This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

Damaged copyright @ 2017 by Evelyn Glass and E-Book Publishing World Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

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Ruined by the Biker

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

DAMAGED

Chapter 1: Uncorked

Chapter 2: The Steps to Take

Chapter 3: In Recognition

Chapter 4: Past Haunts

Chapter 5: Raw Footage

Chapter 6: The Numbers Game

Chapter 7: Second Chances

Chapter 8: Pieces of Me

Chapter 9: The Dish Served Cold

Chapter 10: The Cracking Whip

Chapter 11: New Directions

Chapter 12: Behind the Mask

Chapter 13: The Benefits

Chapter 14: On the Screen

Chapter 15: Another Vision

Chapter 16: Reflecting Light

Chapter 17: Fixers

Chapter 18: Be That

Chapter 19: Stolen Memories

Chapter 20: Resistance

Chapter 21: Dressing and Undressing

Chapter 22: Tied Up and Twisted

Chapter 23: Revelations

Chapter 24: The Aftermath

Chapter 25: Obsession

Chapter 26: The Getaway

Chapter 27: Unmasked

Chapter 28: The Light Internal

Epilogue: An Anniversary

Ruined by the Biker

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

Chapter 44

BAD BOY IN A SUIT

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

DAMAGED

Chapter 1: Uncorked

Not again! Ugh! Why can’t you just leave me alone!?

I looked down at my phone as it lit up suddenly. The vibrations rattled my dorm room’s wooden desk and jolted me back to the present. My stomach turned as I scanned the screen. I recognized the number almost immediately despite it not being attached to the name in my phone’s miniscule address book.

It was the same number that called every single Friday for the last three years. And I wasn’t going to be the fool who picked up. They would just have to track me down and kick me out of school themselves. I was nowhere near prepared to pay off the $10,000 I had in tuition debt. And unlike what I promised the last time I was tricked into answering, I hadn’t found a bank that was dumb enough to let me get a loan out in my name.

So I was going to have to dance this dance once again. I was going to have to be coy, lay low, and avoid any official looking people on campus. If they couldn’t find me, they couldn’t demand I pay the money I owed. Or, worse, they couldn’t kick me out of school. I knew this for sure since they threatened to last year but hadn’t yet pulled the trigger.

It wasn’t like I was a deadbeat or a bad person. I wanted to pay. I actually wanted to be that college student with the pile of student loan debt I would have to scrimp and save for after college. But no one trusts the poor to pay back on time even when they have full-time jobs and work their asses off to be straight-A honor students. I followed the rules, I never skipped a class, I even volunteered on weekend mornings when I wasn’t  recovering from a late night shift. Still, I was the one who couldn’t be trusted.

The phone call reminded me I should check my bank balance. It was like a Friday routine for me. University of Nevada Las Vegas’ Student Finances Office gives me a call. I pretend I didn’t hear it go off as I frantically log in to my bank account. As the page loads, I cross my fingers and pray to a higher power that some mysterious being has taken pity upon me and deposited a large sum of money into my account. But I was always wrong. I had exactly $3,280 in my name. UNLV wasn’t getting their money today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day either.

I waited for my phone to ding a notification of a missed call and voice mail before I peeled myself away from my desk. I spent all afternoon prepping my paper for History of Middle Eastern Trade Relations that I completely forgot to keep track of the time. With only twenty minutes ‘til my shift at the club, I had to rush. I opened the closet doors next to my own and started rummaging through Lana’s wardrobe. She kept the sluttiest clothes in the back. I started there.

I’d normally pick something more demure, something more fitting of a girl like me who lived her life in baggy t-shirts with funny slogans on them and loose fitting yoga pants that hid my bony waist. But Lana was, yet again, late on her laundry and had yet to restock on her overnight bag she brought along to every work shift just in case she decided to “hang around” with a customer.

I sighed as I pulled down what I hoped was a spandex black pencil skirt and a sparkling silver halter top. It was way too flashy for me, but at least my stomach would be covered and my scarecrow like legs would be concealed. Taking one quick glance in the mirror as I tied my waist-long straggly blonde hair into a flowing ponytail, I looked at the reflection staring back. This wasn’t the girl I wanted to be. This wasn’t the girl I'd envisioned for my future. But I had to do what I had to do to be that international businesswoman with an office in Tokyo, New York, and Paris. And working at the Strip Top Bar was what had to be done tonight.

I slipped on my favorite pair of beat up Chuck Taylors and grabbed my bag. My work shoes were already packed and ready to go. A pair of strappy black stilettos, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them anywhere else but work. And, even then, I struggled to walk like a normal human being in them. Luckily for me, working as a greeter meant I just had to stand there as I told tourist after tourist how ridiculously long the wait would be to get in.  

No one trusted me to be a waitress like Lana. That required a skill I certainly didn’t have: flirting. On slower nights, I watched her as she coolly bent down low, dangerously close to a man as she took his drink order. She giggled at the right moments, touched arms at exactly the best times, and always had a devilish grin plastered to her Nevada sun-kissed skin that seemed to say, “Tip me, I’m so worth it.”

“You’re late, D’Angelo!” Daniel barked at me, as he always did, as I burst through the back door.

I leaned up against the kitchen’s prep counter as I struggled to slip on the strap of my shoe.

“He’s in a pissy mood. Two girls called off sick,” Cal, one of the security officers, walked past me, whispering in my direction. He winked as he warned, “I wouldn’t piss him off if I were you.”

I nodded back my appreciation as I awkwardly attempted running after Daniel to his office. I was just able to catch the hook of the door with my arm as he slammed it behind him, just barely sneaking in. I slithered past the other girls who waited around with bored, robotic looks on their freshly-painted faces until I found Lana. She wore a cut-off black tank and a gold mini-skirt with just enough fabric to cover her ass. Her severe bob brushed against her eyes as she stared at me amused.

“What the hell happened to you? Did my closet explode on you or something? I told you to go for the clothes in the back. You look like you came from my grandmother’s funeral.” She gestured to the skirt that just fell at my knees.

“This was the best I could do. I didn’t have much time to go through your costumes. Plus, I thought this wasn’t bad. I mean, my shoulders are showing at least. Isn’t that enough?”

Lana let out an exaggerated burst of air as she pulled a handbag out of her purse. She handed me a tube of bright red lipstick, the kind I would think was reserved for streetwalkers, along with some jet-black liquid eyeliner and a bottle of pink perfume. “Here,” she added as she handed me the supplies, “You’re going to need this tonight.”

I looked at her bemused as I applied the eyeliner and spritzed the perfume on my wrists. “What do you mean? I work in the dark hallway. No one was going to care what my makeup looks like.”

“Not tonight, you’re not!” Daniel suddenly interrupted their conversation, causing me to jump and smear the ruby red paste all over my chin. “You’re serving tonight. We need another girl up there to cover Vera’s shift. Her and Janelle are out. Something about a sick kid or something.”

“I’m what?” Lana handed me a tissue as I stared at my boss in shock. When I was hired, he had told me I had no shot in hell at ever working as a cocktail waitress, let alone a full server with the VIPs. I didn’t have the look, the style, the personality. And now, after two years of being stuck to a cold, damp hallway with impatient clubgoers, I was officially being moved on up.

“Lana, walk her through it before doors open.” My head raced as he continued to address the other girls in the room, “Tonight’s a big night. The entire Las Vegas Cowboy basketball team was here celebrating last night’s overtime win, and I don’t want any mistakes, especially with bottle service. At a thousand a bottle, you bet any dropped glasses or split champagne was coming out of your paychecks. Do you understand me?”

The girls mumbled an agreement as they stood and walked towards the dressing room. I wanted to follow, but I couldn’t seem to make my legs move. My whole body wanted to sink into the leather couch and melt with the fabric.

Lana reached out her hand towards me sympathetically as she pulled me to stand, catching my body as I wobbled from the shoes. “Come on now, girl. It isn’t that bad. Just pour some glasses of champagne, fetch them some food from the kitchen, and make sure they get everything they ask for. Cal was working security tonight, so he’ll keep you nice and safe.”

“Safe? Why do I need to worry about being safe?” My mind reeled as I tried to make sense of what Lana was talking about. She was just a waitress, not a police officer serving a bad neighborhood beat. What did she have to be worried about?

Lana ignored my question as she showed me the VIP setup. Up on the top floor rafters, each room was equipped with a little station for security and the waitstaff. The waitress was to stay in the wings until the VIP summoned them for a request. She then took the order on her tablet for the private bartender to make. It all looked so simple, but the dark, confined space coupled with the booming music from the club below rocked her. It was going to be a long night.

Lana shouted over the bass as the cheer of the crowd filled the club. “Your tablet’s beeping. You’ve got your first, official VIP.” She stared into the screen and then looked back at me. A smirk popped up across her face. “You’re in for an interesting night. It’s Eric Tombly!”

I shouted quickly, knowing I only had minutes, “Who?”

Lana knelt before me, grabbing at my hips. “Basketball star. Big guy in the league. Totally handsome. Totally handsy. Totally a great tipper.” Lana rolled up the waist of the tight skirt, lifting the hemline to well above my thigh. She then untucked the silver halter top and gathered the extra fabric in the back. Using a hair tie from the waitress supply area, she tied the back into a knot above my bellybutton. She commanded as she finished securing the shirt in its new place, “Lose the bra.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“He’s almost up here, girls.” Cal slyly glanced back at Lana tightening the shirt up against my skin as I pulled out my strapless bra from the neckline.

Lana took one last look at me, approving of her quick handiwork. “She’s ready. Let him in, Cal.” She placed her hands on my shoulder as she stared into my eyes. “Just do what he asks. He’s not a bad guy. Okay?”

I gulped as I stepped backwards from the black curtain and into the purple glow of the VIP room. A group of about ten men dressed in tailored shirts and jeans were taking their seats at the plush leather couches. I stood before them, attempting to make myself heard over the noise, “Hey, guys!” I tried to fake enthusiasm and emulate Lana’s perky fresh voice, “I’m Kylie, and I’ll be taking your order. Can I get you guys a bottle of champagne or vodka?”

“You can get that tight little ass on my lap!” the man sitting at the far end called to me, gesturing with his hands. By the way the others laughed and his stunning, towering physique, I guessed this one had to be the basketball player. I slowly walked towards him as if he were the big bad wolf in grandma’s clothing. I repeated my request for the table’s order one more time as he pointed to the first champagne bottle on the list. “5 of the Diamond Star.”

I nervously walked back to the waitress area, grabbing the bottles from behind the bar as the bartender quickly tended to the other mixed drinks. When I returned, all but a few of the men had left for the dance floor. Eric, however, remained. He gestured again towards his lap. “You’re working for me now, sister. And I’m ordering you to sit.”

I placed the bottles down on the glass table before the couch and then took my place at the far end of the couch. “Can I get you guys anything else? Any hors d'oeuvres? Mixed drinks?” Anything to get you to leave me alone?

“You can sit over on my lap like I asked you the first time.” He looked at me pointedly, “Don’t make me get mean.”

I stood slowly, making my way over to him. He leaned back as I sat propped up on his lap. His arms outstretched, circling my naked stomach and twirling my ponytail with his twisted fingers. “I love a girl with long hair. Something to hold onto during the ride.” He reached towards the uncorked champagne bottle as he said, “How about you pour a little of that champagne for me.”

His hand began to stroke my back, sending goosebumps up my legs as I reached for the empty glasses. I felt him pull me back towards him, the champagne bottle clutched in my hand, “No, not in the glass. I want you to pour it into my mouth.” He opened wide, his mouth gaping like a fish.

I reached the bottle above his head and tipped it out as gently as possible, not wanting to give in to the inner demon that demanded I drown him in his own thousand-dollar bottle of alcohol. But instead he pulled away, swallowing deeply, and then smiling back at me with his wide grin.

“I like you. You’re going to stay with me tonight. Got it?” I tried nodding, but he pulled my hair, forcing my body to lean back into his. My hips could feel him stiffen and flex. He was a bundle of muscles, tight and toned. And I was a bundle of nerves about to explode. His large fingers caressing my skin didn’t help either. They touched at every uncovered inch, his nails almost digging into my thigh, along the skirt’s edge. His other hand stroked at the v-neck of my halter top. Every few seconds, it would skim underneath the fabric, causing the sequence to rustle.

The men talked as I stood awkwardly into the distance. I tried not to pay attention to what he was doing or how his fingers had found their way up the skirt and near my panties. Instead, I calculated my required tip and prayed to God that him tweaking at my erect nipples would give me enough money to perhaps pay down the college enough to get them off my back for a couple months.

Eric pulled me in closer, causing my skirt to hike up even higher. I could smell the alcohol ooze off his breath as he whispered into my ear, “You’re a good girl, you know that? But I can tell what you want.”

Without warning, a finger slipped inside the folds of my pussy. I let out a shocked yelp as I stood suddenly. My heel caught on Eric’s dress shoe as I caught myself from falling by hitting the edge of the table with my hands. Eric’s weight tossed me further into the glass top as I looked up to see the bottles spill over the edge and shatter one by one on the glass tile floor.

“What the fuck! What the fuck!” The men jumped as the spilled pools of the gold liquid pooled at their feet. “These are four thousand dollar shoes, bitch!”

Cal was there in a second. He had been watching her in the holding area, waiting for his time to swoop in. He grabbed me off the ground, my hands and chest covered in the champagne. He led me off the floor as he spoke into the headset. I could hear him say, “I think you need to come up here, Daniel. We’re going to need some help.”

Daniel and Roxanne, my replacement, were in the VIP area in seconds flat. I listened to Eric complain about the ruined shoes and the girl who clumsily spilled the champagne. He wasn’t going to pay for a dime of it. And, furthermore, he wanted more free alcohol before the night was through.

“What am I going to do, Cal? This was the best paying job in the whole city, and I’m going to be fired. Or worse, they’re going to make me pay for those asshole’s bottles. You saw what he was doing!”

Cal continued to hand me paper towels as I patted myself dry. A small cut from hitting the sharp edge of the glass table began to pool blood as he rummaged around for a bandaid. Daniel entered soon after, his face red and his veins bulging around his neck.

“What the fuck, Kylie! This was an easy job. You get the VIP his bottles and you do what he asks. Any idiot could handle it!”

“I’m so sorry, Daniel! It’s just that he scared me. He, uh—” I struggled to think of how to say that the basketball star was fingering me without my permission, “He startled me and my shoe caught on his when I stood. I didn’t mean to spill the bottles.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter. You now owe us $4,200.”

“What?” I asked deadpan, hoping that I'd misheard him in my nervousness.

“It’s coming out of your paycheck.”

“No, you can’t do this to me! It was an accident.”

“Like I give a shit. You fucked up and now you have to pay. Got it?” Daniel began to walk away.

I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed his arm and fell to my knees. I was covered in champagne, my shirt clinging to my braless chest. My skirt hiked up right around my panties. But I didn’t care. He had to listen to me. “Please, Daniel. There has to be some other way.”

He looked down at me, his face looking almost amused by the way I'd begged him. He nodded to me as he walked away, beckoning to follow him. I made it down to his office and took a seat at one of his desk chairs across from him. I waited in silence as he typed on his keyboard and then he turned his computer screen around to face me.

He hit his space bar as a video screen came to action. It was a woman, naked from the waist down, her shirt rolled up and pushed down to her hips. A man was behind her, half hidden by her body as he rocked into her sex. Her white knuckles curled around the bathroom sink as she cried out a name I couldn’t quite make out. 

I watched it wordlessly, not knowing what to say or what should be said. I wanted Daniel to stop it. I wanted to keep watching. I'd never watched porn before. It just wasn’t my style. And while I was certainly no prude to this kind of stuff, I wasn’t going to pretend to be happy to be shown porn at my workplace. But there was a small part of me, the one that rested deep in my stomach, that caused my body to clench and my heart to race. My mouth went dry and my palms sweat as I watched the actress orgasm.

After a few minutes, he pressed the spacebar again causing the video pause on the man with the wolf tattoo reaching down towards the woman’s face. Daniel stood up and opened a desk drawer as he addressed me, “If you want to pay me back for tonight’s fuck up, you have to do this.” He pointed at the motionless screen.

I gulped, lowering my voice to a faint murmur, “That? What are you talking about?”

“Porn, Kylie. You may not know this about me, though many of your coworkers already do, but I’m a pretty big producer here in Vegas. I'm looking for girls like you – good, wholesome, American girls with decent bodies – to perform in a couple of shows. I’ll pay you $500 per show.”

“Will I have to be naked? Have sex?” I wasn’t that type of girl. I couldn’t be. This was way too much.

A smile cracked on his face as he reached across the desk to hand me a contract. I look at the heavy paper with the dark black ink and the long lines. A feeling of dread and unease hit me like a ton of bricks. But there’s nothing else I could do. This was my only option. I scanned through the document one more time, making note of the words “star,” “sex,” and “nudity.”

“It’s your only option, kid.” He said as he hands me a ballpoint pen.

The area where my name should be was blank, but I took the pen Daniel was handing to me and quickly scribbled mine in the empty space.

Chapter 2: The Steps to Take

“432 Peach Street. 432 Peach Street. 432 Peach Street.” I repeated the address to Daniel’s studio over and over again in my head as I drove through the wide streets of the Las Vegas suburb. The sun’s rays were causing the street to blur like a mirage. But I was too focused on getting to the address on Daniel’s production company’s business card on time or earlier.

It wasn’t that I was looking forward to this. In fact, I spent the night before wrestling with sleep as I imagined what my first porn shoot was going to be like. I imagined a burly man covered in curly chest hair barking orders at me as I lay on a dirty, stained mattress. Men in dank white tank tops watched with sweaty brows as my co-star, a guy with no face and a wolf tattoo, fucked me from behind until he was satisfied. When we finished, I laid there, just as used and as stained as the mattress.

I pulled my rusted blue pickup truck in the driveway of a pretty indiscrete home. It was the last home in the Desert Flower subdivision, but nothing about it made it stand out. It was brick with siding, just like the others on the street. A white little fence wound around the property and a black and red mailbox stood guard near the street. You could picture mom and dad standing in the well-manicured lawn while the kids rode bikes up and down the white pavement driveway. Something about it eased my mind, letting me forget where I was and what I was about to be doing.

I knocked on the door twice, unsure of how I needed to announce myself. I could see a team of people scurrying around with props and lights, but no one paid me attention. I rang the doorbell instead.

A young girl covered from head to toe in tattoos and wearing nothing but a hunter-laced robe opened the door, exasperated. “Jesus, Barbie! Don’t let the cool air out. Get inside!” She grabbed my arm, forcing me from my place on the deck. “Are you the new intern?” She didn’t let me answer. “Daniel’s been waiting for you. You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. Don’t be surprised if you’re fired for that. He’s not one to play nice, even to college kids.”

I looked around breathlessly. The whole house was buzzing with people coming and in and from the back lawn to the living room. Large black cameras were being mounted on body suits while a woman pushed a large cart of tiny bikinis passed us. I needed a moment to take it all in.

“I’m – I’m not an intern…” I said as loudly as I could muster.

“Over here is the bathroom, but it’s for talent only. You need to pee, you do it in the basement with the rest of the crew.”

A man carrying a large sun reflector knocked into me, sending me tumbling towards the sofa. The woman stopped in her place and looked at me with pity, “Oh, honey, you’re not going to last long at all.”

My patience had worn thin, “Good because I’m not an intern. My name is Kylie. I’m Daniel’s employee from the bar.”

“You’re Kylie? The girl that’s in today’s shoot?” She looked at me suspiciously, as if she had let in an intruder. “Are you serious?”

Daniel suddenly appeared as the woman narrowed her glare further. She was taking in my baggy black sweatpants with the UNLV logo on the sides and my oversized t-shirt with a picture of a video game character. “Lay off, Julie. This is Kylie, and she’s going to need to get to makeup.” He, too, looked at me, this time his face falling as he noticed my laid back attire. “She’s going to need a lot of help today.”

Julie scoffed, crossing her colorfully painted arms in front of her chest and then walked off towards the hallway. I followed her, struggling to keep up with her fast steps. She led me to a brightly lit room where a woman dressed in all black texted on her phone. A cigarette in her hands accumulated ashes as it burned. “Elise, this is Kylie. Good luck with that.”

Elise set down her phone and gave me a once over, as well. She smiled lightly as she walked towards me. “Don’t listen to Julie. She’s a bit of a bitch. You don’t need much at all. Unlike her, you’ve got natural beauty. Just a little bit of work will help spruce you up.” She sat me down at the chair in the center of the room and began brushing my face with a variety of wands and tools full of colored powders. The cigarette dangled from the side of her mouth, “First time?” It was so obvious, I didn’t have to answer. “Everyone’s nervous their first time. Even Julie. But you’re lucky. Wilder’s your co-star. Well, your lead really. After all, the movie’s called Wilder Girls for a reason. He’s a genius. He’ll walk you through everything. And I hear he ain’t half bad either. Most girls fake it, but he gets the real thing.”

“The real thing?” I was sitting a bit taller now. This woman seemed to have seen it all.

“You know, an orgasm. Most girls in this business get so immune to sex that they rarely make it there. They have to pull out all the stops. All those ‘ohhhs’ and ‘oh my god’... it’s just for show.” She laughed to herself as she mimicked the other actresses.    

As she finished, another woman walked in and handed her a white bikini on a hanger. She handed it to me and told me to get dressed. I looked for another room or an area to get changed in, but she stopped me as I tried to exit. “Oh, honey, you’re going to have to lose your clothing in front of a room full of guys. Get used to it.”

I tentatively pulled down my pants and shimmied out of my top and bra. I'd spent all last night shaving and grooming myself for this, but I was still ashamed of my lanky body and the lack of curves. I took a look in the mirror. Elise had done an amazing job with the hair and the makeup, I looked completely different, yet still very much me. But the bikini was too revealing. It hugged too close to my skin and was way too tight for the top. But Elise gave me an approving smile and thumbs up as she pushed me out the room.

Daniel was waiting for me in the living room, a clipboard in his hand. He took my bare shoulder and led me to the window, pointing out the cameras and the lights. He also handed me the script and told me to study it. I wasn’t expected to memorize it, but I should stay on topic.

Today’s story was about a virgin and her very experienced neighbor. The girl seduces him while they lounge around in the family pool, hoping he’ll show her how it’s done. Daniel then pointed across the room where Julie was chatting with a shirtless man. I instantly recognized him. He’s the guy with the wolf head tattoo. He’s tall, almost impossibly so, with a tight stomach crisscrossed with lines from his defined and toned muscles.

I struggled to make out the face under the brown, shaggy hair. The only thing I could see clearly was the piercing blue eyes. They were as bright as the sky on a clear day, and I wondered why I recognized the color as if that blue were a part of my history.

Julie left him, squeezing him on one of his muscular biceps and then sauntered away. He turned to follow her movements, leaving me in full view of him. I saw his face, the broken nose, the sturdy jaw. Every bit of breath escaped me, fleeing this impossible situation. That man, the man that was my co-star, was none other than my stepbrother William.

Chapter 3: In Recognition

He walked towards me, obviously noticing my bewildered and upset stares. He wrinkled his darkened brow before inhaling. He was trying to compose himself, I guess. But still his voice boomed with those low undertones I hadn’t heard in years. He joyfully said to me, “Julie tells me you’re Kylie. I’m Wilder.

Wilder, I thought. Why Wilder? Why not William or Wills. That’s what we used to call you.

I was unable to talk. I couldn’t think of how to respond except to scream out that I knew that wasn’t his real name. But, then again, I remembered where I was. No one here was using a real name, at least that’s what I was assuming. I made a note to Daniel to come up with a fake name to cover my tracks, as well. It obviously worked for my stepbrother.

He continued on, despite me standing completely still, staring into those eyes like a complete fool. “I thought I would introduce myself before we get started. I haven’t seen you around the business before.” Again, my mouth went dry and my brain lost the ability to connect with my vocal cords. Luckily, he didn’t walk away like I was completely mad. Instead, he took pity on me, “You look new at this. Is this your first shoot?”

He was waiting on me to answer, but I couldn’t bring myself to say what I needed to say. I needed to at least tell him that I’m his stepsister, Kylie. I’m the girl he abandoned back in Sun Valley almost six years ago with the ruined stepfather and the impoverished mother. I’m the girl he left waiting and wanting in the shared bedroom after he promised to protect me. I was only fifteen then.  

But I held my tongue. He clearly didn’t recognize me at all. And what good would it do now? It wouldn’t get me out of my debts with Daniel or pay for my tuition bill. It would just mean more heartbreak for me.

Plus, by the looks of the guy who had completely changed his body with his tattoos and sculpted physique, he didn’t want to be my Wills anymore. He wanted to be Wilder. The only thing I could really make out was that face and those eyes, the ones that sometimes stared at me from across the room as I pretended to sleep. He couldn’t hide those from me. 

My voice shook as it rose a pitch or two, “Yeah, this is my first one.” There. I did it. I said something to him. It was going to be hard to play ignorant, but it had to be done.

He reached down and took my hand as I caught his eyes. He gave me almost a knowing smirk as he led me out towards the sliding glass door. “Just follow me. Do what I say. We’re going to have a good time.”

He acted like he knew. He had done this before. I mean, I remember what Elise told me just minutes earlier about him being the best. I could tell looking at him that he could teach me the ropes. That video Daniel showed me was of him and he certainly knew how to treat that woman. Part of me was craving to feel what she felt, to have the cameras document it all as he led me into this whole other sinful world. But the little, nagging voice at the back of my head begged me to stop this. This wasn’t right. Even if we weren’t blood relations, we grew up together. We were brother and sister by all definitions. This was so wrong.

I still let him take my hand, though. I let him show me how to jump in the pool and then walk out just right so the cameras could get a shot of my legs sparkling with beads of water and how the now-transparent suit clung to my breasts and pussy. As we went through each scene, he positioned me, he fed me lines, he taught me. I was his student, and he was my more-than-willing teacher.

As the storyline progressed, I found a spot near the pool to lie down on my stomach. It was the perfect angle for me. I was concealed enough that I didn’t feel as vulnerable. I could play the sultry neighbor as I beckoned Wilder to join me, requesting he rub suntan lotion on my back.

I handed him the prop bottle of oil as he smiled and gave me a wink, reading off one of his lines. “You want me to get every inch of you?”

I nodded emphatically, concealing my eager smile into the red towel.

He began rubbing the oil gently into my skin starting at my feet. His large hands and fingers making long, slow lines up and down my legs sent trembles through my body. As he moved upwards, his thumb would graze the fabric of my bikini bottom, sending me squirming in my chair. I could feel myself sink lower into his hand as if he were magically calling me to his will. He was tempting me, and I was gladly taking the bait.

I was so distracted by him I didn’t even notice the cameraman laying beside me, getting angle shots of his hands kneading the glistening liquid into me as he talked about pressure points and what they could to your body if you hit each one precisely. Instead, I let out a soft sigh as his pointer finger dove deep against my folds through my wet swimsuit. He lingered there, pushing the fabric deeper into me as I bit my lip hard. It wasn’t time for me to scream out in pleasure just yet.

Wilder moved on, this time following the trail of still water up my back. He asked me in his character’s voice if he could untie the straps holding the suit to my back so he could reach more spots. I pressed my body up so he could release the suit, the camera going wild around my tits as they hung pointed towards the ground. I smiled up at him as I lowered back down, my hands now away from my side and instead nestling my head. This time, I was directing the scene, and I wanted him to feel more than just the fabric of my suit.

His fingers circled my skin, running up the length of my spine and around my shoulders and creating figure eight patterns. I waited, knowing what was to come. But as his hands finally moved to the side of my torso, I still forced myself not to gasp in pleasure as he cupped my breasts, massaging at the nipple and gently pulling at them with a small pinch. I could feel him apply pressure up against my chest, silently telling me to turn over. I followed his cue, exposing myself for the first time to the crew.

My hands wanted to dart him away. I was too exposed; this was too wrong. But he kept applying the lotion to my skin as he repeated the motion on my slender calves, thighs, arms, stomach, and then making his way up to my full breasts. He massaged my tits together and apart and then focused on the tips of my pink nipples. They gave me away, already standing tall like two tips of a mountain ready to be conquered. I watched as his head fell towards one of them, his mouth encircling it. I could feel his lips parting so the lens could catch him nipping at me. I jumped in my seat, pushing my chest closer towards his head. His mouth alternated between laps of a soft wet tongue and the tantalizing bite with his two front teeth.

I wanted to die from the feeling building inside of me. It was unlike anything I could have ever felt before. But he released me before I could go any further. I wanted to pull him back in, to wrap my legs and arms around him and keep him to myself, but, instead, I followed the script still vaguely engrained in my memory. I looked up at him, my eyes wide with anticipation. I meant every single word as I commanded,  “Teach me how to fuck, Wilder. I want you to show me how to do it.” I wanted to pretend this was good acting. But it was becoming a real and earnest request with each tender twist of my nipple and each rub of his knee into my still soaking panties.

He looked down at me, eyes blazing with fire. “You know I can’t do that, Samantha. What if your parents come home?” He was improvising lines, too, trying to get me to respond as best as I could. He was making a great partner in more ways than one.

I played along, thanking the stars I took that acting class my freshman year. “They’re gone all day, Wilder. We have the whole house to ourselves.” I was bold as the character took over me. I reached a hand out and touched his warm, bare chest. “But we don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to…”

He stood from his place on the lounge seat next to me, instantly finding my hand. His force pulled me to my feet. As I struggled to find a balance, his lips met mine like a burst of a comet. We went reeling backwards towards the brick home, my head hitting the side forcefully. But I didn’t have time to pay attention to it. Wilder’s mouth was powerful and warm as he dove deeper into the kiss. It was almost what I imagined it to be as a kid in that bed years ago. But he was much, much more than I could expect.

I could hear Daniel off to the side shouting commands, “Yes! More! Deeper!” I did as he requested, launching my tongue into his mouth as he spun my head in his hands back and forth to face the camera.

Part of me knew it was acting. Part of me hoped it wasn’t. This insatiable hunger overtook me as my body warmed up. That same, clenching feeling in my gut reappeared as it did yesterday when I watched him fuck another woman in the set’s bathroom. I was the star this time. I was the girl he was about to bed.

I felt his hand slip towards my ass, grabbing a handful under the swimsuit bottom. He was wanting, too. My leg brushed up against his erection he was attempting to keep hidden from the camera lens. It was too soon in the shoot for that. I tried to ignore it, but I was secretly pleased. I did that to him. Me, the first time porn star, managed to make a man like him go erect with just a kiss and a bit of a massage.

His arms shot up towards my shoulders, pulling away from the kiss. He grabbed my ponytail, twisting it around his arm and taking hold. He looked at me for a long second as he breathed heavily. I waited for him to say something, anything, but, instead, he clenched harder, causing me to cry out. He led me to my knees as they hit the gravel surrounding the side of the home. I looked up just in time to see his cock in front of me, his swim trunks hitting the ground with a soft thud. 

I knew what he wanted. I’ve had boyfriends ask me to give oral before, but I had always resisted. It just seemed so unclean, unnatural. My mouth wasn’t supposed to go around that. Still, Wilder looked at me as if there were no other option. His glowing blue eyes said not to question it, to not fight it. I was going to suck his cock or never leave this shoot.

So I opened my mouth just enough for him to force it in hard. I steadied myself from the lunge before placing my hands upon his hips where the hair around his cock formed small tuffs. He exhaled as he continued to hold on to my hair and head. I could feel him force me back, sliding my mouth up and down. He had to know that this was my first time, but at least he wouldn’t let me look like it.

After a few long strokes from the back of my mouth to the top of his cock, I got the rhythm down. I started to make it up, as well. I started taking almost his entire length into my mouth. I wanted to show him what I could do, what I was capable of giving him. He held on to the wall as I slowly went centimeter by centimeter deeper until I couldn’t take it any longer. I shot up, going fast, making the saliva in my mouth cover his cock with traces of me. When my mouth grew tired, my tongue did the work as it swirled around and around, making snake-like shapes around his shaft.

I could see his fingers press down harder into the stone as I looked up at him and a cameraman standing near his shoulder. My eyes danced in delight as his head cocked back. With hushed tones he called out towards me, “Fuck! This is good.”

I released him, this time cocking my head to the side and licking his balls. He let out another unearthly sound like nothing I'd heard before. I darted my tongue between each of them before taking the one in my mouth entirely while my hand kneaded at the other very gently.

Without warning, his grip on my hair tightened as he pulled away and towards the ground. He growled at me as he looked down. His body towering over mine, “I’m going to teach you things you never thought you would learn.” 

He picked me up by the stomach, removing my bikini bottoms in one swipe, and placing me on his shoulder. He walked me back towards the chair where he was just lathering me up in suntan oil. His hands positioned one of my legs over his shoulder as he dove his head down towards my legs. I closed my eyes tight, unsure of what to expect. But the touch of his wet tongue and hot mouth jolted me awake. I wanted to see it all. His brown hair rustling against my thigh, his fingers digging deep into stomach and the other finding my breast for something to hold onto and squeeze. I wrapped my arms around the chair to keep myself from pushing his head farther into my flesh.

I was hot and cold at the same time, my body feeling as though it could melt into a puddle and drip through the slats of the wooden chair. But, still, an icy freeze came over me as if to even it out. My feet and toes curling as his mouth danced faster, making more concentrated circles against my clit. I let go of everything inside of me, forcing myself to free every nasty thought, every wild desire. The feeling of ecstasy, or at least what I thought ecstasy was like, rushed over me as blood rushed to my thighs.

He licked at my gush of fluids, smiling almost delighted towards me as he said, “That was one. I can do it again.”

Wilder wouldn’t let me rest as he shouted, “Hold on!” He lifted me up and then flipped me over by the waist so my head faced his feet. My legs locked around his neck in a panic as he held tight to my waist and me around his hips. He began licking yet again, this time the angle completely different. His tongue was able to reach places it couldn’t previously, his mouth could blow hot, sweet air against my pussy.

The rush of blood to my head didn’t bother me. Instead, I took the opportunity to find his cock and lead it to my mouth. Two could play at that game. I went deep, feeling his body almost lurch backwards from the surprise. I arched my head up even more so I could follow his motions, allowing the waves to come over the both of us. I wanted him to come just like he made me. He grew harder and harder with each lick and suck.

But as he grew more resolute, I grew weaker. My legs began to shake as I used his weight to hold me up. I wanted to collapse. I wanted to rest. But his mouth was magic. His tongue was too powerful. He found my clit again and pressed all the right buttons just as they needed to be. I exploded again, crying out as his cock was still halfway in my mouth. The vibrations from my cry made him laugh into my skin. At least I knew he had a sense of humor.

I found the ground with my hands, indicating I was spent. I waited for Daniel to call cut. At least, I was told that after foreplay, we would get a break. But there was silence from the small crew. Everyone had just faded into the background and had let us do our thing. Even Wilder hesitated before scooping me into his arms and then laying down on the chair with me still cradled. My back rested up against his chest, my bottom unconsciously grinding softly against his hard cock.

He whispered into my ear as he kissed my hair, “That was two. I want number three.”

I pushed myself to my hands and knees and then spun myself so I faced him. I hovered my pussy over his cock as he sat up farther to watch. He licked his lips, clearly wanting what I was about to give him. Still, I lingered there, wanting to take more of this man, my stepbrother. What he had done leading up to this moment, how he had made me feel – it didn’t seem like it was crossing the line. But if I took his dick into my pussy, I was never going to look at him the same. He wouldn’t be my brother, the guy I grew up with, the person who taught me how to drive or navigate George Washington High School. This would be my lover.

It was wrong, but I inched down slowly, letting him watch as his cock broke through that barrier he wasn’t aware of. I felt him fill me up with his skin, his blood, his muscles. I let him start pushing his hips into mine as I moved slowly up and down, bouncing gently. My breasts followed the motion as my arms instantly shot up to them. I fingered my own nipples, wanting to feel even more.

Wilder sat up fully, bringing my body into his as his hands grabbed onto my ass, his short nails finding a way to dig marks into my skin. And then I felt it; it was a sting, a slap, a white hot amber. He had slapped my ass as I was in mid motion. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I knelt there paused. He continued to push and pull into me, obviously not wanting me to stop. I started again, slower this time, unsure what was going to happen next.

This time, I leaned forward towards him, grabbing the chair’s back over his shoulder. I again felt his hand move quickly towards my ass before he hit me again. Whack! The sound was something straight out of a movie’s sound effects. But the mark on my skin that I was sure was turning pink or red was as real as it could be. I let out a gasp before I let the words slip out of my mouth, “Do it again…please…again.”

Whatever it was about my words or how I said it to him in a plea, whispering my inner most desires sent him into a frenzy. He sped up, pushing farther into me like a motor not able to quit. He hit me again, and again, and again. I felt powerless as if this weren’t what I should want, but the shock mixed with the sting gave me the most out of mind experience I'd ever had. I wanted him to do more, to punish me for being his sister, for not telling him who I was.

His hand rose higher, smacking my ass harder for the fourth and fifth time in a fast, unpredictable pace. I continued to cry out with my orgasm. It burst through me with one last whip. I lowered myself backwards, towards his feet, his cock still linked and buried deep in me, him still moving in and out, as fast as ever. I mustered my strength to join him, wrapping my arms around his neck. His mouth had opened a bit as he moved his glare from my tits to my face. He took in my eyes, dazed and glossed from the third orgasm as he said firmly, “Again.”

Wilder bounced me higher, forcing me to move into the air again. He wasn’t going to let me quit. Not today, not ever. I was growing close again, impossibly so. Four times seemed impossible, but I couldn’t think clearly. All I could feel was him vibrating underneath me and my need to scream something, anything out.

As he let out a huge gust of air, his body flying backwards towards the chair, and me falling with him, I said it. I called out, “Will!”

Chapter 4: Past Haunts

I was hearing things now. This girl’s body was so unbelievably good, I could swear she called out Will as she came. But that would be crazy. No one, not even Julie, knew my real name. That’s how it works in this industry. You do your job, you occasionally make an acquaintance, and you never ask for more details than what was needed.

And my history was just one of those things I wouldn’t let anyone touch.

I locked eyes with this girl as she finished. She was exploding all over my cock, which was pulsating back inside of her. The condom I slipped on when we switched positions was filling with my semen the more and more she cried out.

But, that’s not how it usually goes. I’m honestly lucky if I cum these days. So much sex can totally take away from your ability to pop your cork. And when the girls just become a passing haze of the same old tits and spray tan, there isn’t much to even hold your interest. That’s why this Kylie girl was getting my attention today. She wasn’t the same as the others. She was fresh. She was pure. She was something familiar without being tired and done. And I wanted more of her.

Daniel called out cut from behind me. The cameras and gear instantly fell by the men’s waysides as everyone looked like they needed a collective deep breath. Kylie slowly stood up. She was off-balance, totally unsure of what to do now that it was over and complete. I watched as she looked down at me and opens her mouth. I wanted to hear her speak. I wanted her to say something to me after all that.

But I broke the silence, “They may need us to reshoot something. You might want to go clean up in the talent bathroom and then come out again.” It was stupid. I had no idea why I felt like I had to hold her hand through this. None of the other girls were so hesitant on their first day. In fact, most jumped in as if this was their lifelong dream, one they couldn’t wait to fulfill. It was when they got started that their stage fright kicked in or the reality of the situation set in.

I had seen my share of girls walk away. But Kylie stayed. Kylie went round for round, toe to toe. She didn’t wait for instructions or cues. She didn’t need to be placed or to have the makeup artist jump in for touch ups or pat downs. She treated it as if she were actually making love to someone she had known for many years.

Kylie nodded at me passively and then marched off towards the bathroom. I watched her walk towards the robes and instantly cover herself up. It was as if she realized her body was sacred again. She did a slow trot towards the bathroom, her face pointed straight towards the ground as she avoided one of the cameraman’s congratulations.

I sat up myself. The hot Nevada sun was baking me on this chair. I hadn’t noticed how red my skin was getting despite having a pretty decent tan. I noticed Daniel’s sunburn on the tip of his nose as he sits next to me, flipping through his clipboard of notes. But the pages were empty.

“What’s left? What needs to be reshot?”

“Nothing.” He said low, in complete disbelief.

I stopped myself as I asked, “Wait. What? You don’t want to add in some action, change any positions?” It wasn’t that I wanted to do the extra work or stay on set later than I had to. I was just used to at least an hour more of fucking as I got told to add in more foreplay or to take her from behind. There were sometimes issues with camera angles or a girl wiggling too much when I give her oral.

“No. That’s just it. We discussed it and none of us think you should redo that. It’s going to be a straight scene. No cuts. No edits. That’s it. We’ll edit her cries out in post production so she screams Wilder instead, but that’s about it.” He looked at me as if he were as confused as me.

I ran my hand through my hair as I lay back in the seat again. I wanted to ask him to redo it, to give me another shot with her. I could do better. I needed to give her better. I could show her things she wouldn't have known. I could give her more orgasms on top of the four I ordered her to have. But most importantly, I had to have her again. I had to feel her tight pussy bounce up and down on my cock while her breasts spun in small rotations. I wanted to watch her head tilt back when she came and smell her bounty the moment she burst.

Even thinking of it got me hard as I quickly grabbed my trunks off of the ground where I discarded them. Daniel stood and walked off to where Kylie was now waiting behind the glass. I could sense they know one another. She was standing close enough to him to lean on him for security, but she was also at an arm’s distance and I knew she didn’t trust him either. He put his hand on the small of her back and I watched as she squirmed away deftly. At least I knew there was nothing happening there.

I wanted to follow her up the stairs, but Julie caught me off-guard, holding onto my arm as I passed her. She cooed, “That was amazing, Wilder. Even I was turned on. I may even go home and get out the toys.”

She was the last person I wanted to talk to, but I knew I couldn’t shake her. That’s just not how we operated. “Thanks for the compliment,” I offered as I tried to walk away. “But that wasn’t all me. The girl’s good.”

“A little too folksy for me. Apple pie is only fresh for a while, after all. She’ll grow old after a few more takes and shoots.” She walked towards the small buffet of food and drinks sitting out on a table near the door as I shot up the stairs, hoping to get a glimpse of her.

She was in the makeup room, talking to Elise as she brushed through that long ponytail of hers. I pressed my ear to the door, hoping to hear what she had to say.

“Was I okay? I mean, I really don’t care, but if I’m gonna be forced to do this, I want to at least look good.” She was quiet, almost mousey.

“You were absolutely brilliant. It looked like you and Wilder had been lovers for years by the way you two looked at one another.”

She hesitated. I could see her take a look into the mirror as her eyes widened. She sighed and then turned again towards Elise as she packed up her gear. “Is it always like this? Are all the guys that good?”

“No, and that’s what I’m saying to you. I’ve been doing porn makeup and hair for so many years now. I never see them do a shoot in just one take or with the leads picking and choosing positions like you two did. No one said a word after you two started going. We just let you guys do your thing. That is special. Don’t expect that for every time.”

“It was all him,” she muttered under her breath as she examined the strands of her hair.

“It was you, too. You looked like a pro. I’ve never seen it look more natural. Did you really cum four times?”

I saw her smile. It crept up on her face starting at the corners of her pink lips and then lifting at the corners. She gave a hint of her teeth as she nodded emphatically. Her face turned a soft rosy red as she coyly looked back down.

My dressing room was empty as I quickly grabbed my helmet, jeans, and t-shirt. After getting dressed, I ran downstairs towards my motorcycle parked out by the door. I normally hated riding after doing all-day shoots, but I needed to get this out of my system and the open road and the free air was just what I required.

The sun was still shining down on the road as the strip grew closer into view. Whenever I saw the neon lights and the painted signs, it took my breath away for just a moment – just as it did when I first drove into the city six years ago. I wanted to follow that path today as I made a quick turn towards The Lion’s Head.

It was only two when I arrived, yet the parking lot was full of pickup trucks and bikes of all styles. Men were standing outside, smoking a cigarette with a buddy as they refused to say a word. I nodded my head at them as I entered into the dark and damp smelling dive. I made out the sound of the jukebox that was playing Johnny Cash’s cover of “Hurt” over the noise of clinking glasses and running water.

Max stood behind the bar. He was still the same after all these years – bald head, flannel shirt cut up at the arms, and tattoos lining his neck and chest. I put down a five dollar bill as I pointed to a bottle of whiskey. He silently poured me a shot before taking my money to his cash register. As he turned, he lowered himself towards me and said, “The boys are here, Hill and the gang. They’ve been looking for you since the last time y’all were here.”

His eyes darted towards the back room. A sign said “Storage,” but anyone who had been in The Lion’s Head knew the back room was reserved for Max’s more VIP clients – the groups and clubs that run Vegas’ underground. I spent many nights in that room, held up, strung up. I wasn’t planning on going back, though, at least not tonight.

I shot my whiskey quickly, turning my back towards the room in hopes of not being spotted. The sooner I could get out of here, the better I’d be. I left Max a couple bucks for his trouble as I headed back out towards the door. I only made it a few quick steps before a hand grabbed me by the shoulder, returning me back to my seat.

“Well, if it isn’t Wilder, boy! How you been man?” Hill was eager and excited, but his words were slow and disjointed. It was as if he were trying to piece his mind back together as fast as he could.

“I’m good, Hill. I’m just heading out.” I gave him my hand, hoping he was doped up just enough to let me pass without argument. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Like hell you’re going anywhere. Get on back there with us. We’ve got some talking to do.” He spun on his heel, knocking himself down on the wooden bar. “Max! Max! Grab us another bottle. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

I groaned as Max obeyed, passing a bottle of golden liquid over the tabletop and to Hill’s waiting hands.

Hill kicked the door in with his foot, laughing as it swung wildly. “Look, boys, who's here! It’s our good friend Wilder. Someone pour him a drink.” 

Orlando reached out an arm to embrace me tightly. He was already stoned and out of it. I could tell by the way his eyes seemed to focus in and out on the lights and the movements of everything else but me. He stood up from his place at the leather sofa. Another man handed me an over-poured glass. I had no choice. I was in it now.

I listened as the guys talked about their prospects and their clients. Business was booming in Sin City. It always had been. The men were diversifying soon, though. Cocaine wasn’t doing much for the tourists looking for something different, something dangerous. I knew what was coming next, but I still clenched my jaw as Orlando spoke to himself as if no one could hear him, “Horse. We gotta start moving our supply of Horse.”

Instantly, my mouth began to water.

“Orlando’s got a point, man. Black Tar is in with the celebs and high rollers. We got a whole market waiting for us.” The man in the seat across from me was ticking, his head bobbing awkwardly from one side as his mouth struggled to not tremble with the rest of his body.

Hill, who was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room like a shaman ready to start a meditation, raised his arms towards the air. He conducted the room, requesting everyone chime in on their opinion. No one disagreed. No one tried to argue. He got to me, and I was at a total loss. So, instead, I nodded my head and looked down at my arms. The old marks were still there even after a year of being out of use.

Hill stood up and walked towards a black duffel bag tucked beneath the matching lounge chair. He pulled out bags from a small, hidden pocket and tossed it to each of the dealers. “This was a trial, boys. Each of you gets one dose. I got needles for those who need it.”

The men stood, congregating around him like bees to honey as he handed out white sterile packets with needles and latex rope. Each clenched to their bit of heroin as if it were precious cargo. But I didn’t join them. I placed my packet on the couch where I sat and tried to sneak back out the door.

As I slipped out, Orlando, again, caught me by the arm. He might have been stoned, but he was cognizant of what I was trying to do. He warned me with his low, dark voice, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You know what Hill will do to you.”

I walked back to the bag holding my spot on the throne. One of Hill’s men handed me a syringe with a peeled back label. So many parts of me wanted to shoot up with the rest of them, to erase the pain, to numb the high I still had after my encounter with the new girl on the shoot, to continue pushing back the memories. I looked back down at the needle, sharp and new, ready to inject, and I took a deep breath. Sometimes temptations were worth giving in to. 

Chapter 5: Raw Footage

Sirens rang out in the distance. I knew I should wake up, but the thought of Kylie’s eyes lingering in a blue lagoon somewhere in the distance held me hostage to the couch I was resting on. Still, the piercing noise grew louder. Kylie’s eyes were fading and I was being dragged back to a memory of what it was like always running from those sounds of police sirens chasing me, hunting me down.

I slowly shook myself awake, forcing my eyes to open. They were heavy, weighed down from the day before. I looked around, expecting to see a room full of the guys I left with half slumped over their chairs. But the room was empty. All that was left in this seedy, rundown apartment was me and a bunch of used needles, tin foil, and empty bottles of hard liquor. No sight of the men. They knew better than to wait around.

I sat up and reach for one of the vodka bottles. My throat was killing me, but there was nothing left but a few stubborn drops to quench my thirst. As I stumbled towards the kitchen, trash crackled under my feet. The place hasn’t been decent in years, I thought. Well, at least not by someone who actually lived in this apartment. Now it was basically a drug den for Hill’s gang and people like me who keep getting sucked back into it.

As I sucked down some water left in a plastic cup, I studied my arm. I saw the old marks, pale and some purple. The veins around them looked tired and bruised. Each scar and little pinprick was associated with a memory that was too hard for me to think of and too distant for me to actually remember if I tried.

Even last night was a blur, but I felt different. In my head, I remembered the guys handing me a needle and some tar, but me refusing. At one point, I worried they’d hold me down, but I convinced Hill to let me stand guard and drive sober. I stuck to the drinks instead as the rest of the men shot up around me. Once we made it to the safe house, I drank my weight in liquor, knowing it was the only way to stop my hands from shaking and giving in to the daemons I ran from.

At one point, I crashed. Too much vodka, whiskey, and beer would do that to you. Only Hill remained awake, chuckling to himself as the visions continued to come in and out, slowing his brain. I remembered my eyelids closing as he approached me, standing over my place on the couch. He had said something to me, but I was too far gone to comprehend or to pay attention. All I wanted was to find myself wrapped in Kylie’s arms, to feel her skin pressed against mine, to feel the weight of her breasts in my hand.

The sirens grew louder, and I became aware of where I was and what was happening. I needed an escape that wasn’t through the front door. I didn’t have time for that one. I ran as fast as my shaking legs could take me to the back of the small apartment. There was a back exit leading to an old metal fire escape. I was only four floors up, but the height got me instantly. I held on to the bar as I shuffled down a flight of stairs. The sounds of boots kicking in the apartment’s front door pounded behind me.

Everything was screams and shouting as I got desperate. As soon as I landed on the third floor, I spun myself over the rail, jumping down off the fire escape to the concrete parking lot. My legs buckled underneath me as the blow of the fall hit hard on my boots. Still, I steadied my balance and took an account of my body. No breaks. No sprains. I could run, as long as my throbbing head didn’t slow me down.

I wove through the parked cars, most clearly abandoned for years, their tires long gone, their windows broken through, some spray-painted over with gang signs. I hid behind an old Jeep as I watched a team of police dressed in head to toe black, their guns pointed in front of them, survey the lot.

I’m not getting caught again. I’m not going back there. I was promising myself that this wasn’t going to be my end. I had to get back to my home. I had to get back to work.

As I waited out the cops, I planned the rest of my escape. The only way out of the locked parking lot was coming from the entrance the police just came through. There would be backup, for sure, nearby. But it was my only option. I scanned the cars for something, anything that could pass. A red, 1990s car caught my eye, no graffiti, two low (but not flat) tires, and the hood was still in place. It was my best bet by far.

I lowered myself towards the ground and scooted towards the car. The cops were still manning the fire escape, waiting for the all clear from above. It gave me just enough time to reach into the hood, pop it, and play with the wiring. The car started up immediately. I ran towards the door, opening it in one swoop. The cops on the escape turned my way, startled from the sound.

“It’s just me, officers.” I waved up my hands towards them, as if I'd been there the whole time. I motioned towards one of the apartments where the lights were on inside. “I need to get to the grocery store for my lady. Can I get out of here, or should I wait?”

One of the men wearing a Kevlar vest on the outside of his uniform said something to his partner before nodding in my direction. I got in the car and pulled out of the space, praying to God that this car would hold up at least a few more blocks. I managed to get it out of the lot and into the alley. Four cop cars lined the gravel street. I waved from them as I slowly passed. I was down the entire length of the street before I saw a cop waving wildly at me, yelling at me to stop.

Shit. Shit! Shit! I pounded my hands against the steering wheel in defeat as I pulled the car over and lifted my arms up above my head. The officer approached the driver’s side, his hand on the gun in its holster. But to my surprise, there were no others following him. He was alone and walking towards the door without hesitation. I rolled down the window as he shouted to me, “Son, that taillight of yours is out. I’m not going to give you a ticket or anything, but go get it fixed when you can. Got it?”

I smiled wide, flashing my teeth at him, “Yes, sir. Thank you for letting me know. I don’t drive this old beater too often.”

“You be safe, got it? That apartment you’re living in isn’t in the best shape. Some seedy characters living around you may make it even more dangerous. Stay out of trouble and move out as soon as you can.” He was sincere. I had met cops like him – decent guys just doing their jobs, but they were certainly few and far between. I reached out my hand to shake his before driving away once more.

This time, I made the turn and headed back in the direction of the Lion’s Head. I ditched the car about three blocks away on a residential street and then walked it back towards the bar. I breathed a huge sigh of relief to see my red Harley still in the same place I left it.

As I saddled up, I spotted Max, just exiting his car. He was dressed in the same flannel shirt, a black apron tied around his wide waist. He shouted at me, his arm raised, “What the hell happened to you, kid? You look like shit!”

“You know exactly what happened, Max. Hill got to me.” I fidgeted with my helmet, trying not to look up to him. Max had known me a long time, long enough to know my story better than most. The way he looked at me with disappointment in his eyes pretty much said it all.

“Please tell me you didn’t.” His arms were raised up in complete disbelief and disappointment. He was the one who got me sober last year. He forced me to come to terms with what I was doing to myself and the lives I was destroying. I still remembered the first time he pulled me into the office, screaming and hollering at me about needing to make a change. He threw me an apron and told me to work it off. I spent the rest of the night alternating between the bathroom, the bar, and the office as I fought the withdrawal. I did that routine for almost two months before I was ready to go back to porn. 

“I didn’t shoot up, if that’s what you mean. I managed to get out of that.” I placed the helmet on my lap as I turned back towards him, “I’m not going down that path anymore, Max. I’ve got bigger fish to fry, worse things to focus on.”

He looked up towards the bar and then back again in my direction, “You know where to find me if you run into that shit again. I ain’t afraid of Hill or the dealers.”

“You should be. I heard them yesterday talking about dealing heroin.” I listened to him as he scoffed and kicked a rock out of his direction. “Hopefully they don’t come around your bar too much after that.”

Max walked away without another word. He was the kind of man who knew when enough had been said and kept it at that. I appreciated that type of person. Working in porn, you rarely meet someone truly introverted. Kylie was my first. She kept her head down; she was exactly what she presented herself to be. The cover matched the story – at least I hoped it did.

I revved up the bike and pulled myself to the turn. I could turn right and go home and sleep it off. I could slip back into the dream where Kylie stared at me from a distance, all knowing, all wanting. Or I could turn left and do something about it. I could see her in person, experience her again for myself.

I chose left, towards Daniel’s studio. Bright Bodies Studio was located in a sterile office building, twenty stories off the ground. I had been there once before, the day I signed my contract with him for forty films. But I still remembered the process, the parking lot, the receptionist with the bright red lips and the too short skirt.

When she asked me if I had an appointment, I lied and told her yes. She stood up, tugging at her pencil skirt from behind. I stole a few glances as the fabric continued to ride up her leg. Daniel certainly had a type. Busty, tan, and out of place looking. I could instantly see why he hired the girls he did.

I listened to the girl as she announced my name. Daniel resisted, both going back and forth on what to do with me. I was unexpected. It wasn’t on his calendar. I'd gotten her in trouble. Still, he walked out of the office, his hands on his hip as he approached me. “What are you doing here, Wilder? I’ve got no time before I need to get to the club.”

“I need to talk to you. It can’t wait.” I was insistent. I needed to know more about Kylie, and I wasn’t going to leave until he gave me what I wanted.

He turned silently, back into his office. I followed at his heels, shutting the door quickly behind him. I took a look at the office. It was modern, sterile, cold. It was nothing what I expected. It was full of white furniture, white desks, silver and chrome accents. Some books on filmmaking sat on a twisting bookcase. And the window was covered with a white velvet shade.

He sat in a silver and black lounge chair, leaning back as he asked, “So what do I owe this pleasure, Wilder?”

“I want to work with Kylie again.” I just spat it out. I knew what I wanted and that was more time with her.

“That’s not going to be possible.” Daniel was rummaging through some papers sitting in a black folder. He pulled one out and studied it before adding, “She’s only booked for eight films, and I’ve already planned out the stories and booked the guys. Too bad we can’t have her on permanently. She obviously has some chemistry with you…and those tits. Man. Perfection. You don’t get that natural look with these other girls.”

“When were you in the business of doing such short contracts? I know Julie still owes you at least twenty more films before she’s out of your pocket.” My first forty was small, a short deal as he called it at the time. It was enough to pay down my debts to dealers and make a small living. Once my first forty were complete, I was hooked for another two hundred.

“What can I say? I had mercy on her. She needed some quick cash and had the look I wanted for a few films, so she’s only signed for the rest of the month.” He put his hands to his mouth, studying me. I wouldn’t blame him. I never showed interest in an actress or the business before. And me showing up at this location was suspicious.

I offered a solution, “Then trade me out with one of the guys. I’ll take the lower pay. Whatever. Just get it done.”

He continued to just stare at me, watching me for some hidden sign. He wrote a note with a black marker, crossing a line through a name on a sheet. “I’ll make that deal with you, Wilder. But only because I was just reviewing the raw film from the shoot yesterday. I’m not going to deny that you two are going to make me rich. This porn is going to go viral. Even the two minute preview we put on the site has already 500,000 views. And the advance buys are through the roof. If you can make that happen again, then it’ll be worth canceling on a guy’s contract.”

“You’ve got the footage already?” I hesitated before asking, “Can I watch it?”

He turned his screen in my direction and walked towards the door. “Suit yourself, man.” He walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving me with the blank screen. I reached over the desk and used the mouse to click the play button and then sat back to watch.

I listened to her voice as she recited the lines right on cue, her eyes narrowed in at the right moments, her hands robotic but still looking natural. She wasn’t comfortable with the acting and the idea that she should be the seductress, you could tell. Luckily for her, no one ever watches these things for the acting.

Then came the kiss. It was out of nowhere, the camera shook as they responded to me throwing her up against the wall. Our hands groped and felt at one another. By the time we started the 69, I found myself more turned on than before. It was bringing me back to those moments when our bodies had connected. I watched her face as she orgasmed with fascination. She wasn’t like anything I'd ever had. And I doubt I’d find her again.

I had one shot with her. One film to get to the bottom of her, to figure out who she was, and why I couldn’t get those hazel eyes out of my mind.

Chapter 6: The Numbers Game

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The sound of my alarm was going off over and over again. I could hear pounding on my door, someone screaming my name along with some profanities. “Get up, Kylie! Your fucking alarm has been going off for an hour now!”

I reached a tired, heavy arm across my body, pulling it from the depths of my covers. The alarm’s incessant buzzing stopped as soon as I managed to find the raised button on the boxing clock near my pillow. I flickered my eyes open as I tried to adjust my eyes to the dim lamp light of my dorm room. I could see the sun streaming through the cracks of the closed blinds and make out the sound of the next door neighbor’s television playing some soap opera where an older man was threatening the life of his daughter’s scheming boyfriend…

Soap opera! SHIT! It was Monday, and I know from experience that my neighbor never watches her soaps in the morning. She watches the news. I turned my head quickly towards the clock I just slammed. It’s 10:38. I was already eight minutes late for class, and I hadn’t even managed to get dressed yet. I slipped out of my top bunk bed and landed hard on the cold floor. My clothes from the day before were still sitting on the chair as I slipped yesterday’s jeans on without hesitation. I used the hair tie from around my wrist to tie up my messy, frizzy hair into a big bun upon my head before grabbing my bag and running out the door of my dorm room.

Lana was already gone, probably sitting in my seat at class. I was usually the one begging her to go, warning her what would or could happen if she decided to skip for the fortieth time that semester. But today, she let me sleep in. Probably because she spent all night scolding me for being so distant and tired. I wasn’t up for the same old clubs and people with the painted faces and the bulging muscles. It just didn’t appeal to me after the shoot. And Daniel graciously didn’t schedule me for a shift at the bar after the whole bottle accident.  

Luckily for me, class was in Marker’s Hall, only a few blocks from campus. As I streamed in from the double-sided glass doors, I checked my phone: 11:09. There were only about twenty minutes left in my least favorite class of all – Statistics in Economics.

I opened the big wooden door slowly, peeking my head in first to try to scope out an indiscreet seat in the back. The lecture hall was long and wide, set up just like a theater and less like a classroom. There was a chair under the balcony where the lights don’t shine that brightly. A few students, including Lana, snoozed or dazed away out of the glare of the professor. I took a deep breath and sneak in, folding my body in half so I wasn’t spotted behind the back row of chairs.

Once I crossed the aisle, I threw my textbook and notebook on the desk and slid into the seat. No one has noticed me except for the group of tired, angsty sleepers. Lana stirred behind me, and then started hissing at me. “Psssss! Pssssssssss!” I turned around towards her and give her an upset glare. She was the reason why I was late. She couldn’t even bother to wake me up to get to class on time.

“Kylie!” she urgently said, “Kylie!”

“What?” I replied back, keeping my lips closed and my eyes focused ahead of me to the screen where a picture of a math equation waits to be copied.

“What are you doing here? I was letting you sleep in.” Her voice was concerned, but I could hardly bother with that.

“I didn’t ask you to let me sleep in. I never, ever miss class, Lana. Some of us actually care about graduating and getting a freakin’ job outside of a bar.” I instantly regretted it. I knew Lana cared. She may have cared more than most people at the school, but she hid it under a mask of makeup and tight dresses. Lana wanted to become an entertainment manager, and she knew that beauty and confidence came with it. But sometimes I wondered how much of the brains and know-how she was sacrificing by concentrating on the artificial.

“I’m sorry, Kylie. I am. I just thought you would appreciate a couple extra hours after the weekend you’ve had.” She was right. I needed it.

I had been so dog tired after the shoot, and the extra burden of knowing that my naked body would be all over the web in a few short hours didn’t make the situation any better. But I hadn’t told her about that. I hadn’t told her I was doing porn or that my stepbrother was my co-star. I'd lied and said Daniel was making me come in during the off-hours to pick up a few extra shifts and work in the back. If she only knew.

I sighed, giving in to her apologies. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to be a good friend. God knows I didn’t have many of them. I had always been too nerdy, too shy, too poor to fit into a category of friends. But, for some reason, Lana had always been okay with me and my t-shirt collection and my lack of Saturday night plans.

I asked her, “What did I miss? Did he assign anything for this week?” Professor Lamity was always giving out projects at the beginning of class so if you missed or came in late, you’d be screwed.

“A group project. You’re with me, Daphne, Angelica, and Jackson. We’re meeting at the coffee shop on campus afterwards to discuss who is working on what part. Are you going to join us?”

I rolled my eyes. My least favorite projects were always the ones where you had to depend on someone else to get their half done. All my life, anytime I'd depended on someone, they just disappointed me instead. Still, my grade in this class mattered more to me than anything. I nodded that I would go and returned my attention to the board once more for a discussion on statistics used in international trade.

After class, I followed Lana out of the building and into a coffee shop I’ve passed a few times before. We both ordered small coffees and waited for the rest of the group to show. When Daphne walked in, Lana gave her a long hug. I had seen her before outside of class. She was usually at the parties Lana forced me to go to. Angelica was a cheerleader for the football team and looked the part, as well. She was lean and strong with bright blue eyes and the most gorgeous red lips I’ve ever seen. And Jackson fit in well with his stylish blue scarf and his tight denim jeans. If anyone was out of place here, it was me in my old scruffy jeans and the same white button up shirt I wore a few days in a row.

Lana launched right into the conversation without hesitation. “So, Angelica. I hear you’re dating Tad Overland. What’s it like to be sleeping with a potential NFL draft pick?”

Angelica giggled. You could tell by the way she batted her eyes and blushed just so that she got this question often enough to practice. “Oh, Tad is great. He’s a real sweetheart. It’s been two years so we’ll see if we keep seeing each other after the teams start calling again.” She winked towards the girls as they all laugh on cue.

“I never see him at the club I work at, so he must be doing you right,” Lana noted.

“Yeah, he’s pretty loyal. He knows I’ll cut his balls off if he tries to stay. You don’t mess with a cheerleader!”

Jackson reached over and gave her a high-five as Daphne applauded.

Lana added, “That’s great. But I prefer to stay single. I can stray all I want, right, Daphne?”

Daphne smiled her way and nodded her head eagerly.  

“What about you, Kylie?” Jackson leaned over and gave me his attention as if we were on some talk show. “Single or taken?”

“Yeah, Kylie! I want to know about your run in with Eric the basketball player!” Lana had been dying for me to fill her in on what had happened with the bottle service. But I'd played it cool, not giving any details about his jerk friends or his roaming fingers.

“Eric Tombly? The Eric Tombly? You have to be kidding me!” Daphne was practically jumping in her seat.

“Don’t get too excited,” I said lowly. “Nothing happened between us. He’s just a rich asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“Then who made you come home with all that just-been-fucked hair and those doey eyes on Saturday?” Lana wouldn't let up.

I could kill her if I didn’t love her so much. “No one did.” I took a deep sip of my simmering coffee, hoping someone would change the subject.

“She’s lying! She’s lying! Look how red she’s turning!” Jackson was eating this up. He loved being a part of this conversation.

I sat my cup down and made a plan. No one was going to stop asking me, so I offered a nugget to them, “Fine. I met a guy on Saturday afternoon named Wilder while I was working at the bar. He was cool, great guy, and we made out a bit. That’s it.”

“I don’t believe you.” Lana looked me up and down with a smile on her face. She was great at reading people, and I knew better than to try to test her. “Something else happened.”

“Nothing. We just made out a bit.”

Jackson butted in, “At least tell us what he looks like. Was he a good kisser? If you had fuck hair from kissing, I’m guessing he did a pretty good job.”

I let out an exasperated breath and let myself momentarily let my brain go back to three days ago, to that chair on the patio in the middle of a set. To the man with the wolf tattoo. My voice perked as I started, “He’s tall. At least six feet. He’s got shaggy brown hair – totally not my type but great for running your hands through. You can tell he works out, he’s fit, but he isn’t terribly muscular. He has a few scars around his arms and chest, but it just adds to his look. And he has the most beautiful blue eyes, like two fresh pools of water you can dive…”

I stopped, noticing the group. Lana was watching me with mouth agape. Jackson and Daphne are both hunched over the table, their hands pressed to their heads. And Angelica was smiling from ear to ear. On all four of their faces was a look of half disbelief and half praying it was true. I made my stepbrother out to be this God-on-Earth type.

After a beat, Lana leaned in, placed a hand on my shoulder and asked, “And how was the sex?”

“That’s it!” I was back to feeling put off. I had obviously not wanted to talk about this, but the four were like leopards waiting to pounce. I tried hard to keep my voice down to avoid attracting even more attention, “Seriously, Lana. Now, can we just get to this project? I’ve got class at one-thirty.” I hated being such an ass, but I wasn’t going to give them more than that, or worse, risk slipping that I slept with a man for money while others recorded it.

The four laughed hard, amused at my outburst. I was obviously the prude of the table, the best one to tease. I stood up, grabbing my phone. “My mom called. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” I left them still cackling to themselves as they talked about last week’s conquests and crushes as I redialed my mom’s cell phone. She had tried to reach me several times when I was sleeping, which could only mean one thing.

“Oh, Kylie! I’m glad you finally called me back. I need a favor.” My mother was elated, totally thrilled that I'd made some time for her.

But I knew the game. I knew how to read her before she even got a word in. I was prepared with an answer, “A favor? I’m guessing that you need some money again.”

My mother had been living on her own for the last three years, and before I graduated, she had struggled to pay rent in the tiny one-bedroom apartment we shared. She forced me to work all hours of the night, to take on babysitting jobs and tutoring sessions. But I really didn’t blame her. After Wilder’s father left her and refused to pay the alimony support they agreed on, she was left with absolutely nothing and no way to get a job or an income to support herself.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Kylie. You’re too smart for that. I’m short on rent by about $300. I haven’t had a hot meal in weeks and no one is hiring me through the cleaning service. I just need enough to get by.”

I wavered a bit. This was about the fifth time she’s asked me since I returned to UNLV, but I knew the circumstances. I knew she wasn’t the only person struggling to get by in this economy. She’s one of the reasons why I'm studying business in the first place – so I can start a company that employs women who had to stay home to raise and look after a family rather than go to college or work full time.

I let down my guard. I could never stay mad at her for long, not after what we had been through, “Mom, I can’t do that right now. I haven’t been making great tips at the bar.”

“Please, Kylie. I know I'm asking a lot from you. You shouldn’t be supporting me. I should be giving you money or paying for your tuition. But this is how it goes. Anything you could give me…anything…”

“Can you get a couple more days? I’ll see if I can pick up some shifts with the po—" I caught myself before I could reveal too much, “People I know from school for some babysitting gigs.”

“Thank you honey. Thank you!” She was truly grateful.

I knew it wasn’t easy for her to ask, and the more frequent it became, the less comfortable she was. I lightened the subject by bringing up our inside joke, “I guess I’ll just have to marry rich faster. Do you know of any princes in town?”

She laughed slightly, letting go of the awkwardness of the conversation. She pivoted a bit, asking me, “So, are there any guys in your life? You never talk about that, and I’m dying to know.”

“There’s this guy. I met him at work. He’s everything I’m usually not looking for: tall, dark, great eyes.”

My mom always had a way of getting things out of me. Unlike Lana, she didn’t push or pry. She made it easy for me to talk about Wilder as if he was just another crush and not my stepbrother.

“Oh my! Does he have a name?” I could tell, even over the phone, she’s beaming. I hadn’t talked about a boy since junior high school.

I hesitated a bit, not sure how to proceed. “Wilder. His name is Wilder.”

“Really? Wilder?” The humor was gone. Something was bothering her. “Be careful. The last I heard, Will was going by that name. He’s into some bad stuff – drugs, dealing, stealing. At least, that’s what Jeff’s sister told me when I ran into her at the store. Sounds like no one has spoken to him in over a year, and he hasn’t even bothered checking in or going to the old house.”

“I’m sure it’s not him. I think I would be able to recognize my own stepbrother.” I was a horrible liar. I knew I was. I began to panic. What if she knew? What would she say to her daughter if she found out she had slept with her son through marriage?

“Promise me you’ll be careful, Kylie. I know you like to think you’re going to be okay and that you can handle it all. But it wasn’t true for Will. If you get yourself in trouble or it goes over your head, swear you’ll walk away. Swear it!”

I knew my mother hurt. What Will had done to this family still made me shake in rage when I thought back on it all. But my mom was the victim, and she wasn’t about to let me fall for it as well.

Still, she wasn’t there in the good times when Will would help me pick out an outfit for my first day of school or tell the neighborhood boys off when they called me, “Kyle Kylie” because I'd yet to grow breasts. She didn’t see how he put bandages on my knee when I crashed my bike or watch him as he held the steering wheel as I pushed the gas and brakes. She was too consumed in her marriage to Jeff to understand that behind the closed doors of our bedrooms, something much more was happening. And now, those feelings, no matter how inappropriate they may have been and seemed today, were coming back. Stronger than ever. 

I softly gave her an excuse, told her my study group was calling me back as I gave her my word. No matter how wrong it felt, no matter how good that wrong felt – I wasn’t going to give in again.

Chapter 7: Second Chances

After the long week I had – the group project, my mom and Lana pressuring me to give them more information about my “mystery man” – I should have been ready for the weekend. But I wasn’t. I was dreading it. Every day closer to the big red circle on my desk calendar was just one step towards another shoot, another shame.

When Saturday finally came around, I at least felt a bit better than my first round. Instead of nervously driving to the scene in complete silence to collect my thoughts, I played some music I thought would get me in “the mood” and actually spent some time doing my hair and prepping some makeup.

However, when I arrived on the new set, I was completely taken aback. This shoot wasn't going to be like last time with the comfortable home in the middle of a subdivision. This place was a cold, industrial building that had been abandoned long before. The inside wasn’t much better. Despite being Vegas, the wide-open space blew in a cold breeze that sent shivers down my legs. And the pitch-black look with the boarded up windows and the black and silver machines covered in dust and debris didn’t help matters.

Daniel, however, didn’t pay it any mind. Instead, he sat in the middle of the room, a bullhorn in his lap and a stack of papers on a clipboard. I watched as he commanded the small crew of about ten men to his bidding. When he finally caught me, sulking in a far corner, he stood up slowly and approached me gently. Something about his total change in demeanor threw me off. This was the man who basically blackmailed me into porn over a couple of spilled bottles of champagne. If he was uneasy, I was going to be uneasy.

He handed me some papers off of the cupboard as he noted, “Much different from last time, right?” I nodded in agreement as he continued, “This was the location we use when we need to build a set. It isn’t much, but sometimes I think it’s better than the suburbs. No nosey neighbors to throw off our scent.”

“What set are you building?” I tried to peer into the small square the men were working on frantically, but the lights were too bright for me to pick up details except for a large, wooden desk planted next to a wall.

He replied nonchalantly, “It’s a classroom. You’re playing a naughty schoolgirl.”

I tried not to laugh out loud. After all, the teacher-student relationship was as cliché as the horny neighbor. While I may not have watched much porn in my life, I pretty much knew this was a standard storyline. But it must work to be so popular to be replicated over and over again.

“Don’t laugh. This one will have a twist to it.”

I grew nervous. I wasn’t one who liked or appreciated surprises. “A twist?”

“Well,” his hand reached for the back of his neck, massaging a sore spot as he searched for words, “first, you’re going to be doing some unconventional things…” He caught me as my eyes grew wide and I took a big step-back from him. I wasn’t ready for whatever unconditional meant in the porn world. “No, no. Nothing bad. Wilder will walk you through all of it. And if you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop and change it up. We’ve got Julie here to take over for some body shots.”

Everything he said went to a blur. I couldn’t focus past him saying Will’s stage name. I blurted out loud, unable to control my thoughts, “Wilder?”

“Yeah, that’s the other thing. See, that first shot you did with him, Wilder Girls, well it went viral. Mega viral. It’s pretty much the hottest thing out there. Everyone’s talking about it, especially you and Wilder together. So, we’re going to try this again and see if that magic happens.”

The magic? More like one sick person acting on a total wrong and awful wanting. If they only knew how fucked up this was.

I swallowed hard and looked out towards the empty space, “Okay. Where should I get changed then?”

Daniel pointed wordlessly to a black curtained off area where I could see Elise enter with a few pieces of costume in her arms. I walked towards her, leaving my producer/agent/capturer standing alone. I couldn’t bear to say another word to him. I just needed to go to a place where I could sort out the mixed feelings I was having. I didn’t know if I should feel the same sense of dread I did the first time around or if I should let this little piece of me that was jumping up and down in the pit of my stomach take over. But as I entered the dressing room, I allowed the littlest hint of a small smile to creep on my face.

Elise handed me the clothing, at least, what appeared to me as clothing. I wasn’t terribly surprised knowing the script. The costume consisted of a plaid skirt cut off just at the ass, a pair of black knee high stockings, glossy heels way too high to be believable for any teenager, and a white button down about two sizes too small for me and my bust. As I wiggled my way into it, I felt as if I were a sausage filling a casing.

I called out for Elise from behind my dressing curtain, “Do you have the bra out there? It’s missing. Or was this the kind of shoot where we’re just getting right to the point?” I waited for a reply for a few seconds before shouting out towards the other room, “Elise? Are you there?”

When no one replied, I snuck my head out. Sitting in my chair was the familiar tuft of brown hair. He was looking into the mirror, watching my expression go from shock to horror as I hid my near naked body behind the curtain as an impulse. My voice rose about three pitches higher than usual as I exclaimed, “What are you doing in here, Wilder?”

“I wanted to see you before we began.” I watched as the black curtain parted a bit and he slipped in. He’s as tall as I remembered, his imposing bother hovering over me as I covered my exposed breasts and skin with the length of my arm. Those blue eyes were flashing bright as ever like two blue beacons.

I stammered, totally unsure of what exactly was happening, “What – what – what did you need?”

He gave me a look that sent my arm from my chest to my side as he walked two steps closer. His body, dressed in a tight gray suit pressed against me, my head just barely hitting his chest. His arm reached towards my downcast face as his palm lifted my chin gently towards his waiting, wanting mouth.

As his lips hit me, I stumbled backwards, my hands grasping for something to hold onto. His lips were fire and ice and my body was caught in between. I felt him press into me, deeply holding me in place as I tried to match his passion. For a second, I forgot who he was, our past, or what was waiting for us in that cold set in the middle of a warehouse. For a second, we were just a girl and a guy coming together as one.

The door shut in the other room, causing him to back off. He gave me a wink before slipping out the curtain. I heard him say something to Elise before exiting.

She poked her head in and handed me the bra. “Getting to know one another, I see?”

“It’s nothing. It’s nothing.” I was shaking my head as I clipped the straps together and threw the white button up over me. But I knew it wasn’t nothing. I knew something was bringing us together like this. And it was my duty as the one in the know to tell him who he really was kissing when he took me like that. I had to let him know I'm his stepsister once and for all.

By the time Elise was done with my makeup and fake tan, Daniel was already impatiently calling for me from the set. I walked over nervously, ready to tear everything down with just a few words to Wilder. But there was no time. Daniel was placing us for the first scene, our intro where we set up the plot. I looked down at the few pages of lines Daniel gave me earlier, trying to think if what I'd planned to do was right.

The lights shone, the cameras rolled, and the scene started. I was sitting at a desk, surrounded by male extras dressed in a similar red flannel as me. Standing at a fake chalkboard decorated with drawings and equations was Wilder in his gray suit staring at me as he recited, “Miss Lee! Stop talking! I won’t warn you again.”

I fidgeted in my seat and turned my attention to one of the extras in the next desk. My script said to flash him my breasts when Wilder turned his back. I complied, unbuttoning my shirt quickly and then pulling it out and down. My breasts freed themselves of the shirt as the extra looked at me with a stiff, shocked expression. The whole room of boys turned and stared until Wilder turned around with Daniel’s instructions. He dismissed the class as the rest of the guys left. We were alone. Well, as alone as you could be on a porn set. But even with the cameras mere feet from where I sat in my prop desk at the front of the class, I felt like it was only me and Wilder, together at last.

He ran through his lines again, this time honing in his glare. “Miss Lee, I won't have that in my classroom. Do you hear me? If you want to act like that, you do it when class is dismissed.”

I twiddled the ends of my long, braided pigtails as I replied, “But, Mr. Wilder, you did dismiss class.” I stood up, not bothering to pull the back of my skirt up or to fix my blouse. Instead, I walked towards his desk tentatively and sat, waiting for his instructions. Daniel’s warning about a “twist” rings through my mind.

“I did not dismiss you, Miss Lee.” He looked frustrated, pent up. I knew it was only acting, but I allowed myself to believe he really was mad at me, that he really wanted me that badly. “Now I’m going to have to punish you.”

“Punish me, but—" I couldn’t finish my sentence. Before I could get the rest of the line out of my mouth, Wilder reached over, grabbing my breast in his hand.

He found my nipple through the bra and twisted hard. I screamed out in total shock as he continued to hold on. Under his breath he said, “We’re only just beginning, Miss. Lee. You’re going to pay for your actions in my class.”

I wanted to pull away, to scream cut, but the pain was sending shockwaves down my stomach and in between my thighs. I hated to admit I wanted more, but I needed to see what he had in mind. Wilder let me go after a few seconds. I jerked back a bit, just enough for him to grab me from the waist and to pull me in towards his chest.

I felt his breath against the side of my face as his hands reached for my ponytails. “For being such a bad student, I’m going to make sure you know what it's like to not be able to talk.”

He yanked me down to the ground as I fell to my knees with a thud. I slipped a bit as the silk knee highs make it difficult for me to balance. As soon as I could steady my hands to the ground, I looked up at Wilder. His pants were on the ground and his large, wide cock was right at my face level. I knew what he wanted me to do, but I still backed away. I wasn’t prepared for this.

He still had a hold on my hair as he pulled me forward. I lurched awkwardly as he placed his hand on my jaw and forced it open for me. “Take it,” he commanded as he stuffed his hard cock into my mouth, filling every bit of it. I gagged. He was too long to go this deep, but he continued.

I looked up at him as he broke character for a second. I could see him hesitate as he checked to make sure I was still with him, still playing my part. I gave his cock a flick of the back of my tongue to indicate that I was ready.

Steadily he began to rock as I remembered what it felt like the first time to have him in me, to want to play with his skin, to taste his sweet pre-cum tempt me. He smelled like what a man should. It was earthy and rich. It brought me back to when he lived in the bed across from mine. Even as a teenager, I loved to smell him. Now I know why.

He sped up, plowing into me deeper. I coughed a bit, but then steadied myself. Each new push was a way of testing me out, checking my abilities. I was determined to get him there, to get him to his breaking point. I knew he couldn’t come in me, but I wanted to leave him wanting. I wanted Wilder to give anything for him to fill my mouth with his cum and to watch me swallow it in one delicious gulp.

I felt him hold tighter and pull my hair back and away. He needed me to stop, but I couldn’t. I smiled, flashed my eyes at him and the camera near his hip as I showed my teeth and gently pressed the tip to his cock. He let out a surprised growl before pulling me away, pushing me back towards the ground.

“You naughty, filthy cunt!” he screamed at me, and I knew he meant it. I was surprising him both in good ways and in bad. And I wasn’t done yet.

Wilder recovered and picked me up from my spot on the ground, my face looking towards the cement. When he yelled loudly, “You’re going to pay with that” all I could do to answer was hum, almost delightedly.

“Please, Mr. Wilder.” I should have been begging for mercy, but all I could do was ask for more. 

He sat down on a desk and placed me on the wood top. It was cold against my bare stomach and chest, causing me to shoot upwards. He pushed me back down, ordering me to stay still. “You’re going to answer every single one of my questions. You get one wrong and I’m going to hit you. You got it, Miss Lee?”

As I answered that I understood his instructions, a prop man ran towards his direction and handed him a small wooden ruler, the same kind I used in school. My heart dropped as I thought of what he was about to do to me. I wanted to flee, but my legs wouldn’t let me if I tried. I felt the wood scrape against the inside of my thigh, pressing against my sex and tapping on my clit. He was ready and, by the state of my soaking wet panties, so was I.

“Tell me the capital of Wyoming.”

I drew a blank, totally unsure of what to do. At this point, I couldn’t even tell you if Wyoming was a state – all I wanted was for him to stop teasing me with the damn ruler. I whispered, “I don’t know, sir.”

He placed the sharp, tracing edge of the ruler under my white undies and pulled them down, causing a slight cut in my skin. “Gah!” I called out before he hit me in the same place the little sliver had started to bleed. I bit down on my lip, my hands curling around the desk’s side. I felt his hand caressing where he just hit, bringing the blood back.

He stood up from the desk’s chair and around where I lay. I could see him undressing as his suit coat and shirt fall to the ground. In his hand dangled the tie as he pulled my hands together behind my back and made a quick knot. His cock pressed against my ass as he laid his body on top of mine and whispered into my ear. “Second question: who was our third president?”

I knew this answer, but I wanted – needed – to experience this for real. So I bit my tongue and played along. “George Washington?”

I wasn’t even finished before the ruler smacked twice under my thigh causing me to spring up and forward. He grabbed my breasts as I stood, massaging them with his hands. “That’s so wrong, Miss Lee. So wrong” His thumbs circled my nipples while one of his hand slipped down my stomach towards my pussy. I could feel his leg spreading mine apart as I followed his lead. He was in charge. I couldn’t protest if I tried.

His hand played with the outside of my folds, gently pressing and circling, causing me to lean back into him. We were in a strange dance, his fingers dangerously close to slipping inside of me, my legs and hips begging him to do so.

But he stopped, suddenly pushing me back into the desk with a slight slam. I couldn’t catch my balance with my arms still tied. He gave me his third question, “Where is the clitoris located?”

Before I could say a word, he was entering me from behind. I screamed, “Mr. Wilder! Mr. Wilder!” as he pumped his cock in and out slowly. I tried to weasel my way out of the binds around my wrists, but he was an expert at knot tying. I couldn’t get out if I tried harder.

Wilder, breathless and husky, laughed to himself before asking, “What did I say about talking, Miss Lee?” I could see the shadow of the ruler lift into the air just milliseconds before it hit me again against the side of my ass as he pushed even deeper in. He rotated towards the other side, getting that one twice. The sting was bad, almost too bad. But I wanted more of it. So much more of it.

With each push he was filling me with more and more need. Each whip of the ruler sent me higher, causing me to crash into that imaginary wall. It was one last hit before he sent me into a fit. My body released everything as I let out a sound I never knew I could make.

He reached down and untied my arms. I had seconds to shake them out before he lifted my legs into the air and placed them around his hips. I looked down at the plastic wood and found a place to grip before I felt him push even farther into me.

Wilder yelled out towards me, “I didn’t say you could cum!”

I could see why they called him “Wilder.” He was a monster as he put everything, every bit of strength and energy into fucking me. His nails cut into my flesh. His hand continued to slap my ass between pushes. His body was rocking back and forth with such intensity, I was genuinely surprised he hadn’t cut me in half. My skirt was flying off of me, bouncing back and forth as I tried everything to steady myself, but it was impossible. He was too strong for his own good. But his strength was his power, and I was falling for it.

I focus in on how he felt between my thighs. Every hit of his hips against my clit sent sensations I had never known through me. My arms shook, my head searched for something to bury itself in. I wanted to cum so badly, to orgasm again. But I wanted it to be with him. I wanted to share it with him like brothers and sisters share toys or vacations. I knew it was wrong. I knew what I was doing was so sinful, so out of line. But I was determined to make my stepbrother cum.

I could see it from his shadow as he pulled back a bit. His hands pushed into my hips even tighter. His cock pulsated one…two...three. I felt the burst, the hit, the lightning. I was falling slowly with him as he lowered my legs and feet onto the ground. He spun me around quickly as I struggled to look up into the lights of the camera and to the sweet blue eyes staring back at me. But I watched as he reached towards my mouth and gently propped it open. His cum slid down my tongue and throat, salty and sweet. I swallowed as I held his admiring gaze.

Somewhere Daniel called “cut!” But we remained in our place, frozen to that second.

Chapter 8: Pieces of Me

I felt a pat on my bare back and the sound of men whooping in the background, “Damn, Wilder! That was as good as the first time. No, not as good…better!” Daniel was ecstatic, and I couldn’t blame him.

What just happened between me and Kylie was something out of a fantasy. The way her body moved, how she said her lines, the feeling to be inside something so beautiful and forbidden…I wanted more.

My dresser handed me a towel and my robe as I quickly toweled the sweat off of my body. The hot lights mixed with the action had made my skin a pool of sticky wetness. But I didn’t touch my cock. I didn’t want to erase that smell off of me yet.

I turned to say something to Kylie, but Elise was already leading her back to the dressing area to get cleaned up. Unlike last time, I wasn’t about to let her get away. As I headed towards her room, Daniel appeared again, a piece of paper in hand. He excitedly spoke, “I need to franchise this. I only have her for six more shoots, and I want every single one of them to be with you. Are you willing?”

“I – I don’t know.” The truth was I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep doing these scenes with her. I knew it was my opportunity to taste her, to be with her, but I didn’t want to share her. I wanted to keep her for my own. The camera crew, the fans waiting for more, Daniels’ contracts weren't part of the deal I wanted. “Can you give me a couple days to think about this?”

“Her next shoot was Monday morning. It’s supposed to be another scene like this. Catholic schoolgirl drill, ya know. But after seeing you whip her with that ruler, I think I have something much better in mind.” He sounded devious, and I knew that sick mind all too well to guess what he had in mind for her. Still, I didn’t question it. All I wanted was to go and find her.

I pushed Daniel back and headed towards the dressing area. I listened to Kylie ask Elise about the showers. As they exited the room, I ducked behind the curtain, not sure if I wanted to be spotted or not. Elise handed Kylie a few towels and some soaps before walking back towards where I hid. As she fell out of my sight, I ran towards the slowly closing door of the shower room, catching it with my foot before it locked closed.

The room was filling with hot steam as I heard Kylie pull the shower curtain back and step inside. The thought of her naked body covered in clean fresh water was turning me on. Every bit of me stiffened as I slipped inside, dropping my towels to the floor. I had to be bold, no matter the outcome.

Her back was turned towards me, the front of her facing the faucet. I watched as she took a small white hand towel and poured the body wash Elise had given her onto the cloth. She began to wash her body down, starting with her shoulders and neck. Her fingers massaged and pressed gently into the skin. I could sense she was tense, even without knowing I was standing behind her.

I reached out my hand, pushing a strand of hair out of my way before I joined my hands with hers. She startled, twisting herself backwards to see who was behind her. I steadied her shoulders, keeping her from slipping on the slick, wet floor of the tub. As she began to open her mouth, I pressed a hand over it and whispered, “Shhh.”

My other hand took the washcloth out of hers and began to lather her neck, back, and shoulders. She stood before me with her back pressed up against the wall, unsure of what to do. But through the noise of the warm water beating down on her, I could hear her sigh, both tired and satisfied. She wanted me just as much as I wanted her.

I stepped towards her, reaching an arm around her small waist. I could feel a hint of her bones, but I didn’t mind. She was real. Every inch of her was real. She was different from the girls I was paid to screw and the ones who came to me in my drugged out haze. Her long blonde hair, the scent of her skin after sex, the way she pursed her lip as I touched mine to her neck – every bit about her was there and present with me.

I moved my kisses up towards her chin and along her jaw until I found her lips. Sweet and tender, they tasted even better now that she wasn’t covered in makeup and lipstick. She pushed forward, into me, and then wrapped an arm around my neck. My cock rested against her stomach as it grew harder with each taste of her. Our heads spun under the spraying faucet as each fought to lead.

Kylie’s small hand grabbed my cock and began to trace her fingers up and down the shaft. Mixed with the water beating down and still recovering from fucking just minutes before, it was a great alternative. She cupped it slowly and rhythmically, gently adding a tug to each ending of the pattern. Her hands sped up a bit but still remain as gentle and as soft as before.

I loved this change of pace. I loved how she was focused on me and what I wanted. I was not a stud or someone to follow a script. I watched in amazement as she lowered herself down to a crouch, pressing her lips to the tip of the cock, sending shivers down my spine. Her tongue traced the bulging vein on my cock, causing me to thrust forward. I met her lips, her mouth wet and waiting as she took me in fully, swirling her tongue in circles around the perimeter of my shaft. I let out a breath as she rose slowly back up, meeting my eyes and kissing me again.

Her hands dropped, but a leg slid up against my side. I grabbed hold of it as she pressed herself next to me. She was just a bit too short, but I could hold her off the ground and against the back of the shower. The last shoots were so quick, so sudden. But here in the shower where it was just us two together, I wanted to explore her. I wanted to know her.

I traced my fingers along her tits, tweaking her nipples ever-so-slightly, making her cry out softly in my ear. My cock entered her, and I was amazed at how tight she was, even after being fucked hard. I continued letting my fingers explore her torso, along her stomach, down her sides, right along her ass. Without a care in the world, I grabbed her forcefully, taking both sides of her backside in in my hands and squeezing. She responded by wrapping her legs around me and cooing, following my thrusts by moving her pelvis up and down while balancing on my hips. It was really amazing what her body can do.

She relaxed, and I felt her cunt loosen as I rocked up into her, her pressing her hips down and steadily circling around. I rested my head between her breasts, smelling her skin and tasting where I just soaped up. I couldn’t help it as I lost myself. I sped up, pushed harder. I could feel her dig her nails into my back as she desperately murmured to herself.

I took a few deep breaths before I came up to face her. She was looking at me with eyes open. Her mouth opened, letting drops drizzle into her pursed lips. She said something to me, but I didn’t hear it. I placed my head against the side of hers as I continued to push farther into her.

She repeated it again, this time louder and stronger. “William. William.”

I pulled away, still holding her in place, unsure if what I heard was what I actually heard. I looked down at her as she shrunk a bit. “What did you call me?”

She bit her lips as she pulled away and ducked under my arm. “I called you William. You’re Wills.”

I was in complete disbelief. “No one calls me that. No one calls me Wills but my—"

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be my Kylie. She was too young. Well, she was young when I left her, only fifteen. I was doing the math. She’d be twenty-one now and the Kylie before me was certainly around that age. The picture of the girl came back to me. The blonde, long hair, the hazel eyes the same as her mother’s, her tiny developing body…

“Kylie?” I whispered, unsure if I was still asking the question despite knowing the answer.

“I’m so, so sorry. I should have told you sooner.” Her hands were pushed together as she reached for the faucet, turning the water off. “I wanted to tell you the day I recognized you, but I couldn’t. I just didn’t know what to say or how to tell you. It all happened so fast.”

I couldn’t bear to hear her panic, so I walked out of the tub, grabbing my robe off the floor. She called my name once more, this time calling “Wilder” as if we were on set, as if this were another shoot. But it wasn’t. This was real life, and she was my real stepsister. We were family. I grew up with her. And now I fucked her? And not only once, I did it three times.

I screwed the sister I loved and protected – the sister I slept across from each night as we listened to our parents fight and make up. She was the girl I kept other guys from teasing and, eventually, hitting on. She was the teenager I whispered goodbye to when I finally fled the house.

I ran back to my dressing area and grabbed my clothes as quickly as I could. I wanted to be anywhere but here, anywhere but where she was. As I pulled my shirt over my head, I heard the door open and slam shut.

She was calling to me again, “Please, talk to me. I need to explain!”

I grabbed my pants and yanked them on. As I buckled them, I felt the layer or protector slip back on. “What are you even doing here, Kylie? Porn? Are you kidding me? You were smarter than that. You were going to go to school, make a difference, change the world. What happened to you? What shit did you get yourself mixed up in?”

She sat on the chair by my dressing mirror and covered her face with her hands. She was exhausted, but not as badly as me. “I owe a debt to Daniel. I worked for him as a waitress at one of his clubs. I accidentally spilled some champagne and now I need to pay him back. This was the only way. I already can’t pay my tuition!”

“You could have said no to that shoot at the pool. You could have told me or Daniel or someone.”

Tears were forming at the corner of her hazel eyes, making them glisten and sparkle under the lights. “I didn’t know I had a choice. And by the time we started, I couldn’t stop. You felt it. I couldn’t stop myself. You didn’t make me do anything. You didn’t force me. I just wanted it too much. I’m—"

I couldn’t wait to hear her apologies, “It’s wrong, Kylie! It’s fucking wrong and you should know that.” I walked past her seat and out the door, listening to it close behind me. I found Daniel standing in the middle of the room as the crew tore down the set and prepared for the next film. I grabbed him by his collar as he shrieked in pain. The rest of the men stole glances but didn’t step in as I dragged him towards a dark corner near an old machine. I lowered my voice as I said, “What does she owe you?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Kylie. What does she owe you? I’m taking over her contract starting right now. I don’t care how much it costs or what I have to do. Just let her walk free.” I tightened my grip, emphasizing my strength.

I watched Daniel as a smile sunk in and he began to laugh. “Do you think I’m going to let her get away from me? Do you think for a second I would let someone like her walk away or get sold to the highest bidder? You have to think I’m a damn fool, Wilder. Our sales are through the roof. The first film caused our servers to crash within the first twenty minutes of going live. No, she isn’t going anywhere.”

I released him, walking away from where I left him, “Then I quit,” I shouted backwards, “I’m done.”

“You’re not done. You forget who I am and what I know. And if you walk away from our contract, you even think of taking your business elsewhere, all it takes is one phone call to the cops.” He looked down at his nails, biting into one of the cuticles and then spitting the remains on the floor. “But hey, at least you won’t have to worry about your porn career when you’re serving time for drug dealing and trafficking.”

I slammed my feet in place and walked back towards him. “You’ve got something coming for you, Daniel. And I’m going to be there to watch you fall.”

He laughed, totally unmoved by my threats. “The only people here who has anything to lose are you and Kylie.”

As I watched him walk back towards the crew, I lowered my head defeated. He was right. Together, Kylie and I would lose it all.

Chapter 9: The Dish Served Cold

Come on Will! Pick up your damn phone. Please, please. Just answer me.

It was my third attempt at calling him today. After begging Elise to give me his number, she finally relented after I lied and told her he was a long lost, very distant cousin of a friend of mine. She snuck off to Daniel and fed him another lie until he gave her his cell. So many lies, both big and small. They were piling up in my life now.

But there was one thing that was for certain – I wanted him.

After coming home from the last shoot in tears, sobbing my heart out, I knew my feelings were true. This wasn’t just because he was a great fuck or that it felt so wrong to be with him that it turned me on just thinking of it. It was because I started remembering the man behind the tattoos and large cock. I remembered the brother who saved me from a slap when my stepfather became angry or the teenager who would take me to the candy store after class and spend his tiny paycheck on treating me. He was the guy who let me ride on the back of his bicycle, my arms wrapped around his waist and my legs circled tight around his thighs.

I knew then, at fifteen, that I had feelings for him more powerful than a brother and sister should be. I watched him grow into a man with such fascination. I could remember myself studying his body as he bulked up, especially how his arms seemed to rip with new muscles and his jaw squared out against the skin. When he brought girls over thinking I was sleeping, which was frequent, I watched them from behind the living room door. He’d kiss them with such ferocity that I would run off, not sure if I wanted to see the rest or ashamed that I longed to be on the other side. Now I know which way I really felt.

I was wrong for hating him for so many years. Whatever he did to want or need to run was beyond this. He was the one person in my life I could count on, could trust. And I let that amazing relationship go because I believed whatever my parents said.

I had a few old photos from him in one of my boxes from home. I'd left them sitting there for so long they were collecting dust and tattering around the edges. I grabbed some tape and stuck them up against the side of my bed so I could steal glances at them at night. I didn’t want him to be buried in the past anymore. I wanted to resurrect the William I knew. And I wanted so badly to be with the Wilder I had experienced.

Lana was growing suspicious, though. She had walked on me several times making calls and cursing at the phone when he didn’t answer. On Friday, she slipped in behind me and grabbed the phone from my hand. She looked down at the name of the person I was trying to reach and pouted, “Girl, you know the first rule in getting a guy back is to not be the one calling – it’s to be unreachable.”

I scoffed. “It’s not like that. It’s just that we – “ How could I make her understand that there was more to this than a little fight or some crossed signals? What happened between us was beyond her scope of boy-conquering. I stammered, “We had a huge fight over something I said. I need to make it right, but he won’t call me back.”

She walked towards her closet and reached towards the back where her more risqué work clothes sat. She threw me a black dress with the hanger still attached. “Here. Put it on. We’re going out tonight.”

I was completely taken aback. Despite being friends and roommates for nearly three years, she had yet to really invite me out on one of her weekend trips. Outside of a few parties she had dragged me along to, I had been disconnected from Lana’s weekend world. I eyed her suspiciously. “What? Don’t you have to work? And plus, what will going out do?”

“First of all, I don’t have to work. I took this weekend off to get my share of the group project done.” She rolled her eyes at me and placed her finger to her head, imitating a gun firing. “Secondly, going out to a club isn’t going to do anything to get him to call you back. But it's going to get your mind off of him for a few hours. Maybe even get you drunk enough to find someone better who answers his damn phone when his girlfriend is clearly desperate.”

I couldn’t argue with her. I was pathetically desperate, at least enough to make Lana have pity on me. But still, I wasn’t one to do the club scene. Working at one was enough for me to hate it with a passion. The extravagant expense, the long lines, the people all grinding up on one another… it wasn’t my scene. I tossed the dress back to my roommate and sat on the bed across from her. “I can’t, Lana. I don’t have the money, and I have a ton of work to do on this project.”

“Come on. The project will still be there tomorrow, and I can get us in for free. I know a guy. Plus, the rest of the study group is going with us so I won’t leave you alone to fend for yourself.” She watched as I shook my head. With one grasp of my arm, she pulled me back on my feet and pushed the dress back towards me. “Get dressed Kylie, we’re going out.”

The dress was tight. Super tight. I couldn’t imagine what Lana looked wearing it considering I was at least two sizes smaller than her and had absolutely no curves except for my breasts, which felt like they were going to slip through the gaping cutouts at any second. The heels she gave me were sky high, but after two porn shoots, I was getting much better at being on my feet and walking in a pair.

She covered my face in dark smoky makeup and told me to leave my hair in my signature ponytail. With a wink she reminded me, “Guys love to hold on to a girl’s hair.”

Oh I know, Lana.

Once we made it through the doors of the Paradise on the Strip, thanks to Lana’s connections with both of the security guys, I was instantly turned off. This wasn’t my scene. The music was thumping loud, making it impossible to hear. And the guys were just gawking at Lana as she passed by, weaving through the crowd to where the rest of our study group was standing near the velvet rope.

I heard Jackson yell towards us, “Lana! Kylie! Are you insane? How did you get us into the VIP bottle rooms? How much did you spend on this?”

Bottle service? I was totally taken aback. I didn’t agree to this. Lana placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, steadying me into place as she talked to the rest of the group in our huddle, “Don’t worry about it. I know a guy who, well, he owes me a favor.” She winked, sending Angelica and Daphne over the edge giggling.

I started to panic. There was no turning back now. I was in it for the night. As we passed through the velvet rope and headed towards the elevator for the upstairs lounges, I spotted a familiar face. It was Cal, the security guard from the Strip Top Bar. I ran to my post, throwing my arms around his neck. “Cal! Oh my gosh! I haven’t seen you in weeks. I didn’t even get to thank you for helping me out back at the bar the night that, well, I got let go.”

He was practically beaming as he held me around my waist. “I thought I never would see you again. What are you guys doing here?”

Before I could answer, Lana was at my side. She looked Cal up and down and passively asked, “How do I know you?”

“The Strip Top Bar. I’m a security guy there. We’ve worked together for two years, Lana.” He was annoyed, but slightly amused. In his line of work, I was sure he saw a ton of stuck up, bitchy waitresses and dancers.

“Oh that’s right. Anyway, we have a table. It’s under Lana Richardson.” She leaned down at his clipboard and pointed to a line where her name is. “Can you let us in?”

Cal pushed a code into the elevator’s mainframe and waited for it to arrive. Still, he didn’t break his stare. Obviously my borrowed dress and new look met his approval. As the doors closed, he turned and gave me a slight nod, and I was left to wonder what that was all about.

I didn’t have time to think about it any longer. Before we could even sit, a bottle was thrust in my hands and I was taking shots of vodka with the group. Drink after drink after drink went down as I raised each glass to make sure I got every last drop. I knew I should have been careful. I knew I should have paced myself, but my head was going loopy. And I was grateful that I can at least forget about Wilder. This was what being young, wild, and totally free was like!

The music was calling for me as I sunk another glass of super expensive champagne. I made my way down the stairs and towards the group of dancers. As soon as I stepped on the floor, a guy took my hand and pulled me into his body. He was sweaty, but the way his hands seemed to float to my hips kept me linked to him. He shouted something at me, something about me looking beautiful, and I blushed. No guy had ever called me beautiful before.

Another hand grabbed my ass, as I spun to face him. This guy was even better looking than the first. I held onto him tight as he stared at my chest, as if willing me to slip out of the long v-neck. I ran my hand through his long black hair and pulled him tighter to me. I just wanted to feel someone’s body tonight and this guy would do.

But before I could make my move, I saw Lana beckoning for me. I ran off, not even caring about the man I locked my arms around. She was holding another glass of champagne that I knocked back without a second thought. I turned to her excitedly and screamed over the music, “Is this what it’s always like?!”

“What?” She eyed me up and down before taking the empty glass out of my hand and putting it on the tray of a passing waitress.

“You know, you have sex with a guy and then, all of a sudden, everyone wants you? Is this how it works, ‘cause if it does, I'm totally getting laid tonight!”

Frankly, I didn’t have to try. By the way the room of guys was staring at me, I knew I had my pick of just about any of them. They were nothing compared to Wilder, but a warm body and someone who thought I was someone I wasn’t was enough to get me through.

Before I could even pick out the guy, a large hand grabbed me. It was Cal. He was wearing a new shirt and his little earpiece was gone. I jumped into his arms as he led me out to the dance floor. He surprised me by his moves. He was sleek with how he slid his hands down my body and pressed his hips against my backside. A hand shot up to my breast, grabbing a handful as I continued to follow his body’s lead.

As he pulled back my ponytail and whispered an invitation in my ear, I stopped. I saw a familiar face, a face I wasn’t sure I would ever see again. He was walking towards me, practically stomping before he grabbed me away.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kylie?” Wilder was pissed. His phone was in his hand. “Are you drunk?”

“How are you here?” I looked at him in amazement. I didn’t tell him where I was or what I was doing. I didn’t even have my phone on me. Lana took it the moment we walked in the club so I wouldn’t be tempted to reach him.

“Who the hell is this?” Cal was all security guard, stepping in between Wilder and I. I tried to protest but he was screaming at Wilder to leave.

“He’s my stepbrother, Cal. It’s okay!” I tried to diffuse the situation, but I could tell by the way Wilder was staring at me, digging icy glares in my direction that he wasn’t letting me just walk away.

I pushed Wilder away, out towards the edges of the dance floor. “You can’t just do this, Wilder! You can’t just show up and protect me.”

“What am I supposed to do, Kylie? You’re the one who wanted me. And now I’m here. Is this who you are? Those guys are no good for you. But you’re dressed like you’re back on set. I don’t blame them for thinking you’d go for them.”

I stepped back as I tried to steady my awkward steps. I was still drunk, but I knew I should be insulted. “What the fuck, Wilder! I’ve been calling and calling for days and you just show up? And not only that, you insult me, too! I’m just trying to have a good time, to get you off my mind! Isn’t that what you want me to do? You made it very clear we’re not going to be together anymore.”

My stepbrother wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever I just said made him more resolved, more determined to get me going. I saw Cal coming back towards us as I ducked a bit. Cal was up in his face, ordering him to leave, but Wilder was at least four inches taller than him and much, much stronger. The two went toe-to-toe as each one refused to move. I watched helplessly as Wilder raised an arm and struck, punching Cal in the face, landing a blow right to his jaw. He had done this before to the boys on the block that picked on me as a child.

I stared at the man on the floor, unsure of what I could do or how I was supposed to react. Before I could say anything, he was dragging me out of the club by my arm. Lana was shouting after us, unsure what to do. He hailed a black taxi, throwing me inside. I wanted to scream and resist, but I wasn’t sure what I could do. I just sat there, hoping my breath would eventually catch up with me. He gave the driver directions back to the university before turning to face me. His eyes were burning as he stared at my dress, the way I’m grabbing on to the seat for support.

I couldn’t ask him what I needed to ask him or give him another apology. As I opened my mouth, he made his move, leaping over the seat towards me, lunging at my body. He kissed me deeply, hard. Our lips smacked one another as we struggled to steady ourselves. Both of us were unsure of what to do, how to be now that the secret was revealed. But it was clear that I wasn’t alone. He wanted me as bad as I wanted him.

Our hands wrestled with one another as I could feel his cock through his pants stiffen. Before I could reach down, he yanked my hands away and turned towards the driver. “Let me out here. This is my stop.” He slid out the door, handing the driver money and giving him instructions to not let me out until we reached my dorm building. I watched him disappear against the shadows of the Las Vegas strip.

Chapter 10: The Cracking Whip

She was here. I could hear her voice on the other side of the dressing area thanking Elise for getting my number and assuring her that her friend found me. But she wasn’t the same Kylie I saw last night, the one who was dazzling and seducing just about any man who looked her way. Today, her voice was shaky, totally off. I could tell she was nervous, at least more than usual. But I couldn’t blame her. After last night in the club, I was feeling too out of it.

I pulled on the leather pants. It was the only piece of clothing I was wearing for today’s shoot. As soon as I saw them laying out for me, I had an idea of what was going to happen.

But still, I waited until Daniel walked into my dressing room, his clipboard of scripts in has hand to confirm my fear. “The audience wants more of what you did last time. More bondage. More physical stuff.” He looked at me with the side of his eye. He was still upset from our last shoot where I threatened to walk out unless he released Kylie. He asked, “Is this going to be a problem?”

I didn’t want it to be. After finding Kylie at the club in that dress, the one that had the slit in the front leading down her chest bone, I wanted nothing more than to punish her for being such a stupid girl. I wanted to make her obey me and my orders. If that meant using my cock, I was even more glad.

But I didn’t want to do it on camera. Normally the filming itself turned me on. Thinking about all those eyes watching me, envying me, made it easier to get through even the most amateur of partners. Sharing the screen with my stepsister, however, was a whole other can of worms. I knew I was powerless in this. I couldn’t keep her from getting on that sound stage and ripping off her clothing, but I could be in charge of what happened to her when she was in the scene.

I nodded my head to Daniel and followed him out of the dressing area. In the center of the dungeon scene was Kylie. All I could get was a glimpse of her small hands, which were physically shaking. Her wrists had cuffs on them that hooked on to the rack. This, I was sure, was not anything she had ever done before. Just like our first scene, I was going to have to walk her through this step by step.

Daniel walked over to Kylie and touched her shoulder. His hand lingered too long as he looked at her costume. She was wearing a black silk corset that lifted her breasts out and up towards her chin. It cinched her in, giving her a tiny waist. Her stockings were fishnet and coordinated with her mesh panties. A black necklace dangled around her throat and a large ruby fell down her chest, pointing directly at her tits. Even her hair was longer, if that were possible. Instead of hitting her on the small of her back, Elise put in extensions that went down to her knees. Even more to hold onto.

The scene cleared as I stood before her. The men were testing the sound levels and camera angles as I stole a few words to her, “Are you sure you want to do this? Do you know what is going to happen?”

“I know what you are going to do to me. And I want you to.” She looked at me with her large, doe eyes sparkling in the overhead lights. She looked earnest, as if she were pleading with me to do these unthinkable things.

I took her hand in mine, unsure if it was too intimate to do. I whispered towards the ground, “I don’t want to hurt you.” I was telling the truth. As much as I wanted Kylie, and as much as I wanted to fuck the bad girl version in front of me, I couldn’t bear to damage her any further. I had already tainted her enough.

“You can’t hurt me. I want this.” She turned towards the set, dropping my hand. She didn’t look back at me. Instead, she used the stepladder to hook her wrist cuffs into the metal bar up against the middle of the black painted wall. Her feet rested on a two tiny posts camouflaged to not be seen. As I got in my position, I watched her step off slightly, her legs dangling helplessly as her body bounced and swayed from her own weight dropping. 

Daniel called action as I entered the set from a fake door. I called out to her, “You don’t think I’m letting you go anytime soon, do you?”

She looked down at me with pleading, mournful eyes, “Please, sir. Please, just let me go home. My father will be looking for me. My mother is probably so worried.”

I laughed heartily. “You really think I would let you go just because your mother and father lost their poor little girl?” I ran a hand up her slim calf, taking in the scent. I rolled down one of her stockings as I stroked her silky skin against my gruff hand. “My dear, I’m just getting started.”

She cried out for help as her head twisted desperately towards the corners of the fake room. I grabbed a leather riding whip from the prop cabinet designed to fit in with the medieval look. “Do you know what this is?” I asked her understanding that both Kylie and the character she had transformed into had no idea what it could do.

“Are you going to hurt me with it?” I could see sweat pool up against her forehead. She was genuinely nervous.

“I only hurt bad girls.” I placed the whip against her thigh, rubbing it up and down the length of her leg. “Are you a bad girl?”

“No. I’m good. I promise you!” She struggled to hold her balance as I sped up the strokes. I was inching towards her sex each time I moved upwards.

Suddenly, I slapped the front of her panties with the whip, sending her reeling backwards against the wall. “Good girls don’t dress like tramps!” I hit her again with it in the same spot. It was right up against her clit, forcing her to warm up to this. There was so much more coming.

“Let me see the proof, then. If you are a good girl, your panties will be dry. If you’re a bad girl, you would have soaked it through.” I took the mesh material in my hands and ripped them off of her, leaving a slight red mark where the elastic band hit. She cried out again, this time in shock. I pulled her legs over my shoulders and began examining her.

My fingers felt her soft, downy pussy from the outside. They stroked at the curves and nooks, circling between her thighs and the line that leads inside. I pressed my thumb down on the top of that opening, not daring to go inside, at least not yet. All the other shoots didn’t give me the opportunity to see her up close like this. I was going to enjoy it for as long as possible.

I looked up at her as I continued to stimulate her with my hand. She was trying so hard to keep the act up. Her head was moving side to side but by the way she was biting her lip, I could tell she wanted it more than ever. Any hesitation I felt, any bit of worry or doubt washed away as I sensed how badly I wanted this, too.

My forefinger slipped in just a tip as she let out a harsh breath. I watched as she looked down at me, studying my actions as if it would tell her anything. I looked back up at her and commanded her to turn away, “You’re wet.” I pushed the finger in farther, “So wet.”

Her voice hitched as she felt me find her clit and pressed into it. “No, sir. Please, I’m not wet. I don’t want this.”

“I think that’s enough talking for now.” I reached my free hand into my pocket and pulled out a white kerchief. I stuffed it into her mouth as she tried to resist. Still, I could make out her muffled, wanting screams. I grabbed the whip from my side and slapped her right breast, sending it shaking and rattling from the force. Her body collapsed downward, driving my finger even deeper. I inserted a second finger and sped up my motion as I whipped the other tit. Her hips circled in my hands as I felt her instantly get wet. Her body went limp as I struggled to hold her up.

Once she recovered, I grabbed the bar down off the wall, causing her to fall to the ground. Quickly unlocking her, I took her cuffs into one hand and her long hair into my other, yanking her towards the table made of slabs of wood. She lay down, allowing me to hook the cuffs into the links. I then strapped her legs in, keeping her in place just for me.

I straddled my legs over her and pressed her large breasts together with my two hands. They made a perfect cavern for my cock to rest in as I felt how warm and soft she was, just like her pussy. As I fondled her nipples, my cock began to go in and out, in and out. This was my turn for some pleasure, and she wasn’t allowed to deny me. Even still, her hips rose in pleasure as they danced underneath me.

I could have cum right there. I could have exploded all over her neck and tits. She could have been covered in me from head to nipple. But I resisted. I wanted to be inside of her. To take her like this, totally helpless to what I wanted and needed. I sank my body lower, meeting her sweet, soft pussy with my cock. I entered her bit by bit as she squirmed, sending her head back into the plank of wood under her.

With my hands, I reached back and unhooked her legs and then raised her feet to my face. One two after another, I sucked on them as I began to rock in her, physically pushing her body into the hooks that bound her arms. My teeth pressed down on the pressure point of her toe pads with each hard, deep stroke. She was reeling, trying to control herself. But I was giving her away.

Even though I could hardly speak, I yelled at her, “You filthy fucking cunt. Only little sluts like you want to be punished. And I can tell by how deep you’re letting me go you deserve this punishment.” I flipped her over to her side, spanking her with my hand before she could move anymore. Two more slaps of my hand and she was pink and rosy, her skin hot to the touch. I grabbed the whip resting at my side and instead flicked at her nipples. My other hand continued to press against her flesh as she screamed over and over again.

I felt her build up once again, her body trembling as her teeth bit into my white cloth restraint. Finally, I watched as she pushed off of her heels from my shoulders as her pussy sank me in. She had cum again. By my account, I was at eight, at least.

But it was my turn. She had her share of fun and games. Now this was for real. This was about her and me and what she had hidden. I lowered her legs and placed them across from my hips. Instead of giving her a few seconds to recover, I became relentless, speeding up my plow, pushing into her and circling my cock as it nearly slid out. She was going to feel my pain and discontent from every single angle.

Kylie’s eyes widened as I let out a long yell of pleasure. The release was seconds away, enough time for me to fall down on her, our faces just inches from one another. I looked into the expanses of her lost eyes as I found myself releasing inside of her. My pumps slowed as I wanted every drop to vanish, every bit to roll out of me and into her. I had given her everything.

An amused but distant voice called cut from the shadows as I stood and walked away. I wanted  no part in what was to be done. I made my way back to the dressing room, discarding the condom in the trash. Pulling the curtain closed behind me, I slipped into the showers and turned on the water on the hottest setting it could go. I needed to wash away whatever it was that I felt. I began to scrub until my fingers wanted to bleed.

My heart raced; my mind couldn’t settle on a focus. I was desperate to be done, to escape once again. But starting over for a second or third time wasn’t possible. I had my shot to save Kylie and myself years ago, but I didn’t take it. And, now, here I was, trying to run from her and our pasts while finding myself only closer to her.

As my brain tried to work it out, I felt a draft, a sweep of wind blow across my bare leg. I turned around to see Kylie there, fully naked and already a bit wet. She held a finger to my lips, begging me to not speak. I couldn’t have said anything if I wanted to.

“What you just did to me was amazing.” She paused before adding, “I don’t want this to be over.”

I cut her off, “We can’t do this, Kylie.”

“I know we shouldn’t. I know we can’t. But no one has to know. Just you and me. We can figure this out.” She slipped her hand to my chest, resting it upon my heart.

I looked at her eyes once more. They were locked on me, determined to get me to say yes, to promise her I’ll stay. I couldn’t give her what I wanted or what she needed. Instead, I gave her this solution, “Neither of us can get out of this contract with Daniel, and I know that there is something more going on here. But I can’t love you like that, Kylie. I can’t let myself feel that for you. We were brother and sister, for god’s sake.”

“Then don’t love me. Just fuck me. Before you, I only had young, stupid boys who had no idea what to do with themselves, let alone me. I need you to teach me -- to show me what I can do. We don’t have to be boyfriend and girlfriend. We don’t have to be brother and sister. We can just be partners.”

I looked at her suspiciously as I considered her words, “No love? No feelings?”

She shook her head slightly, “No love. No feelings. I promise you that. When we’re done with the shoots and our contracts are up, we can be done with this whole thing.”

I stiffened up as I looked down at her, placing an arm around her waist. She had marks all over her from the whip and my hand. She laughed as I traced one of the reddest, deepest lines with my fingers. 

I was causing her pain. I was causing her pleasure. I was two sides of a coin that wanted so much to figure out which was better. But maybe it was enough to be both. Maybe I could give us both what we wanted by giving her the light and the dark of me. Maybe I could be the person to guide her through this, to protect her like I used to.

But for now, I kissed her, pulling our two naked and tired bodies together. Whatever side we were on, whatever we were doing right or wrong, nothing mattered but her skin on my skin.

Chapter 11: New Directions

“That light needs to be higher, Tyrone! It needs to hit them right above the tub.” I pivoted again, “Did anyone turn it on to make sure it actually works? Shelia? Jason? Come on guys! Get with this. Where are my sound guys? Why don’t I see the booms up yet? This isn’t amateur hour here. We’ve got things to do and not much time to prep! When I come back, this set better be cleared and ready for it!”

I walked out of the hotel suite’s bathroom, passing the rest of the bewildered crew in my way. It sucked to be the bad guy, especially since most of these guys knew me when I was the talent. I’ve had to shift the dynamics by taking over the director’s chair. And by the discontented looks I was getting, I was guessing it hadn’t been an easy transition on most of them.

Still, they were getting paid – a lot. Half the crew was Daniel’s, my former agent and producer’s. But once Kylie paid off her debts and finished out her contract, I made the most powerful play I could and stole his crew and his company out from under him. He underestimated my wealth and my vengeance after he threatened to expose me and refused to follow my orders. Now, I was the one behind the camera calling the shots, designing the storylines, taking in the mountains of cash.

Business was been great. It always was with porn, but with Kylie as the star, it really took off. She didn’t know this, though. Even as I walked into the dressing room, I saw her hands shake as she sipped a cup of coffee a crewmember handed to her. If you didn’t know better, you would think this was her first shot.

But together, we had done more than forty – enough to pay her tuition and get her to quit her job at that sleazy nightclub. Just in time, too. Even though no one came out and said it, she was starting to get recognized. Men would stop her and start asking her questions while she worked the front door. Some of the sons of bitches even had the nerve to ask her if she’d fuck them. When I heard that, I fronted the cash she needed to get herself the hell out of that situation.

She caught me in the room’s mirror from her position on the hotel bed. “Wilder,” she said timidly, “I don’t think I can do this. I’m – I’m not ready for it.”

Kylie was innocent, still. Even though she had pretty much seen and done everything there is to see and do, she still knocked me off my feet when she said shit like that. I wanted to hold her, to walk her through it step by step, but today was all about her. Her – and Julie.

I walked towards her, sitting next to her as she put down the coffee and pick up the brush her makeup artist, Elise, had left for her. She began running it through her long, golden blonde hair nervously as I attempted to reassure her, “It’s gonna be okay. I know you’re gonna do this, and I know you’re gonna get it right. Julie is experienced. Like, y’know, very experienced. She’ll coach you up, tell you what to do if you get stuck.”

Kylie stammered, trying to find an excuse for me. When I first brought up doing a lesbian scene, she was cautiously excited. She admitted to never having been with a woman. Even more, she hadn’t really masturbated outside a couple of touches and a small dildo she kept hidden in her dorm room. She was a total virgin to this. It was so hard to find someone so innocent in porn, but I had found my Mary.

I watched Kylie as she took a deep breath in, resolved in getting the job done. She stood, removing the white terry cloth robe. She was wearing a white bikini, similar to the one she wore when we had our first movie together. This suit was a tightly tied halter, holding her large, supple breasts together. Her swim bottoms cut the small curve of her hips and her thighs, and the material revealed the lines of her clit even when completely dry. She looked like the all-American girl ready for a swim.

I couldn’t help growing stiff just looking at her as she studied herself in the mirror. She had no idea how beautiful she was. From every angle, there was something to desire. I could tell then that it was going to be tough to contain myself on set. Normally, I was the one who was going to get to take her, to rip off that fabric, to pound her soft body with my cock. But today, I had to watch as my friend and former co-star Julie took the reigns.

I wasn’t good with control.

A knock came on the door, someone lightly calling for me. “Wilder, we’re all ready whenever you are.”

I stood, taking Kylie’s hand and pressing it to my lips, my arm draped around her bare waist. “Remember, you’re the good girl today. This is your first time, and you’re more than eager for your best friend to show you how to do it with another woman. Got it?”

“It won’t be that hard to pretend, will it?” She winked at me, spun on her toes, and headed out the door.

I sucked in, trying to cool myself. Something about her continued to get me riled up like I should be ready to pounce. But today was a look, no touch day. She was the animal in the cage, and I was on the other side.

Julie waited for Kylie outside of the jacuzzi tub in the center of room. She was dressed the opposite of Kylie. Instead of a demure, typical bathing suit, she was in an all black, thong two-piece. Her strapless top just barely covered her large, bouncing breasts. The mesh material clung to her tits as I tried not to think of all the times I had those nipples in my mouth.

“Where do you want me, boss?” Julie was all business. She wasn’t one for small talk or a warm up. She wanted to dive in, get the job done, and be out of there. I didn’t blame her for it. In porn, sex is just business for the actors and those on set. For Kylie and me, it was always more.  

“In the tub. I want it to look like you were soaking and playing with yourself while waiting for her. The story is that you have wanted your friend for so long. You’re the badass girl who doesn’t hold back. When she walks in, you can’t help but want to show her how good it feels. You up for that?”

Julie glanced behind me at Kylie as she was going through a quick camera test. Her voice smoothed out as she slipped into the tub, her body disappearing in the shallow water. “For that…” She nodded towards Kylie, “I can teach that girl a lot of things.”

I sat behind the first camera’s viewing screen, in the darkness of the room as my assistant gave a minute warning and then called action. Kylie walked across the room, the camera getting a shot from behind as she strode towards Julie. I watched her stop in her place as she studied Julie with her eyes closed, fingering her pussy as she floated to the top of the tub. Her meek voice asking, “Ellie? What are you doing?”

Julie opened her large, almond shaped eyes and looked up at Kylie. Her fingers remained inside of her, “Come on. You know what I’m doing. You’re not that innocent.”

Kylie sat at the edge, her feet dangling in the water. She looked down curiously at her partner, “I’ve never touched myself before.”  

Julie stood up, the water of the bubbling tub frothing at her tan, thick thighs. She placed her arms at each side of Kylie’s body as she looked up at her chest with such a look of desire that I couldn’t tell if she was acting or really looking forward to it. “Well, we’re best friends. And what are best friends for if they can’t show you how to do this.” Her hand began caressing Kylie’s thigh, running up the length of her alabaster skin, her black fingernails leaving little red trails from where she began to dig in.

“We can’t. I mean, it’s not that I don’t wanna learn how to do that,” Her head looked down to Julie’s hand still feeling herself through her bottoms. “It’s just that it wouldn’t feel right.”

Julie slowly lifted herself out of the tub, giving the cameras a great angle of the water dripping off of her body. She sat next to Kylie, taking her face into hands and turning it towards her. The two stared at each other for an agonizingly long second before Julie dove in for a soft, slow kiss. Her lips sucked in Kylie’s as she bit down. Kylie’s hand found Julie’s own thigh as she began to lean in, finding her own pace in Julie’s lead. I watched longingly as the two began to speed up, their tongues tracing inside the other’s mouth. Together, they stepped off the side and into the water, the cameramen following the action.

Julie laid a hand on Kylie’s breast, slipping under the v-neck opening. Her palm grazed Kylie’s nipple, now fully hard and visible through the wet material. I could see her fingers play with the nipple lightly, sending Kylie’s head tipping backwards slightly from the surprise. She was getting into this. That look was all too familiar to me.

Kylie pulled away from their kiss, still letting Julie play with her breasts. She watched her in awe as, with one hand, Julie untied the halter. Her breasts freed themselves, falling softly down her chest. But Julie was there to meet them with her mouth. Her red painted lips left ruby trails around the pink tips of Kylie’s hard nipples.

Julie sank farther into the tub, disappearing in the growing number of bubbles as she began to really suck and play at Kylie’s breasts. It took all of Kylie’s efforts to hold on to the side of the tub as to not drift away with her. I licked my lips wanting so much to be behind her, to feel her topless against my own chest, to hold her breasts to Julie’s mouth and watch as Julie took over.

The two ladies’ bodies moved and flowed together until Kylie couldn’t take it. She squatted down in the tub beside Julie and slowly lowered her top so it hung around Julie’s tiny waist. Following Julie’s lead, she started by twisting and turning the nipples with her first two fingers and thumbs, making little circles around the areolas. Then, her mouth lowered down so her head was partially submerged in the water.

A cameraman dipped in slowly behind her to grab the shot of Kylie’s head bobbing up and down as her tongue and teeth nipped and sucked at Julie. Her small hands wrapped around Julie’s waist, pulling her closer. Even Julie looked surprised as Kylie took the lead. The good girl was corrupted, and she wanted it all now.

Suddenly, she rose up and grabbing the metal bar around the sides of the tub, hoisted herself up so she towered over Julie. Julie reached towards her, slipping down Kylie’s swimsuit bottom, revealing the soft, smooth skin of her pussy. Water dripped off her folds as Julie admired, “You have such a beautiful body.”

Kylie smiled as she beckoned Julie closer with a wave of her hand. She parted Kylie’s legs, opening her up farther and pulling her slightly downward. It gave Julie an opening to begin moving her fingers around Kylie’s sex. She began lightly slapping her fingers against the top as Kylie smiled. From my experience, I knew she loved a little pain with her pleasure. Julie then reached down into the water again, getting her hand wet and pressing it against her pussy, a fingertip just nudging itself in.

She gasped that beautiful sound of shock and wanting. Her knuckles turned white as she struggled to hold onto the bar and her place above the tub as Julie continued to work her fingers, circling slowly against her clit. Kylie let go of one of the bars as her hand grasped onto her breast, her own fingers teasing at the nipples. Julie sped up with two fingers inside of Kylie’s little pussy. From my view, I could see the vibrations on her stomach from Julie’s pounding.

And then I heard her say it, “Your mouth. Your mouth. I want it!” Kylie was begging Julie to go further, and her partner was happy to oblige.

Her lips engulfed the image of Kylie’s folds as her fingers continued to twist and push deeper and deeper inside. Kylie’s breathing ramped up as Julie alternated between lightly sucking and licking, her tongue making its way inside with the fingers.

Finally, Kylie’s body began to lose its own power as she grew limp, her hips pressing into Julie’s head as she slipped lightly into the water, her back still against the wall. The cameraman pushed Julie out of the way to catch the small trickle of fluids as Kylie orgasmed. When the best shot was done, Julie reached her hand over, taking a small fingertip of the clear liquid dripping from her folds, and then licking it off her own hands.

Julie removed her own bottoms quickly and then walked over to Kylie, pulling her wet, blonde hair back from her head and then forcing her down towards her own pussy. Kylie was obedient, as she held on to Julie’s tiny hips, her fingers pressing into one of her tattoos. I knew what Kylie was tasting as she teased her tongue against Julie’s small tuft of downy hair. Julie always tasted to me like an exotic treat whenever I went down on her like Kylie was. She was decadent, while Kylie was sweet like a perfectly ripe strawberry. My mouth watered at the thought of the two of their tastes mingling in my mouth.

I stood from my chair, handing my headsets to a set worker. I whispered to the cameraman to my right, “Don’t stop filming. I think this needs a change of direction.” Slipping off my shirt, I walked towards the girls as Kylie finished Julie off, Julie using the rails to hold on while Kylie held her hips above water.

As Julie settled back down, I appeared on the set, my cock hard and ready for what I wanted. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted Kylie. And seeing her give Julie so much pleasure without any hesitation, I wanted her all for my own. My jeans slipped down past my waist as the girls watched with huge, wondering eyes. Julie lifted her tiny hand out towards me, as I slowly hopped into the water.

Without skipping a beat, I grabbed Kylie by the waist and pulled her into me. Her body was soaking wet and covered in the white soft bubbles of the tub still. I whispered in her ear, out of the line of the microphone, “I want you so bad.”

She nodded to me before slipping downwards into the tub once more, her mouth finding my erect cock. Her tongue started at the tip and then traced lines up and down the sides, bottom, and top of my shaft. I could feel Julie behind me as she approached, her own arms wrapping around my hips and then under Kylie’s chin to my balls. Her hands gently massaged them while Kylie continued to take the entire length of my cock into her tiny mouth. She was getting better at this each film.

As Kylie grew tired, her mouth slowing its suck, Julie circled before me, her hands leaving wet marks over my skin as she took each of our arms. She positioned Kylie against the side of the tub and me behind her. With her own hand Julie guided my cock into Kylie’s soaking, waiting pussy and then got out of the water. I glided in quickly, taking long, slow strides in her to get a feel for her. She was somehow different, better every day. It was impossible how good her warm, tight slit fit around my member. And as she rocked backwards against me, I began to take her, to pound into her.

Kylie let out a long, deep moan, nothing like the sounds she was making with Julie. When she finished, Julie reached over and grabbed her face, forcing her to watch as Julie played with her own pussy. She was following my rhythm with her fingers as if she knew we needed to be together, but hated to not be included.

The sight of her getting into us fucking further caused me to go faster. For all of us. I wanted Kylie to know the pleasure of a cock. She had her moment with another woman’s folds, but now she would remember how great I could be. I wanted to own her sex, to make her red and sore all over. Julie couldn’t do that for her. Julie couldn’t make her scream the way I was about to make her scream.

As I grabbed onto her head, forcing it back and up, she let out a yell – animalistic piercing. I felt her reverb back into me as she sank a bit into the sides of the tub. Julie came seconds later, collapsing with her own hand still resting inside her pussy. But I kept going, still pushing deeper and farther into Kylie’s depths until the need to release built up in me. I reached my hands under her, grasping onto her breasts as I tumbled onto her, my chin resting on her shoulders. I shuddered and cried out, feeling my cum fill her tight cunt as a little bit of the remainders dripped downwards with the pull of gravity.

The three of us remained there in silence, no one wanting to break the spell that had come over us. Finally, Julie stood as a crewman handed her a towel and a robe. She turned back towards me as I eased out of Kylie, her voice tired and rich with satisfaction, “Whatever is going on between you two, keep it on film.”

Julie stepped off set, leaving Kylie and I still panting, still wanting, still unsure of what we were and where we were going.

Chapter 12: Behind the Mask

I waited outside Kylie’s dressing room as she cleaned off. Normally, I’d hop in the shower with her, getting a little more time to explore her body, but I was feeling off. That moment Julie gave us with her words about “keeping it on film” were haunting me. If Julie could sense we were more than just co-stars with a strong attraction to one another, how quickly would people figure out we were actually stepbrother and stepsister?

There was a part of me, though, a part I had been wrestling with since we made the decision to keep our “relationship” going, that still wanted more. In that month I had been screwing her, I hadn’t let myself go past the business or the on-stage bedroom. But that didn’t keep me from wondering about where she slept, what she ate, who she was seeing…What she did when she wasn’t with me was a complete mystery. And I was determined to find out more.

Kylie walked out, her hair still wet, a backpack slung over her shoulders. She looked at me with tired, but amused eyes. They danced as she smiled and said, “Well, that was interesting…”

I ran my hand through my hair, allowing myself to mess it up even further. “It wasn’t interesting – it was hot. So hot. I couldn’t help myself near the end of that.”

I watched as she fidgeted with the straps of her backpack. She looked so young, so innocent. I was reminded of walking her home after school and how I would offer to carry her bag for her so it wouldn’t hurt her back. Scenes of sidewalks, homecoming, watching her like a hawk in the locker-filled hallways flooded my brain.

I reached for her bag and twisted it off her shoulders. She gave me a surprised look that lifted her eyebrows off her lids. She wasn’t sure what to make of this. I tried to make it less awkward by offering a nervous, “Let me take that for you.”

“You don’t have to. Plus, it’s heavy.” She was right. The backpack was stacked with books that felt more like bricks lined up. For some reason, I always imagined her bringing along a notebook and a coffee cup to class, not whatever was in this bag.

I laughed as I pretended to be unable to lift it, “Jesus, Kylie! What the hell do you have in here? A dead body?”

She cracked a smile, the tension easing over her as we tried to pretend to be normal coworkers, normal friends, maybe even normal relations. “It’s my debate class texts and notes. I’ve got class in about twenty minutes, and I was studying up on different strategies. Whoever wins the debates gets an A for the class, so it’s kind of a big deal for me.”

I was instantly impressed by her and her drive. She brought books to her porn scene. She planned on studying between her first lesbian experience. I had to give it to her – she was determined to make it through classes. Suddenly, my interest in her wasn’t just about the little things. I wanted the whole picture of my stepsister’s current life. I wanted to know what made her so Kylie.

“Can I give you a lift?” I knew she had taken a cab to the scene today. She noted a few days ago that her car had broken down. When I offered to take a look at it, she shied away giving me an excuse about some auto body shop. I knew then that she was putting up boundaries and laying down lines. But I still felt like I owed it to her to give her my services.

She stammered a bit as she looked out the window. Her ride hadn’t arrived yet and campus was at least fifteen minutes away. She was going to cut it close if she didn’t take me up on my offer. “Sure, if you wouldn’t mind. That would be great.”

I walked her outside to my black Audi. I was proud of owning it, but she barely registered the luxury car. Whenever I made it out to a club or drove around the strip, girls were lining up to get a ride with me in the driver’s seat. But not Kylie. To her, it was just another thing she wasn’t privileged enough to get. My stomach turned as I remembered I was the reason why life was so hard for her.

She guided me back to campus, making small talk on the way. She pointed out her favorite pizza place, the club that used to work with when Daniel employed her, the empty university football field. Then her dorm appeared. The modern building with it’s boxy, sand colored walls and curved roof were nothing I had expected of a university. Even the palm trees lining the brick paved roads had challenged me.

“I have never seen a college campus before.” I hated to admit that.

“Well, this is it. I live on the fourth floor with my roommate, Lana, but she’s never in. She’s always with a guy or out at her parent’s place in Reno. I really only see her at classes.”

She had mentioned Lana before as I tried to think back to the night in the club. I guessed that the girl who watched us go after I punched the guy on the dance floor was her roommate. By my mental image of her, she looked the part of the roommate who had guys waiting for her at every turn. I sympathized with Kylie, “Must be lonely.”

“Yes and no. She’s a good friend when she’s around. She gives great advice and has my back.” She looked up at her window from our place in the car and sighed, “Plus, I’m not really into the friend relationship. I do my own thing, and I’m okay with that.” She was lying, clearly. She was still the lonely girl I needed to defend back in high school. Some things never change. Kylie noticed the silence and filled the void as quickly as possible, “But I’m busy. I mean with our work and my classes, I’m always out somewhere doing something. It’s lucky that I’m still managing to pull straight-As.”

“Straight-As? Seriously? Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen even one of those on a report card.” It was true. While I knew I was smart, I knew my intelligence never really translated all that well to the classroom. Plus, I had an authority issue. I didn’t play nice with stuck up, know-it-all teachers.

Kylie looked down at her bag, the outline of books catching her attention. She looked forward as if into the future. “I just wanna graduate and make a difference in this world. I’m tired of feeling insignificant. I wanna use my degree to change things for kids in poverty.”

I was impressed. I had heard people talk about wanting to have an impact on the world, but no one meant it really. She looked as if she could strap on a bulletproof vest and head out towards a warzone. In that moment, I knew I would never know someone else like her. She was special, truly special.

Girls and guys alike stared grouping at the car as we idled outside her building. Kylie watched bemused at the ladies who gave the car the double take and then turned to one another to gossip. “This must be a chick magnet?” She grinned widely.

“You could say that.” A young guy of only eighteen started to peek around the back of the car for a closeup, admiring the sleek paint job. “It certainly gets attention.”

Kylie added, her voice lowering, “You get attention.”

“And you don’t? You’re pretty much the entire package. Brains and beauty.” I wanted to wipe away any self-doubt she may have. She had come a long way from the girl who awkwardly walked towards me in that bikini on our first day of the shoot. She took longer, softer steps, her head tilted higher and her clothes fitting tighter. But I could tell it wasn’t enough. She hadn’t felt the way I did about her.

Kylie’s cheeks blushed a bit. I’ve never seen her do that. I reached out my palm to touch the soft curve of her jaw. We lingered for a moment, a familiar pull washing over us as I used my other hand to grip tighter on the steering wheel. I wanted her just as she was – carrying a backpack, her hair tied up in a bun, her cheeks flushed from my words. But this wasn’t going to be my time. She had much more important things to do.

She shocked me as she cut through the silence to offer me an opportunity, “Why don’t you come to class with me? You can sit in back and watch the debates. A lot of freshman in the program attend, so it wouldn’t be unheard of.”

“Me? A freshman?” She looked me up and down. I was long past eighteen. My tattoos, the scars, the tight black t-shirt and jeans…I looked like I belonged on the strip, not in a lecture hall.

Still she begged me a bit, “Come on, Will. Just step in for a few minutes. If you get bored or something, slip out the back.” She stepped out of the car, not giving me a chance to argue any further. But I didn’t want to. She had called me Will for the first time since our first scene when she accidentally shouted it on camera. A bit of her walls were crumbling.

I looked down at my keys resting in the ignition as I hesitated. I didn’t want to give her the impression that we had a shot of being more than hidden lovers. But I still wanted to see this part of her life up close for myself. I turned the keys and exited out the driver’s door, following her down the paved path past the dorm buildings and science halls.

She was walking at a fast clip, obviously worried she would be late. I reached out my hand to slow her down, to give me an opportunity it to catch up to her. But she didn’t let go. She held onto me tighter, our hands connecting us in a more intimate way than we had ever been linked. As she tugged a bit at me, I felt lighter, freer. I felt almost natural, as if I weren’t faking it being here on a college campus with a girlfriend and her backpack. I was alive, and I was with Kylie.

Her debate class was located in a large auditorium, perfect for someone like me to sneak into the back while she took her place at a table on stage. We had made it with seconds to spare as the professor’s assistant shut the doors to signal the start of classes. He didn’t notice the grown man sitting in the aisle seat with his sunglasses still on and his head tucked towards his chest. What I was doing almost felt wrong, as if I were stealing knowledge from those who paid their tuition entry fee.

As the professor explained the rules of the debate, I watched Kylie stiffen. She was shifting modes from Kylie the porn star to Kylie the rockstar student. She pulled out a large binder from her bag and began taking small notes in the corners of the pages. When the student from the opposite table stood, she stared him down as if she knew she had this; she was going to win no matter what.

Then, it was her turn to speak. Her group whispered into her ears as she nodded in their direction and made her final notes. She walked to the podium, her sneakers making squeaking sounds as they traced the slippery stage floor. She placed her binder down, adjusted the microphone, and then looked up at the room. I could feel her eyes find my place in the back as she centered her argument on me.

When she spoke, she did it with confidence. There were no stutters, no stammers, no unnecessary pauses. She spoke quickly, as if she had so many important things to say and a limited time to get it out. You could feel the passion ooze out of her as she rested her hands upon the podium and leaned in.

“What my opponent fails to say is that the proposition he puts forward won't only cost taxpayers here and abroad hundreds of millions of dollars per year, but it will also fail to address the problem at hand. What we need is real solutions for real people. By putting personal politics before human issues, we lose our ability to lead.” She closed her black binder, took a second to scan the room once more, and then stepped off the stage. The entire room watched in awe. She had nailed it for her team; she had managed to blow everyone away.

I began to clap, uncaring if it were the appropriate thing to do. The rest of the room joined in with me, surrounding the theater with the noise just for her. When the professor gestured for us to calm down, it dimmed but I could see her beaming up at me. She wasn’t the kind of girl to get that sort of attention. She was flourishing in it.

I watched the rest of the debates in a state of an uneasy wonderment. How could a girl like that be with me, how could she let me do the things I did to her? I thought of our films, the men and women watching her as she's defiled over and over again. I was making her an object when she was obviously so much more. And even as I looked down at her now, I couldn’t help but want her right here and now on this stage with the entire class watching us.

My stomach turned, the walls closed in on me, her glances up at me became too much. I ducked out of the seat, through the doors, and outside the campus. The night sky concealed me as I made my escape from the girl and who she should really be.  

Chapter 13: The Benefits

He left. I watched him duck out like a thief. Without warning, without reason. He left me.

I wasn’t sure how to feel. I mean, this wasn’t the first time he left me without any notice or reason. And, by both our agreements, we were nothing more than business partners with a sexual relationship. I shouldn’t have expected him to wait around for my class to finish or to get a late night dinner with me in the cafeteria. Those were boyfriend requirements. We were far, far from being together.

Still, I couldn’t help but see his face shining down at me as I gave my rebuttal. He was proud. He was impressed. He was feeling me from a deeper, more personal level. I knew when he grabbed my hand that something shifted in us.

But now we were back at square one. And I was left alone, holding my backpack and optimistically waiting for a sign that he was just around the corner waiting for me or back at his car taking a quick break. Of course, Lana spotted me. She was in the same class as me, but she was always rushing off afterwards to meet with the guy of the week. Night classes cramped her style.

“Oh my god, Kylie! That was amazing! I mean, I knew you were a good debater and everything, but you blew the other group out of the water and made the rest of your team look like amateurs.” Lana held her arms outstretched, bringing me in for a warm hug.

I pressed back slightly, not wanting to acknowledge her very public proclamation in front of the rest of my classmates. I wasn’t one to brag let alone agree that I was better than everyone else as those same people listened in. “Thanks, Lana. You’re way too – erm – kind.” I couldn’t help it. My eyes were darting across the room hoping to get a glimpse or clue as to where Wilder had gone.

Lana pressed onto my shoulders, forcing me to come back to her attention. “What are you looking for? Was it that guy you were holding hands with before class?” She smiled at me suspiciously. “It’s that guy who punched the security guard in the face, right? That boyfriend of yours from your new job!”

She was practically jumping now. I suspected because this was really the first thing we could actually bond over. Normally when we talked, I was the one listening to Lana gush over this guy or that or to give her advice on who was treating her right or who she should just dump. I wanted to laugh, to nod my head furiously, to even give her a knowing wink, but I was lost. She used that word: boyfriend. And he wasn’t. He was just a guy from my work who took me to class. She didn’t need to know the rest, let alone find out that he's actually my stepbrother.

I huffed a bit, finally landing on the right words. “Yeah, that was the guy. But he’s not my boyfriend. It’s just a casual thing.”

“Kylie? Are you serious?” She looked as if she was about to slap me back to my senses. “No casual guy sits in on a girl’s class just to get more action. That’s tame. If he were someone you were sleeping with only, he’d nail you once or twice and then ditch you. Or, he’d only use you for a late night call. Trust me on this.”

How could I not? She was the expert at men. She could read them before they even knew what they were thinking. I wanted to ask her a million things, but I just couldn’t bring them out. Instead, I tamed it down, “Okay, I get you. But we agreed to be just casual. And then he wanted to come check out my class but left halfway through. What the hell does that mean?”   

Lana began walking out the door, me following behind her. She loved this new position of power. She was always a fixer, in her own way, and she was thrilled to be able to combine her two best skills to help me. As she placed a pair of oversized, rounded sunglasses onto her face, she said, “Here’s the thing, honey. He’s a guy. He gets scared, especially of powerful, smart women like you. And if you haven’t really established your relationship fully, he probably didn’t understand what he had until he saw you in your natural habitat. It’s like that guy I was seeing a few months ago…Jerome or Tyler. I don’t remember…Anyway, he was so into me until he saw me waiting tables at the club, talking to celebrities and stuff. Then he was turned off by how I was this different person, this better person.”

“So, I’m the better person?” I was getting what she was saying, but I just couldn’t see it.

“Kylie, you’re always the better person. You’re a saint. A complete angel. No one can touch you in brains or morality.”

I couldn’t help it – I scoffed. I had yet to tell her my new job was as a porn star and producer. I’m pretty sure she’d personally take away my virgin queen card if she knew that I spent my free time screwing my stepbrother on camera so I could pay my tuition and help my mother out back home.

She didn’t miss a beat, though. Her own words were too mesmerizing to pay attention to my dissent. “My advice, if you choose to take it: keep being the Kylie you were before he saw you in action. That other you, the one in the classroom, is part of who you are. And now that he has seen it, he can either accept it or let you go. But if he dumps you for being smarter and more ambitious, then he’s a complete asshole unworthy of your love or attention. Got it?”

Love? She said it – that word I avoided anytime I thought of his smell, his embrace, our kiss…Hearing her say it in the context of him was jarring, a timer on an explosion turning on. I couldn’t even reply to that. Instead, I shook my head and said, “I understand. Thanks, Lana.”

“Listen, why don’t you take tonight off? I know you’ve been working so hard on preparing for this debate, and now it's over. Plus, you don’t work on Monday nights, so you have no excuse. Just stay in, paint your nails, and watch some bad TV. I think there’s an old bottle of wine somewhere in the dorm, as well. Have a glass or two on me.” Lana fished for her keys in the depths of her large black purse. As she yanked them out, she gave me a final warning, “And whatever you do, Kylie, don’t call him.”

“Why can’t I call him?” I wouldn’t call him if I could. I had his number, but I only used it for business since I begged him to forgive me about failing to tell him I knew our connection.

“Just don’t. Whenever you get heated, you tend to stay stupid things you will regret. And when you have feelings for a guy, the last thing you wanna do is make yourself vulnerable. Hide your phone. Turn it off. Lock it in a safe or something. I’d take it away myself, but I’m going out tonight. Jace is in town and he wants to meet!” She squealed in delight.

“Basketball player?”

“Baseball. New York Mets. He was at the club last night.”

I rolled my eyes as I thought of her flirting with every superstar she could come across with. This was her life, though, and I certainly had no room to judge. “Be safe, Lana. I’ll see you in class.”

She wrapped me up in a hug before heading off to her car. I walked back the opposite direction to my dorm, passing by the place where Wilder’s car was formerly parked. The space was occupied by a less flashy, mostly rusty station wagon. Certainly not Wilder’s style.

As soon as I walked in the door, I dropped my bag at the entryway and scanned our small, cramped place for the wine. Lana always kept her drinks in the cooler, but I spotted the bottle on the desk. It had been uncorked recently. I could tell from the still fresh specks of liquid pooling at its glass mouth. I poured a large glass of the white wine into a plastic red cup and downed it in seconds flat. I was going to do what Lana advised me to do. I was going to take tonight off from everything.

I turned my phone off as I turned on a movie. I removed my button down shirt, my jeans, and my bra. And as I grabbed a pink polish from Lana’s makeup kit, I finally got to sit down and do something so rare for me – turn my mind off.

…

“Kylie? Kylie!” I twisted in my lounge chair, trying to remember where I was or how I got there. I was feet from my bed, my nearly naked body draped over the side of the old, hand-me-down furniture piece. I listened for that voice calling me. It repeated itself more urgently, “Kylie! Come on. Just open up and let me talk to you.”

I panicked. My first thought was that the mystery knocker was Lana. She was constantly losing her keys at her boyfriends’ places. I was accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night. But this voice was different. It was dark, deep, and serious. I know that voice all too well. The voice belonged to Wilder, and by the way he was pleading with me to open the door, I knew he was getting frustrated.

I grabbed my fluffy blue robe and threw it over my naked chest. He had seen me topless countless amounts of time, but never in my own space. I grabbed a quick glance at my messy, uncombed hair before opening the door a crack. He leaned over the doorway, his arm draped high above my head. I saw his muscles flex as he pushed onto the wood paneling. His brown, shaggy hair was softly dancing in the breeze from the air conditioning vent above his head. But it was his blue eyes staring back at me, totally urgent, that were freezing me in place.

He spoke first, taking the pressure off of me. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” He stared me down as if I have done something wrong. Why would he even need to reach me? I’m not on call for him.

“I turned it off for the night. I’ve had a really long day, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone.” I could play frustrated right back. My voice seethed.

He looked at my annoyed, irritated face with the unsightly wrinkles near my forehead. He instantly lightened up, instead offering, “Listen, I know I woke you up, but I need to talk to you.” He lifted his head, looking for signs of Lana. “Can I come in?”

I was rendered speechless as I stepped away, allowing him to enter.

He surveyed the space, his eyes lingering at my bed and the clothes tossed on the floor. He looked at me again, noticing I wasn't exactly prepared for him. “Okay,” he started, “I know me leaving without telling you was a dick move. I just saw you up there, killing it, and I felt so wrong. I mean, this thing between us is really, really wrong.”

“We’ve gone over this, Wilder. I’m okay with it. You were okay with it. If you’re having second thoughts, we can end this.” I needed to point out to him that I was still letting him make the calls. But I could call his bluff, as well. I wanted a piece of control over this odd, insane situation we put ourselves in. If he could outright question it, so could I.

“I know that, Kylie. And I don’t want to end whatever it is that’s going on between us. But that’s the problem. Now that I’ve seen you do this college thing, all I want is you…now.”

Lana’s words came back to me. He wants me as a friends with benefits situation. Nothing more. A small piece of me cringed when I thought of this being Lana territory.

He continued, lowering his voice so the few girls clearly eavesdropping in on us in the common area couldn’t hear any more, “I wanna fuck you in your dorm room. I wanna fuck you on that lecture stage. Hell, I’d do it in your professor’s office if we could get the key.”

I shut the door tight as he walked towards Lana’s bed and took a seat. I took my moment to steal a quick glance down between his legs. He was hard. Really hard. His tight jeans gave everything away. He did want me, and he wasn’t going to leave until he got me.

Still, the way he sat there, in Lana’s bed opposite of mine, I couldn’t help but remember waking up to him in his own bed back at our family’s home. When I was younger, I would crawl through the scary, dangerous dark to lie next to him. I rested my head on his bare chest to hear the beating of his heart protecting me and keeping me present.

“I’m angry, Wilder. I know I shouldn’t be, but I am.” I crossed my arms in front of me. One hundred thoughts ran in my mind as I imagined falling for his wish to have sex in my dorm room. My childhood flashback rekindled that naughty, forbidden desire I tried to push down every time he managed to turn me on like this. And I’m not sure if I'm upset that he won, had managed to take over every single thought of mine, or if I was upset because he hadn’t ripped my robe off yet and taken me like I knew he wanted to.

“I know you are, and you have every right to be. What I did was totally, completely uncool. I should have at least sent you a text like you asked me to.” He approached me slowly, taking his hands around my shoulders, forcing my arms to softly land at my sides. “But can you forgive me and let us be friends again?”

“We’re not friends. We’re coworkers.” He was the one who kept reminding me what we were merely involved a camera in our space and a crew following our every move in a fake, incomplete bedroom set. I wasn’t sure why I had to keep telling him this.

“We don’t have to be coworkers tonight, Kylie. It can be just you, me, and my phone.”

“Your phone?” My stomach turned over and sideways. I wasn’t sure if I was comfortable with this or upset that we couldn’t just be unattached and simple.

“I want to remember this myself. I want to have this moment when I finally get to fuck a college girl in my own, personal collection.”

I demurely asked him, my hands finding his hips, “You have a private collection? How many other girls are in this collection of yours?”

“None. You’ll be my first, so we need to make it good.”

Chapter 14: On the Screen

Wilder stood back a few feet from me, taking his cell from his pocket and pointing it in my direction. As he untied my robe, he clicked record. He commanded me, “Undress.”

I looked at him, past the camera of his phone, past the people I knew would watch this. I saw his blue eyes calling for me, begging me to join. The robe dropped at my feet, revealing me in just my bright blue lace panties.

“Turn around. Slowly.” I again obeyed, going just slow enough so he could get all of the angles of my body. “Now, put your hands on your bunk bed and face the wall.”

My arms raised above my head, grabbing onto the wooden beams of Lana’s lofted bed. I listened as he placed his phone on the desk and then fidgeted with it until he got the right shot from the side. He then returned behind me, placing his hands around my waist and then moving them slowly upwards towards my breasts.

He massaged them gently, softly. I felt my hips find his own as they gyrated slowly with his own motions. His fingers rubbed at my nipples, pinching the tips and forcing them to attention. I removed one of my hands from the bed and lifted it to his face. But he was quick, pushing it back down into place. He smacked my ass with his bare hands as I cried out. “I didn’t tell you to move your hands.” He hit me again. I could feel my skin quiver from his mark.

He moved his attention to my ass, softly touching the red spots he just left before suddenly lowering the panties to the ground and tossing them with his foot to the side. I was fully nude and exposed in my dorm room, yet I didn’t feel natural with his hands alternating between rubbing my clit and my tits. Instead, I felt unleashed.

Wilder spun me around, facing me towards his makeshift camera and his body. He slammed something on the phone, causing the little recording sound to clink. Before I could protest, his lips found mine, pushing my mess of hair out of his way and taking my cheeks into his large, strong hands. His kiss was dire, strong. There was a desire there that was unlike anything that we had experienced before as co-stars. This actually felt real.

“Lay down.” He whispered as he pulled away, causing me to gasp. “Now!”

I found my bed with my hands and laid down on the pillows. He moved the phone once again to my bedside dresser, checking the shot as I lay there afraid of disobeying him. He towered over me as he planned out his next moves.

Wilder mounted me, but not in a way that I expected. Instead, he laid upon me with his head towards me pussy and his cock right near my mouth. I felt the heat of his breath against my thighs as he kissed me from my knee on down, leaving a trail of kisses from the start to the finish. Then, he pushed me up to sitting by my hips.

My folds lowered down towards his mouth gently as his tongue found his way inside me. I felt it taste me first, surveying the darkened corners. Just the very tip of his tongue sent my hands flying for his knees for something to hold onto. He began going farther, making longer, slower strokes against my skin, only barely going inside of me. I felt one of his hands slip from my thighs to under me. He opened me up farther, parting me, exposing me. And then he glided his tongue and mouth fully in. Within seconds, he found my clit and began moving it with his wet, rough mouth.

I tilted back as I felt the familiar pressure telling me to stop and keep going all at the same time. I wanted to cry out, to scream, but I didn’t want to wake anyone up or give anything away. Instead, I bit down on my lip, hard, as he began to speed up his strokes, his tongue making circles and his breath gently sucking me in.

I needed to lean in closer as I dropped down to my elbows, allowing him to go deeper and get a better chance at my slit. My head was close to his cock, hovering over it. I remembered our first time, how he stood me up and flipped me over, forcing me to take him from upside down. I begged myself to be as brave and bold as I took hold of his cock and started teasing it with my mouth.

I felt him stop for a second to assess what I was doing. He let out a long, guttural moan as he continued. I was following his speed, slow and steady. As he made circles, I made lines up and down. My palms encompassed his balls, massaging them gently with the inside of my hands. I could see goosebumps rise around his hard cock, telling me I was doing this right. I was giving him just as much pleasure as he was giving me. His hands encircled my ass, grabbing, kneading, spreading me out and clutching me back in. They were rough, calloused, and extraordinarily hot – a man’s hands. I shivered as he traced a finger down the small of my back.

Suddenly, I was hit with a sharp pain on my left ass cheek, followed by another, and another, and then one on the right. I moaned involuntarily, barely processing what was going on, but feeling myself getting wetter from it. It happened again, in reverse order – crack! crack! crack! crack! – and I cried out, the mild pain melding with intense pleasure, sending confused, conflicted messages to my brain. It was a gentle rapping on my ass, but it was enough to wake me from my blissful endorphin state. I was aware, suddenly, of everything around me. I redoubled my efforts on his cock, turning from shyly sweet teasing to intense, almost pornographic sucking. I took him fully into my mouth, into my throat, swallowing and gagging ever so slightly as I take him completely in me. He ran his finger again down the small of my back, slapping me again on the top of my right cheek. This one was harder – and it felt all the better. His face, meanwhile, burrowed into me, his tongue lapping at my hole while his nose flicked at my clit. I wanted nothing more than to take him wholly inside of me, feel his hard cock throbbing inside my tight, sopping pussy.

Then I felt it.

At first, I wasn’t entirely certain what he was doing, or that he was doing what he was doing. He kept his finger going along the small of my back, down my crack, over my holes, down my inner thighs, and then back again. He paused each time right above my asshole, hovering momentarily, moving his finger in circles. His mouth kept going faster and faster, getting me to the edge of cumming before pulling back slightly, then starting the process over. He did this three or four times, taking longer at my asshole each time. Oh god, I thought when he stopped again, his finger lingering on my asshole Oh god, I’m not ready – I can’t do that – it’s dirty – it’s—

My thought process was cut off as I felt his finger enter me from behind. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. The forbiddenness melded with intensity I’d never expected. He kept his mouth glued to my pussy, his tongue exploring my cunt while the tip of his finger opened up my other hole. At first, it was just up to about his fingernail, and I felt like I could manage – it was pleasurable, much hotter than I’d imagined. But he didn’t stop. My ass resisted as he pushed forward, going deeper, until I could feel at least half of his finger inside me, pounding in a gentle but firm motion. I gasped as he attempted to go even deeper than that.

“Yow!” I cried, completely by accident.

“Fuck, Kylie,” Wilder exclaimed, panting heavily as he pulled his finger out of me, “I’m – I’m sorry. I was—”

I gave him a playful lick on the tip of his cock. “I wasn’t expecting it,” I said slyly, “but that doesn’t mean I want to stop.”

“You – you’re cool?”

I nodded.

“And you want to…” He looked towards his cock, then towards my ass. He thought he was being coy. It was almost adorable.

I nodded again, a lopsided smile on my face.

“You know it might hurt,” he said cautiously.

“Listen,” I told him. “Go over to Lana’s nightstand. She keeps a bottle of lube there for…special occasions.”

“You want me to—”

“Massage me. Oil me up. Get me nice a slippery. And let me watch.” I smiled at him. “We’ll see where it goes from there, okay?”

Wilder did as he was told. He grabbed his phone and tossed it to me, then went to the other side of the room, quickly returning with the bottle of lube. He didn’t hesitate, but he took it slowly. He started with my neck, my shoulders, my back, little drips all over my skin, making me slick. I watched from my vantage point in the mirror of the phone, feeling his hands stroking all over my body. It was strangely hot, in a totally narcissistic kind of way. I mean, I was watching myself – yet almost not. I almost felt detached, strong, like I could do anything.

Wilder’s hands were magic. He stroked down my back, around my ass, down my legs. His hands reached down my sides, over my pussy, up my stomach to my breasts. I gasped at his little tweaks of my nipples, pinches coming in rapid succession before he moved back around my back and down my spine. Finally, he came to his goal, and he hesitated, as if unsure of himself. I turned my head back and looked at him lustily, encouragingly, and nodded. As his finger moved towards my asshole, I took a deep breath in.

He slid in surprisingly easily, and the breath rushed out of me. He reached his thick arms around my waist and put his other hand over my pussy, spreading my lips and seeking my clit. When he found it – it was like fire and ice. In my front, my pussy burned, ached, as he stimulated me slowly, rubbing seductively over my nub. Behind me, he’d now managed to get two slicked-up fingers inside and was slowly, methodically pushing them in and out. My ass felt filled up, making me feel naughty, like I was at school doing something that might get me caught by the teacher any second.

I couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted him. “Are you ready?” I asked breathlessly.

“Are you?” he replied.

“Come on, Wilder,” I insisted, my voice low, sultry, and pleading. “I want you to fuck me. Do it. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck my ass.” I grabbed the bottle of lube and turned around as he pulled his fingers out of me a second time. With one hand, I poured it on his rigid cock and stroked him, while putting my arm around his neck with the other and kissing him deeply. When I broke the kiss, I stared at him again, deeply in his eyes, and licked my lips. “Wilder,” I said intently, “I want you to fuck my asshole.” I felt naughtier by the second. What we were about to do was so nasty, so dirty – but so right. It was like being in one of the porn fantasies, only real. I felt it come over me. I wanted, I needed, his cock in my ass. He seemed to be hesitating, so I said again, in as lewd a voice as possible, “Come on, baby. Do it. Fuck my asshole. Fuck it good.”

With that, he flipped me around and pushed me into the bed. I felt my face buried in the sheets as he grabbed the back of my neck. His cock hovered right above my asshole, and I could feel it, just the tip at first, move towards its target. He was gentle, though, slow, and as he eased his way into me, I felt him fill me up.

Slowly, ever-so-slowly, he pulled out slightly, then pushed deeper. I moved to get on all fours and allow him easier access, and he responded with a great thrust that sent his entire length into my hole. He pulled back again, and, beginning to get into a rhythm, started thrusting, moving forward and backward inside my ass. The sensation was incredible. He pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled, sliding forwards and backwards inside me, while his rough hands found my clit at the front of my body. I felt the tip of his fingers brush up against it, then begin to rub, slowly at first, then faster, and faster, moving in rhythm with his thrusts. “Oh god,” I cried out, “fuck me! Fuck my ass, baby! Oh – oh god, I’m gonna – I’m gonna—”

I felt the orgasm come on before I knew what had hit me. I shuddered and bit my lower lip, then cried out again. Wilder just thrust harder and harder, burying his shaft deep in my ass. He eased up on my clit as I came down from my cum, then bent over and whispered in my ear, “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

I knew he was looking for me to be lewd. “You’re gonna cum?” I said, groaning. “Don’t stop, baby. Cum for me. Cum in my ass. Cum in my fucking tight little asshole. Fill me up, baby. Cum in my ass.”

He yelled out, a guttural, animal-like snarl that they must have heard in the next room over. He stiffened, then kissed my back as he slowly, carefully pulled his cock out of me.

As we fell asleep in each other’s arms, I couldn’t help but feel like something had changed. Sex was work – something to be kept at the studio, not in my dorm room. But this…this was something else entirely. For the first time in my life, I felt desired, secure – safe.

Chapter 15: Another Vision

“Stop it, Dwayne, unless you wanna get your head beat in!” I’m enraged, completely overtaken by my anger towards this asshole kid.

He doesn’t even bother to turn to look at me, he just continues towering over the girl. “Oh look who’s here, your boyfriend. Do you know what people say about you two? It’s so gross! But it makes sense. It’s not like any guy would like you besides your own stepbrother!”

My face is turning beet red, my skin beginning to craw., I’m flexing my hands into little, tight fists as I boil over. “I’m not gonna warn you again. Get out of here before I kill you.”

He spits on the ground besides where she's crouching. Her hands are over her ears, her eyes closed tight. She doesn’t even see him step away. She’s just wishing for it to all be over with. He looks down at her one last time, letting out a long chuckle, “I wouldn’t touch that freak either way.”

That’s it. I’m done. I take three large steps towards him and his group, grabbing onto the collar of his vinyl jacket. I swing him hard against the brick wall of the school, pressing his body into the stones. I raise my fist high in the air dramatically before I hear him relent. He lets out a loud, pleading whimper as the rest of his gang of idiot thug teenagers disappear. He stammers, lost in his own fear, “Listen man, I didn’t mean to do anything bad. I wasn’t gonna hurt her. We were just having some fun.” His voice was rapid, as if he wanted to apologize for being alive if it meant me not hitting him with such a forced I’d undeniably knock his teeth out.

I put my arm down and place my hands next to his throat. His eyes dart towards them, hoping and praying I won’t push down harder and begin to choke. My voice is impossibly low for someone who is only sixteen, and I used it to my advantage. “If I ever see you near my stepsister again, I'll personally rip your throat out and feed it to your family. Do you hear me?”

He nods up and down, over and over again until I drop him to the ground. He takes a second to dust himself off before running towards his group. They’re all waiting for him at the top of the hill by the middle school playground. No doubt, they were watching and listening, as well. I take note of each of them, making a mental list of who saw my warning.

Kylie is still squatting down against the wall. She hasn’t heard or seen a thing. She’s just waiting for the pain she’s all too familiar with. Before my dad married her mom, she was this nerdy, outcast kid with no friends. And even two years later, it’s still the same. I’ve tried to tell her she can change this. She can get over her nerdy side if she just cut her hair like everyone else and stopped wearing such stupid, geeky clothing. I’ve seen her outside of school. I’ve even seen her undress. I knew she had potential, especially as she was getting older.

But that wasn’t for Kylie. She was unique, her own person. She wasn’t going to be just another prom queen wannabe. She was going to be special, despite what those preteen jerks said or did to her. I admired that.

I lowered myself down to her spot and slowly removed her hands from her ears and quietly spoke, “Hey, kid. It’s me. They boys are gone.”

One eye opened first, peeking at the scene to make sure it wasn’t some trap. Then the other eye followed as they lit up. She was safe. “Wills!” she said astonished, “Thank you for helping me. I thought they would never go away.”

I sat next to her, grabbing her shoulders with my arm. “What are brothers for?”

---

The words echoed in my mind, jolting me awake. What are brothers for? Not this. Not for being a porn costar or, worse, waking up in her dorm room next to her after screwing her.

I looked at the light beams painting themselves on her gray tile floor. By how bright it was outside, I guessed it was the early morning. I managed to do the one thing I avoided for so many years: I actually fell asleep next to another woman.

When I slept with other girls, I was usually out the door as soon as the deed was done. I’d come up with excuses – work in the morning, someone waiting for me back at home, a breakfast with an old friend – anything to avoid having to face her in the morning. But Kylie was different. I didn’t race to find my pants or make my way to the car after sex with her.

Instead, I let sleep come; I welcomed it. She curled up to me, her back up against my front, her hair tickling my nose. I watched as her eyes grew heavy and her speech slowed. At one point during her fade into the early morning hours, she wished me a goodnight as if knowing I would be there tomorrow.

I knew that was my cue to go, but her scent dragged me in further. I wanted to continue feeling the warmth between our two bodies. I wanted to use this perfectly quiet, silent moment as an opportunity to touch and study her perfect skin up close for myself. With the porn shoots, I only had so much time to take her in, to study her movements and positions. Now, she was mine for the taking. I could watch her eyelids flicker, see her mouth curl open along with her dreams, and press my fingers into the skin where her hip bone jutted out slightly.

I suddenly didn’t mind that I was there past my normal welcome. Despite my dream playing with my consciousness, I wanted this moment, right or wrong.

An alarm went off near Kylie’s head. Little beeps growing louder and louder until she finally stirred awake. Her head twisted, resisting the need to wake up. She was comfortable. I had made her comfortable. A smile crept on my face as she turned her shoulder towards me, her eyes fluttering open one at a time, just like my memory.

“You’re still here?” she asked dreamily, a small curve of her lip shooting upwards.

“I’m still here.” 

“I thought you would be gone by now. You’re not exactly the type of guy I would imagine staying, especially after what we did last night.” She grinned sheepishly. I knew having anal sex would be transformative for her. Sex was great, but getting to the next level with ass play was something else completely.

“Well, we can do a repeat, if you would like…” My hands stroked at the warm spots on her backside where my hips had pressed into her. I leaned down towards her, kissing her softly while prompting her to turn, facing me. She was sweet and impossibly fresh, as if the morning hadn’t touched her.

She pulled away softly, kissing me on the cheek before looking back up towards the clock. “I want to. I really, really want to. But I’m going to have to take a rain check on that. I’ve got class in about an hour and I really should shower.”

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to give excuses. It sounds to me like you’re trying to get away.”

“I promise you the last thing I wanna do right now is get out of this bed and head towards Modern Literature with Professor Mouth Breather. But I’ve never, ever missed a class, and I don’t plan on starting now.”

I watched her lift her arms up, stretching towards the walls. I could feel her feet curling upwards and her hips lifting off the bed slightly. She gave me one last, deep kiss on the mouth, her tongue searching for mine before straddling over me and planting herself on the ground.

She grabbed her robe off of the floor and sat down at her desk, opening her old laptop. I caught her attention, “You really should get a new one. That computer looks like something our parents used.”

I cringed. Our parents. Ugh. I knew I just ruined a moment. I brought reality back into this room. I waited for the shoe to drop, for her to notice my slip, but she either ignored it or didn’t mind.

Instead, she laughed as the machine hummed noisily to start. “I know, I know. It’s the next thing on my list to buy after I pay for the four hundred other things I need to upgrade. I still have about two year’s worth of tuition to pay off, so you better be coming up with ideas for new scenes.”

“I have a couple of ideas that may bring in some huge paydays. And, I could always sell last night’s video. I’m pretty sure it would break records.”

She smiled and nodded, her lips pursing together as if she were about to burst. “Let’s keep that one between the two of us – your private collection, remember?”

“I’ll enjoy it tonight, I can promise you that.” I wasn’t lying. I had never done something so amateur as to make a sex tape between me and someone not on a set. The idea of it was getting me hard. I'd watch it over and over again, I imagined.

Kylie went back to looking at her computer, her mouse and keyboard clicking away as she searched for something. She didn’t look away as she asked me, “Do we have anything going on tomorrow?”

“No. Why?” I was suspicious almost immediately.

She seemed timid, unsure how to approach the question. “Well, this guy contacted me. His name is Rebel? I don’t know; it can’t be his real name.”

A red-hot singe of anger burst within me. “Rebel O’Conner. That’s his real name. What does that asshole wannabe want with you?”

She didn’t dare to look at me. Instead she read off an email, “Hey Kylie. My name’s Rebel. I got your email from your former agent, Daniel. I saw some of the work you have done with Wilder, and I’m a huge fan.”

I interrupted her, “Yeah, he would be. He practically stalks me, copying my every move.” I knew I sounded bitter, but Rebel and I had a history going back years since I got started. He was the sound tech in one of my first films, and we bonded over the dream of making it big. He got his name piggybacking off of my hard work.

“Anyway,” she continued reading, not sure how to react to my burst of frustration, “I wanted to know if you were interested in working with me on a project or two. Daniel has some ideas, but I’m also willing to work with you at your own production company. I don’t have a contract so I'm able to travel studios and do some freelancing. I really think the two of us would make a hot match. Give me a call if you’re interested in meeting today or tomorrow to discuss. Hope to talk to you soon, R.O.C”

“R.O.C.? You have to be kidding me.”

“What’s your problem? I thought it would be a good idea. I mean, our scenes are hot, so very hot. And we're obviously making a ton of people happy considering the money and website hits. But there needs to be some variety. We added Julie in. Why not add another guy into the fold?” She stroked her hair nervously. This was an uncomfortable moment not just for me, but also for her. I could tell she hesitated to even just bring it up. I wouldn’t blame her. After last night, this was more like cheating.

“I just don’t understand, Kylie. There are other guys who can work with Julie. She can do the other men.” Julie was actually not that excited to work with boys. They just weren’t her type. But I still needed something to get Kylie out of this.

Kylie reached over the desk and put on a pair of glasses. She had that nerdy, pure look again as she teased me, “My, my Will. Are you perhaps jealous of me working with another guy? Could I be that good that you wanna keep me all for yourself?”

I stood off of the bed, letting the comforter drop over my naked waist, revealing me to her. I walked towards her, picking her off of the chair and bringing her back to the bed. “You are that good. Any guy would be jealous of having to share you.”

She traced her hands around my naked chest, pressing her tiny hands into my smooth skin. She lowered her voice, removing the humor. “I know we're casual. I know we aren’t a couple or anything. And, I mean, that’s totally fine by me. I don’t see why this would be any kind of big deal. He’s just another fucking porn star.”

I tugged at her robe, bringing her closer to me. She had a point. We weren’t exclusive. Even our business contract allowed us to work with other people if we had the opportunity. But I was jealous. The thought of her fucking another guy on camera made me see red. That was my job. This was my co-star. She’s my sister. I wanted to rip her computer up and hunt down Rebel for even mentioning it.

I sighed heavily as I tried to push my anger down. I placed my hand in the opening slit of the robe and pushed the fabric off her shoulder, kissing her skin right above her breast. She looked so innocent, so unsure. The glasses only made it hotter for me. “I’m not gonna stop you, Kylie.”

She hesitated as I began circling my hand around her breast, her breath clipping as I started teasing her nipple. “Then I guess I’ll do it.”

I pressed my lips against her pink tips, lapping it with my tongue. In between strokes, I made a proposition, “But I have two conditions.”

She was breathless, unable to control herself from her own desires, “What? What is your condition for me?”

“You be late to class so I can take you once more.” My hand slipped in between her legs, parting her thighs for a path up to her slit. “But you also have to let me shoot the scene and direct it.”

“Mmmm…” She agreed to my first requirement. I could tell that.

“Do you agree, Kylie? Should we tell Rebel to meet us at the studio tomorrow?” My fingers were pressing up against her clit, rocking slowly up and down and entering very slowly.

She let out a tiny scream, “Yes! Oh God! Yes.”

That was enough for me as I threw her back onto her bed, ripping the rest of her robe free from her naked body.

Chapter 16: Reflecting Light

Home seemed so empty, so quiet now that I had had Kylie in her own space. But it was a place for me to collect myself. Being in her cocoon, even if for a night, drudged up all these thoughts and feelings that I wasn’t sure how to process.

Mainly, I was stuck with this: Kylie wanted to fuck someone else.

In my head, I knew the someone else was another pornstar, just like me. It was all business mixed with some detached pleasure. But there was pleasure, and I wasn’t the one giving it to her. I had a hard enough time watching Julie and her stimulate one another in a bathtub, but now I was tasking myself of playing matchmaker with Kylie and Rebel?

I shook my head tiredly as I sat down at the glass desk in my living room. I opened my silver laptop’s screen and it instantly flickered on, flashing hundreds of unanswered emails and messages. As I had suspected, Kylie the exploring bisexual was hitting it big. By my estimates, we had already brought in at least eight thousand in pre-sale profits in one night.

It sealed the deal for me. Kylie was the money-maker here. She was the one the guys wanted to see. I was good – I knew I was. I had a following of women – and more than a few men – who loved to watch me. But Kylie was becoming a cult legend. Her getting some variety in her portfolio was only going to grow her brand and make it stronger. And I knew from a director’s point of view that if it couldn’t be with me, it should be with a big name, up and coming star like Rebel.

After checking the numbers, I opened my Word documents to a blank page. When I wrote scenarios for sex, it usually followed the same parameters – a simple story told in a few minutes followed by loads of action. Most of the time, the script was thrown out if the actors could improvise like Kylie and me. But that wasn’t always the case. Sometimes the talent needed something to read out loud, to recite to their partner to warm it up.

I wrote out Kylie’s name first. She would get the first and last word in any scene where I was there with her. And then I blanked. My mind was almost erased of any and all inspiration. I just couldn’t write anything past her name. Time passed in a haze, keeping me at my desk chair as I struggled with just about every scene I could imagine. It was either too tame or too overdone.

Suddenly, I felt a vibration against my leg as my phone alerted me to the low power. I pulled it out, hooking it into the laptop and returning back to my work. But as I made my next attempt, a black screen appeared. My computer was playing back the video I took last night in Kylie’s room.

I watched as she disrobed, almost reluctantly, as if she were having the same thoughts as I was about the wrongness of it all. Then the camera shifted to us pressing our bodies together, my hands caressing her beautiful, perky tits. And as I fucked her in the ass, her moans and screams only growing with each small push, I knew I had my story.

Kylie was my muse in more ways than one. And if I was going to write a scene that I couldn’t be present for, I was going to write a scene that played out in real life.

The next morning, I arrived on set early, helping with the costume and set choices. I didn’t want anything too extravagant – just a basement living room with some fake stairs, a couch, and some end tables. This had to look realistic in order to amp up the sexiness. Overdoing it would be a distraction.

Kylie walked into the warehouse a few hours later. I could tell she was feeling a bit off by it all, especially since I made it very clear that this wasn’t exactly my favorite idea in the world. But she instantly perked up as she saw me working as hard, or harder, than usual on getting the preparations right. I watched from the corner of my eye as she strode over to me, slinging her backpack across her shoulder and untucking her hair nervously from behind her ears.

“Hey, Wilder. I’m here.” Her voice shook a bit as she looked around the room for a glance at Rebel.

I tried to contain myself. I needed to separate myself from our relationship today. “Good. I need you in hair and makeup. It shouldn’t take long. Rebel is supposed to be here in a half hour so try to be ready when he gets in.” I tossed her a small packet of papers, “Here’s the script. Look it over. I’d rather you memorized the majority of it instead of winging it.”

She studied the cover, reading over the title and then placing the papers down horrified. “Wilder, I can’t do this.”

“Yeah, you can. It’s just a scene.”

“You know why I can’t do this. I’m not gonna act like this guy is my stepbrother considering what is going on between us.” She handed me back the script haughtily and waited for my reply.

I stood up and grabbed her by her shoulder, pulling her towards the dressing room and out of the sight of my crew. In a low, straight voice, I asked her, “Are you really telling me you can’t see this?” I held the script up to her face, emphasizing my insistence. “This thing between us – this casual stepbrother/stepsister thing is wrong on so many levels that it’s actually hot. It obviously turns you on, so why not turn others on?”

I was being cold and malicious. I knew it. But I couldn’t connect with her, nor sympathize with her. I was the director and she was my actress. She did as she was told. Still, I could see she wasn’t going to accept this as easily as I thought she would. There was a fire burning in her eyes that told me what I was doing to her wasn't acceptable.

She spun out of from under my arm and walked into the dressing room, a script folded up in her hands. She emerged twenty minutes later, just on time, with her golden hair tied loosely in two long pigtails and her wearing a jean skirt and a tight red t-shirt. She was the spitting image of the all-American girl. She was every guy’s little sister.

Rebel followed behind her, chatting with her as she walked quickly towards the set. He was as I remembered him – tattooed, muscled, and blonde. I didn’t plan for them to look the parts. I heard him speak to her before he took his mark on the brown leather couch, “Are you ready for this, Kylie?”

“Yeah, I’m excited. This is gonna be fun.” She giggled a bit, twisting a tangle of her hair with her fingers.

I cringed. Fun? This was going to be anything but fun – at least for me.

The set grew quiet as I gave the signal for the two to begin. The scene had a setup where two extras, a girl and a guy from our crew, acted as parents, letting the brother know they were going to be upstairs working on the house and that he was in charge of watching his sister while they were occupied. He whined a bit, wanting to play with his video games alone. The parents ignored him, finally calling out for Kylie to join them.

When they were alone, Kylie began reciting her lines. She was a bit wooden, a bit off, but she still knew how to milk it, “Hey, John! Can I play?”

Rebel looked at her and laughed, “Play? No way! You’ll just lose my place. Go find something else to do.”

“There’s nothing else for me to do.” She sat next to him on the couch, putting the video controller onto the wooden coffee table. He turned towards her, looking at her for the first time. The cameramen zoomed in on her cleavage as she bounced in her seat as she asked delightedly, “What do you suggest?”

Rebel ran his hands through his hair nervously and then placed a hand on her leg. “You’re such a nerd, Alice. It’s no wonder Mom and Dad put you down here with me.”

She pouted, her arms crossing her chest, bringing her breasts higher. “That’s not nice. You’re supposed to be my stepbrother, but instead you’re so mean to me.”

“Why should I be nice to you? You’re so lame, I bet you haven’t even kissed a guy before.”

“I have, too.” She looked anxious, her poker face giving her away.

“Show me, then.” He leaned towards her, waiting for her to follow his directions.

She pulled away, just as in the script, exclaiming, “We can’t! Mom and Dad are upstairs! And you’re my brother. Isn’t that wrong?”

He corrected her, taking one of her tucked hands from under her and placing it on his own leg. “It’s not wrong. You’re my stepsister, first of all. And, as your big brother, I’m supposed to teach you things. I can teach you lots of things.”

Her voice lowered as she stared at him, her eyes focusing in, “Like what things?”

“Let’s start with this.” He placed his hand on her cheek and pulled her in for a long, gentle kiss.

Kylie rocked forward a bit, wanting to be nearer to him. They fell back into the couch together, their lips and hands holding onto one another.

My stomach was turning as I saw him lift her up and onto his lap. His hands moved the fabric of her tight, short skirt above her hips, revealing her white lace panties. She moaned a bit as his hands massaged the exposed part of her back where her shirt crept up. The fabric inched up with his fingers, until they met the backside of her bra.

I gave the cameraman a look that told him to grab a shot of her as she said her next line, “This is wrong, John. So wrong.”

Rebel leaned forward, taking her into his muscular, tattooed arms and ripping the rest of the shirt off of her. He pulled closer to her ear, mimicking a whisper, “Good. I want this to be wrong.” In an instant, he released her bra as it unhooked in his fingers and fell down her arms. He grabbed a hold of her breasts, pressing them up towards her chin and then moving them around in his hands. She was gripping onto the back of the leather sofa, pushing them closer to his mouth until they dipped towards his lips.

His long red tongue wagged out, catching the tops of a nipple. His fingers played with the other, giving it equal attention as his head bobbed again for it, catching her breast with his mouth. He held on, sucking gently at it. I saw the close up shot of him pressing his lips with a small opening for her hard nipples, just wide enough to nibble. His teeth etched into her skin as she reeled, her head cocking back and her hand shooting up to wrap around his neck, pulling him in even closer. He engulfed her tit in his mouth as she let out a small shout of pleasure.

Her other hand dipped in between her legs to his crotch, and my stomach jerked as I watched her hook her hands inside his waist, undoing his button and his zipper. She pushed back as she released his grip on her breast, and then, in one sensual, slow move, she stood up and slid off her panties and skirt. We see everything from our vantage point from behind – the small curve of her ass, the lines of her labia, the hint of wetness already seeping from her.

Kylie dipped to her knees and removed his pants, as well. Her tiny hands took his large, impressive cock and began to stroke. Her stroke was rhythmic and steady as she started slow, moving cautiously up and then sliding back down. Her head looked up from between his legs as she asked her fake stepbrother innocently, “Am I doing this right? I’ve never done this before.”

He could barely contain himself as he answered a short, stiff “Yes.”

She grew bolder once he was fully hard, “What about this? Would it be really wrong if I did this to you?” She planted a tender, sweet kiss on the bottom of his shaft. She watched him smile in shock as she added another one a bit higher up, repeating herself until she makes it to the top. “You never answered me, John.”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond before taking his cock into her mouth and lowering down. He groaned as she managed to get the whole length in. And with that bit of confidence boosting, she was really at it, moving her mouth up and down steadily following the path her hand just made. She was sucking him in as she reached the top, slowing the motion just enough to make him think she was stopping before quickly plummeting back down. Then, she changed course, twisting her mouth around his cock, spitting to add moisture to his pink and tan skin.

I knew he couldn’t take much more of this. She was so good, he’d need her to stop if he wanted to continue with the scene. So he stood up, pushing her down onto the ground in the process. He took her by the waist and set her down on the arm of the couch so her stomach was perched on the back of the couch up against the wall. He lifted one of her thin legs around the front of his chest, hitching it up by the knee. His hand circled her thigh and then pulled her hips closer to him. She let out a girlish squeal, a sound I had never heard her make with me.

Kylie bit down on her bottom lip in anticipation. He slowly lowered into her before pulling out, dangerously close to coming out completely. But it sent her screaming. She loved his temptation, the way he made her think he was through with her. He did it again, this time going farther inside and adding a soft push with his hips.

She cried out again as she turned to face him. She curled her body higher as he began to push into her faster. Their lips met as she attempted to steady herself for a long, wanting kiss. I gripped onto my chair as I watched him touch her chin gently and then follow down her neck, past her shoulders to her breasts all while pumping into her.

Kylie placed her head down into the leather material, holding in another long scream. She was close. I could tell. But she did something surprising. Instead of letting it go, she looked up at the camera in front of her and looked directly into the lens as she said, “Is this what you want? You want me to cum? You wanna make your sister cum so hard?”

That wasn’t in the script. As I stood, realizing she's talking to me, I watched her let out a long, hard groan before leaning upwards. She yelled out “Oh God! Please! Fuck me!” and he sped up, not even giving her time to enjoy her orgasm like I would have let her. But she seemed to enjoy it. She wanted more.

She pulled away a bit, and scooted down quickly off her perch. She placed her hands on the arm of the couch with her back towards him, facing directly towards where I’m standing. I watched her face contort as he entered her again. She licked her lips as he went even faster this time, even having to hold onto her hips as he went for the end results. Kylie didn’t take her eyes off of me as she cried out, “More! Please, please. Give me more!”

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I threw my headset on the ground and walked away back towards the crew. My assistant watched me, unsure of what to do. I gestured to keep rolling as I walked towards the exit door. I turned one last time as I stepped out of the darkened warehouse and into the Las Vegas sunshine. Kylie was still going, still crying out for Rebel’s cock in ecstasy as she came again.

Chapter 17: Fixers

“That was incredible, Kylie! I’m sure you get this all the time, but you're really good at what you do.” Rebel winked at me with his emerald green eyes.

It sent shivers up my spine as I tried to come to terms with what just happened. “Thanks. Just another day’s work.” I was cleaning myself off with a towel, patting at his cum that covered my chest. I couldn’t get it off quick enough.

“No, really. I don’t just say this to anyone. New girls always have problems getting into that. But you were so believable, so real. It was super hot. I actually thought I was your stepbrother at one point.” He outstretched his arm, helping me up from off the couch as another stagehand tossed him my robe.

I covered myself up quickly and then untucked my hair from the heavy fabric.

He looked at me, studying my face, before asking nervously, “So, I never, ever do this, but I wanted to know if you would like to grab dinner or something? Nothing fancy or anything. Maybe even just coffee? I’d love to get to know you better off-set, maybe talk about working together again.”

Rebel was cute. He reminded me of a younger brother, despite being covered in tattoos. There was something about the way he spoke, so unsure of himself that it was almost endearing. If we were anybody but porn stars just finishing off a shoot, I would jump at his offer. How could I not?

But in the end, we're two co-workers standing awkwardly together as I wiped his remains off of my chest. And, even more pressing, the person I'm in a relationship of sorts with had just stormed off the set minutes earlier. And I know I am the one who caused it.

I placed my hand on his arm and lifted on my tippy toes to give him a friendly peck on his cheek. “That’s really sweet, Rebel. I would love that, but I’m seeing someone right now. However, if things change, I'll totally give you a call. Okay?” It was a lie. I wasn’t seeing anyone. Wilder and I were not exclusive, far from it. Still I felt like I had to respect what we had. I wanted to treat him better after the performance I just gave.

Rebel’s eyes dropped momentarily as he recovered his pride. “Well, whoever you’re dating, I hope he’s treating you right. He’s a lucky guy. Still, email me if you wanna work again, or have Wilder reach out. I know he isn’t a fan of mine after everything that’s gone down, but I hope this made it up to him.”

Poor kid. He had no idea what damage he was a part of. I doubted that Wilder would ever hear his name again after he stormed out.

I shook his hand once again before heading back towards the dressing room. I closed the door quietly behind me and then hopped into the shower. The water was icy cold, but it didn’t matter. I just wanted to wash myself clean, to get off the feeling of another man on my body. I reached for my red loofa and began to scrub until my skin was red and raw.

In the haze of the growing steam, my mind was replaying that moment of Wilder looking me in the eye as I screamed out for some other man. I’m not gonna lie – it was hot. So hot. The sex between Julie and me was great, but this was totally different. It felt like I finally had control in a way that I had not gotten with any other shoot with Wilder as my co-star. And I wanted him to see me from the other side. I wanted him to watch as Rebel made me orgasm multiple times.

Should I feel bad for that? This was our job. This was what we were supposed to do. We were actors, something Wilder himself pointed out over and over again. It was our duty to be realistic with a bit of fantasy. Wasn’t he the one who decided to add something personal to the set by making the story mimic our own real life issues?

When I saw the title on that script, my whole body shook. I couldn’t understand why he wanted that. I knew it was hot. I knew people actually had fantasies about screwing their relations, but it was still impossible for me to not feel like this was some statement about us. My only thought was that he wanted to see me act out those dreams and desires. So when I looked him in the eye as Rebel fucked me from behind, it was for him. It was always all for him.

I turned off the water and grabbed a towel. My head was still pounding, but I forced myself to get dressed and packed. But a knock on the door stopped my routine. I groaned as I wondered if I should have been more direct with Rebel when I turned him down. Getting up and opening the door would just lead him on further, so I called out from my vanity, “Who is it?”

A voice cleared before responding back, “It’s me. Will you let me in? I need to – I need to talk to you.”

I ran from my seat and flung open the door. Wilder stood outside, his back facing me. He looked completely out of sorts as I said his name. He pushed past me and into my room, leaving me standing there shocked and unsure in the doorway.

He didn’t give me a chance to say a word – not that I would have known what to say in the first place. “Look, I was wondering if you would be interested in going to dinner with me tonight. Julie and your movie is a hit, and I think we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” How could he use that word after he stormed out of the set clearly angry with me? I couldn’t read him if I tried.

“Yeah. Celebrate. I got us a table at Bartolotta in a cabana. It’ll be private. The reservation is at seven Will that give you enough time if I pick you up at six from your dorm?”

I shook my head yes, still completely taken aback at what was happening. With my confirmation, he slipped back out of the room without a word more, leaving me there alone with my confusion. I waited a long beat before grabbing my bag and heading out the door without a word towards the crew still lingering around to strike the set. My taxi was waiting for me. 

Lana was still nowhere in sight when I got back to the dorm. I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to be there anyway. I had an idea that she would tell me I was playing it too easy. I was giving Wilder all the power in this relationship. I wasn’t giving him something to chase. I pulled down several of her dresses, laying them on my bed as her warnings repeated themselves.

The dresses with their cutouts, low necklines, short skirts all taunted me. This wasn’t who I was. I didn’t want to be Kylie the Porn Star for Wilder. I needed to be Kylie the Consenting Adult, the Wanting Adult. I pushed them off and headed for my own, sad state of a wardrobe and pulled down the one dress I splurged on a few years ago when I started the job at the club. It was a demure, simple black dress with gold beading around the hemline. It wouldn’t get me stares, but it fit my skinny body perfectly, giving me lines and curves I really didn’t have.

My phone lit up as I finished the touches on my makeup and hair. I peered out the window towards the parking lot when I spotted the cherry red, vintage convertible with Wilder in the driver’s seat. A small crowd was, again, gathering to admire him. I tried to push down the butterflies as I ran down the stairs, strapping my heels to my feet and ankles as I went. When he spotted me, he jumped out and over the car’s side and opened my door for me.

Neither of us said a word, he just drove off, speeding through campus with the engine roaring loudly. He called out to me after a bit, “Have you ever been to Bartolotta?”

“No, it’s not like college kids can really afford fine dining like that.” I didn’t mention that I have only had a few requests for dates in the entire time I’ve been in school. It wasn’t that I was uninterested; it was that no one had offered.

“Hmm. That surprises me. Every girl deserves to be taken out and wined and dined.”

“So you’re wining and dining me?” I smiled at him as I watched the creases around his eyes lighten up. The mood from earlier was changing, floating away with the wind from the strip.

“I’m certainly doing that, and hopefully more.” He gave me a knowing, confident grin before focusing on the Wynn’s valet parking.

The attendants looked completely amazed at us as we pulled up. This car had to be something special. Wilder had done well for himself as a porn star, that much was clear.

We walked through the hotel with the flashing lights and the shouting gamblers to the back where a woman dressed in a tight black dress and gold heels waited for us. Wilder flashed her a smile before announcing himself. She studied us approvingly before walking us through the white and gold sea inspired dining room and out near a small, clear pool.

Our pergola was covered in a white and green striped fabric pulled back by ties. I sat down at the booth first, sliding in towards the end. Wilder sat across from me as he used his hand to instruct the usher to pull the fabric closed, giving us total privacy from the other seating areas. Our waiter, dressed in a traditional black tuxedo, appeared almost magically, only staying a brief second for Wilder to order a bottle of champagne and a plate of oysters to start.

“I’ve never had oysters.” I admitted as they came back on a white long dish with a side of lemon.

He picked one up, dosing it in the juice, before handing it to me. “Yes you have. We had oysters on that trip to Maine. You were thirteen. I remember you trying one and loving it. Everyone was shocked you even gave it a go. No one else was that brave. But you were. I mean, still are.”

“How can you remember that? That’s so insignificant! I doubt my mom would even remember that.” My stomach lurched as I thought of her and how bitter and blinded she was of the past. Bringing up my childhood with her always led to her dragging up the negative.

“I remember almost everything. It’s just this little power I have. Plus, I was happy then. I had a good home, a good family. And I loved spending time with you, even if I wouldn’t admit it then.”

I laughed, “Yeah, you were a little shit then. Though you were always good to me. I never understood that. You could have just let the kids pick on me or dad yell and scream, but you never backed down.”

“Why would I let them do that to you?”

“Why wouldn’t you? It wasn’t like I was the easy sister. No one wanted to stand up for me. Hell, I couldn’t even do that.”

Wilder took a long sip of champagne before placing the glass down and sitting farther up in his chair. “You have no idea how amazing you were and are. You need to stop questioning that. Even if you aren’t what others want you to be, you're still amazing.”

I looked at him, his face transformed. He was lighter, freer. This was the kinder, sweeter side he hid behind the façade. This was the Wilder, the Will, I knew and had loved. This was the person I could love again.

He used his own oyster to clink against mine before we swallowed the contents inside down, the slippery, salty sensation dripping down my throat. It was refreshing, delicious. We did another one before I forced myself to say what I needed to. “I don’t understand why we're here. After what happened today…”

“Nothing happened today, Kylie.” His voice was firm and resolute. “And we're here because someone needs to show you how special and amazing you are. I’m seeing that now. I’m seeing a lot of things now.” His hand reached over to my cheek before placing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Our eyes locked for a few long, lingering seconds. I didn’t dare to blink. I didn’t want to miss a second of the light from the chandelier above his glittering in his murky blue eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.” I was completely lost. In actuality, I had so much I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t know where to start or what I should say. Seeing Wilder here, with me, touching my cheek, telling me I mattered, asking about my life…something had totally shifted. We weren't co-stars or business partners. We weren’t brother and sister reconnecting for the first time in years. 

Wilder was so much more complicated than what I had imagined him to be. He wasn’t just a guy to screw or a stepbrother to care for me. He wanted to treat me how he thought I should be treated. This was despite our barriers, our walls, our struggles. He had forgiven me for putting on that show this morning on set. And I forgave him for walking out on something he planned. We were on the same playing field here – just the two of us, connecting under the lights of the strip.

I placed my fork down, finishing my last bite of decadent chocolate cake and took a sip of champagne. I ask him the only thing I could think of as appropriate, “What comes next?”

“For our business? We keep going. We keep making films with high quality. For dinner? We box up the rest of this and get our check. For us? We do this.” He stood up and sat next to me at my bench. Our eyes met as my body began to shake. He pressed a hand on my thigh before taking my head in his large hand. Our mouths found one another, neither holding back.

My body exploded in need. His lips were warm and salty and his hands only pushed me further as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I wanted this just as much as him and needed to feel this. He needed to feel my body quiver and flow with his own. This kiss was tame compared to what we did on screen or how we embraced in my dorm room.

For the first time, I felt as if I had found the man behind the porn star, the man behind the cars, the money, and the bravado. And he was kissing the girl I was meant to be – confident, collected, unique. Under the dark, cloudy skies of Las Vegas, we weren't seeing a new person in the other. Instead, we were rediscovering the people we hoped to be.

Chapter 18: Be That

Our check was paid, our dinner cleared. Kylie waited for me to make a move, to keep the night going. But I already had plans. Without saying a word, I rose, offering my hand to her. She looked at me with her hazel eyes glimmering in the stars and lights and gave it to me freely. I walked her along the pathway outside the property and into the private entrance for the hotel.

“What are you doing? We don’t have a room.”

I took out a black plastic keycard from my back pocket and flash it her way. As the door clicked and unlocked, I smiled widely at her, “Yes, we do.”

I had managed to book the suite of the hotel after I begged and paid dearly for it. Getting a luxury penthouse with only a few hours of notice wasn’t exactly easy or cheap to do. But as soon as I walked off the set of today’s shoot, I knew I had to do something to redeem myself. What I felt for Kylie had taken over me and, for once, I was okay with this.

But more so, I knew what I was feeling in the heat of that moment when her eyes locked on mine wasn’t going to go away just because the crew called cut or the camera finally stopped rolling. The bottom line was that I didn’t want to see Kylie having sex with anyone else. I didn’t want to see her touching, kissing, making love…anything. I wanted her for my own.

And that’s when I came up with my plan. I needed her to see the side of me I never revealed to anyone else. The restaurant was stage one. The penthouse is stage two. As we walked out of the private elevator and opened the door to the suite, I could hear her hold her breath. She took three slow steps to the center of the room, her eyes darting back and forth from the small infinity pool in the living room to the roaring fireplace near the bedroom. Kylie’s hand reached out towards the white satin couch, touching the fabric as if it would break from under her.

I walked past her, towards the small kitchen area. The staff had followed my instructions and brought up the best bottle of champagne they had along with some fresh fruits and chocolates. I poured a quick glass before taking them back to where she still stood, shocked and awed by the space. I lifted the plate of chocolate covered strawberries to her as I asked, “Do you like it?”

“You didn’t have to do this.” She allowed herself to sit, sinking into the couch’s material.

I played dumb, replying, “Do what?”

“This.” Her arms outstretched as she motioned to every corner of the never-ending room. “I didn’t need this or the ridiculously expensive dinner we just ate. You could have just talked to me.”

I lifted her off the couch and led her towards the bedroom area, a large space in all whites and browns hidden behind the glass fireplace. I sat on the edge of the California King-sized bed, my nervous hands fidgeting with the white down comforter. She didn’t join me there. Instead, she waited for me to reply, to answer for myself. I grabbed her by the waist and placed her between my legs. Her head was only a few inches from mine as I whispered, “I did this because I wanted you to know how special you are to the business – and to me.”

“I know, but you could have ju—"

I placed a finger to her mouth and reached towards the top of her head. Her hair was tied in a large knot. I quickly yanked at the fabric tie holding it together, sending her hair cascading against her bare shoulders and down her back. I placed a hand to her temple, smoothing the messy strands refusing to cooperate. She looked down as if she were a child being scolded.

I couldn’t stand her to look so vulnerable or scared. I hated to think I was the cause of it. I lifted her chin with the crook of my hand, forcing her to look me in the eyes just as she had done at the restaurant. My voice cracked as I said, “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t wanna do. Okay? No one is forcing you here.”

She shook her head lightly before answering, “That’s the problem, Will.” She sounded desperate, confused. “I want this. I want this more than anything. But I don’t want you to fuck me. I want you to make love to me.”

Kylie said the magic words. I wasted no time, bringing her to me for a full, deep kiss. Our hands searched for one another as they gripped at the other’s bodies. Her hands wrapped around my back and landed on my shoulders. Mine doubled at the small of her back, pulling our hips together as I stood.

I pulled back, gasping for air. I walked first to the lights, turning them all the way off, darkening the room. Then, I moved to the window, opening the shade and revealing the Las Vegas skyline from the fortieth floor. Little red, orange, and blue lights twinkled in the distance. And our room was illuminated by the soft glow at the world below. It could be a million miles away at this moment. In this room and space, the only people that existed were Kylie and me.

I removed my shirt slowly, taking my time with each button before unhooking my belt and black slacks. She followed my lead, pulling the black dress over her head. We studied each other. Her thin frame wasn’t as curvy as other girls I had had. But her skin glowed and her hair created a halo around her. She was my Venus in a shell as her hands and arms clutched around the places I knew she was self conscious of and her leg curved to hide her sex from my sight. 

I made a long walk around her before facing her up close. One of my hands reached behind her to remove her black strapless bra. Then, I moved to her black thong panties, squatting down to remove them. I avoided touching her skin, not ready to do more than just look at her.

Kylie was breathing heavily, anticipating what I was about to do with her. Last time I was with her, I experimented with her, taking her to new levels she wasn’t even sure she could go. She had to be wondering what I was doing and why I was avoiding her after she had asked me to make love to her. I stood before her, naked as she was, and pressed two fingers against her neck, then moved downwards towards her collarbone and arms and then making a loop back up towards her chest. The fingers circled her breast and tapped her nipple before going down farther south to her taut stomach and her clean-shaven pussy.

When I reached her folds, I stopped and placed my fingers at her lips. They parted for me, taking my fingers in, licking at them without even being commanded. When they were nice and lubricated, I came closer, my leg parting her pair. It gave me just enough room to replace my fingers where they had landed on her sex to begin penetrating her centimeter by centimeter. My thumb pressed up against the top, almost instantly finding her clit as it rolled under me.

Her head tilted back, giving me an exposed track of her neck to kiss gingerly. Her soft moans vibrated against my mouth, practically begging me to go in farther. But I wanted to take my time, to feel her from a new point of view. She was wet and getting wetter and soft in all the right places. Her tender skin molded against my fingers as I sped up just a bit.

As she began to cry out, I stopped. I didn’t want her there yet. I wanted to cum with her this time – together. I moved her to the bed, watching her fall back on the mattress before crawling backwards towards the pillows. I followed her, stalking her every move from above, my arms hovering just above and beside her body. When she found her space, she reached for my hand with the fingers that had just been inside and placed the two fingers in her mouth. I could feel her tongue swirl and suck. She was tasting herself for the first time and enjoying every surprised look I was giving her.

I laid down upon her, kissing her ears, the space behind them, the back of her head covered in hair, the space between her armpit and her chest. I wanted to know every part of her that I may have missed before. This was my chance to take my time, to explore it all.

And as I placed my lips against her clit, I knew I had found my destination. She let out a cry somewhere between a laugh and a sob as I flicked my tongue inside her. I repeated it as she hissed. Then again, this time not stopping for her. I pulled her legs farther apart, pushing her knees up for her to hold as I inhaled her with each new taste. Her hips lifted to me, her hands grabbing at my hair as she commanded me to go deeper, to linger longer in her beautiful, warm pussy.     

I couldn’t take it anymore. I placed her legs down before coming back up to her, diving in for another kiss. She received it, pushing back with her own tongue in my mouth wrestling for a spot. As we embraced, I lowered myself into her waiting slit. My mouth had warmed her up, had made her almost too wet. I fit in easily as I began to slowly thrust out towards her hips. She pulled away from my mouth, her head falling into the pillows as her hands grabbed onto the fold of the comforter. I could feel the material move out from under me as she struggled to gain a balance.

One by one, I pushed into her; each time I did, it was held longer, the stroke deeper, my pull out slower. I wanted her to see what sex could feel like when it wasn’t done in front of a camera and crew. I wanted her to know what it was like to be enjoyed, to feel real, unscripted pleasure. I wanted her to take my cock as deep as she could go.

I lifted myself to kneeling, bringing her hips up with me. She rose onto her elbows giving me the ability to reach for her breast with my mouth. I licked her pale pink nipple, gently following the pattern of my strokes. Everything was aligning like the lights reflecting on the penthouse suite’s floors.

She wanted me to speed up. I could feel that. She was trying to make my hips move with hers, which were frantic, spinning without control on my cock. I pressed my hand on her stomach, causing her eyes to flutter open and focus on me. I pulled her up closer to me and then moved her up against the white leather headboard. She was pinned in place, unable to move from under me. I gave her one long, deep thrust as she cried out. I growled back at her, “Say you're mine.”

“What?” she asked in between thrusts.

“Say you’re mine.” I wanted to hear it more than anything in this world. I needed to know she would never take a man’s cock like she was taking mine. She had to give me this promise right here and right now.

“Wilder, I—" There was hesitation there.

I responded by pounding her harder, by pushing up into her deeper as her back crushed against the board. The bed rattled violently. “You’re mine, Kylie. You’re mine.” I gave her two long thrusts as she called out my name in the dark. It was unlike anything I had ever heard. She was calling out to me as I began to speed up while still going as deep as possible, my entire length engulfed in her. “Fuck! Say it!” I screamed back.

I released her, flipping her to her hands and knees. She scurried her hands up the headboard, finding the top and holding on as I entered her from behind without any warning. I placed my hands around the tops of her shoulders as I pumped into her as fast as I could. Her hips bounced up and down, struggling to keep up with my speed. Her hands slipped off as she fell back into my own chest. I held her in place by her breasts, massaging them, twisting at the nipple. My cock continued to plow into her like a machine. I was determined.

Her arm draped around my neck as I watched her mouth open. It took a few breaths before she shouted out, “I’m yours! I’m yours! Fuck! I’m yours!” She collapsed onto me in a fit of passion as I wrapped my arms around her. Together, we came fast and hard like two fireworks in the dark sky. Our bodies lingered there, hers rest on my legs and my arms holding her in place. Neither of us dared to move too soon to ruin the one perfect moment where we were completely and totally in synch together.

After a long while, I placed her gently down in the bed, covering her in the comforter. Her eyes stared up at me, the flickers dimming as her eyelids grew heavy. She snuggled herself into a small ball as I walked to the other side of the bed and wrapped my body around hers, spooning her closer to me.

Moments passed. Minutes flew by. I waited for when I knew she was asleep to push back the hair from around her ear and to whisper what I wanted to say to her all night. “I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But I think I’m falling for you.”

My confession made, I breathed in, taking one final scent of her for my memories as I pulled back towards the pillows. It wouldn’t be long until the sun rose. And for the first time in a very long time, I was looking forward to a new day.

Chapter 19: Stolen Memories

The sun streamed in, baking my skin not covered under the light comforter. I didn’t want to move, but I knew that was my cue to at least start moving. I wiggled my toes and lifted my arms above my head, avoiding hitting Wilder who is snuggled closely against my chest.

He was warm, almost too warm. His blood ran hot, that was for sure. I took a long hard look at him, his face pressed closely against my neck and hair. His eyes were closed tight as if they were forced shut. Little wrinkles and creases painted a picture against his skin. His dark features – the brown messy hair, the tan skin, his red lips – were a total contrast to mine. We were yin and yang, embraced together but so far apart.

I turned a bit, enough to kiss him gently on the lips. To my surprise, he didn’t stir. I knew he was up late last night, far longer than I was. I knew because I heard him as he whispered into my ears about how he was falling for me. My heart leapt to my throat, my mind refused to stay quiet. He was feeling what I was feeling. We were on the same page regardless if we could admit to it or not.

I slept with a smile on my face, dreaming of a world where it would be possible for us to be together. Perhaps it could be a reality. Our broken families could reunite around us. Maybe our feelings for one another could overcome it if our parents refused to see it. Weren’t we enough? Weren’t our feelings enough?

I wanted to study the future, to find a solution to our problems, but the present was calling me. I had a lecture in a few hours, and I knew I couldn’t get out of that. Luckily, it was a European history course where the professor could not care less if you slept the entire class as long as you showed up. I could ponder all of my life questions then as I looked at charts on European reformation.

I pulled back a bit, getting one small glance at his perfect body – the gentle curves of his muscular arms, the lines on his lower stomach, the path of small brown hair from his bellybutton to his cock. I’d take him again, if I could. Right here, right now. I’d go for a repeat of last night with him dominating me slowly. In those moments where he pushed into me with such gentle power, I felt more like a woman than I had ever before. I wanted that again.

I rolled over slightly, finding the edge of the large bed and placed my feet on the warm wood floor. They creaked slightly as I stood on my tiptoes and headed towards the bathroom. Once I was refreshed and presentable, I found my purse and grabbed my phone. I didn’t have time to wake him, so I found the one little notebook page from the cleaning service and scribbled down a few words so he knew where I had gone:

Will –

If I could do that again every night, I would. What you did to me and did for me was completely and totally amazing. But I’ve got class, and you’ve got work. I’ll see you later this evening for our shoot. I’m leaving behind a trinket of mine just in case you get lonely without me.

Always yours,

Kylie

I placed down the pen and ran towards the pile of clothes. Picking out my black thong, I set the panties and my note on my spot in the bed where I had just laid. I then grabbed my heels and silently sneak out the door and into the private elevator wing. I listened for any signs of stirring, not sure if I wanted him to wake and notice I’m gone or not. Why ruin perfection? We could do it all over again on set later tonight.

The elevator doors opened and I was back out in the Nevada sunshine. It was blistering for a late fall day, but I didn’t mind. A little sun felt good, refreshing even. I rolled down the windows as the taxi driver blasted some happy pop song about love in the wrong places.

To my surprise, Lana was awake, as well. She was frantically looking through my things as I strolled through the doors. I watched her turn horrified towards me, “Kylie! Where the fuck were you? I haven’t seen you in days and you weren’t answering your cellphone.”

My butterflies stopped their flutter as the air was sucked out of me. I knew Lana was justified in her anger. I had never been gone for more than a few hours at a time. I was always here waiting for her. Any change in that schedule without warning was bound to freak her out. “Oh Lana! I’m so sorry! I should have texted you, but it was a change in plans. I had a date with Wilder last night, and I decided to spend the night with him. I put my phone on silent so I didn’t even check it until this morning. I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t get my apologies out fast enough for her. She was enraged, “You should be sorry, Kylie! I didn’t know what to do when you didn’t answer my texts. I called everyone, even your mom. No one knew where you were.”

I walked towards her, a ball of emotion exploding in me. I reached out my arms and brought her in for a long, tired hug. I was so overwhelmed she even noticed I was gone. After being her roommate for the last few years, I thought she didn’t care past wanting to give me some life advice and changing everything about me. But she had become a friend in the process. She actually cared about me, the real me. I shook a bit as I thanked her.

When I pulled back, she looked at me, studying my mess of hair, my smeared makeup, the wrinkled dress. “So, by spend the night, you mean spend the night?” I nodded my head with a small, mischievous grin. “Kylie, Kylie…I didn’t think you had that in you. Whoever this guy is, he must be totally worth it to bed you on a school night, no less.”

“Who said I had sex with him?”

She laughed, letting go of my arms and turning back towards her bed. “It’s my super power. I can smell the sex on you and your hair looks like someone has been grabbing at it all night. Now, I would have told you to wear a tighter dress than that, but by how wrinkled and dirty it is, I don’t think you wore it for that long.”

I burst out in giggles, as I walked to my closet. I tossed the dress over my head and changed my underwear. I’d normally grab a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, but I was feeling transformed. Instead, I pulled out a white sundress with a cutout back and a pair of red slingback heels. As I was putting on my makeup, I turned my attention back to Lana who was eating her breakfast out of a green plastic bowl, “So, who else did you call when you couldn’t find me?”

“I tried everyone in our study group from that project first. I knew they had your number so at least they could bombard your phone. Then, I went through your things and found a phone number for your dad and left him a message. I know he’s your stepdad, but I didn’t think it would hurt to try. I called your mom last, though. I didn’t want to worry her. I know you said she has a lot on her plate with the medical issues.”

I groaned to myself. Lana had done a great and wonderful thing for me, but I couldn’t help at think of what my parents were going to think. My stepdad, Wilder’s dad, hadn’t seen or heard from me in years since the divorce. When my parents separated, he refused to pay the alimony promised in their prenup, and my mom slowly went bankrupt. We lost the house, the car, my private school tuition. When I moved out to go to college, she went mad, her health declining with her mental state. Almost every week was another phone call for more money for meds or treatments. Every dime I made, outside what I owed Daniel and for this year’s tuition, went towards keeping her sane.

Now that Lana had involved her, I would have to reach out. I concocted a story about spending the night at a friend’s place and my phone not having reception. It sounded totally plausible, at least for my mom. I grabbed my backpack and headed towards class, dialing her number during the long walk to the lecture hall.

“Kylie! Oh my goodness, Kylie! Is this really you?”

“Mom, don’t be overdramatic. It’s me. I’m fine. I’m safe. Lana just overreacted.”

Her voice sounded as if she had been crying for hours, “I was so worried about you. I don’t know what I would have done if you were in trouble, or worse!”

“Seriously, Mom, I’m okay. I just spent the night at a friend’s place. I lost reception, though. That’s why I couldn’t text Lana or answer her phone calls. It’s not a big deal. I wasn't in any kind of danger.”

“A friend? What friend? You never talk about anyone but Lana. Unless it was that Wilder guy you were talking about a few weeks ago.”

I paused, not sure if I should proceed. Red danger lights were going off in front of me.

She could sense my unease, knowing that she landed on it. “Kylie, you have to be smarter that that. You have your whole future ahead of you. You don’t wanna ruin it by getting in bed with someone like that.”

“Mom, it’s not like that.”

She cut me off, not allowing me to defend him. “Kylie, I know I asked you last time, but I need you to answer me again. Is this Wilder guy, is he or is he not your stepbrother?”

“Mom…come on. You know—"

For some reason, she’s angry, as if she can sense I’m dancing around her. “No, Kylie! I don’t know. What I do know is that I got a call from your stepdad telling me Lana called him asking if he knew about this Wilder you were dating. When he asked for a description of him because he was suspicious, she told him it was a tall, brown haired guy a bit older than you with tattoos. It sounds to me like you’re seeing your stepbrother.”

I knew it wasn’t the point, but I had to ask, “He called you?”

“Yes! He called me. He was worried about you so he broke his vow of silence and actually reached out to me. You know the reason why we divorced was because of him? You know why you're so poor, why we struggled to just keep the house together for that long was because of what Wilder did?”

I knew there was a story no one had told me. I remember all the fighting, the closed doors, the empty bed across from my own. I always thought he had run away. Now it seemed like there is more.

I held my breath as she continued, “Will stole hundreds of thousands of dollars from your father and the business. And instead of paying him back, he disappeared. I begged him to call the cops, but he refused. He tracked Will down himself and when he found him, he was in a gutter shooting up heroin with this biker gang.”

“That’s not true. He would never do anything like that.” I knew Wilder had a past, some missing years he kept from me, but I refused to believe this. I refused to believe that he had sunk this low.

“Kylie, if you're seeing him, you need to break it off now. He’s a junkie, a thief, and he's the reason why our family went through so much. If he hadn’t done what he did, your stepdad and I would still be together, happy with money. But he left us with over $400,000 in debt. He’s a selfish punk who doesn’t know—"

“Mom! Stop! I get it.” Tears were welling up in my eyes, blinding me as I walked through the doors of my lecture class. “Listen, I’m heading to class. I’ll call you later.”

She hung up, leaving me to listen to the sound of my phone go silent. I stood in the hall, clutching to my phone as my classmates filed into the classroom. A couple passed me by, holding hands and kissing as they parted ways, each towards a different door. I wanted that to be Wilder and me – two souls leaving one another but always with the intentions that there would be a way back to one another.

But Wilder had betrayed my family, betrayed me. He had caused so much pain and hurt. And even worse, when he had earned my trust and heart, he refused to tell me what he had done. My sadness bubbled to rage as I thought about everything I was put through because of him – all the missed family moments, the empty spots at my graduation ceremony, the mounting bills for my mom’s medical care. He was the reason I was forced to work so hard for no little return.

And at the root of it, he was the reason why I was risking my career, my future, for a few shots of porn that could come back to bite me if I ever wanted to work in a nonprofit or run for office. I was done sacrificing my life, the life I deserved, for him and his mistakes. No matter what my feelings were for him or how they had blossomed – Wilder and I were through.

Chapter 20: Resistance

The flowers in my hand were wilting quickly as I wait for Kylie by the door of the warehouse. It was a cheesy move, I knew that. But she had never had a boyfriend, let alone a person to buy her flowers and expensive dinners. I was almost excited to be her first.

I watched as her taxi pulled up, running to catch the door while she paid the driver. She pulled off her sunglasses as she looked at me. It wasn’t exactly what I expected. Instead of running to my arms, she pushed away from me, ignoring me completely. Something was wrong. Something happened between when she wrote the sweet, funny note along with her panties and now.

Without glancing back, she said, “I need to speak to you now.”

“Can it wait? I got you flowers and a gift. It’s in your dressing room.” I knew I was pandering, but I didn’t know what else to do. I had never really dealt with a girl who was mad at me outside my stepmom.

She continued walking, heading towards the dressing room. A few members of the crew said hello to her, but I didn’t hear if she responded. She flew through the set, not even looking up to see a soft, sweet bedroom scene almost a mirror image to what had happened last night. I thought that she would love that. 

I shut the door of her dressing room behind me, placing the flowers down on the vanity and then walking towards her. Her back was facing the far wall, her arms tightly crossed, but I pulled her to face me, yanking her free of whatever was upsetting her. I kissed her lips gently, but she didn’t respond. She waited for me to finish, to get her message before stepping back. I was getting defensive as I asked, “What’s going on? Why are you upset?”

“I need you to answer some questions, and I need you to be honest with me.” She sat down on the chair at the vanity. Her eyes stared holes at the top of my forehead as she struggled to look me in the eyes. There was fear there. I could feel that.

I sat down on the small couch I had brought in for her. My hand grabbed the wrapped box, a new laptop I purchased for her just a few hours ago. It was my way of thanking her for last night. I placed it in my lap as I tried to calmly and coolly answer, “Okay. What do you need to ask me?”

“Were you or, I guess, are you a heroin junkie?”

I didn’t even pause. I wanted to be honest with her. “Yes. I mean, I was. I was for a long time, but doing porn and working for a friend of mine got me sober.” This part of my life was something I didn’t share, especially not with her. I didn’t want her to judge me by my past or what I had or hadn’t done. I wanted her to see me for the person I was today.

She sucked in air as she went for round two, “Okay. Does your dad know about your drug use? Does my mom?”

I honestly wasn’t sure how to answer her. Bringing up our parents was totally out of left field. Still, I gave it to her straight. “Dad found me one night. I was behind this bar I used to work for shooting up with some friends. He had used a private detective to find—”

“And were those friends members of a biker gang? Were you in a biker gang?”

“Kylie, that’s rid—”

“Just answer the fucking questions, Will!” She was getting more and more angry as I revealed everything to her. I didn’t want to go on, but I knew I had to. She wouldn’t listen to me until I was out of the dark.

“I rode with them for awhile. I sold some drugs. I needed the money badly, so I did some things I wasn’t proud of. But I’m not part of that anymore! That’s not who I am or who I want to be. You have got to understand that.”

“Why did you need the money then, Wilder?” I stopped in my tracks. She went from calling me Will to calling me Wilder. Something big was shifting again, this time out of my favor.

My voice slowed as I tried to word my story as best as possible. “When I went to work for Dad, I started using drugs and doing these really dark porn shoots with Daniel. I was messed up, totally and utterly fucked up in the head. One day, I was doing the books when I figured out how to direct the money from dad’s business account to a savings account for me. I took the money, all of it. It was like $400,000. Then, I ran away.”

I looked at her knowing this was a huge shock, but she seemed like she knew everything I was saying before it could come out of my mouth. Still, I pressed on, “I didn’t wanna get caught, so I moved to the city, bought a huge condo with the money and started doing drugs every day and porn to pay for food and stuff. I went through the money quick. When Dad found me, he told me I had to pay him back, but I was broke. I ran away again, this time to the gang. I thought I would do some runs for them and make what I owed back, but it just backfired.”

She stood up, walking towards me. Tears streamed down her red, flushed cheeks. I watched as her hand lifted in an almost slow motion before it came down with a snap against my cheek. “How dare you! You bastard! Do you know what you did to me, to my mom? I spent every day of my life for the past six or seven years paying for your fucking sins.”

I pressed a hand against where she made contact, smoothing out the skin, “Kylie, please. Just listen to me. I’ve been paying my dad back. I thought that money was going to you and your mom.”

“I haven’t seen a dime of it. The last time I spoke to your dad was when he refused to cosign on a student loan for me. He was living in a tiny studio outside some crappy neighborhood. So don’t blame me if I don’t believe a word of what you're saying.”

She walked back towards her bag, grabbing it and the door handle. I leapt to my feet, catching her as she opens it. “Where are you going? You can’t leave.”

“I can leave. It’s like you said…I can stop whenever I want. And I wanna stop now. I want nothing to do with you or your porn business.”

I pushed my back up against the wooden door, listening to it click shut behind me. She stepped away, not wanting to risk touching me. I dropped a bit, my body tired from our argument. I breathed in deeply, searching for an answer, “Kylie, I swear to God, I paid the debt I owed. And not only that, I am supporting him now. I’m getting money to him each and every goddamn week. If it's like you say and your mom or you need support, I promise you, I'll give you every last dime I have if it means keeping you here with me.”

She placed a hand upon her head, running fingers through her temple. “I can’t believe I fell for you. I shouldn’t have. I'm so fucking stupid! When I heard you say you had feelings for me last night, I was even thrilled. But you're just a liar and a manipulator. You wanna throw money and sex at everything, but it solves nothing, you stupid bastard. You’ll still be the reason why I am the way I am. I will never, ever forgive you for that.”

She walked towards me, determined to leave. I held my hands over the doorknob, refusing to let her get a step out. “You can’t leave. The scene is set. I have money in your account for it. It’s binding.”

“Are you kidding me? You really think I would have sex with you?”

“No, I don’t think you would let me touch you right now, but you're forgetting that there are people out there who depend on you to show up to get paid. Look, I’ll give you one hundred percent of the profits from this scene. It’ll make you rich and set you and your mom up for good. Either way, you have to go out there with me.”

She sighed as a small tear trickled down her downcast face. She walked over to the couch and placed her shoes by the coffee table. She reached down and grabbed the hem of the skirt from around her thighs and lifts it over her head, revealing her shivering, shaking body. She looked over her shoulder at me as she quietly said, “This is it, Wilder. This is the last shoot. After we're done, I never wanna see or hear from you again.”

I walked out the door, motioning for the hair and makeup woman to go get her ready. As I got to my own dressing area, I slumped into my chair. Just moments before, I was sitting in this very seat practicing my lines to the mirror, going over the words I wanted to say to her to thank her for being with me last night. She had given me a reason to live, a reason to be more than just some porn star from Vegas. Now, those words seemed cold, lifeless, useless. I couldn’t tell her I wanted to love her, that I wanted an actual relationship with her outside of our business. She had shut that door for good.

My past had finally found me. I wasn’t allowed to run from it anymore. Now, I had one shot, one chance to win her back. With this scene, I was either going to lose her or convince her to stay. I placed my hands upon my knees, pressing deep into the skin as I attempted to center myself. When the air had returned to my body and my mind began to clear, I walked out of the dressing room door and into the bright lights of our set. I was ready.

Chapter 21: Dressing and Undressing

“Marco?” I called for the man creeping eerily behind the light booth. He was laughing heartily with the light designer, totally unaware of me. I called out his name again before he turned to me. “Listen, we’ve got a…shall we say…a change of plans. We’re trashing the scene – it’s just not working. We’re going back to the original idea.”

He looked at me, dumbstruck. I wasn’t one to make last-minute changes, especially something so drastic as to change an entire scene with less than an hour before we were supposed to start shooting. But I didn’t have time for him to settle into the thought. Instead, I grabbed a bullhorn and press a button, making a loud, piercing screech ring out and echo off the cold, grey cement room we had been using as a makeshift soundstage. Twenty curious (and more than a little annoyed) eyes turned my way.

“I need your attention!” I was anxious, my head sweating, and my heart racing. I hoped my crew didn’t pick up on the fact that something was off. The absolute last thing I needed right then was for them to lose any amount of confidence in their director. “Look, everybody, we’re gonna go ahead and change this up a bit. The scene isn’t working as written. No big, but I need to see the prop and set director in my dressing room ASAP – as in, now. Lights and sound, stay put, and I’ll fill you in when we’re ready. Hair, makeup, and costume? You’re with me.”

Three people and Marco, my assistant director, followed me. I heard them whispering behind my back as they tried to make sense of it. Earlier that day, I had walked in the room bursting with energy and enthusiasm. This was going to be the first time I was trying a romance, sensual scene with my partner, Kylie. I wanted to give her a shoot she would never forget, something where we could express that amazing chemistry between us – the same kind of sparks that flew when we made love in our Las Vegas hotel just the night before.

But that had changed completely in almost a blink of an eye. Her mother, my stepmother, finally fessed up and told her about my past. She gave Kylie the background on my meth addiction and how I had stolen a huge amount of money from my father. And while she didn’t know I’ve been paying him back in secret, when I told her about it, she didn’t care. It sounded like another lie, another deception.

The truth was that if I could turn back time, I wouldn’t. Being stuck in the suburbs with two parents who were so totally focused on themselves and their money was one of the worst things in the world for me. The only shining part of my life was Kylie, but I was too sucked in to even see that. And she was my sister, the geeky kid I protected from the boys on the playground. We shared a room together, a life together. But that life wasn’t anything I wanted.

I got out of there. I had to take the hard road, one that led me to the brink of death several times with ODs and gang turf fights, but I survived. And I came out on the other side with money in my hands, a career where I got to screw beautiful women on camera, and a chance to make something more of myself besides what everyone wanted me to be.

When I got a taste of Kylie, the real Kylie minus the stepsister title, I wanted more. It killed me at first to be banging my sister on camera, let alone to take it off-screen, but she drew me back in each and every time. Whatever it was between us was more than just the bond that once united our parents.

But Kylie couldn’t see that now. She wanted out, and I wouldn’t necessarily blame her. Before she knew, I was some golden god. I wasn't only the boy who shielded her for years, taught her things only brothers could, but I was also the guy who guided her through the porn world. I took her porn virginity, and I pushed her sexual tastes to whole new levels. She was an animal with me, nothing like the shell of the girl she was when she walked on set, barely being able to speak.

Her transformation wasn’t enough, though. Her need for me, my wanting her just couldn’t break through whatever poison her mom implanted in her mind. No matter what I could give her, she promised me this would be the end of our working and sexual relationship. This was our last shoot, our last time on camera together, the last time in bed.

She was adamant, but so was I. I wanted her back, to never let her threat to become a reality. I wanted her to see that I wasn’t the bad guy her mother had made me out to be. I had to redeem for my sins. I had to make her trust me again. She had trusted me when we were at our first porno shoot and she identified me. Instead of running, she let me lead her through. She trusted me when I barged into her dorm room ready to break down the walls of our relationship and make love outside our little working world. She trusted me every time I directed her, regardless of who was on the other side of the camera.

I had to make her see I was still that Wilder, that Will, who made her do the unthinkable. I had one shot, one last shot to get through to her. But the only way I knew how was vicious and cruel. So as my team filed into my dressing room, I started barking out commands without a moment to think it through. There was no going back now. What I had planned for her would be it, no matter the consequences. 

“The whole romance in the bedroom, the sensual shit – it’s gone. All of it. We’re doing hardcore bondage.” I could see their eyes bulge out as they looked to each other for reaction.

Elise, my go-to makeup and hair artist, was the first to get courage and let out the elephant in the room. “Wilder, I just have one question. Did Kylie give the okay on this?”

I paused. She hadn’t. The last time we did bondage, Daniel, our old director and producer, had forced her into it. She ended up flourishing, though. I hadn’t seen an amateur take to the harder stuff like that before. I cleared my throat, drawing up all the confidence I could muster. I couldn’t be concerned if she was my stepsister or a hurt girl with a broken heart in my dressing room. I needed my talent to be on. I looked back at Elise. “No, she doesn’t know. I’m going to type up a quick script and Marco will deliver it to her. If she doesn’t want to participate, she will break contract, and I will deal with it later. But for now, I'm under the impression she will do whatever needs to be done.”

It was crap, a total lie. We didn’t have a contract. It was part of our rules. Contracts were for people like Daniel who blackmailed girls into porn. Instead, we collaborated, discussed, planned. When she wasn’t part of the process, there was an unwritten trust that I would keep her safe and never push her too far, but what I’ve got in mind for today is going to be a whole lot different than what she could dream of.

I continued, no longer wanting to discuss Kylie or what she may want or not want, “For sets, I want black. All black. Make sure lighting is aware so they can do their thing. With props, I want toys, ropes, lube…that sort of thing. Costume for me is what I’m wearing now. She needs to be in a black, silk dress and a black mask. Can we get that on time?”

Elise nodded her head at me. I watched as she gulped. She could sense danger. As the makeup, hair, and costume artist, she had seen the ups and down of our relationship from backstage. I knew she was aware that Kylie was more than just an actress to me. But she didn’t want to risk losing the job by speaking her mind. She was going to follow this to the end, as well.

I clapped my hands together loudly as my mind emptied of thoughts. Everyone nodded as I confirmed they understood their roles and that they needed it done in under two hours. But I gave one final warning, one final request. “What we’re going to be doing on stage isn’t going to be easy, especially for Kylie or myself. We don’t do this sort of thing often. But I need it to be authentic if it’s going to sell well with our market. That’s why I’m asking you all and your teams to be on their best today. No interruptions, no fumbles. Get the best shots and get out of here. Do we got that?”

The team mumbled an affirmative before I dismissed them with a wave of my hand. I closed the door behind me as the last person left. I turned my attention to the computer sitting on the small coffee table and I began to write. With porn, there was no real need to have much in the way of a script; much of what we said was always improvised on the spot or done based on characters. But I wanted to give Kylie something to read before she walked out on stage, something she could remember and hold onto.

I wasn’t going to play it nice with her. I wasn’t going to take her gently or even ease her into this. I needed for her to know she could trust me, despite my past. If she could get over that roadblock in her mind, the one keeping her from looking at our future rather than our past, then I might have had a shot of getting her back for good. But doing so was going to be one of the hardest things I would ever have to do.

My fingers paused as they hovered over the keyboard. I sighed in deeply, steadying myself in the process. I asked myself one more time if I was ready to give Kylie this kind of pain and pleasure. And as a small part of me swelled with anticipation while my nerves rolled off me, I wrote the first lines for Kylie’s last porn shoot ever:

Kylie: Why are you doing this to me? I don’t understand?

Wilder: What don’t you understand? You’re mine now. Forever and always.

Chapter 22: Tied Up and Twisted

I watched Kylie as she walked out of her dressing room. She looked tired, and I could tell her eyes were swollen, despite being made up in that dark and smoky look I requested. She hunched her shoulders over as she slowly approached the scene. I didn’t know if Elise told her I changed the scene up or if she thought this was the original scenario before, but something about her was overly cautious.

I watched as she touched a discarded piece of rope from the prop table and eyed the slick, silver dispenser of lube. The sleek sex toys sitting in the corner made her pause for a second, her fingers almost touching them. But she looked back at my direction, stealing a glance, before walking on towards the set.

The prop master slowly explained how she would be tied. The last time she was in a bondage scene, she was propped up against a wall using cuffs and bars. Today, it would just be lengths of rope. He centered her on a small hidden “X” mark and then wound rope around her arms first, pulling them straight out using a pulley system he created that I would manipulate from slightly off scene. By the way she leaned forward, putting weight on the arms, I could tell she was trying to decide if she would be able to escape.

Then came her legs. He warned her this was the worst part as he made her spread them wide, pushing them farther apart by her ankles. She looked like a dangling black star when he was through with her. She was stuck floating in a black space cosmos, her shine diminished by the circumstances.

Kylie asked for some water before beginning and Elise returns with a cup, slowly offering it to her lips. She sipped it tenderly before thanking her. I heard her whisper to the makeup artist as she reapplied her ruby red lipstick, “What’s my safe word again?” My stomach turned. She had never asked for a safe word before. Maybe I was taking this way too far?

As she settled in, I nodded my head to the lighting crew. The house lights were dimmed and an eerie hush grew over the bustling crew. Everyone ran to their positions behind the cameras or hidden behind set pieces. I quickly adjusted my tie as I stepped off of the scene, slightly out of the view of the camera.

Elise placed the mask over Kylie’s eyes as I heard her breath stick in her throat. She was whimpering or crying. I couldn’t tell which. Either way, she was struggling with this more than I thought she was. Our fight off scene was making its way onto the set. But I needed her to buck up. I needed her to fight back. Her head picked up slightly as she heard Marco’s voice in the distance, “The Last Meeting. Take One. In 3, 2…” He whispered the “1” as everyone steered on ahead.

Kylie suddenly transformed, crying out into the distance. Her voice was guttural, wrenching. It was as if I really kept her here in my dungeon against her will, tied up for my pleasure. She screamed angrily, “LET ME OUT! PLEASE! LET ME OUT!” The camera scanned a shot up and down her withering body. Her lacey white thighs pulled far apart, her thin black negligée clinging to her twisted body, a glimpse of her uncovered pussy as the material lifted over her hips as she shouted again. Her elegant neck leaned its head back as she dipped down a bit attempting to use her weight to free her.

My hands clenched into fists as I try to centered myself. I needed all the courage and anger I could get. I couldn’t think of her as the girl crying in her room or the teenager in the bed across from mine. She was my captive, my sex slave, my toy. She was nothing but an object to me. At least, I repeated that over and over in my head.

I stepped onto the scene, a camera following me. I walked down a fake stairway behind her, my footsteps alerting her of my presence. She said my first line, calling back to where I was standing slightly behind her trapped body, “Why are you doing this to me? I don’t understand.” She was sincere – angry but sincere. The real Kylie wanted me to free her just as much as her character. And there was fear, real and present fear, telling me she wasn’t going to trust being tied up and tortured.

I stood behind her, a hand wrapping around her thin, silk covered hip, my fingers pressing into her and pulling her body slightly back towards mine. My other hand pulled her long blonde hair to the side as I leaned down and whispered into her ear, “What don’t you understand? You’re mine now. Forever and always.”

Her skin turned bumpy from the breath against her face and neck. She let out a hitched cry as she continued with her lines, not straying from my script. “I’m not yours! You kidnapped me and brought me here. And when my boyfriend finds you, he will kill you!”

I chuckled mischievously as I let my grip on her go, sending her stumbling forward, the ropes catching her fall. “Your boyfriend will never find you down here. And by the time I'm through with you, I doubt you’ll ever want to go back to that weak and pathetic man.”  

She reeled her head to the direction of my voice and spat onto the ground. “You’re horrible! A goddamn criminal! I swear, I would never, never submit to you. Ever!” I couldn’t tell who she was talking to – me or the character. But her voice was so raw and hurt, there had to be truth in it. She wasn’t going to give me her trust without a fight.

“We’ll see about that.” My hand jolted to her thigh, slapping the skin suddenly. She let out a cry and sunk farther into the ropes. I grabbed her from around her throat, making sure to not press down or choke her. I turned her head towards my face as I commanded her, “You will not scream. No matter what I do, you will not scream. If you scream, it will only be worse for you. Do you understand?”

She wet her lip with her pink tongue before meekly replying, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” I pulled her even closer to me, our faces just inches from touching.

She gritted her teeth before answering, “Yes, sir.” She had satisfied me, but it wasn’t enough. I slapped the other thigh with my hand as she bit her lip and squatted a bit in pain.

My hand moved upwards towards her crotch, easing the silk higher up her hip, revealing her naked curves and lines to the camera. As I stood behind her, I leaned down and drove my finger directly into her. She gasped, wrapping her hands around the rope. I moved my finger in and out of her a few times, getting the lay of the land, familiarizing myself with her tight pussy once again.

I exited out as fast as I came in, bringing my finger to my mouth for a taste. It was a scent I knew and loved. It was sweet, almost like honey or sap to my lips. But I didn’t want to have it all. After a few small licks, I used my other hand to open her mouth and placed my finger inside her red lips. She sucked down reluctantly as I danced it in and out again, just as I did her parts below.

An idea came to me as I turned back towards the table set up by the props crew. The camera followed as I pretended to deliberate what to use on my victim next. I paused at the large silver dildo, but instead I grabbed more rope. Before I could do anything else, I needed her naked, fully exposed. I used the pocketknife in my back pocket to make a quick cut to the silk dress’s thin straps. It flew off of her, catching the air and landing between her legs. I couldn’t help myself. Though I had work to do, I still wrapped one of my hands around her breast, cupping it and feeling its soft weight in my hand. She leaned her head back towards my chest, resting it slightly in ecstasy.

But I broke the sudden, gentler shift as I draped the long rope around her neck like a scarf and then knotted it several times down the middle, between her breasts and near her stomach. In a sudden motion, I hitched the rope dangling between her legs from under her, letting it rub up loosely against her folds. The rope went around her backside, up her back, and through the circle around her neck. With a few extra ties around her breasts, waist, and hips, she was set.

As I made my final ties, she began to squirm uncomfortably. The ropes tightened around her pussy and one slipped between her folds as it should’ve. She let out a hushed moan. “What are you doing to me…Sir?”

“It’s called a Karada tie, my slave. And it’s the only way I can ensure that you’ll stay put. The more you struggle, the more that rope will rub raw into you. You don’t want that, now, do you? But if you stay like a good little girl and let me do what I want to you, I’ll cut them off of you.”

She whispered towards me, low enough so the cameras couldn’t pick it up, “Please, don’t do this.” 

As I adjusted the last knots, I leaned in towards her ears and softly asked the real Kylie, “You have to trust me. You can do this.” Her vulnerability melted me to my core. But I needed her to let me continue.

She shook a bit as the rope dug harder into her. Whatever she did, she wasn’t getting out of this, and she knew that. She nodded towards me before transforming back into the angry, scared girl tied up for her master.

I walked off again, letting the cameras get a close up of my work. One of the men lingered around her pussy where the rope was almost completely engulfed by all of her wiggling. It pushed up against her clit, and I knew from past experience that what she was feeling was some sick sense of real pain and pleasure mingling together. I could see her slightly squatting, allowing the rope to travel deeper inside her. She may have actually wanted this.

I returned to the scene with the silver dildo in my hand. I never used toys, but, in this case, I wanted to give Kylie as much torture as she could stand. I turned it on to the lowest setting, listening to the soft hum. I placed it to her red lips, forcing her to kiss it. Her lipstick left a ruby imprint along the bullet-shaped tip. I lowered it down her neck, following the tan ropes towards her breasts. My ties left an opening for her tits to stick out enough for me to play with. I let the cold toy linger on her nipple until it became beady and erect for me. I did the same to her other nipple as my free hand played with the other one.

I couldn’t help myself much more as I longed to taste her skin. I lowered my head towards her neck, brushing away the blonde hair. I licked the smooth white flesh between her collarbone and neck before biting down gently. She squealed in shock and I twisted her nipple hard in my hand, dropping the dildo to the ground and making sure the other one was punished equally. I did warn her about my rules.

I picked up the dildo off the floor. It was still vibrating, still humming along. I turned up the intensity to the medium setting and placed it again to her lips. This time, I slid it into her mouth just like my finger before. I watched as she licked it, reading my mind as to what I wanted. From behind her, I loosened one of my lower knots near her ass, giving me enough slack to move the rope deep within her pussy out of the way. She moaned involuntarily, the humming of the vibrator matching the buzz on her lips. I heard her whimper slightly.

That’s when I knew I was ready to have some real fun.

I yanked the dildo out of her mouth violently, and she gasped, catching her breath. To make up for the suddenness of the act, I traced my index finger down her neck, starting at her ear, very lightly touching her, giving her visible goosebumps along her collarbone.

She shuddered and fidgeted in the restraints. “Wilder,” she moaned, “what—"

I cut her off with a swift slap on her ass. I didn’t hold back; it left a hand-shaped red mark on her right cheek. “Shut your pretty little mouth, slave-girl,” I spat. “I told you, you will call me ‘sir.’”

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly, resigned to her fate. “I was just—"

I slapped her again, this time on the opposite ass cheek.

“Speak when spoken to, slave!” I yelled at her. “You’re obviously not getting this yet.” I sighed. “I guess,” I said with an evil grin that she couldn’t see through the blindfold, “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.” I ran the vibrator, still buzzing, down her neck and along her shoulders. She moaned again as I circled it past her tits, making sure to go over the nipples ever-so-gently. “Does that feel good?” I asked her.

“Yes, sir,” she confessed.

“And this?” I immediately removed the dildo from her nipple and, using my thumb and index finger, twisted her nipple so tightly I could feel it engorge in my hand. She shrieked, whimpering and almost on the verge of tears. “Is that the kind of thing my little sex toy likes?” I asked cruelly.

“Yes, sir,” she repeated breathlessly.

“Good,” I said, impressed. “That’s right. Well, I think you deserve a bit of a reward, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she said hopefully.

“Yes,” I said again. “Yes, you do.” I moved the dildo down her mons and used it to part her labia.

She moaned as she felt the ripples go through her body, the vibrator hitting directly on her clit. She shuddered, slowly at first, but then faster, her legs drawing up towards her body. Her breathing quickened, and she arched her back, as if she were about to orgasm.

I pulled the vibrator away. “Not so fast, you spoiled – little – brat!” I scolded her as she gasped for air. “You don’t get to cum yet. I say when you cum. And I say you wait!” With that, I shoved the dildo into her wet, waiting pussy. She cried out, so I slapped her face – not hard, but enough to remind her she was no longer in control. “Do I need to gag you, kitten? You do not get to scream until I tell you you may. Understood?”

I continued moving the vibrator up and down inside her pussy as she responded. “Y-y-yessss… suh-suh-sir…” she cooed. Satisfied with her response, I pulled the dildo out of her pussy, switched it off, and stuck it back in her mouth. She lapped at it eagerly, groaning in a hushed voice.

“You’re doing quite well, my pet,” I said encouragingly as she sucked harder on the dildo. “But I haven’t forgotten your earlier…subordination.” She cocked her head slightly as her mouth slowed. “For that, I think a bit of discipline may be in order.”

Before she could agree with a “Yes, sir,” I had picked up a whip from the floor and swung it hard against her ass. She cried out as much from surprise as from pain. As I pulled the whip back, I paused to admire my handiwork: a long, thin streak of red moving horizontally across both cheeks.

“You know,” I said teasingly, “I think you might have liked that.” I stroked the spot I had whipped tenderly, coaxing it. She moaned ecstatically. “I think,” I said, very quietly and gently, “that you might…need…” here I pulled back and whipped again, “another one!”

The whip cracked, and this time, she screamed.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” I lectured. “Oh, my sweet little sexpot, that will never do. The screaming. It is so…unbecoming.” I whipped her twice more in a row. She bit her lower lip just to keep from crying out again and emitted only the slightest of moans. Her ass was now red-raw. I didn’t want to hurt her too badly, but she was enjoying the whole thing, and all this dom/sub stuff had gotten me rock-hard. I wondered what was going through her head.

I didn’t have to wonder for long. “Sir,” she groaned, “I need you.”

“Excuse me, slave?” I demanded.

“I…I need your cock, sir,” she stammered. “I need your cock inside me, filling me up. I…I’m begging, sir. Fuck me. Fuck my tight little pussy.”

I shimmied down my pants, but I didn’t immediately go in. “You need to get one thing straight, darling,” I said, again cracking the whip against her ass. “I am in control. You are my sex toy. When I am ready to fuck you, I will fuck you. Is that understood, slave? Have I made myself crystal clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” I pulled her legs towards me and ran my fingers over her pussy. “Now, about that fucking…” I didn’t even bother warming her up, preferring instead to simply take her. I heard her scream out my name, but I didn’t care. I was a jackhammer, punishing her pussy over and over again. It was like I was possessed. I felt her legs stiffen and tighten around me as she came. This I allowed – after all, this was all in good fun – but kept myself from cumming too soon. When I felt my balls start to fill, I pulled out. “We’re not quite through yet, my little sex slave,” I said. “There is one more barrier we haven’t yet crossed.”

She whimpered as she heard me pick up the dildo again. What she couldn’t hear was the lube I began spreading on it, lathering it up. “Sir?” she called out, still unable to see. “Wh-what are you d-d-doiahhhhhhh!”

Kylie screamed as I penetrated her asshole with the vibrator – first just the tip, but, since it showed no signs of resistance, increasingly more, until suddenly, half the dildo was shoved up her ass. It turned her feral. She was almost foaming at the mouth at this point. “Oh my fucking God, sir,” she said, careful to continue to call me sir. However, she realized she’d crossed a line and immediately began to apologize. “Sir, I – oooh – I’m soohhhhhhhhh – so sohohohohohohrrryeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

I stroked her cheek as I fucked her with the vibrator. “I’ll forgive you – this time,” I said playfully. “Besides, I get it. You like getting fucked in the ass, don’t you? Hmm? Do you like having a dildo in your asshole?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded. “Almost as much as I like a cock in there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” I teased.

“Ohhh yessssssss!” she responded, her voice trembling as I pushed the vibrator in and out of her sweet ass.

“You want a cock in there?” I asked gently.

“Oh please sir!” she said, begging me unprompted. “Please, please fuck my asshole, sir. Please. I need it. I need your cock inside my ass, sir. I love it. I want it so badly. Please, please, sir, put your huge cock all the way up my asshole.”

I didn’t need much more prompting. I gently eased the dildo out of her and replaced it with my cock. She screamed again and, this time, I let it go. Her asshole clenched around my dick as I pounded her. This time, there were no pleasantries and no discussion – this was raw, unadulterated ass-fucking. And she fucking loved it.

“Oh, sir, oh, oh my God, you cock feels so good inside my asshole!” she screamed.

“You like this, sex-toy?” I asked, grunting. “You like when I fuck your ass?”

“Y-y-y-yesss!” she called out. “I fucking love when you fuck my sweet little asshole. Oh GOD, sir, I want you to cum. Please. I need it. I need your cum in my asshole. Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. Just fuck my asshole. Use me. Use my asshole as your cum dump. Just never stop fucking me!”

Her nastiness exuded from her, and I couldn’t hold on any longer. I let fly with one of the hardest orgasms I’ve ever had in my life. She screamed, feeling me cumming deep in her, giving her exactly what she wanted.

Chapter 23: Revelations

He pulled out of me, slowly, reluctantly. He didn’t want to let go, and I admit I didn’t want him to either. I wasn’t ready for what just happened. How could I be? What just transpired was a cross between fire and ice and I still couldn’t decide if it was better to be burned or cooled.

By the looks of the crew, they weren’t exactly prepared for what we did on screen either. No one was moving. No one was putting down their cameras or running to hand me a robe and towel. Even Marco, the assistant director, was staring at us with his mouth agape. I knew Wilder changed the scene, but this shared feel of shock and awe seems more related to how deep Wilder and I went with the story. They were seeing the real story for the first time. And I think, so was I.

He pushed off me, catching my eye. He looked panicked, almost worried. I could tell by the way his mouth opened slightly and then closed quickly he had something he wanted to say to me. But this wasn’t the time or place. We were both sweaty, exhausted, and confused. I was sore, too, in a good way, but still sore.

I stood, waiting for someone to respond to me. Elise approached slowly, handing me a soft blue robe from my dressing room and asked if I needed her help removing the dark, smoky eye makeup or cleaning myself off. I politely declined. What I needed was a hot bath and a quick trip out of this place. A million thoughts were running through my head, but sticking around here was the last thing I needed to sort it all out.

I slipped on my flip-flops and walked straight towards my dressing room. Luckily the door had a lock, my only way to know I could be alone. I tossed the robe on the vanity and headed straight towards the shower, being sure to turn it on the highest setting I could stand. This wasn’t time for a cold bath, though the way my body was still aroused and ready, maybe dousing myself in some ice water would be the best way for me to ease out of whatever spell I was under.

As I stepped in the steamy bathroom, I was able to take my first real, deep breath since we started. Not even that, since I walked through the door all thunder and lightning. I replayed the moments on camera in my head, remembering the way he tied me, how his hands softly wrapped around my neck, how I didn’t budge or fuss at it. Was that really my last porn – me tied up and submissive while he took me?

I couldn’t help but feel a bit mournful. It only lasted a few short months, but this was really the end of an era. It wasn’t even that I was done screwing Wilder or that our wild romance was coming to a close at his undoing. It was that something so powerful, so transformative had fallen to ruins, as well. This wasn’t a career for me, or a way to live. This was a way to pay my debts, to save up for my future. But it quickly became a place for me to explore the wilder Kylie that was stuffed away for so long.

My throat closed a bit as I could feel a thick, imaginary mass traveling up from my stomach to my throat. I let it out, a croak of cries. Why did Wilder have to be my stepbrother? Why did he have to ruin our family for his own selfish means? Why did I have to find out? I wanted to go back to that moment in the hotel when I woke up to the heat of his body pressed against me, where it seemed our future was ahead of us and our past was slowly fading behind.

But now my future was returning to my old life where I had to be Kylie the college student, Kylie the introverted nerd, Kylie the pseudo-virgin. I wanted to grasp onto this life with every ounce of force I could muster. But I knew it was time for me to let go. All things must pass – good or bad.

I washed the lather off my body and ran my fingers through my damp hair. The water stopped as I reached my arm out from the plastic shower curtain to the ground below in search of a towel. I felt a brush of a familiar hand as it gave me my white plush towel. I shrieked a bit as I called out towards him, “What the fuck are you doing in here, Wilder? I thought I locked the door.”

“I’m the director. I own this sound stage. I've got a key, Kylie.” He sounded bemused, almost lighthearted. It only grated on my nerves more.

I wrapped the towel around my body as I inhaled and exhaled before stepping out to face him. He was standing between the door to the bathroom and the dressing room, his arm propping him up against the white trim.

I looked him dead in his sky blue eyes, trying not to melt further down. I tried to brush off the part of me that wanted to rip his clothes off and centered on the part that wanted to rip his face off. “What do you need? You already have all my information. Do I need to sign something? Give a formal resignation?”

He looked crestfallen, as if he expected something different of me. But nothing had changed from me wanting to quit him and the business because of some hot, amazing sex. At least, I tried to pretend it hadn’t. He covered a cough as he cleared his throat. His hand played with the discarded tie he had draped around his neck. His typically booming, deep voice had diminished as he said, “I don’t know why you’re doing this. I’m telling you the truth, Kylie. Every bit of it. I'm sorry for what I had to do and what happened. But I’m not the only reason why our parents split. And I can’t help it if my dad refused to help your mom out after the divorce.”

My forehead creased in frustration as I narrowed my eyes towards him. “They were happy, Wilder! We were happy! You ruined that. It’s not like you stole a stapler from his office. You stole $400,000 and, not only that, you did it for drugs! What kind of son does that?”

He took two steps towards me, his arms raised in defense. I stepped back quickly, nearly hustling it straight back to the bathroom in a bit of fear. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but I also didn’t want to be anywhere near him. He retreated when he saw my eyes widen and my hands grasp for the door behind me. “I was the kind of son who thought he knew what was best. I don’t pretend that what I did was right. It wasn’t. But I paid my dues. My dad is being taken care of. And if you want me to take care of you and your mom, I’ll do that, as well. I can change your world.”

I laughed. He was crazy. He couldn’t change anything. Everything was already in ruins. “You mean change my world by forcing me to do porn? By anal fucking me in front of a crew of people I barely know just to have it broadcast to anyone willing to pay the five dollars to download it? What kind of change is that?”

He stuttered as he tried to keep up with me. I wasn’t even sure what I was saying that that point. I just wanted to hurt him, to make him feel every bit of anger and disappointment I felt when the truth was told. If I had to burn, I was pulling him in the flames.

“Kylie,” he whispered, trying to contain himself, “I never, ever made you do porn. Everything you did with us and with Daniel’s production company was all you. You wanted the money, and you can’t tell me that you didn’t enjoy it, as well. I watched you become a totally different person both onscreen and off screen.”

Wilder was right. I wanted it as much as he did, maybe even more at some points. Still, I couldn’t let him know that. I spat back my response, “You don’t know me or who I was. I had a great life before you walked back into it. I was the top student. I was on my way to becoming something great. With you, all I have is a dead end. I don’t want that anymore. I’m turning around and going back to the old Kylie.”

He shuffled his feet, his hands finding his pockets. He reminded me of a hangdog being punished. It was a total shift from the Wilder who always stood firm, who never batted an eye. I was getting to him. He turned towards the door, but as his hand hit the knob, his shoulders squared up and he spun to say, “I need you to trust me.” 

“What did you say?”

He already asked me to trust him during the porn shoot, and now he was repeating himself. Wilder was that record that kept skipping the same old seconds over and over again. “I need you to trust me like you did today. And don’t tell me that you didn’t or that you don’t. What you did out there should have showed you that we're not just business partners or fuck buddies. We’re something more powerful. Nothing you believe today about our family or what I did is going to change that. I need you to trust me that you can get over that, and it will be worth it.”

As he spoke, his resolve was returning. He didn’t want to be hurt. He didn’t want to hurt me. But most of all, he thought he knew better. But I wasn’t convinced.

“It’s never going to happen.” I turned, grabbing the robe off the floor. I looked back to add my final remark, “You know where to mail my check. I expect it soon.”    

I picked up my bookbag and began throwing all of my belongings into it. I grabbed my makeup, my lotions, and a notebook I used to study with when I was on set. I searched the bathroom for my soap and shampoo, still damp from my shower. Everything that was mine, down to a sample of perfume I got from a trip to the mall is coming with me. I wanted no traces that I was ever here left behind. The memories could stay just between him and me.

I tossed on my old, tattered jeans and tossed on the t-shirt, not caring about putting on a bra or panties. With one swing, the backpack was on and I was out the door, pushing past everyone, and not daring to catch anyone’s eyes.

Elise, my makeup artist, ran behind me, calling my name lowly in an attempt to not draw any more attention. I stopped in my place, a tinge of anger washing over me. She handed me a card with her name and number as she meekly said, “If you need any help or someone to talk to, call me. I know this is your last shoot, and I know you mean it. But just know I’ll be thinking of you.”

I looked down at the white piece of stock paper with the black printed name centered in the middle. I tossed it in my pocket before bringing her in for a quick hug. It was a reminder that my time doing porn hadn’t been all bad. Maybe I could make a real friendship out of this business after all. Still, I didn’t linger long as I pulled away and turned towards the door.

A stagehand held it for me as I walked out into the bright Las Vegas sunshine, a stark contrast from the dark and damp environment of the soundstage. It was stifling, as it always was living in the middle of a desert, but today felt different. The heat was a lighter, the sun my redeemer, the lights that were starting to shine bright in a neon haze beacons, not warning signs.

I walked towards the busy street right off the strip and waited for a taxi to notice me. When I finally hailed one, I was relieved to have a quiet, non-chatty driver. It gave me a moment to focus on the rest of my day. I was still the college girl with final exams and presentations on the way. And as I pulled out my cell from my backpack, apparently college was literally calling. I had two missed phone calls from the school.

I pressed play on one of the voicemails left from the advisor’s office. A familiar voice filled my headset as it announced itself, “This call is for Kylie. Kylie, this is James Iverly with the university’s academic counselor office. An urgent matter regarding your student status has come to my attention, and I need you to stop by my office immediately. Your professors have been instructed to not admit you to class until you've spoken to me. My office is open until 6pm today. I expect to see you then.”

I deleted the message as my mind wandered off. I had these messages all the time when I struggling to pay tuition, but this wasn’t the university’s financial office calling with a third warning or a note about how they were restricting access to the library until I forked over my deposit. This was my counselor taking me out of classes. What in the world could be forcing his hand to do that? I was the perfect student – straight As, never missed a class. Even with my second job as a porn star, I still managed to maintain it all.

I tapped on the driver’s shoulders and directed him to the office of my advisor. I certainly wasn’t dressed to meet up with him, but if I waited until later today or put it off until tomorrow, I’d just drive myself crazy not knowing what was going on. I tied up my still-wet blonde hair, ran to a bathroom and slipped on my bra, and headed to the office looking a bit out of sorts. Looking around at the staff, I felt as if I had walked into a lion’s den. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and a few were hunched over, whispering to one another. My stomach turned. This wasn’t just about my tuition bill or a missed paper. And I certainly wasn’t getting an award.

The secretary greeted me as I was about to walk in. She was dressed in a pink sweater with her hair tied back stiffly. As she stood in front of the door, I had a feeling she was attempting to block me. “May I help you?” she asked me sternly. “Mr. Iverly is currently indisposed.”

“He’s expecting me. I was told to come to his office as soon as possible.” I gave her my name, gulping down worry and anticipation. She eyed me suspiciously, like all the other workers here before calling on her desk phone. I could hear his voice on the other side of the door ushering me inside.

When I opened the door, the man who greeted me looked off. I had known Mr. Iverly for almost three years now. But today he was looking far from the polished professional who always greeted me as a top, promising student. Today, he was sweaty, his blond spiky hair messed up, and his jacket laying on the carpeted floor of his office. A sliver of his blue button up shirt was sticking out from the zipper of his black slacks. I eyed a couple of discarded tissues in the wastebin. Oh no.

He ushered me to the seat, lingering behind me for a long, agonizing moment. When he took a seat behind the oak desk, he reached down and tossed across the desk a familiar green and white binder. He cleared his throat before asking me, “Do you know what this book is, Kylie?”

“Yes, sir. It’s the College Standards Guide. I received one when I was a freshman.”

“Then you know what it says, am I right? Let me turn you attention to page twelve.” He opened the book and thumbed through the pages. A section was highlighted, making itself known among the black and white pages. “Please read this to me.”

I felt like a child as I pulled the book closer to my face. I hadn’t been asked to read out loud since grade school. He was really getting off with this power trip. “Students of the International Relations Program are expected to be representatives of their school at all times, including in non-academic or university sponsored activities.” My heart beat heavy in my chest as I started to understand. The next few sentences sealed my fate, “Any egregious activity that interferes with academic pursuits or the integrity of the program will result in immediate removal from the university and a partial, prorated refund of tuition.”

Mr. Iverly nodded his head as I finished and then turned the screen of his computer around. I gripped onto the wooden chair as I instantly recognized the pink, girlish font and the black background. Wilder’s Girls flashed in large letters as a picture of me with my mouth open, swallowing Wilder’s cum, caused me to look away. He turned the screen back towards him before asking, “I assume by your reaction that this is really you. A student in the program alerted us of this two weeks ago.”

His words shocked me, turning me red with anger. I burst out, “I really don’t think it’s the business of anybody in the program. I'm not hurting anyone.”

His eyes squared in on me, glancing over my body. I was not dressed like the porn star in the photo with her tight white tank top and her dark red lipstick. Yet, he couldn’t help taking in the curves of my breasts in this black t-shirt. He responded slowly, measuring his words, “Kylie, besides putting yourself in danger, you're putting our program in a spotlight in which we would not like to be in. That is why the academic committee has agreed that we no longer believe you're a good fit for the program or the university.”

I stood up; his eyes still followed me, this time glancing at my ass. “Mr. Iverly, you cannot be serious. I'm the best student this program has ever had. You told me this yourself. I'm doing what I’m doing precisely because I don’t have the tuition money. I had to do something since the school refused to give me any more scholarship money. You’ve got to understand that!”

He leaned back in his leather chair as he said, “I understand that, but many students struggle to afford college. They don’t go about paying for it by degrading themselves on camera. I’m sorry, Kylie, but this is it. This is our final decision. There will be no further chances or appeal process. You may, if you like, sit for finals and leave in good standing, but that’s it.”

I didn’t know what to do, my mind completely blank. I placed my hands on the desk, leaning over the paperwork on his desk to get closer to him. My blonde hair dangled at my side. I cried out to him, “Please, sir. I quit today. I'm not going back there. I will do anything…anything to stay a student here. There must be something we can do.”

I understood the meaning of my own words. I hated the idea of flaunting myself to him, but I needed this. I would be willing to go this far to keep holding on to my dream. After all that I had lost today, this could not be added to my pile. 

His back arched farther. As I looked at his tight trousers, I noticed the indent of his pants was raised. He was turned on. He was thinking about it. But suddenly, his face fell as his chair jerked back forward and he fumbled to turn off his screen. He stammered as he began to dial on his phone. “I’m sorry, Kylie, but you're no longer a student at this college after this week. We wish you the best in your, erm, endeavors.”

I took my cue, grabbing my backpack, and walking out the door. I wasn’t giving him a chance to embarrass me by escorting me out. If I was going to grieve, I was going to do it on my time and on my terms. 

Chapter 24: The Aftermath

I watched the metal door to the academic building go flying. The loud sound of metal slamming into brick echoed through the hallway. My head was pounding and I ached. Every bit of me just wanted to curl up in that ball and die.

After a few minutes, I realized I was walking with no direction. Everything had been spinning so quickly around me in a daze of green trees, brown buildings, and gray pavement that I hadn’t had a moment to just acclimate myself to what was going on or where I was heading. By the time I noticed, I was already at the other end of campus. The sun was setting just behind me as at least, I told myself, the end of this horrible day was drawing near.

I wanted nothing more than to curl up in my bed and hide under the covers until everything went away. I turned around and slowly headed back to my dorm room as I watched students who looked and acted just like me headed cheerfully in and out of the buildings, books in their hands, notes tucked in their book bags. All I had ever wanted was to be one of them, to feel like I had a part of this community. And now that I was here and that I was finally feeling like one of them, it was getting taken away from me.

The door to my room is opened and I saw my roommate, Lana, sitting on the floor, chatting with some unknown guy. I dropped my bag at the entrance of the room unsure of what to do or say. With one look at me and my red eyes and frazzled hair, Lana was ushering the guy out the door as he protested. Obviously, he wasn’t planning on cutting this day off so quickly.

“Kylie?” She shut the door behind her and placed her hands on my sunken shoulders. “What’s going on? Did something happen to you?”

I nodded my head as I let out a choked back sigh. I could feel everything ready to pour out of me as it built and built. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t breath. The spinning was back. All I knew was that I was free falling and Lana was shouting something totally incoherent at me. I tried to focus on her face and her voice as she was suddenly standing or kneeling over me, shouting out, “Breathe! Kylie!”

I remembered what I needed to do and I took a few sucks in. The motion helped me situate myself as my hand gripped at the purple fuzzy area rug on our floor. How did I get here? It was dark, as well. Our corner lamp was turned on and the windows were closed.

Lana had a wet towel in her hand and she was dabbing it over my forehead as she continued to command me, “Breathe. Just breathe. It’s going to be okay. This is just a little panic attack.”

I listened to her soothe me as I remembered everything, every detail – Wilder’s face when I told him we were through, the counselor checking me out as he told me what a disgrace I was, me being tortured and whipped as the camera shot my red and white body. Every emotion vacated my body as something new appeared: anger. I sat up slowly and, without a word to Lana, I crawled myself towards our mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of vodka.

“Kylie!” She shrieked in shock as I swung back the cold, stiff drink. “What the hell are you doing? You just had a panic attack, and you’ve got class in like thirty minutes!”

I took another long drink, letting the heat of it wash over me before I replied, “I don’t have class. They kicked me out.”

“They kicked you out? You? C’mon. You’re bullshitting me.”

I didn’t blame Lana for not believing me. I couldn’t think of a less deserving person than me. “Nope. No bullshit. Good ol’ reliable Kylie. Kylie the Straight A Student. Kylie the Brainiac. Kylie the Teacher’s Pet. Kylie the Wuss. Out of everyone in this school, I get kicked out for being in a few pornos.” I watched her face as it completely dropped. I let it slip. For the last few months that I had been working in front of the camera, I hadn’t let anyone in on my double life. Now I was going to have to deal with her judgment, as well.

She shook her head and then stared back at me. It was like every lie, every late night, every excuse I had given her was adding up in her head as she evaluated it all. Finally, she lowered her voice and said, “Kylie, why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyebrows peaked as I was about to answer, “Because that is so incredibly awesome!”

“What?” I was dumbfounded.

“I mean, I thought there was a wild creature somewhere in you, but not like…a porn star. And when I saw that guy you're with, I thought he looked good enough to be in those kinds of things, but I didn’t want to say it. This, like, changes everything.”

“Yeah, it does, Lana. It changes everything because it got me kicked out of school for good! Mr. Iverly found out and dismissed me from the university. I’m only allowed to stay to sit for finals and then I’m out. And I only did the porn to pay for school and Daniel back for that night when I ruined bottle service!” I drank again, hoping to forget.

Lana took the bottle from me, drinking a bit herself. After a few beats, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood up. She pulled out a few things from her dresser drawers and tossed them my way. I fumbled with the pink and white lace frill lingerie as she jovially shouted, “Well, there’s only one thing we can do! Celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” I tossed the panties and bra back her way. “You’ve got to be out of your mind. I just want to drink ‘til I’m a puddle of vodka, Lana. Last thing I want to do is go to a club with you and your friends.”

“We’re not going to a club. We’re going to a mansion. And we’re going to drink for free, meet some guys, and celebrate your freedom.” She grabbed my hands and lifted me to standing. Her arms hooked around my t-shirt and pulled it off of me, tossing it on the floor. She took one look at me, sizing me up, before saying, “It’s a lingerie party so you’ll need something, well, not you. I think I’ve got just the thing, though.”

She went back into the drawer and pulled out a white silk bustier and a pair of matching garter and stockings with white lace. “I think this will fit, though you’re skinnier than me and have much bigger boobs.” She winked, “Lucky.”

“Please, Lana. If I were the least bit desirable, I’d have a real boyfriend or at least a ton of guys after me like you.” My words were a mistake –I instantly conjured up images of Wilder taking me out on our romantic dinner date and him whispering that he cared for me. My stomach turned as I slipped the tight, structured material over my chest and down to my hips. I rolled up the stockings and clipped the garter belt to the bustier.

Lana threw me a pair of silver heels, and we wobbled out the door, Lana in her pink bra and panties and me more exposed than I had ever felt before. Walking out in public like this was a totally different sensation than baring it all during a porn shoot. I wanted to grab a robe or a coat or something. But with each step in these awkward heels, each glance at the rearview mirror by the cab driver, each sip of the flask Lana snuck into the car, each application of lip gloss and eyeliner was making me feel like I really was this girl. I really was Kylie the sex bomb.

By the time we reached the party, I was flying. The alcohol was catching up to me as I teetered between complete sugar high and totally out of it. The mansion with its ornate pillars, tuxedoed staff, and foreboding rooms were something more akin to a Vegas mirage than real life. Lana led me by the hand to the pool where most of the guests were lingering. She ran to grab us drinks from the tiki bar while I stood off to the side, taking in the sights of the women in their panties rubbing up against men with tattooed and tanned bodies to the beat of the music.

Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do at these kinds of parties, except for me. Even though I was feeling free with the booze flowing through me, I still couldn’t think of how to just jump in. I knew I was looking completely nuts as I stood by the DJ booth, twirling the strands of hair with my fingers, using it as a way to cover up my naked skin.

I felt a rough tap on my shoulders as a large hand spun me around to face them. The guy’s beady black eyes leered at me as he smiled crookedly. His hand traveled down my shoulder to my arm, holding me in place, as he shouted at me over the sound of the techno music, “Hey! I know youse.”

I looked at him, trying to place him from a class or maybe at the bar I used to work at. But he looked totally foreign to me. I shouted back, taking a step towards the wall, “I’m sorry. I don’t think I know you, though.”

He wasn’t moving. He was just staring at me with his toothy grin and his wrinkled face. I had been drinking, but he had been doing a lot more. Even in the dark and under the neon light beams, I could see the scratch marks. Unlike the ones I saw on Wilder, his were more red and deeper. Every red flag was flying. My eyes darted back towards the tiki bar, hoping Lana was in calling distance, but she was covered by the sea of bodies waiting for their drinks.

“No, no. I know youse. I know youse real well,” The way he said it made it click for me. There was only one way a guy like him would know who I am. He lifted his arm over my head, pinning me in. His head turned as he ushered for another shirtless guy to join him. “Tommy! Tommy! Ya know who dis girl is? I bet ya do, ya sick bastid!”

The man stood next to him and peered at me as if I was an exotic animal they’re trying to name. Finally, a glimmer of recognition as he, too, smiled widely. “You’re the girl from those movies. The Wilder Girl! I saw your shot with Julie the other day.” He touched his heart almost tenderly as he exclaimed, “Damn! I was never so turned on my life, especially when Wilder appears out of nowhere and fucks you hard. Jesus.”

No one had recognized me before and, by how he's staring at me, I wasn’t sure if I wanted someone like him knowing me like that. Still, I asked him cautiously, unsure how to approach this. “How do you know Julie and Wilder?” I was sure huge fans can name porn stars, especially if it was their favorite, but knowing people by the first name just seemed wrong to me.

“Let’s just say we’re financiers. We know quality art when we see it. We provide the money, your team provides the tits and the ass.”

His hand began to stroke my shoulder and collarbone, dipping lower as he goes. Both were licking their lips at me. I was their meal; I could feel it. I squirmed away as Lana appeared with a guy from the bar. I shouted back at them as I stumbled towards her, “It was good to meet you guys! Have a great night.” I took Lana’s arm and led her back in the direction of the house. Her boy toy was still trailing us, trying to keep up. “Lana, I don’t think I can do this. Those guys recognized me…from the shoots.”

Lana turned, handed me the drink, and waited until I took a sip. I did one better: I gulped the pink liquid down in one throw. “I don’t understand what the problem is. If they recognize you, the more they want you. Play around! Live a little! That’s what this is supposed to be about. You, your freedom, and loads of hot guys ready to give you anything you want!” She snapped her fingers and the man appeared by her side. He looked at her with longing eyes as she commanded him, “Can you be a dear and get my friend another one of whatever these are? I’d be ever so grateful.”

With a lick of his lips, I could tell he was hooked. Fantasies were playing in his head. This was a dream scenario for him. If I had asked him for his credit card number and a key to his house, he would have delivered it to us on a silver platter if it would get him closer to a three way with the two of us.

Lana laughed as he stomped off. “Poor guy. He’s not getting anything but a bar tab from me.” She held her nose as her voice changed to nasal, “Too much cologne. It’s deadly.”

By the time he returned, I was starting to get back into my element. The music had changed to something that I actually wanted to dance to as I headed back to the pool. The two guys from earlier spotted me almost instantly, gesturing to me with the rest of their group of guys. I said the hell with it as I winked their way and pouted my lips.

The ringleader floated my way, handing his shirt to one of his underlings. “You look like you need someone to dance with.” He had a soft southern drawl. I had to admit, it was pretty hot. He wasn’t exactly my type with a bald head and black tattoos all over his shoulders and chest, but I didn’t need something my type. Just something good.

He took me by the hips, pulling me close to him. I could feel his hands run up my spine, underneath the lace and latex of my bustier. Finally, they rested on the curve of my ass, a finger slipping between the fabric of my panties. I leaned back and moaned a bit as I rested closer to him, our bodies swaying back and forth together. A man approached me with another pink drink and I shot it down again, not even noticing the fiery aftertaste anymore. All I wanted was this man’s hands on my body and the nagging voices in my head to melt away with the music.

After a few more drinks and dances with men from the group, I had completely lost Lana. Actually, I had lost all of my senses. I didn’t know how late it is or how long I had been dancing. I didn’t even know what happened to my purse or my cell. People’s voices all melded together into one as the men whispered into my ears things they wanted to do to me. I just smiled, tilted my head back, and laughed.

The ringleader appeared again, the men all parting around him. He wasn’t dancing, but instead took my hand, leading me back towards the house. I stumbled, laughing each time my heel caught in the cracks of the stone pavement. And he was always there, picking me up by the ass, feeling his way through my clothing, until he finally picked me up from under my legs and carried me into a room off the staircase.

I immediately recognized it as a study. The smell of leather and old books filled my nose as I looked around in awe. It was like a fairytale. I clapped my hands in glee, forgetting where I was or who brought me here. When I spun, he was on me, still swaying with the music from outside.

His deep voice rattled me as he said, “I didn’t get to introduce myself back there. I’m Tommy. And I know you’re Kylie.” He clicked his teeth together as he added, “Do you wanna have some fun Kylie?” He opened his palm for me, revealing a little white pill.

I turned a bit, unsure of what to do. The alcohol was making me unsteady, but I knew better. And my fears only rose when four of the guys from earlier walked in the door, shutting it quietly behind them. I stammered as I twisted to get away from his thick grip, “I’m sorry, Tommy. I don’t do that stuff.”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why I’ve already given it to you.” His smile transformed from playful to devious in less than a second as I attempted to walk backwards towards the door. Before I could reach it, there was another guy on me.

The man took his crystal glass and poured the gold liquid onto my chest. I was frozen in place as I watched him tilt his head and lick and suck the drops and trickles off my prickling skin. When he came back up, kissing my neck and jaw, he exclaimed, “Just as I thought a little whore like you would taste.”

Another man was at my side, grabbing at my hands as things suddenly became darker, less focused. He had my hands in a lock as I felt something like a wire hold my wrists together behind my back. He pushed me down towards a brown leather sofa as another launched on top of me, ripping the cup of my bustier and exposing my breast to them. I felt something sprinkled on me as a man hunched over my waist. He used a rolled up dollar bill to snort whatever it was up his nose.

I was stunned as my body felt heavy, weighted. I wanted to wrestle myself free but my limbs felt like they weighed over two hundred pounds each. And everywhere I looked, a new face appeared smiling, laughing.

A man shouted in the distance as the group dispersed away from me. I turned my head slowly to see them file out of the room, leaving only one standing guard. His back turned for a second and I mustered up every bit of my drooping energy to pull my hands out of the crude wire ties. I could feel the thin metal cut into my hands, leaving trail marks where they sliced and cut. All the while, I was scanning the room, planning my escape. By my estimate, I only had one shot to get this right.

The guy turned back towards me, stepping slowly towards my limp body. I pretended to pass out, leaving my hands halfway covered by a pillow near my head. He sat down at my side and placed his hands on my breast, fondling my nipple. I was doing my best not to cringe or mumble, but his fingers were ice cold and his twisting and massaging was putting me on edge of calling out.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I knew what happened next in this scenario, and it wasn’t going to come true. My hands reached harder as I pretended to moan in ecstasy. His head dipped in towards mine as I felt something cold, hard, metal find my hands. I grabbed for it and in a millisecond, I slammed it into the man’s head. His long brown hair went flying with his head as his neck twisted like a ragdoll from my force. He fell on top of me as I lurched up, his body tumbling down towards the ground.

The young man was covered in the red pools of warm, thick blood trickling from his forehead where the bronze statue connected with the side of his head. I looked down at my white bustier that has been stained with circles of his blood, my hands, too, red and dripping. I wiped them on the pillow, unsure of what the best move was to make here. The man wasn’t moving, and by the way his head was turned, I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. I reached down gingerly to feel at his neck. No beats of life, no air on my wrist.

I killed a man. I couldn’t process it. I killed a man. I killed a man. I killed a man. It repeated over and over again in my head. But I only had a few minutes to think. I knew the others were right behind the door. I could hear them laughing and stomping in the distance. My only chance of an exit was a small window behind the desk. I ran towards it, my heels stepping in blood and leaving trails of my deeds. After struggling to lift the screen up, I managed to slip up and down the side of the wall, the brick siding scratching my hands and legs. At that point, I didn’t even know which blood belonged to me.

I could still hear the party behind me as I rushed towards the driveway and street, ducking behind bushes and hiding behind cars parked in the lot. I felt as if I had run a marathon before I even made it back to the road. It was late, I could tell. Probably only 1 AM, but a taxi was still lingering outside, obviously waiting for the partiers to need him. I limped towards him, opening the door, and launching myself into the backseat.

I took a few breaths as I clung to the leather upholstery. I couldn’t look away from the mansion and I was waiting for any sign that I had been found out. And as the taxi driver asked me where I was going, I heard it. It was a scream in the dark, lights flashing in the mansion’s looming windows, and the sounds of people running towards the door.

I turned back towards the taxi driver and I told him the one place I knew I could go. “I need you to take me to Gable Street. It’s where the industrial warehouses are.”

Chapter 25: Obsession

I hit replay again as I watched her head tip back gently as I eased into her. She bit down on her lip ever so slightly as I began. And there was that look, that moment. I spotted it again. My mouse clicked the rewind button as I went back seconds for my fifth replay in an attempt to study it more.

Kylie’s performance today hadn’t left my mind from the moment we stopped. I heard her when she told me it was over. I heard her when she stomped out of the studio with her vow to never come back. But there was something more, something there that her words weren’t telling me. It was what her body did when it sighed, when her eyes lit up, when she said yes to what really should be said no to.

She trusted me. None of what happened on the soundstage before me was forced or pretend. She wasn’t acting either. Kylie wanted it as much as I did. And not only that, she loved it.

She loved it. She loves me. It was a crazy thought, I know, a person who could feel so strongly about leaving you actually loving you. But I could tell through the hurt, the angry bursts, that she wasn’t just disappointed because she discovered my past. She was in pain over me not living up to the expectations she had for the person she loved.

I reached for my phone, hoping to see anything, something from her. But it was blank. Not a missed call, a text, an email. She was cut me off. I opened her contact information knowing I, too, could make another move. I was never into begging, but for her, I would do it. I would get down on my knees and grovel if it meant being able to taste those lips on mine once more, to feel her bare hands on my chest.

A knock on the sound stage’s outer door forced me back to reality. A voice was calling my name, screaming it loudly over the sounds of the metal echoing down the empty hallways. I put the laptop screen down and raced through the room. As I got closer, I could make out her voice even more clearly. I couldn’t run fast enough to open it.

I swung back the door, finding her in white, slinky lingerie. But the red caught my eye first. It wasn’t part of the ensemble, at least that I could tell. Furthermore, her hands were covered in it. I spotted the patches in her stockings where they were torn and the scratches on her wrist. I could only get out her name before she frantically interrupted me, her hand grabbing for me as if she couldn’t make me out clearly.

“Help me.” She said weakly as she fell into my arms like a pile of bricks. I set her down gently against the cinderblock walls and ran out to the cab, tossing him a few twenties from my wallet.

“Is she going to be okay? She was looking really bad when I picked her up.” The drivers looked back at where he saw her fall, unsure if he should call the police or just drive away.

“Where did you pick her up? Was she with anyone?”

“No, man. I picked her outside of the Peterson Mansion outside Flicker Street. She was alone, running towards me.”

I handed him another twenty for the information and then headed back inside. What happened to her was beyond me. Right now, I was more concerned in ensuring she was safe. I could ask details later. I hoisted her in my arms, taking a closer look at her. Her white lingerie was almost completely see-through except for some strategically placed lace designs. Her panties had soft ruffles cascading down the back and connecting with the thin strap. Her blonde hair was tied back into a slick ponytail, but pieces of flyaways were falling down her neck. Her skin, besides the patches of red blood, was looking moist, as if she had been covered in something. Her mouth was open agape, but she uttered no sound. I could only tell she was alive by the pulsating muscle running down her neck.

“Kylie,” I shouted loudly at her, “I’m going to put you in a cold shower.” I heard her groan a protest. At least she understood me. “You need to wash off whatever is on you.” I brought her back towards the dressing room and into the bathroom. I clicked on the water as the sound of water rushing filled the quiet void. She closed her unfocused hazel eyes as I stepped inside the shower with her in my arms and held her out under the faucet.

She screamed, wiggling and wrangling in my arms to be freed as the water hit her head. A thought occured to me as I set her down gently in the tub as I quickly ripped off her clothing. I knew the red on her is blood and, from the looks of it and her tiny wounds, it wasn’t hers. I needed to save her clothing before I ruined any potential “evidence.”

I ran out of the shower and grabbed a pair of scissors. I cut along the seams of each piece of clothing until she was fully nude. Her head slumped up against the back of the tile wall as I shouted towards her, “I need you to tell me what you took.” She sunk farther down, her body unable to hold its own weight. “Kylie! This is important. If you can’t tell me, I’m going to call the cops.”

Whatever I said awoke her. Her eyes sprung open as she called out “No!” A hand found mine. It was weak, but she held me in place. I, again, asked her what she took and she answered slowly, her words not stringing together well. “The guy…white pill…vodka…blood…blood… blood.”

“Someone gave you a white pill?” I thought back of all my times as a drug dealer. Only a few pills were actually white. I asked her some more questions. “Was it round? Did it have an X on it?”

She nodded slowly, her head circling around. She confirmed it. Some bastard drugged her with ecstasy. And, by the looks of her, it was a high dose meant to knock her off her feet, not to give her a good time. I stood and ran out towards the sound stage. Behind the blank set was a small kitchen where catering would set up on longer shoot days. I rummaged through the supplies ‘til I found what I was after. 

I ran back towards her room and sat down by the tub with a waste pan in my hand. I held her hair back as I opened her mouth and forced the straw deep down her throat until she began to retch, coughing deeply. I ran my fingers gently through her hair, another hand massaging her neck as I reassured her, “That’s it Kylie. That’s it. Just let it out. You’ll feel better when it’s out of your system. Believe me.”

She knew about my past. I could talk to her about the overdosing and the drug problems without lying or concealing. Part of me was a bit thrilled that I didn’t have to fake this with her. In our most vulnerable moments, both of us were open and free.

When she finished, I let her linger in the tub before running out of the room to find the blue robe she had left behind earlier that day. It was still sitting on the floor where she threw it after the scene. I picked up her soaking body that was now shivering from the temperature change and wrapped her in the downy fabric, rubbing to dry her body. I used gauze from the first-aid kit to wrap the wounds on her wrist, thighs, and knees and dabbed away some blood on her chin that the water missed.

After a few more chances at being sick, she fell asleep. I placed her gently on the couch, covering her with a green blanket that she liked to keep in the room. I thought back to her wrapped in it as she read a textbook or took notes. Today was quite a different scene with her weak, shaking body clinging to the hem of the blanket with her white knuckles.

I brushed her hair back from behind her ears as I sat beside her. As she faded away, she opened her mouth slightly before finally managing to get out a tired but true, “Thank you, Will.” Her eyes closed and her body sank into the sofa. Still, I didn’t leave her side.

From this moment on, I would never leave her side.

Chapter 26: The Getaway

Blood. Blood. Everywhere around me, there is blood. I’m swimming in it, practically drowning in it. It’s getting in my eyes, sticking between my toes. As its foreign metallic taste hits my tongue, I know I’m in danger. I’ve got to get out of this pool. I begin to swim, my legs and arms flailing by my sides. But as much as I try, I’m not getting anywhere. I’m just floating in a sea of red as the black and white sky above me counts the hours.

Someone is calling my name, “Kylie? Kylie? Come on now, you have to wake up.” A light flutters above me as the red begins to sink lower into the pool. The person with the voice is draining the water slowly and I’m coming up for air. I look for the source, but the bright light is blinding me in the process. And suddenly, I can’t decide what is worse – the burning light or the floating blood.

My eyes flickered open to the sound of Wilder pulling back the curtains. It took a moment for me to realize I wasn’t where I thought I was last. I wasn’t at the party with the leather couch in the musty smelling library. I wasn’t at my dorm room trying on new lingerie with Lana. I wasn’t even in my dressing room where my most recent memory faded in and out. I was at Wilder’s place, or what I thought was his place. I had never been.

But as I took a peek at everything, I could tell it was his space. Everything was black, gray, and whites from the area rug near the bed to the slick black dresser by the door. The downy comforter that covered my tightly wound body was the only pop of color – a cherry red. I kicked the comforter off of me as I suddenly felt so constricted by the weight of it.

Wilder heard me stir and turned in my direction. A smile crept slowly across his face, lighting up his blue eyes. He didn’t know what to say. Instead he ran his hand through his brown hair and held out a glass of water. I gladly took it, sucking it down. My mouth was so parched, I could drink a whole pitcher if he was offering. But instead, he grabbed a few white pills from the side table and placed them into my hand.

I looked at them, flashing back to the man trying to get me to take his stash while already knowing I had been given them against my will. I looked away, unsure if I could force those down, despite my head throbbing.

Wilder sat down next to me, sensing my reluctance. “It’s just a pain killer. Super mild. They give it to babies. I left the bottle out if you want to see it.” He reached over and handed me a blue box with a picture of a baby sleeping in a mother’s arms. Wilder really thought of everything.

I handed it back to him and then gladly took the pills. Anything to make the pain go away.

“Listen, we need to talk.” His voice was gentle, far from prodding. But a part of me still wanted to run. When I said I was done with him, I meant it. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you don’t want anything to do with me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you. I want to help you. Can you tell me what happened to you?”

I shook my head furiously. The last thing I wanted to do is tell him. He put a hand on my shoulder, but I didn’t pull away.

“Okay. I get that. Can you at least tell me if they did anything to you that you didn’t want done? I need to know.”

I paused a second, thinking about my torn bustier, the man at my nipple, the cocaine on my hip. And, to even my surprise, I nodded at him. My voice cracked, “They didn’t go all the way, if that is what you meant. They were going to, though, if I hadn’t…If I hadn’t…” I couldn’t get the words out. Killed him. I killed him.

But despite me failing to vocalize it, he still read through my lines. He lowered his voice, coming closer to my face as he asked slowly, “Kylie, did you hurt someone?”

I couldn’t help it. My heart burst like a waterfall as my confession rolled out of me, “I didn’t hurt someone Wilder! I fucking killed a guy! He was watching me while his friends were out and when he wasn’t looking, I got out of their wire ties and managed to hit him over the head with this bronze statue thing! Then I left! I just left! I killed a guy, and I left him for dead!” I was sobbing, tears pouring out of my eyes between wails. The impact of what I had done, taking someone else’s life, hit me. I was a killer. Kylie the Killer. I’d never be Kylie the College Student or Kylie the Daughter. I’d always be Kylie the Killer.

“Okay. I need you to sit here while I call the police. All right?”

Wilder only got one leg off the bed before I leapt at him, grabbing and scratching at his arm. “No! Wilder! You can’t! I’ll go to jail. Or worse, they’ll find me before that even happens. I need to get away. I need to go somewhere.”

He pulled his arm back and held me by my shoulders as he sternly said, “Kylie, you killed that fucking asshole out of self-defense. No one would ever believe you would do that without a good reason. You’re not going to go to jail. And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

He was right. I knew he was. But I knew those people weren’t just some college guys having some fun at a party. Those guys knew what they were doing. And if they were at that party, they had money or power. Or both. I wasn’t messing with people who gave up or gave in. Panic etched itself in my voice as I cried out, “Please, Wilder! Let’s just get away. Take me someplace they can’t find me. Please. Please. The best thing we can do is just lay low.”

Wilder stood and headed towards his closet. He pulled out a large black duffle bag and threw some clothing from the drawers in his dresser. He tossed me a black t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts as I pulled them over my naked body. He then laid a pair of oversized flip-flops at my feet. “These are going to have to do. We’ll get you some clothes and shoes when we get to Montecito. I’ve got a home there we can stay at for as long as we need to.”

He couldn’t say anything else. I was already up and out the door ahead of him. Staying here seconds longer could mean life or death for me as my doomsday clock ticked down inside my head. Wilder led the way to his garage. He pressed a clicker as I watched the center car of four go off. It was a sleek black SUV with black tinted windows – the perfect vehicle for an escape.

He opened the door for me and pulled out of the garage slowly. I sank down into the chair as we drove through the streets of Las Vegas on our way to the highway. I knew the black tint made it impossible to be seen, but all it took was them knowing who I was with and what he drove for them to spot me.

My mind jumped to Lana and how I lost her last night in the sea of people and behind my drug and alcohol haze. I asked Wilder for his phone and he fished it out of pants pocket. I dialed her number, listening to it ring. Each unanswered chime brought a looming fear that whomever is after me found her.

But finally, I heard her tired and annoyed voice pickup, “H-h-hello?”

“Lana! Lana! It’s Kylie.” I was too excited to know she was alive and safe. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Karl’s place. I went over there after the party. I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you. I have your cell, your purse, and your keys. Do you want me to drop them off at the dorm?”

“No, Lana. I need you to listen. Please. I don’t have much time. Last night at the party, those guys who knew me from the porn, they drugged me and tried to, well, do things to me. I got away, but I had to hurt someone to—"

Her voice rose in alarm, “Kylie! What? What! Are you hurt? Where are you?”

“I’m okay. I am. I’m with someone. I can’t tell you, though, in case they find you. I need you to stay low. Don’t go back to the dorm. Don’t talk to anyone from the party. Get out of Vegas if you can. I don’t want them finding out about you, too.”

“Oh, Kylie. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“Lana, these guys aren’t just some frat boys drinking too much. They can do some bad shit to you. I need you to listen to me. Please, protect yourself. Go back home to your mom and dad in Salt Lake. Okay?”

I heard her breathing quickly into the receiver. What I was begging her to do is not Lana-territory. She was a tough girl - someone who hated to be told what to do. But all I could do was plead with her to listen. After a pause, she relented, “I’ll go in a couple hours. Text me in code, if you’re in trouble. How about ‘Okay, pretty girl.’”

I laughed, momentarily forgetting what was really going on here before I agreed. We hung up, both with lingering words in our mouths. Neither of us knew when we would see each other next or if we would be safe. This was it for Lana and Kylie’s years as mismatched roommates.

I handed Wilder back the phone and closed my eyes. It was another dream of red pools of blood and blinding lights. But it passed the hour and by the time I awoke, I could smell the sea air from the crack in the open window. I stirred, turning towards Wilder in the driver’s seat. He was looking back at the window, staring at it suspiciously.

He hadn’t stopped looking concerned since I walked through the door. I remembered bits of him holding my hair, forcing me to throw up. Not just any guy would tolerate that, let alone walk me through it with such compassion. And when I told him what I had done, he didn’t bat an eye or run away. Instead, he took me by the hand and got me away. He was my savior, my rock, my companion. Somehow, everything and nothing had changed for me.

I murmured to him, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, uh,” he said cautiously, “Just looking out for speed traps and stuff.” He looked back down at me, running his free hand through my hair. “You waking up yet? We’re just about to pull into the place.”

I sat up, noticing the change of scenery. Instead of desert highways, we were in a rich, swanky neighborhood with high shrubs blocking front lawns and huge fences keeping the world out. Through the spaces between the walls of the homes, I could see hints of blue and white waves crashing onto the ocean. Mountains loomed in the other window.

Wilder pulled into the driveway of a white stone condo building where there were already three cars in the lot. He turned the car off and smiled at me. “Must be a great day for a getaway. Everyone’s in today.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I was hoping to be secluded, far from anyone to spot me. But as we walked up the stairs to his third floor, penthouse apartment, every fear was forgotten. The place was out of a magazine with its white furniture everywhere – a complete contrast from his bedroom at home. From the open kitchen to the living room couch, it looked like it hadn’t been lived in in ages. I couldn’t even bear to touch it.

He looked proudly out at his space and said, “This isn’t the best part.” He grabbed my hand, wheeling me to the opposite side of the living room, throwing aside the white linen curtains and pulling a tinted glass door. As the sun burst into the room, he exclaimed, “This is!”

I slowly stepped out onto the terrace, soaking in every ray, feeling the gentle sea spray wash over my face. His condo was mere feet from the water and, from our spot, we had the view of a lifetime – an orange and purple sunset. I turned back towards him, tears in my eyes. “This is beautiful. I don’t deserve this.”

“Kylie, what happened to you yesterday wasn't your fault. You did nothing wrong.” He lifted his hand and placed it on my cheek. “I need you to believe me, Kylie. I need you to see that.”

“I can’t. I can’t. I killed a man last night. I ended his life. I need to be locked up, not here with you.” My hands shook as I held them onto the rails of the balcony.

“But you're here with me. You’re here and you’re safe. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” I knew he meant it. I knew he wanted me to see it. He raised my chin towards him, catching my eyes in the light of the setting sun. “I love you, Kylie. I love you no matter what lies ahead of us or what was behind us.”

My heart jumped to my throat as I freed it with my words, “ I can’t do this casual thing. I can’t be with someone unless it's forever, at least not anymore. I can’t give myself to you.”

“I know what I said in the past, but from the moment you walked back into my life, I knew then it was forever. And now that I've got you, now that you're mine, it doesn’t matter what the world thinks or who knows what. All that matters is that we commit ourselves to one another. Just say you love me and that will be enough.”

The cage I’d been holding myself in for too long was bursting to be open. I took a step towards him, my body pressing against him. I wrapped my arms gently around his neck and pulled him lower to me as I whispered into his ear, “I love you, too.” I couldn’t even finish my words before his mouth found mine in the mess of hair and flesh.  

As we sank farther into one another, I felt his body heat up under mine. The familiar longing drove me closer to him, our tongues teasing each other as our hands wrapped around the other’s body. His hand slipped under the t-shirt I was wearing, and I could feel his large hand grip at my skin and rake down my spine, leaving a hint of a fingernail trail behind.

A part of me wasn’t ready for him again, not after last night. But his lips on me had totally pushed that aside. I wanted to show him a part of me he hadn’t see. I wanted him to see what it was like to love Kylie – every bit of her. When his hands circled around to my front, hitching the shirt over my chest, I didn’t stop him. Instead, I pulled my head back and let him take me in.

His hand circled around my tits, drawing them out, up, and then inwards. The soft, tender massage was totally different from his fast grabs and torture pulls when we were filming. Instead, he lingered, his thumb resting on the tip of the nipple just lightly. He held one of my breasts in his hands as he kissed me again, biting down on my lip as he exited, a taste of what was to come.

I watched as he sank lower, kneeling at my chest. He licked his lips as he slowly brought my nipple to his mouth, the pink tip touching the top of his tongue as he began to softly lick. I tingled as felt every ridge and bump of his tongue against my skin. The moisture chilled me as a breeze from the ocean floated our way. For a moment, I had forgotten where we were. His mouth could do amazing things like that.

He was making a meal out of me as he took the entire nipple farther into his mouth. He rested there, breathing in deeply the scent of my skin and body. His other hand traveled up my hips towards the other nipple and they worked in perfect unison. As his tongue flicked my nipple, his thumb did, too. As his mouth rolled and tossed, so did his hand. And when I felt the clamp of his teeth gnaw at my tip, his fingers twisted sending me crying out in a crash of pain and pleasure. My head rocked backwards as I steadied myself on the balcony once more.

He stopped, looking up at me and then back at the patio. Both of us had a moment of questioning if we should go in or not. Exposing my chest to the few people meandering out on the public beach was one thing, but he wanted more – much more. And so did I. But something pulled me in. I wanted others to see us making love. I wanted the whole world to see it.

I turned my back towards the ocean and ripped off my t-shirt before slipping off the gym shorts. The cold air splashed against my body as I sighed heavily. But it was freeing, making me feel more alive than ever.

Wilder didn’t move. He continued to squat behind me. This time, he wrapped his arms around my waist and forced me to hunch over, my hands gripping onto the white metal bar of the patio while my ass was presented to him. He pulled my legs apart, planting them slowly. His hands started at my ankles, running straight lines up towards my knees before heading north towards my thighs. As they twisted inside towards the soft flesh, I sank lower towards him. I wanted him now.

He obliged me, seeing how needy I was. A finger slipped slowly towards my already sopping wet pussy as he drove a finger deep inside. The sensation of being pushed open like that overwhelmed me as I let go, standing straight up. He pulled me in closer, lingering inside me. As he kissed the inside of my thigh he began to move in and out, slowly, softly. His hand twisted a bit as it pulled all the way out. The tease, the want for him to just stay and take me, caused my knees to buckle as I plummeted back down towards the railing again. I was going to have to hold on for this ride.

Now that I was steady, he sped up, his finger racing inside of me. It drove deeper every time it exited and then came back for more, like an exploration with no end. Finally, he halted, his palm catching the front of my pussy. While his finger continued to circle, I felt him put pressure on my clit. I wanted to cry out, but instead I moaned. Words wouldn’t do this justice. His hand in me, his palm finding the one spot that sends me flying, his mouth tenderly kissing the curve of my ass, it was too much, and yet not enough.

I felt his kisses traveling lower and lower until his head was directly between my legs. He removed his hands quickly, just enough time for me to notice. But before I could protest, his mouth replaced his palm, sucking at my clit and lapping at my folds. His mouth sealed around me as I screamed out. I felt the dart of his tongue inside of me, circling and tasting just as he did my nipples. I heard him suck harder as my tight grip caused my knuckles to grow white.

My stomach turned as I let go of one hand, allowing it to travel up my own body to my breast. I grabbed hold of a nipple, twisting it between my fingers, punishing myself for enjoying this so much. I knew it was coming. My body was turning electric, changing from negative to positive. And I wanted to feel it all – both outside and in. As my blood grew hot under my skin and every muscle clenched, I allowed my hips to sink towards his mouth. I cried his name, “Will! Fuck!” as I burst onto his face and into his mouth.

He released the seal around me, but didn’t move. His breath still hot against my bare skin, he began to lap at the liquids that had just burst onto me. I wanted to sit, but the sensation of his gentle lips, his tender care froze me in place. Even now, as we shared an intimate moment on this patio, he was still caring for me, still ensuring I was at my best.

When he was satisfied at his clean up, he stood up slowly. I watched the top of his head rise in front of me as his blue eyes caught mine. The sun had practically sunk, but I could still see the specks of gold and white dance in his irises. I took an arm and draped it over him, pulling me close to him. I whispered softly into his ear, “I want you to take me, Will.”

He looked at me, a cool smile transforming his serious face. “Are you sure? Here?”

I nodded slowly, making sure he knew I was serious. I wanted him right there, right then. He stood back, removing his shirt and then his pants, revealing the massive hard-on I felt rub up against my leg just seconds ago. His cock was almost pulsating as he walked towards me. I positioned myself again against the rail – my ass towards him, my hands on the rail. He lifted my leg up and placed it next to my leg.

I felt the soft flesh of his cock run up against my folds, still wet and dripping from his mouth. He was feeling his way, getting used to every tiny morsel of me as if it were our first time. And by the way he grabbed my face and turned it towards him as he finally entered me, it felt as if we were just now getting to experience our bodies together. This was what making love is.

I didn’t dare to look away from him as he slowly began to rock back and forth inside me. He dipped his head down towards me, finding my bare neck. He kissed it gently, moving upwards to nip at my ear playfully. And, then, his eyes focused beyond us, towards the beach. Both of us spotted the few people staring up at us fucking in public. Their wide, bewildered eyes were trying to make sense of us. It was nothing like they saw every day, even in their own bedroom. What we were doing was rough, raunchy and lustful. I stood straighter, furthering their view of my pussy being pounded by Wilder’s unstoppable cock. I was unsure of how he would react to me being such an exhibitionist, but instead of turning back, it only drove him farther into me.

He sped up, leaving my breath behind. The arm holding my leg on the railing slid down towards my pussy as it took his brutal beating. He added his finger to the mix, now fucking me with both finger and his cock. It was all too much. I let go of one of my hands and searched for him to hold onto as I pulled backwards towards him. He reacted, releasing me for a quick second to spin me around towards him and to set my ass on the thin curve of the banister.

“Do you trust me?” he growled at me. I couldn’t answer quick enough, too busy trying to balance myself on the ledge. “Do you trust me, Kylie?”

I screamed out a yes as he waited no longer. His arm wrapped around me as I felt him push into me, sending me backwards slightly off the edge. I was holding on only by the strength of his arms as he fucked me harder and faster than he had ever before. My head and body dipped back, floating freely parallel to the ground as I felt the sensation creep over me again. I clawed at his arms as it came, washing over me with the sound of the waves hitting the beach. He, too, follows my lead, falling on me, grabbing me closer to him as I watched his mouth widen and him scream my name out.

Wilder pulled me in, rescuing me from the ledge. We tumbled down towards the cement ground of the patio as I crawled towards him. I found his chest as we watched the rest of the sunset before us. Something knew that, while our day was ending, our world had just begun. And while the danger may await us in the night, with him by my side, I knew I could face the light.  

Chapter 27: Unmasked

Her smooth arms rested across my chest, levitating with the rhythm of my breathing. Although we were perfectly still, soaking in the afterglow of another perfect night together, I could feel her staring up at me, her warm, honey-colored eyes reaching for me in the darkness. I rolled over slightly, angling her body against mine so she was cradled into me.

I felt something wet against my skin. And then, muffled softly, was her voice stifling back a cry. I ran my hand through her long hair, tracing it all the way down to her back and hips. She stirred a bit, taking notice of herself. Kylie removed her hand from my chest and dotted away the tears with the inside of her palm. She hated when I saw her like this.

She whispered up towards me, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong.” I continued to stroke her hair and neck, using my finger to curl the little ringlets of her hair in small circles.

She backed away a bit and caught my eyes. She touched my face, covered in stubble from not shaving, as she reassured me, “It’s not you. The last six days here have been perfect, absolutely perfect.”

Kylie was right. From the moment we made love on the balcony, we had spent almost a week recreating that session over and over again in various places around the condo and in my SUV after a trip to the grocery store. Each time got better, deeper, as I felt her opening up to me not just physically but emotionally.

But, still, she cried every night as I held her. I could tell behind her cool reassurances and promises that she feels all right, nothing is straight in her head. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man she most likely murdered and the home she left behind. And now that finals were over, she couldn’t even go back to school. Her dorm room had long been packed up, and the university was still refusing to hear from her despite the pleas she made over the phone and via email.

So we stayed here together in our cocoon, each pretending that everything was okay and that nothing in the outside world would ever find us. At least, we made believe until we lay down, each tired from talking, each wrestling with the possibilities in our head.

I suddenly sat up, removing her from my body. I was tired of this. I was tired of running. I looked back down at her and firmly spoke my mind, “Kylie, this is it. We need to go back. We have to face it.”

“I can’t. I can’t. You know that. They’ll just take me away to jail or, worse, the gang will catch me, and who knows what they’ll do to the both of us. I still haven’t heard from Lana in days.”

She was right. Lana’s silence had worried both of us, though I had tried to play it cool by reasoning that she was just spending time with her family. “Lana is all right. She can take care of herself; you know that. But if we want to get these guys, we need to let the professionals handle it.”

“How, Will? How? We don’t know who they are. We just know they're rich and powerful and they finance the porn shoots in town.”

“Wait! What did you say? How do you know they back the porn shoots?” I missed this detail, but it could be big, a way to crack the case.

“It’s just something one of the guys said. I don’t know if it’s true. They recognized me because they saw me in the shoot with Julie. They called her by name and talked about how they were the money and I was the tits and ass.” She curled her knees to her chest, covering herself up with her own body.

“That’s it! That’s the clue!” I was practically leaping off the bed as I grabbed a pair of jeans from my duffle bag. She looked at me completely baffled by my sudden change. I grabbed my cell from the dresser and began dialing. As it rang, I explained my plan, “If those guys are who they say they are, there is only one guy who can help us, the guy who knows everything about the Vegas porn scene!”

An excited man answered the other line, “Oh look who’s calling me!” I could barely make Daniel’s voice out over the sound of club music in the background. He must have been at his second job managing the nightclub Kylie used to work at.

“Listen, Daniel! I need your help. I know you don’t want to help me, but Kylie and I are in trouble. Do you know who has been funneling the money to the porn shoots in town?”

“Yeah, I do. And I know they’re looking for you and Kylie. They came here two days ago. Trashed the place screaming about how she killed some guy. You two are in some deep shit.” He laughed manically as if it were one big joke.

“Daniel, who were they? Where do they work?” My teeth were clenched tight as I tried my best not to scream at him. If I could, I’d reach through the phone and ring his neck myself.

He paused, weighing his options. “I’ll tell you, but not because I like you but because I hate these guys as much as you two apparently do. They’ve been jacking up my interest rates like mad and threatening to kill me when I don’t pay in time. They’re a gang working out of Potter’s Casino. They work for the boss, Tommy DeLanco.”

I repeated him so Kylie could hear. If she recognized the name, she could help confirm it. I watched as she cringed visibly, looking away nervously.

Daniel continued, giving me a warning, “Look, I don’t want to help you two. Hell, I wouldn’t mind if both of you end up dead after this, but you should know they’re looking for you, too. They know you two aren’t just business partners. And by something they mentioned, I think they’re on their way towards your place in California.”

My stomach turned. They found us before I could find them. Slowly, I replied, “Thanks, Daniel. I’ll repay you back soon.” I make promises I can keep. I’d see he gets his dues for giving us the information.

But he brushed it off, hanging up as he cackled, “That’s if you live!”

The phone went quiet as I ran to pack up the discarded clothes off the floor and tossed them back to the duffel bag. I emptied Kylie’s drawers as she watched me, more confused than ever. I grabbed her hand, lifting her off of the bed and throwing a low-cut tank top and a pair of new jeans she had yet to wear from our shopping trip.

Her hand grabbed my arm, causing me to stop. I struggled to catch my breath as she stared me down, “What are we doing, Wilder?”

I took her hands in mine, kissing her balled up fists. “Kylie, we’re going back to Vegas. The guys found us and they’re on their way here. We can’t stay here anymore. But, I know who they are, and I can protect you. But we have to do this tonight.”

As soon as I told her we were in danger, she began to panic, her body shaking, her weight sinking to the floor. I propped her back up, leaning her naked body against me. “Get dressed. I’ll get the car running. We just have to make one stop back at the studio and then we’ll be safe at the police station. Okay?”

She nodded, but I could see the fear practically dripping off of her. She couldn’t even buckle the jeans from her trembling hands. I reached out to steady them as I whispered into her ear, “I need you to trust me.”

Her eyes swelled as she peered into mine. Her voice was firm, despite her shaking, as she said, “I trust you.”

The ride back to Vegas went quickly. The night grew darker as we got closer to home. It was nearly two when I pulled into the studio. Kylie was fast asleep, so I didn’t bother moving her. Instead, I left the car running as I headed inside in search of the bloody lingerie I cut from her the night she stumbled half conscious into my studio.

Once I retrieved the ziplock bag from the locked desk, I walked back outside into the cool night air. But I instantly felt a shift. My SUV wasn’t running anymore and Kylie wasn’t sitting in the front seat with her head slumped against her shoulder. No one was in the car.

I ran around to the side, hoping to find her at the trunk. As I circled the back, I felt something sharp as my ear began to ring a piercing, buzzing sound. I dropped to my knees, clutching the spot where my head wouldn’t stop pounding. When I looked at my hands they were covered with red.

Before me, a pair of two large, leather boots appeared. A man reached down and grabbed me by the collar and propped me up against the side of my car. He swung with his free hand, landing a crushing blow to my face. I could feel my jaw crack and teeth rattle as my head sprung to the side and smacked into the car’s glass window.

He screamed at me, “You think you two can hide from us? You think I’m going to let that skank whore get away with killing my brother? You must be out of your fucking mind. Thank your pal Daniel for giving you away. We didn’t have to do a thing but wait for you to get back.”

The man hit me again, this time with the metal handle of a black gun. It landed on my eye, causing everything to go dark. I heard a scream, Kylie’s scream in the distance. I dropped, falling next to the wheel of my car. The boot I saw approach me kicked me in the chest, crushing a few of my ribs and knocking all of the air out of my lungs in one blow. He repeated himself again and again, each time robbing me more and more of my life.

I heard a second man scream to Kylie, “You must like this, you dirty bitch! That last porn you made with him torturing you was all about this shit. Now you get to see how we cause pain. I bet you’re turned on right now.” She cried out again, this time a long howl, as he added, “I bet you’re already wet at the thought of all the things we’re going to do to you.”

I spat out the blood forming in my mouth, just enough to scream a curdled cry at him, “Don’t you fucking touch her!” I tried to pull myself to my hands and knees but another boot landed into my gut. I fell onto my back.

Someone leaned close to me as he softly said, “Don’t worry, Wilder. We’ll take good care of her. But if you come after her, if you chase us, I’ll kill her. You got me?”

I, again, tried to roll over, but it was too late. There was a flash of light, my head rocked back and then fell to the cement pavement. Everything was black and wet. And then there wasn’t anything but the ringing in my ear and the memories of her scream replaying in my head.

….

Minutes passed. Then hours. I felt a drip splash on my face. Another. And then another. Suddenly, my entire body was wet, soaked through by the early morning rain. It stung against my battered and bruised skin. But, still, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even manage to lift my head off the ground. Every part of me felt broken. Still, I had to try. I had to try for Kylie.

Bits of gravel stuck to my coat as I used my body weight to rock gently until I landed lightly on my stomach. A searing pain rose from around my chest. My hand, swollen and purple held against my rib, as if it were holding the beaten bones together. I fished inside the jacket, feeling the bag with Kylie’s blood-stained lingerie still protected. Luckily, the guy who beat me to a pulp never spotted this or I would have lost the only evidence I had against them.

I used the other launch off, finally finding my feet. I could only see out of one eye, but I managed to make it around the car, holding myself up against the cold, wet SUV. The keys were still inside, lucky for me. I managed to get my hips into the driver’s seat and turn the car on. Even the rev of the engine was painful as my body rattled from the slight vibrations. My shoulder pounded as I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

It was only minutes to the police station off of the Vegas strip, but it felt like an eternity. Every stoplight took days. Every turn passed the hours. I knew I was speeding, just trying to make it to help before it was too late. Kylie needed me to be unbreakable. This was not my time to fall apart.

When I finally pulled into the police station’s lot, I opened the door and fell out of the car, my hands catching me at the ground. I heard a commotion around me as an officer getting out of his own car spotted me.

“Woah, buddy! Are you all right?” He lifted me by the chest, thinking I’m some dumb drunk who managed to drive himself right to the police station. But he stopped when he saw my face. It was twice the size it should have been and the blood was still streaming down my cheek from the cut near my eye. He put me back down gently as he said, “Jesus! What the fuck happened to you?”

I heard him call for help with his police talkie and, in seconds, there were other officers surrounding me, all asking me questions I could barely answer.

The first cop cleared them, asking me slowly, “Who did this to you?”

I squeaked out the only thing I knew to be true, “Potters. The casino. Potters’ gang.”

A glimmer of recognition crossed his face as he looked up at a partner. “He said Potters’ gang. They’re at it again. Call Detective Alistar. He’ll want to know.” He turned his attention back to me. “Don’t worry. We called an ambulance. It’ll be here in seconds.”

I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer as I commanded him, “No! You don’t understand. They have Kylie. My girl. They took her and they’re going to kill her.”

He was getting impatient with me. His voice hovered around annoyed, “Detective Alistar will take care of it. He’s been trying to catch this gang for years. He knows where their warehouses are. If someone was taken, he’ll find her.”

I couldn’t even hear him and his fake reassurances. I called out her name into the gray and hazy skies, “Kylie! Fuck! I have to save her! I have to save her!”

An older man, balding and overweight ran out of the station doors. He was dressed in plain clothes, a gray suit with a red tie to match his red skin. He spotted the crowd and ran toward me. His gruff voice skipped the pleasantries as he asked, “Potters’ gang got you bad. What did they want from you? Drugs? Money?”

“My girl. They took her.” I held on to his tie, gripping him closer. “I’m not going anywhere until we find her.”

Alistar snapped his fingers and commanded the officers to bring me inside. One tried to protest, saying they should wait to get me checked out at the hospital, but he understood that I wouldn’t give him any more information until I had a chance to tell my story. Four men lifted me and brought me into a small holding room. They propped me up on the metal chair as the detective sat next to me.

I pulled out the ziplock bag and watched as he eyed it. He knew it was evidence and he was practically drooling over it. I began explaining, fighting through the pain that was dragging me down, “My girl Kylie was at a party last week at a mansion outside Vegas. A group of four or five guys tied her up, drugged her, and assaulted her. But before it could go further, she managed to hit a guy over the head with a statue. She thinks she killed him so we ran to California. But they caught up to us, took her, and beat me. They’re going to kill her if we can’t find her.”

The detective handed his assistant the bag, instructing him to run it to the lab. He got some more details from me before asking another officer to send in the paramedics. They had enough info. As he stood, so did I, nearly falling backwards onto the hard ground. I shouted at him, “Where are you going?”

“To go check out this mansion, make sure your story is straight.”

I walked over to him, each step more painful than the next. “I don’t think you heard me, then – they’re going to kill her! We have to go NOW!” When he didn’t budge, I did something bold, grabbing his collar and pushing him into the wall. My mouth filled with blood, again, as I screamed, “You’re going to take your team and me to this warehouse you know of, and you’re going to save her. Do you hear me?”

The paramedic crew walked in, large medical bags in their hands. Another man carried a portable stretcher. They stood back as they saw me holding the detective in my grip. The detective eyed them as they attempted to retreat. His voice showed no fear as he ordered them. “Go back to the van, boys. This one isn’t ready for the morgue yet.”

 Chapter 28: The Light Internal

“Lana! Lana!” My roommate’s freezing body was lying stiff on the cold, hard floor. Her hands and legs were tied together. I shook her to roll her over, but she didn’t answer. I screamed louder, “Lana!”

“I see you found your friend. She’s been waiting for you here.” A man hovered behind me, watching my every move. “Don’t worry. She isn’t dead. Yet. Who knows what the boss will want to do with her.” He laughed before reaching down to grab me by the sleeves of my tank top. He pulled me closer to his face, close enough that I could smell the booze and cigarettes on his breath. He tossed me back down, and pointed at me to his goons. “She doesn’t look like that girl from those movies. Sure you got the right one?”

As he walked away, chuckling to himself, one of his followers ran behind me and tied my hands behind my back with wire, just like the night everything happened. He then went to my legs, securing them. He looked at his handiwork before stepping away with the rest of the group. I curled up to Lana as I heard a loud bang and watched as the metal container crate sealed closed, taking all the light with it.

In the dark, I felt comfort. They couldn’t kill me in the dark, at least I hoped not. I leaned down and whispered in Lana’s ear again, “Lana, please say something. Anything.” I couldn’t help but feel at fault for this. If I had just stayed with her, if I had stopped drinking, this wouldn’t have happened. She wouldn’t have taken my hits for me. I burst into tears as I cried out to her, “I’m sorry, Lana. I didn’t mean to get your hurt.”

I heard a small murmur, a hint of recognition. I used my head to roll her in my direction. I couldn’t see her, but I bent down to where I estimated her head to have rolled. Her voice was hoarse and dry, and as I leaned down to hear her better, her dried out lips brushed against my neck, “Kylie?” she asks, “Is that you?”

“It’s me, Lana. It’s me! I’m going to get us out of here. I promise you. Wilder’s com—" I stopped myself. I didn’t know if Wilder was coming. I didn’t even know if he was alive or dead. The last time I saw him, he was laying face down on the cement. I had watched in horror as the same man who just closed the door on me kicked him in the face and chest until he dropped flat.

No one could take that kind of beating, not even Wilder. He wasn’t a superhero or an angel. He was a man with bones, flesh, and organs. And when that body takes too much, it gives up. Not even knowing I was in danger would keep his heart pumping or his brain functioning.

I curled up my knees to my chest, trying to snuggle myself against Lana’s cold body. Just hours ago, I was with him in the white bedroom with the cream colored sheets. He had sat up, propped himself on his hands so he could kiss every inch of my body, showing me how much he loved every inch of me. When he got to a spot he especially loved, he lingered there, teasing it with his tongue.

Now I was here, thousands of miles from California. Hours away from safety. Minutes away from where Wilder’s body was most likely still lying, waiting for help. I had to stay strong for him. I couldn’t face my end without knowing he was safe. No matter what was about to happen to me, I had to see this through.

I closed my eyes and began to pray just as I did as a little girl. I wasn’t religious, not even the slightest, but if there was a higher power out there, I wanted to let Him or Her know I didn’t need their help. They needed to help Wilder. It was the same kind of prayer the day he ran away from home and I spent the night staring mindlessly at the open behind across my room. For him, I would sacrifice it all.

For hours, I remained there, whispering up to the heavens. But my concentration was broken when I heard that same bang. I tucked my head back towards my chest and rolled over towards Lana. I was shielding her, despite knowing it was me they were coming for. Heavy footsteps echoed towards the chamber. The sound grew sharper as they approached. From the looming shadows, I could see three men. The one on the outside reached down and snagged Lana out from under me. Her head twisted like a Ragdoll from being thrown around.

I spun to watch him hold out a knife as I cried out for him to stop. He couldn’t kill her. She had nothing to do with this! Terror overtook me as I screamed as loudly as I could and began to rock my legs in an attempt to free myself.

But to my surprise, he didn’t kill her. Instead, he used the knife to cut her arms first and then her legs. Another man took a folding chair and sat it down in front of them. The man propped her up and then tilted her head back. He picked up a water bottle and gingerly pours the fresh liquid down her throat. She choked slightly, her eyes flashing open in a panic. They found me, and I watched as she realized her worst nightmare – I had been caught.

She didn’t have time to say anything. Instead, the man placed a bag over her head and led her outside, leaving me alone with the other two. I screamed towards her calling out her name, “Lana! No! Lana! Don’t hurt her! Don’t hurt her!”

As I became hysterical, the man that was once in the center, leading the pack, reached down towards my face, grabbed my hair, and slapped me hard with his open palm. My head darted sideways from the weight as I rolled back down to the floor. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear you cry after what you’ve done.”

I spat on the ground, tasting my own blood from a lost tooth pouring in. I yelled back, “She had nothing to do with that! How could you?”

“Because we knew you would want to find her. Because you killed one of ours. Because you deserve to watch your friend die because of what you did.” He said it so coldly, so nonchalantly. It was as if murder was nothing but his job. And it dawned on me that it was. He was the enforcer, the man made to bring death upon his gang’s enemies. Lana was first on his list. I came second – the main event.

The man walked slowly in front of me, taking me in, measuring me up and before taking a seat at the chair where Lana once was. One of his legs crossed over the other as he smoothed out his black suit. From his breast pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I heard the click and watched him take a long, slow drag before he said something familiar to me, “You don’t look like you do porn. You look like just a small, shivering girl.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t respond. I just waited for him to stop observing me and start getting down to action.

Instead, he continued, “I’ve seen your movies. All of them. Do you know which ones are my favorites?” He waited for me to try to guess, but I wasn’t playing along with this sick game. He made a tsk sound and went on, “I love the ones where you’re being tortured – the ones where you’re tied up or blindfolded. When you have zero control over what is about to happen to you.”

I said the only words I could, “You’re a sick son of a bitch.”

“And you’re a whore who deserves to be cut into tiny pieces.” He looked to his second and clicked his tongue. The man reached towards my wiggling body and lifted me up.

As I fought back, he slammed me into the metal wall. My back crushed into the rivets and lines of the container. In the light, I noticed the large metal chains with the oversized hooks hanging from the top. It dawned on me where I was and what was about to happen. I was going to get my own taste of real torture.

The tall, burly man reached above me as he held me by the neck and chest and managed to grab a hold of the hook nearest us. He lifted me up by the waist and placed my outstretched arms on the hook, the wire holding me in place. My feet just barely touched on tiptoe, causing the wire to cut into the wounds that had just healed. 

The man sitting in the chair stood up, walking towards me as he said, “Here’s what’s going to happen. I mean, I want you to be in the know. After all, it’s your death and, unlike our friend, we want you to know that it’s coming, and soon. But, until then, we’re going to have a bit of fun. I know you like that sort of thing.” He took another puff of his cigarette and blew the smoke into my face as I tried to squirm away from the smell and dirty air. “Tell me, did your co-star Wilder ever play with fire with you?”

I began to scream, “No! No! No!” as I watched the cigarette he just smoked press up against the side of my neck. It seared my flesh and I felt the layers of skin melt away from under the butt. I cried out, knowing it's no use. No one could hear or see me in here. I was alone with my torturer and my pain. And this was only the beginning.

“Let’s try this again.” This time, he flicked his cigarette to the ground as I watched it scatter in ashes on the container’s floor. He instead took the lighter and clicked it on. He reached it above my head towards one of my elbows. I could feel the heat up against the skin as it grew prickly and painful. It lingered there for a long, agonizing minute, only growing hotter before he took the lighter’s flame and plunged it at the skin.

All I could do was cry. My arm was on fire. My body was on fire. But all I could do was quiver in pain. He repeated the action on the other arm, this time burning the inside of my elbow where all my weight was resting. It sent me falling down towards my feet, but the pain and cuts from the wire caused me to leap up again. There was no way to beat this. I was trapped, and my weight was only making this harder.

There was a crash of water over my skin. The other man tossed the remainder of the cold, icy water onto my skin. The burn marks only pulsated and stung worse than before. The second said heartily, “We’re going to let you cool off for a couple of hours. It gets real cold in here being a cooling container after all. Just one switch and this place goes from comfortable to twenty-five degrees in seconds. And being wet is only going to make it much, much worse for you. Should have dressed warmer, Kylie.”

I shook my dripping hair as I watched them go, taking the chair and the lighter with them. I was stuck, alone, hanging onto the wire and hook with all that I could. And in a few seconds, I was going to be trapped to death in my own, personal refrigerator. By what I knew, I maybe had hours if I was lucky.

I heard a woosh from above my head. A fan was turning on, powering the cooling engines. A waxy, thick gas poured in near my feet as everything began to chill. The walls were like ice as I struggled to stand away from its cold metal, but the hook kept me stuck in place. My feet began to slide as the floor not only got colder, but slippery, too. One fall and I’d break my arms, though a broken bone was, sadly, the least of my worries.

My body began to shake and tremor. I was losing feeling to my fingers and my toes. I didn’t think I could move my leg either. It felt like a wooden log attached to my hips. This was the start of the end. At the time I wanted to feel everything, I couldn’t feel anything. I focused on Wilder and our time spent wrapped in one another’s arms, our first time making love on the balcony, our first time having sex on set. That kiss. His ice blue eyes. Our love. If I was going to go, it was going to be with his name on my lips. I repeated his name over and over again, alternating between his real name and his stage name. “Will…Wilder…Will…Wilder…”

As my eyes closed, the thump of my heart fading in my ears, I heard the fan suddenly stop. There was screaming I couldn’t hear before over the sound of the roaring air conditioning. Then pops. Loud, piercing pops all around the container. There were more screams and sounds of voices I couldn’t exactly recognize. There was a bang and someone shouting my name. The door slammed open as light poured in.

I couldn’t make out the person, only his shadow. He was hunched over, his arm hanging awkwardly to the side of him. He was walking with a limp and his other arm was clutching his chest. As he neared me, he screamed for someone else. “Alistar! Alistar! Quick! I’ve found her. I need some help here!”

Wilder’s voice broke through all of my pain and fear. It rescued me from the burns and the freeze. I tried with all of my might to free myself, to run to him, but I was still stuck in my icebox as he slowly approached.

As he saw me, he reached out his good arm, touching my cheek. Frozen tears were still clinging to my skin. He wiped them gently away as he softly said, “I found you. Thank you for trusting me.”

I nodded in his hand, kissing his palm. “I thought you were dead. I thought I was going to die. But you did it. You saved me.” I stopped myself, listening to a blue-clad police officer approach. He leapt up on his feet, grabbing my arms and hoisting me off of the hook. I collapsed onto the cold floor before being helped up again. As he cut my arm wires, I clung to Wilder, not caring if I hurt him or if he hurts me. Our pain, our lives were one now. And as the paramedics took us away, they rolled us out of the container with our hands held tightly together, not to be separated again.  

Epilogue: An Anniversary

Wilder called out, screaming “Cut!” from his chair. The couple in front of us on the sound stage stopped, pulling away softly from one another. There was chemistry there, even though it was both of their first times doing that sort of thing.

I pulled my clipboard towards my chest and took out a pen from behind my ear. I leaned over my director’s chair towards Wilder, “I don’t get it. What’s wrong? Why did you make them stop?”

“Do you see that light? The third one over? It’s one light shade too dark. We need lighting to change the bulb before it goes out completely.” He nodded my direction as I headed off towards the lighting board.

I couldn’t help but to think how lucky I was – how lucky we were. For the past year, we had been back in porn. I wasn’t in front of the camera, nor was Wilder. Instead, we were directing our first full-length shot, complete with real, full stories and intricate sets. But despite me wearing the director’s hat, I was usually in casting where I was best. Still, Wilder, I mean Nickolas, loved showing me these little things only a person with a director’s eye could catch. He was training me for our business.

“Hey, Taylor! What’s going on? Why did Nick call cut?” The lighting booth director and assistant looked at me with irritated glares. I was used to it by now. My husband was such a perfectionist that it could be hard for even me to work with him.

It took me a second to recognize my new name before responding, “I know, guys, I know. But he says the third light is getting dimmer and going out. Can you do a real quick change and run through of the bulbs so we can get this back on and get home by ten tonight?”   

Even now, ten months after Detective Alistar explained we’d have to go into hiding from the Potter family gang, I was still getting used to being called Taylor. And living in New York. It was quite a change from life in Vegas. But I was doing it with my new husband by my side and my best friend near.

Lana, now Gena, was the reason they found me that night one year ago. Wilder had spotted their van as the detective’s SUV pulled into the warehouse area. Both ducked down, watching where it was coming from. Alistar’s partners chased it down, getting to it just as one of Potters’ men had a gun pointed at Lana’s head and her small ditch dug. Thank goodness.

She was safe now, and New York was suiting her. She worked with us here in the studio as our makeup artist and costume designer. She had a talent for it that really couldn’t be denied. And she was flourishing, though, like us, she missed our home and family in Vegas.

But we could never go back there. Ever. As much as we tried to pretend that it doesn’t hurt, what happened still scared us, and the difficulties we faced in Witness Protection didn’t help. For a few months, we just lived on the few dollars the government gave us each month to lay low. And then, we slowly came out, testing the waters by doing things like grocery shopping or applying for real jobs.

When the money ran out, we turned to the one thing the three of us knew: porn. But we couldn’t work with the industry guys from back home. Instead, we started a company dedicated to newbies. It was Wilder’s brilliant idea to cast virgins with virgins, and it was my job to find and pair them. And, like our stuff in Vegas, it was an instant hit. We made thousands in the first night of our launch.

It was enough to pay for our legal fees from my trail. Wilder fronted all of his savings to spring for the best lawyer Vegas could buy. And because of his forward thinking the night I came for his help, the bloody lingerie was evidence of a struggle and I walked away a free woman, at least until the death threats came and it became clear that we couldn’t live as ourselves again.

By our second week of the “Virgin Stories,” we had more than enough to send both Lana and I back to school to finish our degrees. Both of us graduated months ago, and I was still debating going to law school. After all, with porn, there was always need for someone who understood the law.

But letting go of our old lives wasn’t all bad or sacrifices. Sure, we had to give up our names and our families, but that also meant saying goodbye to our ties. In our new world, no one questioned my relationship with Wilder. He wasn’t my brother or a former druggie who stole from the family. That was all behind us. Every barrier that kept us apart was erased or left back and buried in our own homes.

Now we were Taylor and Nickolas, a regular couple to the outside world. But behind the scenes, we were two people finding love all over again. This was our second chance to make this work without any pressures or judgment. It took us a long time to get to this point, but we were here, together at last. And nothing was going to tear us apart.

Three months ago, when he got down on that knee in the middle of the soundstage one stormy evening, I knew our love was never going to be perfect or tame. It couldn’t be. That wasn’t who we were. But I didn’t want that kind of life for myself anymore. I wasn’t the jeans-and-tee-shirt little sister, and I certainly wasn’t the porn star with the whips and ties (at least, not in public). I wanted a wilder life, full of adventure and excitement. Together, we were going to have it.

THE END

Read on for your first FREE bonus book – Ruined by the Biker!

Ruined by the Biker

Chapter 1

He smiled, his eyes crinkling behind the mirrored lenses of his sun glasses. He didn’t often go on supply runs, but the Devil’s Advocates had requested a meet, and that had given him the perfect excuse to get out and stretch his legs a bit. He’d been spending too much time in the clubhouse and not enough time on the road, and he was glad to be out and feel the wind on his face again.

The six members of the Blacktop Blades were headed west on I-8, loaded down with 25,000 doses of 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine—MDMA to the nerds in the labs, and molly to the girls in the clubs. They were on their way to Yuma, Arizona, to deliver their weekly supply to the Advocates. The Advocates could sell more, and the Blades could produce more, but the Advocates carefully regulated supply of the tiny blue ecstasy tablets to keep the price steady.

They were about two hours into their three hour ride, and had just passed Dateland, when the lead rider braked hard as a crashed bike on the side of the road came into sight, hauling the big Indian Chief to a rapid stop on the shoulder. After his brothers did the same, the six riders dismounted, removed their helmets, and left their bikes on the hard shoulder of the interstate as they walked back, scanning the area for signs of an injured rider.

“See anybody?” Arsen Kyles, President of the Blacktop Blades, asked as they approached the downed bike.

“Nobody,” Zane replied, turning in a slow circle. Zane Colfe was the club Vice-President and was in charge of the business side of the club. He was on this trip for the same reason Arsen was.

When he’d seen the bike pop out of the heat waves rippling off the pavement, Arsen thought the bike had been crashed, but as they drew nearer it became obvious the Harley Dana wasn’t wrecked, but had simply been dropped.

As cars flashed by, Zane and Greg muscled the bike upright and pushed it a bit farther off the road. “Out of gas,” Greg said after he opened the tank and wiggled the bike back and forth. “Who in the fuck would drop a hog on its side just because it ran out of gas?”

“Why run out at all?” Zane asked, looking around again. “There was a gas station only a few miles back.” He paused then looked closely at the bike. “And check this out! The reserve isn’t used.” He twisted the petcock to the reserve position then thumbed the starter. The bike spun over several times then coughed to life.

“What an idiot,” Berk Landrieu snorted.

Arsen listened to his brothers, but something didn’t feel right about the situation. Maybe the rider hadn’t known about the reserve fuel, but nobody dropped a $15,000 motorcycle on its side because it ran out of gas. Nobody who rode bikes anyway.

“Think it’s stolen?” Arsen asked. The other five brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

“Maybe they walked back for gas?” Zane suggested.

Arsen pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. “That doesn’t feel right. We didn’t pass anyone walking, and that still doesn’t answer the question of why they dropped it on its side.”

“Maybe they were in the gas station,” Greg pointed out. “And there are stupid people everywhere.”

“Maybe,” Arsen allowed, but he didn’t believe it.

“What are we going to do? If they didn’t go back for gas, it’s a hell of a walk to a station that way,” Chet said, nodding down the interstate in the direction they were traveling. Chet and Greg made this run every week and knew the area better than anyone.

“I guess we leave it in case someone comes back for it,” Arsen replied.

“Yeah. We don’t have a lot of time to fuck around with this,” Zane said, then glanced at his watch. “We still need to get to Yuma and meet the Advocates. Not to mention if a cop comes along and wants to know what we’re doing. We’re carrying $600,000 worth of drugs after all. I don’t know about you guys, but I would just as soon not have that conversation.”

The bothers chuckled. “You’re right. Since there is nobody around who needs help, it’s not our problem.” Arsen turned and began to walk back to their bikes. “Let’s mount up. I’m frying out here.”

As he walked back to his bike, he was still puzzling over the abandoned hog. It made no sense. Had the bike been parked, he would have bought the out of gas theory. If you were so stupid to not know about the reserve fuel, you were probably stupid enough to ride right past a gas station and not stop. But finding the bike on its side, that bothered him. He shrugged it off. It wasn’t his problem and he had other things to worry about.

He swung a leg over the Indian and stood it up, grimacing as he placed his ass on the hot leather seat. When he’d seen the low gloss, all black, Chief Dark Horse, he had to have it, but it was times like this when he questioned the wisdom in buying an all-black motorcycle in beautiful, sunny, Arizona. He buckled on his helmet, thumbed the big Thunder Stroke V-Twin to life, kicked the bike into gear, and with a glance over his shoulder to check traffic, roared onto the interstate, his brothers following him out.

He had just settled into the cruise when he saw the lone figure trudging along the shoulder of the interstate with their head down and shoulders slumped. Again braking hard, Arsen pulled onto the shoulder of the road. He’d thought it was a man when he first saw him, but as he passed, he could see it was a woman. She almost had to be the rider of the Harley, but she was walking in the wrong direction for gas. It was five miles back to the motorcycle, then perhaps five more to the gas station in Dateland, but there was nothing for twenty miles or more in the direction she was walking.

He sat for a moment, the Indian idling, debating with himself what to do. They really didn’t have time for this, but he couldn’t leave her walking in the scorching desert sun either. It was at least a hundred degrees, and she could die if nobody stopped to help. With a growl of frustration, he switched off the bike and dismounted.

Chapter 2

“You okay? You need help?” Arsen asked softly as he approached. The closer he got, the worse she looked. She had obviously been lovely, once, but now the woman was bruised and battered and her skin was turning red from the sun. One eye was dark and swollen, her lips were puffy and split, and she had clear bruises on her face, neck and arms. Her hair was greasy and wild, as if it hadn’t seen shampoo, water, or a brush in some time, and her shirt was torn, one sleeve nearly ripped away. The worst, though, were her eyes. They were empty, vacant, as if all the life had gone out of her. She had the stare of the dead.

“Miss? What happened to you? Do you need help?” Arsen asked, trying to get her attention.

“What’s wrong with her…other than the obvious?” Nelson asked.

She walked past them as if they were ghosts. “Hey, lady, you okay?” Zane tried, taking her arm and pulling her to a stop. She turned to face him, but otherwise didn’t move.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Arsen said then turned her head to face him. There wasn’t any blood on her face, and none of the bruises looked bad enough to have caused head trauma. “What happened to you? Can you tell me your name?”

She stared at him but said nothing.

Berk snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Hey! We’re talking to you!” he said loudly.

“Knock it off,” Arsen ordered, pulling Berk’s hand away.

“Drugs?” Chet asked.

Arsen took her arm and rolled it over so he could look at the inside, then did the same on the other. “No tracks. She’s obviously been beaten. Head trauma, maybe. Or shock.” He turned his attention back to her. “You have to help us out here, sister. Is that your bike back there on the side of the road?”

She stared at them a moment, then shifted into motion again, weaving through them to continue her plodding course in the same direction she’d been walking. The six men looked at each other a moment before Arsen strode after her, gently pulling her to a stop again.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping around in front of her. “You can’t walk out here. You’ll die of heat stroke. Can you tell me your name? Where you came from?”

“Should we call the police and have them deal with her?” Zane asked.

“Are you crazy?” Chet barked. “Have you forgotten what’s on the bikes? It would be our luck the officer they send will have a dog.”

“We can’t leave her out here!” Zane snapped. “Arsen’s right. She’ll die, or worse.”

“Fine. But let’s get the fuck away from here then call the cops.”

As Chet and Zane bickered, Arsen held her gaze, trying to see a spark of life, of anything, in her eyes, but they were completely blank. “We’ll take her to the next gas station,” he proclaimed, putting an end to the discussion. “We’ll drop her there, so at least she won’t collapse from the heat, then we’ll call the cops and let them know where she is.” Chet made a “there you go” gesture at Arsen and grinned.

“We’re going to take you someplace cool, then get you some help, okay?” Arsen said, but the woman showed no signs of understanding. He took her by the hand and steered her to his motorcycle. He turned her loose at the side then mounted, waiting for her to get on. She stood still a moment then turned and began to walk again.

“Somebody help her out,” Arsen said.

“Here,” Zane said, pulling the woman back to Arsen’s Indian. “Can you get on here?” When the woman didn’t move, he patted the seat. “Come on. We know you can ride a bike.”

“Fuck it,” Berk said, nudging Zane aside. He started to pick the woman up and place her on the bike, but the moment his hands touched her waist, she exploded into motion. She drove an elbow hard back, catching Berk on the chin, then lunged away from his grip, crashing into Arsen.

He didn’t expect the collision, and nearly dumped his bike. The woman bounced off him, then whirled, her hands coming up like claws as she crouched and slowly backed away from the men.

“You bitch!” Berk roared, spitting a thick mass of blood onto the ground. He stepped in and grabbed her, hauling her back to him, wrapping her up in a bear like embrace, holding her hands, then roared in pain as she bit down hard on the meaty part of his hand.

“Goddamnit! Let her go!” Arsen roared.

Berk let her go and backed away hissing in pain, holding his bleeding hand. “Fuck! I’m probably going to need rabies shots!”

“Let her go!” Arsen snarled as the Blades began to close around her. “If she doesn’t want to go, she can fucking fry for all I care. Berk! How’s the hand?”

“Hurts like a bitch! She tried to bite my fucking hand off!”

“Jesus! You’re bleeding like a stuck pig!” Casey said as he looked Berk’s hand over. “Stitches for sure.”

“I’m going to kick that bitch’s ass,” he snarled.

“We don’t have time for this shit!” Arsen snapped. He turned his attention back to the woman. “You want to die out here? Fine! Fucking walk until you drop!”

The woman looked at him then turned and began to walk. He watched her a moment, then stepped off his bike. “Jesus, Berk!” Arsen said as he looked at Berk’s blood covered hand, lurid red drips falling off his fingertips to the ground.

“Yeah.” Berk grimaced as Casey wrapped a bandana around his mangled hand, cinching it tight to try and stop the bleeding.

“You good to ride?”

“Yeah. Just keep that crazy bitch away from me.”

“You should head back to the clubhouse and have Doc Holiday take a look at that,” Arsen suggested.

“Fuck that! I’ve had bitches bite my dick harder than that.”

The five brothers chuckled. Berk was playing the tough guy now, but they’d seen how much he was hurting when he was still in shock from having the small woman bite the shit out of him. “Have it your way,” Arsen grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”

The six Blades began to mount up, their bikes rumbling into life. Arsen was the last to thumb his ride to life, and as he kicked the stand up, he noticed the woman had stopped walking and was looking at them. He was just about to ease out of the clutch and pull back onto the interstate when she turned and started walking back toward them. He waited to see what she would do. It took her a moment to close the distance back to them, but she stopped and smoothly swung a leg over Arsen’s bike and settled in. She moved easily, clearly comfortable on the back of a bike.

Arsen looked back over his shoulder at his brothers, one eye squinted as his lips crooked sideway, then chuckled when Zane shrugged. With a shake of his head, he checked traffic then gave the big Indian the beans and surged out onto the interstate.

***

It would have taken her four hours to walk to the nearest convenience store with a dozen gas pumps. On the bikes, they covered it in ten minutes.

“Go inside and somebody can help you get your motorcycle,” Arsen said to the woman as his Indian idled. She didn’t move, sitting perfectly still in the saddle. With a sigh, he killed the engine. How was he going to get her off his bike without her biting a chunk out of someone again?

The moment the engine fell silent, she stepped off. Holding the bike between his knees, he rose and pulled his money clip from his pocket and peeled off two twenties. He pressed the bills into her hand. “Go inside and get something to drink, okay? Then have someone take you to your bike. It has enough gas to get here. You have enough there for gas.”

He may have as well been talking to the wall. With a shrug he thumbed his ride to life. Before he could snick the bike into gear, she swung her leg over the saddle and settled. He could hear his brothers chuckling. With a grin he killed the bike, and she immediately got off.

“Look,” he sighed. “You’ll be okay here. We’re going to call the cops and tell them you’re here. They can get you some help. Just go inside and buy yourself something cold to drink.” When she didn’t respond, he pressed the starter button again, putting out a hand to hold her back from mounting.

As expected, the woman tried to mount his bike again, but when he blocked her, she began to keen, a soft, inhuman sound of fear and grief. He released her to free his clutch hand, and as soon as he did, she started to mount his bike again. Again he blocked her, and again she wailed, louder this time.

“Somebody help me out!” he barked.

Zane chuckled, then stepped off his bike and took her by the arm to pull her gently away. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

She grabbed Arsen’s hand in a death grip, wailing as Zane gently restrained her. Arsen tried to pull his arm back, but she wouldn’t let go. The harder he pulled, the more she struggled. Twice, she almost yanked him off his bike.

“Damnit!” Arsen snarled, killing his bike and leaning it over. He stepped off and gently pried her fingers from his arm, but she was like a Velcro cat. He would get her hands loose from one place and she would grab another, keening her heartbreaking wail the entire time. After three of those he was about ready to punch her lights out. He was trying to be gentle with her because she’d obviously been abused, but enough was enough.

Zane finally wrenched her away and gave her a shove. She stumbled away then turned to face them, the two twenties falling from her hand. A tear was running down her cheek, but the pain and fear that had come into her face as she held him was gone. She was a zombie again.

He turned and mounted up. He watched her as he thumbed his bike to life, half expecting her to try to mount up behind him again, but she just stood here, her face and eyes totally blank. He kicked the bike into gear but didn’t release the clutch.

“Fuck!” he snarled. “Get on!”

“What?” Chet yelped. “We can’t take her with us!”

She made no move, so he put the bike back into neutral and held out his hand. “If you’re coming get on. Otherwise I’ll leave your ass here.”

He was reaching for the clutch again when she stepped forward and mounted up behind him. He knew this was a stupid idea, but he knew in his gut if they were to leave her now, she would die. The only sign of life she’d shown since they stopped on side of the road was the fear and pain as she cried out softly when she thought they were going to leave her.

“You know this is a bad idea, right?” Zane asked as he eased up beside them.

“Yeah. Grab the money, will you?”

He nodded. “So long as you know.”

Chapter 3

I’m in hell. My skin is burning from my body, but I force myself to put one foot in front of the other. This hell is preferable to the one I escaped. If I die, it’ll be a blessing. No more pain. No more suffering. In death, I can balance the scales. I can pay for the mistakes that have led me to this moment.

I walk. One foot in front of the other, the pavement so hot I feel it burning the bottoms of my feet even though my shoes, but I don’t care. I’ve endured far more pain. My mouth is dry. I can’t remember the last time I had water, but I’m free.

The man had gotten sloppy. He’d left his knife on his belt and I had gotten it. I had gotten it and then I’d stabbed him, once, twice, then a third time. I knew if the others found me they’d kill me, but I welcomed death.

Somehow they didn’t know and I’d taken his bike, riding in the first direction I turned. I didn’t care where I went, so long as I was gone. I’d never actually operated a bike before, but I knew enough from riding on the back of one that I could manage. I didn’t have to think. I only did.

I rode until it came to shuddering stop, and I’d left it. It was no longer of use and I wasn’t far enough away. I wasn’t sure I could ever get far enough away.

Cars pass. Some horns blow, but none stop, and I walk. I’ll walk until I can walk no more, then I’ll crawl, then I’ll die, and then I’ll be at peace.

I hear the motorcycles approach. I’ve heard others rumble by. None stop, but these do. At first I think it’s the men who took me. I know they’ll kill me. I only hope it’ll be quick. I keep moving, one foot in front of the other. They can kill me as easily walking as not.

The men approach. I’ve not seen these men before. The first one speaks to me, but I ignore him. I’d tried talking. I’d tried to reason with my captors, then begged for their mercy, only to hear them laugh. Finally, I had begged for them to kill me, and again they’d only laughed. I had begged and pleaded until I ran out of words. And they had laughed.

I stop walking when they make me. Fighting only makes the pain worse. Compliance, that’s what they wanted, so I complied. Most of the men who’ve come for me seem kind, all but one, but I know it’s only a trick. Even the kind ones had their way with me, my cries for mercy falling upon deaf ears.

I allow the man to look at me. His touch is firm but gentle, and he promises not to hurt me, but it’s a lie. They all promised that at first. He wants me to go with him. He says he’ll help me. I want to trust him, but I can’t. I have to keep moving. I have to get as far away as I can.

A man grabs me, his hands around my waist. They’re going to take me back, back to that prison of pain and fear. I would rather die than go back. I fight. I want them to kill me. I bite the big man’s hand, trying to tear his flesh from his bones with my teeth.

I turn to face them, wishing for death, but the kind man orders them back, and they obey. He orders me away, tells me to keep walking, allowing me to leave, then turns his back to me, ignoring me as I place one foot in front of another.

I hear the motorcycles start. I turn to watch, to see if they are going to leave me. The kind man is watching me and I can see he’s leaving. He wants nothing from me.

I turn and walk toward them men, the sound of their motorcycles calling to me. I realize: while I would rather die than return to the hell that was my life, I don’t actually want to die. I start to walk back, my mind screaming, but my body is moving of its own accord. The kind man watches me, his face twisting behind his sunglasses, not in anger, lust, or cruelty, but in humor. His eyes track me as I move back to him and step onto his motorcycle, my body knowing what to do.

He looks behind him and I can see his lips break into a smile before his attention shifts and we pull smartly onto the interstate.

The air rushes over me, blessedly cool as we thunder down the interstate. He’s taking me away from my prison. He said he wouldn’t hurt me and he is keeping his word. I don’t know where we are going, and I don’t care.

We pull off the interstate into a gas station. When he switches off the bike, I dismount, but he doesn’t follow me. He pushes something into my hand and promises again to help me. He is helping me. The words he says, about getting back to the bike, don’t make sense. When he starts his bike, I mount up, ready to go where he’s going, waiting for him to take me away.

He shuts the bike off again. I don’t understand what he wants, so I get off again. I don’t want to anger him. He again promises to help me, but when I try to get back on his motorcycle, he stops me. I try again, and again he prevents me. He’s leaving me! He is leaving me here as he rides away. I try to tell him I want to go, to beg him to take me with him, but I am out of words. I hold his hand, praying he won’t leave me.

Another man takes me by the arm and tries to take me away. He’s going to take me back and I hold to the kind man, desperately afraid. If he leaves me here, I know the others will find me and take me back. I struggle, not wanting to be left behind. He tries to remove my hands, but I hold onto whatever I can reach.

The man holding my arms throws me away. I’m going to be alone again and I can feel the flicker of hope extinguish. He turns his back to me and I watch as he mounts his bike and brings it to life. I prepare to walk again, but I can’t move. I’m frozen to this spot, held by the kind man’s eyes.

He orders me to get on, but I’m afraid it’s a trick. The moment I take a step he’ll leave as he laughs at me. He holds his hand out to me and orders me again, but it’s not an order. He allows me to make my own choice. I can go or stay as I choose.

I choose to go. I step up onto the motorcycle. As soon as I’m settled, we pull out of the gas station. Once again we are traveling, every turn of the motorcycle’s tires taking me farther and farther away.

We ride for a time, my hair blowing in the wind, and I remember when, before the time of pain, I rode like this. I remember the feeling of freedom and of being happy. The man I was riding behind was kind to me, like this man. I don’t even try to stop the tears as they slowly well out of my eyes, the hot desert air drying them instantly.

Chapter 4

The Blades hammered the last hour of the trip. The time they had spent fooling around with the motorcycle and the woman had cut into their time. They couldn’t risk getting caught for possession with intent because of a speeding ticket, but they pushed the envelope and ran a bit faster than the prevailing traffic.

They arrived in Yuma fifteen minutes late, despite the push, and didn’t have time to fill their bikes before meeting the Advocates, so they proceeded directly to the south end of the airport. They could fill up on the way out of town.

They were early, but the Advocates were already waiting on them in the wide dusty area behind the airport. Local kids came here to watch airport traffic take off and land and make out where their parents wouldn’t walk in. It was often busy on weekends, but was normally deserted on weekdays. The best part of the location was nobody blinked an eye at seeing people parked and standing around, so they could conduct their business easily but without arousing suspicion. Plus, there was something oddly satisfying about doing a drug deal less than ten miles from the regional DEA office.

The Blacktop Blades pulled to a stop fifty feet from the Devil’s Advocates bikes. As expected, the moment the Indian went silent, the woman stepped off. “Wait here,” Arsen said softly. “I’ll be right over there.”

Arsen waited as the Blades retrieved the molly from their bikes, five 5,000 pill bags, then led the brothers as they started toward the Advocates. The moment they started walking away, the woman began to follow.

“Wait a minute,” Arsen said then turned to the woman, taking her arm and steering taking her back to his bike. “I need you to wait here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, and you’re right by the bike. Can you wait here?”

She didn’t respond, and he held up both his hands in front of her, as if giving a dog a stay command. When he started walking away again, she followed.

“Chet!” When Chet arrived, Arsen turned back to her. “Chet is going to stay with you, okay? He’s not going to hurt you. I need you to stay with him. Do you understand?” Again, she didn’t make a sound or give any gesture of confirmation. When he stepped away this time, she started to follow, but Chet held her arm.

“Nuh-uh. You heard him. Wait here.” When she didn’t try to escape, he relaxed his grip a bit. “What’s wrong with you that you can’t talk?” After a moment of silence, he sighed and settled against Arsen’s bike to wait.

“Who’s that?” Jason Herld, President of the Devil’s Advocates Motorcycle Club, asked Arsen as he nodded at the woman.

“A lost puppy we picked up along the way.”

Jason squinted his eyes. “You know I don’t like surprises.”

Arsen gave a shrug. “What can I say? She wasn’t part of our plan either.”

“You got the stuff?”

Arsen grinned. “Don’t we always? 25K, your standard order.” He waved and Zane brought the bags up. Jason waived his man over with the cash. The two were exchanged before the proxies returned to their over watch positions. He knew the pills would be quickly checked, just as Zane was giving the cash a cursory count. Trust, but verify was the name of the game.

“What’s so important that you needed to see me?” Arsen asked.

“I wanted to find out if you were dealing behind our backs.”

“What?” Arsen pushed out a laugh to keep the worry from his voice. He ran his club straight, but that wasn’t the same as everything being on the up and up. “Why would we do that? This relationship has been good for both of us. Why would I screw that up?”

“Because someone is selling Hearts and Daggers besides us.”

Arsen glanced at Zane, the info man. Zane shook his head. “Our other customers know that southern California is off limits, but I have no real control over the molly once it’s in their hands.”

“You selling it to them cheaper?”

“We charge everyone the same wholesale price. I don’t play favorites. Because you’re my biggest buyer, I give you a head’s up about price increases, but I don’t do special deals. It’s bad for my business. I give you a discount, then everyone wants one. Then I give some other guy a discount, somebody finds out, then everyone wants that one too. You want our stuff, it’s $5 a pop, 5,000 minimum, for everyone. Come clean with me. What the fuck is going on?”

Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny baggy with two tablets in it. “This is what I’m talking about.”

Arsen took the baggy. Pressing the plastic smooth against the tablets, he studied both sides. “These aren’t ours.”

“They have the Heart and Dagger symbol on them.”

Arsen flipped the pills over. “Yeah, but they don’t have our Heart and Dagger. Look at the handle on the blade. It doesn’t have the guard. And look.” He pointed at the tablet. “Our heart is ninety degrees to the blade. These are aligned.”

Jason glanced at his own second, then took a tablet from the fresh drop the Blades had brought and compared the two. “Does that matter?”

“Yeah. The pills are stamped in the production press. To change the orientation of the stamps, we would have to change the stamp in the machine. They only fit one way. Also, look at the color. It’s not quite right, and mottled. See how uniform our blue is?”

“What are you telling me? Someone is counterfeiting your molly?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Arsen agreed. Rage was burning through him, and he let Jason see it, let him see that this was going to be taken care of. He looked at the fake pill again. “Their stamping isn’t as crisp as ours either.” He considered for a moment. “I’d like to take these with me and run some tests on them, but I’m betting these are typical street drugs, made in a kitchen somewhere.”

“Motherfuck,” Jason sneered. “Assholes are counterfeiting illegal drugs now. Is that what the world is coming too? What are you going to do about it?”

“Do you know who’s doing it?” He watched Jason carefully, looking for any sign of deception.

“No.” The man’s gaze stayed level and calm.

“Then nothing,” Arsen said. Jason looked confused, and once Arsen started talking again, plain scared. “You’re going to find out who is supplying these, and then we’ll do something about it.”

Jason shifted on his feet. “They’re undercutting us on price.”

“So? Put the word out that there are imitation Hearts and Daggers. Say they’re cut with rat poison. The easiest way to know our stuff from the fake is the orientation of the heart to the blade.”

“I never noticed that before.”

Arsen bit back the urge to punch the fool in the head. “We do everything for a reason and we don’t change shit up. You know our stuff is pharmaceutical grade. You don’t know what kind of shit might be in this or what the dosage is.”

“They said it’s 150.”

“What they say and what it is are not the same thing. But even if they’re right, 150 is pretty hot. That could kill a small, first time, woman, if she’s susceptible.”

Jason nodded. “We’ll put the word out. If we find out who’s manufacturing, we’ll pass that along too.”

“I’ll test these and let you know what I find.”

“Will you even tell me if they’re as good as yours?” With his eyes narrowed like that, Jason looked more like a rat than normal.

Arsen laughed. “I can tell by looking at them they’re not. I’ll make you a deal. If they’re as good as mine, I’ll give you the next 25k. Let the fuckers try to undercut free. But if they’re not, you don’t try to bite me in the ass over the price of the good stuff.”

“Deal. But if they cut into us too much, it’s going to affect you too.”

“Maybe, but I’m not going to start making shit just to compete on price. What’s the price on this?”

“$15 on the street.”

“What are you selling at?”

“$16 for ten or more, $20 for a single.”

“That’s it? People know our product. They know it’s safe and a consistent 90mg. When they risk their life on some unknown shit,” he raised the hand with the two pills in it, “they might wish they’d spent the nickel.”

“Give me something to work with and I’ll scare the shit out of people.”

“I’ll send the lab results with the next shipment. You’ll see it for yourself.”

Jason smirked. “You’re chemist, not me. Just tell if it makes your dick fall off or something.”

“Or something.”

“What’s the story on chickadee?” he asked, nodding back towards Chet and the woman.

Arsen looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t know. Found her on the side of the road. Somebody has obviously beaten the shit out of her. She can’t, or won’t, talk.”

“A woman who can’t talk? If she gives blow jobs and fetches beer, she’d be perfect. What are you going to do with her?”

“I was going to turn over to the cops, but when I tried to leave her at a gas station where the cops could pick her up, she went nuts.”

“Want us to take her off your hands?”

Arsen gritted his teeth. He didn’t know why, but Jason’s sneering attitude about the woman got under his skin. If he let her go with him, she was probably in for another rough ride. “No. We’ll find her a good home.”

“Find a good home for your cock you mean.”

“We done here?” Arsen asked, keeping his tone neutral. “We’ve still got a long ride ahead of us.”

“Yeah, we’re done. Let me know if this fake shit makes you grow two heads or something.”

Arsen nodded. “Count on it. You find the source and we’ll take care of it. Making molly is one thing, but stamping it with the Heart and Dagger? That’s something else.”

“Yeah. That’s like wearing an Advocates patch when you’re not an Advocate. We find out and you’re going to have a real bad day.”

Arsen dropped the two fake tablets back into the little bag and folded it into his pocket. “You got that shit right.”

The two men shook and turned, their brothers forming up on their Presidents as each group walked back to their leaning bikes. “Hey!” Jason called, causing the Blades to turn. “You sure you don’t want to leave her with us?”

Arsen gave him a dismissive wave and a smile, a smile that disappeared as soon as his back was turned. “Prick,” he muttered just loud enough for Zane to hear.

“It would solve out problem,” he pointed out.

“Not in the way I want it solved. She give you any trouble?” he asked Chet.

“She started to follow again, but once I stopped her, she just stood and watched.”

Arsen shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked her, expecting no answer and getting none.

“Let’s get something to eat, gas the bikes, then get the fuck out of here,” Zane said, and Arsen found himself agreeing. He divvied up the cash, mounted, and felt the woman slide into place behind him even before the Indian rumbled to life.

Chapter 5

They did a gas and go at the Love’s just before hopping on the interstate for the return trip to Tucson, but then stopped again at Daybreakers Café. This was their normal haunt for lunch when they were making a delivery.

“Seven this time, Mary,” Chet said as they stepped into the diner.

“Who’s your friends?” the older woman asked, giving the other woman a hard look.

“My boss, his boss,” he said pointing first at Zane then Arsen, “and some friends.”

“What happened to her?”

“A crash.”

Mary looked at him. “Uh-huh.” She turned and led the party to a large circular booth in the back and placed the menus on the table. “Jen will be right with you.”

Arsen normally liked to sit on the outside, but he wanted their companion in the center, so he slid in with Zane on the outside to his right. She sat and stared straight ahead, not picking up her menu. He offered her his, and she took it, but he could tell from watching her eyes she wasn’t seeing it. He sighed.

“What should we order her?”

“A psychiatrist?” Berk mumbled.

“You have a problem, Berk?” Arsen challenged.

“Other than she bit me?”

“You’re the one who grabbed her.”

“You’re the one who wanted her on the bike.”

“I didn’t say muscle her. If she didn’t want to get on the bike, that’s her choice. She’s obviously been abused, so that’s on you.”

“What do you want from me, Arsen?”

“How about a little compassion?”

“We don’t know her. Maybe she brought it on herself.”

“Really? What would Marla have to do for you to beat her like that?”

Berk paused. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”

Arsen grunted and let it drop. If she’d bitten him like she had Berk, he’d probably be cranky too.

“What can I get you gentlemen to drink?” Jen asked, trying hard not to stare at the battered woman. She took their drink orders and left.

“Do you know what you want?” Arsen asked, but she gave no indication of hearing. “A burger?”

He gave up for the moment and worried about his own lunch. Jen brought their drink orders and he noticed her staring at her water. As Jen took orders, he offered her the glass. “It’s yours. Go on.” She took the glass and downed it without stopping.

“For you?” Jen asked.

“What are your soups?”

“Chili, loaded baked potato, and chicken with wild rice.”

“She’ll have the potato with sourdough. I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger. And another water for her as soon as you can. Make it two.”

Jen took Zane’s order, left, and returned in a moment with two more glasses of water that she sat in front of the woman.

She stared at the glass until Arsen nudged it toward her with a finger. She picked it up and downed almost the entire thing before stopping. She panted for a moment, then drained it as soon as she’d caught her breath. She reached for the other glass, but Arsen slid it away.

“You can have it, but I want you to wait a second, okay? Too much cold water, too fast, will make you sick.” He slid the glass back in front of her. “It’s yours, and you can have as much as you want, but I want you to wait until your food arrives to drink it, okay?”

She sat and stared at the glass. He wondered what she had gone through, and how long she’d been without water. As they waited, Jen brought two more glasses of water, which Arsen clustered in front of her. She didn’t reach for the glass again. He wanted to offer it to her, but he also didn’t want her puking and making any dehydration worse.

When Jen returned with their tray, she continued to stare at the glass. “Go ahead,” he said softly, sliding a glass to the edge of the table. She took it, but only took a couple of swallows before putting it back.

“Good girl,” he smiled, pushing her soup in front of her.

“Anything else for you gentlemen?”

When nobody wanted anything, Jen left. Arsen slid the soup in front of him and tasted it. “Shit! That’s hot! You better wait a minute for it to cool.”

“You’re treating her like baby,” Berk sneered.

“Better than letting her hurt herself,” Arsen replied, ignoring Berk’s tone.

“What are we going to do with her?” Zane asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe take her back to the clubhouse and have Doc Holiday look at her.”

“Why?” Chet asked. “She’s not our problem. We can leave her here. She’s safe. She’ll have eaten and had something to drink. She won’t get heatstroke. Mary and Jen will watch her. We can call the cops and they could pick her up here.”

“You’re sure she won’t walk out the minute we leave?” Arsen asked.

“What if she does? She’s still not our problem.”

Zane nodded. “I have to agree with Chet. She could be wanted by the police for all we know. We don’t need that.”

“So just dump her?”

“We’re not dumping her, Arsen,” Greg joined in. “We got her off the side of the road. We’ve fed her and got her out of the heat. What else do you want to do?”

“How about we make sure she’s okay before we give her a boot in the ass?” he snapped. He gave her soup another stir to help it cool. He tasted it again, but it was still painfully hot.

There was an uncomfortable silence before Zane spoke, his voice gentle. “We’ll follow your lead, you know that, but I want to make sure you understand what you’re doing. This won’t bring Holly back.”

That stung. “I know. It’s not about Holly.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s it about?”

He sighed. “It about doing the right thing. I wasn’t there for Holly, but I can be here for her. If Holly were still here, she’d be the first one to tell all of you to go fuck yourselves, and she’d do anything she could to help this girl. You all know it.”

Zane leaned back in the booth. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Arsen looked around the table. All the brothers were looking sheepish, even Berk. “I understand she’s not our problem, but I can’t just leave her stranded. I would hope someone would do the same if it were one of your old ladies.”

“Yeah, okay. Fuck it,” Greg muttered. “Let Doc Holiday check her out. He probably knows somebody who can get her the help she needs anyway.” The rest of the brothers nodded in agreement.

He tried her soup then slid it in front of her. “It’s good. Try it.” She made no movement so he placed the spoon in her hand. “Try it.”

She looked at the soup a moment then dipped the spoon into the thick liquid and brought it to her lips. She took several bites then stopped.

Arsen finished chewing his burger. “You have to be hungrier than that. Come on.” He gave the bowl a bump with his finger to encourage her and she started eating again. He broke off a bite sized bit of bread, then dipped it in the soup and handed it to her. She looked at it a moment, before she took it, placed it in her mouth, and chewed slowly.

It made for a slow meal, with Arsen having to continuously hound her to eat, but as the soup disappeared, she needed less and less encouragement.

“Doctor Hollander, please,” Arsen said into his phone as she slowly ate. Doctor Richard M. Hollander, Doc Holiday to the club, had been the club doctor for three decades, longer than Arsen had been alive. Grizzled but sweet, he’d patched up every member of the club at least once.

“This is Doctor Hollander.”

“Doc, Arsen. Can you stop by the clubhouse on your way home? I have someone for you to look at.”

“Who, and what happened?”

“Who, I don’t know. Don’t know what happened either, but it looks like somebody kicked the shit out of her.”

“Her?”

“Yeah. I picked her up walking along the side of the interstate.”

“Where is she now?”

“Having a bowl of soup in Yuma.”

“Yuma?”

Arsen chuckled. “I’ll explain it all when you get there. Can you stop by? Bring your magic bag. I think you may need it.”

“Yeah. It’ll be about five before I can get there.”

“That’s fine. We won’t be back to Tucson until four, four thirty anyway.”

“If you found her outside, and she’d been out there any length of time, make sure you get her cooled down and give her lots of water.”

“Already on it, Doc.”

“See you about five, then.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Arsen killed the call, then immediately dialed his phone again, calling his Sergeant at Arms. “Phil, find somebody who’s free to take the van and get to Dateland to pick up a motorcycle.”

“Why?” Phil asked.

“There’s an abandoned Fat Bob sitting on the side of the interstate, if someone hasn’t stolen it already. I want it picked up and brought back to the clubhouse.”

“Okay, but stealing bikes isn’t really our gig, you know what I mean?”

“It’s either already stolen, or I have the owner with me.”

“What?”

Again Arsen laughed. “I’ll explain it when I get there. Just get on it. If I don’t see it on the way past, I’ll call, and whoever you sent can turn around.”

There was a pause. “I’ll make it happen.”

He turned his attention back to the woman. She was sitting again, the bowl empty and a glass of water untouched. Finished or not, she was done. They had to get on the road if they were going to beat Doc Holiday back to the clubhouse. If she wanted more water she could get it when they stopped at Gila Bend for gas. They would all be ready for water by then.

Chapter 6

We finally stop, and I worry the kind man is going to try to leave me again. I want to go with him, but he refuses to allow me, though he promises he won’t leave without me. He leaves me by his motorcycle and I watch as he walks a short distance away and talks to other men. Being by his bike makes me feel a little better; he can’t leave without me knowing so long as I stand by his bike.

I stand in the broiling sun, unable to even sweat, my mouth so dry I can barely swallow and my tongue feeling thick and sticky. Finally, he returns to the bike and I sit down behind him. The black leather seat is painfully hot, but I didn’t care. I have endured far more pain, and felt far less safe, than what I feel now.

We stop for gas and I stay close to him, standing near his bike, so he can’t leave me behind. I pray for water, but immediately after filling the bikes, he settles into the saddle again. I step onto the bike behind him and we are off. We ride only a few miles before stopping again. The kind man takes me into a diner and its blessed coolness where he gives me all the water I can drink. Never has anything tasted so good. After the second glass I think he’s going to deny me more, but he promises me as much water as I want if only I wait and not drink it too fast. My thirst has been partially quenched and I can wait.

Food arrives and my mouth waters as I hope for a scrap. He pushes a bowl of soup in front of me but then begins to eat it himself and I swallow my disappointment as I yearn for something to eat. He only tastes it, then stirs it, the rich aroma of potatoes and cheese filling the air. Finally, he gives me the spoon. I’m afraid to believe he’ll allow me to eat, but he encourages me. I’d been denied food so often as I was used over and over, even the stale sandwiches I’d been given tasted delicious, but nothing like the soup with the piece of bread. Rich and creamy, it is the most wonderful thing I have ever tasted. I eat a few bites but then stop, wanting to save some for later, but he encourages me to eat more, then more still.

When there isn’t enough left to save, I finish it, hoping for more, but he offers me nothing else. I’m disappointed, but I’d eaten more now than my last two meals combined, and my stomach is uncomfortably distended with water and food.

I sit, my hunger diminished, my thirst quenched, the cool air making me drowsy. If only I could sleep and not worry about being awakened by a man demanding my body.

The men on either side of me begin to move, sliding away from me. I look up, and the kind man smiles down at me, his hand held out as he calls to me. I don’t want to move. I want to sit here on this comfortable bench, or to lay down and sleep. He calls to me again and I go, sliding out as he takes my hand and helps me stand. I stagger and weave, my head spinning. He grips me strongly, holding me up and preventing me from falling, until my head clears.

As I find my feet, he slowly loosens his grip, allowing me to stand. He looks at me and I can see concern in his eyes and I am touched. It has been so long since anyone looked at me that way.

I follow him out. I’m exhausted, but I force myself to walk, make myself place one foot in front of the other. We reach his motorcycle and I wait for him to stand the bike upright then climb aboard. Again the seat burns my ass and legs, but I don’t care. The kind man is taking me with him, and that’s all that matters.

We rumble out of the parking lot and back to the interstate. I’m turned around, everything looking the same in the desert. It seems like I’ve seen this all before, but I’m not sure. We ride for a long time, the desert heat like a blast furnace, but the rushing air makes the ride bearable.

I become drowsy again, the rumble of the motorcycle and my full stomach trying to drag me into the darkness of sleep, but if I fall asleep now, I’ll fall from the bike and be injured at best, killed at worst. I lean into his back, resting my head on his shoulder, my arms going around his waist, the embrace feeling natural and I am comforted by it.

I nod a couple of times, jerking awake when I feel like I’m falling, but I am still tucked securely into his back. I am nodding again when I hear the tone of the bike change. I struggle out of the twilight of sleep as he exits the interstate. We continue to slow and I see the sign.

Gila Bend! He’s taking me back! I can’t go back. I’d rather die than go back. He continues to slow and I throw myself off the back of the bike. I land hard, bouncing and tumbling. The pavement is hot, burning my naked skin, but I can’t take the time to assess my wounds. I jump to my feet and run, bouncing off a car before dashing across the road. I am running into the desert, but I don’t care. Better the hell of the Arizona desert than the hell of my prison.

I hear the roar of his motorcycle, then the pounding of his feet as he gives chase. He’s too fast and he catches me just as I clear the railroad tracks. I fight, holding nothing back, but he’s too strong and he quickly overpowers me.

Chapter 7

The Blades exited the interstate in Gila Bend. Their bikes were nearing their limit on fuel and this was the best place to stop for gas, the near exact halfway point between Yuma and Tucson. They were going to fill their bikes, grab a quick drink, then make the final two-hour drag to the clubhouse.

They often rode for hours to make a delivery. The Blades made it a point to not sell in their own back yard, wanting to keep as much distance between manufacturing and distribution as possible. There was plenty of Hearts and Daggers in Tucson, but none of it was from local supply. Tucson, like most of Arizona, was being supplied by the Nasty Bastards out of Albuquerque, New Mexico.

He felt the woman squirming around behind him, the first time he felt her move since she’d draped her arms around him and snuggled into his back. He had to admit, it felt good to have a backwarmer again.

He was slowing in the center turn lane, waiting for a car to pass before he turned, when the bike suddenly weaved, its balance upset by the woman as she threw herself off the bike. He jammed on the brakes as she tumbled along the pavement, tried to get to her feet as she was skidding along, then fell again before coming to a stop. She immediately bounced back up, turned, and ran into the side of the car that was panic braking and swerving to avoid hitting her.

She tumbled back to the pavement but never stopped before bounding to her feet again and dashing across the road. He gunned the Indian, racing around the front of the car into the gravel area on the side of the road. She changed direction, running away from him as he kicked the side stand down and bounded from the machine, hoping the bike didn’t fall, but not having time to make sure it was stable.

She could run like a gazelle, but with his much longer legs and her weakened condition, he was able to chase her down. “Stop!” he called just before he caught her, dragging her to a stop. She fought like a wildcat, scratching, biting and kicking. He was at a severe disadvantage because he didn’t want to hurt her, but she didn’t have the same compunction about him.

He got her wrapped up, his hands on her wrist, turning her back into his chest as he crossed her arms in front of her, being careful to keep his hands away from her snapping teeth. “I’m not going to hurt you!” he yelled, holding her as she twisted and squirmed, kicking at his legs as he held her.

“Stop it! I’m not going to hurt you!” he cried, grunting with the effort of holding the storm he was trying to contain in his arms. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said again, more calmly as the fight went out of her. “Shhhh…I’m not going to hurt you.”

Finally, she slumped, either giving up or exhausted. The moment she relaxed he released her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said one more time as he stepped back. “If you want to go, that’s fine. I won’t stop you. Next time, though, wait for the motorcycle to stop first. Are you okay?”

She obviously wasn’t okay. Her pants were torn, and he could see bloody and raw skin through the openings. Her hands and arms had a grim case of road rash, and her head was bleeding.

“What the fuck was that about?” Zane panted as he arrived, the rest of the brothers not far behind him.

“Damned if I know. I guess she had a panic attack.” Arsen looked her over. “Will you let me look at you?” he asked her.

She didn’t respond. He stepped up and looked at her head, the thing that worried him most. He pushed the hair back to see the bleeding cut, but it didn’t look as bad as he feared. “Jesus, you’re a mess,” he murmured as he looked at the hamburger that was the palms of her hands. “Thank god you waited until I was only doing about ten. If you’d pulled this stunt at seventy-five or eighty, I’d be scraping you up with a shovel. What were you thinking?” he asked. He didn’t expect an answer, and didn’t get one.

“Okay sister, enough fucking around. Nobody’s going to hurt you, but if you want to go, now’s your chance. It’s your choice. I’ll give you some money and you can walk off into the sunset if that’s what you want. But if you go with us again, no more jumping off moving motorcycles, okay?” He waited a moment. “I’m going back to my bike, then I’m crossing the street for gas. If you want to go with us, be there before we leave.”

He turned his back to her and began to walk away. He didn’t want to leave her, but he couldn’t have her bailing off the bike either. That was just fucked, and she could have taken him with her. Better she took her chances on foot than to do that stupid shit again.

As the Blades walked, Arsen glanced over his shoulder then stopped, allowing her to catch up. “Decided to come with us?” He took her wrist and towed her along to his bike. They mounted up and he rode it across the street for gas.

“That bitch is nothing but trouble,” Casey said. “Are you sure about this?”

“No,” Arsen admitted. “I don’t know what got into her. She was fine until I got off the interstate. I don’t know if what happened to her happened here, or what.”

“What if she does that again, but on the interstate?”

“Then she’ll die and she won’t be a problem anymore, will she?”

“Jesus, Arsen!”

“What do you want me to say, Casey? That she won’t do it again? I don’t know that.”

“I’m just worried about what she’ll do next, that’s all.”

Arsen sighed. “You think I’m not? She was on the back of my bike. If something happens, it’s all on me.” The pump clicked off and he hung up the nozzle and twisted the cap back on the tank. “Come on. Let’s go see what they’ve got to clean you up.”

As they walked into the attached store, he noticed she was already limping. He shook his head. He couldn’t get his mind around her jumping off his bike like that. He started with four bottles of water, then searched until he found the aisle with medical supplies. He picked up a box of big square bandages,  some spray antiseptic that also said it would relieve pain, and a bottle of ibuprofen.

He paid for everything, then handed her a water bottle. She handled it gingerly because of her sore hands, and couldn’t open it.

“Sorry,” he said, opening it for her and letting her drink for a moment. Then he pointed to the curb. “Sit,” he said, and she did. “This is going to hurt.”

He took her free hand and poured water over it in a slow stream, rinsing out the worst of the blood and dirt. She flinched but didn’t make a sound. He patted her hand dry before dousing it with the spray and sticking one of the large bandages over it. He repeated the process on her other hand, both knees, and a couple of places on her arms. Her forehead he just cleaned and spritzed with the antiseptic.

By the time he was done, he used most of the three bottles of water, all but one of the bandages, and most of the antiseptic. He shook three ibuprofen into her hand. “Take those. Trust me, you’ll need them in a few hours.” He had to help her by pushing her hand toward her mouth, but she took the pills and washed them down with the last of her water.

“Good girl,” he said with a smile. He drank the last mouthful of water from one of the bottles, then stood. “Promise me you won’t do that again. Can you promise me?” She didn’t make a sound but looked down at her feet. “I’ll take that to mean yes. Come on,” he said, holding his hand out.

When she reached out, he took her hand as gently as he could and pulled her to her feet. Once she was standing, she griped his hand, holding onto it as she hobbled back to his bike. He stood his bike up and she stiffly climbed aboard. He cranked the Indian to life, letting it idle a moment to see what she did. After a moment her arms went around his waist again and his lips twisted into a sideways grin as he toed the bike into gear. He eased out of the gas station, taking it slow in case she got another wild urge to kill herself, then putt-putted along until they reached the entrance to the interstate.

Gritting his teeth, hoping she learned her lesson, he gave the throttle a firm twist, the big bike rocketing up to speed as he prepared to merge with traffic.

Chapter 8

Arsen looped his bike around and then backed it into his spot at the Blacktop Blades’ clubhouse. He shut the bike down. After a moment, she carefully dismounted. They were in the teeth of the day’s heat and he was hot, sweaty, and road weary.

He blew air out as he stepped into the paradise of the Blades clubhouse. The clubhouse, built twenty years ago, was one of his favorite places to be. Made with walls of pale Adobe and topped with rust colored Spanish tiles, the clubhouse looked more like a resort than a biker clubhouse. The interior was just as welcoming, with its the tile floors, slow spinning fans, bar, and comfortable leather furniture. It was a working clubhouse, providing the headquarters for the Blades to run their empire, but it was also where they could kick back, relax, and enjoy the fellowship of their brothers.

News that something was up had spread; everyone seemed to be waiting to meet Arsen’s guest. Nobody knew what to expect, but this small battered woman wasn’t it.

“What happened to her?” Michelle, Zane’s old lady, asked as she approached.

“Don’t know,” Arsen replied. “She’s in shock or something and won’t talk. The fresh scrapes are from when she jumped off my motorcycle while it was still it was moving.”

“Why’d she’d do that?”

“I’d like to know that myself.” He stopped at the bar and pulled out two waters, handing one to his guest and keeping one for himself. He would pull himself a beer later, but he wanted to hydrate first. He opened his bottle, handed it to her, then took hers and opened it for himself.

“What are we supposed to do with her?” Toni asked as the club began to gather around.

“Take her to one of the guest rooms. See if she’ll let you clean her up, and see if we have anything that will fit her. Doc Holiday will be around in about an hour to check her out.”

“Then what?” Michelle asked.

“Then, we’ll see what Doc recommends.”

Michelle exchanged a look with Toni and Cyra, then held her hand out to the woman. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and see what you look like.”

The woman didn’t move. “Come on,” Arsen said, leading her to the back. “They’re not going to hurt you, I promise,” he said softly as he directed her towards one of the four guest suites. “Let them help you get cleaned up, and I’ll wait for you at the bar, okay?” She gripped his hand fiercely tight. He smiled. “Okay. I’ll wait right here.”

She released his hand and he nodded to Michelle. As the women slowly undressed her, he could feel himself grimace in sympathy. She was a petite woman, a foot shorter than himself at perhaps five two or three, and her body was covered in bruises. Some were angry, dark and fresh, others older and turning yellow.

“Sweet Jesus, what happened to her?” Toni murmured as more of her body and more bruises were revealed.

“Someone has been beating the shit out of her,” Michelle murmured, her lips pressed tight in anger.

Arsen felt rage and sickness churning in his stomach. If one of his brothers were to treat their old ladies or club girls like this, they would be out on their ass. Any man who treated a woman like this was no brother of his.

“Let’s get you in the shower,” Michelle said, urging her along. “Toni, you’re closest to her size. Go see if you can find her something to wear.”

The battered woman paused at the doorway to the bathroom and looked back at him. “I’ll be right here when you get out.” The moment he heard the shower door close, he returned to the bar. He needed a drink.

“How is she?” Zane asked as he drew Arsen a beer.

“Somebody has been beating the shit out of her. For a long time. She’s nothing but one big bruise.”

Zane shook his head. “I don’t understand men like that. Michelle and I have had our fights, but I’ve never even thought about hitting her.”

“This is more than hitting her, Zane. This has been going on for a while.” Arsen took a long pull from the mug, trying to settle his jangled nerves. “If I find out who did this, I’m going to give them a taste of their own medicine.” He stared into space for a time, then took another pull from the beer. “I need to get back in there so she won’t freak out when she gets out of the shower.”

“She’s going to have to get over this. You can’t be her babysitter twenty-four seven.”

“I know. But for now…” He shook his head. “It’s only been a few hours, and she did let the women undress her. We’ll see what Doc has to say, then we’ll go from there.” He took another large pull from the beer. “I better go.”

He was standing in the corner as she stepped out of the shower. Dressed in fresh panties and bra, her hair washed and brushed, he could see she was lovely, or would be when she healed. He found himself really seeing her, for the first time. Her long, dark hair, wide eyes, and small, but curvy shape.

“I had to wash her,” Michelle said, pulling at the woman’s wet shirt before it sucked back down to caress every curve of her ample breasts. “Has she said anything?”

“Not a word.”

Michelle shook her head as Toni selected clothing from the pile she’d brought into the room. With a little mix and match, they found her a pair of shorts and a blouse that almost fit her, and they helped her dress.

“You’re safe here,” Arsen said softly, holding his hand out, and she came to him, taking his hand. He looked at the three women and nodded his thanks.

He led her out of the room, back into the main part of the clubhouse, placing her in a large comfortable chair. She sat, but she didn’t relax back into the chair. Instead, she slumped, her hands clasped together between her knees. He brought her an open beer and an opened water, holding them both out. She looked up at him then reached out and took the water. He nodded, then sat down in the chair beside her and put his feet up on the ottoman, waiting with her until Doc Holiday showed up.

Chapter 9

“That her?” Doc asked as he approached. Tall and thin, Doc looked like a kindly grandfather, which was probably just what the woman needed.

“That’s her,” Arsen said, rising to his feet to shake Doc’s hand. Doc looked frail, and Arsen knew from experience his touch was gentle, but he still had the grip of a vibrant man.

“My, young lady, aren’t you a mess? Can you tell me what happened to you?” Doc asked, crouching down in front of her. When she didn’t answer, he looked up to Arsen.

“I found her walking along the side of the interstate outside of Dateland. The freshest scrapes are from today, when she jumped off a moving motorcycle. I patched her up as best I could.”

“Now why would you go and do a silly thing like that?” Doc asked with a smile as he lifted the edges of the bandages to examine her hands, knees and arms. “Just some surfaces abrasions. Nothing too deep. Probably won’t even scar, but I bet they hurt like hell.”

She flinched away when Doc tried to touch her face. “Let him look at you,” Arsen said softly. “He’s the doctor. He’s here to help you. You can trust him.”

Doc waited a moment, then reached slowly for her face. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He carefully probed her face and looked into the swollen eye. “I think she’ll be okay,” he said, still gently prodding. “There doesn’t appear to be anything broken.” He moved lower, looking at her bruised and battered legs. “Some of these bruises are weeks old, maybe as much as a month. Whoever did this, it has been going on for a long time. She hasn’t said what happened?”

“Doc, she hasn’t said even one word since we picked her up.”

He rose with a grunt. “I need to use one of your guest rooms. I should do a pelvic exam. I would bet my stethoscope she’s been raped.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? Toni! Doc wants to check her over. Can you help him?” Arsen looked at her. “I want you to go with Toni and Doc. He wants to finish checking you out. Nobody is going to hurt you. Can you do that for me?”

She rose to her feet and he smiled in approval. “You’re doing great. Go with Toni.” She held his arm. “Okay, okay. Come on, let’s go.” He led her back to the room where she showered.

“Have her sit on the edge of the bed, then wait outside.”

He steered her to the bed. “I’ll be right outside the door. I’ll even leave it open so you can see me.”

She slowly released his arm and Arsen reassuringly patted her hand before he stepped into the door and turned his back.

“Help me get her shirt off,” Doc ordered. “Breath deep for me,” he said as he touched along her ribs. She didn’t, but it didn’t surprise him. She didn’t react to him pressing on her ribs, so she was probably okay, but he listened to her breathing just to be sure.

“Sweetheart, I need you take off your pants.” She didn’t move so he nodded to Toni. “Help me.” They pulled her up to her feet. He reached for the button, but she shrank back. “Okay. Toni, get her pants off.”

“It’s okay,” Toni said softly. The moment her pants loosened, the woman shoved Toni hard away, riding her down to the floor.

Arsen heard the thump and commotion, and turned to see their guest on top of Toni, her hands around her throat, her eyes wild as she snarled silently. Doc was moving to intervene but Arsen shoved him roughly aside and hauled the woman off of Toni. She whirled on him, going for his face with her nails, but he caught her wrists before she could inflict serious damage and forced her hands down.

“Stop!” he roared as he twisted her around so he could hold her. “Nobody is going to hurt you! Just stop!” She struggled fiercely a moment longer then sagged in his arms. “Toni, you okay?” he asked.

“She’s fucking crazy!” Toni rasped as she got to her feet and coughed as she held her neck.

“Doc?”

“I’m fine.”

The rest of the club was arriving, staring into the room. “Everyone, clear out! All but you, Doc. He spun her back around so she was facing him. “You listen to me,” he snapped. “You’ve got to stop this shit, do you understand me? Nobody here is going to hurt you. You’re safe here. Now Doc is going to examine you, and you’re going to let him, understand? I’ll stay right here with you, if you want, but this is going to happen, or you can leave. It’s your choice, so what’s it going to be?”

She slowly relaxed, her eyes unfocused and looking away from him.

“What do you want her to do?” Arsen asked.

“Have her take her pants off and lay back on the bed.”

He gradually released her hands. “Do it.” She whimpered. “Do it,” he ordered again, his tone brooking no argument. “If he tried to force you, I’d kill him myself. You can trust him.” She stared at him a moment, then as tears ran down her cheeks, she slowly slid out of her shorts and panties, then lay back on the bed.

“Make it fast, Doc,” he said then turned his attention to her. “Relax,” he murmured as she took his hand and squeezed it tight. “He’s not going to hurt you and he’s not going to do anything to you. He just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

Doc snapped on a pair of sterile gloves and quickly, but gently, inspected her vagina and anus. “Tearing,” he said, almost to himself. He clucked his tongue as he inspected something up close. She tensed, but she didn’t lash out. Finally, he looked up at Arsen. “Raped. Multiple times, I think. Vaginally, anally. Whoever this piece of shit was, they weren’t gentle with her.” He stood and stepped back, pulling off his gloves. “You can get dressed now.”

She sat up and pulled her panties, pants, and shirt on, then sat on the bed, her knees tucked into her chest with her arms wrapped around them as she rocked.

“The good news, if there is any, is the tears are small and she’ll heal. Physically. What’s going on inside her head isn’t something I can give her a shot for. She may need professional help.” He turned to his bag and pulled out a prescription pad and scribbled on it a moment. “This is a broad spectrum antibiotic and a pain killer. Get those filled right away and start her on them. I didn’t come prepared to draw blood, so get her into the office tomorrow so we can check her for STDs and pregnancy.”

“We’ll be there first thing when you open, and I’ll have this filled right away. I’m sorry for the commotion.”

He smiled and nodded at the woman, still sitting on the bed with her knees up and rocking gently. “She’s a fighter. That’s a good thing.”

“Speaking of fighter, can you take a look a Berk’s hand while you’re here?”

“What happened to him?”

“She tried to bite his hand off.”

Doc laughed gently. “Damn, girl. You don’t care how big they are, do you? Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

After Doc left, Arsen sat down on the bed beside her. “Can you tell me your name? I’m tired of calling you, ‘Hey you.’” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I know it’s hard, but I want you to try to trust us. These are all good people here. Nobody is going to hurt you or try to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He waited a moment, but she continued to rock. He put his arm around her and pulled her into a gentle hug. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you fixed up.” After a moment, her arms went around him and they sat on the bed for a long time.

After a while, he slowly worked his way out of her embrace. “Let’s go see what Doc has to say about Berk.”

When they entered the main room of the clubhouse Berk was sitting in a chair, Doc on the ottoman, patiently sewing up his hand. Toni was sitting beside Berk, in another chair, nursing a beer.

“You two okay?”

“Yeah,” Toni rasped.

“Berk?”

“I’ll be fine. Doc told me what she’s been through.” His gaze fell on her. “I guess I can understand why you bit me. Next time, just tell me to get my hands off you, okay?” he said with a lopsided grin, making the rest of the Blades chuckle.

Toni coughed once, her face twisting in discomfort. “Same here.”

“You appear to be the only one she trusts,” Michelle pointed out.

“Is it the face? Tell me it’s the face,” he said, gesturing to his face with a grin. He wasn’t sure, but he thought a smile flickered around her mouth.

“There you go,” Doc said, kicking the ottoman back, dropped his needle into his sharps container, and peeled off his gloves. “Twenty stitches.” He rummaged in his bag for a moment, then pulled out his prescription pad again. “Get this filled as well,” he said as he ripped the sheet from the pad and handed it to Berk.

“What’s this?”

“Antibiotics. Same thing I prescribed for her.”

Berk nodded.

“Thanks again, Doc.” Arsen said. “Send me the bill.”

Doc rose and shook Arsen’s hand. “I will. And you, miss,” he said with grandfatherly sternness, “need to stop biting.”

“And choking,” Toni rasped before taking another pull on her beer.

“And choking,” Doc agreed.

Chapter 10

The kind man’s name is Arsen, and he’s angry with me. When the woman started taking my pants off, I panicked. I’m sorry for what I did, but I can’t find my words. He orders me to take my pants off. I want to do as he asks, but I’m afraid. He hasn’t lied to me yet, but he’s never asked me to expose myself before.

I begin to cry, unable to hold me tears, my fear washing over me like an ocean. He promises me nobody will hurt me, or try to fuck me, but I’m still afraid. He orders me again, his voice hard and demanding. Though I don’t want to, I take off my pants and open myself to him. He makes no move to take me, and the older man, the one they call Doc Holiday, crouches between my legs. I grip Arsen’s hand with all my strength, summoning my courage, placing all my trust in him.

Doc touches me and I flinch inside, but his touch is gentle. He doesn’t thrust his finger roughly inside of me as so many of the men did, and I wait, the tears running down my face. After a moment, he moves on, spreading my ass, but again, he doesn’t drive anything inside of me.

After a moment he rises and tells me I can dress. I pull my panties, shirt, and shorts back on, but I still feel violated. I draw my legs up, trying to make myself small, and I rock. The rocking, I found in the long nights, provided some small measure of comfort, and I return there, desperately seeking anything to comfort me, something to remove the pain.

Arsen sends Doc to look at Berk. Arsen said I bit him. I don’t remember that, but the guilt is still there.

He sits down on the bed beside me and speaks to me, telling me I can trust the people here with him. I want to trust them, but it’s so hard. Even the kind ones used me over and over for their own pleasure.

He puts his arm around me and pulls me into an embrace. After a moment I release my knees and slide my arms around him, holding him. I allow the tears to come, feeling safe and protected. I weep silently, tears running down my cheeks to soak into his shirt. I would sit there forever if he would hold me, but after too short a time, he slowly pushes me away. I cling to him and he relents, holding me again, but only for a moment more.

We enter the large room with the pool table, bar, and furniture. Doc is stitching up a man’s hand, probably the man I bit, with the woman I attacked sits beside him. Her throat is red and beginning to bruise, and again I feel guilty. I can’t meet her eyes as she glares at me. I want to apologize, to both of them, but I can’t utter the words. I try again, but the sounds won’t come.

It scares me that I can’t speak and I lean in close, drawing strength from Arsen.

As the doctor prepares to leave, everyone seems happy. This is a happy place, and I remember being in a place like this, a place where happy people gathered, and I was happy too. But that was a lifetime ago, and I despair of ever being happy again.

Arsen puts me in a chair and I sit, watching the people move about, laughing and talking. A few speak to me, and I try to answer, but can’t, and after a while they move off with a shrug. Arsen sits beside me. I’d used the restroom before I showered, but I needed to go again, all the water catching up with me. I try to ask to go to the restroom, straining with every fiber of my being to speak, but there is no sound. I can feel the tears coming, my frustration overwhelming me. I grip my fists tight, the sting of my palms like an old friend, and I pound on the arms of chair with my fists. He doesn’t try to stop me and I let my rage and frustration pour forth until my hands ache.

Finally, I stop, and I notice everyone is staring at me, and I shrink back in my chair.

“It’s okay,” he whispers softly, taking my hand in his own. He’s big man, towering over me, but he’s so gentle when touching me.

I rise and pull him to his feet, tugging him along to the room where I showered. I stop at the door and wait for permission to go.

“You need to go to the bathroom? Is that it? Go ahead. You don’t have to ask to do that. I’ll wait right here.”

I step inside and close the door. I relieve myself, shivering with the relief. I feel like such a fool. A mute, unable to even go to the bathroom by herself. I clean myself, flush, and meet him at the door. He smiles at me but I can’t meet his eyes and stare at the floor.

He tips my head up, forcing me to look into his eyes. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” he said softly. “You’re not our prisoner, you’re our guest. Help yourself to anything you want. Food, water, a drink.”

When he releases my chin, I look down again and sniff. He pulls me into a hug, softly stroking my head as I hold him.

After a long time, he again pushes me out of his embrace and leads me out of the bedroom. He gives orders that I’m sleeping in the clubhouse tonight. When one of the women, Cyra, offers to stay, I become worried. Arsen said to trust him, but I fret that he’s leaving me.

He takes me to the room where Doc Holiday examined me and tells me I’m sleeping here. I can accept that, the bed is far more comfortable than anything I’ve slept on in weeks, but when he says he’ll see me in the morning, I can feel my panic rising. I grip his arm, holding onto him. He tries to reassure me, but the more he insists I stay, the more the panic takes me.

I try to cry out my fear, to beg him to take me with him, but no words come. I begin to weep, clinging desperately to him, but when he escapes my grip, I retreat to a corner and try to make myself small. He’s leaving me and I can feel the darkness closing in around me again.

Chapter 11

Arsen was getting hungry and he needed to get the chick’s prescriptions filled. Most of the club was dispersing, their day done, and he was ready to call it a day himself. “I’m getting ready to go. Cyra, who’s here who can stay with her tonight?”

“I don’t have any plans, so I can stay.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah. We’ll stay in and watch some chick flick on Netflix.”

Answer chuckled. “That’s just what she needs, a movie to make her cry.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said becoming more serious. “I can’t imagine what she’s been through.”

“I can’t either.” He turned his attention to the woman. “I’m going to leave you here with Cyra, okay? She’s not going to hurt you, understand?” She gripped his arm, so he guided her back to her room.

“You need some help?” Cyra asked.

“No, I’ve got it,” he said as he worked to get her hands off him. “It’s going to be okay. Just relax. Cyra is going to take good care of you. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.” Her grip tightened down and became more desperate. “You have to stay here.”

She began to keen as he became more and more forceful in removing her hands. “Listen to me!” he snapped. “She’s not going to hurt you. Nobody is going to hurt you. You’re safe here. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

She backed in the corner of the room and settled to the floor, her knees to her chest with her arms around them, rocking as she keened softly, her tears streaming down her face.

He saw Cyra wipe a tear away as she watched the woman. He moved to her and crouched. “You’re safe, understand? Nobody is going to hurt you. You can lock the door if you want.” She didn’t react, pausing in her crying only long enough to draw another breath.

He stood and backed away. “Can you stay here with her?” Cyra asked as she wiped another tear.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, not after what she’s been through. What if she gets scared? What if she thinks I’m going to…?” He let his voice trail off.

“Look at her, Arsen! She’s terrified. You’re reaching her. She understands you’re leaving her and she’s scared shitless of that. She trusts you.” Cyra wiped her eyes again. “Don’t do this to her, please.”

He looked back and forth between Cyra and the shattered woman on the floor. “Fuck. Fine. Come on,” he said, holding his hand out to her. “You can come home with me.” She didn’t move, still rocking as she softly wailed. “Come on, or stay. It’s your choice,” he said softly, his hand still out. Again she didn’t move.

He moved to crouch in front of her. “You’d be safe here,” he said softly. “I thought you would prefer to stay here with Cyra, since she’s another woman, but if you’d rather come with me, that’s okay. I’m trying to do what’s best for you. If coming with me is what’s best, then I want you to come with me.”

He rose and held his hand out to her. After a moment her keens stopped, her rocking a moment later. She reached out to him and he pulled her to her feet. “You realize it’s just going to be me and you alone, in my house, right? I won’t touch you, but if you get scared that I’ll - there won’t be anyone there but me. I don’t want you to be afraid.”

She looked at him a moment then melted into his chest. “Okay. I guess I have my answer.”

“You’re doing a good thing.”

“So long as she doesn’t go ape shit in the middle of the night.”

Cyra giggled, then wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.”

“Can you lock up?”

“Yeah. Go.”

Arsen escorted her out, the sun low on the horizon as they mounted his bike. They made a stop at a pharmacy and had her prescriptions filled, then rumbled through town to his house. He turned into his drive, then pirouetted the bike around. When he switched it off, she stepped off. He walked to the garage door and keyed the combination to start the door rumbling up. The bike went inside, parked between the two-year-old Cadillac CTS V and the four-year-old Ford Raptor.

“Come in,” he said, opening the door to his kitchen and slapping the button to close the garage door.

His house wasn’t huge by modern standards, but it was impeccably finished and maintained, inside and out. Like the clubhouse, it was a sand colored adobe with a red tile roof. He’d hired someone to  landscaped the yard with rocks, cacti, and hardy desert plants. Zero maintenance combined with a great look. He loved it. Inside, the southwest theme continued with reds and browns, tile floors and large, open rooms. The kitchen was fitted with granite countertops, custom cabinets and top of the line appliances.

“Make yourself at home,” he said as he closed the door behind her. “Let me show you your room.” He led her down the hall, turning into the smallest of the three bedrooms. “The bath is through there. If you need to go, you don’t have to ask my permission, okay? I’ll find you a t-shirt or something for you to sleep in later.” She didn’t respond so he continued. “You hungry? I’m starving.”

He walked out, leaving her standing there. She could either follow or not, he didn’t care. She was going to have to start doing things on her own sooner or later, and he figured he might as well start forcing her to do that now.

A moment later she appeared in the family room, stopping at the island. “There’s beer and water in the fridge if you want something. Here, take these,” he said, shaking four pills into his hand, two from each bottle.

She took them but paused. “Water in the fridge,” he reminded her.

She opened the refrigerator and pulled a bottle out, grimacing as she twisted it open. She put the pills in her mouth, one at a time, taking a sip of water after each one to wash them down.

“There. Was that so hard? You have to take those four pills, twice a day, three days on the tablet if you’re hurting, five days on capsules. Got it?”

He prepared dinner, chatting on about nothing, talking to her as if she were engaged in the conversation. He grilled some chicken, added a splash of lime juice, then wrapped them in a tortilla, adding a bit of local salsa and fresh cheese. He removed the refried beans from the microwave and added a helping to each plate.

“Grab me a beer?” he asked as he walked past with the plates and forks. “Get one for yourself if you want it.” He intentionally ignored her as he fussed with the plates, turning to take the two beers from her when he heard the refrigerator door close. He opened them and placed one at each place. He slid a chair out and held it until she sat down, then pushed her up.

“Dig in. Burritos suck when they’re cold.”

“What do you think?” he asked as she bit into her burrito. She looked up, and a faint smile touched her lips as she chewed. “Good huh? I love these things.”

She slowly nodded head and he chuckled. “That’s a start. Can you tell me your name? I’m Arsen Kyle, but you probably know that already.” She opened her mouth as if she was going to tell him, then looked down as tears seeped from her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly. “Don’t worry about it.” He was getting the sense she wanted to talk but something was stopping her and she couldn’t. It was probably nothing physical, since Doc Holiday didn’t seem concerned about her head. “Don’t push it. You’ll be able to talk when you’re ready.”

She looked up at him and sniffed, wiping her eyes with her hands, then stared at her plate.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” He watched as she hesitated, then picked up her burrito again. He chatted with her, trying to draw her out, watching as she ate both her burritos, all her beans, and finished her beer. “You want something else?”

She slowly shook her head, and he smiled. Two responses. He was on a roll.

He quickly cleared the table, adding the dishes to the washer. It had yesterday’s dishes in it as well, so he started it washing. He picked up another beer for himself, a water for her, and then settled on the couch and flicked on the television. He was flipping through the streaming selection on Netflix when she settled beside him, finally selecting 50 First Dates as something that shouldn’t upset her and maybe he could stomach.

He didn’t hate the movie, but he’d seen better, and he had no idea if she liked it or not. She simply stared at the screen, though about halfway through she did lean into his side a bit and he put his arm around her shoulders.

As the movie ended, he squirmed out from under her. “Ready for bed?” He saw her stiffen slightly, but then rise to her feet. “Come on, let’s find you something to wear.”

He led her into his bedroom. He rummaged through a drawer until he found a Southwestern shirt he’d been given when he bought his motorcycle. It would hang on her like a dress, but that’s what he wanted. He grabbed one of his unopened toothbrushes and a small tube of toothpaste he kept for unexpected overnight guests, and handed it to her.

“Towels and washcloths are in the bathroom closet.” She stood, watching him until he made shooing gestures with his hands. She stood a moment longer, and he thought he was going to have to give her a push to get her moving when she turned and walked out.

He washed the road dust off his neck and arms before tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper. He sighed as he slid between the crisp, cool, satin sheets. He would give her tomorrow to get over this inability to speak, but if she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak after that, he would have to find someone to help her. He had a business to run and he couldn’t have this damaged woman hanging on his heels all the time.

He was sliding into sleep when he sensed movement in the room. He jerked awake, instinctively reaching for the weapon on the side table as she moved across the end of the bed. She slid into the bed with him and turned her back to him before snuggling in close. He wasn’t sure what he should do, but decided to roll over and pull her into a spoon, wrapping her in his arms. He wasn’t normally much for cuddling after sex, but this felt entirely different. He had a long moment of trying to figure out where to put his hands without her thinking he was asking for something. Finally, he wrapped one around her shoulders, the other around her belly, pulling her tight against him. It was how she’d held herself, when she’d curled up on the bed, rocking. He had to admit, she felt nice against his naked body, even with the shirt on, and he smiled as she wiggled in a bit closer.

“Quinn,” she murmured.

He flashed hot at hearing her voice for the first time. “Quinn? That’s your name?”

She nodded slowly, then sighed.

“First or last?”

He waited, but she didn’t answer. After a moment, her breathing becoming slow and regular.

Chapter 12

Arsen brings me to his house, and it’s beautiful. I used to dream of living in such a grand and beautiful house someday. It is late in the day when we arrive, the sun just touching the horizon, bathing his home in a rich red glow.

He stops in the driveway, lets me dismount, and then walks his motorcycle into the garage. He invites me in, and I marvel at the beauty of his home. He shows me where I’ll sleep, then leaves me in the room. I use the bathroom before quickly looking in the other two rooms. One is set up like a home gym, while the other is clearly his bedroom. I return to the kitchen as he begins to cook. With only the two of us here I feel safe, safer than I have felt since…

My brain locks. I can’t remember how long I was held, ripped from my home in Flagstaff and used over and over for men’s pleasure. And then I’m back. Arsen places pills in my hand and orders me to take them. I hesitate, remembering being given drugs to make me compliant, but he encourages me and I swallow them one at a time.

The smells coming from the stove are divine, even better than the soup, and my mouth begins to water. As I watch he talks to me, and something clicks. I like to cook. I like to see the smiles of people as they taste what I’ve prepared. I have felt satisfied. I want to help, but before I can he removes the chicken from the pan, sliding it into soft flour tortillas, adding a spoon of salsa to each one, and then scooping beans onto the plate.

As he passes, he asks me to fetch him a beer. I do, and I decide to take one for myself as well. He smiles as he takes the bottles from me, opens them, and places one at each plate. He pulls a chair out and waits. I remember I’m supposed to sit when a man does that, and he slides me to the table.

The smell of the chicken makes my stomach growl, my mouth watering so much I’m afraid I’ll drool. I don’t touch the food until he bites into his, then looks up a me and motions his burrito at me. I pick one up and bite into heaven. It tastes so good I nearly weep with joy. I smile at him.

Arsen is a good man. He’d picked me up on the side of the road when no one else would, then fed me and gave me water. Now he’s feeding me again and sharing his beautiful house while offering me refuge.

When he asks my name I try to answer, I want to answer, but something is wrong with me and I can’t force the words. I try again, trying to say something, anything, but no sound escapes me.

I put my burrito down and I begin to weep in silent frustration and anger. I’m broken. I can’t even tell this kind man my name or how thankful I am.

He comforts me. I was afraid he would be angry, but he seems sad, as if he can sense my frustration. That makes me even more frustrated. With all he has done for me, all he’s asked in return is my name, and I can’t even give him that. I stare at my plate, ashamed, unworthy of the food he has given me, but he has moved on to another subject, as if my slight is already forgotten.

The food calls to me, and I pick up my burrito and begin to eat again. He smiles at me in approval and I eat the first burrito, then the second, finishing by cleaning my plate of the beans. For the first time in a long time, I’m not hungry, thirsty or afraid.

When he rises, I pick up my plate and carry it to the kitchen, setting it beside the sink. He smiles and nods his thanks. Again I want to help, but there is so little to do that he’s done loading the dishwasher before I can figure out how.

He steps around me, opening the refrigerator and pulling out another beer and a water, then moves to the couch. I’m disappointed he only got one beer, but then I remember his words about helping myself to a beer if I wanted. I think about it, but decide not to. The water is obviously intended for me, and I’m thankful for it. I move to the couch and sit beside him as he flips through movies on the largest television I have ever seen.

He finally picks something and we watch it. It’s a stupid movie, but I watch it without complaint. Being here, safe, my stomach full and my thirst quenched, watching a movie he wants to see, is enough. As the movie plays I start to feel sleepy. I lean into his side for support, and I like that his arm goes around my shoulder.

As the movie ends, I rouse myself, his question about going to bed briefly frightening me, but then I relax. He’s given me my own room, with a lock on the door, and I trust him to not hurt me. I follow him to his room and watch as he digs a long white shirt with Southwestern motifs on the back out of drawer. I take the shirt, toothbrush, and toothpaste from him. I can’t remember the last time I’d brushed my teeth. His kindness makes tears well up in my eyes yet again.

He shoos me away and I go to my room. I brush my teeth three times, running my tongue over the slick feeling teeth between brushings. I don’t shower, since I’d showered only a few hours before, but I do strip and change into the shirt. It hangs on me, but I’d had nothing but my dirty and smelly clothes for weeks until today. I run my hands over the smooth and soft fabric, bringing it to my nose to smell the freshness of it. I close and lock the door and then crawl into the bed. The fresh, crisp, cool linens feel wonderful, the mattress dreamily soft, but as I lay in the quiet of the house, the demons began to whisper to me.

I try to close them out, putting my tightly gripped fists over my ears, but I can’t silence them. I try to ignore them, but they won’t let me sleep. It has been so long since I could sleep.

I get up, pausing at the door, then silently open it. I go to Arsen’s room and wait at the door, afraid to enter. He appears to be asleep, but just thinking about having him near me silences the whispering fear. I cross the room and he starts awake. I almost turn and run back to my room, but his nearness draws me. I slide between the linens with him. I snuggle in close and a peace comes over me. I feel safe, truly safe, as his arms embrace me.

“Quinn,” I mumble, my name coming easily to my lips. I smile, relieved I’m able to finally answer his question, before the blessed darkness of sleep pulls its veil over me.

***

I wake with a start. Arsen is no longer in the bed with me. Panic rises within me. He’s left me! I try to call his name as I throw the linens back but all I hear is a wail. I run from the room, looking, searching desperate to find him, my own scream loud in my ears.

Chapter 13

Arsen heard Quinn cry out. He dropped the spatula onto the counter and dashed down the hall, nearly knocking her down as they collided.

“What’s wrong?” he cried as she flung herself into his arms, holding him tight. He could feel her trembling there, her breath coming hard and fast. “Quinn, what’s wrong?”

She said nothing, but her embrace never loosened. He’d left eggs cooking on the stove when she cried out. He tried to squirm out of her embrace, but she only locked on tighter.

“Quinn, the eggs are going to burn.” She didn’t seem to hear, so he pried her arms from around him as gently as possible and then held her hands as he pulled her with him to the kitchen. When he arrived at the stove, he stirred the eggs again. They weren’t burned beyond eating, which was good.

As he stirred one handed, he grinned at her. “Have a nightmare? I’d have nightmares too if I went through what you did.”

He turned away from the eggs and dropped four pieces of bread into the toaster. When he turned back, she’d stepped up and was stirring the eggs. He took a bag of shredded cheese out of the fridge, setting it near her, then got out butter for the toast. She looked at the cheese a moment before opening the bag and dumping a healthy portion into the pan, folding the eggs over and reducing the heat to melt the cheese.

As he buttered toast, she scraped the eggs onto the two plates he’d sat out, then quickly swished the pan clean with a brush before placing it in the dishwasher. She sat the plates on the table while he poured up coffee.

“Quinn?” he asked as she ate. “Is that your first name?” he continued when she looked up.

She paused, her eyes narrowing as she focused. “Yes,” she mumbled, then her face relaxed. “Quinn Nettleton.”

He sat back in his chair and watched her a moment. Her voice was smooth and rich, like honey, a beautiful voice. It made his blood run hot. “Nice to meet you, Quinn. Do you know who I am?”

“Arsen.”

He grinned, then chuckled. “That’s right. At least you’ve been listening. Do you know how you got here?”

“Yes,” she said, but didn’t elaborate.

“Is there someone I can call? Family?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me what happened to you?”

She looked down and shook her head.

“Do you remember?”

She nodded her head, but said nothing.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. Do you remember Doc Holiday said he needed to draw blood? You okay with that?”

Again she nodded.

“Okay. As soon as breakfast is over, we’ll get you over to see Doc, then you can come with me to the clubhouse. Do you understand nobody there is going to hurt you?”

He smiled as she nodded. “That’s good. People aren’t going to want to have you around if you keep assaulting them. Are you feeling okay? Do you need the pain meds?”

She looked up at him, then slowly nodded.

“You know where they are.”

She gave him a flicker of a smile and slid back, taking one pain killer, then emptying two of the antibiotic capsules into her hand. She ran a glass of water and tossed them back then returned to the table.

Since she seemed to have exhausted her supply of words, they finished the meal in silence. Quinn kept her eyes low. He didn’t like that she seemed to be sliding back into silence, but just getting her name and knowing she was aware of what was going on around her was an improvement over the zombified state she was in most of the day yesterday.

She cleared the table as he loaded the dishwasher, then he showered and dressed. When he got out, she was waiting, dressed in the same clothes she had on yesterday. He frowned; they were going to have to do something about that, and soon.

When they arrived at Doc’s practice, Desert Sun Family Medical, they were immediately whisked to the back. One of Doc’s nurses drew Quinn’s blood without so much as a glance at Quinn’s bruised and battered appearance. That raised Arsen’s eyebrows. He made a mental note to ask Doc if he’d given the woman a head’s up of what to expect. He’d hate to think that the nurse wouldn’t have commented on Quinn’s condition otherwise.

Quinn was a trooper throughout the procedure, though she gripped Arsen’s hand tightly at the prick of the needle.

When they arrived at the clubhouse, she was his shadow. She didn’t interfere, but she also didn’t let him out of her sight as he went about his business. It was normal, routine stuff, so he didn’t mind . About ten, he picked up the baggie with two tablets he’d gotten from the Advocates and waved his arm, calling her to him. He was going to the plant to test the pills.

They went out the back of the clubhouse and walked the couple hundred feet the large prefab metal building. The Blacktop Blades empire also included a legitimate business enterprise, Botanical Bath Beads, or B3. Arsen had figured out a long time ago that the best way to conduct illegitimate business was to cover it with a legitimate one. 

She followed him into the large building full of busy, large, stainless steel machines, tended by men she recognized from the clubhouse yesterday. He turned right just inside the door and trotted up a set of steps to a small glassed area on a mezzanine. She followed him into the room and her eyes widened in amazement. The room was full of expensive looking machines, none of which she recognized, so she stood by the door. Arsen moved about the room with practiced ease.

He entered the quality control lab and started the gas chromatograph with an attached mass spectrometer heating as he prepared the samples by removing a small section of each of the two tablets and liquefying it, being careful to keep the samples separate. By the time his samples were prepared and inserted into the autoloader, the machine as ready. He selected his detection profile and started the machine working.

He pulled out a chair and sat down, kicking another across the floor to her. “You might as well sit down. Unlike on television, this takes a while.”

They sat for almost an hour, Arsen occasionally checking on the machine as it whirred and sighed. He tried to engage her in conversation a couple of times, but finally gave up when she would either not answer or simply nod or shake her head.

The attached computer bleated, and he spun in his chair and typed a moment. “That’s one,” he said, pushing his chair back. “Seven more to go. It’s almost lunch time. We’ll come back and check on this later.”

She followed him back to the clubhouse where he headed straight to the bar, and she blinked in surprise when he popped up with a pair of sodas. He handed one to her, opening the other for himself. He moved off, taking a pull from the bottle before flopping into an oversize leather chair and putting his feet up.

She sat down beside him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice low.

“You’re welcome.”

Their cans were about half empty when men and women began arriving through the back of the clubhouse. Only moments after that, food began to appear, being placed on three large tables. “Time to eat,” he said standing and walking to the tables in a room adjoining the kitchen.

The tables were large enough to seat at least twenty people each, so there was plenty of room to spread out. She sat down next to Arsen, while Zane and Michelle sat down on the other side.

“How are you this morning?” Michelle asked.

“Better,” Quinn replied, staring at the table, her voice so soft it was barely audible.

The four people close enough to hear her looked at each other. “That’s good to hear,” Michelle continued.

When she didn’t answer, Arsen filled in. “Her name is Quinn Nettleton.”

“Nice to meet you, Quinn.” Michelle said. Quinn continued to stare at the table and Michelle looked at Arsen.

“I think she just needs some time. She’s trying.”

Toni sat a plate of broiled chicken with a side of squash in front of them. All members and old ladies had to work for the club in some manner, and Toni’s was helping with the clubhouse and meal preparation. It was tradition in the Blades that lunch was provided by the club during the week. When the clubhouse was built, they were well outside Tucson, with little option for grabbing a quick lunch. Especially once the plant was established, the club decided to feed the members working in the plant. In the twenty years since, the city had grown closer to their door, but the tradition continued and nobody wanted to change it. It was a time of fellowship and laughter all the members enjoyed.

“Thank you,” Quinn said softly as Toni placed her plate in front of her.

Toni paused, then realized what Quinn must have said. “You’re welcome.”

She said nothing else during the meal, keeping her eyes on the table as she ate, something Arsen made note of. She really closed down in the presence of others, even more so if there was a large group, like now.

“You have the results back on the…sample?” Zane asked, obviously changing what he was going to say at the last moment.

“Running them now. I still have to do the comparisons, but if the samples hold, I can tell from the number of spikes. Those tabs are loaded with shit that shouldn’t be in there.”

Zane nodded. “About what we expected.”

“Yeah. It pisses me off they are trying to pass that shit off as ours.”

“I’m surprised it took them this long.”

“Yeah, I guess, but it still pisses me off.”

Zane grinned. Arsen was the club’s chemist. He had designed the production process for the MDMA, and he took great pride in the fact their molly was safe, pure and consistent. “Maybe we should change the dye concentration, so it looks different.”

“No. We’ve built our reputation on that color blue and those stamps. I don’t want to change that. We’ll give the Advocates some time to find out who’s counterfeiting, then we’ll pay them a visit and explain a few things to them.”

Zane nodded. While Arsen designed their products and oversaw production of both their legal, and less so, products, he ran the business side, making sure their suppliers were paid and their permits were in order. As far as the world knew, the only thing that came out of their production facility was bath oil beads, soaps and salts, and it was his job to keep it that way. If anyone of a legal persuasion suspected something different, Zane disabused them of that notion. 

“Just tossing the idea out there,” Zane said.

“I know. I’d already thought of that, or changing the stamps, but damnit, those are ours. If we change it now, the assholes that are copying us will just change with us. So we change again. Then pretty soon, nobody will know our stuff because it could be anything. Better to find out the source and give them the option of having their nuts cut off or not.”

Zane grinned. “I know what I’d choose.”

Arsen grinned back. “Yeah, but not everyone is as smart as we are.”

***

Quinn watched as Arsen worked in the lab. It was close to six and the last of the results had come in from the machine. As he worked, he explained what he was doing, but the only thing she got from it was he ran four samples of each pill to reduce false positives, the pills were of slightly different makeup, and they weren’t pure. The rest of it went right over her head. When he was finished he asked her to wait for him outside.

“Jason? Arsen. I’ve finished my analysis on the two tablets you gave me.”

“What do you have?” Jason asked, his voice tinny sounding on the phone’s speaker.

“First off, they are nowhere close to a 150 hit. One was 72 milligrams and the other was 60.”

“That’s good to know. I can use that. Anything that will make you grow two heads, make you shit your asshole out, your dick fall off, anything like that?”

Arsen snorted . “No, but both samples had methamphetamine and ketamine contamination, and one of the samples had a synthetic cathinone in it.”

“In English?”

“In English, this isn’t ecstasy, it’s a fucking drug cocktail. This was from just two samples. The dosage is all over the place and it’s loaded with containments. Because their quality control sucks, you don’t know what you’re getting. If I had a larger sample size, who knows what other shit I might find. Doses too. There is no way in hell I would I take this. Shit, I wouldn’t give it to somebody I hated. This is crap, even for street drugs.”

“On a scale, if yours is a 10, where would you put this?”

“Three to four.”

“Okay,” Jason said. “I’ll put the word on the street. Some people are going to be pissed off. I might be able to use that to track it back to its source.”

“You find out who, and where, I’ll take it from there.”

“You got it brother. It continues to be a pleasure doing business with you.”

Arsen smiled as he hung up the phone, then opened the door. “My day is done. You ready to go?”

Quinn looked at him, then smiled slightly. “Yes.”

Chapter 14

They stopped at Walmart on the way home. Arsen purchased four pairs of pants and shirts, underwear, and when he saw her looking at them, a few basic makeup items. Quinn was obviously uncomfortable while inside, holding his arm tightly, sticking close to his side, and glancing around nervously as they moved through the store.

When they arrive back at his house, she had relaxed again, and he wondered how long it would be before she would be able to be calm around other people.

They fixed dinner together, Arsen searing pork tenderloin in Jalapeño pepper jelly, chili powder and lime, while Quinn prepared corn on the cob, seasoned with butter, garlic, and chili powder.

As they ate, she loosened up a little bit at a time. When they were alone, just the two of them, she let her guard down a little, but the only time she seemed to truly relax was here, in his house. “You did better today. I think you said, what, ten words to other people,” he teased.

She looked at her plate. “I’m sorry.”

He grinned at her. “No need to apologize. You’re doing better all the time. I know you’re trying.”

She smiled, her eyes still down. “This is the only place where I don’t hear the demons.”

“Demons?”

She nodded. “I don’t know what else to call them. The voices…the voices that make me afraid. Not real voices, not like someone talking, but…” She paused, then shrugged.

He nodded. “I know those demons.” She looked up, her brow wrinkled as her mouth twitched into a quizzical look. “I was married,” he said.

“Where is she now?”

“Dead.”

“How?”

“Murdered.” He watched as her eyes widened in surprise. “The club has a place up in Summerhaven. That’s on Mount Lemmon, about an hour from here. We were up there for the weekend and…” He let his voice trail off, not wanting to think about it. The wound was healing, but talking about it made it ache.

“How long?”

“About eighteen months.”

“Was her name Holly?”

He breathed out a single chuckle as his lips twisted. “Yeah. You heard that, huh?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” He stood up and picked up his plate. “They say time heals all wounds, and I guess it does. I don’t miss her as much now as I did, but some wounds heal slower than others.”

“Did you love her?”

“More than you can know.”

She nodded. She could see that in him. In the past couple of days, she had glimpsed the man. Strong, determined, unwilling to take a lot of shit, but also kind and gentle. She wondered what it would be like to be in love with, and be loved in return, by such a man. Holly must have been a lucky woman.

“Did they find who did it?”

“No. Whoever it was killed my mom, dad, and wife. A triple homicide. No clues, no nothing, but I have my suspicions. If I ever find proof, they’ll pay dearly.”

She stared at him. So much loss, yet even with all he had suffered, he still was able to reach out and rescue her. “What happened?”

He looked at her. The club knew the details, and the police, but he rarely talked about what had happened that afternoon. Like her, he found talking about it only made the pain worse, so he bottled it up, taking the dark mass that was his pain out occasionally to examine it, then locked it away again. The darkness was getting smaller, but slowly, so very slowly.

He began to load the dishwasher so he didn’t have to look at her. “We were in Summerhaven to celebrate Dad’s fiftieth birthday and to get out of the heat for a while. Mom and Dad, me and Holly. The cabin was low on sugar and Mom wasn’t sure there was enough for his cake, so she sent me to the store. I fucked around while I was there, shooting the shit with Winston. When I got back…” He paused as he clamped down on his emotions. “When I got back about an hour later, Dad was lying outside, Mom and Holly were inside. All three were shot in the head.” He paused again, then gave her a sad smile. “I’ve often wondered what would have happened if I’d been there. Could I have saved any of them, or would I be dead too?”

She stared at him. His eyes had gone distant as he talked, and she could tell he was once again in Summerhaven, seeing the bodies of those he cared about. “I’m so sorry.”

His eyes focused on her again. “Yeah, thanks. It was tough for a while. It’s how I ended up as President of the Blades. I was the VP at the time, and Dad was grooming me to take over from him, but I didn’t realize it would be so soon.”

“You said you know who did it?”

“I know who I think did it, but I don’t have any proof.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I have no proof, and telling them what I suspected would open a can of worm I could never put back. If I find out I’m right, though, the Blades will take care of it on our own.”

He was keeping something from her; she wasn’t sure what. She dropped it. It was none of her business and she didn’t want to upset him.

“What do the Blades do?” she asked.

“What do you mean? Don’t forget your antibiotic.”

She opened the bottle and shook out two capsules, but left the pain pills. She was still hurting, but nothing like she was, and the pills made her feel loopy. “The factory. Your obviously make something. What?”

He grinned at her. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said as she washed the pills down.

“Try me.”

“Soap.”

“Soap?”

“We make soap, bath oil beads, and bath salts.”

She stared at him a moment, blinking. “You’re serious.”

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”

“That’s how the club makes its money?”

“That’s it. We make and distribute high-quality scented soaps, beads and salts, and sell them over the internet.”

She smiled at him. Arsen, and the Blacktop Blades, were just full of surprises. “If I hadn’t seen it myself, I would have never guessed.”

“What about you? You’re obviously comfortable on a bike.”

She felt her smile fading. “Yeah. I was in a club.”

“Which one?”

“Desert Riders, out of Flagstaff.”

“I’ve heard of them. They moved weed didn’t they? What happened to them? They went dark about a month ago.”

“Yeah. I was the VP’s old lady. We weren’t married, but…”

“We have a couple of members with old ladies like that. Is the reason they went dark and you were walking on the interstate related?”

Though she didn’t answer, she didn’t have to. She went pale, her pupils dilated, and she began to shake. As he watched he could see the walls going back up as she began to retreat back into her private hell.

“Hey! Hey!” he barked, snapping his fingers. “Quinn! Don’t go there, Quinn! Quinn!”

His voice, calling her name, urging her to fight against the darkness, pulled her back. She grasped his voice and pulled herself out of the darkness before it could consume her.

“That’s it, Quinn. Come on back to me. Come on, you can do it. I know what you’re going through. Come back to me.” Slowly the life came back into her eyes and her tremors lessoned as she battled her way out of her own mind. Her face twisted in the most profound expression of grief, and he stepped up to her and pulled her into his embrace.

She’d wept before, but each time it was either silent, or as she wailed in fear. Now he could hear the pain and grief pouring out of her as she was wracked with sobs, gripping his shirt in her hands as she clung to him. He held her, saying nothing, allowing her to draw what strength and comfort she could from the simple human embrace, allowing the pain to pour from her as her tears began to cleanse her soul.

They stood in the kitchen for many long moments until her sobs began to diminish, and still he held her, softly stroking her head. She finally stepped back, her eyes red and puffy, but more alive than he’d ever seen them.

She sniffed, then blew her nose on a paper towel. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she wiped at the front of his tear stained shirt. “Your shirt is all wet.”

“It’s okay. It’s part of the healing process. If you can’t grieve, you can’t heal.”

“I’ll never heal.”

“You will. You’ve already begun. You’re talking to me. You spoke to Michelle, Toni and Zane. It takes time, but you’ll get there. I know what you’re going through.”

She shook herself. “Can we watch a movie or something so I don’t have to think?”

“Sure,” he said, starting the washer running. “What do you like?”

“Anything you want to watch is fine.”

“Get us a beer,” he ordered as he passed. “Did you like the movie last night?”

“No, not really my kind of movie, but if—”

He chuckled as he called Netflix up on the television. “I picked that because I thought you might like it. What kind of movies do you like?”

She flopped onto the couch beside him, and handed him a beer. “Anything is fine, so long as it’s not stupid. She watched as he flipped through selections. “Wait! Go back! Was that ‘Jurassic Park’? I love that movie!” Somebody else liked it too; it was ranked five stars.

He selected the title and smiled as the opening theme began to play. They sat in the darkness and spent the next 126 minutes lost in a world of dinosaurs. As the music swelled and John Hammond said, “Dr. Grant. My dear Dr. Sadler. Welcome to Jurassic Park,” Quinn leaned in close and tucked her feet up on the couch as he draped an arm comfortably over her shoulders.

Chapter 15

As the horns began to play on John Williams’ epic end credit score, Quinn pulled herself upright and looked at Arsen with shiny eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She wiped at her eyes then sniffed. “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything felt so...normal. I forgot for a while.”

He smiled. He remembered after he lost Holly how he would suddenly realize he hadn’t thought about her for a while, a minute, then an hour, then a day, and how it both comforted him and made his loss all the more painful. “All part of the healing process,” he said softly. He felt so badly for her, understanding how she felt and what she was going through, wishing he could do something to ease her pain and speed her healing.

Each time she was close to him she felt like a protective sphere surrounded her and nothing evil would be able to touch her again. It was nearly nine and she still needed to shower. She wiped her eyes again then scrambled to her feet, forcing herself from the comfort of his gentle embrace.

“I need to shower,” she said as she rose.

If it’d been any other woman, he would have offered to help. He loved fucking in the shower, the slippery feel of a soap covered woman turning him on. Tonight he refrained. She trusted him, and he would burn in hell before he violated that trust. If she wanted or needed his help, she would have to ask. Thankfully she didn’t, so he didn’t have to try to figure out how to hide his boner. As she splashed, he disposed of the two beer bottles and emptied the dishwasher.

She spent a long time in the shower, trying to wash herself clean, but sometimes soap and water weren’t enough. As she stood, the water pounding on her head, she felt the darkness pulling at her again, trying to pull her back in. She fought against it, thinking of Arsen and the kindness and strength in his voice. The darkness had tried to take her earlier, but he’d prevented it, the bite of his voice cutting the dark tendrils as they began to pull her in.

She knew it was silly. He was just a man, but she’d come to see him as her protector. He’d stood off his friends when they wanted to turn her over to someone else and wash their hands of her. Even when she was trying to hurt him, he’d only restrained her, never hurting her back. He had reassured her until she fought her way out of the panic. He comforted her when she was afraid, fed her when she was hungry, gave her water when she was thirsty, gave her a safe and comfortable place to sleep, and patiently treated her wounds. To her, he represented all that was good in humankind. She began to weep as pain spilled from her once again, his kindness puncturing the darkness inside of her and allowing it to escape a little at a time.

When the shower finally shut off, he smiled. She’d probably used every drop of hot water, and would be in there still had the water not started running cold. He was flipping through a catalog, looking for something he didn’t know he couldn’t live without, as she stepped out of her room.

“I used all the hot water.”

He chuckled, making no comment on the redness of her eyes. “So I noticed. Feeling better?”

“A little, I guess.”

“That’s better than none at all, right?” He paused as he flipped another page in the catalog. “I’m going to let the water heater catch up before I grab a shower. You don’t have to wait up on me if you don’t want to.”

She smiled but said nothing. They chatted for a few minutes until he excused himself, Quinn turning into her room as he shut off lights on his way to his bedroom.

He showered and brushed his teeth, then paused as he stepped out of the bathroom. Quinn was in his bed, and he immediately started to harden.

As he stepped out of the bath, she saw him, all of him, for the first time. She already knew he was tall and well-muscled, but seeing him in the light from the bathroom, she realized how impressive he was. She had noticed his strong chin and deep brown eyes, and the kindness they contained, but he was cut and muscled like a top athlete, his body the stuff of dreams. He had a tattoo inked on his chest, a pair of daggers crossed over a highway running into the distance. His cock was uncut and impressively big. He was larger than her previous lover, perhaps larger than any lover she’d ever taken.

“Can I sleep with you again tonight?” she asked softly. “Last night was the first time I didn’t have nightmares. Please?”

He flipped the light out, plunging the room into darkness. “Yes, but…” he began, trying to get control of himself.

“I trust you,” she said softly.

He didn’t know if he could trust himself, but he slid into the bed with her. She backed up to him in a spoon, her t-shirt covered ass pressing into his erection. There was no way she couldn’t feel his hardness between them, but she made no comment and sighed softly as his arms went around her. She crossed her arms over his and held them snuggly. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

They lay still, wrapped in their embrace. He thought she’d gone to sleep, but then she began to speak.

“I told you I was the old lady of the VP? I’d been part of the club for a couple of years. I didn’t love him, not really, but he was good to me and I enjoyed his company. We had good times.”

He waited, letting her tell her story at her own pace. “One day, the Chrome Horsemen demanded a meeting. They were taking over the weed trade. Of course, the club wasn’t going to stand for that. If we lost the weed trade, we would have nothing. The Desert Riders weren’t like the Blades, we didn’t have any legitimate income.” She paused again. “There were a few skirmishes. They put a couple of our guys in the hospital, and I heard through the grapevine we killed a couple of theirs. That was about three months ago.”

He heard the hitch in her voice. “We thought it was over. Nothing else happened for a couple of months. Then they demanded another meet. Most of the club rode out. None of them came back. There were two brothers left behind, the two that couldn’t ride. I was there, along with five other women.” She paused and her voice became thick with pain. “There were fifteen of the Horsemen. They set fire to the clubhouse. We knew it was trap, but we couldn’t stay or we’d be burned to death. We got out. The men, they tried, but there weren’t enough of them. They killed the men, and I thought they were going to kill us too. They shot two of the women, the ones who tried to fight. Me and two others, they kept alive.”

She whimpered, but kept going. “They slapped us around a little, telling us what they were going to do to us. I was so scared. They took us back to their clubhouse, and they all took turns using us.”

She became quiet for a long time. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“After a week, I guess they got bored with just fucking us,” she began again. “One day a woman showed up and then one of the men and the woman, they started getting…creative. While some of the men watched, they made us…do things. Terrible things. I had to lick the woman…” Quinn paused as she whimpered. “I had to lick the woman while the man raped me, and she told me if I didn’t make her come, she would kill me. Then she raped me, in the ass, with a strap-on. It hurt so bad, and the more I screamed and cried, the harder she raped me.”

He tightened his embrace, trying to give her strength. “Teresa and Miranda…” She stopped and sobbed for a moment. “I could hear them screaming as the men laughed and cheered. At night, when they were done with us, they would lock us in a room. Sometimes they would feed us, sometimes not. But the woman, she was the worst. The men would fuck us, but she liked to hurt us, to humiliate us. Then one night,” she began but the stopped as she sobbed. “Then one night, Miranda didn’t come back. She was their favorite. She was so beautiful, and they liked to do things to her. I guess they finally killed her, and I was so jealous.”

He waited for her to continue, his desire for her snuffed out, the hardships she’d endured chilling him to the bone. He had suspected it was the Chrome Horsemen that had killed his family, but had no proof. They were known for their ruthlessness, and Quinn’s story only helped cement that belief. At least Holly was spared what Quinn had to endure.

Not knowing what else to do, he kissed her on the shoulder and held her tight, a simple touch to show her he was there, hoping she could draw strength from him.

“After a while, I just stopped caring,” she began again, her voice quiet and flat, all emotion gone. “I prayed for death. One day, a man came to us, and he picked me. He was either drunk, or high. He took me into another room and started fucking me without even taking his pants off. His knife was on his belt. I grabbed it and stabbed him. I stabbed him so many times, and I kept stabbing him until he stopped moving. I went to get Teresa, but she wouldn’t come with me. I begged her to come but she kept shaking her head, telling me they would kill me. I didn’t care. I would rather have died than live another day like that.”

She sniffed. “I left her the knife, took the man’s keys, and rode as far away as I could. I didn’t know where I was going, but I didn’t care. Anywhere was better than where I was. I got on the interstate at Gila Bend, then ran out of gas. That’s when you found me.”

He nodded. No wonder she freaked out when he got off the interstate at Gila Bend. “I didn’t know.”

“I know. I didn’t think.” She sobbed once, then gathered herself. “Thank you for not leaving me. I walked for a long time, but you were the only one to stop to help me. Nobody else cared.”

He kissed her on the shoulder again and drew her in tight. They lay still and quiet, and he knew she was crying, mourning her lost friends, reliving the hell she’d been through, but she made no sound. After a long time, he felt her relax, the stiffness leaving her body as she coasted into sleep.

He didn’t sleep well that night, his sleep restless as her story haunted his dreams.

Chapter 16

“The Chrome Horsemen are on the move again,” Arsen said, looking around the table. Lunch was over and he had gathered the brothers together.

“What do you mean?” Phil asked.

“Quinn opened up last night. The Desert Riders have gone dark because the Horsemen wiped them out. They took her and a couple of others and kept them locked up.” He didn’t need to elaborate on the details. The brothers knew. “She didn’t know a lot of details, only they wanted to take over the weed business and the Riders pushed back.”

“First they wanted into our market, and when that didn’t work, they went after a softer target. But why?” Zane asked.

“I don’t know, but that adds credence to the idea they killed Mom, Dad and Holly to throw the club into turmoil.”

“It might have worked if they’d gotten you too. It’s not like you can advertise in the paper for an illicit drug chemist,” Berk said.

“Yeah, but we still no have no proof, and I’m not going to start a war until I know for sure.”

“I don’t get them,” Zane said again. “We have the molly and the Riders handled weed. What do they want with weed when they’re moving cocaine?”

Chet shrugged. “For that matter, why our molly?”

“I don’t know, but we need to find out,” Arsen said. “Phil, I want you to find out what the Horsemen are up too. Spend what it takes to make it happen. Since they went after the Riders, we may be next.”

Greg nodded. “They tried it once before and we kicked them in the nuts. They’re probably still smarting from that.”

Arsen nodded. There were three major outlaw clubs in Arizona: The Blacktop Blades in Tucson, the Chrome Horsemen in Phoenix, and the Desert Riders in Flagstaff. The Chrome Horsemen were the biggest of the three, bigger than the Riders and the Blades combined. The Blades were the smallest, but most likely the richest of the three clubs. Between the manufacturing of the MDMA, and the surprising profitability of B3, they had two income streams, though B3 alone wouldn’t support the club. If B3 continued to grow, though, they might eventually go completely legit. It would be peaceful, not worrying about losing brothers and loved ones to drug violence.

“Maybe,” Arsen agreed. “But something is driving them and we need to find out what. I can sort of see them coming after us, but the Riders? Weed isn’t shit compared to coke, so why bother? Quinn has given us a heads up that something may be coming down, so we need to pull that thread and see where it leads us.”

“You think the Horsemen are the ones suppling the counterfeit Hearts and Daggers?” Reggie asked.

“The fakes turned up in California, so probably not. There is plenty of action out there, and we know we have competition, so it’s probably a local.”

“Unless they are trying to take over all the drug trade in Arizona.” Zane pointed out.

Arsen shrugged. “Since they hit the Riders, you may be right. The Advocates are working that end for us. Eventually they’ll find out who’s making. When they do, we can pay them a little visit and express our…displeasure.”

Berk shook his head. “I have to hand it to you, Arsen. I thought you were crazy as shit bringing her back here, but it turns out it was a smart move.”

“You always were a lucky son-of-a-bitch,” Chet teased.

“That’s why I have the gavel,” he chuckled. “Phil, get me that info as fast as you can.”

“We have a pretty good inventory right now,” Zane said. “We can shut down manufacturing for a few days to free up some guys.”

“We’ll do that. The sooner we know what’s coming, the better prepared for it we can be. Just make sure the crew is back here Thursday for the special.”

Phil nodded. The special was their short hand for an MDMA run. They ran the special once a week, then immediately sent the product out so it didn’t sit around on site.

They had the capacity for over eight million tablets a month, but that would require the plant only on MDMA production and they would lose the cover of the bath salts business. Many of the component chemicals that went into MDMA production were also were used in the production of the various aromatic oils, soaps and salts, so it kept them off the radar. Now they idled along, running molly one day a week, producing to demand, and making between 150,000 and 300,000 tablets a month. That had a street value of over four million dollars, and put between hundreds of thousands of dollars into their pocket month after month. It was a business model that had worked for them for years.

“Anything else?” Arsen asked.

“What are we going to do with Quinn?” Greg asked.

“I’m not sure,” Arsen admitted. “She’s still pretty fragile, but she’s improving every day. She may prove useful if the shit hits the fan, so if she’s willing to stick around, I think we should let her. We’ll keep her out of the loop, like the club girls, so she can’t tell anyone anything. I told her last night about the legitimate side and she seemed fine with it. Anyone have a problem with that?” Nobody did, so he rapped the table with the gavel.

“Let’s get it done. Phil, once this run is complete, we’ll start the cleaning cycles. As I free up men, I’ll move them to packaging to wrap that up, then you can have them. I should be able to turn everyone but customer orders and shipping loose by,” he paused as he did some quick mental calculations, “ten tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“That works for me. That’ll give me fifteen men to work with. I can cover a lot of ground with that many boots on the ground.”

As the meeting broke up, Arsen found Quinn sitting in front of a computer. He thought it was a major breakthrough she trusted him to be out of sight every now and then. He chuckled as he stepped up behind her and noticed the site she was looking at.

“You don’t like the soap I have at home?”

“This is your site, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Not very pretty, is it?”

“It works though.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?” he asked.

“I don’t know. You have descriptions, but no pictures. And to be honest, your descriptions are kind of boring. You might make good stuff, but you wouldn’t know it by reading it. It tells me what each product does, but it’s kind of…clinical.”

He chuckled again. “I’m sorry if bath salts aren’t sexy.”

She smiled and looked down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be critical.”

She looked so much better today. She’d covered much of the bruising with makeup, even on her arms and legs, and she had a spark of life in her eyes that had been missing. It was almost as if telling her story last night had started the healing process.

“Don’t worry about it. What do you expect when a bunch of guys are writing about bath beads? Listen, there is nothing for me to do around here today. Let’s go shopping. You need more than those few clothes.”

She looked down. “I don’t have any money.”

“I know. It’s my treat.”

“I don’t want you to do that!” she cried, looking back up and meeting his eyes.

“Too bad. I don’t want to see you in those same four shirts and pants all the time.”

“But—”

“Look, do you have any clothes?”

“In Flagstaff.”

“But none here. Do you want to go back there and risk something happening or being recognized? There are going to be a million questions and the police are certainly going to be involved. Do you want to face that? Nobody knows where you are at the moment, and in Tucson, nobody knows you. Let’s keep it that way in case the Horsemen want a little revenge for you killing one of them.” Her face crinkled then looked down again. “Okay, now that we have that straightened out, let’s go shopping.”

“I’ll pay you back, somehow,” she whispered, not looking up.

He held his hand out to her. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it.”

They rode back to his house and left the Indian, changing over to the Caddy. She squirmed down in the leather seats, the air conditioning blasting along with some Creedence Clearwater Revival on the stereo. She’d heard of the band, but this was the first time she’d ever really listened to their music, and pretty soon she was toe tapping and grooving with the music, surprised at the number of songs she recognized from movies and television, but hadn’t known the band.

She grinned as he cranked the volume up and lip synced along with John Fogerty about being down on the corner and out in the street, the seventies vibe of the music somehow fitting him.

They made several stops a bunch of different boutiques. She was aghast at how much money he was spending, but he never even blinked. If she liked it, and he liked it on her, it went into the bag.

By the time they left Dillards, their last stop, she was certain he’d spent well over two thousand dollars on her wardrobe. She felt guilty at having to depend on his charity, and concerned that he was outfitting her so lavishly. If she were fucking him, it would make it a little easier, but he’d asked nothing from her, and she wondered, if at some point, he would make demands on her.

He could tell she was feeling low. It didn’t take a genius to guess that she was worrying over  the money she probably felt like she owed him. He’d tried, repeatedly, to assure her he wouldn’t demand payment and had actually enjoyed the experience. He used to go shopping with Holly, enjoying watching her face light up when she found something she liked, and he had gotten the same sense of satisfaction with Quinn. With her bruises hidden by makeup and dressed in properly fitting clothing, she was stunningly beautiful.

They had dinner, a meal she’d insisted on preparing alone. Arsen assisted only in pointing out where various pots and pans were, and though she would talk to him, what little vibrancy she’d developed was gone. During the meal she’d kept her eyes low, and though they watched the second Jurassic Park, she’d kept her distance. He made no comment, giving her the space she needed.

She lay in her bed, the demons whispering in her mind. He’s going to demand your body in exchange for the clothes. Maybe not tonight, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Nobody has ever been that kind to you and not expected something, and he’s no different. She held her fists over her ears, crushing her eyes closed as she tried to blot out the whispers, but they wouldn’t be silenced.

She was afraid to go to him. She’d felt his hard cock against her ass last night, and she was afraid eventually he would use it on her. She didn’t think she could ever face having a man touch her that way again and she worried the whispering fear was right. He’d only known her a few days. Why would he spend so much money on her? He was obviously wealthy, but you don’t become wealthy by giving your money away for nothing.

She lay for hours, tossing and turning, but she couldn’t silence the voices and couldn’t sleep. She finally rose and tiptoed to his room. If he forced himself on her, then she would know, but he hadn’t hurt her yet. Swallowing hard, she eased the linens open and slid into the bed.

The bed moved as Quinn joined him, the shifting of the mattress pulling him from sleep. She was turned on her side, presenting her back to him, and he snuggled in. She was shaking but he made no comment, heaving a deep sigh as he wrapped her up and tugged her in close. It took her several long moments, but eventually he felt the tension slowly draining out of her. He smiled and allowed sleep to take him again.

Chapter 17

“So, Quinn, how are you feeling?”

Quinn smiled up at Doc Holiday as he coasted to a stop by her chair. She sat the laptop aside and rose to her feet to give him a hug. “I’m so, so, sorry for what I did the last time I saw you.”

Doc chuckled. “Quinn, I would ten times rather see that than have you simply sit there and let people do anything they want to you. It showed me your spirit wasn’t broken. I knew then you would probably be okay. I assume Arsen told you the news?”

“That I wasn’t pregnant and I had a case of Chlamydia? Yes.”

“Did you take all the antibiotics I prescribed?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. In another couple of months, I want you to come back into the office and get tested again, to make sure we have that cleared up.”

“Okay.”

“Are you comfortable with me doing another exam?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, corralling and blocking off the fear before it could overtake her. In the month since she’d met Doc, she’d come to accept that the men of the Blacktop Blades weren’t going to throw her on the bed and fuck her, but thinking about having even a doctor touching her body made her heart speed up. “Yes.”

He smiled. “I can’t believe the difference in you now and how you were when I first saw you. Come on, this won’t take but a moment.”

They moved to the guest quarters, Arsen watching her go but not interfering. She was getting control of herself more and more every day.

When they entered the room, Doc closed the door and she could feel the panic rising within her but she battered it down. She started to unbutton her shorts.

“Let’s save that for last,” Doc said. “Have a seat first.”

He examined her hands, face, knees and legs, pressing her ribs through her shirt. “Any pain?”

“No.”

“Have you been sexually active?”

She snorted. “No.”

“Didn’t think so but I wanted to ask.” He finished his pushing and prodding. “I’m going to listen to you breathe now,” he said as he warmed the stethoscope in his hand. He reached under her shirt and pressed the still cold metal disc to her chest. “Deep breaths.”

She breathed deep several times and let it out slowly.

“Good. Everything seems perfectly normal. How are you feeling? Sleeping okay?”

“Better,” she said with a smile. “About a week ago I started sleeping in my own bed.”

He chuckled. “Oh? Where were you sleeping before?”

She blushed. “With Arsen.”

“Really?”

“Having him hold me kept the nightmares away.”

He nodded. If Arsen was sleeping with Quinn and they weren’t having sex, Arsen had more self-control than he did. Now that she had healed up and the bruising was gone, she was lovely.

“On more thing. I don’t expect to find problems, but I want to make sure you’re healed up.” He paused a moment. “I’m going to check you for pain. That means I need to insert my finger into you. Are you okay with that?”

She swallowed hard. “Do what you have to.”

“Remove your shorts, please, then lay back on the bed.” She did. “Any pain?” he asked as he touched.

“No,” she said, trying to control her breathing.

“Done,” he said as he moved back and removed his gloves. “You can get dressed now.” The experience was far less upsetting than she was afraid it was going to be and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “How are your bowel movements? Any discomfort or leakage?”

“No,” she replied as she buttoned her pants.

“Do you know what this means?” he asked, his voice slow and serious.

She felt her blood run cold. “What?”

He smiled at her. “You’ve completely healed. Physically at least.”

She burst into giggles. “Don’t do that! You scared the crap out of me.” His smile widened as he opened the door and stepped aside so she could depart first.

“How is she?” Arsen asked as they exited the room.

She felt her heart melt a little more, reading the concern in his eyes. He had been her knight this entire month, there to prop her up when she stumbled, giving without asking for anything in return, endlessly patient with her emotional ups and down, and even though she knew he wanted her, his hard cock speaking of his desire, he’d not once attempted to seduce her, much less coerce her. She would have enjoyed spending more time in his bed, but she began to feel sorry for teasing him by allowing him to hold her but denying him the use of her body.

“She’s fine, physically. I can’t speak to her emotional well-being.”

“Every day she’s better,” Arsen said.

Doc looked to Quinn and she nodded in agreement. “I still have my moments, but they are getting farther and farther between, and they don’t last as long.”

“That’s good,” he said. “I knew you were a fighter.”

“Thanks, Doc, for taking care of this,” Arsen said.

“I’ll send you the bill. I told Quinn I want her back in the office in two months so we can do another swab. The doxycycline should have knocked the Chlamydia out, but I still want to check to make sure.”

“I’ll call and setup an appointment,” Arsen agreed.

After Doc Holiday left, she turned to Arsen and grinned. “I have something I want to show you, you and the club.”

“Okay. Right after lunch?” He knew she’d been up to something, but he didn’t know what. She’d been in a huddle, off and on, with the Alex, the brother responsible for both their club and B3 websites, and Zane. She’d also disappeared with some of the old ladies, returning a few hours later with the women all bright eyed. He hadn’t asked what she was doing because she was engaged and excited, and so long as Zane was in on it, he knew she wasn’t doing anything detrimental to the club.

“That’s fine. I hope you like it.”

“Does Zane know?”

“Yes.”

“What does he say?”

She grinned. “He hasn’t seen it, but he knows what I’m doing and he said go ahead. Alex has been helping me with it, and he’s seen it.”

“Then I’m sure it’s fine.”

She grinned and flounced to the laptop she’d been using and sat down to put on the finishing touches. She been trying to do the big reveal for the past three days, but each time she thought she was ready, she would find something wrong or have a better idea. Now, however, everything was working as she envisioned.

He smiled. The last few days had shown marked improvement in her attitude. Whether it was she was feeling better, she was putting her dark days behind her, or the excitement of what she was working on was helping her cope. He didn’t know and didn’t care. He was just glad to see her steady improvement.

Having her engaged elsewhere was also helpful; he needed to talk with the brothers about Phil’s discovery.

It had taken him the better part of two weeks, but Phil had finally run to ground what was going on with the Horsemen. They were losing their muling duties as the cartel edged them out. The word on the street was the Horsemen had been losing too many loads to the authorities, and Lobos cartel wasn’t happy.

The Horsemen had hit the softer of the two targets first, but once they consolidated that, they would probably turn their attention south, to the big prize. Arsen wasn’t so naïve to believe the Horsemen could survive on trafficking weed when they were used to dealing in coke. An attack attack was coming, the Blades just didn’t know when or how.

He’d spent the past week working, getting word out to his customers what was going down and to expect supply disruptions. He had guaranteed the supply, but he could no longer guarantee the regular deliveries.

The only customer who was really affected by the potential disruptions were the Advocates, since all the other customers bought on an as needed basis anyway. Where other customers could order a week or two earlier, to make sure the delivery was made before their stock ran out, the Advocates depended on the regular supply line.

Arsen and Jason had talked it over, and Advocates had agreed to up their order to 50,000 tablets for the next four weeks to ensure they had adequate supply in case of delays. Once the Blades got their problem sorted, they would bleed their stock down with smaller orders until the supply and demand equalized again.

He and Zane had just finished working out the raw material order quantities to meet the sudden increase in demand when lunch was served.

All through the meal, Quinn was buzzing with excitement, her enthusiasm infecting the entire club. Like Arsen, the club knew she’d been working on something, but she’d kept it under wraps and sworn Alex to secrecy. A few of the old ladies had an inkling of what she was up to since she’d had professional photos taken of them with various products, but only Alex knew the whole story.

***

“Okay,” Arsen said after lunch had been cleared away. “What is it that you wanted to show us?”

Quinn couldn’t believe how nervous she was. “A few days after I arrived, Arsen told me what the club did for income. I sat down and looked at the B3 website and, to be honest, I wasn’t impressed.” She looked over her audience to see if she was offending anybody, but they were all still with her. “Several of you have told me what great products you have, and I’ve tried a few myself, and I was impressed with the quality and the price. The problem is, as a customer, I would look at your site and skip right past it thinking you were some fly by night operation, or the products weren’t any good. There was no pizazz to the site that made me want to look around.”

She nodded to Alex who sat at the computer, now hooked to the huge television. He typed a few keys and their old website disappeared and a new one took its place. “Now there is.”

Where the old website was simple and barren, with lists and words, the new website was vibrant, laid out in shades of green with images of plants and trees slowly changing in the background. “I thought, ‘If I was a customer, what would I want to see? What would capture my attention?’ I started with pictures, and worked from there.”

Alex flipped through the pages, showing off the work he and Quinn had done. “I kept a lot of the text you already had, describing what was in the products and how they worked, but I reworded most of it, making it less dry and, I hope, more interesting.”

Michelle burst into giggles when her picture popped up. She was sitting on the side of a tub, her vibrant red bathrobe carefully arranged to suggest much, but reveal nothing, as she poured a handful of salt into the tub.

“Is this live?” Arsen asked.

“Not yet,” Alex said. “It’ll take about ten minutes to upload it to the host, but after that, it will be. We didn’t want to do anything until you had a chance to look at it.”

“Go to the bath salts page,” he ordered. A moment later the page appeared. The salts were arranged in artful piles, showing off their color and shape.

“If we click on a picture,” Alex said, taking over the technical details from Quinn, you get a larger photo.” He clicked and the photo zoomed in so they could see the individual crystals. “That’s true on all the products.”

“You did this?” he asked Quinn.

She felt a cold lump form in her stomach. “The overall design is mine, yes, but I hired a photographer to shoot the photos, and Alex actually did the work to make it all happen.”

Arsen looked back at the television. “Amazing. What do you think?” he asked the group.

“I think we should be uploading it to the host, or whatever, right now,” Zane said. “This is amazing. I knew she was working the website, and I approved the bill for the photography, but I had no idea it was going to look like this.” He looked at Quinn then Alex. “Outstanding work, you two.” His gaze shifted to Michelle. “I want to see that robe when we get home.”

She giggled. “I think we can arrange that.”

“Show them Cyra, Toni, Laura, Julie and Evie,” Quinn suggested.

Alex typed away, popping up the pages with their pictures. Cyra was wrapped in a towel as she smelled a bar of soap, Toni was shown dreamily soaking in a tub full of bubbles and Laura was examining a butterfly on her finger in a beautiful green forest. Julie had a surprised look on her face as she smeared it with soap, and finally Evie was behind a shower door as she washed her hair. She was only a shadow, but there was no mistaking her lush shape.

“They can still order online?” Nelson asked.

“The shopping cart hasn’t changed,” Alex replied. “Only the front end.”

“Let me see the About Us page,” Arsen said.

Alex clicked and the page appeared. He carefully read it. There was no mention of the Blacktop Blades and he nodded in approval. He’d already read a few of the descriptions and they were much better, giving the same information but in a more personal and friendly way.

“I like that bit about the plain white packaging,” Arsen said.

“Where’s that?” Berk asked.

Arsen pointed as he read. “We ship all our B3 products in plain white cartons because our products are so good we don’t need gimmicks or fancy packaging.”

She shrugged. “I had to say something.”

He scanned the room again. “Anyone have a problem with putting this up right now?” The room rumbled with encouragement that the sooner the better. “I agree,” he added then looked at Alex. “Do it.”

Quinn smiled, finally feeling like she was contributing.

Chapter 18

“That’s really great work you and Alex did,” Arsen said as they stepped into his kitchen.

Quinn smiled. “I felt like I should be doing something. Everyone had a job, except me, and I felt like a leach. It came out better than I expected. When it started coming together, and I could see what Alex was doing…”

“That was four or five days ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“Elementary, Doctor Quinn,” Arsen replied in a passible British accent. “Or should it be Dr. Quinn, Website Wizard? It doesn’t matter. That’s when you started seeming excited about something. I’m surprised you didn’t have your picture up there somewhere.”

She looked down. “No. I’m not pretty enough and I wanted it to be the old ladies of the club.” He watched her a moment until she met his eyes. “What?”

“I can understand you wanting it to be members of the club, but that not pretty enough excuse is just bullshit.”

She looked down. “I don’t know. I don’t feel very pretty anymore.”

He tipped her head back up. “All the scars you have are on the inside. On the outside you are as lovely as you ever were. It’s only been a month. Give it time, and even those scars will fade.” He continued to hold her chin, not letting her look down, forcing her to meet his eyes so she could see the truth in his words. After a moment he turned her loose. “I have an idea. Let’s go out and celebrate your success as a web designer.”

She smiled. “Okay, but can we take the car? It’s so damn hot down here compared to Flagstaff. The heat just saps me.”

“We can if you want, but the sun will be down soon and then it’ll cool off.”

“Yeah, to ninety-five.”

He laughed. “Do you think you can stand another ride on the Indian? After dinner we’ll run up to Mount Lemmon. It can be as much as thirty degrees cooler up there, and it’s only an hour away.”

“God, that sounds amazing! Can we do that? If I could get out of the heat for just a little while.”

He grinned, delighting in her continued enthusiasm. He glanced at his watch. “If we leave now, we can run up there and have dinner in Summerhaven before the Sawmill closes.”

“The what?”

“The Sawmill Run Restaurant. If we leave now we can be there before they close.”

She grinned. “What are we waiting for?”

The ride started out as hot as ever in the one hundred plus degree afternoon heat. When the bike was moving it was tolerable, but the moment the bike stopped for traffic she felt like she was melting. She wondered how those who lived here ever adjusted to the heat. As they began the climb up Mount Lemmon Highway, she could feel the temperature dropping with every mile.

Arsen was a skilled rider, carving the bike along the twisting road, riding fast but not reckless. She had long been comfortable on the back of a motorcycle, and he gave her no cause for concern.

As they neared the summit, she threw her arms out wide, embracing the cool air rushing over her, and she realized how fitting the name of the small town was. It truly was a haven from the blazing heat of the Tucson and Sonora Desert seven thousand feet below.

The Sawmill was one of the first businesses on the road into Summerhaven, and he wheeled the bike into the parking lot. It was just after seven, and the restaurant closed at eight, so there were plenty of spaces available. She dismounted the bike and stretched, then removed her helmet and breathed deep, enjoying the smell of pine and the cool air. It was in the low eighties, hardly cool, but compared to the heat they left an hour ago, it was blissful.

“Thank you so much,” she gushed as they walked toward the building. “I may never leave.”

They went inside and were immediately seated. The menu was limited, so she selected the smoked chicken, while he picked the meatloaf.

“This is where your cabin is?” she asked softly as they waited for their meal.

“Yeah, at the end of Fern Ridge.”

“Have you been back since that day?”

“No.”

She nodded in understanding. She would never willingly return to the Chrome Horsemen clubhouse either. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

He gave her a soft smile. “No, it’s okay. I haven’t been back, but it’s not all because of what happened. Some is that, but part of it is…I just haven’t had a reason. Part of the reason Holly and I used to come up here was to get away from the club and all the stuff going on there. To have some ‘us’ time. Now the club is my life.”

“That’s not healthy, you know, working all the time.”

He shrugged. “You’ve seen it. It’s not like I’m killing myself. I can come and go pretty much as I want. Zane runs the day to day stuff. I’m there, primarily, to design new products and do quality testing. We haven’t introduced anything new in a while, so…”

She chewed her lower lip. “About your product. I have another idea that I want to run past you.”

He grinned. “You’re just full of ideas. Sure, what?”

“It’s really just a continuation of the website redesign. It’s about the packing of the products.”

“What about it?” he asked as their dinners arrived. He nodded his thanks to the waitress, then turned his attention back to Quinn.

“I think you need to upgrade that as well.”

“Why? I thought it was clever that bit you put in about the plain packaging.”

“I did that trying to cover the fact you ship your stuff in plastic bags and plain boxes. But this is a luxury product. Nobody needs bath beads or fancy soap.”

“So?” he asked.

The Blades had started B3 as a cover for their purchase of chemicals that were used in the manufacturing of the MDMA, in particular the sassafras oil. They purchased it, along with other natural aromatic oils, for the making of their bath products, and no one was the wiser. The rest of the items they used to manufacture MDMA, like p-benzoquinone, methanol, methylene chloride, or sodium bicarbonate were also used in the manufacturing of the legal products, and one of the plastics that held their bath salts was also the same bag they used to ship their MDMA. Nothing was used exclusively for their MDMA production and if they were ever inspected, they had the records to show they were operating a legal and legitimate business.

What they hadn’t counted on, however, was the products selling, and no one was more shocked than him. What had started out as a cover had developed into a nice revenue stream, but it was still just a cover and he really didn’t care what the packaging looked like.

“So, you upgrade the packaging to match the market,” she explained. “It doesn’t have to cost a lot. I’m thinking printed boxes with the new B3 logo on it and some leaves or something to match the website. But more than that, the beads and salts should ship in clear containers. People display these things in their bathrooms, you know?”

He frowned. “That will be a major change to our manufacturing process. Right now our autoloader is designed for bags.”

“But it could be changed, right?”

“It could be, but it’ll cost money.”

“Okay, but the club seems like it can afford it. If you did this, you could either charge more, if you like, or if you keep your prices low like you have them now, and sell a lot more. Maybe do both.”

He finished scraping up his meal and popped it into his mouth. “I don’t understand why the packaging matters if the stuff inside is the same.”

“That’s because you’re not a woman. If I bought your bath salts and they came in a fancy looking jar I could put out beside my tub, I would be much happier than if the same salts were in plastic bag like I freeze my leftover spaghetti sauce in. I would probably use more of them too because they would be where I could see them. I’m certain you could raise your price enough to cover the increased cost of packaging, and maybe a little more, plus increase your sales.”

He chuckled. “We don’t use Ziploc bags.”

“No, but you might as well.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Sure, no, but if you look at your competitors, they all sell their product just like I’m proposing. There must be a reason for it. The bags really cheapen the experience when you open the box.”

He thought about it a moment. “Okay. When we get back, give me some ideas on the cost of the packaging. Once you have that, I’ll find out what it’ll take to change the process over. Then you can make the pitch to the club. If the club approves, we’ll do it.”

She quickly drummed her fingers on the edge of the table in excitement as her face broke into a huge smile. “I have some ideas already. I was thinking about this as I was working on the website. You won’t be disappointed, I promise!”

He grinned as he picked up the check. “If you do half as good a job on this as you did the website, it’ll be great.”

The sun had disappeared and the temperature was noticeably cooler when they stepped out of the restaurant. “I can’t believe how much cooler it is up here than in Tucson,” Quinn said as she pulled on her helmet.

“It snows here in the winter.”

“Snows?” she asked, her eyes narrowing, watching to see if he was yanking her chain.

“Yeah. There’s a ski resort just up the road.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“Want to see?”

“Sure!”

They rode up to the lodge at Mt. Lemmon Ski Valley and Quinn was amazed that just an hour from the broiling heat of Tucson, there was skiing available, even in the winter. “I didn’t know, and I sure as hell would have never guessed,” she said, the Indian thrumming between their legs as she stared at the lodge.

He chuckled. “You ski?”

She laughed. “I’m from Arizona! Of course I don’t ski.”

He grinned, then his smile faded. Maybe it was time for him to face his demons too. “I have something else to show you.”

Chapter 19

They rumbled through town, weaving along the twisting and narrow roads, until he pulled to stop in front of a cabin well out from Summerhaven. He sat for a moment, wondering if he wanted to do this, then switched the bike off.

She felt a chill as they pulled to a stop on the concrete pad at the back of the cabin. The cabin was bigger than she expected, with a steeply pitched roof and dark wooden siding. There was a deck surrounding the cabin on three sides with a natural stone chimney extending off one side. The deck was at ground level in the back, where they were, but the ground dropped precipitously toward the front, the tall deck supported by thick stone columns.

“This your cabin?” she asked in the quiet.

“The club’s cabin, yes.” She shivered, and not just from the cold. “You cold?” he asked when she shifted.

“A little. I can’t believe how much cooler it is up here. I should have worn a jacket.”

“Want to see inside?”

She did. “Only if you’re ready.”

He nodded. “I won’t know until I go inside.” He looked around him. “This is about where I found Dad.”

“We don’t have to do this,” she said softly.

“I need to.”

She stepped off the bike. He sat for a moment longer, then kicked the stand down and stepped off. There were only a couple of small windows and a door on the back of the cabin, a door he unlocked and opened. She stepped into a short hall as he flipped on the lights. To the left was a laundry room, the right a full bath. She moved down the hall into a large kitchen, but what caught her attention immediately was the view. The kitchen and large family room formed one large space with floor to ceiling windows that reached to the peak of the vaulted ceiling thirty feet or more above. The room was dotted with oversize furniture, all arranged to face the glass or the mammoth fireplace.

She moved farther into the house, and the kitchen ceiling stopped. She craned her neck as lights popped on. She looked behind her, and over the kitchen was a high ceiling. She could see the second floor, railed off from the opening with wood.

She turned to Arsen. He was standing in the kitchen staring at the floor. “Is that…?”

“Yeah.”

There were no signs of violence, but he was clearly seeing his dead wife and mother lying in the floor. “Give me a tour?” she asked, trying to draw him out of his memories.

He looked up and gave her a sad smile. “Sure. This is the kitchen, obviously. He joined her in the family room. “Some view huh? You should see it in the daytime.”

She could just make out the shapes of the surrounding mountains, the dark night alive with stars, and the occasional bright pinpoint of light of another cabin.

“This is amazing,” she murmured.

“Up there is one of the bedrooms,” he said, moving across the room and tromping up the steps as she followed. The room was open on one side, allowing them to see out over the family room below and through the wall of glass. There was a large bed and a sitting area, with a bath beyond. She took a quick peek into the bath then returned to gaze through the windows.

The cabin was a temple of glass, wood and stone, and was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She looked over the railing, admiring the hulking natural stone fireplace and stone tile floors below. The entire cabin was simply but beautifully decorated, a mix of rich earth tones with splashes of color.

He led her down to the family room, then down again. Below the family room was a game room, compete with a pool table, a few pieces of furniture, and a refrigerator built into storage cabinets on one wall. On the opposite was the same stone fireplace as above. Though this room had normal ceilings, it didn’t distract from the wall of windows, and the patio beyond, shaded by the deck above.

“The other bedroom is back here,” he said, leading her into another large bedroom.

There were no windows in this bedroom, or it’s adjoining bath, and she realized it was probably underground, but the room was bright and cheery with a large television mounted on the wall.

“Zane calls this the sex room,” he said with a grin.

“Why?”

“The walls are concrete because they are part of the supporting structure of the house. You can get as loud as you want in here and nobody can hear.”

She grinned. “Maybe so, but I like the other bedroom better.”

He nodded. “Everyone does. This room is only used if there is more than one couple using the place.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said as they clomped back up the stairs.

“We like it. Somebody comes up here almost every weekend in the summer.”

They stepped out onto the large wooden deck on the front of house. At its farthest point, it had to be at least thirty feet off the ground. “I can’t believe how cool it’s gotten. I’m going to freeze my ass off going down the mountain,” she said.

The temperature had dipped into the sixties, and she wasn’t dressed for that. “Want to spend the night here and ride back in the morning?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He leaned his elbows on the railing as he looked out over the shadowy landscape. “It’s okay. I have to face this. I can’t hide from it forever.” He looked at her. “It helps to have someone here with me.”

She turned to look at him. “I don’t want you feel like you have to stay on my account.”

“I’m not. I love this place. I didn’t realize how much I missed coming here until tonight.” He shrugged. “I was afraid I would go all to pieces, but…” he paused then shrugged again as he smiled softly. “Maybe I’m finally getting over it.”

She looked at him a moment then melted into his arms. It was the first time she’d hugged him since she moved into her own room and tonight she didn’t want to sleep alone. “Will you stay with me tonight? In the room with the windows?”

“If you like,” he said softly as he stroked her head.

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. He smiled at her with a lopsided grin she was becoming very fond of. With a smile of her own, she stretched up, offering him her lips, sighing softly as he took them.

“Are you sure about this,” he asked as their kiss slowly dissolved.

“No,” she whispered.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

She looked down. “No. But like you, I have to face this. Somebody has to be my first time, and I want it to be you. You have been so kind and wonderful and patient. I trust you. I have to find out if I’m…broken.” She looked up at him. “I used to love sex. I can remember how much I enjoyed being close to Wade, feeling his caress after we’d made love. I miss that. I want that again, but I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of being broken, of not being able to enjoy the touch of a man again. I’m afraid nobody will ever want me after I’ve been used by so many men.” She looked up at him, unable to read his expression in the darkness. “Would you want a woman that couldn’t stand your touch?”

“No.”

“Nobody would, so I have to know.”

“I want you,” he said softly.

“Even after what happened to me?”

“That doesn’t matter to me. It won’t matter to anyone else, either. Or, if it does, you’re better off without them.”

Her face began to twist as she struggled to not cry. She hadn’t cried at all in the last two weeks and she was disappointed that she was about to now.

He pulled her in and brought his lips close to hers, but stopped, allowing her to decide if she wanted to be kissed or not. She stretched up and took his lips, enjoying the warmth of the kiss. She could feel his pull, her passions spooling up, but then felt a sickness in her stomach. She pulled back and looked down again. She wanted to, but she didn’t know if she could.

“We’ll take it slow,” he said softly, sensing her hesitation. “We’ll stop anytime you want. Or I can just hold you.”

She nodded, struggling to shove the darkness back into the box. “Take me to bed?”

He tipped her head up. “You don’t have to do this,” he repeated, trying to make it clear he wanted it to be her decision.

“I have to know,” she said again. “I have to know, and I want to find out with you.”

He nodded, took her hand, and led her back inside.

Chapter 20

They hadn’t come prepared for spending the night, but the cabin was kept stocked with staples and basic toiletries. He led her in and up the stairs. At the top he turned to face her, pulling her in slowly. She was shaking, her eyes wide.

“We can stop any time,” he whispered.

She grabbed his face and pulled him strongly in, kissing him passionately, but it felt unnatural and forced. He slow extracted himself from the kiss. “Not like that,” he whispered. He turned her so she could see the twinkling lights through the window then pulled her softly back into him, kissing her neck. “I want you to want to, not force yourself to,” he whispered.

She whimpered. “What if I can’t want to?”

“Then we won’t. We can try again later, or not at all. I won’t force you, and I don’t want you to force yourself.”

She whimpered again. “I’m scared.”

“Shhhh…” he breathed. “All you have to do is say stop.”

He kissed her neck again, pulling the collar of her shirt open to reach more of her. She was trembling, but part of this was trusting her to set her own limits. He moved slowly, no surprises, but he didn’t stop. He slowly opened first one button, then the next, then paused as he felt her stiffen. He slid his hands down, and over her stomach, but no lower as he continued to kiss her neck and shoulder.

She thought she was ready for this, but as he began to open her blouse, she wasn’t sure. She was determined to try to push through her fear, but somehow he sensed her hesitation and stopped. His warm gentle breath on her neck and the soft caress of his lips, not pushing her, allowing her to set the pace, eased her fears and she began to relax again.

Slowly, by measured degrees, he undressed her, stopping when she tightened up, continuing on once she relaxed. He’d been over six weeks without a woman and had started out with his desire for her raging, but his passion had cooled as he realized she was struggling to overcome her fear. He wanted her, wanted her like no woman since Holly, but he could wait, and take his time to help her overcome her reluctance. If he’d know this was coming, he might have availed himself of one of the club girls to take the edge off his desire, but as she turned in his arms to offer her lips, he realized he didn’t want a club girl, he wanted her.

She turned, allowing her blouse to fall to the floor, taking his lips and kissing him slowly. She was certain he’d been with no one since she’d arrived, and if Wade had been without sex for a month, he’d have stripped her bare, thrown her on the bed, and fucked her good. That would have been fun, before she was taken, but she knew if that were to happen now it would open the darkness she’d worked so hard to box up. Now, with Arsen’s restraint and self-control, she felt safe.

She pulled back from the kiss and unbuttoned his shirt, kissing down his chest as she pushed it off his shoulders. He tasted of sweat, and dust, and she could feel her desire flow through her, slick wetness starting between her thighs. She smiled as she tasted his nipple, her fingers exploring the ridges and valleys of his body. She wanted him, wanted to feel his touch, to experience him inside of her. She wasn’t broken!

She rose, and unbuckled his belt, watching his eyes as her fingers worked, opening his pants and sliding a hand inside to grip him. His eyes narrowed and she felt a rush of fear, but then he gasped, his eyes closing as his head tipped back and he held her wrist.

He clamped down on his desire. Having her squeeze him made him want to throw her on the bed and ravage her until she was screaming in pleasure, but he knew that was exactly the wrong thing to do. He could sense any aggression on his part would instantly break the moment. She needed to be handled gently, especially this first time, until she could overcome her hesitation and fear.

“I want you,” he whispered, pulling her lips close before kissing them gently.

She smiled as she gave him her lips. She could feel the war going on inside of him, the tension in his body as he held himself in check, allowing her to set the pace and make each move to the next level. She could sense he was normally a take charge lover, the type of lover she liked, the type of man who knew how to please a woman and did so without hesitation. But he was proving he was also a considerate man, a man who knew the boundaries, a man she could trust.

“I want you,” she whispered in return.

He moved to the bed and removed his boots and pants as she squirmed out of her shorts, but then she was suddenly afraid. She covered herself, the fear rising up inside of her. He smiled, then rose slowly from the bed, his cock standing at attention as he moved to her and slowly, gently, pulled her hands from her body.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered. “Don’t cover yourself. Please don’t deny me the pleasure of seeing how beautiful you are.” He stepped back, allowing her hands to slip from his own, and though he could tell she wanted to cover again, she forced her hands to her side. Slim and athletic, her bruises and scrapes gone, she was an incredibly desirable woman.

“Beautiful,” he whispered with a smile. He returned to the bed and flipped the linens back then lay down, turning on this side so he could continue to watch her. He didn’t call to her, letting her decide if she was ready.

She swallowed hard, then moved to the bed. Arsen was the stuff women dreamed up. Kind, gentle and attentive, not to mention stunningly attractive. She wanted him, but her fear was becoming more and more difficult to control. She joined him and he snuggled in, slowly caressing her breast, his  heavy length pressing into her leg.

He kissed her, slow and gentle, as he continued to tickle her nipple with his finger. “Do you want me to stop?” he breathed.

“No,” she sighed, her eyes closed, trying to enjoy his touch. He kissed lower, taking a nipple into his mouth and playing with it with his tongue, then rolled over onto her. She gasped as he settled between her legs. He didn’t try to enter her, had only positioned himself to better kiss her lips and breasts, but it was too much. She didn’t want him to stop, wanted him to push though, to prove to her he wouldn’t hurt her and she wasn’t broken, but he immediately backed off.

He felt her go rigid and knew he’d crossed a line. He shifted away from her, putting a few inches of space between them. “Shhh…” he breathed, wiping the tears from her face. “It’s okay.” He pulled her up onto her side, and snuggled into a spoon, holding her as he cupped her breasts in his hands to show he wasn’t giving up and wasn’t deterred.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered as he kissed her neck. He was surprised they’d gotten as far as they had before she couldn’t take it anymore.

He held her for a long time, slowly caressing her breasts, neither saying anything. He was becoming drowsy when she rolled over and kissed him slowly. “Can we try again?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to, but…” He watched her face crinkle as if she was going to cry.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I understand. We can try as many times as it takes.”

She whimpered. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He smiled. “Because you’re going to make me rich selling soap.” She giggled soggily, then wiped her eyes. “And because I want you, and I’m willing to wait as long as necessary, to do whatever it takes, to be with you.”

She sobbed once, then sniffed. “Your wife was a lucky woman.”

He gave her that lopsided grin again. “I think so.”

She giggled and wiped her eyes. “If I can’t, and you need to, you know, use one of the girls, I’ll understand.”

“I don’t want a club girl. I want you.” He smiled as her face twisted as if she was going to cry again, but she gave him a small sad smile.

He seemed content to watch her face and she knew he was waiting for her. “Are you going to kiss me or not?” she asked softly. As his lips took hers, she steered his hand to her body, gasping as he softly stroked her. His touch was electrifying and he rolled her to her back again, stroking her softly, slowly, smearing her wetness, his finger sending jolts of pleasure rocketing through her as he caressed her breasts with his mouth.

He kept his touches light and slow, but when her hand gripped his and pressed him in harder he increased the pressure on her. He teased hood of her clit as it hardened, increasing the intensity of his kisses on her breasts as she moaned softly. She tugged at him, drawing his mouth to hers. She kissed him deeply as she began to pant, then moaned long and low into his mouth.

“Oh, God, I want you,” she gasped, shoving his mouth away from hers so she could catch her breath.

He knew he was clean. She’d gone back on the pill weeks ago to regulate her cycle. He hadn’t been with a woman without protection since Holly and the thought that Quinn would be his first excited him and somehow seemed natural and right. He moved between her legs and slowly pushed into her, gasping with his passage. He began to thrust, slowly, gently, taking her lips with his own.

He moved within her, the pleasure exquisite and she gasped as another orgasm began to rise within her. I’m not broken! she cheered to herself and tears of relief and joy began to flow.

He opened his eyes, wanting to see her face, and froze as he saw the tears. He pulled out, but she hooked him with her heels, and tightened down her legs, preventing his escape.

“No! Please don’t stop! Please!” she begged, trying to draw him back inside. He hesitated. “Please,” she pleaded as she opened her eyes. “I want you inside.”

He hesitated a moment more, then pushed himself inside again. Her gasp as her head tilted back was like a match to gasoline. He began to thrust again, trying to keep his pace slow and gentle, but as she spurred him with her heels, he moved harder, faster, driving into her with purpose.

She began to moan softly, then gasped with a stuttering intake of breath. With another soft moan she squeezed him tight as her hands gripped his arms and her back arched. She gasped again as her orgasm washed out of her, but another was coming hard on its heels.

She was writhing under him, her fingers biting hard into his arms as she moaned and gasped. He could feel his orgasm coming and tightened down, stalling it, trying to time his release with hers.

Her orgasm slammed into her, erotic energy rippling through her like waves from a stone tossed into a pond. She was alive with pleasure, her pain forgotten, the dark stain on her soul blotted out by the searing light of her climax. Arsen’s soft cry as he held her tight and drove into her with a final hard thrust, his soft groan and hard ragged breathing, renewed her orgasm and drove it on.

They held each other, caught in the web of the perfect moment of pleasure, then gasped as their climaxes washes out of them, leaving them panting with relief.

“You’re crying,” he whispered as he kissed her wet cheeks.

“I know,” she murmured in reply, pulling his head to her neck.

“Are you okay?”

She smiled, her eyes close. “I’m not broken.”

He smiled, and was glad his face was buried in her neck so she couldn’t see the wetness come to his eyes.

Chapter 21

When Arsen woke the next morning he didn’t try to seduce her, even though having tasted her pleasures, he wanted her more badly than he had the night before. Something had changed between them after they made love, but the change seemed to be for the worse.

Quinn seemed more distant and withdrawn than she had been recently. He was familiar with her rollercoaster emotions, though that had been improving as well, but even though he knew he had let her lead every step of the way last night, he suspected she was regretting the decision to fuck.

He’d tried to draw her out, but she dodged every attempted to engage her on the subject, assuring him everything was fine. He’d finally dropped the matter. If she wanted to talk, she knew where to find him.

They returned to Tucson, stopping at his house to shower and change. The deeper into the morning they got, the more distant Quinn became. She wasn’t unpleasant, or surly, just quiet, and that concerned him more than anything.

They arrived at the clubhouse just after lunch and Arsen went directly to the lab. They should have received their latest order of sassafras oil, and he needed to check it for purity. He trusted the assay document that shipped with the oil for the soap, but not the MDMA. If it wasn’t ninety percent pure, as the supplier claimed, he would have to adjust the quantity of oil used in the distillation process to compensate.

He was waiting on the CG-MS to complete the run and tell him what was actually in the oil when his phone rang.

“Jason,” he said, after glancing at the caller ID. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Thanks for the information on the fake Hearts and Daggers. I’ve been able to put the fear of God into people with it. Which leads me to the next thing. We’ve tracked down the counterfeiters. It’s right in your back yard. I don’t know if they’re manufacturing, but the supply is coming from an outfit called the Chrome Horsemen, out of Phoenix. Heard of them?”

Arsen sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. They tried to break into the molly market a couple of years ago and we shut them out. Looks like they are trying again, but this time trading on our name, the fucks.”

Jason chuckled. “It sucks to be so successful at what you do that people try to counterfeit it, doesn’t it?”

“Ha, ha, fuck you,” Arsen growled.

Jason laughed. “I’m sure you can handle it. We’re squeezing their pipeline on this end. People were pissed they were buying a 60 hit when they thought they were getting a 150, not to mention all the other shit you said was in there. Word on the street backs up what you were saying about the dosage.”

Arsen grinned, enjoying the fact he was putting the screws to the Chrome Horsemen. “I have no reason to lie to you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Just being clear. We’ve been nothing but honest with you since the beginning. I’m not going to change now.”

“That’s good to know. By the way, I have some more good news, for you anyway. The supplier to our San Francisco chapter got busted. Can you supply them as well? We’ll handle transportation, just like normal.”

“Probably. What kind of demand are we looking at?”

“Total? I’d say fifty a week, but we’d like 100 on the next shipment to build supply and meet some pent up demand.”

“Jesus! How are you moving that much stuff?”

“The San Francisco chapter supplies all the way down to San Luis Obispo, plus our demand here is LA is going up because people are starting to come to us over this fake shit. They know we have the good stuff. To be honest, from our point of view, this counterfeiting has been good for business. You shut them down to cut off that supply and yeah, I think we can move more than fifty, maybe as much as seventy-five a week.”

“We can do it, but we’re going to need a couple of weeks to ramp up to that. I simply don’t have the raw materials on hand for you to double your order size, then provide the fifty bump, and still meet my other demand. I burned a lot of inventory with that last bump I gave you. How about I deliver the fifty this week and next, then get you the hundred the week after that?”

“If that’s the best you can do, we’ll take it.”

“That’s the best I can do on such short notice.”

“Okay, but stock up. We may want another increase if demand keeps going up.”

***

Michelle stepped up behind Quinn. “You okay? You seem a little down.”

“Yeah, fine.”

Michelle studied her a moment her then grinned. “You’re a lying bitch. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but don’t try to blow me off with the everything is fine bullshit. What’s wrong. Did Arsen do something?”

“No. Well, yes, but…”

Michelle looked around and then nodded her head. They moved to one of the guest rooms and she shut the door. “What did he do?”

Quinn looked down. “He took me to the cabin last night.”

“He did?” Michelle asked, her surprise clear in her voice.

“Yeah. I know about Holly.”

“Is that what has you down? That wasn’t his fault. Nobody could have seen that coming.”

“No, that’s not it. We spent the night and…” She saw Michelle’s eyes widen.

“Did he force himself on you?”

“No!” Quinn cried. “Nothing like that!”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know!” Quinn cried in frustration. “He was so patient and gentle, but I feel so…confused.”

“Over what?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem! I got upset and started crying and he just stopped. I felt so guilty for leading him on then pulling the rug out from under him, but he didn’t seem to care. We tried again and I got into it, and it bothers me I did. It makes me feel like a whore.”

Michelle looked at her for a moment, her face twisted into disbelief. “What? Why would you say that?” she asked, her voice full of exasperation.

“I don’t know. I feel like I shouldn’t haven’t enjoyed it, not after I’d been…”

“That’s just stupid!” Michelle snapped. “Did you enjoy sex before?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Then why wouldn’t you enjoy it again? I think it’s amazing you’ve improved as much as you have. Arsen told Zane what you’d been through, and the fact you came out of that at all is a testament to your strength. The fact you took a lover only a month or so after you escaped is amazing, but I think that’s a good sign.” Michelle lowered her voice and leaned in closer. “To be honest, I didn’t know Arsen had it him to be as thoughtful and kind as he’s been. After Holly was killed, he kind of turned back into a manwhore. I can’t blame him, and I know what he was doing, but that didn’t change the fact he’d changed.”

“Changed how?”

“I think Holly was a good influence on him. They got married about five years ago. Before that he was kind of wild. He used to fuck any woman he could bed, two, three, sometimes four different women in a week. Then he met Holly, and I guess she could match him in the bedroom. After that, he settled down. Holly and I became good friends and she would tell me things, like how they would sometimes spend the entire weekend in bed, fucking, eight, ten, twelve times over the weekend, or how they would ride out into the desert, throw a blanket on the ground, and fuck under the stars.”

Michelle shrugged. “After she died, he kind of went back to the way he was. Not as bad as before, but in the last six months he’s made regular use of all the club girls. I guess he was trying to replace her, or fill a hole inside him, I don’t know. None of us knew what was going on with him because he wouldn’t talk about it. All I know is losing her devastated him.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Don’t you see? After you showed up, so far as I know, he hasn’t screwed anyone, and the fact that he went back to the cabin with you.” She smiled. “Arsen’s a good guy, but I didn’t know he had the self-control he’s shown with you. Before Holly, if a woman wouldn’t fuck him, he was done with her. But now, with you, he’s waited a month? While he’s been helping you heal, I think you’ve been helping him.”

She stared at Michelle a moment. “Why are you telling me this, and what does that have to do with how I feel?”

“Because I think everything happens for a reason.”

“You think Holly died so Arsen and I could be together?” Quinn cried, appalled at the idea.

“No, but maybe he found you on the interstate so you could heal each other.”

“You’re talking about fate. You think we’re meant for each other? I don’t believe in stuff like that.”

Michelle shrugged. “Call it what you will. I think you two going to bed and getting it on was the best thing that could happen to both of you. You’re learning to trust again, and to get on with your life, and he’s learning somethings are worth sacrificing, and fighting, for. I think you two going to bed is the first step in healing. For both of you.”

“If you’re right, why do I feel so guilty, like I’ve done something wrong?”

“I don’t know. Why do you? Do you think it was wrong to sleep with him? You’d been doing that for weeks already.”

“No, but we didn’t have sex until last night. We hadn’t even kissed.”

Michelle shrugged. “So? Were you going to go through the rest of your life and never have a man between your legs again? Seems to me that would be the worst fate of all. I wouldn’t want to live like that, would you?”

“No, but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Maybe that’s because you think you should feel like it was wrong, but you know, deep down inside, there was nothing wrong with what you did.” Michelle paused then took her hands. “If it feels right, and it’s not hurting anyone else, then it is right. Remember that.”

Quinn watched Michelle’s eyes a moment. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For talking to me.”

Michelle smiled. “That’s what sisters do,” she said gently.

Chapter 22

“Phil! Where’s Zane?” Arsen growled as he stomped into the clubhouse, shoving past Michelle and Quinn as they stepped out of the bedroom.

“I think he’s in his office on the phone. Why?”

“Church, five minutes,” he snapped.

“What’s wrong?” Michelle asked as they followed him into the clubhouse proper.

He moved to the bar and poured a drink. “The fucking Horsemen are on the move. They…” He paused before he said too much. “We’re going to have to deal with them,” he said then tossed the clear liquid back, gritting his teeth and sneering against the burn.

When he marched away, going into the meeting room where the club conducted business, Quinn looked at Michelle. “What’s going on?”

“I…can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“Club business.”

“Oh,” Quinn said. She was well aware of what that meant, and she was still an outsider.

***

Phil was the last of the three officers to step into the room and he closed the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“It’s the fucking Horsemen.”

“Are you shitting me?” Zane asked. “They never give up do they?”

“No, and I’m tired of fucking with them.” He placed his phone on the table, scrolling through contacts until he found the one he wanted. The phone purred as it dialed.

“Williams,” the voice on the phone said.

“Roger Williams?”

“Who’s this?”

“Arsen Kyle.”

“What do you want Kyle?”

“I know about your counterfeiting business. I’m calling you to tell you it’s going to stop, now. You tried this shit before and it didn’t work. It’s not going to work this time either, and if it doesn’t stop, we’re going to fuck you in the ass.”

“Who do you think you are, you arrogant prick?” Roger growled.

“I’m the fucking angel of death, you asshole!” Arsen snarled. “You think you want to make molly? Fine, give it your best shot! But you crossed the line when you started stamping your shit with our design. If that doesn’t stop, I’ll kill you and every fucking member of your club!”

“Bring it on, you cock sucker! We missed you at the cabin, but I wouldn’t mind getting another shot at you.”

Arsen sat back and stared at his phone. He finally had confirmation. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table as he leaned in close to the phone. He wanted to make sure Williams could hear every word. “I’ve always suspected it was you but I didn’t know. Now I do. I’ll gut you myself for what you did.”

“You want to fuck with us? I’ll have you on your knees with my cock in your mouth, just like that whore wife of yours. And your mother,” Roger sneered, trying to get inside Arsen’s head.

Arsen went incandescing with rage. “You’re good at that, aren’t you? Abusing helpless women. It’s because you, you and your entire club, are just a bunch of pussies. I know what you did with the Riders, and how you took those women. Raping women makes you feel like a big man, doesn’t it? You can’t even do that right. One of them killed your man, didn’t she? She killed him and got away clean. A starved, beaten, abused woman out smarted your entire club and is tougher than you.” He paused, breathing hard. “We’re going to do to you what you did to Quinn, Miranda and Teresa. What you did to Holly. We’re coming for you, and I’m going to kill you myself. But it won’t be quick. I’ll make it slow. I’ll keep you alive for days, until you’re begging me to kill you.”

There was a pause. “You have her?”

Arsen grinned wickedly. “Yes. There’s nothing you have that I can’t take.”

“I want her back.”

“You want her back? Okay, why don’t we meet, just me and you, and I’ll give her back,” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Williams paused again. “Bring me the girl and we’ll talk about the molly.”

Arsen chuckled. “You mistake me for someone stupid. I don’t trust you as far as I can piss on you. How about this? We keep the girl and you stop counterfeiting our product, and we won’t cut off your dicks and give them to her in a box tied up with a bow.”

“You think your dick is big enough to take us on, then come on. Let’s dance. Then we’ll see who’s fucking who. And when it’s over, we’ll make sure we show your old ladies what real men are like.”

Arsen was seething inside but kept his voice level. “Fine. I guess we’ll see who has the bigger dicks.”

He stabbed his phone to end the call. He sat, his breath heaving, trying to reel in is rage. Now was not the time for white hot rage. He needed to be ice cold and calculating. The Chrome Horsemen were three times their size, larger than the Desert Riders and the Blacktop Blades combined. If the Blades were going to take them on, they were going to have to be smart, and careful.

“We’re going to deal with those fuckers once and for all,” Arsen snarled. “The world will be better off without them, and we’re going to make that happen. Phil, get everyone together. We need to vote this.”

Phil rose to go round up the brothers, but Zane hung back. “What can I do?”

“What do you mean?” Arsen asked, looking at him.

“I want to know what I can do to help you. I know this has to be tearing your guts open.”

“I’m good.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re not good. Nobody would be good. Let Phil and me handle the details of this. You’re too close.”

“No,” Arsen said firmly. “I have to do this. I owe her, them, that much. I have to see it through.” He paused and looked at his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll do this together, but watch me. I need you to call me out if I start making bad decisions, decisions that are going to cost us brothers. I don’t want to throw away more lives just for revenge.”

Zane nodded. “Count on it.”

Arsen stepped out of church. “Quinn. I need you to do me a favor,” he said, stepping up to her.

“What?”

“I need you to go wait in the plant.” He could tell the request hurt her feelings, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Okay.”

“This won’t take long. I’ll come get you.”

“It’s about the Chrome Horsemen?”

“Yeah. We need to hold a vote. It’s club business, you understand.”

“I understand the club business, but I don’t understand what you want with the Horsemen.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Yeah, I get it,” she said softy as she rose. “I’m still an outsider.”

He gave her a kiss on top of the head. “It’s nothing personal.”

“I know,” she muttered as she turned and walked toward the back of the clubhouse, and out the door.

The door hadn’t closed from her exit when the brothers from the plant began to file in. Church was too small of a room for them all to meet, but Arsen wanted everyone’s buy-in before he took the club to war.

When all the brothers were present, Ansen laid it all out. How the Horsemen had wiped out the Riders to take over their weed business, how they were being pushed out of the cocaine trafficking business, and how they were the ones turning out the fake Hearts and Daggers. The last bit was what really pissed everyone off, and when he called for a vote it was unanimous.

“Anyone opposed?” Arsen asked, just for formality. Silence. “Okay. Go start shutting down the plant,” he ordered, “then go get ready to take care of business. Phil, Zane, with me.”

As the other members filed out, Arsen turned and walked into church and shut the door behind them. “What do you think about bringing Quinn in on this?”

“Why?” Phil asked.

“Because she was in their clubhouse for three weeks. She may have some intel we can use.”

“I don’t know what she can tell us, but it couldn’t hurt,” Zane agreed.

“She’s going to want to know why. I think we should tell her.”

“Wait a minute,” Zane cautioned. “Are we sure about that?”

“I am. She was part of the Riders. They moved weed, we make molly. For all practical purposes, that’s the same thing. I trust her. She’s proven her worth to the club.”

“I agree, but redesigning our website to help us sell soap is a hell of a lot different than putting her in the loop on the molly,” Phil pointed out.

“I know. But she’s not stupid. If we tell her we’re going to take out the Horsemen and we want her help, she’s going to know it’s not because they’re trying to break into the bath oil business.”

“So you want to bring her into the club?” Zane asked, just to make sure Arsen understood what he was saying.

“Yes.”

“As your old lady?”

“If you want to look at it that way. Look, we need her, okay? When the Advocates dropped a dime on the Horsemen, they also told me they want to double their order size. This works because we ship enough of the legal shit to cover what we use for the molly. But if the molly orders outpace the soap by too much, then we’ll have a hard time explaining where all the stuff is going. That’s when people start crawling up our asses with microscopes. But if we can push the soap right along with the rise in molly, that keeps us under the radar.”

“You’re talking about giving her a share?”

“Two. She’d earned it, don’t you think?”

The Blades operated on a share system. The club took its cut, then what was left was divided among the members and their old ladies. If you worked for the club, you got a cut. One share for general labor, such as running the machinery in the plant, packaging the product, or maintaining the clubhouse. Two shares for skilled labor, like machine maintenance, handling the books for the club, or in Quinn’s case, marketing their legitimate business. Arsen and Alex got three shares because of their more specific skills, and the officers received an additional share for running the club.

“I don’t know about this,” Zane muttered. “I agree she earned the shares, but I think we’re taking a big risk letting her know where the money is coming from.”

Arsen nodded in understanding. “She’s going to know the shares aren’t coming from B3. I know the code, but I trust her.”

Phil looked at him. “You up for that? You’ve been pretty protective of her.”

Arsen met his eyes. “If it comes to it, I’ll take care of her myself.”

Zane and Phil looked at each other. “So long as you know this is on you if it goes tits up,” Zane said.

Arsen nodded. “It’s on me.”

Chapter 23

Arsen found Quinn in the lab, swiveling slowly in a chair. “Come with me,” he said.

“Where are we going?” she asked as she rose to her feet.

“You and I have a couple of things to discuss.”

She felt her blood run cold. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No. But we need your help.”

He led her back into church and motioned for her to sit at the table. She sat, glancing nervously between Arsen, Zane and Phil.

“First off,” Arsen began, “I want you to know why we excused you. The club took a vote and we’re going to have to deal with the Chrome Horsemen. I would like you to tell us everything you can remember about your time there. The layout of the inside if you know it. Anything like that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll help us plan.”

“No. Why are you hitting them? What have they done to the Blades?”

Arsen nodded, expecting the question. “Before I answer that, I want to make you an offer. Zane, Phil and I have talked about it, and we want to offer you a position in the club. You won’t have voting rights, but if you continue to work on marketing B3, we’ll give you two shares.”

“Shares? What’s that?”

“A share is some amount of money. It changes every month because it depends on how much income the club generates. The club takes fifty-percent off the top. The other fifty percent is put into a pool. However many shares there are, that’s how the money is divided up. If there are a hundred shares, and the pool is a hundred bucks, each share would get a dollar. You would get two shares.”

“Okay. But there’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“Only one. As part of the club, you have to protect the club. If you leave, you can’t reveal what goes on here. I suspect it’s much like the Desert Riders in that respect.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding.

“One more thing. Fifty-percent of your shares will be held back for the first year. You’re not really a prospect, but that’s standard for us. If you are accepted, then the balance of your shares will be paid to you. Think of it as a signing bonus,” he said with a grin.

“Okay.”

“Do you accept you’ll be expected to abide by the charter of our club?” Arsen asked.

“I do,” she said solemnly.

Arsen nodded at Phil. “Swear her in.”

Phil stood and placed a leather jacket in the palm of his hand with the Blacktop Blades colors showing. “Left hand on the colors and raise your right hand.” Quinn did as she was told.

He used the standard prospect induction since prospects didn’t have voting rights anyway. If Arsen didn’t take her as his old lady, and they accepted her into the club, they have to come up with some modification of the regular oath. They were treading new ground with her. They were giving her the same rights as an old lady, but she wasn’t, and therefore Arsen wasn’t responsible for her conduct. But because she was a woman, she wasn’t eligible to be a full member either.

When she was sworn in she smiled as the three men congratulated her and shook her hand, then she sat down again. “Now that you’ve agreed to abide by the rules of the club. I have something to tell you. You understand, what I’m about to say never leaves this clubhouse?”

She bit her lip, not liking how that sounded at all. “I understand.”

“The answer to your question, about the Horsemen, is they are counterfeiting our product.”

“Soap?” she asked in confusion.

“MDMA. Ecstasy. Molly.”

She paused, considering. “You run molly?”

He shook his head. “We don’t run it, we manufacture it. It’s pharmaceutical grade, very pure, and as safe as a Schedule 1 drug can be.”

“Where?”

“Where do we make it?” He chuckled. “You’ve been in the plant dozens of times.”

“There?” she cried in shock. “So you don’t make soap and bath salts and stuff?”

“No, we do make and sell them as well. We make the MDMA in the same reaction vessels as our legal product. We make an MDMA run once a week, then switch back over and make salts or whatever the other four days.”

She stared at him a moment. “Hiding in plain sight.”

“That’s pretty much it. We have a reputation for high quality, safe drugs. The Horsemen tried to take over the market a couple years ago and failed. Now they’re trying again. But this time they’re trading on our good name. Our product is stamped with a heart on one side and a knife on the other. The street calls them Hearts and Daggers. The Horsemen have started selling their own MDMA with a heart and dagger, but it’s not good quality and it damages our reputation. Hell, people could get sick on that shit. I called the President of the Horsemen to warn him off, but he’s willing to go to war over this, so war it’ll be. That’s where you come in. I want to know everything you know about them.”

She looked at him a moment. She’d heard of ecstasy, but didn’t know much about it. It was a party drug. It wasn’t nearly as dangerous as cocaine, heroin, or meth. She wasn’t sure how she felt now that she knew the Blades were an outlaw club, no different than the Riders were. But then she gave a mental shrug. She didn’t mind being an old lady in the Riders, why would she mind being part of the Blades? At least with the Blades she got a piece of the pie, and she wasn’t working with the drugs if all she was doing was marketing the B3 products.

“I don’t know a lot,” she began. “Except when I was…” She paused and swallowed hard as she gathered herself. “Except for when we were being used, we were kept in a locked bedroom.”

“Any idea of how many members?” Phil asked. “We estimate between seventy-five and a hundred.”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, “but a lot more than the Blades.”

“What about the layout inside the clubhouse?” Phil asked.

She shrugged. “It’s bigger than here. The front of the clubhouse is open, like this one, but I’m pretty sure the front wall is glass that’s been painted black. You can sort of see light through it.”

“Anybody living there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Anything else you can tell us?”

She shrugged. “They’re heartless bastards who party a lot. Even when they were leaving us alone, we could hear the music thumping, and they always seemed to be either drunk, hung over, or high on something.”

The three men looked at each other. “Pretty thin info,” Phil muttered.

“Yeah,” Arsen agreed.

“I’m sorry I don’t know more. I only saw a few rooms.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arsen said. “The partying all the time might be useful. Wait outside, please.” Quinn nodded and rose, taking her colors with her. “What do you think?”

“I think we need more intel before we hit their clubhouse.”

“I agree,” Zane added. “What if we hit their lab first and shut that down? That would deny them the revenue and let them know we’re serious. Maybe we can draw them into an ambush.”

“We don’t know where it is,” Arsen pointed out.

“No, but they do,” Phil said, warming to Zane’s idea. “What if we hit them tonight, before they can go to ground? If we go now, we can probably bag one of their guys and squeeze him.”

“I like the idea of hitting them hard and fast, but we don’t want to walk into something ourselves,” Arsen cautioned.

“That’s just it. We’re not hitting them head on. Think of this as a diversionary strike. Let’s try and stretch them a little.”

Arsen thought about it. “How fast to get it set up?”

Phil shrugged. “How fast can you free me up some men?”

Arsen smiled. “Now.”

They spent another fifteen minutes thrashing around ideas and refining the plan. When they stepped out of Church, they had decided that Phil and Zane would leave for Phoenix right away with as many men as they could free up and put eyes on the Horsemen. He would follow as soon as he could shut down the plant, bringing the rest of the brothers with him. If they got a chance they would bag a Horseman and have him ready to interrogate when Arsen got there.

“What’s going on?” Quinn asked, pulling him to a stop.

“We’re not going to hit he Horsemen straight on, not this time. We’re going to take down their lab, if we can find it, to let them know we’re not fucking around.”

She clung to his arm. “Don’t do this! You saw what happened to the Desert Riders when we went up against them!”

He glanced around, then pulled her back into church. “You need to get on board with this.”

“You don’t know them! They’ll kill all of you, us!”

“They may try.” He paused as he looked into her eyes. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be careful. I know you’re afraid of them, and with good reason, but we can handle this.”

“That’s what Bob, the Riders’ President, said too, and you can see what happened.”

“So we’ll learn from his mistake. If you can’t get on board with this, I need you to stay home. I can’t have you questioning me in front of the brothers.”

“I’m not questioning you! I’m worried! I lost everything to the fucking Horsemen once. I don’t want to lose it again!” She looked down.

“Hey,” he said, tipping her head up. “We’ve got this. There may be a time when you need to worry, but this isn’t it.”

She pulled her head away and looked down again. “Yeah. You’ll forgive me if I’m still worried.”

He tipped her head up again. “I need about three hours to idle the plant, then I’m going home to get a few things. You can either stay here or wait at home, your choice.”

“I can’t convince you to not go?”

“No.”

She sighed. “Where are you going after you’re done?”

“Probably home.”

“Then I’ll wait there.”

Chapter 24

Arsen and Quinn were on the way home when the call came. When they reached his house, and he checked his voice mail, he found Phil had taken one of the Horsemen while he was on the way to the clubhouse. The man wasn’t in a talkative mood, and Phil wanted him to bring his “kit.”

“What kit?” she asked as the message ended.

He grinned. “A little something Doc Holiday put together for me.” She went slightly pale and he chuckled. “Nothing like that,” he grinned, knowing what she was thinking.

“Don’t go,” she said softly.

“I have to. I’m not going to ask the brothers to do something I’m not willing to do myself. Besides, I’m the one who has the kit and knows how to use it,” he said as he reached onto the top shelf of his closet and pulling down a small metal box with lock on it. He opened the gun case it so she could see the syringe and a small vial of drugs inside.

“What’s that?”

“Scopolamine and morphine. Most people know it as truth serum, but it doesn’t work it like it does in the movies. Done properly, it puts them into, what Doc calls, twilight sleep. It’s not that they can’t lie, or not speak, but because they’re out of it, they tend to say whatever pops into their head. It’s kind of like they are talking in their sleep.”

“And it won’t hurt them?”

“Do you care?”

“No, not really. It’s just the Blades are so…different…than the Riders. If Riders wanted to know something, they would beat the shit out of whoever until they talked.”

Arsen nodded. “Then they tell you whatever they think you want to hear. And if it’s a tough guy, it takes a long time to break him.” He snapped the lid closed on the box and relocked it. “This is better. Give him the shot, wait an hour or so, then ask your questions. Ask it four or five different ways to see if you get the same answers, and there you go. The best part is when you tell them what you’re doing, their own imagination does most of the work for you. They don’t feel bad about telling you what you want to know because, after all, they were drugged and didn’t have a choice,” he explained as he prepared to leave.

“Even though they could lie?”

“Yes. Or not speak at all. The drug doesn’t make them talk. It only makes them more willing to talk. Of course, I don’t tell them that. I feed them the same line from the movies and television shows, how they are going to tell me everything I want to know and they won’t be able to stop.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Once, on Zane, when Doc showed me how to do it. I found out he wanted to fuck Holly. He offered to trade Michelle for Holly for a night.”

“You asked him that?” she cried.

“No. He volunteered it,” he said, then grinned. “Doc and I had a good laugh because we knew he would never act on it. He doesn’t remember a thing and I never mentioned it to anyone. You’re now the third person to know, besides me and Doc, and I would appreciate it if you keep it to yourself.”

“And how does Doc know how to do this?”

Arsen shrugged. “He’s a doctor, and no, he didn’t work for the CIA or some shit.”

He had his gear packed and paused at the door to the garage. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. There will be twenty of us, all of us watching each other’s backs.”

She bit her lip. “If I asked you to stay and make love to me, would you?”

He grinned. “I know what you’re trying to do. I have to do this. When I get back, I’ll make love to you for hours if that’s what you want, but business before pleasure.”

She fought to hold her tears. “Call me as soon as it’s over?”

His smile widened. “Are you worried about me?” he teased.

“It’s not funny!” she snapped. “You’re still my rock, okay? Sometimes, when the voices are whispering, knowing you’re there is the only thing that keeps me going. If something were to happen to you, especially with the Horsemen, I think I’d go crazy!”

He looked into her eyes then slowly kissed her. “I’ll call as soon as I start back to Tucson. I won’t answer my phone while I’m working on the guy, so if I don’t answer, don’t panic. I’m coming back right here as soon as I’m done. Don’t worry.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. He kissed her again, then stepped out the door. She heard the car start, then the garage door rumbled down. It was the first time he’d been away from her since he picked her up on the side of the road, and she instantly felt his loss.

She wandered the house for a while, trying to keep the rising panic at bay, then fixed herself a quick dinner. She tried to watch television but finally gave up and threw herself on his bed, pulling the pillow in close so she could detect the lingering smell of his scent, and prayed he would come back and hold her.

***

Arsen called Phil as he motored north on I-10 and got their location. They had the guy stuffed in the back of the Blades’ van, the same one they used to deliver their orders to the UPS sorting facility for shipment.

It was close to six by the time Arsen met Phil, Zane, and Berk. He parked his car in a Home Depot, then stepped into the back of the van. “What can you tell me?”

“Not a fucking thing. He hasn’t said anything other than he was going to skull fuck us and we were dead. The same old shit they always say.”

Arsen sat down on the floor beside the man. “Let me tell you how this is going to work,” he said slowly pulling out the case, giving the man plenty of time to think. “I’m going to inject you with a truth serum and you’re going to answer all my questions. The only question is, am I going to fry your brain and leave you a drooling vegetable or not. That, my silent friend, is entirely up to you.”

“Fuck you!”

Arsen nodded. “I’m going to give you a moderate dose first. You talk, we’ll dump you out somewhere, and in a few hours, assuming someone doesn’t mug you, you’ll be fine. But if you fight the drug, then I’ll have to keep increasing the dosage. You will talk, I can guarantee that, but how much of your mind is left after you talk, that’s the tricky part.”

Arsen made a big production of opening the case and filling the syringe from the vial, holding the needle up to the light and thumping it dramatically. “Hold him,” he ordered.

The man was already bound to the tie-down rings in the floor of the van, but Phil and Berk jumped on him and held him still while Arsen injected the drug. He did it slowly, more slowly than required, to heighten the effect. He pulled the needle out of the man’s arm and carefully put it away.

“I’ll tell you nothing, you motherfucker!” the Horseman snarled, but his eyes were wide with fear.

“For now, you’re right. But in an hour, after the drug has had time to work, we’ll see.” Arsen smiled his most threatening smile.

They rode for forty-five minutes, their prisoner slowly slipping into a half-sleep, half awake, dream like state. “Hey, buddy!” Arsen said, nudging him with his foot as the four men sat in the floor.

“What?” the Horseman asked, his voice slow and thick, as if he was drunk or half asleep.

“What’s your name?”

“Phyllis. Randall Phyllis.”

Arsen grinned at his men. “Did you get beat up a lot in school, Randy?”

“Yeah. God I hate my name.”

“That so?” Arsen asked. “What do you want to be called?”

“What?”

“What do you want me to call you? Since I’m your friend, I want to know what you liked to be called.”

“You’re my friend? You gave me drugs!”

“It’s some good shit, isn’t it? I only give the good stuff to my friends.”

Randy smiled. “Thanks, man. It’s some good shit.”

“So, what do your friends call you?”

“Snakebite.”

Arsen rolled his eyes and grinned at Phil. “Okay, Snakebite. Roger wants me to go to the lab and check it out. He said to see you and you would take me there. Do you know where it is?”

“Yeah. Maryville. Why does he want you to look at it?”

“You’ve been having some quality problems, haven’t you?”

Snakebite nodded. “Yeah. Chimp, he’s a chump. He doesn’t know his ass.”

“Chimp? Is that the chemist?”

“Yeah. We call him chimp because he’s so hairy. His girlfriend is hot though. I’d fuck her. I’d slide my cock right between those big titties of hers and—”

“Where’s the lab, Snakebite?” Arsen asked, cutting him off before he had to listen to any more of that fantasy.

“I can show you.”

“Just tell me. I don’t think you’re in any shape to be riding, do you, pal?”

Snakebite smiled. “No. That’s some good shit you gave me.”

“The best,” Arsen agreed. “Just tell me the address and I’ll tell Roger you took me there, just like he said.”

Snakbite shook his head. “Don’t know the address. Know how to get there, though.”

“What can you remember?”

“Man, I don’t know! It was this guy’s house. He wanted to expand and agreed to work for us. He thought it was funny as shit we were copying those fucking Blades. He said the Hearts and Daggers was some quality shit. Best out there.”

“You can’t remember the address?”

“No. It’s somewhere off 83rd.”

Arsen snapped his fingers and pointed at Phil. “You can’t remember the street name?”

“No. It was Indian something.”

As Phil tapped on his phone, Arsen paused, trying to think out to proceed. “Was it the name of an tribe, like Apache or Cherokee, something like that?”

“No, nothing like that. If Roger wanted you to see the lab, why didn’t he tell you where it was?”

“He was on the phone and couldn’t remember the address. That’s why he wanted you to take me.”

“Oh. Roger is such a prick sometimes.”

Arsen grinned. “You got that right, brother.”

“Indianola?” Phil asked.

“Is the street name Indianola?” Arsen repeated.”

“Maybe. I can’t remember. I know it was Indian-something.”

“That has to be it,” Phil said.

“You don’t remember the house number? How do you find it?”

“It’s the white shithole on the left side. I bet this guy’s neighbor’s love him.”

“You said it was blue?”

“White! Jesus, why don’t you listen?”

“What’s on either side of it?”

“Man, I don’t know! There’s a yellow house across the street. The guy has a couch or something in the front yard.”

“Show Zane,” Arsen ordered, and Phil moved up to sit in the passenger seat.

“You’re doing good. We’re going to look now.”

“You have any more of this shit?”

Arsen grinned. “As much as you want.”

Snakebite grinned and nodded. “Awesome.”

***

Forty minutes later they rolled to a stop by a white shithole of a house with yellow house on the other side of the street with a couch sitting in the carport. Arsen slid the door open. “That the Chrome Horseman club house?”

“No. That’s outside of town.”

“This is the place you said.”

“No. This is where we make our molly. You think we would have such a shithole for a clubhouse?”

Arsen slapped Snakebite on the shoulder. “That’s right. You told me.”

“Jesus. You never listen.”

“I know. Sorry about that.” He looked to Zane and Phil. “Where’s his bike?”

“We left it in a park near where we bagged him,” Phil said.

“Let’s go back there and drop him off. He’ll be coming out of it in an hour or so.”

“We’re just going to let him go?” Berk asked.

“Yeah. He won’t remember any of this, so why not?”

“Because we’ll have to deal with him later?” Berk’s tone make it sound like a question, but it clearly wasn’t.

“And where do you suggest we dump his dead body? Are you sure you didn’t leave prints or nobody saw you grab him? If he turns up dead, a whole lot of shit is going to start going down. We let him go…” he shrugged. “He’s just one more stoned out junky. The horsemen will get theirs after we’ve had time to plan.”

Berk nodded. Arsen’s arguments made sense, but it galled him to let this asshole just walk away. “Maybe someone will roll him.”

Arsen grinned. “I think we should put his wallet out where someone can easily find his ID, to help him get home. What do you think?”

Berk smiled, feeling a little better. “I like that idea. After all, we want him to get home safe.”

Chapter 25

The Blades rallied at the nearby elementary school, waiting in the parking lot until all the members were there. They were going in force to make the takedown quick.

“We have no safety equipment with us, so when you get there, don’t touch anything!” Arsen cautioned his men. “There’s a reason we use respirators and nitrile gloves in the plant. Getting sulfuric acid or mercuric chloride on you will absolutely ruin your day. Go in, take down whoever we find, but let me handle the chemicals. Any questions?” There were none. “Let’s do this quick and quiet.”

They rolled up to the house in four vehicles and stopped out front. Arsen kept his men back out of site as he walked up to the front door and rapped. “Chimp? Roger sent me.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” the man said as he opened the door.

The Blades stormed into the room, but there was nobody in the house other than the man, and a woman who appeared a moment later to see what the commotion as about.

“What do you want?” Chimp asked, his eyes wide. He wasn’t a big man, but as Snakebite said, he was covered in hair, sporting a thick beard and arms that wouldn’t look out of place on a wolf-man.

“What we want, Chimp, is for you to stop making molly,” Arsen said softly, then nodded to Phil, standing behind the man and holding his arms.

Phil quickly wrapped a wire around Chimp’s neck and jerked it tight. Chimp struggled in silence, unable to breath to make a sound, clawing at neck, trying to get his fingers under the wire, but after an eternity, his struggles slowed and he collapsed. Phil rode the body down to the ground, but kept the pressure on until he was sure the man was dead.

Arsen stepped to Berk, holding the woman, his hand around her mouth, her eyes wide with fear. “Here’s the deal, sister. He’s going to turn loose of your mouth so you can talk to me. If you scream, he’ll snap your neck. Got it?”

He nodded to Berk who released her mouth. “What do you want?” she breathed. “I’ll do anything you want!”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Arsen peeled five $100 bills off and handed them to her. “If I ever see you in Arizona again, if you talk to anyone, you’ll end up just like him. We found you once, we can find you again. Now get out! Run!”

The woman didn’t hesitate, bolting from the house and running down the street. “Why’d you let her go?” Berk asked.

“We don’t kill women if we don’t have to. That’s the difference between us and the Horsemen.” Arsen looked around the lab in the house. It was a disaster, and it made his skin crawl just seeing the setup. Open containers with no labels, no ventilation, no nothing. They were doing the community a service by shutting this lab down. The man wasn’t completely stupid, and he found a box of gloves. He pulled two out and put them on, handing the box to Zane. Zane pulled two, and passed it on, until the box was empty.

Arsen pickup up a couple of containers. “Jesus Christ, would you look at this?” he said, sitting the box down. “There’s enough mercuric chloride in that box to kill every person on this street, and he has it in an open box. What a moron.” He picked up several other containers, but held them well away from his face. After several minutes of inspection, he started giving orders.

“I’m going to separate the toxic from the safe. Find something we can dump it into. The toxic stuff…I guess we’ll bag it up and take it with us and dump it in our hazardous waste stream at the plant. Zane, you and the rest of the guys start breaking down the equipment.” He raised his voice. “If you don’t have gloves on, don’t touch anything! Zane, put all the equipment in the shower. We’ll rinse it down before we leave.”

“Why are we doing this? Why not just burn the place or something?”

“Because there are houses close on both sides, and a fire station isn’t far from here. Second, I don’t want to leave the equipment. They’ll just setup somewhere else if we do. So we’ll take it back with us. Some of the reaction vessels we can sell on ebay or something. The rest we’ll sell for scrap or just throw out. But I want it out of here so they can’t reuse it.”

“We could just smash it.”

“Too much noise and takes too long. Leave the glassware!” he called to a brother picking up beakers.

“And why are we taking the chemicals?”

“What do you suggest, leave them here?”

“Why not? Or pour them down the drain.”

“Because that rubs the chemist in me wrong.”

Zane shook his head. “Whatever. This is your show.”

***

They spent an hour tearing the lab down. They found several five gallon buckets in the back of the house they repurposed. All the safe chemicals went into one bucket, the toxic items were triple bagged in sealed plastic bags, then placed in another. They’d also found a several large bags of molly, bagged and ready for sale. Those went into van as well for disposal. They didn’t want the drugs, but they didn’t want to leave them for the Horsemen either.

The equipment they were taking was given a good rinse to remove anything that might be on it. It bothered him they were potentially dumping heavy metals and other nasty substances into the Phoenix waste water system, but the quantities were low enough the city’s treatment plant would be able to handle it.

Satisfied they had done all they could, four brothers smashed the glassware while the remaining brothers piled the equipment into the van. Arsen sat the two buckets of hazardous waste, the lids sealed with duct tape, into the van and slammed the door. “Let’s roll,” he told Zane. “Straight back to the plant, and be careful. I’ll meet you there.”

Berk joined him in his Caddy, and they followed Zane and Phil in the van all the way back to the clubhouse. When they arrived, he took charge of the chemicals, chucking the non-hazardous chemicals into their dumpster. The toxic chemicals and molly went into their hazard waste tote while Zane, Phil and Berk unloaded the rest of the equipment from the van. Task completed, he breathed a sigh of relief. If Zane had an accident on the way back to the clubhouse, and spilled the contents of the two hazardous buckets, they would have to scrap the van. There would have been no way to get the chemicals out of all the nooks and crannies, so the acids would have eaten a hole in it, eventually, and the risk of poisoning by mercurial chloride was too great to keep it around. He would rather die a dozen times in a gunfight than die once from mercury poisoning.

“How long do you think it’ll be before the Horsemen know?”

“Tomorrow sometime,” Phil shrugged.

“Berk, tomorrow I want you to power-wash all that shit we brought back. We’ll get it cleaned up, then I’ll have Alex put the stuff that will sell on ebay. The rest we can scrap.” Arsen ordered.

“Anything else?” Berk asked.

“No. We did good tonight. Nothing we did will stop the Horsemen, but killing their chemist is going to put a big crimp in their style.”

“I like the fact we’re making money off busting up their lab,” Phil grinned.

“And we took a shit load of the fake Hearts and Daggers off the market too. What did you do with it, anyway?” Zane asked.

“Cut the bags open and dumped it into the waste tote. By now it’s just part of the chemical stew.”

Chapter 26

On the way home from the clubhouse, Arsen realized he hadn’t called Quinn. “Shit,” he muttered. He debated calling her now, but he was only ten minutes from home, and it was late, a little after midnight, so he decided not to bother.

The house was dark as he moved to his bedroom. “You didn’t call,” Quinn said from his bed.

“No. I forgot.” She turned the lamp on and sat up. He expected to see her in some form of sleepwear, but she was still fully dressed.

“I’ve been worried.”

“Smooth as glass,” he replied. “I told you to not worry.”

“You don’t know how they are! They’re ruthless. They won’t hesitate to kill everyone. The Riders thought we could reason with them, but you see how that came out.”

“You haven’t seen us when we’re pissed off,” Arsen teased.

“Your club is—”

“Our club,” he corrected.

“Our club is nothing like them,” she began again. “You have morals, and compassion, and, and…”

“And what?”

“And I don’t want to lose you!”

That statement gave him pause. “Let me get a shower, then we’ll talk,” he said to buy himself some time to think.

He stripped out of his clothes and quickly showered. He felt…unclean…after being in the Horsemen’s lab. He debated pulling on some pants, but decided not to, and stepped out of the bathroom. He didn’t do robes or pajamas, and she could deal with it.

He stepped out of the shower, his dark hair made even darker by his shower, completely unselfconscious in his nakedness.

“I’m sorry I said that,” Quinn said as soon as she saw him. “It didn’t come out the way I intended.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly as he sat on the edge of the bed with her. “What did you mean to say?”

“I don’t know. I just know what happened to the Desert Riders, and I don’t want that to happen to you. You or the Blades.”

“It won’t. We hit them hard today. We found their lab and it’s gone. Now the ball is in their court.”

“So what happens next?”

“Next we go on lockdown. First thing in the morning. I’m sure some of the brothers will send their old ladies away. Do you have someplace to go?”

“No, nowhere.”

“You don’t have family?”

“None close.”

“Where’s your family?”

“Fairfax, Virginia.”

“Kind far from home, aren’t you?”

“Not me. Them. I was born in Flagstaff. They moved east a few years ago to be close to my brother and his kids.”

He detected a tone in her voice. “You could go stay with them. I’ll buy you a ticket.”

She snorted. “Thanks but no thanks. We haven’t gotten along for years. Richard was always their favorite anyway.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She snorted again. “That’s because you don’t know them. He was always the schmoozer. Class President, active in church. He’s a lobbyist for the solar power industry in DC now. But it’s all a scam. He doesn’t believe in anything and will say anything if he thinks it’ll get him ahead. I know he was cheating on his girlfriend while they were in college. When he said he was going to marry her, I confronted him about it and he lied right to my face. Told me I didn’t see what I know damn good and well I did see. When we were kids, he always had extra money. It’s funny how sometimes when he’d saved” she said, making air quotes with her fingers, “a little extra, Mom would be surprised because she was a little short.”

“Sounds like a nice guy,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk.

“He seems like it, but I know him. He lives in a big nice house, and drives expensive new cars, and gives Mom and Dad trips to Europe, or some shit, for Christmas, but the last time I was there, when his son was born, I brought in the mail, trying to help out. There was a final notice from Mercedes Benz Finance on top. I couldn’t care less he’s in debt up to his neck, but he came unglued on me, accusing me of snooping and such. Later he acted like nothing had happened and I was just being moody, which got Mom on my case. So I washed my hands of him, and his wife too, because she’s just like him. They deserve each other. When Melissa became pregnant with their second, Mom decided she and Dad were moving closer to help.”

“So that means you don’t want me to buy you a ticket?”

She sniffed out a short laugh. “Hardly.”

“Anywhere else you want to go? Friends? Anyone like that?”

“No. All my friends are dead.”

He grimaced. If weren’t for the Blades, he’d have no friends either. “Okay. So you’ll go on lockdown with us.”

She looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being such a pain in your ass.”

He stood, pulled her to her feet, then tossed the linens back. He settled into the bed then patted the mattress beside him. She smiled then shrugged out of her clothes, leaving only her panties on, and crawled in beside him. He pulled her into a cuddle.

“I know you’re afraid,” he said softly as she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her head laying on his chest, his hand slowly caressing her back, “but you’ve got to trust us on this. We’ve dealt with them before.”

“How did it go then?”

“Other than having them kill my parents and wife?”

She flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

He nodded, knowing that wasn’t what she meant, but wanting to remind her he understood her fear and pain better than she thought. “We pushed them out of the MDMA market. The killing of my family was their last ditch attempt to turn it around. Dad developed the MDMA procedure we use now. He had no classic training as a chemist, but he had a natural gift for it. He started making it in a storage building, and as the market grew, the Blades grew with it. Molly sent me to college, and I got a degree in organic chemistry. While I was in school, it was getting harder and harder to hide what he was doing, so, at my suggestion, he built the B3 business as a blind. I worked on formulas for the salts and beads in my spare time. We used to make the stuff and give it away, but then Zane decide that was stupid and we should at least try to sell it. He built the website, and while it took a year or more, the orders started to grow. The plan had just come online when they were killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I hurt for a long time. Everything seemed to be going our way, then that happened. I’d graduated school, gotten married, and I was able to scale up and refine our processes. The MDMA and B3 business were growing, and the Blades was making more money than ever, but I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t unhappy, but there was a hole where Holly, Mom, and Dad used to be. I didn’t care about anything except the Blades and the product.”

He paused and gave her a squeeze. “Then I found this little lost kitten out on the interstate and I brought her home.”

She smiled and drew a pattern on his chest with a finger. “I’m glad you did. This is the only place I feel really safe anymore, and even then, when you were gone tonight, I couldn’t sit still.”

“You’re safe now. You’re part of the Blades. We’ll protect you.”

“Am I? Am I really? You don’t have women members. How can I be part of it? I’m nobody’s old lady. Is that what you expect? Is that your price? Do I have to become your old lady so you can have someone to fuck whenever you want?”

“I don’t expect anything except that you uphold the charter of the club,” he said, his voice becoming hard. “You’re an asset to the club. When I talked to Zane and Phil about it, they were on board with you being part of the club and getting a share. If we’re going to push B3, and we may have to in order to hide what else we do, we need your talents. You’re in a unique position. More than a club girl, but not an old lady or a member. We’ll have to figure out what to do with you in the next year. Maybe we’ll create a new, non-voting membership class. I don’t know yet, and I need to talk it over with the rest of the club, but we’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

She smiled. “You could make me a member.”

This time he snorted. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Can you imagine the headaches that would cause? Brother and old lady voting on the opposite sides of an issue.”

“So old ladies don’t get a vote.”

“Right,” he said, drawling the word out. “Can you see Michelle sitting back and not having a vote if you do? She would drop Zane so fast he would bounce for a week.”

“She loves him!”

“I’m sure she does. And he loves her. And they would probably still sleep together and do all the things they do now, but she’ll want the same rights you would have. So no, I don’t see that happening.”

“I don’t understand you. Why me? Is it just because I can help the club? Why do you care what happens to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m, if not broken, at least bent. I feel clingy, and I hate it, but I can’t help feeling that way. I still feel like crying sometimes for no reason. I may never be able to enjoy sex again the way I did. I—”

“Didn’t you enjoy it last night?” he asked.

“Yes, but not like I did. I used to want to fuck. Last night I felt like, I don’t know, like I had to. Not for you,” she added hastily when she felt him stiffen and drawn in a breath, “but for me. Like I said, I had to know if I could.”

“Okay. And you did, and sort of enjoyed it. So today, what’s changed?”

Her finger stopped moving and she raised up to look into his eyes. “Today, I don’t know what I want. I want to be with you, but I worry I’ll never be able to satisfy you.”

He frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know about Holly, how you two enjoyed each other. I…don’t know if I’ll ever be like that again.”

“You’re you. You’re not her and never will be. I’m not comparing you to her, so why are you?”

“You said yourself you wouldn’t be with a woman that won’t let you touch her.”

“Yes, but we did make love last night, didn’t we? I enjoyed it. You said you enjoyed it, sort of.”

“But what if I can’t again?”

“Then we’ll figure it out. Maybe we’ll decide we’re not right for each other. I don’t know what to tell you, Quinn, but since you came into my life, that ache where Holly used to be doesn’t hurt as much. Maybe it’s stupid, but it’s the truth.”

“Now who’s comparing us?”

“I’m not comparing you. You two couldn’t be more different. Holly was loud, you’re quiet. She was five-eight and full figured, you’re petite. She was blonde haired and blue eyed. You’re not. She used to drink hard and get hammered. I’ve never seen you drink more than two beers at a time. She liked to party and you want to stay home.”

“She liked to fuck and I don’t.”

“She liked to fuck, and you don’t. Yet,” he added with his lopsided grin. “The point is, You’re you and she was her. I’m not trying to replace her. If you were like her, I don’t know that I would feel the way I do about you because you would remind me of her too much.”

“How do you feel about me?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly. I don’t love you, if that’s what you’re asking, but I feel something. You have this pull. I want to be with you. I want to see you smile. I want hold you and protect you.” He paused as he gathered his thoughts. “I loved Holly with all my heart. But even saying that, I never felt protective of her the way I do with you. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s almost like you’re Holly, but more, but at the same time. It’s different. It’s weird, but I want you with me even if we’re not fucking. Whether that’s for another week, another month, or another year, I don’t really know.”

“Whether we’re fucking or not?” she asked.

“For now, yes. Right now you’re filling that hollow place inside me, and that’s enough.”

She bit down hard on her emotions and she recalled Michelle’s words. “Maybe you were meant to find me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe that’s why all those cars drove past and didn’t stop. You’re meant to help me, and I’m meant to help you.”

He was quiet. The only fate he believed in was that which he created for himself. But there was some symmetry in them helping each other heal. He kissed her on the head. Somehow it felt right having her in his arms and in his bed, more right than any woman since Holly. “Maybe,” he finally allowed.

Chapter 27

“Quinn, wake up,” Arsen said, giving her a nudge. It was early, well before sunup, but he wanted to get everyone into the compound before the Horsemen realized what had happened.

“What time is it?” she mumbled, rolling over and stretching.

“Four-thirty.”

She groaned and stretched. “I hate mornings.”

“You can nap at the clubhouse. Come on, get up.”

With a groan she staggered out of bed and into the bathroom, patting him on the chest as she stumbled past. He heard the shower start and he grinned as he made the bed.

Twenty minutes later she stepped out of the bathroom. She looked more awake if not exactly alert. “You ready to go? We’re having breakfast at the clubhouse.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

They rode through the cool darkness of the early morning, then paused at the gate. Normally the gate was left open when the brothers were in the clubhouse, but today the gate was secured and Arsen had to enter the code to open the gate. The moment the gap was wide enough he slipped through the opening, the Indian triggering the sensor on the other side to start the gate closing.

There were only a half-dozen bikes there as Arsen shut off the Indian’s engine. The morning silence was once again complete.

“Can you help in the kitchen?” he asked as they walked in. “Everyone else should be here in less than half an hour

She nodded and started to step away, but then stopped, turned around, and give him a quick kiss before continuing on her way. While she worked in the kitchen, he checked the overnight orders. They pulled orders first thing in the morning, then again at three in the evening. It was going to be a light day packaging orders, and that was a good thing. The more men they could free up from their daily tasks, the more eyes they could have on the perimeter. They had full video surveillance, but it wouldn’t pick up a threat until it was in close, but the mark one eyeball could watch beyond where the cameras were pointed.

“Zane!” he called, stepping out of the small room that housed the servers.

“Yeah?”

“You and Phil tell me how many men we need watching. The rest I want to put on packaging to knock this out as soon as possible. We’ll do another blitz packaging after the three o’clock download then run the van out under heavy guard. After the packaging runs, people need to sleep so we can have people on watch tonight.”

“Why would they hit the van?”

“Not the van, the brothers inside.”

Zane rolled his eyes. “Of course. I’m not awake yet.”

“Come on. Breakfast will wake you up.”

After breakfast, while ten brothers watched the fence and another watched the cameras, the rest of the club pulled orders. Most of the brothers weren’t familiar with how to efficiently pull orders, but they had so many hands, they were done in less than two hours. Chet and his team, the brothers who ran the shipping department, carefully checked each box, then sealed and labeled it as other brothers staged the boxes to be loaded into the van after the three o’clock pull.

With nothing else to do, they began to rotate brothers in and out of watch, giving those sweltering in the rising heat a break.

Arsen had just come in from his turn of baking in the Arizona sun when the lunch plates began to appear. He retreated to the bathroom to wash the sweat off his face and arms before sitting down beside Quinn.

“How you doing?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’ve found clear plastic containers that I think would be perfect for the salts and beads. They come in a bunch of different sizes, and I think you should offer three. The larger the size, the less the price per unit so the customer will buy more. That will save you on shipping and your regular customers will feel like you’re saving them money. I also heard back from a box vendor and she wants to come talk to me about boxes. I put her off until next week because of, you know. Do you think that’s long enough?”

“Probably,” he said, picking up his hamburger and taking a bite. “If they’re going to hit us, I expect it tonight or tomorrow night.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything, keeping her fears to herself. The Blades ran like a well-oiled machine, everyone pitching in and doing their part, but Arsen had enough to worry about without her hanging all over him.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, picking up on her mood.

“Just nervous, that’s all.”

He nodded. “After lunch, let’s go someplace quiet, and you can show me the containers.”

She smiled. She knew what he was doing, and she appreciated it. “Okay. As soon as I help clean up from lunch.”

Cleanup didn’t take long since the Blades had a commercial kitchen in their clubhouse. Quick rinse in the sink, then into the commercial dishwasher, and they were done.

When she appeared from the kitchen, Arsen was waiting, and gave her a nod of his head. She picked up her laptop and followed him to the idled production building. “People who are pulling the night shift are trying to sleep,” he explained as they tromped up the steps to the lab. “This way we don’t have to worry about bothering them.”

She nodded as she followed him up the steps. Not everyone was sleeping, not yet anyway. As they passed the guest suites on the way out, she heard the squeak of a bed and the passionate whispers of a couple making love.

“Show me what you’ve found,” he said as he took the laptop from her, sat it on the bench, and opened the lid.

She called up the website and showed him the jars she’d selected, along with the lids, seals and labels. The jars were more expensive than the plastic bags they were currently using, but not as expensive as he expected when buying in bulk. “Everything I selected is off the shelf,” she finished.

“No prices on the boxes?”

“Not yet. I want to use a wax window box with a full design.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“More than you’re paying now, but the impact will be a lot more too. According to Sue, that’s the sales lady, it’ll be about 10% more per unit than you’re paying now, plus there will be an initial setup fee for the artwork.”

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing in comic suspicion. “What did you do before? You seem to know a lot about this.”

She grinned. “Worked behind the desk of a motel. As far as this, the internet is a wonderful thing. You can learn a lot of you are willing to do a little digging. Plus, I know what I like, and I figure I’m about average, so if I like it, I figure most women will like it. We like to think we’re getting a bargain, even if we’re not, and we like pretty things. A pretty box with a fancy jar inside will go a long way to making us want to try your product, especially when the jar contains those colored, sparkling bath salts. They look like decoration, so it’s like we’re getting a twofer. Something we can use to decorate our bathrooms, and something we can use pamper ourselves at the same time.”

He chuckled as he shook his head. “You missed your calling working in a motel. I think you could sell snow-cones to people in the Arctic.”

She smiled as she looked down, warming with his praise. “You opened your house to me, and your club welcomed me in. I’m just trying to do my part,” she said softly.

He waited until she looked up. “I didn’t open my house to you so you could help us in some way.”

“Why did you then?”

“I thought we covered that last night.”

“I’m just having a hard time believing it, that’s all. Nobody has ever done something for me without expecting something in return. Not like this.”

He shrugged. “I got something in return. A little peace.”

She could feel the tears coming and she couldn’t stop them. “Remember what I said about wanting to cry for no reason?” she whimpered as she fought her tears.

“Come here,” he said softly, rising to his feet and pulling her in, holding her tight. “Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffed.

He was holding her, waiting for to her shrug him off, when he they heard the gunshot. “Stay here,” he said, shoving her away.

“Arsen! No!” she screamed as he bolted from the room and pounded down the steps.

She stood, frozen in terror, her hands at her mouth, as gunfire erupted. She ran to the landing outside the door and looked over the edge as Arsen eased the factory door open, then shut it.

He looked up at her. “Go back in the lab and shut the door!”

“Don’t leave me!” she cried, shaking so hard she was afraid she would tumble down the steps.

“I’m not leaving you!” he called, trying to put her at ease. “Just go back in the lab where—” Before he could complete the sentence, the door burst open, hitting him in the back and causing him to stumble. He regained his balance and turned as a huge man rushed through the door, a large, long handled hammer in his hands.

Quinn was certain her heart stopped when Arsen turned to face the man. The thug charging through the door was as surprised to see Arsen as Arsen was to see him. They paused a moment, obviously shocked in having come face to face with each other, then Arsen recovered and grabbed the handle of the hammer.

The door hitting him in the back was bad enough, but when the gorilla charged through with a sledgehammer in his hands, he was so shocked he couldn’t move for a moment. Obviously the attack at the front of the clubhouse was a distraction so this guy could get in and wreck the production equipment. The gorilla slid his hands down the handle as he began to wind up for a swing. A solid blow from the hammer would kill him, and even a glancing blow would disable him. That was the primary threat. Realizing he didn’t have time to clear his weapon, he grabbed the hammer to stop the swing.

Unable to bring the hammer back with Arsen hanging onto the handle, the man charged forward, trying to drive Arsen back and down. Arsen went down, holding onto the hammer and dragging the gorilla down with him, putting a booted foot in the man’s chest and driving him over his head. The thug landed hard on the concrete floor. Arsen released the handle and scrambled to his feet, throwing himself on the man and forcing the handle into his neck.

The man kicked, trying to force the handle back up, but as big as he was, he was no match for Arsen and his advantage in leverage. As his struggles slowed, Arsen kept the pressure on, snarling down at the man, until the handle suddenly dropped lower and crushed his throat.

Arsen rolled off the dead man and looked around for another threat. Seeing nothing he glanced up at Quinn, staring down at him, her eyes wide with her hands at her mouth. She pounded down the steps with reckless speed as he got to his feet, throwing herself into his arms.

He was still holding her, watching the door, as the pops of gunfire ceased and the wail of police sirens approached.

Chapter 28

The raid was over in minutes. It was clearly a hit and run operation designed to take out their ability to manufacture.

He continued to hold Quinn as she shivered in his arms. “You okay?” Arsen asked.

She shook her head but said nothing. He lay his cheek against her head. She was clearly flashing back to the raid on the Desert Riders compound. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

A moment later, the door burst open with a bang. He glanced up, ready to shove Quinn behind him,  but quickly recognized Phil. Quinn’s back was to the door and she screamed, turning to look over her shoulder and fighting to get away.

“I’ve got you!” he cried, holding her tight as she struggled. “You’re safe!”

She struggled a moment before she recognizing Phil herself and quieted.

“Jesus! We didn’t know where you were!” Phil cried.

“Anyone hurt?”

“None of our guys. Two Horsemen dead.” He looked at the man in the floor. “Make that three. One wounded. Berk is sitting on him waiting for the cops to get here. What the hell happened? In the middle of the day? Are they fucking crazy?”

Arsen toed the dead body. “I think they were trying to cut off our ability to manufacture, maybe as a precursor to starting up their own lab again.”

“But in the middle of the day?”

Arsen shrugged. “Trying to hit us before we can get organized, just like we did them.” Quinn had stopped shaking, but she was still clinging to him desperately tight. “Can you handle the cops to start with?”

“What should we do with him?”

“Leave him and let the cops do their thing. We have nothing to hide. Don’t let them into the clubhouse without a warrant. We’ve worked hard to make sure we’re covered if something like this happens. It’s time to put it to the test, but we don’t have to make it easy for them.”

The sirens were close and coming hard, and Phil turned and trotted away to meet the cops.

“You okay?” he asked her. She shook her head but said nothing. “Come on, I have to deal with this. Let’s get you back to the clubhouse.”

He led her back into the clubhouse and she never let go of him. “Michelle! Take care of her,” he called to the first old lady he saw.

“What happened to her? Is she hurt?”

“Not hurt. Terrified.” He began to pry her hands off of him. “Michelle is going to stay with you until I get back.”

“Don’t leave me,” she begged.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m just going to talk to the cops. Michelle is going to take care of you until I get back, okay?” She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Listen to me! You’re surrounded by God knows how many cops and thirty brothers. Every one of them will give their life to protect yours. You’re safe. I have to deal with this. If you’ve ever trusted me, if you’re ever going to trust me, now’s the time.”

Slowly she released her death grip on him.

He kissed her softly on the lips. “That’s my girl. Go into one of the guest rooms with Michelle. I’ll try to keep you out of it, but if I can’t, do you feel up to talking to the cops?”

“Will you be there?”

“Count on it.”

She nodded then took a deep breath and stood up straight. “I’m okay.”

He grinned. “You’re doing good,” he said, then turned his attention to Michelle. “Stay with her.”

The moment Quinn’s eyes flicked to Michelle, he turned and strode away. He had the utmost confidence in Phil, and all his brothers, but this was his club and he’d be the one who spoke for it.

The Tucson police had arrived in force, but Phil already had the situation in hand and the cops’ guns were holstered.

“Thank you for responding so quickly,” Arsen said as he approached Phil and the cop with the sergeant stripes on his sleeves. He glanced at the sergeant’s name tag. “Arsen Kyle, President of the Blacktop Blades.”

“Your man here tells me he has no idea what this was all about.”

“That’s right.”

“So these Chrome Horsemen rode all the way down from Phoenix just to have a little shootout with a bunch of innocent citizens?”

“What can I say, Sergeant Tamprone?” Arsen said with a winning smile. “They’ve been a rival of ours for a long time. I guess it’s gotten personal.”

“Rivals? In what way?”

“I can’t speak for them, of course, but it’s kind of like a pair of high school football teams. There doesn’t have to be a reason, they just are. I always thought it was a friendly little game, until now.”

“Game? How?”

“Who’s the biggest? Who’s the best? That sort of thing. They’re a lot bigger than we are, but we make more money.”

Tamprone looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “You expect me to buy that this known outlaw club attacked you for no reason other than a friendly rivalry gone bad?”

Arsen shrugged. “You’ll have to ask them the reason.”

“Sarge!” a cop called trotting up. “The live one said they run a huge illegal drug manufacturing facility here.”

Tamprone turned his attention back to Arsen. “Mind if we look around?”

“Have a warrant?”

“Do I need one?”

“If you want to search, you do. By the way, there’s another dead body in the manufacturing building.”

“And what do you manufacture, Mr. Kyle?”

“Soap.”

“Soap?”

“Soap, bath beads, and salts.”

“Craig! Check out the body in the manufacturing building! Mr. Kyle will show you the way.”

By the time all the statements were taken and the bodies were cleared away, Tucson’s finest had a warrant to search for illicit drugs and a dog.

“That good enough for you, Mr. Kyle?” Tamprone asked, slapping the paper into his hand.

He read it over. “Perfectly. Thank you. It’s nothing personal, officer, but generations of Americans fought to give me these protections, and it would be a crime to dishonor them by giving those rights away.”

The sergeant grunted. “Search the place,” he ordered, waving the team forward.

“Phil, you and Zane help them with clubhouse. Let them look any place they want. Have Berk join me in manufacturing in case these fine gentlemen want to open any access panels.”

***

It was almost eight o’clock, more than six hours after the shooting started, before the cops completed their search. The dog hit on several items, and the cops tried to seize all the finished product and raw material in the entire facility, but a quick phone call to the club attorney put a stop to that, though they did take samples for analysis.

“Satisfied?” Arsen asked.

“I think you’re guilty of exactly what that thug accused you of,” Tamprone growled.

“How? You’ve been here for how long? I’ve let you test every sample you’ve asked for. I’ve even shown you our books and the formulations for all our products to show that we actually use the items the dog hit on in our process, even though you had no right to see them.”

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?”

“Why is it so hard to believe we are what we say we are? Is it because we like to ride motorcycles?” Arsen grinned. “To show there’s no hard feelings, would you object if we gave you and your men a selection of our products? For their wives and girlfriends, of course.” When the sergeant stared at him, he chuckled. “It’s not a bribe. It’s not for you, it’s for your wife.”

When he didn’t say no, Arsen turned to Zane. “Go put together a gift box for these gentlemen.” He smiled at the men. “It too bad this had to happen now. We’re in the middle of a packaging upgrade. Next month, they would have been really impressed.”

Zane and Phil, returned twenty minutes later with nine large shipping boxes full of their various products, neatly stacked on hand trucks.

“A small token of our gratitude for your quick response and the job you do.” The cops looked at each other a moment. “I’d really rather not have to unpack the boxes and put the stuff back in the racks, and I’m hoping after they try them, your wives and girlfriends will order more,” Arsen encouraged.

The moment the first police officer picked up a box, nodding in thanks, the rest of the cops took one until there was only one left.

“Your wife will be disappointed,” Arsen said.

Tamprone picked up the box and put it in his cruiser. “I still think you’re guilty as shit.”

Arsen smiled and waved as the Sergeant slammed the door on his car and drove away. “Yeah, but you can’t prove it, can you?”

Chapter 29

Arsen, Zane, and Phil walked back into the clubhouse. Arsen headed straight to the bar and flipped a glass over, poured himself three fingers and tossed back the clear liquid, growling and grimacing as it burned. “That Sergeant Tampon was a real asshole,” he muttered.

The brothers chuckled at Arsen’s insult. “Yeah, but they can’t lay a finger on us,” Zane replied, taking a sip of his beer.

“But now we’re on their radar,” Phil pointed out as the rest of the brothers gathered around.

“So?” Arsen asked. “We’ve been operating under their noses for years. We’ll keep doing so. If they lean on us, we’ll file a harassment suit against them. We knew eventually we were going to get tagged, but all the safeties and blinds we put into place worked. They’ll have hell getting another warrant. They shouldn’t have been able to get that one and somebody went way out on a limb to get it, so far out they’re going to get their ass chewed. As far as the city of Tucson is concerned we are an upstanding, legitimate, tax paying business, and we have the permits to prove it.”

“What about the Horsemen?” Quinn asked quietly.

Arsen nodded. “What about the Horsemen? I’m tired of dealing with those shits. And then have them rat us out to the cops?”

“I say we deal with them, once and for all, just like we planned,” Berk said.

Arsen nodded. “Yeah, but we have a problem now. If we hit back, the cops are going to show up on our doorstep. If we do this, we’ll have to wipe them out in one stroke. No witnesses, like with the Riders. It’ll have to be a small group and we’ll need to have cover.” Everyone looked at Quinn, watching to see how she reacted.

“That’s a tall order,” Phil said. “How can we be sure we get them all?”

“Do we have to get them all?” Chet asked. “You know they’re going to be waiting for us. If we take out everyone in the club house, do we care if we miss a few? There won’t be enough left to sustain a club.”

“Good point,” Arsen agreed. “But how are we going to do that? We’re going to have the same problem the Horsemen did hitting us. We killed three of their guys, wounded another, and didn’t get a scratch.”

“How about we call in help? The Advocates brought this to our attention. Maybe they can help us solve it,” Zane suggested.

Arsen thought it over. “I don’t know how I feel about admitting we can’t handle out own problems.”

“The Horsemen are three times our size, maybe more, but the Advocates are at least five times their size. We could sell it as we are giving them a chance to extract a little revenge for fucking with their territory,” Phil suggested.

Arsen shook his head. “No. If we go to them, we should be honest with them. They’re our partners, and once we start lying to each other the trust breaks down. What do you think? Do we ask for help or not?”

It was an informal vote, but in the end, the Blades decided not to ask for help. “Let’s table this for now,” Arsen said. “We’re still on lockdown in case the Horsemen try again. We can discuss how we’re going to handle them in the morning.”

“I want to pull everyone in tonight.” Phil said. “I doubt the Horsemen will come calling again tonight, and we won’t be able to see in the dark anyway. We’ll leave the compound lights on and put a man on the cameras. That should give us enough warning.”

“Sounds good. Make it happen,” Arsen ordered.

***

The Blades were sitting down for a late dinner of cold sandwiches when Arsen’s phone rang. “It’s the Horsemen,” he said before answering the call and putting it on speaker as the club gathered around. “What do you want, Roger?”

“We need to talk.”

“No, I don’t believe we do. Having your men show up here today put an end to the talking. You tried this once before and got your ass handed to you. You must be a slow learner.”

“Kyle, I don’t have any choice. My back is against the wall.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“Give me the girl and we can make a deal on the molly. We’ll stop counterfeiting your stuff.”

“I gave you that option but you wanted to get into a pissing contest. Why the change of heart?”

There was a pause. “I need something, Kyle. My club is coming apart. The molly, that’s business, but the girl, that’s personal. She killed a brother and she has to answer for that. I can use that to hold the club together.”

Arsen glanced at Quinn. She’d gone pale, her eyes were wide, and she was shaking. “So I give you the girl and you stop counterfeiting the Hearts and Daggers? That’s the deal your offering me?”

“That’s the deal. You wrecked my lab, killed my chemist, killed three of my brothers, and another is going to pull a stretch in lockup after he gets out of the hospital. I’m willing to overlook all of that, and stop the counterfeiting, for the girl.”

“A tempting offer,” Arsen said slowly. “I have counter offer. Why don’t you go fuck yourself? She’s a Blade now and we protect our own. You’re the one who called in the thunder when you started counterfeiting our stuff. You hit my compound and then you rat us out to the pigs. I should thank you for that I suppose because they didn’t find shit. Now we’re protected. It seems like everything you touch turns to shit.”

“I can’t let this go, Arsen. You have a chance to end it, now, and you’re pissing it away. All it’s going to cost you is the girl. What does she mean to you anyway?”

“She’s a Blade. That’s all you need to know.”

“You’re starting a war, Kyle.”

“No. I’m finishing it,” he said before stabbing the button to end the call.

“They must really be in a bad way,” Greg said after a moment.

“Good,” Alex snarled. “There is no way in hell we’re giving them Quinn. She’s one of us now.”

She didn’t smile, but her shaking had stopped and her color was returning.

“She’s going no place,” Berk said firmly. “They had their shot at her. They’ll have to go through me to get another.”

A rumble of “And me” circled the room as all the members and old ladies voiced their support.

Arsen watched her eyes. “And me,” he said after the room fell silent. Quinn whimpered, her face crinkling as tears began to crawl down her cheeks. He took her hands and held them. “We’re not turning you over to them, not now, not ever.”

She nodded and pulled her hands from his to wipe her eyes. “I believe you. All of you. Thank you.”

The rest of the meal was consumed as the Blades talked about what they were going to do about the Horsemen. The two sticking points were covering what they were doing and prying them out of their clubhouse. A straight on assault would cost a lot of Blades lives, even if they were successful. They had to get in and out clean, and have an alibi. Having brothers attest they were with them would work, but better would be someone unrelated to the club stating the same thing.

Nothing was resolved by the time dinner was finished, and afterwards Arsen worked with Quinn to teach her to play pool as a way to pass the time. He wasn’t a great player, Greg could wipe the floor with him and every member of the club, but he was better than her by a large margin. The best part of the instruction was leaning into her ass as he taught her to stroke the cue. She seemed to enjoy the instruction and began pushing back into him.

***

“I have our cots setup,” she said as she stepped into the small room that held the servers that ran their club. “We’re in the manufacturing building.”

He nodded. He, Zane and Phil could have claimed the three of the guest quarters for themselves, but all the brothers had drawn straws for them and they weren’t one of the lucky four. If they were still on lockdown tomorrow night, maybe they would have better luck.

“Anything?” she asked, hopping up to sit on the desk.

“Quiet as a cemetery. I don’t expect anything to happen tonight.” He shrugged. “But then I didn’t expect anything to happen during the day today, either, so what do I know? The Horsemen must be desperate, and that makes them dangerous and unpredictable.”

“They were already dangerous and unpredictable.”

He smiled and stroked her thigh. “When we’re done, you’ll never have to worry about them again.”

She nodded. “I hope you kill every last one of those fuckers.”

He looked at her, his eyes opening wide. He’d never heard such hate in her voice before. Pain, yes, and fear, but not this seething anger. He smiled and caressed her leg again. He was glad to hear that anger. When he lost Holly he was first in shock, then pain, then came the anger. He was angry for a long time at the cruelty of the world, but finally he was able to let the anger go and accept his loss. Once he did that, he was able to move on. Her anger meant she was healing.

“I’ll make sure they know you send your regards.”

Chapter 30

Arsen swam out of the darkness, the soft press of Quinn’s lips to his stripping away the veil of sleep.

“What?” he murmured, trying to throw off the cobwebs.

“I want you,” she whispered. There were bunking in the production area of the plant, a large space filled with machines. They were surrounded on all sides by sleeping brothers and sisters, twelve in all.

“What’s wrong?”

“I want you,” she repeated. “I need you.”

He sat up, blinking, trying to fathom what she was telling him. “Want me?”

She tugged on his hands, pulling him to his feet. “I can’t sleep,” she whispered as she pulled him along behind her.

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace where we can be alone.” She led him to the very back of the plant, where the industrial water was treated. It was hotter than seven hells in the room, but she didn’t care. It was the one place where she was certain they wouldn’t be heard or disturbed. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, she turned to face him, pulling his head down to kiss him lustily.

He fought out of the kiss. “What are you doing?”

“I want you.”

“You don’t have to do this. I told you that.”

“I want to. I was laying there tonight, thinking, couldn’t sleep. The more I thought about what happened to me, the more upset I got. Those fucking Horsemen took everything from me. They took my life and my friends, but that wasn’t enough. They wanted me back. I—”

“You’re not going back,” he snapped, cutting her off.

“I know! Tonight, hearing everyone in the club say they would have to go through them first made me believe, for the first time, I’m safe. Then, the way you looked at me when you said the same thing.” She shook her head. “I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of wondering if I can ever be normal again. It pisses me off what they’ve done to me, and I’m not going to let them win! I want to make them pay for what they did to me, and Miranda, and Teresa, and Holly, and your parents!”

“They will,” he said firmly.

“I believe you, and I’m not going to let them make me afraid any more. I’m taking my fucking life back!”

He nodded in understanding. He understood exactly where she was coming from. She was trying to find something to crack open the darkness inside of her so she could let it escape. “What can I do to help?”

“You can fuck me! You can fuck me and make me alive again! The night in the cabin showed me I wasn’t broken. I want you to remind me that fucking is amazing, and fun, and there is more to life than simply existing.” She paused, watching his eyes in the dim safety lights, wanting to see if he understood what she was trying to say.

Hearing the fire in her voice as she ordered him to please her made him ache for her. She was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, her skin already glowing with sweat, but it was the life he saw in her eyes that spoke to him. She was alive and vibrant in a way he’d never seen from her before. He reached behind her head and pulled her to him, stopping mere millimeters from his lips. He wouldn’t force her to kiss him.

She smiled as he paused, then closed the distance, pressing her lips tightly to his. He was wearing pants but no shirt, and she ran her hands over his back, feeling the sweat forming, her passion climbing to heights she had never experienced before. Whether it was the kindness he’d shown her, the fact he was going to extract bloody revenge on those who had hurt her, or her all-consuming rage, she didn’t know, and didn’t care. For tonight none of it mattered. All that mattered was she wanted him like no man before, and she would have him, over and over, until her rage was consumed.

She pushed him back, then dropped to her knees in front of him. The concrete floor was painfully hard, but she barely noticed, so consumed by her lust that the only thing that mattered was pleasing him and being pleased in return. She opened his pants and jerked them roughly down before swallowing him, grabbing his ass and pulling him forward and deep into her mouth.

He hissed as she took him deep, his desire roaring. She was being rough, but that was fine. He could be just as rough. He grabbed her head and pulled her down on him, holding himself deep in her mouth as her nails bit into his ass, releasing her as she tried to pull back. She spat on him then took him into her hand as she stroked him hard and fast. She rose and pulled her shirt over her head, then shoved her shorts down. They stepped out of their pants together, then holding his cock, she pulled him into the reverse osmosis machinery and tank farm that provided their pure water. It was a tight squeeze between the two large, smooth, plastic holding tanks, but that was fine by him.

She pulled him deeper into the machinery, wanting to feel the closeness of the tight confines. It made her feel hidden and safe from discovery, allowing her to let herself go, and she wanted to let herself go to recapture what she once had. She loved sex, and while she was generally satisfied with her sex life before, she’d never had a lover who could fully satisfy her. They all lacked either skills, stamina, or both. Listening to Michelle describe his relationship with Holly, she hoped Arsen would be different, and tonight she would find out.

She dropped to her knees again and took him deep into her mouth, her tongue flicking the base of his shaft as she held him deep then drew him out, before plunging him back into her mouth, making wet slurpy sounds as she worked him over.

“Fuck!” he growled, as she again pulled back, licked down his shaft to suck his balls, then plunged his cock into her mouth again. Quinn was a force of nature, wild and unstoppable, and he could feel his control slipping.

His growls and pants, the way he held her head, making his desire known but not hurting her, enflamed her. She was taking her rage with the Chrome Horsemen on out Arsen, replacing anger with lust, pain with pleasure, fear with desire. She was being rough, and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to be handled roughly, to dominate him in sexual conflict, to fuck as long and hard as possible, to be left wrung out and gasping as she burned out the darkness with the heat of passion.

He was going to come. Rarely had a woman been able to make him come with her mouth, but he was going to tonight if she continued. He tried to push her away, but she refused to yield, her nails once again biting hard into his ass as she continued to work him over with mouth and tongue. She pulled back then plunged down again. If she wanted to suck him until he came, then fine, he would fucking come. Then, once the edge had been taken off, he would make her scream in pleasure.

He grabbed her head and thrust into her mouth, holding her tight. He was finally getting into it, exerting his will over her, and she thrilled with the change. She’d always liked men who knew how to please a woman and didn’t wait to be told what to do. He let her back off long enough to catch her breath, but when she swallowed him again, he held her until he barked, thrusting his hips forward as he spilled into her mouth. He tried to pull back again, but she continued to batter him with her tongue, his deep hard groan of pleasure making her blood run hot.

He reached down and pulled her to her feet, then picked her up by the waist, ducking under her legs as he sat her on his shoulders. He’d always wanted to do this to a woman. He took a half-step forward and tipped her backwards so her back was resting against the tank. He jacked her into position with his hands under her ass, then set to work.

When Arsen picked her up, Quinn felt a rush of panic, but he handled her effortlessly, sitting her on his shoulders before tipping her back into the tank. As his tongue began to tickle and caress her sex, she gave herself over to him, placing her absolute faith in him that he wouldn’t hurt her, either physically or emotionally, allowing the pleasure to swell within her, the excitement of this new and unique position and their surroundings twisting her up.

After several minutes she began to thrust her hips, using her powerful leg muscles to move. She was getting slippery with sweat, but with her back against the tank and her legs draped over his shoulders, he knew she couldn’t fall. She pressed up hard and he tighten his neck, allowing her to control the pressure of his kiss, his tongue slithering and darting, his lips pulling and tugging.

“Fuck! Shit!” she snarled, as she thrust her hips into his face as hard and fast as she could, then pressed her hips hard forward as her pleasure consumed her.

Her snarling, growling pants as she pressed her pussy in to his face made him want to fuck her long and hard, to make her squirm and gasp in pleasure. He’d had many women since Holly, but fucking them had been about his need and his pleasure. With Quinn, he wanted to please her, to hear her cry his name as she found release.

“Oh fuck…please stop!” she wailed, trapped on his shoulders, unable to escape the searing pleasure of his tongue. She was about to cry out again, the sensation of his tongue and lips on her pussy rising to the point of near pain, then suddenly they were gone. She gasped, a shudder passing through her as her climax washed out of her, leaving her feeling spent and weak.

He stepped back, twisting her to one shoulder, using one arm to hold her steady as he slipped one leg, then the other from his shoulder, allowing her to slide down his body. When she reached the proper height, he pressed her into the tank again. As her arms and legs went around him, he reached under her ass and directed his throbbing cock into her wetness. He allowed her to slip a little lower than began to thrust with long hard stokes.

His passage as he entered her, and the feel of his weight as he pressed her hard into the tank, was exquisite. The curve of the tank was perfect, almost if it had been molded with the intention of being fucked against. She gripped him tight, her mouth opening in a silent cry of ecstasy as they moved together, their sweat slick skin another source of pleasure.

“Do you feel alive now?” he snarled, driving into her hard.

“Yes! Yes! Don’t stop!”

“I’m never going to stop,” he growled, picking up speed, driving into her harder and faster, his need consuming him. “You’re mine and I’m never letting anyone take you from me!”

“Oh, God! Yes!” she gasped as he pounded into her. “Just like that! Fuck me hard!”

He leaned into her, pressing her firmly into the tank, her fingers biting into his back. He took a step back, intending to turn her and fuck her from behind, but there wasn’t enough room. He pressed her into the tank again, determined to finish her there.

“I’m coming!” she wailed as she jerked and twisted, and still he fucked her, intending to destroy her with ecstasy. She twisted her hands behind his neck, unable to be still, her face twisted in rapture as he slammed into her. He stopped when she began to relax out of her climax, pressing her into the tank as he tried to catch his breath.

She felt like a blob of goo, boneless and without structure, ready to ooze through his fingers and puddle in the floor. She held him, panting with the power of her orgasm, so strung out even the trickle of the sweat running off her was a source of pleasure. She began to giggle, taking his lips and kissing him thoroughly.

“Oh God!” she grinned as strength began to flow back into her. He must be exhausted from holding her up, his chest still heaving. She squirmed and he put her down. She reached up and pulled him down into a kiss, his hair soaked, his body shiny as the sweat ran off him and splattered on the ground. He was the sexist man she’d ever seen, and she could tell from his hardness, he wasn’t done yet.

“Did you mean that?” she asked as she pulled back from the kiss.

“What?”

“That I’m yours and you’ll never letting anyone take me from you.”

He blinked. “Did I say that?”

She smiled, but felt her heart sink. “Yes.”

He blinked again, trying to remember what he said. He’d been so consumed with his lust he couldn’t remember. He remembered asking her if she felt alive, but after that…he remembered he said something, but not what. He smiled down at her. It didn’t matter, not now. “I don’t remember saying it, but I’ll not let anyone take you, or hurt you, again.”

It was a bit of a backpedal from what he said, but maybe it didn’t matter. She was beginning to feel something for him, even before he’d given her the two mind twisting orgasms, and maybe he was feeling the same. When you said something without thinking, it was often the truth. She didn’t love him, and maybe he didn’t love her, but perhaps he was feeling something, a pull he called it, just as she was. Only time would tell if the connection she now suspected they shared would turn into something more, and she would do everything she could to nurture it, gently breathing on the feeble flame until it was a roaring blaze.

She smiled and pulled his head down until her lips were by his ear. “Want some more?”

She released his head and he straightened with a smile. She was a hellcat once her walls were broken down, and he relished the chance to try to tame her. “Always,” he growled.

They twisted, sliding against each other as he flipped her around and pressed her chest against the tank. There was just enough room to move as he crouched and squirmed into position, unable to even pull fully out. She pushed hard back into him, pinning his ass against the tank and driving him deep.

“Now it’s my turn,” she murmured as she began to work her hips.

She worked him hard. He avoided coming once only because she fell into a raging orgasm that gave him a respite and allowed him to regather his control. But there was no stopping this one. Her mewling as she begged him to make her come again was straining his control beyond his ability to hold.

“Fuck,” he snarled, pinning her hands to the tank above her head and driving into her as hard and fast as he could.

“Make me come! That’s it! Make me come! I want you to come with me. I want to feel you come inside of me.”

He leaned in, kissing her hard on her shoulder. He couldn’t take it anymore. He’d fought his orgasm to the end, but as the final thread of his control snapped, he roared his pleasure to the world. He threw himself into the tank behind him, trying to escape the brain melting pleasure of his orgasm, but he couldn’t. He roared again, as she continued to fuck him, before she wailed long and loud, pressing hard back into him. He peeled her off the tank, holding her against his chest as he gasped for air, his breathing hard and ragged.

They sagged as one, spent from the heat and their exertions. He pulled out of her, and turned her, her thigh sliding along his still hard cock making him grunt and lunge. Her hair plastered to her head, covered in sweat and dirt from the tanks, she was still the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. She was everything he wanted and admired, tough, resilient, and strong. As he lowered his lips to kiss her, he realized without his knowing it, she had wormed her way into his heart. Only now, sharing the searing heat of their passion, did he understand what she meant to him. He would let her leave, but nobody was taking her from him, and he would fight to the death for her.

She melted into the kiss. Something had changed between them, even more than after the night in the cabin. As she leaned in tight, enjoying the feel of his still hard cock between them, she knew she was home. Someday he might tire of her and send her away, but until that day, she was right where she wanted to be, in his arms, and she would never leave. She pulled out of the kiss, and placed her head on his chest, listening to the hard and fast thudding of his heart. She smiled, and wondered if he knew she was starting to fall for him.

Chapter 31

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Cyra said, sitting down beside Quinn.

Quinn nodded with a grin. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I don’t know how. I slept on one of those cots last night and my back is killing me.”

Quinn’s smile grew wider. “I slept pretty good.” She didn’t mention that was after Arsen had fucked her until she was so exhausted she could have slept on a pile of rocks.

After their romp in the back of the factory, they had redressed and snuck back to their cots, nobody apparently the wiser. But goddamn had he given it to her. She’d had four of the most face melting, brain shredding, toe curling orgasms of her life last night, and for the first time she could remember, she was totally, utterly, blissfully, satisfied. Whether it was the excitement of where they were, or she was finally no longer afraid, or the way he had looked at her when he promised to protect her, she didn’t know. What she did know was, that at the earliest opportunity, she was going to get him alone in his big bed, and see what he could do there.

“Lucky you,” Cyra muttered, then glanced up at the door to Church. “They’ve been in there a long time.”

“Yeah. Planning what to do about the Horsemen.”

“I hope they come up with something soon. I’m ready to sleep in my own bed again.”

Quinn nodded and grinned. She was ready to sleep in a bed too, but not her own.

***

“Are you sure that will work?” Arsen asked.

Gage nodded. “I know it’ll work.”

Arsen turned Gage’s idea over in his head. It was clever as hell…if it worked. Gage seemed confident and he trusted his brothers. “Okay. Let’s do it. Anyone have a problem with Gage’s plan?” None of the five men did.

“What are we doing for cover? The cops are going to be crawling up our ass when this goes down,” Zane said.

“Any ideas?” Arsen asked.

“Can’t the brothers say we were here?” Phil suggested.

“That will work, if we can’t come up with something better. But I would like someone other than brothers to swear they saw us.”

They talked the idea around but got nowhere. The suggestions were getting more and more crazy when the rap came on the door. “Lunch!” Michelle’s voice called.

“We’ll pick this up after lunch. Gage, you take a couple of brothers and go get what you need. You’re the key to this whole operation, so I want you to have plenty of time do what you need to do.”

“It shouldn’t take long to set up, but I’ll go right after lunch. I’m out of ideas anyway.”

The five men were the last ones to sit down. “How’s it going?” Quinn asked as she sat down at her place.

“We have a plan. The problem is how to get away with it. After the Horsemen hit us yesterday, we’re going to need an airtight alibi because the cops are going to be all over us,” Arsen explained.

“Just having us swear you were here won’t be enough?” she asked.

“Probably, but it would be better if someone other than members of the club could account for us.”

She thought about it as she slowly chewed. It would be tricky. They needed to be where people could see the club, but at the same time, being out in the open exposed them to the Horsemen.

“How many are going?”

“Five, why?”

“When?”

“We want to be there fairly early. Just after dark probably. We need them to be awake and alert for this work. Why?” he asked again.

“So you should be back by eleven?”

He bobbed his head as he thought. “Something like that I guess.”

“What if,” she began slowly, “we have a big barbeque at a park someplace?”

“Okay. And?” he asked as the brothers near him listened in.

“And there are forty-five of us here. Will anybody miss five? You park your car nearby before you arrive, then you slip away later in the car. Leave the bikes at the park. Do what you have to, then come back and ride away with the rest of the group. That big Indian of yours stands out, people will notice it. You go back and get the car later, or I could drive it there and you pick me up and take me to the park, then do the reverse on the way out.”

“I don’t know about that idea,” Arsen said slowly. “I don’t like the idea of being outside the compound. That makes you exposed.”

“Do you really think the Horsemen are going to ride into a public park and start gunning people down after yesterday? Besides, how would they know where we are? If you get to the Horsemen’s clubhouse and they’re not there, call us, and we come straight back here.”

Arsen looked at his brothers. “What do you think?”

“Udall park isn’t far from here. It’s Wednesday, so I bet we can still reserve a pavilion,” Zane said.

“I think there’s a Safeway, or something, across the street. We could all go in there and get on their surveillance tape,” Phil suggested. “That would be a good place to leave the van as well. It wouldn’t look out of place there, and if we stop for burgers, ice, beer, and the like, nobody would question if one of the old ladies drove up in it, then left on the back of a hog.”

“We’ll make sure those of us going on the trip are noticed. We’ll go in and pay for the pavilion and the like,” Zane suggest. “This might just work. It’s better than anything we came up with. Simpler too.”

“If word gets back here before we do, and the cops track us down, we’re fucked,” Arsen pointed out. He agreed it was a good a plan as any they had come up with, and better than most, but he always liked to play the devil’s advocate to make sure they hadn’t overlooked anything.

“The only fool proof way to not get caught is to not do it,” Zane said. “I think we should run with Quinn’s idea.”

Arsen looked around. “Agreed. The only thing that bothers me is…does anyone else feel stupid she thought of this in two minutes when we couldn’t come up with something as good in twenty? Or is it just me?”

The brothers and old ladies close enough to have been listening in snickered. “It’s not just you,” Zane grinned.

“The women have always been the brains of the club,” Michelle teased. “We just keep you men around to move heavy stuff.”

Quinn sat back and smiled in satisfaction.

***

“Why do you have to go?” Quinn asked later as they prepared to put their plan in motion. Gage had returned with what he needed and was busy constructing their surprise.

“We’ve been over his before,” Arsen replied.

“I know,” she said quietly, not meeting his eyes as she looked at her feet. “I feel like my life is beginning to get back to normal. You’re such a big part of that now. If I were to lose you…”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly. “Gage’s plan is a good one.”

He’d told her what they were going to do after lunch and she nodded in agreement. “I know. But something can always go wrong.”

“Then we’ll deal with it.” He grinned at her. “Relax. After tonight our problems will be over.” He brought his lips close to her ear. “Tonight, after the barbecue, we’ll be at home, in our own bed.”

She didn’t miss that he had said our bed. She looked up and smiled at him. “It’ll be nice to not sleep on the cot again tonight.”

“We might sleep…some.”

The implied promise made her shiver in anticipation. He had devastated her last night, and she looked forward to testing him again. “That means you have to come back.”

He smiled and pulled her into a slow, luxurious, kiss. “A down payment on tonight.”

***

At four o’clock, the Blades mounted up and rumbled out of their compound in force, thirty bikes strong. Toni, with three brothers in support, left early in the van to make their shipment drop and would meet them at the Safeway.

The Blades wandered through the store buying meat, bread, chips, drinks, everything they’d need to host a barbecue. Arsen, Zane, Gage, Phil, and Berk made sure to get themselves noticed by chatting up the women at the registers. The rest of the club following their lead and engaging the staff in conversation.

Bikes loaded down with supplies, they moved across the street to Udall park, where Zane paid for the pavilion they rented as Arsen and Gage hovered in the background. They took their sign showing they had reserved the pavilion and joined the rest of the brothers waiting outside.

They set up at their pavilion, Gage’s Street Glide sitting on the sidewalk while pumping out tunes. As expected, a park official showed up and told them to move the motorcycle. Arsen tried to reason with the man as Phil, Zane, Gage and Berk clustered around, putting on a good show to get them noticed, but he finally agreed and ordered Gage to put the bike back in the parking lot.

Gage grinned as he walked up. “They’ll remember us now.”

Two hours later, Arsen pulled Quinn into a loose hug, the other brothers doing the same with their old ladies. “We’re leaving. If we’re not back by the time the park closes, stall as long as you can. We’ll be hauling ass, but we’re cutting it fine.”

She kissed him softly on the lips. “We’ll make it happen. If we have to, I’ll ride your bike out.”

“Oh no,” he chuckled. “I saw what happened to the last bike you rode. We’ll be back.”

“You better. You’ve promised to help keep me awake tonight.”

He kissed her again. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter 32

It was just before nine and the Blades were crouching at the perimeter of the Horsemen’s compound outside of Buckeye. There were at least eighty bikes arrayed on a concrete pad in front of the large building. This was the first time he’d seen the Chrome Horsemen’s clubhouse, and it was ugly as shit. Plopped in the center of a large dirt lot backing up to a canal, it was just as Quinn described it. A prefab industrial building with large windows on the front, painted black. The Chrome Horsemen colors, a demon riding a stylized motorcycle with a bloody horsehead mounted between the handlebars, was painted on the center window. It had no class, no style and no redeeming features other than it was it was in the middle of nowhere, so there was little danger of getting caught by the police. On the other hand, with the van parked at the nearest business, but still a half-mile away, there was no way they would be able to make it back to the van if things went badly.

Phil finished snipping open the chain link fence that surrounded the Horsemen’s compound, then tucked one handle of the twelve-inch bolt cutters under his belt to make sure he didn’t forget and leave them behind.

“Can you make the shot?” Phil whispered. There was at least one guard outside, but the dumbass was standing close to the building and in the light. With his night vision destroyed, there was no way he could see them crouching in the darkness, even if they were less than twenty-five yards away.

“No problem,” Gage said, nocking an arrow. As Berk and Phil pulled the fence back to give him a clear line of fire, Gage drew the arrow back and let fly. They heard nothing other than the soft woof as the arrow left the bow, but the man dropped like a sack of potatoes, the arrow sticking out of his chest were his heart would be.

“Nice shot!” Arsen whispered, pumping his fist in triumph. He didn’t know Gage had a bow, and he damn sure didn’t know he was as capable as he was. There was no way he could have a guaranteed kill shot at that range with a pistol, and the noise would probably would have brought the Horsemen on the run anyway.

Gage picked up another arrow, and let it fly, followed by five of its brothers. All six found their mark, puncturing the fuel tanks on the parked motorcycles. While they waited for the fuel to drain, Gage taped a nine-volt battery to his bow. He nocked another arrow and drew it back, then waited.

“Jeff!” a man called, stepping around corner on the opposite side of the building. “Do you smell gas?”

Gage fired. The shot was at least fifty yards, more than double the distance of the previous shot, but his aim was just as deadly.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” Phil whispered, grinning at Gage.

“You better do it in case they come out to see what that asshole was shouting about,” Berk suggested.

Gage looked to Arsen who nodded. He picked up another arrow, this one specially modified with a wad of 0000 steel wool affixed to the end. He nocked it, and as he pulled it back, the wool contacted the battery. Almost instantly the wool glowed red hot and then burst into flame. Gage aimed high and let the arrow fly in a high arc, the air passing over the wool as it flew fanning the flames. It painted a bright yellow path through the night sky before dropping into the middle of the bikes.

Nothing happened for a moment, then they saw flames licking up from the spilled gasoline. “Bummer,” Berk hissed. “I wanted to see an explosion like in the movies.”

Gage carefully placed his bow aside and drew his weapon. It was about to get real. It took a surprisingly long time before the Horsemen realized their bikes were on fire, but there was plenty of fuel to keep the fire burning until they did. As the tires and seats caught, the fire began to grow, thick clouds of dark smoke billowing into the air.

“The bikes are on fire!” a Horseman yelled after opening the door, ducking back inside and reappearing a moment later with a fire extinguisher, the rest of the club rushing out behind him. The Blades waited a moment to see if more men appeared.

“Do it,” Arsen said, as he opened up. With so many men standing together as they whipped at their bikes with jacket and blankets, the Blades couldn’t miss. Their suppressed pistols popped, sounding like loud claps or a nail gun, but the effects were no less devastating. There were several women standing back, watching the men fight the fire, then die, but by unspoken agreement, they weren’t targeted.

The muffled sounds from their weapons made the Horsemen slow to respond to the threat, so they stayed focused on fighting the fire. They didn’t realize they were being cut down until more than a third of their brothers were hit. Arsen dropped the magazine out of his Glock and slammed a new one in, racked the gun, and continued to fire, his brothers doing the same. The women dashed for the clubhouse, and several Horsemen made an attempt to follow. One by one they fell before they made it to shelter. When nobody was left standing, Gage holstered his weapon and nocked a regular arrow. He shot it through the front window. Three more, the last of his supply, followed, the last one finally knocking a big enough hole in the glass for a fire arrow to pass through.

He nocked the three remaining fire arrows and fired them through the broken window in quick succession but nothing appeared to happen. “I didn’t think that would work,” he said as he rose. It was time for the Blades to retreat.

As they were trotting back to their van they heard a muffled thump behind them. They slowed to a stop then turned to see the night sky lighting up. “There’s my explosion,” Berk chuckled.

They began to run again. “I wonder if that was a bike or the club house?” Zane panted.

“Probably a bike,” Phil gasped, struggling to keep up. He’d already given Berk the bolt cutters, but he was still lagging. “I doubt—” he was cut off when a much bigger thump lit the night all around them a moment before they felt a breath of hot air pass over them.

“Holy, shit!” Berk panted. “Now I’m glad I wasn’t there to see it!”

“We need to hump it, brothers!” Arsen called as he put on a turn of speed.

They reached the van, legs burning and out of breath. Zane ran around to the driver’s side, piling into the van and starting it as the rest of the brother crawled in. “Move your fat ass, Phil!” Arsen cried, waving the last brother into the van.

The van was already rolling as Phil jumped through the side door, Berk slamming it shut behind him as Zane floored the accelerator. “I’m so fucking out of shape,” Phil gasped, lying on his back in the back of the van.

Arsen checked the time on his phone. “We have two hours to make a two-and-a-half hour drive.”

As the van squealed out onto Highway 85 heading south, Zane planted his right foot against the floor. They might not make it, but it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

Chapter 33

Even though it was almost eleven, thirty minutes after the park closed, there were no signs the Blades’ barbecue was close to winding down. Arsen grinned as his crew crossed the street to the park. They quickly moved along the row of bushes to disguise their shape, then seamlessly blended in with the rest of the club.

“How’d it go?” Chet asked as he offered Berk and Phil a beer, Greg doing the same for Zane, Arsen and Gage.

The men opened their beers and drank thirstily. “Fine,” Gage replied first. “I don’t know how many we actually killed, but we put a hurt on them. There was an explosion as we ran for the van that sounded really big.”

“So the flaming arrows of death worked?” Greg teased.

“Like a charm,” Berk grinned. “Gage took out both guards with arrows.” He turned and looked at Gage. “I thought that fire arrow scheme of yours was a disaster waiting to happen, but you pulled it off better than I would have believed.”

Gage grinned at the praise. He’d only been a Blade for a couple of years and it felt good to have earned the unflinching praise of the old-timers.

“Can you teach me to shoot one of those things?” Berk asked, drawing his hand back like he was shooting a bow and letting go with phew sound.

“Sure. I’ll let you use mine until you find out if you like it.”

The Blades didn’t go in for a lot of patches advertising accomplishments. In Arsen’s opinion, it just raised questions by outsiders, but they did have a wall of fame at the clubhouse and Gage was going up on it as soon as they could get his name engraved. Normally it took a two-thirds vote by the club, but the first person who voted against his name going on the board had better be ready to defend his reasoning.

Arsen finished his beer. He wanted another, but he had to ride and he hadn’t had anything to eat, so he let it go for now. “Let’s wrap this up,” he ordered.

They were still packing everything away when the park manager showed up. “I came by to let you know the park is closed,” the man said.

“The time got away from us,” Arsen said as he dumped ice and water into the grass. “We’re out of here as soon as we can pack up.”

The man nodded and pulled their rental sign from the holder and walked away as the five men on the raid looked at each other and smiled.

***

“Fuck,” Arsen groaned as he stepped into their house and closed the door. “It feels good to be home.”

Quinn turned to face him. It was a bit after midnight, but she was anything but sleepy. “How many?”

“How many what?”

“How many did you kill?”

“Me personally? I don’t know. Between the five of us, we put ten magazines into them. That’s a hundred and fifty rounds. I don’t know how many are dead versus how many we only wounded, but we put all of them down.”

“Berk said the fire arrows worked?”

“Yes. We set their bikes on fire, then gunned them down when they came out. As we were running for the van, we heard a couple of explosions. A small one then a much bigger one. We didn’t stick around to find out what they were.” Quinn nodded then looked down.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I thought this is what I wanted. I wanted you to kill them, to wipe them out. But now that you’ve done it…”

“What?”

“I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you killed how many people today? Gunned them down in cold blood.”

“It had to be done. I didn’t want this. I tried to avoid doing it, but those assholes left me no choice. You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t shed a tear over the murdering bastards who killed my wife and parents. Have you forgotten what they did to you?”

“No!” she snapped, her eyes flashing, but then looked down again. “But where does it end?”

“It ends here. I ended it. Even if we didn’t get them all, and we probably didn’t, we have hurt them so badly they’ll probably never recover.”

She looked up at him. “You don’t think all the Horsemen are dead?”

“I doubt it. I think there are more members than we saw. I’m also assuming not everyone we shot will die.”

“So what prevents them from coming at you again? And again? And again, until there is nobody left?”

“What are you talking about? If they’re smart, they’ll leave us alone, but if they want to fuck with us again, we’ll fuck them right back. We got away clean, Quinn. The only evidence we left behind was Gage’s arrows and some empty shell casings. We were all wearing gloves, so no fingerprints, no nothing. It’s done. You won’t have to worry about them again.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Do I have to worry about you?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them, and she saw his face go hard.

“You’re welcome to leave anytime you want. So long as you keep your word, you’ll never have to worry about me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Are you sure?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, okay?” she cried. “I’m just not used to all this…violence! I was a Rider for two years and nobody got shot! Nobody’s bike or clubhouse was set on fire! People weren’t trying to kill me!”

“Until they did,” he said softly. “I gave them their chance to walk away, but they didn’t take it.”

“If they’d pulled out of the molly business, you would have let it end there?”

“If they’d just stopped counterfeiting, and turned over whoever it was that gunned down my family, I would have let it end there. But they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do that. You heard them! They wanted to trade you for the drug business. What kind of sick fucker makes an offer like that? The world is a better place now than it was this time yesterday.”

She stared at him. Until now, she’d looked at Arsen as more of a business man, but she realized he was as ruthless as any man she knew…and that scared her a little. She chewed her lip, trying to sort out how she felt.

He saw the fear in her eyes. Fear of him. “If you want out, I won’t try to stop you. We’ll pay you your shares, and I’ll make up the other half out of my pocket.”

“How much?” she asked.

“Two shares normally pay about ten thousand a month.”

She flushed. Ten thousand a month! That was more than three times what she was making at the motel. “Do you want me to go?”

“I want you to stay,” he said softly. “But I won’t try to stop you if you want to leave. I saw how you looked at me. Answer me honestly. You’re afraid of me now, aren’t you?”

She wanted to deny it, but she was afraid he would see right through the lie. He’d been able to look into her soul since the beginning and know just what to do or say. “A little, maybe.”

He nodded. “Thank you for being honest with me.” He paused until she met his eyes. “I’m the same guy I was yesterday, Quinn. You weren’t afraid of me then, were you?”

“No,” she said softly.

“Then don’t be afraid of me now. I’ll never hurt you. You can leave any time you want, and I won’t try to stop you, but I want you to stay. I want to find out if we have something.”

“Do you think we have something?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Last night I would have said yes. Today, especially now, I don’t know. I do know if you leave, we’ll never know.”

“You want me to stay?”

“More than I can tell you, but it has to be your choice. I would rather you leave now than for you to stay because you are afraid of what I’ll do.”

“If I leave, what will you do?”

“I’ll help you pack your clothes, pay you your full share, and buy you a plane ticket to any place you want to go. What happens after that is none of your concern.”

“And if I stay?”

He smiled. “If you stay, I’ll take you to my bed and make love to you until we’re both exhausted.”

She gave him a ghost of a smile. “And if I don’t want to be taken to your bed?”

“Then I’ll be disappointed as I sleep alone.”

Her smiled widened as she wondered why she thought tonight had changed him. “Take me to your bed.”

He smiled at her as he took a step forward. To her credit, she didn’t flinch or take a step back, and he bent, placing an arm behind her knees and shoulders before he swooped her up in his arms.

She smiled as he carried her across the room. Every time she faltered, every time she was wracked with self-doubt, he was there, willing and able to pick her up and carry her until she was ready to stand on her own two feet again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, thankful he hadn’t run out of patience with her.

Chapter 34

Arsen lowered Quinn softly to the bed and followed her down. She had cut him deeply with her comment, but he reminded himself what she had been through. She would be a long time healing, but every day he could see she was a little better than the day before, and he could wait. Yesterday had been a major step forward, with her finally believing she was safe. She’d had a bit of a relapse in the kitchen, but he couldn’t fault her. He was the same two steps forward, one step back, as he tried to cope with Holly’s death.

She sighed as he settled over her, holding himself above her on hands and knees as he looked into her eyes. They were the same eyes she’d peered into yesterday as he made his promise that before anyone could harm her, they would have to get past him. She could see in his eyes the kindness that resided within him. He could be ruthless and diamond hard when he wanted to be, when he needed to be. But that wasn’t the whole of him.

His lips tugged into a smile when her face softened as she stared into his eyes. She had such beautiful eyes, and when she looked at him that way, he could feel his heart beating faster. He remembered this feeling and his smile broadened. He’d felt it once before, and now he was feeling it again, the first blush of new love. Though he recognized it, it was different this time. He didn’t know if it was because he was older, or because Quinn wasn’t Holly, but his feelings for her were deeper, richer, somehow more fulfilling. It was steak instead of hamburger, a delicate rose instead of a plastic flower, or making love instead of fucking. The night in the cabin had changed the way he felt toward her. She had given herself to him that night, and from that moment she stopped being a stray he’d picked up on the side of the road and become more than just someone who needed help. It had only been five weeks, but he was beginning to fall for her. He smiled down at her, his heart fluttering as she smiled back. Did he love her? No, perhaps not yet, but he hoped she would give him the chance.

He smiled at her then lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was so loving and gentle, so full of warmth and promise, she was certain she would have gone weak in the knees if she’d been standing. As he slowly pulled back, she watched his face, her lips spreading in an easy smile. She’d taken plenty of lovers, more than she would care to admit, but he was the first to be able to touch her heart. With him it was more than fucking, more than having an itch scratched. There was something about his touch that went beyond the physical. She’d felt it in the cabin. Even though she’d been afraid, his touch calmed her and excited her at the same time. It was as if with each touch of his lips, each caress of his fingers, he peeled away another layer of the pain, regret and fear that resided inside her. He was slowly reviving her and bringing her back to the living, nursing back to life that spark that allowed you to live and not just exist…and oh God how she wanted to live again.

“Make love to me?” she whispered

“Yes,” he murmured as he nuzzled her neck.

She smiled as she felt that little spark grow a tiny bit with his words. “Slowly.”

“Yes.”

They slowly tumbled into the bed, kissing and touching as they removed their clothes, exposing more flesh for their slow exploration. He kissed down her body, taking his time. They had nowhere to be tomorrow, no threat to face. This was their time and he intended to take a full measure. As he reached her pussy, she pushed at him, urging him to turn to his back. He didn’t want to go, wanting to please her with his mouth and tongue, but she twisted harder.

“I want to taste you,” she murmured as she pushed with her hips again. He moved, turning in the bed then falling to his back as she swung a leg over his shoulders and lowered herself over his face, sighing in delight as his arms snaked around her thighs and tugged her down tight.

They slowly pleased each other with lips and tongue, taking their time, luxuriating in the give and take of pleasure. As they touched and caressed, gasped and moaned, there was none of the searing, white hot passion of their night in the factory. It had been replaced with a glow that warmed without burning.

He tickled inside her passage again, his finger knowing just where and how to touch, and she could feel her orgasm begin to swell. He’d kept her on the knife edge of orgasm for what felt like hours, drawing her rapture near then letting it fade, only to call it back again, making her twist and move with pleasure.

He couldn’t take much more of her erotic kisses, slow, gentle, scratches and hard and fast pumps of her fist. He’d taken many lovers, but none had been able to bring him to orgasm with their mouth as quickly Quinn could. He was going to finish her this time, push her into orgasm before she did the same to him.

He was driving her deeper into pleasure than any time before. When she realized he wasn’t going to stop, she began to push against her orgasm, trying to delay the rush of pleasure, but she’d passed the point of no return. Her orgasm rolled over her, devastating in its intensity. She fought her climax, trying to battle through the debilitating pleasure to bring him to the peak of bliss with her.

He could feel her shivering, her muscles twisting beyond her control, but as she gasped and moaned, she continued to lick and suck at him. The sheer eroticism of what she was doing, still sucking him off even as she came, pushed him over the edge and into the abyss.

He exploded into her mouth, growling hard and loud as she continued to bob her head, sucking every drop from him as he shuddered, thrusting his hips as he drew her down tight and lashed her clit with tender intensity.

As they relaxed, Quinn turning and draping herself across Arsen’s chest. He took her head and pulled her into a long, sensual kiss, their tongues dancing as they explored each other’s mouths.

“I want you,” he whispered as she slowly pulled back from the kiss.

“I want you,” she repeated, her voice soft and full of desire.

She moved lower, her hand slithering between them to grasp him and steer him into her wetness. They sighed as one as he slid into her, their pleasure more than simply physical. She adjusted herself, then began to move, rocking her hips with slow, powerful thrusts. His hands went to her sides, holding her as he pressed up, his back arcing, allowing her to take him deeper as his face twisted in rapture.

He watched her, her eyes closing in pleasure, her breath coming in gasps, as she worked herself toward her second orgasm. She was beginning to sweat despite the coolness of his house, her many long minutes of exertion taking its toll.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured as he caressed her, his hands gliding over her back, holding her head, touching her cheek. She began to thrust harder, faster, pushing up higher on her hands, her head falling forward as she began to moan. He grasped her head, holding her up on his arms as he began to move with her, matching her rhythm, adding his powerful thrusts to her own.

She looked into his face, his erotic snarl as he began to pound into her winding her even tighter. She was going to climax, and the coming maelstrom was terrifying in its power. She’d fought her orgasm until the bitter end, wanting to delay the cleansing release as long as possible, allowing its power to build, but she was being overwhelmed.

“Oh God!” she groaned as her rapture took her. She grasped his arms to prevent herself from being swept away by pleasure, her orgasm harder than any she’d experienced. She wanted to scream, to shout her release to the world, but her climax stole her voice, leaving her mute and shattered with pleasure.

He watched as her face twisted with sweet agony, her hands gripping his biceps with strength he hadn’t known she possessed. Her body was alive with motion, her mouth open in a silent scream, before she went limp. He lowered her, thrilled she’d had such a hard orgasm. She sighed as she settled to his chest, nodding her head in some unknown agreement as he caressed her slowly.

She sighed out a long breath, shivering in the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm of her life. She smiled as strength finally began to flow back into her. With another sigh, she pushed herself up, the sensation of his hardness moving inside of her making her face twist with pleasure. She pulled herself higher on his body, disappointed as he pulled out of her, but she desperately needed to taste his lips.

She kissed him, long, slow and deep, perhaps the best kiss he’d ever received. As she pulled back from the kiss, he pushed her hair back. She may not have the biggest tits, or the most curvaceous ass, but she had the most beautiful face of any woman he’d ever seen, and her eyes spoke to him.

“Did you come?” he teased, his lips pulling into a smile.

She giggled and pressed her head to his for a moment then met his eyes again. “Yes. It was a good one too!”

He rolled over and dumped her to the bed. “Want some more?” he asked as he watched her face, calling back her words from last night.

She smiled up at him. “Always.”

Chapter 35

Arsen groaned as his phone rang. He and Quinn had gone way too late into the night last night. They had made love until after two, fallen asleep for an hour, then ended up making love again until nearly six this morning.

“Don’t answer it,” Quinn muttered, curled up snug and tight in the crook of his arm.

“I have to. It’s Zane,” he mumbled, recognizing the ring tone. He picked up the phone, glancing at the time then groaned again. It was 8:03. “What?” he muttered into the phone.

“You need to get over here. That sergeant from the other day is crawling up our ass.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. He expected something like this, but why did it have to be so fucking early in the morning? “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” He pressed the button on the phone and placed it on the table.

“What?” she mumbled.

“The cops are at the clubhouse.”

She sighed. She was aching in the most pleasant of ways, so completely satisfied by their love making she didn’t think she would ever need to move from this spot, but she knew he would have to deal with this, and she wanted to be there to back him up and swear he was at the park the entire time.

With a groan she sat up and scrubbed at her face. “Let’s deal with this, then come back here and finish what we started last night.”

He stretched with a groan. “You want more?” he teased.

“Don’t you?”

He pulled her down into a kiss. “Always.”

***

“So, Sergeant Tamprone, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Arsen asked as he and Quinn dismounted from his Indian.

“Did you hear about what happened to the Chrome Horsemen last night?”

“No, what?”

“Somebody shot their place up and set it on fire. Sixty-one dead, seventeen wounded.”

“Really? I wish I could say I was sorry to hear that, but after what happened here the other day, I can’t say that I am. I guess they bit off more than they could chew and choked on it.”

“And nobody here knows anything about it?”

Arsen looked at Zane and Phil. “Do you guys know anything about this?”

“First we heard of it was when Officer Tamprone arrived,” Zane replied.

“Phil, go find out if anyone knows anything about this, okay?” Arsen ordered. Phil nodded, then turned and sauntered away.

“Want to come in and have a drink? We can talk about this inside, out of the heat.”

“I’m on duty,” Tamprone growled.

“We have water, pops, plenty of non-alcoholic beverages, Officer.”

“Where were you between eight and ten last night?”

“The entire club was at Udall Park having a barbecue.”

“Have any witnesses?”

“Well, the club,” Arsen suggested.

“Besides them?”

“We checked in at the counter when we reserved our pavilion.”

“The guy came out and said to move the motorcycle,” Quinn added helpfully.

Arsen snapped his fingers. “That’s right. I don’t know the guy’s name, but the park can probably track him down.”

“We all went into the Safeway,” Zane supplied.

“And don’t forget, they came out and told us the park was closing,” Quinn added with a smile.

Tamprone’s eyes flicked between the three of them as they spoke. “Mind if I check that out?”

Arsen grinned. “Would it matter if I did?”

“No.”

“Then be my guest. We got there about, what, four? Then we left about eleven, as the park closed.”

“Long barbecue.”

“Hey, we know how to have a good time,” Arsen said with a grin. “Leave me your number and I’ll invite you next time.”

“Did anybody leave during that time?”

“Nope. Not unless you count us wandering away to take a leak. Ask the park officials. Once he made us move the motorcycle back into the parking lot, we didn’t start them again until we left.”

Tamprone nodded. “If I find even a hint that you’ve lied to me, I’m going to bust your ass.”

Arsen shrugged. “How’d your wife like the soap?”

“This isn’t over, Kyle.”

“Officer Tamprone, I’m confused why you’re so upset with us. We have complied with every legal order you’ve given. We’ve let you search our facility, and we’ve cooperated in every way we could. I don’t understand why you seem to have it in for us. You don’t like motorcycles, or what?”

“What I don’t like are people who think they are above the law. People who think they are smarter than everyone else.”

Arsen smiled. “Not everyone else. Only a few. If you have some proof we are involved in the manufacturing and distribution of illegal narcotics, or we are somehow connected to what happened to the Horsemen, then go get an arrest warrant. Otherwise, you’re no longer welcome here. We are an upstanding member of the Tucson business community, and I don’t appreciate you coming in here and accusing us of murder and dealing drugs.”

“I’m going to check your story out,” Tamprone growled.

“Knock yourself out, but if you keep harassing us and making these false allegation, then I’m going to file an ethics complaint with the city.”

“Do what you have to, Kyle.”

“Same to you, Officer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run.” Arsen turned on his toe and walked away without a backwards glance, Zane and Quinn falling in step with him. They paused at the clubhouse door as Phil stepped out, all of them watching as the cruiser roared off down the road.

“You think he knows?” Quinn asked.

“Not a chance. If he knew, he’d have shown up with handcuffs,” Arsen said.

“Now we’ll find out if anyone spotted us leaving. That guy’s a bulldog. If someone saw us, he’ll find them,” Zane said softly.

“Nobody saw us,” Phil said, shaking his head as he forced the corner of his lips down and pursed his lips. “We knew the cops were going to show up, and they did. It’s why we when through all this shit. Don’t go getting your panties in a wad, woman,” he teased.

Arsen chuckled then glanced at Quinn. He smiled softly at her. “Don’t worry. We took every precaution. The chances anyone saw us leave is almost zero. If they did, the chances they’ll remember is even smaller. And the chances Officer Tampon can find them is lower still. You add all that together, and the chances he can find something is one in a million.”

She nodded as Arsen pulled the door open and ushered everyone inside. She knew there was a risk, and she also knew they had done everything they could to cover their tracks, but that didn’t mean she liked having the cops snooping around.

Chapter 36

“These are the new boxes I propose,” Quinn said, handing three boxes to the nearest three Blades. “These are the salts and beads containers,” she added, handing those out as well. “We’ll continue to use the same plain shipping boxes.” She paused a moment as the boxes and plastic containers were handed around. “As you can feel, the container boxes are much smoother and slicker, and you can see the B3 logo and the leaves like on the website are on the box.”

“Looks expensive,” Zane said as he turned one of the boxes over his hand.

“It does cost more than our current boxes, but only about ten percent more. The plastic containers are quite a bit more expensive than the plastic bags you’re using, but I think they are worth the extra cost.”

“Why?” Alex asked as he looked over one of the jars then handed it on.

“Because women like pretty things. The bath salts, especially, are pretty to look at. You put them in that jar, women might buy them as decoration.”

“So what are we looking at, price wise?” Arsen asked, cutting to the chase. Quinn had already convinced him it was a good idea. Now she had to convince the rest of the club.

“Box for box, these are ten percent more. The soap box goes from thirty-nine cents to forty-two. The small box for the containers are forty-eight, fifty-one and fifty-six, from small to large. You were using only one box before, and it cost forty-seven. The big price increase comes from the plastic containers. The bags were about a penny apiece. The containers are sixty-eight, seventy-two and eight-three, if you buy them in cases. If you spend ten-thousand in one order, you save twenty-percent.”

“We might could absorb the boxes, maybe, but that’s almost a hundred-percent increase in packaging costs. We can’t eat that,” Zane said.

“I’m not saying you should,” Quinn explained. “I think you should raise the price of the product by ten-percent to cover all of this and still increase your profit.”

“Ten percent?” Zane cried.

“I did some comparison shopping. You’re already twenty to thirty percent below market. I bet you are losing sales because you are so cheap. You’re packaging makes you look like you’re selling crap. This will fix that, and with a ten percent increase, you’re still ten to twenty percent below everyone else.”

“What about the bags? We use those for other things,” Chet pointed out.

“We thought about that,” Arsen said. “We’re going to continue to offer the salts in bags, shipped loose, at a discount. Where we had two size bags before, we’ll only have one now, the large one. If you want the smaller quantity, you have to buy it in the plastic jar.”

“What’s it going to take to switch over the loader, and how much?” Berk asked. He could care less about the packaging, but since he would be responsible for changing the machine from bagging to bottling, that he did care about.

“Not as much as I thought,” Arsen said. “They make plates for the packager that will handle all three bottles. All we have to do is buy the gripper plates and change them over, just like we do now when we change bag sizes.” Arsen smiled. “You got lucky. No machine modifications required. But to answer the rest of your question, about thirty thousand for the forty-eight plates.”

“And you think this will make that big of a difference in the way people look at our product?” Greg asked.

Quinn smiled. She reached behind her and brought out their bath salts in their current bag and the same salts in one of their new jars. “Which one would you rather buy?” she asked, holding them up. “Which one would you rather give as a gift?” She put both packages into their boxes and held them up again. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know which one I would buy, even if it did cost a little bit more.”

“Same here,” Toni agreed. “I know it’s the same stuff, but I still want it in the pretty jar.”

“She’s right,” Michelle agreed. “I would buy the stuff in the jar before I would the bag unless I knew it was the same stuff. Even then, I might still buy the jar because it is just easier to handle.”

Greg looked around and most of the people were nodding in agreement, men and women alike.

“Anyone have any questions?” Quinn asked with a grin. She had them eating out of the palm of her hand.

There were none. Arsen stood up. “Do we even need to vote this?” he asked. “Does anyone not think we should do this? Don’t forget, we need to increase sales to cover our increased demand for our other product.” Nobody said anything, so he turned to Quinn. “This is your project. Make it happen. Work with Berk to get what we need for the packager.”

She thought the club would go for it, but it was an easier sales job than she expected. She didn’t even have to use her chart that showed that with the ten percent increase in price, they could absorb a five percent drop in sales and still make more money than they earned now. She grinned then pulled him in for a quick kiss.

It had been two weeks since they hit the Chrome Horsemen. The Horsemen had ceased to function as a club. The police hadn’t been back, apparently unable to break their alibi, and she had gradually relaxed.

She’d gotten over her initial shock that the Blades had so ruthlessly killed the Horsemen, and after a few days, had realized that having them wiped out had removed a little of the blackness she still carried inside. Each day she spent happy and productive with the Blades, and each night she spent in Arsen’s arms, chipped away at the dark lump inside of her. She would be a long time forgetting, but each day, the darkness became just a little bit less bleak.

She’d received her first share payment, and even though it was only half the full amount, it was still more money than she’d ever made in a single month in her life, and she enjoyed the work far more than working in a motel.

The first thing she did with the money was pay Arsen back for her clothes, despite his protests. As a small thank you for his kindness, she bought him a leather jacket with the Indian Motorcycle logo for times when he didn’t want to wear his colors.

She continued to live with him, sharing his bed, and by silent agreement, they hadn’t even talked about her moving into her own place. It seemed rather pointless considering she would in his bed, or he would be in hers, every night anyway.

Now that the threat of the Horsemen was eliminated, she’d returned to Flagstaff and collected a few personal items, her car, and what clothes she wanted, donating the rest of her stuff to the Salvation Army. After the men had removed her old and slightly tatty furniture, she’d turned in the key for her apartment and contacted the police. She’d spun a tale of narrowly escaping the hit by the Horsemen and how she’d been hiding with a friend because she’d been too terrified to come forward until she’d heard someone had eliminated them. She’d spent several hours being grilled by the Flagstaff police, but in the end, they had to release her. She’d broken no laws and claimed ignorance on all matters relating to the drug dealing of the Desert Riders.

When she returned to Tucson, Arsen made her sell her fifteen-year-old Chevy, claiming he didn’t like the car dripping oil in his driveway, and had given her the keys to his car. She’d priced the car low, and it had sold in three days to a kid for his first car. She’d tried to give Arsen the money, but he refused to take it, and they were still arguing over how she was going to contribute to his living expenses. She was buying their food, but that wasn’t enough in her opinion, and she was still casting about for ways to help with expenses.

With her old life behind her, and her new one looking so bright she had to wear sunglasses, she could barely contain her enthusiasm for life again, and she shared that excitement with Arsen every night. Not that he seemed to mind. He was all the lover she could ask for, and she enjoyed the erotic games they engaged in nearly every night. She was often the one left gasping for breath and begging, but she out fucked him frequently enough to keep their games interesting, and she looked forward to upping her game to match his. He was a dynamic and imaginative lover, and she was looking forward to exploring her sexuality with him.

Finished putting away her sample boxes and containers, she joined the rest of the Blades behind the clubhouse where they were cooking steaks over an open fire. She couldn’t believe it, but she was finally adjusting to the stifling Tucson heat. The sun was down and the temperature had dropped into the low nineties, but with the mister fogging the area to cool it, she was surprisingly comfortable.

“Beer?” Arsen asked as he approach, a pair of sweaty bottles in his hand.

“Kiss?” she responded, accepting his quick kiss before taking the bottle. “Thanks.”

He grinned at her. “If you can sell our bath stuff half as well as you can sell your ideas, we may have to expand.”

“So, let me ask you something. Theoretically, if B3 grows large enough, would you get out of the drug business?”

He chuckled. “I suppose. Why take the risk? But it has a long way to go before that happens. We make four-thousand percent markup on the drugs. Even with your ten percent increase, we only make something like thirty percent on the bath stuff.”

“Obviously the bath stuff will never be as profitable as the drugs, but if I can grow B3 so you’re making the same money from the bath stuff as you are making now from the drugs and bath stuff combined, would you give up the molly? The club has plenty of money, now, right?”

He chuckled again. “I’ll make you this promise. When we hit $750,000 a month in profit from the bath stuff, you come see me and we’ll talk about it, okay?”

She grinned and took a pull on her beer. She may never be able to get B3 there, but she was going to try like hell. “Deal.”

“If you like your steak rare, it’s ready!” Zane called from the big open fire pit, forking big pieces of meat and flipping them over.

“Come on,” Arsen said with a grin, nodding at the group with his head. “All this business talk has worked up an appetite.”

Chapter 37

Quinn was snuggled into Arsen’s back as they rumbled through town. They’d spent three hours enjoying steaks, baked potatoes, beer, and good company. She’d felt welcome, and useful, in the club for a while, but having Zane and Michelle pull her aside and thank her for all her efforts had put the cherry on top of one of the best days of her life. Nobody had ever thanked her for anything before, and she’d barely managed to hold her tears of gratitude until they had finished and returned to the group.

She was home. More than with her family, more than with the Desert Riders, this was where she felt she belonged. She would bust her ass for this club and do whatever it took to help them however she could. Mr. Arsen Childers Kyle, and the Blacktop Blades, were simply the best thing to ever happen to her. Michelle said she believed everything happened for a reason. She’d gone through hell at the hands of those fucking Horsemen, but if she hadn’t she wouldn’t have ended up here, pressed into the back of the man she was coming to love more than life itself, and working at a job she loved for people who actually appreciated what she was doing.

She smiled. The more arduous the journey, the sweeter the reward, and her rewards had been sweet indeed.

They slowed to a stop at a light, the big Indian throbbing between her legs. She was disappointed the light had caught them. After the club so readily bought into her ideas, and the heartfelt compliment by Zane and Michelle, she was primed and ready. The only place in their house they hadn’t fucked yet was in the garage, and while Arsen didn’t know it yet, she was going to remedy that tonight. She’d never been fucked on a motorcycle before, but after tonight, she wouldn’t be able to say that anymore, and she was determined to wear his ass out.

She was still smiling, thinking off all the wonderful things she was going to do to him when the Indian roared, and they rocketed away from the light, the bike accelerating so hard she was caught off guard and nearly fell from the saddle. She’d just regained her balance, about to bitch at him about almost throwing her off when he braked violently, the rear tire chirping as the antilock brakes struggled with the max effort braking. She slammed into his back, scrabbling to hang on as the bike dipped hard left then roared away again.

This was more than him showing off, and she looked behind her just as a van swerved around the corner on the edge of control. The bike was much faster, but the van was coming hard. She grabbed him hard around the waist and held on as the bike again decelerated, dumping speed at a furious rate. He revved the bike as it jerked to a stop, then jumped into a hole in traffic with a blare of a car horn, the bike leaning so far over to the right she was certain it would slide out from under them.

As the bike straighten, the van charged around the corner, sideswiping the car, but they were on a major road now and Arsen cut a weaving path through the cars. The van tried to keep up, but was soon boxed in. She looked behind her and watched as it tried to muscle a car out of its way, only to spin the car and cause an accident that blocked both lanes.

“They’re stuck!” she cried, then looked behind her again. The van was forcing its away around by crossing into oncoming traffic, but it was so far back it would never be able to catch them now.

Arsen braked hard, but not as violently as before, and swung the bike to the right. They roared to the next street then made another right, then a left, then another right before they pulled into a CVS Pharmacy. He stopped behind the building and out of sight of the road, the idling below them.

“Are you okay?” he asked, twisting around as much as possible to look into her face.

“Yeah. What was that all about?”

“I don’t know. I saw them coming, and could tell they weren’t going to stop. I thought it was just a grope, but when they changed lanes to stay on me, I knew something was up. Fuck!”

“Do you think we got away?”

“Probably. We’re going to wait here a minute, though, and see if they come by.”

“Who were they?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

She sat still and quiet, wondering how many more enemies of the Blades were out there she didn’t know about. “Is there something I need to know?”

He turned to look at her again. “Like what?”

“Like who else is out to get you, or the Blades, or whatever.”

He turned away from her. “Nobody that I know of. I thought we’d dealt with our problem with the Horsemen.”

“Could it be them?”

“How the fuck should I know?” he snarled, looking back at her. “You saw the same thing I saw!”

His snarling hurt her feelings and she didn’t know why he was taking it out on her. “Sorry.”

He was quiet a moment then slumped slightly. “Sorry for biting your head off. I’m just pissed off, that’s all.”

“At me?”

“No. At this fucked up situation. I don’t know what the hell is going on. Some asshole in a van shows up out of the blue and tries to run us down. I thought this shit was behind us when we dealt with the Horsemen.” He sat silent. “Maybe it’s the Horsemen. They were the only people who had it in for us, as far as I know.”

They sat for several minute before he kicked the bike in gear and pulled back out onto the road.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Home.”

“You don’t think they’ll be waiting there?”

“No. If they knew where we lived, they’d have been waiting there for us to arrive.”

She nodded to herself, understanding his logic, but still hoping he was right.

When they arrived home, he had five messages waiting, all calls from brothers, checking on him. He wasn’t the only Blade jumped. He called back those who called, then contacted Zane.

“You heard?” he asked when Zane answered.

“Yeah. I started calling. I haven’t been able to reach four. I know three brothers were attacked tonight.”

“Four.”

“You too?”

“Yeah. Who can’t you reach?”

“Chet, Alex, Greg and Berk.”

“Who else was attacked?”

“Besides you? Phil, Casey and Nelson.”

“Fuck. Someone tried to run Quinn and me down. What about the others?”

“Phil said a car tried to run him off the road. Casey and Nelson were shot at. Casey has a hole in his leg. Evie is taking him to Doc Holiday now.”

“Goddamnit! Any idea who’s behind this?”

“No. Think it’s the Horsemen?”

“Who else would it be?” Arsen asked.

“I thought we took care of them, but it looks like they’re slow learners.”

“Yeah. Keep trying to reach those four. I’m going to make a few phone calls. Text or call me when you find out about the missing.”

“Will do.”

Arsen punched the button to end the call, then scrolled through his list of contacts and selected one. The phone rang. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?” a woman’s voice sneered.

“Who is this?” Arsen asked.

“Stacy Williams. You killed my husband. You killed all my friends. Now, I’m going to kill you and every fucking member of the motherfucking Blades.”

“You don’t want to do this, Stacy. Roger went up against us and lost. You need to let it end.”

“End?” she shouted. “It’s never going to end, not so long as I draw a breath. You may have thought you won, but this isn’t over. You didn’t get us all. You fucking missed. Now every member of the Horsemen has only one thing to live for, and that’s to see your club wiped the fuck out.”

“You listen to me, you bitch,” Arsen growled. “I’ve had enough of the Chrome Horsemen. If you had two brain cells to rub together you’d know you can’t win this. You need to let it end and walk away before somebody else gets killed.”

“You haven’t heard? They already have. We killed two of your men, and their old ladies, tonight, and we’re—”

“You’re fucking dead!” Arsen snarled, cutting her off. “I’m going to hunt down and kill every last member of your club, and it’s on your fucking head!”

“Bring it on. Roger didn’t know how to handle you, but I do. Just like I handled that bitch you’ve taken in. Her, I’m not going to kill. Her I’m going to fuck, then I’m going to let every man in the club fuck her, until she’s dead.”

Arsen smiled. “Why don’t we meet, just the two of us, and settle it between us?”

“That’s a good idea,” Stacy said. “You and that bitch, whatever her name is, and me and Todd. We’ll meet and have it out, winner takes all.”

“Todd…” Arsen paused has he tried to remember the man’s last name. “Roger’s VP?”

“Yeah. Heard of him? He likes to get down and dirty. The harder they fight, the more they scream, the better he likes it.”

“Just Todd and I, then.”

“Oh no, Lover,” Stacy purred. “She has to be there to give you something to watch while we fuck her.”

“No deal,” Arsen said. “You want the thunder? You got it!” he punched the phone off.

“That’s her,” Quinn said softly.

“Who?”

“That’s the woman who abused us. I recognize her voice.”

Arsen shook his head as he prepared to call Zane back and try to find out if the woman was lying about two brothers being dead. “Don’t worry about her. I wanted to keep the women out of it, but we’re about to go scorched earth on their ass.”

“Zane! It’s the Horsemen!” he said as soon as Zane answered.

“Fuck. It had to be. I’ve heard from Berk. Nothing happened to him or Marla.”

“Roger’s dead. That jackass Todd, their VP, is heading up what’s left of them. Roger’s wife is on a fucking vendetta. She said they got two brothers, and their old ladies, tonight.”

“Todd Yuggers? Fuck! That asshole is crazier than a shithouse rat. Why couldn’t we have killed him? I bet she’s probably lying about the deaths just to piss you off.”

“I hope you’re right. Round everyone up for first thing in the morning. We’re going to finish what we started.”

“How?” Zane cried. “They’re scattered all over hell’s half-acre!”

“I don’t know, but there’s no problem that money can’t solve. We’re going to finish this, once and for all.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am. I’ll put Phil, Berk, and Gage on it. With Gage we’ve found a new asset. I’m going to use it. They won’t even know we’re picking them off until they have an arrow sticking out of their chest.”

“I’m not worried about how to kill them. I’m worried about how to find them.”

“Money, my friend. You spread enough of it around, somebody will roll over on them. We’ll take them one at a time.”

“Women too?”

“That Stacy bitch for sure. If the women want to play with the men, then they’re going to get fucked like the men. We’ll target only the men, but if we see a woman in play, like this Stacy bitch, then we take them too.”

“I have a call coming in from Alex.”

“Take it. Let me know if I can help.”

“Got it. See you tomorrow.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he tossed his phone on the counter. “I thought this was over.” He glanced at Quinn. “You okay?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Stacy?”

She nodded, pale and wide eyed.

“Don’t worry about her. She has a target on her back. She’s a dead woman. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Quinn nodded slowly. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am. If she’s the one who did this to you, I’ll gut her myself.”

Quinn nodded again as she chewed her lower lip then melted into him. “Will you just hold me tonight? The world isn’t so scary when you hold me.”

“Always,” he said as his arms went around her.

Chapter 38

“I don’t know how you expect me to do this,” Phil protested after Arsen finished speaking.

“I don’t either,” Arsen said, acknowledging the difficulty of what he was asking. “Take Gage and Berk, whoever else you need. Spend whatever it takes, but I want these assholes taken care of once and for all.”

Phil leaned back in his chair. He wanted to do this, he felt he owed the Horsemen for Chet and Toni, Greg and Kim, but he didn’t know how he was going to track down less than a hundred people in a city of over one and a half million.

Stacy hadn’t been lying. Chet and Greg, and their old ladies, had been shot at close range and left on the side of the road last night. When Arsen had announced the death of their brothers and sisters to the club this morning, the Blades had reacted with uniform outrage and a thirst for blood. It had been business before, but now the war with the Horsemen was personal.

“How much is ‘whatever it takes?’” Phil asked.

“What…ever…it…takes,” Arsen repeated slowly. “Take a hundred grand to start with. If it takes more than that, fine. I don’t care what it costs, I want these fuckers taken out.”

“I’m going to need more than just Berk and Gage.”

“Fine. Leave me a skeleton crew to run the MDMA, but you can have everyone else.”

“I also want to get a burner phone that all contacts come into so I can keep up with shit and we’re all giving out the same information.”

“You got it. Once we get the MDMA made, I can send more brothers if you need them.”

Phil nodded. With twenty or twenty-five men spreading cash and knocking heads, they might have a chance. Maybe. “We’ll make it happen.”

“See that you do. We owe it to Chet, Greg and their wives.”

Zane nodded. “How are we going to choose who goes and who stays?”

“I have to stay, and I’ll pick who I need to stay with me. As soon as we’re done, we can ride up and help. I need you to stay, to run interference for me.”

“I’m going to Phoenix,” Zane said firmly.

“No, you’re staying here with me. Phil can handle it. I know you want to go. I want to go. But we have to get the MDMA out. That’s job one. I need someone to handle all the shit that goes on while we’re running and handle the arrangements for our fallen brothers. I want all the old ladies in packaging today while we run beads.”

“The soap can wait!” Zane protested.

“I know the fucking soap can wait!” Arsen snapped then took a breath to calm down. He felt for Zane. He wanted to get his hands bloody too. “This a dry run to see what problems we’re going to run into while running short. We can’t fuck up the MDMA run, Zane, you know that. We run beads today, MDMA tomorrow, and you and I will make the deliveries on Friday. Once the molly is packaged tomorrow, everyone except you and I can ride to Phoenix.”

“We’re not going to get everyone in a week,” Phil said quietly. “We may not get anyone in a week.”

“I know, but I know the brothers aren’t going to want to sit around here. We’ll get the operations crew back here on Wednesday night, and do it all again. What old ladies stay can fill orders from inventory until we run dry.”

Zane glared at Arsen a moment. “Fine, but I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Arsen said firmly. He looked between Zane and Phil. “How soon can you be ready to ride?”

“Four hours, maybe less. I have to get the burner.”

“Fine. While Zane is here, work with him because I’m going to be busy. Anything else?” When Zane and Phil shook their heads, Arsen stood. “Fine. Let me go piss some more people off.”

When Zane stood, Arsen took him by the shoulder. “I need you to back me on this.”

“I will, but I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know shit about running the plant.”

Arsen nodded. “I know. But running so short, I won’t be able to do anything else, and I need you to backstop me on anything that comes up and handle Chet and Greg. Plus, the five guys that I’m asking to stay aren’t going to be happy about it, just like you aren’t. With you staying, that frees up another brother to go.”

“I still don’t like it. Chet and I joined at the same time. I need this, Arsen!”

“Every member of this club feels the same way. Getting all the Horsemen is going to be a grind. We’ll get our chance.”

Zane relaxed slightly, the tension he’d been holding draining out of him. “I know. I’m just so pissed off right now I can’t think straight.”

“Which is why we have to get this out of our system. That’s why I want to do a hard push for a couple of weeks. I don’t want to lose any more brothers because everyone is pissed off and not thinking. We have to be smart about this. This isn’t going to be a sprint, it’s going to be a marathon.”

“Yeah, I know.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Let’s go piss off some more brothers.”

Arsen and Zane stepped out of Church together. The club was already gathered, waiting for word on how they were going to hit back at the Horsemen.

“Listen up!” Arsen barked. “For the next two weeks we’re going to make a max effort to find and kill those fucking Horsemen.” His voice was steel hard and artic cold. “The only thing that takes precedence over finding them is getting the MDMA out and getting our brothers in the ground. Phil is taking every brother with the exception of me, Zane, Casey, Churchill, Stu, Bill, Thom, and Kelly. We’re going to stay behind, run the MDMA, then we’re going to join them Phoenix.”

He expected pushback from the men he selected to remain behind, the most experienced operators, but while they didn’t look happy, he suspected they already knew in their hearts they weren’t going before he said anything.

“Phil is heading this up and I’ve given him carte blanche to get this done. I don’t care what you have to do, I want these assholes found, and I want them dead. You make sure everyone knows if they are helping the Horsemen, if they lie to us, or if they withhold information from us, we’ll be looking for them next. Greg and Chet deserve no less.”

He glared at his brothers a moment and liked what he saw. Every pair of eyes had the same hardness and determination he knew was in his. The Blacktop Blades were about to fuck the Chrome Horsemen long and hard.

“Kelly!” Arsen called, waving the man to him. “Do you think we can make the run with only five operators?”

Kelly paused and scrubbed at his mouth as he thought. “It’s going to be tough, but yeah, I think we can do it.”

“I agree. I want to do a bead run today to see where our problem areas are going to be.”

“Probably not a bad idea,” Kelly agreed as the rest of the men asked to stay behind joined them. “I’m not surprised you asked us to stay, but I have to tell you, I’d rather be riding to Phoenix.”

“As would we all,” Arsen confirmed. “We’ll get the MDMA out, then you five can ride up Thursday night.”

Nelson nodded. “Good enough.”

“Am I running a delivery?” Casey asked.

“If you feel up to it,” Arsen agreed. He’d selected Casey to stay behind because he wasn’t moving very well after being shot.

“I’ll have to take my truck, but yeah. I want to do what I can.”

Arsen slapped him on the back. “Good man. I told Zane he was going to run your delivery and he wasn’t happy about missing the party in Phoenix. You need backup?”

“Nah,” Casey said. “I trust Jason.”

“I’ll send Zane, just the same. You’ve just been shot after all.”

“What’s the run?” Kelly asked.

“150,000.”

“Shit. Who’s taking the extra?”

“Dirty Bastards want a resupply. They get the extra hundred this week.”

“That’s a big run,” Kelly said.

Arsen grinned. “We’ve done bigger.”

“Yeah, but not with only five people.”

“Can we handle it?”

Kelly grinning slyly. “Yeah, but it’s going to be assholes and elbows all day.”

Twenty minutes later, as the assault team began to trickle out of the clubhouse, Arsen rounded up his production crew. As the men worked, combining the scents, binders, and dyes to produce the beads, the old ladies worked in warehouse, pulling and boxing orders.

It was tough labor for all concerned. Typically, the men operating the production floor had only one or two jobs, but now they were covering three, four, or in the case of Stu, six different jobs, bouncing back and forth between tasks as required. The production was slow and inefficient as bottle necks developed, but none were on the production critical path so production continued, if not with the same proficiency as before.

The women who were helping in the plant boxed, checked, and labeled the orders for shipment. Today they were also tasked with pulling the orders and stacking product into totes they pushed through the warehouse on carts.

A typical production day for the Blades ran from nine in the morning until around five at night, when the van pulled away to make their daily drop at the UPS shipping facility. Today, however, the last of the orders weren’t loaded into the van until nearly nine. The women had worked right through lunch, eating pizza Arsen had brought back for them.

As Kelly and Nelson pulled away from the dock in the van, everyone sighed with relief. As Kelly had said, it had been assholes and elbows all day, but they’d gotten all the orders out and had produced a full run of their Lavender beads, their best-selling bead. Tomorrow the men would produce MDMA, and the women would be back to fill more orders. The Blades kept about a two week supply of their beads, salts and soap on the shelves. As Arsen explained when Belle asked, when they began to run low on inventory, they would bring back the full production crew for a week or so to make full capacity runs to rebuild their inventory.

As the gate closed behind the van, Quinn looked up as thunder rumbled in the distance. “It’s going to rain.”

Arsen nodded as lightening flashed, then after a long pause, another faint roll of thunder rumbled. “Maybe. It’s that time of year.”

“Come on. I want to get cleaned up and get home before it rains,” she said as she started for the clubhouse.

Quinn wandered into the clubhouse and into the bathroom. It had been a long time since she worked that hard. She was tired and sweaty, but felt wonderful. She had really gotten to know Michelle and Lisa as they worked, and found she liked them even more now than she had before. The women had talked about Toni and Kim, and she had cried along with them a couple of times as they worked through their grief, then she had talked about Teresa and Miranda before they were taken. It felt good to unburden herself a little to another woman, and the sharing of their pain and loss seemed to have eased the burden on all of them.

She finished washing her face and patted it dry, using the damp towel to wipe her neck. Saturday she would spend some time cleaning and washing since Michelle was helping with the shipping and Toni… She shook her head to push away the dark thoughts. Now that the heavy lifting of getting the new website and boxes in place was done, she would have time to do more to help with the clubhouse. The women would cope and pick up the slack, just like the men would.

***

They pulled into Arsen’s drive as the wind began to sandblast them. It had been a weaving ride home as he battled the gusting winds. She hopped off the bike and he quickly backed it into the garage as she stood in front of the Raptor, pulled her helmet off, and looked at the angry sky.

“Made it,” he said when his Indian fell silent, watching the wind whip dust into the sky.

It hadn’t started raining yet, but he knew it was coming, and it was going to be a boomer. The heavy rains typically didn’t last very long, but when they occurred they were often violent, and this one was shaping up to give them quite a show.

They parked their helmets on the bike and stepped into the house as the garage door rumbled down, rattling and banging in the heavy winds. “I’m glad you’re not in Phoenix,” she said as she turned in the kitchen, stepping into his arms.

“I’m not. I wish I was there right now, helping track down those bastards who killed Greg and Chet.”

“And their old ladies,” she reminded him.

“And their old ladies,” he confirmed.

“I’m still glad you’re here, with me.”

“Are you still worrying about that bitch, Stacy?”

She started to deny it, then decided he deserved the truth. “A little.”

“Don’t let her get to you. She’s a dead woman walking. In a few days, or a few weeks, you’ll never have to worry about her again.”

“I know.”

He slowly eased out of her embrace so he could look into her eyes. “Do you? Do you really?”

“I do,” she said, but then looked down in guilt. “I know it’s stupid, but hearing her voice brought so much back, made me remember what she did to us, how she encouraged the men…” She stopped and shuddered. “It was bad before, but it was worse after she got involved. She and that other guy. They’re sick.”

“What other guy?”

“I don’t know his name. I just know it went from rape to rape and torture after they showed up. They didn’t just use us, they hurt us, and that seemed to get them off. Miranda was with Stacy and that guy when she didn’t come back. I could hear her screaming and begging, then she just stopped.”

“Soon they’ll all be dead, every last one of them.”

“Good.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“What changed?”

“Having them come after me again, hearing her promise to rape me while you watch. You’re right. The world will be a better place without them.”

He smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Let’s fix dinner. I’m starved,” he said to change the subject. Quinn was an excellent cook, and seemed to enjoy it, and he hoped it would drag her thoughts away from what she had endured. He wanted to kill Stacy, if for no other reason than abusing Quinn and then dragging her back to that dark place.

They moved about the kitchen, working together. As he seared strips of beef, Quinn ripped lettuce and sliced fresh mushrooms, peppers and cucumbers. She had just finished adding cheese when he carefully laid the beef on top.

As they ate, Quinn’s mood slowly improved. She didn’t understand how simply being alone with Arsen could calm her so, but here, in his beautiful house with him nearby, she felt safe, as if nothing in the universe could touch her. Intellectually she knew she was probably safer at the club house with its security system, tall aluminum fence, and Arsen’s brothers around her, but that didn’t change how she felt.

As she crunched through her greens she realized just how important to her he’d become. He was her rock to cling to in the stormy oceans of life, her safe haven, the one thing she could depend on above all else. He’d saved her twice already, once physically from dying in the Arizona desert, and then later, more slowly, he’d saved her emotionally. He’d given her solace when she needed it, and space when she needed that, and had asked for nothing in return. He was a good man, a man she would gladly give her heart to.

“What are you thinking?” he asked as he watched unidentifiable emotions play across her face.

“How lucky I am you found me. I owe you more than I can possible repay in a hundred lifetimes.”

He smiled. “I think you’re exaggerating a little, don’t you?”

“No.”

His smile widened slightly and he put down his fork to take her hands. “You don’t owe me anything. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done because I wanted to.”

“But why?”

He shrugged. “Why do you do the things you want to do? You do them because you want to. I can’t give you a reason other than to say I’ve enjoyed it. I’ve enjoyed having you around.”

“What about the Horsemen?”

“What about them? That has nothing to do with you, and it was coming had I found you or not. Don’t start taking blame for things that aren’t your fault. You’ve been nothing but a benefit to the club.” He paused and his smile softened. “And to me.”

She looked into his eyes and could read the sincerity there, but the intensity of his gaze made her look away. “I guess,” she said as she tried to pull her hands back.

He held tightly to her hands, not letting her take them away. “No,” he said firmly. “No ‘I guess.’ It’s the truth and I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“None of this is my fault.”

“Arsen, I—”

“Say it,” he said again, more firmly this time.

She paused. “None of this is my fault,” she said softly.

She wasn’t very convincing, but it was something so he let her hands go. “Not one person in the club thinks this has anything to do with you, except maybe you. You worry about increasing our sales of B3. I’ll worry about the Horsemen. It’s a waste of your time to be worrying about the same thing I am.”

She nodded and picked up her fork again as the darkness inside her grew a tiny bit smaller.

Chapter 39

They finished eating and cleaned the kitchen as the weather continued to move in. By the time they were ready for bed, the thunder was no longer distant and the wind wailed around the corner of the house as flying dirt scratched faintly at the windows. It hadn’t yet begun to rain but it was only a matter of time.

Quinn pulled off her nighty and slid into the bed with him. Arsen never wore anything to bed, and tonight she wanted to feel his skin against hers. As she snuggled into a comfortable spoon, her ass tucked comfortably into his crotch, his knees behind hers, he wrapped her up and cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing her nipples.

It was their standard snuggle position, his slow, light caress of the hard points of her breasts a source of pleasure that relaxed her, his strong arms and big hands making her feel protected. He kissed her on the neck, and she twisted her face around, offering her lips. He took them, a slow gentle kiss before pulling back and settling in behind her again. She knew he wanted her, his hardness testifying to his desire, but he’d never forced himself on her or made her feel obligated to accept him. She smiled in the darkness. He made her feel wanted and desired, but for more than her body.

He continued to caress her, swallowing his disappointment that Quinn wasn’t in the mood again tonight. He wanted to make love to her, to remind himself he was alive, to bury for a moment the loss he felt for Chet and Greg. He supposed it was too soon for her to be over her ordeal, but for the past two weeks she’d seemed so vibrant, as if she was finally winning over her demons. Then the Horsemen had fucked that up, just like they tried to fuck up everything. Today, though, the Blades started the end game. They were going to put a stop to Horsemen once and for all, and then Quinn would finally have the peace she deserved.

He moved his hand, slowly caressing her thigh, his right hand still warmly surrounding her left breast, his thumb sending a constant trickle of pleasure through her. She hadn’t been in the mood when she crawled into the bed, but his soft, slow strokes were warming her nicely, the heavy peels of thunder adding to the moment.

He could sense the rising tension in her and he slid his hand farther around her thigh, slowly dragging his fingers along the front of her leg then up her belly as he gently bit her shoulder. Her gasp as she stiffened made him smile as he soothed the nip with a kiss.

By slow degrees, he worked his fingers closer to her pussy, teasing her with the anticipation of the pleasure of his touch. He would drag his fingers along the inside of her leg, making her draw a slow breath of expectation, only to have him bypass her wet sex and drag his fingers across her thigh and down the back of her leg, his touch leaving behind tingles of pleasure.

He smiled as he stroked across the lips of her pussy with the lightest possible touch, her delicate moan of pleasure making his heart race. He loved hearing her gasps, sighs, and moans, the way she moved in pleasure. Life seemed to pour from her like a beacon as she came alive with passion, life that somehow fed him and made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He needed her, needed her vibrancy, passion and enthusiasm for life, especially tonight. She was waking up something inside him he’d thought he’d lost, a thirst for life.

She groaned again as his fingers again feathered across her pussy, making her ache to feel his touch. She hadn’t been in the mood before, but she was now, wanting to use the heat of passion to burn away her doubts and fears and the loss of the women she had come to call friends. His zest for life buoyed her, lifting her from the darkness that lurked inside her and weakening its hold on her. As his hand passed over her again, she trapped it with her own, pressing it into her, his fingers skillfully opening her like a flower to touch her. As his finger touched her clit, she gasped with the pleasure coursing through her. His touch felt like a battery, charging her and making her crackle with erotic energy. As he stroked again, she ground her ass back into him and groaned, her hand pressing his harder into her. She wanted, needed, his touch, the feel of him inside her, the caress of his lips, all physical manifestation of that part of him that gave her life and kept the darkness at bay.

He gasped softly as he entered her, steering himself into her wetness, then returned to caressing her clit as he slowly worked his hips. She began to squirm, her breathing becoming heavy as she reached behind her and grabbed his thigh, pulling him into her. His range of motion was limited by their position but he pressed in as deep as he could and held himself there as he gently flicked and caressed her clit. She moaned, long and hard as she furiously pumped her hips then pressed back into him.

The feel of his hardness deep inside, the searing pleasure of his finger and the slow erotic caresses of his lips on her neck were lighting her up, her body tingling with erotic energy. She reached behind her and grabbed the back of his neck, clinging to him. He made her so fucking hot she used to worry about hurting him as she thrashed in passion, but he assured her that great sex sometimes left battle scars and he would tell her if it became too much. Since then she’d stopped worrying about hurting him and my God the orgasms he’d given her when she let herself go.

She dug her nails into the back of his neck as she pushed back into him. When she began to get rough he knew she was working up to a colossal orgasm, but he could take her roughness, giving it back to her, pressing her harder, driving her deeper into her bliss. He bit her on the neck, holding her gently in his jaws for a moment before kissing her hard, his tongue swirling away the sting of his bite.

“Don’t come until I tell you too,” he growled into her ear, thrusting into her as he continued to sweetly torment her with his finger.

“I want to come!” she mewled.

He smiled. He loved this game, trying to make her come while she struggled to prevent it. She was skilled at holding her orgasm, but he always won in the end, and the longer she fought it the harder she came. He pressed her harder, ravaging her with finger and cock.

“Oh, fuck!” she whimpered as the house flashed then immediately shook with thunder, the rain coming an instant later. The rain roared as the sky emptied itself, the wind whipping the rain against the windows. The violence outside perfectly matched the raging storm of pleasure inside her.

He could feel her twisting up in his arms, her left hand biting into his arm as she held his finger to her pussy. He continued to stroke her with his finger as he thrust into her, rocking his hips as much as he could, his right hand cupping her breast while gently rolling her nipple between finger and thumb. She moved with him, her ass slapping into his crotch as she clawed her way to the peak of pleasure.

“Fuck!” she cried, long and loud, no longer able to hold against the pleasure, and her rapture poured over her like the rain. She tried to escape the searing pleasure of his touch while at the same time hoping he would overpower her and prolong the raging storm inside of her.

A bolt of lightning sizzled in, the crack of thunder so deafeningly loud they could feel in their chests. Quinn again cried her pleasure into the night, an inarticulate wail of pleasure as she pulled furiously at his hand while thrusting madly on his cock.

The sizzling crack of thunder startled her and another orgasm slamming into her, causing her to add her wail to the reverberating roar of thunder that rattled the house. She finally succeeded in pulling Arsen’s finger away from her but she was still alive with ecstasy, the flashing lightening and roaring wind setting her on edge, making her want to fuck harder than she’d ever fucked before.

“Oh, fuck me!” she cried, thrusting as hard as she could, but they were wrapped so tightly together she couldn’t gain the space she wanted and needed to feel his hard cock plunging into her.

Her desperation was winding him tight and making his blood run fast and hot. He forced her over onto her stomach then pulled her up to her knees. He drove into her again, his head flinging back as he slid into her. He began to pound into her hard and fast, leaning over her back and giving her what she wanted, what he wanted. She wailed again, her voice drowned out by another thudding roar of thunder. There was a gunshot like bang then only the sound of pounding rain and howling wind as the power failed. She wailed again, urging him on and he roared, his abs burning in effort but unable to stop. He pulled her upright, her hands still gripping the linens as she pulled them free from the corners of the bed. He crushed her into him, his arm around her chest, his cock pounding into her hard and fast as he held her tight with one hand on her breast and he found her pussy with his other.

She wanted to scream in pleasure but couldn’t find her voice. She’d already had two hard orgasms, but the violence of the storm and Arsen’s pounding cock was working her up to an even harder one. She grabbed his arm with one hand, the back of his neck with the other, and held on as her world began to tear apart.

She started to wail, a long almost inhuman cry of pleasure as she clamped down on him like a vice and a splash of liquid hit him in the balls and legs. The windows lit with another sizzling crack and a blinding flash of light, the house being lashed with the power of the storm. His roar of completion was added to hers, but he couldn’t stop, so lost in the frenzy of their lovemaking that even as his rapture seared through him he couldn’t stop his thrusting hips.

She tumbled away from him with his shove, but then he dragged her back, further destroying the bed, flipped her to her back as if she weighed nothing, then plunged into her again. He was like an over revved machine, his head flung back, his body shaking, bellowing into the night as he pounded into her.

She wailed again as he entered her, his passage so deeply pleasurable she couldn’t hold her voice. She threw her arms around him and drew herself up tight, clasping herself to him as he continued to fuck her, bellowing a third time as he slammed his cock into her, before collapsing and driving her into the bed.

He shivered, holding her, afraid to let go lest he be swept away by the storm of his orgasm and forever lost. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, everything blotted out but this one perfect moment. He held her in him arms, resolving to never let her go and protect her from the storm as it raged around them.

She wanted to cry and didn’t know why, so wrung out from pleasure she could do nothing but hold him. She smiled as a hard shudder passed through him, making him grunt as he thrust into her hard and fast a moment before stopping again. He was panting hard but made no move to rise.

Slowly, eased himself up, taking her lips in a long, slow kiss. As he pulled back from the kiss, he smiled at her. “I love you,” he whispered.

Her heart nearly stopped with those three little words. “What did you say?” she whispered.

He began to thrust into her again, slow and easy. “I said I love you.”

“Do you mean it?” she asked, unable to believe he’d said them.

“Yes. I’m falling for you, Quinn. I’m beginning to fall in love with you, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Her tears came unbidden. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiled, then kissed a tear as it trickled down her cheek. “Then don’t say anything. You…complete me somehow. There’s something about you. I don’t know what it is, but you…bring me peace, I guess. I haven’t felt this way since…” His voice trailed away and his smile softened and turned slightly sad. “Since Holly was killed,” he continued.

She smiled as her tears began to flow more freely, but she didn’t wipe them away. “I think I might be falling for you, too. I’ve never been in love, and I don’t know what it feels like, but I want to be with you like nobody else before you. When I’m with you I feel like I can do anything and nothing can hurt me.”

He nodded then kissed her slowly as he began to drive into her purpose. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

She nodded, pulling his head into her neck and holding him tight. She was done, totally wrung out and unable to orgasm again, but she wanted him to make love to her and never stop. She didn’t know if she actually, truly, loved him, but she was damn sure looking forward to finding out.

He buried his face in her neck, kissing her and holding her snuggly. He couldn’t come again, not after the most intense orgasm of his life, but he couldn’t get enough of her. He held her, thrilling in her embrace, wanting to make love to her forever. The embers of love he felt for her were feeble and easily extinguished, but he was certain she was the one he hadn’t known he was looking for, and he committed himself to winning her and husbanding those embers until they were a roaring bonfire.

They held each other, slowly making love before falling asleep, his cock still inside of her as she lay on his chest, long after the storm had passed.

Chapter 40

Michelle and Quinn were alone, packing shipping boxes as the other women pulled orders. Arsen and the brothers were busy, neck deep in the MDMA run, and she was dying to tell someone what Arsen had said last night. He’d made no mention of his words this morning, and though it might be her imagination, she felt like his gaze was more gentle this morning.

“Arsen told me he loved me last night,” Quinn said, plunging right in.

“He what?” Michelle squawked, pausing in her task, a bag of beads in her hand hovering over the box.

Quinn grinned, delighted in Michelle’s reaction. “He told me he was falling in love with me!”

Michelle frowned as she went back to her task. “Seems a little quick, don’t you think? It took him almost a year to say the same to Holly.”

Quinn shrugged, Michelle’s pessimism bringing her down a little. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before. How long did it take you to realize that Zane was the one for you?”

Michelle grinned. “A couple of months or so, but I didn’t admit for a long time.”

Quinn grinned. “It’s been almost that long since he found me on the Interstate.”

“Do you love him?”

“Maybe. I know that I feel something for him, but since I’ve never been in love, is it love? I don’t know.”

Michelle grinned. “You sure it’s not lust?”

Quinn giggled. “Maybe. Why?”

“Because word gets around. I’ve heard from more than one source Arsen knows how to please a woman.”

Quinn giggled again. “I can confirm that. He made me come so hard last night I made a mess. You should have seen the bed this morning.”

Michelle grinned. “Zane and I have had nights like that. Arsen’s a pretty straight up guy. It’s been almost two years since Holly, and he has been faithful to you a longer than I would have given him credit for.” She shrugged. “I hope it works out for you two.”

Quinn nodded. “So do I. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.”

“How do you know you’re in love?”

Michelle giggled. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t. I’m not saying I won’t, I’m saying I can’t. I can’t describe it. If you’ve never experienced it, I can’t describe it to you. It’s like a warm bath on a cold night, or a cold drink on a hot day. It’s that feeling you have after a good hard fucking, but without the sex. It’s peace, and warmth, and excitement and contentment, all rolled up together. If you’re in love with someone, you’ll know it. When they aren’t around, you find yourself thinking about them, and when they are around, you don’t want to be away from them. You think of them before you think of yourself. You would rather do something for them than do something for yourself.” She shrugged. “But that doesn’t even come close to describing how I feel about Zane.”

Quinn thought about Michelle’s words and how she described how she felt about Arsen. Maybe she was in love with the guy.

***

Arsen watched as the binding gum was mixed with the MDMA powder. They were almost done with the run, and after the gum was mixed, they would spray the mixture with the blue dye and then press it into tablets.

As he watched the drum turn, he wondered if he had made a mistake telling Quinn he was in love with her. She seemed a little put off this morning, and now that the rush of passion had faded, he wondered how much truth was in what he’d said.

There was no denying he was falling for her, but was he in love with her? That was a harder question to answer. She twisted him up like no woman before her, even Holly. He loved Holly, but somehow what he was feeling for Quinn was different. He couldn’t put his finger on just how it was different, but it was. It was like the difference between a lake and an ocean.

When he looked at her he wanted to fuck her blind, while cuddling and protecting her at the same time. It was that second part that set her apart from Holly, and every other woman. He felt a protectiveness for her, not possessiveness, like he had with Holly. Holly was his woman and nobody was going to take her away. With Quinn he felt that as well, but there was more, something deeper. He would have fought any man for Holly, but he would fight the devil himself to protect Quinn and keep her safe.

He snorted as Kelly approached from setting pelletizer to press their tablets, pulling his thoughts back to the business at hand. The mixing of the binding gum was almost complete. Even as the thought entered his mind, he heard the click of the relays that signaled the dye was being applied. It took about twenty minutes to dye their product, then it would be time to start making tablets.

“How’s it look?” Kelly asked as he moseyed to a stop beside Arsen.

“The dye is being applied now.”

Kelly nodded. “Biggest run we’ve made in a while.”

“Yeah. But this thing with the Horsemen has driven business to the Advocates. This, or larger, may be our new normal before long.”

Kelly shook his head. “I remember when your dad was making this in a storage building. We’re selling more molly in a couple of months than we used to in a year.”

“I know.”

“That Quinn chick, I hope she knows what she’s doing. We’re on the cops’ radar now.”

Arsen shrugged. “We’ve already seen a small uptick in sales with just the website redesign. That’s only been live, what, two weeks? It takes time to get noticed. Remember when we first went live with the site? It was weeks before we got our first sale.”

Kelly grunted. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

“What?”

“It’s like we’re less of a club and more of a business.”

Arsen chuckled. “You got something against making money?”

This time it was Kelly who chuckled. “It’s not that.”

“What then?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Kelly, if you have something to say, say it. If one of the founding ten can’t say what they’re thinking, then nobody can.”

“Okay. I appreciate everything you’ve done for the club. Even before you took over as President, you were giving good advice to your dad. We’ve grown richer than I would have believed possible. But sometimes I feel like we’ve lost something along the way.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t know that either. I guess I feel like I should be in Phoenix helping track down those Horsemen bastards.”

“You’re free to go as soon as we get this batch in the pelletizer. Look at it this way. You had a job before. Could you have gotten off and ridden with the club?”

“I could have taken vacation.”

“If they approved it on such short notice. You have to work somewhere. We all do. But you, me, Zane, Phil, all of us, we’re working for the benefit of the club. I know this MDMA run is a pain in the ass. I wish I was in Phoenix right now myself. But the club has to come before any one brother. Some of us had to make a sacrifice for the club. This time it was you, and me. Next time it may be someone else. But you’re still doing club work, work that benefits us all. Nobody thinks less of you for staying behind. If you even suspect one of them does, you have my full support in setting their thinking straight by whatever means you feel are justified.”

Kelly chuckled. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I just feel so fucking useless, standing here running these fucking machines, when I could be helping track down the fuckers who killed Greg and Chet.”

Arsen put his hand on Kelly’s shoulder. “It’s because you’re here, running these fucking machines, that everyone else could go track down the fuckers who killed Greg and Chet. We have a reputation of delivering, on time, every time. We worked hard for that reputation, and it’s worth protecting. What you’re doing is arguably more important than being in Phoenix.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

Arsen gave the older man’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “That’s just because you’re pissed off that you’re missing all the fun. If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll have Phil save you one.”

Kelly chuckled. “Yeah, maybe so. If I think we’re going to run out of Horsemen before I get a shot at one of them, I may take you up on your offer.”

Arsen chuckled. “You got it brother, you got it.”

***

Arsen and Quinn watched as Nelson and Thom upended the tablets into the feed hopper for the bagger then pressed start. The machine whirred then clicked, then began to move. The first bag stopped at the filling station and the numbers on the counter blurred before stopping at 5,000. The machine sifted, the numbers would reset to zero, then start over again as the previous bag was sealed. Two seconds later, the machine sifted again, the first bag would fall into a slide where it slid into a catch tote as the next bag as sealed. The machine could bag their MDMA order in less than three minutes, by far the fastest part of the process.

Three minutes later, the machine stopped, the counter showing 3,254. “Not bad,” Arsen said, stepping up and pulling the partially filled bag from the machine.

“What are you going to do with that?”

“Destroy it.”

“Why don’t you save it for next week?”

“Because we don’t keep the drugs around. What we made today leaves tomorrow morning first thing. I don’t want to keep anything around that would tip anyone off what we make here besides bath beads.”

“Doesn’t that cost a lot, throwing product away like that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Thirty-five hundred tablets? About a hundred twenty bucks in raw materials. This batch is about average. I always aim to make a little extra so we don’t short anyone. The loss is factored into our cost.”

“What do you do with them now?”

“I pour them into our toxic waste tote. In there, they’ll dissolve in a few minutes and just be another part of the chemical soup.”

“And the rest?”

“Watch,” he said with a grin. He picked up the tote with the thirty bags and carried them to the mixing machine where he carefully laid the bags in the bottom of the large drum. Once the bags were in place, he maneuvered the huge tote of Epsom salts into place and used the machine’s lift to dump them into the machine.

“The bags are completely air tight, so that should defeat a drug dog. The salts hide the packages.”

“I have to ask. How are you going to get the bags out? Do you dump the salts back into the tote?”

“We could do that. We might have to this time. Normally we’ll just jog the machine. See those stirring paddles?” he asked, pointing to the large metal bars arrayed around the drum. “We’ll slowly jog the drum and the paddle will lift the bags right out for us.”

“Jog?”

“Move the drum manually by pushing a button while the door is open. Normally, once we have the MDMA out, the molly is sent out for distribution and we make a run of salts, since the drum is loaded anyway. Now that everyone is gone, I guess we’ll have to empty and wash cycle the drum. Or maybe we’ll come back a day early and make a run of salts like normal. I don’t know yet. Something I have to work out.”

She eyeballed the drum and realized the drugs were under at least three feet of salt. Nobody would ever find it there unless they knew to look. The Blades seemed to have thought of everything. “Who’s making the delivery tomorrow?”

“Zane and Chet are delivering to the Advocates and I’m taking a load to the Bastards.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Can I go?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We’ve been doing business with the Dirty Bastards for years, and I don’t expect trouble, but if something were to go down, at the exchange is where it’ll happen.”

“What do you expect to happen?”

“Nothing. But when that much cash and drugs are in play, that’s when shit will happen if it’s going to. Drug bust, someone in the Bastards crosses them, who knows?”

“Don’t you normally send two or three guys?”

“Normally. More if it is a first time buy. But the Advocates and Bastards, I trust them. If it were anyone else, not so much.”

“So let me go. You’re sending two to the Advocates. I can watch your back.”

“You know how to shoot a gun?”

“Well, no, but they don’t have to know that.”

He chuckled. “Point.”

“Come on, let me go. You’re leaving town right after that and I want to spend the last few hours with you before you leave.”

“And if the cops show up?”

“Then I’ll tell them you picked me up walking along the interstate and I didn’t know anything about drugs. Come one, Arsen, please?”

“We’ll have to go in the car, but it’s still a long ride.”

She smiled at him as she slowly licked her lips. “I love long rides,” she purred. “Why the car?”

He chuckled. If it were anyone other than the Advocates or the Bastards, her going would be out of the question, but he was confident enough that the Bastards wouldn’t try to fuck him that he could let her off at the truck stop and she could wait inside until the exchange was done, then he could pick her up again.

“Because I can’t carry 100,000 tablets by myself on the bike.”

“Then I can go with you and wait in the car with the motor running. That way if anything happens?” She shrugged.

He had to admit the idea had merit. He trusted the Bastards, but only so far. Having someone in the car would help keep them honest. “Okay, fine. You can wait in the car. Can you look tough?”

She gave him her best ball busting, take no prisoners, bitch look.

“Maybe some sunglasses will help,” he suggested.

Chapter 41

It was raining again as they pounded east in Arsen’s Cadillac CTS V. It was a good thing he’d planned to bring the car anyway. He loved his bike, but riding four hours in the rain sucked, no matter how dedicated he was.

They’d just passed Wilcox, Arizona, when Arsen’s phone rang, trilling over the speakers in the Cadillac. He touched the screen to answer the phone.

“Arsen.”

“We took out four this morning,” Phil’s voice said.

“Tell me one of them was that Stacy bitch or Todd Yuggers.”

“No such luck. We did have to kill a woman when she tried to pull a gun on us.”

“You taunt the bull…” Arsen began.

“You get the horns,” Phil finished. “We found them holed up in a rent house. Four men, three women. One of their old dealers rolled on them. They are not popular, even on their home turf. You offer a couple of Franklins and people fall all over themselves to help.”

“What happened to the other women?” Quinn asked.

“Quinn wants to know what happened to the other women,” he repeated so Phil could hear.

“They were scared shitless so we made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. Get out, keep their mouths shut, or have their brains blown all over the back wall. They took the deal.”

He looked at Quinn who was nodding in approval. “Keep it up. Any other leads?”

“Not yet. It’s only been a day. Cut me some slack. Jesus!”

Arsen chuckled. “Keep it up. Any idea how many people we’re after?”

“Word on the street is we got all but about twenty. That’s not counting the assholes who didn’t have the good graces to die when we shot them.”

“So that leaves thirty-seven?”

“Give or take. Less the eight or so still in the hospital. Call it twenty-five to track down. I thought we’d save those still in the hospital for last. We can’t get to them.”

“Understood. Good work. Keep on them until I tell you stop.”

“Are you going to tell me to stop?”

“Only if they call it quits and turn over Stacy and Todd, along with those responsible for killing Chet, Greg, their old ladies and my family. If they do that, then I’ll consider it.”

“They’ll never agree to that.”

“Fine. Then we’ll kill them all.”

“That works for me.”

“Just keep it clean. I don’t want anyone going to prison over this.”

“The team was in and out in ten minutes. Nobody saw nothing. Gage is a total hard ass. He shot the woman without a blink. I was about to ream his ass out, then I saw the gun. We need to put him on delivery. He’s so easy going you wouldn’t know it, but you do not want to fuck with that guy. He’s the real deal.”

“We’ll talk about it when I get there tonight.”

“Looking forward to you and Zane joining the party.”

“So am I,” Arsen said with a grin. “Anything else?”

“No, but I knew you’d want to know.”

“Okay. Keep me in the loop. See you in about six hours.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Quinn said quietly after Phil was gone.

“I have to. The brothers are putting their asses on the line for the club. I can’t do less.”

“I know how it works, but I don’t have to like it.”

“No, you don’t, but it’ll be over soon.”

“I don’t know how. Until you kill every last one of them, we’ll never be safe. All it takes is one guy with a gun.”

He looked at her and gave her a cold smile. “I know.”

“This is only going to end when every member of the Horsemen is dead, isn’t it?”

“Almost certainly.”

She looked out the windshield, watching as the wipers thumped. “I guess I can live with that,” she said after a moment.

The meet was scheduled for noon, and at eleven-thirty Arsen pulled the Caddy to a stop in the rest area in Lordsburg, across the interstate from the Love’s Truck Stop, so they could switch drivers. Just like they always met the Advocates at the end of the runway in Yuma, the truck stop was the standard exchange point for the Dirty Bastards. There was plenty of traffic flowing in and out and a large parking lot that allowed them to get some distance from prying eyes.

“Make a left and stay on this road until you see the Love’s,” he instructed. “Pull in there and stop,” he ordered then tapped on the screen, selecting a number from his contacts.

“Mason Trucking.”

“Mason, it’s Arsen. I’m at the Love’s, but I’m in my car, a white CTS.”

“You pussy,” the voice chuckled. “Afraid of a little rain?”

“No, but I couldn’t haul your order by myself on a bike.”

“Where’s your regular crew?”

“On other business.”

“I’m about five minutes out. I’ll meet you at our regular spot.”

“Roger that, but if you’re not here, and I can hear you, you’re obviously not on your bike. Now who’s the pussy?”

Mason chuckled. “Man, I’m from Albuquerque. I don’t ride in the fucking rain.”

“Well I’m from Tucson and you expected me to ride in the fucking rain.”

Mason chuckled. “I’m about to get off the interstate. I’m in the blue and silver Ram, along with a red Durango.”

“See you in a couple of minutes,” Arsen said then hung up the phone.

“Suddenly I’m very nervous,” Quinn said softly.

“It’ll be okay, but remember, you’re the one who wanted to tag along.”

“I know. I would be even more nervous if I were at home and I knew you were out here by yourself.”

“Don’t get jumpy on me now,” he cautioned. “If you get nervous, that makes them nervous. Just stay in the car and stay calm. You’ll know if it goes to shit, otherwise, everything is fine.”

She swallowed hard and gave her head a quick nod. Now, more than ever, she decided she had to grow B3 so Arsen and the Blades didn’t have to do this anymore.

A couple of minutes later blue and silver Ram pickup and a deep red Durango pulled to a stop in front of the car. “Keep the motor running. This won’t take long. Pop the trunk,” he said as he opened his door and stepped out in the rain.

She watched in the mirror as he walked around to the back of the car and pulled out the duffle, closing but not latching the trunk. As he did, a man slid out of the passenger seat of the pickup and pulled a similar duffle out of the back seat of the pickup.

“You said you were alone. Who’s that with you?” Mason asked as Arsen approached.

“Bodyguard.” He extended his hand and they shook.

“A woman? You’re shitting me.”

“No. She’s an Olympic shooter. She can put one through your eye at a fifty yards without breaking a sweat.”

Mason looked around him to the small woman sitting in the car. The way she was glaring at him made him distinctly nervous. “I’ll take your word for it.” He handed the bag to Arsen. “You want to count it?”

“Do I need to?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll take your word for it this time. I want to get out of this rain.” Arsen handed his bag across. “One hundred thousand, just like you ordered.”

The bags were exchanged and the men shook again. “See you again in about three months,” Mason said before he turned and walked back to his vehicle, Arsen doing the same. He lifted the trunk lid, tossed the bag inside, then shut the lid.

“See, nothing to worry about,” he said as he slid into the seat. “Drive away, slow and easy.”

“What was that guy looking at?” she asked as she slid the car into gear.

“You.”

“Why?”

He smiled. “I told him you were my bodyguard.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did. I told him you were an Olympic shooter and if he made a wrong move you would shoot his eyes out.”

“You did not!”

He chuckled. “Okay, I didn’t tell him the part about you shooting his eyes out, but the rest I did.”

“Why would you do that? What if I had to prove it?”

“If you had to prove it, then I would have a lot bigger problem than telling a lie. You wanted to watch my back? Well, you did, and I helped you by giving him something else to think about.” He paused a moment then changed the subject. “You want to drive back or do you want me to do it?”

“You do it, otherwise you’ll be telling somebody I’m Jimmy Gordon or somebody.”

He laughed. “Jeff Gordon. Stop over there by the truck stop. I need to take a leak anyway.”

She pulled to a stop in front of the store portion of the truck stop, and followed him in. By the time she was done in the bathroom the heavens had opened up and it was pouring rain. He was standing by the door, two bottles of water in his hands. He handed one to her as she approached.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said as he pointed the fob at the car and unlocked it. “You ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad!” he called as he dashed out. She ran out behind him and slid into the car as he opened the door. He slammed it and ran around to the other side and threw himself under the wheel.

“I hate the rain,” he said as he slicked the water from his hair. “It’s why I live in Arizona. I only have to deal with this shit a couple weeks a year.”

“It could be worse. You could be making the exchange now.”

“Fuck that. I’d send you out to do it,” he said as he cranked the car to life.

“Nuh-uh. I’m the bodyguard, remember?”

He chuckled as he put the car in reverse and backed out of the space.

***

They were in the big nothing between Lordsburg, New Mexico, and Tucson, Arizona, and they had been driving in the pouring rain the entire time. If it was still pissing down like this when he got back to Tucson, he was taking his damn car to Phoenix.

He looked over at Quinn and grinned. She had tipped her seat back and gone to sleep. “Some bodyguard you are,” he muttered, chuckling as she slowly raised her left hand and give him the finger.

He was doing about fifty, the torrential rain slowing traffic as the car’s wipers working furiously to clear the windshield. He didn’t notice the silver Ford pickup creeping up beside him, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have thought anything about it…until the passenger rolled down the window and began firing into the car.

Chapter 42

Quinn shrieked and cringed against her door as Arsen’s window shattered with the crack of a gunshot. Arsen jammed the brakes hard on, the truck flashing past them before its brake lights popped on, then realized if they stopped, they were going to be in gun fight he didn’t want. The passenger leaned out of the truck window and fired into the car as the truck swerved to block them in, bullets pinging and popping as the windshield crazed.

He floored the accelerator and the super-charged engine wailed as the car surged away. He whipped around the still slowing truck and passed it in a cloud of spray. The CTS V was fast, very fast, and there was no way the pickup could catch them, except the car was mortally wounded with warning lights beginning to illuminate on the dash as they raced through the rain.

“Get my phone! Call Phil! We’re going to need help!”

As Quinn worked the phone he struggled with the car, driving as fast as he dared, focusing on keeping it steady as it hydroplaned and watching the dash as more and more lights signaled failing systems.

He slowed, trying to nurse the car along, but the temperature gauge was already in the yellow and still climbing. As the engine began to knock he slowed even more, but the car wasn’t going to make it much farther.

“No answer!”

“Get ready to run!”

“What?” Quinn cried.

“The car is fucked! We’re going to have to run! Get ready!” He pulled the car to the side of the road and slammed to a stop. “Run!” he said, grabbing his phone and pistol before swinging his door open. They ran down the slight embankment and into the scrub just as the pickup passed, its brake lights flashing as the driver slammed on the brakes and hauled the truck to the side of the road.

“Keep running!” Arsen called, dragging her along as he tried to disappear into the rain. The truck roared, turning down the embankment, mud flying as the driver battered his way across the rain soaked desert floor.

Arsen hooked right, running at a right angle to the truck. “Keep going! I’m right behind you!” he yelled as he released her hand and pivoted to face the truck, firing nine shots into the truck. The truck slew around as it turned to follow them, then ground to a halt as the engine raced, mud flying from all four tires.

“They’re stuck! Back to the car!” Arsen screamed as he chased after Quinn, hoping she heard him over the pelting rain. If the car would run even five minutes more, that would allow them to put enough distance between themselves and the gunmen to get away.

Quinn began to loop back toward the interstate as a gun popped nine times in quick succession. His heart nearly stopped when Quinn went down, but she popped back up, muddy but apparently unhurt, and began to run again.

He could see the two people from the truck running toward them on an angle. They obviously realized where Quinn and Arsen were heading and were trying to cut them off. He debated swerving and trying to run around them, but he knew it was a useless tactic. He was out of ammunition, and if the gunmen had reloaded, they were dead anyway.

“Quinn! Wait!” he called, slowing to a walk as he tried to catch his breath. She stopped and he trotted to her.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, her voice quivering as she panted.

“I’m out of ammo. Stay behind me and we’ll see how this plays.” He knew how it was going to play. They were going to die. He couldn’t take two men, and once he was down, Quinn didn’t stand a chance. He reached to his hip and pulled his blade. He may go down, but he was taking at least one of those assholes with him.

Quinn cowered behind Arsen as he marched toward the two figure, his knife gripped firmly in his hand. He was obviously prepared to fight, but with two of them…She squinted as the figures approached.

“It’s them,” she gasped, grabbing his jacket.

“Who?”

“The woman, Stacy, and the man she was fucking, the man that enjoyed hurting us.”

He could now make out it was a woman and a man in their path. He knew Robert, and the man standing before him wasn’t Robert. “You Todd?” Arsen asked as the four of them stopped ten feet apart.

“Yeah.”

“How’s this going down?” Arsen growled.

Todd smiled, a nasty smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I’m get to kill you and take back that bitch. I knew she was with the Blades, but I didn’t know she was with you. I’m going to hurt her. I’m going to hurt her bad for what she did to Pick.” His eyes shifted to Quinn. “How about it, bitch? You ready for round two?”

Arsen nodded, refusing to be baited. “So you were fucking the President’s old lady even before I killed him?”

“Roger was weak. Stacy knows a real man when she sees one. I’m going to rebuild the Horsemen and we’re going to fuck the Blades like I fucked that bitch, long, hard, and without mercy.”

“That’s going to be hard to do when you’re dead,” Arsen growled as he crouched and began to crab away from Quinn, his knife held in front of him. He wasn’t an experienced knife fighter, but he would live long enough to gut this motherfucker.

Todd smiled and pulled his own knife from his belt. “Come on, you fucker,” Todd snarled. “Let’s see what you got.”

***

Quinn was petrified with fear, her hands at her mouth as the two men circled each other, crouched low with their blades pointed in front of them. She was so transfixed she didn’t notice Stacy take the three steps forward, crying out as the bigger woman grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head hard back.

“I can’t wait to get you back to Phoenix,” Stacy snarled into her face. “Just you, me, and Todd. We’re going to have so much fun.”

Quinn couldn’t move, her face twisting with pain and fear. “Let us go, please! I won’t talk!” she cried, gripping the hand in her hair with her own to try to relieve the pain.

The older woman’s face twisted into an evil smile as she jerked her head again. “Oh, I know that, bitch. First, you’re going to watch as Todd guts him like a fish, then we’re taking you back to Phoenix where we’re going to finish what we started.”

Quinn twisted, trying to free her hair. She would rather die here in the desert than go back to Phoenix, and a white hot rage came over her. This evil bitch was going to hurt her? She may be twice her size, but she wasn’t going to Phoenix, not while she drew a breath. With a scream more animal than human, Quinn twisted and raked Stacy’s face with her nails.

***

Arsen wiped the water from his face as he continued to circle Todd, trying to take a measure of his opponent. He heard Quinn scream in pain but didn’t dare look away. Quinn was going to have to fend for herself because if Todd killed him, she was dead anyway. They continued to move in a slow circle, Todd making feints and taunting him, but Arsen wasn’t biting. He wanted Todd to come to him. As they continued to circle, Quinn and Stacy came into view. He couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking to the women as they fell in the mud, and that was the opening Todd was waiting for.

Todd lunged in, knife low, and tried to drive the blade into Arsen’s gut. Arsen backpedaled and twisted, grabbing the hand as it passed and twisted it away, then force his hand up and locked the arm over his own so he couldn’t turn the knife back on him. He swept his own knife back along Todd’s arm, but it was pointed the wrong way, the butt of the knife hitting Todd in the face.

Todd’s head snapped back as blood flowed from his broken nose. Arsen turned to bring his blade around, but Todd grabbed his knife hand to prevent him from burying the blade. Arsen grunted, trying to force the blade down, but their arms were tangled.

“Now I’ve got you, you fucker,” Todd grunted as he fell backwards, dragging Arsen down with him.

***

Stacy reared back with a cry of pain as Quinn opened three bloody gouges on her face. Free of Stacy’s grip on her hair, she pivoted and charged the woman, no longer thinking as her fight or flight response became fully engaged and her body dumped adrenaline into her system. Quinn hit her, driving her from her feet and to the ground. She rode her down, the impact barely registering, before she grabbed Stacy by the hair and began to pound her head against the ground.

Stacy was a big, tough, woman, used to brawling, and she clawed at the smaller woman, but Quinn was a hellcat, ignoring Stacy’s grasping hands. With a cry of pain and effort, Stacy managed to dislodge Quinn from her chest, tumbling over her as she tried to escape the punishment Quinn was raining down on her.

No longer able to hammer Stacy’s head against the ground, Quinn grabbed Stacy by the throat with both hands. Stacy’s eyes bulged as she gripped Quinn’s hands and tried to pull them from her throat.

With another snarl, Quinn twisted Stacy off of her, her hands still locked on her throat as they lay side by side in the mud. “Die, you bitch,” she snarled, spittle flying from her lips.

***

Arsen landed on Todd with a grunt. He and Todd were locked in a test of strength, each trying to bury their blade in their opponent while preventing the same. He strained to drive his knife into Todd, but couldn’t get the leverage, not while worrying about keeping Todd’s blade out of his own side. He changed his tactics and reared back and scrambled away on hands and knees, kicking out with a booted foot as Todd scrambled to follow.

His foot connected solidly with Todd’s face, his face exploding with blood. Arsen changed his grip on his knife and lunged back at Todd, wanting to take advantage of Todd’s slowed reactions. He tried to drive his knife into Todd, but his opponent blocked the thrust. Arsen continued to move, sliding past to get behind him.

Todd, realizing he was at a severe disadvantage, dropped his knife as he used two hands to try to hold off Arsen’s blade. With Arsen’s arm around his neck, his knife only inches from plunging into his stomach, Todd used both hands to try to stop Arsen’s knife from plunging into him.

“Who’s fucked now?” Arsen grunted.

Their muscles bulging, their faces twisted into feral masks of pain and effort, the two men strained, kicking and squirming in the mud as the rain poured. With a scream of pain, Todd’s strength failed and Arsen’s blade plunged into his stomach. Arsen quickly pulled the knife and plunged it in again, and then again, then again, three more hard fast plunges as Todd shrieked in agony.

***

Quinn kept her hands around Stacy’s throat as they rolled over again, Quinn coming to rest on top. Stacy had her hands under her chin, forcing her head back. She had a longer reach and she was winning the test of strength. Realizing she could no longer hold her, Quinn released Stacy and threw herself away and scrambled to her feet, turning to face the woman as she struggled, holding her throat and coughing as she gasped for breath.

Quinn charged again, again driving them to the ground before grabbing Stacy’s hair and bashing her head against the ground. Quinn could sense the fight going out of Stacy but she kept hammering her head, then switched back to her throat, leaning in with all her weight.

Kicking and clawing, Stacy tried to throw her off, but Quinn clung to her like a burr. “You fucking bitch…you fucking bitch…you fucking bitch,” Quinn chanted as she leaned in, trying to crush the woman’s throat.

With a final convulsive thrust, Stacy threw her off, and began to scramble back on her hands and knees, racked with coughs. Quinn began to charge her, intent on finishing what she’d started, but before she could attack, Arsen stepped up and grabbed Stacy by the arm. He was covered in blood from the waist down, but didn’t appear to be injured. He hauled Stacy to her feet and drove his knife into her side without pause.

She screamed in pain, hunching over to the side as her blood flowed. He drove the blade in again, then jacked her head back and slit her throat with a single vicious slice. He held her a moment then let her fall. She wasn’t dead yet, but she would be within moments.

He stared at Stacy as her blood stained the desert floor, the rain washing the blood from her body until her heart beat its last, then looked at Quinn. “You okay?” he panted.

Quinn stared at the dead woman as she began to shake. Her eyes flicked to him, watching him, knife still in his hand as his chest heaved, the rain washing the blood from him. He dropped the knife as she ran to him, throwing herself into his arm as she began to weep.

He held her tight, one arm around her waist, the other on her head. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmured. They stood in their embrace for many long moments. “We have to go before someone sees us,” he whispered.

She nodded and struggled to stop her tears. “I was so afraid,” she whispered, her face still buried in his chest.

“I know. So was I.”

She sniffed and stepped back. “Is it over?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” He bent and picked up his knife and checked to make sure he still had his weapon, wanting to leave no evidence behind. “Come on,” he said softly, taking her arm and steering her back toward the interstate and his car. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Chapter 43

“What are we going to do?” Quinn asked as they struggled up the embankment then looked behind them. She could see the truck, but not the bodies.

“Pray this bastard starts and will run,” Arsen replied. “Where’s your phone?” he asked. He’d already tried to use his phone but after rolling around in the muck, it wasn’t working anymore.

“In the car, in my purse.”

He nodded as he dropped into the driver’s and mentally crossed his fingers as he gave the key a twist. The engine turned over sluggishly, but clattered to life. The car wasn’t going to run long, but maybe it would run long enough to get them away from here.

A Christmas tree of warning lights illuminated on the dash. Arsen flipped on the car’s hazard lights and he crept along the shoulder at barely more than idle as the car labored. He gritted his teeth, slowly feeding it more gas just to keep the car running as the knock became progressively worse, but it kept moving until they crept off the interstate at Wilcox. He could see a Holiday Inn Express sign farther up the road, but pulled the car into the Travel Center truck stop and switched it off.

He could hear something frying under the hood, and on a hunch, tried the key. The car grunted but didn’t turn over. He gave the dash a pat, silently thanking the car for giving its life to get them away. “Let’s go.”

He took the duffle from the trunk and pocketed the keyring. There was no point in locking the car with the shattered side window, but his key ring held his house, clubhouse and cabin keys as well.

They trudged through the rain to the Holiday Inn, squeegeeing the water off themselves before stepping inside. “We need a room,” Arsen said as he approached the counter. The woman stared at them a moment. “Car broke down,” Arsen added to get her moving.

The woman shook herself. “Yes, I’m sorry. Two? For how long.”

“One night.”

The typed on her computer a moment. “I need to see your driver’s license and credit card.”

“I left my wallet in the car.” The woman paused. “Look, Lady,” Arsen said, his voice firm but nonthreatening. “We’ve had a really bad day. The car broke down on the interstate and I had to crawl under it in the rain to fix it enough to get to the next exit. We just want a room to get cleaned up and wait until someone can come get us. Is that asking too much? Are you really going to make me walk all the way back to the interstate, in the rain, to get my wallet?”

The woman softened. “What’s your name?”

“Yuggers. Todd and Stacy Yuggers, Phoenix, Arizona.”

“Address?”

He made up an address on the spot as the woman typed. “That’ll be $109 for one night.”

“Thank you,” Arsen said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cash and peeled off twenties. He handed them across then signed the register as Todd Yuggers.

“Room 101, right around the corner.”

He nodded then took Quinn by the shoulder and escorted her out.

In the room, while Quinn showered, he used her phone to call Phil.

“Phil, we have a situation,” Arsen said as soon as his Sergeant at Arms answered.

“What’s up?”

“I need you to send someone to Tucson right now and rent a roll back, then get their ass to Wilcox as soon as they can.”

“What happened?”

“We had a run in with the Horsemen. There are two dead bodies in the desert and I want to get as far as from here as I can, as soon as I can.”

“Are you alright? Where’s your bike?”

“Quinn and I are fine. I’m in my car, but it’s shot all to hell and won’t run anymore.”

“Christ! Okay, I’m on it. It’s going to take some time though. How the hell did they find you?”

Arsen shrugged even though Phil couldn’t see him. “They probably picked us up at the clubhouse and followed us. The car is at the truck stop and we’re in the Holiday Inn Express. Both in Wilcox. Call me when you get here. Make it fast, Phil. My dick is really hanging out here.”

“We’re rolling. Just hang tight.”

He hung up the phone then called Zane.

“Zane! Keep your eyes open. Quinn and I were jumped by the Horsemen.”

“Holy shit! Are you okay?”

“Wet and muddy, and my car is fucked, but we’re fine. I killed Stacy and Todd.”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah. They hit us after the exchange. They probably waited so I would have the cash, so keep your eyes open.”

“We’ll keep an eye out. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Stay safe, brother.” He’s just hung up when Quinn stepped out of the shower wrapped in a towel. She was pale and stared at him with wide eyes. “You okay?” he asked.

“I think so,” she said softly.

“Come here,” he said quietly as he got to his feet. She came and melted into his chest.

“I keep seeing her face,” she said softly.

“Shhhh…” He held her tight.

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to wait until somebody with the club shows up to get us out of here.”

“How long is that going to take?”

“I don’t know. Three or four hours, probably.”

“I want to go home.”

“I know, baby. So do I.”

“Can’t you just call a tow truck?”

“I don’t want to have to explain why there are bullet holes in the car.”

She nodded, then began to shake again. “I thought you were going to die,” she whimpered, then began to weep again. “I was so afraid!”

“Shhhh,” he murmured again, stroking her hair. “It’s over now.”

“Is it?”

“For now. Maybe forever. Without Stacy and Todd jacking everyone up, maybe we can put a stop to this.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Me too,” he said softly. “At least you don’t have to worry about those two anymore.”

She nodded into his chest, sniffing and trying to dry her tears. She looked up at him and offered her lips, wanting, needing, to feel the caresses of his lips, to remind her he wasn’t the heartless killer she’d seen in the rain.

As she stood in the shower, all she could see was the coldness on his face as he drove his knife into Stacy’s side, the shocked expression on her face as the knife plunged deep, and her scream of pain. He’d shown no remorse as he drove the knife in again, then cut her throat, allowing her to fall in a heap at his feet. That wasn’t who he was, and she knew it, but she needed the gentle caress of his lips to drive home he was the same gentle, caring, man she was falling for.

He took her lips in a slow kiss. He’d done what he had to, and would kill a thousand more without regret to protect her. He only wished she hadn’t seen it.

She pulled back from the kiss and stared into his eyes. The coldness was gone, replaced by the same warmth and tenderness she’d seen so many times before. She smiled softly, realizing there was nothing he wouldn’t do, no length he wouldn’t go, to protect her. He was her paladin, her knight and guardian, and so long as he was in her life, she knew she had nothing to fear.

He watched as her face softened, her gaze touching him as she searched his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

There was no hesitation, no prevarication, a simple statement that warmed him. “I love you,” he smiled, repeating her words.

She smiled, his words driving away the doubts. He would never hurt her, never. His face was still ghosted with mud, but she’d never seen a more handsome or sexy man. She turned, then pulled him down to the bed with her, dropping her towel as she did. If they had three or four hours to kill, she knew how she wanted to spend them.

He followed her to the bed, lying lightly across her as he caressed her face with a thumb, staring into her eyes. He’d always knew she was strong, and today she’d proven it. He’d ended her fight with Stacy, but she already had the larger woman back on her heels. He would always be there for her, but he knew now she could take care of herself.

She watched his eyes as he stared into her face, his thumb on his cheek such a tender gesture she never wanted it to stop. “What?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” he murmured before lowering his lips to her. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him into the kiss, her flaring passions igniting his own. He kissed down her body, smiling as the tasted the dirt left behind by his clothes. He rose to his knees and pulled his shirt over his head, struggling because of its wetness, then tossed the soggy garment away. She pulled him down into another torrid kiss, thrusting her hips to roll him over.

She pushed him off of her and quickly went to work on his pants, jerking the wet denim off and throwing it away. She was burning with desire, his actions making her want him like never before. The moment his pants left her hands, she threw herself on him, kissing him furiously. She didn’t understand what had come over her but she need to feel him inside.

She held him erect then lowered herself over him, taking him inside before kissing him again, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth to do battle with his. She slid lower to take him deep, then began to thrust, hard and fast, battering him with her hips. He pulled her up into the kiss, her heat washing over him and making him burn with desire.

She levered out the kiss, his hands going to her head as he forced her up and back, propping her on his forearms, as he drew his feet up and pounded into her furiously. It was what she wanted, what she needed, her orgasm crashing into her and sweeping her away. She mewled, then wailed, as he pounded into with tender violence. She was alive with pleasure, alive with life! He had saved her, both physically and emotionally, and she was alive!

She slumped and he stilled his battering hips, allowing her to fall to his chest as he panted. She shuddered as he held her, then sobbed.

“Quinn, what’s wrong?” he murmured, upset she was crying. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head but didn’t answer, sobbing again as she held him tight.

He tried to pull her head up so he could see her face, but he held her head to his chest. “Tell me what’s wrong. Quinn?”

“Love you,” she whimpered. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you today, but you save me. I…” she paused as she sobbed again, her grip tightening down even more. “I can never repay what you’ve done for me.”

“Shhh,” he hissed softly as he stroked her head. “It’s okay. Shhh…”

She sobbed once more, then became quiet, sniffing as she clung him. She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy, but still the most beautiful woman in the universe.

“Please don’t leave me,” she said softly, her face twisting in anguish.

He rolled over, dumping her to the bed and wrapping her up, his arms tight at her side as he held her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand what I’m telling you? I’ll always be here for you.”

She nodded as tears began to stream down her cheeks again. “I believe you. Please, make love to me.”

He kissed her, slow and easy. She was obviously still damaged, and vulnerable, and the events of today hadn’t helped, but she would heal, and he would be there with her every step of the way. He smiled down at her, watching as she smiled back at him through the tears.

“Make love to me,” she whispered again as she caressed his face, wiping at the blush of mud on his forehead.

He entered her, a slow and easy insertion that made her gasp in pleasure. He kissed her again, assuring her through simple touch he would always be there to protect her, then kissed away the tracks of her tears. No face so lovely should ever be tear stained.

They made love, slow and easy, no words spoken, promises being made with their actions, their gasps and sighs of pleasure the only sounds as they gave of themselves and their souls became one. Finally, long after they started, they slept, wrapped in each other’s arms, a soft smile on their faces, as they slept deep and peaceably, confident in the future and their love.

Chapter 44

Arsen sauntered into the clubhouse and tossed a magazine into Quinn’s lap. “Nice picture,” he drawled.

On the cover of the Tucson Business Monthly, Quinn was standing in front of the clubhouse, dressed in a suit, with the words The new face of beauty in bold letters underneath.

She looked at the magazine then opened it. “Did you read it?” she asked.

“Yeah. You’d think reading that you ran the whole operation by yourself.”

She giggled in delight and carefully read the article. In the eighteen weeks since they started packaging their product in the new containers, B3 had almost doubled its sales. They were still a small fish, and she had a long way to go before B3 was a profitable as the Blades’ other business, but they were growing fast enough somebody had noticed and wanted to do an article for the local business magazine.

By unanimous vote the club decided Quinn would become the face of B3. She had protested mightily, but everyone agreed it would look better if everyone thought the company was run by a woman since it sold beauty products, and it was her ideas and hard work that had caused the sudden uptick in business. With Michelle at her side, they’d given the magazine a tour of the facility and explained their philosophy of great products at fair prices. They hadn’t exactly hidden that B3 was run by the Blacktop Blades, but nobody was wearing their colors that day and apparently nobody at the magazine questioned the lavish clubhouse as their offices.

“Not bad,” she said as she closed the magazine. She was playing it cool, but inside her stomach was doing cartwheels.

Arsen rolled his eyes. “Not bad, she says! If you were on the cover of Forbes, what would you say? Pretty good?”

She rose from her chair with a giggle, sat her computer aside, and sauntered into his arms to give him a long, slow kiss. “Was that pretty good?”

“Not bad,” he said, but then chuckled. Quinn had been fragile for a few days after the events in the desert, but she seemed well past it now. The dead bodies were found the next day, and made the news, but other than the initial report, nothing else was heard. When, after four weeks, the police hadn’t stormed the Blades compound, they knew they had gotten away clean.

Over the next twelve weeks, the Blades had killed eight more Horsemen, then given up the search when their sources went dry. Word was the remaining Horsemen were gone. Without Stacy and Todd whipping the members in a frenzy of blood lust, those who remained had dropped out of sight. The members might still be in Phoenix, but the Chrome Horsemen, as a club, was dead.

“Just all right?” she purred. “Maybe I can do better.” She pulled him into another kiss, then pulled him backwards until he pinned her to the wall, her leg coming up behind his to hold his hips to hers.

“There’re four rooms right down the hall,” Zane said as he entered the main room, never slowing as he continued past.

Arsen slowly pulled out of the kiss then chuckled softly. It wasn’t the first time they’d been caught making out in the clubhouse. “What do you think? Should we use one?” he breathed.

“No. I’m saving you for later.” She smiled as she licked her lips, enjoying the lingering warmth of his kiss. She slipped under his arm and wondered if they shouldn’t do that someday, make love in the clubhouse, just for the experience.

“I’m getting ready to go,” he said, his cock already hard in anticipation of them getting home and the two torrid kisses.

“I’ll be right behind you,” she said as she sat down again. “I want to finish this thing for Rain Forest. I shouldn’t be more than a half-hour or so.”

He nodded. She had been lobbying for new products, and the first new scent in two years, Rain Forest, was ready. He had made up small samples of various scents, and after Quinn had tested them on the women of the club, she’d gone to a mall and done a blind sample, giving away small vials of their products. When Rain Forest won out as the favorite scent, she had him tweak the formulation, then she’d done the same test again with five variations of the same scent. There had been one clear winner, and they were making a ton of the scented salts for sale right now. If it sold, they would scale up the run to their normal five-ton batch.

He smiled and nodded. “I’ll start dinner.”

“Something light. I don’t want to feel full later.”

He nodded then bent to kiss her again. “Burritos?”

“With that lime chicken you make?” The first meal he fed her, when he brought her home, still held a special place in her heart.

“If you like.”

She kissed him this time. “I like.”

She watched him as he turned and swaggered out of the clubhouse. “Mm-mmm-mmm,” she muttered to herself then dragged her attention back to what she was doing.

***

Thirty minutes later she pulled her new CTS V into the garage. Arsen’s old car had been a total loss. Not only had it been shot up, but the engine was scrapped. Rather than fix the car, they’d dumped the car in the desert, waited a few days, then reported it stolen. The police had found the car quickly enough, and he’d filed an insurance claim. The insurance hadn’t been pleased, but they’d finally paid it.

He’d let her pick out anything she wanted, so long as it was a GM or Ford, wanting another American car. She quickly settled on another Cadillac like the one he had before. It was his car, titled in his name, but she thought of it as hers. She loved the car and kept it spotless.

As the garage rumbled down, she entered the kitchen. The chicken was sizzling in the skillet, but Arsen was nowhere to be seen. With a frown she moved deeper into the house, finding him sitting on the bed. Beside him were several pictures of him with Holly, or Holly alone.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she placed her purse in the armoire.

“Nothing,” he said as he slipped a picture from the frame he had been looking at, and added it to the pile.

“It looks like something,” she said quietly as she sat down beside him.

He added the empty frame to the other four that were lying on the bed behind him.

“I thought it was time to do something with these.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said quietly.

He shrugged, then picked up the photos from the bed and arranged them neatly. “I know. But it’s time.” He opened the bottom drawer of his bedside table and slid the pictures into it and close it. “That’s a past life. I have a new life now.”

“She’s part of you, Arsen. She always will be. I’m not trying to replace her.”

He smiled and pulled her to him for a quick kiss. “I know, but I think it’s time to fill these frames with some new memories, don’t you?”

She smiled as he pulled back from the kiss. “If you’re sure.”

He smiled. He’d never been so sure of anything in his life.

THE END

Read on for your second FREE Bonus Book – Bad Boy in a Suit!

BAD BOY IN A SUIT

CHAPTER ONE

Zoey took a long moment to focus on her breathing as she stood across the street from the club. The invitation Helen had gotten her was in hand, and she wanted to walk inside, she wanted it more than anything, but it felt—it felt, somehow, like giving up. She’d been in the city for three years now. When she’d moved here, she’d been convinced, completely sure, that within a handful of years she’d be married to someone who did the crossword with her in bed, and on the short list for a Pulitzer.

Turned out that in New York City, hotshot writers were a dime a dozen, and finding someone worth talking to was a crap shoot, never mind finding someone whose puzzle solving skills went beyond Words With Friends. She was sick of spending all of her quality time with her vibrator, and Helen swore that this place, Chez Vous, catered to only the most careful. When Zoey had checked it out online, she’d seen a list of latex rules and consent agreements, all of which she’d have to sign off on before she even went in the door. According to Helen, it was members-only; she’d finagled an invitation for Zoey, but she’d been quite clear that it had taken some effort.

Time to move, girl. It was either walk across the street and have what Helen swore up and down would be the night of her life, or go home, tail between her legs, and listen to people do 100 to 1 countdowns while she tortured herself with a dildo.

Her wedge heels clunked across the street as she lifted her chin and found the débutante smile that Mama had drilled into her by the time she was eleven. God, if Mama knew where she was tonight—her snort of laughter ruined the whole image, but it relaxed her.

There was a guy at the door, more than a bouncer, but less than a doorman. He took the invitation that Helen had passed her, then checked Helen’s name against a list. “First time?” he asked.

“Yes,” Zoey replied, doing her best to look calm, bored, and too good for it all in classic New York fashion. Much better than giving in to the squealing girl inside her head.

The guy nodded. “Straight inside, there’s a small office. You’ll need to speak to Marie.” He gave her a less than subtle up and down look, then smiled. “Nice. Not trying too hard. That’ll help you out.”

“With what?”

“You’ll see.”

He kept the invitation, and she went in.

The hallway was tastefully appointed, and looked more like the entrance to an art gallery than a kink club. The walls were a light gray, the floor a darkly stained hardwood. There was a small desk, and a woman with an expensive haircut and wine-red lipstick sat behind it. “Ms. Gardener?”

Wow. “Yes,” Zoey said, stepping across the floor. The other woman held out her hand, and Zoey shook it. “You must be Marie.”

Marie inclined her head, and gestured at the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Zoey sat. Mama’s voice echoed through her head—make like you have a quarter between your knees—and she banished it. This was not the time for etiquette lessons. Though she did remember to keep her knees together. In a brocade miniskirt, it wasn’t really optional. “I do apologize for this bit. Everyone comes in exciting to move forward into the experience, and we have to stop them at the door to fill out forms.” She gave a polite laugh that made it very clear that this was a speech. Zoey returned the laugh; back home, it would have been part of the conversation. “I understand that you’re a member of the press?”

Well. Helen had certainly been generous. “Yes.”

Marie passed the first piece of paper to her. “This is a fairly standard non-disclosure agreement. To sum it up, write anything about anything you see or hear beyond that door—” she gestured at a tall, imposing, carved wooden affair, “and our doors are barred to you, permanently. There is no appeal process.”

Zoey signed.

Marie continued on with a few more forms. Failing to respect rules around consent would also result in an immediate ban, as would failure to use latex protection, regardless of any requests made by another person. Zoey handed over her cell phone, and got back a key that she could use to retrieve it from a bank of lockers that looked almost like post office boxes. “We strongly suggest that you spent your first night talking to people, learning the ropes, getting familiar with how things work here. We understand that everyone’s eager, but it’s possible to rush into something that your regret later, if you don’t take the time to make sure you’re comfortable.”

Zoey nodded at this sage advice, but she’d been lightly damp since Helen had dropped by this morning with the invitation. She wasn’t going to just fuck anyone, but if she had the option of something more than just a drink, she knew the odds were that she’d take it.

Marie opened the ornate wood door, and Zoey stepped through into a room that felt a bit like a green room in a theater. There was plush velvety seating, low lights, and make up mirrors along one wall. She checked her reflection. Everything looked like it always did—too-pale skin spattered with freckles, bright red hair up in a high ponytail. In the dim light, the smoky makeup she’d done around her green eyes made them seem wide and bright, and she’d chosen a light pink shade of subdued lipstick that enhanced the effect. The brocade skirt was chocolate brown, with swirls of plum purple and deep teal, and on top, she wore a white blouse bound with an black corset. The corset, she noted, was also doing its job of making her look like she had a lot more on top than she honestly did.

What had the bouncer meant, that she wasn’t trying so hard as other people? Maybe everyone else showed up wearing cat suits and assless chaps? She looked down at the length of her legs; she wasn’t at all accustomed to seeing so much of them at a time. If she walked into that room, and she was overdressed, she was walking right back out again, no matter what Helen said.

Instead, she pushed the door open, and found a room that reminded her more of, well, a speak easy setting in an old movie. It wasn’t so much the specific fashion that any one person was wearing, more that there was a certain dirty, gilded glamour to everything. Everyone looked perfect, pinned and primed, with the same soft shiny as marcelled waves. There wasn’t an assless chap anywhere to be seen. Also not in attendance: pole dancers, horrible porn soundtrack music, or handlebar mustaches.

Something inside her stomach that she hadn’t realized she was holding tight relaxed, just a little bit.

She scanned the bar and found Helen, her tight black curls twisted up into a messy bun, sipping at what looked like a champagne cocktail. Her friend looked absolutely delectable, dressed in a deep emerald blouse, perfectly set off by the deep brown of her skin, and charcoal gray slacks. Helen saw Zoey at about the same time, and wave a hand at her, patting the empty bar stool next to her. When Zoey stepped close, Helen offered her a very European kiss on the side of her cheek.

“Not at all what you expected?” Helen asked, sipping at her cocktail as she raised a hand at the bartender. Her accent was stronger than usual tonight. The cocktail was probably not her first.

“Not quite,” Zoey said. The bartender was pleasant enough to look at; a tall, lightly built man, light brown hair spiked up in front, and thick hipster glasses. “Pink Gin?”

“Of course,” the bartender said, and gave her a flirty smile that she suspected he gave to all the customers. It was sweet, though, and reassuring, and she felt her cheeks heat up.

Helen snickered next to her. “Country mouse.”

“And proud of it,” Zoey retorted. She bumped her shoulder against Helen’s, and the two of them laughed. She accepted her glass from the bartender, and sat down to survey the rest of the bar.

All in all, the patrons, other than their polished appearances, didn’t look all that different than the people she would see in any upscale bar. A handful of people had masked their features in some way. Some people wore domino masks, the kind that were just a band over the eyes; others wore half masks that looked like some sort of animal or creature. Others had kept their faces bare. There was quiet music playing through a high quality sound system, something instrumental that she didn’t entirely recognize. “So, what happens now?”

Helen patted her knee. “Now you settle down and wait a little bit. Marie gave you the speech?”

“Strongly discouraged, first night, write about us and you’ll be drawn and quartered.” Zoey nodded and sipped her drink. The bright flavor of the bitters made her eyes water just a touch, but she didn’t much mind.

Helen grinned around her cocktail. “Don’t laugh too much. She means it. This place is what it is because she takes care of people.”

“So we’re out for drinks and nothing else, is that it, sha?” Zoey winced inwardly. She’d been working on ramping back the drawl. It wasn’t that she minded, but she’d seen the way people looked at her when she let the southern creep into her voice more than a tiny bit. It wasn’t exactly that they thought she was an idiot. They just stopped taking her as seriously. She was instantly downgraded from serious writer to débutante. She had to fight hard enough to be taken seriously anyway. She didn’t need the extra “help.”

If Helen had noticed, she didn’t flinch. “I’m not your mum, love. I sure as fuck won’t buy anything you write about this place, but if you want to play? I’m not going to stop you.” Helen’s eyes flicked toward something, then back, as she raised her glass again. “And I don’t think the bloke in black will stop you either.”

“The bloke in—” How in the world had she missed him? Well, it was easy, really. The man Helen was talking about was sitting in the corner was wearing all black. A black button down shirt, open at the throat and rolled up at the elbows, black jeans that fit his hips and legs like they were tailored to him. His skin was a dark tan, far darker than she’d ever managed to tan in her life, and his eyes, highlighted by the black domino mask, were dark. She was too far away to pick up color, but she guessed a deep chocolate brown. And they were locked on her.

The urge was to look away, to flinch. She fought it. She met his gaze long enough to give him a slow smile, and then turn back to Helen like she was phenomenally unconcerned about the whole thing. Helen was watching her with a wide grin. “Do you know him?” Zoey asked.

“I don’t know his name,” Helen replied, “but he comes here often. Honestly, if you want someone to play with tonight, he’s a good choice. He knows the ropes, there aren’t any stories about him crossing lines or being pushy, and he’s choosey.”

“Have you played with him?”

Helen raised one eyebrow. “You know damn well you’re my type more than he is.”

Zoey stuck her tongue out at her friend, and Helen laughed.

It was only a few minutes before the bartender came over with another martini glass. “From the gentleman on the end,” he said, his smile genuine. “If you care to accept?”

Zoey glanced at Helen, and when her friend gave her an encouraging nod, she picked up the glass. She caught the eye of the man in black—easy, since he was still watching her from his dark corner—and tipped her head in thanks.

It was a few minutes more before he left his glass—a rocks glass, filled with an amber liquid—and walked over to Zoey and Helen. “Hello,” he said to Zoey, offering his hand. “Could I interest you in a dance?”

Zoey bit her lip, glanced at Helen one more time, and then finished off her dose of liquid courage. “I’m interested in you, sha,” she said, and cursed herself again, then found her smile and carried on. “But it’s not dancing I’m looking for tonight.”

His eyes were brown. Deep, dark, rich brown, brown that she could tumble into for ages and ages. Brown that heated up her entire soul—never mind her soul, his eyes were heating up her body, trailing up and down her form like she was already naked, and he was reveling in her presence. His eyebrows rose at her boldness, but his lips tugged up into a smile, and she didn’t think he was even a little bit off put by her straight forward response.

“If you’d like,” he said, “give me five minutes to arrange one of the private rooms.” He gave her a little nod and then stepped away.

CHAPTER TWO

Helen didn’t squeal, but she did grab Zoey’s arm and give it an eager little tug, which had basically the same effect. “That’s good?” Zoey asked.

“The private rooms are all equipped with—god, Zoey, every toy you can imagine. There’s stuff to clean them out there, too, and condoms, and lube, and the fact that he’s getting one now, didn’t have one set up already—he’s not assuming anything—”

“You’re not upset about me disappearing?”

Helen snorted. “Love, I brought you here so you could stop talking about getting a spanking, and actually get one. You have fun.” Her eyes skated over the patrons. “I know some people. I’m sure I won’t lack for a good time.” She caught Zoey up in a big hug, and Zoey melted for just a moment. “If you need me, and I’m not out here, tell Chris. He’ll take care of you, or find me, whichever makes more sense.”

“Chris?”

“The bartender.”

“Okay, sure,” Zoey said. And then the man was back. Helen gave Zoey’s hand one more squeeze, and then Zoey threaded her hand through the man’s outstretched arm and let him lead her through the tables towards a dark hallway on the far wall of the club.

It was felt like prom, like being the queen of everything. She felt envying eyes glaze over her, excited for her and jealous of her, as he led her back. She kept her spine straight and her eyes forward, taking in the little details as they walked.

The man led her down a hallway with walls painted a deep royal blue, and into a room appointed in lush black velvet. There was a bed, covers turned down, a rack of assorted toys, displayed almost like in a toy shop—whips, flogs, dildos, vibrators—and restraints. Her heart started to slam around in her chest like a frightened rat in a cage. The man shut the door behind her, and she turned to him. Her only thought was to fling herself at him, push herself into his arms before she could panic and frighten herself into running away.

Before she could complete the motion, though, he slipped into the room. Across from the bed there was a small table, two chairs, and beside that, a mini fridge. He opened it, took out two bottles of water, and set them down on the table. “Care to sit down with me?”

“Yes,” she said. The gin had gone to her head—and, worse, to her stomach—and she thought water sounded like a good idea. Something to settle her down, to calm her. She sat across from him, remembered to keep her knees together—and then didn’t worry about him. Let him see the flimsy excuse for panties that Helen had insisted would go perfectly under this skirt. It didn’t sound like a bad idea.

She did kick off the wedge heels with a happy sigh. She hated heels, no matter how good they made her calves look. She always felt like a piece of meat in them.

“This is your first time at Chez Vous?” He was polite enough to ask it like a question, but Zoey strongly suspected that her first-timer status might as well have been tattooed on her face.

“Yes,” she said.

“Do you mind me asking what brings you here?”

She sighed. “I’ve tried every other way there is to meet men with no luck. My friend said she could get me an invitation, and I thought, why not.” She laughed, but he didn’t. Typical. “Sorry, I’m being flip.”

He gave a shrug, which did interesting things to his muscles underneath the shirt. Zoey was fairly sure that if—when—she got the fabric off his shoulders, she wouldn’t find a guy underneath who was cut like a bodybuilder, but she also was fairly sure his build would be strong, athletic, lickable. “It’s a perfectly legitimate reason. For all that Marie likes to talk about anonymity, there are lots of people who’ve met here, enjoyed themselves, and eventually gone on to be very happy couples.”

“But not you,” she said, reading between the lines of his tone and what she could see of his expression.

He spread his hands. “I’ve yet to find a single woman who is everything I want. I’m sorry to be that blunt about it—”

“—it’s perfectly legitimate,” Zoey said, echoing his tone. “I don’t generally do poly myself, but I don’t have any problem with casual. I’ve been—I don’t know, on the market for a while, and if nothing else, I want to clear out the cobwebs.” She laughed at herself. “As they say. Um.”

He was grinning, and she had the sense that she’d satisfied some criteria he’d had in mind. “Fair enough. And what is it you’re looking for?”

Sex? Probably not the response he’s looking for. “You mean in terms of—” she gestured at the toy rack. He nodded. She could feel her cheeks heating up, and she cursed her cheeks, and their traitorous determination to tell the world every time she was even a little bit embarrassed. Or aroused. Or anything. “I’m kind of a novice with all of that. But, uh, a very interested novice.”

His eyebrows went up again, and his grin widened. “Excellent. And would you like penetration to be on or off the table tonight?”

Her pussy clenched, and she let out a little gasp. If his eyebrows went any higher, she was pretty sure she’d have to call the fire department to retrieve them from his closely cropped black hair. “On,” she said. Her voice was breathy and faint, and she cursed it, but he was moving now, standing and reaching out a hand to her. His fingers closed over hers, tugging at her, and cursing was the last thing in her mind.

He guided her arm up around his neck, than ran his fingers down the underside of her arm. He used just enough pressure that it didn’t tickle, but it did make her shiver. She let her head loll back, and he took that as invitation, pressing a series of kisses all along the curve of her neck. One arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight to him, and the other stroked up and down her side. Between the shirt and the corset, she could only feel the pressure of his fingers, nothing more.

His tongue and his teeth dipped lower, into the cleavage the corset created. He nipped at the mounded flesh of her breasts, and she let out a little hiss as her body clenched again. “Good so far?” he asked, his voice shockingly analytical given the heavy weight of his cock hardening against her hip. “Not too much?”

“Perfect,” she whispered.

“If I hurt you, or if you need me to stop or slow down—vegetables. Does that work for you?”

“What?”

He chuckled. “Can you think of any reason you’d start talking about vegetables during sex?”

“Decidedly not.”

“So, if you start yelling about tomatoes, I know that you’re not playing along with something I’m doing, you’re signaling me to stop.” His teeth came to her breasts again, and she dug her fingernails into his neck, hearing his answering hiss.

“Tomatoes are a fruit,” she said, as his tongue slipped inside of the fabric, brushing over her areola.

CHAPTER THREE

He picked her up with an ease that made her squeak, then tossed her onto the bed. He let one hip lean to the side, just enough to look like a model, as he unbuttoned his black shirt. He didn’t take it off, just let it hang loose around him. She’d been entirely right about his physique. He didn’t have a six pack, just a trim, healthy appearance. That was awesome. She hated it when a dude looked like he spent more time at the gym than he did actually living.

He lay down next to her, and she reached her hands inside of his shirt, sighing at the warmth of his skin against her palms. She reached up to kiss him, but he dodged her, going for the sensitive skin under her ear again. She shifted softly, letting her thighs slip apart, and trailing her nails down his back.

“There are a million things I can think of to punish you,” he whispered, taking her earlobe into her mouth, his fingers trailing over the expanse of skin below her skirt, flirting delicately with the hem. “Tell me what you deserve.”

Her skin, from head to toe, shivered in response to his demand. The few times she’d tried to get a boyfriend interested in this kind of play, they’d shrugged and asked her what she wanted, and it was like some switch flipped in her brain. Not only did she not want them to do whatever she’d been fantasizing about, she didn’t even want to have sex.

Being asked what she deserved—her cunt was soaked. “I’ve—I’ve been a bad girl,” she said, trying out the words, surprised at the flutter of response in her clit.

“You have,” he agreed, nipping down to her breasts again, scooping her flesh out of the corset and taking his teeth to her nipple. She gasped, her hips rolling against the air as he worked the peaked flesh with his tongue, grazing his teeth over it. “I think I might need to punish you,” he said, after a moment, gripping her to him almost savagely. “Since you’ve been such a naughty, dirty little whore.” His fingers skimmed up her thigh, pressing over her mound. He didn’t reach for her clit or try to slip into her cunt, just cupped her pussy in his hand. She rocked against him, gasping at the pressure, whimpering when it disappeared. She wasn’t sure when she’d last gotten this turned on this fast. She suspected she might come just from him blowing across her clit at the right moment.

“Yes,” she murmured, her head tossing against the pillow as he kept the pressure on her mound, his mouth suckling her nipple again. Her hands still touched his back, but they wandered his flesh almost aimlessly, focused on what he was doing to her. “Yes, I need to be punished.”

“I think you need to be spanked,” he said, and she could hear the question in his tone.

It wasn’t something she’d ever specifically fantasized about, but right now, that was okay. He was playing her body like a fiddle, and she was fairly sure he was responding to signals she didn’t even know she was giving off. She didn’t mind just trusting him right now. “Yes,” she said. “I think, yes.”

“Take off your skirt,” he said. “Leave the panties.” There was a quiet moment as he considered. “Corset and shirt off, too. I want to have all of you laid out in front of me.”

It took a moment to get her fingers coordinated enough to work the zipper on the back of her skirt, and to slip it off her hips. The leather ties on her corset were worse. If she’d had a knife, she would have seriously considered just cutting them and calling it a day. Her body was screaming for more of his touch, and her brain didn’t want to take the time to slow down and consider that she was having sex—kinky sex—with a total stranger. Who was still fully clothed and wearing his mask.

He laid a few things out on the bed next to her. A small stack of pillows. The foil square that she sometimes joked was the trademark of her generation. A riding crop. His shirt, taken off slowly. She couldn’t help herself; she knelt on the end of the bed and reached for him, taking a turn at running her tongue teeth over his flesh. He seemed to enjoy receiving the attention as much as he enjoyed giving it, which was lovely. He let her have her fun for a few moments, and then turned her with a sigh. He bent her over the stack of pillows so that her ass was high up in the air. “I’m going to start with my hand,” he said. His matter-of-fact tone was becoming decidedly less matter of fact. “We’ll see whether or not that’s enough punishment for you. If not, if you are still not behaving better, then we’ll move on to the riding crop.”

“And what if I’m very very good?” Zoey asked, hearing the breathy tone in her own voice as well.

“Then I will fuck you until you scream,” he said. The first blow came at the end of his last word. It stung like a bitch, and she had to cut off her first response, of angry demand and irritation. Because underneath the stinging, behind the humiliation, was a sense of hungry need roaring like a forest fire. It soaked her cunt, making the scraps of lace that passed for panties even more pathetic.

“Peaches,” she breathed. “Plums. Apples and blueberries.”

He paused, and this time, there was laughter in his voice. “I don’t know if you’re just saying something because you need to say something, or if you’re mocking the fact that tomatoes are apparently not a vegetable.”

“First one,” she whispered. “I’m still very very bad.”

“We’ll fix that,” he said. “All in good time.”

The second blow hit another spot, and she writhed again, her back arching, but she didn’t cry out this time. She could feel her body gaping open, desperate and hungry. It was like those times when she’d taken a sip of water, and found that in fact she was hungry, not only hungry, but ravenous. “Fuck me,” she whimpered. “Oh, god, please.”

He laughed behind her, and his hand smacked down on her ass again. She cried out, her hips angling up with the sting, then grinding down into the pillows, desperate for something to touch her, to fill her up, to take away thought and focus and control. “Not yet, princess,” he said. “There’s more for you.”

The slaps came, fast and hard, each one just a little bit harder than the last, until he was skirting the edges of what she could bear. How he knew what was too much, she didn’t know. He kept one hand between her shoulder blades, holding her steady, and the other abused her tender flesh, slapping at her backside, and her thighs, paddling her until she was sure she’d bruise, paddling her until she had run out of voice with which to scream. She sagged over the pillows, but not in desperation—in release. As he hit her again, she moaned, feeling the sensations past pain, the quiet trust and delighted need that came from knowing he’d stop if she wanted him to—and knowing that she didn’t want him to.

And then came the unzipping of his pants. Her panties slid down her legs, and she heard the foil square tear, and she glanced back to watch him slide the latex over his thick cock, shiny at the tip with his own arousal. He wasn’t particularly long, she thought, but as he brushed over the length of her engorged slit, she groaned, making herself think relaxing thoughts.

His hands gripped her hips, and he guided her back, gently, respectful of the flesh he’d bruised. He pressed just the tip of himself inside of her, and in spite of how slick and hot her flesh felt, he had to pause, pull out a tiny bit, and then work himself gently into her. He was bigger than she’d anticipated, and it had been an embarrassingly long time for her. He didn’t seem irritated, though, or pushy, just filled her up with a series of patient, almost delicate motions. She buried her face in her hands and absorbed the sensations. The delicate pull on proud flesh, the incredible sensation of being full of him.

He sighed, a deep sound that seemed to come from his toes. “You feel gorgeous, princess,” he said. “Holy shit, do you ever.”

She wanted to say something, but she was blurry happy and floating as he started to move gently within her, testing her responses and her arousal. “Mutual,” she managed to gasp out. Then she was without words.

He reached down for her, lifting her up some so that her back was more or less pressed against his torso. His thrusts were short, compensating for his length and her position. Once, he slipped out, and he had to nudge her knees further apart. But once he got his position solid, he took her left breast in one hand, and finally—finally—found her clit with the other. He found a rhythm to match between the strokes of his body and the slow and steady motions of his fingers, and the soft burning of her skin flaring against the brush of his pubic hair and his own body. Sensations swirled through her, from her clit to her belly and back again, and her cries were wordless, desperate, urgent. Behind her, his motions started to become punctuated with little grunts, the slap of their bodies joining, harder and faster.

The orgasm slapped into her like an ocean wave, and she went silent and still, her mouth wide open, but no sound coming out. She threw her head back onto his shoulder, and he groaned, pressing just a little bit harder with his fingers to tease every drop of come out of her that he could. “Yes, princess, just like that, that’s my good little girl. Come for me, yes—” and then his own urgency shattered into harsh, abrupt thrusts. He bore her down to the bed, slamming into her with harsh force. If she hadn’t been so wide open from the aftershocks that were still slipping through her with shivery delight, she was sure she would have had to tell him to stop. But he burst within moments, drilling deep into her and locking himself there, his hands on her hips, tugging him back to give him that extra little bit of depth, rolling his hips as he spasmed.

He went limp, draping down next to her and sighing happily, his hands stroking over her back. It took Zoey a moment to collect herself, stretching her legs out down, laying flat on her belly. As the euphoria faded, her ass felt bright with a stingy sort of pain, a deep down ache that still felt wonderful. He ran his hand over the roundness of her butt, and she flinched.

“Anything hurt more than it seems like it should?” he asked. “There’s ice packs in the kit, if you think that’ll help.”

His tone was caring, but more removed than it had been since they walked into the room. It left her—not feeling used, but also not particularly wanting to linger. “No, I think I’m fine,” she said. And she was. It was, in a way, exactly what she wanted. She’d always liked the edges of pain that she could get in her relationships, and she wanted to find a way to know if it was something she wanted to seek out. The answer, apparently, was a crystal clear hell yes.

But the man stretched out across from her, still wearing the mask of all the ridiculous things—well, he’d been very clear. He was not a one woman man. And she even if this was her first experience with this kind of sex, she wasn’t a virgin, hadn’t been for a long time. She knew the euphoria that came from a partnered orgasm, knew how it was different from love, and knew it would fade given time. “Thank you,” she said, instead of all the flowery romantic nonsense that was darting through her head. “That was—um, a lovely first experience. Which is helpful. Because figuring this stuff out is hard. Oh, fuck, I sound like an idiot, don’t I?”

“No,” he said. “You do not. You sound like someone who just came very hard. Possibly harder than she’s used to?”

She choked back the giggle that wanted to escape. “Possibly.”

Zoey could see a war going on in the man’s eyes. After a moment, he sighed. “I had more fun playing with you tonight than I’ve had in a while. I—shit, I don’t usually do this, but if you want to play again, some time, ask Chris to get in touch with Andy. And if you need another sponsor to get into the club, just let me know, okay?”

It was an odd way to get an invite for a second date, but what the hell, times changed. So far, this was a hell of a lot better than online dating. “Okay, sure,” she said. “Thank you.”

He didn’t ask for her name. She liked that. He did stand up and start to clean himself up. She liked that less. When she started to move, though, he smiled at her. “No need to rush. I paid for the room for four hours. There’s a shower through there, if you want, and snacks in the fridge.”

“I think I’ll head home,” she said. “I feel okay now, but I bet that this is going to hurt more in a little bit. I’d rather be home, where I can sit on an ice pack without harming my dignity.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. After the ice, take a warm bath, if you have the time. But ice first.”

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Andy.”

Then, for the first time, he leaned in and brushed his lips, feather light, over hers. It sent a delightful little frisson down to parts of her that were too sore to respond. Much. “Any time,” he said. And then he was gone.

CHAPTER FOUR

Zoey woke up and stretched, a slow smile spreading over her face. Her butt felt like she’d fallen down a flight of stairs, but the delicious satisfaction that was all through her was a completely fair trade. It was like the morning she got her first tattoo. Stung flesh, and a strong desire to do it all over again as soon as possible. She had to twist around like a dog chasing its tail to see her backside, and finally dragged a chair from the small table in her kitchen into the mouse-sized bathroom so that she could stand on it and see the damages in the tiny mirror above her sink.

For the most part, her flesh was reddened, but there were a few bruises, clearly shaped like fingers and a hand. Heat rushed through her, just seeing it again. She was incredibly glad they hadn’t traded phone numbers last night; she’d be debating right now whether or not to send him a picture of his handiwork. Never a good decision to make when you were this euphoric.

She showered and got dressed. Today was not one of her days in the office, but she did have a Skype meeting with her editor. Yellow news at the Downtown Voice wouldn’t wait. She slid into jeans that made the sore skin on her butt twinge when she bent over, and grinned a little. She’d be thinking of Andy every time she shifted. Fun.

Then she turned on her laptop, and tried to turn the webcam to show the least cracked portion of the wall of her studio.

When she’d moved to New York from just outside Covington, Louisiana, she’d told herself that she knew what she was getting into. She’d had some success selling freelance pieces from where she was, and the offer for an in-office position had seemed completely legitimate. Only once she got to the city, the apartment allowance she’d been promised never surfaced, and the rents in New York City were four and five times what she’d been paying at home, but she’d spent her nest egg to get here, and there was no way in hell she was calling home and begging for plane fare back. She strongly suspected that Mama knew what was going on, but understood that Zoey had her pride. So they kept silent about it. Mama only asked about the writing, and Daddy only asked that she was safe, and if she’d met anyone nice, and they didn’t talk about the money part. It was just easier.

It wasn’t a horrible job, working for the Downtown Voice. The offices were incredibly small, so the staff writers rotated office days and web-commuting, and she did get bonuses when her articles got good views. And she could still freelance in her spare time, what there was of it. So she could pay her bills. She just wasn’t going to get out of this studio any time soon.

Helen kept promising her that she’d get a call soon, that someone at a bigger publication would notice her work. Zoey just wasn’t sure if anyone would be able to see past the click-bait headlines to see the work she put into research and the actual words. One thing she’d learned very quickly: between local writers and the resources available to editors on the internet, hot shot writers were a dime a dozen. The way you made a name for yourself was to show up, day after day, and do the work without making more work for your editor. It meant that sometimes the language took a backseat to the message. It meant that sometimes you compromised just how controversial you were willing to be. It meant that you made your headline as sensational as possible, even if it had nothing to do with the actual message of your article. It meant that you gave up the dream of being the great American writer, and you pretended that only losers wanted a Pulitzer.

Focus, sha, she told herself. The words she’d given to Andy, that she was a dirty little girl, echoed in her mind. She hadn’t expected them to be so true, either.

The way he’d called her princess, though. It still made her shiver.

Devin, her editor, logged onto Skype, and a moment later, the incoming notification for a video chat flashed on her screen. She accepted it, and flashed her débutante smile at the screen as the chat connected.

“Zoey,” Devin said, all business. Of all of the staff she’d met around the Voice, Devin was the one who took the work most seriously. He either didn’t realize that they all worked for a gossip rag, or genuinely didn’t care. He pushed at the bridge of his nose, a gesture she figured he’d picked up as a kid with heavy glasses. He either wore contacts now, or had gotten Lasix. They weren’t friendly enough she’d ever inquired.

She’d been interested in him, briefly. He was the kind of geeky handsome that usually turned her crank, with strong features, warm green eyes, and deep olive skin, but if he was even remotely interested in her, he’d never given any indication. “Morning, Devin,” she replied.

“Great numbers on the piece about the Subway Wanker,” he said, and Zoey had to fight that damned blush rising in her cheeks again. The first major story to have her name on it, ever, was about a dude jacking off on the subway. No, this was not the journalistic career she’d envisioned as a kid, watching old Katherine Hepburn movies. “I have the perfect follow up for you.”

“Really?” Zoey said. A flare of excitement lit her up. “I wanted to talk to you about an idea I had. I was doing some research on AEGIS after I read about the death of their CEO in the Times, and something seriously is not adding up there—”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Devin looked excited and animated for the first time in ages. “A profile piece on Alexander is exactly what we need.”

The excitement dropped like a stone. “What?”

“Alexander Blankenship, son of the CEO and presumed heir to the fortune and AEGIS.”

“The filthiest playboy on Wall Street.”

“That’s the one. Find out everything you can. Who is he, what’s his plan for the company, how broken up is he about Dear Old Dad. The old man was supposed to be quite the playboy in his day, and everyone has said for years that he had spent his own fortune when he married Olivia Cunningham just to keep his company from growing broke. Total money match. I’ll send you some links to pieces we’ve run in the past, and I got an interview with the man himself this afternoon.”

Her lips felt numb. She forced her lips to keep smiling, but she knew the light had gone out. “So we’re going to follow up the Subway Wanker with a standard profile on a Wall Street playboy? And I’m going in to find out his favorite color and who he’s fucking this week?”

Devin’s lips tightened. “Look,” he said, and Zoey braced herself. “If this isn’t what you want to do with your life, I can find someone else. I’m trying to help you out, Zoey. You’re good, but you’re not irreplaceable. No one is, not anymore. Not you, and not me. I have to keep my numbers up too, remember.”

She rubbed at her temples again, and then smiled like Mama had taught her. “I know, Devin. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I just thought we were going in a different direction, that’s all. I’ll get the profile, and it’ll be great. For both of us.”

Devin nodded. “Make sure. Wear something low cut to the interview. He’s a tits man.”

It wasn’t exactly possible to hang up on someone with Skype—there was no satisfying thump or the buzz of an empty line—but he didn’t bother to say goodbye before he disconnected the chat.

She knew she was being ungrateful. There wasn’t really any question about that. But God—this wasn’t what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She was sick of gossip pieces and trashy exposes. Hell, at this point, writing about a congressman who was screwing his aide would be a step up in the quality department.

If only there was a way to go home without looking like a dog with her tail between her legs. If there was a way to handle the inevitable sniffs of satisfaction. Local girl heads to city and can’t hack it, laughs all around. If she could get one good piece under her belt, one serious article, she could tell everyone that she was going to continue to work on her career from home, where she could get good jambalaya and the music made sense. Where the town didn’t stink all summer long, even if it was hot and sweaty.

Her inbox blinked with a new message. She clicked over, and saw a series of forwarded articles and links from Devin about AEGIS, Philip Blankenship, and Alexander’s playboy life style. She got out the tablet that Daddy had sent her last Christmas, and starting making notes. Background information, likely questions, all of it. Maybe she’d get enough to put together the piece on AEGIS she’d been thinking about. It wouldn’t be something Devin could use, but Helen might be able to make it work. It was worth thinking about, anyway. She already had the interview scheduled, and she’d found over the years that getting the facetime with the source was sometimes the trickiest part.

CHAPTER FIVE

Everything about AEGIS put Zoey on edge. The building was sky high, with an opulent entrance and someone in uniform to push the elevator button for her, so she wouldn’t bruise her wee girly finger by pressing one whole button. It was New York decadence all wrapped up in one steel and glass package. People were starving, but this building had marble floors, and a dude who rode in the elevator all day long, just pushing buttons for business people.

She’d taken Devin’s advice to show off what tits she had. Her initial instinct had been to be stubborn, and wear a turtleneck and boot cut slacks, but whether she liked it or not, there was something to what he’d said. They both needed this piece. Anyone could break one story; she needed to build a history of being a writer who was “good to work with,” who “delivered to expectation,” who had “diverse topical interest.” Being a primadonna about her assignments wouldn’t do her any damn good, even if it would feel satisfying at the moment. She’d dressed in the most enthusiastic of her push-up bras, a charcoal gray blouse that didn’t even bother to have buttons around the neck, and a deep burgundy pencil skirt. Sensible black pumps were the only thing keeping this outfit from looking like she was actually a very high class hooker.

Elevator guy let her off at the penthouse office suite, and she stepped out, feeling entirely outclassed by the receptionist. The woman had a haircut that probably cost more than Zoey’s entire outfit, even with the pink streaks threaded through her blonde curls. She very studiously did not give Zoey a once over, which was somehow more embarrassing than actually being scrutinized from head to toe.

Three years in the city had still not gotten her used to the way this worked. Back home, if some blonde haired blue eyed beauty thought she had more gorgeous points, she would straight up tell you to your face, usually with some nasty nice comment that drove home just how much better she was than you. Zoey had learned early on to give as good as she got, with no real guilt. It was all part of the game. But the way northern women just casually disregarded anything that didn’t line up with what they wanted to see—that still stung.

She found that bright smile she’d relied on so much lately, and pasted it across her face, forcing it to glitter up into her eyes. She strode across the floor like she owned the place. “Hello,” she said. “I’m here to see Mr. Blankenship.”

Zoey got that once-over then, and she fought the urge to flinch. She kept her smile in place as the receptionist tapped at her computer. “I’m sorry,” the woman said. Brianna, read the name plate on the desk. Seriously, the receptionist had a nameplate? Zoey didn’t have a nameplate. Of course, she shared her cubical with three other writers. “Mr. Blankenship has a meeting.”

She resisted the urge to shift feet like a kid that needed to pee. “Yes, he does. I’m Zoey Gardener from the Downtown Voice.”

Brianna took in Zoey’s uninspiring cleavage, the outfit that suddenly seemed like the least professional thing that she’d ever put on, and the leather messenger bag that contained her tablet. The receptionist’s eyes focused on the bag for a longer moment than necessary, her perfectly threaded eyebrows sketching pale shadows across her artfully even skin. “Yes,” Brianna said, her tone as dry as west Texas. “Yes, I can see that. I’ll let Mr. Blankenship know that you’ve arrived. Have a seat, please.” she replied as she gestured at a gorgeous upholstered sofa—something this gracious would never be referred to as a mere couch. Possibly, it was even a settee—was ‘don’t piddle on the rug.’ Zoey bit down on her sharp irritation, and went and sat on the furniture. Whatever it was. At least this skirt kept her knees together without her having to worry about it. She daydreamed of spending a day in her pajamas. Or jeans. Jeans would be amazing. She missed jeans.

A phone buzzed on Brianna’s desk, and the woman glanced down, then stood. “Mr. Blankenship will see you now,” she said, and Zoey stood herself, following the other woman to a frosted glass door framed in steel. She opened the door, and Zoey thanked her, walking into the office. Brianna closed the door, and Zoey turned to meet the businessman who was walking across the floor with his hand extended.

And then her heart stopped.

She’d seen pictures of Alexander Blankenship before. Living in the city, writing yellow news for a trashy gossip paper, it was impossible to avoid. He was damned good looking in photos,  but in person, his eyes were stellar, sparkling and deep, and his smile seemed both broad and sincere, as if he wasn’t just greeting a journalist who was here to write some nasty article about him. He appeared to be genuinely happy to see her.

But that was not why her heart was currently frozen in place.

The domino mask last night had hidden just enough of his features that she hadn’t realized who he was. After all, who expected a Wall Street playboy, who could have any woman—or man—that he might find interesting to frequent a kink club, no matter how exclusive the membership? But now, with the mask gone, she both recognized him for who he was—and who he’d been last night. “Oh holy Christ in heaven,” she muttered, falling back on the Christian exclamation, even though she’d stopped believing years ago.

For what it was worth, the realization seemed to have run him straight through as well. “You’d better sit down,” he said. “Let me get you a drink.”

Sitting was good. “No drink,” she said. “The last thing in the world that I need is a damn drink.”

“I’m having a drink,” he said, as she flopped into the chair on the other side of his desk. “Coffee? Water? Anything? Please. Let me do something.”

“Coffee,” she said, without much thought.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“No, thank you,” she said. He had one of those foul, trendy, automatic coffee makers on the same wall as his row of decanters. He popped a pod in and pressed brew, then poured himself two fingers of amber liquid. Still, as offensive as the brew method might be, the smell of caffeinated gold was delicious, and when he passed her the cup, she took it without complaint. He leaned against the edge of his desk.

“Well,” he said, after a while. “Just how awkward will this be?”

“Excuse me?”

He shook his head. “You’re here to write a gossip piece on me, aren’t you? Your editor wasn’t specific, but the mag has a reputation that I’m sure you’ll uphold. Should I expect a tell all on our event last night?” His dark eyes were cold, all the sparkle gone.

“What? No. Of course not.” Marie had been extremely clear, and Helen had backed up the zero-tolerance policy of the club. And besides, if she didn’t to be known as the hack who broke the story about the Subway Wanker, she really didn’t want to be known as the tramp who got famous by fucking the Blankenship heir. “Andy, you have my word on that. Last night—was amazing. But private. I won’t share that with anyone.”

He studied her for a long moment, but it was nothing like Brianna’s calculating stare. He wasn’t ranking her in comparison to himself, and he wasn’t even considering her as a friend or foe. He was just—seeking the truth. And she had a funny thought, all of a sudden, that he was smarter than he let on, and much more aware than people gave him credit for. She thought that not much got past him at all. “Alex,” he said, after a little bit. He gave her a small nod, and his arms uncrossed, his hands settling on the edge of the desk. “They call me Andy at the club, but I’m Alex. Always have been.” He held out a hand again.

She slipped her fingers into his, carefully pushing the frisson of interest to the back of her mind, where it couldn’t bother her. “Zoey,” she said. “Zoey Gardener. From the Downtown Voice.” Dammit, he knew that. “I’m sorry to hear about your recent loss.”

“Did I leave bruises?” He hadn’t let her hand go yet, and his index finger trailed out and caressed the sensitive skin inside her wrist. She fought to keep her shiver strictly internal.

“I’d like to talk to you about your father’s influence on AEGIS. With Philip gone, how do you think the direction of the company will be affected?” Her voice was shaking. She had to look away from his eyes. She’d never felt lust rush through her like this, especially not with someone who was essentially a stranger. And he was still holding her hand, still tracing her wrist with his fingertip. She’d worn sensible panties today, but they were going to be soaked inside a few minutes at this rate.

“I ask, because you’re squirming. Just a little bit. Does it still hurt?”

She pulled her hand back and cleared her throat. “I woke up with the marks of your fingers in technicolor all over my ass and thighs, and I loved it so much that I considered finger fucking myself in the shower just so I could think straight. Okay? The readers of the Downtown Voice are desperate to know if the unfortunate passing of your father means that you’ll be under pressure from your board to settle down and get serious about the business.”

He brushed away the comment with a smooth gesture. “Your readership would be heart broken if I had to get serious about anything, they’d have to find someone new to talk about. Why didn’t you touch yourself this morning?”

Zoey had reached down into her bag to grab her phone and her tablet to record and make notes, but she let her hand fall away from them. She wanted to answer him—she wanted to see where answering him would lead—but everything inside of her was turmoil. Writing the gossip piece would be no big deal, she didn’t even need quotes from him to do it, but the more detailed AEGIS piece she’d been taking notes for this morning? There was no way. If the fact of their dalliance last night ever got out, she could kiss any shot at a real journalistic job good bye. Everyone would assume that she wrote the piece to spin it, whether it came out favorable or not to AEGIS. It was just one story, just one idea, but this morning, it had felt like a lifeline. It had felt like a way out of the hole of a studio in a shitty walk up. “I’m sorry,” she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could manage. Which wasn’t much, all things considered. “This isn’t going to work. Do you have a PR person I can contact for a couple of quotes?”

He reached out, his fingers brushing over her shoulder, and she had the strongest urge ever to twist her head over and bite into his skin. Not enough to hurt, just enough to see what he would do. Would he sweep everything off his desk? Push her up against the wall? Take her on the floor? “Why won’t this work?” He sounded almost sad.

“Because you’re a Wall Street tycoon bad boy, and I’m—” She couldn’t think of anything to say. She shrugged. “Just look at me.”

To her serious frustration, he clearly did, his eyes gliding over her outfit. She could see him taking it all in in fits and starts, his lips pursing here, his eyes narrowing there. “Not bad, overall,” he said, “But you can do better. You did better last night.”

“I don’t get it,” she said. “Last night, you were all casual contact only, now, you want me to tell you about why I didn’t touch myself in the shower?”

He cocked his head slightly to the side. From the way he was leaning, she could see the outline of his dick, lying down along his right leg. She wouldn’t put him at fully hard, but decidedly interested. “Is that so strange? Dirty talk not your thing?”

Zoey stared up at him, at Mr. Alexander Blankenship, who looked so calm and in control. He was still leaning back against the desk, every line of his body carefully placed to maximize his influence and power and ease in the situation. Afterward, she wasn’t sure exactly what possessed her to lean forward and mouth his cock through his suit pants. Maybe just that she wanted to see how he reacted to someone turning the tables on him.

He let out a low groan in response to her hot breath ghosting over him. She loved taunting men like this. She could use her teeth with abandon, go full out erotic eye contact, and generally enjoy herself. “Is this what you want?” she asked, tracing his belt, running her index finger down his fly.

He let out a sound that was raspy and low. “If you’re offering, I’m sure as hell not going to turn you down,” he said. “I’d love to see what you can do with that talented mouth of yours.”

She worked his zipper and belt with quick ease. He wore silk boxer briefs underneath his pants, and where the tip of his cock lay, there was already a spot of creamy wetness. She pulled him free from the top—he was harder than she’d guessed already, and took the tip of him in her mouth. One of his hands clenched hard on the edge of the desk, the other came to her hair. She’d left it down today, and he wound a length of it up in a tail, and around his palm. It was enough that he could direct her head, if he wanted to, and it wouldn’t pull. “Don’t bother trying to take the whole thing,” he said. She could hear him striving for that voice of command and control he’d had the night before, but he was in a very different place now, she suspected. “It doesn’t feel that great, even if you do pull it off. The tip—you can use your teeth—”

She responded by grazing her teeth lightly over the sensitive skin at his tip. He was glorious up close, and the way he shivered in her mouth made her own body respond with a surge of wet heat. “Like that?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

She took the tip of him again, suckling it with more force than she’d usually use, and he responded with quiet, thick sounds. “What if I tell you,” he murmured, stroking her hair, “That I didn’t bother with anyone else last night? That I went home after you left, and I woke up twice in the night, too hard to sleep, and I imagined fucking you all over again?”

CHAPTER SIX

She slipped her hand into his briefs and stroked his balls lightly with her finger tips, moaning softly at the image of him in the middle of the night, taking himself in hand and stroking his shaft, feeling the velvet over granite texture of his rigid cock. His sac was tight and hard against his body, and Zoey took a quick moment to be impressed that he was this aroused this quickly. “Do you want to?” she asked, giving him what she hoped was an alluring glance between nips and licks at his dick.

His response was to shove things out of the way on his desk, tugging her to her feet. Her skirt was too tight to shimmy up her thighs without splitting a seam. She reached back and unzipped the fabric, letting it tumble to the floor. After the scraps of lace she’d worn last night, her cotton bikini panties felt like granny pants, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he tugged them out of the way. He pressed her back against the edge of the desk, and she scooted up so that she was sitting, and she could wrap her legs around his hips. He reached past her into the top drawer of his desk and grabbed a condom out of a plain box. She gave him an arched eyebrow.

“Do this often?” She asked, her tone wry.

His eyes were still and serious. “No,” he said. “It’s always been a particular fantasy of mine, but—no.”

For a moment, she thought the mood would shatter around them like so much glass, but he grinned at her then, and leaned forward to capture her mouth in a kiss.

The intensity of it shocked her. She’d had her share of kisses, and then some, over the years, but there was a quiet attention in the way Alex’s mouth played over hers. He was artful, intense, but that wasn’t it. Or at least, that wasn’t all of it. He was paying attention to her, responding to her every sigh and shift. The attention was as sexy as the kiss itself. She wrapped her arms around her neck and just dropped into the kiss, forgetting that she was naked, forgetting that he was sheathing himself, forgetting the delightful press of his tip against her cunt as he teased her clit with his thumb. As he pressed forward, with that same delicious slowness, his tongue danced along her lower lip, inviting her to open to him. She did, with mouth and body, wrapping herself around him as thoroughly as he could.

“Oh, Zoey,” he whispered, when he was buried deeply inside of her. And then he started to move.

It was nothing like the slow fucking of last night. He slammed into her from the start, as fast as he could go without hurting her. She clung to him, her mouth buried in his neck to hide her cries of pleasure and delight. His hands wrapped around her waist, tilting her ass to an angle that pleased him, throbbing into her with abandon.

“Sorry,” he whispered, his voice shakier than it had been last night. “Won’t last. I can—for you—after—”

“Just fuck me,” she said, and she bit his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a bruise, but he shuddered against her, his ass clenching as he froze, deep inside, pulsing softly. He was silent as he came, his breath panting, his thrusts locked into the deepest parts of her, barely more than thin, slow pulses. His forehead rested on her shoulder for a long moment, and she stroked her fingers down his shoulders, his neck, running them through his close cropped hair. Every few breaths, he’d turn his face to the side and press a light kiss against her neck; every single time, her pulse jumped.

Zoey’s mind was in over drive. What in the world was she doing? Alex Blankenship was a charmer, everyone agreed about that, but he wasn’t the sort of guy who settled down, any more than his father had been. He made her every nerve ending stand up and salute, but what was she going to get from this long term, other than a broken heart? Because she could easily fall for a guy who promised to take care of her after he came, and who gave her delicate little kisses on the pulse of her throat. Meanwhile, she was just another conquest for him. The only reason she saw him again today was because of the interview. Otherwise, he would have just been a happy memory. It would be smart to remember that.

So when he pulled back from her, rolling the condom off and tossing it into the trash, she slipped off the desk and retrieved her panties and skirt. He had tucked himself away and was zipping up his pants, and glanced at her, his hands going still. “I—thought—”

And then Zoey saw the moment where he collected himself and nodded quietly at her. “Of course. I’m sorry. The interview. You came for an interview.”

He was an entirely different person when he was being the CEO. It was shocking to see. She didn’t know many people in their age group who could have managed the transition with that much ease. “It’s not you,” she lied through her teeth, because she needed to say something. “You’ve just been very clear. You do casual. You do poly. That’s awesome. I can manage casual when I don’t know someone, but I—I don’t think casual would last right now, for me, and you don’t do not casual.”

“Ah,” he said. He sat down on the desk, where he’d been just a few moments before. Zoey zipped up her skirt and fished her tablet out of her bag. She tried to the heat out of her cheeks—it was bad enough that she was still flushed from the unresolved arousal—but that was a battle she hadn’t won any time she could remember. “And who is it who says I don’t do casual.”

“You said, last night.” She cleared her throat, trying to push the snippy tone away. It wouldn’t help her get the interview, and that was what she needed to focus on. The interview, and her career, not the way she could still taste him, salty and strong, on the back of her tongue. “I was sorry to hear about the loss of your father,” she said, slipping into her reporter tone without another word.

He crossed his arms and nodded briefly. “Yes, his loss is a great one to my family, to AEGIS, and to the business community at large.”

“Do you think that his loss will change the direction of AEGIS?”

“It’s hard to say at this juncture,” he said. God, he sounded like he was reading from a press release. She was fucking this up so badly. “Whenever any company loses its CEO, the entire company needs to reevaluate its direction as part of the process of moving forward. At this time, however, AEGIS has no plans to change the cornerstones of its business practices.”

“Do you miss him?” It wasn’t one of the questions she’d planned on asking, and the words just slipped out. It was her fault that the CEO was standing in front of her, instead of the kind, sweet lover that she’d met before, and she wanted him back.

“He was my father,” Alex said, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes, but—”

“He was mine,” he said again, emphasizing the last word. His mouth worked as if there was something else he wanted to say, but whatever it was, he held it back.

Zoey pressed forward with the question she’d put together after reading everything she could find online and in print, the question that, as far as she could tell, no one had ever asked point blank. “There’s been some discussion about the wording of the will, and the fact that it merely specifies the children of Philip Blankenship, instead of specifically naming you and your sister. Do you believe that there are other children of Philip Blankenship who may have a claim on your family fortune?”

Alex’s skin was too dark for the heat of his anger to show in his cheeks, but his eyes made up for it by snapping like they’d been connected to a live wire. A muscle in his jaw twitched twice. She wished she could take the question back, and she wished she could launch herself at him, tell him that she’d been wrong, she was soaking wet and her clit was still twitching with electric need, and wouldn’t he please take that ache away for her.

“We’re done here,” he said.

“One final question, Mr. Blankenship?”

“I’d like you to leave.”

“Anyone special in your life right now?”

The anger in his eyes sparked and died, and the misery that was left behind killed her sick joy at twisting the knife. Alex’s eyes fixed on her as she leaned down for her bag, dropped her tablet in, and then turned to go.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Zoey kicked herself all the way back to her studio. She’d never behaved that unprofessionally in her life, never. Blowing the man, fucking him on his desk, then turning away, and letting the lust get to her brain and alienate a source. Seriously? It was the kind of trick that one of the girls she’d gone to high school would have pulled to “punish” some guy for not behaving in the way she thought was best. The look on Alex’s face as she’d pulled up her skirt was awful. The anger in his eyes after she’d been so rude about his father left her feeling ashamed.

It wasn’t just that he was a source. That was bad enough, but he’d genuinely left her feeling cared about. Noticed. And that was more than she felt, most nights in her crappy little apartment.

She’d grown up in Ladel, just outside of Covington. Everyone there mostly considered themselves part of Covington, unless someone from Covington implied such a thing, in which case, they were absolutely part of Ladel. Or if someone pronounced the town name as LAY-dle, like the kitchen spoon. You knew to say LAH-del, or you would be mocked forever. The house she’d grown up in had been perfectly nice. New, a bedroom each for herself and her sister, an office for her mother, a kitchen big enough for Daddy to cook when he got excited about some new recipe. But compared to the older homes, with their wrap around porches and their sprawling gardens, or the plantation house that marked where Ladel ended and Covington began? Nothing to talk about.

Mama had always been pleased with what they had, and Daddy kept his envy subtle. It was only when something around the house broke that it came up. Toys that couldn’t be replaced right away, if at all. The stress when the house needed a new roof, and she took peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to school for a month. But even then, she’d been very well aware that she was better off than plenty of kids in the county. She wasn’t what the wealthier girls called trash. Sometimes that meant that she was hated by kids on both ends of the spectrum, but more often than not, it meant that she could be invisible, blending in as much as possible and just trying not to make too many waves. Of course, that talent had faded with time.

She changed out of her ridiculous outfit, put her jeans and T-shirt back on, and after a minute, pulled up Helen’s contact information on her phone. Helen answered on the first ring.

“Tell me everything,” Helen said, before Zoey even got a chance to say hello.

“Everything about how I just blew the one chance I had at making my career something other than a lifetime of regurgitating trending news?”

“Well fuck,” Helen said, “Give me a second.”

There was quiet for a moment while Helen wrapped up something, and then she came back on the line. Zoey had collapsed into a corner of the couch, pulling a pillow into her lap and squeezing it tightly.

“I was talking about last night,” Helen said, “but you sound like you’ve got something else on your mind.”

“It’s all a big clusterfuck, sha,” Zoey said, not even caring about her accent. “The guy last night—he was amazing, it was everything I wanted, and he seemed to enjoy himself too, but then this morning.”

“Did you stay there all night? Or go home with him?”

“Neither. I came back to my place. But I got a call from Devin this morning, and he had scheduled an interview with Alexander Blankenship.”

“Wait, from AEGIS.”

“Yes.”

Zoey couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Helen was quick on the update, though, and it only took a moment.

“Holy fuck, Zoey, it wasn’t—”

“It was.”

Helen let out a bit of rhyming slang that Zoey didn’t catch. “How did you handle it?”

“I blew it. I utterly blew it. I—things got out of hand, and then I started talking about his father, and it all went to hell.”

Helen was quiet for a bit, and Zoey waited. Helen had about five years on her, and she’d spent all of them in publishing. She was one of the lead editors for a major national website, and she knew her stuff. “Love, I’m not trying to minimize how wretched that must have been, walking in and seeing him, but for that rag of yours, I’m sorry, but you can make up the quote and no one will care. Am I right?”

“Yeah,” Zoey said. “About the gossip piece for the Voice, yes. But there’s something else going on at AEGIS. And I can’t write about it, because of last night. I have no credibility at all.”

“What do you think is going on?”

Zoey laid out what she’d seen conducting the background research for the interview with Alex. Stocks being bought and sold in weird patterns by companies that seemed to only exist on paper. Oddness about the company products, specifically in the weapons division. Production numbers that didn’t seem to match sales. And the strange wording that some people, privy to the information, had reported about Philip Blankenship’s will.

Helen listened to all of it, and Zoey could hear the moment when her friend’s brain crossed over from “listen to friend’s frustrations” to “listen to a writer pitch.” The quality of her really and her shut up changed. When Zoey had spun herself out, Helen was quiet again, for several minutes. Zoey could hear the clacking of a keyboard, and assumed Helen was checking out a few of the facts Zoey had mentioned on her own.

“I want you to write this, Zoey,” Helen said.

“But—”

“No. It was just the one time, and Marie will ban anyone who ever breathes a word of it. I’ve got a guy on staff here who has connections within some of AEGIS’ competition. If you’re willing to work with him, give him a co-author, I think we can protect you and get the piece written.”

Zoey took a long look around the shitty studio, with its cracked walls, the perpetually leaking faucet, and the windows that didn’t close properly, letting in frigid gusts in winter, and rivers of rain in summer. A serious byline on an investigative piece, sold to Helen Maxwell, or through her contacts—that would be a coup. It wouldn’t give her a step up, not right away, but it would open doors. It would put her name in the minds of editors for something more than the train perv. A co-author byline was still a byline. “Okay,” she said. “That sounds—okay.”

Helen saw through her hesitation. “You were thinking of seeing him again.”

“This morning, yeah, but I blew any chance I had of anything else.”

“What if you hadn’t blown it?”

Zoey sighed, and the exhalation said everything she needed to say.

Helen tut-tutted. “Zoey, love, you’ve heard of NRE, yeah?”

She rolled her eyes, even though her friend couldn’t see her. “I don’t live under a rock. But there’s no relationship here, so no new relationship energy present.”

“Sure, love, whatever you want to tell yourself. Just call me before you start in on the second tub of ice cream.” Zoey blew a raspberry into the phone, and Helen cackled. “Get started on that article, and I’ll hook things up with my guy here.”

When they’d hung up, Zoey pulled out her laptop. This was the good part of working from home, after all. Banging out an article on the couch in her jeans. When the words were hard to come by, she’d been known to reach for her fleecy pajama pants with the little foxes on them, but their magic was precious, and she was careful not to over use them. She twisted her hair up and out of her way, and go to work. It would take about half an hour to get the piece written and sent to the Voice, and then she could start outlining the longer piece.

Her belly fluttered just thinking that this might provide her with another excuse to see Alex. Maybe, this time, she could avoid screwing everything up.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Alex had planned to spend the afternoon going through more of his father’s files, trying to decipher the old man’s shorthand in his planner, or possibly trying yet again to break into his email. IT assured him that they could easily reset the password of any one operating on the server, but somehow, every time they tried, the system redirected them. They were working on it. They swore.

He’d been shocked to see the beautiful distraction from the previous night—Zoey—walking into his office like everything he needed to push the troubles of his father’s passing out of his mind and refocus on the tasks at hand. He’d planned on giving her the interview she needed for her ridiculous rag, and then he’d meant to screw her until she screamed, send her on her way, and get back to work.

Only there was something about her. He’d swung to the Dom side of things his entire sexual life, and he’d never had any trouble finding women who wanted to sub for him. He loved the atmosphere at Chez Vous, and the way that no one seemed any more interested in learning about his life outside of the play space than he had there. But there had always been something so very compliant about the women he met there. Zoey had a fire in her eyes that said he was going to have to convince her to kneel, each and every time. That it would never be a given. It was a delicious sensation. He wanted to feel it again.

It had been ages since someone took his cock in his mouth of their own volition, and the way she’d listened to him, just teasing at him, not trying to deep throat him—it had set him on edge more than he’d anticipated. The sensation of slipping inside of her, the fantasy fulfillment of taking her on the desk at work, the way she’d shuddered when he was fully sheathed in her, it had left him gasping, barely able to control his reaction at all.

There was no small part of him that was irritated with how quickly he’d come, that was convinced that she’d gotten dressed again because she was disappointed in him. He’d tried to tell her that he had every intention of kneeling down before her and licking her until she had to bite her wrist to choke back the scream, but he hadn’t been able to get the words out. And then she’d started asking prying questions about the old man, and he’d lost his shit, in part because of his irritation at her shutting down, but more because he was frustrated with himself.

So now he was sitting at his desk, his cock semi-hard and controlling his brain, and tapping at his desk, trying to think of something other than the spiced scent of her body as he’d joined with her, breathing into her neck, inhaling her.

As pissed off as he still was, he wanted to see her again.

A chat window popped up from Bridget, his assistant. He clicked on it with a lot more force than was strictly needed.

Your mother. You’re late for your 3 p.m. On your way?

Fuck. Yes, he sent back, and stood up, straightening his shirt, pulling at the noose of a tie, and making sure that the line of his cock was not readily apparent in his trousers. Olivia had turned a blind eye to his partying thus far, but she would have very strong words about a white reporter leaving an ass print on his desk. And the worst part was that she would insult him in such a way that he couldn’t possibly take offense. Her superpower was the ability to turn him into a little boy shuffling his feet on the rug within three words, when she chose to.

Alex had a nice office. The old man had furnished it for Alex when he turned 21, and came into his shares at the company. At that time, there wasn’t much that actually had his name on it, and he spent correspondingly little time in the office.

The old man, of course, had ruled from the corner office. Olivia had suggested that Alex could take it over, but he found he had no interest in it. Philip’s ghost was still in every single tuft of the rug. He’d keep the office he’d never actually managed to use.

What had always interested Alex, though, even when he was a kid, was that his mother had an office, too. It was smaller than the old man’s, smaller even than the one Alex had been given. The decor was nowhere near as plush or luxurious. But Olivia had worked behind her desk just as many hours as the old man had—more, sometimes—and it hadn’t taken him long to realize that whenever a client came to visit the offices, they came through Philip’s office, for sure, but no one ever left without paying a visit to Olivia Blankenship. It was just not a thing that was done.

His mother’s personal assistant, an older man named Aaron who’d been with both the company and their household since Alex was a kid, was standing next to her as Alex walked in, going over the agenda for an upcoming charity event that she was attending. If he’d thought she’d been working long hours before the old man kicked it, after they’d buried him, it had only gotten worse. The only time he saw her was at the office. Claire, his little sister, had things even worse.

His mother looked up, and she beamed when she smiled. She moved around Aaron, and wrapped Alex up in a hug that felt warm and motherly. Which immediately made him worried that she was up to something. “Darling,” she said. “Everything all right? How are you holding up?”

He returned the embrace as much as he could stand, and then stepped back. Olivia looked gorgeous as always. Her makeup perfectly fit her skin tone, several shades darker than his own, and her curls were as precisely placed as if she’d just walked out of a fashion shoot. Alex had gotten his hair, his coloring, and his eyes from his mother; everything else about him was cut from the same cloth as his old man.

Olivia wore a black skirt suit with a lilac blouse, the very picture of the professional in mourning. It was a wonderful act. The only person Alex knew who had hated his father more than he had was Olivia.

He dropped into the seat on the visitor side of her desk; she sat down next to him, rather than back behind the desk. She waved at Aaron, and the older man bowed his gray head and disappeared, shutting the office door behind him. “I’m fine, Mother.”

“Yes, you always are,” she said. The tone wasn’t as cutting as she could manage, but it wasn’t exactly generous either. “I want to talk to you about the work your father left behind.”

“I’m working on it,” he said. “IT assures me that they’ll be into his email in another day. They’ve just been saying that for days. His PA has no idea what the shorthand in his journal is about. So we’re rather at a loss of how to move forward—”

Olivia waved an imperious hand to cut him off. “That’s what I want to talk to you about, Alex. There’s no point in dredging through all of that old nonsense. Everything we need to know is in the public records of the company. Honestly, being a CEO—it’s as much about being a figurehead as it is anything else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it’s easy work, but it’s also not manual labor.” She reached out and patted him on the hand. “You can thank your grandfather for that.”

Alex swallowed his sigh. It was hard work. Throughout most of his childhood, he’d believed that Grandpa had actually held the patent for vaccines. The way Olivia told it, it had seemed true. He had patented part of the machine that was used to mass produce vaccines from eggs, but that was hardly the same thing. Still, it had made him a millionaire veterinarian in upstate New York, and he’d done everything he could to make sure that his only daughter had an easier life than he had. The story had gotten trotted out every time his parents fought throughout his childhood. Olivia liked to point out that Philip had only married her for his money, because without it, he would have been ruined, and he liked to tell her that he’d paid his own way for her, so she ought to spread her legs more often. It had been a delightful way to grow up. “Mother, I think it’s worth knowing what Philip was up to. We both know that things have been weird around this company for years, and we need to know what’s happening before we get blindsided.”

Damn the woman, she caught on far too fast. Served him right for thinking that he could put one over on her. She narrowed her eyes, all facade of motherly warmth fading away as she tapped on perfectly manicured fingernail against a shade of lipstick that exquisitely complemented the lilac of her blouse. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Did someone say something to you?”

He could deny it, but what was the point? “A reporter had some questions about Philip. About the wording of his will.”

Olivia cursed, viciously. It was nice to hear. It was about the only time he ever heard his mother’s native Georgia accent. It was also entertaining to see such a perfect lady swear like a sailor. “No one knows about that. No one.”

He gave a shrug. “No one except you, me, Claire, everyone else who was at the reading of the will, the lawyers. It’s the Internet age, Mother. There’s no such thing as privacy any more.” He tapped his index finger against the arm of the chair. “Is it something we need to worry about?”

Her eyes slapped to his with a force that made him rock backwards. “Why would you ask that question, Alexander?”

Yes, there it was. The feeling of being twelve years old, called onto the carpet for some small slight, suddenly fearing that he was going to piss his pants. “If Claire and I are the only children that Father ever had, then what difference does it make whether the will states that his shares in the company go to his children, or to Claire and I specifically? The only reason it makes sense for you to be so upset about this, for you to have sworn Claire and I and everyone to secrecy is that he wasn’t always careful when he was fucking around, and you know it.”

“Alex,” Olivia said, standing. Her tone was somewhere between a plea and a command, and he found that he didn’t want to hear it. She stared out the large plate glass window behind her desk, surveying the city. Had she done that often when the old man was alive, staring out into the city skyline, wondering whose bed he was warming this time?

“Someone’s going to find out if it’s true, Mother,” he said. “If there’s a potential scandal here, it makes sense to get ahead of it. If there’s another heir, find them, buy out their stock, and move on.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Alex,” she said. It was like he was 7 again, instead of 27. Everything about him bristled at her tone. “It’s taken care of.”

He stood, ready to continue the fight, but the office door burst open, and years of training made him shut his mouth. It was one thing to argue with his mother, it was another to do it where other people could see and hear.

He expected to see Aaron bursting through the door again, ready with some trumped up emergency, but instead, the man coming through the door was a total stranger to him. He was tall, about Alex’s height, but cast from a much more solid mold. His shoulders were broad, and his hands and forearms were thickly muscled. He had the look of a manual laborer; he didn’t look much older than Alex, but he looked like the life he’d seen had been much harder. His skin was a deep olive brown, and his features were rough hewn. His eyes, though, his eyes were somehow familiar. The man nodded to Alex, then directed his attention to Olivia. “We must speak,” he said. He stepped into the room without waiting for her permission. His voice had a hint of a Latin accent, not enough to sound first generation, but very likely he’d grown up speaking more than one language.

Olivia’s eyes were crackling with anger, and her voice cut across the room like a whip. “I told you not to see me here.”

Alex had to put his hand to his mouth to cover a smile. Far be it for him to judge; the woman had put up with his father’s crap for enough years. If she’d found herself a pair of Levi’s on the side, who was he to judge? It was slightly creepy that the dude was his age, but still. As long as everyone was a consulting adult, it wasn’t his place to throw stones inside this glass house. “Please excuse me,” he said. “I’m sure you two have quite a lot to talk about.”

“We’re not finished, Alexander,” Olivia snapped again.

Alex froze. It was exactly the tone she’d used when she was mad at the old man. He let his expression chill down like a glacier before he turned back to her. She flinched away as his eyes found hers. “I think we are, Olivia,” he said. He put no particular emphasis on her name. He didn’t need to. She stepped back as if he’d slapped her, and he made for the door in the stunned silence. The man stepped aside, and Alex walked down the hallway toward his own office.

He heard Olivia snap at the man, her voice louder than she perhaps meant it to be as she asked “Arturo, what in the hell are you thinking?” He couldn’t resist a grin as the door to her office shut. Maybe she’d be making her own ass print on her desk. He certainly didn’t want to think about the details, but anything that made the woman relax just a little, specifically towards Claire, would only help him out.

CHAPTER NINE

On his way back to his desk, he stopped off at Bridget’s. “The reporter who was in earlier, from the Downtown Voice.” Alex gestured, like he was having trouble pulling the woman’s name from his memory.

Bridget wasn’t fooled for a second. She’d been his assistant  for two years now, and had seen the parade of women that had wandered through his bed. Well, usually not the bed, usually walls. Couches. Play rooms. Pretty little reporters spreading their thighs on his desk. Focus, Blank. “Zoey Gardener?”

He wasn’t giving in. He snapped his fingers like Bridget had just tripped his memory into the right gear. “Yes. Can you get her number for me? I’d like to discuss a question she had in a little more detail.”

Bridget gave him a long look, just long enough to convey her extreme amusement with the entire situation, and then picked up her phone.

“Thank you,” he said, and was grateful, not for the first time today, that the darkness of his complexion helped keep his embarrassment under wraps. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to track a woman’s phone number down. It had been ages ago, if it had ever even happened.

There were a lot of reasons he’d always erred towards casual relationships over the years. A lot of them had to do with being raised with a lot of money, and seeing the number of people who became interested in his wallet more than they were with him. A lot of them had to do with a lingering sense that the faces in the parade were all somehow similar, no matter how many colors and shapes they might take. There was always the same light of avarice in the eyes, the calculated question of how far this alliance would take them. He’d filtered a lot of hassle out of his life just by telling people that he wasn’t interested in more than a casual relationship. When they opted out after that declaration—well, at least he hadn’t wasted his time.

Zoey was different. Some part of it was almost certainly that he didn’t get turned down often, and it was an intriguing sensation, but there was more to it than that. She didn’t seem swayed by him. Or if she was, it was by the heat of his mouth and the strength in his fingers, not by the Amex Black he kept in his wallet.

He sat down at his desk and pulled the old man’s planner out again.

Philip Blankenship had been a business genius, a wild play boy, a skilled politician too smart to bother trying to make a career for himself in Washington or Albany, and every so often, a self aware and deliberate Luddite. He’d refused to write with anything other than fountain pens, and his collection was hugely varied, from maki-e pens that cost tens of thousands of dollars to cheap plastic mass manufactured pens that could be had for $15. He’d also insisted on blue ink, but he’d had every shade of blue from every major manufacturer. He’d had planners custom made for him on paper that was high enough quality that his pens wouldn’t bleed through, even when he brought out the ones with the broad or italic nibs.

The daily events parts of the planner were fairly obvious. Meetings, dinners, scheduled conference calls, all the usual things that one saw in the daily schedule of a business executive. But the task list, and the space for a weekly gratitude journaling—that was where Alex was positive that something was going on.

First, the task list was always written in varied shades of blue, with clearly different pens. The handwriting stayed the same from line to line, but the structure of the writing varied greatly from one nib to the next. That in and of itself wasn’t necessarily strange—one would just assume that he added tasks as he thought of them, instead of sitting down and writing out one day at a time. But each task was crossed out in the same color of ink that had been used to write it in the first place. That didn’t make sense.

And then, some of the actual tasks were bizarre. Laundry, for example. Philip Blankenship hadn’t done a load of laundry in his life. Alex was fairly sure he wouldn’t have known how to operate a washing machine if someone put a gun to his head. He’d always had people to do those sorts of things. He hadn’t even bothered to pick up his own underwear from the floor. Or Meet bodega and Dancing lessons. It was clearly some kind of code.

He sighed and rubbed his fingertips into his forehead. Or, a man who’d never had a good relationship with his father was finding meaning in the man’s life after his death, trying to believe that there had been something more to the man than the abusive, womanizing piece of shit he’d grown up knowing. That was probably what a psychologist would tell him. Getting one of those should probably be the next step in his ‘act like a damn adult’ project.

He closed Philip’s planner and dropped it in the bottom drawer of his desk. Maybe Olivia was right. Maybe he should just focus on learning the ropes at AEGIS. He had ideas, plans for how he could make things run more smoothly, but to make anything happen, he’d need to get the board on his side, and to do that, he had to have Olivia on his side. She didn’t want him mucking around in Philip’s old affairs, well, maybe that was a good plan. All he’d wanted in his life was to distance himself from his father, to have the chance to make himself his own man. He wouldn’t do that by just staring at the relics the old bastard had left behind after an incredibly convenient heart attack. At least he hadn’t had it in the bed of one of his many mistresses.

Olivia’s non answer to his question about whether or not Philip had any other questions was concerning. Olivia had always maintained that her fertility was the reason there were ten years of age difference between Alex and Claire, but anyone who could do even the slightest bit of math, or wasn’t totally blind, would realize that Philip hadn’t been home frequently enough to get his wife pregnant in those years. He’d kept his affairs relatively subtle, but for one of the cornerstones of the Manhattan social stratosphere, there was only so subtle he could manage. Olivia had weathered it well, but seeing her husband stepping out with woman after woman, each one paler than her—it had to hurt. It had to poison you.

Bridget’s chat window blinked again, and he forced himself back into the hear and now. I have her number. Want me to get her on the line for you?

That’s fine, I’ll call her myself.

He pulled out his phone—there was no way in hell he was making this call on the company line—and dialed the number Bridget had given him. It was not a New York area code. That made him smile. He heard some of that syrup in her voice, and he figured she’d come to the city not all that long ago, but it was nice to see she hadn’t entirely shed her roots.

She picked up almost as soon as the call rang. “This is Zoey,” she said, her voice distracted. He wondered if she’d even glanced at the caller ID before she picked up. He found himself smiling, more than a little.

“Hi, Zoey,” he said. “This is Alex. I owe you an apology.”

The silence stretched out, and he was almost positive that, any moment, he would hear the dull click of the line disconnecting, followed by the silence of his phone shutting down. That would be her right, and he’d force himself to behave, and not try again, if it came to it. He just hoped that it wouldn’t. He wanted to cross his fingers like a child. He wanted to stroke his dick and remember the way she’d looked up at him through her eyelashes while she’d sucked on him so fiercely.

“Hi, Alex,” she said. Her tone was cautious, but not cold. “I’ll tell you the truth, I didn’t think I would be hearing from you again.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to. I was pretty out of line earlier. You asked some sensitive questions, and I just wasn’t expecting to need to handle them.” He winced. The statement was a quiet insinuation that the rag she worked at was exactly that, a trashy rag, and even if she knew it, the odds were against her wanting it pointed out.

“I have more sensitive questions for you, if you’d be willing to answer them,” she said. Interesting. He didn’t hear anything in her tone that was abrupt or upset. Good.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Over dinner?”

She was quiet again, and he was sure he had overstepped. Just before he decided he was going to need to apologize again, she let out a soft sigh. “You’re confusing me,” she said, quietly.

“Does it help at all if I say that I’m confused, myself?” He was still smiling, and he tried to let the feeling of the smile bleed into his voice a little bit. “I’m not entirely accustomed to this.”

She chuckled, and he had just a little more hope. “I imagine you have a very finely tuned sense of exactly what it is that you want.”

“You would not be wrong.”

“So what is it that you want?”

That was the $64 million question, wasn’t it? “Right now, I want to have dinner with you. It seems to me that I made you a promise this afternoon, and if you want, I’m still more than game to fulfill it.” There was a small sound on the other end of the line. Unless he was utterly mistaken, she’d just swallowed a whimper. His cock sprang to attention, and he closed his eyes for a moment, visualizing the Wall Street Journal’s bland black and white pages, and the endless streams of pluses and minuses in the financial section.

“I want to write an article about AEGIS,” she blurted out. “I can’t do that if we’re in a relationship.” 

The fog of lust faded, and a cold stone of fear settled in his stomach. “Well, how about this, then. I’ll take you out to dinner, and you explain to me what it is that you think is going on at my company.” He expended more effort than he’d expected keeping his tone from sounding threatening. Sweat had broken out under his arms. There was always some scandal in the wings, something about to go wrong, but there were too many possibilities right now, too many things that people weren’t telling him. And if it took a gossip reporter to clue him in, then fine. He’d take that. He’d save his pride for the places where it mattered.

“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” This time, it was her voice that was flirty and interested, and somewhere back behind the cold fear of what legacy his father had really left for him, he felt the desire for her flaring again. There were so many things a relationship could mean. After all, everyone in the world was in relationship with everyone else. Not that she meant that.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he said. “How about you meet me at—” he ran through some very quick calculations in his head, between what he wanted to eat, and what would probably make her flinch. “Tap and Grill at about seven. We’ll talk.”

Another long pause. Apparently, he was good at making those happen. “I’m not familiar with the place. Dress code?”

“Casual is fine.” He waited, and she was quiet. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“This afternoon.” He hadn’t quite expected to say this, but curiosity was whirling through him. “It has been a very long time since someone paid attention to what I was actually asking for, instead of assuming that they knew better than me.”

She cleared her throat, which brought his smile back. “You’re welcome.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you stop me from returning the favor?” A little whisper of sound came from her, and he pressed forward before he gathered enough sense to stop himself. “I know I only got my mouth on you for a minute last night, but I hope I didn’t do something that put you off.”

“No,” she answered quickly, her voice thready. “That’s not—I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize,” he said. “You have every right to tell me no at any point, and you don’t ever have to apologize for that. I just want to make sure I didn’t hurt or upset you in some way.”

“Just confused me,” she said again. There was a little hitch to her breath that interested him.

“Because I keep saying that I don’t do serious, but here I am, calling you again.”

“Yes.”

“And there you are—where are you, at work? At home?”

“Home,” she said. There was that light sound again, that light breathiness. His cock was a rod of hot iron in his pants.

“At home. You probably changed into something more comfortable once you got there. Jeans? Comfy T-shirt?”

“Yes.”

“Bra?”

“Alex!”

“So, no,” he said, and she didn’t correct him. “And you were interested, here. I heard you gasping, biting back your sounds. And then you left. And you’re on the couch, and your pussy is still swollen, still eager. And you’re tearing yourself apart. You’re glad you left but you wish you’d stayed.”

“Alex…” Her voice trailed off.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. “You tell me, Zoey. You have all the power right now. I’ll stop if you want me to. And you can take your hands away from your nipples and go it alone. Or I can tell you what to do. Your call.” The nipple thing was a pure guess, but from the way she’d responded to his touch on them in the play space, he was quite sure she’d spend time writhing around, her thighs clenching together, as she taunted her nipples. There was a long low sigh from her, nothing that sounded uncomfortable or unhappy. More a sensation of giving in.

CHAPTER TEN

She was going to ruin everything. Absolutely everything. This was her chance.

But maybe it was her chance at more than one thing. And there would be other articles. And she was lonely, and she was sick of being lonely. And he was right about her nipples, and her clit ached so hard that it felt like it had twisted up into a knot.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, then cleared her throat and tried again, because she was fairly sure that he hadn’t heard her. “I don’t want you to stop.”

She heard a sound, and it took her a moment to figure it out. He’d walked across his office and locked the door. Another set of sounds as he settled down somewhere. She would have guessed the couch in his office. Her brain filled the silence with a thousand details about how wrong this was, how this was going to ruin her career, get her stuck doing this crap for the rest of her life. She’d go home, ashamed of who she was and what she’d done, and everyone would laugh at the girl who couldn’t handle herself at all.

She not-so-quietly told her brain to shut up. For just once, she was going to think about the here and now instead of what was on the horizon. And what was happening right now was that she was tied up in knots, remembering him plunging into her, his mouth on her neck.

“Where were we?” he asked. His tone had dropped, both in volume and in pitch, and it shivered through her. He echoed a little bit too; he must have put her on speaker. She did the same.

“You had me basically pegged,” she said. “Couch, T-shirt, braless.” She ran her palms over the tight flesh of her nipples and sighed, her head dropping back against the arm of the couch. She’d set her laptop down a few minutes ago, and was stretched out full length. “Nipples.” She didn’t choke back the gasp this time as her fingers taunted the sensitive areas, and he made a little sound in response. Her cheeks were bright red, and somewhere in the back of her mind was a continuous loop of Am I doing this am I actually doing this why the hell am I doing this but she kept pushing the thoughts away, and focusing on how she felt. “And you?”

“On the couch now,” he said. “I was at my desk before.”

“And are you—” She couldn’t quite get the words out.

“Taking myself in hand?” He laughed softly. “I am, princess. I’m thinking about you, too, how hot you felt, the spice of you. Do you know what I would have done, if you hadn’t gotten dressed so fast?”

“Tell me,” she said.

“I will,” he said, “if you promise to follow along at home.”

A shiver ran through her. “Okay.”

“As I recall, we’d already disposed of your skirt and panties,” he said, and then was quiet. She put the phone on her belly so the speaker was close enough that he could hear the teeth of the zipper sliding free. He made a quiet hissing sound, and she could hear the sound of his hand moving over his flesh, rapid for just a moment, then slowing down again. She closed her eyes and let herself imagine him there with her, watching as she pushed the jeans down her hips, down her legs, and off onto the floor. Her panties followed them. She bent her knees, one resting against the back of the couch, the other laying on the couch, perpendicular to her hip. Her curls, soft and red, were damp, and the cool air brushing against her heated body made her whimper. “Oh, yes,” he murmured. “Yes, that’s lovely. You smell so good, princess. I just want to breathe you in for a long minute. I was going to leave you on the desk, you see, and sit down in the chair in front of you. I was going to put your legs over my shoulders. But I wasn’t going to touch you yet.”

Her fingers, already threading through the curls on her mound froze as if he’d caught her reaching for a cookie. “Why not?” she whispered, and he rewarded her with a chuckle.

“Because I like making you wait,” he said. “I think you’ll make the most delicious noises when you wait.”

“I’m not patient,” she said. Her fingers played over her inner thighs, but she listened. She obeyed.

“I’ll teach you,” he said. “If you want me to.”

“Okay,” she said. “But not right now.”

Another chuckle from Alex. “All right. Not right now.”

“Because I just watched you come,” she said, trying to keep the edge of whine out of her voice. “And I’m aching for you.” Her cheeks were so bright and hot she wondered if she was about to catch fire. Talking dirty was not actually her forte. Sexting, totally her speed. But hey, the man had a great voice. It was worth listening to.

“You did,” he agreed. “You are. And today, I’ll let you come fast. Since we’re in my office, and us making a lot of noise could draw some undue attention. But you should know, you might end up paying for it later.”

“Like last night? Because that would be okay.”

He laughed again, and then his breath drew in fast for a moment. She imagined him on that couch, his suit pants open, his cock in hand, his eyes squeezed shut as he controlled himself for a moment after whatever image had pushed him one step closer to the edge of oblivion.

“So I wouldn’t tease you for too long,” he said. “Because I’m already between your thighs, and you smell delicious, and I don’t think either one of us will last all that long. But I’d still start slow, make you work for it. If I bring you off too fast, you won’t get what you need. I want you to get what you need, Zoey. That’s part of the point.”

“Touch me,” she whispered. “Please touch me. That’s what I need.”

“I would touch you,” he said, “but lightly at first. Just the most delicate touch, with just the tip of my tongue. I’d start at the bottom of your cunt and move up, slowly, circling where my cock just was, and then brushing over the tip of your clit. So light, so feather soft.”

She let her fingers trace that same path, her eyes tightly closed, imagining him there, between her thighs. Imagining his dark brown eyes watching hers as he teased at her, as she resisted the urge to grab the back of his head and grind into his face. “I’d have to sit on my hands to keep from demanding more from you,” she said, and he groaned. Oh, she liked this game, she liked it plenty. She was never going to get any work done ever again.

“I promised I wouldn’t tease, or I would do this to you for so long. Just torment you with the edges of what you want. But not today. No, today, after I make that one swirling motion, I’d take your clit between my teeth and suckle it.”

She let two fingers come down hard on the hood of her clit, and swirled them in tight, rhythmic circles. She gasped, hard, and her hips lifted off the couch. The phone slipped off her belly and clattered to the floor. “Fuck,” she said, reaching for it with her free hand.

“Did you just drop me?” he asked, laughing.

“Sorry.” She should take her fingers away, she should stop and apologize properly, but the vision of his eyes closing with delight as he tasted her wouldn’t leave her brain, and her fingers were on auto pilot now.

“Here I am, licking you senseless, and you drop me on the floor,” he laughed again. “You owe me.”

“Anything,” she said.

“I want to hear you count down from one hundred to one. I want you to keep touching yourself, and I want you to keep from coming until you get all the way to one.”

Her fingers did slow down just a little bit. “Are you serious?” She’d heard it done plenty of times. It turned up all the time on sound sharing services, and more than once, she’d found herself listening to recordings of other people crying out as they struggled to get through the last few numbers without screaming.

“Yes,” he said. “Very.”

“First of all,” she said, her fingers resting on her thigh so she could use her brain for a minute. “I’m way too riled up to get anywhere close. I probably won’t make it past 75. Second—I don’t know, that’s really my point.”

The chuckle from him was low and edible. “If you think this is difficult,” he said, his voice dark, “Then imagine how hard it’ll be when it’s my tongue on you, not your fingers. Practice is good for you, Zoey.”

“One hundred,” she said, because now her pride was on the line. Her clit was buzzing as her fingers started to move again. She kept her motion slow and sensuous, keeping the buzz growing, but not overwhelming her.

“Oh holy shit,” he said, laughing with a kind of joy and delight that added to the vibration growing in the lowest parts of her belly.

Making it through the nineties was easy. She let her voice get slow and sexy on the numbers, teasing them out. Alex made little noises at her every gasp and sigh, which she knew was calculated to make it harder for her. The eighties, she had to start paying attention to the speed her fingers were moving, deliberately slowing down even more. She was lit up like a live wire, and she knew it wouldn’t take much to tip her straight over the edge. The seventies, the trouble started. Her hips were shifting, moving with the intensity of her need. Her mind kept showing her exactly what Alex would look like between her thighs, offering her sensory feedback of his tongue, hot and soft, pressing into her cunt.

She made it to sixty and then had to take some very deep breaths. “I can’t—I’m too—Alex, I—”

“Hold on, princess,” he said. His voice was husky and thick. Was he counting down in his head, too. “I want to hear you wait. Do it for me, and I’ll spank you until you scream.”

“You spanked me last night,” she whimpered. “I want to come, I want to come all over you.”

He chuckled. “Fair. Shit—” she heard him taking his own moment to keep from breaking under the strain of their little game. “Make it to 25,” he offered. “Make it to at least 25, and I will lick you tonight, lick you and fuck you any way that you want.”

The image almost undid her. She bit her teeth down on her lower lip, hard, the real kind of pain that she didn’t like, and whispered “Fifty-nine.”

He cursed, eloquently, but in a long breathless rush. Her pace was faster now, spitting out numbers as quickly as she could. She was cheating, she knew it, but he was groaning. He sound was muffled, like he’d stuffed something in his own mouth to head off the sound, but she could hear the rapid slap of his hand over the rigid length of his cock.

At twenty-five, the orgasm was slapping against her so hard that she thought she was going to die if she didn’t give in to it, but she spat out “Twenty-four,” just because she could.

“Fucking hell, princess, you’re going to kill me.”

The rest of the twenties came in a rush through her clenched teeth.

“God, baby, yes. Please. I want to hear you. Can you scream for me? Can you let me hear you? I want to hear you. Jesus, princess, baby, oh my god, please—”

The teens were a blur of sound, and she wasn’t sure if the noises she was making even counted, even sounded like words, but she got down to ten, and then it was an angry buzzing blur of “nine-eight-seven-six-five-four—”

And the orgasm broke over her, and she couldn’t hold it off any more. Her mouth fell open, huge open-throated cries bursting from her as she spasmed on the couch, her cunt throbbing and pulsing. She pressed fingers into her body, feeling the soft shudder of aftershocks as Alex came with a soft groan.

She curled up on her side, panting as her heart slowed down. She took the phone off speaker and rested it on her ear. “You’re amazing, princess,” he said.

“You’re not half bad yourself, sha,” she replied.

“Seven, then?”

“What, we can’t just do that again and again until it’s time to eat?”

He laughed, and the sound was delightful. I am in so much trouble. I am in so much damn trouble. “I think you really do want to kill me.”

“I’ll see you at seven,” she said.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Much to her surprise, Zoey actually managed to focus throughout the afternoon. She spent a little bit of time focusing down and tightening up the questions she wanted to ask Alex. It occurred to her that he might be being so sexy just to try and divert her from whatever was going on at the company, but the urgency in his tone when he’d asked her what it was that she knew—she didn’t think so. Her instinct was, quite simply, that he was concerned about the company, and needed to get more information, however he could. In a funny way, she might feel like the only person that he could trust.

She did some work on a couple of freelance pieces, silly web content and white papers that she could dash off without too much time or effort, and then took a shower. She reeked of sex and sweat, and while there was a certain appeal to meeting him smelling like what he’d done to her, it wasn’t her first choice. So, a shower. She washed her hair, blow dried it out, and styled it simply, a few small braids done in the front sections of her hair, then pinned back under her crown so that they held the rest of her hair back and out of her face. She kept her makeup light, and dressed in a pair of black pants, a deep blue sweater that set off her eyes, and a necklace that she’d gotten from her grandmother, a single pearl trapped in a gold cage. She normally didn’t wear gold; her skin was too pale, and the tone of the metal made her complexion look sallow, but it was her grandmother’s. Exceptions could be made in special circumstances. A pair of black clogs, and a vintage wool peacoat she’d picked up at a thrift store a few months back to ward off the autumn chill. She hadn’t needed it during the day, but once the sun went down, the city could get brisk quickly.

She made sure her tablet and her laptop were in her big leather bag, and then she set off. She had plenty of time to get across town on the subway, which was a godsend; her budget allowed for either taxis or meals, but usually not both in a week.

Zoey had hoped to beat Alex to the restaurant, but when she walked in the door, he’d already been seated. The hostess gave her a second glance when she said she was meeting a friend; Alex was the only diner currently seated.

He watched her every step as she crossed the floor. She liked to think of herself as a modern woman who did not rely on the male gaze to establish her self esteem, but it would have been a flat out lie to pretend she didn’t put a little extra shimmy in her walk, just to see his eyes focus on her hips, and then force themselves back up to her face.

“Hi there,” she said, shrugging off her peacoat and hanging it on the back of her chair. He’d changed, too. He wore dark blue jeans, and a sweater in a shade of autumnal gold that she never would have pulled off, but that made his eyes look even deeper and more luscious. “Nice to see you again.”

He just watched her for a moment, his chin resting in his hand, one finger tracing his lower lip. It was a mesmerizing motion, and she tried not to be enraptured. This restaurant was priced well out of her means, but they still didn’t look like the sort of place that would tolerate her crawling across the table, climbing into his lap, and begging him to do her right there.

The memory of Alex’s face last night, behind the mask, his eyes locked on hers as he thrust into her almost violently slapped into her head, and she felt the sensation again, every nerve ending firing. And he kept tracing that lip, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She opened her menu, and used it to hide her mouth. “I thought we were getting together to share information,” she said, and he laughed.

“Not just another excuse for me to make a series of plays to get your pants off?”

Her cheeks were flaring red again. “I mean. Not here? Public sex is not one of my kinks.”

And of course that was when the waiter showed up. Because she wasn’t actually blushing hard enough to light up the city yet.

The waiter at least didn’t say anything. “Good evening,” he said, “My name is James, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Can I get you started with something this evening?”

“I’m sorry,” Zoey said, and fumbled for the menu. “I’m not sure—do you have a shandy?”

James nodded. “Orange and lemon,”

“Orange, please,” she said. “That would be great.”

James turned towards Alex. “And for you sir? We have a variety of bottled beers.” He listed off several really cheap national beers, completely unaware—or uncaring—that Alex’s face was growing steadily more set. Zoey watched, a little surprised. She wasn’t completely naive, and she’d grown up in the South, she knew micro aggressions when she saw them, but she was used to them being—well, much more subtle. And not happening in front of her, for Christ’s sake.

“Sorry,” Alex interrupted. “Do you have anything locally brewed?” His intonation made it a question, but his eyes were far less quietly curious.

The waiter bristled. “Obviously,” he said.

“I was just curious,” Alex said, in that same level tone, his smile broad and friendly, “Because I wasn’t sure why you weren’t telling me about the chocolate raspberry stout that the Times reviewer raved about last month.”

“I thought—” The waiter said, and then his mouth snapped shut. His jaw worked for a moment, and then he found his smile again, though the edges had gotten decidedly more tight. “Would you care for a pint, sir?”

Alex nodded, utterly gracious. “That would be fantastic,” he said. “We’ll need another minute to look at the menus, I think.”

Zoey watched the waiter leave, and worked to keep her mouth from hanging open. Alex turned to his menu like nothing had happened. “I’m—” she fought for words for a moment. “I’m really sorry about that.”

He didn’t meet her eyes, didn’t even look up. “You aren’t the one who ought to be apologizing.”

“I’ve never—”

He did look up at her then, and there was a layer of pain in his eyes that she hadn’t been expecting. “I was hoping we’d get through at least a few dates before you’d have to witness something like that. I’d really rather not hash into it tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay,” she said. And then her brain caught up to her ears. “A few dates? Are we on a date?” Was that her, making that high pitched squeaky sound? There was nothing good or graceful about that. At all. The way he was grinning wasn’t a great sign for her continued calm either.

“Food first,” he said. “And then talking. I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up something of an appetite today.” His knees bumped hers under the table. Even that little bit of contact was electric. She forced her eyes down onto the menu and read the dozens of different kinds of burgers that were offered. She couldn’t make sense of half the words, not because they were fancy, just because she couldn’t stop thinking about his promise to lick her until she screamed.

In the end, she chose a bacon burger with Swiss cheese and sauteed mushrooms; he picked a California burger with guacamole. She tried not to look at the prices; she was fairly sure they were going to give her palpitations if she thought about them too hard. Alex was scrupulously careful placing his order; he essentially made it so that the waiter didn’t have to ask any additional questions. Zoey, to compensate, took her sweet time, making him drag out of her how she wanted the burger cooked, what she wanted for a side, and what kind of fries she would prefer. Alex was grinning by the end; when the waiter left and she winked at him, he rolled his eyes.

“So you’re from the south,” he said.

She nodded. “Outside Covington, Louisiana.”

“How long have you been in the city?”

“Three years. Came to pursue the dream, found out dreams are expensive. What about you? You’ve lived in the city your whole life, haven’t you?”

“More or less,” he said. “My mother has a place upstate, and my father kept apartments in a couple different cities, but I grew up here. School in Connecticut, college in Boston. But New York, born and bred.”

“What do you do, when you’re not carousing, beating up willing women, or running multi-national corporations?”

“Carousing,” he said, laughing. “You are from the south, aren’t you?”

“And proud of it, sha,” she said, before she thought better of it.

“You’ve said that a few times,” he said. “It’s not something I’m familiar with. What does it mean?”

Goddamnit, if she blushed one more time, she was going to start wearing a surgeon’s mask to go out in public. “It’s kind of like dear, or sweetheart, most of the time. It comes from cher.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.” He took a bite of his burger, and she had to love the face he made. Pure, delighted pleasure at well cooked food. It was nice to know that someone could be a billionaire and still love burgers. He wiped some avocado off his lip, then met her eyes while he licked his fingertip clean. She reminded herself again that crawling into his lap would probably get them banned, and giving his reputation, she’d probably end up making an appearance in her own crappy paper. When the first reminder didn’t work, she reminded herself again, must more firmly. “I like to run,” he said. “I don’t get to run in the city as much as I want to, but I try to keep up on a treadmill enough that I don’t humiliate myself when I get the chance to run somewhere else. I have a secret passion for really bad science fiction movies, the kind they used to make the joke movies about, with the robots, and the janitor?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you some time.” He said it so casually. “I was a pain in the ass for a lot of years. And now that I’m less of a pain in the ass, the media seems determined to turn me into a pain in the ass, just so that people will keep clicking headlines about me. I haven’t trashed a hotel room or gotten thrown out of a club in five years, I’ll have you know.” He chewed for a moment, and took a long pull off his beer. “And what about you? Journalist, novelist, or poet?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s three types of people who move to New York to make their living writing. My money’s on journalist; if you were a novelist or a poet, you’d be getting coffee for an editor somewhere, hoping he’d take a look at your manuscript sooner or later.”

“Guilty as charged,” she said.

“So what made a young Zoey Gardener look up and say, ‘I know, I want to pursue a career in a profession that’s slowly dying?”

She told herself that he didn’t mean to be rude and dismissive. He was probably trying for flip and goofy. Hitting him would be ridiculously out of line, no matter how tempting it felt in the moment. “I don’t know,” she said. “What made a not so young Alexander Blankenship decide to take over his philandering father’s company and keep selling the kind of weapons that are sooner or later going to kill all of us?”

She had probably gone way too far. It was too close to what she’d said this afternoon. To her surprise, though, he went still for a moment, then shrugged. “Touche,” he said continuing on his burger.

“Journalism isn’t dying,” she said. “It’s evolving. And I want to be part of the evolution. I want to help drive it towards its next great thing.”

“And you’re doing that at the Downtown Voice?”

“God, no. But they pay my rent—barely—and I do my time. Sooner or later, I’ll break something big, and I’ll be able to get the kind of attention I need to move up.”

“I don’t know, I thought your work on the guy who was jerking off in the faces of all those little old ladies on the subway was stellar.”

In an odd way, it felt like an apology. She decided to take it as one. For now, at least.

“And so this is where AEGIS comes in.”

She nodded. “I’m seeing some things that don’t add up. Like—”

He wasn’t paying any attention at all. His burger hung in slack fingers, and he was staring up at the TV that graced the bar behind her. She would have been mad if it had been some sort of sporting even on, but he was staring at the nightly news. “What’s the matter?”

He didn’t say anything, just gestured at her to be silent. She couldn’t hear the report. The anchor was talking, the ticker said something about a murder, and there was a picture of a man in his early thirties or so, who had a Latino look about him. While Alex stared at the screen, apparently trying to lip read the news anchor, Zoey pulled out her phone. She tapped search terms in quickly, and ended up finding the breaking news on a local new group’s Twitter feed. She scanned the article until the report ended, and Alex’s attention drifted back down to the table. His hands were clenched in fists, his knuckles pale. She reached out tentatively, lightly brushing her fingertips over the backs of his hands. He glanced up, as if he were surprised to find out that she was there with him. “Did you know him?” she asked.

He shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “I’ve never met that man in my life.”

She waited, her journalistic instincts kicking in. He had some sort of story to tell her, and he wasn’t going to blab unless she kept quiet. He wasn’t pushing her hand away, and that was actually a good thing.

“He was at my office this afternoon,” he said, his voice so quiet she had trouble hearing him, and she leaned in closer. “Well, not my office. Olivia’s office.” His eyes caught hers. “My mother.” She nodded for him to go on. “His name—she called him Arturo. I thought he was—you know, someone she was seeing. A friend.” He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “She never said anything. But she would deserve—anyway. I saw him this afternoon. Why is he dead?”

Zoey glanced down at her phone. “The police haven’t released a ton of details yet, but he was a contractor in the city, ran a fairly well regarded company. They’d gotten some good projects from businesses, kept them pretty busy, and making decent money. He was killed in his office. Looks like foul play.”

Alex rocked back like he’d been hit. She didn’t dare to tell him the other details she’d found, and why she’d recognized Arturo’s name, even before she’d started searching on her phone. Not yet, anyway. Not in public.

Alex stared down at his half eaten burger and pushed it away. “I can’t eat this,” he said. “Let’s go.” He pulled out his wallet and yanked some cash out, tossing it down. Zoey’s eyes widened; it was twice what the meal had cost.

“Should we get change? Box up the left overs?”

He was walking, not talking, and he was halfway to the front door. There was a not small part of her that wanted to just let him go. She owed him nothing, and she didn’t know him from Adam, not really.

But it was against her nature to let a distressed person take off on their own in a city like this. He could walk into traffic and be hit by a car. End up with amnesia, starring in some horrible reality show. If she could save anyone from a fate like that, it was practically her responsibility.

She shrugged into her peacoat, and then wolfed down the last bite of her burger, chewing as she hurried after him. Responsibility was all well and good, but she wasn’t sure when she’d next get to taste a burger that someone dared to charge $40 for.

Alex had stopped just outside the door. He had his cell phone out, but he was staring at it owlishly, as if he was utterly drunk. The looks people were giving him were completely disgusting, way out of line for the looks that a guy blocking up the side walk in New York City would usually get. She glared back at anyone who dared to make eye contact with her, and guided Alex back, out of the immediate flow of foot traffic. She took his phone from his fingers and glanced at it. It was similar to hers, although his was the newest model, and hers was a few years old, but it was close enough to work. “Who are we trying to call, Alex?”

He stared off at the cars flowing by for a moment, then blinked, and seemed to come back to her just a little bit. “David,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, and it came out a little stronger. “My driver.” He pointed at the favorites icon, and she tapped it for him, then tapped the icon to make a call. She held the phone out to him, but he was staring again. She sighed, and hoped for the best.

Someone picked up after the second ring. “Hello, Mr. Blankenship?” The voice had that pseudo-British accent that she’d loved until she’d become friends with Helen, and now grated horribly on her nerves.

“Nope, actually, this is Zoey Gardener. I, um, was having dinner with Mr. Blankenship, and he’s ready to be—picked up now?”

David, thankfully, seemed utterly nonplussed by this conversation. Hell, it might not have been the weirdest call he’d ever received about the illustrious Mr. Blankenship. He got the address from her, and assured her that a car would arrive shortly.

Alex had sagged against the side of the building. She reached out, running her hand along his arm. “The car’s on the way,” she said. “And then we can talk, and you can tell me what’s going on.”

He nodded, his face wooden. She reached up and touched his cheek, feeling the heat that burned through his skin. His eyes focused then, and he reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her tight against him. He turned them, pressing her back into the rough brick. Someone whistled as he ran his hand over her hair. His eyes were gleaming with an entirely different type of need as he lowered his mouth to hers.

In a way, it felt like a first kiss. The way her body leapt in response, the way he made a soft sound into her mouth as her hands wrapped around his neck, the way she leaned into him, letting him take her weight. His hands stayed perfectly chaste, wrapped around her waist, but his hips weren’t even polite. She could feel him, impossibly hard, feather light presses against the small of her back making her brush over him, reminding her of what he had, who he was, what she wanted.

It had been a very long time since she’d had a first kiss. Because it wasn’t just about the first time you kissed someone, it was about that feeling that you weren’t just kissing them right now, you were kissing them in such a way that the moment was going to stretch out into the future. It was going to pick you up and carry you along. It was a kiss that said there would be more kisses after this one, and not just kisses. There would be intimacies, there would be give and take. There would be shared secrets and quiet conversations.

She didn’t think it was the same for him. No, she had a sense that he was using her right now, using her to center himself and push away whatever horrible thing was happening in his mind, and she didn’t care. The kiss was what it was to her, and it was absolutely fine for it to be something else to him. She dragged her nails down the nape of his neck as she opened her mouth to him and kissed him back, teasing his tongue with hers, nipping at his lips with her teeth, urging him on until he broke away from her, shaking just a little in her hands. 

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, stroking his hand over her hair again. “I’m sorry. That man—”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said. “It’s okay.”

“No. No, it’s really not.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s okay that we wait to talk about it.”

He accepted that, and his hands tightened around her, pulling her in for another kiss. This one was quieter, softer, his lips just teasing over hers, light kisses one after another. They lit her on fire, and she had to work hard to remember that they were in public. It had been a long time since she’d wanted anyone this very much.

A crowd had assembled, she realized, as he pulled away again. He threaded his fingers through hers, keeping her close against his side, and she let her head rest on his shoulder. Some asshole whistled through his teeth, calling out that they should do it again, and Alex flipped the guy off with a casual sort of irritation that had frightened her when she first moved to the city. It was utterly unlike her home, where people either smiled in public and then ranted in private, or full on tried to kill each other on the street. There was none of this quiet contempt. It just was not done.

When it became clear that they weren’t going to continue making out on the sidewalk, and that Alex wasn’t going to punch the whistler, the crowd shuffled on. Zoey shivered, just a little, and Alex wrapped his arm around her.

“This isn’t going to be a casual thing, is it?” he asked her.

“I really suck at casual,” she said.

“I’m pretty horrible at serious.”

It stung to hear, but it didn’t make her want him any less. She tried to think of her heart as walled off, quietly blockaded from his delicious hands and tongue and teeth. If she closed her eyes and squinted really hard, maybe it would at least seem like it made a difference. Right up until he broke her heart and left her in pieces.

At least I’ll have a better idea of what I want when he’s done, she told herself. That’s nothing to sneeze at, really. She’d just have to be very careful not to spend too much time thinking of him as anything other than fucking material.

“Maybe I’ll get better,” he said, and her heart did a little skip inside her ribcage.

“Don’t tease,” she said, before she thought better of it.

His arm tightened around her shoulders. She fit well against him. He was taller than her by several inches, enough that she could lean just slightly and slip under his shoulder, but not so tall that she felt overwhelmed by him. Which would work well if she could ever get him to put her up against a wall… She shook her head gently. That was a perfect example of the kind of thought that was dangerous to think. “You’ll find,” he said, his voice a low rumble that was only for her ears, “that I only tease in bed, and only if you’ve been very, very bad.”

“Do you like it when I’m a naughty girl?” She couldn’t stop herself, just like she imagined he couldn’t stop the little rush of air from his throat.

“Oh princess,” he said. And then a long black car pulled up to the curb, and something changed in Alex’s bearing. He walked briskly to the car; Zoey had to move quickly to keep from being towed along like a little kid. He opened the back seat door for her, and she slid in. He followed her, pulling the door shut behind her.

The quiet once the car door shut was nearly absolute. All the noise of the city was shut out, and replaced with quiet music. Classical. Mozart, she was fairly sure. “Thank you, David,” Alex said. “I’m sorry for the short notice. I hope you didn’t have to cut your evening short.”

“I live to serve,” the driver said in a dry tone that made Alex laugh.

“Sorry to do this to you,” Alex said, before flipping a switch that raised a partition between the back seat and the front. Zoey heard a quiet chuckle before the front of the car sealed off, but instead of reaching for her again, instead of winding his fingers into her hair and leaving bruises on her ribs with tight and hard fingers, he opened a cooler and passed her a bottle of well chilled water.

It was such an abrupt transition that she almost retreated. One moment, he was the man who spanked her ass until it stung and kissed her in streets until crowds gathered; the next he was the CEO of a multi-national company that had its fingers in every pie that had been baked in the United States for fifty years. She didn’t quite know what to say, so she went for something totally obvious.

“You have your own driver?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes. And a private jet, and a housekeeper. The house in Connecticut has horses. Olivia has a sailboat the size of the Hamptons, but I hate it. I get seasick.” His expression dared her to comment on any of it, and she zipped her lips. She kept herself from making the gesture that went along with the emotion. Barely.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” he said, but he didn’t relax. His gaze shifted out the window. The glass was tinted; they could see out, but anyone looking in would only see their own reflection. “My father was a stingy bastard,” he said. “Olivia donates to a few charities, but none of them—well, they’re all run by her friends, and her donations always seem to come back to her in the form of invitations and jewelry and whatever else. That’s not who I’m going to be.”

“I live in a studio apartment in the Bronx. I don’t have room in my apartment for a desk and a sofa, so I do that thing where I pretend that it’s comfortable to sit on the floor and work on my coffee table.”

His eyes were cold as they turned back to her. “And that’s my fault, because I was lucky enough to be born into a wealthy family?”

She shook her head. “Nope. But you were sharing some uncomfortable things about you, so I thought I should do the same.”

Alex watched her for a long moment, his eyes studying her. She had the sense he was looking for any hint of mockery, any sign at all that she was teasing him. He didn’t find it. She made sure he didn’t find it. “You mean that,” he said. His voice was quietly wondrous.

“I do,” she said.

He took her hand again and tugged her towards him. She slid across the seat and kept her eyes on his as one of his hands came to her chin, the other to the small of her back. He softly tilted her face up as he kissed her, and this time, there wasn’t a crowd to encourage them to keep the kiss chaste. She made a whimpering sound in her throat and he groaned against her, pulling her sideways into his lap as he bit at her lower lip. She could feel his erection against the backs of her thighs, and she shifted a little. He slapped at her butt; she barely felt the contact, but she gave him the little yip she knew he wanted from her.

“I am going to keep my promise to you,” he said, his voice closer to a growl than anything else. “But first, we need to talk business. I need to know everything you know about Arturo. Everything you even suspect about my father, about AEGIS, about the will. I need to know what’s going on, Zoey, and I’m starting to think that there’s no one else I can trust. Not even my mother.”

“Not your mother? What do you think she has to do with it? Just because he was in her office—”

He was shaking his head. “No, that’s not it,” he said. “I think—God, this is hard to say. I think Arturo might have been—well, a half sibling of mine. And I think my mother just might have had him killed to protect my inheritance.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Zoey sat perfectly still in the back of the town car that was driving her God knew where. Alex’s home seemed the most likely destination, but with the dark light that shone in his eyes, she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask him. She had absolutely no fear that he would hurt her—well, not unless she begged him to—but there was a level of determination in his eyes that made her not want to do anything that would make her look like prey to the predator. The man had just, with a completely calm expression, accused his mother of murder. She’d known since the first time she saw Alexander Blankenship in the club that he was a force to be reckoned with; this was the first time it had occurred to her that he might actually be dangerous.

In her view, there were two ways she could respond to what he’d said. She could act like a girlfriend, reaching out to touch his hand and try to tell him that everything would be okay. She thought he’d probably respond all right to that, but he would probably try and reassure her back. It might help; comforting her might let him feel more in control of what was happening, which might help him be calm and cool. But at the same time, it said that she didn’t think he could control himself, that he was someone who needed to be soothed.

So she went with the second option. She just answered his questions. “The trouble is,” she said, “That I have a lot of suspicions, but not much I can actually prove. Where do you want to start? Philip, Arturo, or AEGIS?”

“Olivia,” he said. There was a light strain to her voice. “Do you think she could have had something to do with all of this?”

She shook her head very slowly. “I don’t know, Alex. She wasn’t something I was looking into this afternoon. I don’t know her personally, so I don’t have a read on whether or not she’s capable of arranging a murder.”

He nodded, his face quiet, but the expression in his eyes was deeply wounded. Not by her, she thought. By the fact that he felt the need to ask. It was one of those questions where the asking said more than the answering ever could. “Philip, then.”

“I suspect you know a lot of this.” She reminded herself briefly that she was speaking about this man’s father, and then dove in. “The stories are everywhere. The gossip columns had him paired with a different woman every month, and sometimes, after he was gone, the women in question were pregnant. Sometimes, they seemed to have greater means than they’d had before he was there. None of the women were ever willing to publicly state the father of their children, and he never claimed any of them publicly.”

Alex nodded. “The old man fucked anything that moved. Especially if it was paler than my mother.”

Responding to that was harder than she’d anticipated. “That was a source of tension between them?”

Another nod. “If you ask Olivia, he misused her, and only married her in order to prevent her father from trying to ruin Philip.” Alex’s eyes were far away, seeing another time and another conversation. “He used to say that she was the cow he had to accept to get Grandpa’s fortune.” The corners of his mouth bent upwards, but the expression he wore wasn’t quite a smile. “I figure there had to be a middle ground. They had to have liked each other at some point. There must have been a moment, even if it was only one, where they got along.”

Zoey thought back over the articles she’d found in the archives of the different papers around the cities. The fights in public, the screaming. More than once, the police had been summoned. If that moment had happened, it was before the new Mrs. Blankenship had found herself in the public eye. “Absolutely,” she said.

He gave her a small smile, the sort that said that he didn’t believe her even a little bit, but he appreciated the consideration. “And Arturo. Was he ever connected to my father?”

“Did you know that AEGIS gives scholarships to a certain number of highly qualified New York City college kids every year?”

“Of course. It’s part of a recruitment program, to try and get a more diverse applicant pool into the STEM divisions of the company.”

“Did you know that Arturo was one of the scholarship students, just a few years ago?”

Alex’s eyes locked onto her with that same scrutinizing gaze that made her want to sink into the seat and disappear. “No, he wasn’t. That’s been one of the few fields I’ve never neglected. I’ve been part of the award ceremony every years since its inception. The old man was determined that his son would be seen “giving back,” especially since I did my best to take his place in the gossip rags as much as possible. I would know if I’d shaken his hand.”

Zoey pulled out her tablet and tapped to one of the pages she’d saved, then passed the tablet to Alex. She knew what he’d see, but she also knew he needed to see it. Arturo Soprano. 2010. Alex’s knuckles were pale as he clung to the tablet. “What’s interesting, though, is that as far as I can tell, Arturo Soprano never went to college. He’s listed as winning the scholarship, and then a few months later, he opens his construction company. And right away, the company’s doing great, it’s getting contracts from big companies, he’s doing renovations and interior design work instead of the crusty gross stuff most companies need to do in the early days to make ends meet. And he did an interview a few years back, where he credited his success to the confidence and support of a venture capital firm. When I went looking for the VC firm—it didn’t exist.”

“What do you mean it didn’t exist?”

She shrugged. “I mean that if there ever was such a thing as Wilfred Venture, it never had an Internet presence. No Facebook page, no website, no contact information. No Yelp reviews. Nothing. It didn’t exist. I didn’t get as far as digging down into incorporation records, I ran out of time, but that would have been my next step.”

Alex’s mouth had grown thin. Whether he was pressing his lips together with rage or pain, she couldn’t tell for sure. “You don’t need to,” he said. “Wilfred Venture—Wilfred was the old man’s middle name, his father’s name. He hated his father, probably more than I hated him, if such a thing can be imagined. He had a small fund of company money that he invested in projects which were of personal interest to him, but where he didn’t want to spend his time selling the board on using AEGIS funds. He called it Wilfred’s Ventures. Because they never panned out, the company never saw a return on those investments.”

“You think that’s the connection?”

“It makes sense,” Alex said. His scrubbed his hand over his mouth for a moment, then rubbed at his eyes as if he were trying to wake himself up.

The car stopped, and after a moment, there was a soft tap on the window. Zoey jumped, and Alex’s expression flipped like someone had turned a switch, moving from the cold and remote expression of a businessman to that of the man who owed her sexual favors in return for her research. “David’s just letting us know he’s there. He’ll give us a moment to put our clothes back on before he opens the door.”

Zoey glanced down. “My clothes are on.”

“He doesn’t know that. He’s been driving for me since I was 12. He doesn’t want to know what I get up to back here.”

“Is that—um—a thing you get back to up here?”

Alex went still for a moment. “Sometimes. But never on the way home. I’ve never brought women to my home before.” He smiled faintly. “That’s not a line. It’s—well, it’s never been necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I always got invited to her bedroom long before now.”

Zoey felt her cheeks flare. “I have a Murphy bed. It squeaks, and it’s lumpy. Most of the time I sleep on my couch. It’s more comfortable.”

“It’s all right,” he said, and that faint smile, the one she was starting to realize that she trusted more than the big CEO grin, was brushing his lips again. “I’m not upset that you didn’t ask me back to the Bronx. I’ve had a lot of sex over the years, Zoey. More than a lot of men I know, less than the gossip sites would like to believe. Is that a problem?”

“No,” she said, and she meant it. “Just curious.”

Alex tapped back on the window with one knuckle, and the door opened, as if by magic. He stepped out of the car, then reached a hand back towards her. She scooted over to the door, then put her hand in hers, her bag over her shoulder, and followed Alex towards the high rise apartment building.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

She’d thought the reception area in the AEGIS building was opulent, but it looked like a poor hotel that had been through the wars compared to the open floor of the building in front of them. There was a doorman who nodded respectfully to Alex; she was quite sure that the would have sniffed and ignored her if she’d walked up to the door alone. Alex did have to push the elevator button all by himself, though. Zoey resisted the temptation to ask if the pressure had bruised his finger. He also had to swipe a key card; the why became clear as the elevator soared up to the penthouse, and the door opened directly into the entryway of an apartment that practically vibrated with wealth. It wasn’t any particularly ostentatious thing. There wasn’t an original Monet or Jackson Pollack or something hung where she could see it, and it wasn’t like the furniture still had price tags hanging from it, just to emphasize the fact that the foot bench directly across from the elevator probably cost three months of her income. It was just—well, everything. Every small detail, combined with the fact that the place was museum-levels of spotless. No one who actually worked full time could keep their own home this ready for a magazine spread.

Alex was watching her carefully, and she fought down the instinct to spin in place while letting out a low whistle. “Where should I put my shoes?” she finally asked. It seemed like a neutral enough question, and it made him smile.

“Just there, if you don’t mind,” he said. She kicked off her clogs and set down her bag next to them. And then Alex took her hand in his again, reeling her in without any hesitation. She couldn’t have resisted if she wanted to—socks plus hardwood meant that she slipped over the floor at the least little effort from him. She giggled as he tugged her into his arms. “Hello,” he said. His hand skimmed over her waist to splay over the top of her butt in a possessive and delightful gesture that she was more than happy to lean into. “I seem to remember that you had some horrible, awful bruises that you wanted to complain about.”

The switch of topic was abrupt and disconcerting, but she had no idea how she would be processing this sort of information. It wasn’t her place to tell him how to react or what to feel about what he was learning today. Besides, his hands in her hair were warm and taunting, and she could feel him shifting against her, teasing her with his interest. There must be a million places in this apartment to fuck. He could bend me over a couch, fuck me on a table, up against a wall—holy shit, what kind of toys must he have here? A tiny whisper of a moan escaped her lips, and she pulled his mouth down to hers. Her lips were open just a bit, and with a sharp inhale, his tongue was plundering her, his hands tight and hard on her flesh. He pressed her back two steps, until her back came into contact with the wall, and then his hand reached down for the back of her thigh, pulling her leg up to wrap around him. In her fitted slacks, she couldn’t get it as high as she wanted, to wrap around his waist and show off her flexibility, but she didn’t care. His hand was on her breast, doing terrible, delightful things to her nipple, and she didn’t care where her leg was, just as long as he didn’t stop.

So when someone standing very, very close to them cleared their throat, Zoey choked back a vicious curse. Alex froze for a moment, then quietly tucked his hand into the back pocket of Zoey’s pants and gave her ass one more squeeze. He turned his head to the side and smiled at the girl who stood next to them, her arms crossed and her left eyebrow arched.

Her resemblance to Alex was the first thing that gave Zoey a little faith that she hadn’t walked into some incredibly awkward situation. She had the same medium brown skin, though her long black hair fell in looser curls than Alex’s. They had exactly the same eyes, big and bright, with irises a deep dark brown that radiated confidence. The girl was athletically built instead of model thin. She had thighs that looked like they could run a marathon, and arms that could keep up. Lacrosse, maybe, or field hockey. She had Alex’s small smile playing over her lips. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said, and the sheer delight of her voice gave Zoey the final clue she needed. She disentangled herself from Alex and stuck her hand out.

“Zoey Gardener,” she said. “You must be Claire.”

The teenager was clearly taken aback. Her eyes flicked to Alex for a moment before taking Zoey’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Zoey,” Claire said. “Alex didn’t mention he was bringing home company.”

“That’s because you didn’t mention that you were coming over,” Alex said.

“Did too. The fact that you don’t check your phone remains not my fault.” She had a stubborn set to her features that made Zoey control a giggle. Claire saw it, though, and gave Zoey a conspiratorial wink. “He’ll forget his head if you don’t remind him to stick it in the car. Better yet, remind David. That’ll get the job done.”

“Claire.” There was the tiniest hint of a threat in Alex’s voice. It was brotherly, but there was more to it than that. Ten years difference between them, from what she’d seen in the papers. How much had Alex been Claire’s big brother, and how much had he been her father figure?

Claire gave a little pout, and squeezed Zoey’s hand one more time before letting it go. “We’ll girl talk later,” she said.

Alex had pulled out his phone, grimaced, and then punched a few buttons. “Sorry,” he said. “I put it to silent when we went out, and then—it was a long night.”

Claire gave Zoey a very knowing look, and Zoey smiled back. It wasn’t her place to correct the other girl’s assumptions about why exactly her older brother had turned his phone off. “There’s something going on with Mom,” Claire said. “Aaron came over.”

Alex shrugged. “That’s nothing new.”

Claire’s eyes shifted to Zoey, then back to her brother again.

“Look, I should go,” Zoey said. “You guys need to talk, and I don’t want to be in the way—”

“No,” they both said together.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Claire said.

“We still need to finish our conversation,” Alex added. His tone seemed to imply something other than a conversation, but her body was still damp and yearning for the same thing, so she could hardly criticize.

A compromise occurred to her. “Let me set up my laptop somewhere, Alex. I’ll keep working on the project we were discussing, and you and Claire can do whatever you need to.”

He nodded. “That would be perfect, if you don’t mind. If it’d be more convenient for you, I can have David take you back to your house, and follow when we’re done here.”

“Please don’t,” Claire said, and they both turned to look at her. “Look, I’m sorry to say this in front of your girlfriend, Alex, but I don’t—I don’t want to go back home. I don’t want to be alone with Mom right now. Something’s going on, and—fuck it, Alex, I’m scared.”

He nodded. “Of course. Have you seen Sophia? Have her make you a snack while I show Zoey to the guest room and get her settled.”

“I’m really sorry that I’m interrupting your night, Zoey,” Claire said, and there was something about her eyes. This kid had seen more than she was going to let on in front of a stranger, but she needed her brother. No matter how horny Zoey felt, it wasn’t possible to be mad at her, not really.

“Don’t worry about it,” Zoey said. “Truthfully? If he told you to get lost so that he and I could—carry on our conversation, there’d be bigger issues to talk about anyway.”

The girl’s eyes glowed with relief, and something else. Fright, maybe. And tears. Holy shit, what had happened to this poor kid? “Thanks,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll go find Sophia, and I’ll meet you in the living room, okay, Alex?”

“Absolutely,” he said. His fingers stayed twined with Zoey’s as Claire disappeared down the hallway, and Zoey picked up her leather bag. “This way,” he said, leading her down another hallway.

He led her into a guest room that was as big as her entire studio. It was as personal as a hotel room, but a thousand times more lush. The bedding was a deep shade of violet, with a duvet in chocolate brown, and teal accent pillows. There was a chaise with a reading lamp, and a desk, set up with pen and paper, but it was about the right height to be used for a laptop as well. “Let me see your laptop,” he said, “I’ll put in the wifi passwords for you.” He set the laptop on the desk, waited while she punched in her own password, then connected it to his wireless. “I rather ran us out before either one of us finished dinner. Can I have Sophia make something for you?”

“Sophia is—?”

“My housekeeper.” She must have had a look, because Alex’s face got that quiet expression that Zoey was starting to associate with him choosing his words carefully. “You won’t be keeping her from anything; she’s ‘on duty’ for another half hour, and if I needed anything from her after that, she gets a hefty bonus, and she knows it. I pay her well, because she does excellent work, and my household wouldn’t function without her.”

“I’m sorry,” Zoey said. “I’m not trying to judge you, this is all just—” She trailed off.

“New to you.”

“Yes.”

He stepped close to her again. “Let me put this another way. I promised you dinner tonight. Then I took it away before you got to eat it. I’m asking you to research something that could make your career even as I make it so that you feel you can’t use it.” His hands made a whispering sound over her sweater. She could practically hear conflict of interest on the air currents. “At least let me help you out while you’re doing it.”

Put like that, it was a lot harder to turn down. Mama would walk to New York City just to smack her if she heard about it, but—well. It was for one night. “Sure,” she said. “I don’t know what I want, though. Something simple, I guess.”

“Grilled cheese and soup? You look like you could use something comforting.”

“That sounds great,” she said. “And maybe some coffee, if there’s decaf.”

He snorted. “I’m sure she keeps some for guests.”

“Death before decaf?”

“I mean, if you’re worried about staying up all night, I’ll be happy to help you work out the energy.” His hand cupped her breast, teasing at her, and her moan was much closer to a groan this time.

“Go take care of your sister,” Zoey said, because the alternative was begging him to fuck her where she stood, and she honestly didn’t know how much longer she could keep the words behind her teeth.

He nodded. “Don’t feel like you have to spend the time researching. There’s an eBook reader in the nightstand, and Sophia keeps a pretty up to date variety of books on the house account. Relax a little bit.” That faint smile gave her shivers this time. His eyes seemed to see deep inside of her, and the crinkles around the edges made her think that he liked what he saw. “I don’t think you do that a whole lot.”

“Maybe not as much as I should,” she said. “Now go. And come back.”

“I promise to do both.” He brushed his lips against hers again, and then he was gone.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

In the living room, Claire was curled up in a corner of the couch, her entire body wrapped around a cup of tea. “Sophia’s making sandwiches,” she said, without looking up. “She asked if you’d want a drink. I told her that you’d probably make it yourself, if you did.”

Two fingers of whiskey sounded delightful right now, but that was the best reason in the world to avoid it. “What happened at home?” He sat down across from her. Claire studied the ripples in the surface of her tea; her hands were shaking. “You said Aaron came over?”

Claire nodded. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“Claire, did he hurt you? If he so much as looked at you wrong—” He choked back the urge to threaten to rip the man to shreds. Aaron Schwartz was his mother’s personal assistant, and there had been something creepy about the guy as long as Alex had known him. His eyes tended to rest on both Claire and Olivia in a strange way. It wasn’t as if he found them attractive, more just—disrespectful. His relationship with Alex had been adversarial since Alex hit junior high school and started to fill out through the shoulders. Of course, Alex’s relationship with his father had always been adversarial; he hadn’t realized there was anything particularly off about that until he’d seen his friend Leo with his father. The dynamic had been so different, and the young man Alex had been had wanted to be a part of that so very much.

None of that had anything to do with Claire, or the suddenly panicked look in her eyes. She didn’t need to hear how Alex would shred the man, strong and white though he might be. For her, Alex got a grip on his temper and forced it back and out of the way. “You can tell me anything, Clary. What happened?”

Claire wrinkled her nose at the nickname, but it was the first reaction she’d really given him since he sat down. “They were fighting. Aaron and Mom. They were screaming at each other. Olivia kept shrieking that he shouldn’t have done it, that they should have found another way, and he was screaming at her to keep her voice down. He pushed her into a wall, Alex, like Daddy used to. I thought he was going to kill her. And then he saw me.” Her knuckles were tight around her mug.

“Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “But I think he would have, Alex. I think he would have, if I hadn’t run. I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry you didn’t see my message, I’m sorry I ruined your date—”

Tears were streaming down his sister’s face, and he reached out to her, taking the cup of tea and setting it on the table. She curled up in his arms, and cried quietly for a little bit. He stroked her curls and tried to let his urge to comfort her show, not the desire to go obliterate the man who had dared to frighten his precious baby sister.

After a little while, she pulled back, wiping at her eyes. He handed her a tissue, and she carefully blotted under her eyes, picking up the eye makeup that had run. “I’m really sorry,” she said.

“Does Olivia know where you are?”

“You should call her Mom,” Claire said. “It breaks her heart that you don’t.”

He didn’t bother to answer. By the time Claire had been born, their parents had basically maintained separate homes, married only on paper. She hadn’t had to live through the hell that had ensued while they were still trying to pretend they gave a shit about each other, and not just what they could get from each other.

“Does she know you’re here?”

Claire shrugged.

“I have to let her know,” he said. “I’ll make sure she isn’t going to just burst in and demand that you come home.”

“If she tried, Sophia would kneecap her.”

Alex chuckled. The girl wasn’t wrong. Sophia had come with the penthouse, for all intents and purposes, but he’d hired her on full time, and he had told Zoey the truth about what he paid her. He’d found the compensation packages that every person in his social sphere offered their live-in housekeepers, and then he’d topped them all, and told Sophia to tell him if anyone tried to make her a better offer, that he’d match it. She adored his little sister nearly as much as he did, and would probably have less patience than he would for anyone who made Claire cry.

On queue, Sophia brought in a tray of sandwiches. Chicken salad, it looked like, along with chips and salsa. Sophia was a wiry woman, in her forties. Her hair was blonde, threaded with white strands, and her hairs were a crystal shade of blue. Her skin was the extreme pale of northern Europe. “Thank you,” Alex said. “It looks like Claire’s going to be staying with us for tonight, maybe a bit longer than that.”

Sophia nodded and smiled at the girl. “Excellent,” she said. “I changed the sheets on your bed just the other day, Claire, everything should be all set for you.”

“We have another guest as well,” Alex said, and from the flicker of amusement in Sophia’s bright blue eyes, she already knew that. “Zoey Gardener will be staying with us for tonight. She’s in the west room. If you wouldn’t mind, she’d love some soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, maybe a cup of coffee.”

“Of course,” Sophia said. “Will she be here for breakfast in the morning?”

It was absolutely scandalous, the way everyone around him seemed to be just so delighted that he’d finally brought someone home. He didn’t dare walk out of the room; Claire and Sophia would probably start tittering about something as soon as he did. Dammit. “Yes, I believe so,” he said, trying to make it sound like there was some doubt.

“Anything else tonight?”

“I don’t think so,” Alex said. “I’ll take care of the dishes once Claire and I are done.”

“I’ll make sure to have a lunch in the fridge for you in the morning, Claire. Coffee for you?”

Claire wrinkled up her pert nose again. “Absolutely not. Thank you, Sophia.”

Sophia nodded, and left the room, her soft bottomed shoes making a shushing sound as they slipped over the hardwood.

“So,” Claire said, her voice stronger, which of course meant that she was ready to tease her brother, “Tell me about your new girlfriend.”

He shook his head. “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just—” There was no word to describe what Zoey was. Someone he met at a club, fucked until his balls ached, and then fantasized about for hours on end? “Someone I took on a date,” he finished. It sounded completely transparent, even to him. Claire was grinning like a maniac.

“Took on a date, and then brought home, something which is, as far as I know, unique in the history of Alexander Blankenship.” She nudged him with one toe. “Come on, big brother, spill. Give me the deets. Did you meet her somewhere swanky? Or in some skanky dive you’re afraid to tell me about?”

He shook his head. “She’s a journalist. For the Downtown Voice.”

Claire wrinkled her nose again. “Seriously?”

He laughed. “Not everyone has the connections to go straight to the Times, Clary. And some of the people who do would be better off working in the trenches a little bit, and appreciating what they get.” Which was quite a speech from a guy who inherited his father’s company, but that wasn’t the point. He was trying to create a teachable moment without talking to his little sister about kinky sex.

“So, what, she was interviewing you?”

“Basically.” Begging him to keep spanking her, admiring the red marks on her ass in the shape of his long fingers—yeah, that was the same. Absolutely.

“You’re not going to tell me anything interesting, are you?”

“Nope,” he said, and poked her back with a finger. “Not until you’re of age. Though I’m happy to tell you that there’s a supply of condoms in the bathroom off my room, and if you need some, take some. I’m too gorgeous to be an uncle.”

Claire snorted. “Mom would kill me dead if I made her a grandmother before she was sixty.”

“Finally, a point on which we agree,” he said.

“All right, all right,” Claire said. Her fingers were relaxed now, instead of twisting around each other, over and over. “I have some homework to do, and I suppose I should keep up the responsible exterior. And you should go boink your girlfriend.”

He didn’t know what to object to, boinking or girlfriend, so he settled for thwapping her with a pillow while she giggled hysterically. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said.

“I’ll let Sophia know,” she said. “You, I am too smart to disturb.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

As soon as he was outside of Claire’s sight, the rage and fear rose in his throat, threatening to choke off his air. Aaron Schwartz had been part of his mother’s sphere for so long that Alex had stopped really worrying about the man’s intentions or designs. His pale, watery eyes were just part of the scenery in his mother’s house, which Alex had left as soon as he could. That spending too much time around Olivia was incredibly frustrating was one of the few things that Alex and Philip had always been able to agree on. His mother tended towards manipulation, and given the way she’d lived the last 30 years of her life, Alex could understand why, but it was incredibly tiring to always try and guess which of the many possible motivations was driving her now.

He’d never once considered Claire’s safety in that house. It should have been his first and only concern, and instead he’d just fled as soon as he could, and left her on her own. One more sin on the list for which he would have to atone. But later.

Now, he was driven by a very different need. His body surged with energy and adrenaline that he couldn’t control, couldn’t tamp back down. He needed an outlet for it.

He pushed open the door to Zoey’s room—he was already thinking of it like that, something which made part of him smile deep down—and kept tight control over his energy. She had kicked off her shoes, and was stretched out on the chaise, reading. She’d pulled reading glasses from somewhere, and twisted her hair up into a messy bun, secured with a pencil. He wanted to cross the room to her, rip her sweater off and nip at her breasts until she screamed, but he held himself still, forced himself to stay calm—until she smiled. There was so much acceptance in that small expression, so much invitation. She looked like a librarian fantasy come to life, and she wanted him, rampant energy and all.

He closed the door quietly behind him, but it was the last thing he expected to do quietly.

***

The tension in Alex’s eyes made Zoey’s breath catch in her throat. The rippling of his chest as he pulled his shirt over his head did more than that.

She loved the smooth planes of his body, the sense of strength without the intensity of a guy who spent more time at the gym than anything else. She’d never preferred men who looked like bodybuilders; Alex had a healthy musculature, and it made her body light on fire.

He crossed the floor quickly, settling down onto the chaise with her, his body pressing her down into its soft cushions. There was nothing soft about his embrace. His hands were hard, sharp, twisting and pinching at her body as she clung to him, etching her back with her nails and his shoulder with her teeth.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered, his teeth closed around her nipple through the layer of her sweater. She’d shed her bra when she’d leaned back to read.

“I’ll tell you if you do,” she said. It was naive to say he couldn’t; she knew he could. She also knew he wouldn’t do it on purpose.

Her sweater came off then, tossed across the room. He yanked at her jeans, and she heard the denim tear. He cursed, slowed down, and she dug her nails viciously into his shoulders to spur him on. He growled, and one more yank pulled her jeans free. Her panties followed, joining them on the floor. His own clothes came off, just as unceremoniously, and he was naked and splendid before her, his cock pulsing hard and gleaming with his fluid. His eyes were powerful and strong, and she reached out for him, wrapping her arms around him as he kissed her.

“Promised to lick you,” he said, softly, as if he were reminding himself. He pulled back from her a little, his forehead resting on hers as he seemed to struggle to catch his breath. “I promised.”

“Another time,” she replied. “Now, I think we both want something else.”

Gratitude shone in his eyes, and he didn’t waste time. He reached past her for a condom—she spared a single moment to be amused at how he seemed to have them stashed everywhere he ever was, but she pushed the train of thought away before she could wonder how many other women he’d had here. He sheathed himself in it, and then slid into her, his eyes fluttering closed in satisfaction as he plunged deep inside of her. She arched her back, accepting him utterly.

He thrust into her for a moment, almost idly, and then he pulled back, tugging at her hip. “Turn over. I want to see these bruises for myself.”

Her body sighed a little at the emptiness, but she obliged him, turning over, pressing her ass back to him. He knelt behind her, running his hands over her flesh. He paused every so often, planting his hands very carefully, and she imagined that he was matching finger tip to finger tip on some of the more livid bruises. The tip of him pressed into her, and as he slid into her, he let out such a groan of satisfaction that her body shuddered around him. He thrust into her again, a little more attentively this time, one hand holding her hip where he’d bruised her, the other holding the back of her neck.

The sensation was very different than the spanking the other night. She had the same sense that she could ask him to stop at any point, and he would, without question, but instead of pain making her walk that fine line tonight, it was the feeling that he was controlling her, that he was taking her, in the more archaic sense of the word, without regard to what she was feeling. No, that wasn’t it. Trusting that she was enjoying what he was doing, and trusting that if that enjoyment stopped, she would say something.

She wanted a different angle, more of their bodies pressing together. Her forehead was pressed into the couch, her ass up in the air, and she shifted, bracing her hands against the arm of the chaise, raising her torso until she was up at an angle from where he was buried in her. She had to spread her thighs wider to keep him from slipping out, but in return, he pressed into the front of her, rubbing deliciously over the delicate spot inside of her. One of his hands went from her hip to her breast, teasing and slapping at her nipple as he thrust into her, and sweat broke out along the line of her back. She brought one of her own hands to her clit and teased at the engorged nub. It was always a strange sensation, touching herself when she was so full of cock, and sometimes it didn’t do much to increase the arousal she was feeling, but this time—this time she swelled with the sensation, with his hot breath on her skin. His thrusts were pushing into frantic, his body shaking as he pounded into her, and while it felt amazing, her orgasm was still miles away when he shuddered into her, spasming and groaning into her ears. She let him carry her down to the chaise as he got rid of the condom, then tugged her back against him.

She let herself be wrapped up in the warm heat of his body as he snuggled her close, nipping at her neck and shoulder in an almost friendly gesture, his cock still giving little twitches as his body wound down from the heated peak.

It was almost a surprise as his fingers slid through her damp curls to brush her clit. She gasped, her hips bucking against him; with her pussy relaxed and soft again, the sensation ran through her like a freight train. “You don’t have to,” she gasped out.

He gave a breathy chuckle in her ear, and his other hand slid underneath her, pulling her to rest slightly on his chest, and give his hand better access to her nipples. Electricity surged through her as if he’d completed a circuit. Her body arched as she cried out, nothing holding her down or pressing her into the earth. “Oh my,” he breathed, and she whimpered at the sound moving through her. “What do you want, princess? This? My tongue? Something else?”

His tongue would be lovely, amazing, but telling him to stop was unthinkable. “Everything,” she said. “Everything at once.”

He laughed again. “Let’s start here, then,” he said, and his fingers picked up speed and intensity as she ground her hips into him, seeking more contact, more pressure, more everything, He licked and nipped at her neck, taunted the peak of her breast into a sharp point, and whispered to her about all the filthy things he intended to do to her. Binding her, tying her to a wall and masturbating just out of the reach of her mouth. Spanking her until she cried, then fucking her ass with his fingers and cock, his body slapping against her while her flesh was still tender and aching. Flogging her, clamping her nipples while he blindfolded her and beat her, a thousand little indignities and pains that made her gasp and buck and cry out until she spasmed against him, the orgasm spinning her out with a long, unwinding sound of luxurious pleasure.

“Oh my lord, sha,” she whispered, when she’d caught her breath, and he laughed again, pulling her tight against him. “What did she say to you to put you in such a mood?”

It wasn’t that it was the wrong question, but she felt him tense all at once. “Later,” he said, after a moment. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Sure,” she said. Sleep was coming up fast, anyway; she hadn’t slept well the night before, and it had been a long day today. She felt her body lift, cool sheets closing over her, and she snuggled into them. And then she felt something warm behind her, wrapping around her. She was surprised, and woke up enough to smile. She meant to turn over and snuggle into his shoulder, but before she could, sleep claimed her, and she fell deep down into the abyss of it all.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Zoey came awake to the soft beeping of the alarm on her phone. She held herself perfectly still for a moment, waiting for her brain to catch up with her body. The sheets around her were warm and smooth, crisp, and she was cradled in a bed that felt like the foam ones she bounced on at the stores when she wanted to fantasize about the good life. She stretched, carefully, but didn’t encounter another body. Maybe it had just been a dream that Alex had come to bed with her after their intense encounter late last night.

She fished her phone off the night table—he must have left it there, she was quite sure it had been in her bag when she’d been reading last night—and tapped the alarm off. She had a couple of emails she scrolled past, and a few new text messages. Nothing urgent.

She sat up, only realizing that she was nude when the sheets fell down to her waist. Her cheeks heated up; she’d never slept naked in her life. Tank tops and boxer shorts, every single night of her life. And her clothes were off the floor. So…she was trapped here? That was creepy.

No, not trapped. A plush looking velour bathrobe was draped over the foot of the bed. She snatched it up and wrapped it around her shoulders, then closed her eyes to drink in the deliciousness of the fabric shifting over her skin. It was one of the yummiest things she’d ever touched for more than a moment, and the way it brushed over her breasts was delightful.

She stuck her hands in the pockets and heard a piece of paper crinkle. She pulled it out, and found a note.

Let Sophia know how you take your coffee, and then find me in the workout room. —A

It was possible she was going to get the polite brush off now, but it seemed unlikely. Still, strutting around a man’s apartment in his bathrobe—the arms hung down past her hands in the goofiest way—and telling his housekeeper to get her coffee seemed bizarre to the extreme. At least, it was the not the life she’d ever lived, and not the life she’d expected to live. But she’d found herself falling into it, and maybe that would be okay. Just so long as Daddy never found out. Dating a black man, he wouldn’t care, but dating a rich man would probably break his heart. Mama, on the other hand, would be delighted for the chance to sashay around in New York society. She laughed thinking of it.

She’d encountered Sophia briefly last night when the woman had brought her a mug of coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich. It had been the most delicious food she’d had in recent memory, a blend of exquisite flavors that had only been improved by being dipped in the thickest tomato soup she’d ever had. She was fairly sure that it had never seen the inside of a can. She thought it might have been made out of actual tomatoes.

She tied the robe around her waist and rolled the arms up until she could see her hands. Alex wasn’t that much taller than her, but this thing was irrationally huge. He hadn’t bothered to tell her where the exercise room was, and the penthouse apartment was roughly the size of her parents house; it was time to go exploring.

She didn’t get far; just down the hall, Sophia was tidying up in the main hallway. “Good morning,” the woman said, without so much as a glance at Zoey’s attire. “Mr. Blankenship was waiting for you before he ate breakfast. He’s down the hall, exercising. He asked me to send you his way once you were awake. Sugar and cream?”

It took Zoey a moment to catch up. Her head felt fuzzy, almost like it was the first time she’d slept deeply in weeks. Months, maybe. Couches were great for naps, not so great for actual rest. “Yes,” Zoey said, after a bit. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Sophia said, with a small smile. She stood for a moment, and Zoey didn’t quite know what she was supposed to do. The only thing that made sense was to walk past her, and head down to where Alex had said he would be.

The exercise room was located roughly opposite of the room where she’d slept. She walked past a huge living room with a twelve foot ceiling and gorgeous skylights, opening onto a balcony that made her toes clench on the wooden floor just from glancing out at the skyline. There was an office, the door half open, with a massive desk made of light colored wood, and bookshelves all along the back wall. Real books, though, not the kind of leather bound volumes that looked like they’d been ordered with the book cases, actual books. The only thing that kept her from walking in to scrutinize the titles was that her own coffee table cum office space was more private than her bedroom area. She restrained herself to simply glancing in from the doorway. She saw shelves full of paperbacks, as well as rows and rows of hardcovers. When he’d mentioned that his guest bedroom came complete with a charged eBook for the guest’s convenience, she’d hoped that she’d found a reader; this just seemed to confirm that.

The exercise room was at the end of that hallway. The room made her stop and breathe. It had as many windows and as much sunlight as the living room had, but it also had an entire wall of mirrors. There was music playing softly from a speaker set in the corner. There was a large rectangular mat set up on one side of the room. It looked large enough to practice some martial arts forms. On the other side of the room, there was a treadmill and a set of free weights. A heavy bag was hung in the opposite corner. It looked like someone had taken a high end gym and shrunk everything down so that it would all fit in one room. Which, it was worth noting, was still bigger than her apartment.

She took all of that in before she let herself focus in on Alex.

He was on the mat, wearing loose jersey pants and a tank top that had soaked through with sweat along his spine. He was sitting cross legged now, his hands turned up in his lap, breathing quietly. He seemed unaware of her, and she relished the chance to just observe him. There was something so calm and peaceful about him like this. She had the sense that he was someone who was very rarely at rest. Watching him breathe and be at peace was almost as delightful as enjoying the press of his arms around her waist.

After a few moments, his eyes opened and focused on her, and he smiled easily. “You found the robe,” he said. It was as good a greeting as any, she told herself. She resisted the urge to hug it closer around her. Let him enjoy what little cleavage she had.

“Yes,” she said. “Frankly, I’m disappointed.”

He raised his eyebrows, then moved smoothly up to his feet without using his hands, a swift motion that would have left her flat on her ass and wincing at the pain in her tail bone. “Disappointed?”

She nodded, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. She was incredibly glad she’d stuck to the bare minimum of makeup last night, and had been reasonably able to wash it off in the bathroom without make up remover. Raccoon eyes were a good look for no one. Other than raccoons. She resisted the giggle that bubbled in her throat, threatening to ruin her tempting pose.

He was moving toward her with the same sort of easy, loose jointed motion that said he was still thinking of the heat they’d generated last night. “What in the world disappointed you about this,” he asked, running his hand over the plush velour. Conveniently, his hand ran down the swell of her breast, and she swallowed a sigh.

“Well,” she said. “Given that you have condoms everywhere, and your driver trained to expect you to fuck women in the back of your car, you’re obviously much more of a player than you’re letting on.” She layered her tone thick with sarcasm and teasing, and he grinned at her, giving her faith that he got the joke. “Given all of that, quite frankly, I expected a silk kimono.” She fluttered her eyelashes and let her lower lip drop out in a melodramatic pout. “Wasn’t I good enough to rate silk?”

His hands glided down to grip her hips, swaying her ever so slightly back and forth. “Oh, you were fine,” he murmured, leaning in slowly to brush his lips, light as butterflies, over the curve of her ear. “And I would have given you silk. But I didn’t think you’d accept it.” He drew back in such a way that his hips pressed forward, and she could feel him, thick and there. He wasn’t hard, not yet, but he was present, and how was she possibly wet again? Was there any limit to how very much this man could make her feel?

She laughed, but the sound was a little gaspy and thin. “Probably not,” she said. “I don’t know if I can even accept this.”

“Oh, you have to,” he said, kissing her other ear, tracing the tip of his tongue down its exterior until he could nip the lobe. She whimpered, and his laughter rumbled in his chest. “You have to, because how could I possibly give a used robe to the next woman I invite home with me? And you’d never let me throw out a robe that was only used once, would you?”

“Well,” she said, “When you put it that way, I suppose my environmental concerns leave me morally required to accept.”

“Good,” he said. “Now can I take it off you? Because it is so in my way right now.” His hand scooped inside, capturing her breast and caressing it. He didn’t go straight for the nipple this time, more just lifting the light weight of her in his hand, stroking over her breast, which fit easily in the palm of his hand.

“What do I get if you take it off,” she asked. She was impressed that the sentence made even the vaguest sort of sense.

He laughed again, his eyes sparkling with humor. “All sorts of fun,” he said. “My tongue on you. My fingers. Whatever you want. I’m at your mercy, princess.” His knee nudged at her thighs, and she stepped apart, letting his thigh press between hers. She was the perfect height to feel him press against the core of her, and the broad, heavy pressure made her whimper again.

“I’m going to leave a wet spot,” she murmured as he left a trail of fire made by his tongue and teeth down her neck.

“I don’t give a shit,” he said. “Is it okay for me to untie the robe? I want to see you in daylight.”

“Yes,” she said. “Please.”

He gave a deep groan, and fumbled at the tie so hard that she thought it might tear. He didn’t shrug it off her shoulders, just untied it and pushed the two sides apart so that he had access to her body. “I love your tits,” he murmured, licking the space between them as he pressed them towards each other with his hands. “I love how they fit perfectly in my hands, and I love how hard you respond when I do this.” He brushed his thumbs over the two peaks in unison, and she cried out, pressing down onto his thigh just a little bit harder. Her hips wanted to rock over him like a kid trying to masturbate with a pillow. She forced them still. She could wait. There would be more if she waited.

“What else do you love?” she asked.

“I love that you’re still coherent enough to ask me questions like that,” he said. And then his eyes twinkled again. His hands steadied her as he took back his thigh. She hadn’t realized how much of her weight he’d taken until she had to stand on her own again. “And I love the way I think you’re going to look when I do this.”

Before she had a chance to ask him what he meant, he dropped to his knees. Her feet were still separated, and his eyes locked with hers as his hands rested on her upper thighs, gently easing apart her outer lips. Even seeing it, she wasn’t ready for the onrush of sensation when his tongue brushed over her pussy. She cried out, her knees wavering, her hands slapping against the wall for something to brace herself on. He made a sound, something deep and vibrating, and the sensation ricocheted through her as she melted into a puddle in his hands.

The second pass of his tongue was slightly less brain altering, and she was able to force herself to breathe again as he flicked over her suddenly swollen and aching clit. He tortured the nub for a few seconds, then dragged his teeth over it in something less than a bite, but more than anything else she could find words for in that moment. “Oh god,” she whispered, and his eyes smiled at her.

His tongue was molten fire, caressing her body, teasing at her. He’d promised to make her scream, and she could see that he was determined to make her do it. He was going to have to work for it, though. He’d set himself up at a disadvantage, though, she realized. If she’d had a way to brace her hands and lock her elbows, she would have been able to let go of the tension in her legs and let go much more easily. Instead, she was clinging to his head, trying to keep her balance, and it was harder to just drop away into the fluid waves of sensation that were pouring over her. She was gasping and whimpering and moaning and begging him for more in odd little half sentences that she was quite sure made sense to no one but her, but she wasn’t screaming.

Alex realized it, after a moment. His eyes narrowed, and then his arms wrapped around her upper thighs, and he lifted her as he stood. She squeaked and laughed, putting her hands up, afraid of bumping into the ceiling, but it was high enough that she would still have had to stretch to brush her fingers over it. He carried her the few steps to the mat, then leaned over it with her. He dropped her a few inches, letting her bounce just a little bit, then was back on her before she could recover.

He pressed her thighs sideways into a gentle stretch, exposing her cunt to him. He blew a soft breath over her inflamed flesh, and she writhed for him, her mind disappearing into sensation. His mouth closed over hers as his fingers stroked over her, plunging deep into her, and she tore at him with her fingers and nails. She heard his shirt tear and cursed, but he was laughing as he tossed the shreds off. She moved to shove his pants down off his hips, but he brushed her fingers away. “Not yet,” he said. “I want to pay attention to you. I told you I’d make you scream.”

“It’s too distracting,” she said. “Just fuck me. It’s okay.”

His eyes went quiet and serious, and she wanted to slap herself for breaking the mood. “If you want me to stop, we’ll stop,” he said. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands for a moment. “I’m not uncomfortable,” she said. “But I don’t want you to do that thing.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you’re all “Oh, baby, let me do this thing for you that no one has ever done before,” and then you try, but the thing doesn’t work, and you’re all pissed off, and it’s somehow my fault, even though I told you my body doesn’t do the thing you said you could make it do.”

He sat back on his heels, and she waited for the storm of fury to come. “So what you’re worried about,” he said, in the calm voice of someone who was restating something of particular relevance in a business meeting, a fantastic voice to contrast with the erection tenting the front of his jersey workout pants, “is that I’m all invested in making you come by going down on you. And you’re saying that you don’t tend to get off that way, and guys have made you feel shitty for that in the past?”

Perhaps, if she tried very hard, she could dig her way through this mat, and escape through the apartment below them. She would be mostly nude, of course, but it was really impossible for that to be more humiliating than this conversation. “And girls.” Because if you were in for a penny, really it was ridiculous not to go for the full pound.

He raised one eyebrow just a little. “And it just doesn’t happen for you?”

She shook her head. “Feels amazing, but it’s too intense to actually flip the switch, I guess. At least, that’s the best I’ve ever figured.”

To her complete and utter shock, all he did was nod. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I promise you that if I do go down on you, I don’t expect orgasms from it. I am just looking to help you feel good. If it doesn’t feel good—well, that’s the point, isn’t it?”

She sat up, pulling the robe loosely over her. He was sitting there, legs crossed now, as if he was perfectly normal. She gave him a little poke in one very nicely shaped pectoral, and when that didn’t provoke any response, she very gently pinched his arm.

“If you’re looking for something,” he said, his voice clearly containing laughter, “you might get more of it if you tell me what you have in mind.”

“I don’t know how you’re real,” she said. “You’re ultra-rich, you’re amazing in the sack, and you’re a decent human being, even around kind of weird and gross body shame stuff. How does that happen?”

He shrugged. “It’s balanced by being involved in a multi-national corporation that sells weapons used to murder and maim around most of the globe.”

She winced. “It’s not all that AEGIS does.”

“No," he agreed, “but it’s enough.”

The idealistic part of her, the part that had gone to anti-war protests in college, wanted to tell him to just change it, then, but she’d learned since then. It was nowhere near as easy for things to change as she’d wanted to believe when she was an undergrad. His eyes were focused in the middle distance, quiet and distracted. It took her a moment to be comfortable reaching out and laying her hand lightly on his arm; she didn’t know him well enough yet to know if it would be an invasion or a comfort.

To her relief, he came back with a smile, placing his hand over hers and giving her a light squeeze. “I’d like to shower before I eat. Care to join me?”

It was funny, as a question. It honestly didn’t sound flirtatious, just honest. A quiet inquiry. An invitation to just a shower, nothing else. “Sure,” she said. “That would be lovely.”

Something surprising lit up his eyes, and he grinned. “Fantastic,” he said. He stood and held out his hand to her. She let him pull her to her feet, even let him overbalance her so that she fell into his arms. She tilted up her chin obligingly to receive his kiss, his mouth moving quietly over hers as his hands stroked down her velour covered back.

A memory slipped in and she broke off the kiss, her hands on his chest as she looked up at him. “Hey, is everything okay with your sister? We didn’t—uh—really talk about it last night.”

A smile flitted over his lips for a moment, but she got the idea she’d won some points with the question. “Everything is fine for the moment. I have made some mistakes in the past, I think, and I’ll look to correct them as soon as possible. She’ll be staying here for a while, I think, but I saw her off to school this morning. It’s part of why I was up so early.” Her ear got another gentle nip, and she stroked her hands down his arms in quiet appreciation of the sensation. “I had hoped to find you still in bed after I was done with my workout.”

“And what would you have done if you had?”

He went for the other ear this time, and she let herself sigh and wrap her arms around his neck, giving him some of her weight. “It wouldn’t have been all that much different from what I did in here. Although it might have been less sweaty. At least, you know, to start.”

“Maybe I like sweaty.”

He laughed lightly in her ear. “That’s just something they say in women’s magazines. No one likes the smell of a sweaty man.”

She leaned back, catching his gaze. “Nervous people smell nervous,” she said, “And there’s nothing nice about that. But a guy—or a girl—who has used their body to the limits, and has worked up a fresh, clean sweat? Before it goes stale and nasty? Burning hot.”

“Oh really?”

“Oh yes.”

“So noted,” he said. “This way.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

He slipped out of her arms with the same ease he’d used to slip into them, and led her back down the way they’d come. He led her through a bedroom that had to be his—it was all dark wood furniture and neutral colored bedding and organized disarray—into a bathroom that made her knees go a little light. “What?” he asked, noticing her expression.

“I just wondered if there’s any room in this place that’s smaller than my apartment.” She paid careful attention to her tone, and was relieved when he laughed.

“You need a bigger apartment, then,” he said, glancing around the cavernous bathroom.

I need a bigger paycheck, she thought, and choked the words back. It would sound like begging, or digging, and that wasn’t what she wanted. “Do you have anything I can use to put my hair up? I don’t want to bother drying it.”

“Let me see,” he said, and turned to a tall cupboard by the sink. He rummaged around for a moment, and came out with a clip designed for thick hair, still in the package. “Will this work?”

She accepted it, and looked it over for a moment before glancing up at him. “I have a vaguely offensive question.”

“Why do I have stuff for women all over my house if I never bring women home?”

Zoey nodded. At least he already knew. Might mean he had a stock answer, which could be completely not true, but it saved her the awkwardness of answering.

He grinned again, and he looked like a kid when he did it. “Sophia is just Italian enough that she lives in eternal optimism. If she leaves girly stuff everywhere, they will come.” His eyes widened as he heard his words. “That is—uh—”

Zoey let him fumble for a moment, and then laughed, running her fingers over his delicious chest again. His chest wasn’t metrosexual bare, which she liked. There was a slight darkening of hair over his pecs, and then trailing down in a delicate line that disappeared into his pants. It gave a soft texture as her fingers ran over his skin, and the urge to purr was instantaneous and sharp. “I get it,” she said. “She doesn’t like your playboy lifestyle?”

Alex shook his head. “She sat me down last year to ask if I was gay, and to tell me that if I was, I could trust her, she would never breathe a word of it. She just wanted to let me know that it was okay, and I could bring men home.”

“That’s kind of sweet.”

“It was very sweet,” he said. “My father—well. He wouldn’t have tolerated that in his son. It was bad enough that his heir was—” Words failed him, and he just sort of gestured at himself. The pain that he carried was obvious and intense. The only response she could imagine was to step into his arms and press her lips against his, dragging him back to this moment in time. He responded not with lust, but with tenderness, and thorough intensity. Whey they broke apart again, his pupils had blown wide in his dark eyes. He gave a little shiver.

She turned away from him and twisted her hair up off her back and pinned it up and out of the way with the clip. He stood behind her, his eyes shining, and she gave him a little smile. He turned the water on in the glass enclosed shower and skimmed off his workout pants. She dropped the robe, and they stood there for a moment, naked and studying each other, before they crashed together. His mouth was harsh on hers, devouring her, and her hands reached down for his cock, which was already semi hard as she stroked the length of it. He groaned, wrapping his arms around her waist and doing nothing more than leaning back to lift her feet off the ground and deposit her in the shower. She squeaked at the heat of the water splashing over her skin, jumping out of the spray for a moment so that she could ease herself back in more slowly.

Alex stood in front of her then, absorbing the heat on his back, his eyes raised at her. “Too hot for your blood?” he asked, a teasing edge in his tone. He rolled his neck back, letting the spray wash over his head, exposing the long line of his throat, and then run down the lines of his chest and torso. She let her fingers follow the paths the water made, and he idly slapped them away. “You get to watch now,” he said, his hands running over his body as he washed the sweat off his skin. He was carefully precise, running his hands over each inch of skin with careful patience. He turned into the spray, and she got a gorgeous view of his taut backside. She was sure he was clenching for her, but Captain America had nothing on the view. Nothing at all.

When he turned back, he pushed her gently backwards, sitting her down on a small shelf within the shower enclosure. She knew what he wanted, and she took one single moment to decide to trust him. It was easy, she found, because he would stop if she asked him to. That wasn’t even a question. So dropping her knees open as he knelt in front of her was the most logical thing she’d ever done.

He didn’t lean forward to lick her, though. He knelt on the floor, taking himself in hand, stroking his cock with a luxurious motion. She was fascinated by the motion, by the way he tried to keep his focus on her, but was clearly distracted by the sensations he was creating. “Do you like this?” he asked, slowly, enunciating carefully.

“I’d like it better if I could wrap my mouth around it,” she said, running her tongue over her lips.

His grin grew. “That is exactly how I feel,” he said.

“Then do it.”

He did. This time, as his mouth closed over the heat of her cunt, she felt all the burning need of the past few days boiling through her. She sagged against the shower wall, clinging to the towel rail on one side, braced against the opposite wall on the other, and just let him devour her. He swung her thighs over his shoulders, his tongue moving at a feverish pace over her tender flesh, and she whimpered as the sensation started to burn and surge within her. His eyes darted up at her, every so often, and she could barely meet her gaze. She’d never felt so completely naked, so utterly stripped down in so few motions.

Suddenly, his tongue plunged into her, and she did scream. It wasn’t an orgasm, not exactly, but it was the next best thing as her vision went spotty, and her hips arched up, fucking his face, and the only thing different was that she was so full of aching, angry need that she wanted to tear his skin off and crawl inside of him. “I need you,” she whispered. “I need you now.”

His pupils were so wide that there was hardly any iris left to see. “I know,” he said. “I need a condom.”

“I hate you,” she said, without much feeling as he stepped out of the shower. She trailed her fingers down to her clit almost idly as she watched his tight ass walk across the bathroom, sheath himself, and come back to her.

He lifted her again, pressing her back against the wall of the shower, both of them turned sideways in the spray. He slid into her more easily than he had the first night, and she groaned all the way down to her toes as he started to shift within her. He had one arm under her ass, and the other hand reaching between them to flick at her clit. It wouldn’t have worked if she wasn’t so close, if she wasn’t already teetering on the edge, but she came for him, so hard and fast and overwhelming that she was only faintly aware of herself as she tore his back with her nails. All that she could clearly feel was her pussy clutching at his cock, at the sudden increase in the pace of his thrusts followed by the explosion of sound as he followed her over the cliff.

They sank together down to the bottom of the shower. She was shaking from aftershocks, and he was smiling at her like a kid, pressing faint light kisses to any bits of her that happened to come into reach.

“Shut up,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“Told you.” The smile spread into a grin.

“I said shut up.”

“Admit that I was right.”

“I don’t like you any more.”

“Liar.”

“Probably.” She leaned forward and kissed him quickly.

For one moment, he was just a guy, just an incredibly hot guy with whom she was having incredibly hot sex. He wasn’t someone who was being betrayed by everyone he’d ever trusted. He wasn’t someone who had the potential to make or break her career. He wasn’t someone she might have to use, if she wanted to get where she wanted to go.

She held onto the moment, clung tight to it, and didn’t let it go.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Do you have any problems with heights?” Alex asked her, as they toweled off.

“Not particularly,” Zoey replied, “But I do have a wardrobe problem.”

He smirked. “Noticed that, did you? I’m sorry, I did some damage last night in my…enthusiasm. Sophia called down to Saks, I’m sure that what I asked her to get for you is here by now.”

“Saks.” The towel hung in front of her. Her fingers felt vaguely numb.

“Yes.” He didn’t stop trying off his skin, didn’t turn and look at her.

“Saks, as in, Saks Fifth Avenue.”

“I wasn’t aware they’d opened another location.” His tone was just a little bit sharp, but she pressed on anyway.

“I can’t repay you for that.” Zoey could hear that her tone was snappish, but her heart was pounding in her ears.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Alex—”

“I ruined your jeans, and that sweater looked awful on you. You’re helping me sort out something incredibly complex, involving information that is likely to be very sensitive. It’s the least I can do to say thank you.” He still wasn’t looking at her.

She saw two choices. Throw a temper tantrum and stop out of the penthouse, then try to hail a cab in a goddamned plush bathrobe, or be gracious and accept the gift, even though it made her stomach twist. She wasn’t good at gifts. There were too many strings hidden in them. Zoey took a deep breath, and spread a debutante smile over her face. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s exceedingly kind.”

He did look at her then, an amused eyebrow arching up on his forehead. “Why thank you, Miz Gardener,” he said, in a passable Georgia twang. “I do appreciate your understanding.”

“I’m from Louisiana, sha,” she said. She let the towel fall down, and put her hands on her hips, and arching her back so that the tips of her small breasts pointed up at him. He kept his eyes on her face, but his hands were tight around his towel. “Not Georgia.”

He drew in close, his hands on her waist again. “You’re going to get me all sweaty again,” he murmured against her neck, and she sighed in happy delight as his lips brushed over her.

“It’s a fate you’ll survive, I think.”

“Too true.” He bit her, hard enough to leave a mark, and her body lit on fire. She cried out, arching against him, and he ran his hands over her back, tugging her hips tight against him.

Without warning, her stomach gave the loudest, rudest growl she’d ever heard from her own body. They both froze. He pulled back from her ever so slightly, and she looked up, horrified to see what his expression was.

Only he was choking back laughter. And suddenly, so was she. They collapsed into giggles, and he pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Come on,” he said. “We need to feed that before it crawls out and kills both of us.”

In his bedroom, he laughed again. When she gave him a surprised look, he pointed at the black and white shopping bag that was on his bed. “Sophia really does like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t make you go back to your room for your new clothes.”

She wondered how long it would take for this man to stop making her blush. She wondered if she’d be around long enough to find out. Which just made her cheeks heat up more. She dug through the layers of paper and pulled out not just jeans in a brand so expensive it made her wallet ache, but a lightweight sweater in a shade of blue just a little bit more grayed out than the one she’d worn last night. She’d loved the other blue, but this one was a kind of perfect that she hadn’t anticipated. She ran her hands over it delicately. She didn’t want to be so crass as to check the material in front of him, but it was soft and light, but didn’t feel warm enough for any kind of wool blend. It was amazing.

Underneath the jeans and sweater were a bra and panties set in bright red. She glanced at them, then back at him. He was standing there, still naked, watching her carefully. He wore that small smile, the one that she liked so much, as she went through the bag. “This is all gorgeous.” Zoey said. “Thank you. How did you pull this off?”

He shrugged. “I know a guy.”

“A guy in Saks Fifth Avenue?”

“Not specifically. A guy who I can call and say “Hey, I need clothing for a gorgeous, light complected journalist who has no idea how to dress herself.” Honestly, you made it easy for me, I told him the sizes you were wearing last night, and how they fit you, and he went from there.” The smile spread into a grin. “The red was from me, though. I had a funny feeling you didn’t own any red.”

“Your funny feeling was right,” she said. “What do you mean you told him about how they fit me?”

For the first time, Alex shifted on his feet just a little bit. “Why don’t you get dressed, and we’ll go grab something to eat?”

It was Zoey’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I think I’d like to hear your thoughts on how my clothes fit.”

He rubbed at his eyes for a moment, then sighed. “How about this. Try on what we picked out for you, and then we’ll talk.”

She rolled her eyes, but he had a stubborn look about his mouth, so she shrugged and set about taking the tags off everything. She pulled on the panties first—deliberately turning around so that he was staring at her ass as she bent over. She half expected him to reach forward and cup the flesh in his hands, but he stayed put. She tugged the jeans on next. She was a little bit surprised to find that they fit in the waist. They had a lower rise than what she usually bought, but they didn’t feel all that low, all things considered. They hugged her curves and emphasized them a little more than most jeans did, without feeling too tight in the waist.

She picked up the bra and wrapped the band around her ribs, then pulled the straps up her arms.

He made a disgusted noise behind her, and she turned. “What?”

He muttered a fair amount she didn’t catch, but some of it was clearly about women who hit their twenties without knowing how to put on a bra. “Like this,” he said, stepping close to her. “Bend over a bit.” His hand pushed lightly at her shoulder, and she followed his motion, bending at the waist. His hands moved forward then, lifting the cup of the bra away from her skin ever so slightly, then reaching in to scoop what there was of her boob sort of up and towards the center before letting go. He did the same on the other side, and then backed away. Zoey straighted up, and stared down at the tits that had suddenly formed on her chest.

“What the hell?”

Alex was grinning again, the jerk. “Put the sweater on.”

She did, without complaint, and he nodded with satisfaction. He turned to pull on clothes of his own—boxers, black slacks, a white button down shirt. He left it open at the throat, and didn’t reach for a tie yet. There was a mirror standing in the corner and she stepped in front of it.

The changes were subtle, but she would have needed to be blind to not see them. It wasn’t like she suddenly had watermelons on her chest, but instead of looking flat, almost concave chested, there was a subtle rise and fall to her breasts that made them seem fuller. The sweater was just fitted enough that it followed the curve of her waist, and highlighted the slimness of her hips. She felt trimmed and feminine instead of skinny and scrawny. It was utterly disorienting. “What did you do?”

“Dressed you in clothes that fit.”

“How did you know?”

Another ubiquitous shrug. “I’ve spent a lot of time listening to a lot of women go on and on about their clothing. I told Andre what you were wearing, and how you looked in it, and he took it from there.”

“So you didn’t like what I was wearing before?”

He sighed. “I didn’t say that. You looked beautiful. You still look beautiful. But this is…I don’t know, polished. Finished, maybe.”

She turned sideways, studying her reflection again. She’d never bothered much with her appearance. She’d aimed for clean and sharp rather than soft and interesting. After all, she’d needed to interact with a lot of people who did not want to be reminded that just by her presence, she, and women like her, were taking apart the old boy’s club. She let her hair down, let it tumble around her shoulders, and looked back at the prettiest version of herself that had ever existed. It was incredibly uncomfortable, like she was the awkward girl in a teen movie, being made over for the prom just by taking off her glasses and putting some halfway decent makeup on her face. “I don’t like this.”

“Okay,” he said. “Wear it home, and then I’ll send it all back. It was worth a try.”

“My stuff was perfectly fine.”

“It was,” he agreed, “until I killed the zipper and tore your sweater. I was trying to make that up to you. I’m sorry for overreaching.”

She studied him, waiting for the catch. She couldn’t find it yet, but she felt strangely certain that it was there.

“Breakfast?” he said, after a minute. “I really am starving.”

“Fine,” she said. Even though it made her feel just a little bit like a traitor. “Okay, let’s.” Because she really was hungry.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

His question about heights hadn’t been entirely irrelevant. He led her out to a little breakfast nook that overlooked the city. It was dizzying, being so high, knowing that all that separated her from a really long and upsetting fall with an abrupt end was a sheet of glass. Really strong glass, sure, but still. Glass.

The table was bistro style, putting them so close together that their knees knocked against each other. Sophia served them omelets, coffee, and hash browns, and bowls of fresh fruit on the side. “Is this all right?” he asked. “I tend to eat a heavy breakfast and aim lighter later in the day, but I’m sure we have oatmeal or yogurt, if that’s more your style?”

Zoey found herself caught entirely unawares yet again. Sophia stood there, waiting patiently, showing absolutely no irritation that she might have made this gorgeous omelet for no reason at all, and Alex staring at her—well, like he had when he’d fussed with the bra. Like he didn’t understand why she didn’t know how to answer him. “This is lovely,” she said, finally. “Honestly, not having to eat my own cooking is such a luxury that I don’t even know how to thank you.”

Sophia smiled like Zoey had just complemented her puppy, or her grandchild. “It’s a luxury to have someone to cook for who appreciates the food,” she said, with a glance at Alex that seemed mostly teasing. “Try the coffee. Not too much sugar?”

Zoey took a sip, and had to prevent herself from moaning in culinary ecstasy. “This is gorgeous,” she said. “What’s your brew method?”

Sophia shook her head then. “My own grandmother would roll in her grave if I told,” she said. “Enjoy. Don’t let Mr. Blankenship be rude. Please, ring if you need anything else.”

“Hear that?” Zoey said, turning back to Alex, who was watching her with an utterly amused expression. “You’re not allowed to be rude to me anymore. Your housekeeper said.”

“I’m not sure when I was rude to you in the first place,” he said.

“You didn’t like my outfit,” she said. “You destroyed it, and then you replaced it with one you liked better. Very rude.” She softened the comment with a smile.

“So I should have sent you out into the day nude?”

“You should have been nicer to my poor jeans.” She tried on a pout. It probably went with the sweater beautifully.

“I don’t seem to recall you being upset last night.” His eyes flared with a heat, and she had to laugh.

“You’re insatiable.”

“You’ve been right there with me, every time.”

“Am I really this desirable?” It was a dumb question, it was a question that begged for pity and pats on the back, it was the question that she had always refused to ask, even when she needed to hear the answer.

He didn’t seem upset or off put at all. He put down his fork, finished chewing, and gave her all of his attention as he answered her. “You are utterly desirable. I can’t easily recount a time when I’ve wanted someone more. It’s a lot of things, I think. It’s having met you in such an interesting way, it’s that you don’t just roll over when we disagree, it’s that you make the most amazing sounds when I kiss the spot just below your ear.”

How did he make her squirm in her chair like this so quickly? And how did he turn it off so fast? He saw the affect he had on her, she knew it from the way he looked her up and down and grinned before plucking a strawberry from his bowl and tossing it in his mouth. And then he was carefully slicing off another bite of omelet, and asking in an utterly unaffected tone, “Did you find out anything new last night?”

It took her a full minute of solid breaths and one long sip of coffee to recollect herself. “Nothing that’s going to shock us, at this point. I really think something’s up in the weapons division, though. I can’t put my finger on it, not firm enough to tell you for sure. I have a couple of contacts higher up the food chain that I’ll get in touch with today. They should be able to tell me something. I hope so, anyway.”

“Do you regret this?”

She blinked. “Do I regret what?”

“That night at the club. Do you think it would have been better for both of us if that hadn’t happened?”

Funny; he was asking the same question she had, just a few moments before. “I don’t think so. Personally, I don’t think I’ll ever regret it, no matter what this turns into, between you and I. I—god, this sounds so cheesy—I know things about myself that I didn’t know a week ago. My, um, urge towards kink isn’t just me being totally hip, it’s…well. It’s a real thing. It’s something that I…”

“Enjoy?”

She kicked him in the shin. He whimpered as if it hurt, which was nice, since she was barefoot, and barely touched him. He had a little sister. She was certain he’d faced much more vehement kicks in his life. “Yes, thank you.”

“You’re the wordsmith. I’m just being helpful.”

“The point is,” she said, with a firm glance that he apparently decided to respect, this time at least, “that I don’t regret learning new things about myself.”

“And professionally?”

Yes, he would notice the one place she’d hedged, wouldn’t he? Well, he probably hadn’t gotten the position of CEO just by being born and knowing the right people. Though certainly that had helped. “Professionally? I don’t know, Alex. Stories like this—if we’re right, if there’s something going on at AEGIS? This is a once in a lifetime piece.”

“And you can’t write it.”

“Nope.” She sighed. “Honestly, if it helps at all, it’s better this way. If I’d written the piece, not realizing it was you who I’d met at Chez Vous that night, and then someone found out about that? My career would have been even more over.”

“It just seems so backward. Surely a journalist having more information on their subject is good.”

“Yes, but anything the public can interpret as obvious bias is not. Look what happened to that gaming journalist who’d slept with a reviewer before he was even a reviewer.”

Alex nodded thoughtfully. “So, how can I help?”

She blinked for a moment, studying him again. “I—I don’t know, Alex. There’s not much you can do, I don’t think. The most I’ll ever be able to pull off is a co-byline, and really, I don’t think that’s an option.”

“Sure. But the point of getting this story is to open doors and put your name in front of people, right? I can make that happen.”

He said those five words so casually, as if it was something that every young journalist should just fall all over themselves for. And honestly, part of her did, hard and fast and immediate. But a lot more of her bristled at the statement. “I’m perfectly capable of pulling this off on my own,” she snapped.

“You just told me that I ruined a once in a lifetime opportunity by being sexy and good with my hands,” he said, and as mad as she was, the heat in his eyes still ran a shiver up her spine. “I’m offering to fix it. Why is that upsetting you?”

“Just like you fixed my jeans? Just like you’ll fix me, turn me into someone who fits perfectly next to you? I’m not some floozy you can buy.”

“You’re not a floozy,” he agreed. His tone wasn’t soothing; that was good. She was pretty sure she would have dumped the coffee over his head if he’d tried to soothe her. “But everyone can be bought. Only question in the world is their asking price.”

She was so utterly shocked that she couldn’t find a single word to say. “So people are just, what, commodities?”

“No, of course not.” She felt convinced that Alex should have been upset by this conversation. God knew she was. He should have been cranky and snappy and irritated, just like she was. “But people always say they can’t be bought, as if they are somehow above temptation. And it’s simply not true.”

“So what’s your asking price? If you think you know me so well.”

It was the first time Zoey had seen Alex’s face close up like that. It was as if a wall shifted, and suddenly his eyes were flat and blank, his mouth tight and neutral. It was similar to what had happened in the car last night, when he started asking about her research, but it was faster, happening in just one blink of her eyes. He stabbed at his omelet with more force than anyone could pretend was necessary. Her stomach tightened, and she found herself pushing away the heavy meal and reaching for her cup of coffee. “Was there anything you found that directly links Arturo to my father?”

She hated that tone. She’d barely known the man for 48 hours, and she hated the tone that reminded her of the CEO, the man who was nothing but the power he held. “Alex, I’m sorry—”

“Because without a direct link, there’s really nothing that can be done. I can sic the company lawyers on it, I suppose, but if someone within is involved, it’s difficult to know who they might already own, and who they might not.” His voice was quietly musing, but there was something other in his tone. Something dark and angry, something she hadn’t seen before.

“You could take it all to the police. Let them know your suspicions and have them take it from there.”

He gave her a filthy look. “Please.”

Her anger boiled over. There were a lot of things that she was used to. Being treated like less because she was southern, or because she was a woman, or because someone else thought they were a better writer than she was—or because they knew she was a better writer than them. Because she didn’t have enough, because she had too much, because she wasn’t soft enough to be a girl or mean enough to be a bitch. She’d put up with all of it. But a man she’d made love to less than an hour ago, treating her like a stranger? No, thank you.

“Look,” she said, fighting to keep her tone level. There was no way she was going to get the anger out of it. “I don’t know what rule of yours I’ve violated. This is new territory for me, too. I don’t get the feeling you go slumming all that often, so neither one of us are perfect. Okay? Surprise! You can either accept my apology and tell me what I did wrong, or you can tell me to leave. I don’t much care which you choose right now, but I won’t just sit here and be treated like—”

“You’re right,” he said, his voice quiet and cautious. She cut herself off and watched him, waiting. “I’m sorry. You asked a very personal question, and you had no way to know how personal it was. I had no right to blow up at you.” He gave a soft, somewhat sad smile. “If I may be perfectly honest with you, I’m not used to this. I honestly cannot recall the last time I had breakfast with someone after we’d enjoyed an evening’s company. I’m not interested in being a trophy for anyone, and very few people aren’t intimidated by me, so there has been a lot less going on than the society pages would have you believe.”

She nodded. It was a decent apology, as these things went. “I apologize for overstepping.”

“You had no way to know.” He pushed his plate away as well. Poor Sophia. The omelets were amazing, light and fluffy and running with a perfect blend of delicious cheeses, but she’d managed to ruin both of their appetites. “What I was trying to suggest, Zoey, was that you and I might be able to help each other.”

“In what way?”

“You keep doing what you’re doing. Look into Arturo. Look into AEGIS. See if you can find me proof, something I can take to the board to make some changes.” He sighed. “As much as I hate to say it, if you can find something to conclusively tie my mother to the man’s murder, I want to know that. If nothing else, so that the information can be properly controlled, instead of being splashed all over the front page of the Post.”

“And in return?”

“In return, I will help you get what the article would have gotten you, if you’d written it and sold it. I will introduce you to people. I will talk about what an amazing writer you are. I will let it be known that you are up and coming, and that people should pay attention.”

“And what will I owe you, when I get this mythical, magical job that shall descend out of the clouds with rainbows and unicorns?”

His eyebrows rose a bit, and his lips bent into a ghost of a smile. It was nice to see. Very much. “You won’t owe me anything at all. You have my word on that, Zoey. I will never ask you to write a single piece about AEGIS, positive or negative. Nothing. Just—do what you’re doing. That’s all I ask.”

She thought it over for a moment. As a kid, she’d always imagined that she would be the first woman to make it on her own, to break through the glass ceiling without help from anyone. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that when you aren’t willing to obliterate the last vestiges of your drawl, or force yourself to stop dropping your favorite endearment in conversation now and then, you would be perceived a certain way.

If she accepted his help, everyone in the world of reporting would assume that she was sleeping with him, and that was why he was helping her get noticed. If their relationship developed, or became public, it would be treated as a fact. She’d never get herself out from under that cloud.

On the flip side of it, even if she somehow managed to rise like a meteor without anyone’s help, would anyone believe it anyway? Wasn’t that the way of the world, where all successful women were attached to men of power, in the minds of society if nowhere else? Was she just justifying the whole thing because it seemed irrationally stubborn to refuse him?

“Let’s focus on the research, for the moment,” she said, after a little bit. “And then, we’ll see what happens. It may be that I turn up something you really don’t want to know about.”

“Thank you,” he said. Maybe he knew that he wasn’t going to get anything more from her in that moment. “And what about us?”

“Us?”

He nodded. “You and me.”

“I—” Yet another question that she didn’t know how to answer. She hated feeling this out of her depth.

But Sophia burst into the room, barely two steps ahead of a woman. The woman was tall, and had the kind of tan that had to come out of either a bed or a bottle. It was just a little too even to have been gained naturally. Her hair was light brown, and scooped into a no nonsense twist that gave Zoey the feeling that the woman was attempting to appear older and more mature than she was. The smoothness of her skin made Zoey put the woman right around her own age, mid 20s. Her hands were fluttery, betraying the nervousness that her eyes were doing a good job of hiding.

“Mr. Blankenship,” Sophia said, loud enough to overpower the woman, if she chose to speak. “She just burst in, I’ve no idea how she got up the elevator, I tried to turn her back, but she wouldn’t listen. I’ve paged security, they’ll be up shortly—”

The woman, when she spoke, kept her voice calmer, quiet enough that Alex would have to focus on her to listen. It was a good trick, one Zoey hadn’t ever mastered herself, but she’d admired in women who could pull it off. “Good afternoon.” She had a smooth, cultured voice, that went along with the jewelry and the fabric of her suit. “My name is Cindy Walden.” She waited a moment, and when that got no attention, she continued. “I’m here to speak to you about what we are going to do.”

Security came pounding down the hallway next. They moved for the woman, but Alex held up a hand, and they paused. It was an impressive moment, actually. He didn’t say a word, just held up that hand. Zoey tried to make herself as small as physically possible.

Alex kept his eyes on Cindy Walden, and gave her a small nod. “What we’re going to do about what?”

Her eyes didn’t waver. There was something about her that looked familiar. Zoey couldn’t place it for a moment, and then, as she glanced back at Alex, it jumped out at her. The cheekbones. The brow line. The similarities. So she understood, just a moment before the woman spoke again. “I’m here to speak to you about our brother. And the others.”

Alex didn’t so much as blink. “We’re fine here, gentlemen, Sophia. Thank you for your prompt response. Sophia, would you please show Ms. Walden into the living room? Zoey and I will follow shortly.”

Sophia looked ever so slightly irritated, but within a moment, her face had reverted to the smooth mask of professional help. “Of course, Mr. Blankenship.”

The room cleared after a moment, and it was just Zoey and Alex sitting at the small bistro table. Zoey watched as Alex sat still for a long moment, watching the place where Cindy Walden had been standing, and then turned back to his food. He took two more precise bites of omelet, threw back his coffee in one long slug, and then turned cool brown eyes on Zoey. “Your tablet, or your phone, I assume one of them records, for when you do interviews?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I want you to bring that in with us, please. Go and get it set up.”

“Alex—it’s illegal to record someone without their knowledge.”

He scoffed at her, and gave her a look she wasn’t sure he’d waste on the lowliest personal assistant. “Obviously I’ll tell her that she’s being recorded. Quite frankly, if she’s not willing to agree to that, then she can turn around and walk back out however the hell she came in.”

If she’d thought he’d been closed off and cold before, it was nothing compared to now. “Alex—”

“She’s here to talk to Arturo. She called him our brother. And there were others. Zoey, she may have information we need.”

“Alex, have you ever even heard of this woman?”

“I know her mother. Elizabeth Walden is chair of three charities that Olivia and Philip regularly gave to.” The bitterness was intense. “She is yet another of the people my age who are connected to my father, and the wrong side of his sheets.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Stop it,” he snapped, and she sat back in her chair. “I need to talk to her.” His voice had taken on an almost plaintive tone. “If this is who my father was—Zoey, I have to know.”

“Okay,” she said, even though she was agreeing to the worst idea she’d heard all week, and that was saying something. She never ever should have let Helen take her to the fucking club. Her life would have been less interesting, and right now, she would be okay with that. “Okay. Let me get my phone, and we’ll do this.”

He nodded, brushed a napkin lightly over his lips, and stood. Zoey picked up her coffee, but Alex touched her hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll have Sophia bring another through.”

She stared at him, just trying to understand, and then nodded, heading back towards the bedrooms to retrieve her phone.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Alex allowed himself exactly one minute to feel crappy about the way he’d shut Zoey out. It had been rude and abrupt, and not the person that he wanted to be with her. But at the same time, the way Ms. Walden had burst in had left him somewhat off kilter.

Elizabeth Walden had been one of the names his parents had screamed at each other about when he was younger. He’d watched Cindy Walden’s rise through the ranks of various corporations from a distance. He’d never had an urge to introduce himself. He was afraid, if he was willing to admit it to himself, that when he held out his hand to grip hers, she would give some kind of signal, some accidental sign, that would confirm whose daughter she was.

Over the years, Philip Blankenship had been connected with scores of women. Several of them had children, several of them had suddenly married, or quietly demurred when they were asked who the father was. But he’d never openly acknowledged any children other than Alex, and eventually, Claire.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Cindy could put him in mind of his father so easily. It was small things that had been so obvious. She’d thrown her shoulders back, ever so slightly, before she addressed him. Her hands had clutched at the hem of her suit coat in a certain way. He doubted she was even aware of these things. But he was quite sure she had no doubt who her father was. He wondered if she had modeled herself after Philip consciously, or if it had just been a natural progression. If it had seemed as inevitable for her as it had been for Alex.

It was a shitty move to send Zoey out of the room like a child, and he would need to make that up to her later. But for now—for now, he needed to address Walden directly.

He walked into the large living room. Clearly unintentionally, Cindy Walden had taken the same spot that Claire had taken the night before. On the large sofa, pressed into the arm farthest from where he would enter, but her body turned facing towards him. Sophia had brought in three cups of coffee, left behind the polished silver coffee pot, as well as a sugar bowl and milk jug. He fixed himself a cup; Cindy followed his lead. He did not take the spot opposite her on the couch, instead choosing a separate door, though still far from the entryway to the room.

“Zoey will join us in a moment,” he said, sipping at his coffee. “I want you to know she will be recording our conversation. For both of our protection, of course.”

“I understand.” Walden look completely unconcerned, just quiet and still as she sipped at her cup.

“I need you to understand, Ms. Walden, that while I will hear you out, if I find that you’ve intentionally misled me in any way—well, I believe that experience will be quite unpleasant for both of us.”

Walden gave Alex a long look that came straight out of Philip’s playbook. “Perhaps we should wait for your friend,” the emphasis on the word was not to be missed, “to join us. For both of our protection.”

He couldn’t help but smile. He sipped in silence until Zoey joined them. It looked like she’d taken a moment to swipe on some makeup. It added to the finished look she’d picked up with the new clothes that actually complemented her body, instead of the body of some mannequin in a department store, though Alex found himself missing, just a little, the tousled, just out of bed look she’d had a few minutes before. This was more polished, but less private. It was an interesting feeling, one he hadn't ever had before.

The pull he felt towards Zoey was something he needed to put aside to examine at a later time. He needed her, that was part of it, but there was something else, something so very much more. But now wasn’t the time.

Zoey inclined her head slightly towards Alex, then took the seat on the other side of the sofa from Cindy Walden. She very clearly laid her tablet down, orienting what he assumed was the mic towards the other woman, then tapped something on the screen. “Ms. Walden,” she said. “I assume Alex told you that he had asked me to record this conversation?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” she said, setting down her coffee cup. “I don’t understand why she’s here.”

Zoey started to speak, but Alex quickly spoke over her. “That’s not your concern,” he said. “I asked her to join us.”

“What we need to talk about, Alex, are private family matters.”

“She’s closer to my family than you are.”

He saw the weight of those words hit Zoey square in the gut. She hid it well, and he was fairly sure that someone who hadn’t made a living out of reading people wouldn’t have noticed. The slight smile that pushed at Cindy’s lips told him that she’d caught it as well. “As you wish,” Cindy murmured. He wondered if she knew she was quoting a movie that Alex had grown up with, one of the few things he’d shared with his father before the old man had just given up on his son.

“Tell me what leads you to believe that you are Philip Blankenship’s child.” He was fairly sure he had sufficiently hidden the layers of concern in his voice.

“My mother told me I was. You know the time line as well as I do, I’m sure, the charities they were both involved with, as well as the rockiest portions of your parents’ marriage.”

“And what did your father have to say about that?” James Walden had drunk himself to death around twenty years back. It was around the same time the old man had gotten himself back together for a little while. He’d actually been around the house, Olivia had been happy, Claire had been born—and then he disappeared again. Shocked, Alex had always supposed, that his dark-as-night wife kept having dark-skinned babies.

“Philip paid Daddy for his silence by giving him information. What to buy, what to sell. Those sorts of things. Never anything that would get him into trouble. But Daddy started getting greedy. The FTC started to watch him more closely. He caved under the pressure.” Cindy sighed. “Not surprising, really. But when he died—well, they stopped looking at the money. And all it took was a few words in the right ears for me to get my position, and then I told Philip that I wanted nothing more to do with him. He left Mother and I in peace.”

“Why was it your father’s silence that he had to buy?” Zoey asked. “What about your mother? Wasn’t there concern that she would speak out about the affair?”

Cindy’s eyes chilled down until they resembled chips of ice more than anything human. “There was no affair,” she said, each work quiet, but perfectly audible and enunciated. The joys of elocution lessons.

It took Alex a moment to connect the dots, and then his gut clenched. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Sorry I exist?” Cindy’s voice was cold, hard, crisp— and fragile.

“Sorry that you were told.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “I’m very glad that my mother told me, when I was quite young, how vicious people in power can be in order to get what they want. She was very clear that he did not physically force her. She was also very clear, however, that he never obtained her consent.” Cindy shook her head for a moment, and then her pretty, professional smile returned. “That’s not what I’m here to talk about. If you’re done quizzing me, I’d like to speak about the others.”

“The others.” The words escaped before Alex had a chance to vet them. “How many others are there.”

Cindy studied him for a long moment, and then shook her head. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “But I’ve worked hard to prevent Olivia from finding out that information. She has suspicions, I’m sure, and I’m sure Arturo made everything much worse, but if she doesn’t know, then I can’t let her find out.”

“A number doesn’t put anyone in danger.”

“A number tells her if she’s found them all, or if there are more to find.”

“I am not my mother,” Alex said.

“No, you’re not,” Cindy agreed. “But you are her son. If our positions were reversed, I know where my loyalties would lie.”

“That may be, Ms. Walden, but something you would have learned if you had grown up under Philip Blankenship’s thumb instead of just his shadow is that your only loyalty should lie with yourself. Everyone else in the world is just waiting for a chance to cheat you.” Zoey was glancing at him sideways, her expression tainted with horror. He hated that he was putting that look on her face, but there was nothing else he could do, absolutely nothing. It made him sick inside. Sicker than he should be, perhaps. But it was yet another moment which he needed to put a pin in, and move forward.

“That may be,” Cindy said, after a long moment. “However. Alone, we’re all vulnerable.”

That was the moment Alex had been waiting for. “Please explain to me how I am vulnerable.”

Cindy’s expression chilled down. “Fine. I am vulnerable. So are innocent children. I came here because the rumors I’m hearing about how your company is moving forward gives me hope that you are more moral than either of your parents. Unless it’s all a long involve scam to maximize AEGIS stocks. If it is, say the word, and I will leave. But if you would like to do something good for someone other than yourself, then perhaps we should have a real conversation, instead of one between two business people.”

He had to smile. “Tell me how many of you there are to protect, and I will do everything in my power to protect you. Even if it’s my mother I’m protecting you from. Just—” he let the smallest hint of emotion slip into his voice, the vaguest hint that there was something more than he needed. “Just please. Tell me what I need to know.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Watching Alex and Cindy stare at each other was not unlike watching two alley cats circle each other, spitting and hissing. Zoey kept her eyes on the recording counter on her tablet, trying not to wince at the words coming out of Alex’s mouth. She knew he was right. He had to say these things to Cindy. They needed more information to move forward. She’d found a lot of hints, but very little information that was solid. Rumors and ghosts was all she had been able to find. Philip Blankenship had covered his tracks well.

Cindy gave in, in the end. Zoey felt the moment it happened, even without looking at her. The air in the room relaxed, settled gently, and the tension that Zoey had collected in her shoulders faded gently away.

“There are five of us, in total,” Cindy said. “I know all the others. To the best of my knowledge, no one else does. Olivia knew of Arturo, of course, and Thalia. I’ve done everything I can to keep the twins hidden from everyone. Of course, they weren’t young enough for Philip to begin…interfering in their lives yet.”

“Interfering?”

Cindy cocked her head ever so slightly to the side. “You think that I wanted to be molded into his inferior copy? That my mother wanted him constantly involved in our lives, reminding her of what had happened on one horrible night?”

“I think that a smart person would use any advantage that they were given to screw over someone who had hurt their family.”

At that, Cindy managed a faint smile.

“Arturo was killed in his home last night. The others are Thalia Nicolaevna, and Henry and Irene Brie. Arturo was only a few months younger than me. Thalia had just turned 20. The twins are just children.” Cindy sighed and shook her head. “Olivia came to me last year and asked me to sign something stating I would never attempt any claim on Philip’s estate, never publicly attempt to claim myself his child, never seek any kind of acknowledgment.”

“Did you sign it?”

Alex and Cindy both glanced at Zoey, as if they’d forgotten she was in the room. She cleared her throat, and spoke more carefully. “Obviously, it changes everything if you did.”

“I did not,” Cindy said. “At the time, it was mostly just because I was furious with Olivia. She knew exactly what Philip had done to my mother, knew that he continued to force himself into our lives, and did nothing to stop it.”

“Do you have a copy of the document?”

Cindy nodded. “At my office. It’s in my email, and there’s also a thumb drive in a concealed compartment in my desk. My entire hard drive is backed up onto it, as well as the specific correspondence from Olivia and her associates.”

“Is she still in contact with you?” Alex seemed more than happy to let her ask her questions. She was a reporter, after all. Not a great one, maybe, and not one who’d managed to get much attention, but her instincts and her training were still there.

Cindy shook her head. “About three months ago, right before Philip died, she cut off all communication. My emails to her bounced, my texts have gone unanswered.”

“What were you talking to her about?”

That faint smile again. It wasn’t unlike Alex’s, that small one that made her heart beat just a little faster. On Cindy, though, it looked sadder. “We are in the same spheres, and we do what we must to avoid each other. She doesn’t want to be reminded of what her husband did any more than I do.”

It didn’t ring true, but Zoey made the call to let it go for now. She’d ask more questions later, when Alex wasn’t there to be hurt. Hearing his father called a rapist was enough for anyone, no matter how much they disliked their parents.

“So what makes you think that you’re in danger?” Zoey asked.

“How much do you know about the wording of Philip Blankenship’s will?”

“Tell me what you know,” Zoey said, “and let’s see where I might need to fill in the blanks.”

Cindy’s eyebrows skipped up for a moment, and she smiled a little bit more. “Philip, for whatever reason, did not name Alex and Claire specifically in passing on his assets to the heirs. The language of the will merely said that his assets would be split equally among his children. Whether or not his intention was for his bastard children to receive some portion of his assets?” Cindy shrugged. “It would end up in the courts, I imagine. Olivia would surely contest it.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t contest it?” Alex asked, his voice hard.

Cindy’s eyes went cold. “You could try, I’m sure. But to be clear. He didn’t just support our mothers, he supported us. He intervened on our behalf many times. He made sure that I got into the best schools, he made sure that Arturo got the capital and training necessary to start a successful business, and once it was functioning, he convinced his friends to get their offices and homes remodeled. An argument could absolutely be made that he treated us as he treated his own children.”

“Even better,” Alex amended. “Although I suppose I had his name, and he figured that would do his work for him. Since he was apparently too busy taking care of his bastard children to notice the ones he was legally obligated to.”

“All right,” Zoey said, before Cindy could fire back as well. “You two aren’t ever going to be besties, and no one blames you for that. We need to focus on why Cindy feels threatened, how that lines up with what we’ve discovered, and what we do about that.”

She watched Alex close his eyes, and take the kind of deep breath that people learned from Eastern arts instead of Western ones. His chest and his stomach expanded gently with the air he drew in, held, and then slowly and completely released. When his eyes opened again, she saw in them quiet focus and mellow determination. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is all a lot to take in. I had an idea—but five? And all of you with potentially a claim on the fortune? Olivia is going to lose her mind.”

“Just Olivia?” Zoey asked, her tone quiet but questioning. “Not you?”

Alex directed his gaze towards his hands. His fingers were knitted together, and it was a few minutes before he spoke. “My mother is very aware that it is her fortune that saved the old man from bankruptcy. Much of what AEGIS has become was built from her money. She put up with as much as she did because leaving Philip would mean leaving so much of her money behind. Her father wasn’t wise enough to insist on a pre-nup, and she was a naive girl, convinced she’d always be in love. If she believes that instead of the money and the influence being divided between her two children, it’s to be split between seven children, most of them—I can only assume—not black?” Cindy nodded, conceding the point. Alex’s eyes closed for one moment, in what Zoey had to assume was pain. He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. Was there stubble there? Had he shaved before she’d seen him this morning? “I don’t know what she’d do,” he said, quiet. “I think—she could be capable of anything.”

“There’s only four of us now,” Cindy said, her voice quieter and more respectful than Zoey had anticipated. “And I can’t get in touch with Thalia.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Zoey wasn’t sure if that was meant to sound as sinister as it did. The words almost seemed to clank down to the floor. She thought if she looked, she might see them there, shattered and broken.

“Who controls their shares? The others?”

Cindy raised her eyebrows.

“The children,” Alex asked. “Has anything been signed? Assuming that the courts upheld any interest that children other than Claire and myself have in AEGIS?”

Cindy nodded. “Their parents made the decision to trust any potential interest with me. Arturo and Thalia both retained their own control, of course, though I will admit that they both planned to ask me for advice on what to do with them.”

“Did you plan to challenge the will?” Alex’s tone was harder than Zoey anticipated.

“It was written that way in order to give us the option.” Zoey could see the other woman now, standing in a courtroom, facing down a cranky judge. Her spine was straight as a fireplace poker, and her eyes were icy cold.

“What in the world gives you that opinion?”

“Do you contest that your father has access to the best lawyers money can buy?”

“No.”

“Do you think that any reasonably competent lawyer wouldn’t have advised their client that a far more concrete legal way to write that document would have been to list the beneficiaries by name? Do you think any lawyer ever wouldn’t have pointed out that the phrasing he chose leaves the document open to contesting, especially given the way he chose to live his life?”

“Oh, I can certainly see that conversation happen just as you say,” Alex said. His body language was relaxed, almost draped back against the couch, but his eyes were anything other than calm. “But what I don’t see, what I don’t hear is proof.”

“I’d happily submit to a DNA test.”

“Convenient, since Philip is dead, and can’t submit a sample.”

“You’re not going to believe me, no matter what I say to you, are you?”

Zoey flinched, waiting for Alex’s fiery response. Instead, she saw his set face break into a wide grin. “I believe you, I just wanted to see if you believed in yourself.”

It took a couple of long moments for the anger to glide out of Cindy’s eyes, but the strong line of her back didn’t weaken for even a moment. “So what do we do now?”

“I need to finish getting ready for the office. I’ll give you a ride into town, if you’d like. The car heads that way anyway. And we can have a conversation about what, exactly, you plan to do with your shares of AEGIS, if the courts award you the rights to them.” He nodded to Zoey, and she tapped off the recording.

“Thank you for hearing me out,” Cindy said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Alex replied. “I’m sure the hard work is just beginning. Zoey, would you mind following me for just a moment?”

There was something in the way he phrased the words that made Zoey’s insides tremble. “Of course,” she said, picking up her tablet and following him back towards the bedrooms of the penthouse.

He walked through the doorway of his master suite, and before Zoey had a chance to set the tablet down, the door slammed shut behind her, and he pressed her up against it with almost savage force. His mouth came down on hers, smashing her lips against her teeth, his knee pressing between her thighs, working her knees apart. She whimpered her yes into his mouth as his fingers dug into her flesh, leaving bruises on top of bruises.

“I wish you were wearing a skirt,” he whispered against her skin as his hips thrust against hers. She could feel him, rock hard and eager, just as ready as he had been the first time he touched her. “If you were wearing a skirt, I would rip your panties getting them off. I’d be between your knees again, licking you until you were wet enough, and then turn you to face the wall, and then I’d fuck you so hard, Zoey, I’d have to hold back so I wouldn’t break you. I’d make you bite your arm again, to keep from screaming. I’d—Jesus, I don’t know, I’d slide a toy in your ass and bite your shoulder when I came and—Jesus, Zoey, my father—”

“You should have bought me a skirt, then,” she said, making a bet with herself, in the moment, that he’d feel better for getting his frustration out rather than letting it overwhelm him. There would be time for the hard emotional conversation of what a terrible man his father had been later, when it was less raw, and he wouldn’t later regret saying awful things to someone he barely knew.

He groaned into her ear. “Next time, then.” It was just a little bit of a question, and she grinned and nipped at the skin of his throat, where it was close to her teeth.

“Yes,” she whispered. “And next time, you’ll have to spank me like before. I’m sure I’ve done something bad.” She reached her hand down between them, caressing his erection through the fine wool of his trousers.

“Oh yes,” he murmured against her.

“So what would be your second choice?” she asked, sliding her hand inside of his pants and rubbing her fingers over the swollen tip of him. His forehead dropped onto her shoulder, and he made a long, low sound, deep in his throat. His hips were moving with her rhythm now, not his. Yes, he’d contained everything he’d felt during that conversation, and this was the only way he knew to release it at all.

“I don’t—that feels amazing—” Alex leaned down to kiss her neck again, and she pushed him gently away.

“Mr. Blankenship,” she vamped, “I need you to tell me what you want me to do.”

He shook his head as if it were full of cobwebs he couldn’t quite clear.

Inspiration struck. “Am I correct that you want to keep going?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his eyes closed, his attention focused on her hand.

“Well then,” she said. She pushed away from the wall, and twisted them so that his back was leaning for a change. His eyes opened in surprise, and she caught them and held them while she dropped slowly down to her knees. She freed her hand to work his belt and zipper, then pulled his boxers down so that his cock sprang free.

“Oh Christ,” he murmured as she leaned over him.

Most guys expected her to just leap at their cock and just try to suck it down all at once; she always preferred starting with a long lick, like she was going after an ice cream drip. Root to tip in one small, firm motion, and then taking just the head into her mouth. He started to curse as soon as her tongue touched him, and the stream of profanity didn’t decrease as she wrapped her mouth around him.

He tasted salty on her tongue, thick and heavy and warm. She suckled the tip of him, one hand on his hip for balance, the other teasing her nipples into sharp points and then sliding down inside of her jeans to curl up inside of her. “Are you really?” he whimpered. “Oh god, princess, you are so filthy, so goddamned naughty.” His hand tangled in her hair, and he tried to force her rhythm.

She dragged her teeth over him, not hard enough to actually scratch, but enough to make him yip a little bit. “Mr. Blankenship,” she said, making her voice as much of a purr as she could manage. “I appreciate that you like to be in control. But just this one time, how about you let me take care of you?”

It was hard to put words to exactly what shimmered in the air between them. She knew it was hot and vibrant and strong, but it defined quantification beyond that. He didn’t say the words—she wondered if he knew how to actually say that he was giving up control of anything—but he did let go of her hair, and slowly but surely, move his hands up to knit behind his head.

She went back to work on the tip of his cock. His cursing was even more profane now, but his hands stayed pinned behind his head. Which was good; it kept him from hurting himself as he knocked his head back against the door. She hummed, deep in her throat, and he spasmed in her mouth, his eyes flying wide. “You keep that up,” he panted, “I’ll come right in your mouth.”

“Don’t care,” she said, around the huge width of him. He groaned again, his eyes rolling closed, his teeth worrying at his lower lip. “Could I really make you come? Just like this, nothing but my mouth?”

“Fuck—” he gasped as she closed over him again, her tongue flicking over his tip as she suckled hard at what she could fit into her mouth. “Talking like that, like you’re the naughty secretary in a porn flick? Of course you could, princess.” His hips were shaking, his hands moving in rapid, twitchy little motions. They clutched at the door, scraped at his hair, clung for a moment to the frame of the door above his head. “Christ, oh Christ, princess. You’re going to drain me, I’m not going to be able to do anything for you.”

She took him in hand for a moment so that she could look up at him, meet his eyes, and smile. “You’re doing something for me. Right now.”

She bent over him again, and knew as soon as her tongue touched him that there was no turning back; he was teetering on the knife’s edge of orgasm, and she locked eyes with him, stroking the base of his cock as she sucked him off. He came with hot rushes of fluid, and she swallowed him easily, letting him see how she savored him, how hot it was to see him trusting her with this, how vulnerable he was making himself, how intense the moment was.

It almost wasn’t a surprise when his knees went weak, and he slipped down the door to land on his ass. He chuckled for a moment, but the laughter flipped over into a sob almost too easily. She opened her arms for a moment, not quite confident enough to just reach out and gather him up, no matter how badly he was hurting. He almost bowled her over with the force of his motion as he dove into her arms. He curled up, almost like a child, his head resting on her shoulder as he clung to her.

He didn’t cry, after that one solitary sob, but he wrapped his arms around her so tightly that she thought she might have to ask him to relax so she could breathe. Almost, but never quite that tight.

When he sat up and faced her, his expression was quiet and calm again. “What is your plan for the day?” he asked as he stood, straightening his shirt, and zipped his fly. He walked across to his closet, and pulled riffled through several different colors of tie.

The speed at which he changed gears made her head spin. She took a short breath to get her bearings, and then smiled. “I’m not entirely sure. I don’t have to actually be in the Voice’s office until Friday, but I have some work I need to do.”

“Stay here,” he said. “Be here when I get home.”

The invitation happened so quickly she was almost surprised. “I don’t have any of my things.”

“What would make you more comfortable, me having a car bring you to your studio to pick up your things, or me having things sent here for you?”

“Alex—” Zoey took another, longer breath. “We barely know each other.”

He didn’t look at her, just went to the long mirror and knotted his tie. “Funniest thing. I need to be looking at myself in a mirror to knot a tie. I don’t know why. I should know how to do this by now.”

“You’re not answering me.”

“You haven’t said anything that required an answer.”

“I can’t just—shack up with you.” There were so many more words than that, and she knew that she’d said them in entirely the wrong order. She should have started with what it had been like growing up, being the girl everyone had assumed, for no reason she’d ever understood, would be easy. How whether she’d decided to give in or decided to hold out, it always backfired. How she’d grown up stuck in a game she couldn’t win. How he was the first person in a thousand years to not make her feel that way. To pay attention to what she wanted, and try to give her that. To notice that her ass looked better in jeans that were a medium rise, instead of the super low cut that was fashionable. To notice her breasts and whisper in a moment of heat that he liked them better small, that he could get more into his mouth that way.

Instead, she’d leapt for the words that would sting the most, implying that she thought he was just another playboy, like her gossip rag already told everyone in the world that he was. He covered the hurt in his eyes quickly, but not quickly enough. “I see. I thought we had reached an agreement.”

“About—helping each other?”

He gave a short nod as he shrugged into his suit coat. It fit his narrow figure well enough to make her ache to kiss him again. “So if I grab all my stuff, haul it all here, and then we sort out the mystery—then what? I can’t get used to living like this, Alex. This—this isn’t my reality.” The other stuff was all too hard to say. This was something, though, something real and true that she could articulate. This was a fairy tale dream. Waking up in a soft bed, someone making her coffee that was beyond divine, making her whatever she wanted to eat, with a personal gym, a view of the city, a car service on speed dial. She couldn’t go from this back to eating ramen the week that rent was due. She could barely survive her life as it was without hating every second of it. A week away from it, and it would kill her to go back. Not all at once, but slowly, inch by inch. And she knew it.

Alex turned back towards her, his eyes large and soft for a moment. Zoey could hear the words echoing between them—this could be her reality. In that moment, all she’d need to do was say that she wanted it, and he’d give it all to her, every single piece of it. Just because she looked at him, and didn’t stop looking at his wallet, or the depth of the color in his skin, but kept looking, to see the man inside of those features.

If he wanted her, it was going to have to be for more than that. He needed to know her. He needed to want her for herself, not just for how she looked at him.

And then he smiled, the softness washing away, replaced by that businesslike calm. “Of course,” he said. “I understand. Still, feel free to work here today, if you’d like. We can have dinner tonight, and formulate the next steps of our plan.”

She didn’t want to say yes. She had a nagging feeling that it was very much the wrong thing to do. But she didn’t know what choice she had. “All right.”

“Let me see your phone,” he said, and she picked it up off the bureau, where Sophia must have left it when she brought the rest of Zoey’s things into the room. She passed it to Alex, and she watched him tap a few things into it. “That’s the car company, my office, and my cell. If you need to get anywhere, feel free to use the car company, I’ll let them know they may hear from you. Call my office or my cell if you need me.” He paused, and then offered her that slow, shy smile. “Almost no one has my cell phone. I’d obviously like to keep it that way.”

“Of course,” she said. It wasn’t anything like enough. “Thank you.”

His hand went to her hair, stroking along the curve of her head, finding her jawline, and tracing that until his thumb could brush over her lower lip. The attention made her shiver, and reminded her quite viscerally that even though she’d had her fingers in her pussy just a few minutes earlier, she hadn’t come at all. “Have a bath, if you want,” he said, his voice thick and hoarse. “Pile your hair up high and cover yourself in suds.”

“Call me when you’re on your way home,” she replied, resting her hands on his shoulders and leaning up to kiss the pulse in his throat. “I’ll make sure I’m waiting for you.”

His nostrils flared ever so slightly as his pupils widened. “I think I could fuck you pretty much all day long, and never be satisfied,” he whispered. “Have you ever been tied up at all?”

She shook her head, feeling her heart skip into another gear entirely.

“Perhaps we can experiment with that later,” he said. “You might enjoy it. The feeling of being restrained, of giving up control, can be delicious.”

“Okay,” she said. Her breath was a bare whisper.

His head bent towards hers, and she expected the kiss to be full of fire and lust and promise for later. The soft brush of his mouth on hers was something entirely other. It was thanks and leave-taking and a reminder that he would return.

It reminded her that no, she didn’t know anything about this man, not really, but what she knew led her to believe that she wanted to get to know him better.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

“Does your phone have video calling?”

He looked at her like she had a second head. “Of course.”

“Call me with that,” she said. “Right around noon, maybe. I’ll want a break from work by then. Maybe I’ll take a bath.”

He watched her with the same heated eyes she’d seen in the club, that first night. “Oh?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She reached out and trailed a finger tip down the length of his tie, never touching his skin, just letting him feel the pressure of her hand as he reached all the way down, hooking her finger in his belt and tugging him ever so slightly towards her. It was just enough to make him sway on his feet. “Where do you keep the toys?”

His teeth tightened over his lip, dragging over it in a slow motion that made her want to pull him down to her again, have him all over right there in the room. To hell with making Cindy wait, to hell with whether or not she heard them. Her pussy was aching, and god help her, he was reaching out to her, his finger sliding inside her jeans, where hers had been, twisting around her clit with savage intensity, just enough to make her ride his hand for a long, aching second. He whispered, “In the chest at the foot of the bed. Don’t come until I call.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will flog your ass senseless when I come home.”

“I’m not sure that’s a punishment.”

There was a darkness in his eyes that made her skin flush hot and tingy. “It’s up to you. If you’re a good girl, and wait for me, I’ll fuck you tonight. If you misbehave, I’ll beat you. You decide what you want.”

He swept out of the room with quiet confidence that made her shiver. Her pussy was soaking wet and quivering, and she didn’t know how in the world she was going to hold out until the noon deadline she’d set. If she even wanted to.

Zoey found herself smiling. There were some very interesting options here.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Alex walked back out into the living room. Cindy was standing now, her bag on her shoulder. “All set?” she asked.

How many more times would he be relieved that the depth of his skin tone hid the heat in his cheeks? Did he really mind? “Yes,” he said. He picked up his briefcase from its spot outside of his office on their way down the hallway, and led Cindy into the elevator and out the front door of the building. David was waiting for them with the car. Alex kept his eyes on the man, waiting for so much as a lifted eyebrow at the way he’d brought one woman up and was bringing another woman down. The man’s professionalism didn’t falter for a moment, though. Cindy slid neatly into the back of the car, and Alex followed her. David, to his credit, had already raised the partition between the front and the back of the car.

“What did you want to discuss?” Cindy asked. She was every inch the lawyer now, all signs of her distress gone.

“There is a motion within the board,” Alex said, choosing his words carefully. “Some people believe that AEGIS should keep its manufacturing allocated as it is currently, with weapons manufacturing and sales around 50% of the company’s profits. There is another faction, however, that believes the company would be better served, both from a public perception angle, and from the point of view of morality, by shifting development money towards healthcare development, specifically medicines and gear that can be used in locations without high quality water supplies, and so forth. I need to know which side you would take, were you to claim any shares.”

Cindy grinned, and he saw the look the old man had worn just before he closed on his prey like a shark in bloody waters. “Which side gets me your support?”

Alex kept silence, and kept his face as impassive as he could.

She shrugged. “The old bastard didn’t leave anything to his wife, or she wouldn’t be as frightened as she is. She’s holding your younger sister’s shares in trust until she turns 18, of course, and everyone knows that girl idolizes you, and would do anything you want her to. She’ll make money off the shares, but she’ll never be a force on the board. Not like Alexander Blankenship, legendary playboy.”

She was trying to get a rise out of him, throw him off balance so that he’d give something away. He kept his face steady, his gaze on her face, waiting. The trick to a good poker face was not to worry about it too much. You couldn’t contain expression by focusing on expression. You just had to focus on—not caring. This hand of cards couldn’t matter. There was something bigger at stake.

Cindy laughed at him. “Fair enough. Given my own preferences, Alex, I’d support the medical angle. But if it comes to it, I will vote whatever you want me to, in order to get your support. Hell, I’d sign the shares over to you at market value. But Olivia Cunningham is not going to intimidate me. It’s unfortunate that she married a racist sack of shit, but quite frankly, that’s not my problem. I have my own life to think about.”

It was a good enough answer for now. It was galling to think about buying back something that was supposed to be his already, but she wasn’t wrong about Claire’s willingness to do what he told her to. It had driven a wedge between himself and Olivia already, and he didn’t think for one moment that would get easier. He might do just as well to have her as an ally; few people seemed to detest Olivia as much as he did. That would be useful.

Before he said anything, there was a chirping sound. Cindy’s eyes darkened suddenly, and her hand shook as she said “Excuse me,” and reached for a phone. Not the smart phone he’d seen in her hand a few times since she’d arrived. An old flip phone, the type that were paid for in cash. Deliberately.

She flipped it open, and read whatever message she’d just received. Alex watched as the color flooded out of her pale cheeks. Her hand, with its perfect manicure, fluttered up to her mouth, covering it. Her eyes squeezed closed in obvious pain, then flashed open again. Tears glittered on her lashes, but she kept her eyes wide, presumably to keep them from spilling over.

He waited as long as he could stand, and then gently reached out, touching her knee with one light finger. “Ms. Walden?” She didn’t say anything to him. Her eyes didn’t move, and her hand didn’t stop its furious trembling. “Cindy?”

She shook her head furiously, closed her eyes for another moment, then opened them. She was clearly struggling for control; her eyes could barely focus on one thing, and her hands shook like something deep inside of her was grinding against itself. And maybe it was. “Thalia,” she whispered.

A chill stole over him. “The half-sister?” He was aware that he didn’t refer to the woman as his half-sister. It hurt too much to do so, no matter what it made anyone think of him.

She nodded.

“What’s happened?”

Cindy snapped the phone shut with a nervous little motion. “She’s dead,” the woman said. “Let me out.”

“No,” Alex said. “We need to go to the police.” He hit the intercom. “David?”

“No,” Cindy snapped back. She moved towards his hand, and he held her off without any real effort.

“Yes,” he said to her. “David, I need you to take us to 1 Police Plaza, please.”

“Absolutely,” David said. No change in his calm, even tone. There was a slight sway of the car as he changed lanes with the kind of force necessary for a driver in New York, and then the simple surge of motion. Alex flipped the intercom off again.

Cindy stared at him with eyes that flashed betrayal and anger. “You can’t do this to us. You think she’ll kill us any slower if the police get involved?”

“There have been two deaths in twenty four hours,” he said, using the same calm voice he’d learned when his father had bullied him into the board room under the guise of teaching him to be a better businessman. Really, his father had only ever intended to cow Alex into being his little copy. It had worked far better than he’d ever intended; he’d created a savvy businessman who refused to take someone else’s word for something he was capable of researching himself. “We are aware of a connection between them that the police are not. We need to let them take over. You need protection.”

Cindy shook her head, a kind of quiet sadness playing over her features. “You don’t understand,” she said quietly. “Your family owns everything. If Olivia wants us dead, it’ll happen. I was a fool to even come to you.” She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “I wouldn’t care, if it weren’t for the twins. They’re just babies. Do what you can to protect them, all right?”

“Stop this,” Alex said. “I can’t protect them by myself.”

She shook her head sadly, and she wouldn’t say another word. The car stopped, and David came around to open the door. “Please,” she said, as Alex set one foot out. “Please. Don’t do this. They won’t understand. The children don’t even know. They were adopted. They have no idea what they’re caught up in. I can’t—I don’t want to turn their lives upside down like that. I don’t want the media to know who they are. Philip hadn’t even managed to notice them yet. Please. Let someone grow up without his influence. We’ll take care of this ourselves.” Her hand closed over his arm, a white band of steel around his darker wrist. “Please.”

He glanced up at David, at the impassive, professional stare. The man wasn’t looking into the car, wasn’t looking at them at all. He felt the pleading in Cindy’s voice. He sighed, resignedly. He didn’t know, not for sure. And the woman was right. Olivia was not the kind of person who would be pursued by the police, not in New York City. He needed to figure out Philip’s journal and go to the police with hard evidence. Nothing else would make any kind of difference.

He pulled his foot back inside the car. David blinked twice, a little fast, and then closed the door. Alex glanced at his phone; it was 8:30. “I have a meeting at nine,” he said. “You have until then to convince me we can fix this without the police being involved.”

“Thank you,” she said. Her eyes gleamed.

All he could do was hope and pray that he was making the right choice.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Alex hadn’t ever really understood the phrase ‘with a heavy heart’ before he walked into the AEGIS offices that morning. For the first time since his father had died, he saw a path to victory, a way to turn his inheritance from a millstone around his neck into a corporation that he would be proud to be a part of. But someone was working against him.

It wasn’t a new sensation, not really. Throughout his life, it had felt like someone was always working against him. It was funny, even to him. He was sensible enough to know that he’d led an incredibly privileged life. He’d never had to worry about food, or clothing, or whether or not he’d have a roof over his head for another night. He’d been spared the worst of the world’s prejudices because he had enough money and status to compensate for the color of his skin. But sometimes he thought he’d merely traded in one set of difficulties  for another.

He’d watched Cindy driving away in his car, the driver instructed to take her to her law firm. Her skin tone had gone gray with misery, but she hadn’t shed a single tear. He wouldn’t have wanted to grieve the loss of his sister in front of a stranger, either. For all of their blood connection, they knew nothing about each other, not really. Each of them was taking a risk in trusting the other.

The only thing that gave him any peace at all was that Claire should be safe from whatever purge was occurring around him. He ran the risk of losing strangers, and that was sad and unfortunate, but it wasn’t the possibility of losing someone he’d been taking care of since he was a kid. But still, someone was committing murder, and the only connection between the two people who’d been killed was his father.

As the elevator rose towards his floor, he felt like his heart was struggling to beat, like his chest was just a little bit too tight. He wondered if even he had the power to stop this thing from happening.

He forced himself to push away the worry and the concern. He had an appointment with two of his father’s old business partners from the  weapons trade  in the Far East. The fact that they’d asked to meet with him together  made him concerned. In his experience, that sort of thing wasn’t necessary, unless they were planning to somehow try to use leverage to bully him towards a particular course of action that would benefit both of them.

They were already waiting outside his office as he stepped off the elevator. He took one more moment to make sure that his professional smile was firmly in place, and then stepped forward, his hand extended.

The two men were both smaller than him, clean-shaven, and had a light brown cast to their skin. He didn’t know immediately which of them was which, so instead of guessing and getting it wrong, he merely extended his hand to the man closest to him first. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Thank you for joining me this morning. I’m sorry that I was running a bit late.”

“No, no,” the second man said as he gripped Alex’s hand in turn. His English was unaccented, something Alex wished he could say about his Mandarin. “We arrived early.”

Brianna appeared then, two mugs of coffee in hand. She passed one to the first man, and Alex remembered why he’d hired her. “Mr. Akimoto,” she said, without any kind of signal or glance from Alex that he could use a hint towards who was who in the room. Mr. Akimoto—Shoichiro Akimoto, the Chief Operations Officer for Hasu Corporation, a weapons contractor out of Japan—offered her a slight bow. “And Mr. Shaoqiao,” she said, handing the second cup to the slightly shorter of the two men. “I found some of the almond syrup after all, so I left out the sugar.”

Shaoqiao Zhu, generally going by Nicholas with his American business partners, and CEO of Wuxing Ltd, based in China, grinned, and his whole face lit up. “You are a treasure,” he said. His English had the slightest accent, just a tiny bit of clip around the words. He took a sip of the dark brew, and nodded deeply. “Thank you, very much.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she said. “Mr. Blankenship, the usual?”

It was a question about coffee and about custom. When he nodded his agreement, he was telling her not just that he wanted a cup of coffee black, but with a splash of orange extract—she’d gotten him drinking it last year, and it soothed his nerves now, for all that he’d never tell a soul about it—but also to hold his calls, and to not tell Olivia who he was meeting with. She’d claimed that she’d seen the notation about the meetings on his calendar when she was scheduling another appointment. He hadn’t believed her then, and he believed her even less now. Brianna was now under standing orders to avoid telling Olivia anything about his schedule that she could manage to keep to herself.

He opened the office door, and the two men followed.

His memories of desire flared as he walked to his desk. It had been so incredibly sweet, having Zoey slammed into him there, her nails digging into his shoulders through his dress shirt as he pounded home in her. He wanted her back, wrapped tightly around him again. He wanted to turn her around, pin her hands at the small of her back, and fuck her while her face was smashed into the desktop. Bruise her again, dig his fingers into her shoulders until she cried out, dancing through pain and pleasure that were so tangled that neither one of them could tell the feelings apart. He wanted to devour her, and feel her fight back to devour him in return.

He dragged his mind away from the fascinating ways he could debase both of them before he ended up sporting wood that his trousers wouldn’t disguise. “I’m pleased the two of you could join me this morning,” he said. He sat down in one of the plush chairs in the center of the room. Brianna came in a bare moment later with a cup of coffee for him. He sat back, taking a sip and luxuriating in its delicate mouth feel before he focused his attention on the two men who had taken seats opposite him—though not side by side, which was worth noting. Philip had always begun his meetings with a demand. This was just one of the many ways he was determined to not be like his father.

“Mr. Zhu,” he began, meaning to ask after the man’s family, but the slight man shook his head quickly.

“Nicholas, please,” the Asian man said, gesturing at Alex.

Unless Alex entirely missed his guess,  Akimoto bit back a grimace. Even more interesting. “Nicholas,” Alex said. “And Shoichiro.” The other man did not seem pleased at all that Alex was using his familiar name, but he didn’t protest. “Tell me, what has brought you to the States for this visit.”

Akimoto spoke first this time. “Your father was an excellent businessman,” he said in his perfect English. “But we have both heard that  you are not your father. It is an indelicate question to ask over Skype, after all. To ask what legacy a son prepares to give his father.”

Nicholas’ brows furrowed ever so slightly, but he didn’t actually look at Akimoto. Was this a different conversation than the one he’d been anticipating? “We certainly know the direction in which we hope to see AEGIS steered. If that direction is not even on the map, we hope to find out now, so that we can begin to plan for other arrangements.”

Alex nodded, the wheels spinning as he tried to determine what they were actually asking. “Debate continues, as I’m sure you know, about exactly what direction AEGIS will take as we make forward. Projections must be created, charts must be reviewed. You’re both business men, you understand how involved these sorts of choices are.” The question he wanted to ask was what, exactly, interests these two companies had in an American weapons manufacturer, and why  they were both staring at him as if he held the key to their entire business futures. But that wasn’t how things were done in his world. Asking a direct question only revealed your motives; the person you were talking to would lie until their face turned blue if it suited them.

He found himself missing Zoey, and her straightforward banter. The way she looked him directly in the eyes and didn’t mince words. He recognized that had it bad. Crush, love, whatever, he had it very very bad. He’d never spent this much time thinking about one person before. It seemed indecent, somehow.

The two men glanced at each other, and it was Akimoto who spoke again. “I apologize, Mr. Blankenship—”

“Alex, of course.”

“Alex,” the man said, but his mouth twisted around the word, as if it tasted sour. “Perhaps we must be blunt like Americans. Your father offered us certain—benefits to remaining his customers, and not using one of the many other vendors who serve our portion of the world. Certain kindnesses received in trade for maintaining exclusivity. I’m sure you understand that we need to know whether or not we can expect these considerations to continue.”

It was hard work, keeping the burning rage off his face and confined to his churning gut. He took another long sip of his coffee as he considered his words. “I’ve seen nothing in your accounts other than the standard discounts for bulk purchasing. Am I to understand that these considerations are all off the books?”

Nicholas nodded. Alex wasn’t sure if he was fooling himself or not that the man looked substantially more uncomfortable with this conversation than his companion. Akimoto didn’t shift his gaze off of Alex’s face for a moment.

“I can’t agree to terms of which I am not aware,” he said, carefully. “I am still in the process of going through my father’s paperwork. When I find documentation of the consideration,” he emphasized the word just a little, “that he was giving you, I will be happy to bring it to the board and determine whether or not they would like to move those considerations onto the official books in order to maintain your continued business. I should have something firm to offer you within a few weeks.”

Akimoto did a good job of containing his anger, but not as good as Alex. His knuckles were blanched white on the mug of coffee he held, and his lips were set in a firm little smile that had no affection in it. “Are we to understand then, Alex, that the rumors are correct, and that you are gathering support for a move to discontinue the weapons manufacturing department of AEGIS, and instead, are looking to expand the medical division of the company?”

He laughed, a genuine burst of amusement. Nothing was ever a secret on Wall Street, not once it was put into writing or spoken aloud, anyway. “I think discontinue is a strong word,” he said. “I think de-emphasize is more accurate. We’re entering a new era of history, gentlemen. In a global economy, we need to work to defeat global enemies so that we can move forward as a world. We’re too tightly connected now to do it any other way.”

“That’s a lovely science fiction story,” Akimoto said now, his voice tighter than before, his words more clipped. “But what about the parts of the world where they don’t agree with your Utopian vision? Some would say that this is just another attempt at American imperialism.”

Alex shrugged. “Let them. I don’t plan to tell anyone how to run their lives. I just know what leaves me able to sleep at night.” And then he stood, taking another sip of coffee. “Thank you for joining me, gentlemen, and thank you for being direct with your concerns. I assure you, I’ll have proposals for you to consider within a few weeks.”

Shoichiro Akimoto stood, rebuttoned his coat, and strode out of the room without another word. Alex winced internally. He’d created an enemy with that little speech, and he couldn’t afford enemies right now. For the last 24 hours, he’d been consumed with the murders around him, but there was more than he needed to deal with. In a cold way, the business troubles were vastly more urgent for him to deal with, especially if word had escaped that he was looking at restructuring AEGIS.

Nicholas took a long sip of his coffee mug, emptying it before setting it on the table. He stepped forward and extended his hand. Alex clasped it, pleasantly surprised at the firmness of the other man’s grip. “I am with you,” the Chinese man said, his voice very quiet.

“I thank you for your support,” Alex replied. “May I ask you a question?”

Nicholas inclined his head.

“Why Nicholas? Why not Zhu?”

The man’s mouth spread in a wide grin, his teeth gleaming. “I hate hearing Americans get the tones wrong,” he replied. “Have a good day, Alex.” He mispronounced the name in the stereotypical way, letting the “l” sound blur into an “r.” Alex gave Nicholas the wincing grin he was sure the other man wanted, and watched him leave.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Interesting. All of it, interesting. Nicholas closed the door behind him, and Alex went to his desk. His phone was still resting heavily in his pants pocket. He pulled it out and sent Zoey a quick text. Princess, can you add Shoichrio Akimoto and Shiaqiao Zhu to your list of things to research? I’ll call at lunch. He thought for a moment about adding a heart at the end of the message, but his cheeks grew hot at just the consideration. He told himself that it was both too soon and too school girl. But he was tempted all the same.

She didn’t respond right away, and as Brianna tapped on his door and entered the office, he slipped his phone into his desk drawer. Brianna picked up the coffee cups that had been left on the table. “Mr. Khordorkovsky wonders if you’re available this morning.” The woman’s talent with languages never failed to impress him.

“For Leo? Always. And can you call IT about—”

“Mr. Blankenship’s files?” She grinned, and he took a moment to enjoy the familiarity the two had built over the past few months. “It is a day that ends in ‘y.’ Daniel would be disappointed, I think, if I didn’t call.”

“Don’t disappoint him,” Alex grinned back, “And send Leo in.”

Leonard Khordorkovsky was the son of a Russian diplomat assigned to the embassy in New York. He’d met Alex when they were both in high school, and while Philip had been basically straight edge outside of his taste in women, Leo had constant access to drugs, booze, and cars. The two of them had far too much fun, and Alex was only moderately sure that he remembered half of it. He had to smile when he remembered the wildness of those days. They’d calmed down more recently, as it seemed maturity kicked in. Leo’s father had moved back to Russia, and Leo had managed to stay and continue to work at a charity he’d created for queer homeless youth in the city. He’d never exactly come out, but he’d been very clear about what had driven much of his misspent youth.

He was a big bear of a man, with broad shoulders, tanned skin, and a beard that seemed wild and wiry even after he’d just trimmed it into submission. When he saw Alex, he let loose with a huge laugh that filled the room. Alex let the other man sweep him into the kind of hug that involved back pounding, and such tight squeezing that his eyes watered. “Jesus, Leo,” he wheezed, and Leo just laughed harder.

“The desk and the suit,” the Russian said. Like many American-educated diplomat’s children, he retained only the slightest trace of his original accent. “They look awful on you. What the hell are you doing, my friend?”

Alex joined him in laughter as Brianna closed the office door. “One of us had to grow up eventually, Leo.” He gestured back towards the more comfortable seating area, and Leo followed him, relaxing into the corner of the sofa as if he owned it. It was another of the man’s eerie talents; he could immediately make himself at home in any situation, and become the instantaneous best friend of anyone he ever met. It was because of Leo that they’d never gotten kicked out of prep school, and because of Leo that Alex was good friends with Luke Pyramus, the police commissioner. Leo had a special talent for finding the person from whose friendship he could most benefit in any given situation, and creating a solid bond with them. It wasn’t using people, not really; Leo was a stalwart friend and gave without concern for his own need. He didn’t ask for favors often, and they were never anything that Alex had been unable or unwilling to give. It was entirely possible that Leo’s family had amassed more wealth than Alex’s had. They’d never compared bank accounts, but Alex knew that Leo could easily keep pace with him on a night on the town, and Alex’s own lifestyle sometimes seemed monkish compared to Leo’s extravagance. Leo didn’t have to bend laws; laws stood up and shuffled quietly out of the way for him.

Leo raised one thick eyebrow. “Interesting you say so,” he said. “When were you going to tell me?”

Alex relaxed into the other side of the sofa. “Tell you what?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “After all this time, you still think I’ll tell the paparazzi what I know? Come on, Alex, you know me much better than that, I would hope.”

“Leo, I swear, there’s nothing I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Your sister’s phone number.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “You’d only be calling her for fashion advice.”

Another burst of laughter from his friend, and a nod. “It’s true enough. But tell me now, Alex. Who is the new woman? This Zoey Gardener. How did you meet her?”

Alex’s heart stopped for a moment. His lungs labored to provide air, and his hands clenched on nothing. “What—how did you—”

Leo’s face grew serious. He reached into his pocket for his phone, tapped at the screen a few times, and then turned it so Alex could see. Filling the screen was a picture of him and Zoey, caught up in that heated liplock last night in front of the bar, while they waited for David to arrive. His brain shut off, choking on this new information. He found himself noting details of the composition. The shot looked like a cell phone, not a pro camera, but the composition was much better than your average fan pic. His profile was clearly recognizable. The pic had already been shared thousands of times on the social media account that Leo was logged into. There was no containing this. Not that there ever had been.

He passed the phone back to Leo and rubbed his face with his hand, trying to organize his thoughts.

“Alex?” He couldn’t bring himself to meet his friend’s eyes. “Tell me what’s happening, Alex, so we can figure out the next step. Was she a professional? Or someone from your club?”

“Neither,” Alex managed to say. “She’s a journalist. She was working on a profile of me, but obviously—things have been less than professional since. This may complicate things further.”

“Ah,” Leo said, with a sad sort of sigh. “You finally decided to find a woman with integrity.”

“I need to call her,” Alex said. “I need to warn her.”

Leo shook his head. “No point. I’m sure someone will have told her already. She was identified. Apparently whoever took the picture knew her and ID’d her with the initial release of the photo.”

“She should hear it from me.”

Leo nodded. “But first we need to talk about your company. What are you trying to do, Alex, destroy everything your father created?”

Alex found his fingers clenching again. “If what my father created is poisoning the world? Then you’re damn right I will.”

He expected Leo to argue with him. Leo had always come down on the side of family loyalty, as long as Alex had known him. The only time he had acted differently was when his father had ordered Leo back to Russia. Instead, Leo’s face expanded into his familiar broad grin again, the one that always said they were about to break something, and have fun doing it. “Excellent,” he said. “That is exactly what I hoped you’d say. It seems it’s time to scheme, then, yes? Like two old women.”

Alex cast one last glance at his phone, and then turned his attention back to Leo. He needed to know what his friend knew. He operated in the same social circles as Alex did, but he always had a completely different set of information. Between the two of them, he could pull together things that Zoey wouldn’t be able to dig up in a thousand years. “Tell me,” he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

After Alex and Cindy left, Zoey found herself not entirely sure where she should be. She’d meant to ask Alex if there were any places in the penthouse that he preferred she not go. Sophia seemed perfectly comfortable with Zoey in Alex’s bedroom, for example, but maybe he’d prefer that she stayed out for now. She had her laptop, but was in dire need of a charge, and she had no idea where to find a power strip, much less a seat near an outlet.

Sophia came to the rescue within just a few minutes. It was almost like she could smell Zoey’s unease on the wind. “Will you be staying all day?” She made it a casual question, not a snark, which Zoey appreciated.

“It seems like it,” she said. “Assuming I won’t be in your way.”

Sophia waved a hand. “Not in the least. It will be nice to not be in empty rooms all day long. Can I get you anything? More coffee, tea, juice?”

Zoey’s instinct was to say that if she needed anything, she could certainly get it, but there was something in the way Sophia was watching her. It seemed like the woman wasn’t just asking because it was her job. She didn’t show any signs of irritation or frustration, just a quiet, peaceful patience. It was hard for Zoey to find emotional peace with the idea that this woman might actually value her part in making the household run. She chuckled to herself. Southern white guilt at its finest. “I don’t want to keep you from your work,” she said in compromise. “If you want to show me where things are, I’ll happily keep myself supplied.”

Sophia seemed to recognize Zoey’s emotional imbalance, and she smiled. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you another cup of coffee, but I’ll show you where everything is so you don’t have to find me if you want another.”

“That sounds great,” Zoey said. “And if you can give me a hint of a good place to set up my laptop, that would be fantastic.”

Sophia looked her up and down for a moment. “Are you a crash on the couch sort, or would you prefer some sort of desk or table?”

Zoey had to grin. “Couch type, most of the time, but I need to plug in today. My laptop is at about 20% battery.”

Sophia nodded. “Let’s get you coffee, and then I know just where you’ll want to be.”

Sophia gave her a quick tour of the kitchen, loaded her up with another cup of  amazing coffee and a tray of biscotti and fresh fruit, and then led her into a quiet corner of the house. Zoey hadn’t seen this room at any point in her movements, and of all the places she’d been, it seemed the most calm and welcoming room in the apartment. The furniture was plush and inviting, there was a large television in one corner of the room, and the tables looked like a person could put their feet up without inviting the wrath of a thousand interior designers. Sophia did hand her a coaster, but it wasn’t the kind of room where Zoey vaguely wondered if she needed a coaster to keep her coaster clean. “Thank you,” she said, and Sophia just smiled.

“It really is my pleasure,” the woman said. “When do you tend to eat lunch?”

Zoey gave a shrug that she was fairly sure the other woman would understand. “Whenever I wander into the kitchen and find leftovers?”

Sophia smiled again. “Excellent. Let’s say noon, and if you get hungry earlier, please find me. Truly, it’s nice to have someone around during the day.”

Sophia left, and Zoey went back to the bedroom to retrieve her laptop. She drank her coffee and continued to research, looking deeper into the names she had now. And then, about an hour after Alex had left, she got a text from him, asking her to look into two names.

Tracking them down was easy; both men were high profile figures within the Asian arms trade. What she started to see, as she dug deeper, gave her chills. There was nothing concrete, nothing as clear as an arrow pointing directly to them. If the rumors she was reading were true, then they would be able to deny a great deal of it, say that these things were happening in their companies without their knowledge, and just hang some people lower in the company structure out to dry. But still...if what she was reading was even half true.

She picked up her phone and dialed Alex’s cell, but the call went to voice mail. She wasn’t sure if she should try the office line. She certainly trusted that he’d answer the phone, but she didn’t know if he’d want that conversation to happen on a company line.

She sent a text. Call me ASAP. And then sat back to drum her fingers on her thighs and wait for his call.

He’d called her ‘princess’ in the text. He’d called her that a lot in bed, and in bed, she loved it. In common use, it felt odd, somehow. She’d spent so much time in her teen years and in college rejecting that idea of a beautiful woman made special by her crown. She’d worked so hard to define herself on her own terms, and not in relation to the people in her life, men or women. Everything about the word ‘princess’ defined the person in relation to their country, their heritage, their lives. There was nothing independent about being a princess. Nothing at all.

However when Alex said it, there was a not small part of her that wanted to put on the sparkly tiara and demand to be treated like royalty. It was incredibly disorienting. She would have sworn that she would never really enjoy that feeling. It came as an utter surprise that she did.

Her phone rang after a few minutes. “You found something,” he said, as soon as she said hello.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to know yet,” he said, and his tone surprised her. She could imagine him in the office, sitting back in his desk chair. “It’s been a hell of a morning. Is it something I need to know right now?”

“I’d say you need to know by the end of the day.” It was a weird question and she hoped her answer was accurate.

“Have you tried out the bathtub yet?” he asked. There was no change of tone in his voice. It was odd to have his CEO voice asking her that.

“No,” she said. “I’ve been working so far.”

“What were you working on?”

“Mostly the research you asked for,” she said. “And then I have some actual work to do.”

“For the Voice?”

“Some, I have a couple of quick gossip pieces to write. And then I have some other content stuff to write.”

“Take a bath first,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Go fill the tub. I’ll call you back in about five minutes.”

She shivered, just a little, at the command in his voice. “Should I be in the tub when you call back?”

She could hear him considering. “No,” he said. “But you should have your tablet propped up somewhere where I’ll get a good view.”

Her body tightened around the thought of him. She was still wet and slick from touching herself while she’d blown him earlier. “Okay,” she said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

She left her laptop where it was and carried her tablet into the master bathroom. The tub was absolutely huge; she was pretty sure that she’d be able to entirely submerge herself, if she wanted to. There were several bottles of different oils and bubbles lined up on a pretty metal shelf above the bath itself. She poked through, and found something that smelled of vanilla and earthy spices. She ran the tub, setting the water hot enough to turn her skin bright pink, and poured a healthy dose of the fragrant oil into the water. Alex had a convenient tablet dock set on just far enough away that it wouldn’t get splashed accidentally, but close enough that someone in the tub could tap the screen. Someone could read in the bath, or watch a movie. Or conduct a video call.

She propped the tablet up in the dock, and as if she’d cast a summon Alex spell, an alert buzzed on her phone. She did her best to will away the blush that was threatening to flood her cheeks, and swiped to accept the call.

She could see Alex, now. His phone was propped up as well. On his desk, she thought, based on the big leather chair he sat in. He’d loosened his tie and unbuttoned his coat, but she couldn’t see anything else. “Hi,” she said. Was she seriously getting embarrassed now? She’d fucked him rotten this very morning, was she actually going to blush about letting him watch her take a bath?

It wasn’t going to be just a bath, of course. She’d known Alexander Blankenship for just a few days, and she already knew that he didn’t do anything by half measures.

She saw his arm moving almost idly, his bicep flexing in the sleeve of his shirt, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth to swallow the moan that wanted to escape. “Did you start the party without me?”

He raised an eyebrow, and then laughed. “Zoey, I’ve been half hard since just a couple of minutes after I came in your mouth. I walked into my office and saw the desk, remembered fucking you, and nearly excused myself to stroke myself off all over again.”

The crass words coming from that exquisitely shaped mouth, the body wrapped in that expensive suit, made her even wetter. “Alex,” she whispered, and he smiled.

“Have you been a good girl?” he asked. “Kept your hands out of your pants?”

Her pussy clenched again, and she had to focus on him. “It’s only been a few hours. I can hold out that long.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” he said. “But I want to know if you did.” His arm was moving with a touch more purpose now. She wondered if he’d taken himself in hand, yet, or if he was just stroking his bulge through his pants.

“I was a good little princess,” she said, and she could both hear and see his sharp intake of breath, just a tiny bit out of sync on the screen. “I haven’t touched myself at all since you left.”

“Do you want to?” His voice was hardly more than a thread of sound.”

“No,” she said. “No, right now? I want you to touch me.”

“I want that, too,” he murmured. “I want to taste you on my tongue, and I want to feel you clench around my cock, but since I can’t come home an hour after I got to work, this is the best I can do for right now. What do you think?”

“Tell me what you want,” she said. She was wet and eager, and she was ready to give him anything that he wanted.

“Strip,” he said.

The tub was full; she shut off the water, then stood, and slowly pulled the sweater he’d bought her over her head. She heard a quiet sound from him as she bent forward, letting her small breasts fall into a gentle swell as she unbuttoned the jeans and skimmed them down and off her hips. She stood there in the bra and panties he’d bought her, and waited.

“Keep going.”

“What about you?” She put enough tease in her voice to make him smile.

“I can’t very well strip naked in my own office. What if Brianna were to walk in?”

She giggled a little. She’d only met Alex’s assistant once, but she was fairly convinced that she knew the woman’s type. “She’d probably ask you if she should bring you a cigarette and a glass of water for when you’d finished.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I’m sure she’d at least offer me sparkling water.” He chuckled for a moment, and then his voice took on a much sharper tone. “Strip. Now. I want to see you naked.”

There was something very different about stripping off her bra and panties in front of a camera, even if it was a closed connection. Her mother had never exactly pulled her aside and told her not to sext with boys, but it had certainly been implied.

But the intensity of his eyes on her gave her the motivation to reach back, unhook the bra, and let her breasts fall free. Her nipples were pale pink peaks, taut against the cool air of the bathroom. She moved very, very slowly as she hooked her thumbs in her panties and pushed them down her legs. She stood there, her hands folded behind her back, pushing her small breasts forward, and waited.

“Have you done this sort of thing before?”

“No,” she said. “You’re my first.”

She liked the gasping sound he made when she surprised him. It made her want to do it again and again.

“How much do you trust me?” Alex asked, and Zoey found herself smiling again.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Fair point,” he said. “Is the bath ready?”

She nodded without speaking.

“Then climb in,” he said.

She twisted her hair up off her shoulders, and slid into the water, pretending that it was his embrace. The heat of the water was intense, and she winced for just a moment as it surrounded her, scorching her skin. But after that first moment, the water seemed to soften, brushing over her skin like traces of velvet brushing over her most sensitive places. She let out a low moan as aches she hadn’t even fully felt gave over to the delicate caress of the water.

“Oh, that is nice,” he said.

“Can you see what you want to see?”

“Well enough to tempt me,” he said. “Do you have any idea how lovely you are?”

She couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes. “I hate that question,” she retorted. “If I say yes, I sound arrogant, and if I say no, it sounds like I’m digging for compliments.”

“You are something else,” Alex said with a smirk.

“Something awesome, I hope.”

“Something amazing.”

“I wish you were here with me,” she said, both because she meant it, and because it seemed like the thing to say.

“I wish I were too,” he replied. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to just slide into the water behind you, run my fingers over your heated skin. See what makes you whimper.”

“You make me whimper,” she said. She wanted to let her fingers wander the path he would take, but she didn’t quite dare. He’d been very firm, after all, about what he’d do if she didn’t play his game.

“I know I do,” he said. “But I want to see you come. I want to see you touch yourself. Can you do that for me?”

She squirmed just a little, the hot water caressing between her thighs. “I don’t—I don’t know what you want to see.”

“I want to see you, pleasuring yourself.”

Zoey squirmed again. Her face was bright red, she knew, and it wasn’t just from the heat of the water. “Alex, I—” She hated saying no, but she didn’t know how to start.

He smiled, and there wasn’t a hint of frustration in it. “That’s okay,” he said. “I understand. You enjoy your bath; I’ll go back to work, and we’ll pick this up when I come home. How’s that sound?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said. “I just—uh, I’m not sure where to start.”

He was quiet for a moment, and the speed of his hand slowed. “Well. Where would you start if I wasn’t watching?”

If it weren’t for the water giving her a convenient excuse, she was pretty sure her cheeks would have just burst into flame by now. “It depends. Usually there’s a story involved.”

“Something you read, or something you fantasize about?”

“Um. Sometimes both.”

“So, for example, you might be imagining what would have happened if I hadn’t had to rush out the door this morning.”

Her hands were floating on the water. She watched Alex’s face in the tablet, and ran her hands up her ribs, to her nipples. She could see Alex’s gaze zeroing in on her hands, and she arched just a little, letting the tips of her breasts break the water. “Yes,” she said, rubbing the pads of her thumbs over the taut flesh. “For example.”

“I wanted to take you into the bath,” he said. “I wanted to slide into the water behind you, like I said. I wanted to pull you tight against my hips, so that my cock was pressed into the small of your back, and then I wanted a chance to explore your body.”

“Like this?” she whispered, running her fingers over her body again. She traced them down her belly, through the soft curls on her mons, and pressing into her folds.

“Yes,” he breathed, “but slowly. We’ve always been in a rush, Zoey, because we don’t have time, or we are that eager, or something. There’s always a reason we’re pushing. And I want a chance to just play.”

“Play another time,” she whimpered, her fingers brushing over her clit. It seemed like the wetness of her cunt would blend with the sensation of the water, but the feel was completely different. “I want you.”

“I would tweak your nipple, hard, for your demanding attitude,” he said, and she let her fingers follow his implied instruction. “The whole point of putting yourself at my mercy, princess, is that then you’re at my mercy.”

“Are you hard,” she whispered, dragging her fingernails over her left nipple. “Pressing into my back, are you hard again already?”

“Yes,” he murmured back. “Rock hard, and twitching with eagerness. So much so that you might wonder how long I’m going to tease you before I pull you back onto my cock and thrust into you already. Because that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

There was a moment of longing so tight and poignant that it twisted her up inside. “I want you so many ways that I can’t decide which I want most,” she said. It was the truest thing she could find to say, in that moment.

He chuckled again. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’d drag your arms up around my neck, tell you to weave your fingers together. It would hold us together, and it would make your tits look fantastic, and it would make sure that you knew that I was calling the shots, at least for now. And then I’d drag my fingers down your ribs. I’d wind them into those curls, but I wouldn’t go for your clit, not right away.”

“Jesus,” she whispered. Her fingernails dragged over her nipple as he spoke, and her right hand followed the path he described, sliding between her thighs as she imagined his cock pressing hard into her back, his breath heavy in her ear.

“I’d trace my fingers over your inner lips, again and again.”

She ran her hands over that sensitive skin, her head thrown back against the edge of the bathtub. It would take so little to slip her fingers just a little higher, catch her clit between her first and middle finger, and take herself over the edge fast and hard. He could watch, if it made him happy, watch her writhe and whimper and scream.

But she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. She forced herself to just drag her fingers over the skin and listen to his quiet sounds. He hadn’t sped up his motion at all, so he was still just teasing himself with the attention of his hand, but it was still sexy and delicious. The idea of him in that office, where anyone could walk in at any moment, thinking of just her. Her hips rocked with the slow rhythm of her touch, and Alex whispered encouragement over the connection.

“Are you shivering for me yet, princess? Are you wishing that I was there with you?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“Are you wet for me, beautiful lady?

“Oh, God, so wet.”

“How much would you hate me if I slid just one finger into you, still not touching your clit?”

She whimpered as the one slim digit pressed into her body. She had to bend the heel of her hand away from her, to avoid slapping into her mons as she teased herself with the one finger. Her nails on her nipple were harder, more vicious, and she cried out softly. Only the knowledge that Sophia might hear her kept her voice quiet at all.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Alex whispered. “I want to bite the side of your neck, and leave a bruise like a brand. And I want to slide a finger into your ass, pierce you with my hand and fill you up, feeling you fuck my fingers, but still not touching your clit, still not quite giving you enough to tip you over the edge.”

“Alex,” she hissed.

“Have you ever slid a finger into your own ass while you were teasing yourself, princess? Or a toy, smooth and hard?” There was a thickness to his voice now. If he didn’t have his hand on his cock, he was at least teasing himself harder through the fabric of his pants. She couldn’t focus well enough to really see him in the small screen of the tablet. Her body was rocketing with fierce, tight pleasure, spiraling through her, tightening and tensing lower and lower, dragging her down towards oblivion, whether she gave her clit the attention it so badly wanted or not.

“No,” she whimpered.

“Will you try it for me now, my love? You don’t have to, I won’t make you, but God I’d love to see that for the first time.”

Her cheeks were already as hot as they could possibly get. It wasn’t that she thought there was anything wrong with anal play, she’d even fantasized about it now and then, but it was an intimidating thing to try. There were specific toys, and people got into all kinds of bizarre debates about lube types, and she just—hadn’t bothered. It hadn’t been necessary to get her off, and she just didn’t worry about it. “I—don’t know how to start—” She was gaping open, she knew that much, her pussy begging for more to fill it, but she was listening to him, listening carefully.

“Take the hand that’s been abusing your poor innocent nipple,” he said, “Which I am sad to report I will need to kiss better later. Take that hand, and slide it down your slit. Feel the place where you pucker.”

She followed his instructions, trying not to think, just to feel.

“Are you slick and wet, or do you feel dry? The last thing I want is for you to hurt yourself, especially when I’m not there.”

“Slick,” she whimpered. “Wet. Oh, God, so wet.”

He let out a little sound, and she knew that he was focusing on her pleasure, but his own was starting to break through at the edges. She wondered just how hard he was, if he was making a wet spot in his boxers, if he was dripping for her. She thought of licking him, just the tip, taking just that little bit of fluid off of him as he stroked his cock up into her mouth. Her body shuddered with wanton need, and her back arched, her breasts breaking the surface of the water again.

“Oh, princess,” he murmured. “Are you thinking of me? Are you thinking of my cock and my fingers and my mouth?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Tell me what to do next.”

“Press in with your finger. Relax. You don’t have to go fast, or hard, and if it hurts, stop, but just see. See how it feels.”

It was an odd sensation, he was right about that. There was a moment of resistance, and then she relaxed—thinking again of his cock tracing her lower lip, of her tongue flitting out to just tease at the head of him, at the way his eyes would roll back in his head at the gesture—and her finger slipped inside her ass, just a little bit.

Her eyes flew open, her mouth wide, gasping and panting. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh Alex, oh my god—”

“Oh, yes, princess,” he crooned. “Jesus, Zoey, yes.”

“So full,” she whimpered again. “Oh, God. I am so full of you.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s my fingers in your cunt and my cock in your ass. Fucking you slow as you beg me to go faster, and every time you say more, I slap your ass so hard it stings.”

“Please,” she gasped. She slid a second finger into her cunt and curled it up, brushing against the place inside that connected to her clit and made sparks dance in front of her eyes. She couldn’t stop herself now; she slammed her hand into her body as hard as fast as she could, letting the heel of her hand slap into her clit, whimpering and crying in rhythm. The finger she’d slid into her ass she kept still and quiet, just letting the incredible sensation of fullness wrap around her, surround her, drive her pleasure higher and higher.

She felt the orgasm beginning to swirl through her, felt Alex’s eyes on her as his hand moved in a steady rhythm now, and instead of chasing the sensation, she found herself wanting more. She wanted to feel this sensation drive her just a little bit higher. In that moment when her back arched and her pussy clenched tight, instead of letting her body tense and reach, she forced herself to breathe and relax for a moment. She heard Alex realize what was happening, heard his groan of pleasure and enjoyment as she pushed back against the pleasure to let it build just a little higher. She managed to push it back twice, but the third time, her body clenched so hard and fast that most of her torso rose out of the bath as she came, tensing hard around her hands as she shook with the ecstasy of it. Dimly, she heard Alex groaning as he found release of his own, and then a second, smaller orgasm rose out of the aftershocks, leaving her tossing her head against the bath and teasing furiously at her clit, dragging one last round of delight out of her suddenly tired body.

It seemed like ages before she could open her eyes again and focus on the tablet. Alex was watching her with a look of pure delight on his handsome face. “Um. Hi,” she said. She bit her lower lip and tried not to giggle. “So. I imagine that’s something you’ve done before?”

His face stilled. “You’re not the only one enjoying some firsts around here, Zoey. I promise you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Heat suffused her. It wasn’t just the bath water, it wasn’t just the aftershocks of sex. It was him. It was the heat of his eyes and the swelling feelings she had for him. It wasn’t just that she’d never before dated anyone who would call her in the middle of the day and command her to masturbate so they could watch. It was that she’d never before dated anyone who would understand why someone would want to do that. All of her boyfriends had been shockingly practical. And she’d looked for practical men, people without complications, who could have practical relationships and split the check at the end of dinner.

Suddenly knew she didn’t want practical. Suddenly, she wanted bubble bath, and sex over video chat. She didn’t quite know who she was right now, but she found herself enjoying this freer version of herself.

“Don’t drown over there,” Alex said, a soft laugh to his voice.

“I going to die from blushing when I see Sophia next,” Zoey replied.

He waved a hand. “Even if she did hear you, she’d never mention it. Sophia believes that a healthy sex life is the key to longevity.”

“She told you that?”

“Repeatedly.” His face stilled, and became more serious. “Now. Can you tell me what you know about the names I sent you?”

The shift in topic was so rapid that she didn’t quite know what to do with it. She sat up, considered, then drained the bath and grabbed the robe he’d given her. It wasn’t that it was more dignified to have this conversation while she sat on the toilet with the seat closed, but she didn’t feel comfortable talking to him about the downfall of his father’s company with her boobs hanging out. Alex, to his credit, waited relatively patiently. At least, he didn’t bitch about the fact that she toweled off, robed, and sat down before talking to him.

“Alex, I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t prove any of this, but I know that I don’t have any doubts.”

“Just tell me,” he said. His jaw was tight, his eyes flat and reserved.

“The two companies—they’re both dealing to the Philippines.”

“Sure, that’s logical. They’re a lot closer than we are, it makes since that the Filipinos would find it easier to go through a middle man.”

“No, Alex, you’re not hearing me, or I’m not saying it right.” She took a deep breath. “They’re dealing to opposite sides of the conflict. They have been since the American forces had boots on the ground. Maybe even before that.”

She’d never seen a human being go that still. If he were carved out of topaz, he couldn’t have been any more frozen in place. “What are you saying, Zoey?” His voice was cold, and she had to take a deep breath and force herself to press forward. There was no going back now.

“I’m saying that AEGIS has been supplying both sides of the civil war in the Philippines for at least a year, and probably longer. I’m saying that I can find some evidence that those two men might have even been involved in starting the conflict in the first place.” Alex wasn’t moving. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head then. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I asked you to find me the truth. I can’t make decisions made on only bits of information.” He nodded to himself almost abstractly. “How sure are you?”

She bit her lip. “If it weren’t for—us, I’d already be on the phone to some people I know, pitching the story.”

“All right, then,” he said. “I need to speak to my mother. Thank you, Zoey. I’ll speak to you this evening.”

“Wait!” He paused, his hand frozen halfway to the phone, presumably to disconnect the call. “She’s dangerous, Alex. You know that, right? Be careful.”

He shook his head. “I accept that she’s dangerous in the abstract, and I will be careful,” he said. “But I’m her son. She’d never hurt me, or Claire. I promise you, Zoey. Whatever’s going on, we’re safe from it.”

She wished she believed him. She wished he’d said he loved her before he ended the call. She wished she’d had the courage to say it, even if he hadn’t.

***

After he ended the call with Zoey, Alex sat still in his office for a little while. What she’d said about AEGIS... it matched the hints Leo had  given him. It matched the sort of bullshit warmongering that the old man had always been more than happy to engage in. Alex had challenged him about it, once or twice in the past few years, and the old man had scoffed at him. “We make more money off war and pestilence than we do off peace and health,” Philip had told his son. “Don’t forget which side your bread is buttered on.”

Alex hadn’t ever forgotten. He’d just hoped like fuck he’d been wrong.

Zoey had been amazing, giving him exactly what he’d needed, and then he’d behaved like an ass, grilling her about Shaoqiao and Akimoto, not telling her what Leo had said, just hoping she’d say something to contradict his best friend. As if either one of them would lie to him for no reason. He picked his phone back up and tapped out a quick message. I’m sorry I was so abrupt. You were amazing. Let me know if you need to talk at all, I will be here. He thought about adding three more words to the text, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. It was too soon, too much, too big. Sometimes, these games can leave people in an uncomfortable head space. I should take better care of you after we play. I promise to do better. It was as much as he could manage.

Her reply was quick and reassuring. I’m okay. If my head space gets weird, I promise to get in touch. Otherwise, I’ll let you know if I find more. I hope things go all right with your mom.

Yes. Olivia. No time like the present.

His mother’s office was the same as it always was: immaculate, and full of both his mother and Aaron Schwartz. Alex found himself wanting to snarl at the other man even more than normal. Whether it was because of Schwartz’s pale, wet eyes or his mother’s carefully calculating gaze he wasn’t sure.

Olivia cut off whatever she had been dictating, and looked her son up and down with a level of shrewdness that she normally did not allow to be made so obvious. “Mother,” he said, before she got a chance to begin. “I need to speak to you about the Philippines.”

Olivia didn’t quite gasp melodramatically, though he thought she might have tried it if she thought it would have had any affect on him. Alex glanced at Schwartz. “Give us a few moments, please.”

“Stay right where you are, Aaron,” Olivia snapped back, her voice crackling like a whip. Her eyes flared with quite fury. “I’m not quite sure who my son seems to believe he’s speaking to, though it’s clearly not his mama has in mind. Maybe that skinny bitch the gossip rags are so excited about this morning?”

Alex managed not to wince, but it took an effort. “That’s not what I’m here to talk about, Mother. If you want to do this in front of Schwartz, then fine, but I’ll ask you to guarantee his silence.”

He hated that she’d won even this much from him, but outside of bodily removing the man, he wasn’t sure how else to proceed. Schwartz was standing at his mother’s right hand as if his feet had been nailed there; it was clear the older man wasn’t going to move on his own, and Olivia apparently wasn’t going to throw him out.

“I want to know where your sister is,” Olivia snapped, before Alex got another word out.

He swallowed his surprise as thoroughly as he could. He’d been under the impression that Claire had been in touch with their mother. If she hadn’t, well, that was between him and Claire, not him and Olivia. “She’s safe,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.” He couldn’t help his gaze from shifting rather pointedly towards Schwartz, who returned Alex’s gaze with one just as intense.

“She’s at your apartment, then?” Olivia didn’t look at Schwartz, just gestured with a single finger. “Send someone to retrieve her.”

“No,” Alex said. He took one step sideways, not quite blocking the doorway, but making it so that the older man would have to push him out of the way before he would exit the room. “She’s safe. She’s not going back to your home unless it’s of her own volition.”

“She’s a child,” Olivia snapped.

“She’s still living with a relative. You want to deal with the press that happens when one of your thugs tries to drag her out of my apartment, unwillingly, and the police inform you that you don’t have the right?” Olivia snapped back like she’d been slapped. “That’s right, Mother, I looked into the law years ago. It’s actually quite simple. All she has to say is that she doesn’t feel safe with you, and they won’t touch her. You could pursue it through the courts, if you wanted to, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Olivia was still as a statue, except for her eyes, which burned and crackled with anger.

“Now,” Alex said. “To the matter I came to discuss.” Philip had always made sure to throw Olivia off balance before attempting to discuss anything with her. He’d observed it for years, and it made him a little sick to use the technique himself, but not so sick that he wouldn’t do it. “It has come to my attention that AEGIS has been selling to two different Asian companies, both of whom are supplying the conflict in the Philippines, but on opposite sides.”

It was a boyish hope, he supposed, waiting for a reaction from his mother. Some sort of outburst, some sense of horror. Anything but the cool expression on her face as she leaned back in the black leather chair. She was a small-framed woman, and the huge chair was made for a much bigger person. She seemed dwarfed by it, though it didn’t decrease her power in any meaningful way. “Alex,” she said, her tone chill and chiding. “Surely you understand that once our products are sold, what happens to them next is outside of our control? AEGIS has carefully observed all trade regulations and embargoes that were put in place by both the American government and the United Nations at the start of the Filipino conflict.”

A chill ran down his spine as he understood the whole of it. “We’re dealing with the Chinese and the Japanese because we can’t legally deal directly with the Filipino,” he said. “Holy Mother of God.”

“Everything is perfectly legal, I assure you,” she said again. “It is not our fault of those to whom we sell choose to sell on our products. At a very impressive mark-up, I might add. Off the record.”

His guts churned. He’d had hangovers that left him feeling significantly less sick than he felt at that moment. He swayed ever so slightly on his feet, and grasped the back of the chair across from his mother—no, Olivia, this woman had never been warm enough to give birth to anyone, not him, and  certainly not Claire—to steady himself. “This can’t go on,” he said. “I’m calling a meeting of the board. Effective immediately, we are going to begin dismantling the weapons production divisions at AEGIS, and work to shift those resources towards doing some damn good in the world.”

“You can’t,” she said, coolly. “I control the shares of the company that your sister will eventually inherit. You don’t have majority votes without me. You need me, Alexander.”

He hated the way she said it, so cold and uncaring. Rage surged through him. Perhaps it was his growing relationship with Zoey that encouraged him to be bold. He wasn’t sure. Normally, he had significantly better control of his emotions and his words than that. “I don’t need you,” he said, willing his voice to carry the same cool, arrogant confidence that she’d had, that he’d learned at Philip’s knee. “I have Cindy Walden.”

She was too well bred for her mouth to drop open, but the expression graced her eyes, all the same. He left while she was still off balance, turning on his heel and slamming her office door behind. Childish? Sure. Satisfying? God yes.

He stormed back towards his office. Brianna looked up from a mouthful of lo mein and swallowed quickly. “Mr. Blankenship?”

Apparently his expression was that grim. He tried to press his lips up into a smile, but got the idea that the affect was worse. “I need you to get on the phone and arrange an emergency board meeting. Tomorrow morning at the latest. Clear my calendar for this afternoon. I will be in my office, but I am not meeting with anyone. I need to prepare for the meeting.”

“Of course,” Brianna said. He wasn’t sure she had it in her to be rattled, not really. “Shall I give the members any reason for the meeting?”

“Tell them that there’s an unfavorable profile of AEGIS that is likely to see print in the next few days, and that we need to strategize a response and get ahead of the story.”

“Sir?”

“Do it, Brianna.”

He felt ever so slightly bad about that. He’d always given her more information than she truly needed. It helped her do her job better in the long run. But now—now, there was nothing to be done but wait.

“Of course, sir.”

Alex went into his office, and he began to make phone calls.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Zoey got dressed again, then went back out to the den where she’d left her laptop. All sultry and super sexy midmorning interludes aside, she did actually need to do some work if she expected to get paid enough to keep up her rent. Whatever promises Alex had made about helping her further her career, that wasn’t going to get her rent paid on the first.

There was a niggling part of her brain that reminded her that the man had just dropped—she was going to be conservative and guess $500—on an outfit because he ripped the zipper of her jeans loose. If she told him that working on his research and performing for him to release his own stress, she was pretty confident that her rent would miraculously end up paid. Probably for a few months, too, because it was easier to write the check for a round number, or some other crazy billionaire logic. She didn’t doubt his willingness, and she didn’t think he’d expect her to be obligated because he helped her. But it still went against the grain to let him help her in a more tangible way. It already made her twist up in knots that he was willing to even introduce her to the right people to get a more permanent journalistic position.

She went back into the den, and had actually picked up her coffee and flopped gracelessly onto the couch before she realized that there was someone else sitting there next to her. She gave a little shriek as her eyes fixed on Alex’s younger sister, who was huddled in the corner of the sofa, trying to look as small as she could pull off. “Holy shit, sha,” Zoey gasped, putting her hand on her chest and feeling her heart slam against her ribs.

“Uh. Hi!” She saw the moment shift when Claire decided to try and scam her, and she prepped herself for a good story. Claire must have seen Zoey’s understanding, because instead of spinning a story, she just giggled. “You probably won’t believe me if I tell you school got canceled, will you?”

The girl was had changed out of whatever school uniform she might have put on this morning, and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt branded with the symbol of Ms. Marvel. A kid after my own heart, Zoey thought to herself, and sighed. “Is the school going to call Alex about your cutting?”

Claire shook her head, her eyes still tentative. “Nope. They’ll call Mom, and she won’t care. She figures that shopping is more important than calculus anyway.”

“You do realize that she’s wrong, yes?”

“Yeah,” Claire rolled her eyes. “Clearly. But I’ve already got my college admissions sewn up, I’m not skipping enough to blow my grades, I just—” Her teeth closed on her lower lip, and her eyes darted to the side.

“Hey,” Zoey said, reaching out. She touched the back of the girl’s hand almost gently, and was surprised when Claire turned hers palm up, winding her fingers through Zoey’s. She let the girl cling to her, and tried to project reassurance and calmness. “I’m not going to rat you out to your brother. It’s not my place. But maybe there’s something he—I—we can do to help?” It was awkward thinking of we but it seemed the right thing to do in that moment.

“I don’t want them to find me,” Claire said, her voice very quiet.

Zoey worked hard to keep the shiver running down her spin out of her face and her hand. “Who is looking for you?”

“Mom. Mr. Schwartz.” She laughed, her voice a little cold. “He scares me more than Mom does, honestly. Mom just yells. He stares.”

The way she said it made the shivers even harder to hide. “Claire? I want to ask you something really personal. I know you barely know me, but—”

“He didn’t rape me,” Claire said. “Honest. He’s never even touched me. Not like that. But sometimes, he stares at me, and his eyes are so cold that I feel slimed, you know?”

“I do know,” Zoey said. “Have you talked to Alex about this at all?”

Claire’s gaze grew even more cautious.

Zoey found herself smiling. “Did he do the whole ‘I’ll kill him’ routine?”

It was a somewhat odd moment to bond over, but Claire’s expression broke into a grateful smile. “I hate the way the creep stares at my ass, but I don’t want my brother in jail over something that hasn’t even happened, you know?”

“I do,” Zoey said. “But at the same time, if you’re afraid of him showing up at your school and causing trouble there, more needs to happen, you know? You can’t skip forever.”

“New plan,” Claire said. “Sophia makes the most amazing tiramisu you’ve ever tasted. Want to help me raid the fridge?”

Zoey didn’t want to let it go, but she also couldn’t force the girl to tell her anything, or decide on a course of action. She was nothing to Claire, not really. Just a friendly face, some girl her brother had brought home the night before. And really, Claire might just be being nice so that Zoey would feel less compelled to tell her boyfriend that his little sister had spent the day in the penthouse instead of in class. But she’d also shared many secrets herself over a meal, and she could think of worse things to do than indulge in some serious tiramisu binging. “Will you be in trouble if Sophia sees you?”

Claire gave the kind of shrug that only a 17 year old could pull off. “Maybe? I promised Sophia that I’d go to school today, but I just couldn’t get myself together. When I got close, there were all those black town cars, and no way to tell which one he might be in, and I just—I turned around. I didn’t mean to, but I was back here before I knew where I was heading.” She chewed her lip again, and she looked so much like her brother that it squeezed Zoey’s heart just a little. “Don’t tell Alex on me?”

“I’m not going to lie to him,” Zoey said carefully. “There’s other things happening. I don’t want to go into it, but he needs to know that you’re concerned, and why. I promise, though, if I do tell him, it won’t be a story about how his irresponsible sister skipped class to goof off. Okay?”

“Good enough,” Claire said. Whether it was because she meant it, or she just thought she couldn’t get anything more in terms of agreement, she had no way to know.

Claire had obviously spent more time in the penthouse than Zoey had; the floor plan was fairly open, but Claire still ducked through the rooms to get to the kitchen in record time. Sophia was somewhere else, and Zoey could see Claire breathe a sigh of relief, even though she didn’t say anything in particular. While Claire started rooting around in the (incredibly large and insanely fancy) refrigerator, Zoey took it upon herself to refresh her coffee cup. She normally tried to stay at two cups before noon, but it had been a long night, and she didn’t want the coffee to feel unloved. There was nothing worse than a sad pot of caffeinated bliss.

Claire took down plates that were the kind of china that Zoey didn’t even trust herself to handle in stores, and cut two generous slices of the tiramisu. “Come on,” she said, and led Zoey back to the nook where she and Alex had eaten breakfast.

The tiramisu lived up to Claire’s description of it. Light and fluffy, moist and delicate, flavors carefully balanced. “Holy God in heaven,” Zoey said, an expression her mother had used and Zoey had tried for years to finish striking from her vocabulary.

“I know, right?” Claire giggled. “So, dish with me.”

Zoey felt that painful blush creeping up her cheeks again. “What about?”

Claire laughed and wrinkled up her nose. “Gross!No, not what I meant. I do not want to know about how my brother gets his freak on. Just—I don’t think he’s ever had a girl spend the night. Like, ever ever. So what gives? Is this a romantic thing, or is there something else going on?”

Zoey took another bite of the fantastic tiramisu to cover up her discomfort. She doubted it would make a difference. It wasn’t like she and Alex had discussed what he was or was not going to tell his sister about what they’d found out. She had a disturbing feeling that he wouldn’t really want them talking at all, at least not yet. If he guarded his private life as closely as everyone said—well, it made her feel like even more of a voyeur. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

“I have a right to know what’s going on,” she said, her voice quiet. “Mom never tells me anything, and Alex always says that I’m too young to worry about running the company. They both act like I won’t have access to all of this stuff anyway, when I turn 18 in six months. It’s infuriating. They’re always all 'Claire, act your age,' but when I try to, they tell me off and send me to go play at the little kid’s table.”

The obviously rehearsed rant was made so much better by the fact that it was paired with a particularly well developed pout. Zoey stifled the urge to giggle. “I hear you,” she said, carefully. “It always seemed that adults were keeping me from doing all the fun stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah, and now that you’re older, you just wish you could be a kid again. I’ve heard this speech before.” Claire stabbed the dessert on her plate with far more viciousness than it deserved.

“No, actually,” Zoey said, letting that careful expression stay in her tone. “What I was going to say was is that it wasn’t just the fun stuff that adults kept me away from. There was a lot of hard stuff, too. I thought I’d seen all the wretchedness the world had to offer when I was 17, and in fact, I’d just seen the barest edges of it. But I’d rather deal with that than being 17 again, because now I can try to do something to change things.”

There was a light in the girl’s eyes now, Zoey recognized it easily. It was the same light she’d seen in the mirror when she was 17. The intelligence and confidence of a strong and brave young woman, not yet tempered by the kind of pessimism that results from realizing that incremental change might be the only kind that lasted. Zoey was wiser at 25 then she had been at 17, but she didn’t doubt for a second that Claire was braver than Zoey ever would be again.

“He likes you,” Claire said. “You should know that.”

Again, the urge to bury her face in her hands and giggle like a kid. “I do. I—he’s said as much, and I believe him.”

Claire nodded. “Don’t hurt him, and you and I are solid. Make him cry—for bad reasons, anyway—and I will claw your eyes out. Deal?”

“Deal,” Zoey said. She held up her fork, and Claire clinked hers against it like they were whine glasses.

“The good news for you is that I like you, too. So I will also offer to claw his eyes out if he makes you cry. Basically, be nice to each other.”

“I like this plan,” Zoey said. After a moment’s hesitation, she added. “It’s early days yet, though. Don’t—God, I’m sorry to be this crass—”

“Don’t get attached to you. I get it. Daddy went through girlfriends like shampoo bottles. Alex did too, for awhile, but he’s been different lately. Even before Daddy died. He wants something better than what our parents had, I think.”

Zoey wasn’t entirely sure of what to say. The buzzing of her phone in her pocket saved her. “Excuse me,” she said. She pulled her phone out and saw Helen’s picture on the screen. She swiped to answer as she stood and ducked outside onto the huge balcony that overlooked the city. She saw Claire shrug and dig into her tiramisu with more gusto than she had with someone watching her.

“Helen?”

“Zoey, where are you right now?”

“I’m—” She took a moment to squeeze her eyes shut, take a deep breath, and then hiss it out slowly. If anyone was going to read her the riot act, it would be Helen. “I’m at Alexander Blankenship’s penthouse.”

“Oh thank God,” Helen said. “I was worried that you’d had to barricade yourself in that hole of a studio to keep the reporters from crawling in the window.”

“Um. What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

Zoey took another deep, much less patient breath. “Helen, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Give me a clue, huh?”

Helen laughed then. “You haven’t even been to your own website yet, have you? Is he as good as the rumor mongers say?”

Anyone else, and Zoey probably would have hung up the phone. For Helen, she managed a sigh. “I haven’t, and yes. What’s going on?”

“The two of you were caught on film, snogging, and the picture is everywhere already. I’ve gotten tons of calls because your bio lists me as an editor of yours. I’m shocked no one’s started blowing up your cell phone yet.”

Zoey felt a chill run through her. “What have you said?”

“Nothing, love, obviously. No comment all the way. But I can’t swear that anyone at your rag will be half as decent.” There was a long pause. “And we’ll need to discuss the feature. About him, and AEGIS.”

She’d known that this was coming, but it still hurt to have Helen bring it up. “I know. I know I can’t do it now. But I’ll get you everything I’ve found so far.” She glanced in at Claire, and made sure that the girl wasn’t paying any attention to her. “There’s a lot more going on, Helen. I—I want to tell someone, but you can’t run with this until I give you the okay. Please. It could affect the safety of some little kids.”

Helen’s silence was long and drawn out, and Zoey crossed her fingers. Helen wouldn’t lie to her. If she said that she’d hold the story, she would, as long as possible. But there was no guarantee she’d wait. “I’m already hearing rumors about AEGIS today,” Helen said, finally. “Does it relate to the company itself?”

“Not directly,” Zoey said.

“Tell me,” Helen said. “I’ll prep something myself, keep the cat in the bag as long as possible, but—Zoey, if I think someone’s going to scoop us, I’ll post it. Deal?”

It was the best deal she was going to get out of her friend. The world of journalism had gotten cut throat in the past decade, ruled by news aggregators and click-bait headlines, but Helen did the best she could to stay true to a code of journalistic ethics that had meant more before either she or Zoey had been writing. “Deal,” she said. “I can’t give you anything specific yet, but I will when I can. Just—take a look at Arturo Soprano and Thalia Nicolaevna. Look for connections between them for me, and I’ll trade you more when I have it. Okay?”

“I know those names,” Helen said. Zoey could hear her friend clicking at her keyboard. “Soprano owned a construction company, right? And he suicided. So did Nicolaevna, but she was a society type.” There was a long silence, and more clicking of keys. “Are you saying they’re tied together somehow?”

“I have reason to believe it,” Zoey said.

Helen pushed out a long breath. “Zoey, love, you have got to go to the police with this. This isn’t some movie about the plucky Girl Friday who solves the mystery, yeah? You need to be protected.”

“I am protected,” Zoey said, without hesitation.

“Blankenship.”

“Yes.”

“How long do you think that’ll last?” The skepticism in the question hurt, but at the same time, she could hardly blame Helen for asking.

“I don’t know, Helen. But I’m not walking out just because the press has noticed us. If that were the case, I shouldn’t have even bothered.”

She could imagine Helen sitting still, rubbing at her temples with one well manicured hand. “I know you’re right, love, but I can’t help the worrying.”

“Worry about it if Mama finds out.”

“You think she’ll be upset?”

Zoey knew exactly what question Helen was asking, and she skirted it as neatly as she could. “That I’m dating a New Yorker, and not a nice Southern boy? I think she’ll be livid. Right up until she starts planning our wedding for us.”

Helen chuckled again. “Keep in touch, all right? And use your head about this boy. He didn’t get that playboy reputation by helping old ladies cross the street, you know.”

Zoey laughed, and disconnected the call. The thing was that while she knew Helen was right, and that Alex had earned his reputation fair and square, she also knew that rags like hers had done everything they could to make it all look more scandalous than it was. Thousands of articles, every time someone even semi-famous dared to show their face in public, commenting on their size, their status, whether or not they were coupled up yet. It never stopped. He’d been very clear with her that his numbers were a lot smaller than the media made them look. If she didn’t trust him to tell her at least that much truth, than why even bother to be here with him? In his house, eating his food, making friends with his sister?

Zoey slipped her phone back into her pocket and headed back into the penthouse. “Sorry, work stuff,” she said. “What’s your plan for the rest of today?”

Claire gave Zoey an under-the-eyelashes glance. “I’m actually thinking of nerding it up, telling my teachers I’m sick and getting my work so I can keep up.”

Zoey had to laugh. “Impressive.”

For just one moment, the soft lines of Claire’s face hardened into unbreakable stone. “I will not grow up and rely on anyone,” she said. “I’m my own. No one else’s.”

It was the kind of declaration that a person could only make at 17, when they hadn’t realized yet that it was impossible not to rely on other people, and that the trick was to make sure you only relied on the ones worth trusting. Zoey thought about pointing that out, but she had a strong feeling that it would just make Claire feel more upset, not less. “I hear you,” she said. “I do need to get some work done today. Want to crash in the den with me?”

“That sounds great,” Claire said. “I bet Sophia will show up with snacks within the hour.”

“She’s an amazing cook.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason Alex put in a bunch of gym equipment.” Claire forked in the last bite of tiramisu. “She’s really really good at dessert.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Alex sagged back in the chair, emotionally worn through. He’d spoken to about half the members of the board in the past few hours, and overall, he felt confident that he had no idea whether or not they’d support his plans for the company. He was quite sure that Olivia had gotten to the vast majority of them first. He’d gotten a variety of reactions as he’d reached out to the men and women he’d thought were most likely to support him. They varied from astonishment and anger to patronizing commentary on how hard it was to be the son of a great man, and how understandable it was to want to step out of that shadow. Alex wanted, more than anything, to scream.

He took several long, slow, deep breaths, closing his eyes, and running through this morning’s kata in his mind. It was an interesting practice that his sensei had introduced him to a few years ago, when he’d twisted his knee and needed to avoid the mat for a few weeks. Closing his eyes and feeling every motion of the form, just as carefully and precisely as he would have done it on the mat, was an exercise in meditation and focus.

He’d hoped, for all his talk to Olivia and to Cindy herself, that he wouldn’t need her support to make the changeover happen. Selling her to the board as a legal heir, based on the reading of Philip’s will—it was going to be rough at the best of times, and these were far from the best of times. Legal would likely get involved, even if they didn’t end up in court, regardless of what he and Claire agreed on. Because if they acted as if Cindy had shares and standing, and later it was decided that she didn’t, everything she was involved in would be called into question. It would be a nightmare to untangle.

He knew damned well that the next step should have been to pick up the phone and dial Legal, let someone know exactly what was going on. But he couldn’t shake the hope that he could gather enough votes to do this without Cindy’s help. Make the decision and introduce her, and just make everything go smoothly.

So when he picked up his phone again, the number he dialed was Cindy Walden’s.

The greeting he got, however, wasn’t what he’d expected. “What the fuck are you trying to do to me?”  She screamed into the phone.

Alex had to take a second to collect himself. “Last I knew, I was trying to help you. What’s going on?”

“I’m done with you,” she snapped. “I should have known better than to involve Philip Blankenship’s spawn in anything. You’re just as useless as he is. Power grubbing, money hungry—” and then there was the awkward silence as she disconnected the call.

Well. That hadn’t gone as he’d hoped at all.

His computer beeped at him, and he glanced at a message from Brianna. She’d sent him a calendar invite for first thing tomorrow morning. Emergency board meeting.

It was better than nothing. And at least he’d know what he was facing. He’d spend the night with Zoey, they’d gather all the information that they could, draw as many parallels as they could between AEGIS and the two companies—and he’d hope for the best. In the end, it was his company, after all. If he couldn’t run it, if he couldn’t convince the board of the right decision, then he might as well start looking for something else to do with his life, because this wasn’t ever going to work out in his favor.

He accepted the invite, and then he shut down his computer. He’d had enough of this place for one day. It was time to head home.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

It felt like a study group. To Zoey’s surprise, Claire wasted no time goofing around on her phone or flipping on a movie, like Zoey had to admit she would have done at seventeen. She pulled out a biology text, and proceeded to read about gene sequencing. Zoey, who had moved on to the part of her afternoon that involved writing click bait that she prayed her mother never read, but paid by the word. There was a not insignificant part of her that wanted to suggest nail wraps and facials, even though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a spa day, or kept a manicure neat for more than a few hours. After a little while, Claire turned on music on her phone, and Zoey found herself being instructed in the finer points of high quality hip hop.

It was relaxing. It was calm. It was something she hadn’t had too much of in the last few days.

She kept waiting for her phone to start ringing with reporters, calling to ask how much tongue Alex had used outside of the restaurant, and what had happened after they’d gotten in the car. There were plenty of times she’d been the one making those calls, to get the story, paying off a friend or a disgruntled coworker to get someone’s cell phone number. She wasn’t sure if it spoke well of her that no one was calling, or poorly. After all, she was hardly the type of woman that Alex was usually paired with in the tabloid press. He was usually seen with women who were tall, busty, leggy, gorgeous, powerful—Zoey couldn’t pretend that she was any of those things.

But she was herself, and he seemed to like that fine. At least, he hadn’t called and told her to get out. That was a plus.

When Sophia found out that Claire was home, she clucked her tongue, but made both of them roast beef wraps, piled with hummus and cucumbers and radishes. They were amazing.

Shortly after that, Alex sent a text, asking if Claire was at the house. Zoey tried not to be obvious when she replied that the girl was there. It was still well within school hours. Alex didn’t respond, though, other than to say he’d be home in a few hours.

She liked that he said home. That part was pretty awesome.

Any word from Cindy? She asked.

His reply was quick. She’s very concerned, he wrote. Someone may have threatened her.

Should I call her?

Not sure if it will help.

Zoey thought about it for a little while, and then excused herself. Claire nodded. She’d moved on to calc now, and was lost in equations. She tapped Cindy’s contact, and waited for the call to connect.

It took all five rings for Cindy to pick up. Zoey was just composing the voice mail as the ringing stopped, and Zoey heard the quiet non-sound of the open line. “Cindy?” she asked, keeping her voice soft and quiet.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Cindy replied. She sounded nothing like the calm, collected woman that Zoey had spoken to that morning. “I’m sorry I ever brought anything up. Tell Alex, please, that I won’t ever make a claim on anything. I’m just—I’m going to vanish now. They won, okay? Everything’s done. Me, the kids—we’ll all vanish. I’ll make sure of it. You won’t ever hear from us again. Whoever he sicked on us, just tell them to stop.” The words tumbled out fast, blurring together.

“Hold on, hold on,” Zoey blustered, managing to get the woman to quiet down for a moment. There was a thickness to her breathing; she suspected that Cindy was crying. “He didn’t send anyone after you, Cindy. I promise.” Could she make that promise? Did she know him that well? She choked down the doubt and pushed forward. “I’ve been here all day, researching to find more ammunition to help the board make the right choice about how to move forward with AEGIS. You’re part of that.”

“I don’t care,” Cindy said. Her voice was cooler, more collected, but Zoey didn’t have to listen too hard to hear the terror. Whoever had gotten to her had done their job very well. “If I ever hear from either you or your fuck-toy again, Ms. Gardener, I will call the police and my lawyers. He’s not the only one who knows the police commissioner.”

The call dropped, and Zoey stood still for a while, staring at the phone. There had been so much venom in the woman’s voice, at the end. It made Zoey’s stomach flip over. Who could have gotten to her? What could they possibly have said? How would they even have known that there was a conversation to be had? Maybe someone had seen her in his car at the AEGIS building?

She shook her head, not sure what to do next, but as she turned back to the door of the den, she saw Claire standing much closer to her than she’d expected. The girl was barefoot, and she’d moved like a ghost—or else, Cindy had been screaming so loudly that Zoey hadn’t noticed anything else. Which meant that Claire might very well have overheard some of what was said.

The girl looked—not afraid, but certainly nervous. Certainly concerned. “What’s going on?”

Zoey started to sputter, and Claire held up a hand to forestall her. Zoey found herself staring at the narrow bangles that Claire wore around her right wrist. They tumbled down to her elbow, jangling against each other. Somehow, the detail fixed in her mind as she stared.

“Don’t tell me that I’m too young, or that it’s nothing to be worried about. You’re not Alex’s type, even with your smoking hot ass, but you’re here. He never brings people here, and I can count the number of his girlfriends that I’ve met on a closed fist, you know? There’s something a lot more going on than the two of you banging, and if it affects Alex, it affects me. I want to know what the hell is up.”

The girl was fierce, Zoey had to give her that much credit. Her chin was stubborn and strong, even though her eyes were nervous. “You need to talk to him,” Zoey said.

“He’s not here. You are.” The set of the girl’s chin got just a little more stubborn. “Talk to me, Zoey. Please.”

It was the ‘please’ that did Zoey in. She crossed her fingers that Alex would understand why she was about to do what she was about to do. “How much do you know about your dad?” she asked, leading the young woman back to the sofa where all their work was laid out.

“He was a jerk,” Claire said, without any of the sadness that Zoey would have expected from a young woman whose father had recently passed away. But then, given the way Alex talked about the man, it seemed like the press had, for once, characterized him properly as a scumbag. Just a very, very wealthy one. “He cheated on Mom all the time, and he wasn’t ever home.” Claire gave Zoey a long, level look. “Are you going to tell me I have a bunch of half siblings? Because I figured out the odds on that one a long time back.”

In a weird way, it was a relief not to have to explain that one detail to the girl. Everything else was easier, in its own way. “It may be true. It seems like someone thinks so. And it seems like someone may be targeting them.”

The girl nodded. “Is Alex in danger?” She didn’t ask about herself; Zoey found that interesting. She couldn’t think of too many seventeen year old girls who would have asked about their brothers before they’d asked about themselves. But then, Alex was the perfect age to have been Claire’s protector and hero throughout their childhoods, especially with their father absent and—as the girl had said—basically a jerk.

“I don’t think so,” Zoey said, truthfully. “And I don’t think you are, either.”

“And that’s why you’re here. To try and help him figure out what’s going on with these kids of my dad’s?”

“It’s part of it. There’s also some weird things going on at the company. It may be that the two weirdnesses are tied together somehow.”

Claire nodded, wearing the sage look that only teenagers were naive enough to pull off well. “Occam’s razor,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to leave when this is all sorted out?”

It was delightful, the idea that it could just all be sorted with a wave of a wand. “I have no idea right now, Claire, to tell you the God’s honest truth. Alex and I—this is very new.”

Claire snorted. “Yeah, no joke. The gossip sites are eating it up, too. He’s been seen a million times with a million girls, but he never makes out with anyone on the street.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed, actually.”

Zoey had to laugh. “I don’t know if I should say thank you or not.”

“I think,” Claire said, with a certain weight deliberation, “That you should show me your music.”

“What?”

“I think you can’t get to know a person until you know what they like to listen to. I played you mine. Show me what you’ve got on your phone.”

As acceptance rituals went, Zoey thought she could probably handle this one all right.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Brianna had called down for David to bring the car around, but before Alex had walked out of the office, his door was filled by his mother.

He forced the surprise off his face as quickly as possible. “Mother dearest,” he said, as Olivia shut the door behind her. “What brings you all the way down the hall? This event is very close to unprecedented.”

The older woman turned, and he had to fight again to keep his face calm. Still waters, he thought. The whites of his mother’s eyes were reddened, as if she’d been crying. Or as if she’d put an irritating eyedrop in them. Don’t let her fool you. “I want you to stop and think,” she said, her voice the calm, quiet tenor that had soothed him to sleep a thousand nights as a child, before she’d given up being caring in exchange for gathering more power for her children. “I want you to think about what will happen to your sister if you allow Miss Walden to tell her story to the press.”

He had to laugh, then; he couldn’t keep the sound inside any longer. “That’s your play? Not what will happen to me, or my fortune, but to my sister?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I thought your father taught you well enough to understand that proper negotiation always begins with offering something that means something to your opponent.”

“Why am I your opponent, Mother? We should be working together. This company—I know that everyone thinks that Father somehow resurrected it from the ashes, but the truth of it is that Grandpa’s patents were the only thing that kept Father from declaring bankruptcy in the 80s. Being able to license them got us through the tech boom, when we were behind the ball, and they’ve kept us afloat through the recession.” He shook his head. “The world becomes less violent every day, Mother. This choice isn’t about Cindy Walden. It’s about doing the right thing. It’s about making the choice that safeguards my money, my sister’s money, and moves us one step closer to the world in which I want to raise children.” It made his tongue sting to use words like Mother and Father to refer to Olivia and Philip Blankenship, but if it softened the old woman’s heart, so much the better.

His mother stared at him for another long moment, her expression becoming icier as each breath passed. “Do you think I don’t know what it’s been like for you?”

He tilted his head to the side, then leaned back a little to rest on his desk—the spot where Zoey’s ass had been, and he had to push that thought away fast and hard before it got a chance to dig in—crossing his arms over his chest and letting tolerance exude out of every pore. “I know that you know what it was like for you, Mother. I understand that it was a hard time, and that your marriage to Father was challenging on every possible level. But the life you think Claire and I have faced—” He fought for the right words. “It’s not that we haven’t had challenges. It’s not that there haven’t been hard things. It’s not that it might not have been easier. But it’s not what you think it was.”

“Not a single one of the other women were black, Alex. Have you noticed that trend yet?” He hadn’t, but of course the only one of his half-siblings he’d really met was Cindy. “He didn’t dirty his candlewick with anyone but me, and that only when I threatened to leave him and take my money with me. I could have gotten away from him, but I still had a foolish idea that his influence and power would open doors for you, and for my daughter. I thought that if I stayed—” She turned her head to the side. Alex felt a moment of genuine compassion for the woman, and a sincere regret that he didn’t trust the emotion, not even a little bit. “I thought that we would all three of us be better off. But then he wrote the will the way he did, and we don’t know if it will hold up or not in court and—” There was a ragged gasp, worthy of any actress, and he couldn’t feign calm now. He went to her, touching her shoulders gently, and she turned, clinging to him. “My beautiful boy,” she said, “I just want what’s best for you. I just want the thing that we all suffered for. I don’t want that man to be able to hurt us any more.”

“He can’t hurt us any more, Mother,” Alex said, struggling to keep his own voice calm and level. “We’ll get through this. Whatever comes next, we’ll manage. But we need to work together. We can’t be fighting each other right now.”

She pulled back, sharp and furious, all her jagged edges and poison tipped spines locked back into place. “You’re not listening,” she hissed at him. “You never listen. You make it sound so simple, as if all we need to do is wiggle our fingers, and everything will just be absolutely fine. Listen to me, Alexander. This woman will ruin us.” She crooked a perfect fingertip under his nose, and he willed himself to hold steady. “And that woman you were seen with last night; she’s not good enough for you.”

“No,” he said, surprised at the surge of his own anger. “No. Absolutely not. This is not something you and I are going to discuss. Not when you’re letting that rheumy old pig sniff around my sister. You don’t get a goddamn vote.” He picked up his briefcase and opened the door, standing back to allow her to leave the office first. “Thank you for the meeting, Mother. I appreciate the view into your priorities.”

She collected herself quickly, he had to give her that. If she felt the same sort of anger and rage that he did, she was doing a better job of hiding it than he ever had. “Stay away from her, Alex. She’ll ruin everything we’re working on.”

“Have a lovely night, Mother,” he said, pulling the door shut as soon as she was clear of the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the board meeting.”

Brianna sat at her desk, her eyes unprofessionally wide. She managed to keep her eyes on her computer monitor as Olivia swept past her, her high heels clicking down the hallway, but Alex got the idea it was a struggle. “Call me,” Alex said, “if anything happens tonight that threatens the meeting. I need you to polish up the talking points we established around the clean water initiatives and the vaccine distributions. I’m going home for dinner, but if you need me back in the office, let me know.”

“No,” she said, her eyes still nervous. He’d never seen her this rattled. “No, in fact, I’d really like to get out of here, if you don’t mind.”

The way she said it flipped a red flag in his mind. “Brianna. What happened?”

“Everything’s fine,” she said. “I’ll get you those talking points in a couple hours. I’d just—um—really like to do it from my laptop at home. If that’s okay. Because I need to pick up my son. At daycare. They’re closing early. Flu.”

Her eyes were wide, and she wanted something from him. She had been his unflappable assistant long enough to know when something was going on. “Of course,” he said. “Take the rest of the evening. Be with your son. Send me the files, I’ll prep what I need tonight.” He paused, doing everything he could to channel the perfect image of the sympathetic boss. “In fact, you usually have to take the subway, right?” Brianna nodded. “Let me give you a ride to pick up your son, and a ride home. If he’s not well, the last thing he’s going to want to do is bounce around on the subway.”

“Would you?” She gave him a big, grateful, and completely fake smile. He knew her grateful smile. He’d seen it enough time over the years. She leaned down and picked up her bag. “I really appreciate this, Mr. Blankenship. It’s a huge help.”

They took the elevator down to the car, making small talk that didn’t leave any real impression on his brain.

As soon as the car door closed, Brianna deflated, as if she’d been pricked with a pin. David glanced in the rear view mirror. “Just drive for now, David, if you don’t mind.” Alex rolled up the partition and glanced at his assistant. “Tell me what’s going on. You don’t have a son.”

“Schwartz,” she said. “After you closed the door, I went to get some water and speak to Joe in IT for a minute. When I came back, Aaron Schwartz was listening at your door with another man. A really greasy looking guy. And when they saw me, Schwartz—the other guy—” She bit her lip fiercely, and the tears that had started to threaten in her eyes cleared. “I don’t have a son, but I do have a mother,” she said.

“Okay,” Alex said, trying to keep calm, trying to keep his hands from clenching into fists. She didn’t need to deal with his anger on top of her own fear. “Where can I take you? What can I do?” She shook her head, and he put a hand gently on her knee. Not in a sexual way—he’d never tried it with her, and he’d never really wanted to—but just to reassure her. To tell her that she wasn’t alone. She gave him a watery smile. “There are things going on right now. It’s—problematic.”

“Hence the board meeting.”

“Yes,” he said. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

She shook her head. “I just need to get to my mother’s. You don’t need to take me there, just—if you can get me to the trains. That’ll save me time in rush hour.”

“Of course,” he said, and gave David directions. “Put the trip on the company card. Anything you need. If you get to her, and you have the feeling you two need to be scarce for a few days, take out some cash, and use that instead. All right?”

“Is it that bad?”

He thought of Arturo. Of Thalia. Of the way Cindy had hung up on him this afternoon. “I honestly don’t know,” he said. “I’d rather play it safe than ask you to stick around and be responsible. Get a burner phone, call me from that if you need additional help. Or call Leo. Hell, if anyone knows how to make someone disappear, it’s that man.”

“Okay,” Brianna said. Her hands were still shaking, but her face had stilled, and her gaze was quiet, determined. “Thank you.”

They were silent as the car dropped her off at the train station, and then he kept his silence as David drove back to the penthouse.

This morning, things had seemed hopeful, positive, moving entirely in the right direction. Now, it had all fallen entirely to pieces.

As the elevator doors to the penthouse opened, though, he heard the thick, drum and bass-heavy strains of progressive rock bursting out of the den area of the apartment. He heard Claire’s bubbly laughter, mixing with an earthier strain that he had to imagine was Zoey’s. His heart lifted a little as he set down his briefcase and strode through the apartment. The two of them were slam dancing around, laughing raucously. He leaned against the door jamb, watching them for a couple minutes as the lead singer cursed. Zoey broke into an impressive air bass guitar solo, and Claire nearly bowled her over. They collapsed in a fit of giggles.

And finally noticed him in the doorway.

His favorite thing about them both was that neither of them rushed to straighten their hair or check their makeup. Claire threw her arms around him in a quick hug, and Zoey picked her solo back up, this time adding squinty eyes and a dramatic duck face.

“Very nice,” he said, clapping as the song ended. “What in the name of everything did I just interrupt?”

“Tool, apparently,” Claire said.

“Your sister educated me on the finer points of hip-hop today, so I shared a little of my prog rock heritage,” Zoey said.

“Interesting,” Alex replied.

“What?”

He shrugged. “I would have pegged you as a classical fan.”

For the first time, a shadow crossed her face in response to something he’d said. “At least you didn’t say country,” she said, and reached down for her laptop, slapping the screen down with a little more force than seemed necessary. “Sophia just let us know that dinner was ready. She even danced with us.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Dinner was quiet, and Alex found himself okay with that. He was going to have to apologize to Zoey and figure out what had gone wrong, but he wasn’t going to do it in front of Claire, if he could help it.

“Have you spoken to Olivia?” he asked his sister instead.

“Did I forget to call her?” He wanted to kick his sister under the table, like he had when they were kids. He thought he might have done it, if it would have made any difference. “So sorry.”

“I get it,” he said. “I really do. But at the same time, we need to not make this harder for either one of us.”

“I’ll call her tonight.”

“You don’t have to. She knows you’re here, now. But let’s keep things on the up-and-up, okay?”

Claire nodded. “But I can still stay here, right?”

A flash went through his mind, of Schwartz and his wet blue eyes listening at his office door as he and Olivia fought. It turned his stomach, somehow, the invasion of privacy and the sheer rudeness of the display. “Absolutely,” he said. “So long as you keep going to school.”

The girl stared down at her plate for a moment, and he saw Zoey watching the his sister with more intensity than he was. That was saying something. Perhaps Claire had confided in her during their day together. He could think of much worse things than that, really. Claire needed a maternal figure like she’d needed a father figure. He’d done his best to be emotionally available and intelligent with his little sister—he’d argued regularly that it had made him a better man—but it wasn’t the same, and he knew it.

He couldn’t think of Zoey in those terms. He was moving too fast, pushed forward by the intense circumstances of everything around him. He knew it, and he didn’t care. He barely tasted the thick and delicious lamb stew that Sophia had made, barely heard Claire’s conversation.

He waited as long as seemed even remotely decent, then hustled Zoey back to his room. He heard Claire’s giggles as they left her in the living room, and he didn’t care. He hadn’t talked to his sister about any of the important things that were happening, which could affect her if he wasn’t careful, and right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

As soon as the door closed, she was on him. He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected Zoey to be the one to throw her arms around his neck and press her warm and confident lips against his. This was nothing like that first kiss that they’d shared at Chez Vous, just a few days ago. That had been emotionally tentative but physically excited. This was open, trusting, and thrilling. His hands wrapped around her waist, snugging her body tightly against his. He was rock hard, and the way she pressed her hips against his, he thought she was luxuriating in the heat spilling from his body. “Hello,” he said.

“Fuck me,” she replied before she pulled his mouth down to hers for another heated kiss.

He laughed and tweaked her nipple hard enough to make her gasp. “All in due time. Were you a good girl today?”

She bit her lip, glancing up at him through her thick, light eye lashes, and the emotion he felt for her dropped into his guts like a stone. It was too soon to call it love—he wasn’t entirely sure he would ever really be able to call it love—but in that moment, he would have laid down on train tracks for her. He thought she knew it too, and he trusted her not to ask for something he couldn’t give her. It was a completely novel sensation, and he took a moment to revel in it. “I was,” she said, “but I have to tell you the truth. If I hadn’t found Claire here?”

His hands tightened on her waist, swaying them gently back and forth as he traced a heated path up the line of her throat as his hand cupped her breast less than gently. “What then?”

She let out a breathy sigh, her fingernails tracing over the short hair on the back of his neck. “I would have tried to be good, I think. But it wouldn’t have taken me long to be all hot and bothered again, and I would have been staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until you were home. I don’t think I would have made it.”

He hummed as his lips brushed the sensitive skin under her ear, feeling her shiver in response. “So what you’re saying is that you were very very good, even though you didn’t want to be at all.” He slid a hand down her stomach, cupping her cunt through her jeans, and she rose up on her toes with an eager little sigh. “I think you should get a very special reward, if you’re up to it.”

She leaned back so she could look into his eyes, her pupils wide and full of smoldering heat. “I’m up for it.”

“Oh, I hope you are,” he said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Zoey stared at herself in the mirror, more than a little nervous, and incredibly turned on. The leather harness fit around her hips like it had been made for her, which boggled her; she was so much slimmer through the waist and hips than him. She stared at the harness to keep herself from panicking at the bright purple cock that jutted out of it.

Alex rested behind her, his chest solid and strong against her back. “Goddamn,” he murmured into her hair, his fingertips teasing down her shoulder blades. “That is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”

“I feel like a porn star,” she said. She wrapped one arm up around his neck and tilted her head back. He responded by kissing her neck, soft and gentle, as his fingers came to her breast again, teasing her nipple with his featherlight touch.

“You’re sexier than a porn star,” he said. “Because you’re here. And you’re mine.” He nipped her neck and she groaned, harsh and loud. Her cheeks flushed, and he laughed. “Stop worrying. Sophia and Claire sleep on the other side of the apartment. You’re safe.”

The word slipped over her heated skin, and she nodded, trusting him. His hand wandered down lower, and stroked the length of the purple cock—her cock—which shifted the end of it that was buried inside of her. The noise that simple motion drew out of her was a low-pitched keen. “When you said you’d fuck me, this wasn’t what I was thinking you meant.”

His hand stilled for a moment, slipping back to lie flat on her belly, pulling her towards him in that gentle swaying motion again. “Me either,” he said, his voice the soft quiet sound of someone telling one of their greatest secrets. “This isn’t something I’ve ever asked anyone to do for me before.”

She met his eyes in the mirror. Surprise was written on her features, and she tried to keep it toned down, but she knew he had to see it, at least a little. “But—you had all the equipment right there, ready to go.”

“Wishful thinking,” he said.

“Why me?”

He ran her fingertips through her hair, and she watched as she tilted her head for him, shifting with him. “I don’t know why I trust you so much. I probably shouldn’t. It seems foolish. But here I am. Here you are. And I can say with total honesty, Zoey, I’ve never wanted anyone this much. I’ve never wanted this with anyone else. Maybe it’s because there’s so much other stuff going on, maybe it’s because I don’t really have anyone else I feel I can trust right now. But I know that I care about you, and I want you to be happy, and if you can be happy with me? I’m excited about that possibility.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Then show me how to fuck you.”

He led her back to the huge bed and bent his head to her breasts, licking and teasing them, taunting her nipples with his teeth. His hand came to her cock again, stroking it firmly, turning her hips into water as it shifted deep within her. It wasn’t anything like being fucked, but it was still incredible. She’d played games with herself in the past, when she was pushing a deadline and bored out of her mind—she’d take a toy and slip it in, and then keep writing. Every little shift of her hips would blur into torture, and she never let herself come until she hit the deadline in question.

This was like that. The toy didn’t quite touch her clit, so she wasn’t sure she would come during this little experiment, but she was sure Alex would take care of her, in the end.

He stretched out on the bed, face up, his legs spread wide. “Watch first,” he said, smearing lube on his fingers.

She stood at the end of the bed, trying not to feel extraneous as he stroked his cock with one hand, and circled his anus with the other. And then he slid two fingers into his body, smooth and slow, and she watched his eyes pop open with eagerness. “Holy shit,” she murmured, watching his cock twitch in the air, watching his fingers slide in and out of his body. She wanted to touch her clit, wanted to join him in the exploration of his pleasure, but she couldn’t reach it with the harness in the way. She settled for stroking her cock—and groaned like it had been electrified. She’d never played like this before, and it blew her apart, touching that long length in front of her, feeling the twisting sensations within her as the toy shifted.

“Like this,” he said, his voice tight and excited. “Oh, Jesus, Zoey, you keep doing that, I’m going to blow before you touch me.”

She stroked her cock more firmly, and watched his eyes widen. “You better not,” she said. “You told me that I have to fuck you to get fucked tonight, and I want my fucking.”

He tore his hand away from his own cock, cursing. Inspiration passed over her, and she climbed onto the bed. She knelt over him, her ass on his chest, and brushed the head of her toy cock over his lips. “Suck it,” she said.

He went after her with enthusiasm, groaning and licking and sucking the toy. The sensations were muted in her body, but the way his eyes rolled up at her, the way he shivered—that was worth it.

She slid down him again, standing at the end of the bed. He dropped his hips a little, to compensate for his height, and she made herself focus on him, not on the burning in her clit or the tautness of her nipples, as she smeared lube over the length jutting from her hips, then guided the head of her cock to his ass. He hissed in anticipation as she pressed gently forward.

When his body relaxed, and she slipped that first inch inside of him, she gasped, her eyes going wide. His body tensed, electrified; his eyes caught hers and held them. “More,” he said, hoarse and wound incredibly tight. “Jesus, Zoey, more. Oh, please.”

He said please, but she knew a command when she heard one. “What’s that you’re always telling me? Have patience?”

Sweat gleamed over his forehead. “Fuck me, princess, oh god, fuck me before I come without you even halfway in me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ll stop you if you do.”

She slid forward, pressing her cock into him slowly, listening to him curse, each sound making her cunt tighten around her end of the toy, and she felt her body clenching, spasming in little mini-orgasms that left her vision spotted and her knees weak. She balanced herself with a hand on his thigh as their hips met. He cried out at the contact, writhing. His cock was rigid and thick on his belly, gleaming with his arousal. She reached between them and traced one fingernail down his length. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck fuck fuck, what are you trying to do to me?”

She laughed as she pulled back slowly, then brought herself forward again. The cock inside of her slid more smoothly this time, and she began to reevaluate her opinion that she wouldn’t come like this. It was rubbing right up against the spot that made her see stars. The pressure wasn’t direct, but it was intense all the same. “I’m following directions,” she said, another stroke bending his back and making him curse. “You told me to fuck you. I am pretty sure I’m fucking you.”

His hands were fisted in the sheets, his forearms corded with wiry muscle as he gasped. “Jesus,  I am not going to last, this is—something else, princess, something—” his teeth clenched, and he panted, hard and fast, his cock twitching against his stomach as he fought to hold out. She went still against him, because she wasn’t ready to be done either, but when some of the tension flooded out of him, she began to move again. “Aching,” he muttered, his head tossing. “Aching for you. Baby, Jesus, Zoey, princess, oh god—”

She wrapped her free hand around his cock, and thrust into him as she stroked his length, keeping that slow, steady rhythm. It was enough to drive him over the edge within moments, crying out as he spurted over her hand and his stomach.

She heard the words in the cries, the soft three words he muttered as he descended back to earth. She wasn’t sure he even heard them, so she didn’t say anything back. She wasn’t sure she could have said it back, even if he had been fully aware of what was happening.

She glanced to the side, wanting to find control of her emotions before he saw her confusion, just in case. She found herself staring into that full length mirror, seeing herself between his legs, buried in him as he relaxed through the last of his orgasm, his body speared through with hers. Her eyes went wide at it, shocked and delighted at what she saw.

She turned back to him, pulling the toy free. She stepped out of the harness, letting it fall to the floor, her pussy whimpering slightly at the loss of the sensation. She stretched out next to him, sighing with quiet delight as he gathered her up. “I promised to fuck you,” he said, his voice hoarse from all his noise.

“You did,” she said, ignoring the need still filling her. “That was—moderately incredible, yes. I’m going with that.”

He chuckled and rolled into her, his lips closing almost delicately around her nipple. “You can do better than that,” he murmured around her flesh, and she clenched again. “Tell me what you want. My tongue, my fingers? Want to wait until I recover and have me fuck you again? Want me to get a toy and do you now?”

“I’m not sure—”

He kissed a line down her body, his teeth tracing her skin. “How about this,” he said. He sat up, pulling her with him, until they were up at the headboard of the bed. He placed her hands, one at a time, on the headboard, then settled behind her. He pulled her hips back until her ass rested on his upper thighs, her own thighs spread. And then his fingers slipped into her inner lips, finding her clit, and began to swirl.

She was sopping wet, and her head fell back onto his shoulder as she gasped in happy delight at the ecstasy that turned circles within her. He murmured into her ear, calling her princess, telling her how sexy she’d looked while she fucked him, how hot and amazing and gorgeous and powerful as she’d throbbed into him. She let go of the headboard to reach back and caress his neck, and he slapped her hand hard enough to sting. “Move again and I’ll tie you down,” he said, his voice flipping from erotic to sharp in one beat of her heart.

It was what tipped her over the edge. Even as he snapped at her, the skillful motion of his fingers didn’t stop, and she spiraled out her hips bucking and her back arching as she spasmed, clamping her teeth together to stop herself from screaming.

He dragged every drop of excitement out of her, and she sagged into his arms, tired and swollen and sore and suddenly incredibly, thoroughly relaxed. He tapped her hands gently with his fingertips; she hadn’t even realized she was still clutching at the headboard until she let her fingers relax.

“How is it,” he whispered in her ear as he cradled her against him, “That every bit of you I get just makes me want more?”

“Not sure,” she murmured back. “But the feeling is mutual.”

They were quiet for a while. She lay quietly in his arms, and felt that she was holding him as much as he was holding her. It struck her how incredibly vulnerable he’d made himself. It wasn’t just that he’d never asked anyone to perform that one particular act for him; it was also that it had so completely undone him.

She’d read that phrase in cheesy romance novels before, and had always rolled her eyes. But when his eyes had locked on hers, with no barriers and no pretense, she’d understood it for the first time. And she found herself grateful for the opportunity to be on the receiving end of that expression, especially from someone who kept himself under such tight control.

“What was Claire’s excuse for skipping school,” Alex asked her as he traced a finger lightly down her spine.

Zoey shook her head. “She’s scared of someone Olivia’s associating with. Aaron Schwartz?”

Alex made a sound, low in his chest, that was painfully close to a growl. “I know him. She’s right to be cautious, but why scared?”

“She thought she saw him at school. She turned around and came back here as fast as she could.”

He nodded, slowly.

“Do you think she’s really in danger, Alex?”

“No,” he said. “There’s no reason for anyone to hurt her. She’s legally Philip’s heir. There’s no question about it. Hurting her would be foolish.”

“I feel like there’s a certain school of thought that says murder for financial gain is foolish, no matter what.”

He barked a little laugh and kissed her quickly. She sank into the pressure of his lips, letting him envelope her for a moment, his hands on her bottom tugging her tight against him. “True enough.”

“I talked to Cindy.” The words blurted out before she thought better of them. She felt Alex go painfully still under her hands. “I thought maybe I’d be able to help. Maybe she’d see me as an easier ally, since I don’t have a dog in the fight, so to speak.”

She felt sure he’d be angry, irritated at the very least, but instead he just slowly returned to his delicate caresses of her skin. “And could you?”

Zoey shook her head, then leaned back to catch his gaze again. “She screamed that she was going to take the kids and run, and it was all our fault.” She thought carefully about how she wanted to phrase her question. “Do you know what might have happened, what could have made her so afraid?”

He shook his head, and then froze. “Oh fuck,” he said. “I need to talk to her.”

“Wait, Alex.” She put her hand on his arm as he sat up and moved towards the edge of the bed. “Hold on.”

“I dropped her name to Olivia,” he said. “She must have—fuck—she must have gone after Cindy. Intimidated her. I didn’t think—” He bit off another curse as he reached for pants. “This is my fault.”

“Stop,” Zoey said, and to her surprise, the man did pause, at least, and turned to face her. “If she’s really afraid, there’s nothing worse you can do than go tearing over there. You’ll frighten her even more.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “She’s not going to answer the phone, and she made it perfectly clear to me that she didn’t want to hear from either one of us again. If you really think your mother’s a danger, Alex—maybe it’s time to get the police involved.”

“No,” he said, too fast. “No, it won’t do any good. We don’t have any proof yet. They’ll dismiss me out of hand. Even the friends I have on the force won’t be enough. We need proof, Zoey.”

It was her turn to shake her head, and she tried not to let the fact that she was naked whittle away at any of her determination. “It’s not our job to bring proof, Alex. That’s the job of the police.”

For a moment, she saw him tremble. She had an idea of the enormous forces that were dragging on him from all sides, and she could imagine that he had no real idea of where to go or what to do next. But the anger in his eyes, the fury that wasn’t just about tonight, but about a thousand slights and smarts over the years, things about which she’d only found the barest edges—it made her nervous, just a little. “I don’t think you understand,” he said, in a voice so quiet and low and careful that it only increased her nervousness. “How much is riding on this. It’s not just about shares in the company, or whether I’m a multi-billionaire, or just a garden variety fucking rich guy. Zoey, people are dying.”

“Yes, they are,” she said. “And more may die if you don’t tell the police what is going on.” She paused, thinking back over her conversation with Cindy. “She said that you weren’t the only one who knows the police commissioner. Do you know the police commissioner?”

Alex shifted from one foot to the other for a moment, a funny look on a naked guy. She swallowed the smile. It wouldn’t help the conversation. At all. “Yes. We—have a mutual friend.”

Zoey found herself unable to resist. “A mutual lady friend?”

He rolled his eyes, but he sat back down on the bed next to her and stopped twitching quite as much. “No, not like that. A mutual friend from school. We got him into a lot of trouble a few times, but Leo and I always saved his ass, too. He owes me.”

She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, and when he didn’t shrug it off, she stroked it lightly down his arm, then scooted a little closer, letting him feel the warmth of her body. “Either call him, or don’t,” she said. “But stop torturing yourself. On some level—she’s a big girl, Alex. She told me she was going to run. And if she does—then she does, you know? You can’t fix this for her, especially not when she’s refusing help.”

He nodded, and scrubbed his hands over his hair. It was a nervous gesture, she realized. “I should call Luke,” he said. “I know I should. But something keeps holding me back.”

“She’s your mother,” Zoey said, as gently as she could. “I can’t imagine needing to tell the police that you think your mother is killing people.”

He laughed just a little. “It is a little bit out there. I mean, Olivia is a bitch, and she’d go to a lot of lengths to protect Claire and I, and to make sure that everything—everything she gave up wasn’t for nothing. But kill people?” He shook his head. “I just don’t think she has it in her.”

“Then maybe you should come to bed,” she tried. She didn’t go as far as reaching out, her arms open and ready, but she thought about it. She just didn’t think it would play out the way she wanted it to.

“I’d really like to,” he said, and his eyes skirted down her body again, a smile playing over his lips. “But I called an emergency board meeting for tomorrow morning, thinking I’d have Cindy’s backing. Without it, I—” he shook his head, and she saw something she’d never seen in his posture before, never even dreamed of. She saw fear.

No, fear was too intense. But she’d never seen him show even the slightest hint of reticence. Not just in her past few days experience with him, but ever. Not in the press, not in interviews, not when challenged. Publicly, and now privately, she saw Alexander Blankenship as someone consumed by his own confidence, strong and powerful. It was disarming and alarming to see him nervous. It made him somewhat more human than he had been.

He recovered quickly, and gave her a boyish grin. “I have to try and pull one hell of a meeting out of my hat, or look like a fool,” he said. “I’ll probably be up for a bit. But you should get some sleep.”

“Do you want me to sleep here?” She didn’t know how to ask without being blunt.

“Very much,” he said, with the same sort of tone.

“Okay,” she said. “I should go by my apartment and get some clothes, then. Unless you plan on buying me a new outfit every day.”

“Would you accept them if I did?”

She had to laugh. “Not unless you started shopping at the thrift store.”

He was still for a moment. “I do, you know. For things that aren’t for work, obviously. But when I just want clothes that are comfortable, and I’m not going to be judged for how they fit. Or if I know that they’re going to get destroyed. I’m not utterly irresponsible.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, even though it didn’t seem like entirely the right thing to say.

“I’ll have someone drive you,” he said. “It’s too late for the subway.”

He said it so offhand; it was a fascinating moment, given what he’d just been saying about thrift stores. She got it, right then. He chose to shop at the thrift stores, because it made sense and was a frugal choice. But he’d never had to shop at a thrift store. She would have bet—dollars to donuts, Mama had said—that he’d never looked down at his last $20 on Monday afternoon and tried to figure out how he was going to eat until Friday. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand how the “other half”—or, the other 99%—lived, it was just that he’d never had to live like that.

“Okay,” she said. It felt a little bit like she was letting down everything she’d been raised to believe in, but at the same time, he was right. It was too late to be on the subway. “Thanks.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Her little apartment seemed sad after even just 24 hours in Alex’s plush penthouse. All the little flaws that she’d learned to live with, like the crack in the ceiling, or the way the floor rippled at the front door, so that she had to kick it to open it, and kick it to close it again, all those flaws stood out now, like nails on a chalkboard.

When she’d told Alex she just wanted to go get a few things from her apartment, she realized now, she’d half expected him to ask how long she expected to stay, or something else to not-so-quietly indicate that he’d had enough of her. He had to get ready for his big meeting in the morning, after all, and there was only so long he was going to want her to hang around.

She stared at her closet, trying to figure out what she should pack. Two pair of jeans would get her through a few days, as long as he didn’t kill any more zippers, but was that assuming too much? Should she just get clean panties and socks and head back? A spare toothbrush? Where was the overnight line?

If she’d been a typical southern girl, if she’d joined a sorority in college, she would know these things. After a few minutes of staring blankly at her clothes and trying to figure out what to do, she sighed and pulled out her phone.

The battery was barely at 15%, she noticed, as she tapped out a quick text to Alex.  All the music earlier must have run it down a little more quickly than usual. I don’t know how much I should bring. Please help.

She stared at the phone, waiting for some sort of answer from him. If she was lucky, he’d be working with his phone nearby. If not—well. She’d just have to guess. As agonizing as that might be.

Her phone lit up with a phone call, but not from the contact she was hoping for. She stared at the number and name for a moment before she swiped to answer. “I thought you were going to call the police commissioner if I ever tried to contact you again.”

It was a mean thing to say, but she had found herself more and more frustrated with Cindy Walden as the day went on. She was the one who’d shown up with this mess and dropped it in their laps instead of taking it to the police. It was fair for them to ask for her help in cleaning it up. Besides, if she wanted Philip’s shares, didn’t that mean she should also want some of the responsibility?

It wasn’t something she was likely to say to either Cindy or Alex, but she just couldn’t understand how someone could plan out something as malicious and wretched as this, and expect to get away with it. From what she’d been able to find, both Arturo’s death and Thalia’s were showing signs of suicide, though of course they were still waiting for a coroner’s report to officially rule out foul play. But that was a big part of why she’d tried to press Alex into calling his friend Luke with his suspicions. If the cops were looking into the cases, with all of the available information, and still called the deaths suicides, then that would be the end of it. There was nothing else to be said. She hoped Alex would be able to see it that way, too. After all, she knew better than he that the media was never given all the information about a crime scene. It was an easy way to confirm a rule in or out whether or not a suspect had been at a scene, if they knew details about it that hadn’t been in the papers, or online.

Cindy had collected herself, apparently, after Zoey’s nasty-nice greeting. She spoke rapidly, her voice pitched low and quiet. “Ms. Gardener? I need to see you immediately. Please.”

The fine hairs on the back of Zoey’s neck stood at attention. “Ms. Walden? What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” the woman said. “Well. Nothing yet. I need—I need to give you information. About the twins.”

“Okay,” Zoey said. “Absolutely. Let me get a pen and paper.”

“No,” Cindy snapped, her voice wire-tight. “Absolutely not. No writing things down.”

Zoey resisted the urge to rub her temples. “I apologize, but I want to make sure that if you tell me something, I remember it accurately.”

“You need to come to my apartment,” Cindy said, reeling off an address. “I need to speak to you. Privately. Not Alex, not his sister, not a driver, no one else. I will tell no one but you.”

On the stupid subway jackoff story, she’d had a source that had been like this, acting like he was Deep Throat passing over the Nixon tapes, just to give her enough information to track down the dude whose kink involve masturbating on occupied subway cars. “I want to help you, Cindy,” Zoey said, hoping that using the woman’s first name again would create a little more connection between them. “I want to help keep the kids safe. But to do that, you need to trust me.”

“I do,” she said, and Zoey knew without a doubt that the woman had been crying. “I don’t trust the phones. Okay? Can you come here?”

“Sure,” Zoey said. If nothing else, the woman was distraught. Checking in on her seemed like a good idea. “I’m on my way. I’m across town right now, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She was pretty sure that the driver who’d picked her up—it wasn’t the constantly present David, but someone else in the same dark suit, tanned skin, and crisp haircut—wouldn’t say boo about driving her wherever she needed to go.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Zoey pushed the bell again, then shuffled her feet, irritated and frustrated. Cindy had stopped answering her phone, after sending more stressed out texts as Zoey crossed the city, and now she wasn’t answering her door. As cranky as Zoey was—the length of the day was starting to set in, leaving her ready to sleep more than anything else—she was also worried about the woman. This morning, she’d been stressed, but ready to go to bat for herself and the twins she’d talked about; the woman tonight seemed like a completely different person. Tangled up in fear and who knew what else, she was vastly different from the cool, confident woman who’d traded words with Alex in that prim and proper living room.

She pulled out her phone one more time—the battery was down to just 5% now. Cindy, are you there? I’m sorry, but I’ve been standing out here for fifteen minutes. If you don’t let me in, I’m going home.

Alex hadn’t texted her back, either. She checked her messages, made sure that everything seemed to be sending, and didn’t see anything wrong with the phone. Well, other than the fact that it was now informing her that it was shutting itself down due to its critically low battery.

She stared up at the tall building. It was nowhere near as elegantly imposing as Alex’s, but it was still head and shoulders above her own awkward studio. She would have given anything for a doorman right now, and maybe even her own personal elevator button pusher. If Alex decided to keep her around, she’d have to ask him about that. Someone just to follow around and push buttons for her. She cracked herself up.

As she gave up and turned on her heel to go, the door behind her buzzed. She pulled it open before the buzzing stopped, and walked through the lavish lobby to the elevator. Alas, no button pusher, but she managed to do the deed without even breaking a nail.

Zoey giggled at herself. She’d apparently gotten very very tired standing out on the doorstep, and now, she was going to have to seriously tone down her weirdness in order to not freak Cindy out even more than she was apparently already freaked.

She rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, then knocked on the door of apartment 12. Cindy answered the door immediately, pulling Zoey into the apartment and quickly closing the door behind her.

The woman looked like a caricature of a wealthy woman trying to disguise herself. She wore sunglasses that must have cost $200, and that Audrey Hepburn would have thought were too big and ostentatious. Her clothes were common enough, in that she wore jeans and a jersey top, but they were clearly cut for her specifically, and she wore black pumps that had to cost half a fortune. Zoey managed not to laugh.

“I’m going to give you the information on the twins,” Cindy said, her voice tight. “Where to find them. Who their adoptive parents are. And then I’m going to disappear. I’m done. I have enough money to just—be gone, and that’s all I want. I’ll never come after anything of that bastard’s, and you tell Alex never to even look for me.”

“If that’s what you want, okay,” Zoey said, reaching out to the other woman, who flinched away from her touch. “But you need to realize that you may be hurting everyone, including the twins, by doing this. Their best chance may very well be for Alex to get what he wants. If AEGIS moves in the direction that he wants, then you’re no longer a threat. Do you see?”

“No,” Cindy said. “Arturo and Thalia are dead. That shit on the phone made it very clear that I’m next. I am gone, just as soon as you take this off my hands.” She shoved a flash drive at Zoey. Zoey almost bobbled it, but then managed to keep her grip. It was a cutesy one, a little Hello Kitty with a USB port coming out of her butt. Not remotely the kind of device that one would associate with corporate espionage and death plots.

“What is this?” Zoey asked.

“It’s everything we knew,” Cindy said. “The three of us. About the twins, but about Philip as well. Proof to substantiate our claims as his bastard children, the lawyers we each spoke to about the interpretations of the will. Everything that you could possibly want to know.”

“Cindy,” Zoey tried again. “This doesn’t do us any good if you’re dead.”

“You aren’t—” the woman went completely still, a statuesque look that Zoey had seen before on her half-brother’s face, and then her eyes widened in panic. “Someone’s coming,” she whispered, like they were in a horror movie.

“I don’t hear—”

“Run. Bedroom’s that way. Go!” She gave Zoey a not gentle shove to the back, and Zoey stumbled. As she did, she heard the front door rattle in its frame. It was steady, and it held, but the pictures on the wall shook, and she had the feeling it wouldn’t hold for long.

She ran.

Behind her, Cindy ran too, but only a few steps. And then those spike heels slipped out from under her, and she crashed to the floor.

In her imagination, Zoey was brave enough to turn around, to help the other woman up, and to get them both to safety. Just down the hall, she could see a bathroom. She would grab Cindy, steady the woman and get her to her feet, then dial 911 from the bathroom. That’s what would happen in a movie.

This wasn’t a movie.

Zoey ran down the hallway by herself, skidding into the bathroom. Cindy had flipped herself over, but instead of standing up, she was crab-walking on her hands and feet, too frightened by the continuing blows on the door to stand.

The door burst open, and Zoey pushed the bathroom door as close to shut as she could get it without making noise. She saw a man, a tall man in dark clothes, with a ruddy complexion and light brown hair, walk purposefully down the hallway. He carried a pistol in his hand, the barrel lengthened by a silencer.

The gun made two little hissing sounds, and then Cindy wasn’t trying to crab walk away anymore. Her hands clawed feebly at her chest for a moment, then lapsed into stillness. She hadn’t made a sound.

Zoey pressed her palm to her mouth and bit her flesh as viciously as she could to keep the noises she wanted to make silent. She backed away from the door, bumped up against the sink, and felt her stomach twist, a sudden violent nausea rippling through her. She choked back the burning sickness, wanting to die as the taste and smell of salty sickness flooded her sinuses.

There was a nearly silent, careful footstep outside of the bathroom. He was coming closer.

There was a closet, and there was a bathtub. The bathtub was surrounded by a cloth shower curtain, but it was on wire hooks, and she bet money it would make noise if it was jostled. The closet—even odds it was a linen closet, and then she wouldn’t be able to hide there. Plus, the hinges might squeak.

She had to decide, and hope for the best. If he opened the bathroom door, and she was standing there, she probably wouldn’t even hear the hissing pops. She would just be gone.

The closet. The closet was the better chance.

Gods, random chance, or dumb luck; the closet door opened smoothly, and instead of shelves of towels, it was a regular closet, with robes hung on hooks inside. She darted in, and again, she pulled the door as close to closed as she thought she could manage without making a sound. She pulled herself down into a tiny ball in the corner of the closet, and did her very best to stop breathing.

She listened to the footsteps. She listened to them as they came down the hallway, push open the bathroom door, and walk in. She tried to keep her thoughts as small and silent as she could. And then the footsteps, bless them, went the fuck away.

Zoey didn’t know how long she sat in that closest, her stomach twisting. It could have been seconds. It could have been hours. She thought of Cindy again, clawing at her shattered chest, and the nausea rose again. It was somehow crucial that she not befoul the woman’s house any more than her murdered had already been done. She shoved the closet door open and skidded across the floor on her hands and knees, barely getting her head over the toilet bowl before she retched horribly, emptying everything in her body out.

And then she had to face what was in the hallway.

Cindy lied in a pool of blood, her eyes glazed and far away. Zoey didn’t have to touch her to know she was dead. She pulled out her phone, but her battery was dead now, and the phone wouldn’t turn back on. But thankfully, the neighbors had turned up now, and one of them was screaming while another spoke to a 911 operator, and there was a nice policeman here, too, and it seemed like a very good time to lie down on the floor and let everything drift for a little bit.

Liked Bad Boy in a Suit?

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Book 2 – Tied Up by the Bad Boy

Book 3 – Bound to the Bad Boy

OTHER BOOKS BY EVELYN GLASS

SHE SELLS ICE CREAM, BUT I’M GOING TO MAKE HER LICK A DIFFERENT KIND OF TREAT.

She sold ice cream out the back of a truck.

But I wasn’t interested in what she was selling.

I made her lick a different kind of treat.

And I’ll make sure she doesn’t miss a single drop.

She was looking to earn some extra cash driving that ice cream truck.

I needed a clever way to dump some of the hot cargo I was carrying.

She needed the money, and thought it’d be a one-time thing.

But I had different plans for her.

This wasn’t going to be an opportunity that I would pass up.

One look and I wanted her lips around a different kind of treat.

One look and I needed her on her hands and knees.

Lapping it up and not missing a single drop.

It was the perfect arrangement, as far as I was concerned.

Until the devils in my life came screaming after her.

Now, I’m the only one who can keep her safe.

I’m the only one who can call her mine.

NOBODY IS TAKING HER AWAY FROM ME

She was supposed to help me find the traitors in my club, not get caught up in my war.

She thinks I’m just another biker she shouldn’t trust—a monster and a brute.

But I’m the only one who can keep her safe.

Even if I have to tie her to my bed and never let her go.

She was good with numbers, and I needed someone to help me find the traitors in my club.

I was supposed to keep my hands off her.

But when I saw her, I knew that I had to have a taste.

One taste and I couldn’t get enough.

One taste and I needed her screaming my name.

She was supposed to stay out of my war.

But that was before the traitors came after her, and dragged her into it.

Now, I’m the only one who can keep her safe.

I don’t care if she thinks I’m a monster and a brute.

She’s mine, and nobody is going to take her from me.

Even if I have to pin her curves beneath me

Lash her to the bed, and never let her go.

HE MAY NOT BE MY KID, BUT I’M HIS FATHER.

All she ever wanted was to live a clean life free from danger.

All I wanted was to break her good girl act.

But neither of us could’ve expected things to end up like this…

Neither of us expected me to become the father her kid never had.

I was a savage who rode on the wrong side of the law.

Cara was the good girl who wanted to pull herself out of the hell she lived in.

The two of us were like gasoline and water.

One night was all I needed.

One night was all it took.

She lit a fire that nothing could put out.

Brought me into her home.

Opened herself up to me and let me take whatever I wanted.

However I wanted.

She thought that was the end of it.

She didn’t count on me becoming the father her son never had.

She didn’t count on me becoming the second chance she never got.

She’s spent her entire life being left behind.

But I’m the first person who won’t ever let her go.

THEY DESTROYED HER LIFE THAT NIGHT.

Took her, used her, and left her to die by the road.

I found her limping on the road with hollow eyes and refusing to talk.

I don’t do rescues—but she’s about to be my lone exception.

I was delivering a batch of MDMA for the Blacktop Blades MC when I found her by the side of the road.

She’d been through hell and back.

And once she finally opened up, once she let me know what the animals did to her.

Something inside of me snapped.

I promised myself I wasn’t going to get involved.

But she turned my life upside down, and now nothing will keep me back.

Nothing will keep me from her.

Especially not the same animals who took her.

They thought they could drag her back.

They thought they could steal her from me.

They have no idea who they’re messing with.

No idea what I’m capable of.

No idea the kind of war they just started.

The kind of war that I’ll finish.

SHE’S ABOUT TO MAKE ME BREAK MY ONE RULE

I swore off love, promised myself I’d never do commitments.

F*** them and leave them. That was my motto.

Until Chelsea.

When she comes running into my clubhouse—bruised, scared, and way too damn innocent for a place like this—I know exactly what she’s running away from.

I know the kind of man she’s running from:

The kind that takes their tiny d*** syndrome out on their women.

The kind who hide behind their badge and uniform.

The kind that I put into the ground on a daily basis.

One look and I know I’m going to break my one rule.

One look and I know there’s no way I’d let her go.

One look and I know I’m going to make her MINE.

***

I KNOW EXACTLY HOW I'LL PUNISH HER.

She was looking for a getaway ride to safety when I caught her trying to steal my bike.

But when I took one good look at her porcelain skin and luscious curves…

I live life on the edge—fast bikes, loose women, and more money than I count.

Tina was on the run and looking for a getaway ride to safety.

But she just had to try stealing my bike.

At first, I went after her to get back what’s mine.

But that was before I took a good look at her.

Those innocent yet defiant eyes.

Her perfect pale skin.

Her curvy body that I want pinned underneath me.

Nobody steals from me and get away with it.

I’m going to drag her back.

Tie her to the bed.

And teach her the consequences of stealing from me.

And once I’ve owned her curves.

Tamed her mouth.

I’m going to take everything else and make her MINE.

***

The last time I saw her, I destroyed her world. This time, I won’t let her go.

Some things that should have changed didn’t.

She was mine once, and she’s mine now.

I was a fool when I threw away what we had

But I won’t make that mistake again.

Heading home wasn’t part of my plans.

I was looking for good liquor and bad girls

I didn’t expect to run into her though.

The last time I saw Miranda, I destroyed her world.

To her, I was bad news and she wanted nothing to do with me.

But as hard as she tries to push me away, I can see it in her eyes.

The look that tells me she wants it just as badly as I do.

She’s right not to trust me.

But some things that should have changed didn’t.

She was mine once.

And she is mine now.

I was a fool who threw away what we had, but that’s a mistake I won’t make again.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Evelyn Glass is a native of northern California who currently lives in New England with her wonderful husband and their two rambunctious Corgis. 

Her favorite past times include hiking and reading near the fireplace.

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