The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) - Nancy Haviland

AL SO B Y N AN C Y H AV I L AN D

Wanted Men Novels A Love of Vengeance

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Text copyright © 2015 Nancy Haviland

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

www.apub.com

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781477827833

ISBN-10: 1477827838

Cover design by Kerrie Robertson

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014955195

To the survivors.

CONTENTS PROLOGUE CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PROLOGUE

It was coming. She knew it. Nika Paynne walked numbly through the colorless living room. Beige. Everything was beige. Bland. Lifeless. Like her. The walls, carpet, coffee and end tables, couch, chair, ottoman. All of it. She’d known earlier when she’d cajoled her best friend into going to a club rather than somewhere for a quiet coffee that the night would most likely end badly. For her anyway. But she hadn’t cared. She’d been desperate to rebel, to do something out of the norm. Now that the consequences of her insurgence were upon her, she wished she had kept her mouth shut. Her lip should have remained zipped at the club, too. She shouldn’t have said what little she had to Eva about her situation. Going on about moving to New York as soon as she was able had made her best friend more suspicious than she already was. Nika knew she shouldn’t have gone out at all. Because now it was only a matter of time. She’d gone too far. Shouldn’t have been so eager to get away that it had made her indifferent to the monster she lived with. Kevin Nollan. Her husband. The department-store artwork hanging above the tattered sofa didn’t register as she passed by— she was too focused on making it down the short hallway to the bedroom. Praying she’d get there alone. There was nothing worse than when he joined her in bed, pulling her too tightly into his too-warm body, holding her captive even while she attempted to sleep. Thank God his pride didn’t allow it very often anymore. He couldn’t do anything in that bed but sleep, and Nika was pretty sure that had saved her sanity. Anxiety roved her spine, filling her chest with that suffocating feeling so familiar she barely noticed it anymore. She breathed through it, short, shallow pants. Pulling in another tight breath, she took a moment to revel in the pain-free state of her body. Because it wouldn’t be that way for long. She raised her arm, her nape tingling because she knew Kevin was but steps behind her, and reached for the light switch on the— “Wrong room.” It was here. Even as the expected horror flooded her, causing a sheet of ice to coat her skin, she allowed no outward reaction. Refused to give this evil sonofabitch the satisfaction. She used to, though. In the beginning. Before she realized how much Kevin loved seeing her fear. Before she realized how much he

loved hearing her beg. “Stop! I’ll do what you want, Kevin. You don’t have to hurt me.” Stupid words. Idiotic assumption that he didn’t want to hurt her. She’d been a quick study on the begging, only going through the scenario twice before she’d caught on to his game. Both times he’d relaxed the tension in his body, which had loosened the bruising grip he’d had on her arms. He’d waited for her to sag in relief, thinking she’d gotten through to him, and then he’d backhanded her to the floor and smiled down at her as she wiped the blood from her mouth. She would forever rue those first weeks when she’d allowed Kevin to witness her emotions— shock, disbelief, fear, humiliation, anger. And then depression, exhaustion, hopelessness. In that order. There was little satisfaction in knowing he hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing those things in months now, because she was still terrified of him and what he represented: her helpless confinement. Her stomach lurched violently when she heard him move. “You gonna make me repeat myself, Niki?” He was right behind her now. “Kevin.” Her head lowered in that subservient pose that used to have her choking with fury. Now it just made her hopeful it might work. She’d long ago lost the voice in her head that used to shout, This isn’t who you are! Don’t let him do this to you! Sure, she’d been raised to be strong and independent. Not some cruel bastard’s cowed punching bag. But that’s what she’d become. And she hated to admit it, but she’d accepted that. Conditionally. She’d accepted it, would remain in this role, but only until she found the damning evidence Kevin had on Caleb. For him, her beloved big brother and her only family, she would take this. It was no less than he would do for her. “I apologized in the car, Kevin. I said I was sorry and it won’t happen ag—” She was cut off when he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back so hard moisture flooded her eyes. Her scalp stung where some strands were pulled out. Her shoes, which she’d been carrying, fell from her fingers, and she had to bite her lip so she wouldn’t cry out. Another paltry shot at not giving this fiend what he wanted. Quickly blinking her vision clear, Nika found herself staring into the depraved face she loathed. She could see the crazy in his eyes. And it was bone-chilling. “What did you think was gonna happen tonight, you sneaky bitch? Did you think I was just gonna sit around and wait for you to come home? Ask you if you had a good time whoring with that slut?” She closed her eyes to the malice pouring from him and remained silent—but for the air now sawing in and out of her lungs. Maybe if she didn’t try to defend herself, he would go away. Ridiculous to hope, but it was all she had. He jerked her to the side and shoved her into the spare bedroom. Stumbling over her own feet, self-preservation kicked in and Nika started to struggle. Don’t! You’re only giving him what he wants! You’re setting yourself up for disappointment because fighting him doesn’t do any good! Her pride’s silent protest went unheeded. She got in one good punch, her knuckles connecting with Kevin’s ribs. He grunted. “Oh, yeah. Fight me, slave.” That nickname and the warped sense of excitement that surfaced in his voice made Nika freeze. Oh, how she hated when he called her that. “It’s always better when you fight me.” She grew silent, as she’d become accustomed to doing, but in her mind she screamed one graphically violent threat after another as she forced her arms to her sides. Stars exploded behind her lids in the next second as Kevin’s closed fist connected with the side of

her head. No longer her face. Couldn’t cover that up. Took too long to heal. But, holy frig, that hurt, she thought dazedly. And down she went, easily, because she did nothing to stop it. Suddenly she was on her stomach, him holding her there with her cheek mashed to the bristly carpet, his knee jammed between her shoulder blades so hard she could barely breathe. He came down close, his lips pressing into her ear, his beer breath forcing her to swallow a gag. “You’re so fucking weak, Niki.” No. I’m not weak. I’m strong. Strong enough to beat you at this game you’re playing. And I will eventually win. Nika’s mind tried to bolster her with its usual pep talk, but it lacked conviction. Just as it had the last few times this had happened. Eleven times. Eleven beatings. Countless slaps across the head as warnings. And she’d only been his prisoner for ten months. This would be beating twelve. An even dozen. “And you’re so stupid I think you do this shit on purpose. Takin’ off like a fucking criminal.” Kevin barked out a laugh as she felt his weight shift off her. “Hanging out with that cunt, even though you know I hate her guts.” The sounds of objects rattling indicated he had his hand in his bag of toys. Please not the metal pipe. Please not the metal pipe . . . “Now you’re gonna pay for embarrassing me.” He’d obviously settled on something because the rattling ceased. “You’re lucky I didn’t come at you in the club when I saw you sitting there lookin’ over every guy in the place like some bitch in heat. What were you gonna do, Niki? Let ’em take turns fucking you? Were you gonna take on two at once? Maybe three . . . ?” The insults kept coming, getting cruder and more explicit, but they might as well have been a cool breeze for how much attention she paid them. But the rising madness in his voice? That registered, and all she could do then was pray he tired quickly. “Where’s your lip now, slave? Nothin’ to say? That’s ’cause you’re a dumb coward and—” “Fuck you!” The words tore from her before she could stop them. “My lip is right here, you fucking bastard! I’m going to kill you! My brother will kill you! He’ll put to shame what you’ve done to me all these months! I’m going to watch the life drain from—” Kevin shoved at the back of her head until the pressure sealed her jaw shut against the floor. Thwack! The first agonizing slam of what she knew was the damned metal pipe nailed her across her upper back; that hated deep, hollow chime echoed in her ears. The instant numbness was almost worse than the flaming pain that followed, and she had to bite her tongue to hold in the cry that belted up her throat, tasting blood when she swallowed. Another whack landed across the back of her arm, going through flesh and muscle to hit bone. Not hard enough to break it, though. No. Too much practice for that. This monster knew just the right amount of force to use to cause the most pain but not to cause another injury she’d have to seek medical treatment for. He’d only made that mistake once. “You pull this shit again, or get any ideas in that empty head of yours to tell someone about our arrangement . . .” He leaned forward, his weight making it impossible for her to draw even a miniscule amount of oxygen into her lungs. “I’ll send that shit in, and everyone’ll know what a murdering cocksucker your brother is.” He shifted marginally, allowing her some air, just as another strike nailed her other arm. Please, let me find it, she cried silently through the haze of pain and helplessness clouding her mind. She had to find that memory stick that held Caleb’s damning video. Had to. Because she couldn’t take much more of this. If Kevin hadn’t been so paranoid, so much so that he refused to make even a copy of the video or store it online like any sane person would do, she might have found it by now. But no. He had that one small piece of plastic and metal that could be hidden anywhere, and she’d yet to stumble across it, no matter how hard she looked. “Know what else?” Spittle landed on her cheek from Kevin’s excited question. “You made me

unhappy tonight, so I’m gonna return the favor by going ahead with my little plan. Already talked to my cousin about it. He says you’ll be great, Niki. I texted him your picture. They’ll want you, just like the guys at that club tonight, ’cause you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. But you’re mine. I love you, Niki—you know that, right? You’re mine and I love you.” Nika squeezed her eyes shut at the wonder that had entered his voice and gagged when he buried his face in her hair. Her repulsed shudder made her back throb, but she ignored it, worrying at the fact that Kevin already sounded as if he was losing steam. The disjointed mumblings had started too soon. “Once you heal up good, we’re gonna make us a movie,” he continued. His sudden approvalseeking tone made her skin crawl. “You’re gonna be great. My cousin is in New York now, and he said he can make us a ton of green with that kinda shit. Guys are gonna watch you take it. You’re mine, Niki. Sorry I hurt you. Didn’t mean to. Don’t know why I do this to you. Love you so much.” And there it was. Those wet lips and that slimy tongue sliding up her cheek, the pressure of his hips on her rear end as he thrust against her with his flaccid tool. Bile traveled up from her stomach to burn her throat. Please let me find that memory stick, she prayed harder, even though she knew no one was listening. Please. Let me find it before these bruises fade. “You’re gonna look so fucking hot. Perfect piece of meat for a job like that. You better not like—” He stiffened on top of her and pulled back sharply. “You’re gonna like getting fucked by those cocksuckers, aren’t you?” he shouted, instantly enraged. No! The silent scream filled her head, and she started to struggle. This was not the normal way of things. He wasn’t supposed to go again. It was getting worse. He was getting worse. More vicious, she realized, thrashing wildly in an effort to get away. Why? Why now? Could just the thought of some imaginary men having sex with her when he couldn’t because of his impotency be that much of a trigger? The last thing she heard before the blows started raining down in earnest was an excited, “Oh, yeah. You just try getting away, slave. I’ll never let you.” A particularly heavy strike to the back of her head had Nika once again falling, with open, welcoming arms, into the blessed relief of unconsciousness. Hoping, this time, she might stay there forever.

CHAPTER 1 SIX WEEKS LATER . . .

Soon. Nika gave that word she was coming to hate a figurative one-finger salute and slid the zipper closed on the suitcase she’d just packed. Placing it on the floor, she winced when her back protested the weight. She dropped down to sit on the lumpy mattress. It would be soon, though; wouldn’t it? Had to be. Because she was nearing the end. Who was she kidding? She’d neared the end the minute this nightmare had begun. Her shoulders slumped as she sighed and bowed her head, even as she rebelled against what she saw as weakness. Dredging from her dwindling reserve, she forced herself to straighten and bring her head back up. She would not wallow in this. She wouldn’t give up. She’d been here since September. It was now the end of July. Two more months and it would be a year. She blinked at that. She hadn’t realized. A year . . . She’d lost almost a year of her life to this unbearable situation. But no matter how horrible things became, she would not give up. She couldn’t. Not until she found the evidence Kevin had on her brother—a recording that would send Caleb to jail. For a crime Nika knew had to be justified. Yes, he’d taken a life; Kevin had made her watch the video. But she knew her brother well enough to believe, with her whole heart, that he’d done so for a damn good reason, and once she was able to ask him, when this was all over, she’d find out what that reason was. When this is all over. She repeated the phrase in her head. That could be as soon as today. Maybe tomorrow, depending on how things went once she and Kevin reached New York. It was entirely possible she might gain her and Caleb’s freedom before the weekend was over! She tamped down the optimism, knowing better than to feel it, and glanced from the suitcase she’d just packed to the engraved wedding invitation sitting on the nightstand. Picking it up, she wondered how many times she’d read it since receiving it.

Evangeline Marie Jacobs/Tarasov And Gabriel Albert Moretti Request the honor of your presence to share in the celebration

Of their marriage

She blinked away the burn from behind her lids. Her darling Eva, best friend and sister in every way but blood, was marrying an intense, most times too serious, overprotective Italian American mobster. Those were the bride’s words. Nika didn’t know Gabriel well enough yet to make any calls on who he was. She and Eva had spoken about the wedding during the few phone conversations she’d been able to sneak in when Kevin wasn’t around, but holding the actual invite in her hands brought it home. Her bestie was going to be the wife of a newly crowned mob boss. And not even two months after finding out she was already the daughter of a Russian organized crime leader. Holy crap. Eva had taken the mafia world by storm. Claiming two of their most powerful—one as a parent, the other as a husband. Brave girl. But Nika had already known that about her. She focused on the card in her hand and noted the street address in Old Westbury, New York—a small village not far from Long Island. She and Kevin would be staying in Brooklyn, but Nika didn’t care. She’d have been fine at Rikers, as long as Kevin, in his perpetually paranoid state, brought the evidence against her brother with him, as he did whenever they went away for more than a night. Passing her thumb over the address once more, Nika’s heart jumped, quickening her pulse. But it wasn’t due to thoughts of letting loose her brother and his notorious motorcycle club on Kevin once she had the evidence in hand. No. This silly excitement was caused by thoughts of who else would be attending the wedding. Gabriel shared a house with three of his friends. Maksim Kirov, the gorgeous, if not absurdly arrogant, Russian mobster who owned a swank nightclub in Hell’s Kitchen. Alekzander Tarasov, Eva’s cousin and another Russian made man, just as gorgeous but a little less I-know-you’re-staring-becauseI’m-hot. He and Gabriel owned TarMor, the übersuccessful project management firm where Eva now worked as an associate business manager. It was the third housemate who had caused Nika’s body to react. The one who’d been haunting her dreams for weeks now, taunting her, making her relive the bone-rattling kiss they’d shared in a quiet corridor of the Crown Jewel, the posh hotel Gabriel and Alek owned here in downtown Seattle. Vincente Romani. Caleb had told her Vincente owned a midsize company called ROM Construct that was based out of Manhattan. Oh, and it seemed when Gabriel had taken over as boss of the crime family he’d grown up in, Vincente had stepped in as his underboss. He’d been a lieutenant in the Moretti family before that, to the former boss, Stefano, who was Gabriel’s older brother. According to Eva, Stefano had disappeared a few weeks ago. The bottom line was Nika had been having inappropriate dreams about an undeniably gorgeous but deadly Italian mobster. Aim high, sista. She ignored the high five her pride figuratively offered, leaving it hanging, too busy trying to pretend it wasn’t desire that curled through her body at just the thought of the man. The first time Nika had seen him, he’d been standing on the sidewalk in front of the Crown Jewel. She’d crossed the street, worrying over what Kevin’s reaction would be when he found out she’d left their apartment—after all, she’d just taken a beating like no other from him a few days before—and had glanced up into a face that was sinister and cold, yet so beautiful she’d been instantly captivated. His hair was long and black and fell past his broad shoulders. He was taller than she was, which was something, considering she loved to

wear heels that put her at a healthy six-one, give or take an inch. His body had been tightly muscled, his features equally cut and hard. And his eyes—those dark-brown, haunted eyes—conveyed a blatant moveon-or-be-sorry to anyone who dared to meet them. Well, she’d met them, but she had yet to move on. What she’d seen had shaken her to the core. So much so that she’d stumbled and would have fallen had Vincente not caught her. And then he’d kissed her only minutes later. She shifted and cleared her throat, feeling jittery. It was stupid to feel excitement at the thought of seeing him again. Would he look at her with that same interest as last time? Did he even remember their last encounter? Did he think about it? The way she did so often? That kiss, a simple meeting of their mouths, had stayed with Nika. Why? Because she’d been aroused by it. By him. And then she’d been relieved. The desire that had crashed over her when Vincente kissed her had let her know Kevin hadn’t won. It was still possible for her to feel something for a man, even after everything that had been done to her. Not that she wanted another man. She shuddered. Maybe not ever. Once she found that memory stick and she finally allowed Caleb to deal with Kevin as he saw fit, she was done. Oh, she might fool around someday, if she was able to go further than a kiss. But she wouldn’t know that until she tried. Wouldn’t know just how fucked-up she was after the way she’d been living this past year until it was all over. Then she could experiment. Test boundaries. But one thing was for certain: never would she put herself in the position of being under a man again. The shots would be hers to call. The relationship hers to dictate. Hers to walk away from if she so wanted. Hers to control. Vincente Romani’s dominant, blatant alpha-male countenance wouldn’t stand for the type of woman Nika vowed she’d be once she was free. So, as she told herself every time she thought of him, he wasn’t for her. No matter how sexy and heroic he’d appeared to be when he’d swooped into town a few weeks ago, along with a few others in Gabriel’s organization. He’d been in such control dealing with the situation Gabriel’s brother had created. And that capable confidence had been so attractive to her. Heroic. A definite draw. She’d dropped him into that slot the day Eva had left Seattle. Nika had returned to Kevin’s apartment after spending the night at the Crown Jewel with Caleb. Her brother, for goodness’ sake. Her reasons for her absence hadn’t mattered to Kevin. That Eva had almost been killed hadn’t mattered. He’d been enraged, having stewed all night, and by the time he’d finally allowed her to crawl into the bathroom, out of his reach, she’d been panting through every painful breath. He’d layered his hits over the ones he’d given her only days before, and it hadn’t fazed him. She’d been horrified by his cruelty. As she’d rinsed the metallic taste of blood from her mouth, pressing a cold cloth against her throbbing ribs with a trembling hand, she’d wished with everything in her that Vincente would burst through the front door and destroy the abomination she’d been forced to marry. Thank God Eva and Caleb had left for New York that same night and neither of them had seen her afterward. She wouldn’t have been able to fake her way through the casual hugs and false smiles. Not that time. With a tired sigh, she pulled her hair back, securing the mass of bright reds and golds with the hair tie she always wore on her wrist. What she wouldn’t give to sleep for a year. “You ready?” A flash of alarm buzzed through her like a shock from an exposed electrical wire. She dropped her arms from her messy bun without looking up. She had to play this smart. If the sadist suspected she was looking forward to this trip, he’d shut her down. He’d nod at the suitcase, tell her to unpack it, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing she could do about it. How long would she have to wait for her next opportunity

to find that damned memory stick? Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him in the doorway—dark aura, receding brown hair buzzed off, hooded brown eyes on her. His arms were crossed over his chest, feet planted . . . as if he’d been there for a while. Watching as she remembered Vincente. God, she hoped not. That was private to her. And dangerous. If Kevin suspected she was sitting there mooning—not that she was mooning—over another man, she didn’t even want to think about what he’d do to her. She cleared her throat and schooled her features to show absolutely nothing before lifting her head and turning to him. “I just finished packing.” “What were you thinking of just now?” You. Dead. “I was wondering what I should wear tonight, since I’ll be changing out of it and into the dress Eva has for me the minute I get there. The outfits I have are either off-season or for the office.” An office she no longer had. Because of the condition Kevin sometimes left her in, she’d come to miss so many days she’d eventually decided to quit her job as an accountant. Thinking ahead, wanting to ensure a good reference later, she’d left just after Christmas and Kevin had been pleased, saying they’d get by without her paycheck. They weren’t, if the few twenties he tossed at her before she left for the grocery store were anything to go by. “What the fuck is off-season?” “They’re winter dresses.” Which was probably a good thing because they had long sleeves and would fully cover her. She’d already packed one of her silky wraps in case the bridesmaid dress Eva had bought her was off the shoulder or, God forbid, backless. She prayed it wasn’t, because she’d have no choice but to refuse to wear it. And how would she explain that without having to reveal the bruising that still littered her body? “Well, pick one out and finish up before I change my mind about bringin’ you to this joke.” Anger burned in her throat, but she swallowed it. She went to the closet and withdrew a silky gold dress she’d bought a couple of years ago on a trip to New York. She and Caleb had gone to visit Eva during her first year at Columbia. After wrapping the dress—which would make her look as though she were inept at choosing proper clothing for the season they were in—in a garment bag, she laid it out over the suitcase. She folded a pair of gold earrings and the matching bracelet that used to be her mother’s into a satiny cloth and tucked it into the zipper of the carry-on. Her shoes were already packed. The whole time, her spine was so stiff she was surprised she could even move. Kevin was too quiet. Too focused on her. More so than normal. Could he know? Had he somehow found out about the kiss with Vincente? Her greatest fear. “You looking forward to going to this wedding or something?” He said wedding like the average person would say mass murder. Shrugging, her voice as emotionless as she could make it, she said, “Eva and Caleb would find it suspicious if I didn’t go to her wedding. If not for that, I wouldn’t be flying across the country to sit there and watch two people exchange meaningless vows.” Yes, I would! I would crawl over a field of spiders to see my best friend pledge herself to the man she loves! He snorted. “That’s the only reason we’re goin’. Grab the stuff. Cab’s waiting downstairs.” With that, Kevin disappeared down the hall, leaving Nika to gather her purse, her carry-on, the garment bag, and the suitcase. Relief weakened her limbs as she trailed her own personal Satan out of the hell he’d created for

them.

Vincente Romani’s eyes popped open, rampant lust from the recurring dream—memory—rushing through his veins. His vision slowly became less blurry as his burning, tired eyes focused on the mahogany and leather furniture littered around his room. The fact that it had cost a lot fancied the space up a bit, but his shit was nothing but functional. He winced as he rolled over, almost snapping his morning wood in half. Fuck. With a hard punch, he worked his pillow before slamming his head back down, shifting his hips so his dick wouldn’t attempt to impale the mattress. Too many weeks of nothing but this. Why the hell wouldn’t she get the fuck out of his head? He should never have kissed her. He was the only one to blame. He’d let her in. Yeah. And goddamn if it hadn’t been the sweetest, most addicting action on record. But so what? So what that it had been good. Big deal. She was Caleb Paynne’s married sister for chrissakes. Two things that left him dumped in a heap on the corner of Outofreach Avenue and Onlyinyourdreams Boulevard. Gabriel said a few flags have been raised about the marriage, an anxious voice in the back of his mind reminded him. A voice he’d dubbed Nika Paynne’s Fan Boy. The relentless asshole. Even if it was a rocky marriage, she was still the biker’s sister. And you didn’t fuck around with an associate’s sister. Or someone’s wife. Was Caleb’s brother-in-law a biker? Vincente wasn’t sure on the details. Had deliberately chosen to remain ignorant of them. Or was he uninformed only because Maksim hadn’t voluntarily mentioned anything he’d found out about Nika and her husband yet? Gabriel is marrying Vasily’s daughter, Nika’s Fan Boy chirped a little louder in his head with a just-sayin’ shrug. So? Vincente sighed roughly. Nika should have slapped his face for daring to kiss her that day in Seattle. But no, instead she’d responded to him so fucking beautifully he couldn’t get it out of his mind. She’d also verbally smacked his ass like no one had dared since his little sister had found him mimicking sex acts with her Barbie dolls when he was eleven. Vinnie! My girls don’t kiss wif boys like that! You pig! What’s wrong wif you? His chest hollowed as he remembered Sophia’s shocked and disgusted reprimand. She’d snatched the dolls from his hands with a glower and had flounced away to tell their mother. Thirteen years, and the loss of her was still so fresh he could barely stand it. He rolled to his other side and faced the large bay window overlooking the pool, shutting the door on his memories. All they did was thicken the ice encasing his heart. Sure didn’t bring him the comfort some had said they eventually would. Fucking liars. Think of something else. He almost rolled his eyes at Fan Boy when his redhead’s flawless face once again zipped front and center. Why had she been introduced as Nika Paynne and not Nika Nollan? If she were married to Vincente, she’d have the Romani stamp all over her. Tattooed right on her beautiful fucking ass. He grunted and allowed himself to linger on thoughts of her ass for a second. So why didn’t the fuckwad husband insist she use his name? Didn’t know the guy from Adam, but

he was still a fuckwad. Why? Because Vincente wanted to crawl inside that female’s body and stay there forever. And Nollan prevented him from doing that. So did being chums with Caleb. But, again, as they’d found out in Gabriel’s case, there were ways around that. None of it mattered really. Being in the line of work he was in—his construction company aside— Vincente didn’t have shit to offer a woman. Much less a woman like Nika. Between his illegal dealings and his fucked-up childhood, he was the last person on earth who could offer happily ever after. His father had treated his mother like shit and hadn’t been much better with Vincente and Sophia. Then things had gone from bad to worse when his mother was killed by a car bomb meant for her husband. Vincente had been twelve, and all he remembered of his father after that was the bullshit he’d toss at his kids when he’d slam through the screen door of their brownstone in Queens, drunk off his ass. Get yourself a haircut, Vin—you’re startin’ to look like fuckin’ Frankenstein, he’d say with that permanent sneer that had curled his mustached lip. You better stop growin’ soon, kid, or else you’re gonna be a freak. The girls are gonna run away from you. Yeah. Happy times, Vincente thought, throwing back the covers and standing. His reflection in the mirror above the dresser caught his eye. He’d topped out at six foot four, and his size had come in handy a time or twenty, so he wouldn’t fault it. He glanced at his black hair. It reached his pecs now. His mother used to run her fingers through it and go on about its shine as she smothered him as only an Italian mother could. He missed that. And Sophia, who’d gotten stuck being raised by him when their father had been MIA more often than not, hadn’t had nearly enough of it. Vincente had done the best he could considering he’d been a child himself. And his best had been A-okay—until he’d failed her. For the first time, he welcomed the image of fiery hair and green eyes that billowed like smoke through his mind. He latched on to it, replacing one he couldn’t handle remembering. Another strike against Fan Boy’s plight to have the redhead. Vincente couldn’t risk history repeating itself. Why would he ever set himself up to fail so spectacularly as an innocent female’s protector again? He wouldn’t. Cursing, he stalked into his navy-and-white en suite bathroom as the questions came again. Why had Nika let him kiss her that day? Been so enthusiastic? And why had those incredible emerald eyes of hers brimmed with fear just before she’d walked away from him? That was the question that had plagued him the most during the past few weeks. What had frightened her? And did it still? Find out, Fan Boy begged. No. He was sick of this. Sick of thinking about that day. About her. Who cared why she didn’t wear a fucking ring? Who cared why she didn’t use her married name? Flipping the chrome lever up, he climbed into an icy shower. It was none of his fucking business. Her brother could take care of it. As he grabbed the soap from the small alcove in the wall and roughly washed up, he completely ignored Fan Boy’s adamantly whispered, Fuck that.

CHAPTER 2

“We just got in.” Caleb Paynne listened to the forlorn murmur of his sister’s voice, so different from the playful, teasing tone she used to have. It was as if her spirit was gone. As though she’d gained a husband and lost herself. He mentally punched Kevin in the face. He was probably standing over her, tapping on his watch, making her feel as if she were doing something wrong by talking to her own brother. “Kevin there with you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. Nothing shut Nika down faster than questions about that SOB. He knew better than to ask them now or to state his derogatory opinion. He wanted to talk to his sister more than he wanted to bad-mouth that fuck she was married to. Caleb lay on his couch, arm over his eyes as he tried to wake up from a quick nap. He’d been going to bed later and later since setting up shop at the clubhouse in Queens. Gabriel Moretti had sent him to New York earlier that year, tasking him with watching over Eva—Nika’s best friend and someone he considered his own sister. She certainly didn’t need a bodyguard any longer, now that she and Gabriel were engaged. Fucking organized crime boss. What was she thinking? He checked the clock at the corner of the screen on the muted TV. Six thirty. Damn. He shook his head and paid attention before Nollan pulled the plug on the phone call. “Kevin went down to grab a hot dog from the vendor out front.” The dead tone to Nika’s voice—which was the antithesis of what he heard when Eva yakked about Moretti—left Caleb shaking his head. Kevin fucking Nollan. Controlling, ignorant SOB. The guy’s days were numbered. No matter what Nika said. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. Only that she’d realized almost a year ago that she had feelings for the guy—a hanger-on at the ODMC clubhouse in Seattle where Caleb used to hang with his brothers. Caleb had been a member of the Obsidian Devils Motorcycle Club since he was twenty, and, aside from Nika and Eva, the boys were the only family he’d had since his parents had died of cancer. Even their deaths hadn’t changed his little sis the way marriage had. Gone was the tough little firecracker the boys in the club used to say would make the perfect old lady, and in her place was a somber, uneasy shadow. Still, Nika wouldn’t leave Nollan. His gut tightened. She was going to lose her shit when she found out Caleb had given Vex, his best friend and club president—who had some pretty strong connections—the okay to start excavating. Hopefully something would come of it and Nika would finally admit what a true lowlife Nollan was.

“What time are you heading over?” His sister’s question tugged him from his thoughts. “Uh . . .” She sighed. “Ca-leb? Did I wake you? Or are you having some really quiet sex?” He laughed at the tiny glimpse of spirit. “Sorry, Nik. I just had a nap,” he assured her. “Where are you?” “A hotel.” Bye-bye grin. “Yeah. I figured that out all by myself. Which one? Where in the city? Maybe I can come over and see you before the wedding.” “What time are you heading to the house?” she repeated, ignoring his offer of company and his questions. The stubborn little shit. “V said to be there by eight,” he muttered. An odd silence greeted his response. “V?” Caleb sat up slowly, totally awake now. “Vincente. Saw him out last night, and he said the festivities would start around eight. Eva said the same when I talked to her this aft.” “Oh. Cool. I, uh, guess we’ll see you there.” Was that a kernel of interest he’d heard in her voice? “We? Can you not come without him?” “No.” Tell me what the fuck is going on so I can take care of this for you! he wanted to shout. But instead, he forced a note of calm into his voice that he was far from feeling. “You need directions? A ride?” A hearse? “Eva sent them to me already. And I have my phone, so we’re good. Thanks.” Unable to check the impulse, he said, “Just say the word, Nik, and we’ll take care of everything. You know that.” The offer came sounding half-impatient, half-pleading. A soft sigh filtered through the line. “We’re not talking about this, Caleb.” “Why.” He threw the word down in a clear challenge. “Because, like I told you before, there’s more going on than you’re aware of. And don’t ask because I will not tell—Shit. Gotta go. See you in a bit.” She hung up before he could reply. The Keeper had obviously returned. At that spike of anxiety in her voice, Caleb barely stopped himself from putting his fist through the coffee table. He jammed his thumb on Vex’s number as he jerked to his feet and headed to the closet. This had to end. Now. “Hey,” Vex answered. The comforting sound of a compressor whining came through the line; tools clanked loudly in the background of the shop downstairs. “Anything new on Nika?” “She make it in okay?” “Yeah. She’s at a hotel. Wouldn’t tell me which one.” “Brat,” Vex murmured around a chuckle. “And no. My guy’s having a hard time. Other than the basics, which I’ve already told you, he hasn’t gotten anything. There’s that sealed case file at a small precinct in Michigan somewhere, but he hasn’t been able to hack it yet, and he’s paranoid about outsourcing. He’ll let me know when he has something.” Fuck. “I’ll meet you in the Ditch in an hour, then we can head to Mob Central.” The Ditch was the game room/rec room where everyone hung out. Mob Central was Moretti and the boys’ place over in a big-money area outside Long Island. “Sorry, brother,” Vex offered. “S’okay. Later.” Next he dialed Vincente. Caleb knew the Reaper was expert at reading a situation in one allencompassing glance. Maybe he could pick up on something tonight. “Go.”

“V. How’s it goin’?” “Paynne. Everything cool? Your, uh, sister make it in okay?” First Nika reacting to Vincente’s name, and now V fishing for info on Nika? Hmm. “Yeah. She got in a little while ago. I just hung up with her, actually. That’s why I’m calling. I was hoping you’d help me out with her tonight.” “Help you out with her . . . how?” So suspicious. And had that gravelly voice changed? Despite the gag factor of thinking of his buddy being into his sister, Caleb almost grinned. He’d use any lure he could to get Nika out of that marriage. Even the Reaper. “Just watch her. See how she is with that fuck she’s married—” “What is it about ‘that fuck’ that has you hating on him? In Seattle, you mentioned Vex was working on something for you. It have anything to do with this guy?” How much should he say? “Keep this on the DL,” he warned even though he didn’t think he had to. “But, yeah, Vex is digging into Nollan’s background.” “Why?” He pulled a slate-gray button-down from the few in his closet. “Because I’ve been on her about leaving this goof from day one. She never should’ve married him in the first place. He’s a deadbeat. Used to hang around the clubhouse in Seattle, not useful for much. No job. Not really right in the head. But then, maybe that’s the draw. Nika has a soft heart. But she’s not in love with the clown.” He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice as he yanked a decent pair of jeans from his dresser drawer. Eva had insisted on informal dress for the occasion. “Nollan treats her like a fuckin’ dog. Keeps her locked away over there. She quit her job and I know that was because of him. I know it. She’s a fucking accountant, V. She’s no dummy. Yet she now has allotted phone time to call me, for fuck’s sake. What the hell is that?” He threw his clothes onto the bed. “She refuses to leave him. And I wanna know why. She says there’s more going on than she’s willing to tell me. And before you ask, I don’t have any clue what it is. She doesn’t let a goddamn thing slip. Maybe he has a piece on the side and she wants to catch him in the act . . . ? I don’t know.” But he would soon. He wasn’t going to quit until he knew why his sister remained in that prison.

Vincente sat in his Kombat T-98 outside a dive someone had had the balls to slap a blinking hotel sign on and listened to Caleb go off on his sister’s life. Before leaving the house, he’d used the laptop that sat open and running on the bar in the main room and, like some sort of stalker, he’d Googled arrival times for flights coming into JFK from SeaTac. He’d dispatched one of their boys to the airport and had landed here at the curb after Alesio had texted the couple’s final destination. For reasons he refused to delve into, Vincente needed a look at the husband. Just a look, to see what he was dealing with. Not that he’d be dealing, but whatever. Anger simmered through him now at hearing about Nika’s restricted life. “What else are you doing about it, Paynne?” Caleb’s voice over the line was a mix of pissed and more pissed. “I have Vex digging, like I said, but he’s coming up with bare bones. Nollan came from a messed-up family. Parents and brother dead. Haven’t found out how yet. Never married before. Rap sheet was nothing but petty crimes—theft, B&E,

one charge of resisting arrest. But that doesn’t mean much. There could be shit he got away with.” No doubt. Vincente’s fingers itched to dial Maksim, their resident IT whiz who could hack anything. “Why don’t you just take her back?” Like I would have done with my sister had I been able to find her. “Tried that once. Went to Seattle a month after their Vegas quickie. I told her we were going for a drive and brought her straight to SeaTac. Planned on coming to New York and holing up with Vex until the storm passed. But, man, V, the look in her eyes. I thought it was a you’re-taking-me-from-my-man thing at first, but then she freaked out, started crying, begging me to take her back, said I was ruining everything. My sister isn’t a crier. Unless she sees an animal with something broken.” A familiar brotherly affection had entered his tone, layering over the heavy concern. “She’s the strongest woman I know. Or used to be. She’s different now. And that burns my ass. Lately she seems skittish. And tired. She made me swear on our parents’ memory that day out front of the airport that I’d leave things alone, and a dozen times after. I’m breaking those promises right now.” Vincente’s anger bubbled at the thought of that beauty having anything to fear. Or any woman, for that matter. But something about this sitch was off. Way off. And he’d wasted nearly a month dicking around when he could have been doing something about it. “What time are they going tonight?” To the wedding he was dreading as much as he was anticipating. Dreading, because he was giving away his best friend. Anticipating, because he was giving away his best friend to a woman who would take good care of him. “She didn’t say, but probably a little before showtime, since she’s the maid of honor.” “I’ll be watching.” He hung up and dialed again immediately. “If I were to guess where you are right now, I’d have to say—” “Cut the shit, Kirov,” he interrupted, not in the mood. Especially not to hear Maksim guess correctly. “I need you to work your IT magic. Find out what you can about a Kevin Nollan. Get a current addy from Eva. Dig deep.” “Already have. Gabriel put me onto it a few weeks ago. Didn’t find anything but a rookie wannabe criminal. Had to put it on hold while I took care of some business, but I can get back to it now. What’s going on, brother?” Vincente started the Kombat and pulled out into the slow-moving line of traffic. “Caleb Paynne called and asked . . . us . . . to give him a hand.” Maybe he’d get ridden a little less if he made it a group effort. As it was, the boys had caught on to his attraction to Eva’s friend when he hadn’t been able to hide it in Seattle. Which pissed him off. As if they were in high school or some shit. “Vex is on it but floundering. Paynne said something’s keeping her married, but it isn’t an Evabriel type of thing.” His lips quirked as he used the nickname Jak, Gabriel’s muscle who was still in Seattle, had coined for the couple. Maks chuckled before promising, “If there’s something out there, I’ll find it.” “Thanks, man.” “Don’t have to thank me, V. Just tell me . . . You’re at her hotel, aren’t you?” Ass. Hole. Vincente disconnected the call to the sound of a deep, knowing laugh. As he headed to St. John Cemetery for his weekly visit with Sophia, he really hoped whatever they found on Nollan wasn’t as bad as his instincts were telling him it might be.

Where the hell could it be? Nika continued her search, keeping the sound of the shower first and foremost in her mind. When the water shut off she’d have to quit. Dammit. She shoved one side of the suitcase back against the waterstained wall and stood. Could Kevin have taken the memory stick into the bathroom with him? But all he’d worn was a towel. She shuddered at the memory and looked around. Maybe he’d had it tucked in his armpit. Because it sure as hell wasn’t out here. She’d looked everywhere. She squatted again, feeling around the edges of the suitcase—Wait. What is—? The water shut off. And Nika wanted to scream—even louder when she heard the metal rings of the shower curtain slide against the rod. She whipped her fingers back from the long bump she’d been prodding on the inside seam of the case and stood quickly, moving to the bed as fast as her high-heeled feet would carry her. She plunked down, her heart slamming against her ribs, hands shaking as adrenaline flew through her bloodstream. Had she found it? Had that small rectangular object been her ticket to escape? Her head snapped up as Kevin strolled out of the miniscule bathroom in a cloud of steam. She sat there, nerves knotting her gut, hands clasped in her lap. “Stand up,” he ordered. “I wanna see how you look.” She stood. Enjoy it while you can, asshole, because if I’ve found what I think I have, your days are numbered. Before starting her search, she’d put on the gold dress that covered too much for a warm July evening, but that couldn’t be helped. The bruising had to be hidden. Kevin nodded, his eyes disgustingly invasive as they roved down her body. She stayed silent and allowed the repulsed shiver to run through her once he turned away. Nika glanced in the mirror attached to the dresser and watched through the reflection as Kevin padded over to the suitcase. She pretended to fluff her hair and adjust her gold hoop earring when he glanced back at her. The second his head swiveled, her eyes were on him again, and her knees nearly buckled at the sight of him pulling one of his T-shirts over to hide the area of her recent discovery. Oh, my God! Her knees gave out, and she fell heavily onto the hard mattress, struggling more than she ever had before to keep her face free of expression. She’d found it! She’d really found it! Oh, God! Do not cry! Don’t you dare cry! “I’m sending you to this bullshit thing on your own. Your cab should be here in five.” She blinked stupidly and attempted to stop the flow of moisture from filling her eyes. Uh, had she just won some unknown lottery or something? Had she even heard him right? Sending her . . . on her own? In a cab . . . by herself? “I don’t understand.” What was the joke? Kevin zipped up his jeans, leaving the button undone, and put on the same wrinkled T-shirt he’d worn all day. Why would someone shower and then wear dirty clothes? Ugh. He was pale and had gained some weight over the past year. She hated to think that was because of the meals she’d cooked for him. She also hated to think that if he went outdoors more often and got some sun, and maybe grew out his hair, he’d be considered good-looking. “I’m meeting up with my cousin. Tonight was the only free time he had.” She tensed as he came over. He stood before her, roughly grabbing her chin to tilt her head back. Do not glare, Nika. “You go see that bitch say ‘I do.’ Then you come straight back here. You got me? No side trips, no fuckin’ around. Or I’ll make you real sorry, Niki.”

He squeezed her jaw before letting go to trail his fingers down her throat to the neckline of her dress. Her skin shrank to nothing as he dipped inside to cup her breast, beneath her bra. “I’ll fill you in on the meeting when I get back. You better be here.” She swallowed repeatedly in an effort not to vomit at his touch. “Yes. Right back,” she promised. And for the first time ever, Nika looked forward to returning.

CHAPTER 3

Seven fifteen. Vincente dropped his arm back to his side and once again stared out the French doors at the large pool out back, his usual perch. His ears continued to twitch as they listened for the doorbell. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Vincente?” He turned to see Samnang Oung, their Cambodian housekeeper, standing expectantly. The sweet old guy, along with a small loyal staff, had been taking care of him and the boys for years now. Ever since he, Alek, Maks, and Gabriel had bought the twelve-bedroom monstrosity in Old Westbury that he stood inside now. “Nah. I’m just waiting on the guests, Sammy. Thanks.” Samnang nodded his perfectly round head and moved his skinny body over to begin lighting what had to be a hundred candles, straightening the already-perfect flowers arranged all over the polished surfaces in the room. Vincente stepped away from the doors, eyes roaming, noting how the place had been overtaken by subtle feminine touches that included silky white cloths over every surface, the aforementioned flowers in crystal vases, and candles in sparkling silver holders. The effect? Strangely . . . beautiful. Fuck. He felt like a chick for noticing any of it. “Such happy occasions, weddings,” Samnang said. “Nothing better than new beginnings.” He grunted to let their caretaker know he’d heard him. “Miss Eva is very excited for her father’s arrival, and that of her friend. I hope the girl won’t be late. She is, after all, the maid of honor.” Yeah. He wanted to honor her all right. “Uh, Mr. Vincente?” He blinked as Samnang appeared next to him, his whole face crinkling in a smile. “Please. May I bring you a drink? To relax?” The man’s bony fingers removed the now-crushed tablecloth that had laid so perfectly over the pool table from Vincente’s clenched fists. Shit. He was wired. “No, thanks. Uh, sorry.” Samnang flitted off, coming back seconds later with a handheld steamer, which worked wonders on the wrinkles Vincente had caused. He pulled at his collar again. The expensive black button-down felt too damned fancy for his Tshirt-and-jeans taste. But for G, he’d wear it. At least until the vows were exchanged. The new boss hadn’t wanted to single any one of his friends out as best man, so, being the

diplomatic guy he was, Gabriel had asked all of them to stand for him. Vincente, Alek, and Maksim would be at his side. He and Gabriel had known one another since they were little, hanging out at weddings and baptisms and shit, but it hadn’t been until they were in middle school that they’d become close friends. One of the first things Vincente had noticed about the youngest Moretti was his wariness when dealing with their classmates. Even as a boy, Gabriel had operated with caution. And Vincente had seen firsthand why. Stefano. He wondered idly if Gabriel’s brother would show tonight, but he doubted it. They’d been in sixth grade, and Vincente had been late for school that day—he’d had to drop his sister off first because their mama had a doctor’s appointment. He’d come around the corner, aiming for the front doors of the building, and had seen Gabriel, who’d been oversize even then, same as him, crouched down picking up his books spilled around the pavement, backpack empty. His older brother, Stefano, had been standing over him. No backbone, Stefano had said with a sneer as he kicked a math textbook just out of Gabriel’s reach. Why don’t you call Pops? He’ll teach you how to stand up for yourself, you spoiled little shit. With no reaction to the words, or the bullying antics, Gabriel had reached over, gathered the rest of his belongings, straightened, and walked away. As he’d passed by to enter the school, he’d given Vincente a too-mature-for-his-age nod and carried on about his biz. Ten fuckin’ years old. That was the first time in his life Vincente had known what it was to be impressed by someone. He’d hooked up with the youngest Moretti that very day at first recess and had been with him ever since, at his back, where he’d stay until one of them took his final breath. The sound of voices had him looking up to see Vasily Tarasov in the foyer. He nodded to Eva’s father, head of one of the most powerful Russian organizations in the States today. The guy headed straight upstairs, clearly anxious to hang with his kid. Vasily’s two heavies, Dmitri and Aron, could be heard talking with Vito, their own doorkeeper— enforcer—of the night, ensconced in the alcove at the entrance, his ball game on the small plasma screen set inconspicuously into the wall. How would Nika greet him when she arrived? Would she smile at him? Would those emerald eyes flash with remembrance of the last time they’d been together? Maybe she’d walk over in that relaxed way she moved . . . Yeah, with her old man trailing behind. He glanced up when heavy footsteps sounded and almost groaned when Maksim sauntered in. Great. Just what he needed. Ten minutes of the Russian’s penchant for riding Vincente’s ass until he wanted to throw down. Uh-huh. G would be real proud with them, clothes torn to shreds, faces and knuckles bleeding, standing next to him as Eva walked down the aisle. Maks spotted him and came right over, snagging a couple of carrot sticks off a tray on the bar as he passed. “Parents and brother were murdered,” he said before crunching the vegetable between his even white teeth. “Found in their home with their throats slashed. No forced entry. No one ever charged.” Vincente stared at the freak of nature. Guy was six feet seven inches of I’ll-fuck-you-up-with-asmile. His massive body was hard and muscled and covered by tattoos only another Russian mobster would know the meanings of. He’d recently begun to grow his hair out, after having shaved it clean off for more years than Vincente could remember. Maks was now sporting a dark Julius Caesar do that worked liked nobody’s business. And if it hadn’t? Who would have told him? Well, he would have. So would Alek and G. He and the boys would have ridden the shit out of the irreverent prick and been thankful for the opportunity.

Maksim crunched loudly into another carrot, his eerie silver eyes trained on Vincente as he waited for a response. “Could’ve been a burglary gone wrong,” Vincente tossed out. “Nope.” Maks held up his phone to show a guy with buzzed-off hair and eyes that said there was something missing upstairs. Nollan. Vincente looked a little closer and saw the weak chin and pasty skin he’d missed outside the hotel earlier. Guy looked anemic. He gave up on his study of the pic when the urge to growl rose up his throat. “Suspects?” he asked around a jaw that was stiffer than it should have been. How the fuck had a guy like that landed a goddess like Paynne’s sister? “Handwritten note in the corner of the formerly sealed police report fingered our boy as suspicious, but they never tracked him down for questioning. Murders took place in a small town in Michigan called Lapeer.” “How’d you get—?” Maks held up a big hand. “V. Seriously? You dare to question my expertise? And I’m not through yet. That was just a surface sweep of the most obvious channels. I’ll be digging deeper tonight after the par-tay. Speaking of, I saw Vasily drive up. Where is he? And there’s a cab traveling the drive as we speak.” Used to Maks’s tossed-salad convos, Vincente nodded to the stairs out in the foyer, even as his gut twisted with anticipation—cab had to be her. “Your Pakhan is up with Eva.” In the Russian Bratva, the Pakhan was “the boss” of the organization. “I hear Russo’s officiating. Bet that’s burning a hole in big bro’s ass.” Maksim’s mind had obviously moved on as he brought up their old high school chum, Lorenzo, who was now a detective with the NYPD. His little brother, Father Michael Russo—or Mikey, as they knew him—would be performing Eva and Gabriel’s ceremony. Vincente didn’t think Lore would really give a shit. “Probably has cops lining the freeway to see who shows,” Maks added. “If not him, then that other asshole, Smythe. Though, from what I’ve been reading, I think he’s been put on ODMC duty. And the maid of honor? Shouldn’t she be here by now? Or is that the cab?” His crooked, baiting smirk, surrounded by that precisely trimmed goatee, made Vincente want to knuckle it off his face as the offhand comment came zinging his way. Instead of throwing down, he looked at his Breitling again. “She—” The doorbell chimed, interrupting him, and his body began humming like a tuning fork. “Ooh! I’ll get it!” Maks exclaimed in a sarcastic voice. Vincente shot out a hand and clamped on to Maks’s python of a bicep. “Don’t fuckin’ push me tonight, Kirov,” he warned as he shoved the guy out of the way and headed for the door himself, already hearing Vito’s greeting. The hot lava that was once Vincente’s blood traveled swiftly, heading straight to his groin at the sound of a breathless, musical “Hi.” Fuck. That voice. He stalled out just before he reached the entrance, his legs refusing to work anymore. His eyes slid closed; his chest constricted at the symphonic sound. How many times during the past weeks had he needed to hear it? “I’m Nika Paynne. Eva’s friend.” He heard the smile in Vito’s voice as he replied, “Turn left at the top of the stairs, bambina. Second door on your right. She asked that you go up as soon as you arrive.” “Thank you.” “No problem. Oh, hang on. It says here there should be two?” “There’s been a change of plans. I’m on my own.” Unmistakable relief coated her words. “Good deal. Up you go.”

Yeah. No shit, good deal. Vito, Dmitri, and Aron were probably drooling down their chins at the sight of those striking green eyes that could singe you with a single glance. And, no, he wasn’t struggling to process what Nika “being on her own” meant. “You’re just going to stand here?” Maksim’s stage whisper came from just over his right shoulder. Vincente barely heard him as she came into view. She clicked her way across the spacious foyer, moving like a relaxed cat, that bright hair like waves of sunshine and warmth flirting all the way down to her lower back as she began her ascent to the second floor. And, boy, was he the one now drooling. Holy hell was he drooling. She wore a gold dress that would have made Oscar proud, the clingy thing reached mid—creamy, toned—thigh. Christ, her legs were spectacular. She had another of those silky wraps like the one she’d worn in Seattle, only tonight the shimmery little beauty was hanging over her arm. She must chill easily. His teeth clacked together when his gaze zeroed in on that sensitive spot at the back of her knee. She went up another step, and her shoes caught his eye. He had to adjust himself at the sight of those four-inch gold stilettos. Sexy yet classy. “Impressive,” Maks remarked as Nika disappeared from view at the top of the stairs. “Damn, V. That’s some iron control you got going on, my brother.” He was clapped on the shoulder and then found himself alone. Like Nika. Why had her old man let her come here by herself? Seriously. Was the guy fucked or what? The place would be teeming with single men in less than an hour. Vincente swung away with a nasty curse and slammed out the French doors.

Nika walked down the wide second-floor corridor of Eva’s new home and tried not to appear too impressed in case there were hidden cameras—something she would have bet on. When the cab had passed through the gated entrance at the road, she hadn’t thought much of it because her brother’s clubhouse was also protected in the same way. But then the cab had driven down what seemed like a mile-long driveway and pulled around to the front of the sprawling two-story house, and she’d had no choice but to gape. The motorcycle club didn’t live like this. The house was beautiful. Deluxe accommodations but not pretentious. The all-masculine ambiance was more than apparent, making her wonder if any of the men who lived here, aside from Gabriel, had girlfriends. The goons at the door had definitely given the place a mobster vibe. The one she’d spoken with, Italian she was sure, had been rather adorable with his long face and droopy eyes. The other two, who’d made her think of the movie Eastern Promises, had to have been Russian. They’d been much more intimidating. But looks could be deceiving. Sometimes the ones who looked the scariest were the nicest. Like Vincente. Taking her time, Nika admired the paintings she passed. She stopped in front of one, feeling her cheeks heat at how sexual it appeared despite angels and cherubs being the subject. She reached out and ran her finger over the glass case that sat on the table beneath the picture. Sitting protected and proud was a miniature Harley-Davidson model that Caleb would have loved—a Softail Deluxe if she wasn’t mistaken. Who was the collector? Vincente maybe? He’d worn a gorgeous leather duster every time she’d seen him. Not that that meant anything, but bikes and leather usually went hand in hand.

Her limbs weakened slightly with an anticipation she had no business feeling, a reaction she almost missed around the nerves crowding her system. She should be focusing on Kevin and that damned memory stick—not a brooding mobster. In a few short hours she might have her and her brother’s freedom in the palm of her hand. They could be in the clear by morning. Trying not to let her hopes get too far up there in case she was wrong about what she’d seen Kevin do in the hotel room, she continued on down the hallway, only to falter when the door she’d been standing across from swung open. The handsome Asian man that was always hanging behind Gabriel stepped out. His almondshaped dark eyes were sharp, his expression tight, but he relaxed when he saw her. “Hello, Nika,” he greeted her in the smooth, laid-back tone she remembered from Seattle. “Hi, Quan. Nice to see you again.” “And under better circumstances.” He tipped his chin, indicating a door farther down on the opposite side of the hallway. Still twenty feet away. “Eva was worried you might not make it.” “I wouldn’t miss her wedding for anything.” “That’s what Gabriel told her.” He flashed a toothpaste-commercial smile. “I won’t keep you.” He nodded, and she moved on as he disappeared into his room once more. She knocked when she reached the correct door, and a stranger opened it for her. A tall darkhaired man she’d yet to meet, but she knew who he was. Eva’s father. Vasily Tarasov had left Eva and her mom after Eva was born, hoping to protect them from his mafia ties. But he’d always remained in the background, keeping a watch on them from afar, until Eva’s mother had been killed in a car crash a couple of months ago. That’s when Vasily had made his presence known to his daughter. “Nika,” he said with a smile that killed it. Having celebrated his forty-fourth birthday only a week ago, his dark hair and striking blue eyes mirrored Eva’s. God, he was stupid handsome. “Mr. Tarasov?” He nodded and held out his hand. “Vasily, please. Come in,” he invited after she shook it. “It’s nice to finally meet you. My daughter speaks very highly of you.” “You as—” Eva came out of nowhere and threw herself into Nika’s arms as her father closed the door. “You’re here,” her best friend whispered while Nika tried not to cringe in discomfort at the tight embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here.” “She was worried you wouldn’t make it,” Vasily said wryly. Nika swallowed the lump that rose in her throat and stroked her hand down her friend’s silky black hair. “Wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” she said quietly. She and Eva had been best friends since seventh grade, and there wasn’t another person on this earth, other than Caleb, who Nika loved and trusted more. They’d gone through high school and onto college together but had been separated when Eva moved to New York to transfer to Columbia. The beautiful smart-ass. “Can I get you girls anything before I head downstairs?” Vasily asked as Eva stepped back with a slight frown. “No. I think we’re okay,” she said distractedly, eyeing Nika’s dress. She turned to her father. “We’ll see you in a few minutes.” “Okay. If you change your mind about what we spoke of earlier, let me know. I know I said I wouldn’t give you away, and I still won’t, but I will walk you down whatever makeshift aisle Samnang has put together.” Eva smiled. “I know you would. But I think we’ll stick to the plan. You understand—don’t you, Daddy? I don’t want you to be hurt by my decision.”

Vasily frowned. “Eva. This is your wedding. And I already told you, if you’re happy, I’m happy. I just wanted you to know the option is there.” He kissed his daughter on the top of her head and nodded at Nika before leaving. “Is everything okay?” Nika asked when Eva stared at the closed door a moment too long. “Yeah. I just hope he’s being honest with me. I told him I didn’t want—” Her fingers came up to cover her mouth, and she shook her head. “Sorry,” she said as if through a tight throat. Nika clasped her free hand and understood immediately. “Your mom.” “I don’t want to do this without her.” Eva’s attempted laugh came out more as a sob. “It seems so cold of me to be having even such an informal wedding this soon after her death. I would have been happy to go to a justice of the peace, but I wouldn’t do that to Gabriel. He deserves more than that.” “I’m sure he understands.” “He does. I told him that when I used to think about my wedding day, my mom was always such a huge part of it. She was supposed to walk me down the aisle.” She coughed and dabbed under her eyes, blinking quickly. “I feel bad for my father, but I just can’t bring myself to give that job to someone else— not even him. I’ll walk in alone. That way she’s next to me, even if only symbolically.” “Oh, Eva.” Nika kissed her friend’s cheek with a loud smack. She sniffled through another hug and couldn’t help but be grateful her own parents hadn’t witnessed her sham of a wedding. Eva cleared her throat and reached for a tissue from the box on the coffee table behind them. “Okay. Enough of that. Uh, is Kevin downstairs?” she asked in that careful voice she and Caleb used whenever they asked about him. “No. He went to see his cousin. I’m on my own.” For good, if all goes well later, she added to herself. “Really?” Eva’s eyes widened at the news with a slowly revealed joy. Nika smiled and nodded back. She had to be careful. The last time they’d been together, before Eva’s ordeal at the hands of Stefano and his underboss, Furio, Nika had admitted her hatred of Kevin. The past couple of weeks, she’d been putting off talking about why she’d said what she had when they’d spoken by phone, but if Eva cornered her and pressed the issue, she wasn’t sure what she could say to explain it away. “Okay. At least you’ll be able to relax. That’s good. And stop looking at me like that. I’m not going to ruin your night by asking about it. Now, come see your dress.” Eva reached out and snagged her wrist to drag her across the large bedroom and into a massive closet. “I’ll need you to do my hair; then we can change and go down.” Nika held her breath as Eva unzipped a white garment bag. Inside hung a gorgeous shimmering olive-green creation. The simplicity of the dress added to its beauty. It would be knee-length and fit slim but not tight. It had capped sleeves that were littered with tiny beads that sparkled like stars. Nika reached out and turned it . . . and tried not to groan out loud when she saw three long crescent-shaped slits cut out on the upper back. Shit. She pasted a smile on her face and attempted to gush. “It’s gorgeous, Eva. I love the color.” “You sure?” She tried harder. “Absolutely. It’s perfect. Did you choose this shade to complement my hair or Gabriel’s eyes?” She quirked her brow. Gabriel had mossy-green eyes. “Both?” “That’s what I thought. Well, you did great.” She unhooked the hanger and folded it over her arm. “I, uh, need to use the washroom, so I might as well change at the same time.” She held tightly on to the black wrap she was now thanking God she’d had the foresight to bring with her. “Good idea. It’s right across there.” Eva motioned out into the bedroom. “Let me know if you need

a hand with the zip—it looks like it could be awkward to reach.” Nika nodded, but she knew she’d become a contortionist before asking anyone for help dressing her. She was walking out of the luxurious bathroom only minutes later, her gold dress now in the garment bag, her black wrap, unfortunately, hiding what was a beautiful bridesmaid dress. “You can’t wear that.” Eva was standing in the middle of the bedroom, frowning at the wrap. “Take it off and let me see. The gold shoes actually match perfectly, but if you don’t think so, I have silver ones in the closet.” “I’m good with these and this.” She snuggled into the wrap. “Everywhere I go I’m frozen lately. I need all the help I can get, so leave me alone.” She made a playful shooing motion. “I’ll show the dress off once I’ve warmed up. Now sit.” She tossed her spare dress to the bed and motioned to the chair Eva had already placed in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. “The resemblance between you and your dad is ridiculous,” she added as a distraction. “Tell me how things are going. Is he nice?” Eva went over and adjusted the thermostat on the wall before coming back to sit. She started chattering enthusiastically, if a little nervously, about her father and the ease with which they’d slipped into a comfortable relationship. Nika breathed a sigh of relief and started styling her hair.

CHAPTER 4

Thirty minutes later, Nika was descending the stairs beside Eva, looking enviously down at the expression on the groom’s face as he waited at the bottom. He clearly approved of his future wife’s wedding night appearance. So did Nika. Her best friend had never looked so beautiful. Nika had given Eva’s straight onyx hair some loose waves, and it fell in a shiny mass over her bare shoulders and down to the middle of her back. The wedding dress she’d chosen had thin straps holding up the white satin that flowed in a smooth, straight line down her slim figure. The cowl neckline showed no cleavage—as was Eva’s way—and the hem was a tad longer at the back to give it a short train. Her jewelry was a pair of diamond earrings and matching bracelet—a wedding gift from her father. Eva had said she’d almost choked the night before when he’d presented her with the “blue box.” Nika’s favorite, though, was the fine gold ankle bracelet Eva wore that was hidden beneath the hem of her dress. It had been her mom’s, and Eva said when Vasily had seen it, he’d quietly shared with his daughter the story of how he’d presented that very anklet to Kathryn in the hospital only hours after she’d given birth to Eva. Nika was sure her friend would never take it off. “Isn’t it customary not to see the groom until just before the ceremony?” she murmured to the nowblushing bride. “It is just before the ceremony,” Eva reasoned. “We’ll be starting in a few minutes.” Remembering what the absence of her mother meant to Eva, Nika shut it and silently swooned at the tenderness with which Gabriel greeted his bride when they reached him at the foot of the stairs. He cupped Eva’s face in his large hands and kissed her twice, soft as a whisper. The guy was freaking huge. “You’re spectacular,” he said quietly against Eva’s lips. “So are you,” she replied, running her hand down his chest. “Thank you for not wearing the tux.” “Thank you for not making me.” Gabriel turned to Nika and nodded his dark head. He kissed her cheek. “You look lovely, Nika. We’re glad you made it.” Clearly no one had thought she was going to show. Damn Kevin and his refusal to allow her to see her loved ones. She’d had to beg off or cancel plans so often she obviously had a reputation for it now. “Is my brother here yet?” she asked, looking beyond the empty foyer. Gabriel tilted his chin behind him. “He and Vex are already inside the main room.” He held an arm out to each of them and brought them across the honey-colored marble tile of the foyer to enter a large, stunningly decorated, room that was well occupied. Caleb and Vex excused themselves from a conversation they were having with a man Nika suspected, from the various news updates Eva had given her, was Lucian Fane. Lucian was an extremely wealthy, influential businessman who wore power like a shroud. Reports claimed he had questionable business practices. Intimidated,

Nika didn’t even make eye contact with him. Maksim Kirov and Alekzander Tarasov nodded from where they stood beneath a beautiful painting of what was unmistakably Lake Como, Italy. Quan stood to the side of the entrance, with a younger guy that looked a lot like Gabriel. Four other men Nika also didn’t recognize were scattered around, eyes intent, bodies at the ready. For what, she hoped she never found out. “Hey.” Nika was taken up in another of those hugs that had her struggling not to groan, but it was one she returned with even more strength and affection than she’d given Eva. She inhaled her brother’s scent— traces of motor oil and leather but with a touch of cologne tonight. God, she’d missed him. Loved him something stupid. “You look beautiful, Nik,” Caleb said quietly, kissing her on the forehead as if she were still ten years old. She kissed him back, wiping at the gloss she left behind on his cheek. “Thanks. So do you.” It felt as though they hadn’t seen each other in months, when it had only been a few weeks. He looked around distractedly, his espresso-colored eyes cold. “Where is he?” “Not here.” She felt good saying it. His gaze flipped to hers. “What?” “He had something else to do.” Warmth made an appearance, and she got her brother’s real smile, crinkled eyes and all. He was the beautiful one. He looked so much like their dad, with his short dark hair and brown eyes, only their father hadn’t been tattooed. But they did share that strong jaw and cheerful disposition. “That’s good. That’s real good.” Caleb gave her arm a squeeze and went over to greet the others, earning a glare from Gabriel when he gave Eva the same type of greeting he’d just given her. She held tightly to her wrap and suffered through one more hug from Vex. “How are you, lovely?” asked the big blond. With his near-shaggy hair and vibrant blue eyes, he looked more like a surfer than the president of a notorious biker club. “I’m doing okay. You?” He loosened his hold but didn’t release her. Oddly, he tilted her chin back with a knuckle and peered down at her. What was this? “I think everyone’s a little better now that you’re here,” he said before breaking the weird contact and turning to Eva’s father, who’d just strolled over. “Vasily.” He extended his hand. “Hey, kid. Shouldn’t you be elbows deep in a carburetor somewhere?” “My toys will still be there when I get home,” he chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you that’s how it would go down? Minute they walked in, the lineup formed.” Maksim, who’d just joined them, grinned, his unusual silver eyes flashing wickedly. “Come here, malishka.” He pulled an eye-rolling Eva in for an affectionate embrace. “Allow me one last grope before you completely destroy me by marrying this . . . angry-looking Italian. What’s wrong, G? It was just an innocent hug, as much as I’m sure your woman wishes it wasn’t. No chaperone this evening? I should take advantage.” Nika blinked when she realized that last bit had been aimed at her. The way Maksim bounced from topic to topic at warp speed was like watching multiple TV shows at the same time. She wanted to curse when she felt her cheeks heat. Red hair and a blush did not go well together. She accepted a lingering kiss that landed a little too close to the corner of her mouth—the guy smelled great—and tried to keep her smile natural. She was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed. She straightened her wrap again, worried it might slip and reveal something it shouldn’t with all the touchyfeely going on. “Are you okay?” Eva whispered at her elbow. “You look flushed.”

“Oh, uh, I’m good. I’m just not used to being mauled.” She cringed inside at the way that sounded. She should be used to it. Kevin had mauled her breast only hours ago. The fact he was completely impotent with her was the one blessing in the whole mess of a marriage. But that didn’t stop his roving hands. She shuddered from the memory of that unwanted touch. “So, you ready?” she asked for probably the fifth time since arriving. “You are cold,” Eva exclaimed in hushed tones. “I can’t believe you have goose bumps. I’m trying not to get sweat stains.” She rubbed Nika’s arm in an effort to warm her up. God, if she only knew what had caused them. “Told you,” she mumbled. At least she wouldn’t have to defend her choice in clothing anymore tonight. “I’ll be glad when this part is over. I wish we’d gone to the courthouse.” Eva looked around nervously. “Really?” Nika said with mock surprise. That look had nothing to do with Eva missing her mom. “But I thought being the center of attention, everyone staring at you, was your thing?” It was no secret her bestie hated all the attention her looks garnered. Eva was drop-dead gorgeous and had been stared at for the better portion of her adult life. As a result, she almost went out of her way to be as invisible as possible. “Shut up,” Eva muttered as she started rearranging a beautiful bouquet of white flowers in a vase next to her elbow, even though they were already perfect. Uh-oh. Eva also went into OCD mode when she was anxious. “Don’t start with that,” Nika said softly, taking her friend’s hands in hers. “I was only playing with you. Everything is perfect.” She balked at the tears that suddenly glimmered on Eva’s lashes when she nodded. Shit. “Don’t you dare. Can you even imagine the ‘weaker sex’ jokes if you make us cry in front of this group?” That earned her a shaky laugh and kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re—” “Go for the lips next time, girls. Add a little hand action. A few moans. Arch your backs. And, yes, I could make you millions.” Maksim received identical only-in-your-dreams looks from both of them. And a grumbled “Fuck off, Kirov,” from Gabriel. “Watch your mouth, Maksim,” Vasily grunted, his lack of a smile showing he wasn’t amused. “Leave these two out of your depraved fantasies or you’re going to find yourself without the proper equipment to follow through.” A thin older man came over with a large tray filled with a variety of beverages. He handed glasses around the group, obviously knowing who drank what, and then turned to Nika and Eva. “Please, what might I get you ladies?” Eva introduced him as Samnang, their housekeeper, and asked for white wine for both of them. “I’ll come with you and—” Samnang shook his head so hard his brain must have rattled. “No, no. You stay. Aside from Miss Tegan, you’re the only other lady who’s been brave enough to take one of these boys on.” He chuckled as he turned to Gabriel, his tone proud. “And Mr. Gabriel, no less. Your wish is my command, Miss Eva.” Something in Nika’s chest jerked. Who was Miss Tegan? Could she be Vincente’s girlfriend? “I heard my name. Sammy? What kind of stories are you telling now?” A blonde woman who looked to be a couple of years older than Nika joined the group. She gave Samnang an affectionate kiss on his wrinkled brow. “Nothing you wouldn’t tell yourself,” the older man reassured her before hurrying off. Nika absently worried her bottom lip as hellos and kisses were exchanged. Who was she? Or more accurately, whose was she? Nika wondered as she shook the woman’s hand when Maksim

introduced her as Dr. Tegan Mancuso. “Would you stop doing that.” Tegan gave the grinning Russian an elbow. “I swear he thinks my occupation will get him laid,” she said to Nika, who felt herself relax, assuming now that this must be Maksim’s girlfriend—who was clearly secure enough not to mind him flirting with other women. “Not going to change your mind, huh?” she put to Eva, who shook her head and smiled. “I don’t blame you— he’s a catch.” Tegan winked at Gabriel and then looked around, her shoulder-length hair shimmering. “Where’s Vin?” The social smile fell from Nika’s face as if an avalanche had hit. Vin? Why was she so familiar with Vincente that she could call him Vin? And why did the thought of them together make Nika feel sick all of a sudden? “I’m going to grab a drink and go find him. He should be here by now.” Tegan walked away, curvy hips swaying, legs looking endless in a fitted black skirt and high heels. Nika was pretty sure the cerulean blouse the doctor was wearing had been “borrowed” from Eva’s closet. After giving Samnang, who’d returned with her and Eva’s wine, a strained smile as she accepted the glass, Nika took a huge gulp and wished for the bottle. “Who was that?” she whispered to Eva as casually as she could. “Tegan has known the boys since high school. She’s nice. She and Maksim are friends, like me and Caleb. Really close. In fact, she has her own room upstairs and seems to spend more time here than she does at her apartment in Brooklyn. Quan caved and is a permanent fixture around here, too.” Eva glanced at the men. “So believe me—I’ve appreciated the female company.” Nika nodded weakly and took another drink from her glass. She felt very much out of her element. Awkward in a way she never used to feel in social situations. Before Kevin, she’d have enjoyed all of this, meeting everyone who was becoming a part of Eva’s life, verbally sparing with Maksim, putting him in his place for his suggestive comments. Now? She just felt anxious and in need of a breather. “I’m going to get some air before things get going,” she said to no one in particular as she made for the open doors on the other side of the room. “I’ll come with,” Caleb announced. Knowing her brother was pretty much going to mimic Velcro all night, and not minding that in the least, she didn’t protest and led the way out into the mild night. She inhaled the fresh air mixed with the faint scent of chlorine from a huge, beautifully lit pool. “Oh, wow.” She went over and squatted to dip her fingers in, sighing at the warm feel of the water on her skin. “What I wouldn’t give to strip and dive right in,” she murmured to her brother, who’d come to stand beside her. “Feel free. I’m sure no one here would mind.” Oh . . . shit. Vertigo hit her at the sound of that deep, rough voice, and before she knew it, Nika’s equilibrium took a vacay and she started to tip. Caleb grabbed her arm and saved her from fulfilling her wish of dunking in the calm waters. He yanked her back and into a stand. With her heart hammering, Nika peered around her brother’s shoulder and looked straight into those near-obsidian eyes she saw every night in her dreams.

So much for escape, Vincente thought from his seat in the shadows as he held Nika’s round gaze. Holy shit. World rocked. With just a look. He’d gone into the main room a few minutes ago, only to spin and come right back outside when he’d gotten a load of the eye-fucks Vex and Maks were leveling on his redhead. No, not his. His inner Fan Boy’s. “Hey, V.” He nodded at Caleb’s absent greeting, his attention still glued to the guy’s sister. “You okay, Nik?” Caleb snagged the wineglass from Nika’s hand and came over to plunk it onto the table Vincente was sitting on the other side of, dragging her along. “I—I’m fine, Caleb. I was just . . . startled. I didn’t know anyone else was out here but us.” Vincente forced his eyes away from hers, settling them somewhere to the right of her ear. Okay. He could handle this. Be casual. Act normal. “Good you made it, Red. How was your flight?” There was a slight pause, and then her voice hummed into his bones with every word out of her lush mouth. “Uneventful. A little long, but I caught up on some reading.” He nodded once, figuring the coast was clear for him to head inside again—when had he become such a pussy?—and got to his feet just in time for his muscles to seize. A light breeze had blown from behind Nika, and he had to cough to hide his groan as oranges and jasmine slammed into his nostrils, the scent surrounding him, wrapping him in an erotic tangle of lust. Hell’s fucking bells. He needed to get good and gone. “Vex with you?” he growled at her brother. “He’s inside. You need him?” “Yeah. I wanted to compare notes.” “I’ll go get—” “I’ll get him,” Vincente barked, cutting off the offer. There was no fucking way he was going to survive being out here alone with her. Not without making an idiot of himself. “I can go get him if you guys need some alone time,” Nika offered. Unable to stop it, his focus came to rest on her again. That flaming hair of hers flowed like a molten river, contrasting beautifully with the black material covering her shoulders. He noticed this because he did not look any higher than her slender neck. A neck he wanted to bury his face in and just breathe. Caleb’s sister. Remember? In case you’ve forgotten, again, he’s standing right beside you. And you and your shitty life are not what this chick needs. “That’s okay, Red.” He cleared his throat and wondered where the gold dress had gone. She was in green now—making her striking eyes pop. “Where’s your old man?” She blanched at the bald question but recovered quickly. He didn’t miss the subtle tightening of her features as she brought a fragile shoulder up in a shrug. “He had other plans.” Vincente made a sound to let her know he’d heard her. And stared. So did she. Man, she was so beautiful he could barely stand it. Soft and delicate, and even though she had to be a good five ten in her bare feet, her femininity was undeniable. And didn’t that bring his protective instincts roaring to the surface like nobody’s business. Without meaning to, he took a step closer, which brought his thighs against the table, and nearly groaned when her lips parted on a quiet breath. Step back, dude. You forgetting something? The ringing of Caleb’s cell was a welcome distraction. Both he and Nika looked at her brother as he dug the instrument out of his pocket. “Sorry, guys,” the biker muttered, then said into the receiver, “Yeah. Aw, fuck off. When did he

call?” Their chaperone walked off as he talked, and Vincente wanted to grab him and yank him back. “I can see why you chose to be out here,” Nika said, looking around. “It’s quiet. Your home is lovely, Vincente.” So are you. “Thanks.” Something small flapped overhead too fast for them to see, but it was clear enough to be heard. He looked at Nika, waiting for her to duck and shriek, but all she did was smile a little. “Bats?” she questioned, walking out from under the overhang to look up. “Yeah. That time of year.” “Cute little things.” His brow quirked. “Cute?” She glanced over and then away. “Eva and I used to work at her mom’s dress shop during the summers. One day we came to work and found a bat had somehow gotten in overnight. We went to the sushi place across the street to decide what to do, and the owner heard us talking about it. He came with a broom and a clear plastic take-out container and caught the thing. Perfect, close-up view—his face was a cross between a mouse and a tiny dog.” She came back to stand next to the table again. “The bat, I mean.” She smiled and bowed her head as if to hide the million-dollar expression, and he wanted to curse because she’d robbed him of seeing it for more than a split second. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d scream the place down if one flew into my hair; they do have teeth. But”—she shrugged—“they’re relatively harmless.” He jammed a hand into the front pocket of his pants to rattle his spare change, and with his free hand, stuck a finger in and yanked on the collar of his goddamned shirt. “You an animal lover?” “I’ve never met one I didn’t like. Other than that skunk that accosted me, Eva, and her mom one night as they walked me home from their house. He was aggressive and horrible. And porcupines I also admire from a distance, though they usually won’t do you damage unless they get spooked. Caleb and I always had dogs growing up, but I haven’t had a pet since I’ve been on my own.” “You’re not on your own,” he reminded her. Or was he reminding himself? Her head ducked again, no smile this time. “No, I’m not,” she agreed in a subdued voice. “If they do show, call.” Her brother’s voice broke through, and he hung up, shaking his head and walking back over to him and Nika. “Our boy at NYPD said Smythe is gunning for us again. Jackass.” Vincente didn’t pay much attention to the griping. The cops were always somewhere in the background. What was news about that? He was more concerned with reminding himself that this woman in front of him was married to some fucknut and Vincente led a shitty life and had nothing to offer her. She was Caleb’s little sister, for fuck’s sake, and the guy was standing right there! And none of it fucking mattered at all. He still wanted to be wrapped around the redhead’s long, curvy body for a week straight. And given one sliver of a chance, he knew he’d take her. No. Matter. What. The knowledge was . . . Well, he wouldn’t say shocking. Because he’d always pretty much lived by his own rules, taking what he wanted when he wanted it. But he’d never done so without first making sure any collateral damage was minimal. In this case, it wouldn’t be. And he didn’t care enough about that fact. That was unacceptable. He usually held himself to a higher standard than that. His mother and sister would be ashamed. He had to keep his distance from her. He blinked when Nika stiffened. Noticed because she was all he was aware of. She took that step back that he should have taken a few minutes ago, blinking rapidly, her flawless skin paling. Her voice came out just a whisper. “I’m going inside. You coming?”

I wish. She turned without waiting to see if Caleb, to whom the question had been directed, followed and then disappeared back into the house.

Cigarette smoke and the smell of weed hung heavily in the air as Kevin Nollan walked between two large shipping containers and came to a clearing in the center of the run-down building in Crown Heights. He sidestepped his way around cords and strategically placed lighting systems. “Why didn’t you bring her with you tonight?” his cousin said over his shoulder as he led them to a disaster of a desk in the corner, surrounded by a half-dozen metal chairs. “She coulda checked things out. We coulda got started tomorrow instead of waiting another day.” Kevin eyed Darren, his fucked-up family’s resident videographer, wondering again if the guy was going to want in on the action once they started filming. Did he want a piece of Kevin’s property? His wife? The way every bastard who saw her wanted her? Like he had when he’d first seen her walk through the doors of the clubhouse in Seattle—the very one he’d hoped to one day call his own. Fucking bikers. Assholes hadn’t let him in. Caleb Paynne hadn’t let him in. He’d heard that prick tell the president of the Seattle chapter that he didn’t think Kevin was Obsidian Devils material. The president had agreed. Sonsofbitches. All he’d wanted was a place to hang. Boys to hang with. The brotherhood that came with groups like the ODMC. But they’d turned him away. Told him he could loiter but wouldn’t be asked to join their ranks. Would never really belong. Like always. Fuck them. He hadn’t needed them anyway. He had something better than brothers now. He had Niki. And Caleb Paynne’s downfall if she ever left him. Getting the evidence he’d used to bind Niki to his side had been almost too easy, because Paynne had jumped at the chance to play hero. The guy hadn’t needed any prodding to exact revenge on his buddy’s behalf for the scenario Kevin had set up. All he’d had to do after getting Paynne in the right place at the right time was hit Record. And he’d gotten a beautiful wife out of the deal. Kevin sneered. A beautiful wife who couldn’t even get him hard. She had a couple of times, in the beginning. When she’d walked into the clubhouse in south Seattle with her brother and that bitch friend of hers, Kevin had grown hard as a pipe. But he’d never been able to get that way once he had her in his grip. Not since Niki had fucked everything up, confused things, turned his simple revenge against her brother into something else. Yeah, he’d thought she was hot and had wanted her. But he’d wanted to get back at Caleb more. Then she’d made him fall for her. Made him value her opinion. Made him feel like shit for only doing what people deserved. What she deserved. He felt guilty now when he had to teach her a lesson the way his parents used to teach him and his idiot brother. And the fact that he didn’t like doing it made things worse for her. When he felt that pressure in his chest, he hit harder, went at her longer. But that was all her fucking fault. And Darren could go fuck himself, Kevin thought as he looked up from the tear in the knee of his jeans, that familiar pressure blooming. They all could. Except for the ones that would get a taste of his wife during the filming. That would teach her to look down her nose at him. To judge him for the shit he

did. He’d let these guys do what he couldn’t because he knew that for a girl, getting fucked by someone you didn’t know and didn’t want was as humiliating as it got. And for Niki, it would be several someones at once. It would bring her down a notch. They’d fuck her, and then maybe she’d see herself more on his level. And after the action had been filmed, she’d never see them again. She’d see Darren in the future, though, because they might have to make more than one movie. That all depended on how much coin this one brought in. He was still trying to figure out a way to have Niki work without spending so much time away from him. What if she takes a liking to Darren? His hands curled into fists at the sound of that little voice in his head. What if she wants your cousin in on the action? A warped fury filled Kevin’s head. He’d make her pay for that. “So where is she?” his cousin asked. “She went to a wedding.” The whore, he added in his head. Just like that bitch getting married. The one Niki was friends with. Nosey, judgmental Eva Jacobs. Should of taken care of her when she came back to Seattle last month. Driven her off for good. Now that she was here in New York again he’d lost the opportunity. Especially now that she was with that fucking guy who’d embarrassed him at the club in Seattle a few weeks ago. Couldn’t fuck with her now. Even Kevin recognized power when he saw it. And that prick who Eva had sucked in was powerful. “So, are we decided on four guys then? Or did you want the fifth?” Kevin’s eyes narrowed on his cousin. Did he want to be the fifth? “Four’s good this time around. We’ll see about a fifth next time.” Darren nodded, as if he wasn’t concerned. An act? “Sounds good. She up for it or is she gonna need a little convincing?” He picked up a small vial of clear liquid with a rubber top on it. The kind from a doctor’s office. “You use that on all the girls?” “If they’re in need of some happy juice. A few cc’s of this shit and they spread their legs for anyone who comes near them.” Darren laughed as he slipped the bottle into his pocket. Kevin’s imagination took off at his words, throwing up images of Niki, red hair flying, four complete strangers taking turns with her. Fuck. It was lucky they needed the cash, otherwise he wasn’t sure he’d be able to offer her up, no matter the lesson she needed. She was his. She belonged to him, and soon she’d realize it. He owned her so completely, he could control who she fucked and when. Then they could make that move he’d been thinking about. Take her away. Maybe down to San Francisco or LA. Somewhere with less rain. Somewhere her fucking brother wouldn’t be able to bother them anymore. But that took money. Money that this movie with Darren—and four lucky goddamn bastards who’d be getting a piece of Niki in that way he couldn’t—would give him. “Keep that vial on hand for tomorrow,” he said gruffly, pretending to adjust an imaginary hard-on, knowing it was expected. “No problem. So let’s talk details.” Darren settled forward, hand disappearing into his lap under the cover of the desk. “Thought we’d start with her tied up. That shit always rakes it in. Then I thought we might . . .” The next few minutes went by, the guy’s arm moving as he obviously jerked off while describing the different positions and scenarios for Niki’s movie. Kevin barely noticed. All he really saw at that point were dollar signs and Caleb Paynne’s outraged face when he learned what his sister had allowed herself to be a part of. A sister he wouldn’t be able to yell at because she’d be long gone with no trail. Kevin was good at that. Disappearing. He’d do it again, same as last time. But with his very own moneymaker at his side.

He was never going to let her go.

The sound of ringing phones and clacking keyboards tap-danced through Detective Lorenzo Russo’s aching skull as he added to the cacophony with a curse—no doubt his brother would have disapproved in that silent way of his. In Michael’s defense, he was a priest, so he sort of had to frown when the Lord’s name was spoken in vain. Just because it was ingrained, Lorenzo sent up a silent apology as he flipped through the file on his desk. He raised his head at a knock on the Plexiglas that allowed him to look out over the bustling precinct. “Just heading home for the night. Mind if I pick your brain first, Russo?” a fellow detective asked as he entered the office and flopped down into the chair in front of Lore’s desk. Sandy-blond, blue-eyed David Smythe. Fuckin’ idiot of the highest order. Looked more like a politician than a cop. “It’s what I live for, Smythe.” Huge sarcasm. Huge. “Was curious if you’d heard about the mass exodus out of JFK a few weeks back. A few of the big boys from your old neighborhood fled the city. Returned within twenty-four hours about a dozen guys shy. Any ideas where they went? What went down?” Lore sat back in his chair and observed the prejudiced Ivy League asshole in front of him. “Why would I know anything about it? Those boys are your problem, not mine.” “Just thought since you street rats like to stick together, and seeing as how your brother is marrying the new Don and his Russian princess right now, you might have some insight.” Lorenzo dropped his hands to his lap as if he were loosening up and relaxing. He was doing the opposite. His fingers curled into fists that he wanted to bop on both sides of his little brother’s stubborn head. Fucking Michael and his need to see the good in even those who most likely didn’t possess any. And, boy, did it burn to be left out of the loop. “I wasn’t aware Michael was officiating at Moretti’s wedding,” he hated to admit. “If you’re having a hard time, I could always head over to Saint Luke’s tomorrow. Ask him if he saw anything unusual tonight. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind tossing you a few crumbs.” The rosy flush that appeared on that pretty face pleased Lore more than anything had in a while. “No need. We have surveillance in the area. If anything untoward happens, we’ll know about it.” Untoward? Was this fuckin’ guy serious? “Change your mind, you let me know, Detective.” As Smythe walked out, tail between his legs, Lorenzo snatched his cell off the corner of his desk and started tapping. Long form, to get his point across.

Despite your vocation, you are a fucking dumbass. Be careful. Message me once your ass is out of there. Eyes are on you.

He hit Send and popped two M&M’s—the peanut ones—into his mouth from the small metal

container his sister, Ashlyn, had given him for his desk. The tin had a picture of a hissing cat that looked remarkably like Lore’s scraggy tabby; the caption beneath read, No, I haven’t had my coffee yet. Why do you ask? He glanced at his phone when it beeped.

My retinas are bleeding.

He couldn’t help but smirk as he shook his head and returned his attention to the file in front of him: a complaint received from the father of a young girl stating his daughter had been drugged and raped, and the crime had been filmed in some abandoned building by someone boasting of being a porn producer. A skinny guy who went by the name of Flash. Should be no trouble finding the perp with such a detailed description. Huge sarcasm. Huge.

CHAPTER 5

The priest had arrived, and everyone was slowly gathering around. Nika had just left a jittery Eva in the foyer and had taken her place to the left of the officiant, across from an eager-looking Gabriel and his friends, whom she did not look at. She tried harder to ignore the lead sitting in her queasy stomach. God, that look on Vincente’s face. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. The disgust she’d seen in his expression. Why did he look at me like . . . like . . . like I was some cracked-out hooker begging him to buy my baby so I could purchase more drugs? She ground her teeth together as Gabriel spoke with the priest, buying her a little extra time to calm herself. Could Vincente know she was still attracted to him? Had she not hidden well enough the fact that she’d been standing there talking about bats while wondering if his lips were still as soft as she remembered? That in itself wouldn’t have been such a big deal. Embarrassing, sure, but she was more concerned that he considered her to be a married woman. In a real marriage. To him, she belonged to someone else. So on top of already having kissed him in Seattle, if he’d sensed her attraction, he must think her a disloyal slut who had no problem cheating on her husband. The very thought made her face burn. How far from reality that was. But Vincente didn’t know that. And, really, his opinion of her shouldn’t matter. But it did. She stared at the father’s pristine collar, her heart suddenly heavy. Maybe she could talk to him before he left—ask him why God had turned his back on her. Left her to die inside little by little every day. She closed her eyes in an effort to soothe the burn that had settled behind her lids. They weren’t tears. Because she wasn’t feeling sorry for herself. Really. “Nik?” Caleb was next to her once again. When had he come back inside? She stiffened. That had to mean Vincente was now in the room. Judging her. Unable to deny herself the comfort, she snuggled into her brother’s wide chest for a second, soaking up his unconditional love when his arms circled her. “I really think you should sit down for a minute,” he said quietly, the concern in his face clear as she drew back. He rubbed a big hand over his short hair in that way he did when he was agitated. She shook her head. “I’m just tired and needed a hug. That’s all.” “I would like to start by saying . . .”

Her poor, worried brother melted behind her as the priest began and Nika snapped to attention, clutching the ring that Eva had handed her a few minutes ago. She pinned her gaze on the entrance where her best friend appeared. Through her blurring vision, she watched Eva walk in and begin her life with Gabriel. Nika shoved her own problems aside so she could give this coming together of two people who loved each other the proper respect it deserved. She watched and listened, and couldn’t help but compare it with her own experience. Her vow exchange had been a horrible, frightening night in Las Vegas. Had this not been Eva’s wedding, Nika didn’t think she’d be able to stand here and listen to what she’d come to think of as empty words. She’d repeated them. Kevin had repeated them. And they hadn’t meant anything. Love. Respect. Trust. Loyalty. Things a man and woman should feel and have for one another when they stood before an officiant and chained themselves together for life. Something Nika would never again do as long as she lived. One shattered dream was enough for her, thanks very much. If all went well, in a few short hours she would be free, and nothing—and no one—was going to take that away from her ever again.

Gabriel Moretti listened to Mikey, or, rather, Father Russo, as he spoke eloquently and too formally for his taste. “Some say love strengthens man and woman, but I disagree. Love weakens you, makes the strong vulnerable, because another has been given the power to very simply destroy you . . .” Fuuuck. He tuned it out. Didn’t need the recap. He was living it. Knew all about the power Eva now held over him. The power she now allowed his enemies—which he suddenly seemed to have coming out of the woodwork—to hold over him. Less than a month in and already he couldn’t count how many times that ultimate threat had been made. Not a simple man-to-man “I’m gonna kill you.” Always the more cowardly “I’m gonna find your Russian woman and have lots of sex with her before I take her life.” Not in those exact words, of course, but the idea was always the same. Eva’s body threatened and then her life. The one making the threat was neutralized immediately, by either his or Vincente’s hand, but the words continued to bounce around in Gabriel’s head for hours afterward. Because they proved that too many of those men they were weeding out of the organization had the thought to use the woman next to him as a way to send a message: they were unhappy with the changes he was making. Yet here he was anyway, selfishly binding her to his side with a till-death-do-us-part. “Trust. Respect. Loyalty. Three things in a marriage that are just as, if not more, important than the love a man and woman feel for one another. For betrayal of even one destroys all . . .” Mikey went on. Man, it was hard to think of the kid as a respected priest when all Gabriel saw was the scrawny little brother of one of his high school buddies. He pictured the kid chasing a ball Lorenzo had thrown into the alley so his brother’s innocent ears wouldn’t hear Maksim talk about how he’d screwed the Mancini twins in the school bathroom during gym class. When was the last time he’d seen Lore? He swallowed a snort. That’s right. The guy, now a proud NYPD detective, had been one of the first on the scene when Gabriel had called in his parents’ “murder.”

They’d sat across from each other in his mother’s kitchen without saying a word. Lore had known as well as Gabriel that none of them were going to find a goddamned thing, not even when the feds showed to take over the case with their puffed-up chests. The two of them had embraced in the backyard. You need anything, call me, Lore had said, even though they both knew it would never happen. But the offer had been a good one to hear. If you’re feeling really brave, go to Saint Luke’s and sit with Mikey for a while. Take care, Gabriel. Gabriel had left for Seattle hours later and hadn’t looked back. Much. Now here he was five years later, back in New York, back in the game, sitting on the goddamned Moretti family throne. A bead of sweat rolled down his back. No doubt Lore, or someone in his department, had eyes on the house right now. Or as close to the house as Maksim’s security system would allow them to get. His lip curved. “Honesty. Another important aspect of any relationship. Without it, you’re doomed. Why prove to the one you claim to love above all others that they are worthy only of your lies . . . ?” Thank God there were no lies between him and Eva, he thought as he looked to the side to see her respectfully listening to Mikey. A part of her attention must have been on him, because she immediately glanced over. The easy smile she gave him before returning to the service was as gorgeous as always, making him marvel that in a few short minutes, she would be his wife. His wife. “Move it along, Mikey,” he interrupted. “We don’t have all night.” Around Eva’s “Tsk,” the priest with the watchful, solemn gaze—even as a young kid—looked Gabriel straight in the eye and stated gravely, “No, we don’t. So let’s not waste what we do have, because one never knows when it will all be gone.” Eva’s fingers tightened around his at the doom and gloom. Gabriel scowled. “Keep the rest of it a little lighter than that, kid,” he warned with a kiss dropped to the top of his bride’s head. “No one needs reality intruding on a night like this. Got it?” The grin Mikey flashed was sheepish. “Sorry, Gabe. I’ll save my apocalyptic warnings for my brother.” He chuckled. “Do that. I’m sure he’s well prepared for whatever’s coming for us.” The ceremony continued, rolling out effortlessly, but Gabriel still found it difficult to relax. And he wasn’t the only one. He checked out Vincente in his periphery. Guy looked as if he should be in uniform and saluting a general; he was so stiff. A bright splash of color caught his eye, and he glanced to Eva’s left, where Nika stood flipping her hair over her shoulder in a gesture too measured for someone her age. Ah, yes. Now he understood V’s problem. He and Nika had had a brief thing in Seattle before shit had hit the fan with Stefano a few weeks ago. Looked like the tension was still there between the two. He smirked—been there, done that—and tuned in to the service.

Once the brief interruption passed—clearly the priest was a personal friend of the groom—Nika’s heart melted as Eva softy pledged herself to her man. Caleb handed the bride a tissue as Gabriel repeated his vows in a powerful voice. Nika then turned over the ring, and after someone from Gabriel’s side did the

same thing—she didn’t look to see whether it was Maksim, Alek, or Vincente—the ceremony ended. Nika breathed a sigh of relief and was first to hug Mrs. Gabriel Moretti. She wasn’t sure how many others got the opportunity before Gabriel snagged his wife by the hand and dragged her from the room. “What the hell are you doing, Moretti?” Vasily growled at his new son-in-law. Gabriel slowed to allow a smiling Eva to keep up in her narrow dress and high heels but didn’t look back as he veered left, aiming for a corridor off the foyer. “Need to see my wife in private for a few,” he said over his shoulder. “Start without us. We’ll be back.” Whoops and hollers from the men in the room followed. Taking a discreet glance around, wondering if anyone would notice if she snuck off to change back into her gold dress, Nika pulled her wrap tighter. A morose Alek started up a conversation with the annoyed father of the bride. Quan smiled as he clinked glasses with the priest and Lucian—two heavies who looked as if they weren’t sure what that odd expression was on the Asian’s face. It’s a smile, boys, she projected. Caleb and Vex were circling around a buffet table laden with food. Her brother looked over and noticed her observing him. He tapped his plate and raised a brow. She shook her head, not ready to eat yet, and his mouth twisted as he headed over. “You should eat something,” he said in a disapproving tone. “I will in a minute.” Not satisfied with that, he forked up a baby potato from his own plate for her to sample. Which she did because she didn’t want a lecture, and she nearly choked on it when she saw Vincente return to the room from wherever it was he’d gone. Good Lord. He was just too much, she thought, shivering at the sight of those dangerous black eyes hiding behind low-drawn lids. He’d grown a goatee since she’d seen him last, which lent to his intimidation factor—and was sexy as hell. This was also the first time she’d seen him without the leather duster he favored. If possible, he looked even more dangerous without the long coat swirling around his legs, probably because she had an unimpeded view of his solid body in the pants and dress shirt he wore, both black. Like his long hair, which looked so silky she wanted to kick herself for not having touched it when she’d had the opportunity that day in Seattle. She should have run her fingers through it, at the very least. Maybe fisted it in her hands as she brought him closer and deepened the kiss— Vincente glanced over on his way to join Maksim and another man she didn’t recognize, and she quickly looked away. She fiddled with her hair, twisting a lock around her finger as she tried to respond to Caleb’s question about the wedding. Why did the sight of Vincente still give her that jolt? She breathed through the warmth invading her limbs and wished it would go away. It was pointless, after all. There was no future for her until she found Kevin’s evidence against Caleb. And even then, it would be a cold day in hell before she gave up her freedom for a man again. Even one who sent her pulse racing with one glance and made a simple kiss as memorable as losing her virginity had been. And for all she knew, at this point, kissing might be all she was capable of anymore. When the time came to be intimate with a man again, would she freeze up? Or worse, freak out and have a tantrum because she’d be reminded of Kevin’s nauseating gropes? She didn’t know, and she certainly wasn’t going to experiment with someone like Vincente Romani. Vex joined them just as Nika’s cell buzzed against her hip bone, causing her stomach to bottom out and that little potato to make a large effort to come back up. “Be right back.” She walked away before they could say anything and remembered the bathroom Eva had pointed out earlier off the foyer near the front door. She practically ran there but wasn’t fast enough. The call went

to voice mail. She lifted her skirt and slipped her cell out from the strap of her undies—the only place she’d had to carry it since she dared not leave it behind—and didn’t have to look at the screen to know who had called. She quickly redialed Kevin’s number. “Why aren’t you here? And why didn’t you answer?” The furious demands had the hair on her nape zinging straight. “I’ll be back soon. It was a Catholic service, and you know how those can run long. They just finished.” She spoke quietly, hoping the walls were thick. “You have twenty minutes.” Her skin crawled at the unspoken threat. “It’ll take longer than that for me to get a—” “Twenty. Minutes.” “But even if I—” “Twenty minutes!” Kevin shouted. The volume of his voice in her ear had her eyes fluttering. “Okay. Okay,” she whispered. After hanging up with him, she called for a cab and then left the bathroom, trying not to look as if she was rushing as she went up the stairs. Thank God Gabriel hadn’t brought Eva up here for their private celebration, she thought as she entered the couple’s bedroom, throwing off her wrap and unzipping her dress as she went. She dragged it down her body, cringing at the discomfort her jerky movements caused, and pushed it over her hips, nearly tripping because she was still walking. Making it to the bed, she stepped out of it and unzipped the garment bag to take out the dress she’d arrived in. Weird how she was more concerned that she might get blood on Eva’s gift than the fact that she would be the one bleeding in the next hour. A sharp breath and deeply spoken curse made Nika shriek and spin around. She clutched the gold fabric as a shield in front of her nearly naked body, and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest as she looked into Vincente’s enraged features. He was standing in the doorway to the bathroom—must have been inside when she’d entered the room, which was why she hadn’t seen him—holding a small gift wrapped in silver paper with a tiny bow on top. And he’d just had a perfect view of the violent green-and-yellow bruises covering her back, triceps, and shoulders. Not to mention the even nastier evidence of Kevin’s previous beating on the small of her back and ribs. “What the fuck happened to you?” She was so shocked that he was there, that someone had seen what she’d tried so hard throughout the past year to hide, that her brain refused to work right. She struggled to come up with any possible reason for having the kinds of marks on her body that she did. A car accident? Too obvious a lie. A fall down the stairs? Didn’t have any in her apartment. A mugging? Wasn’t allowed out of the apartment to be mugged. “Er . . .” She had a last resort, but if there was any way around using it, she’d take it. “Who did that to you?” His demand was a near whisper so dark the hair on her arms tingled. He came closer. “Was it him? Did your old man—” He squeezed his eyes shut with a pained look that turned ferocious, as if he were about to morph into the devil himself. “Holy Christ. He’s a fucking dead man.” The words seemed to have been torn from his throat, and all she could do was stare at him. He was terrifying, yet she wasn’t frightened. In fact, his fury was so attractive to her, so welcome—to the part of her that yearned for a savior—that her limbs trembled with the need to launch herself into his arms and allow him to fight her battles for her. “No,” she whispered, thinking of the lump she’d felt in the corner of the suitcase. “No, Vincente.

This isn’t, um, what you think.” He couldn’t interfere now. Not when she was so close to ending this nightmare. A clock ticked in the back of her mind. She had to go. The worst thing she could do was allow Kevin time to stew. “Then you better tell me what it is, right fucking now, Red.” He wasn’t looking at her but behind her, and she followed his gaze to see their reflection in the window, him towering over her nearly naked ass! “Please turn around. Now,” she snapped when he didn’t comply immediately. He swung away, and she jerked her dress over her head as thorns of anxiety sprouted along her spine, cutting in and making her bleed. Kevin was going to kill her for making him wait. “Listen,” she said as she stepped away from him to wrap the green dress in the bag, more to keep her hands occupied than anything. “I have to get going and don’t have time to get into explanations right now, but I’m fine. Okay? It’s not a big deal.” Finished with her menial task, she went to brush by him, but he lifted an arm to stop her. Vincente didn’t touch her, just put that heavy limb up as though it were a railway crossing barricade sans the flashing lights. She looked up at him through her lashes and felt a rush of embarrassment she had no reason to feel but did anyway. This was nothing like the dreams she’d had where she and Vincente were alone in a bedroom, touching, kissing as they slowly removed each other’s clothes . . . She barely held back her cringe. Well, they certainly hadn’t touched—he wouldn’t even allow his body to come into contact with hers to stop her from leaving—but he’d definitely seen her in her pretty fuchsia push-up and thong. Only instead of seeing a desirable woman, Vincente would have seen nothing but the ugly bruises and healing bumps that covered her body. If he’d been disgusted by her out by the pool, how must he feel now? “You’re not going anywhere. Not until you talk to me.” “Why would I talk to you when this really isn’t any of your business?” she said primly, attempting to work the now-you’ve-crossed-a-line angle. She failed—it sounded a little too hysterical. “Moretti wants to know what’s taking you so—” They both looked over to see Caleb halt in the doorway that led out to the hall. Nika wilted. Is this really happening? Is this really happening right now when I have to get the fuck out of here? I should have been long gone by now. “There you are, Nik. What the fuck you doing, V?” Caleb asked, taking in Vincente’s stance, which clearly showed his refusal to let Nika pass. “She’s marked.” Caleb’s brows slammed down as he came farther into the room. “What?” “I accidentally walked in on her changing and saw—” Nika aimed a kick at his expensive Italian leather shoe. “Shut. Up,” she said through gritted teeth. And then more clearly, “It’s nothing, Caleb. Vincente thinks he saw something he didn’t.” “It looks like someone took a tire iron to her back.” She gasped at the betrayal and glared up at the Neanderthal. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared back. The leather bands covering a small visible patch of a tattoo on his wide wrist caught her eye; the half-dozen worn strips were not fancy but for the small charm dangling off one of them. A precious silver angel, her wings flared as she bent over, smelling a bouquet of flowers. Why the sight of that dainty figure suddenly made Nika’s throat ache, even as her jaw ground together at this guy’s audacity, she didn’t know. “Nik?” The note of alarm in her brother’s voice pulled at her heartstrings. “What’s he talking about?” “Nothing,” she insisted. “It’s a bruise. Big deal.” “Bruises. A lot of them,” Vincente supplied.

“Would you stop it?” She stomped her foot in frustration. As hard as she tried to come up with something acceptable to say, Nika’s mind remained as blank as a new chalkboard. So, steeling herself for a few minutes of untold embarrassment, she opened her mouth and nearly vomited around her next word. “BDSM,” she shoved out of her constricted throat. The silence that descended was how Nika imagined outer space would sound. Nothing registered in her ears but a buzz as her blood pressure steadily rose second by second. “What did you say?” Caleb’s face took on an oddly confused look. “Bondage and shit,” Vincente said. “I know what it is,” Caleb barked, and, bless her brother’s beautiful heart, he screwed up his face, not believing it for a second. Not that there was anything wrong with the practice— “It’s bullshit anyway,” Vincente added. “Playing with pain does not do to a body what I just saw. Now stop fucking around, Red, and tell us why you’re covering—badly—for that dead man you’re married to.” To save my brother’s life! she wanted to scream. Instead she snapped, “Thank you for ruining my attempt to make my brother feel better, Mr. Expert.” Her need to get out of there was suddenly a screaming roar in her head. Kevin was going to be off the rails. Unless she could somehow get that memory stick before he started in on her and get the hell away from him. “I’m going to find Eva,” she said, stalking toward the door. “She’ll vouch for me. She knows what I’m into.” How can I say that without laughing hysterically? She stalled and put up a hand when they both went to follow. “Oh no you don’t.” If only she could tell them what was going on and bring them with her for protection. But no. Because if it wasn’t the memory stick she’d felt in the suitcase, then the evidence against her brother was elsewhere. And if she showed up with these two and Kevin learned their secret was out, he wouldn’t hesitate to send that footage to the police and Caleb would go to jail. Her brother would lose his freedom and wouldn’t get it back until he was in his fifties. She couldn’t let that happen. “You two stay here, and I’ll bring Eva up. It’s bad enough you’re making me drag her into this on her wedding night. I don’t think she’d appreciate talking about it in front of her guests.” Nika spun on her heel and stormed out. It was all she could do not to take her shoes off and run. But she walked at a steady clip, without being followed, and made it down the stairs. Crossing her fingers when she reached the spacious foyer, and feeling guilty as sin because she was ditching Caleb, she went straight for the front door. She waved at the three goons and walked out to the low hum of voices coming from the living room. As she lurched down the stone steps to the waiting cab—thank God it had arrived—Nika prayed like she never had before that she would make it through the night.

CHAPTER 6

Vincente was rooted to the spot in the middle of Gabriel and Eva’s bedroom. Nika was lying. She had to be lying. Rough sex didn’t do to a body what he’d seen marring her statuesque frame. Holy fuck. When he’d first come out of the bathroom—after retrieving the gift Gabriel had sent him up for— and he’d seen Nika standing there in nothing but a bra and underwear set, he’d nearly fallen to his knees in worship. But then he’d noticed the fading bruises on her silky skin, the yellow and green and gray coloring to them, the raised bumps on her delicate shoulder blades—which meant, if they were still that swollen when the contusions were healing, they must have been worse than brutal when she’d received them. And the look of horror in those emerald eyes when she’d turned to him, of a tragic secret revealed. That expression hadn’t been embarrassment over her sex life. Vincente’s stomach heaved; his throat worked as he swallowed. “It wasn’t sex that did that to her, Paynne.” “What did you see?” Caleb sounded ill, and he hated to add to it, but . . . “Dozens of marks. Some old, some not. Deep and dark. On her bones—” He sucked in a furious breath. “What the fuck are we waiting here for? I know she’s lying!” Caleb looked unsure, but he still followed Vincente out. “What if she’s not?” “She is.” Vincente had learned a long time ago to listen to his instincts, and those motherfuckers were screaming so loud his head felt as if it were about to explode. To know those injuries had been put there by a man’s hand. Fuck. The power of his rage was frightening, even to him. Her husband had something on her. Nothing else would explain why she stayed with the abuser. Kevin Nollan, that sonofafuckingbitch, had something on Nika. He and Caleb hit the foyer, and the first thing Vincente saw was Eva laughing at something her father was saying to her. They were just inside the living room, and she looked over at their approach, the smile sliding from her face. “What’s wrong? Caleb? Where’s Nika?” “She said she was coming down to get you.” “I haven’t seen her since the ceremony. I was going up to look for her, but Maksim said you’d all gone into our bedroom and I didn’t want to interrupt.” Maks was obviously keeping an eye on the security cameras. Vincente looked around and waved over the man in question. “What’d you two do to scare her off?” the Russian drawled as he raised his vodka rocks and took

a drink. “She left?” Vincente questioned. “Why the fuck didn’t you sound the alarm?” “Wasn’t aware I should. Cab pulled up, and she came down a minute later. We going after her?” “Caleb and I will go. We don’t need a bunch of bodies drawing attention.” “To what? Why did she leave?” Eva exclaimed. “What happened?” A now-frowning Vasily put an arm around his daughter’s shoulders as Gabriel descended on the group, looking curious. Caleb rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands so hard Vincente was surprised the orbs didn’t pop right out of their sockets. From the lines of strain around the poor guy’s mouth and the pallid tone to his skin, it was clear the biker had accepted Vincente’s suspicions as truth. Dammit. He was going to fall to guilty little pieces any second now. Vincente knew what that was all about. “Paynne. Let’s go.” The biker’s head came up and he just stared, as though he didn’t know what else to do. And Vincente felt something in his chest hurt. No one, least of all him, wanted to see a man like Caleb Paynne brought to his knees like this. And Vincente knew firsthand the mind-numbing self-condemnation that came from failing to protect a little sister. “Go where?” Vex chimed in, the sound of his boots thudding as he too walked over with a beer in his hand. “What’s up, brother?” he said to Caleb. “You look like you just saw a ghost.” “We were right about Nika,” Caleb croaked. Vex stilled, his features hardening, and his blue eyes turned as frosty as Vincente had seen Alek’s do a time or two. “Fill me in, V,” Gabriel said. “Where is Nika?” He took over from Vasily and tucked Eva into his side. “She left,” his wife told him. “Paynne,” Vincente repeated. “Let’s go.” Vex stepped up, and Vincente shook his head. “You stay.” “Fuck you, Romani,” Vex growled. Maks moved in, halting mere inches from the ODMC president’s back. Father Russo discreetly made his exit. Thank God the kid could be trusted not to go hightailing it to his brother the second he left the house. That’s all they’d need is fucking Lorenzo breathing down their necks, wanting to handle this by the book. “Do you know where she is?” Vincente asked Vex, whose jaw rolled in a nice wave before he shook his head once. “Well I do—so Caleb and I go.” For some reason, even though Vincente had always liked Vex, he didn’t anymore. Could be because of the way the goof—yeah, he’d said it—had given Nika that overly familiar hug when he’d first seen her. Or the way the biker had stared at her all evening. Tired of waiting, he grabbed Nika’s brother by the collar and yanked him toward the front door. “You better take a breath and snap out of it, boy,” he growled into Caleb’s ear. “Take one more step and I’ll shoot you both in the back of your stubborn fucking heads.” Vincente stalled. Shit. He didn’t have time for this. He turned and met Gabriel’s cold gaze. “I want something other than ‘she’s gone,’ ” Gabriel said. Vincente looked pointedly at a now-pale Eva. “Tell us, Vincente,” she implored. “Nollan uses Nika as a speed bag. Saw the evidence myself.” Shock and horror swept the group. “Go.” Gabriel rubbed a hand down his face. “And make sure you call the boys for a cleanup when you’re through with him. But get her somewhere safe first.”

“Bring her to the clubhouse,” Vex said as he followed Vincente and Caleb out the door. “I’ll meet you there.” Caleb nodded and jumped into the passenger side of Vincente’s truck as he slid behind the wheel. At this point, Vincente wasn’t overly concerned with where she ended up. As long as it was away from the bastard who’d put those marks on her body.

Nika unlocked the door of the hotel room with the key—which right there showed what a classy place it was that they still used the metal trinkets—and slipped quickly inside, her heart slamming behind her sternum with thick, heavy beats. Her dread was instantly realized when she felt her hair being grabbed and yanked back. Kevin’s furious face hovered over hers, but only for a second. In the next instant she was flying across the room. She landed hard on the floor, skidding into the end table and knocking the lamp over. Fear squeezed what little was left of the air from her lungs as she kicked her one remaining shoe off and scrambled to her feet. Just in time to meet the fist that came flying at her face. At her face! He never went for her face! Which meant he was gone. And so was she. Hard knuckles connected with her cheek, snapping her head sideways. There was nothing, and then pain exploded behind her eyes. She fell half on the bed, half off, and fought with all her might when Kevin’s heavy body landed on top of her. “You are fucking dead this time. Do you hear me, you lying bitch?” he said in a low voice that terrified her. “Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you doing?” She scratched at his face, punched, landing a hard knock to his nose, then lifted her knee and felt it connect with his useless junk. He gasped and groaned but didn’t let up. His long fingers encircled her neck and began to squeeze, his expression vicious as he strained over her, blood from his nose dripping onto her cheeks. Black spots began dotting her vision as she struggled to breathe. He was killing her. He was really going to kill her this time. “Fuck you,” she rasped. She hadn’t come this far to let him win now. She pried her clenched fingers from his T-shirt and threw her arm to the side . . . reaching . . . reaching . . . until she grasped the fallen lamp. And with all the power she had, she swung it down on his head. The metal made a twanging sound as it hit his skull, stunning him enough for his grip to loosen on her throat. She sucked in mouthfuls of fiery oxygen and shoved him as hard as she could, just enough to slip out from beneath him. Scraping and clawing, she crossed the bed, but before she could make it off the other side his hand manacled around her ankle and yanked her back. Another fist hammered into her, this one hitting her in the chest. She could have sworn her heart stopped for a second before speeding into a damaging rhythm that pumped faster than ever. Pain was a thing of the past as Nika struggled to breathe, survival first and foremost in her mind. “You’re not getting away, you cunt. I’ll never let you get away. You belong to me.” “No. I. Don’t,” she gritted out. She jammed the heel of her hand under his chin, slamming his jaws together, and swung her elbow, connecting with his eye socket. Another grunt shot from his mouth. “You’ve never been like this, Niki. I fuckin’ love it,” he panted. Then he added, “And so will everyone else. You’ll see. This is how it’s gonna go down. You fighting them off.” He wrapped her hair

around his wrist and slammed the side of her head into the headboard. With his free hand he captured one of her arms. Around her sudden dizziness, she punched at his face, the ring on her middle finger slicing into his skin to leave a long gash that started to bleed. “They’re gonna slap you around, and then once they beat the shit outta your spirit, they’re gonna fuck you, Niki. That’ll be your debut vid into the porn world. You’ll be a little worse for wear,” he said with a sick smile as he twisted her arm hard and jammed his thigh between her legs, “but you’ll still be takin’ it right here from four guys tomorrow night.” Only if it’s my corpse, she thought through a tsunami of panic at what she felt on her thigh. He was aroused. For the first time in a year, Kevin had an erection. Because of the ferocity with which she was fighting him? “Nika!” Everything happened so quickly after that, she was barely able to follow. Kevin shot off her so fast it would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so tragic. “Nika? Open the door!” Vincente shouted again. She watched in horror as Kevin grabbed the suitcase and dove for the open window with the fire escape outside. No! Nika sprang up and lunged, her fingers closing in an iron grip on the cheap leather case. “No fucking way,” she wheezed, holding his evil glare as she yanked. He yanked back, pulling her with him, until she felt the warm garbage-tainted breeze from outside brush over her face. A hard slam against the door had Kevin’s eyes rounding with fear, and he shoved her, and the case, back into the room. The sound of his scrambling footfalls on the metal steps rang in her ears as Nika flailed. Her feet tripped up in the blanket that had fallen from the bed, and she went down, smashing the back of her head on the dresser behind her. At the same time, the door burst open and her brother and Vincente poured into the disheveled room. “Nika!” Caleb flew over, sliding most of the way because he’d fallen to his knees. God, she had to get the water out of her ears, she thought in confusion as she tried to focus. Her vision was blurred as hell; fireworks and black spiderwebs nearly covered her sight. “Knife,” she panted. “What? He had a knife?” Vincente’s voice. She tipped her head, or she thought she did, and saw him beside her. “Where is he, babe? Goddammit, Red!” he exploded. “Why didn’t you stay with me?” The tortured sound of his voice faded in and out. Why was he here? Did he really just ask why she hadn’t stayed with him? And had he called her babe? “Knife,” she mumbled again as she struggled to sit up through the waves of vertigo assaulting her. “What knife, Nik?” “I need. A knife!” She’d wanted to scream, but her words came out weak and slurred. “Here.” Vincente handed her an open butterfly. Bless his bloodthirsty heart. She took it from him with shaking hands. “Fire escape,” she breathed, wanting them to know where Kevin had gone. She accidentally cut herself twice, shoving her brother’s hands away when he would have confiscated her tool. But, finally, she sliced open the fabric on the side of the suitcase enough to work her bruised and bleeding hand inside. Her fingers wrapped around a smooth plastic shape. And Nika’s tears fell. Soundless sobs tore from her throat, racking her body as she pulled the stick free. She held it up for her brother to see. “I got it,” she whispered hoarsely, voice raw. “I saved us, Caleb. I did it.” Vincente’s strong arms came around her waist to pull her back, but she kept her eyes on her

brother. He shook his head, his expression a mix of utter confusion, horror, and grief. “Nik, I don’t understand.” She couldn’t dredge up enough energy to explain. Not with the heat from Vincente’s body suddenly surrounding her. Not with his gentle palm stroking so softly over her wet hair. Wet? Why was her hair wet? She saw his hand come away with a bright-red smear on it. It was then she slipped down, sliding like mist into the dark. Just gave up and floated away from her broken body.

Vincente watched the blood drip off his wrist and felt panic frost his organs. Without hesitating, he whipped out his cell and called Tegan. “Hey. Gabriel said you might—” “What do I do for a profusely bleeding head wound?” His voice cracked like a whip. “Something clean. Firm pressure. Lay them down. Who is it, Vin? Are you okay?” Tegan slipped into MD mode without missing a beat. “Hang on.” He grabbed a pillow that was half under the bed. Fuck that—it was filthy. He shouldered his shirt off, sliding it behind Nika’s head. With his palm on her forehead, he pulled her back so that his chest acted as the wall against the makeshift press. He needed his hands free to carry her. Snatching his phone back up from the grungy carpet, he talked fast. “I’m fine. Nika isn’t. Are you still at the house?” “Yes.” “We’ll get there as fast as we can. Please, T. Be ready. She’s . . . bad.” Why wasn’t the state of emergency siren wailing in the distance? he wondered as he hung up and stood. How could the hotel and the buildings around them still be standing through the funnel cloud that was warping his thoughts? Nika’s weight barely registered in his arms as he and Caleb got moving. “You okay to drive?” he asked the biker, whose eyes were locked on his sister. “We’re going back to my place, not the clubhouse.” “Of course. What the fuck did she mean she ‘saved us’?” Caleb asked as the color slowly, too slowly, returned to his face. “Gimme the keys. I’ll bring the truck around back. Actually, no, that’ll waste time. No one’s gonna bother with questions in this shithole anyway.” And he was right. Not one person—and they passed by seven of them from the room to the hotel entrance—even raised a brow at the sight of two obvious heavies carrying an unconscious, bleeding woman away. Vincente wanted to rage at that but was too busy trying to tamp down his alarm at how utterly still Nika was. The second he was in the backseat of his truck, with her body sprawled across him and Paynne flying out of Brooklyn toward Old Westbury, he was on the phone again. “What’s happening?” Tegan demanded. “She’s still out. Is that normal? Been about six minutes.” Please say it’s normal. “How hard was she hit? Or was she hit? Did she fall? I need something here.” “From what it looked like, she fell back . . .” If she’d simply fallen, would the wound have been so bad? “She was pushed, and the back of her head connected with a wooden dresser.”

“Okay. What else?” “She’s roughed up. There’s blood on her face, but I don’t think it’s hers. I can’t find a source for it, unless she bit her tongue or something.” Yeah. When that dead man nailed her in the face with his fist. The thought had him growling like an animal. “What? What happened?” Tegan asked at the sound of his rage. “Nothing. Just . . . reacting.” “Okay. Vinnie, don’t freak out, but she’s been unconscious a bit long. With a knock to the head, you should only go down for three or four minutes. Now, that doesn’t necessarily—” Vincente dropped the phone on the seat next to him. He wouldn’t freak out. He wouldn’t freak out. Breathing through it, he gently pulled the too-still, too-beautiful body in his arms closer and then thundered to her brother, “Put that fucking pedal down, Paynne! Get us home now!”

After pounding through the door Vito held open, Vincente stormed into the well-lit foyer of the house with Caleb on his ass and made for the double doors that led to the basement. Hopefully no one was— Around. Great. His teeth snapped together when he saw Maks, Alek, Quan, Alesio, Gabriel, and Eva, pacing around the door he needed to use to get Nika to Tegan’s med room. Fuckin’ peanut gallery. Except for Eva, of course. The poor little thing looked as if she was about to lose it. He could see it in her eyes. Vasily stalked out of the living room, his private physician, Yuri Davidenko, hot on his heels. Vincente relaxed that much more at the sight of the brilliant doc, not caring why he was suddenly there when he hadn’t been when Vincente and Caleb had left. Two docs were better than one. His steps didn’t falter as he aimed for the already open doors, hoping to push through those gathered. But Eva stopped him with a hand on his arm. Lucky. The only one he wouldn’t double tap on the nose for getting the hell in his way. “Vincente?” He looked at a darkly glowering Gabriel. “Later.” “Is she okay?” Clearly she hadn’t noticed her friend’s blood-matted hair. Also clear, Tegan hadn’t yammered the details around. Vincente still didn’t look at Eva. He couldn’t. “She’s unconscious,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Please, Eva, let me get her downstairs.” “Yes, of course.” Her voice shook as if she were riding an old-school wooden roller coaster. Vincente’s arms tightened around Nika, and then he was moving again. Down the wide staircase and through the living area with its massive sectional and mirror-backed bar area. He went left rather than right, which would have taken him down a corridor and past the theater room and two spare bedrooms and eventually onto Maksim’s suite. This way lead to the gym, Maks’s office, and their makeshift infirmary. It wasn’t Yuri’s mini-hospital where surgery could be performed, but it did the trick. He laid her on the metal table and got out of the way so Tegan—who’d pulled over a tray of instruments—and Yuri could get to her. He moved to the end of the table and clamped a hand around Nika’s slim ankle, for some reason needing the connection as he watched the Russian lift that gloriously bright head so he could

see her wound. “Fuuuck,” Yuri cursed, even though his expression remained impassive. “Did she slip away immediately or was she lucid for a time after the hit?” His words were clipped and professional, his English perfect despite his thick accent. “She was spacey but okay for at least three minutes before she went out.” The relieved sigh that reached his ears was a godsend, as were the words. “That’s good. Very good.” Vincente moved up the table, keeping his palm on Nika’s skin the whole way. Her foot, calf, knee, thigh. He pulled her dress down to a descent level and took her hand as Tegan flashed a penlight into her eyes, which were dull and murky beneath her lids. He looked down as he uncurled Nika’s fist so he could hold her hand and saw the USB stick. She’d been holding it so tightly, even unconscious, that it had left an indentation in her palm. He took it and stepped back when Tegan gave him an elbow to the ribs. “Outta here, Vinnie. Let us stitch her up.” Her don’t-fuck-with-the-doctor voice had him inching for the door. Shit. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay. Be here when she woke in case she was afraid. He didn’t want to leave her, the way he had in Seattle. How could he have done that to her? He’d failed another innocent he should have protected. He’d disregarded what he’d plainly recognized as fear in her eyes the day she’d kissed him. And he’d come back to New York and left her alone to deal with it. Hadn’t what happened to Sophia taught him anything about not being there? “Vincente! Out!” He turned at Tegan’s bark and almost ran Caleb over as he entered the corridor. “What is this?” he demanded, holding up the stick. The biker shook his head, his eyes on his sister. “I don’t know, V.” “Let’s find out then. Maks?” Maksim opened his hand, and Vincente dropped it in his palm. Everyone but Vasily and Eva followed them behind the bar to command central—Maksim’s computer geek’s wet dream of a room. Screens lined the walls, keyboards the counter. Laptops, towers, dials, and buttons covered every other surface. Fucking starship Enterprise. The techie flopped down into a huge black leather monstrosity fit for a king and popped the stick into a USB port. He pointed to the largest screen in the middle of a half-dozen others. “It’ll be here,” he murmured as he tapped away. “File’s only named by a number one.” Vincente and Caleb, Gabriel and Quan, and Alek and Maks were all silent as they stared at the blue screen. Vasily slipped into the room just as an image popped up. Salvage yard. Chain-link fence. No one around but three Obsidian Devil vests and one lone wifebeater. For nearly three minutes they watched the crystal-clear images, and in the end, wifebeater was dead. By Caleb Paynne’s hand. Enough evidence to put the biker behind bars for a very long time. Everything Nika had gone through—why she’d stayed with her abuser for so long—suddenly clicked into place. “She went through this . . . for you,” Vincente said into the silence that followed. “Holy fuck.” Gabriel’s voice was muffled by his hands as he scrubbed them over his face. “Dude. I’m fuckin’ sorry.” Vincente turned at the sincerest apology he’d ever heard Maksim utter. The frayed thread to his control snapped and the overpowering rage he’d been trying to suppress found the outlet it had been seeking. “Sorry? You’re sorry for him?” he yelled at his friend. “What the fuck for? He wasn’t constantly beaten and who knows what else. It’s not him in there possibly fighting for his life, for who knows how

many times now.” He turned on Caleb, all the vile hatred for bastards like Kevin Nollan spewing out with his words. “In all the times you went to that fucking prison she was living in, you gonna tell me you never saw anything to clue you in to what was going down there? Not one thing that didn’t fit? A weapon, or maybe a gag he probably shoved down her throat so she couldn’t call for help? But, hey, who would she have called for?” He left the answer to that one flapping in the breeze. “Why did you not force your baby sister to tell you the reason she stayed with an animal like that? Why did you allow her to hold you off?” he roared. “Because you didn’t want to deal with it? For her? You wouldn’t deal for her?” “Vincente!” Vasily’s voice was sharp, his tone filled with disapproval. He came over and clasped his shoulder, squeezing in warning. “That’s enou—” Vincente shook off the mitt as the horrors the helpless women in this world went through at the hands of the men in their lives, not to mention strangers, pummeled him. Horrors made a thousand times worse because guys like Paynne, or people like Nika’s neighbors, chose to turn a blind eye to what was going on right under their self-absorbed noses. How could not one person have noticed a sixteen-year-old girl getting pushed into a car while walking home from school on a bright, sunny day? He barely blinked at the change in his thoughts. Or had they, and decided it wasn’t their business to get involved? Had they heard Nika’s cries of distress and simply turned up the volume on their TVs to drown them out? First Sophia. And now Nika . . . His eyes burned, his voice becoming eerily quiet. “She suffered through his abuse so that you wouldn’t have to live in a cage. Do you get that?” Gabriel came forward. “V, I think you might be—” Vincente wasn’t finished. “What did you do for her, Paynne? What did you do to save your sister from that monster? Have Vex look into some bank records, almost a year into the marriage? Yeah. That’s what you did.” His vision shook from the guilt and remorse and self-hatred that suddenly crashed over him. “I would have killed a hundred men for my baby sister!” he thundered. “If I’d found her in time, I would have killed them all!” A shocked silence fell, and then his friends were cursing, the sympathetic sounds mingling with Vincente’s strangled breaths. Oh . . . fuck. “Knew that was coming,” Vasily murmured as he went to stand before Paynne. He grabbed the biker by the jaw with his big tattooed hand and put their faces together. “Despite what was just said, this was not your fault. Your sister was a clear victim here. But it was her choice not to bring you in on the situation. Probably the same you’d have made for her if the tables were turned. Do not disrespect what she did by making this about you. You understand me, kid?” When he didn’t get a response, Vasily bumped foreheads with the biker and slowly walked from the room. Vincente’s senses took their time coming back online, and when they did, he wished they hadn’t. What the fuck was he doing? Castigating this already-broken man because of his failure to protect his own sister? The indignity of his actions settled over him as he looked around, seeing the wariness in his friends’ eyes at the fact that he’d uttered even those few words about that black year that had changed him forever. “Caleb.” He reached out. “Fuck, brother. I’m sorry.” Holy shit. What had he done? Words couldn’t be taken back after they were spoken. No matter how much he apologized. He knew that. Vasily had been dead-on about this having been Nika’s choice. Vincente had embarrassingly made it about himself. Caleb’s cold fingers gripped his wrist, his coffee-colored gaze tormented. “You’re right, V. Vasily . . .” He trailed off, looking toward the door. “I don’t know.” He settled his gaze back on Vincente. “But

don’t you dare eat your fucking words now. Because you’re right. I fucked up . . . absolutely.” Vincente shook his head at that too-familiar admission. “I was speaking from a place I had no right —” “Doesn’t change anything,” Caleb insisted, his voice flat. “Yes, it does,” Maksim said firmly. “Vasily was right, whether you know it yet or not. Your sister took this on herself, chose to deal with it alone. That’s on her, Paynne. She’ll probably tell you the same thing. You’ll see.” The biker turned away, and Vincente had his first visual of what he himself lived with every day of his life. He saw firsthand what his friends were forced to look at every day. Guilt and an incredible amount of sorrow left over from an innocent girl’s tragedy. Something her big brother should have been there to prevent.

CHAPTER 7

Finding it impossible to interact anymore, Caleb removed himself from the company of Vincente and his boys. He shuffled out the door and down the hall. Didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere was better than where he’d been. He felt numb, his mind so full of this catastrophe it felt empty. And his heart, his heart was bleeding, rivers of blood, an endless supply to fill the aching pit of despair around it. What have I done? He couldn’t find an answer. Couldn’t make his brain work enough to even attempt it. His heart continued to beat, sluggishly, as if it were trying to decide whether it wanted to give that next thump. For the first time in his life, Caleb wanted to die. Correction. He wanted the oblivion of death. He wanted his mind wiped clean of the horror he’d just witnessed. A horror that had unfolded because of him. A tragedy he could have, should have, prevented but hadn’t because he hadn’t wanted to upset his . . . his . . . An image of Nika as a young girl suddenly filled his mind, bringing him back to their childhood, to a day when she’d wanted to join him and his buddies in the tree house their father had helped them build in the big spruce in the corner of their backyard. Nika had been too afraid to climb the ladder by herself, so Caleb had traveled the rungs one by one, keeping her skinny little body between his arms, her bright hair poking his eyes and tickling his chin as he’d sheltered her so she wouldn’t fall backward onto the hard ground. The worshipful look she’d gifted him with once she’d sat her eight-year-old butt down on the plywood floor of the fort had made his twelve-year-old heart swell with pride. He’d felt like a knight in shining armor. A sharp pain traveled up his legs as his knees hit the hardwood with a dull thud. His sister. His beautiful, charming, effervescent baby sister, whom he’d watched change during the past year into a shadow of her former self, and he hadn’t done a damn thing about it. His throat squeezed so tight, his breath choked off. He hadn’t wanted to make her any unhappier than she’d already appeared. He’d stood by, arms folded, refusing to push. Refusing to end her torment, so as not to make her unhappy. The irony of that was incredible. He barely felt the heavy hands jam under his armpits and haul him up to deposit him rather gently onto the cushions of the sofa. He glanced up in time to see Alek’s empathetic expression before the guy disappeared up the stairs. “She’s gonna be okay.” Maksim had come in, too, his accented voice carrying over the clank of ice

being dropped into a couple of glasses. “You’d be amazed how much the mind can handle and still manage to function normally.” “She made me promise.” He cringed. The words embarrassed him because they sounded like a defense. But he repeated them because he needed the reminder of Nika’s insistence. Of the reason he’d given his word and allowed her abuser to continue his sick game. “So many fucking times, she made me promise to stay out of it. I thought maybe Nollan was fucking around on her and she was waiting to throw it in his face.” He barked out a disbelieving laugh that he’d been so dense. “I should have done something. Anything. Should have dug sooner. Found something. But I didn’t. I didn’t do fuck-all for her.” He squeezed his eyes shut and saw again his sister lying on the floor of that hotel room, bleeding. “Hindsight, my brother. She’ll fuck you every time.” The big Russian paused as he splashed some liquid into the glasses. “She was trying to protect you. Like Vasily said, respect it because you’d have done the same for her. I find it fascinating the lengths she went. Sacrifice is not something I understand. Maybe you can talk to Gabriel about how he deals with the nightmares we all know he has about Eva being in that cabin with Stefano and Furio. His wife chose to go to her death for him and her father. Who does shit like that?” He chuckled and put the stopper into the bottle before picking up the drinks. “Huge respect for the ladies. Anyway, talk to Gabriel. See how he deals with it. If he does at all. Though, I don’t think any of us would be comfortable if someone else took shit on our behalf. None of us feel we’re worth it. True?” Absolutely. Never had truer words been spoken. But the bitter, acrid taste of guilt continued to trickle down the back of Caleb’s throat. “She was wrong. So fucking wrong to have done this for me.” Maks pressed a glass into Caleb’s hand before dropping into a chair across from him. “I think not. What-ifs, should-haves, if-onlys, maybes—they’re all a waste of time, my man,” he continued in that same believe-me-I-know tone. “The only thing you can do now is let her know you’re here for her. Support her. Tell her you’re grateful. Help her recover from this. And she will.” Caleb lifted his scorching eyelids to watch the intimidating SOB swallow half his drink. Then Maks’s eerie silver eyes met his own, and the knowledge and pain in that stare blew him away. “And a word of advice. Don’t take offense to V’s club-you-over-the-head approach. Guy was never the same after his little sister was ruined and murdered.” Caleb hadn’t known Vincente had lost a sister. Maksim filled him in on the details of Sophia’s abduction, forced drug addiction, and ultimate death by overdose, and how Vincente had rarely ever mentioned it, choosing to keep it bottled up inside. “That never-ending pain he’s lived with for over a decade obviously came out during that speech of his. Mark my words, Paynne. He’s going to try to be there for your little sis . . . the way he wasn’t able to be there for his own.”

Vincente followed Tegan into the med room. The sound of a ball game coming from somewhere seemed obscene, but it remained just a drone in the background. He’d wanted to talk to Caleb but decided at the last minute to give him some space. That’s what he’d want if he were in the biker’s situation. A whole lotta space. But then, that was him. In the end, he’d left Maksim on watch. “Ah, she wakes.”

He came to attention at Tegan’s softly spoken comment. Nika was lying on her side in the double bed they’d placed her in after stitching her up. He noted the vibrant sparkle that was normally in her eyes was missing, clouded with drugs. Didn’t like that. “Where is it? The memory stick?” Her voice was husky and coarse, the musical quality gone. Another thing not to like. Maybe if this kept up, he’d be off the hook and his attraction to her would die. Or not, he thought in the next heartbeat as she continued to hold his gaze. Warmth spread through him, traveling from his chest outward. Unable to stop himself, he lifted his hand and brushed a strand of her bright hair from the corner of her perfectly shaped lips. There were a few locks lying on the silver tray off to the side. Yuri or Tegan must have shaved a spot on her scalp in order to stitch her wound. Hated that, but at least there was no need for her to be self-conscious because it was in a place no one would be able to see. Clearing his throat, he dropped his arm and went into his pocket for the requested item. The image of her bruised body as he’d seen it earlier crowded his mind. She’d taken this beating on top of all the marks she’d already had. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to block the knowledge out and withdraw the reason for it all. The footage of Caleb would easily implicate the biker—his image captured perfectly, almost as if the security camera had been trained on him specifically. Maks was going to look into what that was about. Vincente held out the jump drive, but Nika didn’t even look at it. She continued to hold his gaze, an oddly perplexed expression settling on her face. She reminded him of an accident victim trying to understand what was happening around her. No doubt she was having a hard time getting her thought process to work around the meds in her system. “I’m not a bad person, you know,” she murmured, surprising him. “I didn’t deserve what he did to me.” “Jesus Christ, I know that, babe,” he assured her in a whisper, which was all he could get out around her words and that darkening lump on her cheek. “He showed up outside my office last September. It wasn’t even raining that day,” she mused, her expression far-off. “I hadn’t seen him in over a year. Barely knew who he was, just that he used to hang out at the clubhouse with Caleb. He was wearing this horrible plaid shirt.” She grimaced slightly. “Asked if I’d go for coffee with him. Said he wanted to talk to me about my brother.” She closed her eyes as she shook her head. “We sat in Starbucks, and he told me about some footage he had that could put Caleb in prison for the rest of his life. Then he got up and left. Said he’d contact me the next day to let me know how the situation would play out.” Her voice went a smidge deeper, as if she was attempting to imitate Nollan. “ ‘You’re gonna make me one very happy man, Niki,’ is what he whispered in my ear before he walked away.” Vincente’s vow to obliterate Nollan to the point where even memories of him no longer existed— after the fucker bled rivers for his sins—was cemented as he watched his redhead struggle through her story. Nika met his eyes and said solemnly, “Don’t ever call me Niki, okay?” “Never.” A vow he would keep until the end. “He said that same thing to me on our wedding night. ‘You’re gonna make me one very happy man, Niki.’ I thought he meant it sexually. But thank God he couldn’t do that. Not with me anyway. Tonight he could have, though.” She shuddered so hard her teeth chattered, and Vincente watched as goose bumps littered the flawless skin of her arm that was peeking out from under the white sheet covering her. What did she mean “he couldn’t do that”? “Until tonight . . . ?” he questioned hesitantly, dread snaking down his spine. “He got excited when I fought so hard tonight. He got an erection. That’s never happened before.

That was the one way God, or whoever was watching, helped me. I never had to suffer through sex with him.” Vincente blinked a few times, pretty sure his eyes were trying to tear up, whether in relief on her behalf or remorse over this tragedy, he wasn’t sure. “He made me buy two tickets to Las Vegas a week after we first met for coffee,” she continued. “The guy who married us was high as a kite. I don’t know how he read the correct words since he looked at my boobs more than the papers in his hands. But he did it, and when we got back to Seattle I was Mrs. Kevin Nollan. He liked to call me ‘slave’ because he knew I hated it.” She shivered again, and Vincente had to deliberately relax his hold on the memory stick before he crushed it to dust. For the second time since meeting this woman, he forgot how to breathe. Holy. Fucking. Hell. But this time, it wasn’t because of the way she looked. No. This suffocation was due to the negative emotions roiling through him. They were malevolent and evil and darkness and pain. Kevin Nollan would soon pay. “I’m not a bad person, Vincente,” she murmured again. “I don’t go to church, but I’ve always tried my best to be good, to help where I can—unless the guy sitting on the sidewalk holding up a cup has shoes that cost more than mine. Eva and I used to volunteer all the time growing up. She made stuff fun, no matter what we were doing. Did you know my brother has his master’s in special education? He’s such a good man. He went to Seattle University, and Eva and I used to tag along with him when he did his co-op at the Alliance. They helped us choose our cause.” Hearing an echo of loneliness in her voice, Vincente stepped closer to the bed and offered her what little comfort he could by running his fingers down her arm. “You don’t have to tell me this stuff, Red. I know Caleb’s a good guy.” Despite what he’d implied half an hour ago, he thought with a cringe. “And without you saying a word, I already knew what kind of person you were.” He touched a lock of her hair. “You light up the room when you’re in it, babe. What could possibly be bad about that?” She nodded but didn’t look convinced. Another tremble moved through her, and he looked around for a blanket, halting when she said, “Will you lay with me? I can’t get warm.” Before he could respond, she continued. “Do you ever feel like, even in a room full of people, you’re alone, Vincente? I feel like that all the time lately. It was so hard being the only one who knew what was happening. Sometimes, when he finished with me, I would sit on the side of the bathtub and wish there was someone I could tell, just so I didn’t feel so alone in it. But I wouldn’t do that to Eva. And Caleb couldn’t know.” As he identified with what Nika was saying, Tegan came over from where she’d been standing with her arms wrapped around herself. She moved like a shadow she was so quiet. He glanced up at his friend of many years as she placed a fluffy blue blanket on the foot of the bed, tear tracks on her cheeks, her bright-blue eyes shimmering with moisture. She motioned that she’d lock the door on her way out, and then she was gone. Sweat bloomed across the back of Vincente’s neck at the intimacy of what he was about to do. He shoved aside his unease and, without giving himself a chance to think about it—or pull a Bugs Bunny by fucking off so fast that all he left behind was the outline of his form in the door—he motioned for Nika to scoot over. She gingerly slid a little away, and he stretched out on his back next to her, holding his breath when she moved in to tuck into his side. Oh . . . man. He put his arm around her and closed his eyes to the feel of her softness pressing into his ribs, her long leg snugging up to his, her silky hair tickling his neck as she tucked her head under his chin. And the killer? Her arm slid across to rest on his stomach, as though she wanted to hold him right where he was. She seemed to need the connection to another person, and Vincente tried like hell to ignore how familiar that was to him. Seemed as if she’d verbalized what he’d been feeling for years now: alone in a crowd.

“I haven’t felt this safe in a long time. You’re so big,” she added absently as her hand slid up his chest so she could pick up his prized wolf’s tooth necklace and fiddle with it. She placed it over the black T-shirt Quan had gotten him earlier, since his shirt had been ruined by Nika’s blood. She then took a piece of his hair, twining it around her long finger the way he’d seen her do with her own. “I love your hair.” She brought it to her nose and inhaled. Vincente relaxed slightly and watched her. He didn’t think he’d ever done this with a woman before, just lay with her and offer comfort and warmth. It was kind of nice. Felt good. A little too good. If he wasn’t careful, Nika could make him forget all the reasons he should stay away from her. As innocent as being here with her was, it was also dangerous because she was making him feel shit. Nice shit. And that never lasted, did it? “How old are you, Red?” “I’ll be twenty-five in November. Kevin said that he might be nice to me on my birthday. That would be my present. He thought I’d be there for another November. Last year I wasn’t allowed to call Caleb, so he didn’t get to wish me a happy birthday on the day. I know that bothered him. My poor brother. I don’t cry very much, but I did that night. Maybe I should. I hear it’s cathartic. Cleansing.” Her voice was soft and calm as she cracked his heart wide open. Too calm. She’d been suffering through a hell most people couldn’t imagine. And she was this casual talking about it? She was gonna blow. He just knew it. Look at what had just happened to him a few minutes ago with her brother. The shit you bottled up didn’t stay bottled forever. But, as she’d said, she’d been aching for someone to talk to about everything she’d been through. She’d been alone in it for so long, it must be good to now be free to get some of the hurt off her chest— especially in her painkiller-induced haze. Even if that someone was Vincente. “Where are your parents, babe?” A little puff of air came from her mouth, like she’d snorted without a lot of energy. “Thought I’d imagined you calling me that,” she said faintly, kicking him in the teeth with the satisfaction in her tone. “I like it. Makes me feel good. Like everything with you. For some weird reason, you make me feel . . . something. I don’t know. Just something. I haven’t had much good lately, so thanks for that. Didn’t like the way you looked at me at the wedding, though. But I understood it. At least now you know I’m not a disloyal person and a cheater. I didn’t kiss you in Seattle and have a clueless husband waiting for me at home. I was never really married.” He hadn’t really considered her married either. Not really. But he didn’t mention that. The sound of footsteps came from the hallway, and he stiffened. Whoever it was walked on by, and he relaxed again. “My mom died of cancer when I was little, and my dad died of the same when I was eighteen,” Nika replied to his earlier question, unaware that with her every word, that vice around his ice-encased heart was tightening. “Poor Caleb got stuck with me.” “Your brother loves you,” he assured her, thinking of the raw deal she’d been handed in her short life. So much loss, layered under a degree of abuse no innocent person should have to live with. How the hell had she kept going? “I hate him, Vincente.” His brows popped up until she clarified. “I hate Kevin so much I scare myself. Because I want nothing more in life than to watch him die. Over and over again. He shouldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone else. There’s something wrong with him. He’s crazy. So paranoid and delusional. He refused to make copies of Caleb’s video in case it stayed ‘in cyberspace and someone found it.’ ” She air-quoted with the fingers of one hand. “He doesn’t even have a bank account or a driver’s license. Said he didn’t want the government to be able to keep tabs on him.” Vincente almost scoffed out loud. More like the asshole hadn’t wanted the authorities on his ass,

nailing him for his family’s murder. “I suppose that’s another good thing. At least we know Caleb’s secret is safe with us. I just wish I’d found it sooner. My brother doesn’t deserve to go to jail. I’m not sure why he killed that guy yet, but I know he must have had a good reason.” She paused and was quiet for a few before she went again. “When I got Eva’s wedding invitation, I knew coming to New York would save me. I knew Kevin wouldn’t leave that evidence behind. Is this what winning feels like, Vincente? ’Cause it doesn’t feel very good.” Heartsick, he attempted to quickly process all she’d told him. “It’ll get better,” he lied. Nothing had gotten better for him after Sophia died. Why should it be any different for Nika? “Why didn’t you tell Caleb what was going on? He and Vex could’ve helped you. Taken care of Nollan and then looked for that footage. Or Gabriel. Or me.” She was shaking her head before he’d even finished speaking, making her scent fill the air around them so that he got a whiff of oranges and jasmine even around the smell of antiseptic. “Because I wasn’t sure if I could believe Kevin or not. What if he was playing me? What if he wasn’t as paranoid as he led me to believe and he had made copies? What if something had happened to him and someone else sent the evidence to the police? I couldn’t trust him. And as hard as I looked, I could not find where he kept that stick. So how would Caleb, or you or Gabriel, have found it? For all I knew, Kevin kept it behind a trash bin two blocks from the apartment. If he was gone, someone else would have eventually found it and sent it in. I don’t know. Maybe I screwed up. Did it all wrong. I tried my best.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Hey, you did great, babe. Really, you did what you thought was right in a shit situation. Don’t mind me—I’m just thinking out loud.” Vincente looked down as he sifted his fingers through her hair. So many colors: a burnished gold, blazing russet, and vibrant ginger. The way she tilted her head so he could reach more reminded him of an animal begging for a gentle touch. He gave it but was careful to stay away from the area where her stitches were. Hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, he brought his other hand over and put the memory stick on his chest in front of her. “You can destroy it yourself.” She winced as she pushed herself up on her elbow, picking it up with a hand that trembled slightly. Damn, she was beautiful. “What if there are more?” “Then I’ll find them.” “Why?” He faltered. “Sorry?” “Why do you care? Why would you help me? Us?” Shit. If that wasn’t a loaded question. One that could easily backfire and explode right in his face. Thank fuck a timely knock on the door saved him from having to answer. “That’ll be Caleb,” he muttered, slipping out from under her hold, biting back a groan of disappointment when her body heat instantly dissipated. What could he possibly have said as an answer to her question? That his actions really had nothing to do with her? That he wanted to slay her dragons because he hadn’t slain Sophia’s? That would have been the truth. He did want to do that, for that exact reason. But it wouldn’t have been the whole truth, because he also wanted to do it for her. He wanted her to feel safe and free to live her life as she saw fit. And that had nothing to do with anyone else.

Nika watched Vincente through a hazy, pained stupor as his big body moved easily across the room to open the door. Her big brother stood in the hallway. Her poor, clearly guilt-ridden big brother whom she’d tried so hard to keep all of this from. Tears choked her at the agony she could see in those big brown eyes of his. The dagger tattoos on his thick neck rippled as he swallowed, obviously fighting emotions as strong as hers. She lifted her heavy arms and waved impatiently. “C’mere,” she whispered. He was sitting at her side a second later, pulling her into his arms. God, she marveled, he was so gentle for such a big guy. But even as gentle as Caleb was, this hug hurt like a mother. She dimly heard the door shut and knew Vincente had left them alone, and she appreciated that. More for her brother’s sake than her own. She was too out of it to care about being watched right now, but what guy wanted his buddy to see him crying on his sister’s shoulder? Which was what Caleb was now doing, his wide shoulders shaking silently. She held him as her own tears fell. After a few minutes, he pulled back, his thumb and finger digging at the moisture still on his lashes. “Nik, I’m so—” She covered his mouth with her palm. Her thought process was so sluggish. “Please don’t. Kevin did this. To both of us. There was nothing you could have done to stop it. I don’t blame you, Caleb, so please don’t apologize for something you had no control over. Okay?” She wiped at her damp face and hoped she’d made sense. To her it sounded as if she was talking gibberish. She must have sounded like a loon to Vincente. Her brother shook his head, shadows swirling in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have done it. Why? Why the fuck did you do this for me?” He cringed and shook his head again. “I mean, I know you did it because you love me, the same as I love you. But why didn’t you tell me so I could help you?” Tiredly, she repeated pretty much the same thing she’d told Vincente, minus the Las Vegas and Kevin being impotent parts. He didn’t need to hear that. “Nik . . . I don’t know what to say.” “Because there isn’t anything to say. It’s over. Except, can you tell me why you killed that guy?” Caleb’s face grew dark. “Remember Mark? The Seattle chapter’s VP?” She nodded, picturing the heavyset man with his salt-and-pepper goatee and shaved head. “That fucker assaulted Mark’s eleven-year-old boy. Sexually assaulted him. Cops said there wasn’t enough proof to put the pedophile away, and Mark was doing time for assault, so I took care of it.” “I knew you had a good reason. And if applauding you for what you did makes me a bad person, then so be it.” She handed him the stick that had caused so much trouble. “Please destroy that,” she said as she lay back on the pillows, hissing when the back of her head burned with pain. “What the . . . ?” She reached under her tacky hair and felt a small bandage. “When you fell against the dresser, you cut your head open. Tegan said she’ll take the stitches out in a few days. You were out for a while. Too long. Scared the fuck out of us.” “Who’s ‘us’?” Her memories were fuzzy after Kevin disappeared out the fire escape. She vaguely remembered having a hard time cutting open the suitcase, but that was about all. “Me and Vincente.” “Really? Did he say something?” She clamped her lips shut. Shit. She’d sounded too eager. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment. Caleb frowned down at her. A frown she recognized as the “brotherly” frown. “What’s going on between you two?” “Nothing,” she said honestly. “Why? Did he say something?” Eager, again! Grr. “No. But then, he didn’t have to. His actions spoke louder than any words he could have used. He was rattled. Big-time. Lost that impressive control he’s famous for. Was ready to kill Kevin—that was for sure. And anyone else who got in the way of getting you here.”

There was no denying the pleasure that dipped in her stomach that time. “Well, maybe he’s just a good guy.” “He is. Been through the ringer, too.” “How so?” Caleb shifted, settling next to her with his ear almost touching her forehead, because she was on her side. She snuggled up to his warm bulk, still so cold, and relaxed against his comforting presence. “Kirov said Vincente had a sister. Younger than him, from the impression I got. She was snatched off the street on her way home from school one day by some guys running a prostitution ring. They got her and the other girls hooked on meth and made them trade sex for more drugs. Really messed them up. Vincente found her body on one of his nightly rounds to the morgue. She’d OD’d after almost a year.” Nika could barely breathe, unable to even comprehend what that must have been like for Vincente. “Oh, my God, Caleb. I wish you hadn’t told me that,” she wheezed through a tight throat. “Poor Vincente.” Caleb briefly tightened his arm around her. “Sorry, Nik. I wasn’t thinking. Maks also said he thinks V is taking this so seriously to make up for not being able to save his own sister.” He grunted but with no real feeling. “So be prepared to have him hanging around. I, for one, am glad. If anyone can help us find that cocksucker, he and his boys can. Do you have any idea where Kevin went?” Nika shook her head as something that felt like defeat settled on her bruised chest. Vincente wasn’t acting like her watchdog because he might care for her in some small way. He was trying to salve his own conscience. She buried her head deeper into her brother’s shoulder, sighing long and quietly as her eyes slid closed. If Vincente helped himself by helping her, she’d be okay with that. If he found some closure by being involved in her mess, then at least she’d have had a small part in helping him gain a little peace, and that would be all right. Yet another thing to make the past year of hell worth it. Her eyes slid open, attempting to widen. “Eva. Oh, my God. I ruined her—” “Hey,” Caleb barked, startling her. “You did nothing. And don’t even think about apologizing to her and Moretti because you’ll get nothing but shit for thinking anything else was as important as what you ended tonight.” Nika wilted again and was pretty sure she smiled as she slipped into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER 8

A week later, Alekzander Tarasov grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat and climbed out of his Range Rover. As he slammed the door, he watched Caleb, who’d been a regular around the house lately, come down the front steps, his fragile-looking sister just behind him and a worried Eva behind her. Alek followed their gazes and saw a gray Escalade pull around the circular drive. Gabriel and Quan were a few paces behind the queen bee, and Alek noted the Asian’s hand going casually to the small of his back where he’d have tucked his gun, despite where they were. He needn’t have bothered. Neither Samnang nor Maksim would have allowed the truck through the front gate if they hadn’t been sure of the occupants. The rear door of the Escalade opened, and a big blond dressed in denim and leather climbed out of the backseat. Vex. The president of the Obsidian Devils MC, Manhattan chapter, gave a round of nods before going over and pulling Paynne in for a back-slapping hug. Grabbing the big guy’s chin in a grip, he said something too quietly for anyone but them to hear. Paynne nodded and was released. The prez then turned to Nika and— Oh . . . shit. Vincente’s Kombat pulled in behind the Escalade. Alek went over, merging with Gabriel so that they were there when V got out. They obviously had the same idea—possible intervention. Handing the vulnerable redhead over to her brother and Vex wasn’t something Vincente was going to find easy to do. Guy had a soft spot for her—and he sure wouldn’t like seeing Vex gather her gently into his arms to greet her as he was doing right now. “How you holding up, honey?” Vex asked in a tone that was downright tender. Everyone watched as the biker raised a hand as if to touch the bruise on Nika’s face. The sudden look of alarm that flashed in her eyes and that pitiful action—the same one a dog would make just before getting a cuff on the head—made every male body seize up as if they’d all been jacked with Tasers. Grinding his teeth, Alek glanced at Vincente and saw rage, pure and simple, flash across his friend’s sinister features at Nika’s cowed gesture. Something else was there, too, easily identified as the same possessive instinct Alek had felt whenever another guy had gone near Sacha. Shit. He almost staggered as a crippling pain flared behind his sternum, sucking away his ability to breathe. How had he let her name slip through his mind so easily? He was usually more careful. Refusing to acknowledge what felt like a fist squeezing his heart, he kept one eye on his friend, who’d been MIA for a week now. Vincente had taken off without a word the night he’d brought Nika in.

Seeing him now, eyes sunken, skin pale, mouth a tight slash behind his unshaven jaw, the look was familiar. Saw it every time his own reflection bounced off a mirror. They knew he had a soft spot for Nika from the way he’d acted around her in Seattle, but maybe it was more than that. Whatever it was, V was clearly attempting to deny it. Alek wanted to tell him not to bother but knew it was a painful lesson his friend would have to learn on his own. “You gonna be okay with this?” he questioned under his breath as Nika stepped back from Vex. Vincente’s long hair slid off his shoulders with the slight shake of his head. “Nope,” he answered, as honest as ever. “Doesn’t matter, though.” He stood still as a statue when Nika’s gaze found him. Damn, Alek thought, moved by the emotion in the redhead’s expression as she walked over. Holy fuck. In the light of day, she looked worse than ever with the dark smudges of fatigue under her eyes and that damned spectacular bruise on her cheek standing out like nobody’s business because her skin was so pale. “I’m glad you got here before I left.” She gave Vincente a warm hug, which he barely returned, obviously trying to be careful of the many injuries that were pretty much everywhere on her body. Even around the V-neck T-shirt she was wearing, the edges of an angry bruise coming up from her sternum could be seen. “Thank you, Vincente. Caleb and I appreciate your help more than you know.” V’s only response was a clipped nod, but she took it and moved to Gabriel, hugging the boss and saying quietly, “Watch Eva for me, Gabriel. Something’s up. She said she felt sick this morning. Then I saw her wobble and grab the counter when she was pouring my coffee. Her mom had type 1 diabetes and always made Eva have checkups, but I know she hasn’t had one for a long time. Maybe she should.” Gabriel’s attention latched on to his wife, who right then did look kind of green. “She didn’t say anything.” He sounded angry. Nika snorted and gave him a look that said, Are you dense? “’Cause she’s Eva, silly. Just watch her, ’kay?” She kissed him on the cheek. “And thank you for everything.” She smiled at Alek and went over to say good-bye to Eva. The ladies embraced each other like sisters. “Thanks, hon. And I’m sorry again for ruining your wedding. I’ll call you once I charge my cell.” Her voice was just a whisper, but it carried in the tense quiet. Eva nodded, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. Something she’d been doing a lot of lately. Crying. An unhappy chuff sounded next to him as Gabriel witnessed the action. “Relax, man. You can turn her frown upside down later,” Alek muttered, as disgusted as he was right fucking jealous of the newlyweds. He tried not to grunt at the elbow that connected with his ribs. Caleb, whose eyes were bloodshot and droopy, gave his sister a gentle prod toward the truck, and, with an all-encompassing wave, she disappeared into the interior, closing the door behind her. Vincente’s big body lost some of its steel as she was hidden away, but then he bunched up tighter than ever when Caleb turned to him. The hand the biker put out was instantly clasped. “Where the fuck have you been?” Caleb demanded. Then he went on without waiting for a response. “Have you found anything yet?” At V’s negative head shake, Caleb said, “I want to come out with you when you’re searching. I need to be there when you find that fuck.” “I’ll be in touch,” was all Vincente gave him. A throat being cleared had them glancing at an impatient-looking Vex. “We should get her home.” The president’s usually cocky attitude was dialed way down, but he still clearly thought he was in charge. And if this wasn’t one of those oh-shit moments that could turn into a run-for-your-life massacre, Alek didn’t know what was. A deadly mafia underboss and the alpha-male president of a notorious MC panting after the same woman? Oh, yeah. This could get real messy.

Caleb thanked Gabriel with a solid embrace, waved at the rest of them, then got into the truck with Vex. As they drove away, Gabriel stalked over to Eva and gathered her close before leading his sniffling bride into the house. Alek remained by Vincente’s side as they watched the vehicle disappear down the long drive, wondering what kind of violent thoughts were tumbling through his friend’s mind.

The forty-minute drive to the clubhouse was a mostly silent one, broken only by the stereo quietly playing in the background. Leather creaked as Vex shifted, tipping his head at one of the boys leaving on his bike as they entered a paved parking lot through the chain-link gate. They pulled up behind a high concrete wall that hid a row of Harleys, and they all got out. Nika squinted against the brightness of the sun as she took in the nondescript, weathered gray brick of the building, interrupted by dozens of high windows spaced a good distance apart that wrapped around the entire clubhouse. Vex had refurbished the inside of the old place, making the space livable by creating more than a dozen midsize suites for any member of the ODMC needing a place to stay. No one but Vex, Caleb, and two others lived here permanently, but the place was always teeming with a few of the boys and their current girlfriends. And now her, Nika thought, tired and strung out. But not for long, she vowed. She’d give her brother as long as she’d given Eva, and then she’d strike out on her own. Start living her life. An image of Vincente’s big truck pulling up outside the house came to mind. Where had he disappeared to this past week? Didn’t really matter. She was just curious, because he sure as hell hadn’t been at home. Every day she’d thought she’d see him walk into the main room where she and Eva had spent most of their time. Had waited to see him stride into the kitchen at mealtimes the way Alek, Maksim, Quan, Gabriel, and most times Vasily did. But he hadn’t. Not once. Had he stayed away because she’d been there? Or was his absence a normal thing? She didn’t know, and she had been too self-conscious to ask. Maybe he’d just been working. Maybe he had a place in the city. Or maybe he’d been with a woman—he probably had a half dozen waiting for a call from him. Had he been with one of them? Sleeping in her bed, loving her with that powerful body, holding her as tenderly as Nika dimly remembered being held the night she’d gotten away from Kevin. “Nika?” “What,” she snarled through the jealousy invading her. She unfisted her hands when she felt the bite of her nails pierce the skin of her palms. Vex and Caleb both stared at her. “Sorry,” she grumbled, snatching her borrowed bag of clothes off the seat; all Eva’s, of course— the damned duffel darkened her mood even more because it made her feel like a beggar. “I’d like to go shopping, Caleb.” After slamming the truck door, she took off. The two silent men carefully fell into step just behind her. “Can you take me? I also need to leech some money off you until I can make it to the bank. And if, even once,” she warned through clenched teeth as they passed through the oversize steel door and

headed upstairs, “you say anything that resembles don’t worry about it or it’s on me or everything’s going to be okay, Nik, I’ll punch you right in the nose. Understand?” She halted at the top of the stairs, not knowing which way to go. I will not cry. She went right when someone’s hand nudged her shoulder that way. “Okay,” Caleb said gently. “Vex went over and got your stuff from the hotel.” He stilled her with a tug on the hem of her shirt, also Eva’s, reached around her to punch a code into the pad on the wall, and opened the door for her. “Burn it,” Nika instructed. “I don’t want anything but my purse and cell phone.” “Will do.” His eager-to-please acceptance of her bitchy, unreasonable attitude sucked the temper right out of her, and instead of stomping into the room, she turned to him. The sight of his unease disappeared when her vision blurred because, yet again, her fucking eyes filled with tears. She hadn’t cried so much since she was a toddler! “Please don’t put up with my shit like this, Caleb,” she pleaded angrily. “You never would have before. You would have handed me a box of Midol and told me to get my own water. Yes, I’m stressed and worried.” Because Eva had told her how hard they were searching for Kevin. “I’m pissed off.” Because it had been Eva who’d had to tell her they were searching for Kevin. “I’m hurting, and I swear I really am going to get my period any day now. But, of course, I don’t know that for sure because my calendar and everything I’ve ever owned is back in hell. Where it will stay,” she vowed, not wanting even a thread to remind her of what she already considered her past. Eva had also told her Gabriel had had Jakson Trisko, another in his security team who’d remained in Seattle to tie up any loose ends from the Stefano–Furio fiasco, go to Kevin’s apartment. He’d done a sweep and found no copies of Caleb’s video. “But what I find worse than anything,” she continued, hearing the high pitch in her voice but unable to do anything about it, “is how everyone’s tiptoeing around me. The looks I’m getting are driving me crazy. Even from Eva, for God’s sake! You’re all looking at me like I’m some kind of poor kicked puppy.” She spun away and entered Caleb’s suite, where the first thing she saw, sitting so innocently on a bookshelf between two grease-marked Harley manuals, was a picture of her and Caleb with their dad when they were about sixteen and twenty, respectively. Nika’s hand slapped over her mouth as her throat closed up. Oh, God. The innocence in her expression. The real smile. When was the last time she’d smiled like that? When was the last time she’d even had the urge? Why had her life turned out like this? Her knees hit the floor with a soft thud, and Eva’s bag fell beside her as dark memories consumed her. She broke, shadows billowing and swallowing her whole. She fell to pieces in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to do until now, mourning the expectant, naive girl she’d been. And cried her heart out for the wrecked woman she now was. Not in all the time Kevin had terrorized her had she felt so shattered, so hopeless. Not when he’d held her prisoner by threatening Caleb’s freedom. Not when he’d kicked her. Slapped her. Broken her wrist that first month. Made her bleed. Treated her worse than an animal. Not once during any of it had she allowed herself the freedom of purging, pouring out her emotions, as she did just then. But faced with that photograph, that heartbreaking before, and the after now reflected back at her in the mirror, she couldn’t stop herself. And through the powerful storm that had finally rolled in, her brother and his best friend knelt beside her, holding her, offering their strength, their comfort, in the form of soft, affectionate touches to her bruised back and stitched head. Gentle, soothing words brushed her ears, words she couldn’t hear over

the thunder rumbling through her mind. Where did she go from here? Where would she find a tether? Because as it was, she felt as if she were floating free of everything she’d ever known—even if throughout the past year the majority of that had been violent and negative. At least it was familiar. Being free was not.

Walking through a warehouse that sat on that line separating Queens from Brooklyn, Gabriel noted the pleasing scent of wood and fabric still in the air from when the place had been used to build furniture. His expression was grim as memories danced around his head. The last time he’d come through a place like this it had been at his brother’s request. The same night Gabriel had delivered a truck filled with explosives to a factory in the Bronx, causing the blast that had killed his brother’s girlfriend. At their father’s orders. Well, his father’s. He gave his head a shake, still finding it unbelievable that he and Stefano were only half brothers and not full, as he’d always assumed. Where the hell was Stefano? No one knew. He’d yet to put Maksim on it, wanting to allow his brother as much time as he needed. But he was getting impatient. So was Eva. So it seemed Gabriel was going to have to go ahead with the promise he’d made to his wife. Wife. Man, that had to be the sexiest word ever created. To match the sexiest woman ever created. His wife. What a sap. Lucky that Vincente, who was walking next to him, and Quan, who was on his other side, couldn’t hear his thoughts. He was definitely going to have to keep the promise he’d made to Eva and go hard-core after Stefano. He’d given his brother time to resurface. Now he’d hunt the idiot down and bring him home. Attempt to form some sort of relationship with a man he still considered his sibling—the “half” shit could bite it. Would a man who’d hated him for the whole of their lives want that relationship? According to Eva, Stefano had had some sort of epiphany last month when things between him and Gabriel had come to a head. So, yeah, he was pretty sure his brother would play nice. Maybe he would even come in and give Gabriel a hand dealing with the fuckheads he’d left behind in the family business. Though the lowlifes he and Vincente had been dealing with, for the most part, hadn’t been hired by Stefano but by his now-dead underboss, Furio. Nervy bastard had been running the more depraved rackets behind the boss’s back. Gabriel’s fingers curled into fists at the thought of that Mohawked fucker, the urge to kill him all over again riding him hard as it always did. He refused entry to the memory of how he’d found Eva roughed up and on the verge of being assaulted— “Who picked this asshole up?” he asked the boys in an effort to distract himself. If he had to use one of those fuckheads Stefano had left behind as that distraction, then so be it. “I did,” Vincente grumbled, his mind clearly somewhere else. “How’d it come about?” “I noticed a discrepancy in the earnings coming from one of the bigger bookmaking operations you

have in Newark. Snooped around to see if I could find the trail, and DeLuca’s name kept showing. Seems he siphoned off some cash so he could finance his own operation. I went to Jersey this aft and picked him up myself.” “What was he doing on his own? If it was a gambling thing, I really couldn’t give a shit right now that he took a few bucks—” “It wasn’t gambling,” V barked, his tone scraping Gabriel’s ears like a bladed Q-tip. “And it was three-quarters of a mil. He used it to buy a place over in Bushwick.” Quan whistled as Gabriel stopped a few feet from what he had to assume was the interrogation room. The boys did the same. “If you give me details, am I going to want to take this guy’s head off?” “You’re going to want to sever it clean, my brother.” Vincente was looking back the way they’d come, but Gabriel didn’t think he was seeing the abandoned forklift and dozens of stacked flats. Not unless the equipment had red hair and haunted eyes. “V.” “What.” “Vincente,” Gabriel said, more forcefully. A dark, exhausted gaze met his. “What,” Vincente repeated. Slowly. Through a tight jaw. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, and finally Gabriel just sighed roughly. “After this I want you to go home and get some fucking sleep. You look like shit.” “Aw. That mean you’re gonna pass me up for someone prettier?” “Stubborn asshole.” They banged through the swinging door, but before even looking at the guy sitting in the middle of what had once been an office—judging by the file cabinet duo separated by a covered window and the dust-covered desk in the corner—Gabriel went over to exchange a knuckle bang and a couple of heartfelt embraces with the twins. “Boys.” The Berkman brothers had been with him for years, remaining at his back even during his time in Seattle. Two weeks ago, Gabriel had brought Eva to Astoria to show her a couple of apartments he and Vincente owned there. They’d christened one—all afternoon—and had gone down the street to a deli for sustenance after. The twins had been hanging on the sidewalk when they’d walked out. No warning. Just there. “You okay to be here?” he asked Abel, who’d gone down in the line of duty last month with a serious knife wound to the chest. “Don’t,” the bearded man warned in that soothing, peace-instilling voice he and his twin shared that never failed to loosen the muscles in Gabriel’s neck. “Jerod’s barely allowing me to wipe my own ass. Don’t need it from you, too, boss. I’m tight. If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be talking to me right now.” Gabriel clapped Jerod on the shoulder in a job-well-done gesture. The overprotective routine was understandable. These two wouldn’t survive without each other; their bond was that strong. He turned, biting back a sigh before shoving anything soft out of his head, and heart, and went over to stand in front of who he instantly recognized as Tommy “the Shark” DeLuca. He’d known the guy for more than a decade. But not like this. He was a shadow of his former self. “What did you do with my money, Tommy?” he asked quietly and without preamble. “Gabriel, Jesus Christ, man, I’m not fuckin’ crazy. I didn’t take no money!” Liars, they just didn’t get it. The Shark’s eyes were wild, pupils dilated. His sickly yellow skin hung off his bones like someone had sucked the flesh out from under it. Smelled like a toilet bowl. Junkie. “Seriously, man,” DeLuca said when Gabriel motioned Vincente forward. In his periphery, he saw V already had his custom-made SIG in hand; a sweet-looking Grim Reaper was stamped into the grip of the weapon. Maks had one with a grimacing skull, the eye of which was an amethyst stone.

A flash of light winked off the blade that appeared in Vincente’s other hand. Shit. The Reaper meant business tonight. Which proved this definitely had something to do with females. “What did you use the money for, Tommy?” Gabriel repeated on the downward slash from V’s arm that imbedded the sharp steel into the Shark’s thigh. The scream of pain had Gabriel’s teeth grinding and seemed to confirm what he thought he’d heard. Vincente had hit bone. “I told you. I didn’t touch it! Give me a couple of days. I’ll find—” The lie was choked off when Vincente twisted the blade and then raised his gun and leveled it in the center of a clammy forehead. The dribble of liquid hitting the concrete floor added to the steady drip of blood. Failed bladder. Gabriel stepped closer so he could listen as V leaned in to whisper into Tommy’s ear. “You sonofabitch. How many little girls did you ruin? Do you even know? You even think about the mothers and fathers you sent to sit in those pews and pray for their babies to come home to them? Do you even give a fuck that those prayers will never, ever be answered? Year after fucking year.” V’s black eyes were as cold as a Siberian river in January. “Please, I didn’t do nothin’. I don’t know who did—I swear,” Tommy whimpered through his now-chattering teeth. “I’d tell you if I did—I swear!” “You don’t have to tell me anything, you lying piece of shit. I already know. Why do you think you’re here?” Vincente straightened, pulling his blade out as he did. He wiped it clean on the howling guy’s pant leg and raised his arm again. The muffled pop sounded flat in the small room. As he had countless times before, Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder what had gone through this guy’s mind as he’d watched death come for him. Did he think of his loved ones? Did he have any? Anyone he truly loved? Was he capable of the emotion? Or too far gone? Did he regret what he’d done in his life? Send up a prayer for forgiveness? Or did he simply sit there and scramble for a lie plausible enough to allow him to live another day? It would be his wife and his crew that would travel through Gabriel’s heart and into his head when the time came for him. And it would. As it did for everyone. Maybe not in the violent way it just had for DeLuca, but it would still come. Eva’s sapphire eyes drifted through his mind as he turned and walked a few feet away, his chest tightening to a painful knot at the thought of leaving her. A hundred years wouldn’t be enough time together. Not even close. How much fear and revulsion would she show if she knew what had just gone down here? Which choice words would she use to end their marriage of only one week? How fast would she bolt out the door of their home and into the protective custody of her father—who’d been in a situation just like this too many times to count? His gaze once again strayed to the corpse, and he noticed the eyes really did look like those of a shark. Flat. Dead. And now totally unseeing. “Where are the girls, V?” he asked quietly. “I had Alesio take Tegan to pick them up a couple of hours ago. She brought them to the Children of the Night rehab center in White Plains.” Thank God for this man’s diligence. “Put the place he purchased with our cash on the market and donate whatever it brings to the same place.” He looked over when no affirmative was forthcoming. The sight of V’s throat working through a swallow, his expression heavy with respect as he stared back at him, had Gabriel wanting to hug it out with his tortured friend. What the hell must it be like living with those ghosts?

Vincente looked away from Gabriel’s sympathetic gaze and didn’t even have enough energy to tell him to bottle the shit up and send it out to sea. Respect for the new boss’s generosity was a warm blanket around his shoulders—he didn’t think Stefano would have done the same. Seven hundred Gs would go a long way toward helping those kids. His attention settled on the brain matter splattered on the wall. And Vincente didn’t feel a thing. Some might find his lack of distress at taking a fellow human being’s life alarming—no doubt Fan Boy’s redhead would run for the hills if she knew what he’d just done. But in this case, Vincente didn’t see it as a bad thing. He considered this a justified execution. A favor to society. Because he knew exactly what kind of parasite DeLuca had been. Maybe not at first, when he’d started doing business with the Moretti family. But the man had clearly gotten involved in some shit over his head. And now? Vincente had seen for himself the guy trolling the broken-down neighborhoods of Morrisania, Brownsville, and Far Rockaway in search of young girls desperate enough to let Tommy and his crew prostitute them in order for them to make enough money for their next fix. In fact, Vincente had watched for the past week, thoroughly investigating before he’d made his move, seeing the dirty hovel the sick, drug-addicted females had been kept in; the lineup of horny johns forming at the door; the dirty mattresses covered in stains, ejaculate, tears. Blood. His vision quivered with quiet rage. This predator had gotten what he deserved. No sooner had the thought passed through his mind than the image of a young girl with soft chocolate-brown hair and cheerful brown eyes floated to center stage. He hadn’t allowed that to happen in a while. Must be more tired than he thought. He squeezed his eyes shut as pain and loss skewered him at Sophia’s memory. The last time he’d seen her alive she’d been standing in the doorway of their brownstone. It was her birthday, and she’d been wearing the leather jacket he’d bought her. She’d liked it for the fashion sense; he’d wanted her well protected when she rode on the back of his bike. The chatter of her friends had spilled out of the house and she’d blown him a rushed kiss as he’d climbed into the front seat of Gabriel’s Explorer. He’d waved her back inside when her friend Ashlyn had appeared behind her, mouth twisted in an expression of annoyance, phone in hand. Vincente had smirked at Sophia’s glare after Ashlyn said something to her. “What? Did you really think I was going to leave you girls alone all night without a chaperone?” he’d called, grinning when she’d raised her fist at him. The week before, he’d asked Ashlyn’s mom if she wouldn’t mind sitting with the girls until he made it home to supervise the sleepover. Not because he didn’t trust Sophia and her friends, but because he didn’t trust the boys they hung with. He hadn’t made it home at all that night. Gabriel had taken a bullet to the stomach, and Vincente had been too afraid to leave his boy in the doc’s care in case he up and died on him. Because he’d been so busy playing nursemaid and had finally crashed on Vasily’s couch in the wee hours, he hadn’t been there the following afternoon when Sophia hadn’t made it home from school. She’d been taken right off the street a block from their house. The image in his mind’s eye distorted suddenly, youthful health congealing and morphing into a gaunt, destroyed body, countless track marks up and down raw, overly used arms. Lank, dirty brown hair. Bruises over skin now grayish blue in death. He’d been doing nightly rounds of the morgue for months by that point, refusing to believe she was just gone, and he had almost covered the girl and moved on. Until he’d caught sight of the angel wing tattooed on her inner wrist. Given how much ink he’d had at twenty

years old, Vincente had been in no position to refuse when she’d asked him if she could get the silverdollar-size tat. He’d slowly looked back up to Sophia’s face and had felt his humanity seep from him and leak down the drain in the floor, accepting that it was her. The urge to decimate those who’d ruined his baby sister had been a sickness in his very marrow. He knuckled his burning eyes as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “Come on, V. Let’s go home.” He let Gabriel turn him, and they walked through the door Quan held open. The three of them left the warehouse in silence and got into the truck. If only he’d known her birthday was the last time he’d ever see her. If only he’d been there to meet her after school the way he’d liked to do. Goddammit, if only fucking Stefano hadn’t set Gabriel up that night in an effort to get rid of the competition! If only, if only, if only. Shutting down the pointless garbage with a vicious slam of the trapdoor in his brain, he watched the passing scenery out the backseat window of Gabriel’s Escalade, the city blocks never ending. Kind of like this past week. “Drop me at my place,” he called up to the front of the SUV before they could hit the freeway. “You’re coming home, V,” Gabriel informed him from the passenger seat. He kicked the bottom of it. “Drop me at my place. I want to get my bike,” he lied. Gabriel turned his head so that his profile showed, jaw rolling. Guy was pissed because he’d heard the lie. “First fucking thing in the morning, I want to see your face at home. You don’t show? I come back and burn your goddamn place to the ground. You got it?” Vincente felt a grin pull up the corners of his mouth. It didn’t last. “Yeah, brother. I got it.” Gabriel turned to Quan and rattled off the addy to Vincente’s place around Forest Hills in Queens. He used the refurbished auto-body shop when he wasn’t in the mood to make the drive to Old Westbury. He and Gabriel also kept an apartment in Astoria; it was more comfortable but not tricked out with hideyholes loaded down with weapons and other unmentionables like this place was. And it wasn’t where Vincente kept his Harleys. Need to see her. He popped his jaw and wanted to beat Fan Boy down with a few well-placed fists. Fucking idiot wasn’t giving him one minute of peace; he’d busted his balls for days now. If it wasn’t What’s she doing right now?, it was Is she okay? or Does she stay in Caleb’s room or have her own? That hair-raising thought was usually followed by a possessive urge to breach the fucking wired fence around the clubhouse to make sure she was alone. Vincente curbed the urge to slam his head into the window. Or maybe the door frame. It was harder. Was she eating right? Taking care of herself? Did she have nightmares? Was she scared? Did she feel lonely? Still out of sorts? Was she healing properly? Hurting? Was her skin still like silk? Did she still smell as addictive as she had the last time he’d held her? Was her hair still as vibrant and rich as he remembered? He swallowed a groan and glared at the “Don’t Walk” flashing next to them at the light they’d stopped at. What the fuck was up with him? Since when did he give a shit what a woman’s skin felt like? Or notice enough to remember it? Since when did the scent of a woman make him throw wood the instant it reached his nose? Since when did a woman’s hair color make him feel as if he’d just freebased a bowl of Viagra? He shifted around on the expensive leather and willed Quan to hit the accelerator. He had to give it a rest. Nika was off-limits. He knew that. Had accepted it.

Or thought he had. Especially now he knew what she’d been through. After her ordeal, she deserved peace and happiness more than anyone. With him, she’d never get it. Not in the violent, fucked-up circles he traveled. He also owed it to Caleb to stay away after verbally smacking him the way he had the other night. He’d crossed the line when he’d shoved his own guilt and remorse down the biker’s throat. Vincente had lent a hand to many a woman throughout the years, but none had ever affected him the way Nika did. Why couldn’t he just deal with this shit for her without wanting to make it personal? For days now, he’d alternated between trailing Tommy DeLuca and hitting up one scummy hotel after another, circling out from the last place Kevin Nollan had been seen. He’d nailed DeLuca but had come up with bubkes on the one he really wanted. One interesting thing: Maks had hacked another sealed police report and found some information on the murder weapon used to kill Nollan’s family. And surprise, surprise: Kevin’s prints had been all over the big, bloody blade. The police had held off on formally charging him, though, because the knife had come from the family’s own kitchen and Kevin could have used it at any time to carve a turkey . . . before opening his parents’ and brother’s jugulars. Pfft. Fucking laws. He didn’t know how Lorenzo ever made an arrest with his hands tied so tightly. They entered Vincente’s neighborhood and he unbuckled his seat belt, straining to go for the door. He needed to decompress with an hour of circling his heavy bag. Then maybe he’d call Paynne to see if he had any ideas on where they might have better luck searching for the brother-in-law. Or maybe Vincente could stop by, just kinda sorta maybe pop in at the clubhouse just to see if she was— Seriously? Fan Boy stopped riding his imaginary pony around in a circle and glared at that one remaining sliver of moral fiber Vincente had stashed in the back of his messed-up head. That sliver stared back, seeming to grow in size as Quan pulled up to the curb and stopped. Vincente hopped from the SUV but paused halfway across the sidewalk when he heard the whir of the Escalade’s window coming down. “Vincente?” He turned and looked into his best friend’s mug. Guy looked like the merciless killer he could be when necessary, but all Vincente saw in the hard expression was worry for one of his own. “First thing,” he promised Gabriel in an effort to ease him. “Tell Sammy I want pancakes. And make sure your wife doesn’t eat them all before I get there,” he added with a wink before carrying on. They waited until he unlocked and entered his place before driving away.

CHAPTER 9

Nika shook off the permanent sense of unease trailing like a toy train behind her and unlocked the apartment door. She swung it wide and placed the two grocery bags she carried on the floor in the entrance before closing herself in and throwing the locks. She stilled and listened to the silence for a minute. Normally she’d have had her earbuds in, music cranked while she’d shopped. Not today. She’d been too afraid in case she missed hearing something. Anything. A footstep. Her name being called. A gunshot going off. Despite her thoughts, an unfamiliar sense of peace flowed through her, followed almost immediately by a wave of guilt. Caleb was going to be so upset. She placed the TarMor key ring on the small table to her left and toed off her recently purchased sandals before grabbing the overflowing grocery bags and padding through the bright unit to the kitchen, adjusting the dial on the air conditioner as she went by. Frick, it was sweltering. But then, it was August in New York. She put her things on the granite countertop next to the quietly humming refrigerator and popped her iPhone onto the dock before looking around. Stainless-steel appliances and buff-colored walls. Farther out, visible in the open-concept layout, was the living area with its nine-and-a-half-foot ceilings, black leather furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows. She felt small and too much as though she were rattling around in a space too large for her. She’d have preferred something cozier, tighter, somewhere that might hold her together. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and that’s what she was, for now. She’d lasted the week with her brother. Barely. Had spent seven days wandering around the clubhouse in a stupor, Caleb following behind her, doing things for her before she’d had a chance to do them for herself. She’d walk into the kitchen area and he’d have a Coke out of the fridge, tab popped and in her hand before she was even sure that was why she’d gone in there. Meals were the same; her plate would be piled with whatever deliciousness the very talented Vex had whipped up, and she’d be gently shoved into a chair, Caleb mumbling at her. Eat already. I go faster than a crawl and you’re gonna fly off the back of my bike, Nik. She’d attempted to do his laundry on Thursday, and he’d bodychecked her out of the way right in the middle of her transfer from washer to dryer, saying she wasn’t there to do his shit for him. She’d also stupidly spent those seven days wishing things were different, hating the darkening shadows under Caleb’s eyes and the apologetic nothing yet he’d give her when she asked about Kevin. She now saw it as a waste. A waste of seven days where she’d put off beginning her new life plan, which she’d kept as simple as possible: Get a place she could call her own. Avoid any and all romantic

entanglements—for now. Get her career back on track. Three simple goals that she had let Eva in on as they’d chatted on the phone this morning—possibly sounding just a tiny bit desperate when she’d mentioned the first one. Within an hour, her absolutely amazing bestie and fab new hubby had shown up at the clubhouse, and, with a stern, disapproving expression, Gabriel had handed Nika the key to this place. “You can use it for as long as you want. But just know.” His expression had been grave as he leaned in, and Nika had gotten her first glimpse of the intimidating mobster Caleb said Gabriel was. “I think you should listen to your beautiful friend here”—he’d motioned to his wife—“and reconsider coming back to the house.” He’d waited, holding her eyes, until she shook her head. She wouldn’t budge. If not his apartment, she’d find another. He’d grumbled something about stubborn women and said, “Fine. I don’t support your decision to go off by yourself, but I certainly understand it. At least this place will be safer than what you’d find on your own. I’ll call the building manager, and he’ll let the doorman know to expect you. If you need anything, there’s security downstairs twenty-four-seven. No one gets in without going through them.” Knowing Gabriel as she was coming to, Nika suspected she wasn’t really on her own anyway. Not that she’d seen any goons lurking, but she was pretty sure they had to be around the twenty-story building somewhere. She was on the tenth floor and couldn’t help but feel as if she was staying in a hotel, with the amenities the friendly doorman had told her about when she’d first arrived: pool, sauna, hot tub, fitness room. If she didn’t want to—now that she had food—she never had to leave. Caleb was going to be angry when she told him, probably be insulted that she’d accepted Gabriel’s help and not gone to him first. Nika hated that. Didn’t want to upset him. He was dealing with enough, and not very well, she worried, biting her lip as she began putting things away. There’d been a hardness to him since the night he’d found out what Kevin had been doing to her, a darkness in his expression that had never been there before. They’d gone to Union Square and Chelsea together yesterday so Nika could start on a simple wardrobe of tanks, shorts, and jeans, and for the most part he’d been his usual charming self—fun and comical to the extreme, with his sarcastic comments and dry wit. But every once in a while he’d grown quiet and she’d caught him looking at her, pain and guilt, and something so menacing it had scared her, swimming in the backs of his eyes. She’d hugged him hard every time and told him to stop thinking about whatever it was he was thinking about, stating firmly that it was over and the worst was behind them. He’d hugged her back, forming a protective cage around her, but hadn’t once looked convinced. They’d work on it, she vowed, once more wishing her brother hadn’t learned what had happened. That had been her aim. She never wanted him to know what she’d gone through for him. The last thing she wanted was for him to carry around guilt and regret the way Vincente did regarding his sister’s tragedy. Nika quickly sent that distracting name on its way before she was able to start obsessing. At least she hadn’t had to borrow money from Caleb—one less dent in her nonexistent pride. She’d used, for the first time, the inheritance their father had left her, the nest egg she would continue to use until she was on her feet again. Thank God Kevin hadn’t known about it, otherwise he would have pissed it away like he had his own money. The fund wasn’t endless, but it was enough to get her through the couple of months it would take to get settled in her new job and start earning a steady paycheck again. She’d replenish it then. She and Eva had briefly spoken about a position at TarMor, and she’d cringed at yet another handout. But, again, beggars couldn’t be choosy and ungrateful, so she’d agreed to let Eva ask around. With any luck there would be an opening, and she’d settle into her duties there as easily as she had at the firm she’d worked at in Seattle. She still missed the girls in her office, most of them young mothers, a few of the still-single ones whom she’d gone out with a time or two. She’d been comfortable there. Hopefully she could find that again. Shaking her head at how she sounded, even to herself, she vowed again that she wouldn’t play the victim. That wasn’t her role. She was the survivor. She’d won. And she was going to act like the

champion she was. Well, maybe not like a champion. But she would sure strive for normalcy, if nothing else. She would stay in this huge place only as long as it took for her to get on her feet so she could move on as the independent woman she’d been raised to be. She didn’t need anyone else. And she was going to make sure it stayed that way. She would fulfill the daydreams she’d had while sitting in the corner of the sofa, Kevin jammed right next to her as he’d watched TV. Not for anything would she be beholden to a man again. Nika leaned over and fiddled with her iPhone for some music to fill the silence. She had to admit she’d never enjoyed a trip to the supermarket more than she had this one. Completely on her own. No one watching over her shoulder. No one waiting for her return. No one to riffle through her purchases now, yelling at her for spending too much money, backhanding her for not buying enough items—which would mean another trip to the store once her nose stopped bleeding—shoving her to the floor because she’d gotten the wrong brand/flavor, and so on. She warded off another flash of goose bumps and stashed her Nutella and bread, not bothering to wash the grape she popped into her mouth before stowing the pale-green bunch in the fridge next to the cheese, olives, and apples she’d bought. Finished, she padded through the spacious living room to look out the window that overlooked what the doorman had told her was the Triborough Bridge. Great view. She peeked directly below her and had to step back when vertigo hit her. Heights had never been her thing. She took her cell out of the back pocket of her jeans and texted Caleb. As she typed in her request to meet up, she knew she should just call, but she was being cowardly.

Meet you where? You’re at home, right?

She cringed at his response and typed in the name of the deli at the corner, giving him the crossroads so he could enter them into his phone. She wasn’t sure if he knew that Gabriel— Her phone rang. Shit. “Hello?” “Where the hell are you? Tell me you took one of the boys with you.” Her brother’s voice was low and furious. He must be around people. “I’m fine, Caleb. Can you meet me at the deli? I need to talk to you.” “What are you doing there? Why couldn’t we talk when I got home?” Stubborn man. “I’m heading to the deli now. We’ll talk when you get there, ’kay? Drive carefully.” She hung up before he could respond and was surprised when he didn’t call her back immediately. She didn’t worry that he’d yell at her or anything. Caleb wasn’t a yeller. He was more a calm, cold, and deadly type. Turning away from the view, she tucked her phone away and headed for the door, feeling rather calm and collected herself. She wasn’t having this meeting with her brother to ask his permission for her to begin her life. She was simply offering him the courtesy of letting him know she’d made her move. She only hoped he understood her desperate yearning for independence. Because it was too strong a desire for her to ignore. For anyone.

Vincente knocked Quan’s offered fist with his own before taking a chair poolside; the lights beneath the water reflected off the glass-topped table in front of him. Gabriel strummed through a Simon and Garfunkel classic on his prized ’58 Fender Telecaster and didn’t open his mouth until those talented fingers stilled after the final chord. “You made it,” he observed. Guilt over the fact that he’d pretty much been MIA since the night of the wedding, aside from last night, and a good helping of I’m-fucking-embarrassed—because he was so off the rails over a mere woman—popped Vincente in the chest at the lead-in. Not to mention morning, and those pancakes he’d asked for the night before, had passed by without him showing, more than twelve hours ago. Not knowing what else to say, he responded with a clipped, “Yup.” “It’s like that, is it? Well, then, I’d better get started before you fuck off again.” Gabriel placed the guitar across his thighs as if it were a freaking newborn, jaw rolling like his teeth needed the workout. “What happened to your craving for pancakes? Did you hit up an IHOP in favor of the homemade kind? And where the fuck have you been lately? I know you haven’t been to your place, other than last night. You weren’t in Astoria—and don’t bother going to the apartment now because it’s being sprayed for roaches. You’ve given ROM zero attention in the last month; that company of yours will not run itself. I hear, again through Maks, that you’re out there searching for Nollan on your own. We have more on our plate than finding that fucking lowlife, V.” He paused, leaning forward to wrap his hands around what was probably Stoli being watered down by melting ice cubes in front of him. “You know what I see when I look at you?” A disloyal, unreliable pussy who can’t stop thinking about his friend’s damaged sister? “What.” “Me.” Vincente narrowed his eyes. “How’s that?” “You’re doing exactly what I’d do if it was Eva in Nika’s position. But with much more . . . control . . . than I’d have the frame of mind to use.” From what Vincente remembered, Gabriel’s control when Eva was in that cabin with Stefano had been dead-on. And he’d just been busted. He shifted in his chair. “What. So you think I’m, what, like, in love with your wife’s friend?” “Shiiit.” Quan got to his feet, thumping him on the shoulder as he headed inside. “That was so sadly lacking in genuine incredulity and disgust that I’m officially embarrassed for you.” Vincente glared at the fucker’s retreating back. Arrogant prick. “Guy’s cruising for one. When’s Jak coming?” They’d known the tough motherfucker since junior high. Aside from closing up shop in Seattle for Gabriel’s return to New York, he was also overseeing the transfer of Eva’s remaining possessions from her house on Mercer Island, which she’d decided to keep for the foreseeable future. Vincente didn’t blame her. There must be a lot of memories there of her life growing up with her mother. Only memories, though. It had taken Vincente eight years before he’d had the skin to sell the brownstone after Sophia’s death. Gabriel chuckled. “He should be here any day now. And I don’t know about love, V. But it’s something. Something more than just your need to save her, like you couldn’t save Sophia. That’s what the boys think this is all about.” He patted the wolf’s tooth around his neck in an affectionate gesture. Sophia had given each of them one, inscribed with her favorite passage on forgiveness from the Bible. Vincente had yet to master the ability. How could anyone possibly forgive a man like Kevin Nollan and the things he’d done to Nika? And forgiving himself for Sophia? Impossible. Vincente looked at Gabriel. If anyone else had referred to his sister’s death so casually, he’d have

leveled them. But not him. No. G knew, more than any of the others, what Vincente had gone through during that dark time. Knew about the guilt. The failed responsibility. The rage. The loss. The helplessness. The grief. Knew it all. Because he’d been the one to pick him up off the floor every morning when he’d finally crashed into a drunken heap, still mumbling incoherently about how he should have been there, what he should have done, how he’d fucked up, how it was his fault for not having found her in time, for having allowed her abduction to happen at all. “It’s part of it,” Vincente admitted gruffly. “But not all?” He barked out a rough laugh. “Fuck, no. Ah, fuck me, but no.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling a strange heat in his cheeks at what he was about to admit. “I want her. Her. Not just the satisfaction of knowing I’ve helped a woman out of a shit situation. But her, damage and all. She’s . . . yeah. Just . . . yeah.” Fuck. “That’s what I thought.” Gabriel knocked the table like a judge with a gavel and changed the subject. “So, what’d you find? Any sightings? Maks said he gave you a photo of the cocksucker. Any areas we shouldn’t bother canvassing anymore?” The guy deserved a hug. The French doors opened and Maks came out, big coffee mug in hand, wearing a pair of unbuttoned jeans and nothing else. “Samnang doing your laundry?” Gabriel asked dryly as the guy sauntered over. “I doubt my wife wants an eyeful of all that history.” The Russian’s body was inked with stories. Damn, Ghost was one talented artist, Vincente thought of their go-to for ink as he eyeballed Maksim’s front. A stunning Virgin Mary draped in robes held baby Jesus. The coming dawn cast divine rays from behind as two angelic messengers of God stood proudly on guard on either side. Even though Ghost hadn’t used a speck of color—the entire portrait was done in shades of the darkest black to the lightest of gray—one would swear the golden glow of a new beginning could be seen. And felt. “Eva’ll love it. Promise,” Maks replied around a yawn. “Paynne was targeted,” he added, his voice muffled as he buried his nose in his mug. The late evening was his morning. Vincente straightened. “What?” Maks sat. “Seems Nollan once worked at the salvage yard where Paynne took out that rapist. Yeah, I looked into him, too. Also a friend of our target. My guess is Nollan set Paynne up so he’d have the juice to bind the redhead to his side. Not sure if Nollan went so far as to set up the assault of that kid, just to give Paynne incentive to ice the pedophile, but if he did? Goddamn, there’s gonna be an even bigger lineup to take that bitch out.” Silence descended, the gentle hum of the pool’s filtration system the only sound other than the odd bird on its way in for the night. That lineup? Vincente—even though he knew Caleb had more right than he did—had better be at the fucking head of it. Because if Nollan didn’t die by his hand, whoever did kill him was going to be very sorry he’d taken Vincente’s desperate need for closure away from him. No one hurt his redhead and got away with it. Even if she was off-limits.

“We got another one, Detective.” Lorenzo lifted his tired eyes from his laptop screen. He was transferring the notes—there wasn’t much typing going on—he’d taken today while interviewing residents in the area where three redheads had been found murdered in separate incidents during the past two weeks. He’d thought the trio highly suspicious and too much of a coincidence. This made four. They had a serial killer on their hands. He looked into the uncommunicative face of one of their female officers. Pretty and tough, Jayne had a potty mouth that put him to shame. She tossed a folder onto his desk and stood, her legs braced. He tried not to smirk at the display. Testy. Guess he shouldn’t have turned down her offer of drinks after work —which had been made two freaking months ago! He refrained from shaking his head. Never had understood the point in holding a grudge, but because he liked her and understood hurt pride, he ignored it. He flipped open the file and didn’t even feel the need to bite back a groan the way he used to. Seeing the dead body of a young girl had become commonplace. Nothing to feel shocked over. Fuck, he needed a vacation. Or a new vocation. “Deets?” he asked, even though he knew they would be no different from the ones he already had. Except for the number. Which meant the FBI would be swooping in to take over. “Jane Doe, prostitute, found in the Crown Heights area, young redhead, strangled, violated same as the others—unless they somehow allowed their last johns to do some painful altering of their private parts,” she added, unable to hide her disgust. “This one was killed last night.” Lore slammed his fist down on his desk and rushed to his feet, his boots thudding as he paced the small area behind his chair. “What the fuck is with these guys? I swear to God, I’m fucking damaged in the head because I keep thinking things can’t get any worse. Until they do.” He jammed his hand through his hair and cursed like hell because he knew what he was about to do. And he didn’t want to fucking do it. “If you need to relax, I’ll be at Benji’s,” Jayne said, delivering offer number two. She gave him a sympathetic—hungry—look before leaving. Lore barely noticed. For these poor daughters of someone somewhere, before another one had to go through what this most recent one had, Lore would conspire with the enemy. Because not one law enforcement official in any precinct in or around New York knew what went down in the dark corners of even the roughest of neighborhoods like these guys did. Lorenzo’s former crew. Jesus Christ, his supervisor would kick his ass all the way to Newark if she knew what he was about to do. But he was going to do it anyway and could only hope he found something before the suits showed, flashing their badges around like the trumped-up assholes most of them were. He snagged his cell off his desk and headed out for a visit with a few local members of the Russian and Italian mafias.

CHAPTER 10

The look on the faces of the patrons eating their sandwiches was typically wary when Caleb entered the deli wearing his colors. Though, Nika noted, nothing but approval showed in the pretty waitress’s eyes as her admiring gaze took in his visible tattoos and tight body. His heavy boots thudded on the floor, and Nika stood at the table for two she’d snagged in the corner to give her brother a hug and kiss—in case he didn’t give her the chance after she’d said her piece. The waitress looked crushed and then angry. “Hey. You shouldn’t have left the clubhouse alone.” Caleb’s you-silly-girl tone irked her, and Nika gave him a look as they sat. “For all we know, Kevin is long gone. He’s such a coward, he’s probably in Detroit or Chicago by now.” “Or he could be outside waiting to get you by yourself.” She blanched and couldn’t help but look out the front windows to search the late afternoon shadows. TP, one of Caleb’s MC brothers, was at the curb, leaning on his bike, smoking a cigarette. “I’m sorry.” Caleb covered her hand. “I just want you safe, which means you shouldn’t be taking any chances.” That sounded like her intro. “Listen, about that.” “Can I get you anything?” They both looked up at the icy offer to see the waitress looking down her nose at Caleb. She gave Nika a sympathetic smile before coldly raising her brow at Caleb again. Just like yesterday. Random strangers had glared at him all day, measuring his fist against the fading bruise on Nika’s face. So unfair. “My brother loves coffee,” she gushed suddenly. “And I think he could really use one now that he knows about my . . . situation.” She inconspicuously touched the bruise on her cheek as the girl’s eyes widened. “Can you bring him some blueberry pie as well? I don’t think he’s going to want to go kick my boyfriend’s very deserving ass on an empty stomach.” “Oh . . . gosh. I’m so sorry,” the girl whispered to Caleb. “I just thought—Shit. My brother would kill me for jumping to conclusions like that without proper facts. My other brother would kill me more for thinking the worst of people. Um, yes, pie. Absolutely.” She nodded enthusiastically, the stars once more glittering in her caramel-colored eyes as she stared at Caleb, who was staring back with a small smile on his face. Clearly, she’d just found a new hero. “My dad made it just this morning. Would you like some ice cream with it, bunny?” Caleb looked as if she’d just slapped him. “Sure. Thanks,” he said slowly. “Gotcha. Be right back.” Off she went, already shaking her head at another girl sitting at the counter. Obviously her friend. They whispered up a storm as she plated the dessert.

“Thanks for the rescue. Did she seriously call me that?” Nika nodded, trying not to laugh. “She did, bunny.” He shook his head. “Great body on her, but she needs work on her nicknames.” That she did. “And you don’t have to thank me for setting someone straight. I’d like to wear a sign on my back with Kevin’s name and photo so people are clear on who did this to me. Those looks almost ruined my day with you yesterday.” “Here you go.” The pie, ice cream, and coffee were placed on the table, and Nika was pretty sure the girl wanted to start spooning it down Caleb’s throat. “Thanks, kitten,” he offered, but Nika couldn’t tell if it was tongue in cheek. The waitress obviously didn’t think so because her smile was a knockout. “No problem. If you guys need anything else, like a hammer for the guy who did that to you,” she said to Nika, “just wave.” “You should marry her,” Nika said jokingly after she walked away. Caleb grinned. “Can’t blame people for thinking what they do,” he said, getting back to their conversation. He ate half the slice in one huge bite. “I’d be the same. I mean, look at you.” “Ca-leb. And don’t eat like that. Smaller bites.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and winked at her. “Sorry, Nik. The bruise isn’t as bad as it was, but you still look like you’ve been . . . hurt by a guy’s fist. That fucking—” “Listen,” she interrupted, shaking her head and smiling as the waitress raised the coffeepot in her direction. “I asked you to meet me because I wanted to talk to you about, er . . . I know you want me safe, and, uh . . . I got my own place today,” she finally blurted, and she could have sworn the temperature in the room plummeted twenty degrees. “Say again?” She forced herself not to shrink back at the change in his expression and rushed out her announcement. “Gabriel offered me the use of an apartment down the street. I moved in this afternoon.” After lightly placing his fork on the table, he moved his plate to the side, looking relatively calm. But when he spoke, his voice was hard as nails. “I’ll take you over now to get your stuff. I’ll drop the keys off at Kirov’s club later tonight, and he can give them back to Moretti.” Nika’s mouth fell open. Just like that? There was no room for discussion? Or argument? The latter being more accurate for what was about to happen. She closed her jaw and inhaled slowly—not wanting to come across as unbalanced—and tried to remind herself that he only wanted what was best for her. “Caleb. I can’t live in the club—” “Then we’ll get a place of our own,” he interrupted with a shrug. “No. I’m not going to take you away from your—” “You won’t be,” he cut in again, his tone dismissive. He took a sip of coffee and leaned back. “You’re not going to live in a place owned by a fucking mobster, Nika.” Her temper flared at that, and she leaned over. “Gabriel is much more than ‘a mobster,’ ” she said fiercely. “He’s a wonderful person. He saved Eva’s life, for God’s sake.” “Her life wouldn’t have been in jeopardy if he’d kept his fucking hands off her.” Nika gasped. “Caleb! He makes her happier than she’s ever been.” Her brother looked away, a tic working in his jaw. Did he harbor ill feelings toward Gabriel for what Stefano and Furio had done to Eva? She hadn’t realized that. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you, Nik,” he said suddenly, his unfocused gaze somewhere over by the counter. “That’s why you’re leaving, isn’t it? Because of me. Fuck. I should’ve seen this coming.” Her eyes bugged. “Wait, wait, wait. I am not leaving the clubhouse because I’m angry or upset with you.” She scooted to the edge of her seat, wishing she could climb into his lap and hug him until he

believed her. “I don’t blame you, Caleb. Please hear me. I don’t. Not even a little. If I did, I’d tell you. I’d tell you, ‘I kind of blame you just a little,’ but I don’t! Honest!” He covered her hands where she was gripping the sides of the table. “Okay, okay. Calm down. I believe you. Just calm down, okay?” She narrowed her eyes at his uh-oh-she’s-gonna-lose-it expression. He was still treating her as if she were no longer tough enough to have a heated discussion. She pulled her hands back and crossed her arms over her chest. But then she realized that was a defensive position and leaned forward to rest her forearms on the table. “Listen—don’t interrupt me again!” she snapped when he opened his mouth. He closed it and raised a brow at her, regally waving his hand for her to continue. “I couldn’t spend another day being watched by everyone. At the first sign of conflict—the other night over a freaking TV show—you guys look at me like you expect me to crawl into a corner and rock back and forth, making funny noises. Believe me; I’m not that fragile.” She’d had her breakdown, and she certainly wasn’t planning on going through that experience again. Cathartic, her ass. More like exhausting and depressing. God, the things that had gone through her head. It was as if she’d remembered every single brutal thing Kevin had ever done to her. She went on, attempting to explain things in a way she hoped got through to him. “I won’t take you away from your life while I try to find mine. Don’t you see? I can’t let what Kevin did to me make me afraid to go out and interact with people out of some irrational fear that they’re out to get me. I have to push past that paranoia. Staying with you, wrapped in the cocoon you’re creating—even though I love you for it and appreciate why you’re doing it—just isn’t what I need. You know this isn’t who I am. I’m not a weak person in need of saving. Yet you’re treating me like that. I know it’s only been two weeks, and I know you’re struggling with what Kevin did, but I’m suffocating, Caleb.” She could see by the obstinate angle of his chin that she wasn’t getting through, but she kept trying. “I will never again let anyone, anyone,” she stressed, “tell me how I’m going to live my life. Not even you. This will be done my way. Not that it’s ideal, having to move forward on the coattail of someone else, but right now I’ll take it. And I’ll be appreciative of the breaks Gabriel is giving me in the form of my own place and a possible job that will allow me a chance to prove I’m not as worthless as Kevin told me I am.” She held up a hand and swallowed the ball of shame that floated into her throat for no reason in particular. “That asshole did something to me, Caleb, to the way I see myself, and I want that gone. I want me back, and I can’t get me back if I wallow in self-pity. So, like you and Daddy taught me, I’m heading back out there. I’m going to work hard, say thanks to those who helped, and eventually be strong enough again to return the favor to those who need it once I don’t anymore.” The tension went out of her shoulders. She was doing the right thing. She knew it. “And like I said, for all we know, Kevin is gone. He most likely ran off because he was too afraid of you and Vincente to hang around on the off chance that he might get me alone somewhere. He’d never have left that memory stick behind if he hadn’t been scared shitless. And now that you know the full story of how he blackmailed me, he’s going to be even more afraid.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think he’s going to risk showing back up here.” Caleb crossed his arms over his chest, nodding as if he’d just gotten it. “You hoping if you hang out in their world that you might have a chance with V? Was that where you were earlier? Were you with him?” The questions slammed into her with the force of a dozen punches, bringing with them an embarrassment so thick it tightened the skin on her body until she felt actual pain. Her interest in Vincente had been noted. Who else had seen it? Had Vincente? Was that why he hadn’t come anywhere near her since that night? Had she done something to make him uncomfortable? Mortification nearly choked her . . . until anger overshadowed it.

No. She would not allow this. No longer. She straightened her spine and met her brother’s eyes without wavering. She would not feel ashamed. Would not be embarrassed. She would not be self-conscious about her wants and needs as a woman. That’s what she was! A woman! And she was damned relieved she still had these needs, even though she had no intention of acting on them. If she wanted to want Vincente Romani, then that was no one’s business but hers. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said,” she accused. “He’s not the kind of guy you need, Nik,” Caleb muttered gruffly as he dragged his fork through the melting ice cream on his plate. “What the hell were you doing with him?” “I wasn’t with him. I haven’t seen him since I left Eva’s. But forget Vincente and listen to me, please. I’m doing this because I want to be independent. I need to be independent. I’m going to go on with my life, meet normal people who don’t carry guns and knives like the rest of us carry our cell phones.” She held her brother’s eye and kept her voice low. “You’re free to live without answering to anyone. If you wanted to take that girl home right now”—she motioned to the waitress, who was clearing a table by the front window—“I’d tell you to treat her well and then I’d make my discreet exit. I will now demand the same respect from you. If I want to bring home twenty men like Vincente, then that’s my business and that’s what I’ll do. You won’t judge me.” She stood and pulled a twenty out of her pocket and threw it on the table. “If you can do that for me, then let’s go. I’ll bring you to the apartment and show you around. If not”—she coughed around the tremble she could feel entering her voice—“call me when you’ve come to your senses.” Caleb grabbed her wrist and stood when she tried to walk by, and without a word, pulled Nika into a tight hug. “I love you too much to lose you just because I don’t understand what you need. Explain it to me again along the way. Just . . . don’t shut me out, Nik.” She put her arms around his broad shoulders and hugged him back right where they stood in the small deli, and Nika was pretty sure she heard a sniffle and a rattle of dishes from a few feet away. “Order up, Ashlyn!” came the call from the kitchen.

Vincente coasted down the dark alley on his custom V-Rod. He’d killed the engine already and now rolled to a stop. After leaving the house, he’d traveled the Grand Central Parkway, exiting around Cunningham Park, telling himself he was just coming out this way because he wanted to grab a Danish at the best bakery in the city—too bad the place wasn’t open this time of night. Also too bad that he’d already stuffed himself on Samnang’s perfectly grilled steaks and melt-in-your-mouth potato salad. Hanging his helmet on the handlebar, he swung his leg over his bike and stood, frowning as he looked back to the street, wondering again why two of the ODMC boys would have their rides parked two blocks over from the clubhouse. Especially the one he knew belonged to Caleb. He strolled into the shadows, following the sound of a muffled voice. Man, he hoped he was about to interrupt them getting off with a couple of chippies. He slowed his roll just before rounding the corner of the building and then hastily, silently, stepped back. Nope. They were getting fucked all right, but not in a good way. Caleb was facedown on the dirty cement, being held there by a hoodie-wearing fucker who had his knee pressed into the biker’s spine

and the muzzle of a gun jammed into the back of his head. The owner of the other ride was lying a few feet away, hopefully unconscious and not dead, with Hoodie’s partner in pretty much the same position right next to him, a nine-mil a foot from his hand, also unconscious. Or dead. “Where is she?” Hoodie snarled into Caleb’s ear as he pressed the gun so deep V was sure it was hitting brain stem. A wash of fury fell over his vision, and he didn’t wait to see what would happen next. Moving like a shadow, he crept along the wall until he reached the pair. With a quick grab, he seized the bastard by his hood and bumped hard under his elbow, causing the gun to go flying off into a pile of oozing trash bags. He pulled him up and off Caleb’s back with a hard yank and slammed him skull-first into the sweating bricks in front of them. The crack was a sweetly sick sound that mixed nicely with the guy’s yelp of pain. Behind him he could hear someone shuffling to their feet—Caleb, no doubt—and someone else letting off a deep moan to let everyone know he was coming to. Vincente popped the guy he held in the mouth, ducking to avoid a lame right hook that went wide anyway. What were these guys doing jumping two of Vex’s boys so close to central command? Were they completely clueless? Or did they have heavy backers? “Who you working for?” he asked curiously. The question had barely left his lips when he felt a searing pain fire up in his left triceps. Tightening his grip on his prey’s throat, his head snapped to the side just in time to see Hoodie’s partner get taken to the ground by a wild-looking Caleb, the knife the guy’d used to slash Vincente clattering away on impact. “They’re asking about Nika!” Caleb tossed over to him on the air. And shit got real. Though, instead of going for his SIG—guys were more valuable to them alive—Vincente raised his knee and nailed the unlucky candidate in front of him square in the junk, enjoying the strangled gag that came from his throat. “Nollan sent you? Tell me where to find him, and maybe I won’t cut off your junk and feed it to you. You have a five count—” The sound of sirens stole his attention, and he whipped his incredulous gaze over to see the familiar it’s-time-to-go alarm had also registered with Caleb. They both cursed. Didn’t matter that they were the injured party here. Vincente knew all about the prejudiced view that surfaced the minute some of the NYPD saw the ODMC vests. “Gotta bounce, boys.” The reedy announcement came from the man who Vincente could now see was TP, Caleb’s brother, who’d just made it to his feet and was already shuffling toward the mouth of the alley where he’d left his bike. With a last vicious elbow to the side of Hoodie’s head that had him crumpling, Vincente dropped the guy and hightailed it over to his own ride. Fuck. Frustration ate at him. He should have had the truck. Could’ve loaded the two in and taken them to his place, where he and Maks would have had no trouble getting them to talk. Not one man he knew played the torture game quite like Maksim Kirov. Jerking his helmet on, he rode down to the mouth of the alley just as Caleb and TP’s taillights disappeared around the corner. Heading in the opposite direction, Vincente made sure to cruise, as if he were taking a casual trip uptown. He groaned and nodded to the familiar face behind the wheel of the unmarked car leading two flashing cherries as they went by him. The chirp of the breaks on the damp asphalt had him grinding his teeth. He slowed and pulled to the curb. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard a transmission shift into reverse. The other two vehicles carried on to the scene as Lore drew level with him. The window came down as gears shifted once more. Vincente, too, settled in by shutting down his

bike. Despite them having taken different life paths, he and Lore still shared a deep-seated respect for each other. And would until the day the detective attempted to take him or one of his friends down in an official capacity. Then all bets were off. Fuck. He hoped his arm cooperated and didn’t bleed too much until the chat was over. Figured it would be his left side. “If you can believe it,” Lore said, eyes narrowed, “I was on my way out to Westbury to pay you boys a visit.” He pointed up the street. “Until I heard a call about a couple of bikers beating down two civilians. Thought I’d check it out with the boys. Know anything about that, V?” See? A witness saw the vests and had automatically assumed the bikers were the aggressors. “’Course not, Lore. Why would I?” “Yeah. Why would you?” Lore said dryly, playing the game. “You think Vex’s boys would go after two randoms for no reason?” he asked, because he couldn’t help himself. Lore looked as though he was trying not to smile. “Nah. I just wanted to be able to show up at work tomorrow and rub Smythe’s nose in the fact that I saw the ODMC in action, when he can’t even get a photo of one of them taking a piss.” Vincente grinned. It really was too bad they were on opposing sides. “Anyway, do you want to talk here? Or would you rather I came to the house?” He looked up at the ceiling of his car for a second, his face screwing up as if he’d just sucked on a lemon. “This is off the record, if that makes a difference,” he grumbled. What was this? Was Detective Lorenzo Russo of the NYPD about to ask for their help with something? This should be good. “No need to waste your gas traveling out there when I’m right in front of you. What’s up?” Lore reached for a small stack of what looked like cue cards from the dash and handed them to Vincente. He took them and nearly cursed when he felt a whole lot of blood pooling in the sleeve of his duster. One perfect drop splatted onto the asphalt, the streetlight above them highlighting it perfectly. Good thing Lorenzo was in the car. “This is . . . ?” he questioned as he turned the stack over to see they weren’t cue cards, after all, but crime scene photographs, four of them, the top one of a young girl. “I wanted to know if you boys might have some clue as to why I’ve had, as of an hour ago, four girls show up in the morgue in the past fourteen days. Now, normally that wouldn’t mean much. In fact, it fucking sucks that it wouldn’t mean anything at all but for the fact that all of them are young, all of them prostitutes, all violated in the exact same barbaric way, all strangled to death, all found around the same area—Crown Heights, if it helps to know. And all of them are redheads.” Vincente’s face cooled as the blood drained from his head. Holy fuck. Nollan? Could it be? Had he murdered these girls? These redheads? Because they reminded him of Nika? “The feds are going to be stepping in anytime now, and I don’t believe that outsiders will have the goods to shut this sick bastard down. I have a serial killer on my hands, V, and I’m clearly willing to do anything to stop him.” The “even ask you for help” went unsaid. But what could Vincente do to help? Nothing. He didn’t really know much except who was doing the killing. And even that was speculation. And if he was right, he didn’t know where to find Nollan. Had had no idea where to even look . . . until now. And had he known that fucker’s location? He’d have already done Lore’s job and stopped the killings, by destroying the killer. He handed the photos back after only looking at the first two, unable to stomach seeing any more. Two drops of blood fell on the asphalt. Splat. Splat.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could help you, Lore,” he said, meaning it from the bottom of his heart. “But I don’t know shit about where you might find this fuck. Doesn’t mean we won’t be keeping an eye out, though.” In fact, he’d be heading to the Crown Heights area first thing tomorrow. Would have been on his way right then if he didn’t have to go take care of his fucking arm. Lore took the pics with a resigned nod, brows down low. “If you or your associates hear anything on the street that you think might help, will you get in touch?” Their gazes met, and Vincente felt his face harden at the sympathy he could see shadowed in the detective’s eyes. Lore’s mother had been the chaperone at Sophia’s sixteenth-birthday sleepover. Ashlyn, Sophia’s guest that night and best friend, was Lore’s sister. “If we hear even a peep,” Vincente said carefully, holding that stare. “I’ll definitely be in touch, brother. No worries.” Lorenzo nodded once. “I’d prefer a personal call, but no matter who you reach out to, as long as this guy makes it off the streets, I think that’s all anyone can ask for.” He dropped the pics onto the passenger seat and put the car in gear. “Now go get whatever the hell that is stitched up before you fucking bleed to death,” he muttered with a nod to Vincente’s arm. Vincente smirked and flipped his buddy the bird as he drove away, which Lore saw through the side mirror. Miserable bastard only cracked the barest of smiles. Not wasting any more time, he started his bike and pointed his front tire in the direction of the Astoria apartment—closest place to do a patch job. Gabriel had said the place was being sprayed for insects, but fumes be damned. He needed to stop the bleeding now, and wasting time at the emergency room wasn’t going to happen. As he drove, he thought about what he’d learned in the last hour. According to Caleb, the two who’d jumped him and TP had been asking about Nika, which could only mean Nollan was still around and actively seeking info on his wife. Through Lore, Nollan’s presence had—possibly— been confirmed, and they now knew the sonofabitch was much more dangerous than they’d originally thought. If it was Nollan doing the killings, which Vincente was convinced was the case. The idea that Nika had lived with a guy who’d recently murdered four females, mainly because they resembled the one that had gotten away, made Vincente’s skin crawl. Also made him want to comb the back alleys of Crown Heights until he found the bastard. His cell buzzed, and he grimaced as he dug it out of his pocket, the knife wound burning. He connected the call after he pulled over. “Go.” “V.” Caleb’s voice was low in his ear. “Hey. You okay, brother?” “Yeah, thanks, man. This shit just keeps adding up in your favor,” he chuckled. “Where the hell did you come from? One minute I’m waiting to see out a new hole in my head; next your ugly mug is in my face.” “Was passing by and spotted your ride.” “Were you heading to the clubhouse?” Vincente ground his teeth. “No. Tell me about them.” The furious snort in his ear made him listen intently. “They wanted to know where to find Nika Nollan.” The hair on the back of Vincente’s neck sprang up like a rabid fucking dog’s. “Where’d you run into them?” Motherfuckers. Should have just killed them when he’d had the chance, no matter that Lorenzo had been a block away. “One of them got in touch with TP and asked to meet. Said they had some info on where to find Nollan. We put word out that we’re looking, so we thought it was legit. The one flashed his gun the

second we pulled up, and we couldn’t do shit without taking one point-blank. By the time an opportunity presented itself and TP began scuffling with him, the other one with the hood had his piece in my face. What a fucking mess. I did what I could to not allow a shot to go off. That’s all I’d need is to end up inside while Nika needs me. Especially after what she did to make sure I didn’t go away.” Vincente wished he’d gotten there sooner. “I just had a chat with a buddy, and it seems Nollan has gone over. Four redheaded prostitutes have shown up dead since the night your sister’s situation became public knowledge. Doubt that’s a coincidence. I have to take care of something—then I’ll be in touch. We can head out, flash his pic, see if we can spot him ourselves.” “Holy shit, V. This fucking guy had my . . .” He paused, clearly unable to finish. “You’re not gonna tell me where we’re going, are you?” “Nope.” Because if Caleb and Vex decided to go to Crown Heights on their own, Vincente would add their images to the wanted poster. Better to avoid that altogether. “Keep her locked down, Paynne. Shit’s more serious than any of us thought,” he warned. Which meant Nika had to be moved. “I’ll be in touch.” “But she’s—” He hung up and put his phone away, ignoring it when it buzzed in his pocket almost immediately. He had to deal with his fucking arm before he bled to death right here on the side of the road. Rage was his only companion as he pulled back into traffic and rode to the apartment, cursing every block that passed that he had to fuck around with what he hoped were just a few stitches. That hope died a sudden death when he parked in the underground lot beneath the building and got off the bike. A stream of blood ran out of his sleeve and pooled on the pavement when he let his arm fall to his side. That prick had gotten him deep with that blade. Nodding to Tyson, the doorman on duty at the desk—who smartly glanced at and then away from the blood coating Vincente’s fingers without offering aid—he entered the waiting elevator, glad it was too late for many people to be around. He rolled his tense neck and got out on the tenth floor, angling his arm higher so he didn’t leave a crimson trail to his apartment. Damn shit had soaked his ribs and muscle shirt under his duster, the waist of his jeans on his left side, too. Lucky he’d been wearing the coat. Maks always rode his ass about leather in the middle of summer, but it had paid off tonight, which was exactly why Vincente donned it every night before heading out. Had the blade not had to go through the thick hide first, his arm would have been cut to the bone for sure. He didn’t bother hitting the lights as he opened up and closed himself into the unit, but he sucked in a sharp, pained breath as he went to shrug off— Oranges and jasmine. He held the combination in his lungs and refused to acknowledge that he was savoring it. Only one woman he knew had the scent of oranges and jasmine, and Gabriel was going to get a fucking shot in the teeth for lying to him about the cockroach bullshit. Stunned and moving slowly, keeping his anticipation and anger in check, he went soundlessly through the quiet apartment. The open concept allowed him to see the unoccupied living room with its few framed paintings and the requisite flat screen on his way down the short hallway. There were shopping bags and a couple of shoe boxes on the floor beside the kitchen counter. He took another deep breath and felt his knees wobble. Another, and his hands started to shake. What the hell was Nika doing here? Why wasn’t she with her brother? More importantly, why wasn’t she tucked safely behind the four secure walls of the clubhouse, where no one could possibly harm her? Was that what Caleb had been trying to tell him when he’d hung up on him? That she’d left? His phone buzzed in his pocket, signaling a text, and he took it out.

Saw you go in. Didn’t know you were coming to relieve. We’re outtie.

Alesio

Gabriel must have had his little cousin, along with one of their other guys, on guard duty. They always worked in pairs. Vincente stayed still for a second, trapping the panic flaring in his chest now that his choice to bail had just been taken from him. No way would he leave her here on her own. It was secure, but not secure enough. Fuck. He’d avoided her for a week; now he had no choice but to spend the fucking night with her. Because he would not make an ass of himself by calling Alesio back. Way too many questions would be asked. Way too many. In motion once more, he reached out and slowly pushed open the bedroom door. Holy . . . heaven. His breath jammed at the sight that greeted him. His fantasy come to life was lying half-naked on the bed, all that multicolored hair spread out around her. Her flawless body—fuck him, but he’d forgotten just how flawless—was covered by nothing more than a pair of tiny green boy shorts that rode low on her slim hips. A small white tank barely covered the perfection that should have been just another torso. The yellowing bruises still marring her skin in various areas didn’t detract from her beauty, but they did bring Vincente to a place that reminded him to dial back his appreciation. She didn’t need him ogling her, especially when he claimed to want to do nothing more than help her. So, should he wake her and let her know he was there? Or let her sleep and see his presence for herself in the morning? Because with everything that had happened tonight—after seeing those photos and hearing about those murdered redheads—there was no way he was letting her out of his sight. Not tonight. “Fuck,” he whispered, unsure what to do. Even at a whisper, the sound of his voice had Nika jackknifing to a sitting position, her hand blurring as it snaked under the pillow to come out with what looked to be a SIG Mosquito pointed right at his chest.

CHAPTER 11

Vincente flashed to the side and yanked the bedroom door half-closed, flinching as he waited to hear a shot go off. The sight of her arming herself so swiftly? Sexiest shit ever. She definitely wasn’t one to lie down and play dead over a fucknut like Nollan. She was prepared. Because she thought the guy was coming for her? “Red.” He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice as nonthreatening as possible, which was a feat in itself considering it had gone meat-grinder rough now that he’d seen her nearly bared. “Red, put the gun down. It’s me.” Nothing. No sound at all. Not even breathing. “Red?” His muscles spasmed at the shaky gasp that sounded behind the door. “It’s me, babe. Put the gun down.” “V-Vincente?” He closed his eyes for a second, and then put a hand out to push the door wide again. And, yes, his whole body torqued at the sight of her, long legs bent and off to the side in an unintentionally erotic pose. He separated his teeth from their clamp and stepped forward as she lowered the weapon, blinking repeatedly as she tried to wake up. Seeing her now, after only seven—endless—days, was like breaking through the surface of the ocean to take a deep breath when he hadn’t even realized he’d been drowning. He had no fucking business being attracted to her the way he was—not after everything she’d been through. But then, she’d always had a hold on him, from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her on that street in Seattle. Well before he knew who she was. “Vincente.” The puzzled way she breathed his name in that musical voice was as soothing as a warm hand running down his back. “Yeah, uh, Gabriel didn’t tell me you were staying here or I wouldn’t have come.” An immediate flash of hurt burst in those radiant eyes of hers—the color of which, he could now see, just so happened to match her tiny underwear frickin’ perfectly. The sight of her upset had his fingers curling into fists; her next words made him want to put a hole in the wall. “I don’t doubt that,” he thought she said as she dropped her eyes to her lap. “If you’ll give me a minute, I can get some things and head back to the clubhouse until you leave.” She slid the gun onto to the nightstand while she spoke, her thumb efficiently passing over the safety. “There’s no need for that,” he grumbled as she got to her feet and walked over to grab a robe off the chair in the corner. He looked away from her firm, beautifully rounded ass and tipped his head back to search the ceiling for the fortitude he needed to remain a gentleman. He’d never had to work so hard at

something he’d thought was ingrained. “Okay. Thank you.” She was biting her lip as she turned back, as if she was thinking hard. “Gabriel didn’t tell me you used this—oh, God . . .” The vibrant blue silk trailed behind her, billowing open as she stepped toward him, her hand coming up as though she was going to touch him. “Don’t.” He growled the word, dark and dangerous, because he wasn’t sure his control could withstand it if she so much as trailed her pinkie over his hand. Her face fell hard, but she recovered quickly enough. “I just wanted to help you. You’re bleeding.” Frowning, he looked down. A small red pool had formed on the hardwood next to his boot, from the drips coming off the tips of his fingers. “Oh, fuck. Sorry.” He’d forgotten all about the knife wound. No wonder he was getting dizzy. Spinning away, he crossed the hall into the bathroom and slammed his hand on the wall switch. Rolling his shoulders, he let his trench fall the rest of the way off before yanking the taps to get the water running. He pulled his sopping shirt over his head and tossed it into the tub with a splat, and then ripped a washcloth off the shelf, at the same time texting Paynne that he had eyes on his sister and he’d contact him tomorrow about going after Nollan. “Oh, Vincente,” she gasped quietly. “Let me help you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nika hovering in the doorway. “I got it.” He tucked his phone into his back pocket and worked the cloth under the stream from the faucet with one hand, turning it off with his knuckle as he wrung the sopping— “Oh, for God’s sake. Give me the damned cloth.” Her impatience snapped like a wet towel on his ass as she entered the room. Without waiting for him to get with the program, she reached across and took it from him. Unable to protest, to move at all, he watched dumbly as she wrung out the excess water and grabbed his elbow, yanking on it. “They got you on the back of your arm, and it’ll be awkward for you. I’m standing right here. Now turn. Come on.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face and yanked again when he hesitated. He moved for her. “You can hate me again after I’ve at least cleaned it for you,” she muttered under her breath. But he heard. And froze midturn, his mind furiously rejecting her words. Slowly he came back to face her. “I don’t hate you, Red.” He should let her think it—would be easier all around. But looking down at the crown of her bowed head, he couldn’t. “Whatever.” Her dismissal was brisk and cutting as she once again tried to turn him away from her. He locked down and waited. She lasted all of two seconds before giving an impatient huff and raising her eyes to his. “I really don’t hate you, Red.” “Fine. You don’t hate me. Happy? You’ve made your point—now turn.” He hid a smirk at her little show of temper and obeyed. Somehow he knew she’d think he was laughing at her, when what he was really doing was just enjoying her. Enjoying a spirit he hadn’t seen enough of. Man, she’d be explosive if she ever got riled. Anyone with hair as fiery as hers couldn’t be anything less. He’d gotten but a glimpse that day in Seattle when he’d pushed her too far, and it had been a beautiful thing to witness. “Where’d you get the red hair?” he asked before he could stop himself. “My Irish grandmother on my father’s side.” Irish. Very nice. “What about your name?” “My mother’s parents were Croatian.” Good breeding. The mix turned out one smokin’ babe. But Vincente knew she was more than that. So much more. “You okay to do this?” he asked next, not wanting to freak her out with what he knew had to be a

bloody mess. “I’m fine.” She gently swabbed his injury. “Knife wounds don’t freak you out?” he pressed, unable to shut himself up. She scoffed delicately, causing her warm breath to brush over his bare shoulder. “Never knew you were so chatty,” she said wryly, holding the cloth to put pressure against his arm for a few beats. “Caleb came home with worse than this a time or two.” She worked herself under his arm to rerinse the cloth. “I can do some pretty nice sutures, too, which I’m”—she dabbed—“pretty sure you need.” Grateful for anything to concentrate on but her, Vincente turned to check his arm out in the mirror and saw the deep laceration continued to seep blood at a good rate, bright-pink flesh clearly visible. Shit. No wonder he was light-headed. “You wanna prove your claim?” Her lips pursed, and he almost smiled again. She’d been bluffing; she didn’t know how to suture. “I don’t have a needle and thread.” Or not. “Inside pocket of my coat.” She reached down for his jacket and sifted through the layers, making no mention of the knife and small pistol she had to have seen. When she came back up, his suture kit was in hand—made for each of the boys courtesy of one Dr. Tegan Mancuso. “Have a seat,” Nika offered, nodding to the closed toilet seat, but then she grabbed his forearm to keep him up, her warm fingers curling over his howling wolf tat. “Wait. I think maybe the light in the kitchen is brighter, isn’t it?” He nodded and extracted himself from her hold to head out—run, escape, whatever—not waiting to see if she followed, which she didn’t immediately. He was grateful. Gave him time to regroup. Christ, with all this tucking-tail he was doing lately, he was beginning to feel like a pussy. Really. How hard was it to resist a fucking woman? He stalked into the main room and caught sight of a lacy black bra peeking out of a shopping bag that had been casually thrown on the love seat next to the gas fireplace. An image of fuchsia silk blasted into his frontal lobe, the pretty things Nika had been wearing the night he’d seen her in Gabriel and Eva’s bedroom. For that split second, before the marks on her body had registered, Vincente hadn’t felt worthy of seeing such perfection. He forced his gaze away from the lingerie and started to sweat. Stalking out into the main room, he crossed over to close the drapes before going back to turn on the bright overhead florescent in the kitchen area, used many a time for situations just like this one. They were high up enough that someone on the street couldn’t see in, but he never took chances with privacy. He plunked his ass down at the dining room table to wait for his nurse. Looking at the empty hallway, he quickly snagged his phone and dialed Gabriel. “Go.” “You lying fucking asshole,” he hissed into the mouthpiece. “V?” “You lying. Fucking. Asshole.” There was a slight pause, and then Gabriel was cursing. “Aw, shit. You’re in Astoria.” “Yeah. And it would’ve been nice not to walk in and find a half-naked woman already in my bed,” he snapped. “Really, V? Do you know who you’re talking to?” “Yeah. An asshole. You want to explain why she’s here on her own?” Another tense pause, which spoke volumes about how much his boy didn’t want to explain shit. But he did. “You didn’t see her when Eva and I went to the clubhouse this morning. She was like a caged animal in her brother’s space. She needed to get the fuck out of there. And you think we didn’t try to talk

her into coming here? You fucked? Of course we did. She wouldn’t. She’s been a prisoner long enough, and I think she just wants to live her life.” There was the sound of a shuffle in the background. “Okay, baby. I’ll be right there. Listen, V, we saw that she needed to be on her own. Not that she is completely. I bought the place across the hall from ours last year. Did I tell you that? I don’t remember. Anyway, Vito and Alesio are in there keeping an eye on her.” “Not anymore. Alesio saw me come in and thought I was their relief. They’re gone now, and I’m fucking stuck here. I don’t mind admitting to you that this is seriously testing my control. I’ll get you back for this, Moretti. Mark my fucking words.” He hung up to the sound of yet another merry laugh from one of his friends at his expense and tried to blank his mind. A blank mind equaled a calm system. Blank mind. Blank mind. It was useless. He wasn’t calm, because Nika had him tied up in fucking knots. Bare feet tapping on the hardwood had him looking to see her coming down the hall, still in her tiny tank and pretty blue robe. She’d obviously been busy because, along with his kit, she now carried sterilized surgical pads, gauze, tape, and a couple more facecloths. The bathroom cabinet was well stocked. He surreptitiously wiped the sweat off his brow and tried not to stare at her sleep-mussed hair. After popping open one of the cupboards, she reached up and grabbed a plastic bowl to fill with water. He refused to look at her long, shapely legs. “Is it against the rules for me to ask how you received this particular injury?” she asked as she put the bowl on the table and pulled a chair up behind his left side. Just as he was about to tell her yes, he realized she’d most likely be pissed that he’d kept it from her, and for some stupid reason he didn’t want that. “Got tagged when I was giving your brother a hand earlier.” She went still, bringing her head around until her anxious eyes met his; the fading bruise on her cheek stood out under the bright light. “He and TP left here only a little while ago. He’s okay. Right?” “He’s fine. I talked to him on my way here, and they were already back at the clubhouse.” Her eyes slid closed and she cringed, looking guilty. “Thank God,” she breathed. “Are you the only one who got hurt?” What was the guilt for? He shrugged at her question. “Not sure. TP was unconscious when I found them, so he probably has a headache. But the cops were en route so we beat feet. Didn’t have time to compare wounds.” His blood pressure went up at the reminder of what Lore had told him about the dead girls. “What was happening? How did you come to be there?” Embarrassment made him snap at her. “Doesn’t matter.” She shrugged as if she didn’t give a shit—which pissed him off, yeah, pissed him off, because that was not hurt he felt—and opened the kit. Placing it on the table, she went back to the sink to wash her hands, soaping them longer than he thought was necessary, but he was strangely touched all the same that she cared enough to do it. After drying them on a paper towel, she came back over and professionally unraveled the fine black fiber, threading the curved needle quickly and efficiently before laying it aside on a clean strip of gauze. Her fingers were long and beautiful, her nails just long enough to have those white tips that felt sublime when they ran down a man’s back. “You have done this before,” he grumbled, his voice deeper than it had been a minute ago. Watching her did that to him. She shrugged again, and he noticed then that she wasn’t looking at him anymore. Was she as aware of him as he was of her? “Told you,” she said shortly as she stepped to the side and sat. She got right back up again. “Hate

the quiet.” He just barely caught her mumbled words as she disappeared down the hall and had only gotten in two deep breaths before she was back, an iPod dock in her hands, which she plugged in and fiddled with for a second. “Any preferences?” she asked over her shoulder. Nothing that’s gonna make me want to fuck you to it. “Nothing too heavy.” Marley’s “Jamming” came on, and it was all Vincente could do not to roar at her to shut the motherfucking thing off. Did people do anything but fuck to that song? But he sat there like a good boy. Silent and strung tighter than a six-string as she came over. And didn’t he nearly snap in half when she claimed her chair and spread her legs so she could snug up to his left side? Holy hell, but he was gonna lose it here. “You said you used to do this for Caleb?” Anything to focus on other than the woman next to him. “Mmm.” She cleared the blood away and went to work with the needle. After the first couple of white-hot pricks—the thread sliding through his flesh felt as if a lumberjack’s wide-tooth saw were passing over his skin—he said through a tight jaw, “Talk to me while you work, Red.” He looked down and saw her bite the inside of her cheek, as if holding back a smile at his needing the distraction. But she got chatty. “I’d hear a tap on my bedroom window in the middle of the night and know Caleb had gotten hurt. I remember being so relieved he’d made it home at all that I wouldn’t even care about being woken up. The least I could do was take care of him, right? Anyway, I’d slide the pane up, silently, because he kept it well lubricated for just such occasions, and he’d drag himself inside. A few times he even brought a couple of his boys with him so they wouldn’t have to answer any questions at the hospital.” Vincente’s muscles, which had slowly begun to relax while concentrating on her voice, tensed up again. Just what he needed—to know her fuckwad brother used to bring his buddies into her bedroom in the middle of the night. Had her creamy, warm thighs been flush like this with some other asshole’s hip? Had her long, graceful fingers touched parts of their bodies as she sewed them up like she was doing to him? Caleb was a fuckin’ idiot. Should have let him take that bullet tonight. Nika deserved better than all of them. “How old were you?” he ground out. “First time I noticed his own handiwork, I almost died laughing,” she chuckled, and Vincente couldn’t help hoping the boys wouldn’t die of laughter tomorrow when they saw his arm. “So I went online and learned a suture technique. It said to practice on oranges. So I did. I was fourteen. I often wondered if our dad knew what was going on. He never said anything, so maybe he didn’t. But he was so easy on Caleb—they had a great relationship—that I doubt he’d have given him much hell even if he’d known.” Lucky Caleb. “Your brother was an asshat for dragging you into shit like this when you were just a kid.” She reached the end of the slash. “I guess. Saved me from having to pay the odd medical bill over the past year, though.” Her fingers stilled, almost as if she was waiting for a reaction from him. He barely drew breath, but after a few strained heartbeats, he thought, Fuck it. He turned his head so he could see her. She was staring at his arm. “Red?” Her gorgeous emerald gaze shifted up to nail him in the gut. He nearly drooled right in front of her when he saw the smile that transformed her features from beautiful to downright ravishing. “Thought you were gonna freak out for a second there. Impressive control,” she praised him with a pat to his ribs. And . . . did she just caress him? She looked down at his arm and her smile turned private,

but Vincente couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Privacy shmivacy. “You’re probably wondering how I can talk about it like it’s nothing, huh?” she said. “I’d like to annihilate the entire city when I think about what he did to you.” He snapped his teeth together. Fan Boy clapped his hands with excited approval. The sliver of moral fiber stood there with his arms crossed, snapping, Way to go, asshole. Really, nothing says “keep your distance” like telling her you’d destroy millions of innocent people in your efforts to find that fucker so you can avenge her. Problem was, Vincente would do it.

He would have said that to any woman in your situation, Nika told herself as she got up, snagged a dry cloth from the pile, and went over to the sink to wet it—even though the bowl next to Vincente’s elbow was full of warm, clean water. Whatever. Taking a deep breath that thankfully didn’t smell like leather and sandalwood, she straightened her spine and marched back over. Plunking down she wiped gently over his new stitches and said, “If you annihilate the entire city, then we’d be robbed of the pleasure of seeing Kevin take his last vile breath. So hold off on going Hiroshima, ’kay?” Cruel as it sounded, she meant every word. She needed to see Kevin die. Or at least see him dead if she couldn’t actually witness the event. And how much of a monster did that make her? But how else would she know she was truly free of him? She still thought he was gone, but what if Caleb was right and he wasn’t? And going to the authorities and having him spend a short vacation in jail just wouldn’t cut it. He’d be out doing the same thing to another girl in no time. Sentences for domestic violence were paltry, which was infuriating. “Don’t let Maks hear you talk like that. Bloodthirsty turns him on. He’d be down on one knee in seconds.” For the life of her, Nika couldn’t make out the odd note in Vincente’s voice. So, because she was uptight, she babbled about why she was trying to be so easily accepting of all of this. “My father and brother raised me to not give up when things get rough,” she explained. “If I’d rolled over and played zombie because of what Kevin was doing to me, I’d have been—would be—an utter disappointment to Dad and Caleb. Couldn’t do that to them. Or myself. Don’t get me wrong,” she added as she pushed the chair back again and stood, tearing open a package of gauze. She breathed a sigh of relief that she could once again get away from the heat coming off him; the insides of her thighs felt as though they’d been sunburned. “There were days when I wanted to throw in the towel, just swallow a handful of pills and be done with it. Clearly I didn’t. Mainly because I wouldn’t let him win. But also because I would never do that to my brother. He already lost our mom and dad. I didn’t want to add myself to that list.” After ripping off two pieces of white tape, she was just about to cover the wound when Vincente’s strong fingers encircled her forearm. “Hang on.” She paused and made the mistake of looking at him, something she’d been trying hard not to do. She hadn’t seen him in a week. Had really only seen him for a few minutes, during her departure from Eva’s, in the past two weeks, but the time apart had done nothing to diminish the pull she felt toward him.

He drew her in with no effort on his part at all. Had since the moment she’d first met him. Even now, she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through all that thick hair. She wanted to press her tingling lips to his. Wanted to know if his goatee would scratch or tickle. Her thighs were quivering, for God’s sake, for the first time ever. She didn’t know they could do that, but hers had been from the second he’d walked into the bedroom—or they had started after she’d gotten over the urge to shoot him. So badly did she want to study and then trace all the beautiful artwork inked over his torso, chest, and arms. She loved tattoos on a man. Naturally, this one would be covered in them. Not that that explained her undeniable attraction to him—she’d grown up around tattooed men her whole life, so seeing an inked body wasn’t anything new. Yet . . . here she was. Coveting this one. After everything she’d been through with Kevin, she thought this feeling, the need, would be dead. Beaten out of her. Instead, Vincente made her feel alive. Like a normal woman, with normal desires. It was refreshing. And foreign. She wasn’t even sure how to do this . . . this . . . whole desire thing; it had been so long. Vincente broke through her thoughts. “Your inner strength is incredible, Nika.” A soft buzz traveled through her. Holy crap. He’d used her name. It was usually Red or babe, both of which she had to admit she liked, but he’d never used Nika before. Knowing her surprise must appear idiotic, she smiled tremulously. “Uh, thanks to my dad and Caleb. They taught me well. You might want to take a look at it in the bathroom before I bandage it,” she added, putting the gauze down on the table. But he just stood there, and because she was so off balance, she just kept yammering in an effort to fill the silence. “Uh, Eva and I were talking before I fell asleep about what I would do now that I’ll be staying in New York. Gabriel—your friend is awesome, by the way—said he’d have no qualms about placing me at TarMor. In the finance department or something. I have a degree in accounting from Seattle Pacific and used to work at a large firm in Seattle. Until I quit after Christmas because I was missing too much work and wanted to leave before I got fired. At least I can use them as a reference now.” She should stop talking, but she couldn’t. Not when Vincente’s nearly black eyes were watching her mouth so intently. “I used to take care of reconciliations and monthly financial analysis for different departments, help prepare year-end audit files . . .” She trailed off. She wanted him. And she wanted him to want her, too. That freaked her out as much as it excited her. Would it be terrible to repeat the kiss they’d shared in Seattle? Yes. Terrible for her. Because she wouldn’t be able to pass it off as just one of those things. She was afraid it would mean something, and she didn’t want that. Besides, what if she kissed Vincente and didn’t want to stop at just a kiss? Could she do more? Even with him? After what Kevin had done to her, would she respond? Of course she would respond. She had already, and he hadn’t even touched her. Her body responded to his very presence in an instinctively sexual way. But then what? They’d have sex, he’d assume she was his, slap on the chains, take her choices away, get in the way of her new goals—which were now two: concentrate on her career and casual encounters only, if ever she felt the need. She was feeling the need. But wasn’t her life already complicated enough? And getting involved with someone from her best friend’s husband’s inner circle could blow up in her face. Even if it was only casual. A realization that should have brought her thoughts about Vincente to a screeching halt. But didn’t. Did he have a temper? Was he a throw-shit-around-the-room kind of guy when he was upset? And

if he was, did that ever spill over into violence aimed at those around him? She doubted it, but what did she know? Nothing. Nothing, except that she wanted to climb him like a tree and devour his mouth. She wanted to touch him, be touched by him. To feel alive again, the way she had back in Seattle when he’d kissed her. Blinking in order to focus, she licked her dry lips and watched the way his gaze followed the movement. “Uh, you better go look now,” she said hoarsely as she stepped back. His grip on her wrist hindered her from getting far. How could he not feel her pulse thundering under his fingers? “Believe me when I tell you this, Red.” His low voice had her body liquefying, moisture gathering between her legs that she could actually feel. And he was back to calling her Red again. “Your strength of character comes from your heart. Your family may have given it a boost, but that spirit inside you? That’s all you.” Nika forced her burning tear ducts to remain dry. How could he have known she needed to hear that? “Thank you, Vincente.” “After going through what you did, I think we’d all understand if you fell apart for a while. But you haven’t. Two weeks in and you’re already attempting to move on, start a life. I admire you for that, more than you know. But if you feel yourself falling, one of us will be there for you. Just know that.” He made a funny sound. “I had a sister who died when I was twenty—she was sixteen. I wish I’d had your gumption during that time. I crumbled. Drank to dull the pain. Her nightmare lasted almost a year, too. Prostitute ring. They got her hooked on meth.” His jaw worked and he shook his head, as though to dislodge his memories. “I let what happen to her eat at me for years. Still do. And I wasn’t even the one who’d gone through anything. I was just the one left behind.” She had to swallow several times before she could talk. “Sometimes that’s worse,” she offered, her heart aching with compassion for what he must have suffered. And still did. “I mean, the victim is at peace, whereas you’re left with the what-ifs and the regrets, the thoughts of what you could have done differently. Those are hard to live with. I’m so sorry you’ve had to, Vincente.” He looked at her for a long moment, seeming surprised that she understood. Even victims lived with those unanswerable questions. She knew that firsthand. “In my case, I have to win this,” she explained. “That doesn’t mean I’m not affected by what happened.” A derisive laugh slipped out. “Maybe it will hit me later, like it did after my dad died.” She shrugged and looked everywhere but at him. “Today, I nearly dove under the bananas when some guy’s cart hit mine in the market. He smiled and apologized and then took his child’s hand and off they went. Normal, everyday thing, right? No. Because as he walked away, I was convinced he’d done it on purpose, wondered if he was a good father, if he ever lost his temper and hurt his little guy, his wife. That’s something I’m left with—suspicion and trust issues, among other things. But who am I to complain? At least I’m here. Right?” Patting his hand where he still held her, Nika slipped from his hold—before she gave in and took him into her arms to comfort him when he didn’t want that from her. She led the way to the bathroom. She entered the room and stood to the side of the mirror as Vincente’s boots thudded on the floor behind her. She took in the sight of all that bare skin, the lines inked into it making shivers feather over her. When he turned, obviously intending to look at the sutures, her eyes were drawn to a beautifully done portrait proudly displayed on his right pec. Unthinking, so intent on how the artist had captured the joy in the girl’s eyes, Nika raised her hand and brushed the pads of her fingers down the image’s cheek. Vincente’s sharp jerk and harshly indrawn breath had her snatching her hand back so fast she cracked her elbow on the cabinet behind the toilet.

“Sorry,” she murmured, meeting his eyes quickly in the mirror before dropping her gaze to the floor as she rubbed her funny bone. “Sorry. It’s just lovely.” He was silent for a beat. “S’okay,” he said curtly. “That’s Sophia.” Of course. Her throat clogged with emotion. God, she needed some sleep. Or some sex. Her strangled laugh had Vincente’s eyes flashing to hers. “Sorry, just ignore me.” She hid her face behind her hands and rubbed at her hot skin. “Like that’s possible,” she thought she heard him mutter, but it was too quiet for her to be sure. He shifted to the side and lifted his arm again so he could look at the stitches. Her gaze landed on the bottle of soap on the side of the sink, and then the clean glass next to it, her toothbrush that she’d used earlier and the towels on the rack, the gleaming stainless-steel faucets . . . anywhere but at his tight, rolling muscles. Vincente’s low whistle grabbed her attention, and she glanced up to see a crooked smile had turned up his lips. Her breath caught, and she realized, sadly, that she’d never seen him do that before. Never seen him smile. Really smile. And she was overwhelmed by the masculine beauty of him. “You weren’t kidding when you said you knew what you were doing. Tegan’s gonna be impressed when she sees this.” Tegan? Why would he care what the doctor thought? He shifted and looked her right in the eye. “Thank you. They’re perfect.” So are you. “Is she yours?” Oh, God. How humiliating. “What?” Oh well. Now that it’s out there. “Is Tegan your girlfriend?” She held her breath as she waited for an answer. His chuckle was deep, and the damned thing burrowed right into her bones. “No. Tegan belongs to no one but Tegan.” “Do you have one? A girlfriend, I mean?” “No.” Relief. Sweet, muscle-melting relief hit her. Along with a rush of tears because she didn’t know why she was asking him something that shouldn’t matter to her. She nodded again and turned quickly, heading out the door, mumbling about cleaning up as she fled back to the kitchen. “You’re so stupid,” she castigated herself in a near-silent mutter as she went for the table. “He doesn’t want you anyway. If he did, he would have done something by—” “You okay, Red?” She jerked wildly when Vincente’s voice came from right behind her. She spun and nearly dropped the tape and scissors in her hands. “Er, yeah. So, now that you’re patched up”—she rushed out, stepping around his half-naked body to put the things on the counter—“I’m going to bed.” Keeping her head down, she went back to the table and snatched the gauze wrapper, dirty cloths, and the bowl of water, making sure to give him a wide berth as she went to the sink. He cleared his throat. “I meant what I said. Thank you for this. We usually call T when we need something. Or Maks. Or just do it ourselves if we can reach. But I guess I’m lucky you were here.” Yeah. Lucky. She turned on the water and squirted some dish soap into the bowl, scrubbing it so hard she was surprised she didn’t put a hole through it. “You’re welcome.” How in the shitting hell was she supposed to sleep now? She heard him move away as she rinsed the cloths as best she could before turning the water off. She took a second to hang her head, hoping he wouldn’t come back and catch her—

“What’s the matter, babe?” Her heart banged into her breastbone, and she whirled to find him directly behind her again. “Vincente! I thought you—” “What’s the matter?” he repeated more firmly. His eyebrows were low, hooding the dark, dark chocolate of his eyes. Why did she feel this overwhelming need for him? For a man who clearly didn’t even want her? A man she shouldn’t want. A man who seemed to be as emotionally damaged as she was and could ruin all her plans for her new life by drawing her in. Vincente was so dangerous to her cause, because he made everything she craved fade into the background. When he was around, nothing existed but him. Not a new start, a good job, friends, a nice place of her own. Just him. That shriveled thing in her chest—her pride, she was pretty sure—had shrunk even more at his reaction to her reaching out to him in the bedroom earlier. It had become even smaller when she’d heard the odd sound he’d made when she’d brushed her fingers over his tattoo in the bathroom just now. Almost like her touch had pained him. “It’s nothing,” she finally replied. “I’m just tired. Sleep well, ’kay?” She swiped her finger over the Power button to shut off the music as she went by and left him standing in the kitchen. She went down the hall and closed the bedroom door behind her before climbing back into the bed, robe and all. Moving like a haggard old woman, Nika rolled onto her side and put her head on the lemony-fresh pillowcase. She hugged the other pillow to her chest and forced her suddenly wet eyes closed, feeling lonelier than she ever had in her life.

CHAPTER 12

He led the redhead down the alley; the click of her heels was muffled as she waded through old newspapers and trash of all sorts. The minute they were deep enough that he felt safe from prying eyes, he had her up against the wall, his mouth roughly kissing her, his teeth biting at her neck, his hands grabbing at her tits so hard she shoved at his shoulders. “Slow down, horndog,” she snapped. “You didn’t gimme me my money yet.” Kevin’s simmering rage reignited at the bitch’s attitude, and he clamped his fingers around her throat. The instant fear in her eyes as they clashed with his, the mad scramble, the claw of her fingers on his wrist . . . was fuckin’ beautiful. Too soon but still beautiful. He usually played with them a little longer. “You think you can fuck me over, you cunt,” he whispered, blinking as the whore’s face mutated, slowly becoming his wife’s lying, cheating features staring up at him. “You don’t think I’ll find you. I’ll never give up. I’m going to kill you, you stupid bitch,” he hissed. “Where are you? Who are you with? Caleb’s friend? The one I saw tonight? Is he fucking you right now? Is he inside this body that belongs to me?” Kevin swallowed the shit that made his throat feel swollen. His rage, he thought. “How could you, Niki? How could you betray me, you whore?” he whispered as he grasped his wife when she would have fallen to the ground. “I’m close. You don’t know how close.” He frowned when her head lolled on her shoulders. Her fear was gone, so was the panic. Her mouth now hung open, her eyes not quite closed, but not open either. “Niki?” He shook her. Shit. She was out. Like she’d been lots of times before. He smiled a little and laid her down, and then he did what he’d always done when he’d put her in this unconscious state after hitting her too hard. He started touching. Everywhere he could reach. Roughly. Her breasts, stomach, hips, thighs. Why the fuck was she wearing this cheap, dirty shit? he wondered in confusion as he ripped the tattered gray underwear out of his way. As he went into his pocket for his knife, Kevin glanced up to make sure she was still out and stalled as, yet again, the now-lifeless face of a stranger registered.

Twenty-four hours later, Nika took a steadying breath as she studied her reflection in the ladies’ room mirror and wiped at the makeup smudged under her eyes. She blinked. Blinked a little harder to focus. Squared her shoulders. Tipped her chin up and was proud when she didn’t weave as she left the nightclub’s restroom and carefully made her way down the long mirrored corridor toward the door leading back to the bar. She’d spent last night tossing and turning with embarrassment and subsequent anger because she was allowing Vincente so much control over her emotions and body. She’d even dreamed of him. He’d come into the bedroom, slid his hand beneath her nape to half lift her from the mattress, and then he’d kissed her so deeply and so thoroughly she was pretty sure she’d moaned and reached for him in her sleep. But then Kevin had stormed in, warping the erotic movie into a nightmare of violence and maniacal shouts about how much he would make it hurt when he killed her. She’d woken soaked in sweat, her face wet with tears. And the worst part? She’d been more upset that she and Vincente had been interrupted than afraid of who’d done the interrupting! Absurd. She’d finally given up on sleep around six thirty and stomped from the bedroom to find the apartment quiet and empty. Feeling ridiculously abandoned, she’d nodded, lips pursed, thinking, Fine. He could dismiss her that easily? Not even a note to say bye? She’d do the same, and she’d kicked him right out of her head. She’d gotten dressed and headed for the subway. The bustling mode of transport had done its job bringing her into Manhattan, and she’d spent the better part of the day wandering through the incredible rooms at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Something she’d always wanted to do. Too bad the experience had been ruined for her. Vincente had ruined it. By being in her mind and under her skin. She didn’t like that. Wished he’d get out. The damned man was making it difficult for her to concentrate on her life plan, part two of which was now in motion. She’d been thrilled when Eva had texted this morning that her interview at TarMor was set for Wednesday with a woman named Natalie. Eva had added that Gabriel had told her the interview was a mere formality, necessary in order to find out exactly what Nika’s skills were so she could best be placed. Nika smiled, realizing right then that she might be a little in love with her best friend’s husband. He was so generous. Kind. For real. Eva was so lucky to have someone like Gabriel. He was the boss. She snickered. He was the boss. And Vincente was his underboss. Nika wanted to be under the underboss that was under her skin. She groaned. Back to that again? The low heels of her new boots skidded on the floor as she screeched to a halt to avoid being run over by a couple making goo-goo eyes at each other as they passed her. Probably going to have sex in a bathroom stall, she thought mulishly, jealously, through the alcohol haze clouding her brain. She could have sex. With Vincente. But he didn’t want her. Why was she mooning over being with a man who didn’t even want her? And why was that? Was she unattractive? She’d always thought she was average in looks. Not a great beauty like Eva, but not yucky either. Did she smell? She brought her chin to her chest and sniffed, and then ran her tongue over her teeth. She was all right. But even Kevin hadn’t been attracted to her enough to get an erection— thankfully, but still. She was frowning as she made her way back to the bar and slid onto her still-vacant stool, her head now spinning. She took out her phone and pretended to text—was probably erasing her contact list for all the attention she paid. What was she doing here? She should call Eva. She should have called her this afternoon and spent the day bellyaching to her best friend. Instead she’d wandered the museum alone,

sat in Central Park having a hot dog—something she’d actually enjoyed—alone, and now here she was, drinking in a nightclub called Pant that an overly friendly cabdriver had recommended. Still alone. God, she really was a loser. Maybe Kevin was right— Stop it! Her shoulders slouched. Fine. She might not be a loser, but being here by herself was irresponsible considering the circumstances. Sure, Kevin could be as far away as Mexico by now. But he could also still be in New York somewhere. How he’d find her here at this specific place, she didn’t know, but still. She should call Caleb. Ask him to come get her. Or she could just take a cab home and stop drowning her sorrows in a bottle of tequila. Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat at the thought of walking into that echoing, empty apartment . . . Maybe she should find that corner everyone expected her to end up in anyway. Sliding her phone onto the bar, the throb in her head worsening, she looked up at all the jagged, distorted reflections in the hundreds of mirrors mounted on the walls. The strobe lights bouncing around had her blinking and squinting to focus on way too many people; the swinging arcs made her dizzier than ever. The bartender appeared and placed a fresh drink in front of her. “Oh, no, no. I didn’t order that,” she said with a wave of her hand. In fact, she was done. Time to go home. I haven’t had a real home since Dad died. She disregarded the depressing thought and focused on the bartender, who said, “Guys down the bar wanted you to have it.” She looked to where he was pointing and saw two guys shoot her the peace sign. “I don’t want it,” she said quickly. “It’s already paid for, doll. Just leave it here, and I’ll dump it when they get distracted.” She nodded her thanks. No sooner had he walked away when she felt two bodies sidle up beside her. Shit. “How the hell is someone who looks like you alone in a place like this?” Wishing she could just ignore them, but knowing that would probably make them turn mean, she swiveled on her stool. Two average-looking drink buyers. No bikers here. No mafia goons either. They looked as though they worked for UPS or something. “Not sure,” she said, skating the line on friendliness. “But I was just leaving.” The one who’d asked the lame question laughed. He had a pleasant smile. “I hope we didn’t scare you off.” “We waited as long as we dared, and no one came around so we thought we’d try our luck,” the other one piped up, his smile not so pleasant. It reminded her of the one Kevin used to give her right before he hit her. “Nothing to do with you,” she said around a shudder, her chest tightening with anxiety. The muscles in her back seized up, making her want to stretch them out. She should have gone straight back to the apartment. It wasn’t safe out here on her own. “. . . here before. I would have remembered you,” the guy with the yucky smile was saying. She completely ignored him—no matter how angry they got that she was walking away, they couldn’t hit her in front of all these people, right?—and grabbed her purse off the bar, sliding the strap over her head as his friend tried again. “We were going to head somewhere quieter, too. It’s about a block over. You wanna—” “Red.” Her alcohol-fueled brain oohed and aahed at the deep voice. The sound represented safety, and

she’d never been so grateful to hear it as she was just then. She swung her heavy head to the side, and her jellylike body tried to follow. She had to plant her boot before she performed a free dive to the floor. “What the hell are you doing? Where’s Caleb?” Skin tingling, heart thumping, she took in the fierce lines of Vincente’s face surrounded by all that fistable hair falling around his deliciously wide shoulders. Fistable? God, she must be drunk. Because she also wasn’t mad anymore that he’d rudely ditched her this morning. “You’re so beautiful, Vincente.” She came up short. Did I just say that out loud? Judging by the flaring of that chocolate gaze, she was pretty sure she had. She cringed in embarrassment, closing her eyes. But when she felt the pull of gravity, she jerked them back open and had to throw out a hand to steady herself. Her palm slapped onto his rolling abs, which were covered by a thin black cottony material. No give beneath it. What. So. Ever. “Soft shirt. Wonder what kind of laundry soap Samnang uses.” To wash the clothes that cover this gorgeous body I thought about all effing night and day. She froze and glanced up, hoping she hadn’t said that last bit out loud. She didn’t think she had. Wow. He must look pretty scary to the people standing around them. She sighed, taking in all that sexy rage radiating from him. Funny how she couldn’t see where his hair ended and the black leather of his long coat began. God, his shoulders are wide, and those thick legs of his, mmm . . . Her gaze slid back up, and she forgot about the menace rolling off him when she saw he was looking at her. “Sorry,” she apologized for her blatant eye-fuck. “Oh, uh, and I’d introduce, but I don’t know who they are.” Why were the two cling-ons still hanging around now that her hero had arrived? “I’m Paul, and that’s Darren,” one of them supplied. “Oh. Well, there you go,” she murmured, not really caring. Her gaze remained glued to Vincente. “Well, Paul and Darren.” The quiet menace in Vincente’s voice carried over the music. He leveled each of them with a glare that probably made their balls hurt. “It’s time you boys headed out.” Why weren’t his lips moving when he talked? And why did him taking over and running the show make her feel so warm and squishy? Shouldn’t she be angry? She could take care of herself. You were scared. Yes. I was, she admitted to that part of her brain that had called her out. But she’d have gotten past it. Wouldn’t she? She glanced over to see Mr. Yucky-Smile staring at her, eyes excited. “The lady was just coming with . . .” Vincente stepped closer to her, his size blocking out the dizzying lights that were doing their best to make her want to throw up. She wasn’t going anywhere with them, she thought, burrowing her hands under that soft black cotton to find nothing but smooth skin. Maybe if they thought she was into Vincente, they’d go away without a fuss. Leaning farther into him, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes as her forehead came to rest on his chest. “God, I love the way you smell.” And the way you feel and sound and look. She could have gone on, but she was afraid she might start voicing the list for all to hear rather than just thinking it. And Vincente didn’t need to be bothered with her nonsense. Man, she really needed to go to sleep. Before she completely self-destructed.

Vincente’s control was sliding away faster than shit through a goose. He looked down at Nika’s brilliant hair shimmering in the flashing lights; the gentle intimacy of her actions nearly brought him to his knees. Take her. She’s yours. He blinked at Fan Boy’s tender whisper. Shit. She wasn’t fucking his. Maybe his responsibility, because he’d made her so, but that was it. Thank fuck Vito and Alesio had been updating him on her travels throughout the day—a day she’d spent all by herself. He’d been on his way to a big poker tourney one of their operations was holding throughout the next couple of days when Alesio had called—instead of texting, as he’d done all day—and told him where Nika had landed more than an hour ago. Pant, a nightclub in Hell’s fucking Kitchen, a few blocks over from Maksim’s place. Vincente had nearly taken out a rickshaw with his illegal U-turn, cursing that they’d waited so long to let him know. But at least they had. Seemed Gabriel had told them Vincente was the one to report to in this operation. Despite what people might think, the new boss was a sensitive guy, because he’d also told Alesio and Vito not to engage Nika but, again, to call V because he was more familiar to her. Happy hearing that directly from Alesio, Vincente had hung up and made it to Pant within fifteen minutes. He’d called ahead and asked—ordered—the owner of the club, an Australian woman he and Vasily had introduced themselves to not long ago, to put all exits on lockdown for any woman with red hair. Sydney Martin had sounded suspicious but had agreed to put her staff on it without asking many questions. Bringing his arms up, he uncurled his fists and slid his fingers under Nika’s hair to cup her nape, always careful of where her stitches had been. His other hand settled on her back to perform a slow, comforting glide up and down. “You boys walk away now and I won’t kill you. You stick around and they’re gonna need a magnifying glass to gather what’s left of you.” He didn’t even bother looking up at the insignificants as he spoke. He was too busy watching the ever-changing shadows Nika’s long lashes cast on her silky cheeks now that she’d closed her eyes. When he did finally raise his head to get the bartender’s attention, the area was clear. “She all paid up?” he asked when the guy hightailed it over. “Yeah, man, she’s good.” Vincente pocketed Nika’s phone from the bar and gave him a nod—biting his tongue so as not to let the asshat have it for feeding drinks to a woman who’d clearly had enough. He’d let Sydney know she needed to better train her staff. Gently clasping Nika’s shoulders, he shifted her back a bit, wanting to smile when she moaned and frowned as if she was pissed at being disturbed. “Red. Red.” Those gorgeous emeralds were revealed, and the sleepy smile that came over her face made him swallow a whimper. “Can you walk?” Say no, Fan Boy begged. “Of course.” Awww. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” “I don’t have a home anymore,” he thought he heard her say, but the music was too loud. Slipping an arm around her waist, he helped her to her feet and was impressed when she held her weight effortlessly. He started forward and was doing pretty well until she threw him into a tailspin by sliding her arms around his middle and leaning into him. She turned her head and snuggled into his chest, her delicate ribs expanding as though she was taking a breath. “You smell so amazing,” she said. “I ever tell you that?” Despite his hardening cock, his lips curved. “Yeah, babe. About five minutes ago.”

She nodded, her ribs doing another swell. “’Kay. Probably tell you again in a sec.” A full smile broke free, and he had to work to hide it when he spotted Alesio and Vito coming in from the side. “We’re bouncing. Thanks, boys.” Nika’s head came up to see who he was talking to. “Hey! It’s the guy from the door.” She obviously remembered Vito from Eva’s wedding at the house. “Thanks for not ratting me out the other night when I snuck out,” she whispered loudly with an innocently sexy wink that gave Vincente the scratch. “Turned out to be the best, and worst, night of my life. But I’m free now.” She pulled away from Vincente and did a ta-da motion with her arms that had all three of them— fucking Alesio looked a little too closely—peering down at the black tights and silky black shirt she wore, the neckline of which was so wide that it had slipped off one shoulder. Her arms fell to her sides, and she seemed to lose her small burst of energy. “S’not as fun as I thought’d it’d be, though,” she grumped as she came to his side again. “Can’t do much. Not even play with someone like Vincente here, ’cause he doesn’t like me.” He ground his molars to dust, while ignoring Alesio and Vito’s interested looks. He slipped his arm around her waist. “Come on, Red. Let’s get you home.” She continued like he hadn’t spoken. “What’s your name?” she asked Vito. “I’m Vito.” She laughed, the sound musical and lovely. “Of course you are. And you?” she turned to G’s cousin. Vincente glared at him, the thread that was his control stretching. “Alesio.” Nika gasped, her widening eyes making her look like a guileless porn fantasy come to life. “You’re Gabriel’s Alesio? Oh, my God!” She launched herself at the handsome little shit, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek—more like the corner of his very shocked mouth. “You helped save Eva! Thank you! You’re officially my new hero. Maybe we can get together one day and you can tell me what went down in that cabin. Eva won’t talk to me about it ’cause she’s afraid the bad stuff will tip me over this edge they seem to think I’m on . . .” As she continued, babbling about how silly and adorable Eva’s protective instincts were, Vincente stared. At her. In another man’s arms. Her fingers absently playing with the hair at Alesio’s nape. Her body pressed against his. Her beautiful lips—which had now tasted Gabriel’s cousin!—mere inches from possibly doing so again. Her undivided attention on the handsome face that belonged to a guy closer to her own age than Vincente was. This would eventually be his reality. Seeing her like this with someone else. Alesio’s hands were up and out, in a pose of total surrender. His head jerkily shaking back and forth as though saying, “Wasn’t me. I didn’t do nothin’.” The weakened thread holding Vincente’s control snapped with a dangerous twang, and without being conscious of it, his body took over. He reached out and clamped his fingers around Nika’s upper arm to pull her off the enemy—who was so lucky they were standing in the middle of a crowded club. He spun her around to face him, pulling her in until their noses were brushing against each other. “Do not. Ever. Throw yourself into another man’s arms in front of me again. Do you understand me?” His voice sounded as if it had been dredged from the very pits of hell, his expression feeling like one he’d stolen from Lucifer himself. And Nika, oblivious to the ominous cloud hanging like a pall around them, patted his cheek with her soft palm and smiled up at him. “Sure. Sure.” She turned back to the boys, or as much as she could because Vincente didn’t let her go. “It was nice to meet you guys. I guess I’ll see you again when I visit Eva. Ready?” she asked him. Striving for calm, he slid his hand down to her hip and tucked her closer to his side. She came as

easily as if they’d been doing this for years. Yeah. Years—if he were to give in and take her as he was so tempted to do—that would wear on her. Steal her independence by nailing her to his side, giving her nothing but a front-row-center to an endless string of possibly violent, dangerous days she didn’t need or deserve. Maybe even get her killed in a wrong-time-wrong-place thing like the car bomb that had taken his mother’s life. All the while she would be shackled to a man with no heart or soul left to speak of. That wasn’t what he wanted for Nika. He curled his free hand into a tight fist and punched it into Vito’s thick chest and then flipped Alesio off, not wanting him to feel left out. “Later, boys.” Five minutes later, he was climbing into the driver’s side after having deposited Nika in the passenger seat of the Kombat. “This truck is fantastic,” she praised, looking around. “Thanks.” “Caleb must love it.” The biker did get that same stupid look on his face when he saw the Kombat that Vincente got whenever he caught a glimpse of Maksim’s Pagani Zonda. “We all have our toys.” “This might be a stupid question,” she said as she slowly pulled the seat belt out. “But do you ride? You wear the leather, so I just wondered.” “I have a few bikes, yeah.” She stilled. “A few? Really? What do you have?” “V-Rod, Street Glide, and a custom chopper that I only take out on special occasions.” She whistled. “Very nice. So the model on the table outside of Quan’s bedroom was yours.” His head swiveled slowly to face her. What the fuck had she been doing outside Quan’s bedroom? “I wasn’t snooping or anything,” she said quickly. “I saw it on the way to Eva’s room before the wedding when I stopped to look at that sexual picture hanging above it on the wall.” He tried to remember what painting she was talking about but only got an image of angels and shit. “I never thought you were snooping, Red.” “Oh, good.” She pulled at the belt again and bent to find the buckle at her hip. She paused the task again and looked at him. “Thank you, Vincente. For getting me out of there, and for the ride.” She’d placed her hand on his wrist, but now she pulled it back sharply, making him frown. “Sorry, sorry. Forgot.” His frown deepened. “Forgot what?” “That you don’t like when I touch you.” He almost burst out laughing. “Where the fuck did you get that idea?” Lucky she’d been drinking, because he wasn’t able to hide how outrageous he thought that was. “You growled at me when I touched your tattoo last night.” Busted. “I didn’t growl at you.” She looked up from another attempt at the seat belt—she kept missing the buckle—and quirked her brow. “Uh, yes, you did.” He scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t come out like a five-year-old arguing but came up blank. Thankfully she got tired of waiting and went back to struggling with her belt. “How come you don’t like me?” His jaw came unhinged. Christ, she was brave and chatty when inebriated. “I do like you,” he muttered. So fucking much. “Doesn’t seem like it.” “I like you,” he repeated, though he wasn’t sure she heard. Sighing, he reached over and took the belt from her fingers and snapped it into place. “Thanks. Oh no!” she suddenly gasped.

He nearly went through the roof. “What? What is it?” He was just palming his SIG when she wailed, “I forgot my phone on the bar.” Her bottom lip formed the most adorable pout he’d ever fucking seen. Goddammit, he wanted to kiss her. He didn’t. Instead he tucked his gun back and started the truck. He went into the inside pocket of his coat and got her phone. “Here.” He held it out to her and took a look in his rearview before pulling into the steady stream of traffic. She unceremoniously snatched the phone from him. “You need to stop being so perfect, Vinnie,” she muttered, sounding almost annoyed as she tucked her phone into her purse. A grin hit too quick for him to smother it. Vinnie? “Guess we’re kind of even now, huh?” He kept his eyes on the road. “How do you figure?” “I helped you last night. You helped me tonight.” Helped? If she was talking about the hard-on that hadn’t fucked off in the last twenty hours, then yeah, she’d helped him all right. “Where’s your brother, Red?” “I don’t know. I didn’t want to call him.” His brows came down. Caleb would be bothered if he heard her say that. “Why not?” “Because if he saw me like this, he’d know I’m affected by what Kevin did to me.” She sighed and shifted closer to him, wafting more than a teasing whiff of her scent at him. He pulled up to a red light and looked over. She seemed a bit more cognizant now than she had in the club, but she still looked dazed. “You are affected, babe. Anyone would be.” She shrugged and blinked sleepily before looking ahead. “How much did you have to drink?” “I ordered seven margaritas.” “Seven?” he snapped. Damn. She handled her liquor well. “I only drank four.” “What did you do with the others?” “Pushed them to the side to make it look like someone had left them on the bar.” “Why’d you do that?” he asked curiously. What a funny little kitty she was. “Because I lost sight of the bartender when he was making them. He’d turn to block me or someone would walk in front of him. I was too afraid to drink them after that in case he put something in them that shouldn’t have been in them.” She turned and looked at him, a sweet wrinkle in her brow. “Does that sound messed up to you? God, I could sleep for a year,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “You’re not messed up, babe,” he said gently, covering her hand where it rested on the console. “You’re doing things just as you should.” Sort of, he added silently. She shouldn’t have been on her own tonight. He turned the radio on and left her to snooze the rest of the way to the apartment. Rather than go underground, Vincente pulled up when he spied a spot out front. He got out and scooped Nika’s pliant body into his arms. He stood there for a second and allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her, then got his ass in gear and headed in, nodding to a yawning Tyson before stepping into the elevator. Making it into the apartment without jostling her too much, he went straight into the bedroom and gently laid her on the huge bed. She rolled until she was almost on her stomach and snuggled into the pillow he normally used, her contented sigh twisting something inside him.

Now she’s where she belongs. Fan Boy’s contented whisper drifted through his mind as he stood over her. The soft glow from the bedside lamp illuminated her skin so that it looked as if it were shimmering over her delicate bones. How could someone willingly damage such a fragile creature? Going down to his knees, he removed her boots and then sat back on his haunches, his eyes suddenly drooping with a bone-weary fatigue. Not surprising since he hadn’t slept much in the past few weeks. His jaw cracked on a yawn as he pushed himself to his feet and went out to double-check that they were locked in. He disarmed before going into the bathroom to wash his face with frigid water, use the facilities, and return to the bedroom to kick his boots off and shrug out of his newly replaced duster. He placed the leather over the chair on top of Nika’s robe and felt the mattress dip as he laid himself out next to his sleeping beauty. What was he doing? He should be in the other room. She might need something in the night. The fact that they were both fully clothed did nothing to lessen the intimacy of being in bed with her, and it was all he could do not to reach out and pull her against his suddenly cold body. He shifted onto his side with a deep sigh and moved his hand to her hair to take a few strands between his thumb and finger. His gaze went to the door as he yawned again, his lids coming down, the feeling of contentment and peace slowly seeping inside him so unfamiliar it was disconcerting. What was it about her that made him feel so connected? He didn’t feel like a spectator in life when he was with her, watching and yearning —when he allowed himself the luxury. He felt like a participant. When she looked at him, her vibrance pulled him in and engaged him. It was as if she saw . . . him. The unfamiliar ease slowly spreading through him was so comforting he couldn’t help but savor it as he drifted off.

CHAPTER 13

The loud, incessant chime of her cell going off had Nika groaning, feeling as if a few dozen little men were jackhammering directly onto her brain. Shit. She’d just fallen asleep. Hadn’t she? Heaving herself to her knees, she kept her eyes closed, hoping that might stop her head from exploding—her stomach from rebelling. She slapped around on the nightstand and had to crack an eye when all she felt was her purse. She dug the offending instrument out and was appalled to see that she’d slept in her clothes. She closed her eye again, slid her thumb over the slider on the screen, and flopped back down. “Hel—” Her grumpy greeting jacked into a shriek when her head hit something hard. She jerked up, eyes flying wide—tried not to vomit at both motions—and gasped at what she saw. Vincente lying beside her. Watching her with those dark eyes. Amused eyes. One of his arms was tucked behind his head, bicep bunched; the other rested across his hard stomach. His long legs where stretched out, socked feet crossed at the ankles. Relaxed. For the first time ever, she was seeing him relaxed. Moving forward, feeling zero responsibility for her actions, for the moment at least, she bumped his arm out of the way with her head so she could use his stomach as a pillow, sighing as her forehead came into contact with hot muscle. The action seemed familiar for some reason, and she didn’t care why. “Nika!” The buzz of Eva’s now-panicked voice came from the phone, reminding her why she was now awake. She brought it back to her ear. “Yeah, yeah, sorry,” she croaked. “Please whisper, Eva. I can’t take any more than that.” “Are you okay? Where are you? Why did you scream?” “I’m not okay. At the apartment. ’Cause Vincente is in bed with me.” A pregnant pause lengthened in her ear. “And you screamed because . . . ?” Eva asked slowly. She sounded so interested it was almost funny. “Because I didn’t know he was here until just now. Wanna talk to him?” Without waiting for an answer, she reached her hand up. “It’s for you.” He took the phone from her. “Hey, squirt.”

His voice rumbled, deep and soothing. Willing to take just about any sort of relief she could get, Nika curled her legs up and settled in for the long haul. She slipped her hands between the mattress and Vincente’s back. God, he felt so good. How could one man feel so good? You shouldn’t be finding comfort in him. Oh, why not? she thought tiredly. It’s wasn’t as if she was going to become attached to him just because of a simple cuddle. She was hungover; he was handy. Big deal. Not to mention, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually lain in bed and cuddled with a man. Didn’t even know how much she’d missed that little bit of harmless normalcy until now. She turned her head to the side and listened to Vincente’s strong heartbeat. The rhythm was soothing. “Yeah, I brought her home last night,” he was saying. “Didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone in the shape she was in.” Aww. Her rolling stomach got all gushy. “No problem. Yeah, I will. Tell them I’ll be home later.” A snick sounded, letting her know he’d ended the call. She heard the phone land on the bed behind her where he must have tossed it. “Eva said you should have known better.” “No kidding,” Nika muttered. “I’ll have to remember to tell her off when I see her.” She’d barely gotten her words out when she felt his fingers run through her hair. He started at her temple and pushed them slowly through the thickness, stopping just short of where her stitches had been. Absolute. Heaven. “Mmm, that’s sooo good,” she breathed, feeling otherwise too shitty at the moment to wonder why he was being like this with her. He was always nice enough, but this seemed almost affectionate. She groaned at her next thought. “Did I say anything to embarrass you last night? I’m sorry if I did. My filter tends to disappear when I drink. Which is why I normally don’t.” “Why did you last night?” She vaguely noted he hadn’t answered her question. And as if she was going to tell him she’d been drinking in an effort to get him out of her head. To get the way he’d avoided her, as if she was damaged goods, out of her head. “I needed the oblivion. Hence the margaritas. Tequila is my brain eraser,” she admitted. “And before you start, I already know it was stupid that I was there on my own. Irresponsible. Kind of immature. And really dumb. Did I miss anything?” “Dangerous?” “Good one. But like I told my brother, Kevin could be long gone, and, again, I just really needed the break in my head. I didn’t want to be that girl who brought a bottle home and drank alone. I know,” she said quickly, snuggling in a little closer when the AC kicked on and blew a chill over her. “I ended up drinking alone anyway, but at least there were other people in the room. It felt slightly less pathetic than the alternative.” Was she slurring? Frig, she was tired. “Other people in the room?” he questioned, his voice changing. “You mean the two guys who were minutes away from taking you out of the club to who the fuck knows where?” She was pretty sure he was mad now, but she was far too comfortable to lift her head to check. “But you came for me,” she murmured, wanting to give him a pat on the back for that. “Why were you there, Vincente?”

Vincente’s residual anger drained away at the question. Why had he been there? To do exactly what he’d done. Save her from a situation that could have been the average hookup—if you considered a threesome average—or he might have saved her from the type of nightmare that made the eleven o’clock news. Who knew which it would have turned out to be? And all because she’d needed . . . What had she said? The oblivion? Fuck. He should have joined her. Would’ve been nice to get out of the fucking mess in his own head for a couple of hours. He knew all about needing to shut down. Had used the bottle in the same way she had last night too many times to count, but he had cut the shit out before it became a problem. Most times he’d gotten a few hours’ peace from his guilt and failings, but not always. Sometimes the drinks made his mistakes even more glaring. He finally answered her question. “Maksim’s club is a few blocks from Pant, so I stopped in for a drink on my way home.” “Oh.” Did she sound disappointed? “You want something to eat, Red?” “Ugh. God, no.” A smile kicked up at her barely audible response. Dammit, he’d smiled more in the past twelve hours than he had in the past year. “How about some coffee?” “Mmm”—she seriously had to stop making that sound—“coffee. My weakness. A latte right now, and it wouldn’t even have to be from Starbucks? Mmm . . .” That. Sound. Fan Boy was standing, his forehead pressed against the wall of Vincente’s mind, eyes closed, a look of utter peace on his face. Definitely should have left when he’d woken up this morning. But as many times as Vincente had told himself to do just that, he hadn’t been able to move a muscle. Instead, he’d lain beside her, reveling in the feel of her curled into him while she slept. Such a simple contact. But one he’d been powerless to move away from. For more than an hour he’d watched her breathe. Nothing more. Time he could have been in Crown Heights. Though, he figured if Nollan was killing prostitutes, he’d get them during the girls’ working hours, which most times wasn’t nine a.m. The fucker had to sleep sometime, and, like most of them, that time was probably during the day. Okay. Enough was enough. He had to move. Pretty sure she’d fallen asleep, he grabbed a spare pillow and carefully went to shift to the side, intending to slide the pillow under her in place of his body. He never got the chance. Her fingers curled under his back, fisting his T-shirt, while her head pressed into his stomach, effectively trapping him right where he was. “Please,” she protested weakly. “Not yet. It’s weird, but your body heat is all that’s helping right now. I know I should probably just go throw up, but I hate doing that. Reminds me of high school. Our senior year, Eva and I used to go to the dances they’d hold in the gym. We’d mix up a bunch of alcohol, a little from each bottle from the cupboard next to where we kept the cat food—that way my dad wouldn’t know we’d taken any, or so we thought.” She chuffed softly. “He knew. Anyway, we drank it, probably smelled like hell, and danced our asses off. Caleb was always waiting outside to bring us home after, proud that we’d chosen alcohol over popping E or something equally stupid, like everyone else did.” She smiled. “It was so much fun. Until morning. Then we’d hold each other’s hair while we vomited, while my brother stood at the bathroom door laughing at us. Can’t be sick now without remembering that.”

Vincente smiled as he pictured her and squirt, young and happy. “You two are close, huh?” “The closest. I hope Gabriel doesn’t mind that I need her so much.” He frowned. “Gabriel doesn’t mind, Red,” he assured her as he went back to sifting his fingers through her hair. She needed some comfort. She was feeling sick. “I think he likes that you two have each other.” “That’s good. Because I can’t leave her. What do you do for a hangover, Vincente?” she asked faintly. Fuck it away? “Sleep it off, or sweat it out in the gym.” “You’re crazy. This is the best. You’re so warm . . .” She was asleep within seconds. And he had to get gone. Had to dig as deep as he could for the strength to do what he knew was right. Leave her alone. Because this . . . thing he was feeling where his heart should be had nothing to do with simple physical attraction. That connection he’d felt last night seemed that much more solid this morning, which meant she was getting into what he was pretty sure were his emotions and screwing with him. He could not allow that to happen. Because if he failed her and then lost her, he didn’t think he could climb out of that black hole again.

Lore pulled the sheet back over the face of who he was pretty damned sure was victim five. He’d flown to the crime scene, arriving ahead of the FBI only because he knew the streets better than they did. He was no doubt about to get his ass kicked off scene, so he’d better think fast. This case, more than his others, bothered him, but he couldn’t figure out why. It was true that they couldn’t buy a fucking break, but that happened more often than not. Maybe with this last victim, a break had just occurred and they didn’t know it yet. Because there was a problem with the discovery of unlucky number five. For every girl they’d found, there had been five identifying factors to tie them to the same killer. One, they’d all been young redheads—bad dye jobs, wigs, whatever; they’d still had red hair. Two, all prostitutes, but that could be attributed to them being plentiful and easy to pick up. Three, strangulation had been the cause of death. Why? A clean means of killing? No blood? Less evidence in the way of no murder weapon? Four, they’d all been brutally violated after death in the same sadistic, cruel way—with a blade that was messy, resulted in blood, and could be used as evidence; that kicked the foresight assumption on his previous point out on its ass. The problem, though, in murder number five lay with the fifth similarity that had connected the ones before. The previous Jane Does had all been found within a six-block radius in the Crown Heights area. This one had not. Lore’s phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket to check the text, already knowing what he’d find considering what time it was on this Sunday morning. He read his brother’s message.

Will you be at the service?

He hated to do it, but he replied with another put-off.

Sorry, bro. Found another. Can’t get away.

I’ll pray that she’s your last. Call me if you need me.

Will do. Thanks.

Lore tucked his phone away, only to have it buzz again almost immediately. The forensic examiner walked up to him at the same time, her blonde head shaking, features pinched. He held up a finger and read quickly.

Mama wants to know if you’ll be here for brunch.

His sister, Ashlyn.

Talk to Michael.

He hit Send and put the phone away, knowing it wouldn’t go off again. His family was great that way. Gave him the space he needed when he was working a case. “Think it might be a copycat?” Patti asked now that she had his attention, eyes still on her clipboard. She tapped a pen on the front of her teeth and looked down the alley. “If not, this means he’s on the move. Any idea why?” Lore shook his head, wishing his answer was different. “Not a one.” “Well, I hope something comes to you soon—or rather to the two suits getting out of their car across the street—because the location isn’t the only thing different about this find. The others were strangled, as was she.” She tipped her head toward the stretcher. Hanging off the side, the silky material of a black wrap, which was an unusual choice of clothing for the girl to be wearing, fluttered in the light breeze. “This one’s windpipe was shattered, which means your guy’s anger is growing. Or something in particular set him off last night. It’s too bad we don’t know what that was,” she said as she wandered back toward the glaring agents. Lore jammed his hands into his pockets and fingered the rosary beads he’d carried around since the day Michael had been ordained. He forced himself to clear his mind of everything—the evidence, visuals of the girls—and just watched as the agents did their thing. The body was eventually loaded into

the coroner’s vehicle and driven away. The marked cars followed, an unmarked right behind them. He continued to watch until the area eventually cleared like nothing had ever happened but for the chalk outline and two of their boys who’d stayed back to collect anything the others had missed in the seven hours they’d been out there. And still Lore leaned against his car, allowing only cursory thoughts through his mind so as to leave room for anything important to rise to the surface. Something he might have missed. He shifted and stared straight ahead as life went on around him. A bike messenger rode by. Two taxis a second later, fighting for the lead. A bus driver was stopped in his lane, clearly arguing with a passenger. The young female passenger got off and stomped away down the sidewalk. The driver hit the gas to put the blue-and-white monstrosity into motion, revealing a Kombat T-98 parked at the curb. The truck registered with Lore. Sweet ride. Pricey ride. He’d never seen one in the city, other than at the big auto show he guilted Ashlyn into attending with him every year in Manhattan. Manufactured in Russia, if he remembered the spiel the guy had offered while it had rotated center stage last April. Turning away with a sigh that grated, Lore got behind the wheel of his unmarked car, asking himself the million-dollar question one more time: What the hell had set his guy off, ramping up the violence of his kills and making him change the location of the action from Crown Heights to Astoria?

Vincente let himself back into the apartment, the reason he’d finally up and left in the first place held firmly in his right hand. Fan Boy smiled happily as he peered around for his redhead. He’d finally dragged himself out of bed—hadn’t lingered between the sheets until noon in years— showered, and then walked out the door and down the block. He’d done his business as quickly as he could, pausing on his way back into the building to look suspiciously at two suits poking around the alley across the street. He’d left them to it because he hated to leave his target unprotected any longer than he already had—Alesio and Vito weren’t due back for another hour. And, yes, he was going to attempt to see Fan Boy’s redhead as nothing more than a target once again. His recent purchase proved him a failure, but he didn’t give a fuck. Holding his fist at his side, lest he give himself a punch to the side of the head, he tiptoed —tiptoed!—into the main room just as the bathroom door opened. He froze midstep, his knees almost buckling when he saw Nika pad out, a small towel wrapped around her obviously very naked, freshly showered body, dark, snaky ropes of her hair falling almost to her waist. Holy fucking heaven on a killer pair of legs. Fan Boy’s eyes rolled back in his head before he landed with his feet in the air. He jerked once before becoming still. Nika must have heard the helpless sound that rumbled from Vincente’s chest because her head snapped up, causing her to wince at the fast motion. “Shit, Vincente,” she gasped, rubbing her temple with her fingers. “I swear I’m going to buy you a bell to wear around your . . .” She trailed off, her chest practically glowing as a beautiful flush ran up from the edge of the towel, suffusing her neck and then putting some color into her pale cheeks. Yeah, Red. Your body is hidden from me by nothing more than a large facecloth. She inched toward the bedroom and threw a breathless “Lemme get dressed” over her shoulder before closing the door.

He didn’t want her dressed. He wanted her bared. Laid out before him, her entire body flushed and ready. He wanted to feast on her, gorge himself, until they were both too exhausted to do much more than breathe. Wasn’t gonna happen. The sound of the knob rattling had him streaking into the kitchen. Like he really needed to be caught still standing there daydreaming about the many ways he wanted to have her. He grabbed the sugar bowl and had made it to the sofa when she entered, bringing with her a fresh blast of oranges and jasmine. Frickin’ hell. The scent slapped him silly as he plunked her coffee and the sweet stuff down on the coffee table. Her softly indrawn breath made him want to punch something. “You . . . got me . . . a latte?” Vincente ground his teeth when her voice broke at the end. “Yeah, don’t get all excited. It’s just coffee,” he said roughly as he turned and, practically raising his hand to his temple as a blinder so he wouldn’t be able to see her, headed back to the kitchen. He hastily grabbed his gun from behind the toaster where he’d stashed it the night before; another had spent its time on the nightstand— What. The hell. Is that sound. He placed the SIG beside a bowl of grapes on the counter and slowly turned, a sinking feeling in his gut. His jaw still hit the dirt when he saw Nika sitting on the sofa, bent over, hands swiping over her cheeks as she tried to hide the evidence of her tears. He went over and was on his knees in front of her before he even realized he’d moved. “Hey, hey,” he soothed as he pulled her into his chest. “What’s this? Why are you crying? Did they give me tea by mistake?” His voice came out weak as he attempted to throw out some humor. He never could stand when a woman cried. It always reminded him of the one time he’d seen Sophia break down, crying hysterically because some boy had two-timed her with a girl she hadn’t gotten along with. That had been only weeks before she’d disappeared. He shoved the thought off and distracted himself by acknowledging how wildly good Nika felt in his arms. Warm—hot—fragrant. She shook her head and sniffled. So fucking adorable. “Sorry. God, I’m such an idiot. You just caught me off guard. You’re so . . . sweet. I—I guess it just surprised me.” Her hands touched his shoulders, her palms searing him through his T-shirt, as she drew back. She wiped at her face while his heart bled for her, even as his body burned to ash. To get emotional at a kindness as simple as someone bringing her a hot beverage? “Sorry,” she repeated, taking a deep breath. “I’m just stressed, I guess. Thank you. For the latte.” Vincente’s eyes landed on his hands. “S’okay,” he said distractedly as he took in the differences between them. Even though she was tall for a woman, she was überfeminine and so damned delicate. His heavy hands looked monstrous where they’d settled on the outsides of her slender thighs. She’d put on a pair of low-slung jeans— Stand the fuck up and get the hell away from her! He shifted his palms so that they rested on the tops of her legs, which brought his thumbs down between them. And didn’t the dirty bastards begin a slow caress, swiping lightly back and forth. A small catch in Nika’s breath had him slowly raising his eyes. Okay, look, she’s good. Not crying anymore, see? Now get up and get away. He didn’t. He stayed right the hell where he was. Because she might not be crying, but those bright-green orbs were indeed glittering with curiosity and a yearning so irresistible, so hot and welcoming, Vincente actually felt himself falling. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Just a taste. Like the one he’d had in Seattle. He needed that. Badly. Shit, V. No! You’re not going to soil this woman, who’s already been to hell and back, by using her because you can’t control yourself.

He stilled his movements. Fuck. Of course he wasn’t. What the hell was he thinking? He’d kiss her, and then what? Say, “Thanks, just wanted to see if you still had the ability to blow my mind”? No. Of course not. His muscles tensed to move away. Nika’s legs slowly parted. Just enough for him to actually feel a light rush of heat over his fingers, and his brain oozed and . . . and . . . he forgot . . . everything. He came up on his knees as she slid forward on the cushion, so slowly, as if she was trying not to spook him. That pissed him off. He didn’t need coddling. He knew what he was doing. Knew what he should be doing. Knew what he wanted to be doing. Knew what he shouldn’t want to be doing. “Vincente?” Her warm, minty breath flowed over his lips. Fuck. Just a taste. The gentle touch of her fingers landed at his throat, leaving a trail of fire as they moved up to his jaw. “I’m going to kiss you, Red,” he warned. Her eyes flared and her fingers stilled. “Okay.” “That’s all it’ll be, though. Just a kiss.” She had to know this wasn’t going to change anything. But she was the one who brought her lips closer, feathering them over his, barely touching but slaying him just the same. “I’ll take just your kiss, Vincente,” she whispered. His mouth crushed hers, his hands gripping her legs. His tongue came out to stroke greedily as she opened for him without any further encouragement. She tilted her head and pulled him into her by slipping her hand around to the base of his neck. Holy hell, her enthusiasm was downright beautiful. His thoughts broke apart when both her hands slid hesitantly into his hair and her tongue swiped almost tentatively into his mouth to roll over his. And fuck him, but her knees then snugged together to trap him between them. Right then, the desperate yearning he felt for her, and only her, roared through his body like a freight train, and he responded to her with abandon. Rising, he crowded her back and got her beneath him on the couch with no interruption to the kiss. He imprisoned her long legs between his and trapped her wrists over her head. She had to stop touching him. He couldn’t control this when she touched him. Yeah, ’cause I’m really controlling this at all. Shit. He tore his lips from hers. He had to stop. This shouldn’t be so good—so fucking good. “More. Let me touch you, please.” Nika arched her back, her head coming up so she could take his mouth again. She licked at him and then sucked his lower lip between her teeth to nip it lightly even as she worked to slip one of her legs out from under his to wrap it around his hips, pulling him deep into the cradle of her body. “Oh, yes,” she groaned into his mouth, lifting her hips to rub herself against his aching cock. More. He needed so much more it was getting critical. “Fuck, Red,” he groaned as she yanked on her wrists. Fuck that. If she touched him, he’d have them naked and joined in the space of one breath. “Yes, Vincente, please.” Jesus Christ. As he gave in again and nipped and licked at her mouth, he ran his free hand down her side, holding her in place so he could grind his erection into the sweet spot between her legs. He swallowed her moan of pleasure and, because he’d die if he didn’t, trailed his fingers up under her little green T-shirt, found her bare skin, and slowly, eventually, her braless breast. Fucking perfect, he panted in his head. He knew she’d be perfect. Couldn’t tell her that, though, because then she’d know how fucking completely she slayed him. He

couldn’t show his reaction to her like that—couldn’t let her see his weakness where she was concerned. Especially since he had to walk away from her. Even more because she deserved so much better than an emotionally wrecked wasteland like himself. Despite his thoughts, he sank more of his weight onto her, pressing her into the leather of the sofa, marveling that the soft globe fit his palm as if God had created and formed her just for him. Finding her puckered nipple, he rolled the little berry between his fingers, his every nerve sparking and shorting out when she gasped and mewled and arched against him. He moved across to give her other neglected breast the same treatment. Releasing her mouth, Vincente nipped a wet trail across her cheek and over her jaw so he could get to the soft skin of her neck, but he could barely concentrate on what he was doing because she kept grinding her hips up, rubbing his cock, hitting him in a place that was going to end things before they even got started. Finally, his mouth made it to that tender, fleshy muscle where her shoulder met her neck, and he clamped his teeth on it. Pleasure shot down his spine at the wild cry that filled his ears, the sensation arrowing around his hips to tighten his balls when Nika dug her nails into his back. He thrust into her again, taking over her frantic movements, shortening the stroke, making it faster and sharper than she had. Holy fuck, he had to end this. Yes, finish, Fan Boy cried. No! That’s not what I meant! Ripping himself from his internal argument, he just about blew apart when he felt Nika’s beautiful, responsive body stiffen against him. Letting go of her breast, he eased his hand between their sealed hips —absolutely forcing himself not to tunnel into her jeans—and applied a firm, darting touch to her sex through the denim. That’s it, babe. Give this to me. Let me give it to you. Just this, and then I’ll leave you alone forever.

CHAPTER 14

The sudden orgasm blew through Nika with shocking force. She cried out, stiffening and then writhing under Vincente’s hand, his heavy weight pinning her to the sofa as she moaned through the electric sensations, her inner muscles tightening and releasing over and over. If she hadn’t been dying from pleasure, from finally experiencing this man’s touch, she would have wanted to crawl into a hole because she was coming from some heavy petting and a single kiss. But she was coming! Responding like this to a man’s touch! This man’s touch. And, holy freaking crap, he was amazing. No wonder her body did what it did when he was near. It must have instinctually known he’d be this good. And to now have the freedom to—Wait, he wasn’t allowing her to touch him, was he? She moaned, distracted. The whole of her right side was nothing but a mass of gooseflesh and weak limbs from where he held her. So incredible, her Vincente. My Vincente? When she could see and hear again, Nika pulled at her arms. “Let go,” she breathed. She wanted to touch him. Needed to feel him. So she could return the pleasure he’d just given her. He freed her trapped wrists and lifted his head so he could look down at her. Not noticing that he’d suddenly gone still, she fisted a handful of his hair and pulled him back to her, opening her mouth so she could kiss him with everything she had. She now knew his goatee tickled more than it scratched, in the best way possible. She moved her other hand swiftly down his back and over his rock-hard ass to come around between them, but the minute she ran her fingers over the magnificent erection behind that denim barrier, he tore his mouth from hers and drew back again. “No, no, no. Vincente, please, don’t. Don’t stop.” Her words came out pleading. Humiliating. But, dammit, why was he stopping? She wanted more. Was amazed and grateful that she wanted more with him. That her experience with Kevin hadn’t ruined her for this. She cautiously—almost afraid of what she might see—met his hooded gaze, and her afterglow died. Instantly. She’d been right to hesitate. Shouldn’t have looked. The dark brown of his eyes was nearly invisible; his pupils had expanded so much. His breathing was ragged, his lips red and wet, his skin flushed. Totally aroused. He wanted her. But.

He was looking down at her, torn. Maybe he didn’t want her. “Vincente? Please, let me take care of you,” she whispered, stroking him hesitantly through his jeans. If all he would let her do was pleasure him the way he’d just pleasured her, she’d take it. Was she really lowering herself to accept whatever crumbs he was willing to throw her? She frowned. No. That wasn’t who she was. Wasn’t who she wanted to be anyway. “Fuck, Nika,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he was distanced. “I can’t.” Ice chips joined the flow of hot blood rushing through her veins, cooling her completely, but when he pushed himself off and collapsed in the corner of the sofa, Nika still felt the loss of him as if someone had severed one of her limbs. Feeling a thousand years old, she pushed herself into a sit, wincing as the material of her shirt rubbed across her sensitive nipples. She lifted her head as she straightened her clothes and looked at him, sitting there leaning his elbows on his knees, hair falling forward to hide a portion of his face, looking like a fucking poster boy for Orgasms-R-Us. Anger at his rejection, and for her weakness when it came to him, rose up and trampled over everything in its path. “Do you get off doing this to me?” His head turned toward her, all that so-soft hair sliding off his shoulders. Had she not been so upset, the brittle look in his dark gaze would have spooked the shit out of her. Gone was the passionate man who, minutes ago, had given her one of the most intense orgasms of her life—the only one she’d ever not given herself. In his place was her stoic protector. Nothing more. “From what I recall,” he said silkily, “you’re the one who got off.” She gasped, her eyes flaring wide at the blunt reminder. “And you didn’t. Is that a problem of yours? Or is it just me who doesn’t do it for you?” “I usually do just fine.” The crooked smile he gave her didn’t reach his eyes. Humiliation flowed like lava over her, burning, battering, shrinking her until she felt as if she were two inches tall. This again? What was it about her that made men want to hurt her? Why did they feel the need to belittle her, make her feel not good enough? Never good enough. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and jumped to her feet. She practically ran to the bedroom, slamming herself in before dashing over to the dresser. Gasping for air, she scrambled in the drawer and almost ripped her shirt as she struggled to throw a bra on, ashamed and embarrassed by how tender her breasts still felt. She strapped on the sandals that she’d left next to the bed yesterday. Panicked thoughts tumbled around her head, the loudest telling her to get the hell out of there. Away from the bastard she’d just offered herself to. Oh, why did I do that? I knew better! She’d known he was unpredictable where she was concerned. Inconsistent. Why had he kissed her, touched her, if he didn’t want her? Why hadn’t he just left her alone? But nooo. He’d gone and supplied more fuel for her ridiculous fantasies. And if she believed what he’d said, which she so did, the problem wasn’t him. It was her. I am so fucking stupid! Tears filled her eyes, and her throat ached as if she’d just been choked. Oh, sure, he’d been aroused, but a man could get hard by a stiff breeze, couldn’t he? For all she knew, he’d been thinking about someone else—could’ve been imagining some petite blonde instead of the Amazon redheaded freak that she was. The woman who’d been nothing but some man’s whipping girl for the past year, who’d been the target of every one of Kevin’s nasty, denigrating comments. Had Kevin been right about her? About no one else wanting her once he was done with her? She hadn’t believed it, but now . . .

Nika grabbed her purse off the nightstand where Vincente must have put it last night when he’d brought her home— Yeah, screw that. This wasn’t home. It was just another version of hell. After going to the bedroom door, she paused with her hand on the knob and took a deep breath to settle herself. And then another when that one didn’t work. As if it was even possible to calm down right now. Shaking, she turned the handle and walked out, down the hall, digging her key out as she went. “Where do you think you’re going?” Her head shot up, and she dropped her purse. Vincente stood in front of the door, blocking her only exit. Trapping her. Physically barring her from freedom. Barely able to breathe around the panic his stance incited, Nika bent to pick up her things, throwing her lipstick and wallet back into the soft black leather. She grabbed her hand sanitizer and put it back into its pocket, along with a cocktail napkin she must have picked up at the club last night because it was stamped with the words Club Pant. She was about to stuff it into her purse when she saw writing on the back of it. Palming it at the same time she slipped her purse strap over her head, she straightened and forced her chin up. Vincente had to let her by. “I’m leaving. Please get out of my way.” “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’m not letting you out of here when you’re upset. Who knows what you might inadvertently get yourself into? What’s that?” He nodded at the napkin. Realization crashed over her. Her wants and needs meant nothing. Her freedom of choice didn’t exist. She was insignificant. They all thought she wasn’t even able to care for herself. To know right from wrong, danger from safety. She was still imprisoned. But in chains her brother and Vincente chose to call “protection.” Something inside Nika broke apart, splintering with a shattering impact, littering her insides with jagged, spiky shards. She suddenly felt so small she had to wonder if she still existed. The painful sensations were fleeting, though, gone almost as soon as they were felt, and then . . . nothing. A blessed nothing. Absolute numbness. Her madly beating heart slowed. Her lungs lost that suffocating tightness. The tension fled from her muscles. And she was free. On the inside, at least. Not one emotion came forward to pummel her like she would have expected as she clarified that for herself. Just that nothing. That peaceful detachment, something that would have come in handy had she been able to adopt it when Kevin had beaten her. But no. This she’d never experienced before, and it took her another dense few seconds to realize what it was. You’ve given up, a voice in the back of her mind whispered sadly. And she had. Given up. Given in. She was never going to convince them that she was strong and capable, was she? She’d fought for so long—one night in particular, near the beginning, for her very life when Kevin hadn’t known when to stop whaling on her. That had been horrible, waking up in that hospital, her wrist in a cast, a nurse hovering worriedly, a doctor looking at her with professional concern, and a shrink—as if she hadn’t been aware her marriage was a violent one and she’d needed a stranger to tell her she had to get out before she wasn’t lucky enough to wake up the next morning. Yeah, because waking up for another round was such luck for the abused person. Nika blinked as something solidified in her chest. After having struggled, barely making it through this past year, it was almost a relief to feel like this. Or specifically, not to feel. Finally, some help to deal. And if that help came in the form of her not having to kill herself by caring anymore, about other people’s opinions, about her poor brother and his unnecessary guilt, about the man in front of her, about herself, she’d take it.

She raised her head and looked at Vincente Romani with eyes that felt as vacant as an unplugged TV screen. “It’s mine,” she said flatly, holding up the crumpled napkin. The guys who’d bought her a drink last night had probably left her their number. Nervy of them, but who cared? Vincente ran an agitated hand across the back of his neck. “What is it?” he repeated. Bringing it up, not really caring—though, there might be a spark of satisfaction to be had waving another man’s phone number under Mr. Arrogant’s nose—she scanned what was on the napkin. Everything around her faded and all she saw were scratchily written letters, and still she felt nothing but mildly inconvenienced that she wasn’t through with this yet.

Didn’t I tell you that you’d never get away from me?

I found you. I’ll always find you. I’m going to make you pay for leaving me.

I’m going to slice your throat and dance in your blood, Niki.

Be ready for me.

The edges of Nika’s vision quivered slightly as little white dots exploded in her periphery. Funny, she felt kind of shocked but not afraid. Why was that? Kevin had found her. Why wasn’t she afraid? Maybe she actually welcomed death. It would be better than this waking nightmare she was in. Kevin had been close enough to slip this letter into her purse last night. Or had gotten someone else to do it for him. She wasn’t ever going to be free of him, was she? “Red!” She glanced up and blinked a few times at Vincente. “What?” “What the hell is it?” “Nothing,” she said, her throat feeling dry and swollen. Stuffing the napkin into her bag, she went for the door. That massive body didn’t move an inch. “I’m fine to leave. Excuse me.” “Show me what was written on that napkin.” “It doesn’t concern you. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . . ?” “Show. Me,” he growled, obviously not listening to her. Her head tilted up, eyes narrowed. “It’s none of your business, Vincente. I can’t be more clear than that. Now get out of my way.” His gaze shifted from her face to her bag. Reading his intent, she went to step back, but his arm shot out. She ducked to dodge his grasp, bringing the bag and its contents down with her, and tried to force her way past him. She made it and reached for the door, thinking if she got it open, she could most likely outrun him. But that option was stolen from her, too, when she was spun with a surprisingly gentle, but firm, grip on her arm. She gasped when her back came up against the door. Vincente held her there by

pressing his whole upper body into hers. “Get off!” she spat, finally feeling something: outrage. She pushed at him. Or tried to. Shit. She would have had better luck trying to move the door behind her. “Give me that napkin.” His deep voice rumbled into her chest where they were pressed together, but Nika felt nothing but the vibration. “No. It has nothing to do with you. Now get off me so I can go. I’d have stayed in Seattle with Kevin if I wanted to play this game.” He sucked in a shocked breath and immediately stepped back, but not before snatching her bag so quickly that she didn’t stand a chance. He yanked it over her head despite the death grip she’d had on it and held it out of her reach as he dug in and came out with the crumpled napkin. “That’s mine!” He ignored her as he tossed her bag back at her before stepping away to read what was written on the napkin.

After releasing the soft leather of Nika’s purse, Vincente continued his struggle to draw oxygen into his lungs, unable to get the dead look he’d put in her eyes out of his mind. The look on her precious face when he’d implied that she didn’t turn him on enough for him to want to have sex with her was burned into his brain. What a vicious lie! If the damn woman turned him on any more, he’d be hanging upside down from the fucking ceiling with a pull chain attached to the back of his throat. Yet she’d believed it. Believed she wasn’t desirable. How could that be? Did she not see a reflection when she looked into a mirror? How could she think that after what they’d just shared? Couldn’t she tell she’d owned him in that moment? That he’d put the distance there to protect her from him, not to hurt her? God, the ecstasy on her face as she’d come for him. For him! But he had to let her believe the foul mistruths, because as she’d lain there beneath him, climaxing so beautifully in his arms, he’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he took her, made love to her fully, claimed her as his, he would never, ever, have the strength to let her go. And she deserved so much more than what he could offer. So he’d thrown the verbal stones hard enough to hurt. Maybe if she continued to look at him the way she had been for the past few minutes it would make denying this wild obsession he had with her a little easier. Because the last thing she needed was a suffocating I’m-keepingyou-under-lock-and-key-just-in-case-something-happens-to-you obsession in her bed. She deserved someone who would allow her the freedom to stretch her wings and fly to the heavens. Vincente could never give her that. Feeling nauseous, he stepped away and looked down at the letter that had turned her into a ghost right in front of his eyes. What he saw left him shaking with rage. Nollan had found her! That fucker had been close enough to slip her this note! Why hadn’t she seemed afraid when she’d read the violent words? She’d paled, but that was it. Why hadn’t she looked terrified or alarmed? Like any other woman would have when reading something as disturbing as this.

Because she’d been living it for nearly a year. There was no telling how many times she’d been told this very same thing. Vincente’s phone buzzed, and he snatched it from his pocket to scan the text. It was from Lorenzo. How the fuck had the guy gotten his number?

Number five was found this morning. Astoria. Damage to the bodies is escalating. FBI are in. Keep your ears open.

Holy shit. Astoria was not small, but it wasn’t large either, and Nollan had killed in the vicinity. He’d been at the club last night. How else would he have written the note on one of their napkins and gotten it into Nika’s purse? And he’d clearly followed them back here. Was that why he’d done more damage to the victim’s body this time? Because he’d been angry that Nika hadn’t come home alone? Could he have been tailing her all day yesterday? Had he seen Alesio and Vito doing the same and been too afraid to make a move? Vincente’s blood ran cold, and he texted one question to Lorenzo. Needed to be sure. He had his answer within moments. The murder had been committed directly across the street, where the two suits he’d noted earlier had been gathering evidence. Holy fuck. His plan was suddenly shot to shit. Because no way in fucking hell was he letting Nika out of his sight when that bastard was this close. He couldn’t stay away from her now. Couldn’t turn her care over to one of the other guys. Not until he saw the life drain from Kevin Nollan’s body with his own eyes. He focused and took in the obstinate tilt of Nika’s chin, a belligerent and . . . condescending? . . . expression was now on her face, one he’d never seen her wear before. “You were going to walk out of here without letting me see this?” he suddenly roared, the volume of his voice escalating with every word. He grasped the vile note in his fist and waved it in her too-pale face. “I’m right in front of you. There’s no need to shout. Give it back, please.” The cold, so cold, tone wrenched him back from the brink of a total meltdown. He slowly lowered his arm, feeling a stab of panic when she observed him as if he were a coat of paint drying on the wall. It was as though she didn’t see him anymore. “Where were you going?” She shrugged as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Why would I tell you?” she asked in a reasonable tone that made him want to shake some sense into her. “He was close, Red.” Did she not understand what that meant for her? “I know you’re upset right now, but with him onto you, you can’t honestly think I’ll let you leave here.” She settled back on her heel and crossed her arms. “No, of course not. Which makes sense, since the privilege to decide what I do is reserved for everyone but me.” He ignored that and went over to once again block her only exit. He hated to do it, but there was no other option. She was not going to put herself in harm’s way because of what was going on between them. He would restrain her if he had to. Let her hate him like she hated Nollan. But dammit, let her stay alive! Maybe he should tell her about the prostitutes. Scare her into wanting to stay with him. No. He didn’t want her feeling responsible for those girls. He knew what it was like to have death on your conscience, and he wouldn’t do that to her when she was so close to crumbling under all she was dealing with already.

“Silent treatment?” She shook her head as if disgusted. “Fine. But if I have to stay with you, I want a weapon.” Vincente reared back, surprised at her capitulation—and outlandish demand. “What?” he barked incredulously. “I don’t trust you. I want to be armed.” He ignored the unexpected pang at hearing she didn’t trust him and narrowed his eyes at how easy that had been. “Just like that.” “No, not just like that,” she spat. “In case you missed the bulletin, Vincente, I’ve had the shit beaten out of me enough in my life to know when to snap to attention. So instead of volunteering for a black-and-blue makeover from you, I’m giving in.” He went utterly still, astounded by her opinion of him. Of who she thought he was. Never in his life had he touched a woman in anger. Never. And he never would. For her to think that he could possibly do so with her? Bile burned his throat, followed by an outrage the likes of which he’d never known. “I would never—” “Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, and heard it all before.” She waved her hand, dismissing him as she turned away with a flip of her hair to waltz into the main room. “Save it for someone who believes it,” she said over her shoulder. “Better yet, for someone desperate enough to listen to the bullshit guys like you actually believe when you spout it.” He couldn’t move. Who the fuck was this chick bludgeoning his character? He stalked to her, turning her to face him with a gentle clamp on her slim wrist. Fuck, she was so breakable. How could she ever think he’d hurt her? “Let’s get one thing straight right now. You can insult me, give me a shot on the chin, or kick me in the balls.” He came in close so he knew he had her undivided attention. “But I would never, under any circumstances, raise my hand to you.” She yanked her wrist free and plunked down on the sofa. “Using your fists isn’t the only way to hurt someone, Vincente. Tell a girl she’s ugly or that her nose is too big, and she’ll never forget it. That hurts. Tell a guy he’s skinny rather than buff. He’s hurt. Tell someone they aren’t smart enough or good enough or that everything they do is wrong. They’re bleeding as you walk away. Most times a body will heal from a physical attack. A verbal one? Not so much.” She tapped her temple and glared up at him. “Our stupid brains don’t have to believe what the other person is saying wholeheartedly, but that doesn’t stop them from absorbing and tucking the damaging words away.” She stood and went over to look out the window, her back tense as she crossed her arms, the gesture defensive rather than aggressive. “And doesn’t the mind know just the right time to knock you back down with the memory just when you think you’re on steady ground? I want that gun I almost shot you with the other night. I put it back where Gabriel told me I could find it.” She’d spoken as though she were giving a lesson, but it had been from the heart. Fucking Nollan. The physical damage he’d inflicted had been visible to every one of them. Fading now but visible. What damage couldn’t they see? “Nika—” She held up a hand without turning. “Save it. I really don’t care to hear it.” And she didn’t. The lack of interest was clear in her voice. “Wait here,” he said, trying not to make it an order. “I’ll get you your gun, and then we’ll go to the house to see Eva.” He’d feel better once they were there. He made his way to the bedroom, Nollan’s note still clutched in his fist. He hit Maks’s number on his cell as he opened the safe to get the little SIG, back in its place as Nika had said. He’d have armed her himself had she not asked. If for some reason Nollan managed to put a bullet in Vincente’s neck, he had to

give Nika the chance to take the fucker out before he could do any more damage to her than he’d already done. Nollan had to die so Nika could be free. It was as simple as that.

Nika listened to Vincente’s footfalls and shook her head at the man’s naïveté, feeling nothing about obviously upsetting him with her assumption that he’d slap her around if given half the chance. What man wouldn’t? she thought scathingly. After quietly popping up from the couch, she tiptoed to the door, wincing as the lock snapped when she turned it. Without waiting to see if he’d heard, she grabbed her bag and sprinted down the hall, half expecting him to come after her. She jammed her finger on the elevator button over and over and practically dove in when the car dinged open. She didn’t give a damn about Kevin. She didn’t give a damn about Vincente. She didn’t give a damn at all. She just wanted out. Surprised to find herself still alone when she reached street level, she didn’t hesitate to throw her arm out to hail a passing cab. Sliding in, she gave the driver Eva’s address and then sat back in the sticky seat, her heart steady and cold as ice. Sure, she was following the plan and going to Vincente’s house. But she was doing so on her terms, not his. Eva and Gabriel had been the only ones to truly understand her desperate need for independence —had been the only two who’d really respected her wishes. Maybe they’d be able to keep Kevin—and Vincente—the hell away from her.

Vincente hit the gas, still unable to believe she’d fucked off on him. How stupid was he to have not realized that’s what she intended to do? Dammit. He might as well have paid for the fucking cab the doorman had said she’d gotten into. He weaved around a sweet-looking Ferrari that might as well have been sitting still, the old fart inside was going so slow. He hit the speed dial for Eva’s cell. “Hello?” “Squirt. Did Nika call you?” “Just now. What happened? Is she okay? She sounded weird.” “Did she say where she was heading?” “She’s coming here.” Thank fuck. “I’m on my way.” He disconnected and got Caleb on the line next, telling him to come to the house. He filled him in on Nollan’s note and recent activities and was pretty sure he heard a bike start in the background before

they even hung up. Maks was home and on high alert, had probably filled Gabriel and the others in already. Once Nika passed through the front gate, she was not leaving again until Nollan was in the ground. Period. The fact that she’d be protected in somewhat the same manner at the clubhouse was barely a passing thought. She would be, but not by him, and that was the only way he’d be able to concentrate on ending this, by having her behind the walls of Maks’s Fort Knox–level security system. She hates you now, Fan Boy accused, the sledgehammer in his hands coming down once more, making Vincente’s head throb. This wasn’t the way he wanted shit between them to go down. He should have kept his fucking distance. His teeth ground together as he was stopped by yet another red light. She could hate him all she wanted, but that wouldn’t change anything. Not now. Not when her ex had gotten close enough to touch her. The reminder had him screeching the tires when he stomped on the gas too hard as the light flashed green. No matter what means he had to use, he was going to make things right and safe for that woman. If it was the last thing he ever did. Anxiety rode him hard as he floored it down the freeway and was still on his ass when, thirty-eight minutes later, he stood with his shoulder leaning against the jamb in the opened bay of his garage. His stomach was killing him, the pit nothing but a grinding knot of nerves as he watched Eva pace the same circle she’d been doing for the past fifteen minutes. “Gabriel’s gonna yell at you doin’ that nervous habit,” he commented idly, attempting to settle her when he couldn’t settle himself. She stilled her clicking fingernails and looked over. “Nika called forever ago, Vincente. Where could she be?” She sat down on the edge of a large cement urn filled with summer flowers. “God, I feel sick,” she added, looking sick. “She’ll be here any second,” he assured her. Fuck, he wanted to pace but wouldn’t. Didn’t want Eva and Caleb, who’d arrived a few minutes ago, to have a visual of his nerves. Where the fuck was the cab? What if she’d changed her mind halfway here and decided to go somewhere else? He stiffened. Were they standing there like chumps while she headed . . . where? To Vex, maybe? Fuck. If the biker touched her, he’d have to kill him. No matter what kind of war it would cause between their people. Vincente didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time two organized crime factions went head-to-head. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last. You don’t have the right, asshole, Fan Boy reminded him. You gave it up when you crushed her under your heel two hours ago. “Seriously. What the fuck is the cabbie doing? Circling a random block somewhere to crank up the meter?” Caleb ran a hand over his short hair in a fast swipe. He was perched on the front fender of Alek’s Range Rover. “Where’s Vex?” Vincente couldn’t help it. Had to ask. “Don’t know.” Caleb took out his phone and punched in a quick text. “He’s at Lucian Fane’s place,” he said when he got a response. “You need him for something?” “Nope.” The biker would live another day, he thought around his relief. Gabriel came out from the garage and ran his palm over Eva’s hair in a gentle caress before going over to the Range Rover and grabbing Nollan’s note, which Vincente had thrown onto the hood a few minutes ago. He read it for what had to be the tenth time. “Tell me how this prick keeps slipping through everyone’s fingers.” Vincente cracked his jaw before answering. “No close connects here. If we were in Seattle, we’d

know who to shake down. In New York, we don’t know who he knows or where he’s hanging.” “Have you asked Nika about friends he might have around town?” No, he hadn’t. He turned to Caleb. “Have you?” “Fuck. No. I’ve been so worried about her—trying so hard not to bring that bastard up—I didn’t think to ask her,” the biker admitted, like a man. An embarrassed man but a man nonetheless. Vincente ground his teeth and slugged him in the shoulder. “Join the idiot parade—my float’s not full. It didn’t cross my mind to question her either.” Shit. He’d been too distracted. He filled them in on Lore’s text and made a mental note to get the footage from the security cameras placed around the apartment building. He wanted to know how close Nollan had been. The front door to the house swung open to reveal Maks. He shaded his eyes against the August sunshine and called down, “Cab just dropped a lone female off at the end of the drive. At the rate she’s walking, her ETA is about twenty minutes. She looks like she can use a friend.” Eva was on her feet and grabbing Gabriel’s hand before Maks even finished, yanking her husband toward his truck. “We’ll go.” “I’ll come with.” Caleb stood but didn’t get the chance to take a step before Eva was hopping into the passenger seat and slamming the door. “We’ll be right back, Paynne,” Gabriel reassured him as he climbed in and headed around the circle. Never had Vincente been more jealous of the pecking order.

CHAPTER 15

Nika slowly walked alongside the paved drive leading to Eva’s house, the detachment that had settled over her at the apartment had faded bit by bit during the trip and was now almost gone. Her lip trembled, and she bit down on it in an effort to smother the emotion trying to rise in her chest. She’d never been so exhausted in all her life. Who’d have thought simply surviving would be so trying, and for such little gain? The toe of her sandal caught on a chunk of raised asphalt and she stumbled, probably looking as if she were attempting to dance. She glanced back to where she’d had the taxi drop her and then scanned the area. It was really lovely here. Peaceful. Quiet, with just the sound of the wind in the trees lining the drive and the odd bird chirping. With a ragged sigh, she veered to the side and flopped down onto the grass. Was there something wrong with her that she couldn’t see? She pulled some grass out and brought it to her nose. Inhaling the fresh scent of nature brought her back to Seattle. She was a young girl again, sitting on the picnic table in her backyard, playing with Barbie dolls while her dad mowed the lawn. Her whole life was ahead of her, but never in her dreams, or her worst nightmares, had she foreseen where she was today. She looked up at the sound of an approaching vehicle. She didn’t panic since it was coming from the house and not the main road. The black Escalade stopped on the opposite side of where she sat and the passenger door opened. Eva hopped out, and Nika managed the barest of smiles as her best friend came over and dropped down beside her. They sat in silence for a while, Nika not sure what to say. Maybe “I’m overwhelmed and floundering and I don’t know how to get a grip on this”? She didn’t want to admit that. Had tried so hard to deny it. She didn’t want to be broken. But she was. “I’m not doing so well,” she confessed quietly. Eva joined their arms and snuggled up until they were hip to hip, the canary diamond from her ring twinkling in the sunlight coming through the trees. “Not many people in your position would be.” The empathy in her tone was just enough to make Nika feel understood but not pitied. “Do you think it might help to talk to someone about it? I know it helped me after the time I spent in that cabin with Stefano and Furio. I don’t mean a shrink,” she said quickly. “Unless that’s what you want. But I talked to Gabriel’s friend Michael. He’s the priest who married us. Really nice. Doesn’t act all self-righteous.” “How did talking to him help?” Nika believed talking about it would do nothing more than bring all the bad feelings she’d experienced during the past year to the forefront again. Why would she volunteer for that? “The best thing, I find, is that he listens. He doesn’t try to talk me out of feeling what I’m feeling.”

She lowered her voice as if it might carry across the road. “I’d talk to Gabriel, but it just makes him furious, and I want him and Stefano to patch things up, not get into a fight the minute they see each other again.” She shrugged. “I know our situations are different. I mean, I was only taken for one night, whereas you . . .” She paused and swallowed audibly before saying, “I guess I do understand Gabriel’s anger, because if the chance ever presented itself, I would kill Kevin without a second thought.” “Get in line, sista,” Nika murmured. She let her head fall to Eva’s shoulder. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m really sorry all of this is happening during what should be one of the best times of your life. First your wedding night, and now, weeks later, it’s still going on. You and Gabriel haven’t even gone on a proper honeymoon. Please tell me that isn’t because of my situation.” Eva nudged her with her elbow. “It isn’t, but what if it was? Wouldn’t you do the same for me?” Without a doubt. She nodded. “Of course you would,” Eva said. She straightened her tanned legs, which looked endless in the shorts she was wearing, and wriggled her toes in her sandals. Nika did the same, thinking idly that she had to change her polish. “Before you guys drove up,” Nika said, “I was smelling the grass, and it reminded me of when I was little. Did you play with Barbies?” “Barbies?” Nika lifted her head. “Yeah. My favorite was the family set with the Volvo. Remember?” Eva looked sheepish. “I wasn’t a Barbie fan.” “No, you wouldn’t have been. You were more the fake broom, dustpan, and nonworking vacuum cleaner,” she teased. “I totally had that whole set,” Eva admitted. “It was pink and turquoise.” They laughed in a soft burst, but the humor didn’t last. “So was it something that happened today that upset you?” Eva asked. “Or have you been feeling like this all along? When I called this morning, aside from your hangover, things seemed fine. Especially when you said you were in bed with Vincente . . . ?” Nika sighed and felt no shame in talking about something so personal with her best friend. “I found out I’m not as messed up from Kevin as I thought. Sexually, I mean,” she clarified. “Vincente and I fooled around and, well, it was wonderful. Until he ended it because I wasn’t doing it for him.” Eva seemed to freeze; she even stopped breathing for a few seconds. Her fingers clasped Nika’s knee. “He said that?” “Not those exact words, but that was the gist of it.” “I’m coming to love Vincente, but what a dick move. If you didn’t do it for him, then why did he come on to you? I think maybe he’s lying. Do you see the way he looks at you?” She nodded. “I’m pretty sure he totally lied to you today. But why?” Nika snorted, remembering the look on his face that morning. I usually get off just fine. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t lie, Eva.” “He did.” She changed the subject. “We should go. Who’s driving?” She squinted in an attempt to see through the tint on the Escalade’s windows but couldn’t. “Gabriel. And there’s no rush,” Eva offered. “If we want to sit out here all afternoon, we can. I can tell him to come back later.” “I love you.” Eva hugged her. “I love you, too,” she whispered in an unsteady voice. Nika looked at her closely when they drew apart. “You’re very emotional lately. Not as committable as I am, but still.” “I’m worried for you.”

Nika tried to smile as Eva got to her feet and pulled her up by the hand. They walked to the Escalade and both climbed into the back. “Hi, Gabriel,” she greeted their patiently waiting chauffeur. “Hey, honey. You okay?” She nodded and looked out the window as he did a U-turn and headed for the house. “Vincente and Caleb are waiting for us,” he let her know. “I kinda figured they would be.” And they were, both of them wearing identical frowns as they watched the three of them climb from the SUV a few minutes later. Nika hugged her brother, trying to draw strength from him. She looked at Vincente once she extracted herself and took the high road. “I apologize for walking out on you, and for anything hurtful I might have said. I was upset, but that’s no excuse.” She’d implied he was capable of slapping her around the same way Kevin had. The two men couldn’t be more different. She went over and offered him the same type of hug she would have given Vex. Even though she felt more, she ignored it quite easily in her mentally and emotionally drained state. “I’m sorry, Vincente,” she whispered as exhaustion ate at her. “I was cruel and unnecessarily harsh. That’s not who I am.” His touch was almost tender as he returned the embrace. “Red—” She pulled back with a shake of her head, not expecting a response. Not wanting one. “So everyone knows about the note?” she asked as Eva and Gabriel led the way into the house. They ended up around the table in the kitchen, with Samnang placing steaming mugs of coffee before them. “Does Kevin have any friends in New York, Nik?” Caleb asked quietly. “None of us thought to ask, or we assumed someone else did.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. He has a cousin, but he never mentioned his name.” Vincente withdrew his phone from his pocket when a buzzing noise sounded. He cursed when he read the text. “Finally.” “What?” Gabriel and Caleb said in unison. “Alesio and Vito got a hit with Nollan’s pic.” Fear bit into her as Nika looked around the massive granite and stainless-steel kitchen; her gaze settled on the housekeeper at the counter chopping vegetables. He scraped a cutting board full of celery pieces into a large stockpot. Making soup? She used to love to cook. As she turned and looked out the bay window at the swimming pool in the back, she distantly heard Vincente say a variety store owner had recognized Kevin’s photo. Her chest constricted as she stared at the surface of the nearly still water. No troubles to be had under there. Just peace and quiet. Peace. Quiet. “I love you. Please be careful.” Eva’s voice and the sound of a kiss forced Nika’s attention to what was happening around her. She balked at what she saw. She was the only one left sitting at the table. Caleb, Gabriel, and Vincente were leaving. Rapid little clicks had her looking to see Eva off to the side, nails tapping together a mile a minute. Something she’d always done when she was really nervous or scared. “Wait. What’s—Where are you going?” Nika demanded. Vincente was the one to answer. “We’re going to go see if we can end this for you, Red.” He was looking at her with concern. They all were. Shouldn’t that be the other way around? They were the ones heading into God only knew what. “Please be careful,” she said, her vision warping oddly. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” Or

worse. Without warning, a deluge of panic crashed over her. She grasped at her throat and shoved at her chair with the backs of her knees. After stumbling to her feet, she stepped away from everyone’s surprised expressions and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to breathe through the horrors screaming through her mind. Her lungs seized up, burning as she tried to inflate them. What if something happens to Gabriel because of me? What would Eva do without him? What if Kevin does something to my brother? “F-forget it,” she rasped through the full-blown panic attack. “N-never mind. I—I’ll t-take care of th-this myself. Someplace else.” Her voice shook so badly she barely understood her own words. “I’ll go b-back to S-Seattle. He can’t hurt you g-guys there. You should f-forget about this and let me go—” Strong, supporting arms enveloped her, and a big hand cupped the back of her head to press her cheek gently into a soft-leather-covered chest. “Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay, babe,” Vincente murmured. But it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t ever going to be okay, she realized as the suffocation level in her chest rose until she was nothing more than a raw, terror-filled shell. What if Kevin does something to Vincente? What would she do if she didn’t even have the comfort of knowing he was somewhere in the world, even if it wasn’t with her? She tried to breathe around her fading vision and weakening limbs. “He’s coming, Vincente,” she wheezed. “He won’t stop. He’s coming . . . for . . . me.” Her final words were soundless as darkness took her.

Cursing, Vincente swung Nika into his arms and swept out of the kitchen, ignoring a frowning Quan, who was just coming through the front door. He hit the stairs, taking them two at a time, and steamrolled down the hallway to his room, the fear and certainty that had been in Nika’s voice all he could hear. She was expecting death. At the hands of her abuser. No matter that it seemed she was handling things—until today, at least—she was fearing for her life. She thought Nollan getting to her was an indisputable conclusion to her story. She was wrong. There was no possible way that guy could get within miles of this house without them knowing about it. No. Possible. Way. After striding over to his bed, he pulled the duvet back and gently laid Nika down in the very place he slept every night. Her flaming hair was a brilliant contrast to the white of his pillowcase. His chest felt tight in helpless sympathy for what she was going through, his treatment of her notwithstanding. If he included that, he might as well just eat a bullet and get it over with. He pulled the cover over her as Eva rushed in. Caleb stood just inside the door, head bowed, face like a rock. “You should have brought her to our room, Vincente.” Eva went over to the other side of the bed and crawled over to sit on her knees. He didn’t bother responding. He watched one shaking hand wipe at the tears on her cheeks while the other ran lovingly over the top of her friend’s head. “She can’t take much more.” The anger and quiet alarm in her voice was apparent as she stated the obvious. “Fucking men,” she cursed under her breath. He was taken aback by that, didn’t expect it from Eva—especially the plural. He shook it off and asked, “Do you know where Tegan is? She working?”

“She’s on her way,” she said shortly as she bent forward. “Nika? Come on, hon,” she whispered. “Wake up. Please.” She rolled onto her hip and then sat cross-legged, Nika’s hand firmly clasped between hers. “Have you ever seen her faint before, Caleb? I haven’t.” The biker didn’t even look up, instead keeping his gaze on his sister. “I’ve never seen her like this. Not even when your dad died, but then, it was like she’d kind of expected that to happen. She breezed through it without seeming to take in what it meant. Remember? She fell apart two years after the fact. We were watching a movie where the guy’s parents were killed, and she lost it. Said she knew your dad was going to leave her even before we knew he had cancer.” “Like Mom,” Caleb offered tightly. His cell went off, and he went out to the hall to answer it. First her mother had left her, Vincente thought—something devastating to a young girl. Then her father. Then Eva, when she’d left Seattle to come to Columbia. And, last, Caleb, when he’d moved to New York just this past year, right when she’d needed him most. They’d all left her. He cursed and stomped over to the mini-fridge in the corner of the sitting area and came back with a bottle of water. He didn’t like how it felt having Eva’s accusing eyes on him. Not that he met them. He ignored her and sat, his hip touching Nika’s as he cracked the lid and put the bottle on the nightstand for when she woke. He reached out and brushed a wisp of hair off Nika’s high cheekbone. “Rest well, babe,” he murmured to her without thinking. “I’m gonna try to fix this up for you tonight. Put an end to it once and for all.” He cupped her cheek, which had only a shadow of a bruise left. “This will end, and you’re going to move on.” He wished that he could move on with her. “Trust me on that, okay?” “Why are you being nice to her now?” Vincente frowned and looked over at Eva. Then he got it. Nika had spilled about what had gone down this morning. Shit. “I try always to be nice to her.” More emotion, if that were possible, entered a pair of blue eyes identical to Vasily’s. Eva’s were still glittering with moisture. “Is that so? From what I heard, you weren’t very nice earlier today. Why would you lead her on that way, Vincente?” she asked coldly, gaze darting to the door. “After what she’s been through, I think what you did was cruel.” She was pissed. Yet she was keeping this between the three of them. He appreciated that. “I didn’t mean to lead her on,” he grumbled. He could hear the resentment in his tone but couldn’t curb it. He just didn’t talk about shit like this. With anyone, let alone his best friend’s fucking wife. “What happened between us was—” Incredible. Beautiful. Amazing. “Well, it shouldn’t have happened. We’re —” “Why?” “Pardon?” Eva glanced at the door again and then back to him. “Why shouldn’t it have happened?” His answer was honest. “Because she deserves better than anything I can give her.” The aggression went out of Eva as if a dam had broken, and her brow wrinkled in that way that showed someone was awwwing in her head. “Oh, Vincente. I don’t believe that. We actually think you’re pretty wonderful.” She smiled. “Sorry. I know you guys don’t like to hear that sort of thing, but it’s true. Nika likes you.” He ground his molars and wished he was anywhere but here. “No, she doesn’t. She’s just grateful that I’m giving her a hand dealing with Nollan. Or trying to.” “Oh, so she’s going to go off and make out with Alek next? And then Quan and Gabriel? Oh, and let’s not forget Maksim. She might even go so far as to have sex with him so he understands the gratitude she feels for taking so much time out of his busy schedule to tap some keys on a computer.” “Are you trying to piss me off here, squirt?” he ground out, wanting to rage at the images she’d put into his head.

“No,” Eva replied patiently. “I’m trying to show you how silly you’re being. She didn’t do whatever it was you guys did together this morning because she’s grateful to you. She did it because she’s attracted to you. And for someone who has been through what she’s been through, you should be damn flattered that she’s able to feel that way about you at all.” Vincente had to struggle not to let that blow up his chest. Nika was attracted to him. She’d wanted him this morning. She’d responded to him— He shook the thoughts out of his head. “She still deserves better.” “So, you don’t like her?” Eva pressed. And he’d had it. He leaned in with a jerk, Nika’s prone body between them, and looked Vasily’s kid right in the eye. “What I feel for this woman is my personal business, and I’m going to keep it that way no matter what you ask me. Are we clear?” A slow, lovely smile lit Eva’s face. “Yes, Vincente. You’ve made what you feel for my friend very clear.” Fuck. She was so her father’s daughter. Gabriel finally showed up—too late in Vincente’s estimation—Tegan right on his heels. The boss came around the bed to sit behind his wife, wrapping a comforting arm around her and pulling her back against him. “Make some room, Vin,” Tegan ordered, shooing him away with her hands. He stood but didn’t move away, watching as she did a basic ABCs. She yanked a stethoscope out of her NYU hoodie pocket and plugged the ends into her ears. “You carry that everywhere you go?” he muttered. “Sure. It gets me laid,” Tegan replied cattily. “Now shush.” She put the bell to Nika’s chest and listened for a tense twenty seconds. Pulling the plugs out of her ears, she sat back with a sigh. “Stress is such a beotch. This poor little thing. You guys don’t know what she’s been through until you see her X-rays.” She shook her head angrily, her hand resting where Nika’s ribs would be under the blanket. Vincente spun on his heel and headed for the door without a word. Caleb followed as he went down the hall. If Gabriel made it downstairs by the time they reached his truck, he could come with; if not, they’d leave anyway. He had someone to kill.

A tickle on her arm brought Nika back. Opening her eyes, she blinked a few times until she was able to focus on Eva’s black hair hanging like a glossy curtain, hiding her face from view. “Eva?” she croaked. Her best friend’s head whipped up and she smiled. “Hey.” The smile disappeared as she shouted, “Tegan!” before looking back, smile reappearing. A nice, bright fake one. Nika went to sit up but was held down by Eva’s hand on her shoulder. “Just wait.” “Why? I’m fine,” she lied as the blonde doctor appeared from a doorway on the right. “What happened?” “Good morning,” Tegan trilled in a singsong voice, smiling a toothpaste-commercial smile as she

sat practically in Nika’s lap on the massive bed she just now noticed she was lying in. “Morning . . . ?” She watched Eva get to her feet and stand there looking nervous, which made her nervous. How could it be morning when she didn’t even remember going to bed? “You remember Tegan?” Eva said. “And you’ve only been out about five minutes.” Out? “Oh. Uh, yes. Hi, Tegan.” Nika looked at the familiar blonde and tried to smile. She managed, only because she remembered Vincente saying Tegan wasn’t his girlfriend. “Sorry, I—” “Fainted. We know, sweetie,” the doctor interrupted. “Does anything hurt? Bright light,” she added just as a beam nailed Nika in the eyes, first one and then the other. “No. Nothing.” Except everything. “Hmm.” The doctor put two fingers over Nika’s wrist and kept time with her watch. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Nika waded through the swamp that was her mind and tried to think around the pounding in her temples. She’d taken a taxi . . . she and Eva had talked . . . they’d all ended up in the kitchen— She sat up so fast that Tegan squeaked in surprise. “Where are they, Eva? Did they go out?” Eva came back and sat on the pillow like a lithe monkey, knees tucked up under her chin. “Yes, of course they did. They’ll be fine, Nika,” she soothed in a calming voice as she petted her hair. But what if they weren’t fine? What if Kevin was waiting in the shadows or something? What if he had a gun? Nika put her head into her hands, hating how helpless she felt. “Eva. If anything happens—” “Nothing is going to happen. Okay? Now, please, just shut up and relax. You’re starting to freak me out.” She got up off the bed and started pacing, hand rubbing her stomach as if she felt sick. The little liar is shitting her pants, Nika realized. Great. “Come on—both of you. We’re going downstairs. I want some olives.” Eva stalked from the room. “What a little Miss Bossy Pants,” Tegan muttered, holding her hand out for Nika. “No wonder Gabriel is so goo-goo over her. Can you image her in bed? Touch there. Not there. There. Harder. Faster. Blah, blah, blah, boom.” Nika couldn’t help but smile as she took the doctor’s hand. “I think I like your bedside manner.” “I know, right?” Tegan winked as she led her out of the room. Before they reached the door, Nika spotted a familiar leather duster lying across the corner of the sofa and faltered. “Whose bedroom is this?” “Vincente’s.” Her pulse jumped, and she turned back to the bed she’d just been in. Vincente slept there every night, she thought, her body reacting. She looked around at the rest of the room. It reminded her of a selfcontained hotel suite for some reason. A rather depressing grayscale winter landscape hung on one wall. Sheesh, she thought with a frown; the atmosphere in here was cold. Expensive furnishings but lifeless. Until she leaned over to peek in the closet. Now there was the warmth she’d been searching for, in the form of worn jeans on hangers, a few distressed leather dusters, an array of Vincente-style T-shirts, and a load of boots like the ones Caleb wore lining the wall on the floor. Maybe she just liked it better in there because it reflected who Vincente was to her. Her rising temperature cooled substantially when she remembered his humiliating rejection that morning, and she finally turned and followed Tegan out. Why had she been brought to his room? Had he brought her there, or had someone else? They reached the kitchen just as Eva was twisting the lid off a large jar. She scooped a ladle—an actual soup ladle—of green olives into a bowl before placing the container back in the double-door refrigerator. As she popped two into her mouth, Tegan spoke. “I’m all for wallowing in anxiety, but anyone interested in one hell of a distraction?” Nika had gone over to steal a tangy treat from the bowl clutched against Eva’s chest, and they turned to look at the MD. “Yes,” they said together.

Tegan sailed across the room and grabbed a small black case off the counter. She waved for them to follow her as she left. “Tell me again what your problem is,” she called to Eva over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway. Eva quickly stuffed four olives into her mouth and then placed the bowl on the counter. She looked at Nika, pursing her lips. “She could at least sound like she cares,” she muttered. “Heard that,” Tegan sang as they followed her. “Now start talking, Moretti.” Pride parted the gloomy clouds on Eva’s face at the sound of her new name. “I’ve been getting headaches for a couple of weeks now. They just come out of nowhere, and when they go I’m left feeling nauseous and a little shaky.” Nika looked at her as they walked. “You never told me that.” They all entered the large bathroom off the foyer and gathered around as Tegan withdrew a few things from her bag. “Have you mentioned this to Gabriel?” Eva laughed. “Uh, no. He’s a little controlling, in case you’ve forgotten who we’re talking about,” she said wryly. “He’d never let me out of bed if he thought I wasn’t feeling well.” “He’s been keeping you on the couch watching ‘a show he’s wanted to see’ a lot lately, huh? Sitting out on the deck, you snuggled in his lap? Lazing in bed, wrapped all over you, till noon?” Eva’s cheeks flamed. “Well, yes, yes, and yes. How do—” “He knows.” The confidence in Tegan’s tone was indisputable. Nika started to get nervous, and she shelved her own problems for the moment. “Gabriel is not a sedentary person,” Tegan added. “So that must mean”—she pointed at Eva like a Price Is Right model—“you’re the cause. What? You thought your man was lazy?” “No!” The denial was instant, vehement and fierce, and Nika had to smile as defense of her husband brought out that little beast Eva kept hidden. “How dare you say something like that, Tegan? Gabriel is the most—” “Look, I’m just—” “I wasn’t finished!” Tegan reared back at the authority that rang in Eva’s voice and shut her mouth immediately. Nika smirked. “Gabriel is not lazy. And I never thought for one minute that he was. He’s caring and loving and affectionate, and I just thought he wanted to spend time with me, the way I want to spend time with him. I didn’t . . . realize . . . Is he letting his responsibilities slide? Neglecting his duties at TarMor? He can’t be, because we work on stuff all the time. Is he not dealing with things within the family that need his attention? Just so that . . .” A sob escaped, and Nika moved in to hug her. Tegan beat her there. “Hey,” the doctor cooed, gathering Eva into her arms as if she’d been a mother for fifty years. The tenderness of her actions, and the sincere remorse on her face, had Nika fighting a few stupid tears of her own. “I never meant to imply you were holding him back or that he was doing something he didn’t want to do. Shit. If he could throw in the towel on every responsibility he has so he could spend every waking moment in your presence, you know damn well he’d do it. He loves you like nothing I’ve ever seen before, Moretti. Which I don’t mind admitting is sometimes sickening to watch.” She pushed Eva an arm’s length away. “Forgive me?” Eva sniffled. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, her eyes glittering. “I’m so stupid lately.” “No, you’re not. Let’s get this done.” Tegan put herself nose to nose with Eva. “We good, you and me? I never meant to upset you.” Eva laughed and accepted the tissue Nika handed her. “Yes, we’re good. Just . . . I don’t know. Don’t insult him again.” “No worries there,” she said, giving Nika an obvious eye roll. “Whew. That’s all I need is that

man pissed at me for upsetting the queen bee.” Tegan reached into her small bag and took out a plastic cup. After tearing the seal that was taped over the orange lid, she shoved it at Eva. “Pee.” Suspicious sapphire eyes narrowed. “Why?” This close to pulling her friend’s pants down herself, Nika grabbed the cup from Tegan and waved it under Eva’s nose. “Please, Eva! I’m about to lose it here!” “I think you’ve both already lost it,” Eva muttered, but she shoved down her tights, squatted over the toilet, and peed in the cup. After opening a small container that held some little sticks, Tegan accepted the liquid and dunked the tip of one of the sticks in. She then, annoyingly, put it behind her back to wait. Nika started to sweat. What the hell was this? Could Eva have some residual problem left over from when Gabriel’s brother had kidnapped her? Internal bleeding or something? Or had Gabriel listened to her diabetes warning and they were checking for ketones in her urine? “Tegan?” Eva was biting on her bottom lip as she washed her hands. “You’re starting to scare me.” The doctor whipped the stick back around and . . . squealed like a piglet—sending Eva and Nika scrambling back. Within two seconds, pounding footsteps came from the direction of the front door. “Eva?” The panic in Gabriel’s deep shout was heart wrenching. “In here,” his wife called, her frown turning into a glare as she extracted herself from the shower curtain and moved to the door. “What is going on, Dr. Evil?” she snapped. The door flew open, and Gabriel nearly mowed his woman down as he burst into the huge bathroom, shrinking it to nothing with his size. His head whipped around as if he’d expected to find them tied up and being robbed. Nika had to smile. Quan caught her eye from just beyond the door and winked, shaking his head as he walked away. “I heard a scream,” Gabriel said, stilling now that he saw they were all free of harm. His eyes flared when he saw Tegan’s medical bag on the counter. “What the hell’s going on?” “I just performed a test on your wife,” Tegan said around a swallow that had Nika’s heart hammering. “It’s a little thing that measures the human chorionic gonadotropin, or HCG, in . . . uh, Gabriel?” Nika was listening so raptly to the MD that she hadn’t noticed Gabriel listing to the side. Eva jammed her shoulder into his armpit and tried to hold him up. “Gabriel!” she cried as he fell heavily onto the closed toilet seat. “Are y—oopf!” Eva was suddenly enveloped in a hug that had to have been sent straight from heaven. Gabriel’s strong arms embraced her, big hands caressed her; his horrified face buried itself in the hollow of her neck. “Save my life right now, T, and tell me there’s nothing wrong with my wife.” The emotion in the room heightened instantly. Nika tented her hands over her mouth, never having heard anything so touching in all her life. Eva wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and melted as she kissed his jaw. Tegan then smiled tenderly at the couple and announced quietly, “You guys are having a baby.” Nika grabbed a towel off the counter and stuffed the fresh-smelling terry cloth in her face. She collapsed onto the cushioned bench along the wall and tried not to sob. Thank God there was nothing wrong with Eva. She was just pregnant. Holy shit. Tegan came over and helped her up. “She’s okay. I got her,” she said as she led Nika out of the bathroom, face still covered. They left the still-silent couple intertwined on the toilet. “Man, I love, love, stunning people like that,” Tegan murmured as she closed the door behind

them. Her best friend was having a baby. Thank God Gabriel had come back home to share in this lifechanging moment with her. But where were Vincente and Caleb?

CHAPTER 16

Maksim Kirov scanned the area around him, noting pretty much everything before he widened his scope to include the rest of the club. Originally a large movie theater, the place was long and narrow, every inch of the walls covered with misshapen mirrors to reflect warped and distorted images that looked exotic rather than strange. The ceilings were a good thirty feet up, also mirrored to throw the blue-and-greenshaded floor lights around in seductive flashes. The patrons, most barely dressed, he noted without much enthusiasm, stood on a gradual incline, unless they were grinding it on the packed dance floor that took up a good chunk of the real estate down below. Scattered through the massive space were five huge steel birdcages, each of them with male or female exotic dancers inside. One of them with both. “Big difference from Rapture,” Micha, Maks’s right hand, commented as he slid a glass over on the clean bar top. “Too much noise.” Maks shrugged. He didn’t mind the noise. Better than what went on in his own head. “The woman’s smart,” he allowed, referring to the club’s owner, who he’d been hearing good things about. “Great layout, well staffed. It’s obvious just by looking around that she knows her clientele and serves them well.” But Micha was right; Club Pant was nothing like Maksim’s place. This was all about high energy. The patrons ranged on a wide arc from the kid on scholarship at Columbia to the Lindsay Lohans and Miley Cyruses of Celebrityville. Rapture was the opposite—low-key, tastefully luxurious—and Maks catered to those who enjoyed a certain anonymity. “I’ve heard talk of this Australian,” Micha said as they clinked their glasses together before emptying them of the chilled Stoli. “As have I. Vincente said she has a surveillance system that rivals Rapture’s. Can’t imagine it, but V doesn’t bullshit.” Maksim still didn’t believe it. There was no way it could be anywhere near, or better than, his own. Not that he’d mind the competition. Normally, he just didn’t get any. Micha nodded at the bartender. “Two more, and would you tell Ms. Martin someone’s here to see her?” The bartender looked skeptical around his eager-to-please nod and went off to do Micha’s bidding. Maksim sighed in annoyance at having to wait and wondered when the others would get there. Vincente had called and asked him to drop in and get the ball rolling—since he was closest, Rapture being a few blocks west. He was to check out some security footage that would most likely show Kevin Nollan slipping that threatening note into Nika’s purse. Shit situation for that girl, he thought, his mood deteriorating even more at the reminder that it had taken him so long to pin the goof down. But he’d finally hit gold when researching Nollan’s family again and had come up with a New York addy for a

Darren Nollan. Cousin on the father’s side. Maks would be putting a smile on V’s face when he shared the info in a few. He knew Gabriel and Quan had gone back home. The boss had said something about not feeling right leaving the girls on their own—which they weren’t really, not with Tegan home and Alesio and Vito on duty. But, regardless, none of them ignored their instincts when they pinged, so Maks got it, even as he scoffed silently. The security system he’d installed at the house was also faultless. Nothing was getting by it, and nothing went on there without him knowing about it. Case in point: the moment Tegan, his best bud of many years, had screamed earlier, his system had picked up on the high-pitched sound and alerted Maksim. He’d called up his program, had flipped from camera to camera, switching to the mics when he couldn’t get a visual on the girls—even he had enough respect not to put eyes in the bathrooms or bedrooms. He cleared his throat at what the sound equipment in the foyer had picked up coming from the bathroom. “G’s having a kid with Vasily’s daughter,” he announced to Micha, who turned to him with a shocked look. Which meant his brow quirked slightly over his pale-green eyes. “No shit. Already?” Maks grinned. His boy worked fast. “Already. But keep it on the DL until I say. No one should know yet.” “Yet you do,” Micha murmured. “Good on him. Wonder how Vasily’s going to feel about being a grandfather.” “First his daughter, and now a grandchild? A little man he’ll have close enough to mold?” Maks shook his head and tipped his glass back to swallow his second of the night, feeling envious. “He’ll be pleased.” “Gentlemen? What can I do for you?” questioned a female with a sexy-as-shit Australian accent. Reminding himself to be polite, because Vasily had told him Sydney Martin was a friend of Lucian Fane, Maksim turned. And didn’t even attempt to hold in his loud groan. Thanks for the warning, V, you fuck, he thought as he closed his gaping mouth and figuratively wiped the drool from his chin. Sydney Martin was damn fine. Small tight body, long silver-blonde hair, luminescent skin that proved she’d never smoked a cigarette in her life. Her bone structure was ridiculously perfect, the feminine jaw and high cheekbones almost too fragile. Delicately curved eyebrows a few shades darker than her hair went up, and she blinked, practically fanning him with her long lashes. “Mr. Kirov? May I help you with something?” She knew him. How? He’d find out later. Pillow talk. “Hello, lover,” he greeted, settling into their new roles right out of the gate. Her expression didn’t change, but Maks could have sworn she rolled her eyes without having actually rolled her eyes. She looked to Micha and missed Maks’s grin. “May I help you?” Micha, being the smart guy he was, had obviously noted Maks’s interest, and he deferred back to the hand that fed him without a word. He simply inclined his head Maksim’s way so that Sydney had no choice but to bring her attention back where it belonged. She shifted on her high-heeled shoes and looked up at him, irritated now. She was one small woman. Would probably only reach high enough to press those lickable lips of hers to the middle of his chest if he didn’t feel like bending for her. But going by that level stare and tipped chin, she clearly wasn’t in the habit of taking any shit from anyone, stature be damned. Deciding he could get his fill of what she looked like—naked—at a later date, he relented and got to the point of their visit. “Our mutual friend, Vincente Romani, is requesting a viewing of your security footage from last night.”

She folded her arms over her middle and tapped her tongue on the back of her top teeth. Again, her expression didn’t alter, but it suddenly seemed as if she was glaring at him. “Does this have something to do with the redhead he escorted out?” “Yes,” Maks said simply, offering nothing more. “Do I have the option to refuse this request?” He reached out and caught a lock of her hair to rub between his fingers. It was as soft as it looked. “No, lover, you don’t. This is too important.” She flipped her head, pulling her hair away. “Fine. Come with me.” She turned away. They followed her to a metal staircase that ran up along the wall to a grated, exposed second-floor corridor. As they climbed, Maks felt something poke uncomfortably in his chest when he saw the five-inch heels on her Louboutins. Shit, without those stillies she’d be fucking tiny. He’d be able to lift her to position her however he wanted with no trouble at all. They stopped at the only door and waited for her to tap a code into a keypad. “You take your security seriously,” he commented. “Of course,” she returned as she opened the door and waved them into what had to be her office. Maks stiffened when they were met by a somewhat familiar face. Gheorghe Fane—cousin to the notorious Lucian—nodded as he rose from a long sofa that sat against the wall. “Kirov. Micha.” They all shook. “What are you boys doing here?” Micha melted off to the side without a word, as was his way, while Maks cursed the fact that Gheorghe had obviously beat him to the punch where the Aussie was concerned. Very disappointing. He totally wanted to sulk. “Your lady has some security footage we’re interested in seeing,” he said, working to keep his tone neutral. That must have been how she’d known his name. They’d probably caught sight of him and Micha on camera, and Gheorghe must have told her who they were before she came downstairs. “I’m not his lady.” Maks unclamped his jaws and looked up to see his little sprite take up position behind a desk that held nothing but a phone and closed laptop. In fact, the entire office was barren, giving no clue as to the personality of its owner. There wasn’t even a plant or a calendar on the wall. Just furniture: desk, chair, file cabinets, and sofa. And had she just clarified her single status for his sake? Maksim went over and sat on the edge of her desk, close enough for it to be considered an invasion of her personal space. She appeared to ignore him completely, but he knew women well enough to know she was aware of him. Could tell by the way her gaze shifted to the side. Not quite looking but enough to pinpoint his proximity. “Whose lady are you, Australia?” he asked quietly. “Mine,” she said shortly, still not looking at him. “Do you have a specific timeline for the footage you want? Or would you prefer the entire night?” “Most definitely the entire night,” he said immediately. Her gaze flashed to his when she caught his meaning, and Maks felt a jolt of pure energy zap him in the chest. Her eyes were purple! “Jesus Christ.” He took her chin in a gentle hold between his finger and thumb to tilt her head up for a better look. “What do they call that color?” He was honestly curious. And he’d been told his own eyes were unusual. “Excuse me?” “Your eyes, lover. They’re magnificent.” One thing she’d learn about him—if he thought something, he usually just said it. Those magnificent eyes narrowed, and she pulled herself away from his hold once more to cross the room. First her hair, now her face. Maks felt his good humor drain away and his mouth tighten. He

didn’t like when someone took his toys away. “I’m quite sure my eyes are no more magnificent,” she said, sounding distinctly sarcastic, “than what you see when you look in the mirror.” Meaning she also thought his eyes were magnificent? The rap of knuckles against the door made Maks straighten, his good humor restored as Gheorghe went over to allow the crew in. Vincente, Caleb, Alek, Gabriel, and Quan shrank the spacious room to the size of a shoe box. With one eye on Sydney, who was coolly surveying her new guests, Maks said to Gabriel, “I thought you were going home.” G knocked him on the shoulder in greeting, then said in a low voice, “I called the twins to housesit after Alek texted saying V’s about to snap. Believe me—there isn’t much else that could have dragged me back out tonight.” Vincente glowered over at them, expensive leather settling around his ankles as he came to a halt next to Gheorghe—they all hated secrets. But this one, at this time, was necessary. Maks got that. If V was as close to the edge as he appeared, the news about an innocent, fragile little baby coming into the midst of their sometimes-violent world might tip him over and cause a tantrum. When his cousin Mario had shared the news of his upcoming fatherhood, V had been incredulous. “You and Cindy are bringing a child into this world?” he’d blustered, instead of the “Congratulations, man,” his cousin should have received. Guy was scarred, Maks thought, giving him a wink before moving in front of Gabriel, offering the Reaper his back. They were far enough away that their conversation would remain private. “I heard.” He felt no shame in admitting to Gabriel that he’d been eavesdropping. The boys knew he did so only to make sure everyone stayed safe. He grabbed the boss by the back of the neck and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. “Congrats, brother. I’m liking this news even better than you getting hitched.” Gabriel didn’t bother asking how he knew. He just nodded. “Thanks, man. I’m having a hell of a time wrapping my head around it. My poor fucking wife. I’m gonna drive her nuts.” “As you should, Papa. As you should.” Protecting what they considered theirs was the only way they knew. A woman he loved carrying his child? Fuck. Maks didn’t think he could handle that shit. Which was why he’d decided never to attempt it. “I’m assuming you haven’t told V.” Gabriel sighed and ran a hand down the front of his steel-blue button-up, which was undone at the neck. Should’ve paired it with a gray tie, Maks thought, like the clotheshorse he was. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. He doesn’t need the added pressure tonight. Because, you know, despite it being incredibly good news, with the way he’s been lately, he’s going to put a negative slant on it in his head. He’ll take it personally. The safety of my child will become his responsibility, no matter how much I try to convince him that it’s mine.” Maks slapped him on the shoulder. “We’re on the same page. Keep it on the DL until the sun is shining and everyone’s happy.” He turned and focused on his tiny sprite again to see she’d just finished a conversation with Vincente. As her dainty hand went behind the chrome backrest of the sofa, respect for her was born. Maks felt it settle in as a quiet hum sounded before a four-by-eight panel slid open to reveal a dozen screens with images of every corner of the club, front and rear entrances included, all being recorded onto an electronic hard drive set up on a bottom shelf. He looked at the creator of the sweet setup and felt that jolt of energy hit him again when his gaze clashed with hers. Amethyst. Sydney Martin’s eyes were the color of amethyst. And right now, they were centered on him with a look so indifferent, so uninterested, Maksim couldn’t help but grin. Challenge accepted, Australia.

The itch in Vincente’s skin just kept getting worse and worse as he watched one of the many screens set into the wall. Sydney had pulled up the footage from the night before with no trouble, which had allowed them to see Nollan follow Nika into the club, not a dozen steps behind Vito and Alesio. Nika went to the bar, the boys remained a few feet away, and Nollan went off to the side to stand half-hidden behind a cage that housed a dancer. The two who’d bought Nika the drink came in ten minutes later, spoke briefly with Nollan—sonsofbitches!—and then perched down the bar from Nika to watch her for a while before finally approaching her. One of them had just slipped the note into her purse when Vincente came into the frame. He didn’t have to watch to know what happened next, but he did pay close attention to his image on the outside cameras showing him putting Nika into the Kombat at the curb. A white minivan hung a few car lengths back and pulled out directly after he did to follow him down the street. “So he’s been on her,” Caleb said from behind him. “How long has he known where she is?” Vincente didn’t answer because he couldn’t speak yet, faced with the knowledge that Nollan could have gotten Nika last night. Had he somehow made it past Alesio and Vito, Nika could be dead right now. He stared straight ahead and let that sink in. If he thought his world was dark now, what would it be like if Nika were no longer in it? Vincente turned and stalked away from the cluster of male bodies that somehow knew to get the fuck out of his way before he blew apart. He walked over and stood next to the closed door and just stared at the beige paint on the wall. A low discussion started up behind him about Nollan having picked up Nika’s scent before she’d even left the clubhouse. Unsure how much time had passed, his eyes closed when he heard Gabriel’s voice at his back. “Vincente?” “I was distracted, G,” he said right away, needing to get the weight of responsibility off his chest so he could breathe again. “He was right in front of me, and I was too distracted by her to even see it.” He ran a rough hand over his jaw and turned to look at Gabriel in true confusion. “I don’t get it. How the fuck am I allowing this to happen?” “Can I be honest with you? Without having to take one on the chin?” He was just desperate enough at this point to say, “Yeah. Give it to me straight.” “Does Nika want you?” Thrown by the question—not what he’d expected to hear—Vincente pictured her as she’d been that morning, coming apart for him, pleading with him to allow her to give him the same pleasure. “Fuck me, but, yeah, seems that way.” “Don’t sound so surprised, brother.” Gabriel laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. “And here comes the control-yourself bit, but I think you should let her have you. Enjoy each other. Who knows? Maybe she needs that just as badly as you do. God knows neither of you have had it good lately. Could be that if you untangled your head from the sheets, you’d get a handle on everything else.” Vincente wondered if he looked as poleaxed as he felt. What. The. Fuck. “Are you seriously telling me to have sex with your wife’s victimized friend?” Gabriel’s face hardened at that. “No, you asshat. I’m telling you to give yourself and a woman who’s been through the shitter a good time. If she’s willing to give in to the attraction you both feel, why aren’t you?” “Excuse me, Vincente?” They both looked back to see Sydney attempting to get around Maksim. The idiot wasn’t moving.

“Cut the shit, Kirov. Now’s not the time,” Vincente barked, but Sydney just shook her head, as if dealing with five-year-olds was a common occurrence for her. “Would you come back over here?” she said. “I know one of your guys.” “Which one?” He and Gabriel went back to look at the screen. Sydney pointed a long white-tipped fingernail at one of the drink buyers, a tattoo of a baby elephant on her wrist flashing. “This guy’s name is Darren Nollan. They call him Flash. He’s a—” “Two-bit porn producer wannabe,” Maks finished. “Sorry, lover,” he said when Sydney looked up at him. “But I’ll take it from here. You’ve stolen enough of my thunder.” He turned to Vincente. “I was waiting to tell you. I got a hit on Nollan’s family. Found the cousin.” Vincente’s memory pinged as the name registered. “Darren and Paul. The other insect is Paul.” The introductions from last night brushed through his mind. “I got an addy,” Maks said, waving his phone in the air. “You want to move on it now?” Fucking irreverent jackoff. “Actually, I thought maybe we could take a drive up to Atlantic City, maybe take in a show, play the wheel for a bit, a few hands of BJ.” Vincente’s voice was tight with strain as he thundered, “Of course we go now! What the fuck do you think?” Maks went over and opened the door, motioning him out with a grin he seemed to be doing his best to smother. The pounding of footsteps coming down the metal stairs drew interested looks from half the fucking club. But for the first time in a while, Vincente didn’t give a shit what it might look like to have seven large, obviously armed guys steamrolling through a packed and very public place. In fact, he was counting on his and his crew’s sometimes uncivilized reputation to finish this for his redhead.

CHAPTER 17

Twenty-five minutes later they made barely a sound as they hauled ass up the back stairwell of a nondescript apartment building in Crown Heights, the same type found all over New York City. Gabriel grim and silent, SIG at his thigh. Quan calm and ready for whatever came at him. Alek, also steady and ready to play guard dog. Caleb, solid and looking pumped for some action—which he wasn’t going to get this round because the boss had partnered him with Alek as just a guard. Maksim was downstairs, grinning his idiot head off because he’d been given permission to engage. Micha hadn’t come along. He’d left them at the front of Pant, walking toward his Aston Martin, muttering something about crowds sucking the fun out of a kill. And then there was Vincente, anticipation that they might actually be getting somewhere with this making him want to crawl the fuck out of his skin. He didn’t think for a minute they’d be lucky enough to find Nollan sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, but if they got their hands on the two flunkies, it wouldn’t take much for him and Maks to get them singing like canaries. Gabriel opened the door at the top of the stairs and poked his head out, then motioned with two fingers for them to follow. They moved in a cluster to Unit 6A and surrounded the door, Alek covering the peephole with a finger before knocking. “FDNY. Fire down on floor two. Everyone out. Alarms are down.” His voice carried easily. Vincente just hoped it didn’t carry to the other units. All they needed was an audience. There was a bang and then some cursing. “What the fuck? I don’t smell smoke,” a male voice grunted as the locks went. Vincente hammered the door into the asshole as he cracked it open, knocking him back into the room so hard he went down and slid into the wall. Paul. Quan pounced on him like a deadly jungle cat, giving Vincente the opening to look for Darren. Motherfuck! Out the fire escape the cocksucker went, just like Maks had predicted one of them would. Vincente didn’t bother going after him but instead stood just inside the window and listened to the panicked shuffle as the idiot flew down the metal stairs. A high-pitched shriek a second later, followed by a text from Maks that was nothing but the name of his club, had Vincente smiling. He turned and went over to the couch, where Quan had put their other captive. “Recognize this guy, V?” Caleb asked with a small, spooky smile that was devoid of humor. Vincente took a good look at the guy sitting there in his ratty hoodie. What the . . . ? This was the preppy bastard who’d nearly blown a hole in the back of Caleb’s head in the alley near the clubhouse. How the hell had he not recognized him last night? Well, both times he’d seen him had been high-stress

situations. Dark alley, then a dark club. Strobe lights. And to be honest, he’d barely looked at what he’d thought were simple drink buyers last night because Nika had held most of his attention. Yet another of his most recent fuckups. Maybe G was right and he should throw in the towel. It was either take her once and for all, or get her killed with his carelessness. “You wanna come with?” he said to Caleb as he reached out and jerked Paul to his feet. “Where you headed?” “Rapture’s basement.” He put his mouth near Paul’s ear and said quietly, “Rapture’s soundproof basement.” “I dunno nuthin’,” Paul whimpered, blue eyes moist. “No? Where’s Kevin Nollan holing up?” “I dunno where he goes when he leaves here. Darren knows. He knows everything. I think it’s a hotel, but I dunno which one or where it is. And they been talkin’ about a building somewhere in the neighborhood lately, but not t’ me. I just overheard them. That’s all I know. Please lemme go, man. Please! I’m just in it for the cash.” “What cash?” “Kevin said he’d give me a hundred bucks to lure the redhead to the alley behind the club last night. We didn’t get the money, though, because you showed. So it’s even, right?” Vincente jammed his thumb under the front of the guy’s ribs and hooked on, pulling on at least three, he was that deep under. A tattooed hand, Caleb’s judging by the ODMC on the knuckles, covered the guy’s mouth when he screamed in pain. “Even doesn’t exist for you anymore,” Vincente murmured as images of what they could have done to Nika in that alley crowded into his head. “You sure you don’t know where to find Kevin?” The bulging eyes and violent shake of Paul’s blond head, face screwing up from the agony of his rib cage being pried from his body, let Vincente know he’d gotten whatever he was going to get. This one was no good to him. He leaned in until he could smell the fear coming off the guy. “You got yourself mixed up in something so far out of your league it’s really fucking funny. Too bad you won’t have a chance to laugh it up.” He released his hold and stepped off, surprised when the guy stayed on his feet. “You guys can take off,” he said to Gabriel, Quan, and Alek, who were waiting by the door. “Caleb and I will take this one—” Vincente paused when he felt something brush up against his ankle. He looked down and frowned when he saw a little pup. “Hey, a puppy.” Caleb stepped over and bent to pet the mangy-looking thing. He got a pathetic little growl and a paltry nip on the hand for his troubles. “Easy there, buddy,” he murmured, trying again, only to get the same treatment. Alek scoffed. “Just pick him up,” he said as he came forward. The pup shoved his nearly exposed ribs into Vincente’s ankle, as though asking for protection. He stepped back; the pup followed. Big fucking head on the skinny thing. Judging by the colors, he’d have to say rotti, or something close. “Come here, little guy,” Alek said softly in Russian, extending his hand for the runt to sniff. He got a growl, no bite, but that was it. Poor little thing looked scared shitless, tail buried between his legs, head bowed, eyes lowered. Reminded Vincente of Nika. Browbeaten. Overwhelmed. He bent and slipped his hand under the thing’s concave belly to lift him up. No growling, biting, scratching, just a dry lick to the chin. Vincente felt his heart shift. What the fuck was it with him and strays? “Likes you,” Gabriel murmured from beside him as he lifted his hand to touch the pup’s ear. “What the fuck? Cigarette burn?” He turned to Paul, his features contorted. “Wasn’t me! I don’t smoke! It was Darren!” Gabriel’s ham-size fist snapped forward in a blur to shatter the cartilage in the guy’s nose. Blood

instantly sprayed. “You let it happen, you asshole,” Gabriel spat. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to stand up for those who can’t stand for themselves?” Caleb grabbed Paul and led him out with something jammed so deep into the guy’s spine he walked as if he were carrying twins. The rest of them followed. Vincente tucked his new canine friend into the huge pocket of his coat. He felt a shuffle, a nudge to the thigh, and then . . . nothing. The little guy didn’t even squirm, which made him sick because that probably meant the pup was used to being stuck in dark, tight spaces with no way out. Fucking cruel assholes. Well, from now on, the malnourished little thing was going to get all the attention he could handle. And Nika was going to get some company. He smiled to himself. She’d mentioned a love of animals. No doubt this would cheer her up. “What are you going to do with the pup?” Caleb asked when it was just the two of them in the alley behind the building. The Escalade had just taken off, and Paul was sitting pretty in the backseat of the Kombat. “Thought I’d give him to your sister.” Vincente had his hand in his pocket and was scratching between the little guy’s ears. “Good idea. Listen, V.” Caleb shuffled around, and Vincente braced himself because he knew when the asking of a favor was coming. “You mind letting me do this with Kirov?” Fuck. Pecking order again? He sighed roughly. “Can you handle it?” Torturing someone for information wasn’t for the faint of heart. Especially the way Maks did it. “Fuck, yeah. I need to do something for her.” He swiped at his hair, nearly scalping himself. “I don’t know what’s doing with you two, and I’m not judging,” he reassured him, hands up, “but it seems like you comfort her better than anyone. So, if I can’t do that, at least give me this.” Nika took comfort from him? He savored that for a second. And then tried to accept the fact that Caleb had just tied his hands. “The minute one of them breaks, you fucking call me. I don’t want you and Kirov going off on your own. You got it?” “Yeah, man. I’ll call, and you and I can take him down together.” Vincente breathed a sigh of relief and nodded once before going around to the driver’s side. He had no right to stop Caleb from going after Nollan to avenge his sister. When Vincente had found the ones responsible for Sophia’s torment, he hadn’t picked up the phone to call fuck-all. He’d gone in on his own and cleaned house, killing every last one of them and freeing the dozen girls still in captivity in the operation similar to what Tommy the Shark had been running. So, yeah, his rights where Nika was concerned came after her brother’s. He was just glad Caleb didn’t see it that way. Forty minutes after leaving Caleb and Maks together with their . . . work, Vincente was back home. He paused in the foyer and listened for voices but heard none. He tipped his head back and inhaled, the scent in the air making his stomach growl like a lion. Nothing better than home cooking, he thought as he headed to the kitchen. Living room was dark; offices down the hallway were dark. He felt crushed. Guess he’d have to wait until tomorrow to see— He paused before entering the kitchen and just stared. Nika was standing at the counter singing quietly, her head bent as she did something. He stretched his neck out for a better view. She was making lasagna. He swallowed the knot that rose in his throat. It was two o’clock in the morning, and Nika was in his kitchen making lasagna. As if trying to keep herself busy until he came home. He shoved the stupid thought away. Or tried to, but it wouldn’t budge. Was this what it could be like? Could a relationship between the two of them not be the dark, violent thing he’d convinced himself it would be? Could this incredibly domestic, welcoming sight be more accurate? He watched her pick up a bowl and spoon out blobs of the cheese mixture to spread it over the

noodles she’d just laid out. Could he believe in this? Believe things could be so right? Could he trust in this feeling of harmony stealing over him? Or was it warping his view of reality as he knew it to be?

Nika started, almost dropping the final lasagna noodle in her hand when a dark shape filled the entrance to the kitchen. Vincente. A flare of warmth lit in her lower belly when their eyes met. He strode in and nearly made her whimper when he smiled. “Smells fantastic.” He slowed his approach. Stunned by his lighthearted expression, she slowly laid out the noodle and watched his dark gaze take in what she was doing in one sweeping glance. He went to the stove, his long coat swishing, and hovered over the pot of sauce she’d made. He lifted the lid and inhaled deeply; the breath widened his chest in such a way that it made Nika want to pet it. “Nothing better than this smell,” he said. “You used fresh oregano, didn’t you?” She nodded when he turned his head to look at her. So stupid, but she felt as if she were in a 1950s TV show where the man had just come home after a hard day’s work and was now good-naturedly snooping to see what the little woman had prepared for dinner. “I didn’t know you liked to cook.” She pushed the silliness aside. She wasn’t Vincente’s little woman. She wouldn’t be anyone’s little woman ever again, she reminded herself. And Vincente had already proven he was changeable where she was concerned. No, better to play it cautious. “I haven’t lately,” she admitted, finding her voice as she wiped her hands on a towel and turned the volume down on her docked iPhone. “But I used to. I came down when I couldn’t sleep, and Samnang was just going to bed. I asked him if he wouldn’t mind me borrowing his kitchen, and he said yes. Since he had all the ingredients, I thought I’d make Eva’s favorite.” She motioned to the lasagna. “Samnang was okay with it . . .” She bit her tongue. Why did she have to make it sound as if she were defending herself? “I’m sure he didn’t mind at all.” He turned and went over to pull the fridge open. “Are you hungry?” Her question was hesitant. She felt awkward offering him food in his own home. He leaned back and peered around the door to see her. Did he have to be so sexy? “Um, there’s a fresh loaf of bread. I remember Caleb used to like dipping into a small bowl of sauce whenever I made it. There’s lots . . .” She pointed to the pot and dropped her gaze as she went over to tear a large sheet of foil wrap from the anchored box on the counter. She brought it back and covered half of the large roasting pan before repeating the action and covering the other half. She put the lid on the sauce pot as she opened the oven door and then lifted the heavy pan and slid it in. “I’d love some, thanks. I’m starving. Wine?” He plunked a bottle of red onto the counter. “You can’t have red sauce without a full-bodied wine.” Full-bodied? She opened the cupboard to the right of the sink and took down a bowl, making a naughty movie out of the word. “Sure.” She stiffened when he appeared beside her. “Excuse me.” He reached up, brushing against her oh so lightly to get two long-stemmed glassed from the top shelf. His scent invaded her as she stepped to the side, holding the bowl against her chest

like a shield, so that she was in front of the six-burner range. Her breath sped up, desire blooming under her skin, right alongside the pain of his rejection. Both things she suspected she’d always feel when near this man. “You’re feeling better?” He hadn’t even taken his coat off. “Yes. Thank you.” She lifted the lid of the pot, then paused when she spied a dozen wineglasses on a rack anchored beneath the cupboard closest to where Vincente now stood a few feet away. Why hadn’t he used two of those? Why had he come right where she was standing? Had he, for some reason, maybe, wanted to be near her? She looked at him, and he looked away as he expertly popped the cork and began pouring, his hand so big he was able to hold the bottle from the bottom. Sexiest thing ever. A smile pulled at her lips as she turned back to the stove. Could Eva have been right? Had Vincente lied about not wanting her? She took a small breath and felt herself relax, her hurt feelings soothed without a word from him. It didn’t seem wise of her to soften as she was. She’d never been one to hold a grudge, but come on. Wasn’t she letting this morning’s episode go a little too easily? The sound of the bottle thunking onto the counter had her glancing over. He’d stopped midpour. “Put the bowl down.” She did without question, setting it and the glass lid on the stove top. “We almost have him. Got his cousin and friend tonight.” Her entire system buzzed in shock, and she was thankful he’d made her empty her hands because she would have dropped everything. “I’m not going to get into details, but just know we’re closing in on him.” The rush of adrenaline that spilled into Nika’s bloodstream made her feel sick. “What happened?” she choked. Her heart was now lodged in her throat. Horror crawled over her skin at what Kevin had told her the last time she’d seen him. “His cousin films porn. Kevin was going to—” She covered her mouth with her fingers and shook her head, unable to continue. Vincente’s dark brows came down, his mood changing, darkening. “Kevin was going to . . . what?” She pressed her lips together and shook her head again. She couldn’t look at him. “And everyone’s all right?” “Everyone’s all right, Red,” he assured her after a slight pause. “We know what we’re doing here. None of us are rookies.” “I know. But even professionals make mistakes.” She carefully picked up the bowl again and scooped out a healthy serving of meat sauce from the pot on the stove, making sure to capture the largest chunks of ground beef and pork she could find. “I hope you don’t have any trouble sleeping on a full stomach,” she said, changing the subject as she cut three thick slices of bread from the fragrant Italian loaf she’d spied earlier. If she continued to think about Kevin, he would be in her head all night and she’d never sleep. “Caleb could eat a horse and sleep like the dead. I can’t. I have nightmares if I eat before bed.” “Just a light snack then? There’s grapes in the fridge.” He half sat on one of the tall stools on the other side of the counter, shifting his jacket—that he still hadn’t taken off—and she placed his food in front of him, accepting a glass of wine in return. He wasn’t using the duster to hide another injury from her, was he? “Thanks, but I picked as I prepared.” He nodded and ate with gusto, reminding Nika of her brother. “I think this might be the most normal thing we’ve ever done together,” she said without thinking. “I mean . . .” “It’s okay, Red. I know what you meant.” He wiped his mouth and raised his glass, tipping it toward her in a toast. “To normalcy.” She raised hers and drank, enjoying the wine’s tartness on the back of her tongue. Enjoying all of

this. Vincente’s mood. His company. Him. This easy companionship was what she used to feel all the time when she was around people. The underlying attraction had never been there with anyone else, though. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this in the past year. Now that Kevin was almost out of their lives—if she could trust in what Vincente was telling her—could this light and easy interaction be what she had to look forward to? Was her life finally going to return to simple and boring? If so, she’d take it.

Vincente took in the thoughtful light in Nika’s green eyes and forced his gaze not to stray to her lips as she drank from her glass. His hot-and-cold routine must be screwing with her head. One minute telling her she wasn’t enough to turn him on. The next looking at her as if he wanted to eat her alive. He was sorry for that. But didn’t know how to stop doing what he was doing. He watched her pull open the oven and check the lasagna, his body humming with every move she made. Never had a pair of jeans looked so good on the same equipment all women had. He tipped his glass up and took another swallow of the dry red. “Can I ask you a personal question, Vincente?” Her voice was husky to his ears, vibrating down his tense spine. “Shoot.” He didn’t have it in him to fight his need for her tonight. Not when Gabriel’s advice was banging around in his head. And not when things seemed so uncomplicated, as they did now. This thing between them felt too effortless. And didn’t that make him nervous as hell? “What do you do for a living?” The out-of-the-blue topic stumped him. Shit. How to answer . . . “I have a construction company that I bought a few years ago. Aside from ROM, I give Gabriel a hand.” That was vague, but just because her brother was in a biker club, that didn’t mean Nika was aware of the nefarious dealings that went on in the organized crime world. She picked up her wine again and crossed her arms, resting the glass against her cheek. “What do you give him a hand with, exactly?” Unwilling to offer information that might make her hate him, he decided now was the time to wake up his still-snoozing pocket pal. “I, uh, picked something up tonight.” He didn’t want anything to ruin what they had going here and telling her about himself could possibly do that, so he wouldn’t. Not now anyway. He hadn’t felt like this in . . . Well, he was pretty sure he’d never felt like this, and he was enjoying it too much to fuck it up. “I thought you might help me out with it.” She straightened, putting her glass on the counter with a look that said, “Who me?” She was fucking precious. “Oh, um, okay?” His lips twitched as he put his hand into his pocket to grip the squirming offering. It was almost as if the pup had been waiting to be called up. “It was in that asshole’s place.” He pulled the puppy out. “And I didn’t want to leave it there.” The look that came into Nika’s eyes when she saw the neglected little guy nearly had him falling to his knees and begging her to look at him with that same expression of instant, blinding love. Her hands came up to cover her mouth, muffling a small sound of wonder. “Oh, Vincente. The poor baby.” He cleared his throat. “I’m pretty sure it’s a rottweiler.” He extended his arm, hoping she’d accept

him. “Kind of hard to tell because he’s in such rough shape.” The poor bugger had more ribs showing than a carcass in the desert. His paws and head looked massive, almost as if they’d been attached to the wrong body. And then Vincente wasn’t looking at the animal anymore, but at the overly careful way Nika was lifting it from his hand. She brought the nappy thing to her breast and bent her head to coo sweetly into its ear. She’d be an incredible mother, he couldn’t help but think as the lucky little bastard bumped his oversize head up and started dragging its tongue all over her face. She smiled and nuzzled its neck, only to come back up with her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Ugh, he smells like cigarettes, not puppy like he should.” Vincente took his coat off and threw it over the stool before stepping closer. He couldn’t stop his hand from coming up so he could run his thumb over her cheek, catching the tear that had slipped down. He dropped his arm the second he heard her breath whistle quickly through her lips. “Yeah, I think that’s what the mark is on his ear.” His voice was lower than it had been a second ago. “Cigarette burn.” Her head went down, her fingers picking up the velvety black flap. She winced when the pup whined. “Assholes,” she hissed under her breath, holding her new love tighter, the action giving Vincente a good shot of jealous. Over a fucking dog. “You wanna give him a bath?” She looked up and then away. “Yes. I would.” “Come on,” he said gruffly. “Vincente?” He paused and turned back. And was given a warm hug. “Thank you for saving him.” Nika’s lips touched the corner of his mouth in the softest of kisses. “We both thank you.” She cleared her throat as she drew back, leaving behind her scent. “Okay. A bath would be good.” Going on instinct alone, Vincente kicked all thoughts from his head, slipped his hand around Nika’s nape, and brought her back. He slanted his mouth over hers and took what he couldn’t deny himself any longer. Her. Her taste, her comfort, her passion . . . He wanted all of her. But would settle for her kiss. And, man, was she a giver. She made a small sound and then stepped into him so that her body was flush with his, only separated where her new puppy lay still in her arms. She parted her lips, and he accepted the invite without hesitation, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and groaning at the hot, wet taste of her. So fucking sweet, he thought, loving how her fingers slid into his hair to hold him to her. Her tongue swirled around his in a way that was so sexy it had desire ravaging his body until he was sure he was nothing but a smoking pile of ash. Absolutely forcing himself, Vincente slowed it down and then drew it to a close. He parted their mouths, then had to go back for one last lingering kiss before slowly raising his head. His breathing sounded as choppy as hers. “You’re welcome, for the dog.” Nika’s soft burst of laughter, and the smile that lit the heat simmering in her eyes, was something he’d never forget. “Come on.” He put his hand on her lower back. “Let’s go wash him up before we suffocate him.” He led her through the kitchen and down the back hallway to the laundry room, then silently started the water in the deep sink, ultraconscious of her standing just behind him. He kept his barely-undercontrol breathing shallow in an effort to take as little of her into him as he could in the small space. Actually, the room was probably a good twenty-by-twenty, but with her in there with him if felt like a freaking broom closet.

He watched the water level rise, waiting for it to fill enough to cover the pup while still leaving his head out. “I’ll have Samnang get some things for him tomorrow,” he murmured, glancing back. “And you’re going to have to think of a name—” His jaw unhinged when she lifted the dog and checked between his legs. “Charlie,” she announced. His lips twitched with a humor he was surprised he was able to feel in a body so tightly wound. “Charlie?” He met her eyes as he shut the taps and cursed his own stupidity when he saw her smile, her long fingers petting Charlie in the same way Vincente wanted to be petted by her. He wanted to be a lap dog now? He was fucked. She nodded and cast her eyes down to the dirty pup. “Why Charlie?” “Because my dad used to love Charlie Brown. I always found it boring, but I’d watch The Great Pumpkin with him every Halloween anyway. He appreciated that.” “I’m sorry that was taken from you, Red.” “Me, too. You don’t talk about your parents at all,” she noted. Accurately. “I don’t have the same kind of memories you and Caleb do. For my mother, yes. She was an angel. Smothered us with love as only an Italian mother can.” His lips tipped up briefly. “She was killed by a car bomb meant for my old man. He was a loudmouth who wasn’t interested in the kids he had. Sophia was the one who missed out. She deserved better.” Her hand covered his as he pulled the bottle of soap closer to the edge of the sink. “So did you.” He shrugged that off. “Yeah, but I’m a guy. It’s not the same thing.” “Sure it is, Vincente.” She surprised him by coming up to kiss him on the mouth again, soft and lingering. “See? You feel the same thing I do. Affection is affection, no matter the gender.” She smiled as she put him on his ass. So beautiful. And he wasn’t talking about her looks. Yes, they were there, but it was who this woman was on the inside that was proving to be irresistible. Nika was gorgeous, and it made him furious that that beauty had been smothered for almost a year of her life. Soon, he thought, picturing Nollan. Soon she’d be safe from the bastard and things could go back to the way they should be.

CHAPTER 18

The feel of the bony little puppy in her arms, combined with Vincente’s awful story, was making it difficult for Nika not to bawl all over him like an idiot. Cruelty. She just didn’t understand it. And from his own father. Grr! She suddenly had the urge to smother both males in the room with so much love they’d be begging to get away from her. She ran her hand over Charlie’s filthy coat, feeling Vincente’s eyes on her like a heated caress. Why wouldn’t he stop looking at her? It was unnerving. Was he thinking about their kiss? God, that kiss. Or, kisses. She shifted to hide the shiver that feathered over her. She already wanted more. Was being pulled into him and didn’t know how to stop it. She was finding she didn’t want to stop it. She’d spent only a fraction of a “normal” evening in his company and she was now craving another. A longer one. That would turn into an all-nighter. Wow. She’d known he was dangerous to her peace of mind, but this was crazy. “Is Charlie mine?” she asked, finally voicing the question that kept popping into her head. If she couldn’t have one, she at least wanted to make sure she had the other. “I mean, I know you’re busy. Would you have enough time to spend with him? Because I’d take very good care of—” “Red.” She tried to seem unaffected when she looked up, that gentle voice of his melting her insides. She quelled the panic she felt at the thought of handing her little bundle of bones over to anyone. “Yes?” “The dog is yours, babe. All yours.” Okay. Now she had the urge to kiss him again. She had to stop that. Emotion jammed in her throat even as heat flowed through her body. The man had no idea what he’d given her in the form of this mistreated little animal. She swallowed and nodded because she couldn’t do much else. “It’s ready.” He stepped to the side, and she moved in to slowly immerse her dirty little baby in the warm water. Charlie’s tongue came out instantly to start lapping up mouthfuls, making her laugh as she watched him through blurry eyes. “Palm up.” She glanced to the side at the rasped order to see Vincente holding the bottle of soap, waiting for her hand. She obediently placed her palm up, and he squeezed a small amount into it. “Thank you.” For the next few minutes, Nika washed every trace of dirt from her new pet’s body, even going so far as to clean between his webbed, hairy toes. The sweet little animal played with her the entire time. She prattled on to Vincente, telling him about each of the three dogs she and Caleb had growing up. “How old do you think he is?” she asked worriedly, studying Charlie. “He still has baby wrinkles.”

“Don’t know.” Vincente put his huge hand on the puppy’s head, making it disappear behind it. When his thick thumb slowly brushed some suds away from a baleful little black eye, Nika sucked in a quick breath—which was of course filled with the scent of leather and sandalwood. She hooked her hands under Charlie’s front paws and lifted him to the counter beside the sink while Vincente drained the water. “Do you think he’s hungry right now? What should we feed him? I don’t think lasagna would be healthy, and it’s still cooking.” She worried her bottom lip. “He can’t be thirsty anymore. Not after he drank most of the water. Oh. I hope the soap he ingested won’t make him sick. I’ll bet he’s going to have to go for one mean—” “Nika.” Her head stayed down. She couldn’t handle it when he said her name. “Hmm?” “Please relax, babe.” Charlie gave a plaintive whine as he stilled and looked up at her, as if he were seconding Vincente’s suggestion. “See?” he chuckled. “I think you’re freaking him out.” Up her gaze went. Did he have any idea how engaging he looked when he smiled? Did he allow others to see this side of him? She thought not. Everyone, her brother included, talked about Vincente as though he were the boogeyman. The Reaper, they called him. There was no way they’d think that if they saw him like this. She wanted to bury herself in the warm, solid comfort that she knew him to be. It didn’t matter that he’d shut her down just that morning. She was beginning to think he might have his own reasons for that. What they were, she wasn’t quite sure yet. Maybe he was also attempting to protect himself, as she was. After all, he’d lost two women that had held places in his heart. His mother and sister. Why would he volunteer to lose another—not that Nika thought she was dear to him—at the hands of a crazed husband out to kill his wife? Or maybe it was all wishful thinking on her part. Regardless, she wanted to hold him, be held by him. She wanted to laugh with him, see him laugh, cry with him, be still and serious with him. She thought Kevin had destroyed her, but the truth was, her husband didn’t have anywhere near the power over her that Vincente did. Her pulse popped in an erratic rhythm at the realization. No matter her warnings to herself, she was slowly falling for this intimidating mobster. How could she live the life of freedom she wanted—beholden to no man, legally, physically, or emotionally—when she wanted Vincente the way she did? “Aw, fuck, babe. Don’t look afraid. We got this for you.” His breathy words flowed over her lips as his head came down. He thought she was thinking about Kevin. She wasn’t. She was more afraid of what he could do to her than what her husband could. His lips brushed over hers, and, despite her thoughts, she responded. She just couldn’t help it. But at the first expert roll of his tongue around hers, her chance at pleasure was stolen by the scrape of sharp little nails on the countertop, followed by a muted thump and a high-pitched yelp. She jerked back with a gasp as her malnourished puppy hit the floor. “Oh no!” She shoved at Vincente and dove for her pet, terrified he’d broken a leg in his leap to freedom. She missed him by a mile as he spun his wheels to get away. No broken limbs there. She scrambled after him, coming to her feet at the door, and got stuck for a second as Vincente tried to give chase at the same time. “Vincente! God, could you be any bigger.” She gritted her teeth around the grin he aimed down at her. She finally popped free of him, shooting out the door as if she’d been launched from a slingshot. “He’s getting the floors all wet.” A low laugh followed her down the hallway. “So what? It’s just water. I’m more concerned with him tumbling down the stairs to land in a mushy heap in Maks’s basement.” “Oh, God!” She quickened her pace, following the sounds of scraping toenails on the marble tile. “Charlie!” she whispered loudly, ultraconscious that it was the middle of the night and the house was full of sleeping people.

She flew out of the corridor, and there Speedy Gonzales sat, in the middle of the huge well-lit foyer, his tiny tail whipping back and forth, looking to all the world as if he was smiling at her. She skidded to a halt, only to have Vincente’s heavy frame smack dead into her back, nearly knocking her onto her face. His hands gripped her hips to catch and steady her, almost giving her heart failure when he squeezed. “Don’t slip on the water,” he warned. She shook her head. “Charlie, come here, baby,” she cajoled in a soft voice. She stepped forward and crouched down to break that electric connection running from Vincente’s long fingers straight to her core. “Come on.” Tiny front puppy paws spread out on the tile as her naughty pet stuck his butt up, crouching to play. “I’ll close the door,” she heard Vincente say as he moved left to where she could see the first step into darkness through one of the opened panels to the double doors that led downstairs. She straightened and inched forward, not wanting to startle the pup into running, and couldn’t help but smile as he feigned right and then left, his tail whipping like a wiper blade. “Come here, silly. Before you hurt—” He suddenly took off, in the exact direction they didn’t want him to go. Heading straight for the basement door! “Vincente!” she whispered and shrieked at the same time. But he’d already seen and was on it. Or would have been if things had gone their way. Instead, Nika watched his big black boot hit a small puddle. His thick arms went out, tattoos blurring as his feet came up, and a solid boom sounded when he landed flat on his back. Hard. Really. Freaking. Hard. Sympathy air whooshed from Nika’s lungs as she flew over to him. She reached out and swung the door closed and saw Charlie out of the corner of her eye as he cowered behind a huge potted plant. “Oh, my God.” She fell to her knees and lifted Vincente’s head, panicking when she saw him give an extended, slow blink, as if he were just waking up. He wasn’t breathing! “Vincente,” she snapped, not caring how loud she might be now. “Stop that! Take a breath! Please! Omigod, omigod.” His fingers wrapped around her wrist and squeezed as he shook his head at her, his mouth working soundlessly. “Why aren’t you breathing?” she screeched as she yanked him into a sit. He must have helped because there was no way she’d have been able to handle his weight herself. “Please, Vincente. Breathe for me, ’kay? Come on.” She rubbed what she hoped was a soothing circle between his shoulder blades with a shaking hand, hoping to loosen the constriction in his chest. “Come on, baby, you can do it,” she encouraged, patting his whiskered cheek. She heard a whistle of air make it down his throat, and she fisted his black tee in her hands, nodding quickly. “Good, boy. Very good. More, though.” He breathed, tight and shallow. And again. And then once more. Satisfied? His raised eyebrow said. She tried not to burst into tears, but she did throw her arms around his neck and bury her face in his hair. “I’m sorry. This was my fault. I should have had a better grip on him. I shouldn’t have wanted to kiss you again. You could have been badly hurt, and it would have been because of me.” He wrapped a heavy arm around her, and she felt his chest fill with a big breath as his system clearly rebooted. “I’m so sorry, Vincente,” she whispered, running her hand down the back of his head. Mostly to check for a bump, but also because she wanted to soothe him. “Stop it.” He sounded grumpy. “It’s my fault for not watching where I was going when I’d just warned you about slipping.” He took another breath before continuing. “It could also be considered my fault because I brought the dog into the house in the first place. I can go on and talk about whose idea it

was to give him a bath, but I think you get the point.” Click. Click. Click. Click. They turned to see her troublemaker crossing the floor, ears flat, bum curled under. “Come here and apologize, you bad boy,” she scolded with little heat. She knew she should probably move away and give Vincente his space, but she just couldn’t get the way he’d looked out of her head. What if he’d injured his back, his spine! She shuddered against him and held on tighter.

Vincente held Nika in his arms; her body felt so fucking good where it rested in his lap. He wasn’t sure what had done the better job stealing his breath, his thump to the back or her concern for him. He reached out a hand and gave Charlie a rub between the ears as a thank-you for the position he’d put them in. The front door opened. “Well, well,” Maks drawled as he crossed the foyer. “Looks like I got home just in—Hey! Who’s this? And what smells so good?” “Oh! The lasagna!” Sadly, Nika scrambled off him and ran to the kitchen. He watched her go and slowly got to his feet as Maks scooped Charlie up to take a look. Maks’s dark-gray Armani was spotless, the cuffs of his white shirt still pristine. But that didn’t mean anything. He’d obviously changed before working Nollan’s buddies over. “What’s wrong with him? Is he a stray?” Maks asked suspiciously. The expensive suit didn’t deter him from holding the wet puppy. “Looks like he hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks. Where’d you get him?” “He was in Darren Nollan’s apartment, so you’re probably right. What did you get out of them? Where’s Caleb?” Maks gave the dog another long look and then smiled slightly. “I took care of them for you, buddy.” He tucked Charlie under his arm and absently petted his head. “The biker went home after we finished. You sure you want me to ruin your night?” Vincente sighed. “That bad?” “Worse. That fucker had—” The soft tapping of Nika’s bare feet sounded, and Maks zipped it. “I left it on the counter to cool,” she said as she accepted a squirming Charlie from Maksim. “I should take him out for a pee.” She looked between the two of them. “Everything okay?” He nodded and motioned her toward the front door. “Stay here,” he ordered Maks. They took the pup out for the fastest pee on record and were back at the foot of the stairs in less than five. “You might as well go up and get some rest,” he said, chomping at the bit to hear what Maksim had to say. Nika nodded. She’d only taken one step up when he stipulated, “My room.” Her head went down, and he could see the flush that hit her cheeks as she glanced at Maksim from underneath her lashes before she brought her attention to him. “There must be a spare—” “There isn’t,” he interrupted. “Use mine.” “Okay. Good night.”

“’Night, babe.” “Good night, Nika,” Maksim added. And off temptation went, a squirming bundle of bones in her arms. Vincente followed Maks down to his computer room and sat forward in one of the leather recliners. “No spare bedrooms?” the instigator questioned with a grin as he dropped into his chair behind the keyboard. “I put her there because of the bulletproof windows.” Not that he had to defend his decision. “Sure you did. The only reason yours are bulletproof is because they’re at the front of the house. Put her in the back. The room next to Alek’s is empty.” “Are you really interested in where she sleeps tonight, Kirov?” “Not as interested as you are.” Maksim’s wink was mischievous, and for once Vincente felt himself react to the teasing banter in a positive way. He grinned. “So, go ahead and wreck my mood. What did you get from Darren and Paul?” Maks rubbed a hand over his jaw, the grin morphing into a sneer. “Seems Kevin had Darren lined up to film a porn that would have starred your redhead. They were going to drug her and abuse her before the sex. Apparently there’s a ‘high demand for that shit.’ ” His hands looked more like claws than the air quotes he’d intended. Vincente was pretty sure he’d never hated another human being more than he did Kevin Nollan. He flopped back in the chair and let out a hard sigh. “Do you know where he is?” “That question flopped no matter what Paynne—who was a good partner, by the way—and I did to them, so no. They had no clue where Nollan’s laying his head at night. Darren said his cousin is paranoid to the extreme, which fits with what you told me Nika said about him. But I do have the warehouse Darren used for his movies. We’ll put eyes on the place and be there when the fucker shows.” Vincente nodded. “I have a deuce stationed at Darren’s apartment. If he decides to visit, we’ll get him.” It was the best they had, so it would have to do. He stared up at the ceiling, imagining Nika getting ready for bed, sliding between his sheets. Would she fall asleep right away? Or lie awake for a while? Would she think of him? Or would she be worrying about Nollan? “Is this not good news to you?” He looked over. “What?” “Are you giving this your all, V? You don’t normally lag like this on a job.” Maks shrugged. “Could be, even subconsciously, you’re not trying too hard because once you bury this guy, you’ll have no more reason to keep the redhead around.” Vincente thought about that for a second. Was that why he was having such a hard time? Was he drawing this out in an effort to keep Nika close? Because Maks was right; once Nollan was no longer a threat, she’d be free to leave. To start that new life with someone else. She was going to move on. Start working at TarMor. She’d have a fan club within a week. Choose one lucky SOB. Go on a few dates. End up in his bed. Meet the fucker’s family. Smile and cry when he presented her with a ring— He pushed himself to his feet and gave his head a hard shake to still the horror flick playing in his brain. Maksim chuckled. “Get the fuck upstairs already. Get her out of your system, man. That’s all this is. You want what you don’t think you can have. But you can have her. That’s obvious whenever she looks at you. So go.” There was a note of confusion in his friend’s voice. Like the guy didn’t understand why anyone would possibly abstain. Vincente attempted to explain it to him, rattling off all his reasons for staying away as he paced the length of the office.

His speech was met with a blank look. “Why are you going so deep with this? You want each other. It’s that simple. So do it. And take my word for it—once you’ve cut through that tension, you’ll both be able to think more clearly about any possible future. Or not. After the fact, you might be happy to go your separate ways.” Could it be that simple? Was Vincente making this into something it wasn’t? Did Nika just want some sex with him? Could he have sex with her and let her walk away? He didn’t think so. Maks made an annoyed sound and spun to face his monitors. “Whatever, V. You hold off if you want to.” He typed something into his keyboard. The website for Club Pant came up. “They’re your balls,” he added. Cringing at what he was about to do, Vincente braced himself with his legs apart and arms crossed over his chest. “Uh, before you get started on whatever it is you’re doing . . . What are you doing?” “Looking into the little Aussie. Gotta have me some of that.” Maksim’s mouth twisted in a wolfish grin. Poor Sydney didn’t know what was coming for her. Guy was relentless when it came to his sexual conquests. “Word on the street is she doesn’t fool around, so good luck with that. Anyway, uh, mind if I ask you something personal?” “Yes, I’ll probably tie her up at some point.” Maksim’s tone was long-suffering. “Fuck. You guys need to stop living your lives through me.” Vincente rolled his eyes. “Not what I was going to ask. I meant something really personal.” That big body came around in the leather chair. The Russian’s face hardened to granite, and he looked at Vincente with an expression usually reserved for his enemies. “Sure, man. Go ahead. It’s what I live for.” His tone was massively sarcastic. Shit. “Sorry, brother. Forget it. It’s just my curiosity talking.” “No. You’re going to ask now that you’ve put that happy place in my head,” Maks insisted. “Go.” He winced. He didn’t think any of the boys, other than Vasily, had ever dared ask about his past. All they knew was that at fourteen Maksim had been kidnapped and held for ransom back in Russia. The only detail Vasily had let slip was that Maks had spent nearly three months in a cell, which led Vincente to believe the guy knew a thing or two about how to deal with mental trauma. “Are you normal now? Fuck. Sorry.” He struggled to put into words what he wanted to ask. “Has time helped at all? And does the trauma fade along with your memories?” “Has time made losing Sophia bearable, V? Trauma is trauma, after all.” Vincente shook his head, pretty sure their expressions now matched. It wasn’t any easier now than it had been the day he’d pulled back that sheet and seen his sister’s dead body. “Then maybe I’m stronger than you, because I’m pretty fucking good.” His friend leaned back in his chair and seemed to really think about the question. “Had Nollan gone after your redhead sexually, I would have said she’ll be fucked-up for a very long time. She’s a girl. It’s different for them, the violation.” He blinked and shook his head, looking as if something hurt. “Then again, maybe it isn’t a gender thing but an individual’s inner strength. I mean, they raped and beat me. But I was drugged and only remember afterward, so that helps.” He shrugged and Vincente tried not to show that his heart had just broken wide open at the revelation of what his friend had been through. “The power of the mind is spectacular, Vincente. All of us have the ability to mentally triumph over any goddamn thing we want.” He straightened and his crooked smirk was a real fuck-you. “What the majority lack is the capacity. People are lazy, and some like to be the victim. Nika doesn’t strike me as one of those, but what do I know? I made a conscious decision to throw my past away when I was fifteen and wanted to fuck Lydia Barlow but couldn’t get it up because of all the shit in my head. That was the last time I allowed it to affect me and since then I’ve been as close to normal as one gets.” Maks gave him a salute and spun away, signaling

“talk time” was over. Vincente knocked him on the shoulder, bid him a quiet good night, and left him to his research. Did Maksim really believe he was normal? he wondered as he climbed the stairs, his jaw almost snapping from a yawn that came out of nowhere. He entered the foyer and rubbed his tired eyes. His head was too full of advice to make any sense of it at this time of night. So, he did what any normal man would do—he stopped thinking. Yawning again, he went up another flight and entered his room as quietly as he could. He refused to use a spare bedroom in his own house—even though a gentleman would. His eyes adjusted to the dim glow from the bedside lamp, and he saw Nika’s shape outlined beneath the blankets. She’d left him his side of the bed this time. He smiled a little and went through to the bathroom to wash up and disarm. Twenty minutes later, barely able to keep his eyes open, he watched the steady rise and fall of her ribs and knew she was asleep. His comfortable, warm, inviting king-size was huge, so, shrugging, he did what he did every night and climbed in. Man, this lack-of-sleep business was kicking the shit out of him, he thought, already slipping away. That must be why he was here . . .

Nika’s body jerked and her eyes flew open just before Kevin’s fist connected with her face. She extracted her arm from the sheet and pulled the soft material from where it had tightened across her throat. That must have been why Kevin had been choking her in the dream. She calmed her breathing and rolled to her side, freezing when two things registered at once. One, something furry followed her legs and settled behind her knees again. Charlie, she thought with a smile. And two, Vincente was asleep next to her. He was in nothing but a pair of boxers and he was lying on top of the sheets. She’d never seen anything more beautiful in her life. Going up on her elbow, she attempted to wake up properly to get in a good ogle, but the bedside lamp didn’t allow for enough light. She saw mostly shadows and the outline of a big body. And he didn’t snore. She scooted a little closer and laid her head down again, blinking sleepily as she greedily stole the opportunity to study his severe features. Like most people, Vincente looked different at rest. Not harmless, by any means, but a little less as if he were debating on whether to go with ankle weights and the Hudson for his victim or a shovel and some deep woods. Without thinking about it, and because she couldn’t have stopped herself even if she had, she brought one finger up to lightly touch the softness of his mouth, stilling when his lips opened for her slightly. He grunted and reached out, his mouth tipping up at the corner when his fingers came into contact with her waist. His hand slipped between her and the mattress and he easily pulled her into his cool, hard body, curving around her until they were spooning. Her heart pounded, her body flushed hot, and her throat went dry as dirt. Never in her life had she spooned with a man. Never had she wanted to. Right then? She would have sawed off a sleeping limb before altering this position. Slowly she covered his arm that was around her with her own. She could feel his . . . package . . . tucked against her butt cheeks. Heat filled her face. She wanted to snuggle back. To rub against him. To

excite him. She wanted to arouse him until he took her. But—and this was the frightening part—it was more than that. She wanted much more with him than sex. So much more. She closed her eyes as her fingers idly played over the leather bands he wore on his wrist. She fingered the angel charm and thought of Sophia and what her death had meant to him. They really were very much alike. They’d both put themselves through hell for their siblings, only Vincente still was. Maybe that was a part of the connection she felt with him. He understood why she’d done what she had for Caleb. Because he’d have done the same for Sophia. Nika knew without a doubt that if he could have, Vincente would have traded places with his sister and allowed her to live the life he thought she deserved. Why didn’t he think he deserved the same? She yawned and burrowed into the pillow, somehow knowing she wouldn’t be having any more nightmares starring Kevin tonight. She slipped away to the feel of Charlie finding his way up and cuddling into her navel.

CHAPTER 19

A silky gossamer blanket over his chest woke Vincente from one of the most restful sleeps he could ever remember having. He ran his fingers through the softness—wondering if one of his pillows had ripped open and the stuffing had leaked out. He cracked an eye, and then both sprang wide. Fiery hair was spread out all over his bare chest. His gaze skipped around his bedroom and then settled on Nika, his heartbeat thumping to life. Streams of sunlight filled the area as memories of last night slid into place. He shifted a little so that he could see her better and then stared when the movement sent her into a feline stretch that arched her back in one gorgeous slope. The soft material of his Affliction T-shirt stretched across her mouthwatering breasts, outlining perfectly two beaded nipples. Her arms went over her head, pulling the hem of the shirt up to show a sexy-as-hell pair of gold panties that left zero to the imagination. Her head fell back so that the vulnerable curve of her throat was bared to his covetous gaze as she settled into sleep once more. The sound that had come from her throat at the top of the stretch had his waking erection pounding, searching for someplace warm and wet to burrow into. His focus shifted to the end of the bed when her feet started wiggling. What the hell? A second later, a muzzle and two blinking eyes popped out from under the blanket. Charlie. Vincente smiled as the pup scrambled up his chest and started licking his face. His head then whipped to the side, but he caught the little guy before he could lunge on his mistress. Charlie’s mistress, not his. As quickly and silently as he could, Vincente slid out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans, and hightailed it downstairs with the squirming pup under his arm. He basically flew into the kitchen, startling Samnang into dropping the serving fork he’d been carrying to the table that was surrounded by the boys and an instantly squeaking Eva. He beelined toward her, since she’d already jumped to her feet, and dumped the dog into her ready arms before heading out again. “Needs to pee and eat,” he threw over his shoulder. He raced back the way he’d come, absolutely refusing to allow his mind to work on anything other than the route back to his room. He was under the covers, in the same position he’d woken in not even a minute ago, only now his breathing was heavier, his heart pumping . . . and this woman in his bed was still the most luscious thing he’d ever seen. Need her, Fan Boy breathed in wonder.

Almost as if she’d been waiting for him, her legs straightened in another, milder, stretch and her eyes slowly slid open. To see him devouring her with what he knew had to have been a downright famished look. “Oh!” She shot upright and scrambled back, scooting to the edge of the bed, her eyes widening as she lost her balance and slid off. She moved too fast for his thrown-out arm to catch her, and she landed on the soft carpet with a hard thump. “Shit,” he cursed when he heard her low moan. He shot up to grab her and pull her to her feet. “You okay?” She nodded, cheeks flushed. “Yes, I’m fine. I forgot you were here, and you startled me.” God help him, but that raspy morning voice went down his spine like a wet tongue. She stepped back to the bed and lifted the blankets, frowning when she saw it empty. “Where’s Charlie?” she asked, turning to him with a swish of bright hair. “Eva has him.” “Oh. Um, I guess I should get down there and take care of him before she mauls him to death.” She paused, and they stared at each other for a few beats. With another twirl, one that blew her scent straight into his nostrils, she skipped into the bathroom and closed the door before he was even able to open his mouth to thank her for allowing him the best night’s sleep he’d had in weeks. She hadn’t done anything specific, just been there. But he knew he had her to thank for it. The bathroom door opened, and she flitted out again. She grabbed her clothes from the top of the dresser. “Forgot,” she said with a quick smile, holding them up before she disappeared again. She was nervous. He made her nervous. Why? Because she was a bundle of sexual energy, like him? The wishful thought had Vincente’s twitching lips spreading up and into a full smile, which then turned into a chuckle, which surprisingly turned into a loud laugh that came from deep in his belly. What a fucking delusional idiot he was. More likely, she was shitting herself because she was up here alone with him and he’d been looking at her as though he wanted to devour her in one bite. Or maybe a lot of little nibbles. The sound of the door opening yet again had him rubbing at his eyes. “Why are you laughing?” Nika’s demand came with a suspicious frown. “Are you laughing at me?” He shook his head. “No, babe. I’m definitely not laughing at you.” Her eyes narrowed as if she didn’t know whether to believe him or not. She stood there in his bathroom doorway, his shirt so big on her it reached down to midthigh. One side of the neckline slid off to reveal the smooth skin of one shoulder and half her arm. And that hair. Ah, that hair. It was a mass of gorgeous tangles, the bright reds and burnished golds contrasting with the black shirt, making his hands shake with the need to grab it in handfuls as he kissed the breath right out of her. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Surprise swallowed the doubt in her eyes. She looked just as taken aback by the statement as he was for making it. It was one thing to think this shit, another to voice it. They stared at each other for a long minute, neither of them saying anything, both seeming to wait for the other to make a move. He was going to take his friends’ advice. He decided right then. He would put a possible offer out, see what she thought, and then—God willing—he’d have her. Because he just couldn’t resist her. Couldn’t stay away anymore. No matter the reasons he should. But first he had to feed her. She must be starving. “Don’t move. Okay?” He added the question to soften the order. He left the room after she nodded slowly and was smiling when he entered the kitchen. He grabbed two plates off the counter and went over to the table, anticipation nearly shredding the

skin from his flesh. Alek handed him a spoon, which he accepted with a nod, so he could scoop some scrambled eggs onto the plates. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. They were staring at him, though; he could tell by the way not a one was talking anymore. “Is Nika okay, Vincente?” Eva. I can talk to Eva. “She’s great.” “Is she hungry?” Maksim. Fuck him. He continued to pile the plates with sausage links, bacon, a couple of pancakes, and a splash of maple syrup. He needed coffee. Nika liked coffee. “V?” Gabriel. Shit. I have to acknowledge him. “What?” “Can I share some news with you? You’re the only one who doesn’t know.” “Shoot.” Me in the head if you keep me down here a second longer than necessary. “Uh, you’ll be needed around here to protect more than just me and Eva now.” Vincente stilled. He lifted his head from his task, shifting the plates so that he was holding one in each hand, and looked at his best friend. “Explain.” Gabriel’s grin was careful, verging on uneasy. “Eva’s pregnant.” Vincente blinked and met Eva’s excited blue eyes. “Congratulations, squirt. G,” he added, including his friend. “That’s . . .” He shook his head, trying to come up with a word strong enough to describe what that was. “Really . . . something.” He dropped the heavy food-laden plates on the table and walked out. Not heading up to Nika but out to the pool. What the fuck had he been about to do? His insides withered. He’d almost made love to Nika. Very nearly claimed her. And for what? So he could enjoy her lush, gorgeous body and then leave after? Possibly hurting her? Because he was too weak to resist? Eva’s pregnant. Those two words once again banged into his mind, causing jealousy and a need so fierce it was nearly overwhelming. He could never give Nika something so precious. A child. Because he’d sworn never to create one with the swimmers God had gifted him with. Never to bring an innocent being into this world, where it would be hacked at and destroyed by the cruel, vindictive people he surrounded himself with. Where it could be used to get at him, abused, like so many he saw each and every day. Look at what had happened to Sofia. Her final image came to him, gray and cold in death. Arms and legs filled with needle marks. Bruises set into skin that would never again heal. Then Nika’s image nailed him. Beaten and bleeding on that hotel room floor as the scum who’d hurt her fled the scene. His fiery vixen, so bright and vibrant, held prisoner for a year. Vincente shook his head clear of the memories. How could Gabriel and Eva willingly risk something so vile happening to an innocent, helpless child of their making? He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He looked at the French doors for a long minute before he went through them. How the hell was he going to let her go? He didn’t know. But as he trudged up the stairs, he knew he had to try.

Nika turned from the window to see Vincente come in, still taunting her with his bare chest and gorgeous ink. She could tell immediately that something had changed. She could feel the chill from where she stood across the room. Moving forward, she crossed her arms over her middle and waited for him to speak. He went over to the nightstand and scooped up his phone. He’d taken the bandage off his sutures, and she could see they were holding up well. Would Tegan take them out? Or might he ask Nika to do it for him? “You’re probably hungry.” His tone was formal. Distant. “If you’re ready, you can go down. Everyone’s already at the table.” Confusion kept her silent. She wanted to ask him what had happened but didn’t want to put him on the spot. Didn’t want to hear him tell her to mind her own business. But she really wanted to know what had changed in the ten minutes since he’d told her she was beautiful. She opened her mouth but then closed it again. Maybe she shouldn’t push him. Not when things were going, or had been going, so well between them. Maybe he just needed some space. She could give him that. “I am kind of hungry.” She was sure she wouldn’t be able to choke down a grain of rice, but she went for the door anyway. “I’ll see—” Her cell ringing was a reminder that she’d left it on the nightstand. She went over and grabbed it. “Hello?” Vincente came around the bed. Her breath caught at the way he was watching her, with an almost predatory intensity. “Hello, Niki.” Nika’s stomach clenched so tightly at the familiar voice, she was surprised she didn’t start bleeding. “K-Kevin?” “Why haven’t you come back to that apartment, Niki? Where are you? With him?” Her heart stopped, her breath along with it. She fell into a sit on the side of the bed, and Vincente dropped to his knees in front of her. “Find out where he is,” he mouthed slowly. She shook her head violently and hit the Speaker button as Kevin kept talking, his voice going from angry to needy to remorseful to disturbing and sickly, as if someone were changing the stations on a radio. “Who is he, Niki? Is he fucking you, you whore? Do you like it? I miss you. Love you so fucking much. I’m coming for you, you bitch. You wait. I’ll take care of you again, the way I did before, but I’ll be nice this time. I swear. Right before I cut you open and watch you bleed out, you unfaithful cunt!” Having heard most of it before, she ground her teeth around the ice crawling down her spine and was just about to hit “End” when Vincente took the phone from her. He brought it to his curled mouth, his features set and alarmingly sinister. Every bit of humanity seemed to have leeched from him, turning him into something that, if not for the fact that she knew he’d never hurt her, would have truly frightened the shit out of her. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy killing you, Nollan.” His voice was a quiet, anticipatory growl. “You stay in your hole, hide as well as you can, as deep as you can, but I’m gonna sniff you out. When I do, nothing will save you.” “You fucking bastard!” Kevin screamed. “She’s my wi—” Vincente ended the call and dropped her phone next to her on the bed. Their eyes met, and she swallowed the nausea roiling in her belly. She felt grounded the moment his hands found her hips. “You said last night that you’re close, right?” “We’re close,” he assured her, his fingers squeezing where he held her. “Okay. Will you please let me see him after it’s done? I need to know he’s gone.” His mouth tightened into a firm line that indicated he wasn’t pleased with her request, but he said, “If you insist on it, yes. I’ll let you see what’s left of him.”

“Thank you, Vincente.” She touched his cheek and got up in a daze. He stood with her. “Red?” “Hmm?” She looked down at her screen saver. A picture of her and Caleb that she’d taken the other day in Union Square. “Why are you not bothered by the things he says to you? How can you just accept them like this?” She looked up at him. “I don’t accept them, Vincente,” she told him truthfully. “I don’t hear them anymore. Kevin can say whatever he wants to me—it really doesn’t register.” With a sad shake of his head, he gathered her into his arms, one hand across her back, the other on the back of her head. “I wish I could make you unhear that shit anyway,” he said quietly. “You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that. Nobody does.” Nika wrapped her arms around his back and accepted the comfort she craved. She was so damn grateful it was Vincente who was giving it, despite still wondering at his now-I-like-you-now-I-don’t attitude, but she wouldn’t push it. She knew just as well as anyone how easy it was to second-guess herself when making a decision. She was doing the same thing with him, for God’s sake. One minute she wanted to be with him; the next she knew it was the absolute wrong thing to do. Yet she still so badly wanted what she shouldn’t have. But wasn’t that the way with things? Just ask any addict. She laid her head on his shoulder and inhaled his scent, her eyes drawn to the window. A large bird soared in a sweeping circle in the cloudless sky. It dove down, disappearing for a moment behind a copse of trees. Probably getting sustenance in the form of a field mouse. She blinked in the warmth surrounding her when it came into view again, circling as it went higher. Round and round it went, almost as if it had caught wind and was now only coasting, enjoying itself too much to stop and do what it knew it must. Survive. With a small sigh, she tightened her hold for a second to savor the feel of Vincente’s body against hers and then drew back. “Thank you. I really needed that,” she said sincerely. She knew she shouldn’t get used to receiving it from him. She pulled her arms away, her fingers lingering on the supple skin of his ribs before she turned away and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” “To find Eva.” Her words barely carried as she walked out. “You need to get dressed, Red.” She kept going, padding down the hall in nothing but his oversize T-shirt. He let her go and she found Eva and Charlie in Eva’s bedroom. They didn’t talk much, just sat with each other. Nika did tell her about Kevin’s phone call but moved on quickly to gush over her new puppy again. Their visit ended when Gabriel came in. Nika had already heard Vincente pass by in the hallway so she knew it was safe to return to his room. Before she left her friend, Eva told her the best thing she could do was stay in the moment and try to let things work themselves out as they always seemed to do. That was good advice, especially coming from someone who was living it. Eva’s life had fallen into place beautifully, Nika thought as she entered the living room a little while later. She’d gone back to Vincente’s room to shower and dress in a pair of black shorts, a gray V-neck tee, and sandals. She played with the metal feather hanging from the long chain around her neck, feeling nervous when four heads turned to where she’d stalled in the entrance. Charlie, as was becoming the norm, hopped around her ankles as she avoided looking anywhere near the darkest form in the group. A round of hellos preceded Maksim coming forward with a grin aimed at her pet. “Hey, kid.” He squatted and put his hand out before looking up at her. “What are we calling him?” “Charlie.” The pup went down on his belly and shimmied forward until Maksim’s fingers were running down

his back. His touch was gentle, his tone soft, as he spoke to the dog in what Nika presumed was Russian. God, she so wanted to look up and to the left. Wanted to— “I was just going to take him outside,” she blurted to Maksim. She had to get out of there before she, again, allowed her feelings for Vincente to be witnessed by everyone. “Are you busy? Maybe you can come with? I’d like a photo of him playing in the grass. Screen saver.” She waved the phone that she had clutched in her hand and hoped she didn’t sound as high-strung as she suddenly felt. Maksim reached out and plucked her iPhone from her fingers with a distasteful look. “These things are dangerous. Carry way too much information. I’ll tighten it up for you. Make it more secure. Don’t argue with me, sweetness,” he added firmly when she opened her mouth to tell him he didn’t have to do that. The steady look he aimed up at her swiftly sealed her lips once more, and she wasn’t even sure why. He lifted Charlie with a hand under his belly and rose to his full towering height, his eyes holding hers. He nodded as if satisfied. “Very nice,” he murmured with a sidelong look at the others. “You should be taking notes. It’s all in the tone, and eye contact is very important.” Her brows snapped down. What the hell did that mean? And who had he said it to? “Would it have much of a ripple effect if I killed him?” Her jaw dropped, and her gaze flew to the asker of the casual question. Vincente’s casually asked question. Nika realized immediately that she should. Not. Have. Looked. He was wearing his usual biker boots, worn jeans, and weathered brown belt. But over his black T-shirt was a casual polar-white shirt. The top two buttons were undone, and that wolf’s tooth he always wore hung from his neck. The sleeves were rolled to the elbow to show off his inked forearms, his chunky watch encircled his left wrist, and his hair—for the first time ever—was pulled back into a ponytail, showcasing his face in such a way she wasn’t sure she could stand it. He looked as if he’d attempted to clean up, and the effect was devastating, the complete and total destruction of any resolve Nika might have had to stay away from him. Gabriel’s deep voice had her blinking and sucking in some air when she realized she wasn’t breathing anymore. “His Russian fan club would come down hard on our asses. Vasily would be pissed. Hurt, even. But that might only be because we didn’t include him in the festivities.” “He’d get over it, though, right?” Vincente asked, his focus on the tab of the Red Bull can he was twisting off. “I suppose.” Gabriel appeared thoughtful for a moment. “But then we’d have to break in a new IT guy. Can you even imagine that bullshit?” “The twins are pretty talented.” Gabriel snorted. “Yeah. But not that talented.” Vincente’s mouth twisted, and then he gave an oh-all-right nod, seemingly convinced that taking his friend’s life would be more trouble than it was worth. Nika tore her eyes away and looked at Maksim to see how he was handling the very odd discussion of his possible demise and wasn’t really surprised to be met with a grin. “See?” He winked. “This is what indispensable looks like.” She laughed and wondered if Vincente would be uncomfortable with her approaching him in front of his friends. She could see him in her periphery. He was looking anywhere but at her. Maybe she shouldn’t approach him. At all. Especially since she still didn’t know why his attitude toward her had cooled. Gabriel snagged Eva’s hand and brought her to the couch, but before he could pull her down, she was shaking her dark head. “Uh-uh. We have work to do,” she said firmly. “If Vincente is traveling into Manhattan to go to his office, the least we can do is walk down the hallway to ours.”

That explained the change to his appearance, which Nika was pretty sure had been Eva’s intent. The darling. “I’ve created a monster,” Gabriel grumbled. “Is it too much to ask to enjoy an hour of downtime with my wife?” “We can enjoy some hours after. It’s almost time for my forced nap anyway,” Eva said wryly. She’d told Nika earlier that Gabriel had been insisting on a rest in the early afternoons. She’d been going along with it to make him happy, and because she said she was a little more tired than usual and felt in actual need of the short sleep. Then she’d blushed like a girl, and Nika was convinced not much sleep was had during those naps. Gabriel motioned his wife out of the room, but Eva turned to Nika. “Why don’t you come with and we can prep for your interview?” It was all Nika could do not to visibly wilt, but knowing it was for the best, she nodded. “Okay. Charlie just needs to pee, and I’ll be there.” “I’ll keep you company,” Maksim said, holding out his free hand. “Let’s go take care of the kid.” Wishing it was Vincente’s, but forcing herself not to even look at him, she took the tattooed appendage and was led out the French doors and around the pool to the large emerald stretch of grass. Far, far away from temptation. But not far enough.

CHAPTER 20

Vincente was fucking wired. Strung the fuck out. He plowed through the kitchen, changing his mind on food the minute he spotted the tray of sandwiches Samnang always left for them. He rattled the whole house banging his way out the French doors leading to the calm waters of the lit-up pool. Cracked his neck a couple of times. Sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. Nothing helped. He’d spent a few hours at ROM Construct after leaving earlier and had found everything running as smoothly as he could hope for, thanks to his cousin Mario and Mario’s very pregnant wife, Cindy. Vincente had stayed as long as he could, until Fan Boy’s happily created collage of his redhead with a beautifully swollen belly made him snappy. He’d mumbled an apology to his staff and fucked off. Had to remember to send them a muffin basket or some shit. He’d then hit up Caleb and the two of them had combed through Crown Heights, checking out the warehouse and Darren’s apartment, before adding Vex and a half-dozen others—ODMC and Moretti crew combined—to the search party. Even with the increase in numbers, they’d come up empty. Again. Now Vincente was freaking out, morals nowhere to be found. His skin felt as if it were two sizes too small for his body. His head as if it were about to pop off his shoulders. And there was something happening in his chest that was becoming harder and harder to breathe around. “Wound a little tight there, my brother?” Even though it was goddamned Maksim’s voice, he still spun around ready to kick in some teeth. He didn’t. Even though he was so fucking tempted. He was pissed about the “taking care of the kid” bullshit, despite knowing Maks would never stab him in the back by coming on to a woman Vincente was interested in. Especially Nika. Feeling as if he were burning in his skin, Vincente took another meaningless suck of air. He relaxed his stance as he blew the useless shit out between him and his friend. “What the fuck are you doing out here?” “Enjoying the quiet. Was a busy night. Vasily finally moved on the Columbians shoveling their shit into Brighton.” He nodded, curious to hear about it. But not now. “What are you doing, V? Still putting off the inevitable.” Asshole. “Blow me, Maks. I’m not in the mood.” He looked out over the pool and heard the guy haul himself up from the lounger. “We went through Crown Heights tonight. Astoria, too. Didn’t find shit.” “Maybe it’s a sign. She’s been pacing all fucking night. Every camera I looked through, there she was, wound as tight as you are. You should go up to her.”

On that happy note, Maks left him alone with his tangled thoughts. He looked up at the stars, stomach rolling as if he were on a sinking boat, and knew what he was about to do. How could he be so selfish? He still had no answer to that question when he stood outside his bedroom door, knees weak, pulse pounding, gut spinning, breath coming in short bursts. He reached out and turned the knob, then slipped in and closed the door quietly behind him. Which wasn’t necessary because Nika wasn’t asleep. She unfolded her long body from her perch on the seat in front of the big bay window and was all feline grace even though hesitancy was clear in her walk to the bed. She turned her back on him to pull the chain on the lamp— Fuuuck. The room tilted at an odd angle when the swath of light showed her wearing nothing but a white tank with the words Hug Me—he would, in a minute—emblazoned across the chest and tiny black underwear. Her hair was tousled and wild, her eyes droopy and tired. Vincente stepped farther into the room, his temperature rocketing up a few thousand degrees when her scent slammed into him. “What do you want from me?” His voice was like gravel, and he hoped it didn’t frighten her. Her eyes flared ever so slightly but with a banked heat that was so sexy he was sure he imagined it. “What do you mean?” “What. Do. You. Want.” Her thumbs and forefingers were suddenly fluttering against each other like a hummingbird’s wings. Her eyes darted past him to the door. “Um, I’m not sure I should tell you.” She cringed, and he knew he was going to have to put himself out there first. If she shot him down, so be it. “I lied.” There was a beat of surprised silence. “About wanting you,” he specified so there would be no misunderstandings. Everything about her froze for a split second, she even stopped breathing, and then she was bustling about, grabbing that silky blue robe of hers and yanking it on—he’d had Vito bring her things over that morning. She jerkily walked back and straightened the side of the bed she’d disturbed, running her hand over the sheet and then the comforter until not a wrinkle remained. All the while, she jabbered. “I don’t think now is the time to discuss something like this. You’re tired from doing whatever it was you did all night. I’m tired from worrying the night away with Eva and Quan. He was great company. So calm and steady. We played cards. I think he let us win.” “I lied,” he said again, gently. “Will you let me tell you how I see you, Red? How I really see you?” She looked so much like she wanted to say no, her eyes zipping to the door again, but she nodded her head once, almost imperceptibly. “You’re like the most brilliant sunshine on an autumn day. Like a warm breeze on a deserted beach in the fall. You’re a small slice of heaven . . . I shouldn’t soil you with the blood on my hands. But I can’t fight this anymore,” he finished hoarsely, letting her read the truth in his eyes. She took her time, and when she spoke, her voice was low and careful. “So, you hurt me by telling me I wasn’t enough for you . . . for nothing? Why?” How much was he going to tell her? All of it? A portion? Maybe he should tell her the whole shit story and have her kick him out on his ass. He ran a hand over the back of his neck in an effort to loosen the muscles there. “I’m so fucking sorry, Red. Last night, you asked me what I do exactly and I shut you down. Well, when Gabriel left the family five years ago, I struggled with my role in it. I didn’t know where I fit and needed something more, so I purchased a falling-down-drunk construction company. I built it back up while I hung out with

Stefano. It’s now turning a good profit thanks in part to my cousin and his wife. That’s where I went this afternoon. It keeps Mario out of trouble, and out of this other world, which I know he wouldn’t have handled well. Too much easy access to every excess there is; money, drugs, women.” He took an inconspicuous breath. “ROM Construct also affords me a legitimate excuse for my . . . wealth.” He felt like a fucking poseur talking about shit like this. “The majority of which I don’t add to any numbered line on my IRS forms. You get what I’m saying? Me and the boys make a shit ton of money, but it’s not respectable gains. It’s from gambling, laundering, forgeries; we have a healthy arms shop.” He shrugged. “Maybe because of your brother that stuff doesn’t faze you, but it should.” She was sitting there, nodding every so often, and her absolute acceptance of what he was telling her pissed him off. “Does that not turn you off at all?” he asked incredulously and swung away. “In a given day, I threaten, bully, kick ass—sometimes until an ambulance is necessary. At times not even a medic can help the guys I beat down. Do you get what I’m telling you, Red?” He couldn’t look at her. Fear should be shining from those emerald eyes of her. What if it wasn’t? “That’s why I shoved at you. I figured if I hurt you, you’d move on to someone better—” He shut up when she appeared next to him, no fucking fear in her expression whatsoever. “Why are you telling me this, Vincente?” Holy fuck, could the warmth pouring through him that she seemed to be accepting him for exactly who and what he was be any more incredible? He didn’t think so. “I, uh, want you to know exactly who I am.” Suddenly needing to be busy, he rolled his shoulders and let his duster fall, then threw it over the chair next to his dresser. Next, he took his SIG out of its holster and dropped it—after making sure the safety was still on—next to a Tag Heuer he hadn’t worn in a while. “If this goes as planned, you, uh, need to know me. You need to know what you’ll be getting.” He bent to unstrap his ankle holsters, removed them, and placed his other gun and blade beside the SIG. She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “Would you like to let me in on this plan of yours?” He finally looked at her and practically heard the hiss of pressure leave his muscles when he took in the shy pleasure lighting her perfect features. Holy shit. She was going to accept him. He could see it in her expression. He went to her and gently slid an arm around her waist to lift her off her feet and bury his face in the crook of her neck. Her arms coming around his shoulders, her long fingers delving into his hair, substantiated her acquiescence, and Vincente closed his eyes and felt the ice that had been around his heart for so many years start to drip. “I want to do more than kiss you, babe,” he warned her as he did just that to her fragrant skin. “I want to touch you everywhere. So fucking badly. How do you feel about that? Does it scare you? Excite you?” She drew back and met his gaze. “Will we have sex?” He almost whimpered. “If you want to.” “And it will just be sex? Between two consenting adults? Nothing more?” His goal to only ever tell her the truth was shelved. “Yes. Just sex. Nothing more. Work out whatever the hell this is between us.” Something flashed across her face too quickly for him to identify before she nodded. “That’s good, because I, uh, am not scared by what you said, and I really want to have sex with you.” His body jerked when her mouth landed, open and warm, teeth and tongue drawing a gentle wet line from his ear down the cord in his neck, gently biting right at his pulse point. Sensation exploded down the side of his body, letting him know exactly what a mild stroke would feel like as part of his brain shut down, his knees going rubbery. She drew back and traced a soft fingertip over his lips, looking as if there was something else on

her mind. He was curious. “Tell me what you’re thinking, babe.” Her eyes flipped to his, a gorgeous flush traveling up her neck. Sex. She was thinking about the sex. “I’m tired of thinking,” she murmured, putting her nose to his cheek to nuzzle him so sweetly. “Let’s just do this. Okay? At least this once.” Before he could respond, she tilted her head and her parted lips covered his, her taste exploding in his mouth. At the feel of her stroking tongue, so gentle and tentative, Vincente felt his arms begin to tighten, holding her in place. “At least this once, babe, I’m all yours. And you”—he slid his hands from her outer thighs to cup her ass and bring her in even closer—“are mine.”

At least this once. Nika would take it. She was going to take this and use the shit out of it. Take this one time with Vincente and hold it dear. She broke the kiss. “You’re sure about this? You’re not going to change your mind halfway through?” She didn’t wait for his answer before she slipped her robe down her arms and tossed it behind her to flutter to the floor at the foot of the bed. His lips curved, lifting one side of his damned sexy goatee. “Not even if the house goes up in flames,” he promised. “I’m done waiting. Have wanted this for too long. That day on the couch at the apartment. And the night before, when you were stitching me up. Last night, when I gave you Charlie. That first day in Seattle even. Fuuuck. I tried to be good about it, but it didn’t matter. Every damn time, all the fucking time, I’ve wanted to strip you so I could touch you, lick you, have you all over—” All that hard muscle surrounding her grew even harder as Vincente stiffened, seeming to come his senses. An adorable—who’d have ever thought she’d use that word with this man—flush hit his cheeks. “Oh, fuck, Red, I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so fucking ignora—” Never more appreciative of a runaway tongue, she cut his unnecessary apology off by devouring his honest, no-holds-barred mouth. He felt what she felt. Exactly. And nothing had ever made her happier than knowing her attraction was returned. “The bed, Vincente,” she gasped when he squeezed her ass cheeks. “Go to the bed. Please.” Before she knew it, he was tumbling her down onto the thick comforter, covering her with his heavy body. After waiting for what seemed like forever, knowing this was finally happening had her body going molten. She didn’t care anymore that she was damaged goods, didn’t care that he’d hurt her, didn’t care that Kevin was after her. Her need was too desperate to allow her to care about anything but what was happening between them right then. His fingers slipped under the hem of her tank to skim along the sensitive skin of her stomach, causing her breathing to speed up even more. Needing to feel more of him, she grasped the hem of his Tshirt and drew it up to pull over his head, hesitating because she needed him to lift up a little. As if reading her mind, he pulled back and did the rest. She nearly moaned at the sight of a black leather harness strapped across the bronzed skin of his chest and ribs. He’d removed the weapons earlier. Heat roared through her at the sight of the ropy muscles of his tight abdomen. She grabbed his wrists when he went for the clasp on the harness. “Leave it,” she whispered, her gaze unashamedly devouring him. “God,

you’re so . . . sexy.” His face darkened with pleasure, a shadowy picture of raw desire. His eyes were like black flames, his skin now tight over his sharp cheekbones, which cast shadows from the lamp next to the bed. He fingered the hem of her tee. “I need to see you, babe. But if you’re not comfortable with—” He smiled when she raised her arms, and he wasted no time in drawing her shirt over her head and dropping it on the floor next to the bed. A low sound pumped from his throat as his head came down—no screwing around for this man—his mouth closing over her nipple. Her other breast was gently cupped by a deliciously rough palm, and it felt incredible. There was nothing but her and Vincente. No bad memories. Just this. He rolled her nipple between his knuckles, his tongue and teeth tormenting the other, and Nika moaned and writhed as pleasure flooded her, back arching, offering him everything. Her fingers grasped at his shoulders, slipping off what felt like velvet-covered steel. “Tell me if I’m too rough.” She shook her head hard. “You’re not. God, that’s good. Not rough at all. Promise.” She scraped her nails down his back, loving the low sound he made against her, and came around to tunnel her hands between their bodies. She felt warm metal and slipped the button free, sliding the zipper down, too. “May I . . . ?” She wasn’t experienced enough to go as hard-core as she wanted to. “I’d like to touch you.” His head came up, and he smiled crookedly. “Told you already I’m yours to do with as you please. I meant it.” Strangely touched by that, Nika burrowed through the opening to grasp . . . “Finally,” she panted, eagerly closing her fingers around that marble-like shaft. Or she tried to. Her eyes widened slightly as she stroked down. “Oooh,” she breathed, too far gone to care about the bald excitement evident in her tone. He sucked in a ragged breath, and she stopped midstroke. Had she hurt him? His head lifted from where he’d gone back to her breast. “What?” he panted. “Did I hurt you?” “No,” she laughed breathlessly at the absurdity. “God, no. I was just . . . You’re very big.” She cringed at her gauche remark, but then she didn’t care because Vincente had taken on an expression she hadn’t thought his face would allow. He looked endearingly self-conscious. “Thanks.” The mumble came from under his breath, and she attempted to make him feel better. She didn’t want either of them feeling shy or holding back. “I want it.” She tightened her fist on his length and felt a little bit powerful when his eyes flared and then rolled, his breath coming out in a warm burst. “And you’ll get it. Just not yet. We’ve only started.” His thumb brushed over her nipple, making her back arch. He dropped his head to nuzzle the sensitive stretch of skin between her breasts, the ends of his hair tickling her shoulders. His palm flattened on her, covering half her chest. But what caught her attention was the fierce hunger on his face, the blatant desire as he looked her over. He had wanted this just as much as she had. “What is it, babe?” he asked when he saw her staring. She pushed at his shoulders, no doubt moving him only because he let her, and followed him onto his back. Feeling rather brave, she got to her knees and straddled him, crawling down backward from where she was so that the smooth leather of his harness brushed against her inner thigh. He stopped her progress by clasping her just above the knee and led her back up a little. He groaned low in his throat. “Holy fuck, Red.” A dam burst between her legs at the admiration in his voice; the moisture felt slippery and warm.

His throat worked through a hard swallow as she looked down into his beautiful eyes, the dark, dark chocolate almost completely hidden by his dilated pupils. Nika smiled and had never been so glad she favored pretty underthings. This was going to be worth every moment he’d made her wait.

“That’s what I like to see,” Vincente rasped, bringing Nika’s body up even higher. She was wet from his kisses. His touch. He could see the damp patch on her panties. With her straddling his chest, her legs spread wide, the sultry scent of her arousal nailed him like an uppercut. “I’m going to ruin your pretty panties,” he warned before doing just that. He tossed the tattered remains aside and couldn’t help himself. He had to taste her before his thundering heart gave out. Gripping her hips, he easily lifted her and pulled her over his face so that her knees were cradling his head. His eyes almost rolled back as he drank in the sight of her, pink and glistening. “Not in my entire life have I seen anything so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered as he brushed the smooth skin of her inner thigh with his thumb. Her soft gasp had him lowering her to his mouth. “Oh, God, Vincente!” Her shocked and pleasure-filled cry shot down his spine. The feel of her velvety smoothness, wet and slippery on and around his mouth and tongue, sent him into a tailspin. He lapped at her; then, unable to get at her like he wanted, he easily flipped her onto her back and forced himself to slowly settle between her legs. The position made it easier to control what he wanted to do to her. She fisted his hair as he licked her like a lollipop. Cried out as his tongue speared her, deep, over and over. Made his name sound like a prayer when he spread her open with his thumbs and worked that little bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. That’s what it took, and Nika’s body tightened like a bowstring and she went off. Her nails dug sharply into his scalp as a passionate cry left her, turning into a long endless wail of pleasure that he worked her through, lapping up her sweetness until the final spasms left her. Savoring it all, Vincente kissed his way over to her hip and then up her flat stomach, laving her navel, his muscles trembling with the restraint he was using to hold back from claiming her. “Now, please, Vincente. I want to feel you inside me.” Her voice was raw with a desperation that matched his. But he still ignored her. And proceeded to lick, nibble, and suck every inch of silky skin he could reach. Worked her erogenous zones as much as he was able—neck, belly, thighs, even the backs of her knees and the creases of her elbows—and still stay sane. He avoided the obvious places this time—that mouthwatering core and those blindingly beautiful nipples—too worried about losing it and possibly hurting her with the strength of his need. His eyes closed at the plea in her voice as she said his name again, snapping open when she sank her nails into his hips, guiding him as she spread her legs as wide as they’d go. “Something you want, babe?” He held himself away from paradise by a bare inch. “Yes, yes. You. Please. Here. I’ll do it.” And before he could do more than smile, she was maneuvering him onto his back again. Her strength registered like a warm breeze, but he allowed the movement, unable to curb her enthusiasm. Not wanting to curb it.

He held her askew and, knowing he’d made her wait long enough, leaned to the side to yank his nightstand drawer open. He grabbed a condom, ripped the package open, rolled it on in record time, and then Nika was moving over him like a living flame, her glorious hair falling in disarray over her shoulders and down her back, a thick strand curling around the nipple of one perfect breast. Her hips hovered over his as she circled her fingers around his cock, making the breath shoot out of his lungs. She rubbed just the head at her hot entrance and then took her hand away and slowly impaled herself, needing to work a little until she’d seated herself to the hilt. Their eyes held as her core clutched him in a tight—fuck, so tight—silky grip. Holy hell. He nailed his jaw shut in an effort to remain silent, so tightly his temples started to ache, and simply watched as Nika began to move, her body like water, hips rolling, but not rising up yet. There was nothing that could have made him look away right then. She looked so alive, her expression one of total bliss. She let her head fall back so that the ends of her hair tickled his thighs. Mine. All mine. She raised herself up and paused a second before sinking back down, grinding forward and back, and Vincente couldn’t hold back the groan that ripped from his throat. “So fucking good. Tight . . . wet . . . so beautiful . . . all mine.” Jesus Christ, he was no romantic. He wanted to apologize but couldn’t get the words out. But then he didn’t have to. “Yes, sooo good,” she agreed. “So big . . . yours . . . all of me.” Fuck. Yes. Vincente’s fingers gripped his lover’s thighs, and he stilled her, biting the inside of his cheek so that he wouldn’t come. He raised a hand to clasp the back of her neck and pulled her down to devour her sultry smile. Claim her. Mark her. Own her. Fan Boy ground out instructions in his head. He wanted to obey, to do all of those things so no other man would go near her. Not without inciting his wrath. He’d circle around her in public and protect her from everything that could harm her in any way. He’d make her happy. Build her up. Lavish gifts on her. And if there was something he couldn’t find that would please her, he’d build the fucker with his own two hands. And in the privacy of their bedroom, he would love her body. Take her over and over again. Pleasure her. Satisfy her. So thoroughly that she’d never want anyone else. Ever. Only him. Him and her. Vincente and Nika. “Vincente? Are you here?” Her nails sinking into his pecs snapped his attention out of his possessive thoughts; the hint of anxiety in her voice clued him in that she’d noticed his distraction. “I’m so fucking here, babe,” he promised, taking her mouth again. He let go of her nape and clasped her thighs, lifting her so that his hips could go to work. Frustratingly, she went to lift off him. He brought her back with a hand under her arm and across her back, shifting her to bring her nipple closer so he could tongue it as he stroked into her. “Yes,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Please. Yes, like that. I need to feel you. Everywhere.” Yes, ma’am. He rolled them so she was underneath him, barely disturbing his rhythm, and she cried out when he went deeper. God, the sounds she made—so beautifully vocal—made him soar; her delicate panting and restless, squirming body brought his need for her satisfaction to the forefront of his mind. “Vincente.” Her teeth sank into the muscle of his bicep as her hips thrust against him. She used her grip on the harness she’d insisted he leave on as leverage. He plunged into that moist haven, and his heart nearly burst at her erotic little cry. Their eyes locked, and he started a steady pounding. And then her hands were everywhere, fingers pulling at his

shoulders, nails scraping down his ribs, palms flattening on his lower back. And the best? Those long legs of hers wrapped around him, squeezing as she went over, her enthusiastic orgasm triggering his. He came like it was his first time, the climax leveling him as he shuddered endlessly, her clasping muscles draining him of everything he had. When it was finally over, his body gave out and he collapsed. Knowing he was too heavy, he rolled, but he took her with him, dealing with the condom in a move he hoped she didn’t notice was practiced. Weird. By now he’d have been up and getting dressed already, trying to think of an excuse as to why he wouldn’t be calling. Not tonight. He cracked an eye open and looked down so he could watch Nika fit into his side like the missing piece of a puzzle. Her head went into his neck, her breasts pressed to his side, and one long leg bent and curled around his hips. And, man, life was pretty much fucking perfect right then. He closed his eyes again, heart rate slowing as she played with his collarbone. She sighed and moved on to trace his wolf’s tooth with her forefinger. Lifting Sophia’s gift, she read what was engraved before placing it back on his chest. Why wasn’t she asking what the passage was? Did she already know? Why wasn’t she asking who’d given it to him? If it had a special meaning? If he ever took it off? “My sister gave me that,” he shocked himself by volunteering. She came up on her elbow and gave him a look he couldn’t identify as she picked up the smooth black stone again. “I’m afraid I don’t know Matthew 6:14.” “For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.” She laid her head down. “God and I are at odds right now.” He understood that. “Considering what you’ve been through lately, I’m sure he gets why.” “You believe in him, right?” He trailed his fingers down the back of her ribs and smiled a little when goose bumps popped up. He smoothed them away. “Yeah. I believe. Don’t understand some of what he allows to slip by, but I know he’s there. Must hate me.” She snuggled deeper into him. “Not according to that passage he doesn’t.” She grew quiet for a few beats, until a little shiver passed through her. “Eva thinks I should talk to Gabriel’s friend, the priest who married them.” “Mikey’s a great guy. I’d recommend him if you felt the need.” She nodded. “That’s good to know.” She drew a random pattern across his chest and down his stomach. She depressed the small latch to open his harness and he shifted to allow her to slip the harness off him before settling back as she dropped it to the floor. “I knew it would be like that with you.” His eyes slid closed, and he felt her lips pressing to his chest as he tripped over himself to catch up. “And how was ‘that’?” It felt like she shrugged. “Intense. Incredible. Beautiful. Just like you.” Vincente kept his eyes closed—instead of rolling them like he wanted to—even though he knew she was looking at him. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? To something he didn’t get. The quiet stretched, and the longer Nika stayed silent, the faster a soothing comfort spread through him. She wasn’t pressing him to “look at her,” wasn’t whining for him to “talk to her.” No. She remained unobtrusive, tracing the tips of her fingers over his every feature, giving him the time she instinctively knew he needed to recoup. “You’re so fierce looking. I remember thinking that the first time I saw you. So fierce, and so beautiful. You took my breath away.”

His lids flipped up. Did she really see him like that? She just smiled at him and kept going. “I was so stunned. That’s why I almost fell. And then when you kissed me . . .” Her sigh traveled across his jaw. “You made me feel something. Turned on, yes, but something more than that. I was warm for the first time in forever. And I knew . . .” He held his breath. “Knew what?” She let out a soft sigh. “That Kevin hadn’t completely destroyed me.” Her head came back down, and he blinked in wonder because she’d shared and expected nothing in return. This woman was the stuff of dreams. Her lips brushed over his nipple, her teeth catching it in a gentle hold, awakening his calmed system. “This ‘one time’ is an all-night thing, right?” Openmouthed now, tongue laving. “Or are we done?” The teasing light in her eyes when she glanced up let him know she was playing with him. She shifted suddenly, coming over him, and all he felt was fire and flames, singeing everywhere her skin touched his. She continued her distracting kisses, making her way across his chest, her midriff brushing fleetingly over his cock. “Because I want to do one more thing before we return to real time,” she said as she left a wet trail down his stomach. His heart crashed against his ribs when her tongue dipped into his navel and just about blew the fuck apart when she softly kissed the tip of his cock. “I’d like to do a lot of things, but this one especially.” “Red.” She smiled up at him, her expression pleased. Her lips parted, jamming his breath in his throat. “He speaks,” she whispered as she gripped the base with one hand and ever so slowly drew the length of him into her mouth. His hips came off the bed as she took him deep, and he groaned, more of a whimper, really, but being the man he was, he’d call it a groan. His hands found their way down to her hair just as she pulled back, the head of his shaft slipping free of the torture with a soft pop. When she spoke, her breath flowing over him did as much to his control as a clenched fist around the entire length of him would have. “I’ve never done this,” she admitted. “But I’ve thought of doing it to you. Dreamed of it twice.” She did a swirling thing over the head that made his bones rattle and then mimicked what he’d done to her by flattening her tongue and dragging it down from tip to base, using her lips and teeth to nibble down the path as well. “I’ve read enough romance novels to know the basics. But if this isn’t okay, I’m open to suggestions.” His fascination with this amazing creature knew no bounds and all he could do was lie there and enjoy her. When she smiled slowly, eyes crinkling at the corners, Vincente’s throat actually thickened with emotion. “Perfect. You’re so fucking perfect, Red.” She rewarded him instantly by opening and taking him all the way in until he was prodding the back of her throat. She hummed softly. “Fuuuck, Nika.” What the fuck kinds of books were those that she’d read? She drew back slowly and popped her lips off again and blew a moist stream of air. “I hope so,” she said with a playful wink. Saucy girl. He grabbed her upper arms and dragged her up, turning over to pin her beneath him. “No need to hope when I’m right here, babe.” His voice was shot, nothing but broken glass. She kissed him around a soft giggle. He heard the drawer open, and she held up the packet of condoms. There were three left. “Can I do the honors this time?” she whispered against his mouth as she tore one open. Unable to deny her, he broke the kiss and rolled to his back. She took her time. When he could stand it no longer, he pinned her. Pushing her thighs apart with his knees, he slowly entered her, so pleased when pleasure flooded her features, her eyes sliding closed, her head tilting back

when he began to move. He homed in on her bared throat, kissing and tasting his way up past her jaw so he could claim her mouth again. Her tongue came out to play immediately, tangling with his, and Vincente knew then, having Nika like this had just changed him forever.

“Babe?” The quiet endearment woke Nika from the light doze she’d slipped into, the knuckles brushing across her cheek the sweetest feeling ever. She lifted lazy lids and felt her mouth follow, tipping up in a happy smile. Until she noticed Vincente was sitting beside her on the bed, fully dressed. She pushed herself up as dread fell like a lead balloon in the pit of her stomach. “What is it? Is everything okay?” “Shh. Everything’s fine.” A puff of minty breath flowing over her mouth was followed by his warm lips. She let go of the sheet clutched to her chest and cupped Vincente’s now-smooth cheeks. He’d showered and shaved and brushed his teeth? She drew back and glanced outside. Still dark. “Where are you going?” She bit her lip the minute the words left her. Was she allowed to ask that? Whether she was or wasn’t didn’t seem to matter. Because she was pretty sure he hadn’t heard the question. He was too busy staring hungrily at her bared upper body. Her breath caught, and a shiver traveled through her when he grazed the tips of his fingers down the side of her left breast, skimming the underside light as a breeze. “Gorgeous.” With a shake of his head and a deep sigh that sounded irritated, he pulled the sheet up to cover her. “Can’t make my mouth work,” he explained with a wry grin. “You asked where I was going.” There was no censure in his tone. He seemed to reiterate more to remind himself than to question the fact that she was asking him to explain why he was leaving her. “Gabriel came by, and I have to go out for a while. We’ve been cleaning house, and a couple of our boys just nailed a dealer who’s been using the family’s name to sell his shit. I’m not sure of the ODMC’s take on them, but drugs aren’t a part of our business plan. This one might be a rough takedown, and G thinks we should be there to handle it personally.” His gave her a hot once-over, causing her skin to tingle as though he’d touched her. “If it wasn’t an unusual situation, I wouldn’t be allowing even Gabriel to take me away from you tonight.” Nika’s heart swelled in her chest with something other than worry for him. She leaned in and kissed him softly on both corners of his mouth. “I know you always are, but please be careful. I’ll see you when you get back.” A strange light flared in his dark eyes. Appreciation, maybe? “Yes, you will.” He kissed her once more, and then he was gone, leaving her to swallow past the lump that had risen in her throat. She sank down into the pillows after the door closed and hugged the sheet to her chest as she tried to identify the feeling invading her. As it settled, sifting down like a falling feather, the absolute certainty of it became undeniable. She was in love. For the first time in her life, Nika was madly and passionately in love with a man. She hadn’t spent the night with Vincente, giving him her body and soul, because of some blinding attraction that had no name. She loved him.

Damn. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. She was officially in the midst of an affair with the underboss to the Moretti crime family—a man who threatened people for a living, broke them, even killed them when the need arose. Why did none of what he did in a given day sway her, turn her off . . . scare her? As Vincente himself thought it should? Because he wasn’t unaffected when he did those things. She could see it in his eyes, the darkness left behind. She turned over and snuggled into his pillow. She supposed that was what unconditional love was about. How Eva must love Gabriel, considering who he was. How one lucky girl would eventually love Caleb. No matter what their men had done in the past, and would no doubt do again in the future, they were loved. Surprisingly, Nika wasn’t as panicked by her realization as she thought she should be. She actually felt relief now that she knew what she was dealing with. How would she cope when this thing between her and Vincente ended next week, maybe next month? She wouldn’t think about that now. Instead, she was going to take Eva’s advice and live in the moment. She would enjoy this time, enjoy it right down to the last bone-melting kiss. And then she’d do what any woman did when a relationship ended. She’d move on. Closing her eyes, she replayed the night back in her mind. She was just dozing off when she remembered promising Eva another round of interview prep tomorrow morning. Saddened, she knew too soon her career was going to be all she had.

CHAPTER 21

A bright swath of sunlight woke Nika next. She stretched languidly, freezing midway through it when her nakedness registered. Her eyes popped open as the night’s events came rushing back. She grinned and flexed, feeling an unfamiliar stiffness . . . pretty much everywhere. Not surprising. Vincente had put her in a position or two that she’d never known had a purpose outside of the game Twister. Sitting up, she looked around, already knowing by the evenness of the mattress that he hadn’t come back to bed. She checked her phone. Seven thirty. That gave her some time. She got up and took a leisurely shower. Maybe he was home and just hanging out downstairs. They could have breakfast together, she thought, feeling a childish excitement at sharing a real meal with him. Going back out to the bedroom in nothing but a towel, she opened the suitcase that had materialized yesterday morning and slipped on a pair of white lace panties. She then dressed in a white loose-fitting, spaghetti-strapped chiffon blouse, a pair of capri jeans that rolled at the cuff, and new wedges she hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. After grabbing her brush, she got rid of the tangles in her hair before anchoring it loosely on the top of her head so it would dry with a wave. She added a big pair of boho earrings and a few bangles, grabbed her phone, and then headed downstairs. She couldn’t say she wasn’t disappointed when she found only Eva in the kitchen, but that was second best to finding Vincente, so she’d take it. Her best friend was sitting on the floor with Charlie between her legs, cooing and smooching the little thing to death. “What are you doing? Practicing your smother?” Eva looked up and flopped back against the cupboards, drooping in an overly dramatically fashion. “Finally! I thought for sure you were doing this to me on purpose,” she complained. “Doing what?” Nika went down for a cuddle with her puppy. “Making me wait for details! What happened last night? Holy crap, I just about died when Gabriel came back to our room, smiling! Smiling, Nika!” She deepened her voice. “ ‘V wouldn’t let me into his room because he said Nika wasn’t decent.’ ” She reverted to her normal voice and jumped to her feet, clapping her hands like a seal. “Why weren’t you decent? Was I right? He lied about not wanting you, didn’t he?” “You’re nuts,” Nika muttered around a grin. “And, yes, as usual, you were right.” She received an excited hug and then Eva was skipping over to grab two plates from a stack on the stove top. “Sit.” She opened the oven and scooped some scrambled eggs out of a deep pan. “I knew it. Didn’t I tell you?” She added bowls of fresh fruit from a tray at her elbow and slid one of the plates over along with a knife and fork. Nika sat on one of the tall stools in front of the granite-topped island and rolled her eyes when it

looked like her hormonal friend was getting misty. She placed her phone off to the side, screen facing up in case Vincente called. “Oh, come on, Eva. Don’t look at me like that. It’s creepy. Like you’re proud I got my cherry popped or something.” Fork tines pointed in her direction as Eva sniffled. “See? That right there proves how good he is for you. I haven’t heard you talk like that in a year.” She remained standing as she ate, stabbing a chunk of watermelon. “I’m so happy things worked out for—” Nika held up a hand and swallowed the eggs she was chewing. “Hold your horses, woman. It was only sex.” Liar, her mind whispered. “I mean, it was great sex but still just sex. It didn’t mean anything. Vincente and I both made that clear before it started.” Eva stopped chewing and just stared. “What? But why? I don’t understand.” She didn’t really understand it either. “I really don’t want to go over it. Just, I don’t know, let me bask in my afterglow.” But her afterglow was gone, she realized as she ate some grapes, and she wanted it back. Which meant she had to be with Vincente again in order to get it. And so the vicious circle of addiction was born, she thought dejectedly as she accepted a cup of coffee from her crestfallen friend. “Thanks. I thought they’d be back by now. Do they do that often? Leave in the middle of the night?” “You don’t want to talk about it at all?” Eva sounded troubled. “Nope.” “Okay. Just know I’m here.” “I do.” “Well, all right then, um, no.” Eva’s feet practically dragged as she went over and got the milk from the fridge. “This middle-of-the-night dash was a first for me, too. Gabriel called a little while ago and said they were waiting on Maksim to identify the head of some gang that was dealing drugs under the Moretti name. I didn’t ask for more information than that.” “Were you scared when he woke you up and told you he was leaving?” She held her cup out for a splash of milk, thankful they had the type of friendship that didn’t require beating around any bushes. Eva cringed as she handed her a spoon. “I would have been had I been able to wake up. I vaguely remember him leaving but was too zonked to get what was going on. I hate to say it, but I’m glad. I’d have been a basket case and not slept the rest of the night.” She pulled a face and took a drink of her coffee. “I did feel guilty as hell when he called and I didn’t even know where he was.” Nika smiled. Seems they all had their problems. “Vincente told me they were cleaning house. That’s a good thing.” Eva went over and put the milk away. “Yes. A very good thing,” she agreed when she returned. “I just hope the process is a quick one.” She sighed, and they both pushed their eggs around their plates. “No matter the venture or where in the world you are, everyone’s the same, aren’t they? Power and money draws out the greedy, and the craving for both usually turns violent, sometimes deadly.” She forked up a slice of peach and reached out with her free hand to go to work on Samnang’s spice rack, lining up all the labels to within an inch of their lives. “It sucks that both my husband and father are at the top of the food chain in our small circle of it all.” Her smile was stiff as her hand brushed across her navel. “I have to say, having Quan and Vincente watching Gabriel’s back helps. And Alek and Maksim, too. I’ll feel even better when Jak gets here from Seattle. He used to be a US Navy SEAL. Isn’t that crazy?” Nika pushed her plate aside and brought her coffee forward, her appetite having deserted her. Yeah, crazy. She truly was glad that Gabriel was well covered, sure, but who would have Vincente’s back when, and if, the time came?

Vincente stood outside the closed door, anxiety clawing at his insides. He’d gotten so tired of hearing the guy inside yammer his denials—that had soon turned into excuses—that he’d had to get the fuck out of the room. He wished he could have kept walking because what he really wanted was to get the fuck home! The desperate thought didn’t faze him. Well, it shouldn’t, since he’d been having it every minute and a half for the past five goddamn hours. He’d never dragged his feet more than he had when following Gabriel and Quan out of the house. Quan had smiled most of the way to Brooklyn. The bastard. G had smirked a little, after asking him how he’d gotten the “bruise” on the front of his throat. Vincente wore Nika’s mark with way too much pride. Shit. He’d screwed himself by having her. Royally, because he now wanted her again. And again, and again, as he’d known he would. Shit. Shit. His head snapped up when he heard heavy footfalls coming from around the corner in the lower level of the empty office building they were in. He palmed his SIG, keeping it pressed to his thigh, and relaxed only when Gabriel, Quan, and Maks came into view. Fuck. Finally. “What the hell took you so long, Kirov?” he snapped as they drew near. The idiot’s choice of Tshirt didn’t even make his lips twitch; it read, I Shaved My Balls for This? Maks gave him a hard look. “Get off my ass, V. I’m not in the mood. I haven’t gotten laid in days. Days. Yes, you heard that right. I’m going on next to no sleep. And that little Aussie’s still refusing to play by my goddamned rules.” He threw open the door Vincente was standing next to and looked inside. “Yeah. That’s him. Nice to be the head of the operation, huh, asshole?” he said to the guy as he raised the Glock Vincente hadn’t even seen in his hand and fired off three rounds, pulling the door closed before the echo finished its thing. “Why the fuck is she playing hard to get? Who does that anymore? You think she’s playing me? Do you think she thinks she’s getting to me? Or do you think it’s possible she really doesn’t want—” Vincente cut him off. “You couldn’t have identified that fuck from the pic I texted and saved me an hour of standing here with my finger in my ass?” “Was blurry. Didn’t want an innocent to die for nothing.” Maks shrugged. “Anyway, so that’s what she says, in that fucking gorgeous accent. ‘I’ll pass.’ What the fuck.” He shook his head as he went back the way he’d just come. “I don’t get it. I’m going home,” he called over his shoulder—sounding distinctly sulky—before he disappeared around the corner again. Quan took a breath as if he needed the oxygen after that spiel. “I could have taken another!” Vincente yelled. Gabriel looked over, amusement lurking in his dark-green eyes. “He’s right. Has to be a positive ID. So much for getting details on the dealers from the distracted motherfucker.” Vincente wasn’t overly concerned about the whys. “Sydney Martin might as well give in and cuff herself to his headboard. Because he isn’t giving up until she’s there.” “No shit.” Relief made him feel good when they finally headed for the exit. Almost to the truck, he stopped Gabriel with a bump on the arm. “Give us a minute,” he said to Quan, who nodded and carried on to get behind the wheel of the Escalade. Gabriel looked curious. “What’s up, V?”

“I wanted to apologize for my lack of enthusiasm yesterday morning. I’ve been strung out, not that that’s an excuse.” It was what it was, and he wasn’t trying to justify his actions. He kicked away a dirty cigarette butt. “I just want you to know I’m happy as fuck for you and Eva. You’re brave, man. Braver than me.” His boy took his outstretched hand and pulled him in for a hug. “Thanks, V. But it’s not about being brave. It’s about being determined. No one is getting at my wife and child. No one. If I have to give my life to make that a reality, I’m more than willing to do it.” Vincente nodded once, love and respect for this man making his chest feel swollen. “Nothing is going to happen to you, my brother. You’ll be here to raise your son, or daughter, because if anyone dares to attempt a takedown, they’ll be answering to me long before they get anywhere near you.” As they climbed into the truck and got on the road, Gabriel’s words echoed in Vincente’s mind. Determination. Was that all it took to keep your loved ones safe? What about their freedom of choice? Eva could choose to go to the office tomorrow and get knifed in the belly on the sidewalk in front of TarMor by the partner of the dealer they’d just put down. And there would go a wife and child. How would Gabriel’s determination help her then? Unless G locked her up, taking her freedom from her, the possibility that someone might get to her lived. Yeah. And they might take one head-on along the freeway halfway home and never make it there. They might get struck by lightning as they walked across the driveway to reach the front door of the house. He might slip on the top step and break his neck as he tumbled back down to the foyer before he even reached Nika in his bedroom. Fuck. The possibility of shit happening was just there. All the fucking time. And Vincente had to find a way to live with that. Before he drove himself, and everyone around him, nuts.

They reached Old Westbury in record time. Vincente waved Gabriel and Quan inside and hung back in the garage. He had to get his head on straight before he saw Nika. Didn’t want to spook her with his mood. Taking what he hoped was a relaxing breath, he leaned against a spotless worktable and took his phone out. He texted Caleb, asking if they had anything new on Nollan. The bikers had gone back to Crown Heights last night. Probably scared the fuck out of the heavies in the neighborhood, giving the impression the ODMC were moving in. Vincente smirked, still waiting for a reply, and looked over when the door leading into the house opened. His breath whooshed from his lungs in a hot rush. Nika stood there in a white top—which looked too much like pajamas for her to be walking around in front of the others in—a pair of hip-hugging jeans that left her slim ankles bare, and shoes that would bring her pretty mouth as close to his as he needed right then. “Am I interrupting?” That musical voice of hers almost had his eyes closing. He shook his head once, at the same time motioning her over with a flip of his fingers. He kept his hand out and pulled her in when she placed hers on his palm. Without a word, he brought her closer so that they’d be hidden behind the Kombat if anyone were to come out—for her sake—and then crushed her mouth under his, backing her up against the wall of the

garage at the same time. She hit, making a line of extension cords hanging next to them thump against the pegboard. He growled when her fingers tunneled through his hair, the tips sinking into his scalp. “Good morning,” he greeted against her lips, his body singing when she rubbed against his erection. “Morning,” she whispered. “I’m happy you’re home.” A glow lit off somewhere around the region of his heart, but he smothered it. “Me, too.” He picked her up, pulling her thighs around him as he walked toward the door on rubbery knees. Modesty be damned. It wasn’t like Gabriel and Eva hadn’t broken everyone in on what it was like living with new lovers. He shoved through the heavy steel, letting it slam behind him after hitting the button to lower the garage door. Making a beeline for the stairs, he tightened his grip when he felt her lips and then warm breath around his ear. “Gotta stop that,” he warned roughly, trying to stay on his feet through a jarring body wobble. “Otherwise I might just fu—” “V?” He stiffened and froze as if he’d just heard a gun go off. Fuck. Double fuck when Nika lifted her head. “Later, G.” He kept going, freaking out inside that Gabriel was going to insist on speaking with him right that minute. “Give me an hour,” he said threateningly. The chuckle that met his ears had his muscles unlocking from bone. “By the way, you’re in serious shit, Nika,” Gabriel called up as they rounded the corner. “Oh, damn.” Guilt suddenly radiated from her. “Eva just texted Gabriel that we were going to take a drive over to the clubhouse to see Caleb. I should explain—” “I’ll explain for you,” Vincente growled. “Later. Right now it’s you and me.” A slow smile wiped the tension from her features. “But Eva shouldn’t have to deal—” “Later,” he repeated in a loud bark. “Okay, okay. Later.” “Thank you.” “No. Thank you.” Her thighs tightened around his waist, and he stumbled, catching himself on the doorknob. “Don’t thank me yet.” He slammed his bedroom door behind him and threw the lock. She giggled, and he went right for the bed, following her down, his mouth already feeding on hers as they went for each other’s clothes. He felt her kick off her shoes as he did the same with his boots. Multitasking at its best. Her shirt gone, his hands found her breasts. “Where’s your bra?” he demanded even as he molded them to his palms, hissing when her nipples beaded into two small pebbles. “My blouse has a built-in one.” She pulled the hem of his shirt up and went at the button and zipper on his pants. Not wanting to release the gorgeous mounds, he did anyway, forcing his hands down to slide her jeans and underwear down her long legs. Once she was blissfully naked, he whipped his shirt over his head to throw it behind him before pinning her to the mattress again. Her hands were everywhere at once, burning a lasting trail over his heated skin as he kissed his way from her jaw down her neck and across her chest to suck one of those little berries into his mouth. He cupped the other one, kneading and forming it to his palm. His body gave a mighty jerk when he felt her fingers close around his cock; the sensation made him grind into her as if he could become a part of her. “Your pants, Vincente.” He tore his mouth from her breast and stood, losing his jeans in record time. Still standing, he

grabbed Nika’s calves and dragged her to the edge of the bed. After snatching a pillow, he tucked it under her hips to raise her up for him, his knees nearly giving out at the sight she made. Her hair was a mass of color around her head, her creamy skin already flushed with a light sheen of sweat, her eyes now a dark sultry green, filled with desire. Core, ready and waiting for his possession. She nodded eagerly. “Give me something to thank you for.” Her hips came up in invitation. One he readily accepted. He donned a condom and, gripping her thighs, entered her in one deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt, both of them moaning at the sensation of her inner walls clutching the entire length of his cock. Gripping it. Squeezing. Standing had been a bad idea, he realized as his body trembled and flexed. Very bad. He tried to distract himself by concentrating only on Nika, by thinking how incredibly right it felt to be buried within her giving body. He ran a hand down her inner thigh and brushed his thumb over her clit and watched how it made the tendons in her neck strain in reaction. He took his other hand and pushed down her other leg, spreading her wider. Beautifully flexible. Beautifully everything. The muscles in his thighs shook as if he’d just run a marathon, but not from physical exertion. No. The weakness he was experiencing was all emotional. Feelings bombarded him—guilt, rage, vengeance, and anxiety, on the one hand, and, on the other, infatuation, protectiveness, possessiveness, adoration, and tenderness. “Don’t go anywhere this time, Vincente. Don’t . . . check out. Stay with me?” He looked up from where they were joined as she brought her arms down. She’d been gripping the sheets above her head. Now she ran her nails across his abs, scraping a path to his groin as he slid in and out of her. How well she knew him already. But he wasn’t going anywhere else. Especially in his head. He was so far into this moment it was frightening. “Just want it to last for you, babe. Nothing else,” he promised through gritted teeth. How could there be anything else? “Don’t. Just give me what you’ve got.” Her long fingers circled around his wrists, grounding him. That, coupled with the sounds she made every time his hips pushed forward, and the connection he felt because she made sure to hold his gaze, had him feeling a humbling amazement at what he’d found in her. At what he couldn’t keep. Her eyes slid closed, back arching suddenly. The movement thrust her breasts up, and she stiffened as she came. The bands of muscles in her core constricted and loosened on his cock, driving all thought from his mind. He quickened his rhythm, unable to do anything but, which had him joining her in her release. His roar of satisfaction drowned out her mewls of approval.

Gabriel leaned against the granite-topped island in the kitchen and took a drink of his coffee as he watched his wife check on the poached eggs she’d insisted on making him. She sailed over and popped the lever on the toaster down before coming back to take a plate out of the cupboard. “Markus called,” she said and yawned, making him frown. She’d slept like the dead last night, barely stirring when he’d left her around three o’clock. Or had that been an act on her part? Had she lain awake all night worrying over him, as he’d been doing with her lately? Or maybe it was normal for her to be so tired.

He studied her as she took a slotted spoon from the utensil drawer, her eyes shifting to the entrance, as if she expected Samnang to come barreling in and yell at her for daring to lift a finger in his kitchen. Guy probably would, but in the nicest way possible. What would she look like when her pregnancy started showing? Would she soften much? Grow curvier? Remain slim? He looked to the ceiling and out through the skylight, sending up yet another thank-you. How was it he’d been so blessed? “Sit.” He brought his head down to see Eva standing before him with his eggs and toast on a plate. He looked at her perfect breasts, which were covered by a pretty black sundress that had daisies all over it. How heavy would they grow? “See?” she said, her shoulders drooping. “I really think you should go take a nap. Quan did.” He shook his head and went around to get a stool, taking her with him by grabbing a handful of her dress. She placed his breakfast in front of him as he wrapped an arm around her narrow waist to draw her close. Lowering his hand to her navel, he silently said good morning to his little guy or girl. “I’m not tired, sweetheart. I was actually wondering what you’ll look like once you’re showing.” She pushed his fork closer, making him smile. “From what I’ve been reading, I’ll be round, swollen, and cranky.” He chuckled as the sound of a Harley rumbled at his elbow. Definitely not his ringtone, but he reached for the cell anyway. “That’s Nika’s.” Eva snickered. “Caleb’s influence, obviously. She must have forgotten it after we had break—” Gabriel jumped to his feet and shoved his stool back so hard it skidded across the floor and fell to its side. The previewed text and image on the screen kicked him right in the stomach.

I’m tired of this game. I want you back right fucking now!

The text was from Kevin, and the photo was of Caleb tied to a chair and beaten to shit. “What happened?” Eva sputtered as he pulled her by the wrist out of the kitchen and down the hallway, shoving her gently toward the stairs. “Go up and get Vincente. He’s in his room with Nika. Now,” he snapped when she opened her mouth. He cringed when his pregnant wife went flying up the stairs, and then he hauled ass to the basement door and yanked it open. “Maks! Get up here!” He looked again at Caleb’s pic. One eye was swollen shut, mouth puffy, dried blood under his nose and on his lips. Motherfuck! How the hell had Nollan gotten him? In no time, the sound of heavy footsteps coming from above heralded V’s arrival. The guy bounded down the stairs two at a time, slipping his T-shirt over his head as he went, the top button of his jeans still undone. “What the fuck—” Gabriel held up a hand and shook his head. Vincente clearly knew something big was going down because he got that look. The one that made a man’s nape tingle when he saw it. Lighter steps, but no less urgent, came seconds later. Once Eva and Nika joined them, he handed the phone over to the Reaper. And received the exact response he’d expected. Vincente looked at the message and went still as a statue. He then looked through the phone, as if his mind had gone someplace else, his big chest motionless for a few beats, and then it started pumping.

“Where’s Maks? Kirov!” His shout filled the foyer and had Gabriel wanting to cover his ears. “Vincente? That’s my phone. What is it?” By the tremor in Nika’s voice, she already knew it was something she didn’t want to hear. Maks flew into the foyer from the basement, gun straight out, finger on the trigger. The girls squeaked in fear and scrambled back, Nika even tripping on the stairs directly behind them and landing ass first on the third step up. Down went the weapon; the sound of the safety sliding was loud in the sudden quiet. Maks glared at Vincente. “You don’t fucking use that tone when no one’s dying, Romani.” “Do those fixtures in the background look like the ones at the building in Crown Heights?” Vincente shoved the phone under Maks’s nose. Maks stared at the photo and cursed, turning to Nika with a look of sympathy. “Aw, fuck, sweetness. I’m sorry.” Nika jumped up. “Why? What is it? What is happening here?” Vincente went over and took her face between his palms. “You have to stay calm and know this is going to work out, okay?” It was a moment before she nodded, eyes wide. “Kevin has Caleb.” She grabbed at V’s tattooed wrists as though she needed help staying upright. She shook her head slowly, blinking, suddenly looking like an accident victim trying to understand what was going on around her. “No. Eva and I called him and he didn’t get back to us yet . . . No. He’s just got some girl in his room, Vincente. He’s going to call me . . . No. Not my brother . . .” Her face crumpled, and V’s arms snaked around her to hold her up as the news sank in. Gabriel put his arm around Eva’s shoulders, hating how pale she’d gone. He grabbed her chin and brought her head up when he didn’t feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing. “Eva? Hey. Come on.” “Caleb is with that . . . Oh, God.” Her mouth formed the words, but no sound came out. She grasped the material of his shirt at his ribs, and he could feel her body trembling. “Relax, sweetheart.” He forced a confidence into his tone and lied through his fucking teeth. “We’ll get him back. He’s going to be fine. Caleb knows how to take care of himself. You have to relax. It’s not just you anymore.” She didn’t relax, and he got right into her face. “No one is more important than that little bud inside you, so you’re going to take a goddamn breath, nice and slow . . . That’s it. Good girl.” He rubbed her back as he brought her in and murmured in her ear, his voice as calm as he could make it. “That’s it. We’re good.” No, they weren’t, he thought as a volcanic eruption scrambled his insides. If Caleb didn’t make it out alive, this house would be shrouded in grief. They had to get this done. “You know where they are?” he asked Vincente just as Charlie came trotting down the hallway. He went right over and hopped up, as if trying to climb Nika. Maks answered as V bent and scooped the dog up. “From what little I can see, it looks like the place we’ve been watching.” He took his phone out, but before he could dial, Gabriel was cursing. “Abel said you had him and Jerod squatting on a porn site in an abandoned building. Was this what they were talking about?” Maks looked at him all what-the-fuck-did-you-do? “Had them?” “I pulled them off last night to come with me and Vincente. They said they’d call someone else in.” He texted Jerod as he talked, asking him who they’d gotten to replace them. “Fuck, Kirov, why didn’t you let me in on that?” He looked at his phone when a reply came in. “Okay. Tricky and Danny O.” He texted them, and no reply was forthcoming. “Fuck.” “Listen, that was my bad. Seriously. I should have let you know. I’ve been distracted.” For once, Maksim appeared to be sincere. “I’m going down to see if I can get a visual of the place from an outside source.” He moved fast.

Vincente was talking quietly to Nika. She kept nodding and petting Charlie too quickly in the same spot on his back. The dog didn’t seem to mind. “But what can we do right now?” she said. “The longer Kevin has him—We can’t leave him there, Vincente.” “We won’t. We’ll see what Maks finds in the area and then head over ourselves.” “Why don’t I call Kevin?” Nika pulled out of V’s arms and started pacing. “I’ll call him and tell him I’ll meet him.” “No.” Vincente’s response was instant and adamant, but Nika kept talking. “He’ll leave to meet me and you guys can get Caleb out of there.” She stopped moving and looked from V to him. “Gabriel? Isn’t that a good idea? It’s kind of easy, right?” She sounded so desperate, he wanted to agree, but he couldn’t. “It’s never easy, Nika,” Gabriel supplied. “Not when you’re dealing with a guy like Nollan. What if he booby-traps the place or does something to Caleb before he leaves?” “But it’s me he wants!” Her voice was shrill in its insistence. “I know him. He won’t be thinking about Caleb after I agree to come to him.” “You’re not going to him, Red. So get the fucking thought out of your head.” Vincente’s tone brooked no argument. She looked up at him when he appeared in front of her. And then she looked over at Gabriel and then Eva. She wilted. “Fine,” she said, her tone hard rather than defeated. “Then please go down and see what’s taking Maksim so long so you guys can get over there.” Gabriel looked closely at the redhead before turning to his wife. “Will you girls be okay for a minute?” Eva nodded and drew herself up, giving him a clear view of that inner strength he so loved. “Yes. Go. I’ve got her, Vincente. Go.” She went to take Nika’s hand, but her friend hesitated. She and Vincente looked at each other for a suspended moment, and then Nika stood on her toes and kissed him. “Thank you.” V opened his mouth to respond, but Nika was already turning away and being led into the main room by Eva. They settled close together on the sofa, Charlie between them. Vincente looked torn between staying and going. “I’ll come back up and let you know what we find,” Gabriel offered. V shook his head. “No. I’ll come with. We need to nail this fuck once and for all.” They went down to command central with Gabriel praying that was even still possible. Really, who knew when that picture had been taken? For all they knew, Nika’s brother was already gone.

CHAPTER 22

Gabriel and Vincente walked toward the basement stairs as thoughts raced through Nika’s mind. Kevin had her brother. He would kill Caleb if he didn’t get what he wanted: her. Simple answer? Give herself up. But no one would help her do that. As usual, she was going to have to do this herself. She’d sacrificed almost an entire year of her life for her brother, and now it looked as if she would have to do so once more. Because she was going to meet Kevin and get Caleb away from him before that bastard could hurt him even more than he probably already had. She knew Vincente and Gabriel and the rest of the crew were capable men. But she didn’t trust that they’d do everything they could to save Caleb the way she would. If given the choice of killing Kevin or saving Caleb’s life, even if it meant Kevin getting away, she didn’t trust that Caleb would win that contest. She’d seen how Vincente reacted to her injuries at Kevin’s hands. Her mind continued to ricochet, skipping through ideas and scenarios, most of which wouldn’t work. It slowed, and she examined one. She could take Eva’s car. It had a sensor installed to allow the front gates to open. She could call Kevin from the road and tell him to meet her out front of wherever he had her brother. She could then sneak around and enter through a back entrance, free Caleb, and they could take off in time for Vincente and Gabriel to arrive and do their thing—kill her husband. Eva had been muttering about an accessory Gabriel had given her along with her new car the other day. She’d asked how weird it was for a husband to gift his wife with a Smith & Wesson and had then said she’d put it in her glove box, praying she’d never have to use it. Nika could use it. If Kevin came anywhere near her, she could use that gun. She’d impressed Caleb for years with her excellent aim. Okay. This could work. It had to work. This might be her only chance to end this. End Kevin. Because if he wasn’t dead, she was never going to be free of him. Something deep inside her darkened. After she set her brother free, she could go to the front of that building and meet her husband as planned. She would use that Smith & Wesson and make it so Kevin could never hurt anyone ever again. She deserved to be the one to do this. Only seconds had passed since she and Eva had left them and, feeling strangely calm and resolved in her new role, she watched Vincente and Gabriel disappear down the stairs. She put Charlie on the floor and took her phone from where she’d stuffed it into the waistband of her jeans after pilfering it from Vincente’s back pocket. After pressing the power on, a strangled sound escaped her throat at what she saw. Kevin’s text demanding her return and a picture of Caleb . . . Her resolve cemented. Kevin was going to kill her brother, making everything she’d been through in the past year for nothing. She could not allow that. Would not allow it. Every minute counted, and

Vincente and Gabriel were wasting them. When left in his own head, Kevin became even more dangerous. She knew that better than anyone! She also knew that he could be distracted from what he was doing to Caleb—by his fixation on her. Eva’s gasp signaled that she’d also seen Caleb’s photo. “Oh, my God.” Her skin took on a green cast, giving Nika an idea. “I feel sick,” she whispered, forcing her voice to sound weak as she glanced at the bar across the room. “Could you get me some milk?” Anything else she asked for was probably behind that mahogany. “Please? The acid in my stomach in eating through my throat.” “Yes, of course. Will you be okay if I leave for a second? Do you want to come to the kitchen? Or would you rather I brought it back here?” “Here, please. I’m good here. I’ll be fine.” “Okay, hon. I’ll be right back.” She got up and nearly tripped over Charlie as he followed her out. Nika gave her a count of five, and then she was up and racing for the door leading to the garage. She was in her bare feet, she realized, but didn’t really care as she yanked the heavy thing open and grabbed the fat key fob under the scrolled E on the board next to the light switch. She knew cameras were everywhere in the house and grounds and the boys would most likely see her, so she hit the garage door opener for the Mercedes bay simultaneously. Hopefully the men would be trying to locate the warehouse Kevin was in and not watching the security cameras too closely. Unwilling to take that chance, she yanked open the car door and scrambled in as quickly as she could. She jammed the key in the ignition and turned it over. She hadn’t spent month after month being treated like a dog, bleeding, suffering through punches and kicks and broken bones, just to lose her brother anyway. She might as well have let Kevin send him to jail. At least he’d be alive. When the garage door finally opened fully, Nika hit the accelerator and flew down the driveway, praying Maksim didn’t have the option of overriding the sensor that would open the front gate. Or if he did, that he wouldn’t have enough time to implement it before she got through. Less than a minute later, she was slowing the powerful machine and that massive gate was sliding back smooth and easy. Nika drove through and hit the road. She leaned over and opened the glove box to take out a beautifully compact weapon that she placed in her lap. Caleb would have complimented Gabriel on his taste, she thought, her throat aching with unshed tears. She grabbed her cell from the passenger seat where she’d thrown it and scrolled through her contacts with a shaking hand. This had to work.

“What the fuck?” Vincente jerked away from studying what he knew were two bodies spaced about twenty feet apart in front of the building Caleb was being held in. Maks, who’d been looking at a different screen, was furiously tapping on a keyboard that sat on the end of his desk. Vincente glanced at the image that had caused the panic and saw one of the bays in the garage empty. “Your redhead just took Eva’s car!” Fuck! Both his and Gabriel’s eyes went to the view of the front gate. “What are you doing?”

Vincente snapped. “Trying to override the system so she can’t get out.” Jesus Christ. They watched the E63 AMG power down the lane, almost hearing the growl of the Mercedes engine over Maks’s tapping. “Come on, Maks,” he muttered tightly. The gates began to open, and a keyboard went flying just as Eva burst into the room. “She’s gone!” she cried. Anything she said after that was lost as Vincente bolted up the stairs. He sprinted up to his room, finished dressing, and was armed up to the fucking teeth in record time. He entered the garage just as Maks showed up. He was about to jump behind the wheel of his truck but was shoved aside. “Passenger side,” the Russian ordered, stowing his CheyTac—his sniper rifle of choice—behind the seat. Seeing no point in arguing, he went around and climbed in just as Gabriel and Quan hopped in the back. “Eva’s getting in touch with her father. He’ll meet us there with cleanup. Shit.” By the beeps sounding behind him, Vincente could tell Gabriel was back on his phone. “Hey. I forgot to ask, is Yuri in town? Good. Eva’s going to see if Tegan can make it there, too, since she’s at work and close.” The idea that Nika might need the MDs again had Vincente’s lip curling. He was doing his level best to keep his emotions shut off. If he allowed them in, he was done. Though he did make an exception for rage. He welcomed that motherfucker, giving it permission to sweep through him like an F-5, smoking anything soft that had ever resided within him. Just like Sophia, Nika was gone. Only she’d left him by choice. And she’d known she was going to. He’d noted when he was putting his boots on that her phone was gone from his back pocket. That’s why she’d kissed him, thanked him, before going off with Eva. He got that now. It had been her good-bye. Why the fuck was she doing this? He knew how to deal with men like Kevin Nollan. Did it every day. Yet she’d fucked them over and left him behind to go up against that monster on her own. The only thing that would save her from his wrath was that Vincente understood. He’d have done the same. He heard Gabriel give Vasily their destination’s address before hanging up. “They’ll bring Vasily’s private ambulance just in case Paynne needs it.” He didn’t respond, knowing they were all thinking it would probably be Nika who needed it more. His vision tunneled, seeming to focus on nothing but the empty stretch of road ahead of them as the Kombat ate up the miles. “Move faster.” His words came out stone cold with zero emotion. Already dead. Just like him. “Don’t want the cops on our ass, V. And I don’t want to get us killed. Can’t do shit to help them if we end up wrapped around a pole.” Maksim was calm and controlled but for different reasons. He was in the zone. Vincente was just dead. “Might be too late,” he murmured, an image of Nika broken and gone flashing into his mind. And staying there. The light in her eyes snuffed out by the man Vincente had failed to find. Gabriel leaned into his periphery from the backseat as the snap and click of a weapon let everyone know Quan was getting ready. “She was only minutes before us, brother. And we know where we’re going. We might even make it there ahead of her. She’ll be fine.” Empty words. Empty chest. Empty head. “Only takes a second,” he whispered too quietly for anyone to hear.

Lore left the station without bothering to call in backup. His thinking was that he could head straight home afterward and fill in the report on the big, whopping nothing he was bound to find in the morning. If he dragged a team with him now, he might have to return to the precinct when he’d promised the siblings he’d meet them at their family’s deli for lunch. He’d canceled on them too often lately. Ashlyn, who’d just turned twenty-five last week, would be disappointed if he did it again. Michael, who was twenty-eight, would understand. Lore would be thirty-three at the end of the month, and he still wasn’t a big fan of disappointing his parents, who would also be waiting on him. Besides, it was easy enough to call for backup if the need arose, which he truly didn’t think it would. Not the way shit was going with this case. Which happened to be no better than the ones the feds were now struggling with. Their redhead killer was still out there. So was the guy drugging young girls so he could film them being raped and sell the shit as rough porn. Lore popped a TUMS as he drove out of the parking lot and headed for Crown Heights. The case with the redheads was one of those that continued to roll around in his mind. Even though he’d been officially removed from it, he had a buddy on the inside who was letting him know where they were. And every lead they’d gotten had been bullshit. The last one, apparently, from a guy claiming to have seen countless females brought in to have their pics taken against their will; the high-pitched crying and screaming had repeatedly woken him from a dead sleep. A team had surrounded the supposed house in Bushwick within hours and gone in quietly but aggressively . . . and found a fucking portrait studio for babies. Fucking neighbor hadn’t liked hearing the kids cry once they were tired of posing and had wanted the place shut down. Asshole. He reached over and turned the radio on. Had to get his head wrapped around his own case. They’d gotten a call from a random citizen saying they’d noticed bright lights coming on in a building no longer in use. The addy was in an area fit for an illegal operation. Hopefully this was the break he’d needed. Lore hit the gas and wished he was more than one man. It would make his job a hell of a lot easier if there were a few more out there like him who lived with this single-minded intensity and determination to take out bastards like these sick fucks they were gunning for.

Nika checked her mirrors for the hundredth time as she merged onto the freeway in Eva’s Mercedes. Guilt ate a hole through her heart. How could she have been enjoying Vincente when Caleb was out there with Kevin? She should have known something was wrong when he didn’t return her text, and then again when he didn’t answer Eva’s call. But they’d just shrugged it off, thinking he was getting laid. Her hands shook as she hit Kevin’s number again. He was doing this on purpose. She knew it. Not answering her call. Letting her stew. “Not gonna give up, huh, slave? Figured it’d be something like this that’d get you outta that fucker’s bed.” Kevin’s voice over the Bluetooth she’d synced so as not to kill herself had Nika swallowing the

bile that pushed into her throat. The sound was so much worse than the scariest horror movie. She ignored his actual words. “Please don’t hurt him anymore, Kevin.” Begging had never worked before, but she tried anyway. “Please don’t. He’s never done anything to you. This is my fault, not his.” “Not true. But that’s in the past. This here is all about you.” A terrifying calm had settled in his voice that was unfamiliar. “And you’re gonna fix this. Aren’t you, Niki?” Why wasn’t he furious? Cursing her? Calling her names? “Yes. I’ll fix it. Please, tell me where you are. I can meet you out front and we can forget about Caleb. Okay?” There was a hair-raising pause. “You serious about that offer?” He sounded like a small boy who’d just had a shiny toy truck dangled in front of him. “Ye—” “Don’t you fucking dare, Nika!” She stifled a cry at the sound of her brother’s furious shout in the background. “Yes! Yes, Kevin, I am! I’m serious. Where are you? I’m coming now. I’m already in the car. Give me the address, so I can put it in my phone. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Just promise me you’ll meet me outside and forget about him.” “Nik! You stay the fuck away—” Caleb’s warning was cut off, replaced by a howl of pain that Nika felt straight through her heart. “Kevin!” she screamed, the car swerving as she neared hysterics. “Don’t! Whatever you’re doing, stop! I’m coming right now! How do I find you? Please stop!” “How do I know you won’t bring that fuckin’ guard dog with you, you dirty cunt? How the fuck could you—” She cut him off, terrified if he got going, he’d take his anger out on Caleb. “I’m alone. I swear to God, I’m by myself. I know better than to bring anyone with me.” “You better be. Because if I see anyone other than you, the next time I sink this blade into your brother, I’m gonna do it in his chest. You got that?” “I s-swear. I swear, it’s j-just m-m-me.” He gave her the address, and she was able to input it into Google Maps without losing the call. It took her a minute to do so and not sideswipe the cars on either side of her, but she finally saw that red flagpole that would lead her to Caleb. All the while, Kevin was muttering. “You’ve been a bad little slave, haven’t you, Niki? But I’ll take care of you. You’ll see. I’m gonna try to be good. I promise. Okay? I promise. I got big plans for us. You just wait until I get my hands on—” “Okay.” She interrupted him without allowing herself to take in any of what he’d said. “I should be there in sixteen minutes. Meet me out front so I know I’m in the right place, okay? Okay, Kevin?” “See you in sixteen minutes, slave.” There was a click and then dead air, and Nika was alone with her thoughts again. She bit her lip and tried not to cry. She’d wanted him to give the phone to Caleb so she could tell her brother she loved him and how sorry she was that this had happened. But she’d tell him soon. And then she’d destroy that monster who’d done this to them. She and her brother would not be one more statistic. “Please, God,” she prayed in a last-ditch effort that she might be heard. “Let me free Caleb. I know we’re not your favorite people, but please help us through this.” God? she continued silently. If for some reason this backfires on me, please help Vincente. “Please help him.” She voiced her plea on Vincente’s behalf to be sure it was heard. “I don’t know why you haven’t helped me, but please help him. He’s been through enough. I love him so much, God. I’m so in love with him, and I never told him. Why didn’t I tell him? Sophia? If you can hear me, please help your brother. Let him know somehow that this, and your death, wasn’t his fault.”

She shut up, coughing to release the tightness in her throat. Jeez. The stress was clearly getting to her. Talking to herself, hoping that dead people could hear her. Would she be able to hear Vincente in the next hour? If this all went wrong, would she see how he reacted when they showed up and he was too late to save her? That just made her more determined to have this go right. She had to be smart and careful. Dammit, she wished she could apologize to him for choosing to save Caleb over listening to him. For wanting her brother to live more than she wanted Vincente to be free of guilt. But her whole past year had been for her brother. Everything she’d been through she’d done for him. How could she not follow through now when it mattered the most? Would Vincente mourn her if they didn’t make it? She knew he would, but would it be as a friend mourns another? Or as a lover mourns the loss of his or her other half? As she would have mourned him had the tables been turned. Thank God it would be over before the boys arrived. She wouldn’t have been able to go on if Kevin hurt Vincente. Or Gabriel. How could she live knowing she’d been responsible for taking Eva’s husband, her baby’s father, away from her? She swallowed a sob. Eva. Her sister. Soon to be a mother. “Please let me see that baby, God. And I’ll go talk to your man—I’ll talk to Father Michael, like Eva wanted me to. I promise I’ll see him every week and let him convince me you don’t have it out for me, if only you’ll help me do this right.” And so it went on, for the next sixteen minutes—Nika begging a deity she wasn’t sure cared to help her in any way he could. When she was a half a block from the little red flagpole on her phone’s GPS, she brought Eva’s car to a halt at the curb in front of a redbrick warehouse that looked as if it would crumble with one good gust of wind. She killed the engine and pocketed the key fob. After checking the weapon to be sure it was loaded as Caleb had shown her so many times, she tucked it into the back of her pants, pulled her blouse over it, and then got out of the car. She looked around at the deserted street. How could any street in New York be so barren of human bodies in the middle of the day? Normally, there would be a few, even homeless, scattered around. Not today. She took that as an omen. There would be no witnesses to see her shoot her husband. Going down an alley, barely feeling the grime and who knows what else beneath her bare feet, she poked her head up and almost screamed at the sight of Kevin not fifty feet away. He was pacing in front of a large old building that had a door huge enough to fit an airplane through it. He was patrolling closer to a smaller entrance that was propped open by something she couldn’t see. At a dead run, she went back the way she’d come, zipped across the street, and continued on half a block when she reached the street over—she passed by three people who barely glanced at her. Backtracking, she came to a chain-link fence and had to run along it another twenty feet before finding an opening to sneak through. So many things cut into the soles of her feet—bottle caps, stones, broken pieces of brick—but she barely felt them around the adrenaline streaming through her veins. She made it to the side of the building Kevin was in front of, panting and breathless, and tried the first door she came to, half expecting to see him round the corner. Locked. Cursing and sweating, she moved along the hot brick wall and almost stumbled when she saw this door was being held open a crack by an old paper coffee cup. She pulled it open just enough to slip through, her feet registering cold as she entered a vast space filled with what looked to be shipping crates. She blinked to adjust her sight to the sudden gloom and tried to get her breathing under control. The stench of stale smoke made her stomach turn over as she took out Eva’s gun. Holding it in front of her, she inched along the corridor the massive crates made up. She wished she could call out Caleb’s name so she had some idea which direction to go in, but she dared not in case Kevin heard her. Coming up to an open area, she slowed and peered carefully around the crate— Nika barely caught herself from falling to her knees in denial at what she saw. Caleb was across

the way, arms and legs strapped to a metal chair, a dirty rag stuffed in his mouth, face beaten. But it was the fresh blood dripping into his eyes that had fury blowing through her. Kevin had slashed his blade in a straight line from Caleb’s hairline to the top of his right eyebrow. Nika lurched forward, around cables and lighting fixtures, and fell in front of her brother. “Oh, my God, Caleb. I’m sorry,” she whispered. She tucked the gun in her waistband and went straight for the bindings on his hands, realizing too late that she should have brought a knife. Caleb shook his head violently, eyes wild as he tried to talk around the gag. “I’m so sorry he did this to you. I love you, okay? We’re going to get out of—” The very familiar feeling of taking one to the side of the head barely registered before Nika was flying across the grimy floor, bumping over leather cords to land in a heap against the side of one of the large containers. Kevin was there. “You fucking lied, you dirty whore. Like I didn’t know what you had planned. Don’t you know how well I know you? Didn’t you learn anything from me?” She scrambled to her feet and withdrew Eva’s gun, but before she could even aim Kevin backhanded it out of her trembling grip. She attempted to dive for it, knowing it was their only chance, but again, Kevin got her first. He wrapped his arm around her middle and lifted her off her feet to slam her WWE-style on the concrete floor. She hit so hard her back seized and her lungs choked in shock. Her head cracked, and the instant warmth spreading around the back of her skull let her know her newly healed scalp hadn’t fared well. Caleb’s muffled scream of outrage made it through the insistent ringing in her ears and cleared her eyesight enough so that she had the perfect view of her husband’s evil face glowering down into hers. She tried to force herself to relax so that air would fill her lungs. “I’m going to make you watch me kill him now, Niki.” Kevin sneered; the gouge from her ring the night they’d fought at the hotel was now a fresh scar under his cheekbone. “He’s gonna wish he’d been nicer to me back in Seattle. He should’ve let me into the club. We could’ve been brothers, and I wouldn’t have done this to him. But we aren’t, and you’re the one who’s gonna pay for that.” He plunked down on her stomach, straddling her, causing her to struggle even harder for that just-out-of-reach pocket of oxygen. A hard backhand split her lip. “Bad dog,” he taunted as she tasted blood. White-hot rage suddenly had a steady stream of power inflating Nika’s lungs, and she coughed around it. By the look in his eyes, she wasn’t sure Kevin had the control to let her live long enough to follow through on his threat to kill her brother in front of her. More likely, it would be the other way around. But she would not let Caleb watch her die like this. And she absolutely refused to leave him to Kevin’s mercy once she was gone. Her arm came up, and she landed what felt like a weak right hook to Kevin’s jaw. It must have been stronger than she realized because his head swung to the side. But he came back to rights in such an eerie, unaffected move it made her scream. The shrill sound cut off, however, when he landed his own fist to the side of her head, and then the other, and a third time, so that her head was whipped from side to side, straining her neck from the force of his punches. “No! Stop! I’ll fucking kill you, you sonofabitch! Stop!” Caleb must have bitten through the gag, she thought as blackness swirled, because his words were unmuffled. “Jesus Christ . . . Stop!” Kevin halted midthrow and looked over. Nika attempted to do the same but couldn’t. She was failing here, so badly. Her head was a mass of fuzzy pain. Her ears thundered. Her neck ached. “Please, Kevin, just . . . take me. Leave him . . . alone. Please.” She slurred like a drunk but must have gotten the idea across because Caleb yelled at her. “Nik! Goddammit! Shut the fuck up!” Kevin turned back to her, his eyes wilder than she’d ever seen them. “Why do you want me to

leave him? You anxious for what’s coming for you, mob whore? I’ve missed this.” He came in close. “I’ve killed you, you know. Over and over again. Five times since you left me I’ve killed you.” Ignoring him, Nika finally got her head to turn and she saw Caleb’s chair was on its side from his struggles. They were eye to eye with about fifteen feet between them. “You came here—so you fight, Nik,” her brother rasped. “You fucking fight harder!” The command drilled into her brain, pushing a final reserve of energy through her. She had come here knowing what she was up against. She could do better than this. With a move Caleb had taught her years ago—that should have been quicker but worked anyway— she brought her leg up and wrapped it around Kevin’s neck. She jerked hard so that he fell backward, his head nailing a metal tripod that fell over as he went down. He groaned and was stunned but not unconscious. Without hesitating, knowing she didn’t have a lot of time, she scrambled, feeling as if she was moving at an angle, to Eva’s gun on her hands and knees. She glanced at her brother but had to look away from the devastation on his face as she picked up the cold metal. She wiped at the blood that was steadily dripping off her chin from her nose and turned, the weapon out in front of her, wavering from the shaking in her arms. Her breath was coming so fast she was seeing fireworks, or maybe those were from Kevin’s hits. She didn’t know anymore. Could barely stay upright. “Red!” She froze, a moan slipping free at the sound of Vincente’s shout. His deep, rough voice bounced around the huge space. It clearly registered with Kevin at the same time because he snapped out of his stupor and in the next second was on his feet, his own arm outstretched, a gun in his much steadier hand. Aimed at Caleb. “No.” Her voice was nothing but a horrified croak. “Nik. Don’t think about me. Just take him out.” Caleb spoke quietly and calmly, but it made little difference because she barely heard him. Her vision was blurry, her arms felt as though she were attempting to hold up a tank, her thoughts too sluggish for her to even know where she should be aiming. All she could think was that this man in front of her had ruined everything. He’d ruined her career, her spirit, almost a year of her life. He’d ruined her best friend’s wedding with all of this, and he’d ruined the announcement of Eva’s pregnancy by casting his shadow of fear over them. He’d made sure Caleb would live his life the way Vincente did, dying inside from a guilt he shouldn’t be feeling. As backward as it was, her husband had even put a pall over her falling in love for the first time in her life. This fucking man had ruined . . . everything. Nika blinked through the pain radiating outward from her body, and she pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot was a loud crack in her already-ringing ears; Kevin’s sharp yelp was something she’d savor for years to come. She fell forward, the gun clattering away, and barely held herself up from crashing to her face. “You fucked up again, stupid.” Shock surged through her at Kevin’s gritted words. His arm clamped around her neck, and she was jerked to her feet, brought to face Caleb as cold steel pressed to her temple. “V!” Caleb shouted as heavy footfalls grew closer. “Stay where you are! Don’t come any closer! He has a gun to her head!” “This the guy that’s been fucking you, whore?” Kevin growled into her ear, sounding as if he was talking through clenched teeth. She felt something wet and warm on her right shoulder blade. His blood? So she had hit him. Just not with a killing shot. Her body instinctively reacted with a violent shudder when his tongue came out to drag up the side of her face in that way he knew made her sick. “Too bad he’s gonna die today, too. Unless you tell him to back the fuck off. Tell him!” he finished with a muffled scream that went into her ear like a railroad spike.

“Vincente! Don’t!” It was bad enough Caleb was in this nightmare. Not Vincente, too. God, not her Vincente. And Gabriel must also be here. Tears overflowed her eyes again. “Please go,” she rasped louder. “Don’t come over here. Please . . . leave.” No! Don’t leave me here with this monster!

Nika’s hoarse plea went through Vincente like a blade dipped in acid. Her normally sweet voice was broken, as if she’d been screaming for hours. The sound hacked away at what was left of his sanity. He swept the rest of the way past the last of the shipping crates, ignoring the actual words he’d heard, and blew into the open area like death in motion. His boots stuck on the dusty floor as he skidded to a halt. A hate like no other crushed him, radiating through muscle and bone until he was sure his eyes glowed red. She was hurt. Again. Damaged. Severely. Nika’s eyes were glassy with pain, unfocused, and the blood on her face made it look as if she’d just ravaged someone’s jugular. And that killer was touching her. Rendering Vincente impotent with that gun he held to her head. The roar that burst from his mouth was savage, sounding more animal than man. “Get the fuck out of here!” Caleb yelled, his voice barely working anymore. “V. Back up. At least one step.” Maksim’s calm voice came from the small speaker in his ear. He backed up. Nollan ducked, moving Nika in front of him when he saw that Vincente had palmed his SIG. “You know what? This is good,” the abuser drawled, teeth clenched as if he was in pain. “This is real good. Now we can have a little fun. A choice. See who means more to who.” The coward’s words were superfluous. Completely meaningless. So Vincente treated them as such and ignored them. “Let her go. Release her and step back. Right. Now.” That muzzle pressed harder into Nika’s temple, causing her to wince. “Don’t think so. My wife is where she belongs. Even if she has been an unfaithful whore. Now, get on your knees, spook, before I change my mind about my plans and put a hole through her head.” “Got him.” Vincente had seen the red dot come down from the ceiling—so as not to alert the target by shining it into his eyes—and settle in the center of Nollan’s forehead even before Maks’s composed words echoed through the earpiece. He narrowed his eyes. Wait. If Nollan moved, even one step—Nika was taller, and Nollan was ducking, which meant the shot would hit—“Maks! No!” he yelled when he saw Nollan twitch as if to take that deadly step. “Take him.” Gabriel’s words had bile flowing into his mouth. “No!” Vincente roared. He went on roaring because that’s when Nollan moved. Vincente dove forward, too slow, trying to get in front of that red dot that was now centered right over who he now knew was his life’s beautiful heart. In a distant corner of his mind he thought he heard the shot go but couldn’t tell for sure because he was still screaming. Disbelief hammered him as Nika was hit, her blood brilliant red where the stain slowly spread on her white shirt. He saw her jerk from the impact, heard her shocked cry of pain that blended with her brother’s shout of distress. Nollan looked

around in confusion when his arm jerked to the side, the gun coming off Nika’s head, just before his eyes flared and then died. He fell to the floor right next to her; the entry wound in his nearly shaved head was from a bullet that had come from the opposite direction to where Maks was. “Nik!” Caleb screamed, drowning out the scrape of his chair along the floor. “Jesus Christ, Nika . . . no! Don’t go . . . Vincente! Untie me, goddammit!” “No, babe, no. Please . . .” Vincente’s words were pain-filled whispers, prayers, pleas, entreaties. Please be okay. I can’t live without you, Red. I can’t. Please be okay. Not you, too. It was only when he landed on his knees next to her that he realized he hadn’t been thinking the words but saying them out loud. He snatched her up, watching as that tumble of flaming hair swept up from the floor. He had to check her wound. Had to stop the bleeding. Had to see where she’d been hit. But he couldn’t, not when her eyes, those emerald eyes now so dull, too dull, connected with his. “Love you, Vincente. Can’t . . . live without you . . . either,” she whispered right before her head lolled to the side. “Niiikaaa!” her brother roared as Vincente hauled her close to his chest, trapping her in his arms as all the pain in his heart thundered from his throat. The agony of a loss realized. And the misery of what remained for him.

CHAPTER 23

Gabriel looked at Maksim, their horrified expressions without a doubt mirroring each other’s as the excruciating sound of Vincente’s and Caleb’s grief reached their ears. “Maks,” he began. “No. I—I couldn’t have.” Maksim shook his head as if he couldn’t compute the goings-on and scrambled back, falling to his ass. His rifle skittered off to the side, the tech falling from his ear to land in the dust next to him. Not at any time in the almost twenty years he’d known him had Gabriel ever seen the guy so undone. “I didn’t.” He spoke in Russian now. “I didn’t take her. He moved—holy hell. I didn’t take that girl from Vincente, Gabriel. I couldn’t have.” After shuffling over, Gabriel grabbed him by the jaw and brought his head back. “Hey! We’ll go see. Right now. You and me. It’s never as bad as you think it’s going to be. You know that.” He held that wild silver gaze, afraid if he dropped it they might lose their already so badly damaged friend forever. “This wasn’t your fault!” “Holy fuck. What did I just do? To Vincente. To your wife. To the biker. I just killed an innocent girl.” “We don’t fucking know that!” Gabriel insisted. “Let’s go down and find out. I’ll be right beside you, brother. Come on.” Maksim’s eyes went wide, and he reminded Gabriel of a spooked horse. “Can’t. Can’t do this . . .” His hands came up to hold his head as he shook it back and forth. “Maksim!” Tegan’s voice reached them, and Gabriel shouted back from their perch on one of the crates. “End of the crates, T. Hurry!” More than one set of footsteps took off. He put a hand under his friend’s arm. “Maks.” “Go.” “Kirov.” “Go! I’ll be there . . . Just go.” The whispered plea had Gabriel going against his better judgment. He went over the side of the shipping container and dropped down to land on the dirty floor, praying things weren’t what they’d looked like from their vantage point.

Dr. Tegan Mancuso raced down the makeshift corridor, Vasily and Alek at her side. She spotted the biker first, face a gruesome, bloody mess and struggling so hard at his bindings he was leaving a trail of blood from his wrists as he inched toward his sister and Vincente. Sympathy rolled through her as she waved Alek over to untie the distraught guy before he did permanent damage. She followed Caleb’s stare to where Vincente was bent over Nika, cradling her and mumbling as if he was begging the Lord above not to take her from him. Tears burned in her throat as she joined him, skidding to a bump against her friend’s thick thigh. “Lemme in, Vinnie,” she commanded. He ignored her. “Vincente! Let me in. I can help her.” The eyes that turned on her had her blood running cold. Savage, ready to kill. A deadly predator fiercely protecting its mate. But there was more. Layered beneath the feral darkness was an incomprehensible sense of loss. Alarmed, Tegan put her hand out slowly, running it tenderly down Vincente’s cheek. “Let me see if I can help her, Vin. Please.” His tormented eyes blinked, which made the hovering tears fall. “Please, T. Don’t let him take her from me.” As Vasily’s hand landed on Vincente’s shoulder, she vowed, “I’ll do my best, hon. Now let me see her.” He finally relaxed his tight hold, placing his woman on her back. Seeing blood, Tegan immediately tore Nika’s thin shirt down the front and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. One: blood would be pumping out of her like a sieve if an artery had been hit. Two: the wound was well over an inch up from where the bullet could have lodged in, or passed through, her heart. “She should be fine, Vin.” Should be, because one never knew. She got to work, opening her bag to withdraw a package of sterile gauze patches. She tore it open and pressed one on the front, shifting Nika up to see the very pleasing sight of an exit wound, covering that with another. “Hold these for me. Pressure around, not on. And keep a tiny opening on one side of each.” Vincente’s big hands were there before she’d finished speaking. “She’ll bleed out that opening.” “It’s okay.” “She’s losing blood out of those openings, T,” he repeated. “It’s okay, Vin. That’s less of a concern for me.” While she talked, she yanked her stethoscope from around her neck and plugged the buds in her ears. The second she heard that racing heart, she fixed a needle and injected a sedative in Nika’s vein. Then she listened to the girl’s lungs, which seemed to be working fine, judging by the steady rise and fall of Nika’s chest. She explained herself to Vincente because he was the type to want the information. “You’re supposed to only cover three sides of the wound, leaving one open so air can escape. Because if a bubble of oxygen enters the pleural cavity, the lungs can collapse. Bare bones, but there you have it.” “Okay.” See? He’d needed to know. A waft of air behind her precipitated Caleb’s arrival; Alek hung back a little, expression as concerned as all the others. “Jesus Christ, Nik,” Caleb whispered hoarsely as he grabbed her hand, his wrists looking as if they’d been gnawed on by a wild animal. “Why the fuck did you come here? You shouldn’t have fucking come . . .” He seemed to choke on his own words. “Is she . . . ?”

“She’ll be okay,” Tegan assured him, too, before turning her head toward Vasily, while keeping her eyes on the task at hand. “Shouldn’t Yuri be here by now? Would you send someone out to see? We’ll need the stretch—” “I’ll carry her.” She glanced at Vincente. “She’ll be better laid out. Sorry.” Her attention went back to Vasily and she told him what Yuri should bring in with the stretcher. He gave her a nod and went off himself. See? That’s what she liked. No questions. Just action. Now if only she could get the nurses at the hospital to react in the same manner, her life would be so much easier. “Who had the gun?” The strain still evident in Caleb’s voice had Tegan looking over. Maybe she should sedate him, too. Vincente brushed the hair back from Nika’s face, allowing for a better view of the true damage her husband had done. The poor biker sounded as if he was swallowing vomit as he rose and walked over to who had to be Nika’s abuser and started whaling on the corpse with his booted foot. Over and over. Until Gabriel showed up and yanked him back. “That’s over,” he said to Caleb before meeting her eyes. “How is she?” “She’ll be okay,” Tegan reassured, hoping the biker had found some much-needed closure with that morbid display. Not that she blamed him in the least for wanting to obliterate that scumbag. Gabriel sagged. “Thank fuck. Maks is freaking out.” Vincente made a rough sound, and Gabriel looked at him. “Can’t control it all, right?” he said, parroting Vincente’s favorite expression. He let that settle in and turned back to the biker, looking at the mess his face was in. “You okay, brother?” Caleb ignored him and came down beside Nika again to rest his palms lightly on the sides of his sister’s head, almost as if he were trying to absorb her pain. “Who had the gun?” he asked again. There was a pause and then Gabriel said, “Kirov.” Caleb nodded once. “And the other one?” “What other one?” Gabriel frowned. Vincente looked up in confusion. “Who took the shot that killed Nollan?” Caleb asked impatiently. “I did.” They all turned at the claim, and Tegan felt her mouth pop open in a very unprofessional O. As in oh, shit and not oh, baby, she assured herself. Detective Lorenzo Russo of the New York City Police Department stood, surveying the scene with a look that had Humphrey Bogart’s voice sounding off in her head. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world . . .

Lore had absolutely no need to ask even one question. He’d gotten all that was necessary from watching the grisly scene play out from behind one of the crates near the back door to the abandoned building. The redheaded victim being treated by Tegan Mancuso—Lore’s fucking chemistry partner back in junior high—was clearly the muse for the murders he and the FBI had been investigating. The man he’d shot had made that point more than evident when he’d confessed to them in a way that had made Lore

want to rip him a new asshole. I’ve killed you, you know. Over and over again. Five times since you left me I’ve killed you. Obviously, forensics would have to confirm, but it certainly sounded as though they’d gotten their guy. Now, did he want the specifics? Did he want to know why the deceased had been killing prostitutes, imagining it was this beaten girl? As he looked around, he again took in the lighting sets, camera equipment, two rumpled beds, and a desk full of papers. And several vials of an unidentifiable liquid that could very well be a drugging agent. He was pretty damn sure he’d closed his porn case, too. Or someone else’s. “Lore?” He looked across and met Gabriel’s eye. The overturned chair the biker had been strapped to lay in the dirt between them. The new boss to the Moretti crime family, whose underboss was very obviously involved, deeply involved by the looks of it, with the victim. “Lore?” He continued to process, ignoring Gabriel, a guy he’d known since he was eleven years old. They hadn’t hung out until high school, but by then Lore had known Gabriel Moretti was a good man. As good as a mobster could be anyway. As most of them gathering around the scene right now were, despite what they did for a living. Vincente Romani, who’d dealt with loss after loss; mother, father, sister, and now, possibly, his woman. For fuck’s sake. How much tragedy could one man handle before he lost himself for good? Quan Mao, one of two men who’d walked away from a Triad organization a few years back because he hadn’t wanted to travel down the road the leaders were taking. Lore respected that. But barely. Alekzander Tarasov, nephew to Vasily Tarasov, the Russian leader whose daughter Gabriel had married. Both Alek and Vasily were now standing side by side behind Vincente. Strong support. The biker, the one hovering over the victim, was wearing a vest that claimed him as an Obsidian Devil, VP patch clearly visible. The MC’s strength and influence was coming to rival the families of those around him in the organized crime world these days. It was this club that Smythe was trying so desperately to take down. The guy had clearly been another unwilling victim in this incident. And finally, Dr. Tegan Mancuso. Beautiful girl. Lore had had the hots for her all through high school, but she’d been tied up in knots over another guy. Jakson Trisko, if Lore remembered correctly, which he did because he never forgot a name or face. Talent of his. Probably a good thing she and Lore had never hooked up. She was in deep with the men surrounding her. Didn’t stop that dirty part of his mind from tucking her and those scrubs she was wearing into his fantasy slot for later. He scanned the faces all staring at him, faces that belonged to men who’d continuously managed to toe the line between good and evil for a lot of fucking years now. Yes, Lore knew some of what they did in the underground circles they moved in. Saw some of what they left behind, but only when it suited their purpose. Most times they cleaned up their own shit. And sometimes, like today, some of the NYPD’s. “Lorenzo.” Gabriel had approached and now stood in front of him. Lore raised his eyes because, even though he was a respectable six feet, Moretti was a good chunk bigger. He sighed good and long, just to be sure the boss got that this wasn’t an easy decision for him to have made. “You and your crew need to get gone. You’re going to wipe the weapon that took the shot that hit them and give it to the biker. You”—he pointed to Caleb—“shuffle around over top of where they’ve walked. And she brought the gun”—he pointed to Nika—“but you used it. I’m sure it’s not registered

anyway.” He looked at Gabriel again. “They were clear victims; you boys were not. You should be gone already. You,” he said to Tegan, getting a bit of a poke when she met his eye, “will have to remain with her to add a little respectability to this situation. And take her to your hospital. It’s close.” Had he just given away that he knew where she’d ended up? “Vincente—since I doubt I can get you to budge—you can say you met them at the hospital.” He went over and stood looking down at the corpse and felt a blip of satisfaction that he was finally going to get some answers to his thousand questions. “Name’s Kevin Nollan. Seattle address. His wife.” Gabriel motioned to the redhead dead-guy had gone after, his brows coming down when he noticed how Vincente now had her cradled against his wide chest as he headed for the doors; an empty stretcher was being pushed behind him by a man Lore didn’t recognize. A private ambulance was waiting just outside. Man, having money, dirty or clean, came with some perks, huh? Had to be Vasily’s. He inclined his head to Gabriel in thanks for the info. “That’ll make things move along.” He put his hand out, waited for Moretti to shake it, and then walked away, tossing over his shoulder, “Get you and your boys out, Gabe. Now,” he warned, pausing to turn back and meet the boss’s serious gaze. “Because if I embarrass my mother by getting pulled in with questions about why you and yours are showing up in my case, I’ll sink all of you.” The back alleys of New York could be special places, where a guy could grow up with a great group of friends, meet the girl of his dreams, fall in love, and live happily ever after. But they could also be a cesspool of drugs, prostitution, and murder, and if these made men were the only thing lending Lore and the NYPD’s struggling ass a hand? He’d take it, by walking away with his blinders firmly in place. He left the warehouse through the same door he’d entered and crossed the parking lot to where he’d tucked his unmarked behind a detached trailer someone had dumped, making for good cover. He took out his phone and sent a text to his brother and sister, asking for yet another rain check. He had to work on his official story and get a crew set up in time to take down the videographer when he eventually showed. If he showed.

CHAPTER 24

Two weeks. Fourteen dark, endless days. Three hundred thirty-six lonely hours. All spent fighting to stay away. And he’d keep fighting. Vincente shoved the timeline out of his mind—right off the cliff Fan Boy was standing on the ledge of—and slid out of his truck, not bothering to shut the door. One, he didn’t give a shit; two, he didn’t give a shit; and, three, he’d be back inside the leather confines in a matter of seconds anyway. He dragged his booted feet to the back door of Rapture, Maksim’s club, and showed his face to the camera anchored above the door. Then waited. The heavy metal swung wide and Micha’s pale-green eyes flared at the sight he must have made. And then the guy just stared. Vincente wanted to curse. Fucker wasn’t here. Again. “He here?” he asked anyway. The sharp shake of that dark-blond head pissed him off. “Where the fuck is he, Zaretsky? I know you know.” “Sorry, brother.” Fuck. Sucked that he respected the guy for his silence. “You tell him I’m looking for him?” “He knows.” Vincente nodded and turned away, falling into the truck when he reached it. Shit. Where the hell would Maks go? He thought he knew about all their hideouts, but apparently not, because in all his searching he’d come up with nothing but a whole lot of shit. He’d even given Vasily a call but had regretted it immediately at the concern in the Russian leader’s voice when Vasily had said he was having a hell of a time looking himself. Vincente started the engine and headed over a couple of blocks. “You seen Maksim?” he asked ten minutes later as he looked into Sydney Martin’s purple eyes. Those curious peepers blinked a few times at the question, the surprise very much not faked. “He hasn’t been around. Are you all right?” she added hesitantly. “You shittin’ me, Martin?” he asked quietly but with an edge. Her eyebrow twitched. “No, I’m not shitting you, Romani. In fact, I couldn’t care less where your friend is. I have more important things on my mind. And if you know him at all, you should probably have already figured out he’s holed up with his latest woman somewhere probably having a lot of sex. That sounds like him, doesn’t it? Yes. That’s most likely where he is. I’m sure he’ll show up in a day or two

with a sore back and walking funny.” Vincente stood there for a second, shockingly feeling a twinge of humor. It didn’t last. He wished that’s where his friend was. “Maksim shot my redhead in the chest fourteen days ago and hasn’t been seen since. I want to let him know I don’t hate him for it. So, if you do see him, tell him I came by looking for him. Thanks.” He walked out of Pant, leaving Sydney with her shock. Another forty minutes on the clock, and he was lying on his back in just his boxers, staring at the darkened ceiling of his bedroom in Forest Hills. Alone. Grieving because of it. But unable to change it. He’d been staying here since walking away from Nika while she lay in recovery. It had taken a while for Tegan and her team at Coney Island Hospital to finish with her—concussion, GSW, stitches over stitches, bruising, and abrasions. He’d ignored Gabriel calling his name, and as he’d fought through the agony and forced himself to walk out of her room and down that hallway, Lore had paused the conversation he’d been having with two suits and stepped in front of him. “Going for a walk, V?” He’d bobbed his head left and right to remain in Vincente’s shifting sight. “Want some company?” Vincente had grabbed him hard by the nape, causing the suits to jump forward, but Lore had quickly put up a hand, telling them to stand down. “I will never be able to repay you for what you did for me today. You ever need anything and can bring yourself to ask, I’m your guy.” He’d kissed him solidly on both cheeks and carried on to his living death, leaving the hospital amid a flurry of texts and calls he didn’t answer until the following day. Once he was able to open his throat enough to speak, he’d called Gabriel and told him he needed some time and had made it clear he didn’t want to hear a goddamn thing other than updates on Nika’s condition. Five days ago those had stopped. He’d heard it one too many times: “She’s doing fine, physically.” That physically always stressed. Fuck that. She was better off without him. As he’d known from the beginning, he couldn’t have her. Couldn’t handle it. Had to accept that. Couldn’t ever risk something like what had gone down with Nollan happening to her again. His dazzling redhead had almost died. Hit by a bullet that, had it entered two short inches lower, would have punctured her heart. And he’d have had a front-row-center to see it all go down. And would have had a hand in it. Because of his and his friends’ way of doing things. Agreeing to let Maks set up and prepare that shot, Vincente himself might as well have held the gun. How was she? he thought for the millionth time. Was she getting better, as Gabriel claimed? Was she in pain? Hurting emotionally as well as physically? Was she having nightmares? Of course she was. Yes, to all of those things. She was hurting, and he wasn’t there to comfort her. To soothe her and spoil her. To bring her magazines and lattes. To give her a foot massage and hold her close when she woke in the night. He jerked into a sit and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Holy hell, he was going fucking insane here. He rubbed at his bare chest to loosen the constriction. He’d never get this time back. She’d had to recover without him, and he’d never be able to turn back the clock and change that. Because you think she has to get used to life without you. And you without her. But that is bullshit! He shoved his hair back from where it had fallen around his face and ignored Fan Boy. “How the fuck am I going to do this?” he whispered into the quiet. Didn’t know, but he’d find away. Had to. He squeezed his eyes shut at the knowledge that he’d failed again. First with Sophia. Then with Nika. Who he . . . didn’t love like a sister. Not. At. All. Nika he loved with the whole of his heart and soul. The whole of his body and being. All that he

was belonged to her. And a lot of good that was doing as he sat there and bled to death out of his invisible wounds. Unlike Nika’s very visible ones. He shook his head, bowing it as shame covered him like hot oil, burning, eating through his flesh to sear bone. After dragging himself to his feet, he went into his closet and donned some sweats and sneakers and then plodded out to the far corner of his living area to where he’d set up a makeshift gym. He strapped on his gloves and started whaling on the heavy bag suspended from the ceiling. The clink-clink of the chain as it was jerked this way and that was familiar, but not as soothing as it most times was. He had to face it. He hadn’t found Nollan in time. Had only found him at all because the bastard had given himself away. A malevolent darkness beat through Vincente as an image of his redhead in Nollan’s arms speared his brain again. The damage done to her had been massive. All because she’d left them behind to deal with that fuck on her own, the way she’d been used to doing. She’d sacrificed herself for Caleb, over and over again, because she loved her brother. And she loved him. He nailed the bag harder, sweat popping up on his brow. Hearing those words from her had been as astounding as they’d been tragic. He hadn’t deserved them. Might have, if he was the man she needed. But he wasn’t. How could a life with him be what was right for her? She’d be in another cage. Like Eva was. Sure, Gabriel tried his best to cover his wife’s limitations with I’ll-come-with-because-I-want-us-to-be-together, but the truth was, the boss just couldn’t handle his wife being anywhere on her own in case someone got to her. Eva was restricted in her freedom, and that wasn’t going to change. And would only get worse once she had their kid. She wouldn’t be able to take the baby out and go into the city for a day of shopping. Not unless she had two or more of the boys on their ass, armed and ready to kill anyone who dared approach them. Was that what Nika needed? Could she thrive in that smothering atmosphere? Fuck no. What if he hadn’t been so distracted by their personal relationship? Could he have prevented what happened to her? What if he’d gone harder after Nollan? Done more? What if . . . ? He blinked. The what-ifs were starting already? Add them to Sophia’s list and he’d be kept more than busy imagining all the shit he could’ve done differently. Holy fuck, he had to give this a rest, clear his head enough to function within his circle of society again. Gabriel was being as generous as he could, giving him this time, but shit was happening within the organization that needed Vincente’s attention. Aside from so much else, G wanted his brother found, and Vincente—because Maksim was MIA—had been given the job. He thought about Gabriel for a second. Guy was the shit. They were on the same wavelength, as always. His friend identified completely with what love meant in Vincente’s world. Thank fuck he had his boys, he thought not for the first time throughout this ordeal. Alek had also been a help, even if to just come over and sit with him in silence as they both wallowed in their misery over a nice bottle of red. Fucking guy. Vincente didn’t know how he did it, going through his days so normally without his woman. Alek had walked away from Sacha to protect her from the mafia life, too, and he’d been barely surviving for a fucking year now. Twelve months, to Vincente’s fourteen days. How did the guy do it? He stopped drilling the bag for a second and caught it from swinging away from him, leaning on it as he panted. Where the fuck was Maks? Shit just wasn’t right with only the three of them around. From the time Vasily had brought the big guy back with him from Russia, they’d been a quad. He went back to it, connecting a series of quick jabs and sneaky lefts. Before anything, he had to get Maksim back. Let the guy know things were good between them.

Vincente continued his workout, burying his knuckles into the canvas and sand, imaging Nollan’s face. Trying not to feel so robbed that delivering death to the motherfucker had indeed been stolen from him by circumstance. Just like his chance at happiness.

Nika sat on the edge of Vincente’s bed, the left side of her chest aching only mildly thanks to the painkillers Tegan had her on. Her mind wasn’t on her injury, though. It was on the stubborn ass she’d fallen in love with. Where was he? she wondered as she had been doing for weeks now. Was he alone? Could he be with another woman? Had he decided that being with Nika was more trouble than it was worth? After all, their entire courtship—if it could even be called that—had been one life-threatening situation after another. And after losing Sophia . . . She shook off the thought and ran her good hand through her hair. Of course he wasn’t with another woman. He loved her. Had said he couldn’t live without her. Vincente was her man just as much as she was his woman. He just needed to come to his senses and accept it. Soon. Because her patience was wearing thin. She sighed as the bedroom door opened; the distraction was a welcome one. Especially when the first to come through was Charlie, who bounded into the center of the room, tail whipping, ears flapping. He spotted her and barreled over, leaping up like a lunatic to scratch at her jeans as he begged for a stroke. She obliged. “I swear that kid eats like he’s never been fed before,” Eva muttered as she sailed in. “Never seen anything like it.” She had a plate with two sandwiches in one hand and a large shopping bag in the other. She offered the plate to Nika and laid the bag gently on the bed. “Still nothing?” she asked as she did every day. Nika shook her head. “I swear to God when I get my hands on him, after I behave rather indecently for a minute or two, I’m going to kill him.” “I’d like to be around for that.” They both looked over to see Gabriel stride in, Jakson Trisko behind him. The bodyguard she’d met briefly in Seattle the day she and Vincente had shared their first kiss had arrived the day before. He was still the hard-bodied, angry-looking man with the scarred face she remembered. He placed the two large potted plants he was carrying against the wall and left with a nod in her direction. “The killing part,” he specified with a raised hand and a straight face. “Seems the stubborn ass is in need of a push, and I know just who to bring in to give it to him.” Another bag gingerly joined the one on the bed, this one tinkling and clinking slightly. “Show me where you want them.” Nika headed for the corner of the bedroom. “What’s the plan?” she asked curiously. Gabriel ignored her and gave his wife a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “You were curious about Maksim’s club? Looks like you’re going to see it tonight.” To Nika he said, “You up for socializing in a public place?” She nodded around her trepidation. She hadn’t been out of the house since they’d brought her home from the hospital twelve days ago. “Sure.”

“You uncomfortable around dancers that may or may not be fully clothed? Very classy, but still.” “Uh, are you forgetting who my brother is, Gabriel? Take a stroll through the clubhouse and it’s rare not to see some girl in a tank and panties—if they’re even wearing that much—getting her man a drink or sustenance from the kitchen.” “I don’t know how Caleb lives like that,” Eva muttered. “Is Maksim back?” she asked Gabriel, a hopeful note in her voice. He shook his head. “Not yet. But he’ll show.” He lifted the object Nika had purchased with Eva— and Quan and Jak—during their trip to Westbury Plaza this morning. Who knew Quan and Jak would be such amusing company? The two had certainly drawn their fair share of female attention. “Here?” “That’s perfect. So, um, will Vincente be at Rapture tonight?” Eva’s husband turned to her with a pointed look. “I’ll make sure of it.” Nerves exploded in her stomach, along with an anticipation that was downright knee-weakening.

With a rolling jaw and not much in the way of hope, Vincente once again parked the Kombat in the alley behind Rapture. He once again banged on the back door. And was once again greeted by the sight of Micha. “Get the fuck in here,” the Russian grumbled, stepping aside. Looked like his tenacity had paid off. He plowed through the door on a crash course for Maks’s office, and came to an abrupt halt when he saw his intended target. Maksim was indeed there, standing behind his monstrous ebony desk, his odd choice in art showcased behind him. Well, he was swaying more than standing, as though he were on the deck of a ship during one hell of a storm. “Ah, there’s my man,” the massive Russian slurred. Or that’s what Vincente thought he said. It was barely understandable. Because the guy was totally faced. Vincente just stared. Maksim didn’t drink more than one finger at a time. Ever. Never ever. He hated not being in complete control of himself at all times. “Hey.” He came fully into the room, guarded. Micha closed the door, locking them all inside. Vincente continued to move slowly, wanting to appear relaxed as he inconspicuously took out his cell. He sent a quick text to let the boys know what was going down. “How you doing, my brother?” he inquired as he put his phone away. A long finger came up to wave, all over the fucking place. “No, no. Don’ ds’rve that title no mor’.” Maks’s words were a confusing mix of Russian and English. But Vincente got it. And snorted. This man would always deserve that title. He’d saved Vincente’s ass on more than one occasion, and now he’d saved Nika’s. With that one bullet, despite it going through Nika first, Maks had stolen Nollan’s opportunity to pull the trigger on the gun he’d had pressed to her temple, which certainly would have killed her. “Yes, you do. You’re my brother, whether you like it or not.” He came up to the desk and put his hands on the surface, leaning over to look the wasted guy right in the rolling eyes. “Nothing will ever change that.” Maks copied his move, which placed them nose to nose. And, holy hell, the guy smelled like a distillery. “Don’ you fuckn’ dare try absolve me of my spons’bil’ty in this. I know what I did. Even ’f she survived.”

“I’m not trying to absolve shit. You saved my wom—You saved Nika’s life. That’s on you no matter what you say.” “F’ck you. F’ck you, you son’fabitch.” Maks’s voice cracked at the end, and Vincente couldn’t help but feel bad for what he was about to do. But he pushed anyway. “You think you owe me for what happened? Fine. You can repay me by accepting my thanks for stepping in when I failed to do what needed doing. Both you and Lore can accept my gratitude. There. We’re even. Feel better?” Vincente’s head snapped to the side in the next second, a metallic taste coating his tongue, from the right hook he’d just been dealt. The good two-eighty behind that fist stumbled and listed to the side, then slid down the wall to land hard on his stubborn ass. “Yur’ a f’cking liar! You hate me and won’ me dead fer hurting her. I know y’ do. I know ’cause I’d wan’ you dead if you did that t’ . . . t’ . . . someone like . . . ’stralia. Ya. ’stralia. Not that I feel fer her wha’ you o’viously feel fer Nika,” Maks went on almost unintelligibly. “Bu’ she’s close as I got ri’gh now. Coulda’ used Teg’n, I guess, but I don’ wanna fuck hur.” Vincente rubbed at his protesting jaw and had to smother a grin at the change in the topic of conversation. Guy and his dick. Only thing on his mind at any given moment. He went down on his haunches beside his friend of so many years, a man who’d been through enough shit to last two lifetimes, and palmed the side of his jaw. He forced Maks’s head up and locked on to those silver eyes. “I love you, man,” he said simply, never one to allow himself to feel embarrassed about positive feelings. “You’re my brother. You helped save Nika’s life by nailing that fucker. The fact that she got caught in the cross fire was a mistake I know you’ll regret forever. But it doesn’t change the facts.” He tightened his grip. “You get past it and straighten the fuck up, because we need you. You got me?” Maksim’s forehead wrinkled with drunken uncertainty. “You can’ f’rgive me, Vi’cente,” he whispered in Russian, his face ravaged by a guilt Vincente hated with everything in him. “Naw’ when I can’ f’rgive m’yself. I hurt tha’ gurl who’s a’ready been hurt so mush.” He nodded, accepting that. “But she’s going to be okay.” Grabbing the heavy mother under the armpit, Vincente hauled him to his feet. Fuck, the guy could stand to lose a few. Micha beat feet over and propped himself under the other arm, and they both led Maks through a door on the far side of the room and over to the massive bed against the far wall. They lowered him down onto the silky black comforter. Micha looked questioningly at Vincente. “We’ll take shifts.” The Russian shook his head. “No need. I have nowhere else to be.” “Me either, so it looks like we’re gonna keep each other company while we babysit the boozehound.” “Good deal. I’ll grab the cards.” He didn’t watch Micha leave but turned back to Maks, who was staring at him with an expression so tortured it made his eyelids feel prickly. “You’re turning me into a chick here—you know that, right?” he muttered, irritated. “Y’r f’giveness is a h’mbling gift. But I’m too close t’ the bottom of the bottle t’ tr’ly ’preciate it righ’ now. V’sily’s mad at me fer go’n MIA. Said I scared ’em. Gabri’l’s pissed, too. Alek isn’t, ’cause he gets me.” Silver disappeared as his lids finally slid down. “Wurd of w’rning—I plan ta play lackey t’ yur woman fer least a decade, so yur gonna have t’ tighten up an’ lemme.” Vincente chuckled weakly, chest aching because he’d never get to witness that.

Caleb traveled the back hallway of Rapture and didn’t hesitate to enter Kirov’s private domain when he came to the closed door Moretti had sent him to. Sweet digs, he thought, impressed, eyes bugging a little at the painting across the way. The office was huge, lots of computers, leather furniture, and one big-ass desk. Too dark, though. A lot of black. Forgetting the real estate, he focused on the man sitting with his back to him in front of a bank of monitors that showed off the fancy club and anything going on within a five-block radius, or so it looked like. “You mind if I talk to him alone?” Caleb asked Micha, Kirov’s guard dog who was sitting behind the desk. There was a half-played game of solitaire in front of him made up of an actual deck of cards, but the guy wasn’t playing it. Nope. He was leaning back, booted feet up, twirling a butterfly knife with enough precision that the sight had Caleb’s balls tucking up close. Save us, they cried quietly. Micha gave him a searching look and then inclined his head as only a guy like him could without looking like a jackoff. “Tread light, my man,” the Russian murmured as he walked by, leaving Caleb alone with his and his sister’s savior. Yet V was the one acting like a fucking pansy. This had been Caleb’s fucking mess, not Vincente’s. If not for him, his sister never would have been dragged into this nightmare with Nollan in the first place. She was innocent of it all. He was the one responsible. Nollan had made sure to spell that out after Caleb had come to in that building. One minute he’d been leaving a club with a chick that had come on too strong for him to ignore; the next he’d been tied to a chair getting the shit beat out of him. But enough of this shit. Caleb got right to it, too impatient to fuck around now that he had the idiot in front of him. “Why’d you shut her down?” Vincente spun the chair he was lounging in to bring his eyes around without lifting his head. Fuuuck. Caleb was pretty sure his balls were now sharing horror stories with his tonsils. The Reaper was his nickname just then. “You okay?” Vincente tipped his goateed chin, indicating the healing slice on Caleb’s forehead that Tegan had fixed up with tissue adhesive instead of stitches. Less scarring, she’d offered as if he might be concerned about one more mark added to the many he already had. “Dandy. Why’d you shut her down?” he repeated. “Not your business, brother.” “Fuck that, V,” he snapped as he wheeled away and began walking in a tight circle. “Is it because you’re not feeling her? Maybe what happened to her turns you off. You think she’s damaged—” Caleb was slammed into the wall so hard his back teeth rattled. Point proven, he thought to himself smugly despite the sickness now in his heart. He knew V had it bad for his sister. Guy was in love with her. Anyone with two eyes in his head could see it. And Caleb’s were working just fine. Only thing he didn’t know was why the guy was no longer acting on it. Guilt, probably. The same shit that was swimming like electric eels through his own veins, zapping him into remembering every time he tried to forget the horror of the past month. “That woman is so far above us even the angels have to look down to see—” Vincente’s lips pressed together, cutting off his defense. “Fuck off, Paynne. I’m not in the mood for these games.” With a rough shove, he moved back over to the monitors. Perfect timing. Right where Caleb wanted him to be. He tried to feel some satisfaction when he saw Vincente’s skin pale as his gaze zeroed in on the table Nika now sat at, arm in a sling, her bright head bent as she stared into an untouched drink. “Why the . . . ? Why is she here?” The pain radiating from his voice was strong enough to make Caleb feel even more like shit. He peeled his back off the wall and shrugged even though he couldn’t be seen. “She needed a night

out. She deserves better than roaming the rooms of your place all by herself.” “So you bring her to a gentlemen’s nightclub, you degenerate? And she hasn’t been by herself. Eva’s always with her.” As if to prove him right, Eva entered the frame, Moretti cloaking her as if she were the fucking boss of the family. Good man. And as if they’d have brought Nika anywhere that wasn’t as well protected as Kirov’s club for this little experiment. He watched Vincente’s shoulders stiffen as Nika got to her feet to receive a hug from her friend, which angled her face up toward the camera embedded in the ceiling. With a reverence that was downright heart-wrenching, Vincente’s big hand came up, and with the softest touch, his finger swiped over Nika’s face on the screen. When Vincente spoke, his voice was tortured. “She deserves a man who won’t bring death and violence to her every time he walks through the door. You know what Nollan did to her—kept her locked up. Took away her freedom. How do you think life with me would be any different? You know what I do for a living. The circles I run in. And you know as well as I do every fucknut out there would be threatening her to get to me. I’d have no choice but to keep her in a cage half the time, just to keep her safe. She’d hate it. And one day, she’d hate me for doing it. She deserves someone who’s whole and stable. Not . . . me. If anyone is entitled, she is. To a degree of happiness that I just can’t give her, Caleb.” Running a hand over his hair in a sharp swipe, Caleb had to clear his throat before he could squeeze out a breath, let alone talk. “She’s . . .” Again with the throat. “She’s hard-core in love with you, brother.” The guy shook his stupid, inflexible-as-a-brick head. “She’ll get over it.” “No. She won’t.” You fucking moron, he added silently. Never out loud. He wasn’t the moron— wasn’t picking a fight with the Reaper. He went over and stood beside Boulder for Brains. “She won’t get over this any more than you will. You haven’t seen her the past couple of weeks.” V didn’t say anything for a long time. He just stood there staring at Nika’s image on the small screen, watching her talk with Eva and Tegan, who had just walked in, while Gabriel stood next to the table chatting with Quan and Jak. “She’ll be fine.” Fine. Right. Caleb felt that same burning anger ride up his throat that he’d felt when he’d held his sister as she cried her eyes out the morning after that horrific scene with Kevin. “Yeah. Fuck you, V. Fuck you if you think she’s gonna be fine. You know, I think maybe I was right before. I think maybe you’re not feeling her.” He didn’t even flinch when he was speared with another deadly stare. “Because a man in love with a woman would do anything not to hurt her, like Moretti with Eva. But you? Nah, not so much.” He made an impatient cutting motion with his hand and spun away to stalk to the door. “You just keep watching that monitor and we’ll see how many fucks you don’t give,” he spat as he slammed out, his cell already at his ear. Let the good times roll, motherfucker.

CHAPTER 25

Vincente stared at Nika’s image in front of him and felt like . . . Fuck. He couldn’t feel at all anymore. It was almost as if the pain he’d been living with for the past weeks had manifested into a cold numbness that filled him out from head to toe. He pulled the chair up and sat, hanging his head off the back, eyes on the ceiling. He truly believed what he’d told Caleb. Nika would get over this and move on. She’d eventually find someone who was better suited to what she deserved in life. Huh. That excruciating tearing feeling behind his breastplate sure as shit didn’t feel numbed out. Fuck. His hand came up to rub over his sternum. He didn’t know how long he sat there with his head back, studying the slate-gray tile above him, but when he finally lifted his head, he was tempted to slam it into the desk in front of him until the fucker stopped screaming the word no! Fucking Vex was rolling through the club, proudly wearing his colors, two cameras picking up his trail as he moved into the same frame as Nika. If Caleb, who was also at the table now, had called this cocksucker to try to prove something . . . Nika’s fucking shit-disturbing brother took that moment to look up at the camera, nodding in a way that had Vincente slamming his fists down, cracking wood, wishing it was the biker’s smug fucking face. Vex leaned over to speak to Nika, his hand moving onto her shoulder, his thumb stroking. Vincente’s heart rate slammed into dangerous territory, his muscles locking down with a pain a million times worse than any GSW he’d ever received as he fought not to react. Not to go for his gun and open fire in front of anyone who wanted to witness what would be one hell of a massacre. He dropped his gaze and focused on the floor. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . Yeah. Sure. Like he wasn’t going to look. He shifted his gaze up, and they were gone! He scrambled to pick up their location, going from screen to screen. They were headed for the door. Nika and Vex. Alone. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. You’re letting her go, remember? It doesn’t matter. She needs to find someone else. Remember? For her own good. Within the next beat of his raging heart, Vincente was steamrolling out of Maksim’s office, palming his SIG, finger already on the trigger. As he blew into the softly lit club, Alesio stepped in front of him. Without a single feeling of regret, Vincente sent the kid to the floor with a right hook that sang, “Good night, Sally.” And just kept going. Gabriel and Micha were next on the happy train when they tried to stop him from reaching the door, which he could now see the couple disappearing through. “Hang on.”

“Slow down, V.” He hammered through them both, G receiving a crippling jab to the gut—had his knuckles touched a kidney there?—and Micha catching an uppercut to the chin that spun the tough sonofabitch like an out-ofcontrol Indy car in a rainstorm. Wasn’t going to do much to keep them down, but at least it got him by. Throwing open the metal so hard that it cracked into the wall with a sound like thunder, he flew out of the club . . . just in time to watch Vex’s Carrera peel away from the curb. Fuuuck! Rage was all he knew as he retraced his steps, ignoring the fearful looks aimed at him by the dancers and the evil ones by the associates he’d disturbed. He walked right up to Gabriel, gently easing Eva to the side, halting her ministrations to her man’s clearly aching belly. “How could you let her leave with him?” he roared. The volume of his voice did a prime job of shutting everyone in the place up. Like he gave a fuck. “Seemed to me you’d washed your hands of the sitch, V. She wanted some company. Asked if it would be all right to take him to the house.” Gabriel shrugged. “Who was I to say no?” He reached over and grabbed Eva’s hand to protectively tuck her in behind him, as if Vincente might hurt her. Which just pissed him off all the more. “I gave her the codes, and off they went.” Vincente’s head bobbed up and down, shock and betrayal a living thing inside him. In a move too fast for anyone to anticipate, he grabbed his best friend by the scruff, yanked him away from his pregnant wife, and landed a lefty to the side of the bastard’s jaw that he’d be feeling for weeks. “Thanks for having my back. And you,” he growled at Caleb when the biker stepped forward, distracting him from the guilt that had filled Gabriel’s eyes. “Stay right the fuck where you are or your sister’s gonna be laying flowers on your grave by the weekend.” He stormed from the place and was pulling into the driveway of the house a record eighteen minutes later. Seeing that Carrera in front of the stairs, he didn’t even have to think about it. His truck was sturdy, big, heavy. Vex’s flashy slut-mobile wasn’t. Vincente stomped on the gas and nailed that fucker so hard he was halfway up the steps before the two vehicles came to a grinding halt. He shoved hard on the door, because the sports car was now wrapped like a hot dog bun around the front end of the Kombat, and dove out. Alek had the front door swinging wide before he even reached it, eyes practically springing from their sockets when he saw the mess Vincente had made. “Where are they?” he growled as he shoved by. “Uh, Nika said she was heading to your room. But you might—” Vincente nearly stumbled and fell to his knees on the tiles of the foyer, the muscles in his legs wanting to give out at that. She’d taken Vex to his room? He looked down to see his gun still in his grip. Good. The biker was going to eat one of his bullets in the next minute. Just one more thing Nika was going to have to get over. And he’d help her this time. Thought you were giving her up? Fuck off, he growled to Fan Boy, who was already squeezing off rounds as he faded slightly. He wasn’t strong enough. Didn’t have the necessary unselfish gene that Vasily and Alek had apparently been born with to back away from the women they loved. He was selfish, like Gabriel. Selfish to the very core when it came to his redhead. She was his, goddammit! Body, heart, and soul. His! And now that he’d finally accepted that, he had to let her and everyone else know it. He surged forward once more, vaguely hearing Alek spew some shit about putting the gun away, but he ignored him and bounded up the stairs three at a time. The walls were nothing but a blur as he barreled down the hallway. The crash of his bedroom door was so spectacular; wood splintered, a metal bracket flying away to bounce off the love seat cushion before it hit the floor.

The first thing to register was the scent permeating the air. Oranges and jasmine. His body stiffened in reaction, hurting. The second thing: small metal lanterns lit with candles hung in every corner, soothing musical chimes tinkling around the bottom of each one from the breeze he’d created entering the room. The lights were dimmed, and as Vincente’s eyes grew accustomed, whipping around to find his target, other little changes began to register. Gone was the cold, barren room he’d lived in for so many years. Instead he saw warmth and color. On the walls, his grayscale prints had been replaced by warm canvas paintings of bright summer seascapes, Ireland’s green hills brilliant with life. Vibrant plants littered the floor and a few tables. Scattered around those were doggie chew toys—was that one of his riding gloves, gnawed and crusty with dried drool?—and rawhide. The sight reminded Vincente of a house littered with toys the kids hadn’t bothered to put away after playing all day. The bland, rectangular gray area rug he’d had next to the bed had been replaced by a large round one; the bright jewel tones of purple, yellow, green, and red ran together to form a vibrant polychromatic symphony. Throw pillows in the same colors littered the bed over the top of his royal-blue comforter . . . What. The. Hell. “Looks like we’ll have to call a repair man.” The quiet remark came from the right, and his gaze zeroed in on the source of that voice. Musical, soothing . . . Vincente had to lock his knees before he found himself on the floor. Where he belonged. At this woman’s feet. Nika moved a couple of steps over to stand nearer the bed, arm still in that sling, her fiery locks falling all over her shoulders and down her back in glorious disarray. Her eyes were glittering in the candlelight. He forced himself to take stock, and he prayed he wouldn’t pass out from how fast his breath was now dragging in and out of his lungs. She still wore what she’d had on at the club: a short loose-fitting black chiffon dress that had a Vneck and long sleeves. She had four-inch heels on her feet. Did she choose that to wear for Vex? Does she plan to take it off for him in my room, which she’s clearly redecorated while I’ve been hiding from her? Why had she done that? he wondered somewhere behind his rage as he caught sight of a perfume bottle and a treelike thing hanging with an assortment of jewelry on the dresser next to the bowl he used to throw his spare change into at the end of each day. Uh, he might want to pay the fuck attention before he got an eyeful of Vex sauntering out of his bathroom, showing off a massive hard-on that the biker intended to use to claim Nika on his bed. So. Much. Fury. “Where is he?” His demand came out so cold and harsh that Nika’s eyelids flickered. “He’s gone.” He blinked at the droll note she used. “But his car,” he said stupidly. “Was left out front to make sure you actually entered the house.” His mouth went crooked. Oops. “So, you’re finally out of hiding.” “I—I’m—” “In love with me. I know.” Her gaze glowed with a returned love that destroyed every single defense he’d ever had against her. “You owe your friends an apology, by the way,” she whispered as she closed the rest of the distance between them. Her hand came up, and she curled her fingers around the back of his neck. He trembled like a teenager. “Eva’s mad at you for hurting Gabriel.” He shook his head and continued to devour her features, greedily inhaling that orange and jasmine

as if it were the oxygen he needed to live. His muscles went lax; his brain shut down. His anger drained as his emotions overflowed, heart swelling to bursting in his chest. He was done. Through. Wiped the fuck out. “Are you okay?” he croaked. She drew in a soft breath, her lips pressing together as she nodded, and his love for her overwhelmed him. A love he would no longer deny himself. Could no longer deny himself. But she’d left the club with Vex! “What the fuck did you think you were doing?” he demanded with little steam. “Leaving Rapture with Vex?” “Getting your attention.” She shrugged, the motion careless as she released his hair and ran her fingers over his bristled jaw and down his arm. A wave of goose bumps flowed down his left side. “Won’t be needing this anymore.” She attempted to remove the SIG from his tight grip. Her gaze came up and locked with his when he didn’t release it. “I will use it on any man that comes anywhere near you. I swear to God.” She smiled. “We’ll find out their intentions first, ’kay? Because I think my supervisor at TarMor is a man.” Unable to deal with that yet, he ignored it. He wanted to touch her so badly. Didn’t want to wait one more second. So, like the selfish bastard he’d accepted he was, he slid the safety back on his piece and dropped it to the floor before picking her up with his hands on her waist. He hefted her against him, forcing her to wrap those long legs around him. She did so readily and circled his neck with her good arm, tightening it until their faces were a breath apart. Her shoes thumped as they hit the floor behind him. “Red?” Fear wrapped a tight fist around his throat. “You’re not . . . mad at me?” “Furious, actually,” she said as she brushed her lips over his. “You abandoned me. Kept yourself away from me. Made me miss you. Cry for you. I couldn’t help you through this. For that, you have a lot of making up to do.” And he would. For as long as it took. “Nika, I . . . Please, babe. Fuck, I’m so—” He squeezed his eyes shut. Dammit. His brain wasn’t working right anymore. But that was okay, because the feel of her against him, holding him so reverently, combined with the look in her eyes that told him more surely than any words could have that she was his woman, settled over him like a soothing, curing balm that finally began repairing his damaged soul.

CHAPTER 26

Nika closed her eyes as she held her man in her arms and thanked God for bringing her to this place in her life. For letting her survive Kevin and find something even better than what she could have imagined for herself. “I couldn’t risk you.” Vincente’s voice was so rough it sounded as though it hurt to speak. He tightened his hold on her and brought her over to the bed as he continued. “After what happened, I didn’t, I was . . . Shit. I’m so fucking sorry, babe. You almost died because of me. I failed you the first time out of the gate. Goddammit. How the hell could I take you as mine when there was a chance something like that could happen again?” He lowered them to the mattress, propping himself on the headboard so that she was straddling his hips. “I failed again. Didn’t do my job and—” “Vincente.” She tenderly cupped his face and brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones. “I almost lost you because of it,” he finished on a ragged breath. His hand came up, and he used the tips of his fingers to graze over her wound, barely touching. He passed a thumb across her nearly healed lip and then the fading bruise she had near her temple. “Vincente.” “What, babe?” “You can’t blame yourself for what Kevin did to me. Just as you can’t blame yourself over Sophia. What happened to your sister was tragic and so horrible, but it wasn’t your fault. It was just one of those terrible things that happen and she would hate it if she knew you’d held yourself responsible all these years. Wouldn’t she?” As Nika hated that Caleb was suffering guilt on her behalf. Which she knew he was. Vincente’s shoulder moved in a halfhearted shrug, his goatee twitching as if he wanted to frown. “She’d have loved you.” “I’m pretty sure I’d have loved her, too. And if she was like you, she wouldn’t have wanted you to feel this way. You really had no control over anything that happened to either of us. You must see that. You can regret not being in the right place at the right time, just like I’ll regret . . . so many things. But none of that will change what happened. No outside influence could have changed the thoughts and actions of Kevin or Sophia’s abductors.” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “This”—she motioned to her wound—“was my doing. I’m the one who chose to go to Kevin because he had Caleb. I felt I had to. But I could have told you. I could have called the police. I could have shrugged and walked away. But like I told my brother, you guys cannot blame yourselves for any actions I chose to take. You just can’t.” “I should have done more. I should’ve had someone on Caleb. I should’ve set aside what I felt for

you right from the beginning and found that fucker before he got to Caleb at all. I should have just locked you up in here like I wanted to until it was all over.” She chuckled at the absurdity of his thoughts. “I think you’re aware of how I feel about being locked away.” Dropping his head, he slowly brought his forehead to rest on hers. “I’m painfully aware of it. Why do you think I’ve fought this so hard? I know what Nollan did to you when he took your freedom. And I was so afraid life with me would be the same. I still am. Yeah, it’ll be wrapped in hearts and candy but still the same. You know what I do, the shit of society I sometimes deal with. Those fuckers will be threatening you now, the same way they threaten Eva. But I’ll do my best, just like Gabriel does, and I’m vowing right now to protect you with everything I’ve got, without taking your freedom from you.” This man truly was her salvation. “You’ve understood me all along,” she whispered in wonder. He nodded. “I swear on my sister’s memory, babe, I will never run out on you, never fail you, again. Let me make this right. Give me a chance to make it up to you.” His touch on her back, his big hand caressing her spine so gently, had her eyes sliding closed. Thank God he was here. All hers. “There’s nothing to make up for other than you not being—” Her eyes popped open as a primal, instinctual wave of possession washed over her. “Where have you been, by the way? Were you with another woman?” “Fuuuck,” he breathed, desire flooding his eyes as he stared at her. “That sound. In your voice. Incredible.” “Well?” she pressed, trying not to be charmed. “Did you lose interest in me and run off to console your guilty conscience in the arms of some tiny blonde witch?” “Are you out of your head?” His fingers dug gently into her hips. “You don’t lose interest in someone you love. Actually, the word love is something of an insult, because what I feel for you doesn’t even register on that scale. You’re what gives me life, Red. And if you think for one second that I could even look at someone else, you better find yourself some new drugs, babe, ’cause the ones you’re on ain’t workin’.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead and followed the strands down to wrap them around his finger. She’d known he loved her, but it was still a beautiful thing to hear. This was why she hadn’t given up on him. Why she’d given in for him. Not that she’d really had a choice in the end. She couldn’t walk away from what she felt. From what they both felt. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “Can I show you how much?” He drew her forward by clasping her upper arms. “Tell me that again, and then show me,” he said against her lips. She did and her chuckle disappeared into his mouth as he claimed her lips with a kiss she felt throughout her whole body. His big hands traveled down, so carefully, his thumbs strumming down her ribs. She savored the feel of his tongue rolling and playing with her own. She separated them after a minute and asked, “Are you okay with the changes I made in here?” He’d yet to mention them. “Love them. Every last one. Especially the plants. My mother loved plants.” She smiled at how easily he’d volunteered that personal detail. “Good. I have one more to show you. You ready?” His eyes burned with love as he stared into hers. He nodded. She smiled reassuringly and grasped the filmy material of her dress that had gathered around her thighs. Drawing it up so that her navel was revealed, she held her breath as Vincente’s gaze latched on to her surprise. Her lips parted on a breath when she saw the flames of possession that entered his eyes. “Nika . . .”

“It’s still healing,” she said quickly, swallowing around the lump that had lodged in her throat, “but it’ll look beautiful when it’s—” “It is beautiful. Holy shit. I think that’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, babe.” She was moving suddenly and found herself on her back, higher up on the bed, with Vincente hovering over her midriff. He hooked a finger on the top edge of her panties and drew them down slightly, and then his fingers were tracing the tattoo that now swirled below her belly button. The words Prprty of VR were nestled among lilies and leaves and curly vines; the entire work of art was done in differing shades of gray. “I’m glad you like it.” So glad, because, duh, it’s permanent. But even if he’d hated it, or had never ended up seeing it, she’d have been proud to wear it, because she would forever belong to this man. “Don’t like. Love. Love it. Who did this?” Around the distraction of his warm breath brushing over her, Nika frowned at the odd note of tension in his voice. “A guy named Ghost. Gabriel arranged it for me when I told him what I wanted.” “Fuck, I owe him so much more than an apology.” Vincente raised his eyes to hers. “I have something for you, too.” She let her dress fall back to rights. “You do? What?” “Two somethings, actually. One, I want to offer you a place at ROM Construct. I’d like you to tell G thanks but no thanks and have you do your thing with me. And before you even say it, Mario’s wife will be leaving anytime to have their first child, so you won’t be taking someone else’s job.” He didn’t notice her delighted shock as he sat up, helping her to do the same, and dug in the front pocket of his well-worn, perfect butt-hugging jeans. He held his hand out in front of her, only opening it once she looked down. On the tip of his pinkie, turned up to face her, was a beautiful, but unusual, wildly glittering ring. Nika’s breath caught as she took in the size of the princess-cut emerald that sat proudly and securely on an intricately designed black-gold band. It was black. Not shiny platinum or glittering gold, but black. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and the ring blurred out of sight. She quickly swiped at her eyes, probably smearing her mascara. She hesitated. “For . . . me?” she whispered, her throat aching. Despite being married, she’d never received a ring from a man before. “I don’t—” “Listen. I bought it a couple of weeks ago when Caleb and I were casing Crown Heights. Saw it in a jewelry store window and thought you’d like it. It’s not meant as a shackle, though. You can wear it or not.” He cupped the side of her face with his palm. “I’m not going to tie you down, babe. I promise. Like I said, I’ll do my best to allow you the freedom you need. The freedom you deserve.” He cleared his throat and winced. “I’ll do my best.” She put her hand out as well as she could with her arm slinged. “You sure?” She nodded and waited until he slipped the ring on her finger before coming to him slowly, crushing the beautiful gift between them. Not even the pain in her chest could have stopped her from holding him. She kissed him hard, loving him to distraction. “Love that,” he said against her lips. “Love that reaction.” “This is more like the dreams I used to have. Now I just need a Volvo.” She laughed at his frown and shook her head. “Sorry. Eva would get it. Just ignore me.” “I think I told you once before—that isn’t possible.” In the bathroom at the apartment in Astoria. She remembered. “For me either.” She lifted her hand as best she could and looked at her ring. “Thank you, Vincente. It’s so perfect.” “Uh, another thing, since we’re sharing. We’ve never talked about this, but I’ve recently decided I

want a kid. Will you give me one?” She stared at him and then nodded almost frantically, once more trying not to cry as an image of a small, black-haired boy with dark eyes sifted through her mind. “I would love that. But can we have some time for us first?” “Absolutely. You let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll be at your service.” Her body reacted to that, warming from her core out. “That sounds really good.” His lips tipped up, and he winked. She snuggled into him and hid her face in his neck, not sure he would appreciate what was coming. “Vincente?” “Yeah, babe?” His hand stroked over the back of her head, featherlight on her freshly healed injury. He shifted as if he couldn’t get comfortable. “Even though I know you don’t want to hear this, thank you for saving my life.” She rushed on when he took a breath as if to speak. “I don’t mean with Kevin. I mean in a bigger way. I love you with every breath I take. Please, don’t ever leave me again. Because when you do, you take my every reason to live with you.” His arms tightened around her. “I’m not going anywhere, babe,” he whispered into her hair. “I swear on my life, I’m here to stay. Now please stop rubbing on me. I can’t do a goddamn thing about it because I wrecked our door.” She straightened with a laugh that felt great. Looking back, she tsked at the mess he’d made. “Temper, temper.” He looked around, as if needing a distraction. “Hey. Where’s Charlie?” “Samnang promised to keep him in his room for the night.” He slid down on the pillows and she was drawn across until she was lying on top of him. She rubbed her cheek against his chest and took a breath. “You smell so good.” They were quiet for a few minutes before he said, “Red?” “Hmm?” “I need to thank you, too. I’m . . . grateful that you saw through what I show the world that day in Seattle.” She lifted her head and wished he knew just how much she loved him. “What you look like drew me in, Vincente. Make no mistake.” She patted his hard chest with her ring-adorned hand, just over his heart. “But it’s who you are that makes me want to stay.” The sound of a whispered “Come here, you!” had them both looking at each other and then sitting up. They turned toward the sound. A quiet gallop preceded a small black thing streaking through the door, and then all they could see was a muzzle and two cheerful brown eyes appearing and disappearing as Charlie tried to jump onto the bed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vincente. He got away from me when . . .” Samnang’s eyes widened when he saw the damaged door. “Don’t worry, Sammy. It’s all good. We got him.” As the housekeeper nodded and slowly walked back the way he’d come, head shaking, Vincente leaned over to scoop the puppy up and bring him onto the bed so he could join in the cuddles. Nika giggled at the dog’s antics, and then intertwined her fingers with her man’s and brought his arm around her middle. She leaned into him as he lay back, her head resting on his shoulder. His legs came up to surround hers. She sighed and rubbed Charlie, who’d flopped onto her thighs, between the ears. “Mmm . . . now this is one cage I don’t mind being in,” she murmured, contentment a living thing inside her. “And one I don’t mind providing,” Vincente assured her.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my agent, Nalini Akolekar, of Spencerhill Associates, I appreciate your continued guidance. At some point I won’t be so green. Until then, thank you so very much for your patient support. Kudos to the ever-fabulous staff at Montlake Romance, Amazon Publishing. JoVon Sotak, you’re wonderful to work with. I thank you, too, for your patience while I learn so much. My thanks extends to the designers in the cover-art department and on to the copy editors, Robin O’Dell in particular, and everyone in between. So much appreciation is saved for my developmental editor, Shannon Godwin. I’m indebted to you, and am so pleased our vision has meshed so well. Your input is making all the difference in how I write my boys and their women. A heartfelt thank-you for your insight and talent. With love to my family.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © G. V. Spigos, 2014

A proud and privileged stay-at-home mom, Nancy Haviland writes from her home near Toronto, Ontario, where she lives with her three children and one arrogant kitty named Talbot. Despite being an admitted INJT, she is a member of Romance Writers of America and the Canadian Authors Association. Sometimes she even finds the courage to add her two measly cents to discussions that interest her on her favorite online writers groups. When she’s not writing or reading, she can be found loitering around any body of water larger than a puddle, soaking up the peace. http://www.nancyhaviland.com http://www.facebook.com/nancyhavilandauthor http://twitter.com/nancy_haviland http://www.pinterest.com/nancy_haviland