Copyright © 2024 by Jolie Vines

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Editing by Emmy Ellis at Studio ENP.

Proofreading by Lori Parks.

Formatting by Cleo Moran / Devoted Pages Designs.

Cover design by Natasha Snow.

Cover photography by Wander Aguair.

Cover model: Jerryn S.

You’re asleep, on his terms, not yours, but you can feel everything. Shiver, little temptress

READER NOTE

Dear reader,

The murder mystery that began with Arran’s Obsession continues here in part two of the Body Count series. We have a killer on the loose. We have a new couple to tussle with now Arran and Genevieve are together.

As with book one, Connor’s Claim is a dark romance with morally grey elements and a hero who flies so far past the line of possessive-obsessive that boy’s a dot.

If you’re good with that, check the further trigger warnings then let’s get hot and sweaty with part two.

The multicast duet audio for this series featuring Shane East and Allie Rose plus others is devilishly delicious.

Oh, and yes, there is a secret code hidden in these books. It runs across all three. More info in the final book in the series.

Love, Jolie

TRIGGER WARNINGS

MANY OF THE WARNINGS FROM ARRAN'S OBSESSION STILL APPLY. (MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS):

Gangs

Sex work

Domestic violence

Sexual assault

Serial killer hero

Dubcon

Killing for vengeance

Morally grey hero

Somnophilia

Hero tampers with the heroine's birth control to trap her

Depiction of torture and murder (the watch-through-your-fingers type)

Blood play (limited, someone else's)

Sex while sedated or unconscious

Step siblings (briefly)

Body shaming of heroine (by non-hero men who get their comeuppance)

BLURB

An Amazon number one bestselling series.

I tried everything to get his attention, but I invited in a monster.

After facing a threat to my life, I found myself kidnapped and locked away by the skeleton crew’s enforcer. Connor is feared. Respected. And obsessed with me.

He controls everything, right down to my pleasure. His rules dictate what I can and can’t touch. When I can and can’t wear clothes.

What’s strange is how happy I am.

From the outside, my old life appeared perfect, but my father’s iron grip had suffocated me. Now, in the hands of my captor, I can finally breathe.

With the body count racking up in Deadwater, I never want to leave my masked man’s protection. Even if caring for me might cause his downfall.

Without realising it, I’ve become Connor’s claim. But how long can it last when the secrets I keep threaten us both?

--

Connor’s Claim is the second book in the interconnected dark romance Body Count trilogy, featuring a murder mystery and a crew who will do anything to keep their women.

PLAYLIST

Girls Like You by The Naked and Famous

Cola by Camelphat and Elderbrook

Midnight City by M83

Judith by A Perfect Circle

Closer by Nine Inch Nails

i like the way you kiss me by Artemas

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) by Taylor Swift

Come Through by Rui + Voluptuöus

On Your Knees by Ex-Habit

Rush by Dutch Melrose & benny mayne

Take Me Back to Eden by Sleep Token

The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens

Songlist curated by Jolie Vines Reader Group on Facebook. You deliciously sultry people.

CONTENTS

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

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Epilogue

The End

Acknowledgments

Also by Jolie Vines

About the Author

Chapter 1

Connor

The blade in my hand, cold and hard, reassured me in a way life rarely managed. It was a tool of my trade along with the skeleton bandanna tied across my lower face and the needles and tranquilisers in a leather pack in my pocket.

Keeping to the shadows, I stole along the edge of the night-dark mansion, alert for sign or sound of another person.

For the danger I knew was coming.

Once upon a time, I’d arrived at this house with a backpack of clothes and an expectation of living here for a short while. My mother had a new man and had fucking gushed about how we’d all make a home together as a blended family. Them, the deeply in-love couple, and us, the kids.

Me and his teenage daughter.

Everly.

I never expected to feel anything for her but disdain. After all, surely she’d hate our new living situation, too, and loathe the sight of me just as I would with her. Except she hadn’t. She’d liked me. Been kind. Welcoming.

Including into her bed.

That was the limit of it, though. Love at first sight was my failing.

Everly Makepeace had once been my stepsister and my obsession, but never the other way around.

It was the only way I could explain why now, a decade later, with no love lost on her side, I was breaking into her home to protect her.

I took a corner, my sights on a drainpipe that ran up a notch in the wall and which had given me a way into her bedroom on countless occasions in the past, but I drew up short, shock stealing my breath. Starlight glinted on jagged broken glass, the kitchen door open a crack.

Whoever was after her had already got in.

I was too late.

My heart restarted, and adrenaline rushed. I darted to the door, easing inside with my knife ready to carve Everly’s name into her attacker’s skin. Silence held the kitchen, polished, empty surfaces stretching across the space. I already knew from the lack of cars outside that no one else was home. Her father had a busy life managing the city and dodgy deals while wearing his crocodile smile. He wasn’t here. Just her.

Along with a stranger.

Treading carefully, I passed the kitchen’s Italian marble island with my sights on the exit, on protective duty I couldn’t explain. I shouldn’t give a fuck about this woman. She never had about me. She’d been everything to me then nothing, and nothing was where she should’ve stayed. Somehow, my feet kept moving. My muscles remained tight and my focus honed.

At the door, I held still and listened.

Nothing. No creaks, no voices. Maybe they hadn’t found her yet. I paused to decide on my route once I was in the hall. A sweep of downstairs or directly up to her bedroom. Aye, I’d go straight to her. Relish her expression of fear if I was the first one there.

Abruptly, something thudded. Footsteps. A muffled scream.

Everly’s.

I burst into the hall, cold panic filling me. Across the way, two bodies moved deeper into the room Everly’s father called the Council Chamber. A big man dragged Everly backwards, her bare legs scrambling for purchase on the floorboards and her pale, silky dressing gown flaring open. His gloved hand clamped against her mouth, and her long brown hair spilled over his arm where she tried to escape him.

His arm was right under her breasts, her curves threatening to spill from her camisole.

Dead man walking.

The decision came as easily as my jolt forward to intercept his abduction attempt. Crossing the hall, I sheathed my knife, the weapon unneeded. He was unarmed, at least at first glance, and I had anger enough to overpower anyone.

The man spoke urgently into Everly’s ear, whatever he was saying ceasing her struggle enough for him to free her mouth. I didn’t give a fuck. I ran the remainder of the way and raised my fist. Both spotted me at the same second, Everly’s eyes widening. Her attacker flinched, but my punch connected with the side of his face. He fell, dropping his hold on her.

“Connor,” Everly squeaked.

She recognised me. Even all in black. Even with my face half covered.

“Get back.” I snapped an arm out to guide her to a position of protection.

She took it. Crept behind me with her body against mine.

The man on the floor whipped up, a hand to his jaw where I’d hit him. If he could kill with a glare, I’d be sliced in two.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” he ordered.

Indignation slammed into me. I twisted to speak to Everly though never took my gaze off the intruder who’d dropped into a fighter’s stance. “Your choice. Watch him die or close your eyes.”

She wasn’t leaving my side in either case. My blade was in my hand again without conscious thought.

Everly’s fingers tightened on my sleeve. “Wait. Both of you.”

The stranger hesitated. Eyed where she touched me. “You know him?” he asked.

Everly’s quick nod nudged my arm.

He swore. “Listen to me. I’m not here to hurt you, but others are coming who will.”

There was something familiar in his voice, enough to still my hand. “What the fuck did ye just say?”

“He said the same to me,” Everly whispered. “He came with a warning.”

The man tugged down the plain scarf around his mouth. “I’m not fucking around. We don’t have time for this.”

Recognition dawned.

I knew him. Not all that long ago, I’d had him imprisoned in a room in my apartment after he’d stormed our warehouse in search of his sister. He was Riordan, brother of Genevieve who my best friend, Arran, had recently claimed. I liked Gen. I’d even respected her brother for trying to save her, though he’d got it wrong and eventually accepted that she wanted to be there.

What I couldn’t make sense of was why he was here.

“Excuse me if I call ye a fucking liar,” I bit out.

“I’m not. Red from the Four Milers called in your capture.” His gaze stayed on Everly.

“She’s a job to ye?” I snarled.

Frustration shone in his eyes, and his focus came back to me, his expression savage. “No, asshole. I’m here to tell her to go before someone else makes that decision for her.”

The Four Milers were a rival gang in the city of Deadwater. Why the fuck they’d put out a kidnap hit on the mayor’s daughter was a mystery, yet it didn’t feel like a lie.

Then there was the reason I’d come here in the first place. A hunch that recent murders in the city had been related to me, and that the next target might be someone I cared about. Or used to anyway. It had spurred panic.

I’d run to Everly’s side like I was whipped.

Lights strobed in the hall, stark against the darkness. The rumble of an engine followed, maybe even more than one.

Riordan’s head snapped toward the sound. “That’s them. You need to leave.” Again, he spoke to her, but then he shot that angry gaze to me. “Take her away or I will.”

Antagonism rose in a hot wave, boosted by other emotions. Fear of others wanting her. A gang. This jack-off. The image returned of him touching her. His threat to claim her unleashed jealousy that directed my hand into a fist and snapped out another punch.

It connected. Riordan spun back from the force.

I didn’t wait to see him land, grasping Everly’s hand to lead her into the hall. A quick glance left showed headlights illuminating the glass inserts around the big front door. Whoever was approaching was coming in hot.

With any luck, we’d have time to leave the way I’d come in.

At the kitchen door, I peered out. Glass crunched under my boots. Everly took a sharp inhale of breath, and I peered back to see her wince and lift her foot.

Blood welled from a cut.

Horror trickled through my veins. I’d killed men in their sleep. Or wide awake and hanging from chains in front of me. Never once had the sight of blood affected me.

Except it was hers… Had to keep moving. Ducking, I put my shoulder to her belly and lifted her fireman-style, ignoring her huff of breath.

Then I was out the door and running. Down along flowerbeds. Over a low wall that divided the patio from a formal knot garden. A flight of steps that led to a sunken lawn with a fountain, but if you went left and under a tree, an animal track led to a gap in the fence.

My route in and out as a younger man, and our salvation now.

“Stop,” Everly begged.

“No. We need to get out of here.”

I scrambled through bushes and up a slope to the edge of the neighbours’ wide garden. They had an access alley to a side street. It was where I’d left my car.

“He can’t be right. Why would a gang come after me? It was probably security arriving,” she argued. “Connor, stop. I’ll yell if you don’t.”

Everly had always been on the naïve side.

Despite her Machiavellian father. Despite the disturbing undercurrent of the city we lived in. Where I dwelled in darkness, she’d always summoned light.

She wrenched at me so I stumbled, correcting my balance to set her down at the base of the huge oak tree that temporarily concealed us. She hobbled, her injured foot held up from the earth. “Thank you. This is a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

Blood pounded in my ears. With my back to her, I pulled my kit from my pocket. In easy, well-practiced motions, I had a needle in my hand and ready to go.

“…no clue what that man meant,” Everly was saying, her hands moving with her words. “If we just—”

I embraced her and stabbed her arse in a fluid movement.

Her beautiful face rose to mine. Lines of confusion shaped on her forehead then disappeared. She tried to form a question, but those treacherous eyes rolled back, and Everly passed out, draping gracefully against me.

I didn’t wait around, lifting her again to get us to safety. The alley was clear, an automatic light flickering but not coming on. Out on the street, I paused to make sure there was no one watching then crept to my car and laid the lass across the back seat, all with barely a sound to alert the neighbours.

From the driver’s seat, I regarded the unconscious woman in my rearview mirror. In my haste to get her out of sight, I hadn’t taken care to cover her with her dressing gown, and her body was mine to stare at.

Expensive ivory nightwear, a tumble of brunette curls.

Everly had curves for days. Thick thighs I’d tried and failed to stop dreaming about. A rack that could make a man cry. She’d never liked her body, but I’d worshipped her, dropping kisses on her soft belly and loving every inch of her creamy skin.

That was then and this was now.

Her camisole was askew so one breast had half fallen out, her dressing gown lace concealing her nipple like the best kind of peep show. At the apex of her thighs, her silk shorts stretched over her mound, giving me a lewd outline of her shape. Parts of her I’d once traced with my tongue.

Despite every resolve I’d ever had with this woman, my dick thickened in my black jeans.

Anger followed. Never again would I succumb to wanting her. No matter how my body betrayed me, I was only here for one thing, and it wasn’t that.

The engine rumbled, but I kept the car’s lights off. There were few other vehicles parked on this road of mansions, most people tucking their expensive rides away in garages or on their driveways.

Except for a black motorbike, propped up kerbside behind us.

Just as I’d recognised the intruder in Everly’s home, I knew his bike, too. Riordan had ridden it to the warehouse, and I’d memorised the model and plate.

Throwing my car into reverse, I slammed into it, sending the machine skidding with the crunch of broken glass.

Fuck him for being here tonight. Fuck him for stealing my thunder and apparently wanting to save her.

And fuck me for the twisted thoughts that, even though she’d rejected me, said to my face that no, she didn’t want me, now Everly was in my possession, I was going to bleed out from old wounds when it came time to let her go.

Chapter 2

Everly

My fingertips grazed soft sheets, and I battled to open my eyes, awash with the drug that had stolen my consciousness. My eyelids fluttered apart a few millimetres, and I glimpsed midnight-blue bedding. A dark wood frame. A brick wall beyond.

Connor’s bedroom?

Had to be. If I wasn’t furious at him, or as much as I could be of that negative emotion, I’d be thrilled at my location. After all I’d done to get to him, this was an opportunity I’d sought out.

My thoughts moved lazily though my body was flickering to life. I took a deep inhale, filling my lungs with the clean masculine scent that clung to the sheets. Heavenly. It took me back to teenage nights like a spectre stealing the past decade of pain neatly away.

I must have passed out again because the next time I woke, it was from a dream. I’d been in the hallway of my father’s home, the front door open and sunlight spilling in. My father showed a woman into the house, her suitcase in his hand, and her bright chatter filling the space.

I stood in a white-and-blue flower dress, with my shoulders back and a dutiful smile installed, maybe a little rigid, bouncing my gaze from the newlyweds to the person behind her. The son, taller than his mother, and more man than boy, though he was only a year older than me at sixteen, entered my home. He had a thatch of messy brown hair that fell into his blue eyes and a scowl that was the polar opposite to my welcoming expression.

After his handsome face, I took in his broad shoulders. Biceps under a band t-shirt. The beat of music from the headphones discarded at his neck.

Startled at my very first bolt of lust, I darted a glance at the adults, but they were wrapped up in themselves. My father squeezing his new love’s bottom and ushering her straight upstairs with no regard for me or even an introduction. If I’d had any faith, I would’ve prayed that his happiness be long-lasting. That it might change him for the better. But no god had ever answered me before, and I didn’t bother asking now.

Instead, I fixed my smile on my new stepbrother. “You’re Connor, right?”

Those eyes slashed to me. Skirted over me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and with interest piercing his obvious misery. My pulse sped up.

My father had associates who looked at me with a male assessment I’d learned to hate and fear. They’d done so from the minute I’d grown breasts I couldn’t conceal.

Their stares creeped me out.

Connor’s warmed my blood.

In a heartbeat, the awkward moment of meeting new family members, who to this point had been complete strangers, changed into something far nicer. I’d been fifteen and feeling things I never had before.

Or since.

The dream lifted, wakefulness returning. I flexed my fingers and then my toes, stretching out a leg so touch could inform me before sight did if I was alone. The bed was empty, and no sounds reached me bar the distant thud of music and an even fainter siren. Business as usual in Deadwater.

For a few minutes, I waited, breathing in the air of Connor’s apartment, and let the drug leave my brain.

I wasn’t sure how many hours had passed, but I’d gone to bed at ten, then had woken to a sound which had led me downstairs, investigating. That had probably been about midnight. There, the man had grabbed me, swiftly followed by Connor appearing as if by magic and rescuing me by means I couldn’t remember as he’d knocked me out. I racked my brain. What had the stranger said? A gang had ordered my kidnap? I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t that valuable.

Taking another cleansing breath, I sat up with my fingertips to my forehead for a moment as my brain spun in dizzy circles. When my vision settled, I took in my surroundings. Those red-brick walls met the spacious bedroom’s oak floors, and the room was comfortable with no clutter, but it was the window that pulled my attention. From floor height, it rose almost to the ceiling and was arched with the same bricks.

A dead giveaway to my location.

I was in the riverside warehouse where Connor worked, a huge red-brick-and-steel building previously used for shipping and at least eight storeys high. The ground floor was split between a vibrant nightclub on one side and an exclusive strip club on the other. Above that, a brothel operated, unadvertised but renowned and popular with the men of the city, including my father.

It was how I knew about the place. Father saw no reason to shelter me from his activities. I managed his membership and arranged bookings with his favourite sex workers, even ordering the women to his office or our home on occasion. I didn’t like it, but it was him I judged, not them. They were just earning a living.

Shuffling to the edge of the bed, I placed my feet on the soft cream rug below, wiggled my toes, then spotted the light bandage on my foot. I’d cut myself? Yes, on glass. He’d patched me up. I couldn’t even feel a sting.

I was still in the camisole and French knickers I’d worn to bed, though my silk dressing gown was missing and nowhere in sight. Connor must have taken it off me at some point.

I ran my hands down my thighs, regretting what he would’ve seen.

If only it had been one of my better weeks, when I’d been to the gym and eaten well. Then again, he’d always told me he loved my body exactly how it was. It was his words I played over in my mind when hearing my father’s jibes, or if I went into a boutique to enquire about a cute dress only to be told they didn’t stock my size.

Connor had liked me, then. Made me feel better about myself. I didn’t want to know his judgement now.

Easing to my feet, I crossed the room to peer from the window, my palms to the cool panes of glass. The city sparkled, and Deadwater River gleamed from the lights along the cobbled walkway that led to the centre of town in the distance ahead. Below, people were leaving the clubs, in groups or staggering along solo, and the lack of queues outside told me it was late. Or early, rather, on Sunday morning.

If anything else had happened at my house, if the security team I hadn’t called had somehow shown up, or if my father had been alerted, I had no way of knowing. I’d left my phone upstairs, and there it would’ve stayed.

A strange sense of peace filled me. I was in the eye of a storm, unable to see the surrounding danger, but also unable to move on. Not until I’d spoken to Connor.

It hurt a little that he wasn’t here watching over me while I slept, but at the same point, why would he? After what I’d done to him, he hated me.

I turned from the stunning view and moved back to the bed. A piece of paper on a bedside table caught my eye. I hadn’t noticed it when I woke but picked it up now from where it waited next to a tall glass of water, condensation beading on the outside.

DRINK ME, was written in capital letters.

My heart thumped. An instruction, left for me. Come to mention it, my mouth was as dry as a bone. The cold water slid down my throat, waking me further.

I took another drink and turned the paper over, but there was nothing on the other side. Folding it, I strolled around the bed, curious about the home my ex-stepbrother had created for himself. The reason I’d wanted to see him was out of worry over him, but his home was nice. Decent quality sheets. Heavy furniture. It was masculine but tasteful and tidy. There was no art on the wall aside from a collection of knives, some of which I remembered him having years ago in his bedroom in the mansion.

I drifted over to them, taking in the blades, some revealed, others sheathed, the weapons held on supports drilled into the brick and the sharp edges facing down. On the blunt side of one, something perched, out of place. I squinted. Another piece of paper.

I carefully pinched it free.

DON’T TOUCH, he’d written.

An unladylike snort of amusement left me. He’d always been obsessed with knives, as long as I’d known him, but had never let me near them. Clearly that hadn’t changed.

Turning, I glimpsed a bathroom through an open door, the exit to the hall beside it. I stepped inside and used the facilities, checking out the single grey bottle of bodywash/shampoo inside the powerful-looking shower, a solitary toothbrush and paste in a holder on the sink, and a complete lack of bottles and packets in the cabinet.

No regular girlfriend staying over, then. Disquiet passed over me along with relief. I’d wondered about that, too. Worried about who he loved. How often.

On the back of the bathroom door hung a hoodie. A third piece of folded paper waited in the hood.

WEAR ME.

This was in danger of being cute—something that didn’t go with Connor at all. At least not the version of him he presented to the world. It didn’t strike me as some routine he put on for all the women he had stay over, though perhaps I’d find more that directed me to the door and kicked me out.

The hoodie’s fuzzy interior made me shiver as I suddenly felt the cold. It was September, and though the days were still warm, the nights were long and damp. I exited into the hall and passed closed doors to enter a big, open-plan living room and kitchen. Only the pendant lights over the counters were on, the rest of the space in deep shadows.

Another wall of knives gleamed.

I hesitated at the edge of the room, nervous but determined.

“Hello?” I called.

No answer came. Fine. I’d find him.

I’d wanted to be here. I had good reason to go hunting for him in the warehouse.

A couple of weeks ago, I’d overheard my father mention Connor’s name on the phone. Not his real name, but the gang name he used. Shade. Because he was a man of the shadowy night, apparently.

Father had some kind of deal with Shade, I’d gathered, and that knowledge had driven me to distraction. After all I’d sacrificed. After I’d lost him for the purpose of keeping him safe and earned his hatred in reply. After everything I’d done to set him free, he’d still wound up in my father’s clutches, and that was unbearable.

My mind spiralled.

Why had he come to my house? He didn’t know about the supposed gang threat to me until I did. If he hated me so much, why come in with all guns blazing?

Or perhaps all knives glinting.

Indignant, I moved to the front door. Connor might have kidnapped me, but I was the one who’d demand answers.

But another piece of paper waited on the latch.

DON’T EVEN TRY.

Chapter 3

Connor

In Arran’s office, I paced the floor, my best friend watching me with his arse parked against his desk and his dark-blond eyebrows merged.

“You brought Everly Makepeace here. Unconscious.”

Not a question, but a response to my announcement after I’d stormed in. A couple of hours ago, he’d called me to the warehouse to share information with me on murders in the city that had sent me flying out the door in a panic. Now I was back, he’d demand answers, and rightly so. I was never so impulsive as I’d just acted.

“For her safety. If someone’s targeting me, they could go for her because of our history.”

“Why bring her here?”

“It wasn’t my intention. I only wanted to make sure she was safe, but when I got there, someone else had already showed up to give Everly a warning that the Four Milers were coming for her and she needed to run.”

I chose my words carefully. If Arran knew his girlfriend’s brother had been there, he’d have to tell her, and judging by the way Riordan had behaved towards Everly, I wasn’t ready to share that information. I didn’t want him knowing where she was. Not until I found him first.

Arran swore. “The Four Milers? What the fuck is Red doing messing with the mayor’s daughter? That’s a risky game for a man in his position.”

He was right. There was a tentative balance in Deadwater between the gangs and the legal authorities. We ran the women, the Four Milers, managed by Red, handled drugs, and the Zombies peddled weapons. Over all of it, the city leaders, corrupt as a whole, took bribes and kept the peace. It was a system that mostly worked, and Arran strived to maintain it for the sake of the women employed at the warehouse.

I shared his goals but had my own role in the city, the enforcer, the clean-up man. Arran kept the women safe, I handled the predators. A win-win for everyone.

Any shakes of the system fucked with both of us.

“We need to find out what they want with her,” I said.

Arran steepled his fingers. “Let me put out some feelers. Is she staying?”

I nodded, though I’d yet to tell her. It felt strange knowing she was upstairs, in my bed. I’d left her there and forced myself to walk away, ignoring the fact it was a twisted fantasy come to life. Except with a version of her who hadn’t lied. Or rejected me.

That level of bullshit would piss me off for months.

My friend gave a warning. “Her father won’t tolerate it.”

“Then he won’t know.”

Someone knocked on the office door. The clubs had closed and would be empty, staff would be leaving for their homes and the warehouse shut down.

Arran called out for them to wait a minute then centred his gaze on me. “Who was it who issued the warning to Everly? You said someone came to her house. One of the Four Milers’ crew or someone else?”

I worked my jaw. “It’s better if ye don’t know.”

The person outside knocked again, insistent. Chatter followed, presumably a number of the supervisors and managers who wanted to get their final tasks done so they could leave.

After a beat, Arran gave me a slow nod along with his trust, letting me keep my secret. “You’ll tell me later.”

I shrugged and jerked my head at the door. “I’m heading out. Places to be, society princesses to keep safe.”

Still frowning, he let me go, and I moved past the queue of staff waiting outside. I had a woman to check on then a city to explore, and answers of my own were needed.

In the lift, I entered the code that was individual to me and travelled up to the top floor. On one side was the apartment Arran shared with Genevieve, and on the other side was mine. Usually coming back here allowed me to relax and breathe, but tonight, my heart raced. I paused, reinstated my cold mask of indifference, and entered.

In a pool of lamplight that fell over my sofa, Everly waited, her knees tucked up and my hoodie shrouding her. She was awake, unsurprising as I’d only given her a low dose of the drug I’d used to knock her out, but seeing her here stole my breath. For a moment, I lost track of why she was here and what the fuck I was doing. Only receiving the strangest sense of rightness at coming home to her.

Then I remembered myself and the scene nearly ten years ago when I’d begged her for a life exactly like this and she’d said no. My heart hardened.

“Connor.” She unfurled her legs and stood.

“You’re awake.”

“No thanks to your apparent new career of kidnap and drugging.”

She didn’t know the half of it. Nor was I apologising for what I’d done. If she hadn’t threatened to scream, I wouldn’t have drugged her, so this was on her. “Do ye know where ye are?”

“The warehouse by the river. Are you going to take me home?”

I locked the door behind me then crossed the room to regard her. “No. Ye heard that arsehole who broke into your house. You’re not safe there.”

Her big brown eyes took me in. “We have a security patrol on the street. I’d have called them if you hadn’t shown up. I would’ve been okay by myself.”

“Aye, it looked like it with that man fucking mugging ye.”

“He said he wouldn’t hurt me.”

I scoffed, poking my tongue into my cheek. “Everly.”

“Connor.”

A beat passed. My blood swirled, heating up.

“Why were you there?” At my hesitation, she pressed on. “Because I’ve come here a number of times to speak to you, but never once did you allow it. Then all of a sudden, you’re at my house in the middle of the night and now I’m in your apartment.”

Too many thoughts collided in my head, but I needed to keep this simple, so I took a seat at the end of the sofa and tried to ignore the bare lengths of Everly’s legs as she settled at the other end. It was oddly cosy. “You’re aware of the murders that happened in the city in the past few weeks?”

Hesitantly, she nodded. “You mean the two women?”

“Exactly. The first, Cherry, bled out on the church steps where she worked, and the second, Natasha, was killed and dumped on our doorstep. The method of execution was identical. Both had their throats slit.”

Everly paled. “Those poor souls. How does that connect to you? Or to me?”

By my brain making leaps and pulling information together in a wild and uncontrolled way. Still, it felt real, particularly considering the events at her home. “At first, Arran thought the killer was targeting him. They copied the way his mother was executed. Then we got the post-mortem report back for Natasha, and she was drugged before her death.”

Everly’s fingertips drifted to the site behind her hip where I’d injected her. Fresh heat and some wave of unknown emotion passed over me at the shiver she tried to hide. She ought to fear me. What I’d become. I wasn’t the boy she’d once known.

“I’m not sure I follow,” she said weakly.

From my pocket, I extracted the small leather zip-up case, opening it to reveal the needles and vials. “Tools of my trade. The killer chose the identical drug I use. An unusual one. Then he brought the body here. With the first woman, I’d been there that night in the same churchyard she worked. It’s possible the killer followed me.”

Everly’s gaze intensified, surprise there, too. I’d wondered what her da had told her about me. “What trade, exactly, do you use that drug for?”

“Ye don’t want to ask me that.”

She pressed her lips together. “Okay then. So you think the murderer is targeting you instead. What does that have to do with me?”

A good question. “It puts ye in the crossfire because of our previous connection.”

Her gaze flew from the drugs kit to meet mine. Disbelief filled her eyes. “Because ten years ago our parents were temporarily married? How widely is that even known?”

Annoyed, I huffed out a breath. “Your beloved father tried to bury it, but enough people would remember to make this a credible threat.”

“Based on that, you broke into my house? You’re reaching.”

“And you’re dismissing it out of hand. Women have died, and the closest lass to me is still ye.”

Everly dropped the eye contact and hugged herself, my hoodie baggy on her but not concealing the swell of her breasts. “I feel awful for those women but I can’t see that I’m in any real danger. Shouldn’t you be squirrelling away your mother, or a girlfriend or three?”

I leapt up and paced away to the window, hiding my expression so she wouldn’t witness the denial that wanted out of my lips. “Let me worry about girlfriends.”

“Great. You do that and I’ll go home.”

I gritted my teeth, her spiky attitude and resistance unexpected. Everly was a soft-hearted creature, made of kindness and care but without any real depth of feeling. I’d once believed the opposite, but she’d proved to me just how shallow her emotions ran.

Rotating back, I moved on to the next weapon in my arsenal. My only objective was to keep her here. Safe. Beyond that, I had no clue what I was doing. “Ignore my warning if ye want, but ye can’t disregard the man who broke into your house and the message he gave.”

She tucked a curl of brunette hair behind her ear, and her expression shifted again. “I don’t understand what he meant. Who was he?”

That answered my question about whether she’d known Riordan Fucking Jones.

I shrugged. “Does it matter? A gang is after ye, and he works for them. You’re safer here in both cases.”

For a long moment, she studied me, then her shoulders slumped. “Even if that’s true, I can’t stay. My father’s away on business, but he expects me at work on Monday morning. I can’t just move out because some random person passed on a threat without evidence.”

“I’ll take ye to work on Monday and pick ye up after.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t have clothes. My phone.”

“Tell me what ye need, and I’ll fetch it.”

She gritted her teeth. “You can’t keep me locked up here.”

I wanted to taunt her, but instead, I let my expression do the talking, like I’d left my notes to direct her earlier. Watch me.

Everly studied me for a long minute, then something registered in her gaze and she angled her head. “Are you really prepared to return to my house just to pick up my possessions?”

I shrugged. She extended a hand.

“Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Regardless, it was already in my palm.

“I’ll give you a list.”

I handed it over unlocked and with the notes screen up. Everly tapped away, pausing every now and again and writing a fucking essay. Then she brought up another screen, though in my act of pretending not to watch her too closely, I couldn’t tell which.

“I have an all-day function on Monday so I’m searching for an image of myself at a recent event so you can collect the outfit I’ll need,” she told me. She scrolled, selected a photograph, then handed the device back over.

I scanned the long list, pasted-in image included. Shampoo, makeup, fuck, underwear. I masked my flare of lust and shut it down. “Got it.”

“Be careful. Just in case someone’s there.”

Interesting that she worried about it for my sake and not her own. It proved she knew the threat was real, even if she thought she could face it alone. “See ye in a few hours.”

“So long?”

“There’s something else I need to do.” In case she was under any illusion of what was happening here, I gestured to the door. “That will be locked behind me. Even if ye escape, the exits off this floor willnae open without my passcode. Don’t even try.”

Her brown eyes glimmered at the challenge. “Looks like you’ve got me exactly where you want me.”

I twisted my lips into a cruel sneer. “Don’t kid yourself, and don’t get comfortable. When I’m back, I’ll find a room downstairs ye can stay in so we don’t have to see each other. The only reason I’m protecting ye is for the sake of your da, nothing personal.”

Then I turned and left, engaging the lock at my back and with no small sense of relief at being away from her. Any other thoughts of Everly were ones from the grave, dead and buried a long time ago when she tore my still-beating heart from my chest, dug in her pretty nails for good measure, then tossed it in the dirt.

It’d been there ever since.

Chapter 4

Everly

The lock clicked, and I was alone once more. The fight left me, and I withered onto the sofa cushions, confused and mixed up. Connor was so different. Not only with his all-black clothes and the extensive tattoos from the backs of his hands up to his throat, the gang bandanna around his neck, but also his anger.

It had done something to my body.

His being near had warmed me. The aggressive, dangerous male element had always been there, but now it was a honed weapon. Easy to imagine him doing gang business, however that manifested. I needed therapy for how my toes had curled.

He hadn’t been careful with his language around me either. Two women had been murdered in awful, horrifying ways. The image loomed in my mind and deadened my unwanted lust. For a long while, I sat there and thought of their names. Cherry and Natasha. Though I’d read about them in articles, I’d skimmed the grisly details.

How awful to have their lives ended in that way. The terror they must’ve felt.

I crept my hand to my throat. Held it there like I could defend myself from a similar fate. My morbid thoughts stole any chance of getting back to sleep, so instead, I took the opportunity to explore Connor’s apartment. He’d flustered me, but I was glad to be here, even for a short while.

I paused, considering my change in perspective. I’d told Connor I wanted to stay at home, but that was a better-the-devil-you-know claim.

I’d never felt safe in my father’s house.

With a minute to process what had happened, my idea of going home shifted to something deeply unpleasant. So easily, the place had been invaded.

If it had been the killer, I’d be dead.

I continued exploring to take my mind off the horror.

In a stack of paperback books, I found a bookmark in one—a placemat from the Divide nightclub downstairs with the image of a skull wearing a bandanna over its jaw, neon pink around. Connor liked thriller novels. That was new.

I’d make the most of having access to the man who’d clearly never forgiven my crimes against him. From his comment about protecting me for my father’s sake, it convinced me even more that he was under the mayor’s thrall. That cut deeper than his obvious dislike of me.

Other than the comfortable main bedroom, there were two more rooms off the hallway and another bathroom. One was locked, but the other held a bed and nothing else. Not even a window. It also had a lock on the outside, and I didn’t want to think about why. The rest of the apartment was taken up by the big living space I’d already seen.

Except for a mysterious, narrow door.

I’d almost missed it because it was on the inside hallway wall, recessed, and in the opposite direction to all the other room entrances. I tested the handle. It gave, opening into what looked like a dark cupboard, except a draught swept down from above, bringing in the scent of the night.

A shiver ran over me.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom, and I made out rungs in the wall ahead. They ran upwards, leading, what, to the roof of the warehouse? Darting back into the bedroom, I grabbed a pillow to prop the door open in case the wind blew it shut, then ventured into the dark space.

The metal ladder was cold under the soles of my bare feet. I climbed up until I touched a hatch then ran my hand around, finding a sliding lock. It wiggled free, and the trapdoor opened.

I was on the roof.

Crawling out, I gazed around the vast rooftop. Here and there, vents released steam, and a low wall edged an expansive view. It was unnerving being so high, but I stood taller and peered around, gaining a small sense of freedom after Connor’s stubborn door locking. I didn’t want to run from him, not yet, but I didn’t enjoy the restrictions either. I had enough of those in my regular life.

Maybe I’d see him return this way. Freak him out by hiding.

On one side of the warehouse, darkness swallowed the river that headed out to sea many miles to the west. In the other directions, the city sparkled, with terraced houses in curved rows that echoed the shape of the hillside, tall office blocks with all-glass frontages, and cars twisting through the streets.

A cold breeze wrapped around my legs, damp air bringing the scent of autumn. I took a deep inhale, engaging my brain to solve the problem of Connor. If only I could speak to someone else here, they might be able to help me. Then, when he next disappeared from my life, I’d make every effort to remove any control Father had over him and get life back to normal. If I couldn’t achieve that, all the heartache I’d suffered would be in vain.

“Oh, hello. Who the hell are ye?”

I yelped and spun around at the voice. A woman, Scottish by her accent, walked the low perimeter wall, her feet bare, and her hair a wild mass of dark curls. Unlike me, she was tiny, and clearly insane. One misstep and she’d fall to her death.

I covered my mouth in shock. “God. You scared me. Please get down.”

“From here? It’s fine. I have excellent balance.” To demonstrate, she pirouetted on one foot, the other extended over the deadly drop.

My eyes slammed closed of their own accord, but I picked up her snicker of a laugh.

“Okay, okay. I’m down. Where did ye come from? I’ve never seen anyone else up here.”

I cracked an eyelid, and she’d sat cross-legged on the wall. Slightly better, but my stomach still roiled at the terrifying drop at her back.

“I’m Everly. I came up from Connor’s apartment.” Feebly, I gestured at the trapdoor.

“Holy shite. You’re staying with Shade?”

“Staying with, kidnapped by, same difference.”

The woman’s eyes widened. Even in the reflected light of the city, I could make out their startling dark blue. At a guess, I’d put her at around twenty, a few years younger than me. I also recognised the vintage couture gold party dress she was happily scuffing on the brick wall.

She fished out a phone from her clutch. “I’m messaging Genevieve.”

Genevieve. I knew that name. She’d famously matched with Arran, gang leader and owner of this building, in a dangerous game they ran in the basement. Twenty men were set loose on five willing women, and the first to have sex made their claim.

In my desperation to see Connor, I’d signed up for that game, hoping he’d be the one to claim me. My application had been rejected.

Since, I’d tried to meet with Genevieve, but our one short conversation had been interrupted.

The woman finished typing and set down her phone. “Let’s see if she can find a way up. I’m Cassie.”

I raised a hand, glued to the spot so unable to turn it into a polite shake. “A pleasure. Do you live here?”

“Nope. Just visiting. Arran’s family, kinda. He doesn’t actually know I’m here, though I guess that surprise will go by the wayside now.”

“I would never tell him.”

Her lips lifted in a grin. “Hos before bros. I like ye. But anyway, Gen will give it up. Couples, man.”

“Why would Arran not want you here?” I peered at her with greater interest. She was pretty and infinitely cooler than me.

“On account of the murders, he told me to stay away, but I like being part of the action.” She patted the wall fondly, a horn honking somewhere in town behind her, the streets still busy despite the late hour. “I commandeered a bedroom downstairs then went dancing in the club. I came up here after it closed. It’s my new thinking spot.”

“All without the owner knowing you’re here? Impressive.”

She waggled her head. “The head of security knows me. It was easy to convince him that Arran knew I was around. How come Shade kidnapped ye?”

A scrabbling came from across the roof, then a blonde woman appeared in a fire escape, the cage of which presumably ran down the side of the building. She slipped out the gate and approached us, her gaze jumping from the ledge bearing Cassie, and then to me. “I didn’t even know this was accessible up here.”

“Meet Everly, guest of Shade’s, though by abduction,” Cassie helpfully introduced.

Genevieve blinked, and her eyes crinkled in concern. “We’ve met. Hey, Everly, are you okay? Did Shade really kidnap you?”

Embarrassment heated my cheeks. I turned my toe on the rough rooftop surface, conscious of my lack of clothing beyond Connor’s long hoodie. It reached mid-thigh on me, but still, I never went anywhere underdressed. It wouldn’t be becoming of the mayor’s daughter. “He did, but we aren’t strangers. I’m not scared of him.”

A partial lie. The two women shared a look.

Cassie spoke. “I’ve got a fast car and no sense of self-preservation. Say the word and I’ll get ye out of here.”

Genevieve snapped her head around. “You never offered me an out like that.”

Cassie made an off sound. “I’ve known Arran since I was six, and he’s the best. Shade, I’m on the fence about. Arran trusts him, but we’ve already established hos before bros.” She gestured between me and her.

I hastened to interject. “Oh, no. Thank you, but I don’t need rescuing, at least I don’t think so. Someone broke into my house this evening, and Connor, I mean Shade, brought me here. But I’ve been trying to see him for a while, so it suits me.”

Cassie curled her lip. “I’d say that was the first time kidnapping ever worked for all parties, but Gen arrived at my house with Arran in much the same way. If this is modern-day dating, maybe I should be the one laying traps and readying the duct tape.”

Genevieve choked on a laugh.

I turned to the fair-haired woman. With her, I had an opportunity, and I wanted to take it. The only problem was, I didn’t know how far I could trust her. Or anyone, really. My life was painfully thin with friends. “I wanted to see you again. We never got to finish our conversation.”

She gifted me a nod. “I remember. You said something about being in the club on behalf of your father. He’s the mayor, am I correct?”

Cassie gave a comic little gasp. “Shade kidnapped the mayor’s daughter? Bad boy. Will your da be worried? Are the cops about to swarm us?”

For unknown reasons, the question sideswiped me. I opened and closed my mouth, trying to form a diplomatic answer and say the right thing, as I always did. An unbidden truth popped out instead. “My father won’t give the tiniest damn so long as the voting population doesn’t hear about it and I show up to work on time.”

Horrified at myself, I fluttered my fingertips at my lips.

Silence followed, Genevieve stalling in whatever she was going to say.

“I don’t know why I said that,” I managed.

Cassie gave a small and sympathetic laugh. “I only exist because my da bought prostitutes and deliberately got a handful of them pregnant to make an heir. Because I was a girl, he barely acknowledged my existence.”

My heart panged. “That’s awful.”

Her shoulder rose in an easy shrug. “He’s dead, and I wipe away my tears on handfuls of his cash while living in his stately home, so who’s laughing now?”

Genevieve peeked between us. “I love my dad, but he recently stole all our savings and rent money to go on a drink-fuelled grudge mission. Just today, he texted me to ask if I could get my boyfriend to pay for him to go on holiday. It’s not as bad as what you two just said, but still, some men shouldn’t be fathers.”

Cassie said, “But without their fuck-ups, we wouldn’t be here.”

A kind of solidarity settled over me. It was unexpected and strange, born from an equally bizarre night.

Cassie gestured from the hatch behind me to where I stood. “How does Shade fit into this if it’s not to piss off your da? Is stealing ye away in the middle of the night some fucked-up proclamation of love?”

“God, no. He hates me.”

“There’s no love lost, then?”

I hesitated, because on my half, all the love I’d ever felt for anyone had been lost when he’d walked away. But confessing that secret to strangers went far beyond what I could easily share.

The reason I’d tried to see Genevieve was to get Connor to talk to me. Ten minutes of his time so I could ask him to his face why my father wanted him, then work behind the scenes to make the arrangement go away. After everything Father had done to him, it broke me to imagine him having any power over Connor again.

Yet now we’d spoken, I couldn’t imagine him telling me anything. Which meant I needed to get the information from another source.

“That is one loaded silence,” Cassie said.

Genevieve cut her a look that had the younger woman quiet down. She came back to me. “If there’s anything you need help with, just ask. While you’re here, we’ll be neighbours. Our apartment is right across the hall from Shade’s. Seriously, if you want out of whatever’s going on, call me. I’ve got your number, let me dial it now, then you’ll have mine.”

She pulled the phone from her jeans pocket and squinted at the screen. “Shit. Arran’s hunting for me. Something to do with my brother. I’d better go.”

“Wait,” I said in desperation. “Do you know anything about how this place works? There’s a deal my father struck.”

Using the word ‘deal’ was a guess, but Genevieve paused.

“Not much. I might be dating Arran but I don’t pay much attention to the details of how he runs this place. I can ask him?”

I chewed my lip. She noticed.

“How about I ask subtly?” My relief must’ve been apparent, because Genevieve dusted off her hands. “Consider it done. I’ll report back when I have something to share. I take it you don’t want Shade to know about this?”

“It’s better if he isn’t aware of my snooping.”

She nodded and held out a hand to Cassie. “You’d better come with me and say hi, otherwise Arran will be storming up to drag you back from the edge.”

“Ugh, men are so dramatic.” Cassie rolled her eyes but climbed off the wall.

Both women retreated to the fire escape.

“See ye up here again sometime,” Cassie called to me.

With my only source of information being them, she could count on it.

Chapter 5

Connor

The slight, short father-of-two drug dealer shook his head at me, his arms folded in an attempt at bravery. “I can’t tell you that.”

In the tiny residential car park behind his house, no streetlights revealed us to nosy neighbours. He had a lock-up garage, too small to fit any decent car but fine as a base for his less-than-legal operations. By day, Marcus worked as a rep for a pharmaceutical company, and by night, he put on his big boy pants and dwelt in the darkness with the rest of us.

It was him I bought my narcotics from, but so had the person who’d killed Natasha.

I angled my head. Slowly. Menacingly. “I’ll ask again. Who else in this city bought propofol from ye recently?”

He swallowed, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. “Would you trust me again if I gave up another customer’s details?”

“That buyer murdered a woman.”

“And you only need it for a good night’s sleep.”

My temper surged. Already, I was rattled by what had happened at Everly’s house, and the fact I’d gone running there in the first place. I was usually pretty chill, but an evening of headfucks left me in danger of losing it with the man I relied on for my supply.

He didn’t give a shite what I did with the drug. Convincing him that my activities were somehow more noble than any other gangster was a lost cause. Which left me only my charming skills of menacing persuasion.

I moved in on him, forcing him back against the breezeblock wall of the garage. “How about a process of elimination. Have ye had a new buyer?”

He hesitated. I drew my hand to his throat. Pushed so my fingers scraped the rough surface of the wall either side of his slim neck and his pulse thrummed under my palm.

“N-no one new,” he choked out.

So the killer was already on Deadwater’s scene. I continued my gentle interrogation. “And ye supply both the Zombies and the Four Milers?”

He pressed his lips together but at my light squeeze gave a jerking nod, his cheeks flushing. We were getting somewhere.

“And just one person each in those gangs?”

Another nod, prompted by the tightening of my forearm muscles.

“Anyone else?”

This time, a refusal.

I wrapped it up, because I didn’t want to lose this man as my supplier as much as I had no real desire to terrorise him. “To confirm—the only people you’ve supplied that product to are me and those gangs, correct?”

A swift nod was my answer. I dropped my hold, and the dealer scrambled away, his hand at his throat.

“I never promised you exclusivity,” he spluttered.

“Did I ask ye to suck my dick?” Disgusted, I turned away and stalked back down the alley, my mind twisting over what I’d learned. The killer wasn’t some random, they were gang affiliated else they wouldn’t have been able to get hold of the drug from the contacts Marcus served. Then I frowned, because there were other sources. Hospitals used propofol for knocking out surgical patients. Their supplies were a lot more tightly controlled, though.

Either we had a rogue doctor or, more likely, someone in the city gangs was behind the murders. The bigger question was why.

I left the suburb where the dealer resided and took the road out to a leafier part of town, the houses getting bigger and the streets emptier. Everly’s neck of the woods. A glance at my car’s dash told me it was close to dawn, and I didn’t want to be sneaking around the mayor’s mansion in daylight or when any staff came in. Which meant a fast turnaround.

Parking up in the same spot as earlier, I curled my lip at the broken glass on the tarmac from where I’d tipped Riordan’s bike then repeated my steps to slink along the neighbours’ access path. On my first visit, I’d gone in hard and fast. This time, I was more cautious. The warning Genevieve’s brother gave played over in my mind. The Four Milers wanted Everly and they wouldn’t give up easily.

The big house was as silent as the grave. The back door had been closed, presumably by Riordan, but I took a different route. Directly up. At sixteen, I’d worked out how to use the drainpipe to scale the building and climb to the railed balcony of Everly’s room, evading her father whose bedroom was right across the hall.

She never locked the doors.

Accordingly, the wrought-iron handle gave under my hand, and I was inside, brushing past the gauzy curtains. For a long minute, I stood and listened, taking time to be sure I wasn’t the only monster who lurked in the dark.

Nothing creaked, nothing alerted my senses, except for the floral scent of the woman who owned the space. Familiar, pretty, drugging. It drove me insane the longer I stood there. It made me fucking hard. Like I was a teenager with no control over my body.

Or maybe it was the memories of what we’d done in this room that were responsible.

Gritting my teeth, I pulled up her list and opened the door to her walk-in wardrobe to grab the smart dress she’d provided a picture of. It was near the front of the row, and on the shelf above, a holdall gave me a place to roll it up and stash it. Then I snatched more items from hangers—silky tops with thin straps, a blazer. A milkmaid-style dress that caught my eye. Things she hadn’t asked for but alternative clothing choices so she didn’t need to return for a while.

Several pairs of shoes went in the bag, too—a sensible pair that looked like the ones in the photo, some sandals, then spiked heels. The kind that brought men to their knees. I didn’t question myself, just kept going.

Opening and silently closing drawers found me her underwear. A sheer lace bra sat on top of the pile. I stalled. Swallowed. In the light from my phone, it was a pale pink. This one probably wouldn’t be her choice for work wear, but I threw it in along with others, stashing her underwear as if it would burn if I touched it too long.

Done with clothes, I moved on to the rest of her list. The bathroom gave up bottles, a makeup pouch, and other potions. Fucking birth control pills. Her purse hung on a hook on the back of her door, and her tablet was on her dresser.

That just left me with her phone. I threw back her blankets, revealing white sheets. No phone there. Behind her lamp, a charging cable was plugged in. I followed the cord to the top drawer of her bedside table. Opened it.

Everly’s phone lay inside, but as I grabbed it, a long, thick vibrator rolled forward.

My breath left me in a rush.

In a blink, I was a teenager again and stealing into her room from my balcony approach, her welcome warm and her arms around my neck. She kissed my lips. My bruises. Cried over me.

The night we’d lost our virginity to each other had blown my life up in ways I could hardly comprehend. We’d been kids, reeling in a shitty living situation and finding something pure in each other. I’d been so fucking happy I would’ve given up anything. Given her anything.

Reality crashed back in.

She’d lied about feeling the same. I took the vibrator and tossed it in the bag. Everly could go fuck herself with it.

With the packing complete, I shouldered the holdall, ready to go. Then from somewhere in the house, a noise reached me. The phone ringing. I shuddered at the tone. The mayor had a landline he called the house phone and which was a public number, so members of the community could ring and leave messages for him. It was located in the hallway by the front door, and that fucking ringtone went off multiple times throughout the day, the sound echoing. Not that he gave a shite, but Everly would take down names and messages then call them back. He also left her messages on it to ensure she went through every single one.

The ringing ended, and a click followed. I stole to the bedroom door and cracked it open. A voice sounded loud in the hall, her father’s. It chilled me.

“Everly, I’m extending my visit by a day, but on Tuesday, I’ll be returning with an important friend. You will have a bedroom ready for Piers.”

The call disconnected without him saying goodbye, and I took a breath, my muscles stiff. I despised the man with every cell inside me, not only for the way he’d treated me as a stepson, but the way he was still in my life. Still pulling strings. I hated that I needed him and that he needed me. A fucked-up symbiotic relationship I’d never shake.

Not if I wanted to stay sane.

Just as I was turning for the window, a bark of laughter reached me, swiftly followed by someone making a hushing noise. It came from outside the bedroom.

“Keep your fucking voice down.”

“I am, but did you shit yourself when you heard that voice?” a second person answered. “Thought he was here.”

The first person replied something I couldn’t hear, but it didn’t matter, Riordan’s warning had played out. At least two men were in Everly’s house, and I knew they were here for her. Which meant I needed to leave.

Light-footed, I dove for the curtains right as her bedroom door creaked open.

No time for sneaking around now. I thrust the material out of my way, tugging my bandanna up over my nose to give some semblance of a disguise. The balcony doors had drifted shut and creaked as I burst through them.

A shout chased me. “Told you it was worth coming back. She’s going out the window.”

Guess again, arsehole.

With a smirk, I peered down to the patio below, checking for any other home invaders but finding it empty. Then I swung a leg over. The mayor’s mansion had high ceilings, so the drop was significant, but I’d done it before and survived.

The doors rattled, and a thick-necked bruiser of a man burst out, coming face to face with me as I straddled the railing.

“Too late,” I taunted and dropped down the other side until I was dangling from the bottom of the rails, getting as low as I could.

“Who the fuck are you?” he groused.

A hefty boot crushed my fingers, but his aim was off, and I let go and fell, landing like a cat, though the holdall nearly broke my neck as it swung. Without looking back, I sprinted away. Down the garden, under the oak, and out along the neighbours’ path.

The sky was brightening at the edges, dawn fast approaching. I had another objective in the city—to find Riordan fucking Jones, but daylight wasn’t my friend. I also had a more urgent need to get back to Everly, just to check on her again.

People had come for her. The dickhead who’d stomped on my fingers had been carrying what looked like thin plastic strips. Zip ties, I was certain. They would have taken her, and I’d never…

See her again? What the fuck did it matter to me?

And yet it did. Throwing myself into my car, I got the hell out of there and didn’t let my thoughts go any further down that dark hole.

Chapter 6

Everly

Someone was watching me. I jerked up in the bed, disorientated by the unfamiliar surroundings. My brain caught up. Connor’s apartment. Right. After he’d left, I’d taken the paperback from the top of his book stack back to his bed and started reading. I’d only meant to pass the time, but it was still the middle of the night, and I wasn’t used to staying up all that late.

The thriller lay discarded on the sheet where it had fallen from my grasp. Beyond it, reclined in a chair, and with one ankle propped up on the other knee, Connor waited.

I blinked at him, my alarm settling into something else. “You used to do that often. Watch over me.”

“I used to do a lot of things.”

Desire curled in my belly. Connor’s gaze dropped to my chest, his hoodie removed before I slept. If he used to love my body, he’d been obsessed with my boobs. They were big, so much they stretched out most clothes I wore, including the silk camisole he’d kidnapped me in. Under his gaze, my nipples pebbled, and I resisted the urge to roll my shoulders. Present myself better for him.

It was strange how easy this was. Being around him all but naked. I never let any man see me so undressed.

His nostrils flared, and with what looked like effort, he centred his focus on my face. “I brought your things. Your father left an answerphone message while I was there. He’ll be away until Tuesday.”

Summoning my father was a bucket of water to my libido. “Have you spoken to him since you left us?”

“Not directly, no.”

Indirectly, then. What did that mean? By one of his staff?

Connor shifted his position, both feet now on the floor and his forearms on his knees. “Ye should know that two men were prowling the house when I was leaving. They came to your bedroom. One almost caught me.”

“God. Are you okay?”

He inclined his head. “I said almost.”

“The threat was real, then.” I wrapped my arms around myself, thankful for being here and not there. Waking to strangers in the house again would’ve been terrifying. “I need to call the security team. If those men hung around, they can scare them off, and they’ll also coordinate with the housekeeper to get the door fixed. My father will need a report. I’ll tell him I went to stay with a friend.”

Connor extended his arm to lift a holdall he must’ve taken from my wardrobe. He tossed it to the foot of the bed. “Your phone’s in there, knock yourself out.”

I unzipped it to find my phone right on top, then dialled the number for the security team. Quickly, I related what had happened then hung up without letting them ask any questions. Then I texted my father, though I almost certainly wouldn’t get a reply unless the happenings angered him. There was a missed call on my screen, and a message saying it was Genevieve. She’d sent her number as promised.

I hid my smile and set the phone down. Connor was still watching me.

“Check I brought everything ye wanted.”

“I’m sure you did.”

There was a challenge in his eyes. “Go through it all anyway.”

I extracted my lilac-coloured dress then another, an older one I hadn’t asked for but wasn’t sorry to see. “You rolled them to stop them creasing. Thank you. Is there somewhere I can hang them up? Or are you moving me to another room?”

He worked his jaw then pointed to a wardrobe. “For now, I’ll keep ye here.”

I climbed from the bed and opened it, taking out hangers to arrange my clothes next to his. He had a couple of suits, plus built-in shelves which housed jeans and plain shirts. One on the bottom captured my attention, and I pulled it free. It was the rock band t-shirt he’d worn the first time I ever saw him.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I sensed him right behind me. He reached around and plucked the shirt from my grip, placing it once again on the shelf.

“Go back to the bag.”

Turning, I was face to face with him, though had to peer up because he was so much taller. He caged me in for several seconds, his gaze all over my body and the thin nightwear I’d slept in. From being so close, his view was straight down my cleavage, our bodies almost touching.

I gulped. “I returned your hoodie to the bathroom. If you tell me where my dressing gown is, I’ll put that on so you don’t have to look at me.”

“Who says I don’t want to look?”

I flushed hot, but thankfully he gave me the space to return to the bed. Flustered, I hid my reaction to him by exploring my possessions as ordered.

Next from the bag was my underwear. A sheer bra and matching knickers with tiny floral detail and see-through panels which had no concealing features. Another two sets were in the same style. “Interesting choices.”

“Uncomfortable with what I picked?”

“I wouldn’t normally pair this kind of lingerie with business wear.”

“No? I’ll enjoy the idea of ye being in meetings with dull corporate wankers and having one of those slutty little numbers underneath your demure outfit.”

Slutty little numbers. My heartbeat quickened even more.

Something was happening between us. A rising tension I hadn’t expected. He was taunting me, and it was thrilling. Sex with him had been life-changing for me. I couldn’t even imagine what it would do to me now. How different he’d be.

My fingers trailed on something else in the bag. Then I froze.

Connor smirked. “Bring it out.”

I did, my cheeks flaming, but I didn’t want to back down from the provocation. “This wasn’t on my list.”

My vibrator. My only real outlet for the kinds of feelings he was generating, although nothing else came close to what he did to me.

“I’m surprised ye even own something like that.”

Oh, screw him. “If you keep me here long enough, you’ll get to see it in action, too.”

His smile dropped, and I internally cheered my tiny victory over him. Seems I wasn’t the only one who could get rattled. Connor pursed his lips then stood and casually reached back to pluck his shirt over his head in a fluid motion that revealed an expanse of flesh, covered in a myriad of tattoos.

Wide-eyed, I traced the inkwork. Skulls, flowers, and two crossed blades decorated his chest. On the backs of his hands were the Scottish flag, known as the Saltire, and a skeleton jaw on the other. More artwork disappeared under his waistband, and my curiosity spiked for wanting to see them all.

At sixteen, he’d had none of this, yet I didn’t mourn the covering of his beautiful flesh. He’d always wanted to hide the scars on his body, and now the job was complete.

“If you’re done drooling, I need a shower.”

His words pulled me back into myself.

“Do whatever you like,” I snapped back.

His gaze held mine, and something dark and needy passed between us.

“Ye really don’t want me to follow that order, temptress.”

God, I did. But at the same point, I’d never allow it. Nor would he. We’d been there, and all it caused was heartache. No matter the lingering attraction, we were grown adults who’d been burned, and I for one would never go back.

Or couldn’t. Not without repercussions I wasn’t willing to endure.

He walked away, and I waited for the sound of running water then scampered to the kitchen and quickly texted Genevieve.

Everly: I’ve got my phone back. Thanks for sending your number.

The sky outside the big arched windows was brightening with the start of day, pink-lit clouds spreading across the city. They reflected on the river below, making a pretty sight. Although it was Sunday, I’d normally be working and tended to get up early regardless.

I cruised the kitchen for coffee and breakfast supplies. A silver coffee machine had an array of pods, but there was no real food in the place that I could find, only leftover takeaway cartons and some kind of protein shake.

My phone buzzed.

Genevieve: Of course. Like I said, we’re neighbours, so if there’s anything you need, just ask. It’s good timing that you’re here, actually, because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about as well.

Everly: Ask away.

Genevieve: Meet me on the roof in an hour?

I tapped my lip, unsure of how to reply. I liked having the secret of my rooftop friendship group, but there was no way I could sneak up without Connor seeing.

A few minutes on, and the water stopped, then the deadly, beautiful man appeared at the end of the hall. A dark-grey towel wrapped around his waist, and he used another to scrub water from his brown hair. Droplets ran down his chest, and my insides tightened.

“I keep opposite hours to ye,” he said. “I’d usually rest now and get up in the afternoon.”

“A night owl,” I answered softly. Tiredness hung over him. I hadn’t noticed it before, but he’d shed layers. I gestured at my phone. “I’ll work while you sleep. Don’t worry, I won’t stare at you.”

His smirk returned. “Do whatever ye want to me in my sleep.”

The statement was so loaded with innuendo, I couldn’t stop a laugh. “Same, big man. Go rest.”

He did, giving me the freedom to text Genevieve back and agree to meet her. Maybe I’d get a few answers of my own.

Chapter 7

Connor

The aroma of something sweet reached my nose. It didn’t conceal the maddening scent of Everly in my bed, a punishment I’d had to endure even in my dreams, but it drew me from my room to the kitchen.

The lass was pulling something from the oven, what sounded like a podcast playing in the background with female voices discussing empowerment. She’d taken ownership of my hoodie again and had the sleeves rolled up in her efforts.

I squinted, almost ready to pinch myself because nothing I was seeing made sense. It took a few seconds, but I found my words. “Ye baked?”

Everly jumped, then set the tray down on a heat mat. “You startled me.”

“Where the fuck did ye get the ingredients?”

“I have my ways.”

I stomped over. “No, seriously.”

“Genevieve. I asked, and she brought them to me, posting them through your pointless parcel delivery box.”

She knew Genevieve. I’d been aware of the connection but had no idea they were close enough for this.

Everly rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, leaving a dusting of icing sugar in its wake. She had her hair up and her neck exposed, though her brow was pinched like she’d been fretting over something. “I needed food. I’ve had a rough twenty-four hours. Stop scowling like that. You’re allowed to help yourself.”

On autopilot, I sat on one of the high stools on the other side of the counter and took in the tray. “Cookies?”

“No, miniature lasagnes.”

I lifted my gaze to find her laughing at me.

She used to enjoy cooking, I remembered. More complicated things than this, but it was one of her methods of de-stressing. My stomach rumbled. My fucking mouth watered. I wanted them. Fuck, I had a hard-on for her, as well.

Neither was happening.

As quickly as I’d sat down, I climbed up. Turned my back. In my bedroom, I yanked on clothes, needing to get the fuck out of here. When I was ready, I returned to the living area.

“I’m going out.”

Her smile dimmed. “Business on a Sunday? No rest for the wicked.”

“Ye don’t know the half of it. What time do ye need to be at work in the morning?”

Any remaining happiness fled her. “Seven-thirty. I’m setting up a conference in the town hall. Will you really be gone that long?”

“I’ll be back in time to take ye.”

Then I snatched up my keys and left her to her domestic toil. Ignoring the lift, I descended the stairs, the thud of my boots echoing in my haste to get out of the warehouse.

Everly being in my apartment was driving me to distraction. Yet I couldn’t let her go without knowing she’d be safe. I needed to solve this problem.

On the ground floor, I exited, glowering at two staff members rolling a delivery cage for the bar through the front corridor. The huge cage, taller than them, rattled and clanked.

“Don’t bring those in this way. Send the driver around the back and take the service entrance,” I snapped.

They knew this. It was the same every week. Wheeling deliveries across the nightclub’s floor was a pain in the arse because of the steps. It meant unloading halfway to the bar, tearing into the packaging, and carrying the crates the rest of the way. A waste of fucking time.

“It’s a new driver,” the guy at the front of the cage said, darting his gaze at me then down. “We just wanted to get it done quickly because he was late.”

He kept his head down, his shoulders bunched.

For fuck’s sake. I was scaring people with my bad mood. With effort, I tempered my scowl. “Make sure he knows the drill for next time.”

“Yes, boss. So sorry.”

They trundled the cage through the nightclub’s double doors, the rattling going through my head. I eyed the exit but sighed. Clearly there was no management around or the driver would’ve been redirected.

I changed course for Arran’s office. It was empty, and there was no answer when I called his number, so I paced into the strip club instead. Up on the stage, Alisha directed the cleaning staff.

“Leesh,” I called. “Have ye seen Arran?”

Her gaze leapt to mine. Clung to it. At the edge of the stage, she placed a hand to hop down, the length of today’s wig, a thick blonde coil, bobbing with her action. “Where have you been? You never replied to my texts. What’s going on? Arran said to just leave you alone.”

Alisha ran the operations side of the strip club and the brothel, managing the staff and sometimes taking to the poles herself. Occasionally, she still sold her body to men, though she was choosy with her list. We’d been friends for years, except recently, Alisha had made some poor choices, rattling Arran’s trust, and mine.

I had no tolerance for anyone acting underhanded, or keeping dangerous secrets and supporting the wrong person. Alisha had veered close to all three.

I shrugged. “I kidnapped a woman and am keeping her locked up for a while. Ye know, business as normal.”

She snorted. “Right, and I’m taking up a new career as an accountant.” Her gaze gentled. “I missed seeing you around.”

A beat passed, but I didn’t take the bait. “I’m heading out. Can ye keep an eye on Divide? There doesn’t seem to be any supervisors around.”

“Oh, sure.”

Her smile diminished, and I turned away before it could affect me. Two women disappointed in the space of ten minutes. I was on a roll.

Outside the back of the warehouse, rain spattered the spacious car park, and I ducked my head and jogged to my car. But as I unlocked it, Arran pulled into the space alongside.

I gestured, and he wound down the window.

“I need a word,” I said.

“Then get in.”

Dropping into the passenger seat, I shut the weather outside.

My friend took me in. “What’s wrong?”

Everything.

I flexed my fist, my energy becoming more difficult to contain. “We need a solution to the problem of Everly.”

Arran rubbed his chin. “I asked a few people. No one seems to know about any connection between the Four Milers and the mayor.”

“I have an idea for how we find out. It involves Convict.”

His muscles hardened, and Arran shot me a look. A month ago, Convict had been one of us. A core member of our skeleton crew. Loyal and trustworthy.

Until he wasn’t.

By his own admittance, he’d taken a cash job for the Four Milers, and prior to that, he’d disobeyed a direct order that no one from our crew enter into Arran’s game. Arran had mostly let that one slide, because he himself had gone in to claim Genevieve, but working for a rival gang went beyond the pale. Whatever Convict’s excuses, he’d lost our trust. He’d almost lost his life as well, and I hated that I regretted laying my fists into him.

He’d been a brother. One of us.

But where he went, Alisha followed. The two of them had been tight. Fucking, probably. She’d been persuaded to take a terrified Genevieve to Convict and leave her with him. She’d also given Convict the run of the basement when our backs were turned, rather than leaving him locked up in a cell.

In the game, Convict had hunted Genevieve, thinking she’d signed up for the violence. Alone with him again in the basement, the woman almost had a breakdown. I only knew this from Arran. I couldn’t imagine how Genevieve had felt, or why Alisha could have persuaded herself it was okay.

It turned out Convict only wanted to apologise to Genevieve, but where Alisha had got the benefit of the doubt, barely, I couldn’t imagine trusting Convict again.

I didn’t forgive easily.

In some cases, like with Everly, read that as never.

Arran wouldn’t even talk to the man. He curled his lip. “You want to use Convict. After everything he did.”

“We need someone on the inside of the Four Milers to find out why they want Everly. They already know Convict and were happy to give him their money. We patch him up, make a show of kicking him out, and send him there with the objective of information gathering.”

“A double agent.” Arran swore, staring out of the rain-speckled windscreen. “You’ll have to do it. I can’t be in the same room with him without wanting to drive my fist into his face. All I imagine is his hands on Genevieve.”

His words dried up. I tried and failed to understand the emotional toil. There was no one I could put in that role in my life. Someone so treasured I’d kill for them. To have that, I’d need that person to want me in the same way, and that was a fucking tragedy all in its own right because I’d never believe them if they said the words. Not again.

“I’ll handle everything,” I promised.

“I have two questions,” my friend said. “The first is what happens if he defects entirely?”

“Then we’ve lost nothing apart from the man who already fucked us over. What’s the other?”

“His incentive.”

I twisted my lips, because there was only one thing Convict wanted, and that was to return to the fold. “A new job with us was my thoughts. Not in the crew, but maybe on the outside.”

A long moment passed of consideration, then Arran gave a single nod. “Everly’s important to you, so I’ll follow your lead.”

“She’s nothing to me.”

He barked a laugh. “That’s why she’s locked up in your apartment.”

“It’s for the sake of our crew,” I argued. “For the city. If she’s abducted, the Four Milers will have leverage over the mayor. Whatever they want won’t be good for us.”

Arran lightly punched my shoulder. “Lead with that. It’s working.”

I flipped him the bird and climbed out of his car, his laughter chasing me to my own. Then I drove out into the city, putting space between myself and the centre of my world which somehow now contained my previous source of gravity.

There were two things I needed to do on this dark Sunday afternoon. Neither of them were the place I found myself driving to.

Deadwater sat on the border of Scotland and England, and an hour’s drive north took me to the seaside town of North Berwick. Where my mother lived.

Dealing with Everly, and her comment about other women in my life, had prompted the thought that I hadn’t checked in on my mother for a while, so I found myself heading there. Up the coast, through the windswept landscape, and to the outskirts and Lochbridge Road which sat under the towering slope of North Berwick Law, a steep hill that had a whale’s jawbone at the summit. As a lad, I’d heard the stories of how whale bones had been hauled up the hill as a monument three hundred years ago but had no fucking clue why.

I was in no mood for nostalgia. Only the reassurance that other elements in my life were as they should be.

I parked up on the street outside my mother’s white semi-detached house, the coastal weather stripping the paint here and there. She had flowerpots lined up under the window and kids’ toys scattered around the front garden. Under my watch, her red Honda backed into the drive, and I climbed out of my car at the same time as she released her two young sons from the back. At fifty, she had the same thick dark hair as me. But that was the only resemblance we shared.

As if she could sense me across the road, my mother’s focus lifted. Then her gaze shuttered, and her mouth formed a stern line. She said something to her boys then opened the front door to shoo them inside, turning back to watch my approach.

She didn’t speak, just ran a disapproving look over me, her arms folded.

“Nice to see ye, too,” I quipped.

“What do ye want?”

Inwardly, I sighed. “Nothing your maternal powers would be able to give. I just wanted to check in.”

“My children are home.”

My brothers, not that they’d ever been introduced to me as such.

I wanted to throw out my hands and demand to know what the fuck I was, if not her child, but berating her wouldn’t get me anywhere.

I matched her posture of hostility. “Not gonna pollute their lives with my presence, don’t sweat.”

She peered at the door then back to me. “If it’s money you’re after—”

“I’ll earn it myself. When have I ever asked ye for anything?” My temper rose, but I tamped it down. “Listen, a couple of women have been killed in Deadwater, and I was worried. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

She didn’t fit the mould. Cherry and Natasha had both been young and beautiful. Attention-grabbing for different reasons. I’d never considered my middle-aged mother a target, not that she wasn’t beautiful, but she wasn’t in the city. Hadn’t been for the best part of a decade. Still, I wanted to pass on the warning.

“Did ye really come here to scare me? Or maybe the neighbours with that get-up.” She gestured up and down me.

My tattoos, she meant. I wore no outward signs of being in a gang.

I was wasting my time here. Still, I leaned in. “Just take care, aye?”

The woman gave an exasperated huff of breath, turning without a goodbye. I stomped back to my car and sped away.

In an even darker mood, and with the steadily falling rain matching my energy, I returned to Deadwater and commenced my hunt for Riordan fucking Jones. Slowly, I was putting into place all the components necessary to get Everly out of my life again.

Riordan had heard from somewhere about the abduction attempt. He’d tell me once I tracked him down.

Likewise, Convict would get people talking. He had the easy manners to make people like him.

I’d use the information they gave me to neutralise the threat. With that, she’d go home. And I’d burn my sheets and never think about her again.

Chapter 8

Connor

Afternoon turned to night, and I’d exhausted all the places I suspected Riordan might be. He had a girlfriend, Moniqua, whose cousin had been in the Four Milers, but that dude was dead as a doornail. Her apartment was empty when I checked it.

The last place I tried was the home Riordan shared with his da and sister, before Arran moved her into his, but coming here would end the secret I was keeping from them.

With no other choice, I knocked on the door.

An older man answered the communal street door, his eyes bleary and his jowls unshaven. “Who the hell are you?”

“Is your son here?”

“Who?”

“Riordan.”

The man spat, rolling on his feet. “That kid? Waste of fucking space.”

“Have ye seen him?”

He was steaming drunk and it was barely dark.

“After all I did for him, taking him in, and all the space he took up, I asked one thing in return. Trade in that bike he rides. He has a goddamned car, does he need both? Do you know what he said?”

I inched back from a hot waft of alcohol fumes. “What?”

“He said no. No! He has a full-time job, and I need the cash. Ungrateful, overgrown bastard.”

A strange pang of sympathy struck me. Riordan’s da wanted him to sell his bike to no doubt fuel his drunkenness. This guy bore a resemblance to the woman who’d had the misfortune to give birth to me. He didn’t care about him like my mother didn’t want me.

We had that in common.

The sentiment was short-lived.

I turned on my heel and stalked away, setting my tracks for the warehouse. The day was a fucking bust. For the next several hours, I worked security. Sunday nights were quieter but not dead. We had to shut up shop earlier because of licensing laws, but that was only the public-facing parts of the business.

The rest remained open until well into the early hours. The brothel, and the women and men who performed over live streams for paying customers. That was busy enough on a Sunday evening to keep me occupied.

I had another activity that was unique to me, the centre of my role in Deadwater, but nothing of that was possible tonight.

My knives stayed sheathed, and it was more the fucking pity because taking out my mood on deserving flesh would’ve helped me no end.

But no matter how much I took on, the draw to my apartment only got stronger as the evening continued. All I imagined was Everly. Stuck inside. Waiting for me. Or maybe not caring and just getting on with her precious work.

At midnight, I gave up my resistance and ran up the eight flights to the penthouse floor. Silently, I let myself into my apartment. All was quiet. A lamp had been left on, and I had the weird idea it was for my benefit, but I stopped that thought in its tracks and continued on.

In the bedroom, Everly slept in my bed. She was on her back, her long, brunette hair spread out over my pillow, and the sheets lightly draped over her form.

She took a breath, shifting in her sleep so the sheet moved and clung to the shape of her chest.

My dick thickened in my jeans. I’d spent the night around semi-naked women and watched people fuck, but it hadn’t triggered even the smallest degree of interest. Naked bodies were hot. Dicks disappearing into holes used to do something for me. But it was too commonplace to affect me anymore. I knew and respected the sex workers involved so didn’t fetishise them.

It took a lot to turn me on, yet the outline of this sleeping woman’s tits had caught me by the balls.

I pressed my spine to the wall, my chest rising and falling. Earlier, I’d told her she could do anything she wanted to me in my sleep, and she’d said the same.

Those words, gifted with a smile, haunted me.

Everything she did haunted me. The day my mother escaped her father wasn’t even two years from when we’d moved in. I’d been so relieved. So desperate for the nightmare of living in that house to be over.

With her gone, that left just me and Everly. My perfect, beautiful seventeen-year-old girlfriend. It was our turn to walk out the door, and I’d worked my arse off to prepare. I had a car. A job in another city, low-paying work in a bar but better than nothing and enough to rent us a room in a shared house.

The week leading up to the big day had been hellish. Mayor Makepeace was easy with his fists. He’d begun knocking my mother around only months after we’d moved in, though I didn’t know for a long time after. I heard the arguments, though. He liked control and saw offence in the smallest things. A glass left on the coffee table was reason for a screaming match.

The side problem was my mother’s previous relationship had been just as shitty. That boyfriend had taken his anger out on me. The man loathed me. Scarred my body in more than one way.

He’d been dead a long time, and at my hands, but I’d never forgiven him.

He’d been the one to kick us out and had taught my mother fear and subservience. She’d suffered at the hands of the mayor for far longer than she should’ve tolerated it.

To this day, I still wasn’t sure what made her leave.

Either way, Everly and I had been next. I’d packed up. Went to her room and knocked to find her on the bed, hands in her lap.

“Why did ye say no, Everly?” I asked quietly into the still air of my bedroom.

The sleeping woman didn’t reply.

Hurt and anger rippled under my skin. I took a step. “Why did ye choose him over me?”

I reached the side of the bed, standing over her. With no bidding, my knife was in my hand.

“Why cling to that man, when ye said you’d love me until your last breath?”

So slowly, I peeled back the white sheet, revealing her pale skin and that white camisole. Her pulse fluttered at her throat.

She’d stolen a pair of my fucking boxer shorts to sleep in, and at the sight, an urge to claim her ran rampant through my system. I reached for the hem of her top. Twisted it in my fist. With a flick of my blade, I sliced it in two. Her round tits were revealed, her rosy nipples hardening in the cooler air.

My weapon was on the bed and my dick in my hand with me barely noticing what I was doing. I stroked myself, using her body as my inspiration. Fury at her decision spurred me on to get faster, to work myself from root to tip.

I tugged on my Prince Albert piercing, imagining her tongue sliding around it.

If I wanted, I could throw the blankets all the way off and shred Everly’s shorts, revealing her cunt to me, too. I could be inside her again and waking her up with a hard fuck that would replace her memories of the single other time we’d done it.

I bit down on a groan, forcing myself to keep those thoughts at bay. I wanted her to say yes to me every time and never refuse me again.

I wanted history to unwrite itself and my fucking heart to unbreak.

In my grip, I swelled all the more, and I breathed through my nose, the start of an orgasm gripping me tight. I changed my focus to the head of my dick and its piercing only and sucked in air, my balls tightening in warning.

My cum shot over Everly’s tits. I didn’t care where it fell. The climax knocked my brain out so it took several seconds to come back to earth, and I braced myself on the bedframe, breathing hard.

Somehow, she was still asleep.

I almost wished she’d woken to see my act.

Grabbing the sheet, I tugged it over her so the cooling cum didn’t wake her. Then I returned to work, hating myself, but lighter than I’d felt in months.

Chapter 9

Everly

The bathroom mirror returned an image that I stared at in confusion. I’d stumbled out of bed on my alarm, bleary-eyed and thankfully alone, then made my way into the bathroom to press the button for the shower. It sprang to life, hot water thundering down in the stall and steam instantly forming. The shower had a sealed brick wall. I’d never seen anything like that.

I’d also never seen myself looking like I did now. My top had been torn down the centre and hung from me, exposing my breasts in a lewd display. I gawked at it, at a loss as to how it could’ve happened. The cut through the silk was a straight line, not like I’d ripped it.

More like the slice of a blade.

I set my jaw, the answer coming to me fast. Shedding the ruined garment, I stripped and got under the water, ignoring the sting from the little cut on my foot to lower the shower head so it hit my back and not my hair. I’d forgotten to ask Connor to bring me a hairdryer, and he wasn’t likely to have his own.

But as my hand passed down my chest, it glanced over dry patches on my skin. I gazed down, and another suspicion formed. I hadn’t looked closely at myself in the mirror, only my top, but there was a substance spattered over my breasts.

Shock rippled over me, followed by heat.

He’d done this?

Of course he had. There was no other answer. In the night, Connor had been up to no good over my sleeping form. Strong emotion chased my surprise, but it wasn’t a negative one.

I should have been furious. Instead, I was turned on by the thought.

A short breath took steam into my lungs. My fingers slid down my body to between my legs, and I touched myself with the dried cum still on my hand. I was soaked and slippery, and I rubbed my clit, heat taking over all of me, and images of what he’d done appearing behind my now-closed eyes. God, this was depraved. I also didn’t care because a strange effect was in play.

Connor still owned the part of my brain that linked to my sexuality. He’d fucked his fist over my body and cut my clothes to reveal me to him. A moan left my lips, and I sank against the shower wall, widening my legs to allow better access. I wished I’d brought my vibrator in here with me, but too bad. This unexpected boost of instant horniness needed satiating and fast. There wasn’t the time to play around.

My wrist moved faster. Pleasure shot through me, every cell compelling me to continue. To get to where this was leading. The path he’d started me on.

“Oh God,” I moaned again, trying not to say his name though it was his body which filled my thoughts as much as the sound of the rushing hot water filled my ears.

His hard muscles. His inked skin. His jutting dick and his avid gaze on my chest.

It mixed up the old memories I’d nurtured and made new ones, the difference between teenaged Connor and the hard-edged man he’d become delightfully exciting. He was dangerous now, a criminal. He walked through barriers he should respect.

Kidnapped me.

Taunted me.

Came over me.

“God,” I breathed, and deep down, my insides tightened. Another few passes, and I was gasping in the humidity and losing control of my words. “Connor.”

My orgasm built and built but didn’t yet hit. I slowed my hand to delay it a little more, living for the incredible feeling eclipsing every other one. The desperate want. My lips, needing a kiss, my nipples, sensitive from the shower’s spray, my legs which ached to wrap around him

My pussy, desperate to be stretched.

“Time’s up.”

My heart stopped. Frozen mid-touch, I jerked my gaze up. At the bathroom entrance, with his back to the closed door, Connor watched me. Our gazes collided.

God, when had he come in? How much had he seen or heard? The glass was steamed up, but there was no way he could’ve missed me in action. My hand was still between my legs.

I pressed my trembling lips together, my body shaking from the interruption. I clung to the precipice, unable to fall but losing my grip on the crumbling ledge.

Deliberately, he drew his attention over me. Then he pulled his hand from behind his back. And held out my vibrator. Switched it on.

My breathing shuddered.

He approached and opened the shower door with a swirl of mist. Handed me the sex toy.

Then the jerk lifted his chin. “Fuck yourself, Everly. So I can see.”

I gritted my teeth. Badly, I wanted to order him to leave, but at the same second, and with even greater force, I needed him to stay.

Reaching out, I snatched it from him and fitted it between my legs. I didn’t wait, thrusting it inside me. My body was so wet and ready, even more slick with arousal from his rude interruption.

The vibrator stretched me, the pulsing set on high, and I gasped, taking my thumb to the switch to reduce the intensity.

“Don’t ye dare,” Connor warned.

“It’s too much.”

“Take it.”

Fine. I needed to come. If he wanted to watch, that was on him. Mindless, I closed my eyes and rested back against the wall, my foot raised on the shelf, and my body entirely on display for him. Then I fucked myself with the toy.

My orgasm closed in like a train thundering down a track, all the stronger for his gaze on me and the powerful vibrations thrilling my insides. I whimpered and brushed over my clit with my fingertips, once, twice…

Pleasure broke inside me as an explosion. It crashed into every part I hadn’t touched, and I gasped. Killed the vibrations. Throbbed around the intrusion and wished it was him so he could feel it, too.

Pretending wasn’t enough.

The climax eased, and I breathed out, blinking in the damp air. Braced against the bathroom wall, Connor had his jeans open and his dick in his hand. He fucked his fist, staring right at me.

Lust drowned me again, my pussy pulsing in response.

Then I spotted something unexpected. The glint of a silver ring at the end of his dick.

God. He’d got a piercing?

I pushed the vibrator back in, slowly, teasing, as much for him as me this time. With my eyes wide open, it felt so exposing but at the same time liberating. I wanted him to be holding it, or better still, fucking me. I wanted to know how that piercing felt inside me.

With a groan, Connor came, cum shooting over his fingers and onto the bathroom tiles. I branded the sight in my brain. His rigid arms, those pronounced muscles, how he stared at me.

Connor exhaled, not hiding a smirk. Then he washed up, tucked himself away, and tossed a towel over the mess on the floor. With a final glance, and his tongue in his cheek, he left the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, “Better hurry. Ye don’t want to be late for work.”

Alone again, I sagged, my pulse speeding like it wanted to break me. In brisk actions, I finished washing then bundled myself up in a towel and set about getting ready for the day. In the bedroom, he was absent, so I dressed in the sexy lingerie he brought me and my smart dress, covering my arms with my blazer.

In my head, a hundred thoughts combined, shame one of them, but also a thrill I couldn’t deny. What we’d done had made me bold.

Once I was ready, makeup on and my work bag packed, I scooped up the ruined camisole and exited the bedroom with it. Connor was sprawled on the sofa, a knife in his hand that I had no business getting a buzz of excitement from. I extended the ruined item of clothing on my fingers.

“You owe me new nightclothes.”

His gaze flared at the challenge, then he gave an easy shrug and gestured with his head to the kitchen. “Grab your breakfast and we’ll go.”

On the kitchen counter, a travel mug waited with a selection of cereal bars next to it. Beyond, the fruit bowl was now filled, and packets waited to be put away. He’d gone shopping during the night.

I had no idea what to do with that fact aside from take the offering.

In silence, we descended in the warehouse’s lift and left the building by the rear exit into the lower car park. Connor directed me to a big, black vehicle with a menacing metal grille at the front. He got us going, and I cracked the window to help escape his addictive scent.

The fresh air woke up my brain. I had a long day ahead of me. A conference at the town hall with all of the councillors plus industry leaders and heads of charities. My father should have been back to attend, but he would only have come in to do the opening speech, so we could cope without him.

I had another, secret objective.

My second conversation with Genevieve on the roof had been carried out under the shelter of an umbrella she’d brought, September rain hastening our words. Cassie had been absent this time, but Genevieve gave over such startling information, I’d struggled to process it. Though she didn’t yet have information for me, she shared how they’d been investigating the death of the two women killed in Deadwater, and their suspects list included some of the councillors.

Men I’d be seeing today.

Like Father, many of the councillors used sex workers, and I knew this for a fact because they had done so in my home. Parties where the only women present were employed for their bodies were common enough, and I’d seen a number of the councillors in the act.

But that didn’t make them killers.

I’d promised I’d do some digging, but the idea made me nervous, and I clutched my bag on my lap, white-knuckled and distracted. We pulled up outside of Town Hall, and I gazed up at the impressive and official-looking grey stone building with its rows of windows behind which people worked managing the city. It was early, but people were here throughout the night dealing with emergencies and providing twenty-four-hour services, so the place was never empty.

I had a desk in the mayoral suite, which was above the tall stone columns marking the entryway. On the roof, a flag fluttered on a high mast, the sky brightening behind it, though clouds threatened rain. Today, I’d be in one of the huge conference rooms on the ground floor.

Not for the first time, I didn’t want to go inside.

A touch on my arm dragged my attention back to the present. I peeked around, and Connor drew his warm hand away. An almost magnetic pull urged me to follow the contact. I resisted.

“Don’t leave the building, and don’t stray from the public spaces. Stay visible and you’ll be safe.”

He meant from the gang that was chasing me. In my panic, I’d almost forgotten about them. There was no way they’d raid the centre of Deadwater’s local government to spirit me away.

I shrugged in a jerky motion. “I’m not worried.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m better at looking after ye than ye are yourself. I’ll be back at six.”

I sensed the weight of his stare all the way inside the building.

For the next hour, I was thrown into the usual hubbub of work. The conference room needed to be set up both with tables and catering, and also the technical side of microphones and cameras for the presentations required attention. Also countless pages of printing because many of the attendees still preferred paper over digital. We had a hundred people arriving, and I manned the entrance desk, personally greeting everyone and handing out name badges.

When the councillors arrived, I took them aside to wire each with a mic for their presentations, my mind going haywire over what Genevieve had asked me to do. When most of the guests were in, I circled the hall, checking people were where they were meant to be at the round tables, and that teas and coffees had been served.

Plus taking a minute to do a little secret data gathering, snooping through calendars and peeking at the folders I had access to.

Around the edges of the room, I’d arranged chairs for assistants to use, knowing that admin staff and PAs would be in and out of the hall, but at the very back, a man in dark trousers and a combat jacket sprawled in a seat he was several sizes too big for. I didn’t recognise him, and with his five o’clock shadow and thousand-yard stare, he didn’t have the vibe of the younger, ultra-helpful assistant-type. Or a name badge, now I looked properly.

I made my way over. “Hi, may I help you find your seat?”

“I’m good here.”

I shifted my weight, unease settling over me. What did I do if I suspected he was a gangster, run? I couldn’t just leave the conference. We had security guards throughout the building but none in the room.

“Can you please tell me which organisation you’re from? Forgive me, I don’t remember seeing you at the desk but I’d really like to help you find the right place to sit.”

The man dragged his focus from the attendees then opened his coat. A skull patch was stitched to the lining, and it took me an embarrassingly long moment to realise his meaning. He was part of the skeleton crew. Connor’s people. He was here to watch over me.

Something softened in my chest. Then it hardened right back up as my gaze touched on the hilt of a weapon beneath. Holy cow.

Faking a smile, I backed away. “I can see you’re good right here. Help yourself to coffee and pastries. Lunch is at twelve.”

He gave me a short nod, and I hustled away, intercepted almost immediately by Mary Pressley, one of the councillors.

Her hair escaped her bun, and she clutched my hands, panic radiating off her. “Thank goodness, Everly.”

“Is everything okay?”

A shake of her head loosened more frizz. “Most certainly not. I’m having an anxiety attack and haven’t brought any of my medication.”

Shit. We were moments from starting, and Mary was down to do the opening speech. This was not ideal.

I led her to a quieter part of the room, thinking fast. “I’m so sorry you’re suffering. Can we send someone to get your meds, or would you prefer to go home? Either option’s absolutely fine.”

Her fingers shook in mine. “I can’t leave. I’ve sent my PA to my house, but he’ll be an hour.” At last, her gaze locked on to mine. “I can’t do the speech.”

I nodded, only wanting her to take a breath and calm. Anxiety was a horrible condition. “Like I said, everything is okay. We can find someone else to do the speech.”

“We can’t. Nobody else knows it. I can’t… I just can’t…”

“Do you have your notes?”

She rifled through her bag, dropping it then sinking to her heels to extract a printed page. I took it and scanned the words. I’d already seen a draft of what she was going to say, and the major points were known to me. It outlined the purpose of the conference—to bring together the leaders of Deadwater and generate ideas for the next city plan—and gave a cheery, upbeat start to the day.

I helped her up, pressing her fingers. “I’ll do it.”

“You—you will?”

“Of course. It’s not a problem. Go and grab a chamomile tea and sit somewhere quiet for a while. I promise you, this is fine.”

“Oh, Everly, you’re such a kind person.”

The show had to go on. If my father knew I’d not solved this, it would come back on me. I didn’t love public speaking but I could do it, particularly if just reading from someone else’s script.

In a minute, I’d got myself set up with a mic and earpiece to hear the cues and stepped up onto the stage. Then there was a camera in my face, and a hush drew over the room.

I swallowed, remembering the pose I needed to strike from my training. Shoulders back, hands clasped lightly in front of me, and my gaze moving across the room until all eyes were on me.

“Welcome.” I smiled and launched into the introduction like a pro. I covered off housekeeping—the fire exits, the break times, the bathrooms—then dove into the city planning agenda with enthusiasm.

People smiled. The anxiety-suffering Mary Pressley sat rigid in her seat but wasn’t shaking anymore.

This was going well.

“Is it the backlight or has her ass always been that big?” a voice said in my ear.

I stumbled over my sentence and stared out at the audience. Only the other speakers were wired for sound, and one of them had made that comment, overheard via the earpiece hidden under my hair. I couldn’t tell who, but embarrassment had me shift my position, trying to make myself smaller.

Regaining my poise, I moved into the next part of the speech, speaking clearly while narrowing in on who could’ve spoken. At the row of tables nearest to the front, two of the councillors sat together, both smirking and one leaning on the arm of his chair to take him closer to his buddy.

Anton Blake and Benjamin Slaughter. The men Genevieve had told me were on her suspects list. I didn’t know what had put them there, but those thoughts were eclipsed by one of them opening his ugly mouth again.

In a light-brown suit that matched the colour of his nice-guy-neat hair, Slaughter leaned into Blake, hiding his mouth with his cupped hand like that made a difference. “Someone needs to introduce that bitch to the gym.”

Blake snorted and slid his round glasses down from where he’d rested them in his wedge of pale-blond hair. He ogled me. “But look at those tits. They’d vanish if she dieted.”

“True. She’d be flat as a board and entirely unfuckable. At least with tits like that, you can close your eyes and hang on for dear life.”

They chuckled between them, and sweat broke out on my brow. Still talking, I checked the expressions of the people nearest them, but no one else showed anything but benign attention to my speech. The two councillors were having a cosy little chat about my body. How dare they? How could they speak about any woman like that?

Hot tears pricked the backs of my eyes.

I continued, getting through the speech and maintaining my composure as best I could. I’d worked hard to be in this position. It had cost me so much, and as good as I was at this job, I sometimes wondered if I’d made the wrong choice in taking it. In persuading my father that I was a good fit.

Yet here were two men who were friends of my father, openly discussing me as if I were a piece of meat, and it hurt. I’d always been conscious of my body shape and had suffered shitty comments in the past. But this level of brazenness stung.

My confidence took a hit. I finished, hoping my shock didn’t show on my face, then left the stage to polite applause and took my seat to welcome the next speaker.

Only someone who knew me well would know how that overheard conversation crushed me. There were none of those people here.

Chapter 10

Connor

An incoming text had me springing open my eyes.

Mick: All good.

Another appeared two hours later.

Mick: She’s at lunch now, sitting with people eating fancy fucking sandwiches and talking shop.

Our crew member, who typically worked security at the warehouse, was playing babysitter today and was under instruction to keep me posted, even when I was asleep. There was no way I could have walked away without someone watching over Everly.

After six hours, I’d rested enough and headed for a shower, no news to prompt me to rush to Town Hall for another couple of hours. In the bathroom, under the hot water, I closed my eyes and fucked my fist to thoughts of what I’d seen this morning. Everly with her hand between her legs, reacting to the realisation of what I’d done, I guessed. Or maybe hoped.

Then her surprise at me sneaking in.

She’d fucked herself so prettily for me to watch.

The lass wasn’t what I expected. Not entirely. That little flash of challenge both in using the vibrator I’d brandished at her and then in demanding I replace her top had sunk a deep thunderbolt of need through me. I’d pictured ordering her to call in sick, lifting her onto my kitchen counter, and burying my face between her thighs for the rest of the day.

I jerked my dick faster. Last night, the lights in my bedroom had been off. I wanted a repeat where I could see exactly what I was doing. Wanted to watch the skin of her chest flush pink. Her nipples harden under my tongue. My dick disappearing inside her cunt, her pussy lips stretched wide like they had been around her toy.

With a grunt of pleasure, I came hard into the hot water, my cum washing away, and my mind empty of all but fucked-up pleasure I shouldn’t be taking at thoughts of my ex-stepsister.

Back in my bedroom, I called Mick as I dried and pulled out black jeans and a stone-grey t-shirt. It was only four PM, but I needed another check-in.

“S’up, boss?”

“Status update.” I shrugged on my shirt, my back still slightly damp.

“Same-same. She did her speech, though I think it rattled her, then has been running the show all day. They’re winding up now.”

I scowled at the phone. “What do ye mean it rattled her?”

“Not sure,” he mused. “She was speaking away all confident-like, then something spooked her. Most people would’ve missed it, but I was tuned in. No other fucker moved, and no one came in that could have scared her, so I racked it up to nerves.”

Something wasn’t adding up. Everly could project calm with the best of them. She hid her stress well. “And since?”

“Not so happy, but I’m not about to ask why. Don’t want to scare her more.”

“Stay on her.”

“Sure thing. The cake here’s good.”

Fucking cake. I hung up and finished dressing. The centre of town was only a short drive away. Mick had said the conference was ending, so Everly would be able to leave earlier than she’d thought. On the other hand, the brothel downstairs would be opening in line with the end of the working day, though technically it didn’t ever really close, and there was always work to be done in the strip club and nightclub.

Yet for some reason, I found myself taking the stairs down, car keys in hand, and waving off attempts to talk to me.

Outside Town Hall, I parked in the only available space in their tiny car park—reserved for the mayor, which gave me an excuse to smile—then entered the building. A quick message to Mick would’ve given me Everly’s exact location, but I had a better solution.

Her tracker on my phone.

Ignoring security, I paced through the building, following the dot on a map.

Big doors opened to a wide room with expensive artwork on the wall and staff buzzing around, stacking chairs and folding tables. At the back, Mick was exactly where I’d ordered him to be, his gaze on Everly who was packing away equipment.

“Excuse me, sir. You need to sign in and have an appointment to be here,” a voice followed me.

I twisted around to find one of the security guards at my back. Gave him a shrug. “And yet here I am.”

“I’m going to have to insist. This is a government building.”

I tipped my head at Everly. “I’m with her.”

His expression shifted to wry amusement. “I sincerely doubt that.”

Cheeky fucker. I called across the hall. “Ev.”

She stilled then spun around, locating me immediately. Where the hell had Ev come from? I hadn’t called her that since…before.

Covering my reaction, I tipped my head at her security dude. “Tell him I’m here to pick ye up.”

Her hands fluttered at the object she was holding. It looked like in-ear headphones. “It’s true. He is. Thank you for bringing him to me.”

The man gave me a scowl of disdain that I returned. I knew how it looked. The tattooed mobster and the mayor’s pristine daughter. Everly in her smart clothes and confident poise, and me in dark clothes and my ink work on display.

All I needed was my skeleton bandanna and I’d give the guy a coronary.

He left me alone, and I stalked to Everly’s side.

“You’re early,” she observed.

“And you’ve had a long day already. Time to leave.”

“I can’t just go. There’s so much to do.”

A cable she was trying to wind up snagged and knotted, and Everly tugged at it, frustration showing in her aggression at the piece of wire. I stilled her hands with mine and took over, untangling the mess and finishing the job of packing up what must’ve been the conference’s audio system.

When I raised my gaze to Everly, hers was down. She appeared broken. Not just tired but upset. Mick had said something was wrong, and now I could see it for myself.

“Did something happen?”

I was only asking in case she’d been scared by something Mick had missed. I didn’t care.

To my surprise, Everly took a shuddering breath and turned away, stomping across the hall to stack some more chairs. I took over. She wouldn’t meet my gaze.

Something was definitely wrong.

A man in overalls passed us, wheeling two of the big tables, and I grabbed his attention. “Are ye in charge of shutting this place down?”

He stopped and darted his glance between me and Everly. “Can be.”

I gestured at Everly. “Ms Makepeace needs to leave. Can she trust ye to finish up?”

At his ready agreement, Everly flew her gaze to mine. I gestured at the man.

“Give our friend here a list of all that needs to be done. I know ye have one in your head.”

She sighed but rattled off a checklist, ending with, “The audio equipment needs to be checked back in with IT.”

“Got it.” He closed and locked the box Everly had been packing and carried it from the room.

She watched him go. No, correction, she watched the box go. Then her attention returned to me. “I still have so much to do. The minutes to type up and send out. Emails to chase people for actions they agreed.”

“All of which can be done from home. We’re going.”

I gestured to Mick who’d kept his position in the hall, good man, then led Everly out by the elbow. She came with me, letting me guide her, and only paused to grab her bag. Outside, she blinked at where I’d parked but climbed in without a word.

I pulled into Deadwater’s city centre traffic with Mick in his car close behind.

Silence pressed in around us. I was the first to break it.

“What happened today?”

Everly didn’t answer, lost to her thoughts. She stayed like that all the way back to the warehouse, distant and resigned. In my apartment, she set herself up with her laptop at my kitchen counter, politely thanked me for the ride, then put in headphones and got back to work.

My attempts at talking to her fell on deaf ears, and frustration built in me, so much that I left the apartment to find Mick downstairs.

On the way, I stopped at Arran’s office. He raised his head at my knock, and I answered his silent enquiry.

“I’ve been dreaming up ideas to make Convict as appealing to the Four Milers as possible. It involves ye, and tonight’s the night.”

He listened to my plan. Approved it. Then gave up his thoughts.

“What if this goes wrong?”

I’d considered the same. Convict had readily taken grunt work for the gang, but we were asking him to walk straight into the lion’s den and seek out knowledge.

“Ye mean what if they unmask him?” I said. “We’ve kept him locked up for weeks. Are ye suddenly saying ye care?”

Arran pressed his lips together, whatever emotion he felt for our former crew member actively being suppressed. I knew because I was doing the same.

I fucking hated how it burned.

Jumping up, I left him with a parting comment. “We have a plan and we’re sticking to it. Don’t second-guess it without something real to say.”

Mick sat in the operations office with Manny, the head of security and his line manager. Rows of monitors displayed security feeds behind the two men.

I threw myself into a sturdy seat. “Everly’s upset. I want to know why.”

Mick inclined his head. “I was just debriefing Manny on everything. Like I told you, Miss Makepeace was fine until the speech. Midway through, she faltered then recovered. After that, it was like she was working on autopilot.”

“Talk me through everything from the setup to your take on the peanut gallery watching her.”

Mick gave me a blow-by-blow of all he’d seen. For a man who was ready with his fists, he made a good spy.

Everly’s speech was the problem. Her glance at the in-ear headphones was another clue.

Pretty quickly, I had an idea of how to tackle her.

And on repeat, I stormed back upstairs, telling myself it was only for the purpose of keeping her safe.

Chapter 11

Everly

With an aggressive click of the mouse, I proofed the last of the minutes that the admin team had sent through at the end of the conference then emailed it out to all attendees and sat back, the bulk of today’s work done. Closing my laptop, I clocked off at a reasonable hour for the first time in forever.

If I’d stayed in Town Hall, I would’ve found endless more things to do, and I could almost have thanked Connor for pulling me out. I doubted he’d be glad for me, though.

The room had darkened around me. Outside the living room’s big arched window that matched the one in the bedroom, the already-set sun infused the clouds in a dying breath of deep oranges and reds, and I drifted over and stared out. The familiar city lights were on, from the rows of houses that lined the hill to the left to the office buildings in town ahead.

I took a breath, trying to shake the horrible feelings I’d carried all day since overhearing the men critique my body. This morning, I’d felt sexy for the first time in forever. Connor had made me feel that way, then the floaty feeling had been shredded with casual, cruel ease.

The door opened behind me, but I didn’t turn.

Instead, I tracked Connor as he moved across the room, stalking me, until the hackles on the back of my neck rose. Then he was right behind me, his breath stirring my hair where he towered over me. One of his tattooed hands braced the brick arch. The other took hold of one of my curls.

He twisted it around his finger. “Ye were upset by a comment someone made about ye.”

I spun around, blinking up at him. “How do you know that?”

The conference’s audio feed was only available to the people mic’d up. The only way Mick could have known was if one of the councillors had been overheard.

I clamped my hand to my mouth in realisation that I’d been the subject of idle chat in the room. I’d been wrong. People had been aware. Someone had spread that, all while I was ignorant of it.

Hot tears stung my eyes again. I pushed past Connor and made for his bedroom.

He caught my wrist. “Stop.”

“Leave me alone.”

“No. Tell me exactly what happened.”

I shook him off and gasped in a breath. “I’m sure Mick’s already given you all you need for a good laugh.”

Connor’s eyebrows dove together. “Mick doesn’t know shite. He saw something bother ye in your speech but couldn’t fill in the blanks. I guessed based on your venom for the headphones, and it looks like I was on the money.”

My shoulders sank. “Oh. Then Mick didn’t overhear people talking about me?”

He shook his head, and relief filtered through my upset.

Connor stepped closer and tilted my face up. “You’re going to tell me yourself.”

At my headshake, he pinched my chin to hold my attention on him.

“Don’t make me guess.”

“Don’t make me say it,” I countered. To my horror, my voice broke.

I didn’t want to be weak in front of him. I’d done enough of that, and right now, hiding felt like the better option.

Connor regarded me, then took my hand in his and towed me to the door then out of the apartment. In the lift, he pressed the button for floor three and folded his arms.

The brothel. He was taking me there, where all the beautiful women worked. I hung my head, replaying the councillors’ conversation.

The bell dinged, and Connor’s hand imprisoned mine once more. We exited into a plush hallway, low music coming from somewhere; ‘i like the way you kiss me’ by Artemas.

A woman walked our way. Completely naked. Not a stitch on her stunning form aside from a pair of six-inch heels.

She clocked us and trotted over. “Shade, sorry to interrupt you.”

He stopped. “A little busy right now.”

The woman pressed her fingers to her chest above her high, round breasts, turning to me. “I know you, honey. I never forget a pair of pretty titties, and yours are banging. I hope Shade’s taking good care of them?”

I choked. “Well…”

Connor sighed. “What can I help ye with, Dixie?”

Dixie, as I now knew her to be, beamed and rattled off something about an issue with a double-booked party room that was going to cause a problem later in the evening. I watched Connor. He listened, giving her a solution easily, but not once did he ogle her body.

Dixie thanked him then left us.

I stared at him. “You didn’t watch her go.”

“Why would I?”

Because her ass was the thing of poetry, all pert and shapely, just as her tits were bouncy and perfectly made. Dixie would’ve made the councillors drown in their own drool.

All of a sudden, I was angry. At them, at myself for caring, and, irrationally, at Connor for how he was treating me.

“Because you should,” I spluttered. “You’re using my body in the middle of the night while ignoring perfectly good ones walking around this place. Didn’t you see her? Go stare at her ass then come look at me and tell me something doesn’t add up.”

He angled his head then took a breath like he needed to control his words. “First, Dixie is a human, not a walking arse, and she works here. She’s a colleague, and I treat her with respect, as should ye.”

Oh God. He was right, I’d disrespected another woman after a dent to my pride. What the hell was wrong with me? A wave of upset crashed into me, and I swiftly turned away.

“I’m going back upstairs.”

“The fuck ye are.”

Connor rounded me like a flipping sheepdog and ducked, setting his shoulder to my belly and lifting me like he had at my father’s mansion.

I beat at him with my fists. “Let me go!”

He ignored me completely, transporting me down the hall to a door. Ducking me under the frame, he carried me into a dark room. I landed on a sofa, and he sat beside me, snatching up a tablet that waited on a stand next to the sofa.

I made to leave. His strong arm anchored me once more while he tapped out something on the screen.

Unable to escape, I paid attention to our surroundings. Aside from the black leather sofa, there was nothing in the room but one whole wall was glass. Low lights came on behind it, revealing another room a little larger than ours, the walls the dark pink of the club. A daybed waited on the floor.

A door opened at the far side, and a woman walked in.

Not a Dixie-type, but a gorgeous blonde with a figure more like mine. Huge boobs. Wide hips. A jiggly belly and a sizeable ass. But this woman was stunning. Confident.

In pink-and-black satin lingerie, she ignored us through the glass and knelt on the daybed, as if readying herself for something good.

Out of politeness, I raised a hand to say hi.

The woman ignored me.

“She can’t see or hear us,” Shade said softly.

My cheeks warmed. “Oh.”

“That’s Tabitha. She’s one of our most in-demand workers. We’re lucky to find her free as she’s booked up all evening.”

Behind the glass, Tabitha raised her arms above her head and drew one down the other, caressing her skin. I followed the path of her touch, which stretched out again then grazed around her ample breasts.

I shifted on the sofa cushion, somewhere between fascinated and uncomfortable with watching.

“She’s a dancer?”

“For private shows only. Mainly, she’s a sex worker. She has one of our most dedicated client lists. Her prices are high, and they should be. She’s at the top of her game.”

Connor tapped something else on the tablet.

Tabitha continued her graceful exploration of her body, but the door opened again and a man entered, followed by another. The first was completely naked, his dick rising as he took in the waiting woman. The second man wore a suit and tie.

He had a neck tattoo, like Connor. Further ink peeked from his sleeves.

A warning sound played out in my head. “What are they going to do?”

I’d been to the brothel on a few occasions but had never partaken in any of the services. It felt wrong.

The naked man sank to his knees in front of Tabitha. He kissed her ankle then higher, just above her knee. The other man crowded her from behind, sliding his arms around to take two big handfuls of her breasts. He yanked down her bra cups, her boobs spilling free.

Tabitha moaned through a hidden speaker.

My core pulsed.

I jumped up. “I’m not sure—”

With minimum effort, Connor collected me to his lap. His arm banded around me, holding me to him. If I wanted to, I couldn’t get away. He was so much stronger than me. His dick was a hard, thick rod under my backside.

“Watch,” he ordered.

“Stop.”

“I will if ye tell me what upset ye today. Every word.”

I clamped my lips together.

“Then watch Tabitha get fucked like the goddess she is and learn how a woman should be treated.”

I squirmed, gripping his restraining arm with both my hands. “What if I don’t want this?”

Connor didn’t answer. Instead, he widened his legs, taking mine apart with them, my dress’s knee-high skirt stretching over my thighs. If I thought he was done, I was wrong. Abruptly, he yanked the hem up to reveal my underwear, and his hand dove inside.

He cupped me directly between the legs, his warm fingers spearing over my slick centre like he owned it. I squeaked out in shock but couldn’t move, so stunned at his act, and with something powerful keeping me from fighting him off—an urge for him to keep going. For him to play with me like the men were playing with Tabitha.

Connor rasped in my ear, “You’re fucking soaking, Everly. Is that from the sex show or from feeling me underneath ye and wishing my dick was inside ye?”

His fingers skimmed my clit, the touch light but sending pleasure spiralling through me. My pulse sped, and I dropped my head back to Connor’s shoulder, facing away from him though I craved something I knew I’d never get. A kiss. His lips on mine.

“Watch them,” he urged.

I blinked my eyes open, not realising they’d closed. My chest rose and fell, but I managed to focus again on Tabitha and her men. The naked man had reached the apex of her thighs, and he licked her with his tongue flat and his expression rapturous. The suited man gripped her throat, his trousers open and his dick in his hand. He spoke low and urgent in her ear, the words not audible, but Tabitha’s reaction making it clear. She reclined on the daybed, her legs spread wide and her body completely uncovered.

One of them must’ve stripped her when I’d been distracted.

The men fell on her like wolves. The first suckled her pussy, his mouth fused. The second fed her his dick, her head tipped back to take him into her mouth, deep into her throat. God, I’d never done that.

I couldn’t look away. It was too compelling. So sexy and far, far beyond anything I’d ever done.

As if he sensed my changing priorities, Connor released his tight hold on me and gripped my throat like the tattooed man had done.

“I’m going to strip this dress off ye. Fight me and I’ll fucking shred it so ye have to walk back upstairs naked.”

I trembled and bent forward to allow him to unzip me, then shuffled it under my ass and over my head, leaving me in just the underwear he’d chosen for me. He rumbled approval, caressing my breasts so my nipples hardened through the thin material of the bra.

Under me, Connor’s dick pulsed.

It was so hard to imagine he was into me still, but the proof was there. Not only in this moment but from what I’d woken up to this morning as well.

“Why did you come on me last night?” I gasped.

“I was horny. Ye were there. It was cheaper than porn.”

I recoiled, hating his words.

“Fuck’s sake. Bite back, Ev.”

The endearment flipped my emotions completely, and I spluttered a laugh, followed by, “Asshole.”

I didn’t believe his intention. Not entirely. Maybe I had just been a convenient body to help him over the ledge in a building where he didn’t mess with the women.

His fingers returned to my pussy, both hands now, gripping my thighs to lower me down his body a little further, then returning to feel me up. His Saltire tattoo showed through the gauzy material of my knickers as he got his fingers slick.

“Like ye weren’t checking me out yesterday when I stripped my shirt,” he taunted. “I saw your reaction. Then I walked in on ye in the shower, moaning my name while doing this.”

He thrust two fingers straight inside me.

I moaned, the intrusion sparking fires throughout my central nervous system. Connor worked my clit with his other hand, timing it with his finger thrusts. His actions made an indecent sound, and I would’ve died of embarrassment if it hadn’t felt so good.

With his face, he nudged me to pay attention again.

In the other room, Tabitha was now upright on her knees, the tattooed guy lining his dick up from behind and the other man kneeling in front of her. He was already inside her, I realised in a rush. His dick moved in and out of her pussy while he toyed with her breasts, tugging on her nipples in time.

“The second man, is he going to…?” I asked.

“Fuck her arse? No. Both are going in her pussy. She can take them. She owns these men.” He added a third finger, stretching me wide. “I wonder if your tight little pussy wants the same. If ye ever imagined two at once. A dick and a vibrator, maybe.”

I whimpered, and the hot spiralling heat of an approaching orgasm had me mindlessly rolling my hips and grinding on Connor.

“That’s it, lass. Brush that perfect arse up and down my dick while I finger-fuck ye.”

My ass wasn’t perfect. It was too big.

I cringed in on myself.

Connor made an angry sound and upped his tempo. “That’s what ye heard, then? Some fucking jackoff commented on your body and hurt ye. When I’m through, you’ll give me a name.”

My lips parted, a protest ready.

“Look at Tabitha,” he commanded again. “Would she let that man talk down to her like that, or would she know her worth?”

“Men,” I corrected him, hazily focusing on the scene ahead of us.

The second man eased inside her, too, and all three groaned, pausing for a beat that I felt through my whole body. I had no idea people did that. I was kind of in love with how Tabitha was being fucked so well by two men, both enraptured. Holding her. Working for her pleasure.

Connor gave a dark laugh. “They’re dead.”

I made some kind of ungodly groan in reply.

“So tell them what their words mean,” he ordered.

“I…don’t know.”

“Their words mean nothing.”

“Nothing,” I agreed.

“Except the guarantee of their pain at my hands.”

My orgasm smacked into me with the force of a bomb. I cried out and bucked then sagged onto Connor, my breathing stuttering, and his hand lodged inside me getting squeezed by each pulse of my internal walls.

Tabitha came with a loud moan, too, both men groaning with her.

Happiness and satisfaction rolled through me, and I rode the wave, blissed out completely.

A sound of pure desire came from Connor, and he rested his forehead against my hair, his body shuddering and his breathing just as hard as mine. “Their names.”

“Councillors Blake and Slaughter,” I breathed.

“Their crime.”

“They discussed my body while I gave my speech. I could hear them over the headphones. They were…unkind.”

He nodded once, as if committing it all to memory, then he stood, setting me down on the sofa and collecting my dress from the floor. I took it, tugging it on fast.

The three people cleared the other room. I peeked up at Connor.

“Can I…?” I gestured down his body.

My mouth watered. I wanted to tongue his piercing—a shocking thought, but I was primed and wanted him to feel the same. But in the low light from the pink room, a wet patch gleamed on his jeans, too high to have been from me. He’d come from getting me off? Oh God.

He raised a shoulder. “Too late. Besides, why change your practice of only taking from me? We wouldn’t want to fuck up that dynamic.”

It was a shutter rattling down on my happy feelings, though maybe that was a good thing. Him being sweet gave me ideas I knew could never turn real.

Chapter 12

Everly

Perched on Connor’s bed, I tapped out a message to Genevieve, asking if she was free. She shot back a reply, pointing out that it was raining hard so the roof wasn’t the best option and could we meet downstairs?

I peeked from the bedroom door. At the kitchen counter, Connor was cleaning up from dinner, the overhead lamps casting him in bright light and shadows so every single muscle on his powerful arms stood out.

Arms that had been wrapped around me while his hands did devilish things.

I shivered, the image of his tattooed hand buried between my legs one I’d never get over. As if he could sense my spiking need, he raised his gaze, dark emotion in his eyes.

After we’d returned from the brothel, Connor had sent me in for a shower, and when I’d emerged, he pointed out two ready meals he’d microwaved. Both were plated with a salad alongside, and for some reason, that gesture struck an arrow in my heart. A simple meal, but he was feeding me.

Caring about me.

A little note propped alongside them read EAT.

I’d picked the one I thought he’d like least, a vegetable lasagne, then carried it to the table beside the big window. He devoured his at the counter with quick stabs of his fork then disappeared down the hall. I’d gone to find him, but he must’ve locked himself in the room I hadn’t been able to get into yet. So I’d lain on his bed and waited for him, but he hadn’t come.

“I need to talk to Genevieve. I want to go downstairs,” I told him.

He held his gaze on me.

“Will you come with me?” I tried again. He’d locked me in here, but I didn’t think I was a prisoner. Not truly.

Slowly, Connor inclined his head. “I have work to do this evening, which means I can’t watch over ye constantly.”

“That won’t matter if I’m with Genevieve and Cassie, will it?”

His expression dropped into a scowl. “Since when have ye been tight with them?”

A smile twitched my lips. I liked him grumpy because he didn’t know every part of my life. “You’re not going to stop me, then?”

“Pretty sure you’d find a way out regardless.”

“I’ll get ready.”

At his wardrobe, and with the bedroom door firmly closed, I gazed at the very limited amount of clothes I had. The dress Connor brought unexpectedly was my only real option when everybody else would be dressed for clubbing. I’d picked it up a couple of years ago because it reminded me of the clothes I’d loved as a teenager. Midnight blue and milkmaid-style, it was ankle-length, with little capped sleeves and a square, ruched, lowcut neckline, cut tight under the bust. The light, floaty material elevated it from daywear to evening, but it was romantic, feminine, cute, and with a big emphasis on my boobs. Until now, I’d not had the occasion, or confidence, to wear it.

I paired my makeup to the blue of the dress and coiled my hair over one shoulder, adding the spike-heeled shoes Connor had selected, then I stared at myself in his mirror.

At home, I had any number of beautiful dresses, from elegant garden party dresses to ballgowns for very formal occasions, and I wouldn’t have picked this outfit in a hundred years. It was almost like the version of me reflected back was someone else.

A more confident version of Everly Makepeace. A complete fantasy, dressed by Connor Michaels.

I grabbed my phone and made for the door, throwing it open to find him on the other side, hands in his pockets like he’d been waiting there.

Connor’s gaze travelled down me. Blocking my path, he stared at me. Under his slow perusal, I subtly shifted my posture, shoulders back, chest out, skin tingling at the attention.

Finally, he spoke, though it was a low and guttural single word. “Fuck.”

A thrill passed through me, and I slipped by him, going to the apartment’s exit. “Good to go?”

Too much, I enjoyed how he adjusted his crotch and followed. Outside, we descended in the lift to the ground floor, and I followed Connor to a room with rows of monitors showing different parts of the warehouse. A crowd danced on the floor of the nightclub. From memory, they had a student night early in the week. The strip club was equally packed with men around tables and lined up in front of the stage, though it was barely nine-thirty.

“Mick,” Connor hailed my security guard from earlier in the day. “Everly’s meeting up with Genevieve and Cassie. I have shite to get on with, so do your thing.”

I twisted to him. “I won’t leave the building. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Either Mick watches over ye or you’re going back upstairs. Over my shoulder if necessary.”

My jaw dropped, but fire flashed in his eyes, and my protests died on my tongue.

“Fine.”

“Good.” He walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Besides, looking like that, you’ll need all the help ye can get fighting off the rabid dogs that are going to chase ye.”

I frowned at his retreating back then shot a quick message to Genevieve to find out where she was. With help from Mick, I made my way to the VIP section of the nightclub.

Music thumped, the DJ playing a mix of ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails, an anthem the crowd chanted and moshed along to.

The steps I trotted up vibrated under my feet.

Genevieve leapt from a booth and embraced me, so pretty in her long black skirt and silver cropped top which displayed a toned belly. A bejewelled choker covered her throat, sparkling in the light.

Perched on the table with her expensive heels on the leather seat, Cassie gave me a wave then hopped down.

The two of them directed me behind the bar to a staff-only cloakroom, Genevieve shutting the door on the noise, and on Mick.

Taking a seat on a bench, she regarded me. “I’m glad Shade decided to let you out.”

I laughed. “I went to work all day, too, so I guess I’ve been a good little prisoner. What are we doing in the staffroom?”

“We can have a drink and a dance in a minute, but it’s too noisy out there to hear each other, let alone concentrate.”

“Yup, and we have business to attend to.” Cassie leaned against the door. Her tiger-stripe black-and-gold dress had long sleeves and a high collar but was ultrashort, baring toned legs.

Even more, I was grateful to Connor for bringing me the less formal dress. It might not have been made for clubbing, but if I’d worn a suit dress here, I would’ve felt so out of place. I took a seat on the opposite bench to Genevieve.

Cassie lifted her chin to me. “What have ye got?”

I blinked. “Regarding the two councillors? I did some data gathering. First, can I ask why they’re on your suspects list?”

Genevieve clasped her hands together in a pose of readiness. “Councillor Slaughter was a regular customer of Cherry’s, we’re pretty certain, and he was seeing her the weekend she died. When Natasha was killed, he was here in the brothel, so that’s a watertight alibi. But, we know from Cherry that he had a friend she didn’t like.”

“He’s tight with councillor Blake. They’re always together.” I pulled a face, recalling the two of them whispering about me earlier. Then Connor’s words took over the feeling. Fuck those two men. They’d earned my dislike and disregard.

Genevieve said, “Blake also has no alibi for either killing, though to be fair we focused less on him. Which is why we need you.”

I recited the bio I’d drafted on Slaughter, with where his money came from—mostly investments, all the councillors had multiple income streams including the average salary they were paid for their government work—and more personal details. “He’s the father of three.”

Genevieve recoiled. “Wait. He’s got kids? That isn’t in his profile on the council’s website, or his own. I know because I searched specifically for that.”

“They’re by three different baby mamas, and the only reason I found out was because I heard him boasting about it to another man at my house. Then I went looking and his child support goes straight from his salary. Three ways.”

“That doesn’t sound like a man who’d kill a woman because he got her pregnant,” she muttered.

My heart sank. “Which of the women was pregnant?”

“Cherry. She was my friend, too.”

Cassie had taken out a pen and notepad, scribbling things down as we spoke. She stuck the pen behind her ear, holding back her wealth of dark curls. “Considering his alibi for Natasha, it’s appearing less and less likely that he’s involved.”

“Shame. It would be nice to bring that asshole down.”

Both women stared at me, and Cassie snickered.

“You’re a secret badass, Everly.”

My cheeks warmed. “Let’s just say he’s not my favourite person. Anyway, moving on to Blake.”

I outlined his dull life, a twenty-five-year marriage with a wife who worked as a GP, and two grown kids. “The only thing vaguely scandalous is that she’s been having a long-term affair with another doctor at her practice and he sleeps with anything that moves here.” I blew out a breath, something not quite adding up. “In both cases, they’re not nice men, but killing women is a far reach from being a dog. I think my next step would be to dig deeper and see if I can link either of them to Natasha.”

Cassie flipped her page. “I discovered something. The brothel doesn’t send a bodyguard out with the women Blake buys anymore. They always do it as a default for when women have new clients, but cease it if they feel safe. It’s the same with Slaughter. Both men have women go to their house or office and no bodyguards escort them. That says something, doesn’t it?”

I blanched. It did say something, but beyond the fact Blake and Slaughter were considered safe. There was always a guard with the women who came to my house to see my father. I’d take hot coffee out to the guy if the evening wore on. The brothel had never stepped that back.

Genevieve shook her head. “Again, how do you know that, Cassie?”

“It wasn’t hard to uncover good intel, such as Blake also likes two women at once but can’t always afford it. I’ve spent days talking to people. Doesn’t being in this place make ye want to get under its skin? I find it fascinating.”

With her fingers going to the choker at her throat, Genevieve’s expression shifted to consideration. “Not really. Is that bad? I love it, and can see myself maybe running a drop-in session for the women here once I’m qualified as a nurse, but that’s it. It’s Arran’s baby.”

Cassie sighed, some of the brightness leaving her. “Maybe it’s the fact I’m stuck searching for a purpose in life so trying on everyone else’s for size.”

There was a moment of silence, just the muffled music of the nightclub filtering through.

I broke it. “Want to talk about that?”

She shook her head once. “Not now. Let’s stick to the agenda.”

Right. I made a mental note that my new perhaps-friend had some soul-searching going on and could use a chat. “Is there anyone else you suspect?”

Genevieve said, “Our main suspect was a man named Don, a member of the Four Milers gang. But he was found dead in his burned-out car, so at most, he could only have killed Cherry because of the timing.”

“Either giving us a copycat or an accomplice.”

Genevieve pointed at me. “Exactly. And I like the use of us in that sentence.”

I wrung my fingers in my lap. “I don’t mean to crash your detective party.”

“Uh, yeah, ye should.” Cassie beamed. “Did we just become friends? I think so.”

At my blush, Genevieve continued.

“We could use your help. The actual detectives in Deadwater are useless, and Cherry was my friend. I need to know what happened so the perpetrator can get what’s coming to him.”

“We also suspected your father.”

“Cassie!” Genevieve hissed.

Cassie wrinkled her pretty nose. “Shite, sorry. That sounded more tactful in my head, because if it were me, I’d want to know. We considered a lot of other people as well. Red, the leader of the Four Milers, Alisha, who works here, Moniqua, girlfriend to Genevieve’s brother.” Her lips twisted in dislike over the last woman’s name. “Arran even put forward one of the cops, Chief Constable Kenney. He protects the councillors and could’ve done the same to act against Natasha after she mouthed off about the club and the city.”

I knew Kenney—he came to visit my father often, and I was kind of hooked on the idea of them all sitting around in the group and coming up with this list. But I couldn’t get over that first listed person.

“Why my father?”

She examined her nails. “Sure ye want me to say?”

“Please.”

“Okay, but please don’t hate me. He’s a known user of sex workers, and he left here an hour before Natasha’s death. We invented the motive that he might want to protect the reputation of his councillors, in the case of Cherry. Though I’m not sure that stacks up anymore. Regarding Natasha, we’ve no idea. Does her name ring a bell as someone he might’ve known?”

I swallowed around a lump in my throat, horrified by the realisation that I wasn’t that shocked. My father hid his violence well, but it existed. His temper was short, and he dwelled on imagined slights. When I was little, he’d slap me to keep me in line.

He’d hit Connor, too.

Coupled with the fact he viewed women as disposable sex objects, it wasn’t the furthest I could stretch to. Yet I couldn’t share that. Not for the sake of loyalty, but if he ever heard I’d spoken about him in that way, he’d be incandescent with anger.

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

The two women swapped a look, then Genevieve stood. “Who’s up for a drink now? God knows I need one.”

Opening the door revealed a grumpy Mick, but he waved off my apology, and we returned to a booth with the black-and-pink skull logo of the club on the table. Without being summoned, a waiter brought over a tray of three cocktail glasses with a dark concoction inside. The drinks had a creamy top and coffee beans for decoration, studded around the shape of a skull added by a dusting of powder.

“What’s this?” I took a sip. God, that was delicious.

“Espresso martini.” Genevieve raised her glass in a cheers that we all chinked to.

I didn’t usually drink on a work night, but this was cause for an exception. My mind was swimming so much from the conversation, I almost missed Cassie’s words.

“I said tell us more about ye,” she repeated. “I want an Everly bio.”

“Oh, um, I studied Public Administration for my degree, but part-time because I was working for my father. He was a councillor before running for mayor, and his campaigns were my life.”

“How about outside of work?” she asked.

I drew a blank. My personal interests had fallen away one by one when my workload ramped up. “Honestly, not much.”

“Okay,” she drawled. “Brothers and sisters?”

“None that I know of.” It was a joke, but an unfunny one. My humour had fled the building.

Then again, I actually did know the answer to that. My father didn’t conceal his habits from me. I’d know if he paid maintenance for another child he’d fathered, as Slaughter did. It couldn’t have escaped me. At least in that, I’d never felt concerned.

My breathing came a little easier. My father wasn’t a killer. It was laughable to even consider it. He wasn’t the kindest or easiest of men but he carried out a very busy public-facing role. Stress was part and parcel of the job. The weight of Cassie’s gaze brought me back to the present.

The young Scotswoman watched me, her head at an angle with her black curls forming a wedge. “Do ye like what ye do?”

“I’m good at it.”

“That’s no answer. Is it fun?”

I gave a short laugh. “Not really? I’ve never thought about it like that, but work is work. I’m happy to do a good job.”

My statement met a challenge I’d been dwelling on—I’d been content with my life when I knew Connor was living his, unaffected by my family. Now I suspected he wasn’t, all the busy schedules, endless meeting planning, and rushing around with no thanks weren’t fun at all.

I turned to Genevieve who’d been listening in with an expression of sympathy. “Did you find out anything about my father and Connor?”

She took a drink of the martini. “I asked Arran. He confirmed there is a deal in place but, and I quote, ‘If Everly wants details, she should ask Shade herself.’ He seemed to think he’d tell you.”

“He won’t. He really does hate me, I wasn’t joking about that.”

Genevieve’s soft smile faded. “That’s rough, I’m sorry.”

“I made it that way, so I have no one to blame.” A gutting statement, but true.

It took a back seat to a more prominent emotion.

The deal existed. I was right.

The minute I got Connor alone, I was going to get to the bottom of it for good.

Shouting sounded over the pulsing music, and Genevieve leaned to look over the silver railing to the dance floor below.

“It’s starting,” she said.

“What is?” I asked.

Cassie and I shuffled along the curved bench to peer down. Connor came into sight below, forcing his way through the crowd with Arran beside him, the two of them wrestling another man. Their prisoner had bruises that were visible even in the low light, and he staggered, favouring one leg like the other couldn’t bear his weight.

“Is that Convict? I never met him,” Cassie asked.

Genevieve nodded, her gaze locked on the action and her hand covering her mouth. “I knew this was going to happen, but it’s horrible to witness.”

Abruptly, the music stopped, and a hush sounded over the huge nightclub, the lights still swirling and Arran’s voice loud in the room.

“Listen up. Convict is no longer welcome on this property.” He tossed the man to the floor, the nearest clubgoers scuttling away with expressions of fear.

“Please, Arran,” the man on the floor spoke, his voice thick.

Connor stood over his prone body. “This is what happens when you’re a faithless fuck, and when ye betray people who trusted ye.”

“I didn’t betray anyone, I never would,” the man pleaded. “My whole life is here. Please don’t do this.”

But Connor was unrepentant. “We saw ye with our own eyes, so don’t give me that shite. This is your doing. Get out while ye still can, and if I see your face here again, know that I’ll personally remove it from your body.”

The apparently rejected gang member pulled himself upright with difficulty. He limped to the door, head down, and his distress plain. Arran and Connor watched on, a solid wall of dark clothes and gang law.

My heart thumped. “Isn’t anyone going to help him?”

Genevieve shook her head, sorrow plain. “This is necessary.”

“He’s injured. He can barely walk.”

Convict reached the doors of the club, the bouncers stepping aside so he could pass. Once he was out of sight, Connor and Arran followed, presumably to check he’d gone.

Genevieve’s shoulders sank, and she snatched up her glass and downed her drink.

“That was rougher than I was expecting,” Cassie said.

“How were you expecting anything?” Genevieve asked. “Actually, I don’t know why I’m asking. You’ve turned into a regular spy.”

Cassie extended a casual arm. “Spy, detective, stalker, the CEO of all things feral and chaotic. I’ll get business cards made.”

On the table in front of Genevieve, her phone lit, and she read a message while the DJ started up the music again. The crowd rushed to fill the space the men had left, getting back to their partying like nothing had happened.

She lifted her gaze to me, her expression odd. “My brother’s here. He wants to see you. Do you know him?”

Cassie choked on her cocktail, recovering to run her fingers through her hair, her cheeks reddening.

“Your brother? I’ve no idea who he is,” I replied. “Why does he want to see me?”

“I’ve no idea, but he said it’s important and wants to come up. It’ll have to be quick, though. He got locked up in Shade’s apartment last time he came here.”

I goggled at her. “God. Is he dangerous?”

“Not at all. He’s the best. He was only protecting me.”

What was one more person to add to the drama of the night? I shrugged, losing myself in my thoughts until a man jogged up the stairs to the VIP area and approached our booth. He was tall and muscular, with tattooed arms and his brown hair long on top. He appeared a few years older than Genevieve and bore only a passing resemblance to her.

He reminded me of someone else. I couldn’t think who.

I did recognise him, though from somewhere long ago and obscured in my mind. His focus stuck on me, and he passed his hand across his face, temporarily obscuring the lower half, like Connor did when he wore his bandanna.

Adrenaline pumped through me, riding the connection I’d just made.

“What’s your brother’s name?” I asked Genevieve.

“Riordan.”

He was the man who’d broken into my house. Who’d tried to warn me. But right as I was putting the pieces together, Mick launched at him, a fist raised and his expression livid.

Chapter 13

Riordan

A catalogue of errors and the fact I was a stubborn asshole led to me storming a club I’d once been kicked out of. I spent my life trying to do the right thing, at least with regard to everyone else. I had to see this through to the end.

Which meant skeletons sprang from wardrobes.

Graves stomped over.

All while trying not to hurt my sister.

I stormed across the VIP area, one hand raised to ward off the meathead bouncer who was about to take me out. Catching his incoming forearm, I held it.

“I swear to God, I’m not here to do harm.” Though harm would be done anyway. “I’ll say my piece then I’ll leave. You can stand behind me and hold my arms. Whatever works for you.”

“Mick, stop. Let him approach. He’s my brother, he’s not going to hurt anyone,” Gen said, half standing from a booth.

Beside her, two other women stared on. A cute black-haired pixie of a girl I’d seen a few times now, and the woman I’d come to see.

Everly.

For days, I’d tried to get her alone. Either she’d been sequestered away here or she’d left work early. Thank fuck I’d finally reached her.

Mick the meathead paused between me and the table, that big arm still blocking me and his head swivelling to Gen. “Shade gave specific instructions that no man is allowed near Ms Makepeace.”

Everly gave him a patient smile. “He wants to keep me safe from another gang, not Genevieve’s brother. It’s okay.”

I moved in, stopping at the arm barrier so the guard dog didn’t bite. I spared a glance for Gen but focused on Everly. “You remember me, right?”

She gave a tiny nod. “From my house.”

“What were you doing at her house?” Gen asked. “Was this why you were trying to speak to me a couple of nights ago? I called back, but you didn’t answer.”

“I went to warn her that she’s in danger of being kidnapped,” I said.

Gen blinked, shutting her mouth.

Their dark-haired friend gestured between Everly and the wider warehouse. “That’s why Shade brought ye here and is all grouchy. Got it.” She turned to me, her chin on her hands. “Continue.”

Despite myself, I smiled. “Thanks…?”

“Cassie. We met when Shade locked ye in his bedroom.”

“Also when your brother threatened to set me on fire.”

Cassie giggled. “That was Shade offering on Jamieson’s behalf, but he would’ve.”

Fuck. Noted.

I’d noticed her then, because of course I fucking did—she was gorgeous. I’d also seen her at the building site where I worked, of all unlikely places, but it was definitely her. I’d recognise that feline little face anywhere, and the expression of pure mischief that surrounded her.

Bee-stung lips and a cocky attitude worked for me.

My body gave a kick of poorly timed interest, but I slammed down on it. After the fuck-up of my last unwanted entanglement, I’d sworn off women entirely.

“That risk is still active,” I continued, switching back to Everly, and with my voice loud enough to be heard over the thumping music. “I’m glad you’re here and protected, but I know someone else is still after you. I needed to see that you’re okay and to make sure you understood the situation.”

Everly inclined her head, her gaze roving over my face. Taking me in the same as I was her. “Connor—Shade, I mean—thinks the same. Hence why I’m here. Can you tell me…?” She faltered in her question, the curiosity shifting to confusion. “Where do I know you from? We’ve met before, haven’t we? Aside from when you were in my house. You’re so familiar.”

She remembered.

My heart thundered, but I darted a look at Gen and talked myself out of that clusterfuck of a confession. If I could get through this without having to give that up, we’d all be better off.

And I wouldn’t be breaking a confidence from beyond the grave.

“We have, but the important thing now is you stay with others at all times. Don’t even get into a car alone.”

“I won’t. I’m sleeping here tonight then I’ll go home tomorrow as my father will be back. Connor’s taking good care of me.”

I grimaced, moving on to the next part of why I’d come. Though she appeared fine, no bruises, no signs of mistreatment, I needed to be sure. “Are you all right staying here? No one’s mistreating you? That jackass who threw down at your place, he’s dangerous.” For all I knew, Shade could be worse than the Four Milers gang members who hunted her.

Everly pressed her hand to her chest. “Connor? Of course he’s not harming me.”

“You talking about the boss? Shut the fuck up, running your mouth like that,” the bouncer barked.

I raised a shoulder. “Am I wrong in being worried?”

Gen waved. “Hold on a minute. I feel like I’ve walked into an alternate reality. Riordan, why are you warning Everly off Shade, and how do you know she’s in danger? Where did that bruise on your face come from, and lastly, which I really need to know, how the heck were you in the mayor’s house?”

Everly peeked at me. “Connor claimed you worked for the Four Milers. Is that true?”

Genevieve swung around in outrage. “He would never take a job for them. I can’t believe you were told that.”

I closed my eyes for a beat, trying to find a way to explain this that didn’t make either Mick turn his clenched fists on me or my sister do the same.

I did what I’d done for good reason.

If she knew the whole of it, she’d never understand. Then again, secrets destroyed lives. I’d know, as mine was torn to shreds the week before my mother died, and nothing had been the same since.

“Actually, it’s true.”

Chapter 14

Connor

The red taillights of Convict’s car cruised out of sight, and at the car park exit, Arran swore then spun a kick at the street sign for Harbour Parade. Again and again, he railed against it until it flew off the stand and went clattering down the cobbled street. A cheer rose from the queue of people outside Divide. I didn’t share their amusement.

Neither did my friend.

“Walk with me.” He strode down to the water’s edge, the light from the overhead lamps not reaching the railing so we were more comfortably in darkness.

“That was shite,” I muttered.

Arran paced away then turned back, hands on his hips, and his expression tortured. As displays to onlookers went, he was doing a stellar job of convincing them a deadly rift had occurred between us and our ex-crew member.

It was mostly true. Hurting Convict, though the guy couldn’t feel pain, had fucked both of us up, even with his instruction of where and how hard to hit. He’d go home to lick his wounds and wait for the Four Milers to come to him.

They would. They’d leap on the chance to take him in, even if they suspected him. Problem was whether he was a good enough actor not to get his head blown off in the process.

“I just kept remembering when we met him,” Arran said. “You and I were maybe nineteen, and he was dropped off outside that dive we used to hang out at by his probation officer. Their sole idea for him to ever make any money. At a fucking fight club.”

“The Glass House, though the only windows it had were broken and the steps down to the cellar were crumbling and stank of piss.” I pictured the club like it was yesterday. The place where Arran and I had learned to fight. “He’d served eight months for burglary, and it was his third stretch since he’d turned fifteen.”

“Did he tell you that for the final two months, they’d moved him from a young offenders’ institute to an adult prison? He said it was to shock him, but for him, prison was safer than the bullshit life he’d suffered in care homes.” He linked his hands behind his blond head and gazed up at the sky. “I used to think that being taken into foster care would be the best thing I could ever wish for. Convict cured me of that claim.”

Arran had had a shite childhood with a vicious father. My neglectful mother and her bad choices in men were nothing to his suffering.

I’d sometimes wanted the same as him. Being pulled out of that situation by an adult who gave a damn. Until Everly lied to me about how there could be love within relationships, too.

Despite even that, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the time I’d spent playing family with her. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“I hope he survives this,” Arran added.

I tilted my head. “Will ye forgive him if he does?”

“Would you?”

I drew a breath of river air, thick with a swampy odour tonight, but couldn’t find an answer. Convict had accepted the offer, eager to prove himself. But trust was a hard commodity. I’d been burned too many times to ever do it again. Instead, I braced myself on the railing and stared out at the water oozing by on its way out to sea.

It was a fucking shame we hadn’t had any clean-up work come in from the cops, any bodies to drop in the water. My knives were thirsty.

Arran joined me so we were side by side and looked me over, his brow still creased. “I’m worried about you, too.”

“Why?”

“When we were bratty kids, taking money from brawls with rich boys who wanted to slum it with us for an evening, you had a pre-fight ritual you’d do every night.”

I scowled, not liking where this was going.

Arran continued. “You dedicated each match to a girl. You never told me her name, but ever since we read Natasha’s post-mortem report and you ran out of my apartment like your ass was on fire, you’ve worn the same expression.”

“Quit examining at me so closely, ye fucking psycho.”

His gaze stayed on mine. “It was Everly you fought for, wasn’t it?”

Him attaching her name to that memory brought a bolt of pain that threatened to double me in two. I’d left the mayor’s house—left her behind—and spent years bloodying my knuckles to thoughts of her rejection. I’d hoped she’d come after me. I’d waited.

She broke my heart. I’d bled out endlessly, nothing calming the pain of first love being over and of losing the one person I felt safe with.

My dedications went from fighting for her to every hit reinforcing what she’d done. How it killed a part of me and continued breaking bones.

“What does it matter?”

“It matters because of us being in bed with her father,” Arran said.

I shuddered at the revolting metaphor and shoved away from the barrier, needing this conversation done. “Enough. I get it, you’re pissed off at the risk of two of your crew failing, but just stop, I have my head. Talk to me about preparations for the game. There’s a lot to cover.”

Friday night saw the next running of our chase-fuck game, where we opened our basement to five women and twenty men, and our screens around the warehouse to those who’d paid to watch the carnage.

Arran snorted. “Don’t dodge. I never said you were failing. I’m asking as a fucking friend. I knew you cared about her but I thought as a stepsister. I didn’t know how deep that went. Gen tells me I need to be more open, so this is me telling you I’ll listen.”

“Arran, Shade,” a shout came from the cobbled walkway that led to the warehouse.

One of our crew ran to reach us. His gaze landed on me.

“Mick needs you in the VIP bar. Some guy showed up to talk to your woman.” His gaze flicked to Arran. “Said his name was Riordan.”

I took off, driving my feet into the ground.

Just like when I’d first suspected Everly was in danger, I was again rushing to her side, no hesitation and no questions asked. Not even of myself. At my approach, the bouncers outside Divide unclipped the red rope barrier and ordered the crowd to step back. I burst past and dove into the dark and humid club, shoving aside bodies on my way through the corridor.

At the steps to the VIP bar, I thundered up, making out the side of Everly’s head. Still here. My heart thumped out of time.

Red mist followed at the sight of Riordan. I stormed the rest of the distance, moving around him then bouncing the fucker back with my chest and getting in his face.

“The fucking nerve ye have coming to my club.”

Riordan backed away, his hands up. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

I pressed on until his spine hit the polished silver guard rail that overlooked the crowd below. Then I snapped up a hand to grip his throat, arching him over the drop.

“Shade!” Genevieve shrieked.

I barely heard it.

Riordan gripped my arm. “You’re fucking insane.”

“Cry to the pathologist who stitches up your dead body.”

He wrenched me off him so he could stand upright, his mouth a slash of anger and his eyes dangerously dark. “I needed to come to check she was all right. With a man like you around—”

“You’re the one who broke into her house yet ye think I’d hurt her?” An incredulous laugh left me. I clenched my fists, ready to lay into him like he deserved.

Then a hand landed on my chest. At the touch, my energy left me, and Everly pushed between Riordan and me.

“Stop.” She linked her gaze to mine. “You don’t need to fight. He only wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“Why?” I tore my gaze back to his. “Why are ye so interested in Everly? Why follow her around like some kind of stalker?”

“I’m not stalking her.” He swore. Scrubbed his hands into his brown hair. “There’s a reason why I care.”

“Give it to us, then,” I said, deadly low but audible over the music that made the backdrop of our standoff. “What possible reason could ye have if it isn’t wanting to fuck her or being paid to make a second attempt at delivering her to your boss?”

“It’s neither of those things.”

“Then what?”

Riordan worked his jaw but remained silent.

“Then what?” I repeated, louder.

“We’re related,” he finally released.

Related? I knew all her family, the aunt, her father’s sister who sent cards twice a year for birthdays and Christmas but never visited and had no kids, and her mother’s father, Everly’s grandfather, who was in a care home in the Midlands, so affected by dementia he barely remembered he’d once had a daughter, let alone the fact the woman had died.

“Liar,” I snarled.

Shifting to stand alongside him, and with Arran bracketing her, Genevieve stared at the man I was still facing off with. “Not that I doubt you, but how is Everly part of our family?”

Riordan sucked in a breath and eyed Genevieve. “She isn’t. I’m related to her, not you.”

For a messed-up, heart-wrenching moment, I braced myself against a confession of them being somehow married. It made no sense, but what other explanation was there?

A secret wedding, a love affair that had come after me. A tiny green shoot in my heart withered and died.

“I don’t understand,” Genevieve said.

“Because he’s full of it,” I added.

“Because, asshole, she’s my sister,” he finally spat out.

At my side, Everly froze.

I replayed the word, stunned and unable to accept it. Sister. Not a bride. Not his.

Riordan passed his hand over his face. “Fuck. This isn’t how I meant to do any of this. Everly, I’m sorry you had to hear it like that. Gen, can the three of us talk somewhere we don’t have an audience?”

He sent a pointed look my way.

Arran curled an arm around Genevieve’s shoulders. He’d followed me inside but stood back to let me handle the scene. “My office.”

She nodded, her gaze flicking from her brother to Everly and back, then made for the stairs. Riordan followed. Everly paused, took a breath, and trotted after them.

Like a whipped pup, I trailed her, guarded her, even though inside, I was still dying over her. I had been for years. Somehow, I hadn’t been able to make it stop, and a few days in her company had me fucking caring about her.

The thought of her being someone else’s had hurt. So much, I still felt the burn even after the wrong conclusion had been lifted.

But she’d never be mine. Never had been either.

I had to cut her off. With Convict out the door, I had a way into her enemies, and she had people at home. She’d be fine on her own. I needed to stop the insanity in me before it consumed my whole life again.

Once Everly returned to her father, I’d leave her the hell alone.

Chapter 15

Everly

In Arran’s office, we all took seats, other than Connor who stood with his arms folded. Riordan sat across from me.

My brother.

I broke the silence. “In what way are we related?”

“We share a father.”

Genevieve’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry, what? Dad isn’t your dad? Since when?”

He gave an unfunny laugh. “Conception.”

“Who told you this?” she continued. “If it was Dad, he was probably drunk or upset about something. He wouldn’t have meant it.”

I twisted my hands in my lap, watching on, trying to keep my expression neutral like I’d learned to in public-speaking training. I didn’t want my shock to show. Hadn’t I just considered how I knew all my father’s secrets?

A cold chill slunk through me, and my stomach curdled.

Riordan spoke. “Mum told me shortly before she died. She had that guy harassing her, and I guess she worried she was in danger so needed to give up that news. She met me from college and drove me to Victory Park, and we sat in the car while she worked through it.”

Genevieve swallowed. “What did she say?”

“That she’d had an affair with a married man, got pregnant, he rejected her, then a month later she met your dad.”

He heaved a deep breath and turned from his sister to me.

His other sister, apparently.

“Shit. That sounded bad in terms of your father. It’s only one side of the story.”

“It’s okay,” I said softly.

It wasn’t, though.

Riordan watched me. “I take it he didn’t tell you?”

Faintly, I shook my head. Never once had Father mentioned another relationship, let alone a child. I did his accounts, and no maintenance had ever been paid.

A memory rose. Of a brown-haired teenager at my front door. Riordan’s hair…it was the same colour as mine, and as my father’s. I sat forward. “Years ago, you came to our house. Long before the night you gave me that warning. That’s where I recognise you from.”

He inclined his head. “I went to confront your father, despite Mum demanding that I never try. I was eighteen, and it was a few months after she died. We’d moved back to Deadwater to live with Gen’s dad, and I just needed to know, to make sense of the bomb Mum had dropped and meet the man who I knew next to nothing about beyond what his bio told me.”

I hid my recoil. Riordan was better off staying away. I was glad it had been me who’d answered the door, though for the life of me, I couldn’t remember our conversation. Only the impression that there was something noteworthy about the visitor.

His gaze gentled. “I lost my nerve in revealing who I was. You were kind and offered to help make me an appointment, then chatted about the weather and said you’d fetch me a drink if I was thirsty.”

The image clarified in my head, those same words vivid now. “I remember.”

“Does Dad know?” Genevieve asked suddenly. Her eyes slanted my way. “Sorry for cutting in, Everly. I’m reeling a little.”

Riordan twisted his lips. “We’ve never talked about it, but I’m sure he does. Ever wondered why he calls me ‘your brother’ when talking to you about me? He never once called me ‘son’, and the minute Mum told me, the different ways he treats us made sense.”

Gripping Arran’s hand, Genevieve stared at Riordan. She was so pretty and golden, and he was darker and different in ways that were multiplying the more I stared. Then her attention switched to me, maybe seeking similarities.

Finally, she went back to him. “I wish you’d told me.”

“Mum made me swear never to talk about it. It fucked with my head, and there was no good time after that. Besides the point, we needed Dad for a place to stay. If I was wrong and rocked that boat, you’d be homeless. I would’ve found a way to survive but I couldn’t bear that for you. I think the only reason Mum even told me was because she was scared for her life and had done the thinking about us moving back to Deadwater, and the danger of Everly and I meeting without knowing.” He came back to me. “Though I think you’re a year older than me.”

I jumped at being in the spotlight once more. “I’m a big sister?”

Emotion rushed. Connor pushed forward from where he was leaning, his action stealing my attention back to him, and I was grateful because I didn’t want to feel anything right now. Not with others watching on. It was too exposing, and I needed to get a hold of myself.

“Assuming it’s true,” he said to Riordan.

Riordan’s gaze hardened. “I’ve no reason to think she was lying.”

“Not disparaging your ma. I’m doubting ye. First, trying to kidnap Everly—”

“I went to warn her, asshole.”

“—and then concocting some bullshit story to get close to her.”

Riordan flung out an arm. “Explain to me how we look so much alike, then.”

Connor shrugged. “Explain why you’re working for the Four Milers.”

“Fuck. Fine. I owed them a favour, and they called it in. My job was to grab her. Obviously there was no way I was going through with it, but I also knew they didn’t trust me so wouldn’t send me alone. I had to come with a warning.”

Genevieve swore. “How the heck did you end up owing a favour to a gang?”

He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Remember how you said you were going to cash in your savings to pay the missing rent, and I had to tell you the savings had gone, too? I knew it was on me to come up with a solution to save our flat.”

“So you went to a drugs gang for the money?” she squeaked.

“What other options were there? No bank was going to lend me shit, and I’d already asked my boss for a loan and got turned down. I was desperate.”

The two siblings stared at each other, both distraught, both wearing the same expression of regret.

I was outside the window of their lives, peeking in. I wished I could do more for them.

“What happened to your rent money and savings?” I asked.

Riordan raised his head. “Stolen.”

“By our…my dad,” Genevieve added. She glowered at her brother. “I told you not to do anything stupid.”

“And I will always do everything I can to protect you. By the time I knew your boyfriend bought the fucking place, I’d already made the deal. No money passed hands, but they held me to my side of the bargain.”

“They would,” Connor stated, elaborating when Riordan lifted a dark eyebrow. “You put yourself in their hands, so what happens now ye can’t give them what they want?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll cop a beating. I can handle that.”

Connor swapped a look with Arran, both grim.

I didn’t like their expressions.

“Did they say why they wanted me?” I asked Riordan.

“No. Only that you were to be unharmed.”

I shivered but forced my mind to work through it. “Blackmail of some kind, then. They want me for a hostage, and the only person they could be targeting is my father.”

“They want something from him,” Genevieve replied.

All of a sudden, exhaustion hit me. Emotional, mental, and physical, and sinking me down so far I couldn’t concentrate on what was being said.

I rose, and everyone focused on me. Politely, I smiled at Riordan. “Thank you for coming tonight, and for telling me your news. I have work in the morning so need to get to bed, and also I need a little space to process all of this, but I’d like to get to know you better. Your sister has my number, so please message me yours.”

Without waiting for a reply, I turned to Connor. “Could you see me back upstairs?”

He nodded then leaned to mutter something to Arran that sounded like a request to keep Riordan there. I just needed to hide away.

The minute I was behind closed doors, I feared breaking down. I liked having a brother, the feeling was a friendly and kind one, and Riordan seemed honourable, but the opposing force of what it all meant for my father clouded everything.

He’d lied and kept things hidden.

He’d cheated on my long-dead mother, too.

My sense of value from the lifetime I’d spent serving him crumbled away beneath my heels.

Chapter 16

Connor

The second my apartment door was closed, Everly whirled around, her features tight. “You have a deal with my father. I want to know about it.”

“Where the fuck did ye hear that?”

“Don’t lie to me, please.”

Frustration rocked me. “I didn’t. It’s none of your business.”

If she knew, she’d despise me even more.

At the heart of me was a monster. In contrast, Everly was gentle, soft, and sweet. I never wanted to see her again, but worse than that was the thought she’d exist in her perfectly curated world with an even shittier view of me than when we’d started.

Everly glared then stomped closer, her hands on her hips. “It’s been a really terrible evening. I feel like I’m being crushed by a hundred different emotions, and the one thing I’m sure about is I need this answered before I leave. For your gang work, you knock people out with drugs, I know that, but do you do it for other people, too? Are you for hire? Does my father employ you after everything that happened for you to get away from him?”

Her voice broke either in pain or anger.

I flared my nostrils, trying to keep my cool. She had no right to ask this after she’d been right there at the heart of that arrangement.

Yet it was something else driving me on to argue with her. A need to get closer and to touch her again while the clock ticked against us.

Time slowed.

Everly was toe-to-toe with me, breathing hard. Beseeching me with her gaze. Then her damn focus dropped to my lips. My resistance dissolved. I grasped the back of her neck and kissed her with a clash of my lips on hers.

Savage anger met perfect upset.

But, oh fuck, the touch broke a fever through me.

She gasped against my mouth, and her sound of desire nearly buckled my knees. She tasted so fucking sweet.

This was no flashback of a tentative first teenage kiss, where I’d sat on the end of her bed and let her press her lips to mine. Stroked her curls and told her how deeply in love with her I’d fallen.

No, I dug my fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck. Angled my head to take a deep pull. Stole life from her I had no right to claim.

Tearing my lips away, I kissed her cheek, bit her earlobe, sucked hard on her neck with my fingers around her throat.

“Yes,” she said.

I pulled back, panting.

She clutched my wrist with both hands, holding me to her. “If you want me, you can have me. Make me forget everything.”

My spill of laughter came out hard. “You’d use me, even now.”

Hurt filled her eyes. “No, God. I’m going home tomorrow, and this is over. Knock me out with your drugs again. Use me. All I know is you were once my home and my everything, and I just want to disappear into darkness and know one good thing will come out of it. Then tomorrow, we can talk.”

For a godforsaken moment, I got caught in the intrigue.

Time stood still. I wanted to fuck her like nothing else I’d ever needed or cared about. My dick had been hard from the second I’d touched her, but to give her what she’d asked for, lose yet another piece of me…

“Ye don’t want me,” I found myself saying. “Ye don’t want to know me. Ye never did.”

“What if that’s a lie?”

“Then stay.”

She tilted her head in beautiful question.

My heart swelled. “Don’t go back to your da. Stay here.”

Her lips parted then formed into a soft smile. It shattered something in me. This wasn’t the same as her last rejection. That, she’d obviously rehearsed, so little emotion was revealed. This time, her surprise and sorrow couldn’t be hidden.

“You know I can’t.”

With a wrench, I reversed the hold she had on me so now I gripped her arm, then pulled her to the locked door of my spare room. Not the room I’d imprisoned her fucking secret brother in, but the one next door.

Windowless. Secret.

“Then meet the real me.”

Unlocking the door, I revealed the space. Wide-eyed, Everly took in my store. The room opened into a small version of a lab. I had needles, bottles, and printed charts alongside a computer with its own uplink internet access not connected to the warehouse.

Here, I did my research. I tested the shite my dealer gave me. I’d learned doses, times, and all I needed for my craft. She took it in, lingering on the stone I used to sharpen my knives, then on the tattoo kit stashed on a shelf.

Against the wall was a fridge, and I snapped it open to remove a vial. Drew a dose from it into a syringe. Held it up for Everly to see.

“Sure ye want this?”

“Yes.” Her throat bobbed with her swallow.

My blood rushed in my ears so I couldn’t have heard her if I tried. Like I’d done outside her house, I embraced her and stabbed her at the same time.

“What happened to your dreams, Everly?” I whispered into her hair. “Ye wanted to become an events planner and run your own business. Ye wanted to be a mother. Yet you’re wasting away in servitude for your da.”

She hugged me back then sagged onto me, and I gazed at her face, watching the life ebb.

“Ye once wanted me.”

When she’d lost all but her breath and the thud of her heartbeat, I draped her onto my office chair. Kneeling, and ignoring how she’d felt in my damn arms, I took another needle to the crook of her elbow.

Drew her blood.

I pressed the wound with cotton wool until the tiny spot of blood stopped welling, put her to bed, then went to find the man claiming to be her brother.

Except in taking Riordan’s blood, I wouldn’t be anywhere near so gentle.

Chapter 17

Everly

My phone’s obnoxious ringing yanked me from a heavy sleep. I scrabbled to grab it up from beside the bed, my mind’s comfortable haziness fading with the realisation of exactly who was on the line.

Only my father had that tone assigned.

One that hit my nerves like nails down a blackboard.

“Good morning,” I answered.

“Everly. Where are you? You haven’t replied to my message.”

I paged through to the relevant text thread. I’d sent six messages over the past few days, updating him on the break-in and repairs, and heard nothing back. His message from this morning lurked at the top.

Father: Are all the arrangements made for Piers’ stay?

I wanted to gripe that he’d sent that just five minutes ago but held my tongue. Connor had filled me in on the rest of the voicemail he’d overheard at my home, so I’d ensured the housekeeper had made up one of the guest rooms. It was telling that Father had asked twice, though. “Everything’s in hand.”

“Good. We’ll be back around seven and will pick you up at the house. Dress for a formal dinner. Don’t embarrass me.”

I struggled upright, the uncovered arched window giving me the view of dawn battling heavy clouds. Not a gorgeous display this time, but murky, and with rain falling.

“At a restaurant, or is it a formal event?” I asked. The two would have different outfit choices.

“The Mill.”

I nodded, not that he could see me, and mentally sorted my wardrobe for what I might wear to the fanciest restaurant in Deadwater where people went to be seen. A muted jewel tone, maybe a deep purple. I had a favourite velvet maxi dress with long sleeves, a conservative neckline, and a thigh slit that always boosted my confidence. It wasn’t too tight, so sitting for a long time wouldn’t be a trial.

Dinners at The Mill were usually tasting courses—hours spent over very rich, very well-designed, very small meals. I didn’t love eating in public, so pushing around endless tiny bites wasn’t my favourite. None of these thoughts would leave my lips.

“Thank you,” I said.

The call disconnected. My father had hung up. I exhaled and rolled out of bed. Then I stilled, and a rush of memories flooded me. My request of Connor. The room down the hall. The fact that a quick sense check of my body felt…normal.

Not sore. Not touched.

Unused.

I sank back down on the mattress. Disappointment had been my father’s worry, but I owned that shame. I’d offered myself, and Connor had turned me down.

Even unconscious.

My gaze snagged on a piece of paper on the side table. With a heavy heart, I collected it and read the word. A single one which left no confusion over Connor’s mind.

LEAVE.

I PACKED, a numbness settling over me. A code print-written on the back of the note—four-three-seven-seven—called the lift for me, and waiting at the bottom was Mick. I peered past him.

“Is Connor around? I’d like to say goodbye.”

He clasped his hands in front of him. “’Fraid he’s out. I’ll take you to work.”

I didn’t have it in me to object.

In my Town Hall office, I went about my normal day. I organised meetings. Sent emails. Checked my phone, starting then deleting a message to Connor several times. Genevieve sent me her brother’s number, at his request. I saved it but couldn’t think of a message to send him.

In contrast, a hundred questions for my father floated about my mind.

At six, Mick drove me home. Our housekeeper’s car was still outside, so I told him to leave, almost certain that he’d hang around regardless.

On autopilot, I showered, shaved, did my hair in a sleek updo, and wriggled into the shapewear I needed to create an acceptable silhouette in my evening gown. At seven, I was downstairs and waiting, settled on a hard sofa in the formal drawing room, but still with the weird detachment I’d felt all day, like I’d left half of myself behind in the warehouse.

Laura, our housekeeper, had worked late, readying the house, and the sounds of her pottering around should’ve been soothing, but all I thought about was Connor.

He’d asked me to stay. I’d refused him. Again.

The unexpected repeat of our past shocked and alarmed me, so much I couldn’t settle my mind. Yet that wouldn’t wash with my father. He’d notice, and I’d suffer.

I forced my attention off Connor, staring instead at the framed family tree my father had made for the chimney breast wall. He’d paid an artist to create it in a heraldic style, with aged paper and a coat of arms that wasn’t ours.

I traced down the paint-framed faces and connections.

Once, long ago, our line of family had come into being by a titled man screwing around with a servant in his household. My four-times great-grandmother had been a wet nurse to the noble family and was pregnant again before their son and heir was weaned. Oddly, for the time, the family kept the wet nurse’s baby, another son, and raised him. He didn’t get a title or any land, but his parentage had been acknowledged.

My father conveniently ignored the illegitimacy element and, on the family tree, showed a clear line from that noble family to us.

I’d never cared for his aggrandisement. My thoughts had always been of pity for the poor wet nurse whose story ended with the child’s birth.

A car pulled up outside, the headlights slashing across the room, then doors clunked, and male voices followed. My shoulders stiffened, but I rose and drifted to the hall. My emotionless state would be useful tonight.

My father thrust through the front door sporting a broad grin, his arm out to guide in his friend, and his ruddy complexion informing me he was already in his drink. I took in the second man, Piers.

He was perhaps in his early thirties and had the clean-shaven, smart look of someone who worked in London’s financial quarter. His suit was high-end, either Charles Theroux or Hilos, and over-tailored to show a muscular form.

It took me a few seconds to place the man. Piers Roache, my memory filled in his full name. I’d encountered him in the capital around a year ago. Some event where city leaders from around the country met with CEOs of Fortune 500 companies and other bigwigs. The attendees were almost all male, and the testosterone levels had been through the roof.

My father had been leading a bid for funding in Deadwater, a business investment initiative, with his aim to get one or more of those companies to set up in our locale. The whole event had bored me to tears, but I’d played my part, dodging the handsy men and putting names to faces to help Father press the flesh with those he sought after most.

Now one of those walking erections was in my home for a couple of days.

Inside, I withered.

On cue, Piers’ gaze slid over my body. “Everly, right?”

I formed a smile and extended my hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr Roache. Welcome to our home.”

“Yeah. Call me Piers.” Ignoring my outstretched fingers, he tossed a smirk at my father. “Or sir. She can get used to that.”

Father chuffed a laugh and strolled into the drawing room, heading for the bar, I guessed.

Piers came back to me. “Get in the car. I’ll be out in a minute.”

I blinked at the order. “Excuse me?”

His amusement dropped, and again, he spoke to my parent rather than me. “These girls. They spend all day pissing around with their hair and makeup but expect us to be ready without any time. Thought you said she was bright?”

Turning away, he clicked his fingers at Laura, who hovered down the hall. “Show me my room.”

Her lips pressed together, and she exchanged a glance with me. “If you’ll follow me.”

Piers stomped upstairs, and I trotted after Father. At the Italian globe bar in the drawing room, he dropped a ball of ice into a tumbler then extracted the crystal brandy decanter, pouring himself a three-finger measure.

Earlier, I’d gone through his office, hunting for any clues to the mysteries I had about him. About Connor. About Cherry and Natasha. About Riordan. My search had been lacklustre, and I’d discovered nothing.

I wanted to question him now, but I stalled out. Was I looking at a killer? At fifty-five, he was a fit man, not as tall as the son I now suspected him to have ignored, but with the same brown hair that we all shared. His was shot through with grey at the temples, a fact he didn’t mind because once a woman had commented on a post online that it made him appear distinguished.

Vanity wasn’t a sin my father avoided.

Nor was lust or anger. His fits of rage were a feature of my childhood. I’d tiptoed around them like a ballet dancer, learning fast that quiet obedience could spare me a slap to the face or hours of being berated.

I’d honed my craft in diplomacy in the battlefield classroom of our home.

I’d witnessed him take down his stepson with a fist to the gut. On several occasions, I’d encountered Connor’s mother with a bruised cheek and tear-streaked face. Yet as loathsome as he could be, murdering strangers didn’t fit what I knew of him.

Draining his glass, my father poured another. “What is it, Everly?”

I jumped, shifting my position to hide it. “May I ask who we’re dining with tonight?”

“You’re going out with Piers.”

Disquiet tightened my belly. That was unexpected. “Only the two of us? Why?”

“Because he’s a valued guest. Do I need to say more?”

“No, sorry, what I mean to say is I’m unprepared. If you gave me an objective of what you want from Mr Roache, I can make sure—”

“You’ve been told what to do. Do I need to write a step-by-step instruction?”

“I just meant—”

His fist smacked down on the globe bar, rattling the glasses. I stepped back, my hand flying to my chest.

“Fucking Christ. It’s very simple. Be seen at dinner, smile, laugh, and represent the family—”

I nodded quickly. “Of course. I always do.”

“—then bring him home, suck his dick, and do whatever else he fucking wants to keep him happy.”

I stared at my father. He didn’t make jokes.

He sighed as if I were a child in need of patient guidance. “You’re twenty-seven now. People want to know why you’re still under my roof.”

I opened and closed my mouth. “You’d like me to move out and get my own job?”

He gritted his teeth. “For heaven’s sake.”

Footsteps drummed on the stairs.

Piers entered the room, his shirt fresh and a sports jacket over his arm. “Was I fast enough for you, Little Miss Makepeace?”

Father slanted his eyes at his friend, and I remembered my smile and bobbed my head.

“Please excuse any impatience, it wasn’t intended.”

Piers snorted then drew me by the elbow into the hall and to the door. Outside, he dropped his hold on me so I trailed after. At the car, I scanned the road beyond the end of our driveway, spotting a familiar vehicle and a man faintly visible behind the glass. Not Mick, as I’d half expected, but certainly another of the men who worked in the warehouse.

Disappointment crushed me, entirely unexpected, but real. I’d left Connor’s apartment on his instruction, so there was no reason to expect him to be the one watching over me.

Yet my evening had the sense of being out of control before it had begun. I needed him to know where I’d be.

Climbing into the car, I belted myself in then slid my phone from my clutch.

Piers dropped into the seat next to me and neatly plucked it from my fingers.

“Hey!” I protested.

He concealed it in his inside pocket and switched on the engine. Without turning to me, he said, “You’re on a date with me. You won’t be seen with your nose in your phone.”

An actual date? Father had implied it but I’d assumed…I didn’t know what. Not this. Surprise caught my tongue, and I stared at his profile, my resentment making him all the more loathsome. Then I faced forward with my hands in my lap. This man was important to my father, so he’d said. Surely the blow job reference couldn’t have been meant, but refusing to go out at all would deliver me into a world of trouble.

I’d get through the dinner like I did all unpleasant events, then plead a headache so we could come home as early as possible.

I’d lock my door tonight.

Even my low mood wouldn’t make me forget that.

The Mill was at the exclusive end of the city centre, in a row of grand buildings which included Deadwater’s university and museum, all built from the same stone and beautifully designed.

Luxury cars dropped off patrons whose eveningwear glittered in the evening lights.

With Piers, I entered the wide dining room, already busy with tables full of those smartly dressed diners. I smiled to the people I recognised through my father and thanked the waiter who took my wrap and showed us to our table. I settled onto the comfortable bench with my back to the wall, space for my clutch alongside.

“Move.” Piers pointed to the empty chair the other side of the table.

I squinted at it. “What?”

“If you didn’t hear, say ‘pardon’. If you didn’t understand, get up.”

My cheeks heated in my shame. I stood and took the opposite chair. He’d clearly never heard of the etiquette that dictated the woman be offered the seat facing the room, but I didn’t want to cause an argument.

With the quiet efficiency the restaurant was renowned for, our waiter reappeared with a carafe of water and the wine menu. Piers ordered without asking me. When the man left us, I waited for my so-called date to speak.

Instead, he glared out at the room, his fingers silently drumming on the white tablecloth. He’d removed the sports jacket, and his pale-blue shirt strained over gym-built biceps. Probably the result of steroids. He wore the impatient, barely constrained aggressive air of one of those types.

“Would you like me to tell you who I recognise here?” I asked.

He didn’t answer.

Right, then.

Instead, he opened his mouth, and with his focus still on the room, recited his career highlights. A pause came, and I found him staring at me.

“Who do I work for currently?”

“Webman-Foster,” I supplied. “I didn’t realise there would be a test.”

He didn’t smile. “Job title?”

God. He was serious. Lucky for me, fact retention was one of my superpowers, even if it had been read out like the world’s dullest weather report. “Investment Portfolio Manager.”

With the barest of acknowledgements, he watched the room once more.

“Would you like to know anything about me?” I asked.

“Your father told me all I need to know.”

If this had been a real date, I would have filled the silence myself with beige chat. But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be here, let alone play get-to-know-you with a man who had the worst manners of anyone I’d ever met.

The waiter returned with our bottle of wine and poured a taste for Piers to approve. At a nod, he filled our glasses.

“We’re ready to order,” Piers informed him.

Shit. I hadn’t even checked the menu.

“Tonight’s tasting menu begins with—” the waiter said.

“We’re ordering à la carte. The lady will have a Caeser salad, hold the dressing, and I’ll have the best cut of steak this place can scavenge. Rare.”

I squinted. No dressing on that salad meant just lettuce and croutons. I might not have wanted a big meal, but an edible one would help create the illusion that I was eating.

“Actually, I’d like—” I started.

Piers cut me a flat stare. It told me to stop. It screamed danger and reminded me so much of my father that I closed my mouth and dropped my gaze to the table.

With a murmur, the waiter left us. I made no attempt to speak, stuck facing Piers’ direction and with nothing but the little vase on the table to focus on. In a way, it suited me. I didn’t have sparkling conversation in me. I was vacant. Empty.

Bereft.

The meal arrived. I picked at my dry lettuce and crunched a crouton. The chef had thankfully dusted parmesan over the dish, and I angled my lettuce to scoop up a piece.

“Cheese is mostly fat,” Piers commented.

I glanced up. He sawed through his steak, blood pooling on his plate.

“Without the Caeser dressing, this meal is unpalatable,” I answered.

I had the patience of a saint, but it was wearing thin. He’d taken my phone, ordered without asking me what I’d like, and been an overall jerk. I wouldn’t say any of that, as much as I wanted.

“You’re overweight so need to learn self-control,” he continued.

I exhaled, a rush of anger mixing with hurt. With breathtaking arrogance and a lack of awareness, Piers started on a diatribe about his nutrition and exercise routine.

Setting down my cutlery, I abandoned the terrible meal and folded my arms, waiting for the moment he realised I didn’t give a shit. He talked and ate, finishing his steak and vegetables, leaving the potatoes, and not once did he register my hostility.

The waiter took our plates, returning with a smaller menu. “Would sir or madam care to be tempted by the dessert menu?”

“No,” Piers said.

“Yes, madam would,” I corrected, taking the elegantly printed menu and running a finger down it. “The cheesecake, please.”

“Very good.”

He left us, and I gazed back at Piers, my expression neutral, though his was twisted in disgust.

“You won’t eat that,” he dictated.

“I told you my meal was less than satisfactory, so I will.”

He held my gaze, something ticking over in his that I couldn’t read, then he curled his lip and reached for the wine bottle, emptying the rest into his glass. I didn’t care. I wasn’t a big drinker, and the sooner I’d had a bite or two of my sweet course, I’d ask to leave.

The tinkling chatter of the other diners around us closed in on me. Pressure built. Piers downed his wine and held his gaze on me.

He had small eyes, I noted. Smaller than reasonable for a man his size.

At last, a bowl was set down in front of me. I produced a happy smile with my thanks then took up my fork. The pudding had a honeycomb decoration and fresh raspberries alongside, plus a drizzle of coulis.

With his elbows on the table, Piers tracked the waiter leaving. At the same moment, the people next to us stood to vacate their table, their backs to us as they praised the meal to the host.

“We’re leaving,” Piers told me.

“Excellent.” I angled my fork to slice into the cheesecake.

“On Saturday, you’ll accompany me to a dinner and dance at the Hudson. Wear something that fits you better.”

I stilled. Another date? God, no. “Sorry, I’m not available.”

“It wasn’t a question. Now drop the fucking fork.”

I breathed out hate because fuck him. For my father’s sake, I should be doing everything I could to impress the man, but I just couldn’t.

I lifted my hand with a bite of food.

Under the cover of the people blocking us from the rest of the room, Piers half rose, looming over my plate.

He spat onto the cheesecake, his saliva dribbling over my fork and on the creamy pudding.

In horror, I dropped the cutlery, the clatter loud in the restaurant’s quiet hush.

“Next time, you will behave better,” he instructed with crystal-clear coldness and his voice at a level where only I could hear him.

The next several minutes passed in a blur. Piers paid the bill and joked with the waiter about women’s fickle appetites, and we left the place, returning to the car through the mild evening. I was in shock, I realised. My numbness had taken a slap to the face by someone so vile, he rivalled my father for the trophy of World’s Most Awful Human.

Surely that hadn’t just happened.

The rudeness and ignorance. The self-centredness. The spit.

Piers drove us home. Throughout the whole journey, my father’s edict played out in my mind. Suck his dick. I couldn’t. You’re twenty-seven. People are talking. He’d set me up. My father was pairing me off with this specimen of a person. Not just for a date, but longer term, and for some benefit to him I couldn’t imagine.

Clearly Piers didn’t like me. He probably hated all women.

The minute the car came to a halt on our driveway, I hopped out and quick-stepped to the door. He had my phone, but I needed to get inside. At the last minute, I scanned the street to see if anyone from Connor’s crew was still following me.

But it was empty.

Laura’s car was gone, too. The only other vehicle in sight was a taxi, bringing home the couple who owned the huge house next door and who’d been on holiday. The woman waved, but I didn’t return it, not wanting to linger a second more outside.

I reached into my clutch.

A hand grasped my elbow.

Piers reached past me and opened the door with a key I didn’t know him to have. He wrestled me into the dark hall. Fear gripped me, and sweat broke out on my brow, my body urging me to run. To get away from him. But I couldn’t escape.

Once, when I was fifteen, another man had done the same. Caged me. Hurt me. Right here in the same spot.

Whatever Piers expected to happen next, I couldn’t oblige.

My father’s friend pushed me against the wall and rummaged in his pocket. I slammed my eyes closed, like that would somehow help me, piecing over what I could do.

“You’re forgetting something,” Piers purred, his breath sour with the meat and wine he’d consumed.

He pressed an object to my chest. My phone, I gathered from the shape.

Then he took my collar and yanked it, tearing the dress to shove my phone into my cleavage. “Well, well. Look what you’re hiding under here.”

I twisted away, clutching my décolletage. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

He advanced on me. This wasn’t happening. I couldn’t let it, not again. Yet I was almost certain that if I yelled, no one was going to come running.

What I did next surprised even me. Reaching out, I grasped Piers’ arms and raised my knee in a swift jerk upwards. It connected sweetly with his groin.

He fell back and clutched the injured site. “You fucking bitch.”

He was going to hurt me for that. I knew it even as I flinched to get away.

Abruptly, a scream of terror tore through the air, coming from outside, and startling enough that Piers stalled in his second attempt on me.

I used the interruption to kick off my heels and run.

Chapter 18

Connor

A cry of terror ripped through the air, coming from outside Everly’s house. Sitting on her bed, and with my skeleton bandanna over my lower face, I cocked my head at her French doors which lay open from my entrance.

It wasn’t her. I knew every noise she made.

Either way, my tracker told me she was already in the house.

Dark thoughts of the woman swarmed my brain.

My first kill had been on behalf of Everly. She’d been hurt by a man, an acquaintance of her father’s who’d spent a drunken evening at the mayor’s house, a group of old boys talking politics and money. She’d been fifteen at the time, and the man had cornered her in the hallway. Felt up her tits. Pawed her between the legs. She’d managed to get away but had never told a soul until a year later when she trusted her new stepbrother enough to relive the trauma.

Cold through and barely seventeen years old, I’d stolen my mother’s car and gone after the man. Drove two hours south to where he lived. He’d opened his door to me, listened to my clenched-teeth statement, then laughed in my face.

Hours later, under the cover of night, I’d lurked down the road from his favourite pub and waited for him to emerge. His route home took him over a bridge and down a shadowed canal towpath. I’d had no experience, no sense other than of vengeance and love, but it was enough. I’d prowled after him, ran up silently behind the red-faced, rolling man, hugged my arm around his neck, and kicked his legs out to take him down to the gravel path. Then I’d wrestled his upper body into the deep water and pushed him down.

His thrashes and kicks.

My strength barely enough to keep his head under.

The risk of someone walking by.

Sweet submission when his life force gave out and I was able to drop him in the rest of the way to slither under the water, a floating shoe the only sign he’d been there.

As killings went, it was sloppy as fuck. I got away with it, though. Sometime later, the mayor had laughed about the news with another of his cronies, at how Phillips had been a sloppy drunk and deserved his watery grave.

At home, I’d told Ev, and she’d cried. Held me. Kissed me.

I’d stopped her from taking it further between us. In the short time our parents had been married, we’d become a port in each other’s storm. I already loved her in a way that would change my world forever. I’d kill for her again and again, but I knew what she’d suffered, the shite her da put her through, and the obligations she felt and that I never wanted her to feel for me.

She hadn’t told him about the paedophile because he would have done nothing other than blame her. He controlled every part of her life. He did the same with my mother who’d held the job Everly did now, an executive assistant.

A week later, Everly had come back to my room, stripped her shirt then her shorts, and climbed on top of me. Her hands had shaken; mine had, too, as I accepted her onto me.

It had been the first time for both of us, and it cemented everything between our hearts, permanently, at least in my case.

The door burst open, and Everly threw herself inside the bedroom, twisting the lock behind her. With a sob of anger or fear, she launched at the nearby chest of drawers and dragged it to the door.

The memories rushed away from me.

I dropped the needle I’d been holding. Moved to join her.

At my hand landing next to hers, Everly jumped and spun around. I shoved the furniture into place, right as someone thumped at the door.

“Open up, right now,” a male voice called.

The guy she’d been to the fucking restaurant with. The one her father had brought home but had chosen to send her out with solo.

I prowled to her, and Everly backed away across the darkened room, her astonished gaze flitting from me to the barricaded door.

“Leave me alone,” she called towards the hall.

From the street, someone shouted.

“Everly?” The mayor’s voice followed, coming from downstairs. “What’s going on outside?”

“Go find out, I’m not leaving my room,” she replied.

If I wasn’t mistaken, resentment played out in her voice, along with upset. Then the faint light from the balcony doors fell on her dress and revealed a tear in the material at her chest. Scratches marred her perfect skin. Her panic and furniture-moving painted one fucking terrible picture.

Red mist descended over me.

“The bastard trying to get in, he did that?” I queried, low and deadly.

Everly held her hands out and whispered, “He only grabbed me. You can’t intervene.”

Fuck that. I stared down the bedroom exit when the fucker, the dead man walking, had the nerve to thump again and rattle the handle.

“Everly, you’ll let me inside or I’ll break the fucking door down,” he replied.

“Why?” I growled to her. He had one chance for her to redeem him.

She hung her head. “He’s important to my father.”

Aye, well, that was no longer a priority for either of us. I was taking control.

I’d come with that very intention.

A day of being without her had me losing my mind, waiting on updates from the crew watching her and checking her tracker like a man possessed. It had driven me to an edge I hadn’t realised I was near.

It broke something in me.

And desperate men took desperate measures.

Repeatedly, Everly had put her father ahead of me. Worse, ahead of herself. I’d told her I was better at looking after her than she was, and now I had to prove the fact.

Though tonight she hadn’t asked for it, I stooped and grabbed my needle. Held it up for her to see, then with a smile and an inability to hear her objection, knocked her the fuck out.

Further noises came from outside in the street, raised voices, a woman sobbing. Something was going on, but all I could see was her. I laid her on her bed and stroked her hair.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I told her unconscious form. “I’m never going to let ye go again. No matter what. Understand?”

Sirens wailed, multiple ones, coming in fast.

Reluctantly, I moved to the curtains and peered from the balcony. Everly’s room was at the back-left of the mayor’s mansion and had a view down the side of the neighbouring plot. In the driveway, three people stood in a huddle, a woman pointing to the house with her shoulders shaking.

“…blood everywhere,” carried on the light breeze.

I stilled and focused in, trying to hear more.

“We only just came home,” the woman sobbed. “…no idea how long she’s been like that.”

“Piers, come downstairs,” the mayor called.

Piers, as I now had a name to put with the butt-ugly face, gave one last shoulder barge of Everly’s door then swore, and his footsteps moved away. His voice joined the mayor’s downstairs. “What is it?”

“The bitch next door is screaming that their house-sitter has been murdered,” the mayor answered. “They walked in and found her body.”

Shite. A warning tightened my muscles. Another woman had been killed in Deadwater. Without the details, my fear could be a speculation, but the proximity to Everly’s house after she’d been in danger from the gang only days ago was a wake-up call.

I needed to get her out of here.

In that lay a problem. My plan, such as it was, had been based on me carrying Everly away, but I’d anticipated being able to use the same route out as last time. The incoming police would be all over the next house which my escape route skirted.

Sauntering past the cops with a body over my shoulder wasn’t a good look.

I returned to the bed and picked up her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Ye can’t hear me, but I’m going to get us out of here.”

Everly needed her possessions, so I collected the holdall she must’ve left here earlier and pulled out the work clothes, stuffing a better selection in their place. Soft leggings and long t-shirts. Her favourite hoodie. Pretty dresses that would suit a night out or seeing her friends, but not a work function.

Comfortable underwear along with the sexy-as-fuck stuff I wanted to see.

I tossed her laptop but left everything else in the bag. Makeup, her vibrator, contraceptive pills.

I lingered over the last item, and a new thought took over my mind. She’d wanted a baby more than anything. Above a career, and definitely above me. It was no effort to convince myself she didn’t need them anymore, but I’d need to convince her of the fact, which could take some time. Instead, I snapped a picture and sent it to my dealer, Marcus.

Shade: Make me a new pack of these, identical but sugar pills.

His reply was almost instant.

Marcus: Easily available. I’ll have them ready tonight.

Then we were ready to leave. No matter what, I was keeping Everly. Even if I had to trap her to make her stay.

As quietly as I could, I scoped out the house and garden. The mayor and his flunky were at the front door, talking together in low voices. Blue flashing lights lit the street.

It was now or never.

Bundling Everly in a sheet and tying a second one to it in a thick knot, I carried her to the balcony, checked to see no one was below, then slowly lowered her over the ledge, bracing myself to give her the softest descent. This was risky as fuck, but the alternative was…non-existent. When she touched the ground, I tossed her bag, climbed over the rail, and dropped noiselessly to the ground.

I held my crouch and unwrapped her, lifted her into my arms, then jogged down the path, heading for the tree line at the bottom of the garden. Out in the night, I was in my element. Arran had given me the nickname ‘Shade’ based on my preference for lurking at the back, being the watcher from the shadows. I knew how to use them and how to stay out of sight.

Sounds were louder in the dark, so I could hear a bark of complaint from the mayor out on the street then a retort from the police as they exited their vehicles, throwing around orders as if they could make a difference and undo the dead.

They’d done fuck all for the other women who’d died. Cherry had been discounted as a victim of her sex worker career, and Natasha’s death had been pinned on an internet stalker, debunked, then forgotten. Later, I’d find out what had happened here and if there was a connection, but right now, I needed to get Everly to safety.

Ducking through a hedgerow, I got us to the cover of the trees. Soft earth crumbled under my shoes.

“Everly?” a call chased us.

Through a gap in the branches, I made out the dickhead man who’d tried to break into her room. He stood on the patio under her room, the draped white sheet in his hands.

He was a big fucker. All fake muscles and a clean jaw.

I was going to enjoy taking him apart.

He glared down the garden and strode out. I could maybe outrun him and get to my car which was down the end of the alley again, and that would need to be quick as the cops were no doubt closing down the scene.

Strolling past with an unconscious lass would be a lark, but not so good for my objective for the evening.

“Everly, don’t you fucking dare run from me.” Piers drew closer, raking over the bushes with a mean gaze. At his sides, his fists were bunched.

He wanted to hurt her.

I’d kill him for even thinking it.

Gently, I placed her on a patch of leaf-strewn ground then turned, prowling down the line of the trees and echoing Piers’ path. He didn’t know the layout, I guessed. Where the exit points were. The fact there was a serial killer hidden and waiting to pounce.

“Come out,” he instructed. “I’ll forgive this once but not a second time. You will regret it.”

So fucking dead.

He closed in on the oak tree where he could duck under without dirtying his pretty clothes. Without even showing my face, I snapped out a fist from the leaf cover, smacking into the side of his face with a satisfying crunch.

Piers groaned and wheeled away. “You fucking slut. Was that a log?”

My mouth fell open in delight at an idea. If I could let him come to me again and get another hit in, I’d let him think it was Everly. Give her some small revenge for whatever shitty evening they’d had. Dark amusement sank power into my next hit. An uppercut. Piers rose from the floor then dropped like a stone.

I shook out and flexed my hand.

He didn’t get up.

“Oh, come on.” I exited the trees and stood over his prone body on the neat lawn. His head lolled to the side, his mouth open and bleeding. A sharp kick to the ribs brought a crunch of cracked bone but no reaction.

Disappointment rode my entertainment. That was far too easy. “Two hits, and you’re down. Never had a fight in your life?” I asked the body. “Come on, Piers. Fucking get up.”

I booted him again, this time in the head.

In the distance, more sirens wailed. I scowled and remembered what I was doing. Not a beatdown for an ugly fuck of a man, but an extraction of my woman.

Returning to Everly, I shouldered her bag and carefully brought her back into my arms, dusting a dried leaf from her hair. Then I sprinted. Down the edge of the neighbours’ garden on the access track with the broken light.

Thank fuck, it still didn’t work. At the corner, I edged around until I could see the front of Everly’s neighbours’ mansion. The driveway was at the other side of the house, and two police cars lit with blue blocked the entrance, a collection of people beyond. They weren’t moving yet or making any attempts to explore. Far enough away for me to slip off in the other direction, so long as no one looked our way.

A wail of sirens came from our right.

For fuck’s sake.

I tracked them coming up the road, their timing shocking. Drawing every fucking eye our way. The end of the track had a low gate, closed, but it was only made of spindly railing. No real cover if the new cops glanced over as they passed.

Maybe they’d even park this side of the building.

There was no time to change the plan. Nowhere else to go.

With a curse, I crouched, huddling over Everly to hide our hands and faces, me all in black and her in a torn purple evening gown.

I held my breath. For her, I’d make this work. I didn’t know how, but failure was impossible. Having her go back into that house with Piers, whose fault it was that we were seconds late from being safe and whom I really should’ve hit a few more times, wasn’t happening.

Together, we waited in the dark alley, the faint blue from the police cars up the road mixing with the lights from the incoming ones. They climbed the walls, the sirens filling the air.

They reached us. Slowed.

The siren abruptly cut out.

My damn heart beat so fast that all I could hear was my blood rushing in my ears.

Then they moved on. Lifting my head, I sighted the clear end of the alley. Then I crept to the corner, checking up the road. All eyes were on the new cops.

We had the smallest opportunity, but I’d make it work.

I lifted Everly and slunk low down the front garden to clear the gate, then took a risk, rounding my car to enter from the other side so anyone glancing down the pavement wouldn’t see a shadow.

The door’s clunk sounded a hundred times louder than it should’ve. I slid Everly onto the back seat, setting her bag down in the footwell, then I shut her in and waited.

Nothing happened. No shout came.

I took a breath. Opened the front passenger door. Eased inside, over the central console, and into my seat. In my rearview, the cops were climbing out to join their buddies. Thirty seconds on and they’d be surrounding the place.

Time to go.

I gunned the electric engine and glided out of the space, unseen, and kidnapped the mayor’s daughter, again.

Or, from my point of view, driving my lass to safety.

Everly was mine now. Every part of her. Asleep was better than awake, at least for what I had in store for her next.

Chapter 19

Connor

Watchful eyes monitored our arrival at the rear of the warehouse. The doorman. Milling clubgoers. A number of crew members stood in clusters, their skeleton bandannas around their throats. No one said a word, perhaps recognising a man on a mission.

At the corridor that led into the basement, a group of cleaners huddled. In three days, we were running the game, and my dick thickened at the thought of watching it with Everly. She’d been turned on by the display Tabitha and her boys had put on. I wanted to feel how wet she got watching a gang of men chase down then fuck a group of willing women.

They’d fight then fuck, just like us.

Usually, I didn’t watch, but this time I’d make an exception.

Through the warehouse’s interior I strode, Everly in my arms, until we reached the main front corridor. Staff buzzed around, the thud from the busy nightclub coming from one side, and a rhythmic sound from the strip club coming from the other. Arran and Genevieve stood outside the management office. Manny and Mick were at the other end of the hall, by the ops centre.

I stopped. Drew my gaze around to be sure I had everyone’s attention. “Listen up,” I shouted. Then I turned us to show Everly’s face. “Mine. Do ye hear me? Fucking mine.”

Message delivered, I knuckled the button for the lift and took her up to my apartment.

Inside, I kicked the door closed and locked it behind me, moving straight to the bedroom. I’d need to make a few changes around here. Probably a new wardrobe for her, mine wasn’t big enough for all her clothes, which we’d eventually get. Whatever furniture she wanted swapped out, I’d make it happen.

“We’re home, temptress.” I kissed her forehead and dropped her bag down beside the bed, but carried her back into the dark living room and over to the big brick-arched window.

The city lights sparkled, the river gleaming in its curve past the warehouse. I almost wished she was awake to see it with me, but yesterday, she’d asked me to do something that I’d refused. A mistake.

Gently, I laid her down on the smooth oak floorboards in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights from outside highlighting her beautiful features, then I jumped up to collect a knife from the display on my wall. A Scottish skeen-doo, as I remembered my grandmother teaching me the pronunciation, though I’d never mastered the spelling.

It was a single-bladed small dagger, Damascus steel, and a multipurpose weapon which I kept more for sentimental reasons than practical. Kneeling, I took it to the hem of Everly’s ruined dress and sliced through the purple fabric, making space with my other hand underneath so I didn’t touch her skin with the sharp blade.

The two halves of the dress peeled away, revealing her gorgeous body encased in underwear, and the light gleamed over the rise of her breasts. I stopped moving, mesmerised for a moment with what I’d done, what I had, then ducked and pressed a kiss to the swell of each. Then I did the same to the scratch marks on her skin above.

Piers would suffer for what he’d put her through. Die, more than likely. Tomorrow, I’d get the full story, but for tonight, that was the last thought I was paying the man. It was all about me and Everly now.

Leaning over her, I completed the job of shredding one sleeve and then the other until the dress no longer hid her from me, then sliced through her bra straps and the central join.

Her breasts spilled free. Round, big, and perfect.

I swallowed, so fucking hard I could barely think. “New house rule. When we’re alone together in our apartment, you’re topless.”

I palmed her breast, sliding my hand around her and plumping her up. With my thumb, I brushed over her nipple, exhaling as it rose and hardened. I did the same with the other, then lowered my head to kiss the swell again, tasting her skin. I circled her nipple with my tongue and took a lazy suck.

My eyelids shuttered closed, and a groan of need came from somewhere deep inside me. As in love as we’d been, we hadn’t had the chance to explore each other’s bodies as much as either of us wanted. In the time we’d lost, we’d both changed, too. Matured. She was all woman with soft skin and plentiful curves. I was harder in all ways. A perfect match.

I curled my tongue around her taut bud and took another pull, kneading her other breast like she was my stress toy. My personal plaything.

I took my mouth to her other nipple and pushed her tits high up and together, licking her and gliding my tongue down the valley between. Later, I’d fuck them, but I wanted her awake for that. Instead, I sucked her skin, leaving a line of marks that echoed the curves between her tits. Both sides. A record in love bites that I’d been here.

When I was done, I rested my hands on my knees and admired my handiwork. Her wet skin glistened from my attention, and though the marks were faint in the dim light, in the morning, they’d stand out.

I grazed my hands over her rib cage and onto her soft belly, mostly constrained in the tight underwear. “I fucking love your body. Every single curve is mine. Ye give me so much just by being alive. Now I’m going to see exactly how wet ye got from me playing with your tits.”

The last remaining item of clothing was a barrier between us, but two slices from my dagger split the material and removed that problem. With Everly’s head by the window, and her gorgeous hair spilling around her in gentle curls across my floor, the shadows fell over the rest of her body.

“That won’t do,” I told her.

I collected her in my arms again. Shoved the ruined clothes away and moved her so she was angled to the city view. I pulled her ankle out so her legs were wide and the gleam of her cunt was in full view.

Holy fuck.

She was wet for me, her thighs coated in her arousal. I palmed my dick through my jeans, then leapt to my feet, wrenching at my clothes and uncaring if I tore them in my need to get them off me.

My dick sprang up and slapped my belly, leaking for her like she was for me. I palmed the rigid length and stroked myself, then knelt over her head and took my dick to her mouth.

My precum painted her lips, and my shiny ring piercing clinked on her teeth. Badly, I wanted to fuck her throat, but again, that could wait until she was conscious.

I shifted down her body until I knelt between her spread thighs, then fitted my dick to her pussy.

“In every way, you’re mine, Everly Makepeace.” I thrust halfway inside her tight channel.

My heart thumped so hard and my balls drew up, my body so primed for her this wasn’t going to last any time at all.

Probably better that she slept through it.

I gritted my teeth and continued with the words I needed to say. “I own ye now. Just as ye own me. I’ll defend your life with mine and give ye everything ye want. A home, my last name, the blood of anyone who hurts ye. I’ll fucking knock ye up, too. As many times as we want.”

I jacked my hips again until I bottomed out, my body against hers, and my arms shaking where I braced myself over her. Sweat broke out on my skin. The hard floor dug into my knees, but I felt nothing but her and how she squeezed around me.

A warning pulse of her body enjoying mine.

“Fuck, okay, sweetheart,” I muttered, clamping down on my need to go off like a piston and come inside her.

That flutter of her pussy told me she could orgasm from me fucking her like this. Which meant I needed to give that to her.

Pulling out, I dropped down to kiss her clit. Then I glided my tongue down the centre of her and back up, just to coat myself in her taste. So addictive. I settled on my elbows and opened her with my thumbs, taking a hard suck of her clit, running my teeth down it then sucking again.

Like that, I teased her, going hard then easing up, priming her body like she had mine merely by existing. Then I slid two fingers into her and crooked them to hit her G-spot.

Everly’s cunt squeezed me.

I humped the floor, getting some small relief from the growing need, but kept going, tormenting her, driving her wild, even if only one part of her was responding. When she fluttered again, I jumped up and sank my dick back into her with a low groan of desire and happiness.

Then, in front of the window that overlooked the city which had mistreated her, I let go of my restraint. Like a man possessed, I fucked her beautiful body, taking handfuls of her ample hips and ploughing into her over and over again.

“See this, Deadwater,” I yelled at the city outside the window. “Mine. She’s all fucking mine. Ye cannae have her back.”

Pressure built steadily inside me, my fever for her spiking when she squeezed me again, her internal walls needing me to stay inside her. To finish when she did. Or maybe before? What worked better for knocking a woman up? I lost track of the thought—she’d take my dick whenever she wanted so it was a moot point—and the first pang of my approaching climax struck me down.

“Fuck,” I gritted out. “Ye can’t hear me, but you’re taking me so well.”

Everly’s pussy clamped down on me right as my balls tightened. I came, emotion rocking me and my cum lashing inside her, her orgasm skyrocketing mine. This was what we needed. To stop dancing around the other. To take what was ours and find a way to make it work.

“You’ll remember that ye loved me once.” I breathed and held myself rigid over her and buried so deep, still pulsing. Still claiming. “This time, I won’t take no for an answer.”

I FOUND a pillow for under her head. Paced the room. Each time I was hard again, I fucked her on the floor until we were a mess of cum and exhaustion.

When dawn came, I collected her and took her to our bed, apologising for the rough treatment. I’d kiss her pussy better in the morning.

After she was settled, I took her phone from her bag.

I could’ve used her biometrics to unlock it but took a guess at her passcode. “Six digits. If it’s my birthday, ye get a bonus orgasm when ye wake.”

I tapped in the date. The phone unlocked.

With a laugh of satisfaction, I opened her email and typed out a message to the mayor’s admin team. She was sick and taking the rest of the week off, and someone needed to redistribute her work.

A reply from some keen arsehole came in immediately, wishing her a speedy return to health and giving a promise to cover her in her absence. I snorted and tossed the phone back in the bag. Little did they know she wouldn’t be back. Not unless she wanted to return once for some reason of revenge, in which case I’d help her however she wanted.

A quick check of my phone gave me the thumbs-up from Marcus—the fake contraceptive pills were in his hands. All I needed to know. I arranged for them to be picked up then, making a note to remove some to match her pack, curled up around my lass to join her in sleep.

Chapter 20

Everly

My first awareness was of strong arms around me, swiftly followed by a familiar scent. Something woodsy, faintly metallic, and reminiscent of the night. Connor. My eyes refused to open, but instant safety relaxed me enough to try to surface my memories.

It didn’t take much. Last night tormented the edge of my mind. My father had sent me on a date with an awful specimen of a man. Piers had attacked me.

Somehow, Connor had been there.

I tried to move to bring his arm more snuggly around me, but my body wouldn’t oblige. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the drug he’d knocked me out with, or perhaps I just didn’t want to wake properly and face the morning.

From behind, Connor squeezed me. “Awake?”

I mumbled something, and he chuckled. Kissed my neck.

Then sank under the covers.

Connor rolled me to my back and lifted my leg onto his shoulder. I whimpered in anticipation, my arm lolling uselessly to the side, but my pulse speeding up at the touch of his tongue to my centre. I was naked, I realised, and from what I could feel, so was he. He lapped my clit with the flat of his tongue, then drove it down, spearing inside me with a groan of pleasure and both his hands under my ass to lift me.

His touch brought awareness of a raw ache at my pussy, the delicious low-level pain of thorough use and the light sting of abraded skin. Exactly what I’d wanted to feel yesterday, but which had clearly taken place overnight.

A thrill shot through me and woke my slumbering nervous system, desire pooling inside me.

He’d fucked me after knocking me out. There was no other man and no other circumstance in which that would be okay, but with him, I was…relieved. Ecstatic. I tried to form words to ask him details, but my lips weren’t fully functional yet, so instead, I just let myself feel. His tongue thrust into me, two fingers entering after, and then hot, hard suction at my clit.

Pleasure zipped through my body. Because I couldn’t do it for myself, Connor ground my pussy against his face, working me until I panted, a fast climax approaching. Somehow, he seemed to know. A third finger eased into me, stretching me wide, and his fingertips hit a spot inside me that he found again and again. The combination of that rhythmic touch and the perfect pressure on my clit, and I splintered.

A silent moan echoed in my head, and I clamped down on his hand, my body taken over by endless pleasure, and my brain empty of anything else. Abruptly, Connor threw back the covers and rolled me to my side, covering my body with his from behind. He thrust between my ass cheeks until his dick slid over my throbbing core, then pushed inside.

A whimper finally came from me. For years, I’d dreamt of this. Now I was living it. Feeling him work his hips until he was in as deep as he could go. There was something new, too. The cold smoothness of his piercing.

Connor ran his arm around me and between my breasts, his big hand splayed across my chest. His other went under the curve of my waist to palm me between the legs.

“Look,” he ordered.

I forced my eyes open. The room was bright with day, though we faced away from the window, and it took me a moment to focus on the tall mirror on Connor’s wall. Our joined bodies reflected back at us. The image of his heavily inked skin against my creamy white branded in my brain.

His hand buried between my thighs had the Scottish flag tattooed on the back. The other, at my chest, shifted up until he gripped my throat, then higher still to cover my mouth. It had the skeleton jaw inked on it, so in the mirror’s reflection, I was half skeleton.

It made me look like I was his.

All the while, he kept on fucking me, sliding in and out, and his thick cock spreading me open. Never had I felt anything like this. So completely owned.

His lips found my ear. “All night, I fucked ye, out on the living room floor so the night and the city would see.”

I moaned at the scorching-hot image, but he wasn’t done.

“Ye need to know that you’re mine now. I won’t let ye go, ever. This pussy,” he slapped me between the legs, “this body, every piece of your soul, all mine. Nod if ye understand.”

I managed a quick jerk of my head in agreement. It was impossible, but at the same time, all I’d ever wanted. That claim, his ownership, spoke to a deep need inside me, and I was powerless to refuse.

“Good lass. Nothing else matters but us now.”

Connor stroked my clit and thrust inside me, setting off fireworks, a detonation of need that had me barrelling in the direction of another orgasm. He growled encouragement, and when I clamped down on him again, his thrusts turned jerky, and he stilled and pulsed into me.

God, he’d come.

No condom either, though I could hardly care about that. The feeling of his cum in me broke my brain. Connor pulled out, his fingers taking the place of his dick, feeling over the slick combination of us.

“House rules. Ye live here now. With me. You’ll be full of my cum all the time. These,” he groped my breasts, the image lewd in the mirror’s reflection, “are to be bare whenever we’re alone here.”

I gave a soft laugh, realising I’d got my voice back. “You want me to strip half naked when you come into the apartment.”

He nodded and pinched my nipple. “Tits out. Mandatory. I need to see them.”

“Anything else?”

“You’ll obey me in all decisions related to your safety.”

My smile died. Last night, I’d been so scared. If I’d stayed in that house, I knew what would’ve happened. At best, Piers would’ve forced me into a sex act I didn’t want. At worst, he’d have raped and beaten me. My cries would’ve fallen on deaf ears.

I didn’t want responsibility for myself anymore. Just to be safe in this hideaway with Connor.

Slowly, I nodded.

Connor kissed my neck. “I expected more of a battle.”

I couldn’t answer, any element of fight in me broken. I rolled my shoulders then flexed my arms, the power returning. Connor helped me to sit up, and I glanced across the bed to the window.

“What time is it?”

“About three in the afternoon.”

I whipped my head around. “I’ve missed work.”

“I reported ye in sick. You’re not going back all week.”

His gaze held mine, that same challenge there for me to push back. I didn’t. Fuck my father, and fuck work. For a few days, they’d have to cope. I couldn’t walk into Town Hall even if I wanted to. Something powerful in me warned me off, let alone Connor’s edict about managing my life.

As if understanding, Connor touched our foreheads together, then pressed a soft kiss to my lips. My heart ached at the tenderness.

“I packed your bag, again, so ye have most things you’ll need, I hope.” He tilted his head at my holdall on the floor. “Your phone’s in there, too.”

“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it in every way. For being there last night, for keeping me safe, for us waking up together like this.

Connor climbed from the bed and picked up my bag for me, setting it down by my feet. “Hungry, thirsty?”

I unzipped it and examined the choices he’d made this time. Comfortable clothes and pretty dresses, nothing appropriate for work. I spied my contraceptive packet and fished it out. It looked a little crumpled, but presumably that was from being in the bag. “A glass of water would be lovely.”

Connor’s gaze lingered on the packet, and he disappeared into the kitchen, followed by the sound of the fridge opening. Once, I’d dreamt of getting pregnant by him. It was a stupid teenage solution to keeping him. For a millisecond, I considered stashing the contraceptives back in my bag—I’d never loved using them anyway—but it was an errant thought.

He returned with my water. I took the pill.

The cold drink woke me a little more, then another startling memory returned. Slowly, I lifted my head, puzzling over the loose thread. “Did you hear a scream last night when you were in my room?”

Regret passed over Connor’s features, and he sat at the bottom of the bed. “Your neighbours’ house-sitter was killed. They came home to find her dead.”

My mouth fell open in shock. I’d seen the house-sitter a few times, though hadn’t spoken to her. She’d been so young. “God, that’s awful. Another woman murdered? Was it by the same person?”

“I don’t know any more details yet, but Arran’s going to sound out his police contact and debrief us all later.”

“Us?”

“Genevieve and Cassie called the meeting. Cassie seems to have moved in, and she said she wants ye on her team.”

A short burst of warmth crept up against my sorrow. “I like them both. I feel so bad for that poor house-sitter, though. What she must have gone through, oh, and my neighbours who found her. For that to happen in their home, and them unable to do anything to help her.”

Connor collected my hand in his and kissed my fingers. “All the more reason to let me keep ye safe. I might be acting gentle but I don’t feel it. I’m half inclined to chain ye to this bed so I know where ye are at all times. Consider that a warning in case ye decide to test me.”

I shivered, not hating the idea.

He grinned. “Now get up.”

“What are we doing?”

“Showering. Then I’m going to fuck ye again so you’re wearing my cum, as per the rules, when we’re ready to go downstairs. When we’re outside of this apartment—”

“I can wear clothes?” I joked.

His gaze dropped to a glower, so instantly menacing my insides tightened in lust and need.

“You’ll stay close to me at all times or be escorted by a guard. Do anything else and I’ll lead ye by the scruff of your neck to the brothel where you’ll pick out your restraints yourself.”

That shouldn’t have been hot. He’d always been gentle and sweet with me. I had the impression I was getting to know another side of Connor, and against all common sense, I was pretty certain I was going to like it.

We showered together, Connor taking his time over washing me thoroughly. His dick was hard again, that piercing glinting at the end, though he wouldn’t let me touch him. His fingertips lingered on my chest. Over the marks left by Piers. There were also love bites on my breasts which were clearly Connor’s doing, a fact I liked all too much.

“He came after ye down the garden,” Connor said. “The man you’d gone on a date with then barricaded your door against. Who the fuck was he to think he could behave like that?”

“I hardly know. I think my father offered me to him. What happened, did he find us?”

But Connor stared. “Your father pimped ye out?”

Shame pierced me. I managed a nod.

“I hit him a couple of times,” he finally said. “Wish I’d done more, but we’d run out of time. That fucker needs to go down, and so does your da. I should’ve handled him a long time ago.”

“Listen, about my father—”

Abruptly, Connor stepped away. “No. I don’t want to hear it. That’s another rule, but for my sanity. Spare me any excuses or justification over your da, please. He’s your past, and I’m your future. We’re never talking about him again.”

He swung open the shower door and grabbed a towel. “Take as long as ye need,” he threw back.

Then he left me to stare after him, half in agreement, half knowing this was all so, so wrong.

Chapter 21

Everly

A hairdryer waited on the bed, along with one of Connor’s notes.

USE ME.

Sighing in agreement, I dried my hair in soft waves. Connor and I were using each other, but I couldn’t regret it. Safety surrounded me like a warm blanket, and I dressed in a pair of leggings and a long t-shirt. The apartment was cosy for a big space, but I grabbed a hoodie to wear downstairs when we left.

My phone vibrated on the bed. I ignored it.

I had missed calls from my father along with a string of messages, the last of which I’d scanned the preview.

Father: What the hell was that email to work? You cannot simply disappear like this. I will expect you home…

The rest of the message was off-screen. I didn’t bother reading it.

Another buzz came but from somewhere out in the apartment. I left the bedroom and peered into the living room. On a stool by the kitchen counter, under a bright lamp, Connor had a device in his hand—a tattoo gun, I realised—and was scribing on his arm.

He lifted his focus to me. It sank to my chest, then he shook his head once. “Off.”

My cheeks flamed. “I thought we were going downstairs?”

“In an hour. Get them out.”

Holding his gaze, I pulled my t-shirt over my head.

“And the bra.”

I unclipped it and let my breasts fall free, discarding my unneeded clothing on the sofa.

Connor stilled, and under his stare, goosebumps rose on my skin. My nipples pebbled, aching with the need to be touched.

“Fucking hell, Everly,” he finally released. “Come here.”

I drifted closer, intrigued with what he was doing and liking his attention. His house rule was ridiculous but also fun. For as long as I needed to hide out here, I was going to get off on stripping for his pleasure.

“What are you tattooing?” I asked.

Connor set down the tattoo gun and wiped the place on the arm he’d been inking. “‘Property of Connor Michaels’ across your tits.”

He reached for me. I slipped away.

His lips quirked, but he didn’t chase me down, letting me circle him.

“I’m never satisfied with any designs.” He extended his arm. Twisted it. “There’s always something to add. Drawing on myself calms me.”

He had so much ink. I drew my gaze over the nearest arm, from the skull’s jaw on the back of his hand, to scored knuckles, to black flames behind a splay of knives.

“Talk me through them?”

“Let me touch ye first.”

At my head tilt, he beckoned. Damn him, because I couldn’t resist. He’d had sex with my unconscious body all night and again when we woke, yet neither of us were sated. From his attention alone, I was wet. Needy. Wanting more.

Barefoot, I padded across the polished wooden floor to within arm’s length of him. The high counter he sat at sectioned off the kitchen area from the rest of the living space and was L-shaped, made of a dark-grey polished stone. On the other side, it dropped to a regular work surface with the usual appliances around.

He circled my wrist and pulled me in until I was between his knees, my back to his front. Both his hands went to my breasts. He cupped me, stroking over my skin, his huff of breath disturbing my hair.

I watched his inked fingers move on me then dropped my head back to his shoulder, the feel as good as the sight. I was so sensitive that fire trailed his touch. “Better?”

“I will never get enough.”

I knew the feeling. I’d lived for so long without him that this brief interval of time together had no right to hit me so hard.

Connor moulded me, taking his time over playing. “Pick up my gun.”

I blinked my eyes open. “The tattoo gun?”

“Aye. I wouldn’t put a loaded weapon in your hand unless ye were face to face with one of the men who hurt ye. That’ll come later.”

He was joking, probably.

I collected the tattoo gun. Examined it. The sharp end. The little well of black ink.

Connor released one breast and extended his left arm. “Draw on me.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s either that or I’ll carry out my threat and write on these.”

He tapped my boob. I glowered back.

“I don’t even know how to use this.”

“Easy. It’s already set up. Hit that button.” He pointed to a pedal on the counter, attached by a wire to the gun and to the wall socket the other way.

I pressed it, and the buzzing started again, vibrating my fingers.

“You’re crazy for wanting me to do this.”

“I’m crazy for a lot of reasons, sweetheart.”

I breathed through my nose, then accepted the challenge. “Take your shirt off, then. I don’t want it in the way.”

Connor released me and tore his shirt off in one easy move, then returned to surrounding me. The warmth of his chest thrilled my back.

He tapped the hilt of a broken knife on his forearm. “Practice outlining that.”

“How hard?”

“Work it out.”

I leaned closer, and Connor took another delicious squeeze of my breast again.

I hovered the needle over his skin, suddenly scared. “I don’t want to mess this up. It’s a permanent scar.”

“Everything ye do to me fits that description.”

“Be serious.”

He pinched my nipple. Hard. I gasped.

“Focus, Everly. Every time ye stall, I’m going to ramp up what I’m doing to ye. Put your mark on me.”

His touching me more didn’t sound like a threat, but I concentrated on the design on his skin. There were several knives together in a display, the hilt of the broken one more faded than the others. As lightly as I could, I touched the needle to his skin. Pierced it. I danced the gun back.

“Good girl. Mark my skin.”

“But…”

“It’s a very fine needle so ye cannae go wrong. Keep going.”

I moved in again, drawing the tip down in a straight line, concentrating on getting it right. “Am I doing okay?”

He groaned and kissed my shoulder, his fingers of both hands flexing, one set on the polished counter and the other on my skin.

“Don’t stop.”

I took a breath and started again, moving to the other side of the knife. Connor’s fingers landed on my hip, and I jumped.

“You’ll make me mess up.”

“Then concentrate better.”

His hand moved to my waistband, then without warning, he yanked down my leggings and underwear and palmed me between the legs. I moaned, my eyes closing. He speared over my soaked centre, his gruff sound of need boosting my throb of desire.

Instantly, I wanted more, no matter how much we’d already done, but also I was embarrassed by how wet I was for him. A glance spared for the tall window not ten feet away sent another spike of panic and lust through me.

“Why have ye stopped?” he asked.

“I…I…”

“Keep drawing on me. Score my knuckle while I finger-fuck ye.”

He tapped the counter to bring my attention back there, and I focused on his knuckles, noting fully the black lines that scored and crisscrossed him there. There were hundreds. On both hands, hashing out his fingers.

I went still. “Are those a record of your conquests?”

Connor teased my entrance. “There’s one for every time I had a dirty thought about ye. I hurt myself to make it stop, including when I pierced my dick, then it became an addiction.”

My disquiet turned to wonder. I spread his fingers, examining them one by one, then gazed down to where he held me between the legs, counting more than I could guess. “So many.”

“I had to change it to once a month because I ran out of space.”

All this time and he’d thought about me like that? My heart thrilled in happiness, and fresh need streaked through me.

Connor pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my neck. “I never stopped thinking about ye.”

One long finger eased inside me, and lazily, he opened me up. I winced at the rebound of slight pain from so much use.

He noticed. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Good. Need ye to feel me for days.”

He removed his hand and wrangled his jeans, then his hard dick slid between my legs, getting slick in my arousal but not going inside. I peeked at the window again. People down on the cobbled harbour path far below could look up and maybe see in, or someone in the fancy tower block apartments further along the river could spy on us.

Then again, they could’ve already got an eyeful all yesterday evening judging by what he’d told me.

“Give me the details of what you did to me in the night,” I asked.

“Pick up the gun and mark me,” he countered.

I breathed through utter need and took up the tattoo gun, my fingers shaking. “I love your ink. I could never have any but…”

His dick glanced over my clit then back. My words dried up.

A fresh challenge awoke in me, and without any further thought, I touched the needle to my knuckle, scoring myself like he’d done to himself over and again.

Showing him how those lustful thoughts were shared and giving myself an exquisite burst of pleasure-pain to add to the mix of desire in me.

Connor huffed a laugh. “Aye, ye could. Now I’ll need an even darker line for how ye just made me feel.”

Holding his hand steady, I found a tiny patch I could draw on and drew the needle over his skin.

Connor fucked inside me.

I yelped a cut-off sound of pleasure but forced my brain to stay on track to turn the black dot into a solid line. He returned his free hand to my breast and tugged on my nipple, timing it with a series of strokes which stretched me and filled me so well.

“I placed ye in front of that window and cut off your clothes. Your naked body needed me so much, your pussy was desperate to be owned. Ye leaked for me, Everly, even asleep. I fucked ye over and over again. I took everything I needed as often as I liked.”

I whimpered, and inside, he hit a place that sent sparks through me.

The knowledge that he’d lusted over me long after we’d parted smashed out another brick in the wall I’d put up to protect myself from memories of him. Still holding the tattoo gun, I splayed my hand on the counter, mindless, and jerking with his increasingly frantic thrusts.

“How many times?”

“Did I fuck ye? I lost count.”

Again, I touched the needle to my knuckle. Ink welled, and my skin stung in the second line I drew. I added two more in the opposite direction, a tally, and undisguisable now.

My mouth dropped open, and surprise caught me. I’d never once wanted a tattoo, never considered it. The vibe didn’t go with my good office girl aesthetic at all.

But this month was all about firsts.

My first love. My only love. The start of my awakening from what I’d done to my life and what had been done to me.

Connor stared down at what I’d done and made a sound of pleasure. Pulling out of me, he stood and stripped my clothes from my ankles then reached to push away all the tattoo kit items from the raised counter down to the work surface below, the clatter loud in the otherwise quiet room. Ink spilled.

He lifted me so I landed face down on the cool countertop, then buried his face between my legs from behind. While I mindlessly worked my hips, chasing friction, his tongue slid over me, inside me, taking me to the edge of a quick orgasm, then replaced by the broad head of his dick.

He must’ve knelt on the stool behind me, I dimly realised, as the overhead brass lamp swung out, casting light and shadows over us. I turned my face away from the window, moaning again at the first deep thrust into me.

“I want this one around my dick. I plan to fuck ye on every surface in the place.”

Braced over me, he drove in and out in a series of hard thrusts. I saw stars. My mind stopped working. All I knew was need and him. Everything, him.

The climax raced through my body and wrecked me. I keened into the polished stone beneath me, my throbs extended by Connor quickly following me over the ledge. He stilled and held his dick in place deep inside me, coming in pulses that matched mine.

Bright satisfaction rolled over me.

“Never going to get over how good that feels.” He hauled in a deep breath and climbed off me, helping me down. “Put your underwear back on but don’t clean up. I told ye I want ye wearing my cum all day.”

I flushed hot and tugged on half my clothes. We still had thirty minutes until we needed to go downstairs, so I didn’t bother even trying to put on my bra.

My gaze kept straying to the floor in front of the window, my brain summoning image after image of his frenzy there.

“What you did to me last night…”

Connor curled his arms around me from behind, possessive and his skin hot against mine. “Did ye like it?”

Confused at myself, I inclined my head. “But I liked it more this morning when I was conscious but unable to move. God, that sounds messed up.”

“Not at all, and I can use a different drug to recreate that. I fucking love it.”

“Why?” I twisted in his arms.

He released me. “It’s safer for me that way.”

“When I can’t touch you back?”

“Can’t touch me, tell me no, or hurt me.”

My heart sank. I’d bruised him so deeply that this was our reality. Sorrow chased away the bloom of happiness and pleasure he’d gifted me. I’d broken us. I’d done it because I loved him so much, but the crime still stood. “I want to explain.”

“Don’t. At least not yet.”

Confused, I waited for him to continue.

“Later tonight, I’m taking ye out somewhere. If ye feel the same once we’re done, try to explain yourself then.”

“Nothing will change my mind. What are you going to show me?”

Connor raised a tattooed shoulder and turned to his display of knives on the wall. He picked one up, a savage-looking double-edged blade, then tested the sharpness on his nail. “The real me, Ev. Beyond the room I showed ye and my life with my crew. I’m not the boy ye once knew anymore. You’re in the hands of a monster.”

Chapter 22

Cassie

“Crazy motherfucker,” I sang along to the music, dancing in my car, my hand in my bag while I rummaged for a hidden packet.

Around me, rain fell in a steady patter, running down my windshield and helpfully concealing me from any passersby on the side road where I’d parked. This afternoon, I’d cruised the city streets for a while before striking gold and now had only a few minutes to do what I needed then book it back to the warehouse.

The song’s chorus repeated, and I adjusted the lyrics for my amusement. “Crazy brother fucker.”

My fingers touched hard-edged plastic, and I extracted my treasure with a flourish. “Got ye. Now to put your arse to work.”

I tore the packet open and examined the small silver disc. Setting it up took a minute, but then I was ready, my red coat’s fluffy hood up and a tube of superglue in my pocket. Taking a breath, I calmed my speeding pulse and went through my plan one more time.

An empty street—check, the rain had done that job for me. No one emerging from the building site ahead yet—check. The workmen tended to finish around four, and I had ten minutes until then. I had the tools to do what I needed to, so there was no more reason to delay.

My phone chimed.

With a huff of annoyance, I checked the screen.

Genevieve: Fifteen minutes, my apartment.

Yeah, yeah. I sent back a thumbs-up, swallowed a fizz of rising excitement, then popped my door. I climbed out into the damp afternoon and advanced on the vehicle parked a few spaces ahead of my car.

Riordan’s matte-black motorbike.

Sitting there, all innocuous and tempting.

As I neared, I uncapped the superglue and squeezed a dollop onto the back of the tracking device then tossed the tube. I had seconds to do this.

My heart beat loud in my ears.

Stooping as if to check my shoe, I reached out and pressed the disc to the underside of the saddle, praying I didn’t knock the bike over. It already had a dent in the bodywork, and it was so pretty, it would be a shame to add another.

“Just a bit longer,” I coached myself.

The counter in my head reached twenty. I released the pressure, tapping the tracker to make sure it stayed. Then my finger grazed over something next to it. Another disc?

What the fuck?

I ducked to peer under the saddle. Right next to mine was another identical disc. Outrage filled me, and I snatched my keys from my pocket, wedging one under to pry it free.

How fucking dare someone track him? I mean, someone other than me. At least I was harmless. Mostly.

The second tracker cracked loose then dropped to the road and rolled into a puddle. For a beat, I stared at it.

“Hey!” a male voice challenged me.

Familiar tones that had featured in my toxic little dreams.

I shot up, stumbling, even though I’d worn trainers in case I needed to run. But I wasn’t fast enough. Riordan grabbed my arm, turning me back to face him.

“What the fuck are you doing to my bike?” He tugged back my hood.

Then stared.

Oh, fucking hell.

I stared right back, a prisoner to the minor inconvenience of an addictive personality and obsession at first sight. At well over six feet tall, and in a very distressed leather jacket, Riordan towered over me, his chocolate-brown hair darkened by the damp, and the green of his eyes intensified by the raindrops on his skin. Totally lickable. I crammed my hand to my mouth so I didn’t say any of that out loud.

Rainwater trickled down my face, and I came back to my senses and snapped my hood back up to cover my curls. “I can’t get my hair wet. It takes forever to get back under control.”

His puzzled expression didn’t change. “Cassie? What are you doing?”

“I…have no explanation.”

“You were touching my bike.”

Shrugging, I pulled my hand from his grip. “Still got nothing. Anyways, I have somewhere to be. See ye.”

I turned to leave, but he grasped my waist.

“Oh no you don’t.”

In a neat move I’d never let escape my imagination, Riordan picked me up and seated me on his motorbike. One slick action like I weighed nothing, with my legs falling into place either side of his saddle. My knees went weak at his flare of dominance. Every word I could have said fled my brain.

“Okay, little red riding hood. This is the second time I’ve seen you here, so either you’re an undercover cop enacting some honeypot plan,” his gaze travelled down my open neckline, “which I’m not objecting to, though for the sake of any wire you’re wearing, I’m not a fucking criminal, or there’s something else going on.”

It was hard to talk around him. My brain fritzed out.

“Something else,” I managed.

He took in my face, roaming over my features, a smirk playing with his lips. “Pity. I was picturing your seduction routine and enjoying it.”

My heart thumped.

He’d flirted with me. Had he? I wasn’t sure, and I lost the power to do anything but gaze back at him like a creep.

“Riordan?” another voice came from the shadowed doorway to a building opposite.

A woman emerged, her lip curled in clear dislike at what she could see. In heels and a minidress that skated dangerously close to popping out either a labia or a boob, she crossed the road.

His girlfriend. I knew her plastic face from a picture I’d found online. Oh shite.

“What the fuck?” she gritted out.

“Why are you here, Moniqua?” he asked.

At his distraction, my brain restarted, and I took the opportunity. Bounced off the bike, then scrambled down the road.

“Stop,” he called after me.

No way. Humiliation crawled through every vein.

Throwing myself into my car, I locked the doors. Riordan reached my handle and yanked at it then swore and thumped the frame.

I gunned the engine and didn’t look back.

What a disaster. My plan had failed spectacularly. Not only was he leaving work early, though now I thought of it, maybe the rain was an issue for working outdoors, but then his honey bunny turned up.

My happy bubble popped.

He was hers again. No way would she accept what she’d just seen without an argument. I knew I wouldn’t.

Not a minute on, and the rev of a motorbike chased me.

A peek in my rearview showed me Riordan, a black helmet I hadn’t noticed covering his face, yet somehow he still gave off menace. I’d pissed him off, undoubtedly.

I put my foot down and sped through town, following the river to the huge red-brick warehouse that sat on the banks on the west side of the city. Beyond, the buildings became industrial, making this the perfect place for Arran to build his empire—the edge of society, with routes into the building that were away from the public eye.

Riordan didn’t quit riding my back bumper.

He didn’t accelerate around me or try to force me to stop, just stuck with me. All the way into the car park, damn him.

I parked badly and flung myself from the car, sprinting to the basement entrance. There was no bouncer here. Only a passcode to get in, which I had neatly memorised. I stabbed in the code, and the door clicked, all too aware that the bike’s engine had cut out and footsteps were thumping the brick path behind me.

I yanked the door open. Slipped into the gap and tugged it closed. My breath left me in a hard rush, as on the other side of the glass panel, Riordan crashed to a halt, his hands landing either side of my head and his gaze connecting with mine, the visor of his helmet up to reveal savage eyes.

Like an idiot, I pressed a kiss to my fingertips and blew it to him, then turned and darted away.

How to Catch a Man by Cassiopeia Archer. Subtitle: A masterclass in getting him to chase you.

Laughing to myself, I took the lift up to the top floor where Genevieve had told me we were meeting, stripped my wet coat because now I was boiling, and knocked on her and Arran’s door. At the same moment, the entrance to Shade’s apartment opened and he and Everly emerged.

I waved a greeting. “You’re back.”

Shade grunted. “Ev lives here now.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Um, congrats? Blink twice if ye need help.”

She laughed, but it was short-lived. “It isn’t Connor I need rescuing from. More on that in a minute.”

Shade, as I couldn’t revise my naming for him to use his real one, scowled. I pulled a face back. How was it that with him, I could act myself, but with the man I actually liked, I turned into a complete freak?

We entered the opposite apartment, and I curled up on the sofa, Genevieve’s fluffy brown cat leaping onto my lap. From my bag, I found my notepad and pen, ready for tonight’s detective work.

Arran gave me a nod in greeting then did the same to Shade and Everly. “Thanks for coming up. We all know another woman was found dead. I’m going to play you the voice message Detective Dickhead left me when I asked for intel.”

Detective Dickhead’s real name was Kenney. None of us used it.

A message played, the voice muffled as if in an attempt to disguise it.

“Yeah, so the basics. Amelia Martin, twenty-three, Canadian, brown hair, small tits, housesitting for the previous two weeks. She’d been picking up work while travelling the UK and Europe and had been here around two months. No known boyfriend or any man she was concerned about, according to her relatives. No history of being a sex worker. From initial analysis, we think she was killed after a break-in on Saturday night but not discovered until the homeowner returned yesterday evening. Her throat was slit, likely where she died based on the blood pattern. Pathologist’s report will come when I get it. Don’t hassle me. Information’s going to be tight on this one. Lot of press interest now there’s three.”

The cop muttered something then came back. “Update me on the list I sent over. The last one is a pain in my ass and I could use the good news.”

The call ended, and Arran set down his phone. His dark eyes roamed over us. “That makes three. Cherry, Natasha, and now Amelia. All within a few weeks, nothing immediately obvious in common between the victims other than being young women.”

Pale, Everly nodded. “Amelia died on Saturday. The night Riordan and Connor came to my house. Riordan told me about the kidnap threat, then Connor brought me here.”

Genevieve watched her. “Oh, right. So that’s the night my brother was there.” She wrinkled her nose. “I mean, our brother.”

Everly gave her a soft smile. “He’s yours, even if he’s my relative, too. I don’t know him, and I don’t want to take anything away from you.”

I did. I wanted to handcuff him and stow his huge frame in the back of my car then steal him away to a secret hideout. Mentally, I tapped my hand. Bad Cassie.

Shade cleared his throat. “As much as I’m no fan of his, I don’t think we need to add him to the suspects’ list.”

Genevieve glowered at him, but he continued.

“But the Four Milers who showed up after, they’re a possibility we hadn’t considered.”

I piped up. “We considered Don, but he’s dead, so that’s a no-go. We also had Red on the list, the gang leader, but what if it’s a tactic of some kind that the whole gang is taking part in? Killing women for some purpose.”

Genevieve angled her head. “Like as a distraction or to destabilise the city? They were trying to catch Everly, so that tracks.” She twisted to face her boyfriend. “How can we find that out?”

Arran rubbed his jaw. “Got to say, it doesn’t fit for me. Red already denied Natasha’s murder. I’m going to call him.”

Genevieve blinked. “You can do that?”

He shrugged. “We might be blood rivals, but occasionally we share information.” He swept his gaze across us all. “Nobody says a word.”

He set his phone on loudspeaker. As it rang, Shade took up Arran’s tablet and searched on it, then he turned the screen to face us right as the call connected.

“Daniels, to what do I owe the pleasure?” a slow voice followed.

The picture Shade had found was the gangster himself, I presumed. It was black and white, which gave the image a more menacing air, and had been taken by an overhead camera, perhaps CCTV. Red was mid-forties, but built, with a gym shirt under a bomber jacket. His dark facial hair ended at a point beneath his chin which, along with his cold smile, was hella demonic. As appearances went, he was selling the gang lord vibe.

Everly’s lips parted, and she leaned in, staring at the phone. I would, too, if this arsehole had ordered my kidnapping.

“Another woman was killed,” Arran said.

“So I heard. One of yours?”

“No.”

Red sucked his teeth. “Not mine either. Speaking of, I hear you’re having trouble keeping hold of people.”

Arran’s and Shade’s gazes met, some smugness in their looks that I’d bet was about Convict.

Arran spoke. “My crew is none of your fucking business.”

“Then get to the point about why you’re disturbing my peaceful afternoon. What do you want?”

Everly raised a hand. Instantly, Shade shook his head, and her shoulders deflated. Well, that was annoying. I imagined she wanted to know why Red was after her. Why shouldn’t she ask?

“Is it one of yours who’s killing women?” Arran asked.

The gang leader chuckled like that was somehow a joke. “No, and frankly I’m insulted that you asked, considering I had the good grace to tell you we didn’t dump that bitch on your doorstep. It’s such a waste of pussy. But if any of yours want better pay, feel free to send them my way.”

The call disconnected.

Arran swore and stomped to the window, staring out for a moment. “I’m issuing an order for all female staff to have escorts to and from work. No risks are to be taken. All women present in this room don’t go out alone. Including you, Cassie. We’ll see what the press comes up with, but is there anything else obvious we can conclude?”

“My father was a hundred miles away that night,” Everly said. “You thought he might be a suspect, right? This exonerates him.”

She was right. I made a note in my notebook, rested on top of the cat.

Shade laced his fingers into hers. “Sorry to say, but it depends on the pathologist’s report. She could’ve died earlier than Kenney estimated.”

I noted that, too. The cat’s rolling purr vibrated on my lap.

Everly gave an embarrassed smile. “True. I’m not sure it would even surprise me now to find that he was on a killing spree.”

“Can I ask why?” Genevieve said gently.

Everly peered at Shade then sighed. “Last night, he sent me on a date with a man who tried to assault me. My own father set me up saying I needed to take one for the team, meaning he knew what this man was and expected me to…service him. I knew my father had little respect for women, but that line is now so far beneath ground, it’s lost.”

My lips parted in horror. “He did that?”

She bobbed her head, sadness in the way she slumped. “I escaped with only scratches, but for a minute, I thought I wasn’t going to be able to get away.”

“I’ll help ye end him,” I said.

She chuffed a laugh. I didn’t.

“Seriously. Why should he walk around freely after doing that?”

“Men do it all the time,” she observed.

“All the more reason to take the worst of them off the streets. Or at least teach them a lesson.”

I sensed someone’s focus on me and found Shade with a watchful stare. Something ticked over in his vision, then he addressed me. “I once went out with Arran and Jamieson.”

Jamieson was the youngest of my four older brothers. He had a thing for burning shite down, occasionally people, too.

I gave Shade a winning smile. “And ye survived the night, go ye.”

He snorted. “You’re more like him than I guessed.”

“Ye mean ye underestimated me because I’m small and a girl?”

“Honestly? Aye, in part, I did. I was wrong.”

I stroked the cat on my lap like a cartoon villain. “Don’t know how ye thought I could escape the crazy in my family. We all came from the same wrinkly old ball sack. One of my earliest memories is of watching my brothers dispose of a body.” I gestured to Everly. “I can teach ye how to handle a blade. I haven’t killed anyone yet, but I can down a man three times my size, pick a lock, and I’m also handy with a lighter. I’m excited at the idea of your attacker being my first.”

Everly gaped. “It’s like I’m friends with the female version of Connor.”

A choked laugh came from Genevieve. “Good for you, Cassie. Why should the boys get all the fun?”

Again, Shade considered me thoughtfully like he was reassessing me.

He was the enforcer here, I knew that from Arran. He killed people. Presumably, he slept well at night, too. I could take a lesson.

Genevieve turned back to Everly. “On the subject of danger, please say you’re staying here?”

“Yep. For now, I’m living with Connor. I’m also taking the rest of the week off work.”

Shade muttered something like, “And never going back.”

I was still stuck on the previous detail. “Who was the man your father set ye up with?”

Everly squirmed. “His name is Piers Roache. He works in finance. My father is courting him for some reason, probably to line his pockets in some way.”

“They’re close?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I only met Piers once before, a year ago, but now he’s staying at our house and my father is bending over backwards for him, so I guess that could be true. Why?”

I tapped my lip with my pen. “Our working theory was that there could be two men. Cherry’s councillor client was bringing along a man she didn’t like.”

“You think it could be Piers?” She considered that then brought her phone from her pocket. “I’ll check his socials and see if he was around when she died.”

As she typed, Shade gestured to Arran. “Look up his name, will ye? I havenae had a chance yet.”

Arran collected the tablet that had showed us Red’s ugly mug and swiped to unlock it. He studied the screen.

“What are ye checking him on?” I asked.

“We have a no-service list that we share with other clubs.”

“The worst of the worst,” I guessed.

Without glancing up, he nodded, and I imagined the violent, abusive scum whom no woman would go near. I’d known Arran for a long time. He was friends with my brothers, and it was my family he’d come to when he needed help setting up the warehouse. We were investors, myself included. All of us defended the line that women had the right to sell their bodies safely.

The more time I spent at the warehouse, the more involved I wanted to be.

“Can I get access to that list?” I asked.

He scrolled. “You could if you needed it, but last I checked, you don’t work here, Cass.” Then he tapped the screen. “Piers Roache. Got him.”

Everly pressed her fingers to her lips. “He’s on your list? For what reason?”

“Known sadist, meaning he enjoys causing pain.” He lifted his head. “He was barred by two London clubs for injuring their workers.”

She shivered. Shade breathed through his nose and held a hand out in a silent request for the tablet. Arran passed it over.

“And this is the man your father picked out for ye,” he muttered.

A moment of quiet played out.

“Well, he sucks,” I commented.

Everly burst out with a laugh that was at least half made of upset. “He really does.”

Shade continued reading. “It says in the notes that Roache was charged with assault but the charges were dropped, presumably because he paid off the women involved. Or threatened them.”

Everly said, “If I work that through, the clean-up from the damage to his reputation could be what he wanted from me and what my father offered up. A respectable and docile little girlfriend.”

Genevieve curled her lip. “That’s gross. On all parts. So Roache isn’t allowed here, but what happens if your father shows up? I saw him downstairs recently.”

Everly nodded. “Ninety-five percent of the time, he gets women sent to him. But you’re right, I don’t want to run into him here.”

“We have alerts set up for him.” Shade took her hand. “Ye willnae run into him by accident.”

“Good. I don’t want him to find out where I am.”

We all looked at Shade.

Everly swung her gaze between us. “What?”

Shade pulled a face. “I wasn’t exactly subtle in bringing ye in last night.”

I choked on a laugh. “If ye mean yelling ‘mine’ with her over your shoulder, yeah.”

Everly’s jaw dropped. “You did that?”

Shade’s satisfied smile was unrepentant. “Not sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, her cheeks pink again after going pale from talking about her attacker. “Then when that filters back to him, he’ll almost certainly come here to get me.”

“And we’ll be waiting,” Shade promised her.

A phone buzzed.

Shade extracted his from his pocket, answering it. “Is he now?” he said after listening to whoever was on the line. He lowered the phone and spoke to us. “Riordan is downstairs. He wants to talk to his sister. Manny didn’t specify which.”

I stiffened, my blood rushing in my ears so I half missed whatever was said next—some gripe from Arran about Shade’s information-sharing capabilities. But then people were moving.

“We need to leave soon,” Shade informed Everly.

“You still haven’t said where we’re going. The message from the policeman said he’d given you a list. Is this to do with that?”

He took both her hands and lowered his forehead to touch hers. “Believe me, the less ye know, the better. All I need is for ye to watch.”

Intriguing, but whatever. The meeting was over, and if Riordan was in the building, I intended to hide.

With a final hug of Genevieve’s cat, I clambered up and stowed my notepad and pen. “If you’re off out, I’ll catch ye later. Everly, the offer is open if ye want to make a plan. It doesn’t have to be a stabby one.”

Then I dove for the door, leaving the apartment with barely another word. Down the hall, the lift light wasn’t illuminated, so I jabbed the button.

“Hurry the flip up,” I urged it.

The stairs entrance slammed open at the same second the lift doors parted.

Riordan appeared with Manny behind him. I stepped into the lift, gave him another cute little wave, then got the hell out of there.

Chapter 23

Everly

A small army of skeleton crew amassed around us in the wide staff corridor deep in the heart of the warehouse, and Connor and Arran talked in low voices, a short distance from where I stood with Genevieve and Riordan.

“Sorry I didn’t message yet,” I said to Riordan.

“It’s no problem. I’m not here to chase you down. I came for another purpose, but this was the easiest way to get into the warehouse.” He wrinkled his nose. “The bouncer refused me entry as a customer.”

Genevieve glowered at her boyfriend and Connor. “I’ll fix that. Clearly someone still has their knickers in a twist over you.” She came back to her brother. “Are you okay? Busy with work?”

“Today was my last day.”

Her lips parted. “What happened?”

Riordan sighed then gazed at the ceiling for a moment. “Someone overheard our conversation here the other night, and gossip spreads. It got back to my boss that I was gang affiliated, and shortly before clock-off this afternoon, he sacked me.”

Dismay filled my heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“You came here to see me, so in a way it is.”

Genevieve squeezed my elbow. “It really isn’t. Rio, your boss is an asshole.”

“Heading out,” Arran called down the hall.

The gang of men around us began to muster.

I took a step. “We’re going out for a while. Will you still be here when we get back?”

“Maybe. There’s someone else I want to see.”

Genevieve gave a startled laugh. “Don’t tell me you have another secret sister?”

“No, I promise.”

Arran and Connor circled us, and I said goodbye to Riordan, then we were on the move. Outside in the night, we climbed into our cars, and four or five other vehicles exited the car park with us, all occupants wearing skeleton bandannas. Connor was taking no risks tonight with his mission and our safety.

One of the cars peeled away, heading uphill, while Connor drove us west, away from the city and following the winding river. The rain had eased but still fell as a fine shower, visible almost as dust in the car headlights, and before long, we turned into a dark gravel yard, hidden from the street by trees and with a run-down kind of boathouse right on the water.

Doors clunked, and the men in the other cars climbed out and commenced a search. We sat in silence, lights off, and the night settling in around us. I peeked over at Arran and Genevieve’s car. Like us, they didn’t appear to be talking, just waiting in the shadows.

Then one of the crew gave a hand signal and the men disappeared, merging into the trees. I guessed that meant the coast was clear.

Goosebumps rose on my arms.

Connor finally spoke. “This boathouse belongs to Arran, but we’re taking no risks tonight.”

Hence the extra security. “What are we doing here?”

He shifted in his seat. “Ye know what I do for the club?”

“An enforcer.”

“What does that mean?”

“You…enforce rules?”

His lips curled in a cool smile. “No, Everly. I eliminate people who need to be gone. In most gangs, that means rivals who cross us. We operate a little differently.”

“You kill.” The words were uncomfortable in my mouth. I banded my arms around myself to ward off a shiver.

“I kill. I do it well. I enjoy my job.”

“Who?”

“Cassie described the men on Arran’s club list as the worst of the worst, but she was wrong. There’s a tier below that. The men who serve time for crimes so bad the news channels can’t report on the details. Or ones the police aren’t able to prosecute because of lack of evidence, such as witnesses who are too damaged to withstand a trial. If they’re in my city, it’s my job to take them out.”

Another car slid into the yard, gravel popping under the tyres. It was the one that had gone off route. Three men departed, and one opened the boot.

They dragged out a fourth person. He kicked out at them, his mouth gagged and his hands tied behind his back. But his movements were fumbling as if he’d been drugged.

Tonight’s victim.

I swallowed. “Who is he?”

“Victor Green. A rapist.”

Rapist. I stared at the man, a sour taste flooding my mouth. “Who did he hurt?”

“His girlfriend’s teenage daughter. He served eight years for what he did to that kid, then they released him back into the community because it was a first offence and he’d behaved himself behind bars. He was given a room in a halfway house only thirty minutes from where she lives. Where do ye think he went the first opportunity he had?”

My horror grew with each sentence, and absolute hatred filled me for the disgusting specimen. “He went to see her?”

“We were watching him. Took him down and found a coil of rope in his pocket along with a knife. She never knew.” He cracked his neck. Then his gaze landed on me. “This is what I enforce. Arran plays a part, too. He wants Genevieve to see because the two of them are going to get married and he wants no secrets. I don’t give a fuck about marriage but I do about ye. You’re mine, so ye need to see this. Watch me, not him, if ye prefer. Understand what I am.”

With a possessive growl, he grasped my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. My pulse sped, and I returned the kiss with an edge of desperation.

Then he released me and tugged up the skeleton bandanna he’d tied around his throat, handing me one to do the same. We climbed out. Genevieve emerged at the same time, her face equally covered but her eyes bleak in the moonlight. She came to me, her hand reaching for mine.

Her fingers shook.

For some strange reason, mine didn’t.

Two men moved in behind us, and Connor and Arran strode out to take the prisoner by an arm each. They hauled him to the building we’d parked near. Following, I took in the grim surroundings. The decaying boathouse with rusted metal panels. The thick smell of the river. It was so isolated here that the grunts and muffled shouts from the rapist barely travelled.

Up some steps, we entered the building.

Behind the frontage, the far side was half open to the elements, a gap presumably where boats would come in and go out and a gantry of steel grate flooring reaching out over the water. Deadwater River was tidal, and the water rushed fast, heading out to sea. The sound filled my ears.

“Wait here,” one of the men ordered me and Genevieve.

I stopped, out of the cool breeze that swept through the building but close enough to see the dangerous glint in Connor’s eye.

Years ago, he’d killed a man who’d hurt me. The colleague of my father’s who’d attacked me in my house. When he told me, I’d been shocked, but it had worn off. The remaining, stronger emotion was one of relief. For the sake of the girl this man had hurt, I wanted the same feeling. Knowledge that a bad person was off the streets.

Genevieve huddled closer, her fingers gripping mine.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “This is necessary.”

“You sound like them.” She took a shaky breath behind her bandanna but straightened, loosening her grip a degree.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Connor. He was saying something low to the man, then lifted his chin to Arran who cut the gag away.

“You’re fucking insane if you think you can intimidate me,” Victor-the-rapist said. “I know people. I’ll fucking bring the house down on you all.”

“Victor Green, ye were found outside the home of Phoebe Smith and her ma,” Connor intoned. “We were watching ye. We know what ye were going to do.”

“You know shit. And what has that cunt and her bitch mother got to do with you?”

Arran tutted. “You don’t get to ask the questions here.”

“The fuck I don’t—”

Victor’s interruption was short-lived, as Connor snapped out a fist and drove it into his face. The rapist stumbled back, teetering at the edge of the gantry and over the water rushing below.

Connor lurched to grab him, steadying the man with a grumble. “Fuck. That was close. Grab the hook, aye?”

Arran tugged a chain, and a hook rattled down from the steel rafters above. In practiced coordination, they strung Victor’s hand constraints over it, then Arran pulled the chain again. With a clatter and groan, it lifted Victor to his tiptoes, his arms stretched above his head. They slid him back, over the water so his toes barely touched the gantry.

He whimpered and bucked, losing his footing and dangling. “Let me down. Let me fucking go.”

“Did ye stop when the lass ye hurt begged ye to? I don’t think so, Victor.”

Shade slid a knife from his belt and stepped up to the dangling man. He sliced open the front of Victor’s clothing, the hoodie and t-shirt parting to reveal a pasty body with crude prison tattoos here and there on his chest.

In another few slices, the clothes fell away altogether, then his trousers were next. Arran bundled up the ruined material and tossed it beside the door, I guessed to destroy it all later.

A last couple of cuts left Victor completely naked, crooked dick and all.

I wrinkled my nose at the sight.

“God,” Genevieve commented.

Victor’s gaze jumped to us. “Hey, hey! Help me. I’m begging you.”

Arran smashed a fist to his mouth, his eyes slanting our way in warning.

I took the point. We needed to stay out of this and just watch.

So I did. I kept my gaze on Connor, as he’d requested.

I watched from when the first spray of blood hit him, to the cold fury in his eyes, to the way he managed the punishment of the rapist in steady, controlled cuts. He announced the crime and the sentence, then delivered.

A man who did what he said he was going to do. I appreciated that.

But I couldn’t focus on the victim. No—that was the wrong word. The individual whose deserved sentence they were delivering. The red at the edge of my vision, the shaking, the pieces falling away, and the sounds he made. Even the smell, at one point. I couldn’t accept that into my brain any more than the tiny slice I witnessed of it, not if I wanted to sleep at night.

At one particularly gruesome hit, Genevieve buried her face in my shoulder, her soft, barely there cry reaching my ears. “They cut off his penis. I’m glad, but God.”

“Just watch Arran,” I guided her.

She snuffled but raised her head, fixing on the important part of this.

It was the strangest parallel. Just like I’d helped the anxious councillor at the event only days ago, I was able to do the same for Genevieve now. It was easy to maintain my calm and find my centre in this scene. Connor was doing a job and one I saw value in.

I couldn’t do what he did.

I couldn’t even look.

But I respected him, and I agreed that this needed to be done. Perhaps Piers’ attack and Connor’s protective kidnapping me had broken something in my head because I wasn’t panicking or freaking out.

Should I be? To the tune of Victor’s gurgle and a dark laugh from either Arran or Connor, I pondered that point.

If anything, him giving me this insight was a gift. It showed me Shade, the gang enforcer, and the reach of his darkness. It filled a gap in who he was. He’d wanted me to understand him. Perhaps I’d never truly know what enabled him to do this, but—another splatter of blood soaked his t-shirt—I wasn’t scared of him.

The death cries of Victor finally ceased. Connor and Arran handled the dangling remains, pieces hitting the water below with a deep splash or some in silent surrender.

“Just the head left.” Genevieve closed her eyes.

I grimaced, happier not to have had that image.

“Just warning you for the sound that’s going to come,” she said. “Arran said they make sure there’s no easily identifiable part left. Then the river takes the pieces out to sea. Fish must eat them. They’ve been doing this for years, and no body has ever surfaced.”

The crunch and crack of breaking bone followed. Teeth, I guessed, for the purpose of dental records.

“Done,” Genevieve breathed. “Thank God for that.”

I could only peek at Connor.

He held himself easier, his frame relaxed. After tossing something down to the water, he went to a tap on the opposite wall to us and rinsed off his blade then his arms. Arran did the same, and the two of them shared a joke.

I squinted quickly at the gantry. It was empty of any body parts, just the chain dangling over the bloodied metal floor now they’d finished with Victor.

Relief hit me in a flood.

As Genevieve had said, the body work was done. Our men had removed a predator from the city. A danger to womankind eliminated.

I took the lesson to heart.

Earlier, Arran had wondered about Red from the Four Milers then simply picked up the phone and called him. He knew the man well enough to suss him out in a less-than-candid conversation, but more importantly, he’d just done it. Like Connor had done his work here tonight. No diplomacy, no hedging around tough issues. They struck at the heart and cleaned up.

I’d stood in front of my father and let him manage me. Obeyed him even after he’d given a vile order. Turned a blind eye to things he did that weren’t legal and strayed far from the justification of moral.

I had to change.

My calm acceptance of things that were wrong. The way others treated me. All of it.

But from the way Connor prowled my way stripping his blood-spattered shirt, I had a much more present danger to handle.

Chapter 24

Connor

The industrial steel flooring under my boots rang with my footsteps. Reaching Everly, I tossed my stripped, bloodied shirt to the floor at her feet then pulled her against me.

To our side, Arran picked up Genevieve, carrying her down a level. I paid them no further thought.

Everly braced herself on my chest, her gaze darting over my hairline and to my neck. “You’re covered in blood.”

“So are ye, now.”

Everly gazed down. Dark patches bloomed on her pale shirt where we’d touched, which meant it would need to be burned with my things. I was ruining a lot of her clothes.

Her focus came back to me.

Inexplicably, my heart raced. “Did that frighten ye?”

Slowly, she shook her head.

I kept speaking. “I’ve been doing this for over a decade in one form or another, starting with Phillips whose final words heard was me telling him his death was in your name. He laid his hands on ye, and his death gave me a purpose. I’m good at this. I have no intention of stopping.” I cupped her head, staring deep into her eyes. “This is me. The rawest form. I stalk the stalkers. I eviscerate the men who hurt. I don’t have the same limits others do, and that includes with ye.”

“You’d never harm me.”

“Never,” I vowed. “I’ll never let ye go either.”

I reached for my back pocket and extracted a packet. Popped a pill and held it up for her. “A sedative. You’ll be able to hear and feel but barely move. It takes time to work, so swallow it now.”

She stared at the pill. Licked her lips. “I was planning to talk to Riordan this evening.”

“I need to talk to him, too. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“He lost his job today because of me. Don’t be unkind to him.”

“I’m going to make him an offer. He’s telling the truth. The DNA test came back in. The two of ye are half siblings.”

“What DNA test? When did you…? Never mind. That’s good to know.” She sucked in a breath. “Actually, no. Connor, if you want to do something like that in future, you have to ask.”

I clenched my jaw. “No.”

She shot daggers at me with her glare.

“Giving ye a choice means ye get to refuse me.”

Some of the power went out of her. “Then you’ll have to risk that.”

“I told ye I’m keeping ye. It’s your choice if you’re conscious or not outside of sex.”

Everly choked on laughter. “I half think you’re being serious.”

From the rebound of pain in my chest, I nearly was. I needed this. Needed to take her home and fuck her while decorated in the blood of a man who’d died at my hands. She liked being out of control and unable to make her own decisions. She’d take the pill.

Everly accepted it from my fingers but held it up. “What kind of offer did you mean for Riordan?”

“We’ll bring him in. His sisters are skeleton crew. He’s on the fence, but the Four Milers want him. If Red puts his mind to it, he could trap Riordan into working for them by some method of forcing his hand. We’ll claim him first.”

Her breathing softened. “You’d do it to protect him.”

“Or not have him as an enemy. He’ll have a choice. Publicly join us or go undercover like Convict.”

I saw the connection in her mind of what she’d seen of me and Arran kicking Convict out. Another secret shared.

“Won’t that be dangerous?”

“He’s in danger just by existing. Can’t change that now. Take the fucking pill, Everly.”

She dead-eyed me then tossed the tablet to the back of her throat and swallowed. I kissed her, running my arms around her to hold her body to mine.

Against the rush of river water came the distinctive sound of flesh smacking together. Arran and Genevieve. So public of them. I was taking my woman home.

Snatching up my shirt, I led Everly out of the boathouse and down the short flight of stairs. Skeleton crew members melted out of the shadows, waiting on my command. A fire had already been lit in a barrel, and I tossed my shirt into it then shucked my jeans, feeding the flames.

“Everyone turn the fuck around,” I shouted.

As one, the crew gave us their backs.

I stripped Everly’s top and burned that, too. At my car, I grabbed my spare shirt for her, though hiding her body from me was a crime, then ordered our escort to split. Two cars followed us out onto the industrial estate’s main road, and two stayed with Arran. Between them and the clean-up crew who would handle the vehicle detailing later, we had a solid method.

Music played on low, ‘Come Through’ by Rui, Voluptuöus.

In my passenger seat, Everly settled back with a sigh. “You promised that I’d be able to talk to you this evening. That once you showed me yours, I could show you mine.”

“Why do ye think I doped ye?”

She glowered. I hit the accelerator.

I didn’t want her story. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need my forgiveness for breaking us apart, and I’d already told her to keep it in the past.

“You’re such an asshole,” she slurred.

Good. The sedative was already taking effect.

With a sigh, she placed her hand on my thigh. I enclosed it with mine and shifted it to my inner leg. Squeezed.

Everly moaned. “God, that was a deeply sexy move.”

With a wrench of the steering wheel, I pulled over, nothing around us but strips of grassland bordering concrete forecourts, and further on, the ‘Welcome to Deadwater’ sign. Once, Everly had told me how the city came to have such a grim name—something to do with the effect of the river water meeting the sea further down at the coast. It had been a big part of the draw for both Arran and me. It warned incomers of what to expect when they entered our city. Else the water take them away.

The cars monitoring us formed a defensive position, one crew member popping his door but holding off when I lifted a pausing hand.

From the hedgerow, I picked a spray of autumn wildflowers. Tall stems of tiny white and yellow blooms and stiff grasses. Took them back to the car and handed them to Everly.

“You always loved flowers.”

“You giving them to me while half naked and covered in blood is doing something strange to my heart.” Her hand rested softly on her chest.

Right over the heart that belonged to me.

All I knew was how mine would fucking break if she reasoned and excused away our history. I’d loved Everly Makepeace since I was sixteen years old and I’d never once stopped.

For much longer, I wouldn’t be able to hide the fact her father had me by the balls. With a single phone call, he could put me behind bars, and I’d be taken away from Everly for good. Which meant, as always, that to gain the future I wanted, I needed to act first.

Chapter 25

Everly

The red bricks of the warehouse had soft edges, and I glided my fingertips over them, exhaling with happiness at being home. Connor’s sedative had wrapped everything in cotton wool. My brain, my limbs, my emotions. In the car, my muscles had cramped, an apparent side effect, but it eased, and my eyes longed to sink closed.

The door for the lift pinged. I hadn’t even noticed us reaching it.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Connor whispered in my ear.

He tried to guide me into the lift, but I stalled.

Music competed from the two sides of the building, merging into something new. People milled around us, women in tight clothes or black skeleton t-shirts, depending on where they worked. Upstairs, the ladies would happily walk around naked.

I could never do that.

Even after the display Connor had arranged for me with Tabitha and her two men.

“Two dicks,” I said on a breath.

Connor laughed. “Ye sound high. That drug is only meant to relax ye, which makes me think you’d be a fuck load more adventurous if ye didn’t have cause to worry all the time.”

The lift started to move. When did we go inside?

Connor sank to his knees in front of me.

He slid his hands into my leggings and pulled them down, ridding me of them plus my shoes and socks. Luckily, the long t-shirt he’d lent me covered my ass or any cameras in here would get an eyeful.

Desire tightened my insides. A bloom of heat that was all the more potent for everything else being muted.

“Can we go to the brothel?” I asked.

“I’m covered in blood. I can get away with it downstairs in the staff areas. Naw where members of the public might see.” Connor drove his thumbs up my thighs, taking the shirt’s hem with him. He kissed my underwear, right over my clit. “But on Friday night when the game is running, we can play there. Whatever ye want to do is good with me.”

I touched his hair. My fingers came away red.

“Why is that a turn-on?” I slurred.

“Because it proves I’m capable of doing whatever it takes to protect ye.”

He snapped the line of my underwear, exposing me for his tongue.

My brain dizzied, and I slumped against the wall. The drug was stealing my muscle tone, and my ability to participate was over. Mild panic set in, but almost instantly, it left.

I trusted him. He’d make this wonderful. He’d play with my body, and I’d be awake through it all, feeling every last touch.

“Almost home, baby.”

The lift dinged again, and Connor picked me up and carried me out. I gazed down his spine, admiring his tattoos from a new angle. Somehow, a splatter of blood decorated his side, and I managed a soft laugh.

He was so right. He could handle anything. If Piers or some other terrible person wanted to hurt me, Connor would step in their way. He wouldn’t hesitate.

Another bolt of pleasure rolled through me. I forced my eyes open and found myself on the floor of the apartment again, right beside the arched window, with a pillow propping me up and Connor’s dark head between my legs. I was naked, and in his big hands, my thighs were wide open. He licked me then sucked my clit. Deep need spread.

“Can ye feel that?” he asked.

I tried and failed to form a word, moaning instead, because yes, I felt it all. His hot tongue sliding into me and his stubble against my skin. Connor toyed with my pussy, stroking me with his mouth and winding me up until I was hot and electrically charged.

He sat back. Stripped his clothes. “I’ve got ye bloody. There’s streaks of it on the insides of your legs and on your belly. Victor gets to be a sex aid tonight.”

Down either side of his face and here and there in his neck tattoo, red stained him. I gazed at it. It shouldn’t have been sexy, in no way was someone else’s blood hygienic, but my pussy pulsed. The sedative was in full play now, and I sensed the difference from when I’d been coming out of full unconsciousness. This was much lighter, mainly focusing on my muscles and dampening my nerves. He was right about it loosening my inhibitions. I needed him inside me, now.

Connor swore. “It’s turning ye on.”

I travelled my focus down him to his dick. The silver ring bobbed. He crawled up my body, lingering over my breasts and daubing blood on them as well, then he brought that silver ring to my lips.

“When ye were out cold here last time, I wanted to fuck your throat but didn’t in case I choked ye. Instead, I just spread precum on your lips. Tonight, you’re going to take me every way there is, understand?”

Desperation broke over me. Another moan was his answer.

“Good lass.”

Connor angled over me to slide his dick into my mouth, the ring chinking on my teeth. Without the ability to suck, all I could do was accept it. Be a receptacle for him to play with. He bumped against the roof of my mouth then eased back.

I breathed through my nose. His dick hit where my throat narrowed. Blocked my air supply.

“Fuck,” Connor gritted out.

He wound my hair around his fist to position me better, and his dick entered my throat. Another thrust took it deeper. I closed my eyes and just felt. He throbbed for me, and the knowledge that he was enjoying this gave me another burst of pleasure, even as my eyes leaked from lack of air.

At the same moment, something touched me between the legs, easing over my wet centre. A thick, blunt end.

My vibrator? Connor thrust it into me so it speared me open and sparks flew along my nerves.

He withdrew it and worked it in again, timing it with his dick in my throat. “I spit roasted ye.”

My lungs burned, the lack of oxygen a problem. Connor pulled out of my mouth, and I sucked in air, but the vibrator buzzed to life and my gasp turned into a choked-off moan.

He sat back to watch what he was doing to me, hunger in his gaze. “Your body is so beautiful. You’re perfect, Everly. I need ye to know that because what I’m going to do next is going to be disrespectful as fuck.”

I uttered a moan, and Connor smirked, stroking his dick a couple of times.

“Ye remember Tabitha, aye? Ye watched her take two dicks and your pussy got so wet. We’re going to build up to that. Starting with ye taking my dick in your arse.”

He whipped the vibrator away and rolled me onto my front, then he pushed my knee out and canted my hips. A cap popped open, then something drizzled on me.

“Lube,” he explained.

His fingers glided over my buttocks and in between. Teased my rear entrance. Never once had anyone touched me there, and I could do nothing but wait and feel. One fingertip entered that tight ring. Toying with me, a second going in, too. It was the strangest sensation. Not pleasant, not at first.

Not until he was knuckle-deep. Then, a strange burst of need rebounded through me from someplace new inside, unlike anything I’d ever felt.

Connor swore, his voice tight. “Going to fuck ye here now.”

The head of his dick replaced his fingers, and I sprang open my eyes, finding the view of the city ahead of me.

And the reflection of him in the dark room, braced over my form, with his arms shaking and his dick pointing down.

He pushed inside me.

Panic returned. He was so big. This was nothing like his fingers.

Yet I couldn’t take my eyes off him, unable to fathom how the huge amount of dick still there in the reflection was going to fit inside me. Somehow, my body gave way. Inch by inch, I accepted him.

My bloodied, possessive killer boy, going in deep, whispering words of adoration and settling kisses on my shoulders.

My insides pulsed, and I breathed through delicious, building need.

He bottomed out and groaned, then bucked hard, right against my ass. “Ye have no idea how beautiful ye are, taking me like this. Now I need to get your toy into ye as well.”

I moaned, half in fear and half in curiosity. There was no way he could do it. His dick was too big, and my body was already stretched.

Yet there it was, entering my pussy while he spread my ass.

Helplessly, I throbbed around him. The sensation was so strange from where he was in my body, but potent.

Connor pressed my knee out more, switching the vibrator on so it buzzed on my taut skin. “Come on, baby. Just an inch then I’ll let ye be.”

He adjusted his position to pull out halfway, edging the toy in at the same time. My pussy accepted it, and it penetrated me, just enough to hit my G-spot.

I gasped, and a powerful shock of pleasure washed over me. Two holes, held open by him. Nothing had ever felt like this.

“Fucking yes,” Connor chanted.

He commenced a rhythm, the vibrator held still but his dick pumping in and out of me. It built up to a punishing surge, and all I could do was surrender to the winding, charging up of insistent pleasure, coming from new places and so powerful I barely remembered to breathe.

This, I loved. Him taking what he needed from me. I adored having his praise and feeling how hard I made him. He pushed me endlessly, and I wouldn’t change any of it.

And though I was sedated, my body knew what to do. A climax shocked me, breaking loose in a stunning, blinding crest. My eyes shuttered closed. Bright need turned to deep satisfaction.

Connor gave a broken cry and stuttered in his thrusts. He came, holding his dick in as hard as he could, his skin against mine, and his pulses extending my orgasm for far longer than ever before.

Then he dropped down over me. Kissed my shoulder. The discarded vibrator rolled away, and he pulled out of my body.

“Shower next,” he muttered. “Victor can go to hell. You’re mine all night long.”

Chapter 26

Cassie

Moans pierced the walls of my nest, and I flexed for my headphones to continue the movie I’d just started. Around me, in the bedroom I’d taken ownership of, my possessions were somewhat neatly arranged.

My duvet. A suitcase of clothes. A borrowed rack to hang cute dresses on.

Arran had grumbled when I informed him I was staying over, but he hadn’t asked questions, and I’d moved into a room on the cam girls’ floor. Here, I was never lonely, because those bitches worked like a boss, all night long. I always had company, even if it got a little noisy if someone took the room next door. The women and men who fucked themselves or each other in front of cameras for paying viewers were super welcoming, and vocal.

My phone beeped. I read the screen then jumped up, sliding my feet into a pair of flip-flops which paired nicely with my pyjama trousers and tank top. No one apart from maybe a security guard or two would see me go to the warehouse’s back door and collect the dinner I’d ordered.

My stomach rumbled. I had a feast of Chinese food only a few minutes away. Far too much for one person, but that hadn’t stopped my ordering finger.

Slipping from my room, I waved at Dixie, one of my favourites, who stood completely naked in the corridor, the door to a bedroom open in front of her.

“Cassie, get a load of this.” She slanted her eyes at the room.

I skipped over. “What?”

Dixie was such a gossip. I lived for her scandals.

She jabbed a finger at the room, and I peered inside. On the screen at the end of the bed, the picture had frozen. It displayed her butthole, huge and unmoving, and perfectly clear.

I cackled then crammed my hand to my mouth. “Oh my God.”

“I know! It’s been like that for minutes, and the guy I was talking to hung up on me. He was a new client, too. This is just awkward.”

From the other end of the hall, a woman in a black skeleton t-shirt hustled down, a headset nestled in her hair and a tablet in her hands. Tech Support, I gathered.

“Let’s take a look.” She bustled into the room, not blinking an eye at the giant asshole staring back at her.

Dixie sighed and reached for a bag tucked inside the door. She stepped into underwear then clipped on a bra. “Take your time erasing my butt. I’m off-shift now anyway.”

“Heading home?” I asked.

We moseyed to the lift together. I had been planning to take the back stairs but now wanted a chat.

“Nope.” She popped the P sound. “I’m stripping for an hour then I’ll be on my back all night in the brothel.”

The lift light illuminated.

I pondered her evening. “Dixie, how did you get into this work?”

“You really don’t want to know that, hun.” At my head tilt, she wrinkled her pretty nose. “Nearly all of us here were forced into sex work at a young age. It’s my career now, and I love it, but I wouldn’t wish it on a girl who had other choices.”

She poked my shoulder.

“My ma was a sex worker,” I explained. “It’s not like I’m new to the concept.”

Nearly all the jobs in the warehouse revolved around sex or customer service. I didn’t like being nice to people, so sex work had been on my mind. I’d never met my mother, but she’d done the same job as Dixie. I was literally made of that career.

“I mean choices over how to lose her virginity and who owns her body,” she added.

“Oh.”

“You’re the most adorable thing from your button nose all the way down to your cute petite feet. The clientele here would eat you up and spit you out. They’d degrade you, use every part of you, then pay the bill and walk away without even a thanks. It’s not something you want to get used to, more you just don’t care because worse has happened. This is the only place I ever worked where I get to set the terms.”

The lift arrived, and we got in.

“Sorry for what you’ve been through,” I said.

Dixie pressed the button for the ground floor. “I like the person I am now, but it took a lot of work. Alisha helped me.”

We descended one level, and the doors opened again, revealing the operations manager herself.

“Speak of the devil and then she appears,” Dixie said with a grin.

Alisha stepped inside, her head down, her expression distant as if she hadn’t heard Dixie speak. She wiped wet eyes with the sleeve of her baby-pink dressing gown, and my heart swelled. I didn’t know her anywhere near as well as other members of her staff, but I’d liked her when we’d talked.

“Going down? Ah, it’s already lit,” she mumbled.

Dixie took her elbow. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, hi, Dixie. I’m fine.”

“You’re not, I can tell.”

I slid to the side. Took out my phone so I didn’t appear nosy. They were obviously friends as well as coworkers, though I’d heard Dixie warn other girls about Alisha’s harsh judgement if they were caught slacking.

Alisha blew out a breath, her blonde fringe floating. “I don’t have time for a breakdown. Not at work.”

Dixie shook her lightly. “Work can wait five minutes if you need a shoulder to cry on. We’ll hole up in the changing rooms.”

Alisha dropped her voice to a pained whisper. “I can’t stop. It’s nothing. I’m just missing R a lot.” She put emphasis on the initial.

Who the heck was ‘R’? The only man I knew around here with that initial was Riordan.

“Heard he was thrown out,” Dixie whispered back.

Yeah, not Riordan, then.

Alisha raised a dainty shoulder. “It wasn’t fair to him, but I respect Arran’s decision. I miss him so much it’s killing me, and it’s made me realise something. I like him. He wants someone to love, not that he asked me, but I made it clear I wasn’t going to settle down. I think I was wrong.” She hugged her arms. “He’s out there cosying up to another gang, and I can’t even speak to him. He’s going to die, and I’ll never see him again.”

The lift doors opened. The two women exited, and I trailed after, still pondering the identity of Alisha’s mystery man. I knew Convict had been sent to join the Four Milers, so ‘R’ had to be his real initial.

Almost immediately, someone darted over to her. “Alisha, sorry to leap on you. We’ve had a couple of people call in sick. The bar upstairs is down a bartender, starting in an hour.”

Alisha pinched the spot between her eyes. “It never ends.”

I scooted on over, the opportunity presenting itself nicely. “Alisha? If ye need a stand-in, I’m available.”

She twisted to look me over, approval over my revealing tank top then a pretty scowl at my pyjamas.

“I’ll change, obviously,” I added.

Slowly, she inclined her head. “If you’re willing, I won’t say no.”

I took a brief instruction then danced away to fetch my food. Selling my body was the extreme option for working here, but serving drinks would give me a fly-on-the-wall view of how the place operated.

Trotting down the steps, I hit the basement level. Waved to the guard at the back desk who was leaving, a vape concealed in his hand. Come Friday, this floor would be out of bounds. Arran’s sex-chase game would be underway, and I intended to watch but from a distance.

The door popped open, and I smiled at the dude on the other side with a food bag in his hand.

“Cassie?” he asked.

“That’s me. I tipped on the app.”

“Much appreciated!”

Beyond him, a meaty engine revved.

I stilled.

Directly across the car park, a big man sat astride his motorbike, black helmet on and his visor down. Riordan. The beam from the bike’s bright headlight spilled through the metal fence to the riverbank, but there was also a downlight that pooled around his feet. A pretty blue colour. So fancy. He peered around and backed out of his space, but then his gaze swung my way. He stopped moving, then with a fluid motion, killed the engine and hopped off, his heavy boots thudding on the concrete.

He’d seen me. Oh, shite.

“The food,” I gasped to the delivery man.

“Not many give a tip because they think it goes to the bosses and not the workers,” the delivery guy chattered on. Glacier-slow, he reached for his insulated bag. “It doesn’t, though. Not like in restaurants or pubs. All of it goes to us, minus a cut to the app but that isn’t much.”

“That’s great. If ye could just…” I made ‘hurry’ hands.

After my manic moment with the tracker, my impulses had calmed some. I’d tried to limit how often I checked his location, knowing that way lay dragons. My oversight cost me now.

With a casual stroll, Riordan appeared behind the man, right as he was pulling out the bag. “I’ll help Cassie with that.”

“Such a gentleman!” Delivery Douche handed it straight over. To him.

I dropped my expression to a glower. The courier walked away, whistling, and Riordan stared down at me, my bag on his outstretched finger like the amount of food I’d bought didn’t weigh a ton.

“Can I please have my dinner?” I asked.

“After we’ve had a chat,” he said.

Heaving a sigh, I turned around, keeping the door open for him with my foot. “Fine.”

He followed me inside, a huge tree of a man in leathers and dark energy. “Glad to hear you can be reasonable.”

“You’re holding my food hostage. What choice do I have?”

The security guard hustled back down the corridor to his desk, not even glancing at Riordan.

“At least raise the visor,” I grouched when we rounded the corner.

“You know I’ll get kicked out if I’m seen.”

“Oh no, ye guessed my plan.”

We entered the back stairwell and climbed. The scent of my food swirled under my nose, and I briefly considered snatching it and running. Except if I dropped it in the scuffle, I’d cry. If I touched Riordan in the fuss, I’d probably lose my mind, too.

The stairs took us up to the fifth floor. Through the doors, we entered the now-quiet corridor, and Riordan finally slid up the reflective visor covering his eyes. I ignored my spike of lust at how stupidly pretty he was, even in the narrow view I’d been gifted.

My crush’s green eyes had featured in my dreams.

Along with other parts of him.

Resisting a melt into a puddle of lust, I prowled down to my room. Inside, I gazed around as if my obsession with him had somehow become evidenced by a detective’s wall of furtively taken photos and local maps. Luckily for me, it was all concealed in my head and my phone.

Riordan kicked the door closed behind him then set down my food and removed his helmet entirely, his leather jacket following to reveal a close-fitting black t-shirt that stretched over his thick biceps. He ruffled his messy brown hair, finger-combing it into a shape that had no right to look so artful.

Annoyed, I kicked off my flip-flops and toed the floor. “Can I have my dinner now?”

The biker folded his arms, taking a wide-legged stance that tall men sometimes did to lower their height when talking to someone shorter. My brother, Sin, did it with Lottie, his wife. For some reason, that endearing gesture chipped a hole in my frosty exterior.

“Not until we clear a few things up. Did Moniqua put you up to damaging my bike?”

I blinked at him. “Your girlfriend who lurched from the shadows earlier like a rancid ghoul?”

“Not my girlfriend, but yes, the same ghoul.”

Not his girlfriend? My belly butterflies did a happy dance. “I’ve never even spoken to her, and I wasn’t trying to hurt your motorbike.”

His brow furrowed. A week or so ago, I’d watched Divergent and lusted over Theo James. Riordan had the same quiet, brooding confidence. He was way more handsome, too, which I blamed for why I did stupid things around him.

“Then you’re not trying to do me harm?” he pressed.

“Never.” My stomach rumbled. I clamped my hands to it. “Please, can I eat? We can share.”

He worked his lips, then said, “For the sake of getting answers, sure.”

“Shoes off, and ye can sit on my bed.”

I grabbed the board from the floor that I’d been using as a table and set it on the mattress, reaching to claim the white takeaway bag from a still-scowling Riordan. Even so, he undid the snap-lock buckles of his biker boots and positioned himself cross-legged opposite me. One by one, he helped me line up the different cartons of food.

A little bolt of some unnamed emotion hit me.

I wanted a person. My person. Someone I could eat with. Or hug. Someone who wanted me. In a mansion surrounded by my family, happy couples with a thousand kids, or here, with sex everywhere, I felt lonely. I didn’t like it.

“Enough food to sink a battleship,” Riordan observed. “Were you planning to invite someone else?”

“Nope. I just got over-clicky when ordering. It all looked so good.”

“Smells good, too.” He opened a container with ‘beef and green peppers’ scrawled on the lid. Steam rose, mixing with the scent of the sweet and sour chicken I’d opened.

My mouth watered. I grabbed the wooden spoon and the fork the restaurant had provided and handed one over. “I have work in under an hour, so eat now, talk later. Dig in.”

Riordan speared a piece of beef. Chewed it then groaned. “That’s fucking amazing.”

I watched him swallow and held in a sigh of deep need. He raised his head; I snapped mine down to start my meal.

God, he was right. Spoonfuls of fluffy rice, crispy spring rolls, crunchy prawn crackers, it all got shovelled in with the flavoursome dishes. At first, Riordan picked at the food, but the more I encouraged him, the hungrier I realised he was.

When my belly complained, I slowed. “If Moniqua isn’t your girlfriend, what’s the deal?”

“Thought I was the one asking questions.”

I gestured to the mostly empty cartons. “I fed ye, didn’t I?”

“And that gets paid for with my stories?” He reclined.

I chanced my arm. “Everyone needs someone to talk to.”

Riordan watched me for a long moment. “The last thing I need is someone else throwing me under a bus.”

“Has that happened a lot?”

“One story at a time, wild girl.”

Wild… He’d nicknamed me? Fuck.

Unable to respond, I waited, my heart skipping a beat when, at length, he spoke.

“All right. Moniqua was a one-night stand. We met at a party thrown by one of the guys from work. I got drunk oddly quicker than reasonable and woke with her the next morning. Something I have never done in the past and never will again.”

“The drinking part or the casual sex?”

He eyed me. “Anyway, she somehow got my number and texted me a couple of times for a hook-up, I declined, then she changed to daily chats. Wishing me a good morning, that kind of thing. One day she messaged to say she was sick and could I bring over some shopping. I did it for the sake of being a friend. When I was in her flat, a guy let himself in. Her cousin who she told me in a whisper scared her. I hung around until he left.”

Packing away the food, I drew lines in my head and made connections. Genevieve had told me about Moniqua’s gangster cousin because we’d originally thought him the murderer. “Don, right?”

Riordan tilted his head. “I’m not even going to ask how you know his name. So, Don is dead now, and Moniqua was cut up about it. I even drove her around to try to find him when she thought him only missing, and I’m a fucking idiot because despite me laying a clear boundary, she took that to mean we were a couple. Even my sister believed the same.”

“But you’re not.”

“No.”

Through the wall to the next room, a lady gave a low moan.

Riordan stared. “Is that…?”

“This is the cam girls’ floor. She’s going solo by the sounds of it. Ye get used to the noises.”

He dropped his head back, pink on his cheeks under his dark stubble. “You sleep surrounded by people having sex, Cassandra?”

I made an off noise. “Guess again.”

“Cass… I’ve got nothing.”

“Cassiopeia.”

“Surname?” he asked.

“Archer.”

“Well, Cassiopeia Archer, isn’t that weird?”

I liked too much how my name sounded on his lips. “The sex everywhere? I thought most of the men in the city came here for that.”

He curled his lip. “Not me. I’m here because of chasing after you, but also I needed to talk to my sister. It’s been a shitty day.”

“Hence the comment about people throwing ye under a bus. What happened?”

He chuffed. “A trauma dump wasn’t my plan for the evening.”

“I’m a good listener. Or we can trade tales, if that’ll make ye feel better?”

His forehead lined as if he couldn’t see how I had anything comparable to share. Boy didn’t know what was coming.

I counted a few fun points off on my fingers. “I was in foster care until the age of six then kidnapped. I don’t know my actual birthday and never will as my mother concealed the birth and then died without me being able to find her to ask.” I cocked my head. “Food for stories, as ye called it, or a straight-up swap.”

“Jesus. Is that true?”

“I don’t lie.” Well, I did, but I wasn’t right now.

“Fine, then apparently I owe you. I got fired this afternoon, right before I walked out and saw you on the street. The boss is hard-line anti-gang, and rumours reached him about me. I’ve had that job since I was eighteen and used it to pay our bills and save up for Gen to go to university. Then our father stole the money—” He stopped. “Her father, I mean. Which brings me onto the second part of why today can just do one.”

“Did ye have a run-in with him?”

“Putting it lightly. But I don’t want this to get back to Gen.”

I put my hand to my heart. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

Riordan’s gaze lingered on me, then he dragged it away. “Why should I trust you?”

“You’re here and already talking. Might as well get it out.”

He stalled.

Desperation built in me. I spoke in a rush. “My father was a tyrant. He funded a trafficking ring. Whatever your non-father did, it can’t be worse than that.”

“A trafficking ring? Christ.” He breathed out incredulity. “No, it isn’t as bad as that, but he was drunk and throwing his weight around. He’s fucking delighted with Gen scoring a rich boyfriend, as he framed it, and said to me that I was a waste of space. After supporting him for years. I lost it and told him I knew he wasn’t my father. Want to guess what he did?”

I wanted to hug him. I’d cleared the bed of the food trays and packed it all back into the bag, and the wooden board was slid away. It would be nothing to reach out my arms.

Except I was already obsessed with this man and had no off switch for handling it. I couldn’t be sure what I’d do next.

“Did he hurt ye?”

“He tried. The asshole’s handy with a blade, but that isn’t the point. He laughed at me then said great, he didn’t need to offer me a roof over my head anymore. Then he collected an armful of my clothes and threw them out the window onto the street.”

My heart hurt. “He kicked ye out?”

He went quiet for a minute, his eyes darkening at whatever was going through his head. “Whenever Adam, that’s Gen’s dad, behaved like a prick, I used to wish my mother had been mistaken about my birth father knowing about me. That he wasn’t such a terrible person and one day we could even be friends. I know that sounds insane. She couldn’t have been wrong.”

My breathing came soft. Rejection hurt. Or worse—it could damage people permanently. My heart swelled for Riordan all the more. “Everyone wants to be wanted.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a fantasy. The father I did know delighted in chucking out everything I owned, which wasn’t much because I never had a bedroom in that place. I loaded it into my car piece by piece as it fell, moved my car so he couldn’t trash that, too, and then biked back here.”

“I’m sorry. Ye didn’t deserve that. Any of it.”

“Maybe I did for hurting Moniqua. Either way, it’s the chance of a new start I wasn’t expecting.”

He was resilient. Lesser men would crumble. Something uncomfortable registered in my thoughts. “Will ye leave Deadwater?”

“I’ll go wherever I can find work. I can come back if my sister needs to see me. Sisters,” he corrected.

No, no. I needed him to stay here. One glance at the brutally beautiful man who’d fought his way through the club to protect Genevieve and an arrow had pierced my heart. Dramatic but true. Ever since, I’d wanted him. I didn’t know how to ask. I’d never even touched my lips to a boy’s, but I was certain I wanted his to be the first and last.

He was mine.

His gaze landed on me and pinned me down in a way I wished his long body would.

“Now we switch again. Explain why, when I checked my bike over earlier, I found a mysterious little disc stuck to it. Either Moniqua’s tracking me or it’s someone else.”

Heat painted my cheeks. Moniqua had been tracking him, if I assigned ownership of the tracker I’d removed to her. But more…he’d known about the tracker, and suspected me, yet he’d still talked to me. Opened up. We both had.

I couldn’t stop the truth from spilling out. “I am.”

“On behalf of another?”

“I told ye I mean no harm. I operate all on my lonesome.”

Curiosity replaced some of his intensity. “Because…?”

A low vibration sounded.

Riordan shifted to pull his phone from his pocket. He squinted at the screen then held it up for me to see. “Arran. Gen gave me his number. I wondered how long it would take until someone spotted me on a camera then ordered me out.”

He answered the call, close enough that I could hear every word over the background of increasingly loud moans from next door.

“Riordan, I’ll keep this short but sweet. As soon as she’ll have me, I plan to marry your sister, so that makes us family. I want to offer you a job.”

The knowing smirk on Riordan’s lips faded. “You want to what?”

I could kiss Arran. Ew, no, gross.

A job would keep Riordan here. Working for the skeleton crew would mean he’d be around, even if I only got to see him from a distance. I’d learn to control my loose tongue.

Arran’s clear voice continued. “You have a choice, make a statement of joining my crew or take a less public role.”

“Which would involve what?”

“To be discussed. Think it over. Oh, and say hi to Cassie.”

Chapter 27

Everly

A white piece of paper waited on my bedside table when I woke from a nap, and I stretched to collect it, my eyes still bleary from sleep.

MISS ME, it read.

I would, I did, endlessly. After Connor’s stabby show and tell, he’d thrown himself into work. Maybe conveniently avoiding me, too. Whenever I tried to talk to him, he found an excuse to be somewhere else. That didn’t stop him from being inside me at every opportunity, and last night, he’d sedated me again. I’d dozed much of the day while he’d slept, and now he’d left again.

Still without giving me the time to talk to him.

I folded the paper, determination filling me.

Today was Friday, game day. I was going to remain conscious throughout. Whether he liked it or not, we were going to have this conversation.

Leaving our bed, I showered and dressed in a lavender-blue gym set, worked through my yoga routine, then ate granola while I scanned the local headlines. The latter was something I did every day at work, except it was two PM and I was still on sick leave, trying not to think about my job.

The mayoral admin team would manage for a week without me, but longer than that and they’d flounder. The next most senior staff member, Jeff, panicked over anything too stressful. He wasn’t ready to take over from me, even if I decided to quit.

Had I decided that?

I took a deep inhale and focused on the headlines, pushing away thoughts of work until I was ready with a solution.

More information had been released on the latest murder, and I copied the link for Genevieve and Cassie. For convenience, I made a chat group for us, titling it ‘The Skeleton Girls Detective Agency’ then pasted in the article.

Almost immediately, someone was typing back.

Genevieve: I’m finishing up a lecture, then I can read this.

Cassie: Intel! I just woke up but I’m all over it.

Cassie: Love the group name. Can we get stickers made?

With a grin, I cleared away my very late breakfast things, then had another idea and typed a message to Connor, asking if he minded me inviting the two women up to the apartment.

Connor: It’s your home, too. Have your friends over whenever you like.

Another reply came in hot on its heels.

Connor: Just don’t let Cassie touch my knives.

I sent him a heart emoji then wrote to my group.

Everly: Would you both like to come to my apartment this afternoon? I’ll make snacks and coffee, then we can talk all things murder.

Two enthusiastic responses came back immediately, and I got a bolt of happiness at having a friendship group for the first time since school. I’d asked and they’d said yes—a lesson for the day. I needed to take action, in multiple areas of my life.

A couple of hours later, both women arrived, Genevieve coming straight from university with a satchel over her shoulder, and Cassie in a thick hoodie with her hair peeking from the hood. Bleary-eyed, she explained that she’d gone back to sleep after my message having worked until five AM at a bar downstairs.

She kicked off her shoes then padded over to gaze out the window. “People are already queueing outside. Pervy fuckers. Ye should have heard the chatter about the game last night. They are all so desperate to watch a group of women get hunted.”

Genevieve joined me at the counter, nodding enthusiastically at my offer of an iced coffee. “This is a real money-spinner for the club. They sell bedrooms with live stream access to cameras in the basement, and those go for wild sums of money. Like, life-changing amounts that the club uses for all kinds of good purposes. Arran and I are going to make a statement later about our participation and how successful it was.”

I goggled at her. “Is that necessary?”

“He’s the organiser. It’s expected of him, and honestly, I don’t mind. Everyone who’s going to be there already watched us have sex for the first time. Guaranteeing to them that we continue to do so and are now planning the rest of our lives together seems kinda pale in comparison.”

She accepted her coffee, and I admired her bravery. She’d gone into Arran’s game by accident but had come out stronger for her ordeal. Even after, she hadn’t let the club consume her. She was doing her own thing with her degree.

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve messaged Riordan to make sure he doesn’t watch, just in case. I wouldn’t want to traumatise him.” Her gaze slid over me. “He’s a decent man, our brother. He can be quiet and disappear off the radar, but I’ve learned that’s because he’s tackling problems on his own. He doesn’t share his stress. Like, ever. He keeps it all to himself and handles it alone.”

I nodded, clinging to the information. “I’ve started making a list of all the things he’ll need to know about being related to my father. Family health history, that kind of thing. Sorry if that’s awkward.”

“Not at all. It’ll be good for him to have someone else who cares about him.” She ducked her head. “He shocked me with his secret, but in retrospect, I get how huge a burden that must’ve been for him to carry. He loved our mum, and she adored him. Honouring her wishes would’ve been the most important thing for him.”

Cassie drifted over, taking her drink with a grateful if somewhat distracted smile, and I stiffened my spine, suddenly determined to follow the examples I’d been shown. I wanted to get to know Riordan, but what was there of me to offer in return? I hadn’t managed it so far with the two women I wanted to befriend.

“Remember you asked me about myself?” I said to Cassie. At her eyebrow rise of enquiry, I continued. “I stalled out on the question, and I’ve realised it’s because my father and his career completely absorbed every aspect of my life. But I’m more than that.”

Cassie grinned. “Aye, ye are. Ready when ye are to give us the goods.”

I settled onto a stool and counted off my thoughts. “I like videos of little children who are best friends with animals. I love women trying on dresses with people telling them how great they look, especially if they aren’t skinny or Internet beautiful. I’ll devour videos of driving lessons where the dash cam picks up someone doing something kind, like stopping for a family of ducks to cross the road. But I’m hardline, too. If someone shares a picture of a spider, they get an instant block.”

Cassie’s eyes rounded. “Who needs that kind of jump scare?”

“Right there on your screen.” Genevieve gave a pretty grimace.

“Exactly!” Thoughts built inside me in a storm. “I want to try out hobbies to see which works for me.”

Cassie rocked on her heels. “We can do that together! Like crochet or painting. Or target practice.”

My storm was tinted with happiness. “I’d really love that. I’ve never taken a break from work, not even when I had the flu. I just wore a mask and sat in an empty office with a bucket of hand sanitiser and the windows open so I didn’t get anyone else sick. In winter. Do you know what my father said?”

The two women shared the same pitying expression.

“Nothing, except to comment that my makeup wasn’t up to scratch that day. Why did I do it? Why did I give him a decade of my life for no thanks when he was lying to me the whole time?”

The true answer was for Connor’s ears only, but the overriding point was that I’d never pushed back. Never complained. Never tried.

Genevieve cupped my elbow, her touch warm. “You’re not going back, are you?”

“I’d like maybe to reduce my hours.”

Her gaze intensified. “No, try that again and listen to what you really want. You’re not going to do that thing you’ve always done anymore.”

So slowly, I shook my head, full of wonder at my revelations. “I don’t think I can.”

Cassie stirred her brew, her smile approving in a way that bolstered me further. “Then after you’ve told off your old man, ye get to pick your own life. What does that contain?”

“Connor,” I said immediately. “I’ve been in love with him since I was a teenager, but he was so far off the table it was never going to happen. That doesn’t mean things with him are perfect, so that’s one of the first things I need to fix.”

“Set boundaries, smart woman,” Cassie said.

That was exactly it. He’d hear my explanation, then we’d work out ground rules for how we went on.

Cassie pursed her lips. “Can I ask a question? Is your ma still around? I wondered.”

Old sadness brought an automatic sigh. “She died when I was small from heart failure. Non-hereditary and out of the blue. I don’t remember her much, but the career I always wanted was the one she had. She was an event planner. I must’ve inherited her skills because I’m good at it.”

“Nice that you’re carrying on a part of her.” Cassie’s gaze gentled. “My ma died, and I have no memory of her. I wish I did.”

Genevieve held up her coffee. “Jinx, except mine lived until I was a teenager. I’ve been angry at her this week because she lied and hurt Riordan in the process, but I’ll get over that.” She twisted to peek at me. “What is it you like about her job? I ask because it’s given me an idea.”

“I love tackling a busy calendar and managing dates. Slotting all the working pieces into place and getting people and suppliers to align. It does happy things to my head.”

“How about helping out here?” She gestured to the warehouse with a circle around her head. “Arran has been flat-out running the game, but that has a lot of moving parts, and he’s drowning in it. There’s no one person he can rely on to handle the contestants or to get the warehouse staff doing all the things they need to do. It all falls on his shoulders, and I know he doesn’t find it a natural fit.”

I considered the idea, my fingers twitching with the need to pitch in. “Do you think he’d welcome my help if I offered?”

She gave an enthusiastic nod. “Tonight, watch how it works. See if it interests you then ask Arran if you can manage the next one. I bet he’d jump at the chance to share the load. I won’t mention it in case you change your mind, but it’s a real and present need, and it’s also only one thing the warehouse does. The nightclub has theme nights every month, and one-offs on special occasions. The strip club does the same, and don’t even get me started on the brothel. Alisha is meant to be running regular club nights there, but she hasn’t got the idea off the ground.”

I breathed out excitement. Since Connor had brought me to the warehouse, I’d barely left. It was a world of its own, and I loved it here. I felt safe. I had friends. I had him.

Being able to use my skills to support the place would be the cherry on the cake.

“I’ll think about it,” I promised. “Just like I’ll think about yelling at my father. And finding some way to expose Piers Roache and the councillors.”

Genevieve raised her coffee in a salute.

“Wait, what did the councillors do?” Cassie asked.

Summoning my strength, I filled them in on that nugget while we sipped our iced coffee, ice cubes clinking, and my mind putting together a plan. Telling off my father, as Cassie put it, scared me so much, but at the same time, it had to be done. I didn’t know how I’d get the words out, but the prospect was thrilling and terrifying in equal parts.

“In the spirit of getting shite done, regarding that newspaper article link ye sent,” Cassie said. “Are we down to commence the first meeting of the Skeleton Girls Detective Agency?” At our encouragement, she continued. “I was talking to…someone yesterday and had the idea of making a crime wall, like in detective movies. Ye know, with a big map, clues, and bits of string linking the sites, and bios of information on the victims? I was thinking about it all night while mixing drinks.”

“Oh my God, yes. We should create one.” I peeked around at the living room walls. Connor’s knife display took up the only clear wall space. Beyond that, it was all brick or steel with nowhere to push a pin into.

“Arran has a printer and a stationery cupboard we can raid,” Genevieve said. “I’ve got a couple of hours before I need to go talk about my sex life in public. This sounds like such fun.”

Cassie stood, setting her empty glass on the counter. “We can use my room downstairs. The walls are basically cardboard. Let’s do this thing!”

Energised and caffeinated, we got to work. Genevieve printed a map of Deadwater, and we helped ourselves to Sharpies, string, and pins, then holed up in the bedroom Cassie had appropriated downstairs. In the room next door, two people were having sex in front of a camera, and it showed how far I’d come in accepting the warehouse’s strange world that it didn’t even faze me.

In happy coordination, we got the map up on the wall and marked off the places where Cherry, Natasha, and Amelia’s bodies had been discovered. Then we trawled Cassie’s notebook and the news sites for all the facts we could uncover about the three women.

The dates they died. Who they were. A heart drawn at the bottom of each of their sheets, just to show we cared.

Lastly, we wrote up the suspects list, focusing on the main individuals and not the less obvious ones like Alisha, which definitely wouldn’t have been fair to write up here. From cruising social media, I’d confirmed Piers was one city south of Deadwater on the night Natasha died, so it was feasible for him to have seen my father and gone on to murder someone for his own gratification. But for Cherry’s death, he was in Paris.

Just like Councillor Slaughter had an alibi one night. As did my father.

No single man on the list could’ve killed all three women. Not by himself.

Sitting side by side on the bed, the three of us stared up at what we’d created.

Cassie accepted the last cookie from the plate I’d brought downstairs. She pointed it at the wall. “That is a thing of beauty.”

I nodded, following the city streets and the lines of white string that led from one murder scene to the next, trying but failing to see any pattern we hadn’t already established. “It really is. Except… It doesn’t tell us anything new.”

Rested back on her elbows, Genevieve squinted. “Is it awful that I’m predicting where the next body will be found?”

Cassie choked on a crumb. “I was just doing exactly that.”

I sighed, because I’d done the same thing. “The terrible part is how sure we all think it is another woman is going to die.”

A sober silence fell over us.

“It won’t be any of us,” Cassie announced. “Promise me that the two of ye won’t leave the warehouse alone.”

I reached for her hand and Genevieve’s, too. Squeezed their fingers in a show of friendship I hoped I’d found with them. “It won’t be us. I wish it didn’t have to be anyone at all.”

Cassie’s hand tightened around mine, a shy little cat’s paw but not letting go. “Then let’s fill in these gaps. Do everything we can to find this fucker.”

If only any of us knew how.

How did any woman stop a man in his tracks in the same way he could us? Then an idea came to me, not to catch a killer, but to make Connor listen to me.

It was so perfect, I’d no choice but to put it into play.

Chapter 28

Connor

The message we’d been waiting for arrived with interesting timing.

Convict: Talk now?

In thirty minutes, cameras would be rolling, Arran would address the masses assembled in the warehouse, then a fuck fest would be going down. Not ideal for us to be distracted with whatever Convict had discovered about the Four Milers.

Across the office, Arran read the screen I held up and palmed his jaw. “I should be with Gen.”

“I’ve got this.”

He exhaled. “Fine, but if it’s anything I need to know immediately…”

“I’ll find ye. Go.”

He left the office, closing me in alone. For a beat, I sat in the darkened space, the spotlight shining on the visitor’s seat, not that there was anyone there. Then I put my phone on loudspeaker and dialled our spy.

Convict answered immediately. “Shade, thanks, brother. I don’t have long.”

“You’re in?”

“They came to me the next day.”

I exhaled in relief, at him being alive, at the bait taken. Our plan was working. Our rivals had done exactly what we wanted them to do, making a move on our disgraced crewmember. Satisfaction curled inside me. “How did they make their approach?”

“Not going to lie, it was rough, but I’ll spare you the details. It took a while to see Red. They had me do a few jobs first.”

“What kind of work?”

“Deliveries, mostly. Drug drop-offs from the smell of the packets. Then cash.” He paused, the sounds of the evening behind him. “Tonight was different. I got given an address to pick up a woman. Had to take her to a building on the east side of town. Looks like the Four Milers own it.”

I drummed my fingers on the desk, not liking the image.

Convict continued. “We know the woman. She works for us. Or she used to. She wouldn’t speak to me, though, and I kept it light so I didn’t raise any suspicions.”

“Who?”

“Bonnie,” he named one of our dancers.

A lass in her twenties who had previously been trafficked to the UK from Europe. Our outreach crew had rescued her after she’d spent six years on her back as a prisoner. Under Alisha’s care, Bonnie had undergone therapy, and we’d housed her for free while she decided what she wanted to do with her life. She’d chosen to stay and work at the warehouse, but only to dance, never to fuck for money.

The thought of her defecting to a drugs gang haunted me.

“Did ye go inside the building?” I asked.

“Couldn’t get beyond the entrance. I’ll work on that.”

“What about the mayor? Anyone talking about him?”

The door to the office cracked open, and I snatched up my phone. Alisha slipped inside. Usually, she’d knock. Even as a core part of the management team, she’d never accepted that she was equal to me and Arran.

I relaxed back down into my seat. “Anything to add on that?” I added pointedly to my phone.

Alisha eyed it then perched on a seat.

“No,” Convict replied. “Not yet. Shit. Got to go.”

He hung up, and I settled back, taking a second to piece over the intelligence he’d gathered. One of our dancers working for the Four Milers sickened me. Red treated women like shite. I hated that Bonnie had made that choice, and I needed to know if it was voluntarily. Convict would find that out. Red was slowly giving him his trust, first handling drugs, then cash, and finally women, for whatever purpose he intended. Our boy was doing exactly what we needed.

The chair opposite creaked, and in the spotlight, Alisha leaned forward. She was dressed for the night in her typical uniform of a glossy wig and a floaty, see-through dressing gown over lingerie, but it was her expression that struck me as strange.

She stared at my phone, her lips working. “Was that Roscoe?”

Just like no one ever used my real name, aside from Everly, I rarely heard Convict’s given name.

“The man himself.”

She took a shaky breath. “Does he want to come back?”

For the sake of keeping Convict as safe as possible, we’d told almost nobody about his undercover role, including Alisha. Had she been in the room when we made the decision, it would have been different, but she’d opted out of those kinds of conversations time and time again.

“He does,” I gave up.

Her eyes beseeched mine. “Will you let him?”

There wasn’t time for this conversation. I had a dozen things I needed to do to get the game underway, but more, I wanted to get upstairs to find Everly. I had plans for us this evening. I’d tell Alisha the truth, but not right now.

More the point, Alisha and I were overdue a long chat. I’d judged her harshly, and regret dogged my steps, giving me pause every time I saw her. On more than one occasion, I’d cut our conversations short, and we were friends. I owed her more than a cold shoulder if I was pissed off with her.

Alisha was a key part of the warehouse running smoothly. We couldn’t cope without her, and I didn’t want her to feel less engaged than she already did.

I heaved a deep breath. “Okay to take a rain check? I’ll tell ye everything later.”

Slowly, she nodded. “That’s fair. I miss our chats. And our games of cards.”

“I do, too.”

“I’m happy that you’ve got Everly. She seems sweet, though I was surprised when you brought her here.” Her lips formed a pretence of a smile. “I once wondered if we might be a good match.”

I tried to hide my recoil. “We’re friends.”

Alisha twisted her lips. “Can men and women ever really be friends? We’re built to attract the other. Something’s bound to go wrong on one side.”

She’d been attracted to me and I’d been walking around ignoring her. What an arsehole. I’d always seen Alisha as the lone-wolf type. Content to manage the women at the club and never stick her head above the parapet, never wanting to rock the boat, let alone settle down. Not that I’d have been an option, but I could’ve been a better friend.

“I had no idea ye felt like that.”

“No, you’re misunderstanding me. I’m…I’m just shit talking, it’s not important.” She clapped her knees and stood. “I needed to tell you we’ve had a couple of women quit. Bonnie and Maeve both left us. One of the bar staff, too.”

Fuck. Three guesses to whether the other two had followed the first. It helped to set free Alisha’s statement about us so I could focus back on the Four Milers’ theory that was brewing in my mind. Later, I’d fill both Arran and Alisha in on it, but right now, it was game time, and I had a woman to share the experience with.

With a quiet thanks for the information, I left Alisha to lock up the office then ran through my final checks around the warehouse.

The whole building hummed with a dangerous level of excitement and energy.

The security team had the right men and women locked in the basement—an advanced level of checking in place since Genevieve’s unfortunate experience. Our tech team were ready with the live stream. Every available room in the building was occupied with paying customers with a woman or man of their choice ready to bounce on their dick while people fucked on the basement’s concrete floor.

With ten minutes to go, I stormed up the stairs to my apartment. My work was done, and I only needed Everly. We were going to watch the show together.

I needed her out of her comfort zone and feeling everything she wanted to feel.

She had no idea what was coming.

Chapter 29

Everly

Shouts from outside the club made it up to the arched window in Connor’s apartment, and I stood with a hand to the brick, watching the crowd gathered below. Genevieve had told me how a festival atmosphere surrounded the game, with people waiting outside for the contestants to emerge. The victorious men would carry their claimed woman out to a waiting car, both naked, often bloodied.

Sometimes, they’d still be having sex.

Breathless, I stared down in wonder.

My whole body was infused with the same energy. My skin tingled under the lingerie and the silky dressing gown I’d recovered from the first night I’d come here. I’d taken time to style my hair and put on makeup, choosing a sexy pair of the heels Connor had brought for me.

I didn’t have the figure of the women who’d be running for their lives tonight, but in my own way, I was just as attractive.

The door snicked open across the apartment behind me, but I didn’t look around. Instead, I let my senses pick up on Connor prowling over the darkened space. I’d left the lights off, aside from the three pendant spotlights that hung over the tall kitchen counter.

“Take it off.” Connor drew a fingertip along my bra strap, over the pale dressing gown.

Ah, the half-naked thing.

“Don’t we need to be downstairs?” I asked.

“Off.”

His fingers twisted into my dressing gown collar, and he lightly tugged it backwards, pulling it free from my arms so it fluttered to the floor. I unclipped my bra, still facing the window when my breasts fell free, and my cheeks heated at how I was now flashing the world, even if only in silhouette. I’d already felt bold in my outfit, but now, every one of my senses was overwhelmed.

A kiss landed on my bare shoulder, then Connor’s strong arms rounded me, and he took two handfuls of my heavy breasts. From feel alone, I knew he’d stripped his shirt.

My pulse sped, and I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, loving how he touched me and the gruff sounds he made as the kiss turned into a bite and his caress into a possessive squeeze.

But the spine-tingling moment was short-lived. He released me to encase my fingers in his, then we were moving towards the door.

Panic shot through me, and I stalled, digging my heels into the floor. “Wait. My clothes.”

Connor didn’t stop, his movement propelling mine so I had no choice but to totter after him into the hall in only my shoes and knickers.

I gripped his wrist, and my voice came out in a squeak. “I’m naked. I can’t go downstairs like this. People will see.”

“What are ye worried about?”

He closed the door. I spun around and pushed it. Locked.

Connor clamped his hand over the code entry box.

“What if we run into someone I know? I can’t. Please.”

He was unrepentant. “Let them stare.”

“My father comes here. His colleagues.”

“Your father has not been permitted access tonight, nor any of the councillors. Is that better?”

A tiny degree of my dread eased, but it wasn’t enough. “No.”

He backed me to the lift. Pressed the button. In just his jeans, with the button popped open, he had so much ink work on display, and he was so beautiful. So well made that against him, I was ridiculous.

“Tough. You’re a goddess, Everly. Everyone should know.”

Tears sprang into my eyes, and my heart beat loud in my ears. “Please, Connor.”

The lift arrived, and he guided me inside. Centred his gaze on me. “Tonight, even more than usual, the building only exists for sex. It’s all everyone here wants and is looking for. Nobody is here who won’t fuck or be fucked. Your lush body should be admired, and your tits will bring men to their knees. They’ll dream of your curves for years to come. Ye should walk tall. But, if it’s anonymity ye want, hold up.”

From his back pocket, he revealed a skeleton bandanna, then he tied it around my face to hide the lower half.

Instant relief flooded me. One tiny change had made a world of difference. I gazed at myself in the mirrored wall. It wasn’t that the tiny piece of cloth concealing my features had any power to truly hide my identity, but more that it deflected focus from my face downwards. No one would look at me, not as a person. They’d ogle my breasts. My ass.

They’d see Connor’s strong, tattooed form and imagine him owning mine.

I wanted to sag against the wall. I also wanted to smack Connor for doing this, but at the same time, I fought the urge to hug him for forcing me to be brave.

I did neither. When the light lit for the third floor, I walked out into the brothel with my head held high.

The typical low thud of sexy music that played in the corridor had been replaced by sounds of a live stream video. While Connor led me down the hall, Arran’s voice came over the system.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the game.”

Cheers erupted around us, coming from behind closed doors and the dimly lit open space ahead. From memory, I knew it was a playroom of sorts, where live sex shows went hand in hand with interactive play between the sex workers and their customers. That was my impression from my single previous visit, when I’d peeked inside with curiosity but no confidence before I’d run away.

Screens had been placed around the edges of the room, and on the picture, Arran and Genevieve stood together, her in a stunning and tiny black dress, and him bare-chested, like Connor, with a low-slung pair of jeans open at the button.

They were beautiful together. Her golden hair and slight figure, and his much bigger, powerful form. I could only imagine how wild the crowd had been at their contest.

Arran continued talking about the provenance and rules of his game, and I took a second to scan the room we moved through. Bare flesh was everywhere, including people fucking on sofas and against walls. Women stripped in gold cages suspended from the ceiling. The scent of sex in the air won the battle over the pretty perfume that usually infused the place.

It wasn’t just sex workers with male customers here. There were female clients as well. Normal-looking women who appeared to have come with a partner, and who had cheeks I imagined matched mine for the brightness of their blush.

We kept on going, deeper into the darkness.

In the centre of the space, a mostly naked dancer constrained a second much curvier woman to a padded table by her ankles and wrists, spreading her arms and legs wide. I exhaled at the exposure but couldn’t tear my attention away. The helper tied a blindfold around her eyes and whispered something that had the constrained woman bucking against her ties.

All it did was show her she had nowhere to go.

A man approached the head of the table, fully clothed, but with his dick in his hand. At another whisper from her co-worker, the constrained woman tipped her head back with her red lips open and ready to receive him. Meanwhile, another man climbed up to kneel between her legs, his gaze locked on her completely bare pussy. A third guy stripped his jeans beside the table and set a heel to the table’s surface. He shoved the second guy out of his way so he could take his hard dick to her entrance.

The dislodged man grappled him. They fought over her. Over who got to fuck the tied-down woman.

The last man held out and thrust into her, right as the blow job dude came on her face.

I shivered, unable to imagine what it would be like to be so exposed and to have so little control over who touched me. It made walking through here a piece of cake.

“Don’t even think about it.” Connor ran a possessive arm around my shoulders, keeping me close.

“No?” As if I’d been picturing being in her place.

“Never. I want every arsehole here to see what I’ve got, and at the same time, I’m making plans to stab all their eyes out.”

I could have laughed, but I was too pent-up. Too turned on.

“Where are we going?”

I wanted him, badly, but I didn’t want to share what we had publicly.

“I’m taking ye behind closed doors,” he said.

Relief mixed with my other much stronger emotions, and I let Connor guide me to a quieter corridor where he unlocked the door. As he did, my gaze slid down his powerful back muscles until I landed on two bulges in his jeans back pockets. One was his phone, and the second was his little leather case. The one that contained his sedative kit.

My breath caught. I wanted that precious release, but no, not tonight.

I had other plans for him that I needed to be wide awake for.

We entered the room, and Connor locked the door behind us while I took in the display ahead. Aside from a big bed, there were two other components. The first was a screen displaying the view of the basement. Arran and Genevieve had gone, and instead at the camera displayed a group of nervous-looking women spilling out of a locker room. Most were barefoot. All were skimpily dressed and entirely beautiful.

The game was about to begin.

The second part of our room was a display of sex toys. Vibrators and dildos, plus a whole lineup of other things I didn’t recognise on a broad counter.

Fresh heat zinged through my body. Connor kissed my throat and ran his hands around me to cup my breasts. He squeezed my nipples, and I gasped.

His low voice filled my ears. “First, I’m going to clamp these. Choose a pair. Then pick a butt plug. I’ll put those into place before I sedate ye. After that, it’s my choice over what I fuck ye with while we watch the women get claimed.”

I moaned, my toes curling at the thought. Except I couldn’t let him sedate me. “Not yet. I want to play first.”

At the table, I drew my finger over the selection of nipple clamps. It was obvious now I knew what they were.

“These vibrate.” Connor moved my finger to a pair. At my faint nod, he collected them then made his suggestion for the other toy. A butt plug which also had a vibrating function.

At a sound from the screen, I twisted back to watch a holding pen full of angry men, all wearing masks, some with black paint across their eyes.

“Why do they do it?” I asked softly.

“Predator-prey is one of the biggest and most underserved kinks. The violence within it has an impact on those willing to bond with someone else over it. It takes trust to let someone else willingly hurt ye.”

“How did it come about?”

Still occupied at the table, Connor replied, “Do ye recall me telling Cassie I knew her brother, Jamieson? He and Arran once had a conversation about sex and kinks. Jamieson wore his preference on his sleeve. He’s da to three or four kids now and happily married to a lass who shares his likes. Arran took notes. He told me he wanted others to be able to bond like that and not fear the extremes, but my guess now is he wanted it for himself, too.”

“Have you ever gone in there?”

“No. My kink is you being unable to run from me.”

Hence the sedation.

He pressed against me from behind. “Also your tits. They make me so hard I might go insane. Your soft belly is another obsession. Touching your skin. Feeling how curvy ye are. Don’t even get me started on your arse.”

A klaxon sounded in the basement, and the camera view changed to a door sliding open. The men were released from their cage. Fury poured off them, and they ran, fighting each other on their violent exit. Fists flew, growls of anger unleashed. Left in the cage was an unconscious individual, blood dripping from his lips to his bare chest.

Already, one had lost the battle.

A scream followed. A group of men pounded down the wide concrete expanse, the bright lights revealing a woman fleeing in the opposite direction, her eyes wide in terror as she peered back at the pursuing pack. Beyond her, metal steps ran up to a suspended walkway, a second camera giving us a view of a scared-excited girl climbing to temporary safety.

Hooked on the sight, I jumped at Connor’s touch.

He circled me, grazing his fingers up my body to capture a breast. He inched in to run his tongue around my nipple. It hardened, and I rolled my shoulders at the sensation.

“Mask off,” Connor said against my skin.

He sucked me, hard, then glided one of the clamps over my pebbled nipple. Removing the bandanna, I squirmed, my pulse speeding when he tightened the clamp. He performed the same act on my other breast and pulled back to admire his handiwork.

My breasts tingled, the weight and tightness of the toys both strange and hot as hell. I touched myself. “Can you turn on the vibration?”

He bit back a smile. “Impatient little thing. Touch the end.”

Exploring the devices, I found a tiny hidden button then pushed it. Instantly, a low buzz thrilled my nipples.

“God,” I released.

“Any god would be gentle with ye. I won’t.” Connor took up a bottle of lube then reached both arms around me while burying his face in my breasts.

He nuzzled. Flicked his tongue over one clamped bud. Tipped lube down my ass and at the same moment, used a fingertip to get me slick. Over his head, the action on the screen caught my hazy focus once more.

A woman was pinned to a wall, two men battling each other to claim her. They each held one of her arms, her dress ripped to reveal her toned body. She struggled against them, her fall of jet-black beaded braids hiding her features.

I gasped at one of the men who smacked down the other and got between her legs. He tore away her underwear then freed his dick, the camera at the perfect angle to see straight down their bodies. To capture the moment he fucked into her.

Ecstasy broke over her features.

Connor’s finger was replaced by a solid object entering my ass. I gave a low moan of pleasure at the stretch. He’d already turned on the vibrating part of it, and along with my nipples, a wealth of sensory pleasure delighted me.

“Going to sedate ye now. Don’t worry, ye won’t miss the show,” he promised.

“Wait.”

Just like the men were fighting down in the basement, I needed to rally to control my thoughts. “I need to ask something. How can you be sure the sedatives are safe for me?”

“I’d never put ye in danger.”

My whole body trembled. “Did you test it on yourself? This particular one, I mean.”

Connor sat back on his haunches. His sedative kit was open on the table, the needle ready to go. “Aye, I did. Why do ye ask?”

Inside, my body tightened, an orgasm threatening.

It was now or never. I had one chance.

“Take your jeans off,” I asked softly.

For a beat, he held my gaze, then stood and lowered his zip, half turning to balance on the bed. His lack of underwear and his ultra-hard dick springing free almost distracted me, but I needed to do this. I lurched for the sedative case, uncapped the syringe, then perfected my betrayal.

Grabbing his hip, I stabbed him in the butt and pressed the plunger.

Connor wheeled around and snatched the needle free. His gaze sought mine, the revealed emotion unexpected. Fear, panic, and horror dwelled there.

“It’s okay.” I reached for him, guiding him to the bed. “Just like you’ve needed to do this to me, I have to do it to make you listen. I tried to speak to you, and you shut me down. I’ve tried to explain myself, and you won’t hear me out. This is my only option.”

“Everly.” His single word was half mumble and half desperate plea.

But I couldn’t undo what I’d done.

Connor Michaels was getting a taste of his own medicine, and I’d make this as good for him as he always did for me.

Chapter 30

Connor

The fast-acting sedative swept through my system, and I dropped onto the bed with my muscle tone lost but my mind wide awake. Fucking hell.

A hundred emotions passed through me. Fear for her safety being the top one. Then pride at her besting me and soul-deep panic over what she was going to say.

I didn’t want to hear it. She left me no choice.

In a heartbeat, I flipped that around. I’d given her no choice. I had this coming.

Everly straddled my naked body. “Ten years ago, the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen showed up on my doorstep as my new stepbrother. The sun couldn’t hold a torch to how brightly he shone, and I was blinded. You were beautiful, Connor, in every way. Never in a million years did I think you would be interested in me in the same way that I instantly wanted you. We couldn’t be a family in the true sense of the word. There wasn’t enough time, and our parents fell apart quickly. And yet with you, I found home. I found the only person who could make me feel safe and valued when I’d known only hate and control. I’ve never told you what it meant to me when you’d come home and I’d tell you about my day, and you’d listen. You’d congratulate me for acing a test or just coping with an exam.”

She pressed her fingertips to my body and stroked upwards, over my abs and tracing my tattoos. “You made me happy. And all I wanted was to do the same for you.”

My heart thumped out of time.

A cry came from the screen. Pleasure playing out in the game. I wouldn’t have looked away from Everly even if I hadn’t been turned to stone.

In a fast wrangle, she removed her underwear and positioned herself over my dick. For a moment, she toyed with me, watching the place we were almost connected and sliding my smooth piercing in and out of her cunt.

Then she sank down on me with a groan of need, taking what she needed. Just like I would to her when I fucked her either barely or completely unconscious.

“I thought you saw me as a sister until I confided in you about my assault, and you took it upon yourself to right that wrong. You killed for me, Connor. It changed everything. I already loved you, but when you told me what you’d done, I fell so hard, I knew I’d do anything to protect you.”

Darkness swirled in her eyes. Her hips worked faster.

“Then my father bruised you. I can’t even remember what threw him into a rage that day, because I was used to it. I’d handled him for years. But the moment he took his fists to you, it broke me. It killed me to see you go up against him and defend your mother from his rage. You’d told me in the darkness of my bedroom how her previous boyfriend had been handy with his fists. How she stayed regardless. I knew your mother wasn’t going to be the one to save you. I had to get the two of you out of the house and away from my father for good.”

Her breathing shuddered. My disquiet turned to horror. I didn’t want to hear this. I couldn’t stop her from speaking.

Everly didn’t let up in her explanation or in her efforts to use her body to drive me insane. Though I couldn’t move, I felt every lift and slide. Every pulse of her body claiming mine.

“I asked my father to let you and your mum go. Want to know what he said? That he didn’t have time to train somebody else up in her assistant job. I begged him. He refused. I needed to come up with another tactic.”

A flash of anger swept through me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t grab hold of her.

“Your plan was us all leaving together. Your mum already told you she planned to run and warned you to get out. You intended to take me. I knew it couldn’t happen in all cases. My father told me so the day before you left. He came home early and found me packing my bag. Unequivocally, he informed me he knew his wife’s plan and she was insane if she thought he’d give her a divorce so easily. He didn’t give a damn about her, only the continuity of her working for him because it was mid-campaign season. Then he joked, the bastard, with his hand around my throat, about the kind of person you were. Like he wasn’t the devil compared to your avenging angel. He knew about Phillips, the man you’d killed for me. He’d found your knives and said the police had come to him with concerns. I realised he’d use you. Whether he could prove that you’d killed someone or not, he’d exploit your dark side for his benefit. Lastly, he pointed out that I was only seventeen and legally still a minor. He’d have the cops bring me back again and again and arrest you for kidnapping me. In short, he made a case against each of us and presented it to me alone.”

Her voice cracked. My fucking heart did, too.

“I spent the night terrified and unable to sleep. You held me and slept with a smile at the thought of leaving. I couldn’t let him hurt you. Then I worked out what my father had meant by talking to me alone. I was the solution. So I went to him and offered to take your mother’s job. I pled my case, the terms being that he’d release the two of you, and I’d change my studies to part time. He said yes. That’s the reason I let you go because I had no fucking choice. If I told you, you’d never have gotten away from the man who’d hurt you. If you’d stayed for me, he would’ve made you his puppet. And somehow, he still did. You’re working with him and in his thrall anyway. I hate that but nowhere near as much as I love you.”

Tears streaked her cheeks. She dashed them away. Kept fucking me.

“You were mine, and I claimed you with my whole heart. I never stopped loving you, Connor. You’re wanted, needed, loved. We owned each other, but I set you free, and it was the worst mistake of my life. If you forgive me, I will never say no to you again.”

The orgasm she’d been stealing crashed into my mind, blitzing out thought, my balls working to spill cum into her. Everly’s pussy squeezed me, telling me we’d fallen together. Of course we had.

On the TV screen, an announcer called out the last of the women fucked.

Thoughts swam through my head, none of which I could express beyond heartsick sorrow at what she’d endured. A lifetime ago, I’d blamed her for being shallow and fickle, for not caring about me in the way she’d pretended she did.

I’d been so wrong. She’d given it all up for me and my mother. And the woman had stolen my ability to tell her so. Fucking hell did I need to punish her.

For doing this. For existing. For being the single source of my lifeblood, my heartache, and my love.

When the drug that held me in its grip released me, I’d show Everly exactly what her revelations meant.

Chapter 31

Cassie

My tiny silver minidress rode high up my thighs until cool air ghosted over my backside, and I let it, enjoying my stroll through the brothel while people fucked around me and no one batted an eye.

This was part of me, I mused. My mother had known this life. It was in my blood.

Not that I intended to lose my virginity here tonight, but I could warm myself up by watching others go at it.

I kinda liked the feeling that someone was watching me, too. I could sense it. The creepy slide of their attention ghosting over my skin. It sent shivers down my spine and kept me alert.

At the end of the hall where it opened into the playroom, a man held a woman by her throat. “This is what he did,” he drawled. “Fucked her right where he caught her. Are you wet for me, darlin’?”

Slowing my steps, I scrutinised the game-reenactment clinch and checked that the lady on the receiving end wasn’t in distress. Down the way, a security guard also kept a watchful eye, and the sex worker issued a super-fake moan which did away with my worries and got her customer even more enthusiastic with his gross dirty talk.

“Run, baby. I want to chase you,” he purred.

She took off with a pretend squeak of fear that had him clutching his bulging groin then lumbering after.

Apparently, the game got under everyone’s skin.

Earlier, when it had been live streaming, I’d watched the action from my room and found my hand between my legs. No wonder the clientele were all hyped up.

It gave me big ideas. I wanted to take part but without the catching-and-falling-in-love element. The forever-let’s-have-babies vibes didn’t hit for me. It was unnecessary if you already had that but still wanted to play. Why not run a version where masked people just fought and fucked but weren’t making a public statement? I’d suggest it to Arran.

“Cassie,” an achingly familiar voice called.

I stilled and peered around.

Behind me, Riordan stalked the corridor, all black t-shirt over blue jeans and those chunky biker boots. My mouth fell open, and delight filled me.

To the thump of my pulse, I soaked him in. “Enjoy the game?”

He circled my wrist with his hand, the touch shocking. “You shouldn’t be wandering around this floor. The whole building, in fact. Not on a night like this one.”

I furrowed my brow. “Why?”

“Sex pests for miles around are in this club tonight. Even my ex-non-girlfriend somehow made it inside. The building is packed full of freaks.”

Ugh. The ghoul. “All paying to act out their perversions. I don’t see the problem.”

His glower deepened. “They might think you work here. What if someone grabs you?”

Aw, hell. He was looking out for me? If my poor heart had been crushing on him already, it cracked wide open now. I stepped into his space. Peered up at him and rounded my eyes. “Maybe I’m happy to sell my body to the highest bidder, Riordan Jones.”

“The fuck you are, Cassiopeia Archer.”

“Why, want to make me an offer?”

I held his eye contact, energy rising as a lightning strike inside me.

“No, I don’t,” he snarled. “And you’d do better to stay away from me.”

Well, that was a red rag to a horny little bull. I smiled winningly.

“Excuse me, sorry to intrude. Riordan?”

We broke our stare-off.

Alisha appeared beside us, her expression expectant and her uniform a metallic bikini under a floaty negligée.

“Arran asked me to find you so I could introduce myself,” she said.

“Alisha, right?” Reluctantly, Riordan released my arm. “I was trying to find you.”

“Here I am.” She spared a smile for me. “Excuse the interruption. I have somewhere to be, so this is now or never. Walk with me?”

He grumped agreement, calling back to me, “Go to bed, Cassie.”

“In your dreams,” I quipped back.

He disappeared, and I folded my arms and scowled. Tapped my foot.

He hadn’t once checked Alisha out, but I didn’t like him walking away.

The night I’d worked the bar, Riordan had sat with me for hours. He’d nursed a couple of beers, and in my quieter moments, entertained me with commentary on the dudes who emerged from the brothel’s lift. We placed bets on their perversions.

I’d never had so much fun.

He hadn’t mentioned Arran’s offer, but if Alisha had been sent to meet him, that screamed his acceptance. Which meant we’d be seeing a lot more of each other.

My spirits brightened.

I wasn’t about to stand here and pine over him. He’d come to me. When I was ready, which wasn’t yet, I’d make it happen. Just like with how my brother, Camden, had bought his wife in an auction, or how Sinclair used coercion on his.

I’d think up something better.

“Found you,” another voice hailed me.

I left my reveries to see Dixie approaching, a grin ready for me and her tits out for everyone else.

I pointed at her rack. “Did ye ever see that meme of men writing women? Something like ‘she titted boobily along the hall’? That’s what you’re doing now, titting boobily.”

The lass I’d come to find preened. “Thanks! Say, who was that guy with Alisha?”

My mirth died. “Mine.”

“Whoa, sis. I heard your ‘in your dreams’ comment. He your boy?”

I slapped my palm to my forehead. “I wish. Why couldn’t I come up with something better?”

She mused, “Like saying you’d go to bed if he came with you?”

“Yes! Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“Ooh, is he being hunted? You alley cat. Should I spread the word to avoid any cat fights?”

I considered that. “Does it matter that Riordan doesn’t know it yet?”

“Even better. I’ll warn everyone else off. Trust me, with his moody swagger, it’ll be necessary. Anyway, ready to hang out with me for a while? Alisha messed up my schedule, so I’m a free agent for thirty minutes.”

Linking my arm with hers, we trotted away, exchanging ideas for exactly how fucked-up I could go to make Riordan mine.

Chapter 32

Everly

“Oh God, oh shit,” I chanted to myself.

After my tell-all with Connor, I’d rid myself of the sex toys, cleaned us up, then cuddled up with him on the bed. On the screen, the contestants for the game had emerged from the warehouse as five happy couples, everyone bloodied, all in the throes of passion, then the footage had cut out, leaving us in the low pink light of the room.

It took an embarrassingly long time for me to realise I was stuck.

I couldn’t get Connor back upstairs, not on my own, and we couldn’t spend the night here. For all I knew, the room was booked throughout, and a customer would arrive any minute to kick us out.

Also, I was naked, and so was Connor.

The dangers of the high-adrenaline evening and the fact the club was full to the brim scared me.

I needed help, and he was going to kill me for it in the morning.

At the door, I held my breath and peeked out. Our room was down a dimly lit corridor from the big open space with all the sex furniture and people, but my luck was in.

A familiar woman strutted by, calling good luck to whoever she’d been with.

“Cassie,” I hissed.

She jumped. Spun around to seek the source then crept over. “Uh, Everly? Are ye okay?”

“No.” My voice cracked on a laugh. “I have a problem, and it’s awkward as hell.”

“Oh my God. Please tell me Shade got his dick stuck in something.”

“Not exactly. I’m sorry to lay this on you, but could you find Arran? Also, I need something to cover myself up with.”

She choked. “You’re naked right now?”

“I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t be, this is awesome. Stay right there. I’ll be back.”

Ten minutes later, and wearing a long skeleton crew t-shirt Cassie had found for me, I wrestled Connor’s jeans back onto him.

Someone thumped at the door. “Everly, open up.”

It was Arran. I let him in.

He burst inside, his dark-blond hair a mess I imagined at Genevieve’s hands, and his expression fraught where he looked his friend over. “Is he sick?”

I touched my forehead in embarrassment then gestured to the sedative case. “Nope. I knocked him out and now I can’t get him back to our apartment. I messed up.”

Arran stilled then pressed his fist to his mouth. Incredulity warred with amusement in his expression, but he fought to neutralise it.

“Can he hear me?” At my nod, he addressed the prone man on the bed. “Listen up, brother. I’m going to carry you upstairs, then we are never speaking of this again.”

His gaze took in the room, me, then Connor. All Connor’s distinctive tattoos were on display.

“There’s a problem in how recognisable he is. He can’t be seen like this. Aside from reputation’s sake, he’ll fucking murder me.”

“I know!” I squeaked.

“Then we’ll cover him as best we can and move fast.” Arran stripped his shirt, cradling Connor’s head to dress him. I fastened the bandanna I’d worn earlier over his face and hair.

We stepped back to admire our handiwork.

Arran jerked his chin. “You go first. Get to the lift then hold it. Don’t talk to anyone.”

I ran, my wobbly parts jiggling in my flight back through the brothel to the exit that led to the penthouse apartments. A spying Cassie gave me a slick high five, but otherwise, I ignored every other face. In the lift, I breathed hard, then almost sagged in relief when Arran swept inside a minute later with Connor over his shoulder.

He leaned against the wall, sweat on his brow, and his only comment was a quiet, “Heavy fucker.”

Upstairs, I used the code to get us inside, and Arran hefted Connor to our bed, then the two of us retreated to the living room.

“Is there an antidote?” I whispered.

Arran rolled his neck. “Outside my wheelhouse. He’s the specialist, and you took him out of commission.” He waved off my sorrowful apology. “He no doubt deserved it. Watch over him.”

He left us, and I returned to the bed to do exactly that.

Brushing Connor’s hair back from his head, I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you. If you forgive me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it all up to you.”

To the tune of the club almost bursting with patrons and raucous shouts reaching us from below, I took his pulse, as if that could tell me anything other than his heartbeat in a steady rhythm.

More, I told him I loved him. That I was sorry for choosing wrong.

I stripped my borrowed shirt to show him I obeyed his rules.

But I just as quickly put it back on when someone thumped at the door.

“Everly,” Arran called through the apartment.

There was a tone in his voice I didn’t like at all.

Stumbling from the bed, I squeezed Connor’s hand. “It’s just Arran. I’ll be right back.”

I could almost feel his anger at me walking away. At the apartment’s entrance, I paused and spoke through the door. “Is everything okay?”

“The police are here.”

I stilled. That didn’t sound good.

“For you.” In spite of my terror, Arran continued. “They said they received a report that you were being held here against your will and wanted to speak to you. That’s all.”

I opened the door, expecting to see uniformed officers filling the hall, but it was only Arran with Genevieve at his side.

She gave me a sympathetic look. “A quick conversation will do the trick.”

“You don’t think they’ll try to take me?”

Arran snorted, his thumbs in his beltloops. “They can try. Gen’s going to sit with Shade so he can listen in over her phone. He’d want that, even if he can’t do anything.”

I shrank in on myself, suddenly afraid, as if I was a naughty child going in front of the headteacher. My father had sent them in, I knew it. “You’ll stay with me?”

Arran inclined his head. I stepped back inside with Genevieve and changed my clothes. Leaving her with Connor and a promise to him that I’d return soon, I exited.

In the time it took for the lift to reach the ground floor, I was sweating.

“My office,” Arran directed.

We moved down the corridor. Two police officers, a man and a woman, waited outside Arran’s room, watched over by one of Arran’s crew.

“Everly Makepeace?” The woman stepped forward. At my nod, she slid a glance over Arran that was decidedly frosty. “We’d appreciate a moment alone.”

“Arran stays with me,” I stated.

She thinned her lips. “As you prefer.” In the room, she got to the point. “I’m Police Constable Sanders, and this is my colleague, PC Smith. We received a report this evening that the daughter of the mayor had been kidnapped.”

I held up a hand to stop her. “You know my name, so please use it. How is it relevant who my father is?”

The two officers exchanged a look.

PC Sanders began again. “I need to ascertain if you are here in this establishment voluntarily or under force.”

“I’m here because I want to be.”

She pursed her lips and eyeballed a silent Arran once again. Then slowly, she took in the office. The furniture. The bright light. For some reason, her expression of disbelief followed by pointed scrutiny pissed me off. She didn’t give a damn about my safety. This was an intimidation tactic borne from my father’s outrage at me leaving. He’d sent more messages, none of which I’d read, just as I’d ignored his calls. Trust him to step up his attempts.

I launched into an attack of my own. “Let’s get this straight. You’re here because my father or one of his cronies pulled strings to get me back under his roof. I’m twenty-seven years old. An adult. I can live wherever I choose. Did I break the law in moving out of his house?”

“No, but in circumstances like this—”

“But nothing.” I advanced on her. “He wanted me out, but his method left a lot to be desired, and I won’t suffer his control anymore. I’m exactly where I want to be. I will never return to him and am here by choice. Can I make myself any clearer?”

She watched me.

“Anything to add, Police Constable Sanders? If not, I’m going back to bed.”

At length, she inclined her head. “I appreciate your time.”

She could appreciate that all the way back to toadying up to my father. With Arran arranging for them to be seen out, I returned upstairs.

Genevieve left me, and I locked up then climbed back in bed with Connor. Stroked his hair and told him what had happened. That I was fine and in no danger. Filling in my thoughts and feelings to what he would’ve heard over the phone.

God only knew what he’d have to say about it in the morning.

Chapter 33

Everly

When I woke, it was to daylight and…pressure. On the table beside the bed, the sedative case was open, and I was face down on the blanket with Connor covering my back. One big hand splayed across my shoulder blades, holding me down, while his knees opened my thighs from behind.

I wasn’t sedated. Not yet. All the same, I didn’t move.

Apart from my heart which skipped a beat then thundered.

Connor fucked into me with a single punishing thrust. I bit my lip over a moan, then held still while he took his fingers to my entrance, pushing two in along with his dick.

He played, stretching me, some purpose in his determined actions that I couldn’t yet guess.

A buzzing followed. He trailed my vibrator down over my backside then took it to where he was spearing me open.

I closed my eyes. This was my punishment.

Just as we’d watched Tabitha get double-teamed, he was going to do the same to me.

There was anger in his abrupt moves, no softness or gentleness in how he touched me. Lube drizzled down me, then he pulled out so just the tip of him was right there, but the vibrator was, too. The blunt head of it edged inside me while he simultaneously fed me his dick. The stretch burned. I shuddered. Still didn’t budge.

Working his hips, he glided shallowly in and out, the path eased by the lubricant but hindered by the presence of the end of the thick vibrator. It didn’t stop him. Connor took his time, methodically toying with me to gain the next inch. Then another.

In my fear and panic, I’d lost track of any pleasure, but it suddenly hit in a wave. Halfway inside me, the vibrator hit a pleasure point, and desire streaked outwards. I took a breath and forced myself to relax. I wanted him to get there. Needed it for us both so we could crest and fall together then move on.

I so badly hoped we could.

His dick and the vibrator entered another inch.

With my eyes closed, all I knew was that intrusion. It didn’t hurt. The pressure edged on intense, but it was also good. The slight rocking of his hips gave me a burst of need, and all of a sudden, the fullness became a source of focus for a different reason. My internal walls pulsed with the warning of an oncoming climax.

Connor made a sound, but I kept my every reaction inside. Even when he managed a series of stunning thrusts. Even when he upped the vibrator’s tempo and unleashed a crashing wave of pleasure on me, I shook involuntarily, but my lips stayed closed and so did my eyes.

When I drifted down again, the vibrator slowed to a rolling pulse, and with one last jack of his hips, Connor bottomed out. He groaned in satisfaction, and I inwardly smiled in relief.

He’d done it. We’d done it.

Another buzzing followed.

My focus clung to the noise, then to Conner’s actions as he shifted around me, still buried deep with his dick alongside the vibrator inside me, but busy with another task.

He dropped his face to the base of my neck, ran his lips down it then abruptly shredded the collar of the shirt I’d forgotten to remove after seeing the police, ripping it in two. Then right beneath where the shirt’s collar had sat, he pricked my skin.

In a rush, I recognised the other buzzing. His tattoo gun.

Fright broke over me. The scratching continued. He was tattooing me. Marking my skin. If I’d thought my punishment was over with the extreme sex act, I was wrong.

Breathing in short pants, I jumped my focus between whatever ink he was laying on me and the still-pulsing vibrator lodged alongside his dick.

He finished the tattoo and brushed over it with a cloth, then extended my arm and started over. Another line of ink of some sort scratched into my flesh. The second expression of his emotions, this time on the back of my upper arm.

The conclusion of the second tattoo came with another abrupt orgasm. It took me by surprise, and I cried out, Connor following me over the edge with shaking arms and a ragged cry.

Then his needle touched my backside. This time, he scrawled on me while lazily fucking me, my pussy full of his cum and my body his drawing board.

It was words he was writing, I finally realised. Different ones in each spot, judging by the length. He took his time, staying hard by the vibrator teasing him as much as it tormented me, and giving me no let-up from his onslaught.

I took it.

At no point did I consider telling him to stop. I’d promised him I wouldn’t again, and I didn’t want to. But an insidious voice in my head whispered fear over what he was doing.

What if the words were his rejection?

I didn’t want to know. He finished the third then reached for my thigh, a fourth following quickly.

What if it told me of his hate?

With the word complete, Connor pulled out of me and flipped me over. My eyes stayed closed. My mouth shut.

He tugged away the torn shirt and cupped my breasts, sinking down to suck one nipple while the needle pierced the underside of my other breast. My lips parted. He’d threatened to ink me there when we’d first had sex over a tattoo session.

‘Property of Connor Michaels’, he’d warned would be written across my chest, but the scribing on the underside of my left boob was another brief single word.

The conclusion of this ink work came with a short delay. A moment of him playing with me, getting himself hard to return to forcing his way into my body once more alongside the vibrator. Ruining my pussy, not that I cared.

Alternating his thrusts with the vibrator, he built me up more and more, his drawing session suspended so he could take his time with me. I had to be crazy. That was my only rationale for how I luxuriated in his touch. How I welcomed the sting of pain and pleasure I’d always associated with him and which now had a focal point. The happiness and fear. The safety and panic.

The love which had once combated the pain of needing to let him go.

When the needle returned to my skin at my hip, I almost laughed. Another orgasm, another word. Still, I didn’t want him to speak them.

Then Connor moved up my body, bringing the gun close to my face.

The pulsing and throbbing between my thighs couldn’t distract me from the fear of his finishing act. His rejection across my forehead would end me for certain.

Warm, careful fingertips guided my head to one side. Brushed my hair away. The needle landed behind my ear, and a new word was laid down.

Relief dizzied me.

Connor discarded the gun and lazily jerked into me until he delivered a new, somehow poignant climax. Then he withdrew. The toy was removed. With care, he treated the tattoos with some product and taped over them.

Without another word, tattooed or spoken, he was gone.

Chapter 34

Everly

He didn’t return. I waited, slept, passed a panicked night, then woke on Sunday morning with new determination.

Taking care not to disturb or even peek at any of my tattoos, I prepared myself for the day, choosing the smartest of my casual clothes and styling my hair as if I had a day of work ahead of me.

I did, but of a kind I’d never imagined before.

A quick check of the calendar on my phone gave me a green light to proceed, and I grabbed my work bag including my ID and pass which had lain forgotten for a week, then centred myself for what I needed to do. All the insanity and dangerous thoughts had left me with only one conclusion. A solitary course of action I needed to take.

Just like I’d discussed with my new friends.

At the last second, I caught sight of my pill packet on the bedside table. I hadn’t taken one on Friday night. Or yesterday. It was like I’d lost my mind, or perhaps it was the other way around and I was finally seeing clearly and acting for myself.

Crossing the room, I swept the packet into the bin, then turned on my heel and left the apartment.

On the ground floor of the warehouse, I found my way to the management office. Knocked.

Arran opened the door, his gaze curious. “Shade isn’t here. I can’t tell you where he is.”

Meaning he didn’t want to be found. I ignored the stutter of my heartbeat. “I know. It’s you I wanted to see.”

He gestured for me to come in, taking his seat behind the big desk. I perched in the visitor’s chair under the bright spotlight, the tattoo on my butt cheek stinging.

“I’m not sure if you know, but I’m a skilled events coordinator,” I said.

The gang leader inclined his head. “I’m aware.”

“I’m on my way to Town Hall to hand in my resignation letter with immediate effect. I want to offer you my services here.”

At his moment of silence, I hurried to get my words out.

“I might not have spent much time around your organisation, but I’m a quick learner and I already have ideas I know will work. If you’re willing to hear me out, I’ll have a proposal for you by midweek for how we can operate events here that will thrill your clients and be good for your staff. Regular theme nights, advertised events, expanding on all the great things you already do.”

With slow consideration, he inclined his head. “I’d listen.”

That was all I needed to hear. I jumped to my feet. “Thank you.”

Arran held up a pausing hand. “Is it necessary for you to leave the warehouse today?”

“It is. I need to make a clean break, which means delivering my signed letter, clearing my desk, and leaving behind my laptop and pass, as per my contract. No stone left unturned.”

“I’m not sure you should go.”

“If you’re worried about my father, he won’t be there. I know because I checked his schedule. Besides, it’s a public place. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He lifted his phone. “Mick and Manny should accompany you. Will you accept that?”

My shoulders sagged in relief, and I gave my thanks while he organised my escort.

This was it. I was making the break. I couldn’t be sure of any aspect of my future, not even of Connor, and certainly not of my father, but I was doing this for me. A step in the right direction, and God, did it feel wonderful.

Ten minutes on, and I was in the back of a chunky four-wheel drive, Mick beside me and Manny our chauffeur. Traffic was light, so in no time, we were on the approach road to Town Hall, and my adrenaline built in a steady rush.

All my life, this building had been the pinnacle of my father’s aspirations. First, as a local councillor, then as mayor. His political calendar and campaigns had been my bread and butter. The rhythm of my life.

Anger chased through my veins. I’d been his loyal supporter through and through, while he’d never once even tried to control his emotional outbursts of anger. Not for my sake. He’d lied, too. Fathered a son he’d never once thought to tell me about.

How can one person be so self-centred to never once consider the happiness of the people around them? I was his motherless child. He turned me into a dutiful staff member.

Or maybe I’d done that to myself.

The car rolled to a halt, and I popped the door.

Mick’s meaty hand landed on my arm. “Wait for Manny to exit. Then you go and I’ll follow. We’re not letting you out of our sight.”

I obeyed the orders, emerging into the bright day. “My father won’t be here,” I repeated to the men who marked me. “He’s in a formal garden party all afternoon then a sit-down meal.”

Wining and dining. All smiles and a pretend game of pleasantries. He did that so well.

My heels clicked on the pavement, and my unhappiness grew.

I was almost disappointed that he wasn’t here. I didn’t want to see him, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised I couldn’t go on like that forever. I couldn’t exist in the same city as him for the rest of my life without encountering him.

I needed to handle the man. Tackle the spectre of his presence else I’d drown in the venom I wanted to spit at him.

What was the worst he could do? I was a grown woman. He couldn’t force me to heed him now. It was broad daylight, and I had two guards.

Under the towering entranceway of Town Hall, I stalked, slamming my pass down to open the gate for the three of us to enter. The weekend security guard blinked at the two rough-faced men bracing me but made no comment, and I ignored all other distractions on my quest for the mayoral suite. We climbed the stairs through the old building, a rabbit warren of rooms and corridors spreading out on each floor.

At the office where I’d wasted years of my life, my pass code allowed us access, and the two gangsters scoped out the place then took guard positions, one inside the door, one outside.

I marched to my desk and opened my laptop to tap out a two-line resignation letter, then printed it on thick paper with the mayor’s crest and stamp. My signature ended with a flourish, and I folded the letter, slotted it into an envelope, then took a moment to clear my desk. There wasn’t much for me to take. A few personal items. A picture of my mother I’d often stared at, not truly knowing the woman holding baby-me but needing to honour her memory. I claimed my pot plant, as well. A hardy cactus I’d managed to keep alive for years.

One last act saw me delete my profile from my laptop, then I was done.

With the items I’d be leaving on one side of my desk and my packed bag on the other, I exhaled bright excitement and picked up the letter. I’d done it.

“All set?” Mick asked.

“I’m going to leave this on my father’s desk, then yes.” I indicated down the way to a glassed-off office. The mayor’s private space.

Mick stood from his lean and prowled after me.

The suite of open-space offices curved around the front of the building and had several entrances and exits into the hallways beyond. In usual working hours, the place would be busy with staff, but today it was a ghost town. Only the spectre of me, the ex-employee, drifting through it. For the last time.

It was both gut-wrenching and thrilling how little I cared.

At the glass door, I temporarily considered posting the letter but changed my mind. I wanted it to be waiting in my father’s eyeline as his first item of business on Monday morning.

I’d miss his reaction, but you couldn’t have everything.

Entering the room, I left Mick behind and crossed the quiet space. The very air felt weighted with the consequence of what I was doing. The familiar scent of beeswax polish reached my nose, but I only knew the tunnel vision that allowed me to find the perfect placement of my resignation letter dead centre on the leather infill of the mayor’s desk.

There. Done.

“What the fuck are you doing?” my father said.

I jumped. At the back of the room, my father stood in the doorway that exited to the central corridor. It was nearly always locked, him preferring visitors to be brought to him through the main office with the busy team of people and the view out onto the city. But not today.

He was here. Shock broke through my high.

I took him in. The smart suit. The tidy brown hair the same shade as mine and Riordan’s but with salt and pepper at the temples. If he smiled, a real smile and not the crocodile smirk he wore now, he’d look kindly. Maybe even grandfatherly. It was the public image he desired but which could never be true in real life.

“I’m glad to see you,” I found my lips saying.

“A week, Everly. You walked out and abandoned your post. That is unacceptable.” He folded his arms and moved behind his desk, the smirk fading to cold rage I’d learned to fear as a child. Menace poured off him.

Despite my matching anger, I shifted backwards. From the angle Mick had of the room, I wasn’t sure if he could see my father. So I turned. Lifted a hand and waved.

The glass door clicked.

Locked.

Fear slammed into me. The mayor’s desk had a button that engaged the lock for privacy. I’d forgotten it existed because he never used it.

Behind the glass, the gangster rattled the handle. Alarm sank over his features.

He wouldn’t be able to get in.

My blood iced over, and I twisted back around. “What you find acceptable no longer interests me. That letter confirms my resignation. I should have walked out on you a long time ago.”

He worked his jaw, calculation in his eyes. “You think you can leave?”

“I know I can.”

He advanced on me and snapped out a hand to grasp my elbow. I struggled backwards, twisting to see Manny close in on Mick, a rapid conversation commencing, the words of which I couldn’t hear. They wrenched at the door again then split, boots thudding in their race to find the other way into this room.

My father yanked my arm, dragging me with him to the rear exit of his office. I struggled against my constraint, but he was far stronger than me. He always had been and always would be.

We exited the office and crossed the rear access hall. I tried to drop to the floor, screaming out a protest. My father forced me to my feet and threw me into a lift waiting on the opposite side. I hit the wall and slithered to a crumpled heap.

We descended. The two guards couldn’t reach me in time.

My mind leapt to Connor and his reaction to me being gone.

Connor who, a flash of memory delivered, had a deal with my father. I never had got to the bottom of that.

The mayor straightened his suit in the mirrored wall. “You’ll exit this building calmly, or every detail I have on your murderous boyfriend will be handed over to the chief of police.”

My breathing stilled. “You can’t prove anything. It was years ago.”

His threat to reveal that Phillips’ death had been at Connor’s hands had been part of my reason to stay. It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d had to make that choice.

“Are you really so naïve? That boy is a killer, Everly. I have evidence of his depravity from then until now. Names, dates, method, and even pictures. I’ll play witness so you can watch how fast he’s imprisoned. You’ll never see him again.”

We reached the ground floor. My father exited with his game face installed once more.

Horror weighed down my trailing footsteps, because of course I followed. He knew everything Connor had revealed to me. How, I wasn’t sure, but I was certain he’d carry out his threat. Connor had called me his, yet it was plain as day that my lack of oversight had just cost me everything.

Chapter 35

Connor

My mother’s anxious eyes appeared in a gap in the door. She swung it open and jacked her thumb at the hallway. “Quick, before someone sees.”

I’d driven into North Berwick after twenty-four hours of no sleep and a fuck-ton of fun rounding up my next set of condemned men.

Business as usual, except every fibre of my being demanded I turn the car around and go back to Deadwater. But Everly would be safe with Mick and Manny, and my plan needed to play out.

It fucking hurt to be away from her this long. The prize I’d present her with was worth it.

Ma directed me into the kitchen. “Did ye really need to come looking like that?”

I dropped into a seat and glanced at the bloodstains on my jeans. The struggle was real. “Ye called me at work. What did ye expect?”

Her lips formed a disgusted pout. “Not this.”

I heaved a sigh, already over her. Her panicked request for help had spurred me into action, bringing me here in a hurry. Despite everything, I still cared about my mother. Everly’s revelations on Friday night had me sentimental. Yet here the woman was, right as rain.

“Want to get to the point of your call?”

“I heard noises in the night. What if someone’s watching the house?”

This was why I’d come. If she was in danger, I’d protect her. “Have ye seen anyone? Did your neighbourhood group report intruders?”

“No, but after your visit, I kept imagining the worst. Your threat scared me. I don’t feel safe.”

“The threat wasn’t mine. Do ye have cameras around the house?”

“Of course not. Am I made of money?”

I scowled, the waste of time already clear. “I’ll order a couple to be delivered.”

“Great. They’ll sit in a box until someone helpful can install them.”

God forbid she’d ever learn a new skill. “Aren’t ye still with the father of your bairns?”

She popped a hip against the counter. “No. But I got to keep the house this time. And he takes the boys off my hands on weekends, so look who’s laughing now.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket with an incoming call. It cut out immediately. I hesitated in my need to check the screen so I could get this over and done with.

I centred my gaze on my mother once more. “Read the instructions, buy a screwdriver, then watch the cameras from your phone if you’re scared at night. If anything happens, call the cops.”

I moved to the door. Palmed my phone. The missed call was from Mick.

Cold slunk through my veins.

“That’s it, is it? Back to your sluts with no concern for me. After all I did for ye and you’re walking away when I’m in danger.”

For fuck’s sake. I twisted around. “I’m heading back to Everly and to my job. The life that I made with no thanks to ye.”

She stared at me. “Everly Makepeace? Tell me you’re not with her. The snooty little cow is your stepsister. That’s disgusting.”

Frustration tossed aside any lingering familial concern I might’ve had. “How is any part of it disgusting? We’re not related. Ye just had the poor judgement to shack up with her psychopath father.”

“I put a roof over your head,” she yelled back. “I spread my legs for him so we didn’t starve. How was I supposed to know he was handy with his fists?”

By exercising better control of herself. By getting to know someone before she leapt into bed with them. Saying any of this made no difference now.

“I forgive you for being a shite mother.” I hovered over Mick’s name, ready to dial back. “I can’t be sorry for your marriage because it meant I met Everly and she’s the greatest person who ever breathed.”

My mother sneered. “It amazes me that girl made it to adulthood. Rumour has it her father did away with her ma. Didn’t ye wonder why I packed a bag and was ready to run?”

My stomach dropped. “You’re full of it.”

“Only saying what I heard. It was enough to send me out the door.”

All of which she did without passing on the warning to Everly or me. That day had been the worst of my life. For weeks, I’d planned our exit, the girl I’d loved and me. Ma barely spoke to me back then, nothing had changed there, but I’d discovered her gathering her things while her husband’s back was turned. I’d assumed the energy I felt was catching, a universal urge to end the situation, but no, she’d been thinking about herself yet again.

Storming from her home, I slammed the door, leaving her with zero intention of ever coming back.

I dialled the last called number. Mick answered immediately.

“We’re in pursuit. Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry. We’ll get her back. Arran’s already on his way to intercept.”

That ice in my veins stabbed into me. “What are ye talking about?”

I knew Everly had gone to her office. Arran had given me the heads-up then Mick had kept me posted, and though I’d hated it, I’d already been close to my destination here and too far away to intervene.

I’d watched her tracker.

Before I’d gone into my mother’s house, I’d had the text from him saying they were about to leave. She’d done her thing and all was good.

Mick delivered the killing blow. “Her father took her.”

My boots drummed the path. I threw myself into my car and floored the accelerator.

It would take me a goddamned hour to drive back to Deadwater. The rest of the day had been planned out to a T. We’d intended to make the mayor sweat, wondering why his summons had failed. I’d been out for blood with choices over whose would be spilled.

But now, I was racing against the clock to save Everly.

Chapter 36

Everly

My childhood bedroom had once been my sanctuary. Here, I’d been able to hide. To lock the door and dive under the covers, and for the most part, I’d been safe.

Not today.

It was a jail cell I couldn’t escape.

Music played, my attempt to distract myself. The random choice, Taylor Swift’s ‘I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)’, could’ve made me laugh, but that wasn’t happening.

I trailed over the trinkets. Scarves and formal dresses. The jewellery box my father had bought me. Even if I could leave, there was little I’d take. It could crumble into dust for all I cared.

The moment we’d returned, I’d hidden myself away in here, blocking the door with the chest of drawers I’d used to hold Piers off after our awful date. The fact my room hadn’t been tidied made me hope to God that Laura had finally quit.

Though the drop from the balcony was great, I’d intended to use that as my route out. But a security team patrolled the patio below. They were outside the front, too.

I was trapped.

My father hammered on the door. “Piers will be home any minute. He knows you’re waiting for him, so do yourself a favour and put on a fucking dress.”

In the walk-in wardrobe, I huddled in on myself, unable to summon an answer.

He meant to give me to that man after all.

My anger turned to fear. For a minute, I allowed the emotion to take hold of me. Pictures of what would happen this evening filled my mind, spurred by the knowledge I couldn’t run from this. My father’s new favourite would break down the door, picking up where he’d left off during our last encounter. He would attack me. Tear off my clothes and assault me.

I could already feel his vile touch erasing all of Connor’s.

My father’s voice returned again, echoing up the hallway, though his words weren’t for me this time. He was on the phone, his blithe conversation showing me exactly how calculated he could be.

I trembled. If Connor showed up here, my father would call the cops. He’d carry out his threat and reveal how Connor had been cleaning up the worst of Deadwater’s criminals. He’d put him away for life.

The man I loved was a killer. I couldn’t protect him from the danger he was in. I couldn’t even tell him because my phone and bag were still on my desk in Town Hall. Every piece of long-held anger I had for my father surfaced, and tears of pure frustration fell.

A sound played through the house, the ring tone for the public landline which lived in the hall. A click followed of the answerphone picking up, then the caller spoke, loud in the echoing space.

“Mayor Makepeace. I have a proposition for you.”

The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t tell from where. Silencing my music, I crept to the door and listened as the caller continued.

“Arran Daniels’ skeleton crew is making a mockery of you and will bring down your campaign for re-election.”

In May, my father’s position was up for the vote. He was so far ahead in the polls, it was considered a shoo-in, just like in his previous term.

“Your daughter was paraded naked through their brothel, her tits on display for any dirty bastard to get an eyeful of. How can you tolerate that? A man like yourself. I can help you manage the threat.”

At last, I recognised the voice. It was Red from the Four Milers. I’d heard him speak when Arran called him. Shame chased the memory.

The clatter came of the phone’s handset being lifted from its cradle, the message intercepted.

“What did you just say?” my father snapped.

After a pause where he listened and I could no longer hear the rival gang leader, he spoke again. “What’s in it for you?” Another pause. “What kind of licence?”

A deal, underway.

Another nail in my coffin.

Misery sank me to the floor, and I braced myself for the loss that was to come. History was repeating itself. In this very house, I’d fallen hard for Connor, then my hopes and dreams had been shot down by the realisation I couldn’t keep him. It had happened again. I loved him beyond reason, and I had to let him go.

My father knew about his crimes. He didn’t make empty threats. If he said he had evidence, then he did. If I didn’t obey him, Connor would go to prison.

I couldn’t allow that.

No matter what he thought of me, I only wanted his life to continue unchained.

The burden of pent-up emotion rocked me, and I wiped my eyes then struggled to my feet. I loathed my father with everything in me, but all he’d ever wanted was my obedience. If I gave him that, he mostly let me exist untroubled.

Perhaps one more time I could trade it in for Connor’s safety.

With a sickened stomach, I shakily searched through my dresses. A gold evening gown with a low-cut neckline. A floaty chiffon day dress that softened my curves. An emerald-green cocktail dress that was a nice fit but didn’t suit my colouring.

Which would Piers like?

Tearing off my long-sleeved top, I snatched up the green dress.

But in my quest to ready myself for a man worse than even my father, the edge of the tape covering my inner arm tattoo caught on my clothes.

I hadn’t looked. Hadn’t even peeked. Suddenly, I needed to know. I dropped the dress to the floor and peeled away the tattoo’s opaque cover. A word was revealed, black ink written into my skin in beautifully executed script.

CLAIMED.

My breath hitched. My heart pounded. Spinning around, I peered back to the mirror and lifted my cami, tearing away the tape over my lower back.

WANTED.

The next were at the top of my back and then my thigh.

OWNED. NEEDED.

The word under my breast gave up MINE.

My laugh came out as a sob. He’d threatened his name, but the delivery was just as perfect.

My hip declared LOVED.

Oh God.

I had one last tattoo to read, and it was the smallest, inked right behind my ear.

FREE, the mirror told me.

I wasn’t free, not yet, but a burst of hope suffused me. I’d been wrong about his rejection. What he’d done to me was the evidence of Connor’s claim, and it changed everything.

Now, I’d do all I could to end this horror show in the best way possible.

My heartbeat marked my exit from the wardrobe, the click when I unlocked my room, and each step of my cramped limbs carrying me down the stairs. By the front door, my father set down the phone, his conversation over. He spotted me and his lip curled.

“How dare you disgrace me in public.”

I lifted my chin. “How dare you spend a lifetime doing nothing but causing hurt, manipulating people, and enabling abuse.”

His gaze darkened. A backhand I didn’t see coming knocked me to the wall. Adrenaline helped me ignore the pain. I stood and spat blood, not taking my eyes off him.

“Show me the evidence,” I demanded. “Show me exactly what you’ve got on Connor. Do it now if you want me to play along with your game.”

“You’ll do as I tell you.”

“I’ll bite Piers Roache’s dick off and see how much he likes you after that.”

He stalled. Never once had I seen him falter.

“Do it,” I shouted.

A thud rocked the front door beside us.

“Mayor Makepeace? You have a visitor. He’s unarmed,” one of the guards called.

My father’s smile returned. “Piers, at last.”

My skin crawled, and I readied myself for the fresh hell of my father’s associate.

He swung open the door.

But it wasn’t Piers.

Connor waited on the other side, one hand raised in a position of surrender presumably to mollify the surrounding guards, but the other held out a tablet. On the screen, three men sat on chairs, their faces completely covered with skeleton masks. Behind, a fourth man stood over them, only his lower face covered. Riordan. Despite only knowing him a short time, I recognised my brother.

All of that paled in my heartbreaking happiness to see the man I loved.

Connor’s gaze travelled over my face. Down on the street, multiple cars full of skeleton crew waited, their occupants poised but holding back.

Somehow, Father’s security patrol had let him walk straight through. Probably because of the numbers—the skeleton crew had come in mob-handed, and the team that managed our home security handled trespassing kids. Lost delivery people. Faced with a ruthless gang and entirely outnumbered, they had no choice.

But one phone call to the police, undoubtedly already made, and this was all over.

I couldn’t smile.

With a neutral expression, Connor opened his lips. “I’ll make this brief. Everly is leaving with me. She’s out of your clutches for good, and ye willnae contact her ever again. Even on your fucking deathbed.”

My father scrutinised the screen. Alternating that with glimpses of Connor, I tried to piece together his plan.

“Why would I do that?” the mayor asked slowly.

Connor shrugged. “Because I have your diseased balls in a fucking rat trap. Ye just don’t know it yet.” He turned his gaze on me.

The intensity in his eyes told me he’d got this, but how could he? Besides, he didn’t know about my father’s threat.

“Everly, is there anything you’d like to say to the mayor before you leave?”

I swallowed. “He threatened you. He says he has evidence.” I managed my words carefully for the sake of the watchful guards.

Connor lifted his chin. “Turn the camera on Chief Constable Kenney.”

I gasped. Holy hell.

Whoever was filming panned left to reveal another man standing at the back. A police officer who had so often come to meetings in this house. He glowered at the camera but focused on his phone, strolling away to make a call.

The message was clear. Connor and Arran owned the police.

Which meant no one else was rushing to confront them now. Inwardly, I sagged, my heart thumping.

“Just in case ye were thinking of going over his head,” Connor continued, “I own the circuit judges as well. The time I spent under your roof wasn’t wasted, on any count.”

Meaning he’d learned from my father. I could have laughed.

“Ye have a choice.” Connor tapped the screen. “Pick one, two, or three.”

If looks could kill, my father would have already slit his throat. “Stop playing games. What am I fucking choosing?”

At a gesture from Connor, Riordan stripped the bandannas from the three prisoners, one at a time.

I clasped my hand to my mouth. The first two were the councillors who’d insulted my body at the conference. Slaughter and Blake shared an expression of wide-eyed terror, their mouths bound with thick silver tape.

It was the third man who I stared at most. Piers Roache wrestled against his bindings, his eyes wild and his neck muscles taut. He bellowed behind the gag, his chair rocking under his exertion.

Riordan placed a hand on his shoulder, and Piers stilled. I could only imagine what they’d put him through to intimidate him so easily. Or maybe he was just a coward when it came to other men.

The reality of the situation crashed around me.

Connor couldn’t have taken three men prisoner in the space of time my father had abducted me. He’d already put this in motion, which meant he knew exactly what risks he was taking. And he’d done it all with the purpose of setting me free.

I linked my gaze to his again and saw all the devotion and care I felt for him reflected right back at me. Without saying a word, he told me everything I needed to know.

“Before he chooses,” I said, “can I clear a couple of things up?”

Connor’s lips twitched. He inclined his head. “Anything ye want is yours.”

I spun back to the mayor. “You fathered another child. Why didn’t you tell me?”

My father’s sullen focus drifted to me. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. “That bastard boy.”

“Didn’t you think it important for me to know I had a brother?”

“I told the bitch mother to get rid of it. He should never have been born. Either way, it was none of your business. I kept tabs on him. I knew where he was.”

Except it was. And my heart broke for Riordan. Our father really had known all about him and done nothing to be part of his life. For his sake, I was both glad and full of sorrow. I wished I’d never asked.

“Did you kill the murdered women?” slipped from my lips.

Now, he recoiled. “Would I be stupid enough to shit on my own doorstep?”

What a strange way to deny it. “Did you arrange for someone else to do it?”

“Ev,” Connor warned.

I shut my mouth. My father smiled.

“I know nothing about their deaths.”

Believing him was impossible, yet that was it. I had nothing else to gain from speaking to him ever again.

I stepped around him and joined Connor in the fresh air, my spine tingling like my father would stab me in the back as I passed.

He didn’t.

He let me go.

Connor pulled me tight against him, touching his forehead to mine for a second of bliss. Then he whispered an order. “Go to the car. You’re leaving with me.”

Walking away now felt like the worst thing I could do, but I had to obey. In a reversal of our awful parting a decade ago, I smiled and managed a shaky, “Yes.”

This time and always.

Unchallenged, I walked between the stony-faced guards to the safety of Arran and their crew. All I needed was for Connor to do the same.

Chapter 37

Connor

Bone-deep hatred controlled my moves. Ice-cold, I stared down the mayor. “What happened to Everly’s mother?”

“What the fuck have you done to Piers? Don’t you know who he is?”

“He’s a would-be rapist and is lucky to still be alive.” I inched closer to the man I really wanted to end. My stepfather, once upon a time. “After all you’ve done, ye should count yourself lucky that I’m content to walk away with Everly.”

“Lucky? You’re a cold-blooded killer,” he spluttered.

“A fact you’ve benefitted from for years. Don’t think we didn’t keep evidence of your involvement, just as ye did for me.”

Through monitoring me, the mayor had connected with Arran, the up-and-coming new force in Deadwater. The steady feed of criminal cases via Kenney came with the mayoral stamp of approval. It was part of the web of corruption in the city. Symbiotic and functional.

Understanding that enabled me to realise exactly how scared of me he’d become.

“Your hands are just as bloody as mine,” I taunted. “So answer my questions, because there are only two left. Did ye kill Everly’s ma?”

“No,” he said on a breath made of fury. “What’s your other question so you can get the fuck away from my house?”

I held the screen up once more. “Choose who ye want back.”

Slaughter, Blake, or Roache.

“If you knew the weight of the law I could bring down on you—”

“Choose,” I roared.

“Piers,” he spat.

No surprise there. I killed the live feed and gifted him a crocodile smile to rival his own. “You’ll get him back tomorrow. If Everly even sees ye in passing, or if my crew gets one sniff of harassment, I’ll take him back as easily as I caught him. Don’t think I can’t. I learned how to craft a threat from the best. See ye around.”

Through a parted sea of terrified security officers, I stalked back to the vehicles.

“Drive us,” I snapped at Mick.

He ducked into my front seat while I pulled Everly into the back with me. Onto my lap. Into my arms where I’d never let her go again.

At the warehouse, I carried her out, ignoring everything but her on my mission to reach the apartment we shared. A debrief with Arran was required, but it would wait.

I carried Everly to our bed and sank into the sheets with her. We kicked off our shoes, and for a long while just held on tight, the late September afternoon fading into evening.

“I’m so sorry I left ye,” I told her.

“No. Please don’t. All I want from you is the same thing I did ten years ago. For you to kiss me and tell me we’re free.”

Everly sat up, and I followed. She positioned herself on my lap with her legs and arms wrapped around me. Our favourite pose as kids. Softly, I tasted her lips. My fucking heart thundered, and I angled my head to deepen the connection.

“We’re free,” I promised between kisses. “This is us now forever.”

In the time we’d been reunited, little about us had been tender. I hadn’t. I’d treated her roughly. Taken the control she’d readily allowed, but not carefully. I’d sought to own her on my terms only and I’d been wrong.

Everly shuddered, dropping her head to breathe against my shoulder. “Our start-again. We finally made it.”

“I won’t take from you and I won’t hide anything from you,” I promised. “Which means a confession before anything else is said.”

She exhaled a shocked breath. “How bad can it be?”

I’d kidnapped her, drugged her, locked her up, and tattooed her while forcing orgasm after orgasm into her flesh. It made sense that she expected worse to come.

I forced myself to say the words. “Two things. First, I put a tracker in ye. Years ago. Just so I could be sure ye were safe.”

Her lips parted, but I wasn’t done.

“And I swapped out your contraceptive pills. If the universe has anything to say about it, you’ll be pregnant with my bairn sometime soon.”

That shock changed to another emotion I couldn’t identify, and her fingertips pressed my chest to give her space. Everly stared deep into my soul. If anything other than darkness gazed back at her, I couldn’t be sure, but I brushed my thumb under her breast, touching the word she needed to understand.

“I went too far in my attempt to keep ye, but I’m not sorry. You’re mine.”

Everly watched me for long enough that panic tightened my gut, but then she reached and stripped her camisole over her head. Her bra fell away next, revealing her stunning body. Then she picked up my hand.

One by one, she drifted our joint touch over her tattoos.

“What inspired the word choice?”

“It was all the things we had. Everything ye listed when I had no choice but to listen, and all ye should’ve been sure of when it came to me. I placed each where it could be hidden under formal clothes, if ye wanted. Even if you’re wearing these out for any fucker to see.” I squeezed her breast.

“Mine. Wanted. Needed. Owned. Claimed. Free.” She paused over the last. The one on her hip. “Loved.”

I rolled her onto her back, fitting myself between her legs. “As declarations of love go, how did I do?”

Her dazzled gaze held mine. “Say that word again.”

“Declaration?”

She smacked my chest.

“Love,” I countered, and my pulse raced. “I loved ye at first sight and I never stopped. I wanted ye, needed ye, all those words were my world.”

“God, Connor.” Everly pulled me in for another kiss that had our hands entwined.

Me bucking against her curves.

Our hearts thumping to the same beat.

A few minutes on and our clothes had gone. She kissed down my body to explore me fully, her tongue teasing my piercing, permission granted for her to do whatever she wanted to me now.

Until need beat out everything else. I threw her onto her back and pushed inside her while fusing my mouth to hers. The way we moved together mirrored our first time, when control and method gave way to sheer need, and I buried myself in her over and again, claiming each soft sound and happy sigh.

When Everly came, I followed after, clutching her to me and at a loss for words.

It was fine. She had some for me.

“I need to tell you something, too.” She gave a sly grin. “Fake or otherwise, I tossed my contraceptive pills. Haven’t taken one in days.”

I groaned and brought my fingers to the place we were still joined. “All this cum is going to get to work on ye.” I started getting hard again, hooked on the idea. “Claim ye on the inside like I did with your body.”

She laughed.

It was dark the next time we noticed, and I couldn’t think of anything but her.

Chapter 38

Everly

Stretching to click on the bedside lamp, I huffed in surprise at Connor’s lips taking my nipple. He brought me back to settle against him and toyed with me, idly loving on my breasts like he’d done the rest of me for the past couple of hours.

Happiness had me giddy. I didn’t want this to stop.

“Why did you ask my father about my mother?”

“When ye were taken, I was at my mother’s house. She passed on a rumour that he’d killed her. I thought she was full of it and still do.”

I hummed agreement and moved on. “What deal did my father make with you?”

“My services for his organisational powers in order to clean up Deadwater’s streets. He pulled strings to enable the cops, the gangs, and yours truly to dance to his tune then used the reduced crime stats to prove to voters how effective he was as a leader. We already had Kenney in our pockets, Arran has dirt on him, but the mayor guaranteed anything that went over Kenney’s head came to a stop.”

My heart hurt. “And yet he used that threat to control me.”

He left my breasts to kiss and knead my belly. “This is my fault. I should’ve told ye more.”

“None of this is either of our faults,” I corrected.

He grumbled and went lower. “I’ve plenty of faults. Is it wrong that I still want to knock ye out so I can keep ye here all night?”

I rolled my eyes. Eventually, we’d have to go down to talk to his crew. But I needed a little longer alone with the man I loved. “Tell me about the tracking device. Where is it?”

Connor shifted down the bed, at the last moment reaching for the side table’s drawer. He took my vibrator with him.

Between my thighs, he pushed it inside me, gazing down at my core while I bucked and moaned. We’d had sex twice already. I only wanted more.

“Here.” He slid his hand under my backside and tapped my cheek with one finger.

“When?”

Connor lifted me for his mouth, fusing to my clit while gliding the vibrator in and out of me. I relaxed back with my arms above my head, lost in the playing. The toy buzzed to life, and instantly, I melted.

“Too good.”

He smiled against me. Flicked his tongue. I splintered, going limp with yet another orgasm.

Then the toy was out of me and his dick pushed into its place. Connor flipped us over so I was on top and settling astride him. He reached for my breasts, palming them, admiring, and taking the weight.

“The tracker happened about two years after I left.”

I angled my head, the question half forgotten. “How?”

“I never stopped thinking about ye or worrying. I found myself checking your father’s meetings to see which of his associates would be in town. There was one guy I hadn’t liked the look of, so when he was listed as an attendee, I couldn’t stay away. I broke into your bedroom to watch over ye.”

“I had no idea.”

“Ye wouldn’t. I’d started using sedatives by that point.”

“You drugged me even then?” After the assault, and Connor leaving, I’d had nightmares and sometimes hadn’t been able to sleep. There had been a couple of occasions when that eased. Now I knew why.

“Twice. The second time was my limit. Seeing ye drove me insane. My compromise was the tracker which I could check, even if I vowed to stay away.”

His phone buzzed. It had several times, but now, he checked the screen.

“Arran and Genevieve are ordering dinner. Want anything?”

I rode his dick. “Get a menu.”

“On it.” He typed an answer, reading out loud what he was writing. “Send it over. I’ll give up playing with Everly’s tits long enough to scarf down a meal.”

“Jerk. I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Fuck. Why didn’t ye tell me? I would’ve taken a break in trying to get ye pregnant to feed ye.”

He bucked up, and my laugh turned into a moan.

“Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“Aye.” He frowned. “Though I’ll have to quit the sedatives then.”

Our conversation paused for me to take my pleasure on his rigid form, then Connor flipped me again to drive into me until he, too, fell.

“Filled with my cum at all times,” he breathed. “And tits out. Whatever else has changed, that rule stands.”

While he tracked me and got me pregnant. I must be messed up in the head that those things kindled such strong happiness in me.

A little while on, food was on the way, so we showered and dressed, ready to cross the hall for the opposite apartment.

At the door, Connor pulled me into a hug. “In case it needs to be said, I’m fucking glad ye don’t hate me anymore.”

“I never hated you.”

“Then I projected because I hated myself.” At my expression of enquiry, he twisted his lips. “Ye chose him over me. In my mind, if he was that much better, what did that make me? I didn’t say it was logical.”

My heart dropped. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.”

Connor held me tight. “Ye didn’t. All that time, and ye were working to protect me. Did I mention how fucking in love with ye I am?”

My heart skipped a beat. He’d tattooed ‘loved’ on me, but I’d never get used to hearing that word. “I love you. I’m plotting ways to tattoo that on you later.”

His groan sent shivers down my spine. “Business and food first. I’ll eat ye alive when we’re back in bed and let ye loose with my gun.”

We entered Arran and Genevieve’s apartment, just the four of us in the spacious living room that resembled ours, only with fewer knives. Genevieve swept me into an unexpected hug which I returned with a wave of emotion, and Arran palmed my shoulder.

“We’re glad you’re safe,” the gang boss said.

Connor glowered at him. “No fucking thanks to ye.”

Arran tracked his enforcer, his eyebrows diving together. “You mean I should’ve sent more people to watch over Everly.”

“I mean ye should’ve taken care of her in the same way ye would Gen.”

To my surprise, Arran sighed in defeat. “You’re right. Everly, I apologise. In future, that will never happen again.”

“You really don’t need to—”

“I do.” He stopped me. “Our whole organisation is set up around keeping women safe. Conversely, that makes us targets and creates more risk for the people we care about. I should’ve done better.”

Warm-cheeked, I ducked my head, swapping a glance with Genevieve, hers telling me she already understood this way of thinking. I’d spent so long being put in harm’s way without thought, it would take me longer. Not with Connor, though. His devotion tinged with mutual ownership had been my first taste of safety and one I’d never forget.

Connor directed me to a seat at a round table, eyeing the food. “Leesh joining us this evening, or are we waiting to talk shop?”

Arran opened containers and set them out in the centre. “She didn’t answer my message. I’ll call down after we’ve eaten.”

I gathered they were talking about Alisha, who I’d met in passing but hadn’t spoken to much. She was the third member of their team, so I wanted to make a good impression.

Dinner, which was an array of Spanish dishes, passed by quickly. My hunger was satisfied, but it was obvious that Connor and Arran were dying to get back to business. The minute we were done, we all took the lift downstairs.

The usual thud of bass music permeated from the nightclub, and as the men hunted down Alisha, Mick and Manny appeared behind us.

I already had my bag and phone back because one of them had the foresight to grab it when pursuing me out of the office, even including my little desk cactus, but I gave them my thanks, pushing away their sorrowful apologies for the afternoon’s events. It was behind us now.

Our operations manager hunt took us into the strip club. Perched on a dressing table in the backstage area, Cassie waved to us. She darted over and hugged me.

“I heard about what happened. Damn, girl.”

“I know. I’m glad we found you. I want you to be in on the conversation so we can girl-detective after.”

Pink formed on the apples of her cheeks. It looked like happiness at being included. “I’m there. What are we leading with?”

I heaved a sigh. “I’m here but I don’t think I’m actually safe.”

Cassie and Genevieve moved in closer. I continued.

“Think about it. My father wanted something from Piers, and in exchange, Piers was getting me. Why did my father choose him of the three prisoners Connor has?”

It was strange that I could say a sentence like that without even blinking, but such was my life now.

Cassie’s eyes bugged out. “Who are the other two?”

“Councillors Slaughter and Blake.”

“Holy shite. Is this to interrogate them over the murders?”

“Actually, I don’t think it is. They upset me by saying offensive things about my body. I’m pretty sure that’s why he brought them in, but I didn’t even ask.”

“You’ve gone full gangster girl. I love it. But I get your point. Why ask for Piers if your da can’t deliver his half of the bargain?”

Genevieve looked between us. “Not to sound too savage, but we’ve got an opportunity here. Connor has them captured. We can ask whatever we like.”

We could, and the possibilities spread out before me. “We need to find Alisha first.”

Cassie rubbed her hands together. “Dixie will know where she is. Alisha was being cagey about something the other day, but she confided in Dixie. I saw them talking. Follow me.”

Down the room, Cassie led us to where Dixie worked on her makeup in a brightly lit mirror. “Dixie? Got a sec?”

The dancer peered around. “Sure thing. What’s up?”

“Gen and Everly are trying to find Alisha.”

She squirmed. “Oh?”

“Do ye know where she is?”

“Maybe.”

Cassie made a rolling-hands gesture for her to go on. “Did she leave the warehouse?”

Dixie lowered her gaze, her eyelashes thick and with tiny silver sparkles dotted on them. “I’m not sure she wants anyone to know yet.”

“In this environment when women are being murdered, I think ye need to spill,” the Scotswoman pressed.

The dancer sighed. “She’s gone to find Convict. She said she realised she loves him, or maybe wanted to stand in front of him and see if that’s true.”

My breath left me in a rush.

Likewise, Genevieve gasped. “But he’s joined another gang.”

“That’s what I said. Alisha thinks she can do a little spying on the side.”

“Dixie, this is important, when did she leave?” Genevieve pressed.

“A couple of hours ago. It was still daylight.”

Genevieve swore and took off down the dressing room to where Arran and Connor talked to another member of staff. She filled them in, and both men’s expressions dropped.

As a group, we moved to the management office, Manny joining us along with another man whose name I didn’t know but had the thick-necked gangster vibe down pat.

With his fingers curled into his palms, Arran waited on his ringing phone, centred on his desk in front of him. The rest of us held still in tense silence.

An answerphone kicked in.

Arran stabbed to end the call. “I didn’t expect Convict to answer, but fucking hell. What was Alisha thinking?”

Genevieve paled. “You’re going after her, aren’t you?”

He inclined his head. His gaze held hers then jumped to the crew members. “I don’t intend to create a war, but I will to bring her back. Him, too, if that’s what she wants. Give me your thoughts on how we proceed.”

They began an analysis of the Four Milers’ locations, where they knew Convict had been, and where Alisha might go. In a few minutes, they had a plan, and the crew members left to organise others.

Arran turned to Connor, an air of urgency hanging over them both. “It’s you or me.”

Connor held his focus. “This is my fault. I should fix it.” At Arran’s scrutiny, he continued. “Alisha and I spoke a few days ago. I knew she was upset but I didn’t take time to listen.”

Arran released a breath. “When does she ever share? I could’ve picked up on that if I was paying attention, but she’s always just been there. Save your guilt. I’m going to pull you out of this one. Stay here and manage the warehouse while I’m gone. Handle the shit that needs handling.” Arran’s gaze slid to Genevieve and back.

It took me an embarrassingly long second to get their meaning. Arran wasn’t willing to leave us and the warehouse unprotected, and my relief was sharp at the fact Connor would be the one to stay.

Connor growled in defeat but nodded, then after Arran and Genevieve said an emotional goodbye, the search party exited. We were left in the main corridor, with the familiar sounds of the nightclub’s bass mixing with the busy strip club’s sleazier tunes.

I curled my hand into Connor’s, and he squeezed my fingers, but his distraction was plain. He wanted to be out there, too.

Cassie broke the silence. “What are we waiting for? We have prisoners who make hurting women a sport. Let’s fucking interrogate them.”

Chapter 39

Everly

Connor directed us to the basement. The sounds of music grew fainter, and sweat broke out on my brow. I glanced at Genevieve.

“Are you going to be okay down here?”

She’d been hunted here during the game. I’d found myself thinking about it often.

She pushed her blonde hair behind her ear, and a flush spread across her cheeks. “Arran and I spent some time down here recently. I have better memories now.”

We entered the cavernous space, bright-yellow lights spilling over the vast concrete expanse. I imagined how a hundred years ago, this was where they’d take goods in and out of the warehouse, via the huge doors that exited onto the rear car park just above the height of the river. Now, a glimmer of pink from one of the neon club signs outside glowed at the edges of a high window, a testament to its changed use.

Around the edge of the room, a metal gantry ran the length with steps up and down to it and a suspended room above the floor. An overseer’s office.

Our target, I gathered.

Ahead, Cassie marched on as if she was ready to throw down. At the bottom of the nearest set of steps, she spun around and regarded Connor. “They’re in there, right?”

He grumbled agreement.

“How are we going to do this thing? Those men are three of our suspects who could’ve played a part in killing innocent women. What can we do to them?”

He straightened his jeans at his ankle, a knife appearing in his hand which I’d had no idea was holstered there. “Other than killing them? Go for it.”

“Can I hurt them?”

“If it helps extract information, do it. I’ll make sure that when we let them go they’ll keep their mouths shut. I only made the mayor choose between them to show me where his priorities lie. But whatever ye do, Piers is last. I need to break something of his.” His gaze came to me. “I captured them for ye, Everly. Take control whenever ye want.”

I swallowed fear. “I can’t hurt another person.”

Genevieve hugged her arms around herself, her expression saying the same. “I need to know if Slaughter knew Cherry was pregnant, but I can’t torture him. Cassie, you’re voted in as our champion.”

Cassie’s blue eyes darkened. She held out her hand to Connor, and he offered her the weapon, hilt first with his fingertips on the blade.

She claimed it. Tested the edge with her nail, just like I’d seen him do in the past.

I’d always been proud of strong women, my heart happy when a confident girl stepped up at a conference and spoke on a subject she was an expert in. Or when she commanded a room and got everyone organised. A buzz of the same respect filled me now.

In a little black dress, with glittering silver fingernails, one now with a notch taken out of it from the knife, and her black curls loose, Cassie was a vision of vicious and deadly lass. If any part of what we needed to do now fazed her, she didn’t let it show.

With the devil in her eyes, she stalked up the steps.

We hurried after.

Outside the door, Connor handed out skeleton masks from a waiting box. It felt a little pointless when we were far more recognisable, and Cassie rejected hers. Like him, she entered the room bare-faced and exuding menace.

I crept inside, nausea rising, and my focus flitting from one man to the next. All three were still tied to chairs in a row, shirtless, bloodied, and bruised, with their heads down and their mouths gagged. The scent of urine hung in the air where one of them must’ve soiled himself. All three were out cold.

What should’ve been horrifying somehow felt right.

The policeman I’d seen on the video earlier had gone, but Riordan leaned against a wall, his arms folded and his watchful gaze taking us in. He’d been put to work as the prisoners’ guard, I gathered.

Cassie stared at my new brother for a moment, and another series of thoughts crammed into my head.

When Connor had come to rescue me, Riordan had been at the other end of the live feed, listening in. Just like I’d heard my father state that he’d kept tabs on his son, Riordan would have heard that, too. I couldn’t imagine how he felt.

He’d been known about, watched to some extent, but rejected.

Later, I’d find him so we could chat. I had so much to share but most of all wanted to welcome him as a family member. Maybe he needed that. At a minimum, I intended for us to be friends.

Riordan tracked Genevieve and me as we took a position at the back of the room, out of the eyeline of the men, and then settled his focus on Cassie. He squinted at the knife in her hand, and his eyes flared.

Cassie commanded Connor’s attention. “Wake them up. One at a time.”

He collected a bottle from a shelf, drew fluid into a needle, then returned to stab it into Councillor Slaughter’s upper arm, tugging off his gag with it.

After a few moments, Slaughter woke with a jerk and his chest rising and falling. His gaze flew between the two people in front of him.

Cassie took a step forward, pulling his attention to her. “I’m going to ask some questions. If ye answer me quickly and truthfully, I won’t hurt ye. Much. Fuck me around, and I’ll count my level of pissed off in slices to your dick. Understand?”

He gave a jerky nod.

She tapped the knife on her thigh. “Ye knew Chelsea Gains, correct?”

He hesitated. “Who?”

“Her working name was Cherry.”

“Oh. Yes. Somewhat. I didn’t kill her, though.”

Cassie tilted her head. “Did I ask that?”

“No, sorry.”

“Did ye know she was pregnant with your bairn?”

Slaughter’s jaw dropped. From my view of him, I couldn’t see fear in his eyes, but I sensed it. We didn’t know who the father of Cherry’s baby had been either, but I got why Cassie phrased the question as such.

“I…I had no idea. None. She didn’t tell me.”

“Seems to me reason enough for ye to end her.”

“It isn’t! It wouldn’t be.” His chair squeaked under him, his jerk of protest dragging the rubber feet an inch across the floor. “Two of my kids’ mothers are sex workers. I take care of them.”

Behind my skeleton mask, I gaped. I hadn’t been able to tell that from the research I’d done, but it was something we could check.

“If I’d known,” he continued, talking fast, “I would’ve taken care of her, too. She never said a word about it, and I hated her working on the streets. I told her every time to join the brothel. You have to believe me.”

Cassie’s gaze connected with mine, and we traded disappointment. I reached for Genevieve’s fingers and held them. Her hand shook. Cherry had been her friend. To present a different future like that was awful.

It pared back any motive he had, too.

Cassie worked her jaw. “Who was the second man ye were taking to Cherry the weekend she died? She didn’t like him.”

He gave an eager head tilt towards a still-unconscious Councillor Blake, next to him in the row and with some kind of grime in his fair hair. “Cherry said he smelled bad. She didn’t like it when I brought him along.”

“‘Not so keen on that one.’ That’s what she said,” Genevieve whispered. “Thinking back on it, that might not have been fear. I took it that way because I was scared for her.”

Cassie peered over at us, and I gave her a soft nod to continue.

“Have ye ever hurt a woman?” She turned the knife over in her hands, the blade flashing in the office light.

Slaughter smiled. “I’m a lover not a fighter.”

Cassie slammed a fist into his jaw. The violence came out of the blue, and I yelped then clamped a hand over my mouth. Riordan jumped forward but stopped at a pausing hand from a relaxed Connor. Riordan clearly didn’t like the role Cassie was playing. But she was good at it. We were getting answers.

She shook her fist out. “Jokes piss me off. Try again.”

Slaughter groaned, blood bubbling in spit on his lips. “I sometimes pay to spank them. That isn’t a joke. I don’t want to leave anything out. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“That you’re a disgusting misogynist who’d be better off dead?” she quipped.

He hung his head in silence.

Cassie twisted to Connor, a head tilt at the next man in line, cueing him up to ready a needle. As Blake came to, he moaned low and long.

“Councillor Blake. Chelsea Gains, otherwise known as Cherry, didn’t like ye,” Cassie stated. “Ye have one chance to tell me why or I’ll remove your balls.”

Blake lifted his gaze to her. He took in the knife, then Connor at her back, and lastly, his colleague trussed up next to him. Awareness of his situation seemed to hang heavy over him. “S…she had issues with my personal hygiene.”

“Ugh, that tracks.” Cassie heaved a sigh. “Did ye kill her?”

“No! I could never. She was Benjamin’s favourite to start off an evening. We both miss her.” Blake peeked at Councillor Slaughter.

“Has any other woman been hurt at your hands or at your order?”

“I never ordered anyone. My…my wife tells me I cause her emotional pain. I never touch her. I mean, that was the problem and why our marriage fell apart. She wanted more—”

“Jesus. Enough. Did ye ever meet Natasha Reid or Amelia Martin? Either alive or dead.”

Both shook their heads, nothing sly in their posture. No recognition at all that I could tell.

Exasperated, Cassie turned to Connor. “I’m getting nothing. Is it worth torturing them?”

The men made noises of protest.

Connor tapped his lip as if considering the notion. He moved to stand next to Cassie, over a foot taller than her and twice as wide. She handed back his blade.

Connor used it to point to the two awake men. “Your answers have won ye a reprieve. For now.”

“Thank you, thanks so much,” they babbled.

Cassie cut in. “But any hint that you’ve hurt, degraded, or even looked at a woman the wrong way and I’ll find ye and turn your balls into a pair of earrings.”

Connor nodded. “You’re never safe, not in your fancy workplace or your beds. I’m always aware. Always listening in. And boys?”

He gestured to me, out of sight behind them.

I stared back. He was giving me the opportunity to have my say. He hadn’t used my name, so I could stay put and continue pretending they hadn’t hurt me. Or… I circled the men on shaking legs to stand the other side of Connor. But I couldn’t speak, my voice wouldn’t come out.

“Get on your knees and beg Everly’s forgiveness for being the lowlife scum that ye are,” Cassie said for me.

With a swift lift of a biker boot, Riordan kicked their chairs so they tipped forward, still tied on and clattering down to the floor with no way to protect themselves from the fall.

“Everly? I mean Miss Makepeace,” Blake spluttered with his face to the grubby lino. “I’ve never…oh God, the conference? Benjamin, this is your fault. You and your big mouth—”

Cassie unleashed a kick. “Focus, gentlemen.”

Blake groaned. “We’re sorry for the harm caused. It was unthinking. Unthinkable. A mistake.”

“My deepest apologies and regrets, Miss Makepeace,” Slaughter added.

I took a breath to give them my forgiveness when Connor strode over and grasped Blake by his hair. He raised him, pulled back his arm, and punched him in the side of the head. He repeated the act with the other councillor, and their heads thunked against the floor, the men unconscious once more.

Then Connor shrugged. “Not worth wasting good drugs on these arseholes.”

He stalked away to make a quick call, then had the councillors untied and a couple of crew members arrive to cart them away. Where they’d be left, I didn’t know, or care. Never again did I have to handle them, and it felt good.

The door closed after the retreating crew, and the five of us were left with Piers.

I once again moved to stand with Genevieve at the back, and Cassie took to the wall next to Riordan, her high heel kicked back in a show of nonchalance.

Riordan lowered his head to speak to her. “Are ye okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“What about your hand?”

“I know how to throw a punch,” she scoffed.

His eyebrows pinched together. “How?”

“Four older brothers and anger issues.”

I expected a grin to go with her words. Cassie only sighed.

Connor woke Piers. The vile man struggled out of his slump, bruises on his cheekbones and jaw that appeared to be a mix of old and new, and his more upright position revealing a wet patch on his trousers. He was the source of the urine smell.

Piers centred on Connor. “Who are you?”

Connor stared him down.

Piers tried again, his tone brash. “I demand an answer. I’m the next baron of Ryechester. You cannot do this to me.”

I squinted, the title a surprise. He’d told me his facts, and nowhere in that had been a barony. Surely that would’ve been a bragging point. I hadn’t gone looking up his family.

I did now, my fingers flying over my phone.

To the tune of Piers making demands at an ominously silent Connor, I scoured the web for the Baron of Ryechester, discovering records for a large estate and a stately home in Surrey.

Anwell Roache was the title holder. I clicked into his bio. He was forty-six and married, no children recorded, but there were siblings. Piers’ name was listed. There was another brother, too, with Piers the youngest. That didn’t make sense. Why would he claim he was the heir?

Another fact clicked in place in my mind.

My father adored the aristocracy. That family tree on our wall with its missing information was only one of his ways of connecting to roots he wished he was closer to. His very title of Mayor was one he’d sought in lieu of being a lord. He’d told me that so many times. He wanted the respect that went with rank so had gone to great lengths to achieve it.

Could that be the reason he wanted Piers?

I focused on joining the dots. If Piers somehow inherited that title and I married him, my child would one day be titled.

The room closed in around me.

I lost track of Piers’ angry ranting and instead saw myself as a pawn used for my father’s selfish aspirations. He’d use me to return our family to the glory he sought.

Genevieve’s warm fingers squeezing mine brought me back, and I stared at her then was moving. Half on autopilot, I travelled to Connor’s side so Piers could see me.

“Why would you inherit your brother’s title?” I demanded.

Piers’ lips parted then curled into a satisfied smirk. “Everly. Now it all makes sense.”

“Answer the question,” Connor ordered.

I didn’t know what I’d stumbled into as I hadn’t heard, but he backed me up. He always had.

Piers tongued a cut on his lip. “My brother’s dying. I’m next in line.”

Dying. God. “What about your other brother? Why isn’t he the heir?”

“Chandler served time in jail. Anwell chose to skip him in the line of succession. He’s named me in his will. A right choice.”

What had we found out about Piers—that he’d made a sexual assault charge go away? If he’d gone to prison or got entangled with a scandal, that presumably would’ve risked his position of heir, too. He’d been desperate for a solution.

“That’s what my father promised you,” I stated, my hurt and anger rising. “A wife to rehabilitate your image, not for your job but for your family seat, and in exchange the mayor would get a grandchild with a title.”

His expression of disdain told me I’d got it in one.

“He didn’t tell me you were such an ugly slut,” Piers added. “I learned that the hard way. But I’ll only have to face that when you’re in my bed.”

Connor unleashed a punishing uppercut that I wished I had the nerve or strength to deliver.

Piers’ chair tipped back and crashed to the floor, and the man howled in pain, his nose crooked and blood oozing over his upper lip.

“Say another word about Everly,” Connor gritted out to Piers. “See if ye can still breathe after.”

“That crunch of his nose breaking was so satisfying,” Cassie commented from the side. “Can I make him scream?”

Connor laughed under his breath and righted Piers’ seat then stepped back, his knife handed over once again along with a warning. “Don’t let him enjoy unconsciousness.”

The prisoner lifted his head at Cassie’s approach. “What is this, train a bitch day? You think you can hurt me?”

She unleashed an unnerving smile. “Ask me to. I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

I held up a hand. “One thing before you start.” All I needed now was for this to be over, for me to be out of Piers and my father’s game, and there was only one way to do it.

“I’m pregnant,” I told him. Jumping the gun but better for him to take the news to the mayor, or better still, leave and never look back. “I’m going to have a baby with Connor, so your plotting failed. I would never be the mother of your children. Never be the docile woman you wanted.”

Piers stared at me for a long moment, disgust crawling off him. Then, pointedly, he eyeballed Riordan still standing beside Cassie. “A pity. All your father wanted was a son he could be proud of.”

Riordan flinched. With a bloodied mouth, Piers smiled.

“Oh, fuck this guy,” Cassie stated. “Ye are a worthless little maggot. In fact, let’s see exactly how little I can make ye.”

Flipping the knife, she knelt in front of Piers. Without pause, she slipped the blade under his trouser leg and sliced up. The material parted with a rip, and she kept going, first one leg, then the other, leaving bleeding lines on his skin where she didn’t take care with the tip.

Riordan spoke low and against the spluttered threats Piers spewed at her. “It isn’t worth it.”

I tore my gaze from her to him. Cassie had flown into anger at least in part over Riordan, and likewise, he watched her with some degree of familiarity or concern. I’d had no idea they knew each other that well.

A cry of pure rage had me snapping my attention back to Piers.

Cassie shredded his boxer shorts, and her nose wrinkled. “Wet. Gross. Everly, film me, aye?”

She found her phone in her dress pocket and tossed it my way.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Piers roared.

Daring, I activated the camera and held it up. Cassie’s confidence bolstered mine.

Posing for the camera, she held up Piers’ ruined underwear on her outstretched finger. “Wannabe rapist Piers Roache pissed his pants when two women decided to take him on. He’s tied to a chair and bleeding, and from the smell of the guy, he’s sitting in his own shite, too.”

“Stop recording, you fucking whore,” Piers screamed.

This time, I smiled. The words didn’t hurt me. In fact, I wanted more of them as he suffered.

“Let’s see what Piers is packing.” Cassie tossed the soggy boxers and knelt to peer at the prisoner’s lap. “I spy a worm.”

A laugh flew from my lips. “A button mushroom, I’d call it.”

Piers bucked, trying to knee Cassie in the head. He stilled when her blade touched his shrivelled dick. It appeared to shrink further, the foreskin mottled and patchy.

“Looks to me like the mushroom dick Piers is hiding in his pants is disease riddled,” I observed.

Cassie tipped the knife up to hook his foreskin. Piers stopped breathing. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, her focus on him while she spoke to me. “Keep filming but take a photo,” she ordered. “Make sure I’m in it as well as Piers’ face and his sad little mushroom dick.”

I did, the camera capture loud in the sparse office.

Cassie nodded, her humour gone and pure malice in how she regarded her prey. “I’m going to upload that shot and tag ye so everyone who looks up your sorry arse sees it.”

“I have his account information,” I said. I’d found him online. He mostly followed gym bros and alpha male accounts, alongside corporations he aspired to work for.

She acknowledged me, still holding his attention. “I’m going to explain how disgusting ye are and how no woman is safe around ye. And even if ye block my accounts, I’m going to upload it once a week with your name attached so any poor lass who comes into your orbit is bound to find it. That, I do for the safety of womankind. You’re lucky we don’t eradicate ye altogether. It would serve the purpose better.”

She drew the blade up, piercing his taut skin so he released a horrified whimper into his stunned silence. Blood bloomed at the site. Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth.

“The video, on the other hand, is our collateral. Fuck any of us over again and I’ll upload it everywhere and tag your employer, colleagues, your family, every person ye follow or who follows ye. The lot. Think I care about getting arrested? Guess again. I will happily go down for the crime of ending ye, and believe me, cross us again and I will.”

Piers nodded, once and quickly.

One touch of his dick and he’d crumbled. The rage hadn’t left his gaze but was there in his jerky breaths. In his deathly white-cold skin.

“Keep the knife there.” Connor crouched next to Cassie and regarded Piers. “Tell me, Roache, have ye ever killed a woman?”

“No,” he released. “What would be the point? I can’t fuck a corpse.”

I’d half forgotten that he was a suspect, too.

Cassie repeated the names she’d asked of the councillors. Cherry, Natasha, Amelia. He denied them all with the same disdain, nothing to clue me in to a lie.

Which left no information gained from the interrogation. I was glad to have revenge on those who’d crossed me, though. That tasted sweet.

Cassie cocked her head at Connor. “I know ye said not to cut any pieces off this one, but I’ve always wondered how they do a circumcision.”

Connor smiled.

Piers’ screams filled the basement, and nobody but him batted an eye.

Chapter 40

Connor

Through the warehouse, I stalked Everly. I spared enough attention to be sure the place was secure and operating normally, and to check my phone for Arran’s progress, then I was driving my lass into the lift.

Inside, I sank to the floor and grazed my hands up Everly’s legs, stripping her underwear. She’d stood up to her tormentor while wearing a skeleton mask—my fantasy come to life. If I didn’t get inside her within minutes, I was going to lose it.

I pressed my lips to her soft skin, moving upwards until I reached the crease of her thighs. Her centre. Her clit. I kissed her then held her gaze with mine. “I’m so fucking proud of ye. Also, I want ye pregnant fast, so if ye thought I was on ye before, that’s nothing to what I’m going to be like now.”

Hazy-eyed, she dug her fingers into my hair, her nails grazing over my scalp. “I need to explain that pregnancy comment to Genevieve and Cassie, but I told them I’d see them again in a minute. I need this, too.”

I sucked her clit and swirled my tongue over it, loving how she draped against the wall like her legs couldn’t hold her up. By the time we arrived on the penthouse floor, I had her shaking. In the apartment, I carried her straight to the window as I’d done in the past. Under the glow of city lights, I stripped her clothes and took my time over every part of her, praising her, letting her know exactly how beautiful she was.

I made her come with slow fingers and my tongue in her cunt.

Then I freed my dick and stood, lifting Everly to back her to the big arched window. It wasn’t enough that I fucked her regularly on the floorboards of our apartment for the city to see, I needed everyone to know. Positioning her to the glass, I slid inside and groaned in pleasure. Everly curled her legs around my waist, her face buried in my neck.

“The world should see how beautiful ye are, Ev.”

“I love that you think so.”

“Because it’s true.”

She raised her focus to mine. “I love you so much.”

Any reply I could give would be an understatement. “My last breath will be your name.”

The stops were off. I bucked into her, all control lost. Downstairs, in the middle of our little torture-interrogation, she’d told the room she was pregnant. I’d claimed her as mine with actions, words, and fucking tattoos, then she’d done the same. Desperation edged me on, until my balls were tight and Everly’s soft moans then spasms around my dick had me following her into a soul-stealing climax. I came, jerking into her, then dropped my forehead to the cool glass, content for a minute to breathe her in.

My fucking phone buzzed in my jeans.

“You’d better get that,” Everly told me.

I grumbled but released her. “Lie on the sofa with your legs up. Don’t let a single drop out.”

As I swiped to answer the call, she clamped her hand to her pussy and scampered to take up the position I’d ordered.

Down the line, Arran greeted me. It had been a couple of hours since they’d left in the hunt for Alisha, and I hoped for progress.

“Manny’s on his way back. He’s going to take over at the warehouse for an hour. The Four Milers’ management tier including Red have been located and are under our watch.”

“Ye need me out there,” I filled in the gap.

“I found something and I need your take on it.”

Arran gave me an address on a street across town which bordered Four Milers’ territory. From memory, it was a derelict building, which intrigued me all the more. With a few more muttered instructions, he let me go.

I prowled back to Everly. Naked on the sofa, she’d propped a cushion under her backside and hooked her legs over the back. I rounded the furniture and took her ankles.

“Make yourself come.”

Fresh warmth spread pink across her cheeks and down her chest. “You just did that twice.”

“You’re full of my cum. I want one more before I leave.”

She sucked in a breath, but her fingers travelled to the apex of her thighs. Everly rubbed her clit, right under my gaze, and my dick thickened in my jeans once more.

Just when she was panting, her eyes closing, I tapped her ankle for her to stop. “Need to top ye up.”

The back of the sofa was at about hip height, so perfect for what I wanted to do. Freeing my dick, I reached for Everly’s hips to arrange her to receive me, then beat myself off directly over her pussy. Upside down, she stared at me with parted lips and her fingertips indenting her thighs then wandering to her tits. She tugged on her nipples.

That final image tipped me over the edge.

With a groan, I fitted the end of my dick to her waiting entrance and pulsed into her, topping her up like I’d promised. Then I pulled away to finish the job in making her come again. My mouth to her pussy. My life melding to hers.

My breathing came hard and I backed away. If I didn’t leave now, I’d do this with her all night, but duty called me out.

“Make yourself come again while I’m gone.”

She breathed a laugh. “I’m going downstairs to Cassie’s room, so that could get awkward pretty quickly.”

“Everly,” I warned. I needed to know we weren’t wasting any time.

“I’ll find a minute to slip away,” she promised. “Please be careful out there. I want a life with you. I want all the things we said to each other, and for us to live here and be happy. I want to lie in bed with you while you read your thriller novels and for us to work side by side. Come back to me.”

“I will, I swear.”

I also made her swear not to go down to any of the public floors, and ensured we had guards throughout the building ready and prepared, then it was time.

Arran wouldn’t have called me without good reason. My pulse beat steadily, and I shifted into action mode.

But Everly paused me one more time before I left. “There’s something I forgot to say earlier. I overheard a phone call in my father’s house. Red called the public line and asked my father to pick up. He said he could offer a deal to bring down the skeleton crew and tried to shame me for being seen naked on game night.” She curled her lip. “Fuck him. Anyway, my father picked up and said something about licensing. I didn’t hear anything else but I thought I’d better mention it.”

I thanked her and kissed her goodbye, my thoughts moving at double speed.

The shadows outside the warehouse accepted me. In the nondescript old car we used for recon, I backed out of the space, curling my lip at Riordan’s matte-black bike one bay over. For Everly’s sake, I needed to get to know him. He’d repaired the damage I’d caused, but for a show of loyalty, I needed him to adapt the colours that lit up the machine when he rode. From blue to neon pink and black.

From now on, he’d fly the skeleton crew flag proudly.

For late evening, the traffic was a steady line of red taillights all through town, but eventually, I arrived in a quiet street made of a mixture of run-down housing and disused office blocks. A figure appeared in the doorway of the address Arran had given me, and I recognised one of our crew. Exiting, I prowled over and merged in with the shadows.

He gave a head jerk for me to follow then took off into the building’s gloomy interior. Broken glass crunched under my boots, but I followed, senses alert in the tense air and still night.

Faint music reached me, growing louder as we climbed a set of utilitarian stairs which delivered us to an open-plan office. Here and there, broken furniture littered the floor, desks upended and papers strewn. The crew member silently left me, and I scanned the space until I located the man who’d called me in.

Masked up, Arran watched the street from a window. He was at the far side of the broad building where it adjoined another road, and here, the music was louder still. Carefully, I joined his stakeout, dirt on the window and a cluttered board behind us masking our shapes.

He spared me a look. “Tell me what you make of that.”

I followed his gaze to a church across the street. Last time I’d driven down here, tormenting the Four Milers with a scout around their limits, that church had lain silent from years of disuse. Built of stone, it had an entrance hall and a tower rising above, the bells long since removed. Kids had graffitied the walls, and paint had peeled on the door.

A freshly painted door which now lay open, spilling light to the pavement. Two men guarded the entranceway, welcoming a cautious visitor who climbed the short flight of steps with his eyes wide at whatever he could see through the doorway.

The visitor entered, and I scrutinised the building. This was the source of the thudding music, and I recognised at least one of the thugs playing bouncer from previous gang scuffles.

A car pulled up down the side of the church, and a man climbed out with a woman’s hand clamped in his. She was young, maybe twenty, and her fair hair hung forward over her face so I couldn’t identify her. I didn’t miss the aggression in how he yanked her into a side entrance of the building.

In a heartbeat, I realised why Arran had needed me to witness this.

“Strip club or brothel?” I asked.

“Possibly both. Opening night.”

Hot breath caught in my lungs.

The rising, shared anger between us could seem hypocritical, but that was surface level only. Divine, our strip club, and the unnamed brothel above operated for the benefit of women who chose to work there. Typically women who’d been trafficked and abused yet decided to flip the narrative and make money on their own terms. We provided protection and security. We offered a safe space and took predators off the street.

What I was looking at now was undoubtedly a sham version. One where the women were coerced rather than enabled. Red didn’t give a fuck about hurting people. He’d sell his own grandmother if offered cash for her bones.

The Four Milers had expanded beyond their territory of drug-running and blatantly breached ours.

I exhaled fury, facts adding up across the past couple of weeks.

To Arran, I quietly outlined the call Everly had overheard between Red and the mayor. “We’ve had women quit, too.”

Arran kept his gaze on the church. “Paired with the fact that Red made a direct threat to take staff from me, now we know why.”

I brooded on it, mentally dismembering each man who showed up to the steps. They weren’t significant in number. Nothing compared with our thriving business. But a single woman hurt under those terms was too many.

“Do ye think Alisha is in there?”

But before he could answer, he stilled. “Incoming phone call. It’s Convict. I sent him a message an hour ago, hoping he could get away.”

He handed me a headphone, then under the cover of his jacket, answered the call.

“Dad, hi, what the fuck is that about Rachel?” Convict asked.

I couldn’t smile, either at his pretence of who he was dialling or at the use of Alisha’s real name. The fact she’d even told it to him spoke volumes. No one called her Rachel.

Arran kept his voice low. “She left earlier this afternoon to find you.”

“Why would she come after me?”

“Weren’t ye a couple?” I asked.

“Ma, good to hear your voice, too. No, we, uh, shared a night together once,” he dropped his voice, “but she turned me down when I asked to cook dinner for her. Figured I screwed up or was out of luck.”

Fuck. If she hadn’t made it to him, where the hell had she gone? I was ready to ask about the new club when Arran gripped my arm and pointed, hidden beneath the level of the windowsill. Across the road, Convict limped out of the shadows on a patch of scrubby grass to one side of the church.

He was here.

Around his throat, he wore a fucking Four Milers spiderweb motif. That, I despised, but seeing him again gave me a strange burst of sadness. I missed him. From Arran’s soft stare, he did, too.

It also meant he needed to be even more careful over what he said.

He twisted to gaze down the road, unaware that we were twenty yards away. It pained me, too, that he favoured one leg, maintaining the illusion of our beating being worse than the skin-deep display he’d helped direct.

“Could she be inside the brothel Red opened?” I asked.

He shook his head, not that he knew we could see. “Naw. I’d know.”

“Because they’ve taken you to the heart of their new business,” I prompted.

“Exactly. People know me.”

I got his meaning, even if he couldn’t speak openly for fear of being overheard. Red had welcomed him into the fold based on his knowledge of how our warehouse operated. That had worked out better than expected.

“Answer this carefully,” Arran said. “Are some of our women there?”

“Got it in one, Ma. Not Rachel, though. I wish I knew where she was.”

Arran continued, “And Red’s bringing in others. Is he abducting them?”

“Can’t say for sure.” Convict kicked a stone. “Would it…would it be okay if I came home for dinner?”

He was asking for an out. I wanted to give it to him, and Arran undoubtedly did, too, but Convict was our man on the inside. Without question, we needed to bring Red’s new venture down and break up any trafficking routes he’d established, but that involved planning and time. A recall of all crew members and a lockdown of the warehouse.

There was another connection I’d asked him to explore, a link to the murders in the city by who in the Four Milers had access to the sedatives.

Arran gave me a slight but sorrowful shake of the head. He needed him to stay, too.

“Soon,” I said. “We need ye to keep an eye out for Rachel but also to discover who’s knocking out the girls Red’s bringing in, if that’s what he’s doing.”

Convict’s shoulders slumped. “You’ve got it. I’ll find Rachel, if I can.”

On his patch of grass, he stilled then slowly turned. To face what, we couldn’t see.

“The fuck you doin’ out here?” a voice challenged him.

“My dad called.” He shoved the phone in his pocket, leaving the line connected.

Quickly, Arran muted our end.

“Thought you were an orphan?” The man prowled closer, a slice of streetlight falling over him and giving me an identification. Fifties, smartly dressed. He was Bronson, Red’s right-hand man.

Convict stayed silent.

“And who’s that Rachel bitch you’re trying to find?” Bronson shoved Convict’s chest.

I jerked upright. Arran laid a pausing hand to my arm.

“My sister.”

“More family climbing out of the weeds. Funny, that.”

I didn’t like his tone. Or the way he was closing in. Convict was taller than him and bulkier, but Bronson was twice his age and quick with deadly anger. And with his fists. I’d gone toe-to-toe with him once but nearly lost my life in the process.

Convict could fight, but Bronson was a stone-cold killer.

“Seems to me Red made a mistake with you,” Bronson pondered. “He jumped at the chance of bringing in one of Daniels’ crew and didn’t think through the consequences. Such as where your loyalties lie.”

“Arran Daniels kicked me out after he caught me working for you,” Convict bit back.

“Shut your fucking mouth. I’m thinking here.” Bronson held his gaze on Convict. “Red’s out, so I’m running the show, and he’s been blinded by pussy and power. A hundred people watched that spectacle of your exit. Some came running to me. Said you’d gone missing for weeks then were dragged through Daniels’ club, with the man himself making a drama about kicking you out. Never done that with any other reject, far as I’m aware. So why you, unless to draw attention to his spy in the making?”

What happened next moved so fast it took me by surprise. Bronson snapped out an arm and hooked Convict by the throat, then dragged him backwards into the shadows. The call disconnected, leaving dead air. Without the light on them, I couldn’t see shite, except for when Convict’s legs abruptly stopped kicking.

The two of us leapt to our feet.

Arran swore. “What the fuck just happened?”

My heart hammered. “He’s been made. And unless Bronson learned a chokehold in the past few weeks, I think he jabbed him.”

“Fuck. Fuck!”

My friend crept from the window, the chair he’d appropriated in his hands and anger directing his movements. Emotion held his features, and he went to throw it, catching himself before he made a clatter that would have people coming to investigate our hideout.

I paced after, horrified at Convict’s fate and the knowledge we’d gained.

One thing was certain, we couldn’t plan here.

“We’re leaving,” I stated.

“Or we walk straight in and get him back.”

“Not like this. I don’t want to explain to Genevieve why I’m bringing home your corpse when we could’ve done this another way. We’re outnumbered, and Leesh is still missing, too. We’re doing this right.”

Catching Arran by the shoulder of his t-shirt, I hauled him with me down the stairs to the exit.

“Give me your keys,” I ordered.

Arran handed them over, and I passed them to the waiting crew member who’d posted sentry while we watched. Then we climbed into my vehicle unseen.

Down the road, I smacked the steering wheel. “Bronson never messed with sedatives in the past. He’s too much of an old fucking dog to pick up a new trick. But the way he took Convict down…”

“Makes him a murder suspect for Natasha. And he’s got our boy out cold.”

My heart hurt. “Convict wanted to come back. I said no.”

“I said the same with a gesture.” Arran scrubbed a hand over his face. “One word and he would’ve vaulted the church wall and been out of there safely. Fucking fuck!”

The two of us fell into silence. The city lights strobed over us on our retreat through the town centre, tension thick in the air between us.

“We’re getting him back tonight,” I decided.

It was inevitable. Already, Arran had his phone in his hand and an all-crew alert underway.

His savage smile said it all. “We’re bringing Convict home and shutting that church down. Red won’t know what hit him.”

Chapter 41

Everly

A whirlwind of action hit the warehouse. Connor and Arran arrived home with a flurry of skeleton crew rushing around and obeying orders. They closed the clubs, refusing an explanation to griping customers other than to get the fuck away or risk their necks.

Genevieve and I were summoned to the nightclub floor where the crew convened. Cassie was ordered to attend as well, except she slipped away somewhere when my back was turned.

We’d spent the past hour updating our detective board, obeying the instruction to remain in safety above stairs. Abruptly, our interlude had been interrupted by Mick who’d escorted us down to where the crew were weaponing up, the nightclub’s bright lights illuminating the space and all trace of the mystique of the place gone.

Genevieve huddled close, her eyes wide on the scene. “Do you think they found Alisha?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see Connor now.” He’d passed me and stolen a hard kiss but had disappeared again.

I drummed my fingers on my leg. “Something’s bothering me. Alisha left here to go find Convict after deciding she wanted a relationship with him. But why now? What spurred her on to leave the club in the middle of a shift?”

Genevieve pondered that. “Look, they’ve brought the dancers in. Let’s see if Dixie knows.”

A stream of scantily dressed staff entered the warehouse, taking up a corner of their own. We moved in on them, and Dixie weaved through the ranks in response to our hail.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“We’re not sure yet,” I replied. “When Alisha told you earlier that she was leaving, did she say why now?”

Dixie’s attention was on the rapidly filling room. The centre of the floor contained the deadly elements of the group. Mick, Manny, and a few other faces I recognised, along with a whole host of others I’d never met.

The crew numbered far higher than I’d guessed.

“She said someone passed her a note.”

I gawked at her. “From Convict? And she left to meet him?”

Dixie raised a slim shoulder. “I don’t know, sis. She didn’t show it to me. All I know is she was excited to go find him. Is this why we are on lockdown? Did something happen to her?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Arran’s voice cut across the space. He appeared with Connor at the head of the room, and all attention fell on them.

“Crew, I’m going to make this short. We discovered this evening that the Four Milers have opened a strip club in an old church on Ilchester Street. We assume it’s functioning as a brothel as well. Does anyone have any information on this?”

Chatter and grumbles rose. Then one of the crew in the centre of the floor lifted a hand. Arran acknowledged him.

“I don’t know anything about the Four Milers, but that church was up for auction a few weeks ago.”

Arran twisted his lips. “Then they moved fast in converting it. They have the doors wide open this evening and they’re welcoming customers in.”

“How can they do that so openly?” someone else called.

A thought troubled my mind. Shakily, I raised my hand.

Arran tilted his head for me to proceed.

“Strip clubs require a licence. It would be easy to shut him down if they don’t have one.”

Connor gave me an approving nod. “It explains why Red was so set on dealing with the mayor. We can assume he’s bought off the police to some extent, but even he isn’t brazen enough to front a club without some legal backing. It would get shut down in a heartbeat. The assumption is he’s playing a long game.”

The phone call. The attempt on kidnapping me. I understood now why the rival gang leader was set on manipulating my father. I’d been a pawn in that game, or at least an intended one.

Genevieve leaned into me. “Divine is the only licensed strip club in Deadwater. Arran takes pains to make sure that’s the case for the sake of the women who work here.”

To the tune of outraged crew members griping about territorial violations, I reached for my phone. “I’ll find out if they’ve gone legal.”

In the past, it would have taken little effort for me to go looking in a file system for council records, but my access had been pulled. Instead, I called a woman who owed me a favour.

Councillor Pressley answered immediately. “Everly?”

“Good evening, Councillor. I’m sorry to call so late.”

She took a hushed breath. “We were informed that you were poorly, then today I heard you’d left. Such a shock. Are you well?”

“Perfectly. Never better. I need to ask your help with something.” Rapidly, I made my request.

Mary Pressley sighed. “That’s a can of worms. Over the past year, we’ve had repeated presentations to the licensing committee for a second strip club in Deadwater. I chair that committee, which of course you know because that’s why you’ve called me, and each application has been refused. However, this evening, I was informed by your father, I mean the mayor, that I’ve been overruled and there was a licence granted with immediate effect.”

My heart sank. Why had my father done it? There was only one answer I could assume. Revenge over me because I’d picked Connor above him. I thanked the councillor and hung up, relaying the information to the room.

Grim expressions fell across every face. I understood. It was no casual conversation that Arran had gathered his people here for now. He’d amassed his troops to go out, and it didn’t take a genius to know why. He was going to take the rival club down. Whatever else motivated him, the knowledge that in general, those kinds of places enabled abuse of women had to be top of his agenda.

But with a licence in place, it meant protection for the gang. What that looked like, I didn’t know, but it felt like a dramatic shift in the balance of Deadwater’s gangs and the city. A balance that had maintained safety for the people who lived here. I didn’t like it. And from the terse conversation between Connor and Arran, they were out for blood.

Arran returned to addressing the room. “The raid stands. We’re taking them down tonight, and fuck them for thinking they can step into skeleton crew territory. Any women we retrieve will be taken to a safe house then integrated here should they choose. Key members of the Four Milers should be taken alive, if possible. We’re also seeking to retrieve Convict and Alisha. Ready up, we leave in five.”

A cheer went up, and a palpable energy made of adrenaline and testosterone swamped the space. Mick and Manny appeared in front of Genevieve and me. I knew what was coming next. That we’d be sequestered away upstairs to spend the rest of the night panicking over the fight that would be taking place across town. Who knew what would happen. Who knew how many would lose their lives and bleed out on Deadwater’s streets.

Connor could die.

Desperation filled me, and I opened my mouth to protest. To say anything that would reduce the risk to the man I loved.

A thumping sound ricocheted through the nightclub.

Silence fell.

The knock repeated, coming from the main entranceway.

In unison, screens were raised, presumably to examine the cameras that watched the road outside. I caught a glimpse at Manny’s.

A young woman stood outside the warehouse, visibly shaking, and with her gaze trained on something behind her, even as she raised her hand again to knock. She was familiar. One of the dancers here, or someone who worked the bar.

At a chin lift from Connor, one of the crew went to the door. On-screen, the woman spun around and grasped the arm of the man at the door, rapidly speaking.

I picked up a few words. They were enough. “…a body. Slit throat…”

Then the killer blow.

“A woman.”

Connor and Arran stormed the door. A group of men streamed out after, Manny locking the entrance behind them. Before he did, he took in the scene outside and swore.

Genevieve and I had moved with him, and she stared at the head of security. “What is it?”

“Cop cars. What looks like one of the TV crew vans as well. More incoming.”

She breathed out. “It’s a setup.”

A body left somewhere near the warehouse with the police and cameras appearing at the same time, right as the skeleton crew were primed to go to war. My heart raced. She was right.

“Get them back inside,” Genevieve demanded. “They’re armed. If they get arrested, that’s enough to get them sent down. Get them back inside, Manny!”

The howl of pain that came from outside pierced the door and our thoughts, and somehow the night got darker still.

Chapter 42

Connor

From a lamppost on the riverbank path, a body swung by its feet. Alisha. Oh fucking God, no.

I threw myself down the incline to the path and scrambled to her, her head and shoulders at the height of my own, but inverted and facing the water. Reaching out, I cradled her, turned her.

Desperate hope iced over into freezing shock.

It was too late.

A red gash tore through her throat. Not a neat line like with Natasha, but a hack to the bone.

At my side, Arran howled in anguish.

“Get her down.” My words came out choked.

Above us, on the cobbled boulevard that led from the warehouse all the way into the centre of town, the crew members who’d run with us spoke her name.

“It’s Alisha.”

“Murdered like the others.”

Their horrified whispers filled with pity. Some echoed the anger suspended inside me.

Then one of the men hollered out. “Shade, some fucker with a camera crew is coming down. The cops are right behind.”

I managed to find words through my despair. “Hold the cameras back. Let Kenney through if he’s here.”

In my arms, Alisha was cold.

Arran sliced through the rope, and I lowered her to the ground, stripping my jacket to cover her form, as if it could repair the shredding of her dignity. Of her life. As if we could do anything for her now. We should have taken better care of her.

Alisha had been one of us, and now she was gone.

Everything that happened next seemed to move in slow motion. Arran took control, disarming me and also himself, with a crewmember sneaking our weapons away a second ahead of a uniform appearing in my peripheral vision. He ordered everyone else to melt into the shadows then get back inside by the rear exit.

Chief Constable Kenney griped at us for cutting her down, but his tone held sympathy as well, and he snarled at the camera crew who’d forced their way closer.

We backed away. They gave us no choice.

The scene was cordoned off and a white tent erected. Arran and I were taken to the station to give evidence. Not a first for either of us, but never on behalf of someone we cared about.

All I could think about was our last conversation, where she’d been wistful and I’d only been distracted. If I’d listened properly, this might not have happened.

Which made it my fucking fault.

Eventually, the cops let me go.

Mick waited with my ride outside the station. “You’re the last out.”

My head weighed a million pounds. “Who else did they bring in?”

He rattled off the names of a couple of dancers who’d been close friends of hers. Not that they could’ve killed her. I was certain of that.

I formed a question that had gnawed at me. “Tell me we have footage of that part of the riverbank.”

His head shake in the negative gutted me. “Manny says not. The camera which would’ve given us a view of anyone going down there had been knocked to one side, just enough to hide it. Whoever strung her up there did so without anyone seeing.”

“Alisha,” I bit out. “Not ‘her’. Use her fucking name.”

Mick ducked his head and muttered an apology, then talked on about the crew dispersing after the abandoned raid, not that I’d thought twice about Red since the body had been found.

A sign outside the warehouse informed the public that the building was closed. It gave no reason or reopening date. I curled my lip and burst into the cool interior.

Everly waited in our apartment, and I pulled her into my arms, the first sliver of anything other than pain piercing my stone-cold heart.

“I’m so sorry.” She stroked my hair.

I couldn’t manage words. I needed sleep. Her. To bring an end to whoever was doing this.

A worse fear had crept into my darkest moments in the police station. If Everly had been hurt, I wouldn’t survive it. I could track her and lock her up, but if I couldn’t protect Alisha, how could I keep the love of my life safe?

By vengeance. Dark, targeted, and all-encompassing.

Whoever had done this would pay.

Chapter 43

Everly

On my knees, I drew my hand up and down in a sweeping motion, concentrating on getting the line completely right. Over and over, careful, accurate, enjoyably neat.

Then I sat back with my brush and regarded the wall I’d painted.

Connor had wanted me to make the apartment mine as much as his, and I’d spent money on clothes and shoes to fill the wardrobe, plus the occasional pretty thing like a vase of flowers on the kitchen counter and low-odour paint for the spare room.

I’d needed the distraction.

Alisha’s murder had sent shockwaves throughout everyone who worked for the warehouse. None more so than Connor. His mood had been dark ever since, and he spent long hours locked away with Arran, making plans I didn’t ask the details of.

Instead, I made friends with more of the dancers and sex workers, many of whom had remained in the warehouse for safety’s sake despite it being closed, then worked with them on a list of potential future events.

It provided a welcome respite to the speculation none of us could avoid. The waiting. The fear.

A click sounded behind me. The front door. Connor had returned. Good timing, too, as I’d finished my decorating. He’d been out all evening, and a storm had battered our windows with pelting rain.

I’d been so worried about him, and happiness filled me to have him back. No matter his darker moments, he was always there for me. I wanted to make him feel just as loved.

I jammed the top back on my paint tin then turned around, wiping my stained fingers on the old skeleton crew t-shirt I’d borrowed.

Then, always happy to play by the rules, I stripped the shirt and bared myself to him.

My man in the hallway went still. Rainwater darkened his hair. Emotional, furious turmoil played out in his eyes along with deep lust as he gazed at my breasts. Hard love joined it when he returned to my face. My breath hitched. In the space it took for that inhale, he was on me.

Connor pressed a kiss to my mouth and caught my hand, pulling me with him to the bathroom. He thumped the button for the shower and walked me backwards under the spray. I gasped at the instant soaking, the water not yet warmed up, but that thought became a distant memory when his mouth was back on mine.

He kissed me like his world started and ended with me. Like he’d been deprived of all things essential until now. I clung to him. Kissed him back. Moaned with need as he shifted down my body.

“Clothes off.” His fingers slid under my waistband, and he yanked down my old, paint-spattered shorts and underwear.

I let him strip me, my eyes wide at the blood that ran off him and swirled pink with the water down the drain.

Then his mouth glued to the juncture of my thighs, and my eyelids shuttered closed. The water raining down on us hit my chest so my nipples hardened, and I palmed my breasts, caressing myself in time with his licks and sucks.

I loved his demands. There was nothing better than him playing with my body, and this time, there was no tease. He needed to take from me. I was more than willing to give. I had no choice over it. Stroke after stroke of his tongue brought me to the edge faster than I could have myself. Then I was flying over it, shaking with the orgasm he’d delivered so perfectly.

I hadn’t come down to earth when he jumped up and spun me around to face the wall. His clothes hit the shower floor in wet thuds, then he was crowding me from behind, his dick sliding against my ass then going lower. I pushed my backside out to graze his hard body, and he groaned then filled me with a single thrust.

I was so sensitive from what he’d already done that I gasped out, and my pussy fluttered around his thick intrusion.

“Pretty little temptress, I’ve been dreaming about being inside ye all day. Ye feel so good. Ye feel like home.”

His tattooed hands came around me to grasp my breasts, then he used the position to fuck into me deep and slow. A rolling, hypnotic claiming of my body by his.

My whole being focused on where we joined. The fit perfect.

“I love you,” I told him.

“You’re everything to me. I’d do anything to keep ye safe.”

He surged with each word, picking up pace until he was slamming into me over and over. His frenzy charged me up. Not just his actions on my body and how he speared me open, but his words, too. He knew every one of my fears and without hesitation would stand in front of me against them all. Connor was safety for me. Everything I’d ever wanted or needed.

“Need to come,” he gritted out.

He caught my jaw with his fingers and brought my face around to receive his kiss. He broke away to groan, then his dick pulsed inside me. I loved that feeling so much. Adored his tight hold on me and how beautifully he broke. My sound of pleasure echoed his, but then my body delivered another soul-shattering orgasm that had me stunned to silence.

Shower water pattered down around us. We breathed together, still connected, needing the closeness.

Eventually, Connor pulled out. He lathered up a flannel and cleaned us both, me first, then the bloody remainder of his day’s work off him.

After, I sat on the bed in my silk robe and towel dried my hair, my teeth worrying my lip. If he’d come home potent with need, I had something to share of my own.

“I bought a test kit today.”

At the wardrobe, and in only low-slung sweats, Connor twisted to face me. “Ye left the warehouse?” Then he blinked. “Wait, a pregnancy test kit?”

“I had it delivered, and yep, the little blue lines kind.”

We’d stopped playing with sedatives by unspoken decision—I hadn’t asked and he hadn’t offered. We both knew the baby-shaped risks of what we’d done and how sedatives wouldn’t be safe. The amount of unprotected sex we’d had was wild, and Connor had to be on me and in me multiple times a day. Ahead of going out to work, he’d fuck me, command me to lie in bed with my legs raised, bring me a book and a snack, then an hour later text me to demand I spread my legs and orgasm again.

I’d obey him every time.

His lips lifted in the corner, then he masked the emotion. “Did ye take it?”

“It’s still in the box.” A rush of nervous heat swept through me. “I know this is a bad time, and we’re in mourning.”

“It would never be bad timing.”

I stared at him, my nerves growing. “Are you sure? Should I take it now? What if it’s negative?”

Slowly, he inclined his head, following my train of thought.

A baby would be a wonderful thing. But hope was dangerous when it came as a solution to grief. I didn’t want to hurt him.

“You’re worried for my sake,” he concluded. Nodding to himself, he moved over and took my hand. “Come with me.”

Tying my dressing gown closed, I trotted after him into the living room. He sat me at the kitchen counter which held his tattoo kit. A few days ago, he’d inked a curl of hair on his arm as a tribute to Alisha, his fallen crew member, but now, his gaze was all over me.

“I have a proposal to make. One day, I’ll marry ye. I want us to be a family and I want to give ye my last name.”

I took a breath of joy. “Is that you asking?”

“Almost.” A teasing smirk curved his lips. “But no. I’ll do it properly when we aren’t under siege. For now, I want to make good on my threat to ink my name into your skin.”

He had threatened that, but I’d still wanted it.

“Regardless of whether you’re pregnant right away, I want ye to know you’re mine. I’d die for ye, Everly. I’ll kill, too. Your father, Piers, they’re both dead men, I’m just biding my time to the point when I know the connection between them and until your father is no longer useful. But both have no right to live after what they did to ye. Same as anyone who looks at ye wrong. I’ll protect ye forever. Right now, I want ye to have my name.”

“Another tattoo.” I squirmed on my seat, a burst of fresh desire waking inside me. “Where?”

“Forehead still out?”

I swatted his arm. He grinned and collected my left hand.

“I thought here, around your finger where a ring will go one day.”

It was the perfect idea. Holding in tears, I placed my hand on the counter in offer, and his eyes gleamed.

Connor kissed me then got his kit ready and started the gun. He laid down the M, I, C, and H of Michaels then paused. Another open-mouthed kiss delighted my throat.

I angled my neck to give him better access. “This is turning you on.”

“Aye, temptress.”

With a quick tug, I undid my dressing gown so it fell open. Underneath, I was completely naked, and Connor groaned, his gaze all over my warm skin.

“Can I fuck ye while I finish it?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

I reached for his waistband and lowered his sweats, freeing his dick. He angled to slide it between my legs then inside me, both of us panting at how good it felt. The angle was trickier, but Connor brought my hand across my chest, at the same time, sucking one of my beaded nipples into his mouth. He spread my fingers. Suckled me. Scribed the last of his name into my skin.

When he was done, he came in a flurry of deep and slow hits that took me with him into bliss.

We cooled. Held each other.

The only thing left now was to take that test.

A short while later…

I used to think patience was part of my nature, but I’d been trapped and forced to endure. No more. Three minutes felt like forever.

At last, it was up.

I raised my head from the test which lay flat on the bedside table. Connor met my gaze, his smile faltering with emotion that I felt to my bones.

“It’s positive?”

I nodded quickly, rising happiness making me want to laugh. Connor held me close like he’d never let go.

My killer ex-stepbrother had got me pregnant.

Only in our world could that be the perfect resolution to all our wasted years.

Epilogue

Riordan

Divine and Divide reopened the evening of Alisha’s funeral with a night dedicated to her name. Tension in the city was high, and the focus on Deadwater had turned global, with four women now killed in almost identical fashions capturing attention worldwide.

I knew from whispers then public news that the post-mortems of Alisha and some of the women before her that sedatives had been used. That made headlines, with speculation rife over the fact that any woman could be next. How the fuck did you defend against someone who knocked you out cold and slit your throat?

Then used you as a message no one could work out.

A dark vibe hung over the clubs.

For the sake of the women, and fewer men, who worked here, money still needed to be made, but the staff remained nervous. Clients were vetted heavily, and everyone was searched before being allowed in. A job I often took on as I learned the ropes.

Arran and Shade had been behind closed doors, plotting how to handle the threats against their crew while the heat on them remained high. My sisters made the decision to remain locked down, Gen switching her course temporarily to online, and Everly picking up work managing events in the warehouse.

For the first time after agreeing to join the gang, I felt relief that I could stay close to the women I cared about. I made a point of checking in on both regularly, even when they’d done nothing but hang out upstairs.

Tonight, I worked the reception room of the brothel, keeping the workers safe and monitoring the men who came here to get their dicks sucked.

Discomfort crawled over my skin, and I rolled my shoulders under my skeleton crew t-shirt, playing sentinel in my position against the wall.

Something was off.

I couldn’t tell what, but it had my senses alert and my hackles up.

The entryway to the stairs opened, and a woman stepped out, her gaze flitting over the room then landing on me. Inwardly, I sighed. Moniqua had left me alone for a few weeks, but from the beeline she made for me now, her interest wasn’t over.

Stopping in front of me, she clasped her hands together and peered up with big eyes. “Riordan. I’ve been trying to find you.”

“How did you get in here?”

“I’m a member now.”

I wasn’t touching that nugget of information with a barge pole. “I’m working so I can’t chat.”

She darted a glance around and leaned in closer so her perfume filled my nose and I had a clear sight down her low-cut top. Not that I was looking. I never had, and wasn’t interested now.

“I needed to see you. Baby, I’m scared, and no one makes me feel safe like you do.”

Briefly, I closed my eyes. I didn’t like causing pain. I knew all too well how rejection stung. I’d lived with it for years, copping a double dose from two men I could’ve called Dad but neither of whom wanted the role.

“We’ve already had this conversation. I can’t be what you want me to be,” I said. “I’m sorry, but this can’t happen.”

“You don’t understand. I need you. It doesn’t matter if you’re with someone else.”

Inexplicably, my thoughts went to Cassie, the dark-haired wild girl who’d listened to my outpouring of woe and hadn’t judged me. Who had hidden depths that hinted at a deadly side barely concealed under her cute, bouncy surface.

I thought about her too much and too often.

In my bed, alone. Against the shower wall with my dick in my hand.

Not that I could do anything about my attraction. With the plans I was making, all I could bring was trouble.

I didn’t know how, but I intended to force the sperm donor who’d sired me to acknowledge his act. To get justice in one way or another. I hated how he’d rejected my mother. I got angry at the imagined scene of her presenting her news to him, maybe happy, probably scared, and being summarily brushed aside. Worse—ordered to end the life of the baby she already loved.

He’d kept tabs on me yet hadn’t once stepped in. Even when Mum died, and for the month or so where Genevieve and I risked homelessness. I understood now why her father resisted letting us stay. The man loved her and hated me, yet we came as a package deal so he’d been forced to tolerate my presence.

All that time, my real father hadn’t given a shit.

“Riordan?” Moniqua brought me back from my dark thoughts.

“I’m not with anyone else,” I forced out.

She hitched her breath, her voice softer still. “Someone told me they saw you go into a bedroom with one of the women here. I don’t mind. I’m happy for you, but I don’t have anyone else to turn to. You know the gang my cousin was in? The Four Milers?”

Of course I fucking did. I gave her a short chin lift, tracking two men who entered the space and went straight into the arms of waiting women. Regulars. Nothing off about them.

She continued, “The leader, Red, came to my flat. He told me he wants me. He offered me money but he scared me, too. I think he made a threat. Someone warned me that his second-in-command, Bronson, uses drugs to knock women out, and Red said he’d send Bronson next time. What do I do?”

Fuck. Finally, I regarded her properly. The skeleton crew had been poised to raid the Four Milers’ new strip club before the eyes of the world fell on Deadwater and they’d had to go to ground. The longer they, or we, had to delay, the longer the women who worked for Red suffered. I fucking hated that. It made sense that Red would target someone like Moniqua. A woman alone in the world and unprotected.

I didn’t like her, but I hated that fate for her. She was harmless. A victim in the making. Despite myself, I considered options.

Soft fingers curled around my arm. “That scared you as much as it scared me. I can see it. I was thinking, if you give me your keys, I could go back to your place and cook you dinner. It’ll be waiting for you when you finish work, along with me.” She gave a funny little curtsey.

For fuck’s sake.

I inhaled through my nose, regretting it after receiving another dose of that cloying perfume. “Best thing I can think is for you to take a job here. That way, you’re off the table for Red. He’s lured women away but not directly taken them from the skeleton crew. You’ll be safe.”

She pouted. “I don’t know how to do the kind of jobs they have here.”

Across the room, the object of my dreams left the office behind the bar to talk to one of the staff. Cassie. I’d tried to avoid her, but couldn’t help seeing her around. She’d taken on some of Alisha’s duties and appeared to be a core part of the team.

Over Moniqua’s head, she locked her gaze on to mine.

Heat sank through me.

“Who’s that?” Moniqua asked. “She’s familiar. She looks like the girl who tried to steal your bike.”

“None of your business,” I answered, though I was stuck on taking Cassie in.

She had an endless wardrobe of pretty dresses, some sexy as fuck, others more playful. Tonight’s black sequined number was of the former variety. It clung to her curves, yet at the same time marked her out as here for business and not for sale. Those wild black curls were normally left down, but she’d pulled back a section with a comb above her ear, the sparkling pink crystals on it matching her nails.

I’d been staring at her for far too long.

She cocked her head in cute enquiry. It wasn’t like the way she talked to any other man. Then her gaze ran over Moniqua, and her lip curled. Jealousy flashed in her pretty eyes.

Fuck. Cassie liked me, too? I’d assumed it was mostly one-sided. That any lust was all on my behalf and at best, she’d been flirting.

Her expression told me I’d been mistaken.

It meant I should back the fuck away.

If my life went the way I expected, I’d be in even more danger than I was by signing up to this crew. From talking to Everly, who was the sweetest woman, I knew our father to be vicious and ruthless. When I took him on, he’d retaliate.

Maybe in that, I’d taken after him, because I needed to white fang Cassie. Hurting myself was no big deal. Hurting her would be unacceptable.

A sense of total wrongness tightened inside me, but I rejected the emotion and dragged my focus to Moniqua. “If you want me, get on your knees.”

Her lips parted. Eagerly, she knelt. “I didn’t expect you to like it so public. Sure you don’t want to go into one of these rooms? You can have me however you want me.”

Cassie squinted at Moniqua. The expression I’d considered adorable morphed to confusion. It flattened when eager fingers undid my belt.

I tracked Cassie’s flight from the room then dropped my head back to the wall, hating myself for what I’d done. Moniqua’s fingers slid under my waistband.

I grabbed her wrist. “Changed my mind. Go downstairs and talk to Clem at the bar in the strip club. She’ll hook you up with a job, if safety is what you really want.”

She rocked back on her heels. “I…I don’t understand.”

I didn’t either. I’d played the asshole, and it’d left me feeling worse rather than better.

OVER THE COURSE of the night, guilt took me over completely.

I’d never wanted to hurt anyone, but Cassie’s expression had broken something in me. A woman I’d never even touched, except for in my imagination.

My shift had ended half an hour ago, and I’d prowled around the warehouse, hunting her down while rehearsing what I needed to say. Yet Cassie was nowhere to be found.

Her bedroom was my last port of call, and I made my way along the cam girl floor, entirely unfazed by the moans of ecstasy coming from behind closed doors. Just as she’d said, I’d got used to it.

At Cassie’s room, I knocked.

No answer came.

I tried the handle. It gave under my hand, and I cracked the door open, calling her name into the space.

No answer still.

Swinging it wide open, I hit the switch for the lights. Then I stared.

Across the whole stretch of the wall lay a spiderweb of paperwork, scribbled notes, and string connecting dots on a map. It was the kind of wall detectives in old movies would create while working on a case.

The title across the top read ‘The Skeleton Girls Detective Agency’.

She’d made this? Half in wonder, I entered the room and examined her work. The string connected four points on the map of Deadwater, one of which was right outside the warehouse, another on the riverbank just below. The third was next to Everly’s house, and the last was opposite the flat Genevieve and I used to share with her father.

All the places women had been killed.

The first, Cherry, I’d known in passing. My sister had developed a friendship with her, so I’d waved whenever I saw the sex worker in her territory.

That strange sense of foreboding tightened around me the more I looked at the map.

Cherry had been killed next to where I lived. Natasha, the second woman, had died on the night I’d come to rescue Genevieve from the skeleton crew. The third victim, Amelia, had died in the mansion next door to Everly’s house on the same evening I’d gone to warn her of the kidnap plot, then the last was Alisha. She’d taken me under her wing, briefly, but I’d liked her. She’d been kind and had sat with me in a private room for hours to give advice on handling the pressures of working in the club.

Another thought emerged. Moniqua said someone told her I had a new woman. Or at least implied the fact. Who was that person, and why had they been watching Alisha?

One thing was certain. I couldn’t deny the connections between my whereabouts and the murders. Displayed like this made it clear as day. It was too many to be coincidental, especially with the woman killed next door to Everly’s house.

Somehow, I was in the thick of this, and my plan to protect my sisters and get revenge on the father who’d rejected me shifted to include a third point.

To work out exactly how close to the centre of these deaths I’d become.

Reeling, I focused in on a sheet Cassie had titled ‘Questions’.

Some of the women were drugged. Who uses sedatives?

I’d just heard that Red drugged women. Moniqua was afraid of him. My pulse raced, the answer right there in front of me. I knew who the murderer was. I had to find Arran and Shade.

Darkness plunged around me, the lights extinguishing in the room and in the hall, instant blackness claiming my vision.

I swore and fumbled for my phone, needing my torch.

A needle jamming into my thigh was the last thing I knew.

The End.

The story continues in Riordan’s Revenge. So much steam, a wild girl and a stubborn man, and all the Body Count questions answered. Be sure to join my Facebook reader group to discuss theories, and see you on the dark side.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Dear reader,

Connor is a stone cold fox. That is all.

No, seriously, a killer boy obsessed with you? Who’d do anything and everything to protect you? The tattoo word choices? The nighttime play?

Sign. Me. Up.

Everly is a happy/lucky lady, and now we have two couples and even more bodies stacking up.

OMG with how you’ve all taken the Body Count series to heart. This was always going to be a big series for me but you snatched it up and ran with it. Thank you so much for all the cheerleading and engagement!

I’m loving the murderer guesses. Did yours change now you’ve read part two? Hop into my Facebook reader group to let me know. I can’t wait to share the third and final part with you all.

As always, thanks go to my wonderful readers – without you, I’d be a lonely little author. To Liz, my PA and friend, you're my rock. To my beta readers Elle, Sara, Shellie, and Lori, your reactions gave me life, and knocked a few rough edges into shape. To Katie and Nikki, I loved how we pulled a team together around this series. You helped me so much.

To the narrators and the production team at Dark Star – thanks for an incredible audiobook performance. Also to Erika for proofing things my end. Hugs!

Amanda Desilets on Instagram created the incredible artwork. Emmy Ellis edited to perfection and Lori proofread to clean up my typos. Cleo Moran produced the gorgeous interior files and graphics. Natasha created the gorgeous hot guy cover. Qamber Designs made the stunning alternate paperbacks. Thank you, all.

To my ARC and Street team, you’re always there for me, and the anticipation building through this series has been the best form of encouragement.

Lastly, to N&M, my little family. Thank you both for all you do, including backing me up in every decision I made, whether I made an intelligible point while pacing the room or not.

Let’s go to part three! All your questions will be answered.

Love, Jolie

ALSO BY JOLIE VINES

Marry the Scot series

1) Storm the Castle

2) Love Most, Say Least

3) Hero

4) Picture This

5) Oh Baby

Wild Scots series

1) Hard Nox

2) Perfect Storm

3) Lion Heart

4) Fallen Snow

5) Stubborn Spark

Wild Mountain Scots series

1) Obsessed

2) Hunted

3) Stolen

4) Betrayed

5) Tormented

Dark Island Scots series

1) Ruin

2) Sin

3) Scar

4) Burn

McRae Bodyguards

1) Touch Her and Die

2) Save Her from Me

3) Take Her from You

4) Protect Her from Them

Body Count

1) Arran’s Obsession

2) Connor’s Claim

3) Riordan’s Revenge

Standalones

Cocky Kilt:

a Cocky Hero Club Novel

Race You:

An Office-Based Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Fight For Us:

a Second-Chance Military Romantic Suspense

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JOLIE VINES is a romance author who lives in the UK with her husband and son.

Jolie loves her heroes to be one-woman guys.

Whether they are a brooding pilot (Gordain in Hero), a wrongfully imprisoned rich boy (Sebastian in Lion Heart), or a tormented twin (Max in Betrayed), they will adore their heroine until the end of time.

Her favourite pastime is wrecking emotions, then making up for it by giving her imaginary friends deep and meaningful happily ever afters.

Have you found all of Jolie’s Scots?

Visit her page on Amazon and join her ever active Fall Hard Facebook group.