediness they were. For the hatred and hurt and desperation that seeped from all their pores. That had seeped from mine. That had been my lifeblood only weeks ago. I slammed my hand down onto the sink. The heel of it hit the ceramic, and I hissed out in pain. Frustration ebbed away at the dull throb that took up, and the ache that lingered even as I left the room helped dampen the emotion that swirled inside me and made my heart hurt with its intensity. I wanted a normal life. I wanted to smile. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to fall in love. I wanted to live and breathe the way others did, without fear or judgement, without the risk of being caught and shamed. I just wanted a life. One I loved. One I could

be proud of. One I believed in. *** Half an hour later, still sitting on the end of my bed wearing nothing more than my towel and a dainty, satin thong that was surprisingly comfortable, knocks echoed off my front door. Tucking my now dry hair behind my ear, I froze. “Fuck.” The word was no more than a mutter, because the only person who would be knocking on my door at this time of the night was Detective Adrian Potter. And I was not dressed for his company. Or any kind of company, actually. I hadn’t expected him to be back so soon. Unless I’d spent longer in the shower than I was willing to acknowledge, it hadn’t been the two hours he insisted he needed to get all the paperwork done and prepare for the next night’s work. “Perrie?” The door opened downstairs. “Shit! Wait!” I half-called, torn between shouting so he’d hear me and being quiet enough that the kids wouldn’t. “You there?” I snatched up my towel and wrapped it

around my body, then darted to the top stair. “Quiet. They’re sleeping. Hold on.” He stepped to the bottom stair before I could turn away. His dark eyebrows shot up, and something that looked an awful lot like desire flickered in his gaze. “I showered,” I said lamely. “And I’m not dressed yet, so…” “Give you a minute,” he said in a strained voice. “Right.” “Thank you.” I backed away slower than I probably should have before common sense kicked in and I ran into my room. Rifling through my drawers for clothes was harder than I’d thought. All my bras appeared to be downstairs in the laundry pile or dirty, and I couldn’t even put a finger on a bikini top. All I could find that seemed appealing to put on at one in the morning was some comfortable shorts and a tank top. At least this time, it was black. Biting my lip, I pulled the shirt over my head. As long as I kept my arms folded, he’d never see my nipples and know I wasn’t wearing a bra. Right? Right. I’d keep telling myself that. Unless… “Adrian?” I hissed at the top of the stairs.

“What?” He was still standing there. “Um, could you bring me my laundry basket? It’s the pink one in the kitchen.” “Your laundry basket? You’re dressed.” “Uh…I need a bra.” My cheeks flamed. He looked at me for a minute—and then right at my boobs. “I don’t think you need one, but whatever.” He disappeared through the door. My mouth dropped open, and even when he reappeared carrying the basket, I didn’t move or say anything. He handed me the basket at the top of the stairs. “There. For your unnecessary bra.” I swallowed and took hold of the handles. “Thank you.” Turning back into my room, I mentally slapped myself. “It’s amazing,” his low voice rumbled from behind me. “You used to screw for money, yet here you are, blushing because you need a bra.” “Well. You know. Bras are blush-worthy.” “I still maintain that you don’t need a bra.” I looked over my shoulder. “My boobs were the sole sustenance for a tiny human for six months of her life and a treat for even longer. Trust me. Breastfeeding means bras are a necessity.” He laughed and sat on the edge of my bed. “Did you know that the inside of your house doesn’t look like it fits in this neighborhood?” “That was a one-eighty in topics,” I

remarked. “Do you mind leaving so I can put a bra on?” “I mind that you want to put a bra on.” “Aren’t you here to get your son and go?” “Yeah, but then I saw you in a towel and now the last thing I want to do is leave,” he admitted, frowning. His gaze flitted across my body to my face. “You’re better as a blond.” “Thanks for the approval. I would hope I am, given that it’s natural.” “Is that “I’m a natural blond from a bottle” or actually natural?” “Actually natural.” I fingered the lace cup of the bra in my hand. “Can you…” I waved awkwardly toward the door. Adrian sighed but stood. Stopping in front of me, he reached out to remove some hair caught in my eyelashes. “You did good tonight, Perrie.” “Uh, thanks. I think.” “You ready for tomorrow?” “To be hooker bait? Sure,” I said dryly. “That’s been my lifelong dream, don’t you know?” Adrian’s lips tugged to one side. “I thought so. It’s written all over your face.” I slapped him with my bra. “Shut up. Go do something useful and take your son home before you decide to stay.” “What if I do decide to stay?” I looked at him dead on and said, “I’ll kill

you in your sleep.” “I was hoping for something a little less drastic.” “Stop crossing the line, Adrian.” “What if I like crossing the line?” He stepped closer to me, sending my heartbeat through the roof. “What if I did it once and now I’m standing here in front of you remembering what it felt like when you gripped my shirt and whimpered into my mouth? Then what?” My mouth was dry, my lips cracked, and all I could think about was the fact his words had gone straight to the tender spot between my legs and that my nipples were hard. “Then you forget it.” I kept my eyes trained to the side. “Look at me and tell me to forget it.” I didn’t. “You can’t. Why not?” Because a crazy part of me wants you to kiss me again. “How…” I licked my lips. “How did we get from me needing a bra to you bringing up that mistake?” “Maybe it was. First kisses usually are mistakes—second ones are the ones that matter.” He got what he wanted. I swung my gaze to meet his. “Why are they the ones that matter?” “Because this is the one I’ve thought

through.” He yanked the bra from my hand and pulled me to him, sliding his hand around the back of my neck and kissing me firmly. Heat exploded through me, singeing all my nerve endings like a detonated bomb. I scrambled for purchase on his shirt as he teased his tongue across my lips, begging me to part my lips, pleading for more. I let him in, drowning in the taste of coffee and sugar on his tongue. Lust tinged the air around us, getting stronger and more suffocating with each heartbeat and every flex of his fingers on my ass. His fingertips dug in, almost possessively, hurting in a way that almost felt good. I wanted more—more of him, more of his touch, more of his body. I wanted to feel his heart beating to see if it matched mine, and I wanted to pull away from the kiss to see if he found breathing as hard as I did. This was foreign, the feelings new and raw and seemingly existing only for the man I was kissing. He turned us and released me. He pushed me back on the bed with the barest touch of his hands to my shoulders and loosened his tie. Bending over me, he tugged the tie over his head and undid a couple of buttons before once again claiming my mouth with his own. He moved between my legs, sliding a hand

up my thigh until his thick, hard cock pressed against my throbbing clit. I gasped at the touch, and he dragged my lower lip between his teeth. Kissing me again, I freed my hands from their iron-grip on his collar and undid the buttons of his shirt. With my help, he shrugged it off, and I ran my fingers over the muscled planes of his torso, dipping and rising with each solid pack that sat happily on his stomach. Hair dotted a happy trail between them, leading right down to where his cock fought with his pants. The kisses now even more desperate, Adrian circled his thumb over the fabric that covered my nipple. My pussy clenched as the simple touch sent a firework of desire right through me. God, I wanted him. I had no place wanting him, but I did. Right now, more than anything else. I hooked a finger through one of his belt loops, craning my neck back to keep the kiss, and reached for his buckle. I undid it with a couple of flicks of my fingers before he spoke. “Do it,” he said in a strained voice, “And I won’t be leaving.” I unbuttoned his pants with two fingers. “Perrie.” Undid the zipper. “Shit.” And slipped my hand inside, cupping his rock

hard cock with my hand. He flipped. His kisses were deeper, harder. His hand slid beneath my shirt, cupping my bare breast and really teasing my nipples as his tongue teased mine. Pinching, circling, rubbing, he pulled my nipple into an almost painful point. I stroked my fingers along his hard length, gasping between kisses. He fisted my hair and pulled my head back, taking his lips down the curve of my neck. My skin tingled as he pushed my shirt right up under my arms and cupped one of my tits. His mouth found that, too. Found the nipple he’d just toyed with. He sucked and nipped and grazed. More and more desire built inside me, and him, too, if the throbbing of his cock was a guide. I wanted to rip his mouth from my breast, yank his cock from his pants, and sink him inside me. Wanted to wrap my legs around him, to flip him over, to ride him until he blacked out and I couldn’t do it anymore. I wanted to kill this ache, to relieve myself of this stupid fucking need that had taken over my body. He let go of my nipple with a smack of his lips and brought his mouth to my ear. “I’m going to fuck you, Perrie. You asked for it. So, I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name.”

“Bring it,” I breathed. His eyes bore into mine, promises and threats and need all rolled into one tidy little package that mirrored my own gaze, I was sure. I didn’t care anymore. Didn’t care that it was wrong. I wanted it more than I cared. He yanked my shorts down my legs, knocking the laundry basket off the corner of the bed, before pulling me against him. Clothes flew everywhere, but I didn’t care. I was wet and ready —I didn’t need or want more. I wanted to cut to the chase and— “Dad?” A sleepy voice asked from somewhere in the hall. “Are you back yet? Dad?” “Motherfucker,” Adrian whispered. He scrambled off me and flicked my short at me at the same time he zipped his pants. Skipping the button altogether, he buckled his belt and headed for the door. “Zacco? You all right?” “You’re back.” Zac came into view right as I pulled my shorts over my ass and had tugged my tshirt down with my other hand. “Where’s your shirt?” “I was gonna get a shower before waking you up,” Adrian lied smoothly. “Oh.” Zac rubbed his eyes. “I heard a bang.” Adrian glanced back at the laundry basket. Foiled by his own rush.

If my clit weren’t still throbbing, I’d find a kind of poetic justice in that. “Sorry. Perrie knocked the laundry basket off in her sleep.” I pretended to yawn. “Sorry, Zac. I forgot I’d put it there. I fell asleep watching TV.” He looked around his dad at me. “It’s okay. Are we going now?” Adrian nodded curtly. “Go grab your stuff, okay?” “’Kay.” Zac trotted off, still rubbing his eyes. Adrian turned back to me. I threw him his shirt and tie. “I guess you should have been more careful.” He shrugged the shirt on and approached me, stopping just inches in front of me. Buttoning it, he said in a low voice, “Your eyes are twinkling, but I know you’re just as pissed as me right now.” He glanced at my nipples, still poking against the shirt. “Next time, it won’t matter. Next time, I’ll put him to bed again then come back to yours.” “Promises, promises.” He stuffed the tie in his pocket. Then, he gripped my chin, forcing me to look him right in his eyes. “Promises? No. Promises is me telling you that next time, you’ll sit your wet pussy on my face while my cock is in your mouth. Promises is me telling you that when you’ve come in my mouth, I’ll flip you onto your knees and fuck you until you

can’t breathe. Promises is me telling you that you’ll scream into the sheets while you beg me for mercy you won’t get. Promises is that when we’re done… You’ll still want more.” I swallowed hard. “Next time,” he murmured, taking his voice to almost a whisper. “I won’t fuck around. I want you, Perrie, and come hell or high water, I will fucking have you.” That was all he said, because right then, Zac reappeared, his stuffed dinosaur stuffed beneath his arm and his bag on the other. “Dad?” “Thanks for keeping him a little longer.” Adrian kissed me on the cheek and stepped back, his personality flipping one-eighty. “Make sure you come and lock the door after me.” Dumbfounded, all I could do was nod. “Thanks for letting me stay,” Zac echoed. “I had fun with Lola.” I forced a smile and hoped he thought it was real. “You’re very welcome, sweetie. Be good for your dad now, okay?” He nodded and lead the way down the stairs. Adrian paused just long enough to give me a meaningful look before he followed his son. Me? I waited until the rumble of his car had faded from earshot.

Then, and only then, did I go downstairs and lock the door behind him. I was in so much trouble.

Chapter Fifteen Adrian She was fucking everywhere. Asleep, awake, the inbetween. Perrie dominated my thoughts to the point of fucking mind control. Every time I licked my lips, I tasted her. Every time I ran my fingers through my hair, I felt the softness of her blond hair. Every time I adjusted myself, I remembered the gentle yet sexy as fuck way she’d cupped my cock with her tiny hand against my warning. She was taking me over, spreading through my veins like a fucking disease. Except there was no cure. Nothing to alleviate the symptoms of her. If I were a smarter man, I’d have put a stop to us working together. But I wasn’t smart. I was fucking stupid, and I couldn’t quit her. It was that simple. I couldn’t quit Perrie Fox any more than I could quit screaming at the idiots on the field during football season. Now, tonight, I had to go to work and watch her chat up a male prostitute because she was the only one who could. She’d know how to make herself available for his attention and weave it until she got the sweet spot. Then, we’d swoop in, and she’d give an anonymous statement to us and one to the court.

Easy. Except after last night, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to watch her essentially seduce another man. I wanted to watch her be seduced by me. “Hello? Earth to Adrian?” My sister waved her hand in front of my face. I blinked, focusing on her. “Oh, good. You’re back with the living.” She paused, a twinkle in her eye. “Who is she?” “What?” I blinked again. “Who’s who?” Amie smiled. “The woman who’s got you all in a twist.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She leaned back and pulled her dark curls into a high ponytail. “I’ve been asking you the same question for five minutes. Zac asked if he could have a coffee like Dad and you said yes before I intervened. So, tell me. Who is she?” “I said what to Zac?” “Adrian.” She snapped her fingers only an inch from my face. “I will bug you until you tell me.” “This is where your kids get their ability to bug you until you die from.” “Win some, lose some.” Amie shrugged a shoulder. “Tell me.” “Drop it.” “I’ll bug you ‘til you die.”

“I don’t care.” “Tell me.” “No.” “Tell me.” “Her name is Perrie and she’s pretty and they work together and I like Lola!” Zac hollered from the doorway. “Thanks, Zac!” “Welcome. Do I get extra sprinkles on my ice cream now?” Amie winked at him. “Result!” “Now you’re bribing my son?” I asked, staring flatly at her. Unconcerned, my big sister stood and made her way to the fridge. She pulled out two bottles of water and when she sat down, slid me one. “I don’t care how I get my information, little bro. Someone has to provide it, and if that means I bribe your son, it means I bribe your son. I’m a hustler, what can I say?” “You’re also a thirty-year-old woman who regresses to being three when she doesn’t get what she wants,” her husband, Dwayne, said dryly. “Hello, darling. Thank you for your input.” She shot him a sweet smile. “It’s harmless questioning.” “Yeah, well, I’m the one who has to hear your voice over and over, so harmless is relative,” I

muttered. “Ah, there’s the other three-year-old.” Dwayne grinned at me. “If you weren’t my brother-in-law, I’d probably shoot you.” He laughed. “Nah, you wouldn’t. I’d still be the only person who can keep your sister in line.” He kissed the top of Amie’s head. “I have to go to work. Be nice, Amie.” “Or what?” She raised her chin in defiance. “Or you can buy your own wine.” “I’ll be nice.” I had to remember that for future reference. Dwayne disappeared out the front door, leaving us alone. I looked out of the window. The kids played nicely together, and the sound of their laughter trickled through. Was this how Zac played with Lola? Did he laugh this much around her? “I’m sorry,” Amie said after a moment, looking in the same direction I was. “I don’t mean to be pushy, Ad. I just want you to be happy.” “I am happy. I don’t need someone in my life to make me feel good.” “No, you don’t, but I can see it. Plus, Zac? He needs a woman’s touch. Sooner or later.” “He’s got you and mom.” “Stop deflecting.”

I sighed, rubbing my hand across my forehead. “It’s complicated, all right? I picked Perrie up one night and let her go. Then, I pretty much blackmailed her into working with us to locate other hookers…” “And you keep reliving the past.” I clenched my jaw. “It’s different. She has a daughter. Her dad is dead. Perrie herself is estranged from her family. She’s not Katie.” Pity flashed in her eyes before she beat it away. “Of course she’s not Katie. Katie was selfish and cruel, Adrian, and you know it. She didn’t deserve you and she didn’t deserve Zac. But that doesn’t mean you don’t see her when you see these prostitutes. You know you’re only doing this job for your own personal reasons.” I slammed my fist on the table and stood up. The sound of her name was poison to me. Killed me from the inside out, even though I’d stopped loving her years ago. My dead prostitute ex had kept me snared in her web of bullshit until the day she died at the hands of one of her lovers. I’d been numb then and I was numb now, but somewhere along the way, I’d reached total acceptance of her death. I was at peace with it, but not with what she’d done to me and to Zac. “It’s…not the same.” I rubbed my hand through my hair and looked back at my sister. “Perrie is everything Katie never had the capacity

to be. She worked that job to provide for her daughter, not because she needed the rush of the next shiny new drug or the constant attention to feel good about herself. But she’s still a prostitute, and she’s still the wrong choice in every way.” “Is she the wrong choice?” “What does that mean?” “You’re beating yourself up over this, but maybe she’s not the wrong choice.” Amie capped her water bottle. “She sounds like she’s all alone in this world right now. A life she’s accepted because being a parent comes before anything else— something you know well.” “I don’t know where you’re going with this.” She looked at me earnestly, her eyes, a few shades darker than mine, holding nothing but understanding. “She’s alone, Adrian. Katie couldn’t even stay faithful to you. You’re judging one woman on another’s actions just because they have one thing in common.” “Zac. It’s Zac, all right? He already loves Lola and they have this bond over their lack of two parents. He thinks Perrie is God’s gift—” “While you’re waiting for the other shoe to fall.” “While I’m unable to stay the hell away from her because something about her draws me in.” The admission tumbled off my tongue. There—it was the one thing I’d been desperate to say out loud, to

admit, to get the weight off my chest. I was to Perrie what a moth was to a flame. Intrigued and desperate…And willing to get burned. Amie sighed softly. “I get it, okay? I never want to see him—or you—hurting the way you did because of her. But maybe just take the rest of it away. Strip it all back, and don’t let the past stop you from living right now.” She opened her mouth to continue, but she didn’t. She shook her head and looked away. “What aren’t you saying?” “Nothing.” “You’re a terrible liar, do you know that?” “Only because you’re trained to spot my lies.” She gave me a hard look before she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and said, “I just…I feel like the longer you allow yourself to be afraid or you hold back because of her, the longer she controls you.” I clenched my jaw. Not because I was mad, but because she was right. Unfortunately, moving past that was much easier said than done. *** I left my sister’s house a couple of hours later in only a marginally better mood. The kids had

a lot more to do with that than she did. She kept flashing me looks, and I could have read her mind easily. She pitied me. No matter how much she attempted to hide it, she pitied the hell out of me, and maybe it was the sisterly instinct or the motherly one, but she also hated that she couldn’t fix it. Not as much as I did. I wanted to fix it more than anything. I wished I could look at a woman and feel safe enough to let a guard down beyond anything sexual. I was doing it with Perrie. When I looked in her eyes, I saw a lonely, afraid woman with a past full of heartbreak. I saw a woman who was just like me—hesitant to open her heart to anything. It was a double dose of everything I’m used to, so I was resorting to sex. To the basest of attractions. To the thing that was easy to walk away from when it was all said and done. She was my itch, and when I’d scratched her, I’d be over it. I was lying to myself and I knew it, but the alternative was terrifying. I pulled up outside her house and waited. Her sitter’s car was blocking hers in on the driveway, so I knew she hadn’t forgotten that I’d messaged to

tell her I was picking her up. I still couldn’t reconcile this neighborhood with all the things I knew about Perrie. She was so put together, something that was obviously reminiscent of her upbringing. She was truly a diamond in the rough in the life she’d been living for the past few years. I wanted to know what had led her to this life. I wanted to know why she’d been forced into this. The door opened. Perrie stepped out with her back to it, dressed in a knee-length trench-style coat and high heels. Her tan legs shimmered in the evening sunset, giving away the fact they weren’t bare. Her fingers rested on the belt of her coat when she closed the door behind her, and she paused, almost as if she were taking a deep breath, before turning toward me. Then, she stopped. Or I did. I didn’t fucking know, but I know something stopped. Her blonde hair fell about her face in loose curls, barely skimming her shoulders. Her lashes were thick and dark, her eyebrows perfectly framing the brow of the dark brown eyes that met mine. Her lips were deep pink, thick and full, temptation and a warning all at the same time. The tiny purse she clutched to her stomach belied the nerves that her steady steps hid. She was

nervous for tonight. I knew her well enough by now to see that was what was bothering her. “Just drive,” she said, slamming the car door behind her. She refused to make eye contact with me, and I had to wonder—was it because of last night? “Good evening,” I said, starting the engine. “You seem in a great mood.” She shot me a look that would make a weaker man shrivel up. “Don’t go there. Not tonight.” The second she’d finished speaking, she turned and looked out of the window. Whatever it was that was on her mind, I definitely seemed to be a part of what was pissing her off. Then again, I also knew that this job was the last thing she wanted to do tonight. Unfortunately for her, we had to talk about it. “The bartender at the Haas called me about an hour ago,” I started, merging onto the main road. “Daniel Duvall is already there. Apparently, he has an appointment this evening judging from the short conversation they’ve had.” “Mmph,” she responded. I ignored it. “Because he’s there, you’ll have to go in first, by yourself.” I pulled a sheet of paper out of the door and handed it to her. “This is a floor plan of the casino. The circles are where we will be positioned. We’ll park in the underground parking

lot instead of the valet in a minute so I can wire you so we know when to come in and arrest him if we get the opportunity.” “You’re wiring me?” She looked at me. “You can text me, but it might look suspicious if you do it immediately after he admits what he is. This way, we can get closer and jump on him straight away.” Perrie sighed. “Fine.” Boy. I really wasn’t her favorite person today. We took the rest of the journey in silence. Under the hotel, I found an empty slot in the corner relatively close to the elevator and pulled into it. Perrie was slow to follow me out the car, and I’d already pulled the wire out by the time she joined me by the trunk. When she didn’t remove her coat, I raised an eyebrow. “You need your coat off.” “Um…Okay.” Her hand trembled a little as she undid the belt and moved to the buttons. She’d flipped from nervous to pissed and back to nervous before I could comprehend the change in her demeanor. She peeled the coat over her shoulders, revealing a short, white little number that clung to her every curve. The neckline dipped, showing her cleavage, and the off-shoulder straps drew my attention to the way her neck bobbed as she

swallowed, to the hollow of her collarbones, to the tiny freckles that dotted her shoulders. Skimming her legs to mid-thigh, it just about gave away the lace tops of the stockings she was wearing. I clamped my teeth together, setting my jaw. Perrie reached down and tugged down the hemline. “Can we get on with this?” “Dress should be fuckin’ illegal,” I muttered. “Turn around. Now.” She clutched the coat to her stomach and turned. I fitted her with the wire and waited for her to adjust it at the front so it wouldn’t be seen. Skimming her body to check it was invisible was a mistake. My cock pulsed and throbbed with desire as I ran my gaze over every inch of her. I should have put Zac back to sleep last night and finished what we’d started. It was fucking unbearable right now. I didn’t want her walking into the casino dressed like that— I wanted her bending herself over the hood of my goddamn car. “What? Is there something on my dress? Damn it, I knew white was a bad idea.” Perrie smoothed her hands over her hips, looking down at the fabric. I gritted my teeth. “Go. Before I change my mind about letting you do this.” She peered up, eyes wide. Understanding

flashed right before I turned away, and the rustle of fabric as she replaced her coat made me look out of the corner of my eye. She swallowed. “Um, will you be coming in soon?” I nodded. Sharply. “Ten minutes. Sam is on his way. Don’t look for us—we’ll be closest to you. If you move from the bar, we’ll be moving with you.” Slowly, her head bobbed in understanding. “Okay. I’ll do my best.” “Won’t be hard in that dress,” I murmured. “What?” “Nothing. Go. Now.” She half-snorted as she turned away. She might have found it fucking funny, but I sure as hell didn’t. We’d seen Daniel Duvall at work—how the fuck was I going to be able to cope with the sleazeball putting his hands all over her body? A car slowed as it neared Perrie, and a catcall echoed through the parking lot. “How’s it hangin’, hot stuff?” Sam’s familiar tone called out. Perrie jumped, turning back to his car. A half-smile curled her pink lips, and her shoulders trembled. “Shut up, idiot.” She spun, waiting for the elevator, clutching her purse to her like it was a lifeline. Sam laughed as he drove over to me. He pulled up in the empty space two cars down from

me and got out. “Now, I’m not gonna lie, but I’d have let her go from my car, too.” I snorted. “You should see what’s under the dress.” His eyebrows shot up. “She dressed like some kinky bondage chick or…?” “A dress that puts her on the cusp of being illegal. Half-tempted to arrest her just so nobody else could see her in it.” “Possessive.” “Frustrated,” I countered, adjusting my pants. He caught the movement and barked out another laugh. “Is the ice man breaking down?” I shook my head and leaned against the car. The ice man wants to get laid by the blond driving him crazy. The ice man would have fucked her if his kid didn’t wake up.” “Oosh. Kids. What assholes. I’m so glad I don’t have a little cockblocker. Hey—you ever think about how ironic that is? Your cock created its own blockade.” “Sam? Shut up.” He held his hands up. “When are we going down there?” I glanced at my watch. “Now.” I’d told her ten minutes, but that was before I’d thought it through. Plus—Sam would shut his mouth when he saw what she was wearing. He

could take the piss all he liked, but he had no idea what she really looked like. We stepped into the elevator, and Sam popped some gum into his mouth. “How did the briefing go?” “Pretty straightforward,” he replied, chewing. “We identified the other targets. We’ve done so good lately that we can focus on who instead of how many. Chief’s impressed. I think he’s going to get our funding upped.” I nodded. “Good news. What are the goals you laid out?” “Our team’s goal is obviously DD,” he said as the elevator doors opened. “Legg’s team is in the Bellagio doing some recon there. Wyatt’s team is at the Golden casino with the aim of one since it’s a new location, and both Newton and Smith’s teams have a goal of one each. All in all, we should bring in four tonight.” “Good.” I scanned the area, immediately searching for Perrie. I honed in on her black trench coat almost instantly by the bar. She was perched on a stool, eyes wandering around. Her familiar, almost signature strawberry margarita was slid across the bar to her, and she handed the tender a bill. Sam nudged me. “Over there.” We went to the empty table he’d picked out and took our seats. Here, we had a direct line of

sight to the bar where Perrie was, and we could see the other side where Daniel was sitting. He had his back to the wall, and he was surveying the casino in a way that, to anyone else, would look entirely natural. To me, I knew it wasn’t. Sam tapped at his phone and looked at Perrie. She pulled her cell out, and I frowned. “Did you just text her?” “Yep,” he said, looking at his screen. “I told her I wanted to see the dress that has you acting like a thirteen-year-old with a hard-on.” I stared at him flatly. He grinned. “Kidding. I told her to get on with it.” Watching Perrie, it was obvious she was trying not to look over in our direction. The tender brought her change over to her, and when she’d tucked it into her purse, she stood and reached for her belt. I groaned, knowing what was coming. Slowly, with her body turned in the direction of Daniel Duvall, she undid her coat carefully and slid it down her shoulders to reveal the dress that would be the death of me tonight. I saw the exact moment he noticed her. “Holy shit,” Sam breathed. “Now I feel like a teenage boy.” “Yep.”

Chapter Sixteen Perrie I could feel their eyes on me. It sounded insane, and I felt like this dress was a mistake. I hadn’t even thought this through when I’d put it on. I just wanted to make sure Daniel Duvall would notice me so I could hook him quickly and then get on with my night. It was ridiculous when I considered that it’d taken me hours to get to sleep today thanks to Adrian last night. Never mind blue balls—I had a purple clit. And the way he’d looked at me when I’d taken my coat off in the parking lot, all raw hunger and desperate restraint, I’d wanted to tell him to screw this night and do the very same thing to me. Now, I had to brush off those feelings amid the numerous sensations of being watched to seduce a man who, from last night, appreciated the female form but not the person inside it. I was gonna need a lot of wine when I was done here, that was for sure. I folded my coat and set it on the bar over my purse. Glancing the way of Daniel Duvall, our eyes met for the briefest second. I pulled my attention over to my phone. I knew that the best way to really get his

attention was to pretend that I was waiting for a friend and been stood up. They were the prey I’d preferred to pick out—they were actively looking for company. Company I used to give for a pretty price. Now, I wanted Duvall to believe I was looking for that. I’d rather separate us with a ten-foot pole, but whatever. I wasn’t in a position to be picky about it. I smoothed loose curls behind my ear and unlocked my phone. Pretending I was waiting for a friend was not only ridiculous but also totally mindnumbing. The amount of texts I’d have to “send” until I could “call” and sigh in annoyance was stupid. Why had I agreed to this? Surely there was some young rookie officer I could have trained to do this. God. This was awful. I was going to give Adrian and Sam a mouthful when I got done here. They had to know that I wasn’t going to do this again. I’d rather spend the night in jail. My phone buzzed with an actual message, and thank god. That made it easier. Sam: You should try to smile.

The urge not to look for them was overwhelming. Me: You’re offering me as a piece of meat, how’s a middle finger for a smile for you? Sam: Save it. I assure you Adrian’s in far more distress than you will be all night. Me: Tell him to stick his distress where the sun doesn’t shine. I flashed a dark glare their way. Sam’s coughing laugh was loud and obvious, even to me, and I turned my back to them. Goddamn them. That wasn’t who I wanted the text to be from. Again, my phone buzzed, and this time, I sighed. Adrian: Can I offer you some advice? Me: Don’t reply to Sam’s texts again? Adrian: Yes, but no. Don’t wear a black thong with a white dress. How did he… oh shit! This dress wasn’t the thickest material in the world. I’d been so frustrated by the prospect of this that I’d pulled the biggest rookie move in the book. Light clothes must equal light understand. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Me: Fuck. Me: At least DD will think I’m up for it if he notices. There was always a silver lining. Adrian: Zac is with my sister tonight. Me: I don’t know where you’re going with this. Adrian: The longer I sit here seeing your underwear through your dress, the more likely I am to fuck you blind tonight. The lump in my throat was thick. Me: We’re working. Adrian: I’m working on all the ways I can make you come. Oh my god. My cheeks burned. Me: You’re being ridiculous. Adrian: My fingers, for one. I have a pretty skilled tongue. And an eight-inch cock that will make you cry. Me: Are you sexting me when I should be seducing another man? Me: Bc if you are, I don’t know what to say

about that. Adrian: If it looks like sexting and makes you squirm like it’s sexting, it’s sexting. Adrian: Are you squirming? Internally. Me: No. His response didn’t come immediately, and that made me squirm. I needed to be focusing on Duvall, but here I was, sexting with a hot cop with some serious self-confidence. Ugh. The next buzz of my phone alerted me to his response. I sipped my drink and gathered myself before I opened the message. Adrian: You will be. “You will be.” That was it. That was the message I’d waited at least five minutes for. Me: Send my call to voicemail. I dialed his number probably before he even had a chance to read my message. I flicked my hair

back over my shoulder and sighed as it ticked over to voicemail. “You are the most irritating person I know,” I said in a low voice. “Leave me the hell alone because you’re not helping at all.” Then, I hung up. I could have texted him, sure, but then if I had, he wouldn’t have heard how much I wanted him to shut up. I peered at my screen and put the phone face down on the bar with another sigh. With any luck, that little show would have attracted the attention of Duvall. A glance over my shoulder showed he’d disappeared. I snatched my phone back up and opened the message thread with Adrian. I’d just started typing when a shadow fell over my screen. Instinctively, I tilted the phone away from the presence next to me and tilted my face toward it. The dark brown eyes of Daniel Duvall stared at me. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I couldn’t help noticing that your glass is empty. Could I get you another?” I glanced at my glass. He was right. Huh. I’d created the opening without even realizing it. I turned my attention to him. Making sure to give him an obvious once-open, I said, with only

mind interest, “You sure could.” “Do you mind?” He waved a hand toward the stool in front of me. “My date isn’t showing up anytime soon, so go ahead.” His ass had barely touched the seat and he’d flagged the tender without taking his eyes off me. He ordered another of what I was drinking and whiskey for himself. “Date stood you up, huh?” His eyes roved over my body. “His loss.” Bingo. *** Ninety minutes later, I’d created an entirely fake persona under the name of Lilah Beaumont. Lilah grew up just south of Los Angeles and came to Vegas for university. While here, she found great work in a bar owned by the Fox family—it was all I could think of, okay?—and moved up until she became a manager. Single and dating, she lived in a quiet neighborhood in the north of the city. I’d created her everything from a flaky best friend to an ex with commitment issues and a currently-dating gentleman who kept getting held up at work, so currently was about be no-longer. Daniel Duvall listened with rapt attention. He asked all the right questions and said all the right

things at the right times, but I could see the falseness of it all behind his eyes. With every word I spoke, I made myself more and more vulnerable to someone like him. The longer we chatted, the closer he got. The more predatory his touches became. The lower his voice was. The smoother his lines became. He was a master of it, I’d give him that. It was easy to see why he could get women to give in to him. Hell, if I were rich and needed to pay to get laid, I’d be writing his ass a check right about now. Fortunately for me, I wasn’t attracted to him. Or rich. Well, I was rich, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t like I could touch the money, which made it all a moot point. “What about you?” I rested my chin on my hand. “You’ve barely said a thing about yourself. What’s a handsome guy like you doing out by himself? Don’t you have a girlfriend looking for you somewhere?” He laughed, leaning in. “No girlfriend. One hundred percent single.” “That’s good to know.” I inserted a purr-like tone into my voice. “Were you planning on staying all night?” “As long as it took for me to find a girl like you.” Smooth. “Well, then, here I am. Are you

staying at this hotel?” His eyes glinted with the hint of success. “Across the street. Are you finally giving up on your date?” “I gave up on him a while ago.” I gathered my purse and my coat, holding them to my stomach. “Shall we leave?” I stood, hoping this wasn’t for nothing. He stood, reaching down to cup my hip. His mouth came close to my ear, and he said in a low voice, “You know my time isn’t free, don’t you, Lilah?” “It’s—what?” I gasped, leaning back. He raised his eyebrows. “I’d hate you to go all the way to my bed and realize…” “You…Oh.” I touched my hand to my mouth. “You’re…” “A prostitute,” he said wryly, lips twisting. I swallowed hard and ran a finger down his chest. “Well, Daniel, since you approached me, why don’t you sit here for a minute while I visit the bathroom and see if you can’t cut me a little deal, hmm?” “A bargainer. I like that.” I leaned in close, trying not to cringe at the slight over-application of his strong cologne. “You’ll like what’s under this dress a whole lot more.” My fingers brushed his chest for a second

longer with my meaningful look. I passed him, heading for the bathrooms. Trying not to look at Adrian and Sam was the hardest part of it. I pushed my way into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked the same as I had when I’d left my house, except for my hair being a little bit more mussed up. Turning to check my ass in the mirror, I saw Adrian was right. My panties were totally visible through this dress. Oh, well. All I could do at this point was sigh it off. I gathered myself, slipped my coat over my arms, and headed out of the bathroom. And almost slammed right into Daniel Duvall. “I thought you looked familiar,” he said in a low voice, eyes devoid of any of the softness from earlier. “And it just clicked. I’m pretty sure you worked at a Fox club when I did, except, you weren’t a manager. You were behind the scenes and paid me my check every week.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied, my heart thumping furiously against my chest. “I just met you tonight.” Where the hell was Adrian? Where was the entire team? “You sure about that?” “Positive. Actually, this is a bad idea. I’ll take a raincheck on this.” I made to step to the side,

but his arm shot out and stopped me. “No, you won’t. You’re coming with me, Perrie Fox.” His hands closed around my upper arms. Maybe, I should have felt fear. Maybe the anger in his gaze should have terrified me. Maybe I should have been shitting myself because the people who were supposed to have arrested him by now, hadn’t. But, I didn’t. I felt anger. Anger that he knew who I was. Anger that I hadn’t been careful enough with my appearance tonight. Anger that he dared put his hands on me. “I’m going to say this once,” I said, looking into dark eyes that now seemed the epitome of cruel. “Get your hands off me.” “You’re coming with me.” “I absolutely am not.” He tugged at me. A familiar flash of blue-green eyes caught my attention from several feet away. Angry, hard, blue-green eyes. I beat Adrian to it. I lifted my knee and rammed it into Daniel’s thigh. It shocked him enough that he stilled and I could lift it again—this time, into his groin. The impact made him release me, and for good

measure, I rammed the heel of my hand into his nose. I told him I wasn’t going away. Adrian grabbed hold of me, yanking me close to him. His eyes searched my face and my body. “Did he hurt you?” I glared at him. I wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. In fact, I was so mad he’d left me for so long. Sam wrenched Daniel’s arms up and behind his back, cuffs jangling. “Rory Peterson, you’re under arrest for the solicitation of sexual services and attempted kidnapping. You do not have to say anything…” Attempting kidnapping? I jerked my heard around to see Daniel— Rory—glaring at me. “I hope you’ll be arresting her for assault!” Blood dripped onto his mouth. “Ms. Fox acted in self-defense. However, if you’d like to make an official complaint when you get to the statement, you’re more than welcome to. I expect the CCTV footage will prove your attempts fruitless,” Adrian said in a dry tone, releasing me. “Get him out of here.” He nodded toward Sam then turned to me. “Let’s go make your statement. And do that fucking coat up.” I slammed my purse into his chest so I could. Then, I snatched it back, and stalked off ahead of

him. My goddamn wrist hurt.

Chapter Seventeen Perrie Giving my statement was relatively straightforward. Adrian obviously realized I had no desire to talk to him, so Sam took it. When the interview was done, he shut off the recorder, sighed, sat back, and rubbed his face. “Can I go now?” I asked him. He looked at me with tired eyes. “Humor me for five minutes?” “I’m not in the mood for stand-up comedy.” He held his hands up. “I get it, you’re pissed. But when he followed you, we knew he’d recognized you. He hadn’t clocked onto us, but we had to see if we could get more on him.” I folded my arms across my chest and stared at him. “I was here as an informant, Sam, not a hooker-magnet. I was all for snaring him until I was potentially put in a path of danger.” “You were never in danger.” “Yeah? Tell that to his nose.” “It’s broken, by the way.” “Good. It should have been his neck.” His lips quirked to the side. “I won’t argue. Trust me when I say nothing would have happened to you. But, you gave us what we needed.” “Which was what?”

“I can’t tell you that.” “No, fuck you.” I sat up straight and glared at him. “I literally went out there and risked myself tonight. You arrested him on attempted kidnapping —you all literally put me in danger and waited until the last possible minute to arrest the guy. I had his admission for five minutes before he found me. At least be honest with me.” Sam rubbed his jaw, glancing at the door a few times before sighing with resignation. “All right. We think he’s a major player in a sex trafficking ring here. We’ve been trying to get him on something for months but he always evaded us. When we said he was new to us yesterday, the only new thing was his alias. He changes them on a regular basis to avoid being caught.” “He’s—what?” “He’s one of a few scouts. They reel in women, take them back to their rooms under pretense of being a prostitute, then drug them. We already searched his car and found a couple grand’s worth of ketamine in there.” I blinked. “You lied to me.” “By omission.” “A lie by omission is still a lie. Don’t you think you should have been honest with me? It would have changed it.” “You wouldn’t have done it.” “Damn right! I have a seven-year-old

daughter. I’ve taken enough risks with my life over the past few years. I don’t need it in an environment where I’m supposed to be safe!” I buried my face in my hands. They’d omitted a huge piece of information in an effort for me to snare their guy. I should just go become a cop. Clearly, I’m already better than these pieces of shit are. I took a deep breath and dropped my hands, looking at Sam with an eerily calm expression. “Are we done here?” “Adrian said he’ll take you home when he’s done.” “I’m perfectly capable of calling a cab. Are we done here?” “Adrian said—” “Adrian can swivel on a steel spike. Are. We. Done?” Sam swallowed. “We’re done. Will you let me call you a cab?” I pulled my phone out of my purse and got up. I had the number dialing before I’d even left the interview room. It wasn’t the only number I needed to call. *** I twirled Dahlia Lloyd’s business card

between my fingers. I was sitting on my sofa wearing the same dress I’d been wearing all night, the half-empty bottle of wine sat, uncorked, on the coffee table in front of me. The wine had been for dutch courage, but all it had done was make me overthink. I probably should have gone straight for the vodka. Calling The Scarlet Letter right now would be useless. It was late and they were, no doubt, busy. That would be my first move in the morning, and that wasn’t quite as daunting as the prospect of calling Dahlia and saying a few short words. I want to see my brother. There was one way out of my life. If he really wanted to see me, I would swallow my pride and accept any help he wanted to give me. I no longer wanted to live the way I did. I wanted to be a decent mother and be there and stop putting myself in situations I despised just to get by. And, selfishly, I knew Damien would be able to get me out of my contract with the police. Even if it meant buying me out of it and buying continued immunity. I had no idea what they would do when I said I wasn’t coming back, that tonight was the final straw, but I needed him to help me. I was terrified of so many things. Terrified of his rejection. Terrified I’d left it too long to call about the job Dahlia had mentioned. Terrified I’d be taken from Lola.

Terrified tonight’s secrecy was hurting me more than it should. I threw the business card onto the table and poured more wine. I hated how Adrian had sneaked into my life. Hated how the bond our kids had tugged at my heartstrings and changed things. I wanted Adrian Potter in my life as much as I wished he’d leave the way he came—quickly and without fanfare. I hated how there was a dull ache when I thought about the way things had gone tonight. If Sam hadn’t told me, if they hadn’t waited, I never would have known. I could have been in real danger. Rationally, I knew I was okay. But irrationally, I wasn’t safe. I was in terrible danger. What if I hadn’t known? What if, one night, he’d tried to pick me up, and I’d gone? What that could have been in real life chilled me to the core of my bones. I cradled the glass and leaned my head back. The light, swirling pattern in the white paint on the ceiling mesmerized me and gave me something to focus on. I’d never asked for any of this. I’d never invited it in, I’d never given it an opening, it had just happened. I’d been given choice after choice since the moment my mother

and sister died. The choice to keep Lola had set all these things in motion, but I knew right down to my soul that there was no way I could ever regret that choice. Even if it meant both of us would experience a little heartbreak before the year was over. Adrian Potter had no place in my life. He never had. That meant Zac Potter had no place in Lola’s—no matter how much that would break her little heart. I had to make good choices now, and that was one of them. Remove the Potters from my life. Quickly. Lights flashed through the window, and a car pulled into my driveway. I knew it was Adrian, almost as if my thoughts had summoned him here. I didn’t move, though. The front door was open because I didn’t care enough to lock it when I’d come in. I’d been numb. Still was. Knock, knock. The quiet hits of his knuckles against the door echoed through the silence of downstairs. The TV flashed, but there was no sound. More knocks. A toilet paper commercial danced across the screen, and I stayed, staring at the ceiling. The click of the door opening made me sigh. “Perrie? Why isn’t your door locked? Fucking hell.”

Another sigh, and I lifted my heavy head and looked out the door, down the hall. “Come in,” I said dryly. “It’s so nice of you to wait until you’re invited.” He closed the door and locked it. “That open door is an invitation to more people than just me. I’m the safest person who could have walked through that.” “Really.” My voice was flat. He groaned and ran his hand through his hair. He was wearing a light gray t-shirt and ripped jeans just as light blue, so he’d been home before he’d come here. “Sam told me he told you everything.” “Yup.” I smacked my lips together and took a sip of my wine. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” “Is it that obvious?” “Perrie.” He sighed. “You were never in—” “Don’t.” I held up my hand and, swinging my legs off the sofa, set my glass on a coaster. “Don’t feed that line. I’ve already heard it, and I don’t care what you’re gonna say. You might say I wasn’t, but when he had his arms on me, I sure as hell felt like I was in danger. Goddamn it, Adrian, I had him off me before you guys even knew what going on. So don’t you dare sit in front of me and tell me I wasn’t in danger.” He sank into the cushions of the opposite sofa. “We couldn’t tell you. He shouldn’t have

even told you that. The operation that has been chasing him for months has been classified. Me and Sam were the only officers in our whole team that knew who and what he was.” “You were sending me into the path of a sex trafficker. You could have given me a heads up.” “You’re right. I’m sorry.” “Oh, well that’s all fine, then.” I snorted and stood up. Barefoot, I padded into the kitchen. I definitely should have gone straight for the vodka. “Per—” “I was right, and you’re sorry, so let’s all move on with a happy bubble of happiness.” I slammed a glass on the side and poured a healthy dose of vodka. I topped it up with lemonade and sipped. It burned as it went down. “How much have you had to drink?” “Not nearly enough to deal with you tonight.” I had my back to him, and that was the way I wanted to keep it. “The best thing you can do right now is leave me alone. Please.” “I saw red when he touched you.” “Adrian. Leave.” “Sam had take the cuffs off me because if I did it, I would have broken his wrists.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “We never thought he’d touch you. We thought he was going to keep up the pretense of not

knowing who you were. We only got the attempted kidnapping charge because the wire told us he was trying to take you against your will. We might not even be able to make that one stick.” He paused. “Meanwhile, the entire department is talking about the badass blond with a hand of steel.” I snorted, almost spitting my drink out through my nose. “Sam said his nose was broken.” “In two places. That’s a better shot than some of our male officers can give.” “Yeah, well.” I folded my arms and turned, leaning against the side of the counter. “When you grow up a Fox and your father has some dodgy business deals, you’re at constant risk. My mother had me in self-defense glasses for a year with refreshers every six months. I thought it was dumb because I was of no value to Benedict, but I’ve needed it a few times.” I made the mistake of looking up and into his eyes. Genuine regret swirled in them. “Don’t look at me like that,” I said to him. “I’m angry with you. I’m angry you lied and I’m angry I had to defend myself against him. I’ve been risking my life just to survive for almost Lola’s entire life. When I’m working with the police identifying prostitutes, I should not be in danger or ever feel like that. I’ve been in so many tough situations it hurts to remember them. I’m so angry you put me in one day.”

If he thought I was overreacting, he didn’t say anything about it. “I know what it takes to be a prostitute, Perrie.” “Did you moonlight during the police academy?” “No, I got one pregnant. Except she was my girlfriend before she was anything else.” Oh my god. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Zac’s mother was a narcissist. She had to be the center of everyone’s world. We were young when we got together, but it wasn’t until she was pregnant that I realized how toxic she was. There was so much focus on the baby and she hated it. She resented him when he was born because everybody cared about him more than her. “I found out when Zac was three months old that she’d been prostituting herself since she was eighteen. Most of our relationship. She even did it while she was pregnant, because apparently people like that stuff. We didn’t have a heavy relationship then because I was hyper-focused on work, thank god. But she loved it. She loved the attention she got from the men. She literally thrived on being a whore because she was all that mattered.” “Oh my god,” I whispered. “She was killed when Zac was almost three. Her client was a trafficker, but the drugs he used to

knock her out were bad. He was a rookie who had his real name on the hotel. He was pulled in three days later and charged with her murder and a bunch of other shit.” I had no idea what to say. What was I supposed to say to that? “Don’t be sorry for me. I was glad. She was cruel and fought me every step of the way for custody of Zac. She kept her outward appearance squeaky clean and make it hard for me to get custody. I was about to lose him when she died and all the truth came out. There were investigations into why nobody knew she was an addict and prostitute. She was poison, pure and simple.” “Does Zac remember her?” He shook his head. “No. He knows most of the truth, because my sister has a big mouth. I guess it’s good. Stops him finding out and being mad later. But he’s why I do the job I do. I don’t want another kid to lose their parent because of this.” The realization was swift and painful. “That’s why you let me go.” My voice was barely a whisper. “You let me go because of Lola.” He nodded. Barely, but it was there. “I look into Katie’s eyes so many times when we arrest them. Women who do it for the thrill and because they love it. Because they don’t care. But I didn’t see that in you. I saw someone who was terrified they were going to be punished and lose the only

thing they had worth living for in this world.” I put my glass down and looked away from him. My lungs constricted, and the tears that burned my eyes had me squeezing them tightly. He’d nailed it. All the things I’d felt that night we met and I was in the back of his car, he’d nailed it. “You didn’t have to let me go,” I said quietly, composing myself. “No, I didn’t. But I wanted to. I wanted to change your life for the better.” “Yet, here I am, standing in front of you in my kitchen, trying to decide if I’m still angry at you for putting me in the same path that killed your ex.” His jaw clenched, but he nodded in agreement. “Fair enough. I can’t argue with that.” Goosebumps danced up and down my arms. I rubbed my hands across them to relieve them, but they didn’t go anywhere. “Perrie…” Adrian came closer to me, and I stared at the floor, at his sneaker-clad feet. “Nothing would have happened to you tonight. I promise you. I would have broken his fucking neck before anything did.” The raw conviction in his voice made my heart thump faster. “I don’t need a hero.” “I’ll always save you anyway.” I met his eyes. His unguarded, shining,

honest eyes. “I’m not the person you need to be a superhero for, Adrian. Someone like me has already destroyed your life once.” He took my face in his hands. “She’s nothing like you. She couldn’t be any more opposite to you. You are a thousand of who she was. And you don’t get to tell me who I do or don’t need—that’s like me telling you you don’t need me.” “I don’t need you,” I said honestly. “But I do want you.” He ended the conversation with a kiss. All the frustration I’d felt since we’d left the hotel melted away with his lips against mine. The revelations he’d made wound their way into the back of my mind as he pulled me closer and kissed me deeper. My entire body sparked to life. His tongue tasted of woody whiskey. Mixed with the burn of his fingers as they traveled my body, I was intoxicated, drowning in him. “Please tell me there isn’t a laundry basket on the edge of your bed tonight,” he murmured against my lips, pulling me through the kitchen with an arm clasped around my waist. I bit my lower lip and shook my head. “On the floor.” “Thank fucking god.” At the bottom of the stairs, he kissed me again, sliding his hands down my sides, over my

hips, my ass, around my thighs. In one swoop, with a squeak from me, he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist. My pussy pressed against his hard cock, pressure adding every time he took a step up. He carried me into my room and lowered me to the bed. I bounced on the mattress, breathing hard. He leaned over me, running his eyes down my body. From my hair to my open legs, his jaw momentarily clenched when he caught sight of my thong. “Fucking thong,” he muttered. “Fucking dress. So unnecessary.” I stifled a giggle and wound my fingers in his shirt, pulling his mouth back to mine. He kicked his shoes off as he kissed me. His hands worked swiftly to remove his shirt and pull my dress straps down. Quick and hungry, he pulled the dress down my body, revealing my bare breasts. “Jesus fucking Christ. You’ve been braless all night?” I bit the inside of my cheek. He groaned, dropping his forehead to mine. “Perrie Fox, you will be the death of me.” “There are worse ways to go.” Sitting up, I reached for his belt and unbuckled it. I pulled it over his ass, and he kissed me, tearing my grip from his jeans. My head and shoulders slammed onto the bed, and his kiss was harder, more desperate. One of his hands worked at his jeans while the other

teased my nipple. I gasped, tilting my head back. Adrian released me for a moment and stood. He stepped out of the jeans, then his boxers. His cock sprung free, thick and long, a vein pulsing along the side. My mouth went dry, my heart thumped. I wanted him. No, I needed him. This time it was real. A consuming need that thumped through my veins alongside my desire. He pulled a condom from his wallet and undid the packet. The sound of the foil ripped was only interrupted by both of our short breaths. My clit ached unbearably, and he dropped the foil packet to the floor to roll it on. His eyes met mine as his fingers reached the base of his cock. He leaned over me again, once again positioning himself between my legs. His fingers hooked into the sides of my thong and peeled it down my thighs. I lifted my legs up in front of him and he removed them completely, then, with strong, firm hands, probed his fingers up the insides of my thighs and opened them. Closer and closer his hand came until his thumb brushed over my aching clit. It was so sensitive and the touch so fleeting I gasped as a little pleasure rolled through me. He touched it again, this time firmer.

Watched me. He watched me as he rubbed his thumb over my clit. Watched me with unbridled desire and a heaving chest. Watched me with flushed cheeks and a hungry need that I felt mirrored in my own body. I flung my arm over my eyes as he continued his exploration of my pussy with his hand. His fingers slipped toward me, him angling his wrist so he could keep the pressure on my clit. My hips drifted up to him, my heart beat a thunderous tune in my ears. My chest burned. My skin was on fire. And he was still watching me, I knew he was. Despite the blindness thanks to my forearm, I could feel his gaze on me as he brought me to the brink. And stopped. His cock replaced his fingers. He rubbed the head of his cock through my wetness from my clit to where he finally pushed inside me. Every inch was slow and torturous, stretching me around him until I took him fully. Adrian leaned over. My legs hooked over his hips, around his waist, and my hips tilted to him. His fingers trailed along my arms, tickling their path to where he wound them between them and pinned my hands to the bed above my head. I opened my eyes. The look in his—oh god. They were dark. Dark and stormy and the picture of restraint as he

stayed buried in me, perfectly still. I lifted my head and kissed him. Bit his lower lip. Clenched my muscles around him. Really bit him as I dragged my teeth across his lip. “Oh, now you’re playing nice?” I breathed out the veiled dare. He growled and pulled out. Slamming back into me, my back arched, and I closed my eyes. “Nice? Nice is the last thing I want to be right now.” I clenched once again. “Don’t hold back on my account.” He didn’t. He fucked me furiously. Our skin slapped together each time he thrust inside me, and my arms twitched with the need to touch him. To grip his skin, to dig my fingers in, to hold on to him like my life depended it. But he kept my hands there, perfectly still in their place on the bed, tightening his grip on me every time I tried to move. So I dug my nails into his hands, instead. Moaned as he fucked me faster and no less hard. Gasped and whimpered and pleaded incoherently as he took me to the brink and back with his long, hard strokes. His kisses were rough and bruising, the result of pent-up frustration escaping him. Just when I thought I was going to scream, he

kissed me, sliding our clasped hands down, and rocked his hips against me. Once, twice, three times. It pushed me over the edge of the torture he’d been inflicting upon me since he’d thrown me on the bed, and I let it all go. Moaned, cried, all into his mouth. He swallowed a scream as blood pumped and pleasure ruled and I gave over to everything that was flooding through my body in that moment. His groan into my mouth vibrated through me. I felt it as well as heard it, a cry of pleasure in the same sync as my own, and when he stilled, I could do nothing but lie there, smelling of sweat and sex and satiation. He buried his face in my neck. His hair was a sweaty mess, much like I bet mine was. Letting go of my hands, Adrian cupped one side of my face and brought his lips to mine. Directly contrasting the way he’d just fucked me, he kissed me softly and sweetly, almost as if he was kissing a wound better. I hooked my fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him back. “I think we just crossed the line,” he murmured. I laughed. Then laughed some more. “No kidding.” He sighed as he pulled out of me. My teeth found the tender bit of skin I’d been nibbling on the

inside of my neck as he rolled off the condom and searched for the trash can. He found it and dropped it in with a thwack. Grabbing two towels from the laundry basket I’d failed to put away, he threw one to me. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He tied a towel around his waist, securely knotting it at one hip. I swallowed. The white towel against his tanned skin was almost too perfect—combined with the ink that decorated the hand that rested against it, I could have come again. “Um, okay,” I answered, realizing he was waiting for a response. He grinned, leaned over to kiss me again, and left the room. I dropped back on the bed, towel between my legs, and covered my eyes. Well. So much for getting him out of my life. I wasn’t sure having hot sex with him was synonymous with getting rid of him. Now, I was really fucked. In every way. Especially now I knew why he did the job he did. Because of someone like me. And Zac—my heart cried for him. It was easier for Lola because her dad had never been a part of it. I honestly couldn’t even say if he ever would be if he’d been alive, but Zac’s mom hadn’t even wanted him.

No wonder they were so close. “Mommy?” a croaky voice made me sit bolt upright in bed. “Hey,” Adrian’s voice said softly. “What are you doing awake?” “Adrian?” Lola said. “Why are you here?” “I just took a shower. Is that all right?” I crept over to the door and peeked out. The bathroom door illuminated the other end of the hallway, and Lola stood in her doorway, rubbing one eye. “You don’t look very wet,” she said, squintyeyed. “Oh, silly. I’m about to. It’s late—you heard me wrong.” He knelt down—carefully. “Why are you awake?” Lola frowned, still rubbing her eye. “The dinosaurs were trying to eat my toes.” “Oh, no!” he said in a quiet voice. “Those silly dinosaurs. Why don’t you get back into bed and I’ll tell the dinosaurs to leave you alone?” She looked at him. “Will they listen to you?” “Oh, they have to. I’m a policeman. I’ll arrest them if they don’t.” “Okay. Is Mommy sleeping?” “I think so. She’s very tired. Come on.” He shooed her into her bedroom. I could just about see him making shooing movements with his hands. “Now, silly dinosaurs, leave Lola’s toes alone. If

you wake her up again, I’ll arrest you and throw you all in jail. Go away!” Lola giggled. Adrian reached over and tucked her in with one hand, the other holding his towel in place. My heart skipped a beat when he pressed a kiss to her forehead, and I crept back away from the door before he turned away. Dear god. I was in so much trouble. A light clicked as I pulled on some fresh underwear and grabbed an old tank from the drawer. Adrian clicked the door shut behind him, and I peered at him as I pulled my shirt down. “Did the dinosaurs leave?” He smirked. “Of course they did. I’m a policeman.” I laughed and wrapped my arms around my waist. “You didn’t have to do that.” “It wasn’t that special, baby. I’m still halfhard under this fucking tent I’m creating.” He pointed to his groin where he was, in fact, holding the towel out very precariously. I laughed again, dipping my head. He dropped the towel and pulled his boxers on. “See? I didn’t exactly swoop in to save the day.” I coughed and sat on the edge of the bed. “You can take a shower if you want.”

“I’ll get one in the morning.” He flung his clothes over the clean laundry and jumped on the bed next to me. I froze. “What—did you think I was gonna leave?” “Um.” I turned. “Kinda. Yeah.” He pushed me up, pulled down the sheets, then dragged me into the bed. He covered me before getting under himself. Snugly in, he wrapped one arm around my waist and spooned me right up against him. “Nah. It’s comfy here.” This was a battle I wasn’t going to win, and to be honest…I didn’t want to win it. I wanted to sleep snuggled against him, because I knew it wouldn’t happen again. I turned off the light and curled into him. “You know, Lola is gonna be really pissed tomorrow when she finds Zac isn’t here.” “It’s Saturday.” He yawned. “We’ll pick him up and go to IHOP.” “I hope you’ll deal with the ensuing sugar rush.” Adrian groaned into my hair. “Damn it.” I smiled when he kissed my shoulder. I would cherish this moment while I could, because tomorrow I’d make the phone calls that would change everything.

Chapter Eighteen Adrian Bad memories plagued my dreams. The admission to Perrie about Katie had made for a fitful night’s sleep, but by the time I woke up, I knew, ultimately, I was right. Perrie was a million Katies. She was selfless and honest, kind and sweet, and whatever had happened in her life to push her into prostitution had been beyond her control. There was an alternative. There was always an alternative, but I understood how she felt like there wasn’t. Maybe there was a reason why there wasn’t for her. I needed to know more about her. I fucking craved it. How had Perrie Fox fallen from grace? It was the burning question. I had the feeling I had to work for the answer. I’d told her about Katie last night because she needed to understand why I did the work I did —why she’d never ever have been in danger. I’d never have let anything to happen her. I wasn’t kidding when I’d told her that I’d have broken his neck before he could hurt her. That wasn’t to say that I didn’t feel bad for not telling her the whole truth, because I did, but the fact was

that I couldn’t. Sam never should have told her, and he’d heard it from me for doing that. I understand why he did. Hell, Perrie could be intimidating. If she wanted something, she was gonna whatever it took to get it. Everyone else be damned. She was a force in her own right, and that was one of the reasons I couldn’t get enough of her. Now, I squinted as the creaking of the door disturbed me. Sitting up, I froze as a heartwrenching, terrified scream sounded. Instinct kicked in. I jumped out of the bed, almost knocking Perrie to the floor as I did, and scanned the room for the danger. Lola stood in the doorway, eyes wide, shaking, clutching Dolly to her chest. “What’s wrong?” “You’re in Mommy’s bed!” Just like that, I deflated. Falling to sit on the edge of the bed, I buried my face in my hands. Perrie burst out laughing. “Mommy!” Lola shrieked. “Why is he in your bed?” “Jesus,” I breathed. Perrie coughed, still laughing. “Lola. Oh, pumpkin. It’s okay. Come here.” I dropped my hands. Lola skirted through the room toward Perrie, glaring at me. “Mommy. I want to know why he’s in your bed.”

“We had a sleepover. It’s okay. I promise.” Lola looked between us, nodding, until —“But where’s Zac?” Horror crossed her features. “Oh no! Did the dinosaurs get him?” Perrie pressed her lips together, fighting laughter, and pleaded with me to answer. “No,” I said, pulling my gaze to the little blond girl on her knee. “He’s with my big sister. He had a sleepover there. I promise, the dinosaurs didn’t get him.” “Hmm.” She eyed me speculatively. “I’m not happy about this.” “About the sleepover?” “Mommy,” she said, turning back to Perrie who now had a very careful, flat expression on her face. “We’re going to need rules. If you have sleepovers with Adrian, I need sleepovers with Zac.” “Is that right?” “Yes. That’s only fair, Mommy. We both get sleepovers or nobody does. That’s how it works.” “Is it, now?” I covered my mouth with my hand. “Well, yes. I’m very upset I can’t play with Zac, and you’ve been playing with Adrian!” Holy fucking shit. I couldn’t look at Perrie. My shoulders trembled with restrained laughter, and if I looked at her, that would be it. Lola was presenting a very

compelling argument, and I couldn’t deal with that on so little sleep. “Well,” Perrie started. She paused. “We didn’t play…” “I bet you did! I know adults have secret play fights.” “Secret play fights,” Perrie echoed, confusion in her voice. “Uh-huh.” Lola hopped up, arms folded, Dolly forgotten on the bed. “Sasha said she was at her daddy’s house and she went into his bedroom and he was playing with the neighbor in their bed. Her daddy said they had watched the fighting and they were having a playfight.” “Uh-huh. Maybe we shouldn’t listen to Sasha and her daddy anymore, okay?” “Why? Did you have a real fight and not a play fight?” I reached for my jeans and tugged them on, barely getting up. I leaned back on my hand and looked at her, then patted the bed in front of me. She climbed over and knelt in the spot I’d just picked for her. “No fighting happened, okay? I finished work and come to see your mom, then we watched TV, and she said I could sleep over because it was late. Is that okay?” “No,” she said flatly. “You didn’t bring Zac.” “He was already asleep at his aunt’s house,”

I explained. “How about tonight? I don’t have to work tonight, so why don’t me and Zac sleep over here?” She tapped a finger against her lips. “Can we sleep at your house? You have the mine game.” I slid my gaze to Perrie. She looked at me, helpless. “I have an idea. Why don’t we get dressed and pick up Zac for breakfast, then me and Mommy will talk about it, okay?” “Fine.” She slid off the bed, grabbed Dolly, and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Really, Mommy, you should say yes. You owe me for last night.” Perrie stared at her in disbelief as she skipped out, happy as you like, and turned down the hall to her room. Slowly, she dragged her attention to me. “Well, that was awkward.” I grinned. “Wanna play fight?” She hit me with a pillow before standing up. “I wasn’t expecting her to get up already. Will Zac be awake, or should we wait here for you?” “He should be up.” I reached for her hand and pulled her down onto the bed with me. “Adrian. I have to get—” I shut her up by covering her lips with mine. “Dressed, I know,” I finished for her, peering down at her. Yesterday’s make-up smeared in black shadows under her eyes, and her lipstick was

smudged and cracked. It only added to the wild, sleepy look that her messy hair gave her. She looked tired, but she looked beautiful, too. As beautiful as anyone could look in the morning with panda eyes. “Come stay tonight,” I said in a quiet voice. “Let Lola and Zac play. I’ll grill in the backyard and we’ll set up the pool and then we’ll watch movies and shit.” “And shit,” she said. “That’s what will happen when they go bed. Last night was a preview.” “I don’t know.” She hesitated, pushing herself up to sitting. “I just—I don’t know, Adrian.” “Come and have dinner at least.” “That’s sneaky, because then you know I’ll give in to Lola when she ultimately begs me to stay over.” Shit. “Yes. I know.” I grinned. She pursed her lips, but they twitched, giving away the smile she wanted to share. “I have to think about it. I have stuff I really need to think about today.” I raised my eyebrows. “Stuff?” “Yeah, stuff.” She shifted uncomfortably. “You wanna talk about that stuff?” “One night of sex and now you’re my therapist?” I danced my gaze over her body—her pert

tits where her nipples were obvious through her shirt, and the thing strings of the thong that disappeared when she bent forward. “I can help you with therapy in every way but talking. I can fuck the frustration out of you, if you’d like.” She blushed and got up. “Stop it.” “Are you going to stay tonight?” “I told you I’ll think about it.” I grabbed my t-shirt and stood, intercepting her on her way out of the door. With a smile on my face, I said, “No. I won’t stop it, then.” I tapped her nose and kissed the corner of her mouth, stepping away before she could do anything. “You play so dirty!” she shouted. “Who does? Is someone in the yard?” Lola followed up. I stopped halfway down the stairs to laugh. “Mommy? Who’s playing dirty? Can I play, too?” I glanced up to see Perrie pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re doing nothing until you have underwear on. Go. Now. Get dressed.” “But—” “You can’t sleep at Zac’s if you don’t get dressed.” Lola shriek-gasped. “’Kay!” Perrie gripped the railing, leaned over, and pointed a finger at me. Her look told me to not dare say a word, so I didn’t. I grinned instead. A big, fat,

shit-eating grin while she sighed. Adrian: One. Perrie: Zero. For now. *** “Is the dress still necessary?” I muttered, stabbing a pancake with my fork. She glanced at the kids, both of whom had their faces shoved in the screen of Zac’s tablet. “What are you talking about? It’s a dress. It covers a lot of me.” The fact I knew what was under it aside, that was part of the problem. “If it you get a gust of wind, everyone will see.” She shot a pointed look out of the window. “Oh, yes. It’s practically a hurricane out there.” I offered her my own pointed look—but mine was withering. She rolled her eyes. “It’s only because we’re here. I’ll be wearing yoga pants the moment I get home.” “Yoga pants are quite restrictive.” “Actually, they happen to be the better half of jeans.” “That wasn’t the restrictive I meant.” “I know what you meant—I’m simply choosing to ignore it.” I sighed. “I’m starting to remember why I

haven’t dated in years.” Zac perked up at that. “Are you dating Perrie, Dad?” “No,” Perrie said at the same time I said, “I am now.” Zac frowned. Perrie glared at me. “We are not dating.” “Are we at a breakfast date?” “Well, yes, but so are the kids, and—” “Breakfast. Date,” I said, putting extra inflection on the final word. Lola sighed. “First a sleepover with no play fighting. Now you don’t know if you’re being gross adults.” Zac wrinkled his face up and looked at Lola. “They had a sleepover and I wasn’t invited?” Fucking hell. Here we go. “Yes,” Lola answered, shoving a strawberry in her mouth and biting so juice trickled down her chin. “I woke up this morning and they were in the same bed and it scared me.” “Please wipe your chin,” Perrie asked her. “Ewww,” Zac replied. “That’s not fair. Why did they get a sleepover and we didn’t?” “Because you were at your aunt’s,” I answered. “It’s definitely not fair.” Lola bit into the strawberry again, squirting more juice. “But Mommy said we can have one tonight if we got

dressed, and I did.” Yes. She did get dressed—into hot pink shorts and a lime green shirt. Perrie had argued with her for ten minutes over the color clash before Lola informed her she was a grown-up and able to choose her own outfit. It had been too much stimulation over coffee for my liking. “We should play Minecraft and stuff criminals in holes again,” Zac said, tapping at the tablet screen and starting a new episode of whatever insanity-inducing kids program they were quietly watching. “Lola, please wipe your face,” Perrie tried again. “We should put my mom and your dad in a hole until they figure out if they’re dating or not.” “That’s not—” “Cool! I think I have spades. My yard is big enough for that.” Zac nodded. “Do they need food?” “Maybe. We could throw cookies and chips in.” “Okay, but I might eat them first.” Zac patted Lola’s hand. “We’ll carry extra.” Lola beamed. My attention flicked back and forth between them during that whole exchange. Perrie looked mildly concerned at their rapidly escalating plan, so

I decided it was my turn to step in and put a stop to it. “Okay, Zac? What are the rules about throwing people in holes?” “Only in video games,” he muttered. “Aw.” Lola pouted. “And we are definitely dating. Perrie’s just being silly.” The woman in question said, “We’re not dating, okay? We’re friends.” Friends who are dating. “See? I think she hit her head last night when she was sleeping.” Lola’s gaze flitted between us and she leaned over, into Perrie. “Mommy, he is very handsome.” “He gets that from me.” Zac puffed out his chest. Perrie bit her lip. “He sure does. Look at your muscles.” “I know, right? John Cena is jealous.” He held his arm to the side and flexed his “bicep.” She leaned over and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Wow—my goodness. You are so strong.” Zac beamed with delight. “Oh, Lola, this is my favorite bit! They’re about to become the Power Rangers.” Perrie picked up her coffee. “This is the most dysfunctional breakfast I’ve ever had.” I snorted into my own mug. “Join the club.”

*** Having kids isn’t for the light-hearted or the impatient. Or those who actually like to be listened to once in a while. The pool rules were simple. Don’t run, don’t dive, and don’t drown. Of course, that meant my son, the daredevil, ran, dived, and almost drowned. Fuck, almost drowned was an exaggeration, but the inch-long scrape on his leg wasn’t. I’d tried telling him that our above ground pool wasn’t like his nan’s and he couldn’t dive into it, because he had to climb into ours, not just jump. Adult logic was too much for him, because that’s what he’d done. Given himself a running start, scraped his leg on one of the poles in the frame, and then belly-flopped into the pool. I wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed any of it, but the cut had looked worse than it was, and Perrie had patched it up pretty swiftly. He was now back in the pool with Lola eying him somewhat warily, given the splash his disaster had created. Perrie was inside on the phone somewhere, and I was on the porch, cleaning out the grill. Today had been a day full of craziness. After I’d dropped Perrie and Lola at home to get an

overnight bag, I was halfway around the grocery store when my sister called and wanted to know where her car keys were. The answer? The bottom of Zac’s backpack. Somehow. One delivery later, Zac had spilled his mouth about Perrie last night, this morning, and tonight, and Amie had given me the third degree five times over. She’d even left with a threat that she was going to stop by. That was the last thing I wanted. Although I’d spent the morning teasing Perrie that we were dating, the truth was, we probably weren’t. We weren’t single people who could slowly get to know each other and do it gradually. We’d been thrust together by our jobs, and this wasn’t a normal situation. Not to mention the fact we both had kids. Slowly getting to know somebody wasn’t necessarily an option, because children were full-steam ahead or no-steam ahead. And our kids? They were full-steam ahead, lightyear speed. That made it so much harder for us. I’m sure that if it weren’t for our kids being friends, she wouldn’t be here right now. I hoped that assessment was wrong, but Perrie Fox wasn’t the kind of woman you could sweep off her feet with one night of great sex. It would have been easier if she was, but she was anything but easy. And I knew that her heart,

her soul, who she really was beneath everything else, was something worth waiting—and fighting— for. And I wanted to do that. Wait for her. Fight for her. I had nowhere else to be, nowhere else I even wanted to be. Right now, I only wanted to be with her. Peel back those infuriating fucking layers she kept herself buried under. If life were a beach, she’d be a turtle’s egg, buried under millions of grains of sand. It would tease you a hundred times before you got a real glimpse of it. Once you’d uncovered those, you’d get to her. More than anything, I wanted her to know that she was safe. She would be safe with me. Always. I checked on the kids in the pool and, seeing they were okay, put down the scrubber for the grill and headed inside. My hands were covered in coal ash from where I’d cleared it out, so I made my way to the downstairs half-bath to wash my hands. “I’m nervous,” Perrie said from the other room. “What if he doesn’t want to see me?” I stilled, staring toward the door. It was ajar, allowing me to only see the tiniest slither of my office through its opening. “I know that,” she continued. “But that

doesn’t make it easier. I haven’t seen him for years, Dahlia.” Dahlia. I knew that name. It wasn’t exactly common —there was only one Dahlia I knew of in Las Vegas, and she was at The Scarlet Letter bar, a place my team had never had to frequent. Perrie sighed. “Abby said she’d interview me first thing tomorrow, but I need to get a sitter for it.” My eyebrows shot up. An interview? Was she applying for a job there? “She doesn’t know you. It’s not fair on either of you. I can fix it.” A pause. “No, you don’t need to push it. I can handle it. Honestly.” Another pause. “Fine, but I reserve the right to change my mind. I just…I don’t know how to talk to him now.” Talk to who? “’Kay. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I darted into the bathroom and scrubbed my hands. Perrie leaned against the doorframe. “Learn anything interesting?” I grabbed the towel. “Uh…More questions than answers.”

She pursed her lips, but there was no anger in her gaze. Instead, she sighed, slumping against the frame. “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.” I stuffed the towel back onto the holder. “If you wanna talk about it…” She collected the towel, folded it, and hung it back up. I smirked, following her out of the bathroom. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it, I just don’t know if I do,” she said vaguely, stepping out onto the porch. The laughter of our kids as they splashed each other in the pool made us both stop. Lola, with her hair in a bun, screeched out spine-tickling giggles as she sent water in Zac’s direction. Zac half-slipped as he stepped backward, but his answering laugh as the droplets splayed all over his face warmed my heart. I smiled, and noticed Perrie doing the same. Despite the emotion that tightened her eyes and drew grooves in her forehead, her lips curved, and I knew she loved she sight as much as I did. Perrie sighed yet again, taking a seat on the swing Zac had insisted I buy. She sat back, sinking into the soft fabric coating it, and swung gently, using one foot to control it. “Last week, I got a call from someone I used to work with. Before Lola was born.” She flashed me a glance, but I pulled coal from the bag and started stacking it. “He wanted me to meet with

him, so I did.” “That didn’t strike you as weird at all?” “Well…” She hesitated. “Fergus is a flamboyant gay, so no, not exactly.” I snorted. “Fair enough. What happened?” “He’d basically tricked me into meeting with his boss, Dahlia Lloyd.” “I thought I recognized that name. The Scarlet Letter, right?” “You know her?” “We’re not friends, but we’ve met. Part of setting up our task force was familiarizing ourselves to the bar owners.” I lit the coal and turned to face her. “Carry on.” “She’s dating my brother. She wanted to meet with me to see if there was a chance for reconciliation. I told her he was the reason we no longer had a relationship.” She chewed down on her lip, her teeth causing it to go white. “Long story short, she told me a whole bunch of stuff that made me rethink the way I feel about him.” I leaned against the wall, waiting for her to continue. Emotion flitted across her face, as if she were trying to put it into line to be able to explain it to me. Like she had no idea how she felt about it herself. “I’m so confused.” Her voice was soft. She dipped her chin, sending her gaze to the wooden boards of the porch floor. “I don’t know how I’m

supposed to feel. He’s my brother, but I hate him as much as I love him. Is that normal?” After another glance toward the pool to confirm the kids were okay, I sat on one of the chairs opposite her. “I think so. I’m pretty lucky. I’ve never really fallen out with Amie. We’ve fought, but not to this point.” The question lingered on my tongue, until… “What happened between you?” She sighed, leaning right back. The gentle swing of the seat stilled with the touch of her toe to the floor. She blinked, resting her hands on her lap, staring up at the top of the porch. “I remember when I took the pregnancy test. I was two weeks late. I was terrified.” Voice still small, she was perfectly still as she spoke. “I told her dad before anyone else. Dennis was equal parts scared and excited. We weren’t exactly serious. It was a total accident. He took it pretty well, but he didn’t want to change his lifestyle there and then. I was young, dumb, and hopeful that he would change when she was born. “I was wrong. Two weeks to the day after I told him we were having a baby, he got so drunk and high that he drove head-on into a tree. He died pretty much on impact. That was the day I knew I was alone and had to tell my father and brother I was pregnant.” She nibbled at the skin of the side of her thumb. “My so-called father responded by

telling me I was stupid. That I was the biggest idiot and that he was thankful I didn’t have his blood because no way would his real child be so stupid.” My fist clenched in anger. “Never mind his real daughter was a druggie.” She snorted, looking at me. “He was determined I’d have an abortion. Nobody with the Fox name would have a bastard baby. I thought my brother would help me, but Damien agreed with him. That I was stupid. That I needed an abortion.” “Fucking hell.” “I stayed long enough to withdraw some serious cash from my account and secure a rental. Soon after I left, I had to move into the house I live in now because Benedict blocked my accounts. My mom had left a percentage of the business to me before she committed suicide, but Benedict managed to cut me off completely.” That made so much fucking sense. Why she was a Fox without money. Why she’d done what she did to make it. She’d been backed into a corner by the people who should have loved and protected her before all else. Anger. I was angry. I was disgusted and frustrated and angry on her behalf. How dare they treat her that way? How fucking dare they tell her to kill her baby and cut her off from the only thing she’d ever known?

I didn’t know why she was adopted. I didn’t know what had brought her into the Fox family except that Benedict wasn’t her father—and that was explanatory in itself—but it didn’t answer all the questions. And I didn’t fucking care. Not for a goddamn second. All I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and promise that she’d never be alone again. That she and Lola wouldn’t suffer for her family’s choices any longer. That they’d always be safe with me and Zac. That no matter what happened, we would be there to hold their hands and stroke their hair. All I wanted to do was tell her how fucking special she was to me. How badly I needed her in my life. But I couldn’t, because she wasn’t done. “My brother was cold and calculating. Benedict two-point-oh. He’d been my protector against our father’s cruelty for years, but that day, he dug in the knife and twisted it.” Her voice was basically a whisper. “Last week, I learned he regretted it. Ever since I estranged myself from them, he’s had me watched. Had an investigator keep tabs on me. Every six months, a check shows up at my door, and every six months, I send it back.” “Why?”

“I don’t want his money. I never have. I’ve only ever wanted my brother back.” She swallowed hard. “I found out last week that he’s been running a college fund for Lola since she was born. She can access it when she’s eighteen. I refused his help, but he still extended it to her. And he’s only ever seen her once.” My eyebrows shot up at that. I knew of Damien Fox. Of course I did. The ruthless businessman, the cold-hearted predator, the sharp, analytical guy behind Vegas’ superpower, second only to the mob. All above board, much to the LVPD’s frustration. Except the woman in front of me. She flouted the rules one hundred percent, and I was the reason she wasn’t in a six-by-six cell waiting prosecution. I would never regret the decision to let the stunning, sobbing blond out of my car. Because now I knew her heart, and the only thing purer than her heart was that of a child’s. She was broken and burned, harmed and hurt. My instinct had been right. I still didn’t have all the story, and I didn’t care if I didn’t get it all. Not right now. I was satisfied that I’d been correct in the choices I’d made—for her. If I had to, I’d make the same one tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that.

I’d make it every single day until I died. I would always let her go—unless it was personal. I didn’t think I could do it now. I wanted her. Wildly. Crazily. Desperately. It was an insatiable desire that would only be cooled by the heat of her body against mine. Perrie Fox was destined to be mine. There were no two ways about it. She was mine. End of.

Chapter Nineteen Adrian Perrie sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “When I left the meeting with Dahlia, she told me to call her if I wanted to speak with Damien. She made it clear that he didn’t know we were speaking, and I kind of respected her for that. Damien is…was…controlling. He was all about the power and needing to know everything was just so. She wasn’t the kind of person I ever expected him to fall for.” “What was it?” “Weak.” She said it simply. “I guess he learned to respect someone who could argue with him.” “You never argued with him?” “Every day.” Her lips twitched. “He hated it. It was the bane of his existence, which is why I never thought he’d get involved with anyone strong-willed. He hated being wrong and doing things any way other than his.” “But you called her, right?” I moved, taking a seat next to her on the swinging seat. She froze for a second as I laid my arm along the back of it, but she soon drifted her gaze in the way of our kids and relaxed. “So, are you seeing him?” “Tomorrow.” She paused. “I have an

interview at The Scarlet Letter for a position as a bartender. I have to call my sitter.” “Charity?” “You’d think, right? But no—Dahlia was very clear. I’m not being offered a job, merely an interview. She’s savvy and smart, I’ll give her that.” I smiled, looking out as Zac cannonballed into the pool. Perrie rolled her eyes for me. “Zac! No balls, okay?” I grinned. Zac looked back at her, wide-eyed. “Yeah, Zac! No balls! I don’t want your balls in this pool!” Lola shouted. Perrie slapped her hand against her face. “Goddamn it.” I did all I could do—burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” Zac asked. “No cannonballs, Zacco!” I reiterated, forcing my laughter under control. He saluted me, and I snorted when he dived underwater. Judging by Lola’s shriek, he was going for her ankles. Not a smart choice after the dinosaurs last night. Lola screamed at the top of her lungs. “Dinosaurs!” Zac sputtered with laughter as he broke the surface. “Zac!” I said sharply. “Stop it.”

“’Kay, Dad!” He turned to Lola, and apologized loud enough that we could hear it. Perrie sighed heavily. “Kids give me a headache.” I laughed, leaning right back. The grill was smoking and I’d probably wasted the chance to cook, but fuck it. I’d order in. The kids were having fun and we were talking. Hell, I was learning things about her I never thought I would. I’d buy fifty pizzas if we could carry on like this. Unraveling the mystery of Perrie Fox was priceless. “Are you nervous about seeing Damien?” I asked her, looking at her. My eyes skirted her profile, from her button nose to the freckles that dotted it and the lashes that fanned against her skin to the lips that pursed in the perfect pout of her indecision. “Yes. No. I don’t know. He’s my brother, but eight years is a long time.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “I didn’t think I ever would again, so maybe that’s the thing I can’t accept. That I am going to see him.” “I get that.” “Do you?” “No. I was trying to be sympathetic.” She laughed anyway. “I think the grill is screwed.” I sighed. “I know, but when you talk, I

listen.” “That sounds like a line.” I side-eyed her. “If it was, would it work?” “For what?” “To get my cock inside you again.” She pursed her lips. “At least you’re honest.” I grinned, trying not to laugh at her expression which was somewhere between annoyed and amused. “I’ll just go order pizza, then.” “You do that.” *** I set the kids in the front room with two giant bowls of popcorn and a movie. Perrie paced the length of my kitchen, wringing her hands in front of her. She was nervous as fuck, and hell, she was making me nervous with her constant fidgeting. “Sit down. And no more coffee.” I swiped her half-full mug and tipped it down the sink before she could say anything. It was her damn third, after all. “I can’t help it. I’m nervous.” “No. Really? I couldn’t tell.” She shot me a death-glare with those dark eyes of hers and flattened her hands against her stomach. “I’m going to be sick.” “Well, you haven’t eaten and you’ve had

two and a half cups of coffee that have been shaking around in your stomach. I’d be surprised if you weren’t sick.” “Sorry, Dad.” I grinned and met her eyes long enough to make her lips twitch into a smile. “I just—ugh.” She slumped onto a chair at the table, dejection slumping her shoulders. “What if…” She trailed off before she’d gotten started, yet again. I waited for her to continue. “What if it’s just like it was when I moved away? What if Damien hasn’t changed and he’s still the same person he was eight years ago? What if feeling like this about our meeting screws my interview because I can’t focus?” “It won’t.” “You don’t know that. Years, Adrian. I’ve been trying to find a real, permanent job now for years. One that worked with school and life and was flexible. This could be that job. I need it to be that job,” she finished quietly. “I’m tired. I’m so tired of going to work and being afraid of my safety.” I sighed, taking the seat opposite her as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ll speak to the chief today about letting you out of your contract.” “Great, then if I don’t get this job, I’m screwed.”

“Perrie… You’re about to meet with your brother. Don’t you have ownership of the Fox business?” “A little,” she admitted. “What my mom left me when she died. I’d never have to work again, but it doesn’t seem right.” “You could work with your brother.” “Benedict would never allow it.” “You’re not a kid under his influence anymore and neither is Damien. From what I know, Benedict barely runs it anymore. It’s all Damien.” She linked her fingers behind her neck and rested her forehead against the table. I couldn’t imagine how she was feeling right now, but her body language told me enough. Terror tightened her shoulders while fear shook her clasped fingers. When she sat back up and chewed on her lower lip, I saw the hesitance that shone in her eyes. She didn’t want to see him just as badly as she wanted to, and she had no idea how to feel about that. Hell, I wouldn’t either. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m panicking for nothing. Dahlia said enough that I know the person I remember him being is still in there, but I’ve rejected all his attempts to contact me. What if he hates me?” “You’re the most unhateable person I know.” “That’s not even a word.”

“I know, but I can’t be bothered to think of a real one.” Perrie snorted, and I smiled. “There’s a lot of water under the bridge, and you just have to cross it. There’s nothing else you can do but take a deep breath and try it.” She nibbled at her lip again. She was going to hurt herself if she carried on doing that. “I know.” She pulled her phone from her purse and checked the time. “Crap, okay. I have to go. Are you sure you’re fine to watch Lola?” I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late to ask that?” “Well—” “You’re not canceling it.” I laughed, getting up and rounding the table to her. “But nice try.” She put a hand in my outstretched one and let me pull her up. “Damn it,” she muttered, stuffing the phone back in her purse. “Let me say bye.” She went into the front room and perched on the sofa next to Lola. She whispered in her ear and kissed her cheek. Then, she darted in front of the kids, bent down next to Zac, and touched a kiss to his cheek, too. My stomach plummeted downward, my heart clenching tightly as Zac turned his face toward her, his eyes bright and his smile wide.

And I knew. With one kiss to the cheek of my son, I knew the one thing I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge. I was falling for her. Hard and fast. I turned away when she ruffled his hair and said another goodbye to them both, this time adding the warning to behave themselves. “Okay,” she said, rejoining me in the kitchen. “Do I look okay? Most of my dresses aren’t exactly…normal work ones.” I spun and looked at her, arms folded across my chest. Her hair hung loose around her face, her make-up was as perfect as always, and the dress hugged her curves to perfection. “You look beautiful,” I said honestly. She opened her mouth, then closed it as a blush spread across her cheeks. “Thank you.” “Anytime.” My lips curled to the side and I handed her her purse. “Go. You’ll be late.” She glanced through the door toward the sound of the kids laughing, but swallowed hard and nodded her head instead. “Okay. I’m going. Um… I’ll call you when I’m coming back to get her, okay?” “I’m not working ‘til five,” I said, following her to the front door. “Take your time.” “Okay. Sure. Fine.” She fiddled with her hair,

twisting it around her finger over and over. “Thank you. For watching her.” “It’s my pleasure.” I reached over and extracted her finger from her hair, then tucked the light strands behind her ear. “Good luck.” “Thanks. Crap. I need a Xanax.” I laughed. I had a better idea. I took her face in my hands and pressed my lips to hers. Soft and gentle, but firm enough that she knew I meant it. Her sharp intake of breath when I released her mad me chuckle. “That works, too. Okay. Bye.” She all but ran out of the door, leaving it wide open as she headed for her car. I shook my head. It was a wonder she’d never been robbed the amount of times she left doors open or unlocked. She waved as she got in the car, and at this point, her nerves were more than palpable. They were infectious, because, hell. I had butterflies for her. Not the interview. I knew she’d be fine and she’d have a real job soon, but for her. I was nervous for her heart. Damien Fox had broken his sister’s heart once, and if he did it again today, I had a fist that wouldn’t think twice about meeting his nose.

I watched Perrie leave until her car had disappeared down the street, then went back inside. The kids had migrated from sitting normally on the sofa to sitting like, well, kids. Zac was almost upside down, one leg on the arm of the sofa and the other foot resting on the top of the back sofa cushions. His popcorn was on the floor, and he lifted his arm up and down as he shoved it in his mouth. Lola had moved to the floor—kind of. Her butt barely touched the ground as she rested her feet on the coffee table and leaned back on the sofa. She, too, had placed her popcorn bowl on the floor, and there was a suspicious puddle of the snack next to the bowl. I half-smiled. It didn’t look comfortable, but hey. “I’m heading into my office to work. I have some paperwork to get done. Do you two need anything?” Lola shook her head. “No,” Zac said around a mouthful of food. “Is ‘ere ‘oos inidge?” “I’m sorry,” I said dryly. “I don’t speak tiny savage.” Lola giggled. Zac swallowed his mouthful. “Is there juice in the fridge?” “Bottom shelf so you can reach it,” I

confirmed. “Come get me if you need anything, all right? And I mean come and get me, Zac. Don’t holler and wake up the nearest graveyard.” “No zombies.” Lola shuddered. I would prefer no zombies. I wasn’t sure the LVPD were trained to handle an undead invasion. “No zombies,” I agreed. “Got it, Zac?” “Yeah. Got it.” His response was closer to a grumble, and I knew he’d forget that fact in about five minutes, but I lived in hope that one day, he would listen to me. I left them to their uncomfortable seating positions and annoying movie and headed through the house to my office. The paperwork glared at me the moment I stepped through the door, and the sigh that left me when I sat down was heavy. I blinked at the paperwork. I was falling in love with Perrie Fox and I hadn’t even realized it. We’d been inseparable since I showed up at her house. Maybe that should have been my first clue. That the first thing I had to do when I left work that night was go and explain to her. The second one was the fact I was so desperate for her to understand, I did the one thing I’d never done before. I told her about Katie. The third clue should have been the fact that the idea of not having her in my life anymore was almost painful to think about.

But, no. It took a two-second kiss to my son’s cheek to make me realize it. It took the momentary delight on his face when she’d done that. He was attached to her. I hadn’t even known it until then. Maybe I hadn’t been looking for it, or maybe he’d just never made it clear. I knew now, though. I knew Zac loved Perrie as much as he loved Lola. That was it. It was the swift realization that my son loved her. That was all I needed to recognize that I did, too. I ran my hands through my hair. I was screwed. I knew she still looked at me and saw me as the enemy, no matter how many times I kissed her and she melted into me. I knew she saw me as the person who almost ruined her life a second time around. And I didn’t know how to change that. I didn’t know if I should. After all—she was a Fox. If the rumors I’d heard at the station about Benedict Fox being in rehab and Damien having full control of the business were true, her life was about to change again. She’d become a multi-millionaire, getting her Cinderella story. The one she deserved. The one that set us a million miles apart.

I fired up my computer, tapping my fingers against the desk. I did the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t. I set the paperwork aside. I opened the database and pulled every file related to the Fox family. She would never tell me—and if I was going to lose her, I wanted to know why. *** One hour into the reading of the files had told me nothing. They were all restraining orders and other smaller charges. None of them against a Fox had ever amounted to anything, but there were plenty of things the Fox family had thrown out that had stuck. Of course. Money talks, and Las Vegas knew that better than anywhere else. It was corrupt to its core. The other annoying part was that I’d barely made a dent. Was I in for more reading of this menial bullshit, or was there some other more important stuff? As far as I could figure out, all of the stuff I’d read so far was before she was even born. Fucking awesome. I stretched my neck on the way to the

bathroom. The movie would have finished now, and a poke of my head into the living room said I was right. Floorboards creaked from upstairs, so after doing my business in the bathroom, I padded my bare feet up to the stairs. “Do you think my mommy and your daddy will get married?” Lola’s soft, gentle voice asked. I froze. There was a pause before Zac answered. “I don’t know. Grown-ups are dumb sometimes.” “If they did, would you be mad if you had to share your daddy?” “You’d be sharing your mom, too.” “I know. But I’d share her with you. You don’t have one.” I closed my eyes. “That’s why I’d share Dad with you. You don’t have one, so you could have mine.” A lump formed in my throat. “I think I’d really like a dad,” Lola said softly. “Do you want a mom?” I slumped down and quietly sat. I didn’t want to hear this answer, even though I already knew it. “More than anything,” Zac replied quietly. “I asked Santa for a mom last year.” “Oh, good thinking. Santa can get anything. Do you think my mommy is the mom he’s bringing you?” “I don’t know. I’d like to have your mom. I

think she’s perfect.” I opened my eyes and quietly blew out a breath. Tears stung my eyes—they were so young, so innocent, and here they were. Talking about how they would share their parents with each other so they both had a mom and a dad. There were no words for the pain—and pride —that ran through my veins as I sat and listened to them. “I think so, too,” Lola replied after a minute. “But she’d be perfecter if she was happy more.” “Do you think she’s happy when she’s with us?” “Yep. She laughs at your house.” “Is that because my street is clean?” I side-eyed the wall at that. “Because your street makes me sad,” he continued. “But your house is pretty.” I smiled. “I like it here a lot more. If they got married, could we live here instead?” “You could have my bedroom. It’s bigger than the other one.” As much as I hated it, I had to put a stop to this conversation. I got up and knocked lightly on his room. “Hey…Can we talk?” “Uh-oh,” Zac said, sadness tinging his tone. “Did you hear us?”

I nodded, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. “Oh,” Lola replied. “Are you angry?” “Angry? You think I’m angry?” Two little heads bobbed the affirmative at me. “Oh, god, no.” I went and crouched in front of them both on the bed. “Don’t be silly. I’m not angry at all. I just wanted to talk about it with you.” “Are you going to marry my mommy?” Lola pushed hair from her face. I tucked that same hair behind her ear. “I can’t answer that, sweetheart. I don’t know. I love your mom—” “I think she loves you, too.” “She smiles a lot with you,” Zac added. I touched his hand. “But it’s not always that simple. I know it’s hard for you guys to understand, but there are lots of things about being an adult you’ll get one day.” Lola looked down at her hands. “But that’s not fair,” she said in a tiny, but very wobbly, voice. “I want you to get married. I think you’d be the best daddy.” Fighting the tears was becoming damn near impossible. The weakness in her voice broke my fucking heart. “Lola.” Lightly, I touched her chin, and she looked at me. Unshed tears glistened in her dark

eyes—tears that gripped old of my gut and twisted it. “Things don’t happen just because you want them to. I wish they did.” “Don’t you want to be my daddy?” Zac sniffed. I glanced at him—he was almost crying, too. “I would love to be your daddy,” I answered honestly. “And I would love for your mommy to be Zac’s mommy. If we could get away with making that choice just us three, that would be fun, huh?” They both nodded. “But we can’t do that. There’s a lot happening right now. Your mom is at a job interview and has something important this afternoon. We won’t be working together soon, so I don’t even know if we’ll see each other anymore.” Horror exploded onto both of their faces. “No!” Lola’s tears escaped her eyes. “I don’t want that. That’s not fair.” I agreed. “It’s not. And I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen, okay?” I stood and pulled the little girl onto my lap. She snuggled into my chest, sniffling and trembling. I motioned for Zac to come over, and he curled into my side. “I promise you guys that I’m gonna try really hard, okay?” “I want my mom to love you,” Lola whispered.

“I want that, too,” Zac echoed. I smiled, kissing the tops of both of their heads. “Me, too, kids. Me, too.” It wasn’t a lie. I did. I wanted Perrie Fox to love me back, even if it wasn’t a good idea. I hugged them for several more minutes until Lola fidgeted. “Are you guys all good now? Want some food?” “Yeah.” Zac escaped from my clutches. “Got any candy? We’re sad and need candy.” I set Lola on the bed to her silent agreement. “I think I can find some. You sure you’re fine?” They both nodded, and I glanced at them to confirm, then headed out of the room. Then, I stopped the other side of the door and got exactly what I was hoping for. “I have an idea,” Zac said, whispering conspiratorially. “What?” Lola stage-whispered in return. “We have to make them fall in love. Like the fat baby with the arrows.” The fat baby with the arrows. My god. “Yes!” Springs squeaked as Lola moved. “How do we do that? “Let’s come up with a plan.” Trying to hold in my laughter at my son’s description of Cupid, I left them to it.

Maybe I should have told them that you can’t make people fall in love, but damned if I didn’t wanna see them give it a good fucking shot.

Chapter Twenty Perrie Abby nodded and scribbled on the bottom of her sheet. “All right, then. We’re all done. You’ve picked up some great skills over the years and I’m impressed. Thank you.” “Thank you.” I smiled, the butterflies going wild in my stomach. She tucked her auburn hair behind her ear as she stood. “Dahlia’s waiting to chat with you, so I’ll go let her know we’re done.” “Great. Thanks.” Abby offered me a warm, beaming smile, grabbed her things, and went. I blew out a long breath and relaxed back into the chair for the first time in forty-five minutes. While she was one of the nicest people I’d ever been interviewed by, that didn’t change how important this job was to me. I needed it. I needed it for me. Technically, Adrian was right. I didn’t need a job if everything went well with Damien. He’d been trying to give me money for years, so I knew he’d do everything he could so that I could access the bank account that held my money. But that was a slim chance. I had no idea how this meeting with him would go.

All I knew with any kind of certainty was that it was time to change my life—completely and wholeheartedly. “Hey,” Dahlia’s soft voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I turned around to see her. She smiled. “How’d it go?” “Well. I think.” My lips twitched nervously. “Probably a walk in the park compared to what’s next.” Slowly, she nodded, coming in and taking the seat Abby just vacated. “He’s at home, waiting for you. Honestly, when I left this morning, I thought he was going to throw up.” “He’s nervous?” “Nervous? If he’s been pacing the floor the entire time, it’s going to need to be re-stained.” “That makes me feel marginally better.” Sympathy clouded her eyes. “I have no idea what either of you are feeling right now, but I wish I could take it away from you.” I swallowed, looking away. “I just…I’m so scared I’m going to go there and he’s going to change his mind.” “Never. He will never change his mind. He wants this more than you know.” Taking a deep breath was hard. My lungs were tight and my chest ached, but whether was with fear or for all the years we’d been apart, I didn’t know.

“Okay. I need his address and then I’m going to get this over with.” Dahlia smiled and grabbed a sticky note. She printed his address out in block capitals. “He told me this morning you’d find it easy. It’s only a few minutes from the house you all grew up in.” I took the light-pink note from her and surveyed the address. She was right—it was. I knew “’Kay. Thanks. I’ll probably throw up a few times on the way, but still…” Dahlia laughed. “You’ll be fine. Grab a bottle of water from the bar and take a deep breath. I promise you, you’re worried about nothing.” We’d see. *** My hands trembled as I approached Damien’s driveway. I couldn’t even take it in—it took everything I had to focus on the road and driving safely. It was a miracle I was holding onto the steering wheel still. The sweat that beaded on my palms made the leather wrap slippery, and I was constantly repositioning my hands. My stomach was the worst. I’d taken three sips of water before realizing that anymore wouldn’t stay down. I was sure everyone was right and that I was worrying about nothing, but that

didn’t change the fact that I was about to see my brother for the first time in eight years. No matter the circumstances, that would always be terrifying. I turned onto the driveway with a desert-dry mouth. Swallowing, licking my lips—nothing worked. My throat was scratchy and I wanted to cough, but when I tried, nothing happened. Gravel crunched beneath my tires when I rolled to a stop. For a moment, I just sat there. I sipped the water to wet my mouth and lips, then held it. It was still cold, and it was soothing against my palms. I stared at the house. Huge and impersonal looking, it was so still that the only sign anyone was here was the sleek car parked a few feet away from me. He knew I was here. He had to know, didn’t he? Was he as worried as I was? This was it. I had to get up and get out of this car and put my past to bed. I could only do that now, today, with my brother. I opened the car door, undid my belt, and turned. My heels rattled as I put my feet on the drive, and I almost forgot to grab my purse. I grabbed it at the last minute, holding it close to me, in front of my body like a guard. The car beeped, lights flashing, when I

locked it. I was going to throw up. Right here, right now, all over his driveway. I was sure of it. There was no way the nauseous feeling hitting me hard could result in anything but that. Steps. One at a time. I fidgeted with my purse, head down, making sure I didn’t fall on the steps. Wobbly legs. I wasn’t going to throw up—I was going to pass out. Of course I was. The door opened before I’d even put two feet down on the very top step. I looked up. Right at my brother. He hadn’t changed a bit. That was the first thought that flickered through my mind. He was older, sure. But his eyes were the same, dark brown that mine were. He still wore his hair in the same style, slicked back from his face and short at the sides. His scar still marred the otherwise perfect skin of his face. Even the stubble that covered his jaw was the same, carefully trimmed shadow it’d been all those years ago. He dressed better now. Filled out the shirt more—and unless a part of said shirt was poking out the back of his pants, he was able to get that all done, too.

I was looking at my brother. Damien. The person who had once been my best friend and guided me through one of the hardest times of my life. He opened his mouth to speak, and I burst into tears. I buried my face in my hands. His arms circled me only seconds later, and he pulled me against him, resting his chin on the top of my head. Even with my heels I was shorter than him, and he squeezed me so tightly I thought he might squeeze all the pain out of me. He didn’t say a word as I cried. He let me give in to the shock and ache, just holding me in his arms. “Oh my god,” I breathed. “That wasn’t how I planned to say hi.” His entire body shook with the rumble of his laughter. “Me either.” He released me enough to meet my gaze. Tears shone in the corners of his eyes, and when he laughed again, they escaped. “Sorry. I have no self-control.” “Good to see some things haven’t changed.” He wiped at his eyes with a smile. “Will you come in?” I nodded and stepped inside before he did. In the hall, I was struck at how…cold…it felt. There

was a plant on the floor, but the walls were bare. Like this was a house and not a home. “Dahlia did the same thing. I’m working on it.” He motioned lamely to the giant plant in a pot. “Thank god I pay someone to water it or it’d be dead already.” “You didn’t even have a plant in here?” “Who has the time to go shopping for plants?” He smirked as he looked at me. “I didn’t even buy that. I had to plead with my assistant to buy it and tell Dahlia I did.” “Did she believe you?” “What do you think?” My lips twisted to one side. “I like her. She’s smart.” “She’s something,” he muttered. Then, he paused, looking at me again. “I had all these plans for things I was gonna say, and I can’t remember a goddamn one except, “Let’s go and sit down.”” And just like that, my nerves disappeared. “That sounds like a good idea.” I followed him into the large, open kitchen. He was pulling out chairs at a round table by the large windows that made up the entire outer wall of the room, so I joined him there and took a seat. “Would you like a drink?” “Do you have something stronger than coffee?” “If I did, I’d be drinking it, too.”

Fair enough. “So,” I said, then waited. “So,” Damien repeated. He waited, too, then followed up with a, “How are you?” “Are we really going to small talk?” He rubbed his hand down his face. “No, you’re right. That’s stupid.” “We can small talk.” “I’m sorry.” I stilled at the apology. “Perrie, I’m so fucking sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at me with enough raw emotion in his eyes that there was no way I could deny it. “I regretted those words ever since I said them. I never should have said them to you. I never should have told you to abort her.” I took a deep breath and blew it out, then said, “I forgive you.” Damien jerked. “I don’t deserve it.” “No, you’re right, you don’t. But I know now that you were only doing what Benedict wanted you to.” The truth struck hard. “I know you wouldn’t have said those words and meant them from your heart.” “God, I should have told him to fuck off that day. You’d lost everything that mattered to you in such a short space of time, and he wanted to take that from you, too.” “He hates me. He always has. I’m a constant reminder of when Mom cheated on him.” I sighed

and sat back. “He wanted to make my life as hard as possible. I knew that when I got desperate and tried to withdraw money when Lola was about three months old. The bank manager told me he’d put a block on my account, and he could do that because it was within the business accounts he controlled.” Anger twitched his jaw. “I didn’t find out about that until last week or I would have had it removed. I never understood why you did what you did for work until then.” I looked away, shame hinting at me. “It was all I could do to keep her alive. It was easy money, and then when I decided I wanted a change, I could never get a proper job.” “I thought you refused to touch the money. That’s what Dad told me when I asked—that you were stubborn and had turned your back on us. I should have known the piece of shit had lied to me.” “I didn’t want to use it,” I admitted. “I wanted to do it my own way, but it was hard. When the money I took with me ran out, I needed something extra, but he stopped me from doing that, too.” “God.” Damien rubbed his forehead. “I’m so sorry.” “Why? You tried to help. I was too stubborn to take that.”

“I was trying to force you into taking the money I didn’t think you wanted,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry. This all comes down to Dad.” “Does he know about this?” “He doesn’t even talk about them anymore, Per. He won’t even think about going to their graves. He drank himself into oblivion every day until I learned the truth last week.” “What happened?” “I told him to sign full control of the company to me and go to rehab, or I’d buy him out.” My jaw dropped. “What did he do?” “The smart choice. He quietly transferred more of the business into my name and checked himself into rehab. He’s currently nothing more than a shareholder.” Well, shit. I never thought I’d see the day. “Wow. How did you pull that off?” He smiled wryly. “I’m his son. I got some of his better traits.” I raised my eyebrows. “I laid down some home truths and he admitted he needed help. He prepaid for three months, but he’ll probably need at last six. He’s got a decade of shit to wade through.” Damien scratched the side of his nose. “The longer the better, if you ask me.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me on that.” He inclined his head toward me. “How did the interview go?” “Well, I think. I hope. I need this job.” “Are you still…” He trailed off, looking over my shoulder. I had to smile at his awkwardness. “No. I stopped a few weeks ago. I, uh, I kinda got arrested.” He stiffened. “What?” “It’s fine,” I said quickly. “I had a breakdown in the car and he let me go. Adrian is a single parent and he said he didn’t feel good about it. I’ve been working as a consultant for the police ever since, but it’s not exactly a long-term job.” I had no intention of letting him know that the only reason I was a consultant was because it was that or jail. Damien frowned. “Adrian…Is that Potter?” “You know him?” “Called Dad several months back about coming and doing some recon work in some of our clubs. Dad handed him several choice words and informed the security no cops were to enter any of our premises. I had to call the chief of police and apologize for his behavior.” “That doesn’t surprise me at all. And now I understand his distaste for our family a little more.” “Know him well, do you?” His voice was

hard, but there was a playful glint in his eye. Apparently, big brotherly instincts didn’t disappear just because our relationship did. “Actually, as a point, he’s currently looking after Lola. But it’s complicated, so don’t push it.” He held up his hands. “Lola, huh? She has to be seven now.” “You didn’t know her name? Did your investigator not share it when you? Lord knows I have to say it enough times a day.” He laughed. “Nope, he was instructed to keep his distance. He was purely to check on your well-being and deliver a check.” “Did he enjoy the time I recognized his car and left it under his wiper?” “Not so much. He knew he’d be liable for it if it went missing.” “Huh. I never thought of that.” “Can I see a photo of Lola?” I paused. “I can do you one better. You can meet her if you really want.” Something flashed across his face. “Really?” “Sure. When we’re done here, I want to go home and change, and then you can come with me to get her from Adrian’s place.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m happier about it knowing Benedict isn’t around right now.” If that offended him, he didn’t let it show. “Speaking of Dad…” He leaned back and

reached into his pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he opened it, and slid something out. Then, he placed it on the table and pushed the small, rectangular bit of plastic to me. “Here’s what belonged to you all along. I managed to release some more of the stuff Mom held back until you turned thirty. She actually left the majority of her half to you. You own more of the business than Dad does now.” I blinked at the card. I knew how much money was in that account. At least, I did. Interest and extras… I’d gone from having a hundred bucks in my account to having at least ten million. “That’s really mine?” I asked, peering up at Damien. He nodded. “Same account, but now under my control. You have to keep it under the business until the rest of Mom’s ownership transfers to you in a few years, then we can break it away. That was all in her legal docs. But Benedict can’t hurt you anymore.” I squeezed my eyes shut so I didn’t cry. “It feels strange to know that account is real and I can touch it now.” In fact, I didn’t want to touch it. I wanted to slide the card back to him and run away, because although, technically speaking, I’d always had the money, there was something to be said for knowing

I could walk up to an ATM and withdraw it. “And, without Dad having control—and I know you just had an interview, but hear me out— there’s a position for you in the company. When you turn thirty, we’ll both be equal owners. Mom thought everything through.” “I think I’m going to throw up.” “It’s a lot to throw at you. I’m sorry.” Worry creased his forehead. “But I wanted you to have all your options available to you.” I blinked a few times. “I have a question.” “Yes?” “Does this mean I have my brother back?” A smile spread slowly across his face. “You never really lost me, Perrie. I was always here.”

Chapter Twenty-One Perrie “Okay, so, she has no idea I was meeting with you,” I tell Damien when he joins me at my front door. If I thought Adrian’s unmarked cop car looked out of place in my neighborhood, I was not prepared for the sight of Damien’s perfectlyvaleted, super-expensive BMW parked behind my car. Talk about a diamond in the rough. “I can’t believe this is where you’ve been living.” He followed me inside the house. “This is…” “A million miles away from the life we grew up in? Yeah. That’s exactly what Benedict wanted. This wasn’t where I chose to live.” I dropped my purse at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m gonna change. Feel free to go sit down.” I darted up the stairs—as quick as you can dart in heels—and disappeared out of his view before he could mention anything about my house. Anything else, that was. I was almost ashamed he was here. That my brother, who had never known anything but wild wealth, was standing in my run-down neighborhood. He was a fish out of water. Hell—he

was a shark in the middle of the continental United States. I sighed and pulled a pair of jeans out of my drawers, plus a slogan tank that proclaimed I would “run for wine.” White Converse completed that outfit, and once I was changed, I pulled my hair into a loose twist on top of my head, the hairband snapping against my fingers as I twisted it. A glance in the mirror told me I needed to touch up my make-up, no doubt thanks to my crying session earlier. How could I not cry? Sometimes that was the best way to say hello. At least…that was the story I planned to stick with. I ran back downstairs and almost ran into the back of Damien. “Whoa, sorry. Are you being nosy?” He turned with a grin. “That obvious?” I raised an eyebrow. “Shit. You look just like Mom when you do that.” I frowned. “I do?” “Yeah. You know when we’d do something that annoyed Dad, or when we lied that it definitely wasn’t us who almost burned down the kitchen making Pop Tarts? The look she gave us then.” I flashed back to the last time he mentioned. Neither of us had been particularly adept in the

kitchen as kids, so when we were home alone and needed to eat, Pop Tarts were all we decided we could cook. Well… Let’s just say that my genius brother had no idea that the numbers on the toaster correlated to the minutes the Tart would be cooking, and it wasn’t exactly pretty. There was an explosion. Benedict was furious, but Mom was amused. Hence the eyebrow. I snorted at the realization he was right. God, it’d been so long, but I could still remember the way she pushed past a raging Benedict, stepped in front of him, surveyed the mess of the kitchen with her dark eyes, and raised one perfectly-shaped eyebrow at the pair of us. “I’ll remember that piece of information,” I said, picking my purse back up. “You ready to go?” “Sure.” He motioned for me to lead him out. I did so, locking the door behind him. I unlocked my car, but he placed his hand on my arm. “Let’s take mine. I’ll bring you home when we’re done.” “I need Lola’s seat.” I pulled the seat out and Damien opened the back door of his BMW for me to fit it. Minutes later, we were pulling out of the drive and I was giving him Adrian’s address. “So, Adrian Potter. He arrested you?”

I side-eyed him. “Really? We’re going there already?” Damien shrugged a careless shoulder. “I’m only asking. Despite your previous insistence that I don’t.” Goddamn it. I wasn’t going to get out of this. “It’s complicated,” I started. “I mean, the first time we met, he arrested it. It’s not exactly Romeo and Juliet, is it?” “A tragedy as opposed to a romance, but continue.” I rolled my eyes. “The day after, he came to my house and offered me a job as a consultant. I took it, because I couldn’t do anything else and I needed a steady income. We worked together every night, stuff happened and our kids met, and yeah. Like I said, it’s complicated.” He slowly nodded his head, indicating off the main road to another busy stretch. “I get that. Does he know everything about you?” “Mostly. I think. Dahlia told me you told her everything.” Nodding again, he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I owed her that. She told me everything and, well, the past was the only thing holding me back from her. She deserved my honesty or I didn’t deserve her.” “You really love her, don’t you?” “More than anything.” He paused. “She

makes a difference in my life. A good one.” “I’m glad.” I squeezed his shoulder. “You deserve it.” “You do, too, Per.” “I don’t know. Sometimes, maybe.” Damien shook his head. “You went through the same shit I did, but worse. Dad at least had hope for me. For you…” He sighed sadly. “You were his on paper. I hate that he’s ruined your life for the entirety of your daughter’s. I wish I could turn back and take all that away, because you, more than anyone, are worthy of being loved.” I blinked back tears. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not the one. I already know that.” “I said that about Dahlia, too.” “No, Damien. His ex—his son’s mom—was a prostitute, too. She was…a horrible person. He’s prejudiced to us, that much is clear. I’m nothing like she was, but I know there’s a part of him that can’t look past her.” “Do you?” He tapped his fingers against the wheel, pulling onto Adrian’s street. “Can you read his mind? That’s your perception of the situation, not the reality. Maybe you should try asking him. Hell, if me and Dahlia had asked each other a few more questions, we wouldn’t have made such a fucking opera about our relationship.” I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my hair. He was right. That was me projecting my

feelings, not Adrian’s. He was growing on me. Shit, he was more than growing on me. He made me feel different—special, appreciated, cherished. Maybe even loved. “Which house is it?” Damien cut through my mini monologue, slowing the car right down. “A little further down. The third one on the right.” He pulled up in front of the right one. “Are you coming in with me?” He glanced between me and the house, hesitating for a second before saying, “Sure.” I got out of the car and bounded up the path to the house. I was nervous, sure, but I was always excited. The one thing Lola wanted more than anything was a family, and I was finally able to give her that. I was able to give her an uncle who, I knew, would love her to pieces. I knocked three times, then heard, “Who is it?” from Adrian. Um… “It’s me.” “Oh! Come in! It’s unlocked!” Adrian had his door unlocked? What the hell was going on in there? I eked the door open and poked my head around it. I couldn’t see a damn thing except the wall, so I moved inside to where I could look

through the living room door. “Where are you?” I called, still seeing nothing. “Kitchen!” Zac shouted. “Uh, I’m not alone.” “It’s fine!” Adrian called. I waved for Damien to step in and shut the door, then made my way to the kitchen. Then, when I got there, I froze. Lola sat on one side of the table, arms outstretched, hands flat on the top with her fingers splayed. And Adrian sat on the other, a hot pink nail polish bottle next to him with the brush in his hand. “Hi.” He put the brush in the bottle and looked at me. I swallowed. “Uh…Hi.” Zac stared at me. “Girls are bossy. I wanted to play video games, but no. Lola needed her nails painted.” “Right…” “Zac tried.” Lola sighed. “But he spilled the polish on the floor.” My eyes widened. “The kitchen floor!” she added quickly. “Mommy, I know you don’t do polish on the carpet.” The momentary flash of panic subsided. “Well, that’s good.” It came out as a half-question,

and I glanced to Adrian hopefully. He grinned as he applied polish to Lola’s middle finger on her right hand. “All good, I promise. They picked it up right away and even cleaned it up. And I learned that the only thing Zac should paint is paper, outside, on the neighbor’s sidewalk.” Zac harrumphed, arms folded across his chest. I fought a smile. He looked so adorable with his messy hair curling across his forehead and his beautiful little eyes looking away in annoyance. I wanted to walk up to him, smack a kiss on his cheek and ruffle his hair the way I had this morning before I’d left, just to make him smile at me the way he had this morning. Holy shit. I loved that kid. It was staggering and almost shocking, but really, made perfect sense. This mini-me of the man who was currently painting my daughter’s nails had stolen my heart. And the more I watched his father applying hot pink polish to her tiny fingers, I realized something else. He was a thief, too. The worst kind, because he’d snuck in and stolen a piece of me I never knew was up for grabs. He’d stolen my daughter’s heart.

And that meant he’d stolen mine, because a part of me lived within her. Except that isn’t the only part of your heart he’s stolen, Perrie Fox. I walked around the table and wrapped an arm around Zac. Doing just what I wanted to, I smacked a huge kiss to his cheek and ruffled his head. “Don’t worry, Zac, it’ll be football season soon enough, and then nail polish will have to be themed to team colors,” I whispered in his ear. His face lit up and he looked at me. “You think?” “Compromise.” “Done.” Adrian screwed the brush back into the bottle. “Now don’t move for, like, five minutes, okay?” “Five minutes?” Lola shrieked. “There’s a sixty on the bottle! That means one minute!” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Damien’s amused raised eyebrow. And he said I looked like Mom when I did it… “That isn’t gonna dry in sixty seconds,” Adrian argued. “No way.” “Well…” I waded into the fight. “It does, actually.” All three men in the room stared at me. I held my hands up. “Excuse the beauty industry for understanding that we don’t all have

time to wait five minutes for our nails to dry. Sometimes we need to paint and go.” “Exactly,” Lola answered, holding her hands up in front of her and examining them. “I’m far too busy to wait for five minutes.” “You are, are you?” Adrian asked with a twist of his lips. She looked him with her eyebrow raised and, holy shit, she looked like my mom, too. “Well, yeah. Barbie and Ken have to get married tonight. Why else does a six-year-old need her nails painted?” I folded my arms, smirked, and waited for his response. Adrian grimaced. “That is an excellent question.” “Who’s that?” Zac pointed in the direction of Damien. Two sets of eyes swiveled to him. Lola’s as curious as Zac’s, and Adrian’s hard. “Kids. Why don’t you go watch TV?” I bent down between them and dug into my purse. An impromptu stop at the grocery store on my way to my interview got them candy that I whipped out now. “Deal.” Zac snatched it up. “C’mon, Lo.” “I’m not watching the tranny show again!” I looked at Adrian in alarm. “I like the Transformers!” Zac shot back.

“And I have the candy. Watch it or you don’t get any.” I groaned as Adrian slapped his hand against his forehead. “Zachary!” he snapped. “But I don’t wanna watch another princess,” he whined through the doorway. I ditched my purse on the table and joined them in the living room to scroll through the channels. “The Jungle Book. There. Done. And I’m taking the controller so nobody can change the channel, so nerner.” I poked my tongue out. “And, Zac, share that candy or I’m gonna eat it.” His jaw dropped. I winked and headed out of the room, slamming the controller down on the kitchen table. “There problem solved.” I took a deep breath and looked at the two men now standing in the room. Well, one problem solved. “I don’t believe you’ve ever officially met, so… Damien, Detective Adrian Potter with the LVPD. Adrian, my brother, Damien Fox.” I motioned between them. They both murmured greetings and shook hands before, in a typically male way, put distance between themselves. I wanted to roll my eyes, but clearly I had to be the bigger person here. “Was Lola good? They seem feisty,” I asked

Adrian. “She was fine. It’s only been the last half hour or so. But they were too busy playing Minecraft at six this morning, remember?” I sighed. “Too well.” “How did your interview go?” “Well. I think I might stand a chance.” I shot a look toward Damien and hoped Adrian didn’t notice. “I called the chief today.” He leaned back against the counter and met my eyes. “He’s emailing you a notice for the mutual termination of your employment as a consultant with the LVPD when you say the word.” “And if I don’t get the job?” “You can take a hands-off approach.” “You won’t need to work for them,” Damien cut in. “You know that.” “Maybe she wants to,” Adrian replied. “We’ve always treated her fairly.” “I wouldn’t call putting her in cuffs treating her fairly.” “I wouldn’t call telling her to abort her child treating her fairly, either.” “Enough.” My voice was hard, cold, and cut right through the growing tension like a knife. I focused my angry glare on both of them. “This conversation will not happen around the kids. If you’d like to continue taking shots at each other,

there’s a backyard right there.” I pointed at the door. “Otherwise, shut up and let me talk.” They glared at each other, but neither said a word. “Damien—I am completely aware I don’t need to work. You’ve made it very clear that I have a job with the family business, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to steamroll into it. And, Adrian? Thank you. That was thoughtful of you to call and of the chief to hold off terminating my consultancy with you.” I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not going to stand in this kitchen and discuss that right now. I’m here to have my brother meet my daughter.” Adrian deflated. “Of course. I’m sorry.” Damien didn’t apologize, but I wasn’t expecting him to. I blew out a long breath. “I’m sorry I snapped. I just—” “You’re on edge,” Adrian finished for me. “It’s all good, firecracker.” The nickname that once bugged me made my lips curl into a smile. “Detective Potter,” Damien said, looking to Adrian. “Adrian,” he cut in. “Adrian,” Damien corrected himself. “I’d like to extend a personal apology for my father when he spoke to you on the phone. And a thank

you for taking care of my sister and my niece.” Well, shit the bed and call me Sally. That was something I never thought he’d say. Adrian smiled. “Thank you for the apology— both times. It was and is appreciated. As for your sister and niece,” he said without looking at me. “There’s nothing I’d have rather done with my time the past few weeks.” That sounded a lot like goodbye. Like this was the final time we’d be together. I swallowed. I wanted to throw myself into his arms. Wrap mine around his neck and kiss him until I felt so numb it barely mattered that this felt like the end. “Lola!” It took everything I had inside me to keep my voice together. “Her bag is by the front door,” Adrian said, nodding to Damien and dipping his head as he joined Zac in the living room. Lola shuffled through with Dolly hugged to herself. “Yeah, Mommy?” The door to the living room shut. I beat down the emotion that wanted to force its way out of me. “There’s someone here that I’d like you to meet.” “The strange man there?” “Yes, the strange man.” I smiled when she stared at him. “Oh no, is that your boyfriend?”

Damien cough-snorted. “No! God—no.” I laughed. “That’s Mommy’s big brother. He’s your Uncle Damien.” The tension and horror that had grabbed hold of her dissipated. She relaxed and dropped her shoulders, sighing in relief. “Phew, Mommy. You scared me.” Dear God, she loves these guys, too. “Well, I’m very sorry for scaring you,” I said slowly. “But maybe you could say hi now?” Lola craned her neck and leaned to the side. “Hi, Uncle Damien.” “Hey, Lola. Are you hungry?” Her eyes narrowed. “Yes.” “Would you like to go for lunch?” “Mommy, too?” “Sure.” “Can we go to Polka’s?” “Wherever you wanna go.” I closed my eyes. Goddamn it. Not Polka’s. Anywhere but Polka’s. “Awesome.” Damien paused. “Is that not good?” I wanted to laugh at his naivety. “She wants to go to Polka’s, we go to Polka’s.” I straightened, and with Lola tugging at my hand while I tried to gather both of our bags, I followed my brother out of Adrian’s house. For what felt like the last time.

Chapter Twenty-Three Perrie “I’d like to offer you the job,” Abby said, looking at me. “You’re more than qualified, and with some training, I really believe you could be awesome.” I chewed on my lip. I wasn’t sure. So much had happened today, and I needed time to process it. To process the bank card, the new relationships, the possibilities… The goodbye. I pushed the loose strands of hair from my bangs away from my face and tucked the longer locks behind my ear. “That’s…amazing. Thank you.” “Is that a yes?” I swallowed. “Could I…Could I have a little time to think about it?” Abby smiled even as she looked skeptical. “I can give you three days. How does that sound?” I nodded. “That sounds good. Sorry—it’s been a crazy day.” “I know.” That smile held a hint of sympathy, while her eyes hinted at respect. “Take your time.” “Are you sure?” “One hundred percent. Call me when you’re ready.”

Chapter Twenty-Three Perrie Twenty-four hours. It’d been twenty-four hours since I’d walked out of Adrian’s house and into The Scarlet Letter and been offered a job. Twenty-four hours since I’d seen his face and smiled at the way our kids fought and laughed and smiled. Twenty-four hours since my stomach had plummeted into the depths of the Earth, taking my heart with it, never to return. Dramatic, I knew, but that was how it felt. Like that was the place my heart was destined to be. At the same time, my phone glared at me like a candle flame in a pitch-black warehouse. I twirled my wine glass between my fingers, spinning the circular base on my yoga-pant clad kneecap. All I could think about was the cop who’d inadvertently stolen my heart and my daughter’s. How his son had become a part of my own. How he’d crept in himself, saving me without even knowing it. The clock on my phone read seven-thirty. It was more than twenty-four hours. It didn’t feel like it. It felt like hell. Like everything fucking hurt. I ached all over. The emotion of yesterday

had ripped into me, roaring into my veins, completely unwelcome. There was nothing I could do but ride out these feelings, but deal with everything as it happened. And right now, sitting here in my living room completely alone, all I wanted was Adrian. All I wanted was the handsome, tattooed, soft-hearted cop who’d made his worst yet best impression on me when he arrested me. He was all those things and more. The fact we hadn’t shared a word since I’d left his house silently hadn’t escaped me. Obviously. I couldn’t do anything but focus on him. Not on my brother or my bank card or my job offer. Just him. Adrian. Zac. How right my life felt with them in it. I twirled my glass, watching how the wine swirled. It ebbed and flowed, moving against the curve of the glass. The stem felt too flimsy and weak in my touch, so I released my grasp and sipped from it. He was at work, but where was Zac? If I texted, would he reply? Would he care enough to? Would he be able to? I stared at my phone. Picked it up. Pulled up our messages. Looked at the goddamn thing.

Yesterday had been goodbye, hadn’t it? I was no fool. I’d said goodbye enough in my life to know that the moment Damien became a part of my mine, Adrian ceased to be. And I fucking hated that. I wanted them both in my life. I wanted my brother and the man who made my soul scream with happiness. Because that’s what happened around Adrian. There was comfort in his touch and safety in the sound of his voice. We were so different, yet there was nowhere I’d rather be than in his arms. Or next to him. Hell, I’d take the same fucking room right now. I sighed, leaning my head back. Why was it so hard to send a message? I’d barely touched my wine and I’d spent the day with Damien. Lola was obsessed with her uncle, and I just wanted her to be happy. Talking of Lola… “Mommy?” She appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eye and clutching Dolly under her arm. “What’s up, pumpkin?” I held out my arm for her. She joined me on the sofa, stumbling slightly as she curled into me. “I miss Zac and Adrian.” I swallowed hard. “Me, too.” “No, Mommy. I really miss them.”

“I understand,” I said, really telling the truth. It was as if a hole had broken up in our world. “Can I call Zac tomorrow?” “Sure you can,” I answered. “Will you go to sleep right now?” “I’ll try.” She pulled back and looked at me. “Mommy, do you really miss them?” I reached out and stroked the backs of my fingers across her silky-soft cheek. “I do, Lo. An awful lot.” “Okay.” As if that answer was the one she had been waiting for, she nodded and stood. “Goodnight, Mommy. I’ll turn my light off.” I smiled. “Goodnight, LoLo. I’ll come check in a little bit.” Lola responded with a smile that broke my heart. “Okay. ‘Night, Mommy.” I watched her as she trotted away from me, down the hall, and around and up the stairs. It was the first night I’d been truly alone for as long as I could remember. I picked up my phone, hit Adrian’s name, and sent him a message I knew there was every chance I’d regret in the morning. Me: I need you. ***

Three glasses of wine later, I was watching a rerun of America’s Got Talent. It’d rolled on from whatever I’d been staring at earlier. Two hours had passed since my text. I knew he was at work. I had no right to be annoyed. I had no claim over the man, and I had no right to send the message I had, but there I was. I was a Fox, through and through. The little plastic rectangle in the hidden zip-pouch of my purse reminded me of that. As a Fox, I got what I wanted. Except this time, it wasn’t a want because I could. It was a want because I wanted it. I wanted Adrian. Head to toe. Heart to nerves. All of me wanted the man who’d been radio silence since I’d walked out of his house. I deserved it. I was rags to riches. He was pure, honest. I was lies and deceit and dollars. He was love and kindness and goodness. My entire life had been a lie, while his was a painful truth. I didn’t deserve him. Headlights flashed in my window. I sipped wine. I missed him. The lights stopped.

I finished my wine. A door slammed. My glass clinked against the table. Knocks to my door. I jerked my head around. Silence. I paused. More knocks. I got up and wandered lazily toward the door. Another knock sounded between me getting up and me reaching the door, and my heart beat a hundred miles an hour as I recognized the figure on the other side of the glass. I opened it. Adrian stood there. His shirt and tie were perfect. His pants were pressed. He smelled like hot water and coffee, and I knew instantly he hadn’t been in a casino tonight. His hair begged me to run my fingers through it. His eyes asked a thousand questions I couldn’t ask. His jaw was so tight I wanted to cup it to soothe it. His lips were so full, pouting like they knew the way I wanted to kiss them. “Why are you here?” I asked softly. “You text me,” Adrian asked, his gaze roving over my body. “So, I came when I finished my shift.” “What about Zac?”

“At my sister’s.” I stepped aside and let him in. I barely moved, though. I pressed myself against the wall so he could pass, but he didn’t do that—he didn’t pass me. He stopped in front of me, giving me just enough room to shut the door. He leaned over—twisted the key—locked it —came back to me. “Why?” His husky voice breathed the word over my lips. “Why did you text me?” I answered the only way I knew how. I kissed him. I gave into the desires that had hounded me all day long, and I touched his lips to mine in a kiss that I knew would be seared into my soul for as long as I lived. He knew it, too. He kissed me just as hard and passionately, massaging our lips together until I gasped. Fire stoked in my belly, goosebumps rolled out across my skin, and my fingers clawed at his strong shoulders as if I needed him to ground me. And in a way, I did. There was something about this man that addicted me to him. Something that addicted me and endeared me and made me obsess until I was clear out of my mind. That was how I felt as I kissed him, pressed against my hallway. I was addicted and endeared and obsessed

out of my mind, but I didn’t regret it a damn bit. “I missed you,” I whispered against his lips, cupping his face with my hands. The rough hair that lined his jaw rubbed against my palms, but it only served to strengthen the way my heart beat against my chest. “It’s been a day,” Adrian replied, his voice low and mumbling. “I know. I don’t care.” “How much wine did you drink?” I pressed my finger against his lips and looked him in the eyes. “More than when I texted you.” He stared into my eyes. “Do you need to go to bed?” “Are you coming with me?” “Perrie—” I pressed my lips to his once again. “I’m not drunk, Adrian. I know what I want right now, and that’s you. Either be mine or leave.” He curled a hand around the back of my neck, tugging my hair into his fist as he gripped it. “I am yours, baby. Are you fuckin’ blind?” “Blind and stupid. Prove it to me.” I jutted out my chin. “Show me.” He gritted his jaw and—oh god, and then, he showed me. He took me on my dare and he kissed me so fucking hard my shoulders hurt as they slammed against the wall, but I didn’t care. I

wanted him and I needed him and I was ready for all the things he was about to throw at me. Our bodies melded together like they were meant to be. Somehow, we made it upstairs. I think I dragged him by his shirt, pulling him after me so he knew just how much I needed him to follow me in that moment. He did it, capturing me in his arms the moment his feet hit the top stair. I pulled his tie from his neck and threw it away before we’d passed through my bedroom door. We were a flurry of arms and legs and desire as we tangled back onto my bed. Side-by-side, we kissed, both of our bodies fighting for dominance over the other. Legs entwined, hands fisted and slipped. Fingers toyed with buttons and knots and clasped until we both wore nothing but our underwear. I flipped on top of him. Straddling him, his cock pressed against my pussy and made me gasp. His hands stroked down my back and cupped my ass, holding me tight, and he grinded against me. I kissed him. Kissed him more and more and more until underwear disappeared and I wrapped my hand around his thick, hard cock and held it at my opening. His thumb teased my clit long enough that I gapsed and begged for relief, but it didn’t come until I positioned my hips over his cock and eased

down onto him. Slowly, easily, hotly. I took him all those ways and more, with my lips parted and my eyes open. I took his cock in my cunt and gasped my pleasure as I accepted the invasion into my body. I stilled, him buried deep in me, my fingers gripping against his muscles. My nails dug into his shoulders. Arching my back, I knew I was pushing my luck as I took him fully. My clit rubbed against the harsh hair that decorated the area above his pubes. Pleasure ribbed through me, and I ground my hips against him. I rode him. Pure and simple, I gave into the instincts that were running wild through me. I leaned forward, releasing my nails from his shoulders, bending my knees and arching my back and curving my hips and fucking his cock until I couldn’t anymore. Until sweat slicked me from head to toe and the orgasm was on the brink of my consciousness and I stilled with exhaustion. Adrian slid his hands down my back—up my sides, over my breasts, down my stomach, over my hips, to cup my ass. My skin lit on fire as the heat of his touch dissipated. He didn’t just cup my ass. He gripped it—hard. Grabbed it. Owned it. Possessed it. All the time, he held my hips in place against him and thrust his own. He fucked me into

oblivion, until I couldn’t focus clearly anymore. Until all I could see were stars and darkness and the thumping of my heart as it told me I loved the man beneath me. *** Six a.m. It was no fun. I sat alone in my kitchen, at the table. The debit card with my name on sat in the middle of the table. Slowly, I pushed it back and forth, up and down the table in front of me. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. That was the noise it made as the plastic scraped against the wood. That was the noise it made as it seemed to scream, “Money! Money! Money! Money!” Like, every push back and forth said that. Mon-ey. Mon-ey. Mon-ey. I pushed the card away and left it on the last one. Yesterday, before I’d left, Damien told me the contents of the account.

Nineteen million dollars. That was what I, Perrie Fox, heir to the Fox business, single mom, and ex-prostitute was worth. Nine. Teen. Mill. I. On. Dollars. It was a joke. It wasn’t real. Damien was messing with—I hadn’t accessed this account for so long, I was terrified to attempt it. He’d even given me all the security details I needed. Nineteen million dollars. That wasn’t bad for a bastard baby. I touched the card, only to recoil from it again. The money…It changed my life. It was the life I was always meant to have. But that didn’t mean it felt right. No, it felt strange. Weird and wrong. This little blonde girl was never meant to be this rich. It was a fact I’d accepted the moment I’d understood Benedict hated me. But, what I did know what was that my mother loved me. My mom loved me with everything she was. She’d been a beautiful person, inside and out. Golden from her hair to her very soul. She was impossible to hate, and her heart knew no bounds. I was her double. I was the one with blonde hair. The enigma, the odd duck, the black sheep. And ever since her death, I’d lived in the shadow of my adoptive father’s hatred. I’d allowed his beliefs of me to pollute my

own confidence. I picked up the card once more, holding it between my finger and thumb. “Perrie?” I turned my face toward Adrian, full-clothed in what he was wearing when he showed up yesterday. “Hey.” “Are you all right?” “I don’t know.” I set the card back down and returned my attention to it. He took the chair opposite mine. “What are you looking at?” I pointed at it. Adrian picked it up and studied it. “It’s a bank card.” “It’s my bank card.” “I’m confused.” “Damien gave it to me yesterday. It’s the card to the inheritance I’ve been blocked from since Lola was born.” I slid the card in front of me. “It feels weird. Knowing that Benedict is away in rehab and Damien is in control, and this card—this little plastic square, holds the part of me my mom always meant me to have.” “I bet.” “Nineteen million dollars.” I moved my gaze from the card to him. “That’s how much is in that account. He showed me the statement. And that isn’t all of it. There’s shares in Mom’s trust until I

turn thirty. I’ve literally gone from nothing to everything, and I have no idea what to do with it.” “Must be terrible,” he said dryly. I snapped my eyes up. “You think I wanted this? Any of this?” “I think you wish you’d never left your life,” Adrian said. “I think you wish you’d found a way to keep Lola and the life you once had.” “Yeah?” “I wish you had. I wish you’d never crossed the great divide between rich and poor.” A lump formed in my throat. “You wish you’d never met me?” “No,” he said gently. “Not for a second. I’m glad I met you, Perrie. I just wish I’d never fallen in love with you.” I froze. Time stopped. Everything around me stilled. Except Adrian. He moved, full-speed, to stand from his chair. He gave me a small smile before he disappeared through my hallway, then my door. He even took the time to lock my door and put the keys through the mailbox before he left. This time… This time, for good. I stared at the door for a long time after he left, the bank card a thorn in my eye as it pushed

against the corner of my vision.

Chapter Twenty-Four Adrian The email confirming her notice of termination hit my desk before I’d even sat down. It had been printed, almost as if to taunt me, sitting on top of all the other files I had to look through. I picked it up, scoffed, and threw it back down. Why did I care? She didn’t. She was a multimillionaire, now. She always had been. She’d said as much herself. The money had been her mom’s, she’d just been blocked from it. My job tonight was to arrest a prostitute, but not a part of me cared. How many of these women were like her, ultimately living a lie? Not a piece of me had liked walking out on her this morning. I loved her—fuck, I loved her. Wildly and with every piece of me I had fucking left. But her entire existence had been a lie. It had been a twisted, fucked-up version of reality that I didn’t know I would ever understand. Except—I could. I had all the files. I had the reality at the tips of my fingers. All the answers I wanted…I could get. I picked up the phone and dialed Sam’s extension.

“Sam,” I said before he could answer. “You’re in charge tonight. Two arrests, scout three locations. You know the drill. I’m out.” “You’re—” I hung up before he could continue. I’d worked overtime for months, and now, I was gonna sit my fucking ass in this office and unravel the mystery of Perrie Fox. *** Perrie Carter is born to a wanted murderer and Hannah Fox. Age two: Hannah Fox files charges of abuse against Roy Carter. Age three: Roy Carter is charged for murder, child abuse, actual bodily harm, and attempted murder. He receives a life sentence from Nevada and is deported to another state for sentencing there. Age three: Perrie Carter is adopted by Benedict Fox. Age seventeen: Perrie Fox’s sister, Penelope Fox, is found dead in a motel room. Suspected overdose. Six months later: The Fox’s open an investigation into their daughter’s death. They insist it was an accident. LVPD open an investigation at the persuasion of Benedict Fox. Age eighteen: The Fox family is informed

that Penelope Fox’s death was definitely drugrelated, and no third party was involved. The case is closed. Age eighteen: Hannah Fox is found dead, hanging in the family home. Age nineteen: Perrie Fox’s boyfriend and admitted father of her unborn child is charged with drink-driving and proclaimed dead on arrival to the hospital. Age twenty-six: Perrie Fox was arrested for prostitution. Age twenty-six: Detective Adrian Potter fell completely in love with her and broke his own fucking heart in the process. I should have known better. There were so many reasons, all written in the riddles of the case files that made up her life, that eluded to why she’d taken the path she had. I’d broken my own heart—and maybe hers —because I believed we were different. That we were two different flips of a coin, and maybe we were. She was heads and I was tails, but fuck it. We were the same goddamn coin, and I was a fool. She had always been Perrie Fox. She’d always had the key to the world. And I’d loved her before she was even able to unlock that key. And maybe—just maybe, she’d fucking

loved me, too.

Chapter Twenty-Five Perrie Lola shoved a piece of paper at me. I took the roughly-folded, green sheet, and opened it. But not before I’d raised my eyebrow at her. “What is this?” She jutted out her chin and placed her hands on her hips. “Read it.” “To Perrie,” I read, noting the questionable, child-like handwriting that scrawled my name. “Yoo ar envyted to a partee at Zac’s howse. Twoday at 4 oh clock. Pleez dress pretti.” I scrunched up my face and looked at Lola. “Did you and Zac write this?” Wide-eyed, she shook her head. “No, Mommy.” Yeah. All right. I believed her. “Four o’clock is in twenty minutes,” I told her. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t get to Zac’s house in twenty minutes.” She pulled her little eyebrows together into a frown. “You don’t want to go to his house?” “Well… Baby girl, it’s not always as simple as that, okay?” She sat on the arm of the sofa with a ‘hmph.’ “That’s what Adrian said.” I narrowed my eyes. “What did Adrian say?”

“He said grown-ups suck.” “Well, he was right.” “Mommy, will you please go to our party?” She shuffled in front of me, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. She peered up at me through her thick, blond eyelashes. “Please?” I tilted my head to the side and looked at her. She was so earnest and honest—for whatever reason she had planned, she wanted me to go to the one place I swore to myself at three a.m. I’d never visit again. She pouted out her bottom lip. “Fine. But we aren’t staying long.” I was a sucker for this kid. Whoever said parents made the ruled, lied. Her pout rapidly changed to a wide grin. “’Kay. Now dress pretty.” “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Lola scanned my yoga pants and not-childfriendly shirt with a disapproving look. “Mommy. I can see your girly bits in those pants.” I glanced down. Yep. There was a hole on the seam between my legs. “Good spot, Lo,” I said, getting up and heading for the stairs. On the bright side, I could afford a hundred pairs of yoga pants now.

*** The closer we got to Adrian and Zac’s house, the worse I felt about this idea. The closer we got, the more excited Lola got. Which, in turn, made me more suspicious—and equally worse about this idea. The invitation stared at me from the passenger seat. Its terrible spelling was definitely reminiscent of Lola’s dreadful attempts at the English language, but she was so desperate, my conscience wouldn’t allow me to do anything but do what she wanted. I pulled up—directly into the driveway. That definitely wasn’t normal. “Uh…Lola? Are you sure this is where we’re supposed to be?” She leaned forward and looked at the clock. “Yep. Right here.” She unclipped her belt and knocked on her door for me to let her out. “Mommy, let me out.” Against my better judgment, I did so. The car beeped and flashed its lights as I locked it, and Lola ran to the house and knocked on the door. It opened to reveal Adrian’s sitter looking quite shocked. “Lola. Hi.” Her gaze traveled along the path to me. “Perrie. Uh…Zac said you were coming?”

I held up my hands. “I had no idea until three-forty, and apparently, we’re late, so…Do you have any idea what’s going on?” “Bye!” Lola darted beneath her arm and into the house. “No…” she said slowly. “But Adrian is coming home any minute, so maybe he—is that a Dominos car?” I turned on my heel and looked right at it. Yep. It was a Dominos car…Delivering a pizza. Or three. I side-eyed the poor young guy as he carried it up to us. “One pepperoni, one four-cheese, and one with pepperoni, ham, mushrooms, onion, and pepper?” “We…didn’t order pizza,” poor Harriet said, staring between me and the delivery guy. He checked the slim sheet in his hands. “Sorry, lady. It’s paid for. I either leave it here or dump it.” “Thanks,” I said, taking it. “My boyfriend probably ordered it before he left work.” The young guy saluted me and headed off. “Boyfriend?” Harriet looked at me. “Only so he goes away.” I nodded to the delivery guy. “You sure you didn’t order this?” She snorted. “Nope.” “Then who—”

We looked at each other. “Zac,” we said at the same time. “Yes?” he poked his head out of the kitchen door. His eyes lit up the moment he saw the pizza. “Oh! Good! Pizza’s here!” He ran and took it from me and all I could do was stare at him. “What do you—Zac!” I chased him, but not before he could shut the door in my face—with him and Lola on the other side. I tried the handle, but it was stuck. They’d locked us out. “Zac! Lola! You let me in right now.” I banged on the door. No answer. “Lola! Zachary! Open this door!” “We can’t!” Lola shouted. “Open it now!” “What the…” Adrian stepped inside. “What’s going on?” “Lola! Zachary!” “Long or short version?” Harriet asked. “Try me with short before she bursts a vein,” he replied. “Lola Fox you open this door right this second!” I banged again on it. Harriet took a deep breath. “Perrie and Lola showed up with a crazy invite. Lola ran into the kitchen, and minutes later, a Dominos order showed up.”

“A Dominos—what?” Adrian exclaimed. “Zac ran out, grabbed it, and now…we’re locked out.” I groaned with one final bang of my fist against the door. “What crazy invite?” Adrian asked. “Anything like this one?” I turned and snatched the bit of paper he offered me. Scanning it, I said, “Yours is better written than mine, but same thing.” I pulled the scrumpled up paper from my ass pocket and handed it over. “Can I see those?” Harriet came over and peered at them. “Oh, boy. Can I offer advice before I get paid?” Adrian side-eyed her. “Yes.” “You just got played by your kids.” Then, she held her hand out with a sweet smile to Adrian. He pulled out his wallet and put some cash in her hand. “Played?” “I’d check your Dominos if I were you… And then your son’s tablet.” She grabbed her things and disappeared before he could reply. “Little shits!” I breathed. “They set us up!” “Really,” Adrian said. “What gave it away?” I jabbed a finger at his chest. “You don’t get to be a sarcastic bastard after the way you left me. You think you get to tell me you’re in love with me then disappear?”

He crumpled the invitations in his hand. “You wanted me to wait around so you could tell me how you didn’t feel the same?” “Who the hell do you think you are to tell me how I feel? You have no idea. I’d just gone through the biggest change in my life in years and when I needed you, you left me!” “You wanted one thing!” “I wanted you, you giant idiot!” This time, my finger went toward his face. “The night before? Yes! But when it came down the morning after and it was real and I couldn’t deny it? I wanted you and nothing else, but you wouldn’t know that, because you told me you loved me and you ran away from me!” His blue-green eyes pierced me right to my soul. “Your life just changed, Perrie. I thought we were different before—but now? Now, we are.” “My life changed, but my heart didn’t! How stupid do you have to be? My god!” My fingers slipped into my hair and fisted it. “Act first, think later. That’s you. That’s how you do it.” “Is that supposed to be an insult?” “No! It’s me telling you that the next time you want to tell someone you love them, you should give them the chance to say it back before you leave!” I froze. He froze.

The door behind us opened. “Um,” Zac said. “We have something to show you.” We both turned, and I don’t know about Adrian, but I did everything I could to hide the emotion that was welling inside me. “You wanna see?” Lola asked hopefully, her eyes darting between us. “Sure we do, sweetheart.” Adrian answered before I did, holding out his hand. Lola tucked her tiny, still-pink-fingernailed hands into his and tugged him. Zac offered me his hand, his cheeks flushed. I took it, too. They’d heard everything we said. I knew it. Adrian knew it. There was no coming back from this point. I drew in a sharp breath when I saw what was in front of me. The kitchen table had a large, Avengers towel over it in place of a table cloth. Domino’s boxes sat at either end instead of plates, but they’d thoughtfully laid out knives and forks for us. A wine bottle—corked—sat next to the pepperoni pizza, and a still-capped bottle of beer was next to Adrian’s pizza. In the middle was a blue, plastic cup, filled with daisies. Lola shifted. “We did it for you,” Zac said quietly.

“It took me forever to find the daisies. Some of them are dead, but that’s okay,” Lola said. “I’ve been putting them in my backpack for four days.” “We couldn’t open the wine or beer,” Zac continued. “But we found the bottle opener anyway.” “And you liked pizza the other night, so we thought pizza was good, since we can’t cook.” “But I had to steal your computer, Dad. Sorry. I didn’t have one to go to the website.” Zac glanced toward Adrian. Tears welled in my eyes. “We wanted you to love each other,” Lola said quietly. “But you just had a fight,” Zac carried on. “So, you don’t, do you?” I covered my mouth with my hand and let the tears flow. “Oh no, Mommy! Why are you crying?” Lola cried. “Don’t cry!” “It’s good tears,” I managed to say as they fell down my cheeks. “I promise.” Adrian wiped his hand across his face. “So, this is what you want. When you said you were making a plan.” “Um…You heard that?” “Making a plan? Heard what?” This time, I looked at Adrian. He glanced at the kids before he looked at

me. “The other day…When you had your interview? I overheard them talking and butted in. They were talking about how they wanted us to fall in love and get married. I told them it’s not so simple, and they had to be patient, because being a grown-up was hard.” I took a deep breath. “Then, when I left the room, I heard them decide they’d think up a plan. I didn’t quite imagine…This.” He motioned out to the kitchen. Oh my god. “We cooked you dinner!” Lola said brightly. Then, she frowned. “But, it’s okay, because you shouted, so it doesn’t matter.” “Yeah.” Zac frowned, too. “It didn’t work.” I smiled, even though I wanted to cry. “It worked.” I crouched down. “Sometimes, people who care about each other fight. Zac—me and your dad, we haven’t talked in a couple days, and I guess we were a little upset with each other. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love him. Because I do.” “You do?” His eyes, so like his dad’s, widened. “I do. And I love you, too.” He threw his arms around my neck and squeezed me so tight, I forgot how to breathe for a moment. “Do you love my mommy?” Lola asked as I hugged Zac back.

“I sure do,” Adrian replied. “Just like I love you, sweetheart.” Lola’s cries pierced my heart until I heard Adrian sniff and realized they were happy tears. I hugged Zac a little harder. “I have a question,” Adrian said after a moment. “Zac, why are there three pizzas?” He wiped his eyes and extracted himself from my hug. “Well, if we buy you dinner, who’s gonna buy us dinner?” Adrian smirked. “But technically, I bought dinner.” “No, Dad. I ordered it, so I bought it.” “How do you even know how to use the Dominos website? How did you log in?” Zac side-eyed him. “You keep it logged in, and it’s not that hard when you can read. Jeez, Dad. I’m not four.” I burst out laughing, despite the tears that were still clouding my vision. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I argue?” Adrian answered. “You can’t.” Zac tilted his chin up in victory. “Do you really love each other? Will you get married?” Lola asked, looking between us both shyly. I shared a look with Adrian. “Let’s slow down on getting married,” he started.

“But, but, but, you said you’d marry her,” she shot back. “Yes, well—” Zac sniffed. “She’s right, Dad. You said you’d love to be Lola’s dad.” “I have a great idea. Since we’re all in love, why don’t you two take your pizza into the front room and find a movie to watch? We’ll be right in.” Adrian kissed Lola’s cheek and flapped his hand at Zac. “We know you’re gonna talk about grown up stuff.” “No, I’d just really like you to be quiet,” Adrian muttered to himself. I laughed as Zac hauled a third huge pizza box into the living room. Adrian stared after him. “I think he bought the biggest pizzas available,” he said, closing down the lids to the boxes that housed ours. “That’ll teach you for leaving your Domino’s account logged in.” “Fucking Google saves all the passwords.” “It’s optional, you know.” Adrian stepped toward me and touched a finger to my lips. “Stop making sense. You’re making it hard for me to argue.” Wrapping a finger around his, I lowered his hand. “Get used to it,” I said, staring into his eyes. “Looks like you’re in for the long haul.”

“You mean it?” he murmured, pulling me close. “You love me?” I nodded. “Being who I am doesn’t change how I feel about you, Adrian. I’m going to work with my brother, but I think I want to go back to school. I’ll deal with my father when it comes to it. But that figure that came with that bank card…I lived without it for years. That doesn’t mean I won’t use it, but I can use it for good.” “That’s how every good James Bond villain starts out.” I smiled up at him. “Well, I mean, I’m gonna buy a decent house with four bedrooms and three bathrooms and a pool and enough room for this assy detective I know…” “Is that right?” “And I’ll buy a car, and some more workappropriate clothes.” He snorted. “And maybe do something to help people like me…people with no other options.” “I bet I could help you with that. I have some contacts.” “I bet you could, too.” My lips curved to the side. “But other than that…I’m still me. I’m still Perrie. And I’m still gonna love you anyway.” He slid a hand up to cup the side of my face, his thumb hot against my chin. “I’m gonna love you, too, baby.”

He leaned in to kiss me, barely brushing his lips against mine in the sweetest kiss before we heard it. “I didn’t buy our pizzas for them to get cold!” “Mommy! I won! Cinderella is on!” I laughed, burying my face into his neck. He sighed. “All right, we’re coming!” Stepping away from me, he let me go. I grabbed him back and kissed him, slipping my tongue across the seam of his mouth, making his groan with the promises of what would happen tonight—and forever.

MISS FIX-IT A romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author, Emma Hart. One handywoman. One single dad. One set of twins. And the wall isn’t the only thing being drilled... Now available for preorder! Coming 31/10. More? www.emmahart.org/missfixit

About the Author Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels and has been translated into several different languages. She first put fingers to keys at the age of eighteen after her husband told her she read too much and should write her own. Four years later, she's still figuring out what he meant when he said she 'read too much.' She prides herself on writing smart smut that's filled with dry wit, snappy, sarcastic comebacks, but lots of heart... And sex. Sometimes, she kills people. (Disclaimer: In books. But if you bug her, she'll use your name for the victims.)

You can find her online at: www.emmahart.org www.facebook.com/emmahartbooks www.instagram.com/EmmaHartAuthor www.pinterest.com/authoremmhart Alternatively, you can join her reader group at http://bit.ly/EmmaHartsHartbreakers. You can also get all things Emma to your email inbox by signing up for Emma Alerts*.

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BOOKS BY EMMA HART: The Vegas Nights series: Sin Lust Stripped series: Stripped Bare Stripped Down The Burke Brothers: Dirty Secret Dirty Past Dirty Lies Dirty Tricks Dirty Little Rendezvous The Holly Woods Files: Twisted Bond Tangled Bond Tethered Bond Tied Bond Twirled Bond Burning Bond Twined Bond By His Game series: Blindsided Sidelined

Intercepted

Call series: Late Call Final Call His Call Wild series: Wild Attraction Wild Temptation Wild Addiction Wild: The Complete Series The Game series: The Love Game Playing for Keeps The Right Moves Worth the Risk Memories series: Never Forget Always Remember Standalones: Blind Date Being Brooke

Catching Carly Casanova Mixed Up