Jailbait
Author: Emily Goodwin
Date: 2016-10-04 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Contemporary; Contemporary Romance
Description: Grayson King is anything but royal… Pepper Davenwood is the embodiment of class… They say opposites attract, but what happens when they collide? Recently released from prison, the only thing Grayson wants more than a fresh start is a chance to prove himself to the only woman he’s ever loved. But with a past he can’t talk about, a criminal record he can’t explain, and the mess his father left in wake of his sudden death, Grayson knows it’s not going to happen. Until it does. And now that he’s back in her life, Grayson realizes the very woman he’d give up everything for might be the one to take
Publisher: Black Ink

Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

About the Author

Checkmate: This is War Sample Chapter

Jailbait

Copyright © 2016 by Emily Goodwin

Cover Photography by GreenOwl Photo

Cover Model: Shade Moran

Cover Design by Jessica Hildreth of Creative Concepts Book Design

Editing by J Thompson

Proof Reading by Contagious Edits

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or places is purely coincidental.

To the girls in high school who said I wasn’t cool enough to hang out with:

Look at me now.

Prologue

Grayson

Rich bitch.

I stop in the middle of the driveway, hot sunlight warming me in my leather jacket, and watch her cross through a breezeway, heels softly clicking on the cobblestone. Wind blows her hair around her face, and strands of gold shimmer in the sun. Laughter floats through the air, hardly audible over the bubbling fountain surrounded by perfectly groomed white flowers. She’s busy talking on the phone as she gets into a black Tesla, and doesn’t even see me.

But it’s not the first time I’ve seen her, nor is it the first time I’ve walked up these thick, stone steps leading to the Davenwood Manor. I set my gaze on the dark oak double doors, covered in intricate carvings and the letters “D” and “W” etched into the frosted glass.

The Tesla quietly comes to life and takes off down the driveway. I turn, unable to help but admire the beauty of both the car and the driver. I don’t like the way my heart flutters when I get a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror. Her golden brown hair tangles behind her in the wind as she accelerates. She’s so grown up, miles from the scraggly girl I used to run around with. I blink and turn back to the doors, noticing a security camera tucked away in a corner of this ostentatious covered porch, and knock on the door.

Just seconds later, the door is pulled back and I’m hit with a blast of cold air.

“Good afternoon,” a voice comes from inside. I’m not able to see the speaker in the dark foyer. “Mr. King, I presume?”

“Yes,” I say gruffly.

The outline of a butler dressed in all black comes into view. He bows his head slightly and extends his arm. “Come in.”

I step inside the century-old mansion, remembering the first time I set foot in this place twenty years ago. I couldn’t wait to get inside then, thinking it looked like a place Bruce Wayne might have spent his childhood before he turned into a vigilante. And maybe—just maybe—there could be a badass billionaire living in here too that I’d stumble into when I got lost on my way to the bathroom. That never happened, of course, much to my childhood disappointment.

“Mr. Davenwood is waiting for you,” the butler continues and turns, leading me through the foyer. The place is dim, and all the dark wood and faded paintings aren’t helping. Weird, how I feel so closed in from the lack of light when this place is fucking huge. The same familiar smells hang in the air: wood polish, leather, and an earthy perfume. The scent of the rich.

I follow behind the butler. I’ve been in here before, but am unable to navigate around all 20,000 square feet. The house darkens the further in we go, and I can’t help but feel like I’m walking into the belly of the beast. The butler opens another set of heavy oak doors, and steps to the side. Sunlight pours through two-story windows that are surrounded by bookshelves that run from the floor all the way to the ceiling. A balcony runs around the perimeter of the bookshelves, and a metal ladder is attached to the shelves. A large desk is situated in front of a cast iron spiral staircase. A man who I haven’t seen in years sits at that desk. I pause, keeping my face neutral. Those years have not been kind to him.

“Grayson King.” With a crunch of leather, Alcott Davenwood rises from the tall chair and buttons his navy blue jacket. “It’s been too long.” He gives a curt nod to the butler, who steps out of the library and closes the door. Alcott turns his attention back to me with a slight smile on his thin lips.

I move my head up and down, unsure of the etiquette of the rich. I don’t really give a shit, but I’m too curious to make a wrong move and piss the guy off. We haven’t seen each other since my father’s funeral six years ago, and suddenly he’s calling me, asking that I come from my home in California to this estate in New York with no explanation as to why.

“Thank you for coming,” he says and moves around the desk. “You look well, considering.” Standing a few feet in front of me, he looks me over before clapping me on the back. The greeting is over quickly, and he extends his hand to the velvet couch. I sit on the edge, flicking my eyes around the library.

Alcott goes back to his desk, and with a heavy sigh, sits in the tall chair. He puts his elbows on the desk and swallows. “You’re wondering why I called.” He’s not asking; he knows I’m in the dark. “There’s no easy way to put this, and you know I’m not one to bullshit around things.”

I don’t know that, because I don’t know Alcott Davenwood. My father did, and the years of friendship and trust between them has created some sort of weird bond between the man and myself. If my father trusted this man, then I trust him. My father didn’t hand out trust and friendship to just anyone. And if it wasn’t for Alcott, his attorney, and his money, my father wouldn’t have been able to get custody of me and I would have never escaped my drug-addicted mother living in a rundown apartment in the ghetto of Chicago. I’ve only seen Alcott a few times in person, but I know I basically owe this man my life.

That’s never a good debt to have.

“I’m dying.” Alcott’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

“What?” I say, even though I clearly heard him.

“I’m dying,” he repeats and puts his hand to his chest. “Lung cancer.”

I blink, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry…but why are you telling me?”

Alcott lets out a hearty laugh. “A fair question. I’m a businessman, Grayson. Protecting my assets is a priority, and there is nothing more important to me than my daughter. I’m sure you remember her.”

Of course I remember Pepper Davenwood. She’s not someone you can ever forget. Though judging by the way she peeled out of the driveway in her expensive car, she sure as shit doesn’t remember me.

“Pepper is safe, well-guarded. She knows this. Hell, the world knows this. No one will touch her…while I’m alive.”

Silence falls between us as things click into place. “How long do you have?”

“The doctors gave me six months.”

“How long ago?” I find myself leaning forward.

“Six months ago. I’m on an experimental drug that’s giving me more time. But as with life, it’s never enough.” Alcott inhales deeply and looks out the window. His face remains stoic, but I catch a glimpse of emotion in his eyes. A ruthless businessman coming from a long line of rich assholes, Alcott Davenwood has made a fair share of enemies in his day. His gray eyes move back to me. “I assume you know why you’re here now.”

“Why me?”

“I need someone capable,” he begins to explain. “You’re a man with a particular skill set, one that can come in handy while protecting my daughter.”

I feel my chest begin to tighten as it hits me that Alcott Davenwood knows me a hell of a lot better than I know him. It makes sense though; I wondered how the hell my father was able to pay my bail and afford that lawyer just months before he passed. I swallow hard and look at Alcott, still having a hard time wrapping my head around how someone like him—a high society man, with an aristocratic family tree, and more money than God—could be such good friends with a man like my father, whose biggest claim to fame was becoming VP of The Jackals Motorcycle Club three years before his heart attack.

Alcott Davenwood and Nicolas King were polar opposites. Maybe that’s why they made such good friends, kept the interest in each other’s lives. My father rarely spoke of his time in the Army, but I know that’s how they met.

“And,” Alcott lowers his voice, leaning forward over his desk, “I need someone I can trust.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You trust me?” I could bust out laughing right now, but don’t. The thought of something happening to Pepper is sobering.

“I do trust you,” he says, speaking each word slowly. “You are your father’s son.”

“You know my past…I’ve done some bad things,” I blurt.

Alcott’s eyes narrow and his weak smile widens into something wicked. “So have I.”

The man before me is aged, weakened by sickness. Yet I find him more intimidating than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve met some fucked up people. Because a man like Alcott Davenwood has money, and money can buy anything.

“Don’t you have hired guards?” I can’t help but ask.

“Many. But the thing is, they work for me. And when I’m gone…” He trails off with a shake of his head.

Yeah, I get it. Once Alcott is dead and gone, the company and all the Davenwood riches fall to Pepper, his only child. And last time I checked—granted it was years ago—Pepper had no interest in taking over the empire. She’ll sit back and let whoever the hell her father assigns assistant status to make the decisions. She’ll be a sitting duck, at the mercy of the highest bidder.

Fuck.

“My Pepper is a smart girl,” Alcott goes on. “Smart, and kind.” He says it like a flaw, like he’s saying she’s lazy or vain. Alcott might be the only person in the world to think kindness is a flaw, but when people are constantly trying to pull the rug out from underneath you—and that rug happens to be made of billions—maybe you see the world differently.

“So,” he continues. “Are you interested in the position?”

“What exactly do I have to do?” I ask, though it doesn’t feel like I have much of a choice. If I say no, I’m fairly sure Alcott Davenwood will see to it the rest of my life is even shittier than it already is.

“Learn Pepper’s habits, where she likes to spend time, who her friends are…without being seen.”

“You want me to spy on her?” I lean back on the soft velvet couch, cocking an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t phrase it that way,” Alcott tells me, though really, I could think of worse things than watching Pepper all day. “Knowing who she associates with now before the public learns of my demise is imperative.”

Before the pubic… “Pepper doesn’t know, does she?”

“Only the doctors at Good Faith Methodist Hospital, and now you, know. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

I nod, looking right into Alcott’s eyes, and wonder why the fuck would he keep this from his daughter? My old man and I weren’t exactly best buddies, but when it came down to his final hour, I wished I’d known and taken advantage of the time we had together.

An image of Pepper flashes in my mind, to the fleeting time I got to call her mine. She was eighteen and full of rebellion and lust. I remember the times I’d sneak over, trudging through the woods and meeting her in the courtyard. She’d bring me up into her room, and we assumed no one knew. Judging by the blinking red light in every corner of this room alone, this place has as much security as the White House.

It’s a wonder Alcott never skinned me alive. Though in hindsight, I wasn’t a threat. I didn’t care about her money or her family name.

Only her.

“I will pay you well,” Alcott says. “More than double what you’re making at Cal’s Customs, and more than you’d ever be able to earn on your own given your…your status.” My criminal record, he means. “And I will provide you with a place to live, a new phone number, and a vehicle more inconspicuous than that hunk of metal you ride around.”

My fingers twitch, wanting to curl into fists. Don’t insult my bike, no matter who you are…and how the fuck does he know all this? Right. You can buy information. I internally shudder. No wonder he needs someone from the outside to watch over Pepper.

“I prefer to provide you with whatever you need…leave the past behind you, so to speak,” he says and narrows his eyes. He leans forward, looking me right in the eye. “This may be presumptuous of me, but I assume you want out.”

My mouth goes dry and sweat breaks out along my back. Alcott knows fucking everything. And of course I want out. I never wanted in. No one gets out alive. No one. I look Alcott hard in the eye, and he raises his eyebrows ever so slightly, telling me it’s possible.

No one has gotten out alive…but no one had a billionaire buying their freedom either. I might have a snowball’s chance in hell, but if I can get out, get away, and keep the skin on my back…fuck. It’s worth it on its own.

“Glad we can come to an agreement,” Alcott says.

“I haven’t accepted the job yet,” I remind him.

Alcott looks at me, the smile gone. I keep my face set, a bit of a permanent scowl darkening my features. It’s in my nature to play hardball, to not let anyone know what’s going on beneath the surface. If I were a betting man, I could make a decent profit by betting that Alcott already knows what I’ve worked so damn hard to bury.

Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have called me. And I wouldn’t have risked everything to come here. But I’ll be damned to admit it to anyone else, let alone myself.

I’ve been in love with Pepper Davenwood since the day we met.

Chapter One

Pepper

One month later…

Where the hell is my wine? Granted, I just ordered and teleportation has yet to be invented. I don’t think the waiter has made it back into the kitchen yet, but I need some aged sweet red to get me through what has to be one of the worst first dates in the history of my life.

“And that’s when I told him, he can come clean or I can send his ass back to Mexico where he belongs,” Olson Fisk says with a throaty laugh, real proud of himself. “The next day, the candlesticks were back on the table.”

I look at the shiny silver fork placed on top of a crisply folded burgundy fabric napkin, and resist the urge to pick it up and gouge out my eyes. It would be more entertaining than sitting here listening to this chauvinistic asshole talk. I twist my mother’s wedding ring around my finger, and look across the dimly lit restaurant for my wine. I wear the ring on my right hand to remind me of her, and how no matter what was thrown at her, she handled every situation with grace. I rub my thumb over the large princess cut diamond, trying to channel her patience. Lord knows I need it now.

Raindrops roll down the glass walls in the front of the restaurant, sparkling and shining with city lights. This place is packed, and the front is full of patrons hoping for a table. Reservations book months out, and supposedly the food is to die for. Though right now all I care about is that wine.

I force a smile at Olson, reminding myself he’s the son of my father’s legal advisor, has been an acquaintance for years, and biting my tongue is the best course of action. For now. Once I get home and see dear old dad, he’s getting an earful since he’s the one who set up this walking disaster anyway. My dad’s taking an odd and sudden interest in my love life, urging me to settle down with someone, even if it’s not for the long haul.

I’m not the settling type, nor do I think I need a man in my life to feel complete. I’m not opposed to love, and want to believe in soul mates, but I fear that ship has sailed for me. I loved somebody once.

And he broke my heart.

But that was years ago, and I was only eighteen then. What did I know about love? I knew enough to stay away from pretentious dickmuffins like Olson Fisk.

The sommelier returns to the table, primes the wine glasses, and then serves the liquid sanity. I reach for my glass, fingers wrapping around the long stem, and take a big drink before the server comes over to take our dinner orders.

“We’ll both have the steak,” Olson says. “I’ll take the potatoes, and she’ll have a salad on the side. And hold the bread.”

I blink, really wanting to gouge out his eyes now. Not once did we discuss dinner. “Actually,” I say and look right at Olson before turning my face to the waiter. “I’m not a fan of red meat. I’ll take the chicken pappardelle. And extra butter for my bread, please.”

The waiter gives me a small smile before leaving. I take a deep breath and reach for my wine again, noticing that Olson is staring at my tits. I flip my brunette hair over my shoulder, blocking my cleavage with hair, and take another big drink of wine.

He starts talking about work again, complaining about a client with a budget. I smile and sigh, watching the rain come down harder, followed by a distant rumble of thunder. A large party is led from the front of the building to the dining area. They’re excited, all smiles and whispers about how great it is to be eating in such a fancy place. One person from their group hangs back, and for a second I think maybe he’s too busy playing on his phone to notice that the others left.

But he’s not holding a phone.

He turns the opposite direction, toward the door, but not before I get a glimpse of his face. No. It can’t be him. I stare at the man, watching his shadow shrink as he disappears out into the storm.

“Isn’t that great, Pepper? Pepper?” Olson says my name flatly, annoyed. He taps the table with his hand. “Pepper, I’m talking to you. Pay attention.” He looks at me, following my gaze to the front of the restaurant. “What is it? A celebrity? I heard Lorde ate here last week.”

“Um,” I mumble, unnerved at the way my heart is about ready to pound out of my chest. It’s not the first time I thought I saw Grayson King this month. Last week, I could have sworn I saw him driving down the road while I was shopping with my best friend Savannah. But it couldn’t have been him. Grayson wouldn’t be caught dead in a BMW. He hates foreign cars.

Though the man I just saw, who avoided my eyes at all cost, had to be him. Dirty blonde hair, tousled and messy in an I-just-had-sex kind of way that looks so incredibly good on him. A chiseled jaw covered in stubble. Plump lips that spent a lot of time pressed against mine.

And those eyes.

Pale blue rimmed with deep sapphire. Intense. Emotional. And God, so sexy.

“What about that Hilton girl?” Olson goes on. “Whatever happened to her? Maybe she needs some legal advising, if you know what I mean?”

If I weren’t so close to coming undone at the thought of Grayson, I’d have thrown water in Olson’s face for talking about hooking up with someone while on a date with me. Chivalry can’t stand a chance when class is dead.

The conversation is one-sided throughout dinner, but Olson doesn’t seem to notice. I guess he likes to hear his own voice. Despite the shitty company, I enjoy my food—it is as good as it’s hyped up to be—though I decline dessert claiming to be full.

“I was thinking we should go somewhere…tropical…for dessert,” Olson says, leaning forward. “The family jet has been neglected, after all.”

The thought of spending hours in a private jet with Olson sends the same shiver of disgust down my spine I feel when I take cough syrup. And damn, I have no wine left to wash away the aftertaste.

“No, thank you,” I say softly. “I’d like to go home.”

Olson’s eyebrows go up like he can’t believe I turned him down. I get the feeling he’s used to women fawning all over him at the mention of a private jet and a spur-of-the-moment getaway.

The shock stays on his face for a few seconds before he laughs. “Right. Go home. That’s faster. I like the way you think, Pepper.”

I can’t help it. My nose wrinkles and I lean back. The urge to tell him what an ass he is rises inside, and I don’t care what the press will say, or how angry my father will be. My heart skips a beat and I take a deep breath. Before I can tell him to go fuck himself, friends of my father walk by and stop to say hello. I blink, calm myself down, and spend a few minutes chatting. Olson stands and offers his hand to help me to my feet. With fake pleasantries, we walk to the valet.

Lightning and thunder flash and clap above us, the storm gaining strength. The wind picks up, blowing misty rain under the awning. Just as Olson is handing his ticket to the valet, lightning strikes the tall building across the street. For a split second, everything is alive. Electricity buzzes through the air, tingling against my skin. I inhale sharply, mouth opening as I lean back. Watching a million balls of raw energy crackle and spark as they cascade down to the street below.

Then everything goes black. Seconds pass in total darkness before generators come on and lights from cars illuminate the way. Only dim floodlights come on behind us, doing little to help the poor valet match the numbers on Olson’s ticket to the one attached to his keys.

Olson grumbles and pulls out his phone. I hear someone say something about a blown transformer, and how it might be several hours before power is restored to the block. I shiver as another blast of wind sends cool drops of water against me.

“Thank you,” I tell the valet, slipping a tip into his hand as he opens the passenger door to Olson’s Audi for me.

“The offer to jet off still stands,” Olson says and guns it forward, tires squealing on the wet pavement.

“I don’t think a plane could take off right now,” I inform him, watching rain pelt down the windshield. It’s an hour drive from the city to the house, and I don’t think this storm is letting up anytime soon. Great, traffic is moving slow. I don’t want to be in the car with Olson any longer than absolutely necessary.

I’m half engaged in a conversation with Olson about an upcoming charity gala, zoning out and watching the headlights of the car behind us in the side mirror. It’s not until a while later that I realize the car has been keeping an unusual distance but has made every single turn we have.

“Can you speed up?” I ask suddenly.

Olson doesn’t question why I’m asking him to gun it on the slippery street. He just mashes his foot down on the gas. “I like hearing her purr,” he coos, stroking the steering wheel as the Audi lunges forward. My eyes widen and I’m so thankful for my seatbelt.

The car behind us speeds up as well, but is no match for the Audi. I keep my gaze trained on the side mirror, not looking away from whoever might be following us. We veer onto our exit, and a street lamp illuminates the black car behind us. I can’t be sure, but I think the circular symbol of a BMW glitters under the yellow light.

I suck in a breath and shiver, and Olson puts his hand on my thigh. We merge onto the freeway, getting lost in traffic. I twist my mother’s ring around on my finger, mind whirling. Is that Grayson in the car? It’s been following me … and I swear that was him I saw tonight. It would make no sense for Grayson King to come back here, to seek me out like this. Whatever we had is over, done and gone. I can’t stop thinking about him, can’t get the image of his gorgeous eyes out of my mind.

Usually, when Grayson crosses my mind, I force myself to think about something else. But not this time. I allow myself to recall his face—granted it’s been years—and remember the warmth of his touch.

We met as children and saw each other every few years. His father was active in the military and they moved around a lot. Grayson would be here for a while, then gone, and then back before I’d know it. He had a way of popping up in my life at the best and worst times, and until our last meeting, I never knew how to categorize him.

He wasn’t really a friend, and he was only a lover for a short while. He was a bad influence, that’s for sure, though he always treated me like I was queen of the world. Of his world, specifically.

I’m so wrapped up in Grayson that I don’t realize I agree to be Olson’s date at the gala tomorrow until after I agree to it. Dammit, Grayson. I haven’t seen him in years and he’s still causing trouble.

*

“Hmmm…no. I don’t like it.” Savannah purses her lips and shakes her head. “What about the blue one?”

I run my hands over my stomach, smoothing the gray dress. The color isn’t something I’d pick, but the cut is flattering. “You sure? I kind of like this one. It makes my boobs look big, don’t you think?”

She brings a Champagne flute to her lips and takes a sip. “A paper bag would accentuate your tits, Pep.”

I give her a glare, and then laugh. Ricky, assistant to the dress designer, holds up the blue gown and smiles.

“I do agree, this would look stunning on you,” he tells me, holding the dress up. Glass beads at the top of the bodice sparkle under the lights of the downtown shop. “It brings out the green of your eyes.”

I step away from the mirrors to change gowns. Savannah sets her drink down and comes over, looking me up and down. She takes a step back, whispers something to Ricky, and smiles.

“I’m saying yes to this dress for you,” she says. “We both know I have better fashion sense.”

She does, which is why I don’t go shopping without her. Savannah Lenox has been my best friend for years and hasn’t let me down yet. I change out of the gown and get measurements taken. The dress needs to be taken in slightly on the sides, and will be delivered before the charity gala.

“How was your date with Olson?” Savannah asks as we leave the shop and emerge onto the busy street.

“Ugh, I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“That bad?” She peers over the rim of her aviator sunglasses, hazel eyes widening.

“Yes, that bad. He’s a pig…and I accidentally agreed to be his date tonight.”

Savannah’s eyebrows go up. “How the hell do you accidentally agree to that?”

I shake my head and roll my eyes at myself. “I wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying and the next thing I know, I’m saying yes.” I let out a sigh. “But I’m going to be busy shaking hands and saying thank you to all who donated, so there is a chance I won’t have to be with him that much.”

“I’ll come to your rescue,” she promises. “We can use the code word.”

I laugh and shake my head. “It’s all right. I know you’re excited for your date.”

Savannah puts her hand to her heart and tosses her head back. “Oh my God, yes. This will be the first time we’ve seen each other since he went to Rome. My heart might stop when I see him again.”

“Try not to die until you can save me from my terrible date.”

“Want me to see if he has a friend to set you up with? As a director, Kristoff has lots of famous friends! I want you to be happy.”

I shake my head. “I’m done with being set up, and I am happy.” Savannah is one of those women who has to have a boyfriend in order to be happy, and it’s been an ongoing struggle since I’ve known her to prove I’m fine being single. I have a good life. It’s a little boring and predictable, but it’s safe and I have a lot to be grateful for.

“We’ve been talking about sailing in Europe and I’d love if you came with. I could always have Kristoff bring along some single friends…”

I cock an eyebrow. “Orlando Bloom?”

“He’s not single. God, Pepper, you need to pick up a magazine now and then.”

“I can’t argue with you on that,” I laugh, listening to Savannah tell me about her party ideas until we get to the salon. Savannah is chattering on about who to invite when I see it.

The black BMW.

I grab her arm and duck my head down. “Do you see that?” I whisper.

“See what?”

“Wait, don’t look now.”

She comes to a halt on the sidewalk. “What are you talking about, Pepper?”

“Keep walking,” I say, not wanting to be obvious in case I’m right. “I think I’m being followed.”

Savannah plunges her hand into her designer bag. “I’ll call security.”

“No,” I say and catch her wrist. “I can’t be sure.” We’re right in front of the salon now, and the BMW goes by. It’s on the opposite side of the street, and has tinted windows. I can’t make out who is inside.

“If you think you’re being followed, then have someone check it out,” she says, arching her eyebrows. “It won’t hurt anything, and isn’t that the reason you have security?”

I close my eyes in a long blink, lashes brushing against my sunglasses, and shake my head. “Yes, but I…I’m probably being paranoid.”

“Have you seen that car before?” Savannah asks and pushes her blonde curls behind her ear.

I consider lying, but just can’t. “Yes.” I don’t have to tell her who I think might possibly be driving, right? Or that my suspicions seem more and more legitimate considering someone has driven along the rural road in front of the house almost every night for the last four weeks. I’m familiar enough with the roar of the engine by now that I know it’s the same bike.

“Best case scenario: paparazzi. You father did make some changes to the company, after all. And the worst case: hit man.”

“Oh thanks,” I laugh.

“I’m serious,” Savannah presses. “People are fucking crazy these days. And you’re a walking target by default. It might not be fair, but it is what it is. Be safe and be careful. If you think someone is following you, call security for fuck’s sake.”

“I will,” I promise with a smile, and hate that it feels like I’m lying to her face. If Grayson is involved, if he’s back in town…I’m damned.

Chapter Two

Grayson

“Did you tell her?” I cross my arms and lean against the side of the brick building, ignoring the sweat rolling down my back. It’s humid as fuck outside and I’m dying in motorcycle boots, jeans, and a leather jacket.

Alcott adjusts his tie and walks straight ahead, pretending not to notice me. “Not yet.”

“You have to tell her.” I push off the wall and fall in step behind him. “Judging by how long you were in there, you didn’t get good news.” It’s more than just that, but I don’t bring up the dejection on Alcott’s face. Or the fact he drove himself to the University Hospital. Alcott Davenwood has been driven around his whole life. I was surprised to learn he even knew how to operate a car. “It’s not right and you know it.”

“It’s not your concern,” he says and unlocks his Mercedes. “And correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. King, but I hired you to follow her, not me.”

“And I have for a month. You have me tailing her every move like a fucking stalker. You said I’d get more details. I think I need them.”

Alcott opens the door to his SUV and steps back, almost surprised at the hot air that hits him. Yeah…that’s what happens when you don’t have a driver waiting for you with the A/C on. He turns to me, worry rimming his pale eyes. He blinks it away, turning back into the heartless businessman he wants to be seen as. “I’ll arrange a meeting with you next week. Perhaps Thursday? We can sit down and go over all the details.”

“Next week?” I echo. That’s the first time since I took this job—if you can even call it one—that he’s given me an actual date. It’s been all vague-talk of “later” until now. My heart gives a good holy-fuck thump against my chest when it dawns on me that the doctor must have delivered some shitty news. “How long?”

Alcott moves to get into the SUV. I grab his arm. He looks down at my hand, and then moves his glare to my face. I don’t let go.

“How long?” I repeat. “How long do you have left?”

The resolve Alcott desperately holds onto starts to crumble. Lines form around his mouth and his eyebrows pinch together. “Maybe a month if I’m lucky.”

His words are like a punch to the gut. “But you look so…so normal,” I blurt, then feel like an ass.

“The cancer has spread but hasn’t taken hold of anything yet.” He speaks matter-of-factly, like he’s stating something mundane like the weather. Denial, maybe? “It’s only a matter of time before that happens. Now,” he says and jerks his arm out of my grasp, “if you’ll be so kind as to get back to the job I’m paying you to do. I have to go and start getting my affairs in order.”

“Then you’ll tell her, right?” I take a step back to avoid being hit by the closing Mercedes door. “You’ll tell her you’re sick.”

The door slams shut and Alcott backs out of the parking space without another look at me.

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter and roll a loose piece of pavement under my boot. I shake my head and go to my Harley, foregoing the helmet because of the heat.

If he won’t tell Pepper, I will. She deserves to know. Yeah, telling her will void whatever contract Alcott and I have going, but it’s not about the money. It’s never been about the money, not when it comes to Pepper.

It’s always been her. It will always be her.

*

I wipe sweat from my forehead and walk around my bike, holding my hand over my eyes to shield the sun. The thing is pristine, better than the day I took it home. The bike is five years old, but doesn’t look like it. I rode it damn near every day it was in my possession. Two and a half of those five years, the poor bike sat covered in the back of an auto shop. The same one I work at.

Worked.

My whole life I’ve had a job, scraping by paycheck to paycheck. Now I have more money than I know what to do with, and a house with a garage. An attached garage. Plus, loads of spare time. I never in a million years thought I’d have complaints about getting paid a shit ton of money for doing little work, but dammit, I’m bored. The highlights of my day are the little glimpses of Pepper that I get as she walks from house to car, car to building, and back. She goes to expensive restaurants, does a lot of shopping, and spends most of her spare time with a strawberry blonde woman named Savannah Lenox.

A quick Google search told me that Savannah’s father owns a pharmaceutical company worth billions, and Savannah has an on-and-off relationship with a movie director. Savannah’s a smart girl, having gotten into the MD Program at the Geisel School of Medicine. She never finished her degree, and I’m sure if I kept digging I could find out why, but honestly I don’t give a shit, and with her inheritance she doesn’t need to work a day in her life.

The last four Thursdays, Pepper went to a church in a rundown part of town to serve food at a soup kitchen. Two of her daddy’s hired guards went with her. I did a Google search on Pepper as well, and nothing came up about her volunteering. Because that’s how Pepper is. She does it to help people, not to look good in the eyes of the media. She doesn’t post about it, doesn’t brag. She just quietly goes in to help.

I flick water off my hands and pick up a microfiber towel, running it over the black metal on my Harley to be sure I didn’t miss any water. Water spots on a black bike stick out, and I can’t have that. Twenty minutes later, the sun is killing me and I have nothing left to clean. I move my motorcycle into the two-car garage, parking it next to that damn car Alcott insists I drive when I’m tailing Pepper, and go into the house.

It was fully furnished when I got there, décor included. It’s nothing spectacular; it’s something a normal middle-class family would live in. I presume at least. I don’t have much experience with normal, or middle class. It’s better than anything I’ve had before, and it’s unnerving, making me constantly battle the sinking feeling that this offer is to good to be true, that no one really gets a clean slate even though I think I really fucking deserve one. I didn’t start the shit, yet I’m the one getting the bottom of my shoes dirty cleaning it up.

I straighten up the kitchen, and then take a shower. I get out, get dressed, and still have time to kill. Pepper ran errands with Savannah this morning, and then retreated back to the Davenwood Manor. She’s going to some sort of charity ball tonight. It’s an event I can’t get in, and it’s an event that’ll be heavily guarded on its own. I’m a man of my word, so I’ll be nearby, keeping an eye on whatever the hell I’m able to keep an eye on.

And there’s a bar across the street from the venue. Could be worse, right?

When it comes time to leave, I decide it’s too damn nice of a night not to ride my bike. Pepper’s not going to see me, after all. I can’t get close enough for it to even be a risk.

*

I finish my second beer and lean back in the booth, watching the wrestling match on the large TV mounted in the corner of the bar. The building across from this place has been buzzing with all walks of life for an hour now. From what I could gather, the place is an old warehouse turned into some after-school art gallery for children. Because poor kids need art supplies more than food or clothes. Whatever makes the elite sleep better at night, thinking they did something amazing to help better the city. We’re not in the best part of town, which is why there are double the number of men in black suits standing around the sidewalk.

Limos and expensive cars drop off the rich and famous. Paparazzi crowd around the roped off aisle way, cameras flashing as they snap something they can sell. And ordinary citizens squeeze between, cell phones out in hopes of getting something that can go viral, gaining their own weird little fame via social media.

Pepper arrived half an hour ago, exiting a black limo arm-in-arm with that sleezeball she was out with last night. I don’t know the guy’s name, or what he does, but I could tell by his body language he thinks he’s hot shit. And anyone could tell that Pepper was uncomfortable during their dinner.

So why the fuck is she with him again? It took effort not to get angry. Pepper can date whoever she wants. We broke up and never spoke again. She moved on. I didn’t. Sucks to be me, but what the hell am I to do? Hope that maybe, someday, somehow, I can move on from her, find someone better?

There will never be anyone better than Pepper.

I’m about to order another beer—and hell, another burger—when Rosemary sways her way back over. The chick was lit up like a Christmas tree when I got here a little after 7 PM, and wasted no time hitting on me. She’d be attractive if she showered, washing away the traces of white powder on her nose and ridding her body of the smell of sweat and dirty hair.

This isn’t the first time she’s been blitzed like this in public. She’s got her shit somewhat together like a functioning addict. I let out a breath and set the empty beer bottle on the table. I let Rosemary down easy the first time, feeling bad for her. I know what it’s like to have a fucked-up life. My eyes meet hers, but she doesn’t smile.

“Hey,” she starts and points over her shoulder. “Isn’t that your bike?”

“Yeah,” I tell her, and the question doesn’t raise alarm. Lots of people ask me about my bike. I did custom paintwork at the shop back in California, and my own bike is some of my best work. “It is.”

I move my gaze behind her, right as she says it. “I think those guys are stealing it.”

My heart lurches in my chest and I jump up. Two men in black leather jackets slowly circle the bike. My fingers curl into fists and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to run out and beat the shit out of them.

I’m not that person anymore.

And I have to be sure. A group of college aged kids bustles through the door, blocking my line of vision. I step around Rosemary and push past them, but it’s too late. The two guys checking out my bike are getting on their own bikes, and soon all I see are taillights going down the alley across the street.

I blink and rub my temple, recalling the second-long glimpse I got of one of the guy’s jackets. It was gone before I got a good look, but I swear the emblem was familiar.

Fuck. I should have known a clean slate was too good to be true.

Chapter Three

Pepper

Olson’s hand is clammy, and he keeps resting it on my lower back, which is exposed in this dress. He presses his palm against my flesh and inches his fingers under the satin fabric, reaching for my ass. I remove his hand for the fifth, sixth? time—I’ve lost count, and turn away, mumbling under my breath.

Savannah is busy being arm candy for her movie director boyfriend, standing next to some hideous painted canvas done by an actor, posing for pictures. I stare in her direction for several seconds but am unable to catch her eye. I grab a drink off a tray when a server walks by, and swallow a big gulp of Champagne.

I take a few steps and Olson follows, leeching himself back onto me. I grit my teeth, fingers tightening around the black satin clutch in my hand.

“Two more hours until we can get out of here,” Olson whispers, moving in close. His hand lands on my back again, and he brushes his lips against my ear. Not once did I give him even the smallest of hints that I’m interested in him sexually. He will argue that I agreed to go on a date with him, hence I want him bad, and the whole thing just pisses me off.

I close my eyes in a long blink, feeling my skin crawl. In any other setting, turning and whacking him across the face with my purse and shouting that being his date tonight doesn’t give him a ticket to v-town would be met with cheers and men scowling at Olson for being such a jerk.

There are others like me peppered throughout the crowd tonight, but I’m surrounded mostly by those brought up to believe that appearance and reputation are more important than, well, anything. I’ll never forget the day my paternal grandmother told me that the key to a happy marriage was to “shut up and take it”.

Some days I couldn’t care less if I pissed off those in my social circle. That line was drawn around me without my choosing, anyway. But tonight, I’ll do what I was raised to do and hold my tongue. I twist my mother’s ring around on my finger and wonder how different things would be if she were still alive.

She ruffled feathers in her short time on earth, I know from the stories my father fondly tells of her. She died when I was five, and my memories of her fade each day. I wish I knew what she would do right now if she were in my shoes. Something tells me she would leave Olson standing here stunned, rubbing a red mark on his cheek.

“Now that,” Olson starts, pushing my shoulders to turn me around, “that’s disgusting. Someone obviously doesn’t know what art is.”

I scan the photo before us. It’s a large black and white photo of a nude Caucasian mother nursing a newborn African American baby. The photo is tastefully done, and in just one look I can feel the love of the mother for her child. I take a step forward and read the caption on the plaque below the photo, and get chills.

“It’s beautiful,” I say. “The mother gave birth to a still-born and a day later, the mother of that baby died during childbirth. It’s beautifully tragic and shows the power of a mother’s love.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes, so I look up, blinking, to push them back.

“If I’m gonna see a naked woman, I want her to at least be hot,” Olson chuckles like his statement is actually funny.

“She just gave birth and lost a child,” I retort. “I don’t think—” I stop mid-sentence. “I don’t need to explain it to you. You’ll never understand.” I drain the rest of my drink, put the empty glass in Olson’s hand, and head toward the door. My leather heels can’t get me away fast enough, and I slip out of the gallery and hurry to a narrow hall. Being on the design team for this place, I know my way around. Sort of. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

My chest rises, pressing against the tight dress. Each step echoes off the empty hall, and the lights dim the further I go. The whole warehouse was in bad shape when it was acquired. Since the frame of this place was solid, only the space that was to be utilized was renovated, saving money to be put into supplies for the children.

I didn’t realize how much was left untouched, and now I’m walking down a dark hall using my phone for light. I come to a staircase that doesn’t look safe to walk on, especially in five-inch stilettos, and turn around. Cobwebs brush against my neck and I whirl around, batting them away. My ankle twists and I throw my arms out to catch myself, dropping my phone. It clatters down the stairs and lands face up on the floor below. Specs of dust sparkle in the air, illuminated by the stream of light coming from my cell.

“Son of a bitch,” I curse and regain my composure. I slowly move to the edge of the staircase and give the railing a good shake. Determining it’s strong enough, I carefully pick my way down. Each board beneath me creaks and groans, making me think I’m going to go plummeting down at any second.

When the third to last step actually cracks under my weight, I jump off, slipping and falling backwards onto my ass. I grab my phone and scramble up, suddenly feeling like I’m caught in a horror movie and someone is going to reach through the slats in the stairs, drag me to their home in the basement, and eat the flesh off my body while I’m still alive.

Brushing myself off, I shine the light around and try to figure out where I am and how I can get back to the safety of the charity gala. The easiest way is to go back how I came, but those stairs…yeah, probably not a good idea. Even if I took off my shoes, the formfitting gown makes even a level, clutter-free hallway a task to navigate.

I’m sure there’s another staircase. One that isn’t broken. I know for a fact that part of the first floor was thoroughly redone. All I have to do is find it. Though after just a few minutes of wandering around, I’m starting to panic. The glow of an “exit” sign looms ahead.

“Thank God.” I move toward it, holding my dress up so the hem doesn’t catch on the dusty cement floor. I can get outside and go around to the front. I’ll have to come up with some sort of excuse to why I’m walking in again, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I’m still not convinced I’m alone down here, and I really want out before I become some lunatic surgeon’s new plaything.

I really need to stop watching horror movies.

The metal handle of the exit door is cool against my skin. I check to make sure it won’t set off an emergency alarm, and then have to use all my weight to push it open. I emerge into an alley, and the door slams shut behind me. Dim streetlights spill into the alley, and a large green dumpster casts shadows in my path. I move away from the building and look up and down the alley, trying to figure out which way to go.

Over the sound of traffic, I hear music. Right. There’s a balcony in the back of the warehouse. I can see it now in my mind, well-lit and safe, holding people dressed in ridiculously expensive clothes sipping ridiculously expensive drinks. If I can get to the balcony, I can get back inside, buy the photo of the nursing mother, and then get the fuck out of here.

I step around the dumpster and freeze. Two men dressed in boots, torn jeans, and leather jackets stand next to motorcycles. One is on his cellphone, and the other is swinging his arms in front of his body as if he’s warming up before a fight.

“Can’t be sure,” the one on the phone says. “Had New York plates but it sorta looks like the picture. Yeah, it has the white skulls.”

“Hey,” the other man says and punches Phone Guy in the gut. He grins at me, but the gesture is anything but friendly. My heart hammers in my throat and I frantically swipe my thumb across the screen of my phone. I sidestep, fighting the urge to turn and run. I need to maintain what little control I have over this situation, and there is no way I can outrun those men dressed the way I am.

“Nice dress,” the grinning man leers. “Seems like you’re lost, sweetheart. Party’s up there, right?” He points a gloved finger at the building. I take another step back, reaching behind me for the door handle. It’s not there.

Oh, shit.

It’s a one-way door. Which I would have realized if I had been paying attention. There was no lock…for a reason. You can get out but not in. Sweat breaks out between my breasts. I have nothing to defend myself with, and I know I can’t make a desperate call for help soon enough.

“I can give ya a ride,” the grinning man goes on. He grabs his crotch and thrusts his hips forward. “A ride you won’t forget.”

Phone Guy hangs up, almost looking annoyed for being interrupted. I suck in a breath, on the edge of panic. I’ve taken self-defense classes. I can deliver a well-aimed blow and disable an attacker, giving me enough time to get away. But in this dress? No way in hell.

“No, thanks,” I say, then curse myself for the instilled manners. I don’t need to be thanking these men for anything. “I know where I’m going and best be on my way. My date is waiting for me.”

Grinning Man arches his eyebrows. “He can wait a little longer.” His eyes fall to my purse and my mind whirls with what to do. Throw my bag at him and run? I swallow the vomit rising in my throat, nerves on fire. I sidestep again, moving out of the light. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

He advances, pulling a knife from his pocket. “Your purse. Give it here,” he demands, holding the blade at his side. Shadows are cast over his face, hiding his features. Light reflects off the metal in his hand and suddenly I can’t move. I can’t breathe. “You hear me, bitch? Give me your goddamn purse.”

I extend the designer clutch. Grinning Man snatches it from me and tears the clasp off in his haste to open it. My phone is still in my hand and I make a desperate attempt to type in my passcode and call for help.

“Phone down!” the other man yells. Grinning Man holds up the knife and I let my phone clatter to the gritty pavement.

“This is all you got?” Grinning Man dumps my purse on the ground. It’s small, so I don’t know what he was expecting. “You look like a rich bitch. Where the fuck is your money?”

“Safe in a bank account,” I spit, mustering up my confidence. “That bag was worth over a grand until you ripped it.” I take another small step away, hoping I can lose myself in the shadows and run like hell.

“That ring,” Grinning Man snaps and lunges forward.

“No!” I yell in protest and swing my arms around, trying to stop him. He slams my head into the brick behind me, and a sharp pain goes through me, making me instantly sick. His nails tear open my flesh and the ring comes off my finger. I stumble back, head ringing from the blow, and feel like I lost part of me.

Suddenly a third man appears, and I can’t see his face in the dark. Boots crunch on loose pavement, and his leather jacket tells me he’s with the motorcycle men. I desperately suck in air when I hear the sound of a fist hitting a face. The Grinning Man hits the pavement, and my mother’s ring bounces from his grasp, rolling under the dumpster.

Phone Guy goes down next, and then Leather Jacket Number Three rushes over and kneels down. His face is so close it’s hard to focus. He opens his mouth and says my name the same time someone else yells in the alley.

“Pepper?” Olson’s voice echoes off the tall brick buildings. I blink and my vision starts to focus. It’s dark, but there is no mistaking the blue eyes of the stranger in front of me.

Only he wasn’t always a stranger.

“Pepper!” Olson exclaims. “I’ll get security.” I hear his dress shoes click along the alley. “Pepper,” he says again, but this time I only hear him.

“Pepper,” Grayson says my name slowly. “Are you all right?”

Did I hit my head that hard? Or is he really in front of me? I take in another breath, and feel a sharp pain in my chest. “You’ve been following me,” I spit out.

Grayson blinks, bringing storm clouds over his sky-blue eyes. He puts his hand on my shoulder. “That doesn’t matter. Are you hurt?”

Hurt? I don’t feel anything right now other than the heat of his hand on my shoulder and the intensity of his gaze.

“Pepper?” he repeats.

I blink. “I’m fine.”

“What are you doing?” Olson shouts, standing several yards from us. “Get away from her! I’ve already called security.”

Grayson ignores him, and slowly brings his hand down my arm and takes my hand. “Are you okay to get up?” I nod and Grayson starts to help me to my feet.

“Stop it!” Olson continues to yell but keeps his distance. Good thing my life wasn’t in his hands.

“It’s okay,” I say, voice all breathy. “He didn’t hurt me.”

“That’s not how it looks,” Olson says. “Get away from her!”

Grayson whirls around. “Or what? What are you going to do?”

Olson takes a quick step back. I smooth out my dress and look Grayson up and down.  Where once stood a boy, stands a man. His dark blonde hair hangs around his face, messy, but so incredibly sexy. His features have darkened and matured, but have retained everything that drove me wild all those years ago. That strong, stubble-covered jaw, those thick lips, and his eyes, god, those eyes I could drown in.

He’s wearing a leather jacket but I can tell he’s built. With more pounds of muscle than he had when we were together, and I thought his build was impressive then. His gaze is set, concerned, but there is darkness there that wasn’t before.

Grayson bends over and picks up my mother’s ring from under the dumpster. He wipes it on his pants and extends his hand. I take in a shaky breath and grab the ring from him, fingers swiping over his.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Pepper,” he says softly. “Are you sure you’re—”

“You know him?” Olson interrupts, watching me put the ring on my finger.

I stare into Grayson’s blue eyes, and the memories come rushing back so fast it leaves me dizzy. Sneaking him into my room. Hearing him tell me he loves me. Leaving for college, having my heart break into a million pieces and then never seeing him again. Not until tonight.

“No,” I say. “I don’t know him.”

Three security guards come running and demand to know what’s going on. They address Olson, and one rushes toward Grayson.

“He didn’t do anything,” I say quickly and find myself taking a step toward him. I move my gaze to the men on the ground. The Grinning Man is groaning and starting to come to. My purse and its contents are on the ground underneath him. I look back at Grayson. “He…he saved me.” The words come out of my mouth on their own accord, bringing goosebumps to my skin.

I don’t want to think about what would have happened if Grayson hadn’t shown up. How much would they have hurt me? I have the sick feeling there were no limits.

“Those two,” I say and extend my arm. “They tried to rob me.”

The security guards move in, apprehending the men on the ground and calling it into the police. The last thing I want to do is file a police report and risk this going public. It’s done and over with, and Grayson is here and saved me.

Wait a minute. Grayson. Here. Grayson is here. He’s been here. I was right when I thought the man in the black BMW was him. What the hell?

I turn to fire away my questions, but I’m not prepared for my heart to jump almost out of my chest when Grayson’s eyes meet mine. It’s been so long, yet I feel like that teenage girl all over again.

Grayson reaches forward, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “You’re bleeding,” he says, wiping a bit of blood off my temple. He brings his hand back to show me. I blink and nod. “You should get that cleaned.” He keeps his eyes down, and his shoulders tense.

Olson finally grows a pair and comes over, taking my arm. “Oh, Pepper,” he says like he expects me to faint and fall in his lap. Face first. With my mouth open. I shake my arm from his grasp and shake my head.

“I’m fine.” I take in a deep breath and put on a smile. One of the security guards comes back to us, handing me my purse, and says the police are on the way. I’ll have to give a statement, of course. Olson fusses over me again, inspecting the scrape on my head like he’s a fucking doctor, telling me not to worry about a scar because his mother has “the best” plastic surgeon in the city.

Knowing I can’t drill Grayson with questions in front of the others, I turn to thank him for saving me. And I’m already longing to look into his eyes again, because the two minutes that I’ve looked elsewhere haven’t been pleasant. “Thank…” the word dies in my throat. Grayson is gone.

Across the street, a motorcycle fires up and takes off through the night.

Chapter Four

Grayson

Warm air hits my face and I twist the throttle, blasting my bike forward. I swerve around a taxi and gun it again, narrowly avoiding getting clipped by a semi-truck. I need to slow down. I don’t need unwanted attention.

That’s the whole reason I left, after all.

And my heart won’t stop fucking racing, and I can’t shake the feeling of Pepper’s smooth skin beneath my palm. Touching her was warmth and comfort, a full belly, and a good night’s sleep. Touching her was everything good.

Touching her was familiar, and it shouldn’t be.

And fuck, she knew I’ve been watching her. I should have stayed and explained, told her everything including the secret her father is keeping. I should have sat her down and made sure she was okay—mentally and physically. Her head hit the brick wall behind her pretty hard before I got there. I heard the sickening thunk that made my blood boil.

Hurting Pepper is like breaking a commandment. Do it and there will be consequences. Consequences that end in bloodshed and tears. Consequences that push me over the edge, going where I worked so damn hard to come back from. I don’t want to get arrested again. Though no matter how hard I try, I can’t control myself when it comes to Pepper Davenwood.

I don’t want to go back to prison, but I’ll break every law in the book if it means keeping her safe. She’s my personal brand of jailbait.

I let off the throttle and coast back down to ten over the speed limit. I blink and exhale, taking the first exit I see off the highway. I have no clue where it leads, but it doesn’t matter. I need to pull over and clear my head. It takes a few miles to find a place out of the way. I stop my bike and swing down the kickstand.

I take a few paces, breathing in the sweet smell of pine. I run my fingers through my messy wind-blown hair and let out a breath.

Calm the fuck down.

I get out my phone to check the GPS and figure out where the hell I am. My finger hovers over the icon to bring up a Google search and stop. I have nothing to search. I didn’t get a good enough look to even begin to describe what I think I saw.

I crack my knuckles, pushing away the guilt for not getting there sooner, not watching Pepper’s every move, and imagine myself hitting those guys a little harder. Seeing them bleed. Knocking a few teeth to the ground.

“Stop,” I say aloud and shake my head. I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I never wanted to in the first place. Another deep breath and my heart starts to slow. I’m worried about nothing. No one is looking for me. My debts are paid. I’m out, miles away.

It’s over.

And now I need to keep a clear head and focus on protecting Pepper.

Pepper.

I haven’t been that close to her in nearly ten years, and I never realized how much I missed her until she was right in front of me. For those few fleeting moments, my heart felt whole, which was weird and comforting at the same time.

Turns out, you can be homesick for a person after all.

I get back on my bike thinking of her, and how, despite it all, she looked flawless as always. Because that’s how she is. Everything about her is elegant and proper. Pepper. It’s not a name. It’s a fucking ingredient. Yet on her, it’s distinguished and I don’t feel worthy of speaking it.

I head back the way I came, debating if I should drive by the charity gala or not. The police are gone by now, I’m sure. I can’t be sure what Pepper would have done, though something inside me says she went back inside, refusing to let something like that ruin her evening.

An hour has passed since I left, and the gala seems to be thinning out by the time I ride by. I don’t spot Pepper or her pathetic date, not that I really expected to. So I swing by a diner for dinner, then head for home. Only I don’t take the right turn. I keep going, getting away from the city and before I know it, I’m driving down the rural road surrounded by Davenwood property. When I was a kid and first came to this place, I couldn’t understand how a person can own this much  earth. The grass around the road is always well maintained—of course—but the hundreds of acres of woods is left wild and untamed.

Pepper always loved it.

The glow of the mansion looms ahead. It’s impossible to get to via car without alerting security. Technically the road I’m on is private, but the Davenwoods are used to people driving by, curious to see what their house looks like. The mansion sits half a mile off this road, fenced and gated away from us common folk. Two lights illuminate tall stone pillars on either side of the iron gate, and ten years ago the thing was decked out in cameras and motion detectors. I rarely came in that way.

My fingers loosen on the throttle on their own accord, and I find myself looking at the mansion, unease growing deep inside my chest. A bug hits me square in the forehead and I bring my hand up to wipe it away. At that same moment, something large and dark steps onto the road, and I think it’s a deer about to make a mad dash to the other side and run right into me.

I yank my handlebars and hit the brake as hard as I can without spinning out. Then a light clicks on, and beams right in my line of vision, blinding me. I don’t see the loose gravel on the side of the road and the next thing I know, I’m horizontal to the pavement. I give my bike one last jerk to the soft grass on the side of the road. I’m falling, but am going slow enough that my bike won’t suffer too much.

Neither will I, not that I care. I’ll be all right. I always am.

“Grayson!”

Maybe I’m not all right. Maybe I died and went to heaven because it sounds like an angel calling my name. The engine cuts out and the tires stop spinning. Horse hooves echo in the now-still night and she calls for me again.

“Oh my god, Grayson. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you! Gray? Gray?” Pepper’s frantic voice fills the space around me.

“I’m fine. I went down easy,” I assure her and get out from under the bike and heft it up. She holds leather reins loosely in one hand and reaches for me with the other, stopping before her fingers touch my skin. Her eyes move up and down my body slowly, inspecting me for damage. She brings her hand back, and then reaches out again, awkwardly holding her arm in the air.

The horse—a big, black beast—flares its nostrils and eyes me apprehensively. The fact that it didn’t freak the fuck out over this ordeal tells me how well trained it is. Well trained and expensive. But Pepper always had a soft spot for her horses.

“I knew it was you. For the last month you’ve been following me. I thought I was going crazy, thinking I was seeing you. Then you show up tonight, and take off without so much as a hello, and here you are again. I heard a motorcycle in the distance and I thought I was crazy for assuming it was you, and even crazier for coming to the road to see who it was. But obviously I’m not crazy. You’re the crazy one, following me around like some creep. What the hell is going on?” She says everything quickly, temper rising and nerves falling away. She takes a step closer to the horse.

“We should go somewhere and talk,” I suggest. “Let me explain everything.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she retorts and inches back. Through the dark, I can barely make out her features. The tension though…that I can feel. And she’s scared and pissed. And maybe turned on. No, that’s just me. Fuck.

“We need to talk, Pepper, and the middle of the road isn’t safe.”

“Going somewhere with you isn’t safe either,” she spits out and looks at the stirrup. In just seconds, she can jump on her horse and take off through the woods where the bike can’t follow and I can’t keep up on foot. I could grab her arm, keep her from running. Though that’ll only serve to piss her off. I can’t command Pepper’s heart by controlling her body. And that’s what I want, even when I won’t admit it to myself.

Her heart.

Besides, I’m not entirely sure Black Beauty won’t rear up and bust my head in, because he’s eyeing me like a guard dog. Pepper takes in an audible breath, and closes her eyes on her exhale.

“Come with me back to the stable,” she finally says. “We can talk there.”

The stable is behind the mansion, also equipped with surveillance. I don’t feel like dealing with Alcott tonight, though a face-to-face would be a good way to get him to come clean. “All right.”

“Do you remember how to get there?”

“It’s not that hard to find, Pepper,” I remind her.

“The back way in?”

The back way is a long, curved driveway that is surrounded by white fences and perfectly green pastures, leading to a barn big enough to house an entire herd of horses, living in luxury beyond what the average human lives in. “Yes.”

“I’ll meet you at the mailbox.”

“Just like old times,” I say and can’t help but smile.

Pepper holds my gaze for a few seconds, and I hate that there is fear in her eyes. She doesn’t need to be afraid of me. I will never hurt her. If only she knew the lengths I’d go to in order to keep her safe.

“No. Not like old times,” she says and turns to mount her horse. I swear she smiles too.

*

“Get off,” Pepper says, looking down at me from her horse. We’re at the end of the driveway, near a mailbox that’s under a lamppost. “And turn that off.”

“You want me to leave my bike here?” I ask indecorously. “On the side of the road.”

Pepper’s eyebrows go up. “Yeah. And keep your distance. Spartan doesn’t like strangers.”

I kill the ignition and pocket my keys, eyeing the big horse apprehensively. “New horse?” I ask to fill the silence.

“Newer,” she replies and urges the beast forward. She used to ride a dainty white horse, whose name escapes me. I should know; I went and watched her show him a few times when we were a couple all those years ago.

“Mystery,” I spit out as the name comes to me as well as the memories of sneaking off together into the Davenwood’s horse trailer at some fancy show on the coast. The living quarters of that thing were nicer than any house I’d ever lived in. The rich have it all and then some. “How is he?”

Pepper tenses, then lets out a breath. “He died last February.”

“Oh, fuck. Sorry, Pepper.” I internally kick myself. Instead of reminding her of what we shared, I bring that up. “I know you loved that horse.”

“I did,” she replies in a tight voice. I watch her fidget the reins between her fingers, keeping her eyes locked on the barn a good 100 yards ahead of us. My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I grab it, declining a call from Alcott. I’m sure he knows about the mugging from a few hours ago and is calling to either chew me out for not stopping it sooner…or thank me for not letting it go any further than it did.

“Your dad,” I start. “How’s he doing?”

“Good.”

“That’s good. Is he home?”

“No.”

The sound of crickets and horse hooves on the brick driveway fill the silence. We take a few paces.

“Well, this isn’t awkward or anything,” I say and Pepper smiles.  “It doesn’t have to be.”

She tips her head down, and her emerald eyes meet mine. The reins go slack in her hands, and Spartan turns his giant head to sniff me. Pepper doesn’t say anything back, and we continue to the stable in silence.

The barn door requires a passcode to get in. If I hadn’t spent hours out here with Pepper before, I’d be surprised. Then again, her horse probably cost as much as a house.

“Want help?” I ask Pepper as she leads Spartan into a stall. She pulls the door closed before I can step foot inside.

“No, thanks. I got this.” She keeps the horse between us, and begins to take off the saddle. I look around the stable; it’s the same as I remember. Big, clean, and ostentatious. Obscenely so. A minute later, Pepper puts the tack away and we’re left standing in the middle of the quiet barn aisle. She folds her arms in front of herself, clasping her hands on her elbows.

“Thank you,” Pepper begins. “For before.” She reaches up and pushes her thick, dark hair out of her face. It’s a tangled mess, in its natural wavy state. It’s a version of Pepper the world doesn’t get to see very often, and was my favorite version of her. I felt like I was seeing something top-secret, something so rare and beautiful the rest of the world couldn’t handle it. “I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

“Don’t think about it. I was there.” I step closer and take my time studying Pepper’s face. I hold her gaze for a moment, and then she takes a turn looking me over.

“You just left,” she whispers, and for a moment, I think she’s talking about the day I left years ago.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “I did all I could do. Didn’t want to get caught up in the legalities of it all.”

She takes in a breath, and I can’t help but watch her breasts rise on the inhale. She looks at the ground and exhales. “I’m glad you were there.” She says it like she’s not sure.

“Pepper,” I start, and she looks back into my eyes. She bites her lip and closes her eyes in a long blink, and it’s borderline erotic watching those lashes come together. I reach out and touch her arm. Goosebumps break out along her skin.

I want so badly to bring her to me, wrap my arms around her, and bury my tongue in her mouth. I want to forget all the bad shit that happened between the last time I saw her and now, and just feel.

“You look…different,” she says softly. “A good different. All grown up.”

The corners of my lips pull up in a smile. “I would say the same to you, but the difference is better than good. I never thought it was possible for you to get any more beautiful, yet you are.”

A bit of red flushes her cheeks and she drops her gaze, shaking her head. “You were never shy on the compliments.”

“I’m speaking the truth.” I wrap my fingers around her arm. She leans into my touch and everything fades away. I’m thinking with my dick and I grab her around the waist and smash her tits against my chest. Her body tenses but she doesn’t resist. I wait a beat, not wanting to do anything she doesn’t want, then part my legs and push her against the front of a stall.

I slide one hand up her back and take a tangle of that messy hair, wanting to mess it up even more. I pull her hair, and bring her head back. Her lips brush against mine. My eyes close, and I forget about everything. Everything other than Pepper.

After all these years of yearning, of missing her, of denying that the feelings I once had are still very much alive…she’s finally here in front of me, heart pounding just as fast as mine.

I bring my free hand up, running my finger over the smooth skin on her chest, then across her collarbone, then up to her cheek, cradling her face in my hand. She brings her hands up and wraps delicate fingers around my wrists. Finally, I put my lips to hers. She tastes fucking delicious, better than anything I’ve ever had before. I tighten my fist around her hair and slip my tongue in her mouth, kissing her hard.

One of Pepper’s hands goes under my unzipped leather jacket, pressed against my side. The other lands on my chin and the gesture is so intimate it almost throws me off. I keep kissing her, and run my hand down along her back. Pepper goes weak in the knees and has to hold onto me for support, kissing me back with a desperation that mirrors my own. The kiss is making up for lost time, time that was stolen from me.

The world spins around me, and I can’t stop kissing Pepper. I push her tangled hair over her shoulder and move my lips to her neck. Pepper gasps and digs her nails into my flesh. I nip at her tender skin, remembering the last time we were together like this.

I never intended it to be our last time.

Unable to get enough of her, I put my mouth back to hers and grab the hem of her black t-shirt. My fingers curl under the material and the feeling of her flesh against my hands is enough to make my cock begin to harden. I inch my fingers up, making my way to her breasts.

As suddenly as the kiss started, she stops it, planting both hands on my shoulders and pushing me away.

“Gray,” she pants. “Stop.”

“Stop?” I put my lips to her neck and suck. “We’re just getting started.”  She throws her head back and pushes her hips against mine.

“Gray,” she repeats. “We need to talk.”

“We can talk later,” I growl and nip at her skin.

“Grayson.”

I blink and snap back to reality. I step away, breaking contact with Pepper. What the fuck? It was just one kiss and yet I got completely swept up in her. And judging by the way she’s staring at me, she got swept up too.

“You’ve been following me,” she starts, waiting for an explanation. “Why?”

“I’m not sure I’m the right person to tell you that.” I hate the words as they spill from my mouth.

Pepper purses her lips and rolls her eyes. “Convenient. Those guys…the ones in the alley. They had leather jackets and motorcycles too. Was your plan to mug someone from the gala, but then you realized it was me?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that,” I say, feeling crushed she thinks that little of me. “I’ve never seen them before in my life. I was across the street having a beer while watching a wrestling match on TV.”

Her eyes are narrowed. She doesn’t object, but she doesn’t accept my alibi either. “How long have you been following me?”

I consider lying so I can seem less creepy, but she already knows I’ve been driving around watching her. I risk pissing her off even more if she calls me out on a lie, and that’s not something I want to do. I lost Pepper once, I’ll be damned before I lose her again.

“About a month.”

“And you really won’t tell me why.”

I shake my head. “You said your father isn’t home, right?”

“He stayed at his penthouse in the city—don’t change the subject.”

I open my mouth to tell her I’m not, and that Alcott is the subject, but snap my mouth shut when I see the faint red and blue glow in the distance. The sight of police lights makes my heart race.

Pepper follows my gaze, looking out the sliding barn door she left open. Two squad cars followed by one civilian car slow near the end of the driveway. My instinct is to run, and I have to remind myself that I haven’t done anything wrong.

Not this time.

The cops turn down the drive, and Pepper pushes off the stall, eyes on the flashing lights. She reaches for me, and I take her hand, gently curling my fingers around her wrist.

“Why are they here?” she wonders out loud. “What’s wrong?”

My first thought is that Alcott kicked the bucket and she has to go in to ID the body or something, but he called me a bit ago. Well, I assumed it was him who called. Someone called from his phone. And I think Pepper would be told in a less Law and Order way of her father’s death.

“Do you think it’s about those guys who…who…” She trails off, unable to look away from the police car. “Maybe they got away and are after me.”

“If it is,” I start, “I won’t let them lay a fucking finger on you. Trust me.”

Pepper angles her body toward mine and stares into my eyes. “I believe you.” I take both of her hands and inch closer. I’ll use my body as a shield if I have to. Car doors slam, and people scuffle about. We wait, unmoving.

“Pepper?” someone calls. The voice is annoying…annoying and familiar. “Are you in here, Pepper?”

“Olson?” she replies, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “What the hell?”

“Pepper, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Oh my God!” Olson comes to a sudden halt, tan face paling. His beady eyes widen, and he extends his arm. Light reflects off the large face of his Rolex, and he points at me. “That man! He attacked Pepper!” The fucker just stands there, staring in horror at my arms around Pepper. Good thing I’m not actually the bad guy. “Arrest him!”

I take a step back when two police officers rush in, weapons drawn. Fuck. Here we go again.

Chapter Five

Pepper

I fold my hands in my lap, staring at the metallic flecks of silver in the black polish on my nails. I wiggle my fingers, watching the little flecks sparkle under the harsh, florescent lights of the police station. I’m trying to keep my mind busy so I won’t think about what is going on…or about Grayson.

“He had on the same leather gear as the others,” Olson tells an officer. “And when I got there, he had her ring. He tried to put it in his pocket. I saw it.”

My eyes move to my mother’s ring, and I get a flash of it being ripped from my finger. Angry red lines run its length, and my knuckle hurts a bit if I touch it. Nothing horrible, that’s for sure. And if that’s the worst of my injuries, I’m a lucky girl.

Lucky, thanks to Grayson.

Fuck. I’m not thinking about him. Or this. Even though it makes sense and I hate that I find myself seeing logic in what Olson is saying…because I wondered the same thing.

But Grayson isn’t a bad person. Yeah, he pushed the limits when we were together, but it was to see how far he could go. Not to hurt anyone.

Sometimes people change. And sometimes that change isn’t for the better. I’ve never hoped to be wrong about something before, but right now I’m praying I am.

“Pepper,” Olson calls, and I find myself cringing. The way he says my name is like nails on a chalkboard. His tone is condescending, and he looks at me like I’m dumb, like I’m just an object.

He looks at me and sees flesh and dollar signs.

I unclasp my hands and look up at the officer sitting behind the desk. “Yes?”

“You need to give a formal statement.”

“I already gave a formal statement,” I remind him, keeping my tone pleasant. “When I spoke to the police in the alley. Nothing has changed since then. Two men attacked me, took my purse, and a third stopped it. That third man is Grayson, the one sitting in handcuffs in that room.” I look at a closed door across from us.

“You had a lot to drink, Pepper,” Olson begins. “You must be remembering wrong.”

Punching Olson in the face would be incredibly satisfying right now. Maybe not when we’re surrounded by witnesses who have sworn to uphold the law. I clench my fist and keep my hands in my lap.

“There is nothing wrong with my memory.”

Olson’s eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. “Then he must have threatened her,” he tells the officer. “Made her keep her silence.”

“Ms. Davenwood,” Officer Randall says, leaning toward me. “If there is anything you’d like to add to your statement, do it now.”

“There is nothing I’d like to add. Are we done? I’m tired and just want to go home.”

Officer Randall says we are, and the three of us stand to leave. Then I realize no one is going to get Grayson, or to tell him he’s not being arrested.

“Aren’t you going to let him go?” I ask, coming to a sudden halt.

“Uh, well, yeah,” Officer Randall mutters. “Once the paperwork is done.”

“Can I talk to him?” I blurt, surprising everyone. The officer shrugs but says yes, and leads me to the room. I see Grayson sitting at a table, hands cuffed together. He’s staring at the clock on the wall opposite him looking bored.

And good. Better than good. Stop.

My heart speeds up with each step, and I’m all sorts of anxious and scared to see him while at the same time I can’t get there fast enough. My mind goes back to him kissing me in the stable, and I find myself getting hot and bothered right here and now.

It was only a few seconds. It was only his lips on mine. It shouldn’t have affected me so much, made everything around me fade, causing my heart to beat so loud in my own head and the only thing that could silence it was more of him. One kiss shouldn’t have done that. But it did.

And no man should have that sort of power.

The officer unlocks the door and holds it open for me. He says he’ll be right outside, watching. Grayson’s big blue eyes meet mine as I walk into the dimly light holding room, and he smiles, and makes me feel anything but turned on. Dammit. I can’t lie to myself. Not when it comes to him.

“Pepper,” he says softly, half smile turning into a smirk. “Have a seat. I’d get the chair for you but…” he trails off and lifts his hands, showing me that the cuffs are attached to the table.

I perch on the edge of the worn wooden chair across from him, folding my hands in my lap. I need to pick my words carefully or risk coming undone.

“Why are they treating you like a criminal?” I ask. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Grayson raises one eyebrow and gives me that half smile again. “The law is a bit biased, if you haven’t noticed.”

“They think the same thing I did. That the three of you were together, planning on robbing people from the gala,” I start. Stick to facts. Can’t argue with those. I blink, trying not to notice how built Grayson has become. His leather jacket is off, and his arms are all muscles and veins. Colorful tattoos creep out from under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. Those weren’t there before. Taking off his shirt and seeing what else has changed comes to mind. “Three men on motorcycles, all in black leather jackets. At the same place at the same time. They think you’re behind it all and planned it.”

Grayson inches forward and my body heats up wrestling feelings of flight-or-fight. I keep my composure, only freaking the fuck out on the inside.

“What do you think?”

“I know you didn’t do it.”

He leans forward, breath hot on my skin. “You think I’m innocent?”

I move my gaze from his handcuffed wrists to his clear blue eyes. “Nothing about you is innocent.”

He leans back, giving me his best I-don’t-give-a-damn smirk. But there’s something else in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before. Sadness? Longing? Whatever it is, I don’t like it. I never thought I’d prefer smart-ass Grayson to whatever this is, but I do.

Because whatever this is…it’s reminding me of what we had before and is making me want him even more.

I take a steadying breath and push my hair back. “You owe me an explanation,” I whisper.

Grayson gives me one tiny nod, nothing obvious to the officer watching and listening.

“I’m not pressing charges,” I start, “in case you were wondering. Obviously, we both know what happened, and know if you hadn’t stopped those men…”

“Pepper, stop,” Grayson says. “Stop thinking about what could have happened. It didn’t.”

“Because of you.”

Grayson’s hardened expression fades away, and his lips move into a gentle smile. “What were you doing out there?”

“Trying to escape my date,” I admit.

Grayson’s blue eyes sparkle with amusement. “He’s that bad, huh?”

I just laugh and shake my head. The door opens, and the police officer steps in.

“Is everything all right, Miss Davenwood?” he asks.

I offer my polite smile. “Yes, it is. He’s free to go, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. His story matches yours, and since you’re not pressing charges then we got nothing to keep him.” He uncuffs Grayson and we all walk out together. Grayson steps away with the officer to gather his belongings.

“What’s going on?” Olson jumps up, eyes wide. “Why is he leaving? You’re letting a criminal go?” He directs his question at every officer in the room. “Just wait until the press gets wind of this.”

“Yeah,” Grayson says as he slips his arms into his jacket. “The press will love hearing how I saved Pepper from being mugged.”

I glare at Grayson, hating how he made me out to be a damsel in distress. He gives me an apologetic look.

“What did you say?” Olson whips around.

“You heard me,” Grayson responds. “When you were worried about getting dirt on your designer shoes, I was the one who stepped up and did what was necessary.”

“Only because you got there first,” Olson quips. “And that’s because you were in on it. I stopped you from—”

“Gentlemen,” Officer Randall interrupts. “Go measure your dicks elsewhere. Anywhere, I don’t care. Just don’t do it in my station.”

“I’m not…you—you’re…” Olson mumbles before shaking his head. “Come on Pepper, let’s go home.” He flicks his wrist toward the door. When I don’t immediately come running, his eyes narrow. “The car is waiting.”

“I’m not going home with you.” I say each word clearly so there is no mistaking my message. “I’ll get my own ride home.”

“I can’t just leave you here,” Olson sputters. “It’s not safe.”

“I think the police station is a pretty safe place to wait for a car,” I snap.

“We were on a date,” Olson fires back.

“Yeah, and it’s over. I went home and was enjoying this beautiful evening riding my horse until you interrupted me.”

“Don’t you mean him?” Olson glares daggers at Grayson. “You weren’t riding your horse when I got there. Though you looked as if you were ready to mount something else.”

Grayson whirls past me, fingers curled into a fist. I catch his wrist, turning him around to face me. The moment his eyes meet mine, the darkness vanishes. He shakes his head and lets out a breath.

“It’s not worth it,” I tell him and notice how the officer in front of us immediately goes on edge, hand creeping toward his gun. What the hell? I wrap my fingers around Grayson’s wrist and feel a mound of thick scar tissue that wasn’t there before.

“You’re right,” he agrees softly.

I let out a heavy breath and walk into the lobby of the station.

“What are you doing?” Grayson asks when I stop.

“Calling for a car to come get me. I thought I made it clear I’m not going home with him.” I stare at Olson, who is already slamming the door to his Audi and peeling away from the police station.

“You could just take a cab,” he suggests, raising one eyebrow. “You won’t have to wait as long.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Why didn’t I think of that?”

His full lips pull up into a smirk. “You do know how to get a cab, right?”

“Ha-ha, of course I do.”

That smirk turns into a smile. “Really? When was the last time you’ve been in one?”

“The last time was with you,” I shoot back and the memory of sneaking away from the private school I attended plays in my mind. Grayson and I spent the day acting like British tourists visiting New York for the first time. We even spoke with accents. “And I know how to hail a cab. I do watch TV.”

Grayson laughs, and his blue eyes sparkle, giving me a glimpse at the boy I fell in love with. I have to remind myself he’s a man now. A man who I haven’t seen in over six years.

“Care if I join you?”

“Why would you—oh, right. Your bike is still at the stable.” We leave the police station together, and walk down the street until Grayson catches us a cab. He opens the door for me. I’m hit with the repugnant smell of stale vomit and cigarette smoke.

“It’s not always like this,” Grayson chuckles quietly when I glare at him. “Be humbled by the way us peasants travel.”

“Hilarious. I see that hasn’t changed.”

The humor disappears from Grayson’s face. “It might be the only thing that hasn’t.” He leans back in the seat. I have so many questions for him but bite my lip, eyes flicking from Grayson to the reflection of the driver in the rearview mirror. I can’t talk now. We ride in silence back to my house, not bothering to fill the quiet with pointless small talk. When it comes to Grayson, nothing small cuts it. He’s an all-or-nothing kind of person.  He pays the fare and walks me to the side door of the estate.

“Come inside,” I say, stone steps clicking softly under the hard rubber soles of my riding boots. “We have to talk.”

He puts his hand on the back of his neck and looks down. “It’s late, Pepper.”

I narrow my eyes. “It’s that bad, huh?”

Grayson diverts his gaze. “Something like that.”

I enter the passcode and step in. Grayson doesn’t follow. I slowly turn around, keeping a hand on the door. He’s just standing there, expression hardened.

“You’ve changed,” I whisper, voice getting lost on the wind.

“I have,” he agrees quietly. A few beats pass between us as we stand there, looking into each other’s eyes. “Have a good night,” Grayson finally says, looking pained as he begins to turn.

I’m not sure what comes over me, but suddenly I’m reaching out and my hand lands on his shoulder. “Don’t go. You have to tell me why you’ve been following me. Or why you’ve been driving a foreign car. You owe me that at least.”

The smile returns to his face, but his eyes still hold that same sadness. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I can.” He says each word slowly, as if he has to remind himself. “And it’s not that I don’t want to, Pepper. I…I can’t.”

I nod, standing to the side so he can walk through the door. The moment Grayson King sets foot inside my house, my nerves come alive. The door shuts behind him and there is no going back.

He’s just a man. A man who I used to know very well. He shouldn’t unnerve me like this, but I can’t help it. There is something so tragic in looking into the eyes of a past lover and not knowing the person you see.

“Well,” I start as I enter the code to arm the alarm system. “If it involves a government agency and super heroes, I totally understand the need for secrecy. Though you can trust me if you feel like revealing your powers.”

“I have no superpowers,” he chides.

If he doesn’t consider what he can do with one kiss a superpower…

“You’re sure your dad’s not home?”

“He’s not,” I assure Grayson. “But if he were, it wouldn’t matter. I am allowed to have friends spend the night.”

“You want me to spend the night?” Grayson raises his eyebrows. Dammit. He doesn’t miss a thing.

I’m smiling again. “You know what I mean. I guess it’s weird to still live here, but this is home.”

“Not weird at all. This place is big enough for several families to share and not see each other. Plus it’s been in your family for how many years now?”

“Over a century.”

“See? You can’t leave. The ghosts of your ancestors would haunt you.”

Now I’m laughing and the tension I felt earlier has been completely blown away. We’re standing in the back of the house, near a hallway holding the entrance to a narrow staircase. It was built solely to be used by servants, and is one of the few areas of the old estate that hasn’t been touched by renovations or remodeling. The worn wood holds a smell that I can’t describe in any way other than historic. The pine railing has thinned and has a permanent shine to it from countless hands sliding up and down, holding on for balance.

Each step creaks and groans, telling a story of times past. The door at the top still has a brass skeleton key inside the lock. When I was a child, I would play on the stairs, pretending to be a servant girl for a princess. When I was older, I used those stairs to sneak out of the house.

Or to sneak Grayson in.

I go into the kitchen. I need wine. Grayson follows, taking off his leather jacket as he walks. I get a glimpse of those tattoos again. Fuck wine. I need something stronger. Shit. I’m no good at mixing drinks.

“I like the white cabinets,” Grayson says softly, pulling out a stool to take a seat at the large island counter. “It’s much, uh, brighter.”

Hearing him try to compliment the kitchen remodel isn’t charming. Not at all. And neither is he for that matter.

“Thanks.” I fill two glasses with wine and lean against the counter opposite Grayson. “Talk.”

“I can do that. What do you want me to talk about?”

I take a sip of wine. “Don’t get cute with me. You know exactly what.”

He taps the base of his wine glass with his fingers but doesn’t pick it up. I have no idea if Grayson’s a wine drinker or not. I’m going with not.

“Where do you want me to start?” His voice is hollow, and his gaze is heavy with longing, but not just sexually. He’s looking at me as if he’s desperate for forgiveness.

“The beginning would be nice,” I reply just as quietly.

“The beginning,” he repeats and lets out a breath. “Let’s just start with the whole stalking thing.”

“Stalking?” I take another sip. “Well then, yes, let’s start there. What the hell are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re safe.”

I blink, take one more drink—because I need it—then take in a breath to reply. “I know some of those teen paranormal movies make it seen romantic to stalk someone out of ‘love’, but it’s creepy. Lurking in the shadows isn’t going to make me want you.”

He doesn’t laugh. Shit.

“I’m sorry, Pepper. Look…if I had it my way, this wouldn’t be the way we’re reunited after all this time.”

“And that time,” I say carefully. “Where did you go? What happened?”

He inhales and closes his eyes on the exhale. “That is something I can tell you, but I’d rather not. Not just yet. I don’t want to risk the chance to talk.”

And now that smile is back, making me feel very warm. I look down at my wine glass and bite the inside of my cheek. There is more to Grayson than sex appeal, which is what enamored me to him back when I was eighteen.

“I’ve missed you.” The words roll off my tongue and the confession takes me by surprise. Those three words have been inside me, haunting me, for years. I used to wonder if just admitting to myself that I missed him would finally help me get over him and move on. Maybe refusing to deal with my emotions is why I’m feeling such strong ones right now.

Or maybe what we had was the real deal. Teenagers or not. Love is love, right?

“I’ve missed you too.” He pushes the wine away and stands. The next thing I know he’s by my side, arms wrapping around my waist. I bring mine around him, feeling every pound of muscle in his abdomen. So many thoughts run through my head, but the panicking feeling that this is the last time Grayson will be in my arms makes me keep my mouth shut.

Well, shut in one sense.

I rest my head against his firm chest and listen to his heartbeat. I’m completely encased in his arms, safely tucked against his strong body. He brings his head down and rests it on top of mine. We stay like that for a few minutes, soaking up the unspoken comfort.

And just like that, he’s back to being the Grayson that I remember. Able to console me without knowing what’s wrong. His ability to listen to my problems, to hear me out and understand my anxiety is what made him go from some boy I was dating to the boy that I loved and never wanted to live without. He never judged me, never scoffed when I was overcome with panic about fitting in or living up to my father’s standards.

He just made me feel better.

When he left and never came back, I assumed it was because I wasn’t able to do the same for him. And that’s a guilt I carried with me every day.

“Gray…” I start but the words die in my throat. How do I tell him his leaving caused me to feel so much self-doubt without it sounding like I’m blaming him? Because I don’t blame him at all and I’d probably sound absolutely insane for holding onto this for six fucking years.

My eyes close, and I heavily exhale. I spin in his arms and pick up my wine. I take a big drink, set down the glass, and press my hands against the granite countertop. Grayson steps close behind me and gathers my hair into his hand. He moves it to the side, and brings his face down, warm breath on my skin.

I shiver, despite the heat. He rakes his fingers through my hair and lowers his lips, brushing them against my skin. He balls my hair in his fist and runs his other hand down my side, his touch so gentle it’s teasing. The anticipation is killing me. I begin to turn my head but he pulls my hair, making it impossible to kiss him.

“Pepper,” he whispers and his breath on my skin is too much. And he knows it. He fucking knows it and is doing this to me on purpose, making me squirm. He twists my hair in his hand and finally puts his lips to my skin, giving me soft, tender kisses. The gentle touch sends a wave of heat through me, turning me on more than I’ve felt in a long time.

He lets go of my hair and brushes his fingertips along my shoulder, kissing me softly. Everything about this is so intimate, like lovers who know each other’s bodies, each other’s wants and needs. Suddenly, anger erupts inside of me and I whirl around, breaking free of Grayson’s hold. My hands land on his shoulders and I give him a hard shove.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand.

“Uh,” he starts, blue eyes wide. “I thought it was obvious. But if not then I must be doing something wrong.”

“You’re not, not at all, which is what’s so messed up about this.” I narrow my eyes, hating him and wanting him at the same time. “You just left. Left me and never came back. Never called, never let me know you were even alive. And now what, you think you can show up, have sex with me, and then things will go back to how they used to be?”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I was hoping. That’s not going to work?”

“Things can’t just go back to how they used to be, Gray. It’s been too long, and too much has happened that I don’t know about.” I stare at the man before me, overcome by the weirdest feeling of longing for what we once had, while at the same time feeling like I’m finally home.

Dammit. Why does he have such a hold on me like this?

“I said we’ll talk,” he reminds me.

I bite my lip and nod. “Right.”

A few seconds pass silently as we both stand there in the dimly lit kitchen, unmoving. “So,” Grayson says. “Are we having sex or not?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

He steps closer and my heart speeds up with indignation. It sparks the fire and I lunge forward, putting my hands on his chest. I push him against the cupboard and put my lips to his, kissing him as hard as I can, harder than I’ve ever kissed anyone.

Grayson kisses me back with the same desperation. His arms wrap around me, picking me up and placing me on the island counter. I hold on, pressing myself against him.

“Pepper,” he growls, taking his lips from mine. He puts them on my neck, nipping and sucking at my skin. I toss my head back and let my hands drop from his shoulders, running down his firm chest, along his abs, and onto the waist of his jeans. I circle the metal button with my thumb and widen my legs, allowing him to move in closer. His cock is already hard, barely confined behind his jeans.

He lets out a moan when I pop the button and pull down the zipper. I let my fingers slowly explore the full length of his erection, taking my time when I get to the sensitive tip. Then I let go, putting my hands on his waist. Already, he misses my touch and is craving more. He lowers his hands to my ass and scoots me to the edge of the counter. It’s the perfect height for his cock to rub against me in the exact right place.

Still kissing me, Grayson reaches down and yanks off my riding boots. They fall to the floor with heavy thuds. I grab the hem of his black t-shirt and pull it up. He lifts his arms and helps me take it off. His chest is decorated with scars and tattoos. I could stare at them for hours, studying, memorizing, asking questions.

But right now, I can’t even think straight.

Grayson urges me back so he can take my breeches off. I lean back on my elbows and lift my ass so he can get the tight pants off. They’re thrown on the floor somewhere near my boots. I yank his jeans down, he takes off my shirt, and in those few seconds we’re apart, I become desperate. He falls forward again, wrapping me in his arms and kissing me like the end of the world is coming.

His bare torso feels so good against me. Warm. Strong. Comforting. And holy hell, sexy. He gathers my hair in his fist again as he kisses me, then uses it to pull my head back. He’s busy with my neck, awakening every nerve inside of me. Tingles plague my body, sending little pulses of pleasure to my core. I’m so hot for him.

His hands travel down my body, not stopping until his fingers hover between my legs. Positive he can feel the heat coming off me, he nips at my skin with his teeth, and then moves his mouth back to mine. I ache for him and the desperation grows. He pushes against my most sensitive parts, moving his fingers in a slow circle. I let out a gasp and curl my fingers, nails pressing into his skin.

He urges me back further, and I have to let go of him and rest my weight on my elbows. Slowly, he strips me bare, dropping my panties on the ground behind him. He parts my legs and steps in.

“Gray,” I pant, feeling too exposed up here on the counter. Light pours down on me, illuminating my body. I feel like I’m on display and self-consciousness hits me. He pulls back and blinks but is unable to keep his eyes from scanning my body. And now he’s looking like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, like I’m the only thing that matters and if he doesn’t have more, he’ll die.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he growls, lust burning in his eyes.

Any self-consciousness I was feeling before goes out the window. He lunges back down, devouring me with kisses as he unhooks my bra. I roll the straps down my arms, and he lets out a moan at the sight of my breasts. He takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around my nipple. I inhale sharply and run my hands through his hair.

He pushes a bar stool back and perches on the edge. One hand goes on the countertop next to me and the other pushes my legs open. I need him now, and this waiting is killing me.

“Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy,” he groans, moving his head between my legs.

“It’s missed you too,” I admit, tension building so fast I might cum right here and now.

“Did you think of and touch yourself?”

I bite my lip, the confession so intimate. “Yes,” I breathe.

He slides his fingers over me. “You’re so fucking wet. Who are you wet for?”

“You.”

“Say my name.”

“I’m wet for you, Grayson.”

“Say it again.”

“Grayson.

He puts his mouth to me. The moment his tongue touches my tender clit, a loud moan escapes me. Grayson wraps his free hand around me, bringing me closer. I lean back and buck my hips, heart speeding up. He works his tongue, getting me close to the edge then stopping moments before I cum, keeping me on the brink of the orgasm.

He turns his head and gently nips at the flesh inside my thighs. Soft, slow, bringing me down only to dive back in and make me completely lose it. I cry out and fall back on the counter, knocking over my wine glass. It spills around me, but I don’t care. The only thing that matters is the red-hot orgasm that’s erupting inside of me.

It starts in my core, sending waves of pleasure up and down my body. My muscles tighten, and my skin tingles. My mouth opens as I moan again, heart racing as the orgasm builds, winding so tightly I think I might pass out. Grayson slides a finger inside and I’m a goner, coming so hard my ears ring.

Grayson moves away from me slowly, and bends over the counter, planting soft kisses along my abdomen. Pulses of pleasure are still running rampant through me, and I can’t catch my breath. Grayson moves my hair out of my face, and I can’t figure out why it’s wet…not that it matters. Oh right, the wine.

Keeping my eyes closed, I reach for Grayson. He takes my hand in his, interlocking our fingers, and rubs the palm of my hand with his thumb. Patiently, he waits for me to come back to the here and now so we can continue. Once the feeling comes back to my legs, I push myself up and wrap my arms around him.

I press my lips to his, tasting myself on him, and take a hold of his cock. The tip is sticking out of the top of his boxers, wet and ready for me. I pump my hand fast then slow, fast then slow, circling my thumb around the tip. I let go to remove his boxers and he moans for more.

My arms go around his shoulders and I widen my legs. He steps in, cock hard against me and my heart skips a beat. For the first time in six years, Grayson King is going to fuck me.

“What do you want?” he demands.

“I want you.”

“You want me to fuck you.”

“Yes. So much.”

Grayson kisses me softly, and then pushes his mouth against mine. “Are you ready, Pepper? Are you ready for me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” I’ve been ready for years.

Our lips collide and his tongue pushes into my mouth at the same time he enters me. I moan as he fills me, gripping onto his broad shoulders for dear life as he thrusts in deep. He brings his hips back, almost sliding that big dick out of me and then pushes in again. Hard. Harder. Over and over until another orgasm rolls through me. My pussy spasms around his cock. My head falls back and I’m floating in sex induced bliss, aware only of how fucking good this all feels.

His breathing becomes ragged and he clutches my body to his. He thrusts in deep and I come for the third time. I’m seeing stars, my entire body humming with pleasure. Grayson buries his face in my hair and bites my neck as he climaxes. He lets out a guttural growl and his hot cum streams inside me. I cling to him, feeling his cock pulse, and listening to his heart pound in his chest.

We stay like that, just holding each other as we come down from the high for several minutes. Then he slides out and hands me my clothes. I slip my panties on before I jump down from the counter. Grayson steps into his boxers, not taking his eyes off of me.

I gather my clothes, mop up the spilled wine, and then take Grayson’s hand. We go up the narrow staircase and into my dark room. I quickly use the bathroom and get myself cleaned up and ready for bed. I collapse into bed, bringing Grayson with me. He spoons his body around mine, holding me tight.

I feel so small tucked in against him like this, small yet so empowered.

“Gray?” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you came back.”

He kisses my neck, and my heart feels so full. Which is crazy and I know it, but I can’t help how I feel. How I’ve felt.

My feelings for Grayson never went away, and laying here with him has awakened them, bringing them out with fury. I trace my fingers along his arm, enjoying the peace that surrounds me. Peace that I haven’t felt in forever.

Grayson left me, but now he’s back. I just hope it’s for good this time.

Chapter Six

Grayson

Pale moonlight bathes the room, and the calming scent of lavender fills the air. Pepper’s tangled hair tickles my face and my right arm is going numb beneath her, but I don’t dare move. Because this is fucking perfect.

Pepper fell asleep quickly, and while I share the same exhaustion, there’s no way I’m closing my eyes just yet. It’s not often I feel this way, and I don’t want it to disappear for something as mundane as sleep. No, I want to remember every inch of Pepper’s naked body, how tight her pussy felt around my dick, the way she looks when she comes…and how fucking good it feels to have her nestled in my arms like this. She’s so soft and delicate yet full of fire.

I look around the room. The large space—like the kitchen—has been redecorated since the last time I was here, yet it’s familiar. Pepper’s personal tastes never matched the grandiose decor of the rest of the house. She likes earth tones, and prefers anything natural. I recall a time when another girl at her school made fun of her for not wearing makeup, and insulted Pepper’s bohemian fashion. She never let anyone but me know that it upset her, and what she said about it was something I never forgot…and was one of the defining moments in our relationship.

She told me she felt sorry for the girl who was bullying her, because she must be really unhappy with herself if she had to pick apart other people’s flaws. And she wasn’t just saying that to cover up her hurt feelings, Pepper really believed it. She made it her mission to befriend this girl, and a month later they were hanging out together. And it turned out, the girl’s parents had gone through a bitter divorce, and her new stepmom-to-be dressed in a similar sense to Pepper.

People aren’t inherently bad, she told me. Circumstances turn them that way. And if someone was good once, they can be again.

I wish that were true.

Clouds pass over the moon, darkening the room. I can’t recall how many nights I spent tucked in this big bed next to Pepper. I regret how much I took for granted back then, how I naively assumed we’d stay together. I can hardly remember the last time we were together. It was nothing spectacular; just a normal night of talking and enjoying each other’s company. She was home for fall break from Cornell, blowing off a trip to France with her friends so she could see me.

The weekend started off much like this reunion: fucking like crazy because it had been too long since the last time, talking, laughing, and just being together. I told Pepper that her constant encouragement to take school more seriously was annoying, and she launched into a well-prepared speech on why I need to invest in my future. She planned to be in it, after all.

We ate dinner in the courtyard, had sex in the hot tub, then went up to her room and crashed. Like I said…a normal weekend for us back then. Nothing crazy, but it was perfect.

And then I got the phone call.

I close my eyes, almost able to hear the ringing all over again. I never knew that answering the phone could change my life like that. I’ve spent countless hours thinking what my life would be like if I let the call go to voicemail, and called back in the morning. Would I have been greeted with the same fate later? Or would this—sleeping next to Pepper—be my normal?

I often wonder if I would regret it, not answering the phone, not going to help my father when he needed it most. He was in deep shit when I got there, deep shit that I got sucked into when I tried to pull him out. He did it to himself, and it’s selfish to wish I hadn’t gone, that I had stayed right here next to Pepper.

Pepper stretches out in her sleep, hand landing above her head. I look at her face, relaxed and at peace, and kiss her. Pepper’s eyes flutter open. It takes her a few seconds to focus on my face, but when she does, she smiles.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” I whisper.

“It’s okay.” She raises her arms and hooks them around my neck. “I was dreaming about you. I would have been mad to leave that dream, but this is a rare time when reality is better.”

I pull her to me, kissing her again. Pepper’s messy hair webs around my face. I push it back and move my lips to her neck. She softly moans and throws the blankets off of us. We kiss for a moment, then she breaks contact, grabs my hands, and forces me down onto the mattress.

I’m getting hard by the time she climbs on top, straddling my waist. She’s only wearing panties and a silky tank top. Her legs widen, letting me feel her heat. And fuck, she’s hot. I run my hands up her smooth legs, cock hardening more and more with each inch I feel. She rocks her hips back, rubbing against me. It’s all I can do but squirm beneath her, grabbing her hips and making her do that again and again until I cum.

Pepper bites her lip and leans forward, gaze moving from mine to my chest. I admire her tits as she looks at my tattoos, tattoos that weren’t there the last time we got naked together.

“I like this,” she says quietly, running her finger over the outline of a wing over my right peck. “Do they mean anything?”

“Not really,” I lie. Dammit. I hate this. But I’m not ready to explain this shit to Pepper. Not yet. I don’t want her to think I’m a bad person, but I know how this shit sounds when I explain it.

“Oh, well, I like it.” She continues tracing the tattoos, and when her fingers hover over a particular mark of ink over my ribs, I kiss her, pushing her messy hair over her shoulders. We roll back on the mattress and I situate myself between Pepper’s legs. She bends her knees and hooks her legs around me.

Holding onto my shoulders, she brings her head up and kisses me, making me let go of everything, thinking about nothing other than this.

Nothing other than her.

I shift my weight to the side and run my hand along her stomach, fingers inching under the lace band on her panties. She lifts her hips, eager for me to take the garment off. I intend on teasing her, on taking my damn time, but when I see the lust-filled way she’s looking at me, I don’t think I can hold out any longer.

My mouth opens and I let out a breath when I rub her core. “You’re so fucking wet,” I pant. I swirl my finger along her clit, turned on by the hot slickness of her center.

“I was dreaming about you,” she mewls.

“Fuck,” I moan.

“In my dream you made me cum.”

God, this woman. “I’m going to make you cum again.” I push two fingers inside of her. “And again. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to say your own goddamn name” I turn my wrist, pressing my fingers against her inner walls, moving them in and out, then against her sweet spot over and over. Pepper’s eyes are closed and her head is turned to the side, mouth open as she pants in pleasure. She has one hand resting on the pillow next to her, and the other is gripping my bicep. “Touch yourself, Pepper.”

Her eyes flutter open and she looks down, watching my fingers pumping in and out of her. A faint smile pulls up her lips and she takes her hand off the pillow, perfectly manicured fingers landing between her legs. She sweeps her fingers over her clit and gasps.

“You are so fucking hot,” I tell her, pushing my fingers in deeper. Pepper speeds up her own movements and I feel her inner walls tighten. She cries out as she comes, wetness spilling from her onto the sheets beneath us. Her hand falls to the side and I pick up where she left off, rubbing my thumb over her clit until her body goes rigid again. Her fingernails dig into my flesh and the pain mixed with the pleasure of watching her orgasm is almost enough to do me in.

Pepper is panting, heart racing, unable to talk or even open her eyes. Her pussy is contracting around me and I want so badly to push my cock inside and fuck her again. Instead, I slide my fingers out and carefully lift Pepper’s body, cradling her against me. I bring us down onto the mattress with her on top of me, holding her tight.

A moment passes before she sits up, spinning around so she’s straddling me again. A wicked grin is planted on her face. She pushes her shoulders up, hard nipples protruding through the thin material of her shirt. Then she moves, parting my legs as she goes down. Her fingers wrap around my hard cock, pumping up and down its length before she takes it in her mouth, devouring me.

Her tongue swirls the tip and she sucks hard. I take a tangle of her hair, watching her head bob up and down as she works. I drop my head back and feel my muscles tighten. I could come right now and be completely satisfied. But the thought of not touching Pepper anymore is almost painful. I want this to last all night, if not forever. I don’t want to go out and face the world, to deal with the shit that I know will eventually catch up with me.

Pepper takes her mouth off me and bites at the side of my thigh, just like she used to do once upon a time when we were lovers. It’s the only place on my whole body where I’m ticklish, and she’s the only person who knows it.

She does it again, making me squirm. Pepper laughs and I reach down and grab her, pulling her up and flipping her over. The three little words we used to tell each other burn on my tongue. I won’t say them. I never stopped loving her, not once. But I can’t say the same about her.

I squeeze her sides, turning the table and making her shy away and laugh. She playfully swats me away, as she tells me to stop. She wins when she grabs my dick, thumb circling the tip, sending tingles through me. She guides me between her legs and arches her back. I kiss her as I slide inside, letting out a ragged breath. Pepper rakes her nails up my back, then cups my face with her hands, kissing me fiercely as I fuck her.

I wait until she comes again, then pull out, flip her over, and enter her from behind. On her hands and knees. Pepper turns around and watches for a minute, then reaches her hand under her stomach and plays with her clit.

Holy fuck.

My fingers bite into her hips and I push in deep, hot cum streaming inside her. She keeps working her fingers as I orgasm, bringing herself to the point of no return as well. We hold ourselves there, panting and writhing in ecstasy, and then collapse onto the bed together, not caring about the mess we’ve made on the sheets.

Pepper folds herself into me, resting her head on my chest.

“We never should have stopped,” she whispers.

“Fucking? You’re a selfish lover.”

“That’s not entirely what I meant,” she says with a smile. “Being together.”

Her words awaken a dead part of my heart. I want her to say it again and again, shouting it from the rooftops so I can believe it to be true.

And at the same time, I want her to take it back.

Being together now isn’t going to be as easy as it was back then.

“Or maybe we should have,” she adds when I don’t respond, and starts to move away.

I tighten my hold on her, and hook a leg over hers. “No. I agree, Pepper. When I said I’ve missed you…I meant it.” She relaxes again, snuggling in close. I can’t help but think this is how my life is supposed to be.

It’s how it could have been, if shit hadn’t gone down all those years ago.

“Then why did you leave and never come back?”

Her words cut through the air, landing a knife in my heart. The last words I spoke to her were a hasty goodbye, followed with a promise of seeing her soon. A few text messages were exchanged after that, but you lose cellphone privileges in prison.

“I had to help my dad with something,” I give a variation of the truth. That’s still a lie, and I know it.

“You said that. That’s all you said, though. What did he need help with that made you forget about me?” The vulnerability slips from her lips without her intending it to. Guilt crushes me.

“I never forgot about you, Pepper.” I close my eyes and bury my face in her hair. By the time I got out of prison, Pepper had a new boyfriend. Maybe it was presumptuous to assume she had moved on. But what else was I supposed to think? And then the shit storm at home started to rage even more. “Things were…were complicated.” The words sound like bullshit as they come from my mouth. “If I could change things, I would.”

She lets out a breath and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “The past is in the past. We were young and both made some stupid decisions. I’m still mad at you for leaving, but if you keeping fucking me like this, I just might forgive you.”

I can’t help the smile that pulls up my lips. “That’s a challenge I can easily win.”

“You better. I have very high expectations, you know.”

“Trust me, I won’t disappoint.”

“You haven’t yet.” She runs her fingers along my chest for a moment before speaking again. “Speaking of your dad…how is he?”

My heart skips a beat. What the fuck? How does she not know?

“Gray?” she says, feeling me tense. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you knew. My dad died.”

Pepper gasps. “Oh my God. I feel terrible. Oh, Grayson, I’m so sorry!” She holds me, hugging me as tight as she can. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.”

A wave of grief hits me, emotions that I’ve buried long ago, not allowing myself to feel. When Alcott showed up to my father’s funeral, I wondered where the hell Pepper was. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t piss me off—and fucking hurt— to not see her there. But she wasn’t my girlfriend anymore. She had no obligation to show up.

“Your dad came to the funeral,” I blurt.

“What?” She sits up, and I see tears pooling in her eyes. Fucking Pepper and her big heart. God, I love this woman.

“Your dad was there,” I repeat. “They were friends, remember?”

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” She shakes her head. “Why would he go out there and not tell me?”

“I don’t know.” I take a breath and consider my next words carefully. “I think you need to have a talk with your father, Pepper. Ask him to explain things to you.” Alcott needs to come fucking clean about everything. Why the hell would he keep that from Pepper? It had to be because he knows the shit I was mixed up in and didn’t want Pepper involved. If he didn’t want us together that badly, why would he bring me back into her life now? Desperation of a dying man? Hell if I know.

But I do know I can’t keep lying to Pepper. I don’t want to dance around the truth and have it come crashing down on me. I’m already hiding enough from her. I just got her back. I don’t want to lose her again.

“I’ll call him in the morning,” she assures me. “And make him explain everything. I’m so pissed, and I’m so sorry, Gray.”

“Hey,” I say gently and reach for her face, cupping my hand around her chin. “Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault, and I’m over it. I dealt with it and now I’m fine.”

That’s another lie. I never had time to deal with my father’s death. I thought the mess he got himself into would die along with him, but it came back like the fucking walking dead and the blame had to fall on someone else. And that someone was me.

“I feel awful. I should have been there.”

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Let’s focus on that. On you…naked…on top of me.”

She nods and lies back down next to me, resting her head on my chest. My mind is whirling and I can’t get the image of Alcott’s smug face out of my head. I feel like I’m getting sucked back into my old life, and it makes my stomach churn. Dammit. I’m not going to let that ruin this—laying here with Pepper. As nice as it is to fantasize about being able to do this again…and again…and again, I know fucking better than that.

I inhale and let my breath out slowly. I feel Pepper relax along with me. I’ve already lost enough of the one thing I can never get back: time. And tonight, I’m not going to waste any more worrying about the inevitable.

*

I wake up alone, sprawled out on Pepper’s bed. I’m bare-ass naked, and a sheet has been draped over me. Sunlight pours into the room from the open balcony doors. Sheer curtains flutter in a breeze, and the smell of coffee pulls me across the room.

Not bothering to find my clothes, I stand, stretch, and cross the large room to find Pepper. She’s on the balcony, sitting on some big lounge chair with fluffy white cushions, knees tucked up under her as she sips a large mug of coffee. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized t-shirt, with her hair up on top of her head in a messy bun. She looks like any other twenty-five year old woman enjoying a warm morning and a good cup of coffee; completely clueless to how her life is about to change when her father dies.

“Good morning,” I say and run a hand through my hair.

She turns, a smile on her face, and slowly looks me up and down. Her lips part when she sees my cock, such a small subconscious act but it’s turning me on.

“It is a good morning.” She sets her coffee down on the small table next to her and stands. I close the distance between us and wrap her in my arms. She’s warm from the sun and smells like fresh air with a hint of sex clinging to her flesh. Her hips press against mine and I know she’s feeling the same lust that I am. “Do you want any coffee?” she asks, but doesn’t move away. “I had some prepared for you. Do you still drink it black?”

“That’s the only way to drink coffee.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “If you say so.” She takes a step back, keeping her hands on my biceps, and looks me over once more. “You’re like a tattooed Thor.” She takes her lip between her teeth and reaches for me, letting her fingers slowly run over each ridge of muscle on my torso.

“That’s a good thing, right?”

Her hand continues to travel down, and my dick stiffens. Yes, this is going to be a good morning.

“Very good. I wasn’t sure if muscles and tattoos were my thing, but my god, Grayson, you are making me so wet.”

Fuck. I grab Pepper by the waist, lifting her up, and walk across the balcony. Our mouths connect and we’re kissing like we’re the last people on earth. We tumble back onto an oversized lounge chair, sinking down on the cushions.

“Fuck me,” she mewls. “Fuck me now, Grayson.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m overtop of her, kissing her neck. She reaches down and takes my hard cock in her hand. Her touch sends heat through me, turning me on even more. She pumps her hand up and down, spreading wetness from the tip along my shaft as we kiss. I prop myself up on one elbow, moving to the side so I can keep kissing her while I play with her clit.

She was right; she is wet. So fucking wet. I groan when I feel her warmth. She lets go of my cock and grips my shoulders and I stroke her close to an orgasm. It doesn’t take long before she’s right there, teetering on the edge. I feel her muscles tighten, hear her heartbeat speed up, listen to her breath hitch in her chest.

I take my hand away, fingertips running along her thigh. She groans, frustrated and curls her fingernails into my skin.

“Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

“I’m nowhere near done with you,” I growl and yank her pants down, leaving her purple lace panties on. Her shirt hits the floor and I move on top of her. Pepper circles her hips, rubbing herself against me. Her cheeks are flushed and her breathing quickens.

“Gray,” she moans. “I need you.”

“You never were patient.” I part her legs, slowly tracing my way up her thigh again. I press my fingers over her, able to feel her heat through the thin material. I sit up, teasing her, and grab her hand, bringing it down. She doesn’t need any more direction, and pushes her fingers under her panties, stroking her clit. I take her other hand and bring it to my cock, and she slowly moves it up and down, hardly able to concentrate on anything other than the pleasure she’s bringing herself.

I watch her cum, wetness staining her panties. Her grip on my cock tightens as she orgasms, whole body going rigid. I don’t wait—I can’t wait. Her panties are on the ground in just seconds, and I’m hovering over her, cock aching to be inside.

The flush from her cheeks has spread across her face and down her neck. She’s still writhing beneath me, pussy contracting as the orgasm pulses through her body. Her legs widen, welcoming me.

She moans loudly as I push inside, and weak arms wrap around me. I thrust in and out, kissing her lips and neck. Not long after we start, Pepper comes again.

“Oh, fuck…Grayson,” she moans, and that’s all I need to bring me to the brink. I fall against her as I climax, and we cling to each other, naked and sweaty, until our hearts stop racing.

“I think the gardeners heard us,” she says, pressing her face against my chest. “Oh my God, they had to have!”

I laugh, finding her embarrassment fucking adorable. “They probably saw us.”

“Why would you say that?” she shrieks, green eyes going wide.

I shrug. “Pretty sure I noticed a few of them standing around with their phones out taking a video too.”

She playfully swats at me, shaking her head. “What have you done to me, Grayson King? I used to be a lady.”

“There was nothing ladylike in the way you were screaming my name.”

She turns her face in again, laughing. I press my lips to hers and hold her tight, never wanting to let go.

“I came inside you three times,” I start. “Do we need to worry?”

“Not about getting pregnant,” she says. “I’m on the pill. So assuming you didn’t just infect me with something, we’re good.”

“There is a good chance I gave you the zombie virus,” I tell her as seriously as I can.

“Mercy-kill me when I turn?”

“Of course.”

Her phone rings from inside her room. “It’s Savannah,” she tells me. “That’s her ringtone. It’s early…I wonder—oh fuck.”

“What?”

“I forgot I told her I’d go shopping with her this morning.”

“Blow it off.”

Pepper sits up and smooths out her already messy hair. “I think I already did. We were supposed to leave at eight.” She turns her gaze to the sky, judging the time based on the sunrise. “It has to be past that now.”

“Go call her back and tell her you’re busy the rest of the day.” I take her breast in my hand, circling her nipple with my thumb. Pepper inhales, letting her breath escape with a moan.

“That would make your job of stalking me easier.”

She’s teasing and I know it, yet the implications of her statement are like a cold shower.

Stalking.

Alcott.

Lies.

“You really won’t tell me?” she tries.

“It’s not my story to tell,” I offer. “I don’t want to complicate things for the person who asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“It was my father,” she says and my heart skips a beat. “Oh come on,” she says when I don’t respond. “I knew it was him the whole time. If I thought some random person hired you to keep tabs on me, I wouldn’t have let you in my bed. I have no idea what he’s up to, but I’m sure it was him who sought you out. Not too many people know our history.”

“I’m not agreeing or disagreeing,” I tell her. “So you’re saying my sex appeal isn’t enough to bypass being a total creepy perv?”

“It’s pretty damn close.” She closes her eyes, relishes being curled up together for another few minutes, then gets up and slowly walks into her room, knowing I’m staring at her naked ass.

I smile, shaking my head. She’s much more confidant now than she was back then. Yet she’s still Pepper, the same girl I fell in love with years ago. Only better. The same cannot be said for me, and dread for the day she finds out starts to build inside of me.

Maybe I’m a goddamn fool for thinking things could somehow work out. I know how fucked up my life is. And Pepper is bound to find out.

I sit up, cursing myself for being so fucking stupid.

Chapter Seven

Pepper

“You’re trying to age me, aren’t you?” Savannah glares at me through large sunglasses. “What the hell, Pepper? After everything at the gala, and then getting attacked in your own horse barn—”

“I didn’t get attacked,” I interject, sliding into the backseat of the car next to my best friend. “Where did you hear that?”

She grabs her phone out of an oversized leather bag. “Olson posted something about it on Facebook and Josh saw and told Laney, who asked Annie to ask me about it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What are we, in middle school?”

Savannah scrolls through her Facebook feed and shows me Olson’s post. “‘You know what I appreciate?’” she reads. “‘Saving someone’s life then getting the cold shoulder. It doesn’t matter that my showing up spared you getting mugged and attacked—and probably worse. Nope, not cool at all. Fucking bitch isn’t grateful at all. Her loss. I’m a great guy and am apparently now single…so…hit me up if you wanna have fun. And oh yeah—I fueled up my private jet to take said bitch on a romantic date. Guess I need a stand-in. Any takers?’”

I blink. Once. Twice. My mouth opens but nothing comes out. “How is he a real person? I feel like he’s a bad parody of a man.”

“I know, right?”

“People commented on there, didn’t they? Women, I mean.”

Savannah’s eyebrows hike up and she shakes her head. “A few did. I think they want to live out a Fifty Shades type fantasy being taken on a date via private jet but they’re in for a surprise—hey, don’t change the subject. McDouche’n is a loser and all but what the hell was he talking about? Supposedly his story involved going to the police.”

I run my hand over my face, happy I decided to forgo makeup in exchange for a few extra minutes with Grayson. “We did go to the police, but only because he’s an overdramatic…what did you call him? McDouche’n? I like it. It’s his new name now.”

Savannah laughs and tosses her sunglasses and phone back in her bag. The car slowly navigates through busy New York City traffic on our way downtown. “My god, Pepper. I’m going to have gray hair by the time you tell me this fucking story. Spit it out. I’m dying!”

“You’re a little dramatic too, you know.”

She scrunches her nose. “A little? You’re too nice. Now come on!”

“Okay…remember how I said I thought someone had been following me? Well, I was right.” My heart flutters when I think of Grayson, and I get hit with desire when his face pops into my memory. I can feel his thick cock between my legs with every step. I hadn’t been fucked like that…since the last time we were together. “And do you remember my boyfriend freshman year of college?”

“Grayson?” she asks and I nod. “No! Oh my god, no! It was him? What the fuck, Pepper?”

“He said someone hired him to keep an eye on me, but he won’t tell me anything more than that.”

Wide eyed, Savannah brings her hands to her mouth and gasps. “That is so creepy, like horror movie creepy. He’s a fucking stalker!”

I press my lips together in a thin smile and shake my head “No. It was my dad. Gray won’t admit it, but that’s because I know my father and know he made Gray swear an oath on his first-born or something like that. And Gray is the kind of guy who keeps his word.” I go on, backing up to the gala and telling her everything.

“And?” she asks, leaning forward.

“There is no and. He went home and I’m here with you. That’s all there is.”

Savannah leans back, staring at me for a few seconds. “Pepper, that guy destroyed you. Do you not remember crying pretty much the entire next year after he left you with no explanation? You really want to do this to yourself again?”

“That was six years ago. We were both young.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to accept him back into your life that easily? Where does he live? What does he do? What the hell was so important he couldn’t even call you and let you know he was alive?”

“I don’t know where he lives, or what he did before my father hired him to watch over me. And he said he’ll tell me when the time is right.”

“You know that’s bullshit, right? He was probably out fucking other women not caring about you, then got into a tough spot and needs money so he came back here.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear, not seeing any merit in Savannah’s words. “I don’t think so. I told you, my father—”

“Have you asked him?”

“I called and left a message, so…”

“So I think you should be careful—really careful—until you hear for sure that Grayson is back for the reasons you think and not some crazy stalker looking for money.”

Not wanting to argue, I nod. Savannah is one of the few people who knows just how deep the hurt ran when Grayson left and never came back. After being told over and over that I was too young to know what love was, I just stopped expressing the pain. But Savannah knew that my heart still belonged to Grayson, and for a good two years that heart was in bits and pieces.

And even when I finally rose from the ashes, I was still in love with Grayson. Which is crazy. I know. Years had passed and I hadn’t gotten over him. Even now, six years later, I was at the point where I would have told anyone who asked that I was finally over Grayson King.

But then he was right there in front of me, reminding me how easy it was to fall in love with him the first time.

“I will be careful. Promise. Is Kristoff still in town? Do you guys want to join us for dinner? And yes, you can grill Gray, just go easy.”

Savannah laughs. “You know me too well. And yeah, he’s in town. Let me text him. He was meeting with some literary agent about a book he’s interested in adapting to film.”

I smile, and reach inside my own bag for my cell to text Grayson and tell him about dinner. Before I can unlock my phone, an unknown number pops up. I debate not answering for a second, but do at the last moment. Not too many people have this number. I have a nagging feeling this is important.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Is this Pepper Davenwood?” a female asks.

“Yes.” My heart speeds up, nerves prickling.

“This is Doctor Fisher, from Metropolitan Hospital. I’m calling in regard to your father, Alcott Davenwood.”

My stomach instantly churns. “Is he okay?”

“I’m so sorry to tell you this, but no, he’s not.”

Chapter Eight

Grayson

I leave the Davenwood estate with a weird feeling. It’s almost like my chest is tight from my heart pressing on it from the inside. But it’s not a bad feeling. It’s not the crippling anxiety that I’ve felt all too often, the kind that causes my heart to painfully speed up and skip a few beats, reminding me how close to a heart attack this fucking life is.

Used to be.

I’m not in it anymore. I won’t let it kill me the way it killed my father. I twist the throttle and straighten up, welcoming the warm breeze that’s rustling my hair. I turn off the private road, blinking in the bright sun. I still can’t figure out what this feeling is. Should I be concerned? Go fucking figure I finally get Pepper back and I keel over and die, right?

Or maybe this is the opposite of dying. Maybe I’m happy. Actually happy for the first time in…fuck…six years. Things are far from perfect, but hell, I’ll take it, since that means I get Pepper.

My good mood continues on the way home, but comes to a screeching halt when I see a shiny red Audi parked on the street in front of my house. I’ve seen that Audi a few times, and know the asshole who drives it.

“What the fuck do you want?” I shout over the rumbling engine of my Harley, slowing down next to Olson’s car. His window is rolled down, and he has his famous douchebag smirk stuck on his overly tanned face.

“Let’s just talk,” he shouts back. “Man to man. Well, assuming you’re capable of acting like a man.” His eyes narrow, thinking the insult actually hurt.

“Fine.” I rev the engine on my bike. “You got five minutes. I have shit to do.” I drive my bike up to the garage and park. I kill the ignition and turn around, waiting for Olson to scurry his way up the driveway.

“I assume Pepper is on your to-do list,” he sneers.

“You leave her out of this.” My blood instantly boils. Pepper has done nothing wrong. “What the fuck do you want?” I repeat and ball my fingers into fists. Solving issues through violence is second nature. I have to remind myself it’s not the only way to handle shit.

Olson chuckles, like he thinks he’s a real funny fuck. “I can’t leave Pepper out of it. She’s the reason I’m here.”

“She doesn’t like you the way you like her. No reason to get all butt-hurt over it.”

He laughs again and I notice he’s holding a folder. “You’re probably pretty familiar with that, aren’t you? Being butt hurt over and over in prison is normal, I hear.”

My heart drops into my stomach, and the tightness in my chest reverses. But instead of going away, it’s pressing from the outside in. Olson holds up the folder before opening it.

“You’ve got quite the interesting record. I’m honestly surprised they let you out early, even with your good behavior given your crimes. I can’t wait to hear Pepper’s take on this. I’m sure you told her.”

I spring forward and grab Olson, slamming him against the brick on the house. The folder falls from his hands and papers scatter across the lawn. “Listen here, you piece of shit. That’s my business and you need to stay the fuck out of it.”

His brown eyes hold back fear, and he turns his head, cowering away. He struggles against me but is no match for my strength. I step in close, putting my face right up to his. “If you tell Pepper anything I’ll—”

“Beat me up?” Olson spits out. He slowly turns his head back, keeping one eye closed. “According to the court documents, you’re one offense away from going right back to jail.”

I loosen my grip on Olson. Fuck. He’s right. “That’s assuming I get caught,” I growl. “You want to go crying to Pepper, go ahead. It won’t change how she feels. Wait, I take that back. It will change how she feels about you. You’re nothing but a spoiled asshole who’d have nothing if it wasn’t for your trust fund and daddy paying your way through life. Go home to your mansion and buy yourself a date for the night. It’s the only way you’re getting any.”

I press him into the wall once more before letting go. I grab a few of the papers that are in reach and crumple them up. Olson’s face is red from fear.

“I’ll make you a deal.”

“I don’t do deals,” I say flatly.

“Stay away from Pepper and she never has to know.” He holds up the folder containing the remaining papers. “I’ll burn this.”

“You can print off another, dipshit.”

“It’s a figure of speech, but maybe they didn’t teach you about that in prison. Those after-school programs you went to and called “classes” are a joke, after all. Stay away from Pepper, and she can keep thinking you’re the…whatever the hell she thinks you are.” Olson rolls his eyes. “You’re her hero right now. We both know when she learns the truth she will never speak to you again. It’s only a matter of time before she finds out. You know that’s true.”

I swallow bile that’s rising in my throat. It is true. If she hears the truth without me being able to explain everything, she’ll hate me. “Go fuck yourself,” I tell Olson and turn and walk away, digging my keys out of my pocket. I get into the house, close and lock the door, then pound my fist on the wall.

“Fuck!”

I take a deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out. I kick my boots off and get my phone, opening up a text message to Alcott.

Things have changed. You need to come clean.

I press send, and then consider calling Pepper. She’s probably still getting dressed, doing her hair and makeup or whatever, and then going out shopping with her friend. I calm the fuck down and play this out logically in my mind. That fucker Olson isn’t going to call her and give her this info over the phone. Pepper wouldn’t believe him without seeing the proof in person.

Losing Pepper—hell everything—almost killed me six years ago. But I survived. I can survive again if she decides she needs to walk away. I can’t blame her for it; my past is bloody and scarred and not something I’d run to. Her leaving me…that I can deal with.

Hurting her all over again. I can’t fucking do that.

I pace around the house, unease growing as each minute passes. I shower, throw on jeans and a t-shirt, and hit the road again to clear my head. So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours, that I almost forgot about those two dickweeds who tried to mug Pepper.

Before that, I had suspicions about them.

I ride into the city, angry I’m even thinking about this. I moved across the entire fucking country to get a new start. I left everything. Most of my life in California was shit, but I had friends and a job.

The closer I get to the city, the more pissed I become. Alcott is ignoring my texts, and he knows damn well this isn’t right. I have so many questions for him, with the most important being who the fuck does he think is going to go after Pepper. I can protect her a hell of a lot better if I had a goddamn clue to who I was protecting her from.

I go to the tavern I was at just last night. Was it really last night? It feels like an eternity ago. It’s too early to be open yet, so I slow as I ride past to get a look at the hours. I continue on, knowing I’ll find a bar that’s already open and has been serving drinks since the sun came up.

Not long after, I find another bar with bikes parked out front. It’s hot and I could use a drink. The air conditioning would be a bonus as I try to get some info. The bar is dim and smells like water-damaged floorboards and piss. A lone bartender leans against the wall, watching some daytime reality show about people’s court. The few patrons are the heavy drinkers, the ones who came here when the other bars shut for the night.

I take a seat at the bar and order a beer. The guy next to me is strung out, repeatedly taking sips from an empty glass. I keep my eyes down, not wanting to engage in conversation. Guys like that can be entertaining, but I’m not in the mood for a laugh. I can tell by his vest that he’s a patch-holder, but the way he’s wobbling about on the stool lets me know he’s not good for info.

I finish the beer, throw a few dollars down on the bar for a tip, and leave. As I’m walking back to my bike, a few younger guys are pulling in.

“Is that your bike?” they ask me as I approach.

“It is.” I look them up and down, making a judgment in just seconds. None have leather or club colors, and two of them came on sports bikes.

“That’s wicked, man,” one tells me. “Who did the paint job?”

“I did.” My bike has a lot custom work, and I could talk about it all day. They ask me more about it but I’m interrupted by a phone call. It’s Pepper. The guys walk away as I turn to answer, unable to help the smile that’s pulling up my lips at the thought of her.

“Miss me already?” I say as soon I put the phone to my ear. Pepper doesn’t respond. “Pepper?”

“Gray,” she says, voice strangled.

My heart sinks for a split second, then anger rushes through me. I’ll kill that fucker Olson if he told her, if he made her hate me. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answer, Pepper starts crying. I give her a few seconds before asking again. “My father,” she sobs. “He’s dead.”

*

I tear through the hospital hallway, bumping into people but not caring. The ER doors swing into the wall from the force of me shoving them open. I look as I walk, not stopping. Pepper’s friend Savannah is standing outside a room, pale-faced and stricken.

“Sir,” a nurse calls to me. “It’s family only. You can’t come in.”

Ignoring her, I rush towards Savannah. She looks at me, tears rolling down her cheeks, bringing black streaks of makeup along with it.

“Grayson?”

I nod and she steps aside. The nurse is bustling along after me when I burst through the door. Nothing prepares me for the pain I feel when I see Pepper bent over her father’s body, crying silently. Her head jerks up when I enter the room.

“Fuck, Pepper,” I breathe and go to her, taking her in my arms. I wrap her as tight as I can, holding her as she sobs. The nurse that followed me sees us together and leaves without a word, clicking the door shut behind her. I smooth my hands over Pepper’s hair, giving her everything I can, even though I know it’s not enough.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her over and over, not knowing what else to say. I recall the lines I heard time and time again when I lost my dad, and it all seemed like bullshit. Pepper’s crying so hard she can barely stand, and my heart is breaking for her. “I’m here.” I tell her the words I’ve longed to hear. “I’m here, Pepper. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

I stay with her, holding her as her father’s body is taken away, drying her tears when someone comes in to talk to her about insurance and arrangements. The legal side of dying is complicated and wastes no time. Alcott’s official cause of death is a pulmonary embolism, resulting from the cancer in his lungs. It was sudden, but he didn’t suffer long, the doctor assures us. It happened late this morning, probably around the time I sent him the text, and his secretary found him unresponsive in his office not long after.

It feels like days have passed when we’re done with paperwork. Savannah stayed the entire time as well, and the three of us walk out of the hospital in silence.

“I don’t want to go home,” Pepper whispers.

“You can come to my place,” I offer, knowing that walking through the doors of the house she grew up in is too much, too soon.

“Okay,” she mumbles, clutching my hand as tight as possible.

“Give me your address and I’ll have her things dropped off,” Savannah says. I give her my info and take Pepper to my bike. She gets on the back, arms wrapped around me. Her faces presses against my shoulder, and she stays in the same position the entire way home. Not moving, not crying. At times I’m not sure if she was still breathing.

I park my bike in the driveway and help Pepper off. A piece of paper is stuck in the boxwood fern along the sidewalk leading to the front door. I can see my mug shot illuminated in the fading sunlight.

I walk past it. Pepper is all that matters now.

“Do you have anything to drink?” she asks when we get inside. She doesn’t look around or take anything in. Her hands are clasped on her elbows and her eyes, swollen and red from crying, are on the ground.

“Yeah. I have whiskey.” I take Pepper’s hand and lead her into the living room, guiding her to the couch. She plops down and starts to cry. Whiskey in hand, I hurry from the kitchen to be by her side, taking her in my arms. She melts into me, sobbing.

“It’ll be okay,” I soothe. “Somehow, someday, it’ll be okay.”

She takes in a shaky breath and sits up. “I got snot and tears on your shirt.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s gross. I’m sorry.”

“Pepper, don’t apologize for anything right now.”

She nods and reaches for the bottle of whiskey, taking it off the coffee table and unscrewing the lid.

“Want me to make you a drink?” I ask, though before I can get up, she puts the bottle to her lips and takes a big swig. Her body reacts, shuddering at the taste, but she keeps drinking. “Pepper,” I say and take the bottle from her. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t now, but you will.” I set the bottle down and envelope her in a tight embrace. We fall back on the couch and Pepper cries until she falls asleep. The doorbell rings, and I sneak out from under Pepper, trying hard not to wake her up. Though with as much whiskey as she downed, I think she’ll be out for a while.

Savannah is at the door, with two large leather suitcases at her side.

“Thanks for bringing her stuff,” I say and grab the suitcases, which are deceivably heavy. Savannah helps herself inside, looking around the house.

“Where’s Pepper?”

“She fell asleep on the couch.” I close the door and Savannah stiffens.

“Thanks,” she says apprehensively. “For being kind. Please…please don’t hurt Pepper. She’s already hurting enough.”

“I would never hurt Pepper.”

Savannah lets out a sharp exhale. “You’re either a huge asshole or you really have no clue how devastated she was when you just up and left six years ago.”

“If I could go back and do things differently, I would.”

“We all would, wouldn’t we?” She closes her eyes and sighs. “If you’re going to pull an asshole dick move, just save it okay? One thing at a time, please. We both know she can’t handle anymore heartache.”

“I do know, and I won’t hurt her.”

Savannah nods, but doesn’t look convinced. She stands there staring at me for another few seconds and then turns to leave. I shut and lock the door behind her, thinking about her words.

I’d die a hundred times over before I hurt Pepper. I’ll do fucking anything to keep her from feeling even the slightest bit of pain. But there is one thing I can’t control, one thing that could cause her to hurt.

My life has been one mess after another, a sinking ship with no lifeboat. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve gone down with it, treading water until I somehow manage to drag myself to land. I know one of these days the water will get too deep, and I’ll drown.

If Pepper stays with me, she’ll drown too.

Chapter Nine

Pepper

I sit up, head fuzzy and heart aching. Seeing the unfamiliar surrounds of Grayson’s house lets me know right away that I didn’t have a terrible dream. My father is dead. I spent the last several hours going over insurance and funeral arrangements. And soon I’ll have to sit down with his lawyer and go over all the financial aspects of his life. It was something I knew I’d have to do someday, and my father spoke about it casually. He reminded me when my mother died and he was single again, he was bombarded with women—and even men—wanting into the family. Money makes people do crazy things, he’d tell me. And he wasn’t immune to it. I’d seen him do some unconscionable things when it came to protecting his investments.

“Pepper?” Grayson whispers, sitting up. He’s on the couch next to me. I rub my eyes, which actually hurt from crying. The last time I cried this hard was when Grayson suddenly disappeared from my life. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” I say hoarsely. “What time is it?”

He grabs his phone from the coffee table and taps the screen. “Almost six.”

I look out the window. The shades and curtains have been drawn, shutting out the pale light outside. “At night?”

“No, in the morning.” He slides over and puts an arm around me. I lean against him, feeling my heart come together. Not fully, no, it’s too soon for that. But having him with me is the only thing that’s keeping me from falling completely apart.

“I slept all night?”

He brushes the messy hair from my face. “Yeah. You needed it. Neither of us got much sleep the night before, and then with everything that happened…you were tired. Go back to sleep if you want to. I’ll take you to my bedroom.”

I turn my head into Grayson, nuzzling his neck. He holds me tighter, bending his head down to kiss my forehead. I don’t want to move, don’t want to face the world or deal with anything. If it were up to me, I’d go back and live out my time with Grayson again and again. I imagine him in my bed after we made love the second time. If I don’t move, I can pretend I’m there again. And nothing hurts.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I’m a shitty cook, but I can go get you something.”

Stop! I mentally scream. Stop talking about real life. I don’t want to be in real life right now. Because eating and resting means I’m a real person and real people feel heartbreak. Real people cry and grieve and have to deal with stuff I’m not strong enough to deal with.

I squeeze my eyes tight and turn my head, pressing my ear to Grayson’s chest. One…two…three…four…I keep counting his heartbeat, not moving. I’m still in my bed, still tangled up in skin. My only concern is coming down from the high of incredible sex to do it again. Nothing bad has happened.

And when the morning sun starts to rise, I’ll start this night over again.

Eighty-three…eighty-four…eighty-five…

“Pepper?” Grayson shifts his weight but I cling to him, needing to hear his heartbeat. “Pepper, are you ok—sorry, dumb question. Come on, babe, you should eat something. Especially after drinking.”

“Stop talking,” I mumble, losing count. I start over from one. I feel him nod, and then his arms fold around me. My stomach hurts. Is it from hunger? I don’t allow myself time to process it. Seven…eight…nine…ten. I have a headache that’s starting to pound a little harder and harder as my own heart beats on. My mouth is dry and I need to pee. I have to ignore it all. I can’t get up and acknowledge that my body has needs, needs I can’t control, because with that comes reality and I. Cannot. Handle. It.

Ninety-six…ninety-seven…ninety-eight.

“Pepper, you’re starting to worry me.”

I don’t respond. I just keep counting.

One hundred and fifty…. one hundred and fifty-one…one hundred and fifty-two…

Grayson gently tips my head to his and puts his lips to mine. The kiss is so gentle, so tender, so full of love and pity and sorrow.

It breaks me.

I pitch forward, crying. Grayson holds me, letting the sobs come freely, drying my eyes and pushing my hair back from my wet face. Finally, I suck in a breath and feel there is nothing left. My sobs turn into hollow gasps of air, and the tears feel heavy and hot rolling down my face.

Grayson stands, bringing me with him. I bury my head in his shoulder as he carries me into the bathroom, gently setting me down on the sink so he can start the shower. He steps out, giving me privacy to undress and use the toilet, and then joins me in the shower.

There is nothing sexual about it. I stand there, warm water streaming down, and he washes me. We stand together until the water runs cold. Once out and wrapped in a fluffy blue towel, Grayson leads me into his room. The bed is unmade and there are piles of laundry on the floor. I crawl into bed with him, and start crying again.

I cry for the loss of my father. I’ll never see his face again. Never hear his voice. We’ll never talk, he’ll never walk me down the aisle. He won’t get to meet his grandchildren, and they will only know him from my stories and photographs. I don’t remember the last thing my father said to me, and I didn’t take the time to tell him goodbye. I didn’t think I needed to. I called him yesterday and left him a message. I play over the words I said in my mind, wondering if he even got a chance to listen to them.

Hey dad, it’s Pepper. I’m going into the city with Savannah today and wanted to know if you could meet for lunch. I have some questions for you. Love you!

Thank God I added the “love you” at the end of my message. But it was said so casually, I don’t know if my father knew how much I really did love him. After losing my mother at a young age, my dad was all I had. Almost exactly a year after my mom’s death, my dad ended up in the hospital from exhaustion because he was spreading himself too thin running his business and spending much needed time with me.

Now they are both gone.

“Do you believe in heaven?” I ask Grayson.

“I’m not sure. I want to, and it’s comforting to think there’s a better place. But…I have a hard time believing in something I can’t see.”

“I believe in it. When I was little I used to think my mom’s ghost came down from heaven and visited me. Then the therapist said I imagined it all and should tell her to go away the next time I saw the ghost.”

“That’s some heavy shit to tell a kid.”

“Yeah. I never listened to him either. And eventually, I stopped seeing her.” I let out a breath. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Grayson kisses the top of my head. “I’m glad you told me.”

“I like to think they’re together up there,” I whisper. “My mom and dad.” The thought brings tears to my eyes, and I curl up next to Grayson, crying until I fall asleep.

*

The next few days pass in an emotional, tear-filled blur. I meet with lawyers, partners from my father’s business, the press, and employees of the various companies my father ran. Someone does my hair and makeup for me, and Savannah picks out my clothes. I feel like a human puppet, put together by hands other than my own. I read speeches I didn’t write. I talk about things I’m clueless to, assure thousands of people that nothing will change and their jobs are safe.

My uncle David—my mother’s eldest brother—is moving into the position my father left while I remain owner. He worked closely with my father before, and the plan was always for him to take over in case something happened. Everything is confusing and overwhelming, and when each day ends, I’m too exhausted to deal.

I’m still at Grayson’s house. I can’t get myself to go back to the Davenwood Manor just yet, though I have to tonight. My father’s wake is being held on the grounds, which is customary in our family and goes back to the very first Davenwoods that built the mansion.

I remember bits and pieces of the wake for my mother. It took me years to be able to go into that wing of the house again. She was killed when a strung-out junkie running from the police veered into her lane and hit her head on. Her casket was closed. I have no memories of her looking dead.

And in a few hours, I have to go to the house and pick out a suit to be put on my father’s dead body.

“Pepper?” Grayson calls from the hallway. I’m curled up in his bed, huddled under the blankets. “Are you ready to go?”

“Sure,” I reply.

The door opens, and Grayson comes to the bed. He gets under the blankets with me, and spoons his body around mine. Tears fill my eyes and I put my hands on top of his. He kisses the back of my neck and holds me for a while before we get up.

“What are you doing?” I ask him when he gets the keys to the BMW from his nightstand.

He turns, one eyebrow going up. “Getting car keys. So I can drive you home.”

“Take me on the motorcycle.”

A faint smile plays on his face for a second, and he nods. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

“I am.”

He grabs the keys and takes my hand, guiding me to the garage. I twist my hair into a messy bun and put on sunglasses, and then get on the back of the bike. The engine is loud, drowning out any outside noise. My thighs are tight against Grayson’s waist, and I clasp my hands around him as we take off.

I close my eyes and let the wind surround me, feeling the closest I’ve felt to freedom since I got the call that my father died. But that freedom is short lived, and pain floods my veins when the house comes into view. My chest tightens and I squeeze my eyes closed.

The bike comes to a stop and the engine shuts off. The familiar bubbling of the fountain fills the new silence. I take a deep breath in and get off the bike. Grayson laces his fingers through mine, and together, we walk into my home.

It’s the strangest thing. Nothing has changed. The house looks the same as it did before. It smells the same. The housekeepers continue with their tasks. The lawn is being mowed. Everything else just keeps going, and it hits me how incredibly small I am.

My world stopped spinning. My world got hit and has barely survived impact. But I’m not the whole world.

I switch back to business-mode Pepper, accepting condolences from the staff, directing the funeral home on how to set up for tomorrow, and picking out my father’s clothes to be buried in. I’m on autopilot, doing what needs to be done with no emotion. People stop by, bringing cards and flowers. Family friends. People who know my father through business. Other socialite families trying to get their noses up my ass, or who are just plain curious and bored.

I thank them, reminisce about my father. Talk and laugh at the good memories. Tell them what times the services are being held. It’s all fake, but this—this pretending…I can do. It keeps me from dealing with what’s really going on inside my head.

At ten-thirty, exhaustion hits me. I haven’t seen Grayson all evening, but assume he’s upstairs in my room. The house is still busy with people preparing for tomorrow, and if I didn’t know the truth, I would think a grand party was being held.

Grayson is in my bed watching TV, wearing nothing but boxers. I pause in the doorway, taking a second to appreciate how beautiful this man is. And not just physically, though the dirty-blonde hair, muscles, and tattoos don’t hurt. It’s the way he’s remained calm, the way he’s been the rock I desperately need right now.

It’s the way I feel like I’m back in love, like the pain I felt over the last six years has vanished, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same way too.

I want to go to him, feel his arms wrap around me, and do nothing else other than lose myself in his kiss. I don’t want to think about anything other than how good he feels to be on me, in me.

I cross the room and before Grayson can say anything, my mouth connects with his. I straddle his lap, rocking my hips against his. Grayson’s arms fly around me and unzip my dress. I break contact with his lips only so he can remove the dress. And then we’re kissing again. He cups my breasts in his hands, lowering his head between them. I grind against him, feeling his cock harden against my core.

Grayson unhooks my bra and lets it fall down my arms. He takes one of my breasts in his mouth, tongue playing with my nipple. I rock my hips, clit rubbing on his cock. He bites down, and the pain sends a wave of insatiable lust through my veins.

“Your boxers. Take them off,” I order and move off of Grayson. He pushes his boxers down and I lick my lips at the sight of his cock. I drop down and part his legs, then take him in my mouth, tasting salty pre-cum on my lips. I suck hard and cup my hand around his balls, getting more and more turned on from the fact that he’s turned on as well.

Grayson takes a tangle of my hair and lets out a grunt. I flick my eyes up, looking right into his, and feel him tense. I plunge my hand between my legs, rubbing myself through my panties as I blow him, and it doesn’t take long until we’re both close to coming.

But I’m the only one who gets to. I fall to the side and take Grayson’s hand, bringing it between my legs. He doesn’t need any more direction from me and picks up where I left off. Minutes later, the sheets dampen beneath me.

Grayson rolls my panties off and climbs on top. I spread my legs, bending my knees up. I’m still riding high from that last orgasm, and get hit with another almost immediately when he pushes his big cock inside. I cry out, bending my knees and wrapping my legs around him. He thrusts hard, getting himself closer and closer to coming as well.

I extend my leg and he grabs my ankle, bending my leg back until it’s nearly over my head. Thank the fucking stars I stuck with yoga over the last few years. Grayson rocks back, holding my leg up, and fucks me until we’re both screaming each other’s names.

“You are so fucking sexy, Pepper,” he mewls, each word drawn out and breathy. His head falls back and he groans as he comes. I can feel the heat inside, and his dick pulse as he orgasms, which only makes me cum even harder.

I get up to clean myself as soon as we’re done, then collapse into bed. Grayson pulls me onto his chest, gently stroking my hair.

“Will you tell me everything my father told you now?” I ask.

Grayson stiffens. “Everything?”

“Yes, everything. He hired you to follow me, did he not?”

“He did,” Grayson says after a moment’s hesitation.

“Why?”

“I don’t think this is a good time to get into this.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I shoot back, sitting up. “When will there be a better time?”

Grayson sighs. “You’re already upset.”

“So what you’re going to tell me is upsetting?”

“Well…yeah.”

“It can’t be any worse than it already is. My father is dead, Gray. I at least deserve to know why he had you following me. I already have security.”

Grayson’s tattooed chest rises with a big inhale. “He called me out of the blue and said we needed to talk. When I got here, he told me he wanted someone to make sure you’re safe. Really, Pepper, that’s it. He wouldn’t tell me any more, and kept saying we’d talk later. Just that he was worried someone you’re close to would take advantage of you after he died. He said he couldn’t trust everyone and alluded to an inside job, but he never told me who he was worried about.”

I lean against the pillows and think about his words. “Why was he planning for his dea—you knew he was sick, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

I take a breath, closing my eyes as everything clicks into place. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell. I wanted to, trust me, Pepper. And I tried getting him to tell you too.”

“But you knew,” I say. “You could have told me, and maybe…maybe I could have convinced him to go get treatment!”

“He was getting treatment,” Grayson says gently.

His words hit me hard and I recoil. “Why do you know so much about this? It’s like you two had some secret relationship going on behind my back. He spent his final days with you.” I know my voice is full of venom. I can’t help it, and right now, I don’t care. My chest is being torn open all over again, and deceit is sinking razor sharp claws into my grief.

“It wasn’t like that at all.” Grayson reaches for me and I jerk away. He looks pained. “Pepper, listen. Please. Things were complicated before. I was trying to figure shit out…start over…it’s a long story.”

“Oh, right. You can’t tell me that either.” I throw my hands up in frustration, tears running down my cheeks. “Someone close has it out for me, you can’t tell me a damn thing about why you deserted me years ago, and my father lied. You lied. You followed me around like a goddamn stalker for a month! A fucking month! And the whole time you knew my father was dying. You knew he wouldn’t tell me. And you did nothing.”

Grayson’s eyebrows pinch together. “Pepper,” he starts.

“Don’t.” I turn away, tears streaming down my face. I’m trying my hardest not to completely break down. I move down in the bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin. I curl into a ball and bury my face in the pillow to muffle a sob. Grayson’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Just leave me alone.”

“Pepper, please.”

I shake my head and push his hand off. I hate him for not telling me the truth. I hate my father for keeping this from me. How long had he known he was sick? When did he get the news his days were numbered? We could have spent time together, spending a few more fleeting moments as father and daughter. Or at the very least, taken time to fill me in on how to run his companies.

Grayson watched me for a month, knowing that my world was going to turn upside down at any minute. I thought he still loved me like I loved him.

I guess I was wrong.

Chapter Ten

Grayson

I don’t fall asleep until the sun starts to creep up. Pepper lay in bed as close to the edge as possible, crying into her pillow. It hurt to sit there and not comfort her. It hurt even more to have her push me away.

I refuse to believe this is it, the defining factor that will make Pepper tell me to pack my shit and leave her alone forever. But it very well fucking could be. This is only half the truth I owe Pepper, and when the rest comes out she might not want to see my face again.

Someone knocks on the bedroom door. Pepper’s still sound asleep, so I get up and answer it. It’s the butler that let me in over a month ago, an older man with salt and pepper hair and light brown eyes. He looks downtrodden, and I wonder how long he had worked for Alcott. Even if they didn’t get that same billionaire-butler relationship that Bruce had with Alfred, I’m sure the guy cared about Alcott in some way or another.

The butler raises his eyebrows at me and doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. I’m wearing just boxers, hair messy and pillow creases on my face. Pepper’s still sleeping, buried deep in the blankets. It’s obvious we had sex, not that it matters. But the tension between Pepper and I is tangible. Can he feel it too?

“She’s still sleeping.” I state the obvious, I know, but I feel compelled to say something. “Need me to wake her up?”

“That’s not necessary,” the butler tells me and takes his time looking at my body, slowly running his eyes across my chest, and then looking me up and down. What the fuck? “I’ll have breakfast sent up.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, ready to close the door. He gives me a curt nod then turns and goes down the hall. I shake my head and push the door shut, wishing I could tell Pepper about how her butler openly checked me out. Instead, I get back into bed and put my hand on Pepper shoulder. She moves into my touch, subconsciously finding comfort. Tension leaves my chest, and I bend over to kiss her cheek.

Her hair is a mess, and the skin around her eyes is puffy and pink from crying. Even like this, I find her so fucking beautiful. No matter what, I’m going to keep her safe. It hits me that whoever Alcott suspected is going to be here in just hours.

“Goddammit,” I mutter, wishing I knew who the fuck is going to try and take advantage of Pepper. I’d pummel them unconscious before they had time to lay a finger on her. It kills me that Alcott was such a snake, keeping things to himself. Was he that much of a greedy bastard? He kept his declining health from Pepper. He kept names from me. He claimed he loved Pepper more than anything, but his actions proved he loved himself the most of all.

*

“Pepper,” I say gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Pepper, you have to get up.”

She blinks open her eyes and looks right into mine. I hold her gaze for a few beats, and then she closes her eyes and pulls up the blankets. I’ve already showered and eaten some of the breakfast that was brought up for us.

“Your food is getting cold,” I try.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbles. “I told you to leave me alone.”

And the knife is back in my heart. I can’t leave her alone. Not when she’s this vulnerable and there’s a good chance of someone hurting her. “If that’s what you want. But you still need to get up. People are going to be here soon, and will wonder where you are.”

“Let them. I don’t care. Fuck all this society crap and how it says I should act. I’m sad. Really fucking sad, not that it matters. I don’t want to get out of bed.”

I nod, unable to make an argument against anything she’s just said, and get up to pour her a cup of coffee. I set it on the nightstand next to her and go to the window that overlooks the backyard of this huge house. Horses graze in the distance, and gray storm clouds hang heavy in the sky.

There’s another knock on the door. It’s the butler again, joined by a younger man pushing a rolling garment cart.

“Good morning, Ms. Davenwood,” the butler says to Pepper. He looks across the room at Pepper, and his neutral expression breaks. “I miss him too,” he says softly. The moment ends quickly, and he lays out the clothes for us to wear. Pepper has two options, or maybe she’s supposed to change dresses later in the day? I don’t fucking know.

I am surprised to see a suit and dress shoes for myself. Oh…so I wasn’t getting checked out in the way I thought. He was taking mental measurements. I get dressed, and the black suit fits perfectly. The material is silky and comfortable—for a suit—and I don’t have to look at the tag to know this shit is designer.

I’m messing with the tie, unable to get it to lay right. The last time I wore one was in court, years ago. I’m about ready to give up when Pepper gets out of bed, silently walking over to me. She fixes the tie without saying a word, and then crawls back under the covers.

Time passes, and someone comes in to do Pepper’s hair and makeup. She sits perfectly still, eyes glossed over, staring blankly ahead as she’s made-up. She’s put into a black dress, a high-collared and lacy thing that’s just tight enough to look good without being too sexy. She’s dressed with her shoes on, and sits on the edge of her bed. I take a spot next to her, slipping my fingers through hers. She squeezes my hand and closes her eyes. A single tear runs down her cheek. I reach out and wipe it away.

“I can’t do this,” she says and falls to the side, curling her legs up to her chest. “I can’t go down there.”

I lay down next to her, holding her tight. “You can, and you will.”

“No,” she says and shakes her head. “I won’t.”

I kiss the back of her neck and wait, knowing she needs time. Five minutes turns into ten…and then twenty…and now someone else is knocking on the door. It’s the butler again, checking on Pepper. People are here to pay their respects.

“Pepper,” I say, clicking the door shut. “I know it’s hard, but you have to get up and go downstairs.” She doesn’t answer. I know she’s awake; I was just there with her. “Pepper,” I repeat. Isn’t this exactly what someone would want? Seeing her like this…it would be the perfect time to make a move.

“Get up. People are downstairs waiting for you. Get up. You can’t let them think you’re weak.”

She sits up and glares at me, green eyes full of tears. “What happened to you? What made you so heartless?”

Her words slice into my flesh, and blood drips onto the floor. “It wasn’t what happened. It was what didn’t happen.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means…” Fuck. It means everything I missed. Everything that was taken away. All the lost years, the lost time I’ll never get back. “It doesn’t matter what it means. You need to go downstairs with your game face. I know it’s not fair, but life isn’t fair.”

She nods and stands, smoothing out her dress. Her eyes close, and I watch her take several deep breaths, forcing herself to relax. I hold out my hand. She looks at it, then back at me.

“I’m still mad at you,” she whispers, but takes my hand. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“I’m still me.”

“Who you are now isn’t the same man I fell in love with six years ago.” Her voice is hollow, eyes void of emotion. “Now I’m not sure I want to be with this new person. When this is over, we need to talk.”

“Okay,” I agree. “And you’ll see I’m still me. You’ll see I still care about you just as much.”

“I hope so.”

She doesn’t sound hopeful.

I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself to her. Starting with the truth about what happened six years ago.

*

The wake isn’t over yet and I’m tired. I don’t know how Pepper is managing. She walked out of her room and became a different person by the time we reached the large room on the first floor full of people. Quiet chatter filled the space, voices mingling with soft, classical music played by a live string quartet. The Davenwood family got their start in the Victorian era, and the traditions run deep even now.

The clocks have been stopped at Alcott’s time of death. All mirrors have been covered in black cloth, and the large family photo of Pepper and her parents that hangs by the grand staircase has been turned upside down. As if having the fucking wake inside your house wasn’t creepy enough…

Pepper doesn’t say much to me, so I keep my distance. She moves around the room, hugging people, thanking them for coming, and talking about her father. Her friend Savannah stays by her side for the first few hours, and does a good job shielding Pepper from any business questions thrown at her.

When Savannah steps away, I move in. Pepper takes my hand but not before she gives me a look that is full of disappointment. That one look kills me.

“How are you holding up?” I ask her, gently putting my hand on her back.

“My feet hurt,” she confesses.

“Sit down for a minute. You’re allowed to take a break.”

She nods, and lets me take her hand. As we’re walking out of the grand room, that asshole Olson spots me from across the room. He pushes past several people to get in my line of sight. Then he smirks and taps his watch.

“What is that all about?” Pepper asks.

“No clue.” I wince at the lie and how easily it came out of my mouth. I need to tell her the truth about everything. She’ll understand if I have a chance to explain. But now…now isn’t the time to bring up my mistakes. Now is the time to celebrate her father’s life and to comfort her in whatever way she needs.

I have no idea where we’re going. The Davenwood Manor is huge, and while I had some fun exploring as a child, most of my time here has been spent in Pepper’s bedroom. She leads me down a hall, through a door, and into a small solarium. Sunlight filters through the thick glass, warming the room. Large potted plants fill the space between furniture and bookshelves, and black and white photos of the house cover the walls. The grandfather clock in the corner has been stopped as well. Maybe they really believe in all that stuff. I thought it was for show.

Pepper sits, shoulders sagging forward. I crouch down in front of her and take off her shoes, then start rubbing her feet. She leans back and closes her eyes.

“Thanks,” she says after several minutes. “I need to get back out there.”

I slip her heels back onto her feet and extend a hand to help her up. She doesn’t take it. She stands, takes a deep breath, and then walks back through the house to the wake. As the day goes on I’m convinced Pepper is the toughest person I know.

Tougher than the men who made my life hell.

Tougher than the guards in prison.

Tougher than me.

I feel like a fraud in a suit, with my tattoos, scars, and past all neatly covered up with expensive fabric. A few people look at me with curiosity, and Pepper tells those with the audacity to ask that I’m her “friend”.

Ouch.

Though it’s not like anything was established between us. My life was put on hold, not moving forward, when I left six years ago. I want to pick up where we left off, but Pepper…Pepper moved on. I can’t expect her to pretend the last half a decade didn’t happen. I greet everyone with fake politeness, though really I’m scrutinizing every single person in this room.

Alcott thought someone close posed a threat. Which one of these rich assholes has it out for Pepper? Who’s willing to do something drastic for a shot at her bank account?

Probably half of them, at least. Anger grows inside of me at the thought of someone taking advantage of Pepper during this time, and the anger intensifies when I think about how Alcott kept the important details from me. I’m pissed the fuck off at a dead man, whose body is just yards away. Why the hell didn’t he tell me who he was worried about? Fuck, he should have told Pepper. It could be anyone from the maid to the head of security. The house is always full of people, people who are able to come and go as they please, people who wouldn’t make you bat an eye if they were in the house alone at night.

He should have fucking told us.

Despite the lack of info, I’ll keep her safe, because I promised I would and I keep my word…and it’ll kill me to see her get hurt. I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep anything and everything bad away from her.

Then it hits me, and conflicting emotions tear my heart it two. There’s one bad thing I can’t protect her from, one bad thing I can’t pummel and beat up and make go away.

Me. I am one of those bad things.

Chapter Eleven

Pepper

I crawl into bed feeling a sense of relief. And that relief makes me feel guilty. I buried my father today in the Davenwood cemetery, next to my mother. I signed the last legal documents, and the flowers from the wake have been removed. The show is over, and now I can figure out how to go back to how things were before.

Only they’ll never be the same.

I need to find my new normal. I know I will…someday. Exhaustion hits me as soon as I pull the blankets over me, and my heart is heavy with sadness. Grayson gets in bed next to me, and I can feel his eyes on me as he sticks his legs under the covers. He hasn’t left my side, and has been nothing but perfect: making sure I eat, rubbing my back to help me sleep…that sort of thing. Yet I can’t forgive him.

He says he cares about me, that he regrets leaving all those years ago with no explanation as to why. But if he really did, then why?

Why disappear? I called and texted him until his phone went out of service. Why be in town for a month and not come up to me and tell me how much he missed me? I need answers to so many questions, and right now I can’t deal with it.

Maybe I shouldn’t deal with it. Ever.

I held onto hope in the past and all it did was hurt me. Everything about Grayson went against the strict rules and expectations I was brought up with. He had no trust fund, no family roots in society. And I never felt like I fit in more with a single person than I did when I was with him. I broke my rules for him. And he broke me.

Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? Why would this time be any different?

“Pepper?” Grayson’s deep voice rumbles from inside his tattooed chest. “Are you asleep?”

“Not yet.”

“Want me to rub your back?”

I should say no, should cut him off cold turkey. I quit him once and it almost killed me. I shouldn’t do it again. I need to stop now before I get too addicted. Say no! Just say no!

“Yes.”

He moves over and the warmth of his skin against mine is reassuring. Safe. Comforting.

A lie.

He starts massaging my stiff muscles, and tears pool in my eyes. It’s amazing I have any tears left. All I’ve done the last few days is cry.

Though right now I’m grieving another loss. I roll over and press my lips to Grayson’s. He’s surprised, but doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me and move his body on top of mine. I run my hands all over him, memorizing the way he feels. The way he smells. Everything about him.

I take my time kissing him, not wanting to forget the way he tastes. I roll us over and move on top, straddling him, pressing my core down on his hard cock. Tears roll down my cheeks as his hands explore my body. The mixture of desire and heartache plagues me in the best and worst ways possible. I want to make love to Grayson and never stop. When we stop, it’ll be over. Our last time will be up. Tomorrow, I’m going to ask Grayson to leave and never come back. Tomorrow, my world will come crashing down all over again.

For now, all we have is tonight.

*

“You did the right thing,” Savannah says, looking at her reflection in a full-length mirror. Two weeks have passed since I asked Grayson to leave me alone indefinitely. He didn’t argue, didn’t beg me to change my mind. He just nodded and left without a word.

But I’ll never forget the look of complete and utter hurt in his eyes.

It crippled me with guilt. On top of everything else, I couldn’t handle it. I shut down emotionally, sleeping all day and lying awake in agony at night. My heart lies in scattered pieces around my feet and there is no one left to help me put it back together.

Just me.

“I guess,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself. The air conditioning is on full blast in the store. Maybe? I’ve been perpetually cold since my father died, as if my grief is manifesting physically and I can’t shake it.

“Really Pepper,” she continues, and turns around. “The last time you fell in love with Grayson, it destroyed you. And I told you, I got a bad feeling around him. Like he was hiding something. This way you can move forward.”

“Yeah.” Just agree. It’s easier than justifying my feelings.

Savannah smiles and holds up a dress. “Come try this on.”

My head bobs up and down, and my feet move on their own accord. I do what I’m supposed to, and right now my best friend is taking me shopping for office-appropriate clothes to wear when I go in and do whatever the hell I’m supposed to do at my fath—my—business. I’m meeting with my uncle tomorrow and spending some time at the main building downtown. After days of staying in bed all day and night, becoming Business-Pepper again is both daunting and welcoming.

“That looks great,” Savannah tells me when I emerge from the dressing room. My response is a nod, causing Savannah’s full lips to pull down in a frown. “You know what? I’m taking you out tonight. It’ll do you some good to rejoin the land of the living. Oh fuck, sorry, Pepper. That was a horrible phrase to use.”

I smile for the first time in days. “It’s okay. I know what you mean. And I don’t know…I’m tired.”

She raises an eyebrow. “All you’ve done is sleep. I know this is hard, Pep. I know you miss your father. But we both know he would be yelling at you right now for not getting your ass out there. Just the two of us. Just dinner. Then we can go back to my place and eat our weight ice cream while watching our favorite childhood movies.”

My smile broadens. “That sounds nice. Thanks for being my friend. You know I love you, right?”

Savannah puts her arm around me. “Love you too, Pepper. Now come on, try on a few more things, then we’ll go back to my place and get ready for tonight.”

I force a smile. “Sounds good.”

*

“I’m glad you came out,” Savannah tells me as we stand to leave the restaurant.

“I’m glad I did too.”

“I knew you’d be happy once you came out.” She playfully elbows me. “You need to do this. Don’t feel guilty about living.”

My head moves up and down, understanding completely what she means. I went through it when my mom died. The first time I laughed after her death, I cried and cried, feeling like a terrible daughter. My father was there to comfort me then, reminding me that my mother loved me and wanted nothing more than for me to be happy.

“Want to get drinks?” Savannah asks. “Not here.” She waves her hand at the bar. “Unless you want Daddy Warbucks over there to buy you a mint julep, then pop a Viagra when he thinks you’re not looking.”

“Sounds tempting. He’d probably be pretty easy to satisfy.”

Savannah wrinkles her nose. “All I can think is old man balls. Lots of loose skin. Coarse, gray hair. And probably a wrinkly dick. Even when it’s hard it wobbles, like partially a partially cooked noodle.”

We both laugh, walking to the doors. “Speaking from experience, right?”

“Hey. Victor was fit for his age.”

We emerge into the night, stepping in flow with the busy New York foot traffic. Savannah’s phone is already in her hand, and, in just a minute, she’ll know the ten hottest spots to go for drinks right now. Listed in order of popularity, of course.

“Oh!” Savannah exclaims as we make our way down the street. “Remember my friends Frankie and Jeremy?”

“Yeah. Didn’t they break up?”

“At least once. But they’re back together, just got a house, and are having a party. We should go! It’ll be nice to get away from all this for a while. And if it’s too much for you, we’ll leave. Promise.”

“Okay. I’ll go. Just for a bit.”

Savannah squeals and starts feverishly texting her friends. Savannah never grew out of the partying phase from college. Once in a great while I go out with her and have fun, but drinking until I’m close to puking never appealed to me then. It definitely doesn’t now.

We get in the car, which takes us away from the Upper East Side and into The Bronx, which is unfamiliar to me. We’re dropped off two blocks from where we need to go because of construction. Savannah links her arm through mine, chattering away about how Kristoff has heard buzz that he’s up for an award for his latest movie.

Behind us, a motorcycle comes to life, engine roaring. My heart skips a beat and I whirl around before I even think about it. The man on the bike eyes me, and there’s something familiar about the symbol on this leather jacket. I can only see part of it, half of a skull and some sort of weapon underneath. A scythe maybe?

I’ve seen it before, I know it. I turn around, closing my eyes in a long blink. It’s making me uneasy even though I can’t place it. The guy rides past, revving the engine and catcalling as he passes us.

“Thinking of him, are we?” Savannah asks.

“What?” I sputter.

“You know who I’m talking about. Don’t make me say his name.”

“He’s not Voldemort; you can say Grayson,” I quip. “And maybe. Okay yes. Motorcycles remind me of him. And now I’m wondering what he’s doing, and if he’s okay, or sad, or lonely.”

Savannah comes to a sudden halt, turning to face me, and I have to fight the urge to grab her and keep walking. I don’t like being out on this street. My heart speeds up and I look over her shoulder and see the taillights of the motorcycle. He’s driving slowly. Really slow, like he’s waiting for us.

“Pepper, I say this with love, so don’t hate me. But it’s not your fucking job to make sure Grayson is okay. He’s a big boy and can handle himself. You need to worry about yourself right now, and get you back to being okay.”

“You’re right,” I say with a sigh. “Let’s start by getting to this party.” I take a step forward, dragging Savannah with. “Are we close?”

She looks down her phone and points across the street. “Yeah. It’s right there.” I quicken my pace, bringing Savannah along with me. The motorcycle turns around, engine echoing off the tall brick buildings on either side of us. Fear rushes through me and I dart across the street, and narrowly miss getting hit by a taxi.

“What the hell, Pepper?” Savannah calls from the other side of the street. She looks both ways, then crosses.

“Sorry,” I say and close my eyes, trying to calm myself down. The motorcycle flies by and I tense. “I’m just a little jumpy.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Why—oh fuck, right. I totally forgot with everything else going on. I’d be jumpy too. Hell, I’d never want to leave my house if I got mugged.” She puts her arm around me and guides me to her friend’s house. “Want me to call for security?”

“No, that’s okay.” I want to call Grayson. Fuck. Deep breath. “I’m good. Let’s go in.”

*

Frankie and Jeremy are hipster as fuck, and I love it. Frankie—or Fran, as he likes to be called now—is as hilarious as he is sensitive and has me relaxed…or maybe it’s just the cheap house wine served in random glass jars. By the time I get to my third glass—I mean jar—it’s tasting pretty good.

I’m sitting on the couch, listening to a girl in a plaid shirt talk about how corrupt the country is when I hear it again. Red wine sloshes down my hand as I stiffen, turning so fast I almost give myself whiplash.

Motorcycles.

I get a flash of that skull emblem and it suddenly comes back to me: the guys that attacked me. They were on motorcycles, wearing leather vests with that reaper symbol. Oh god. My chest tightens as they drive by, engines revving. It’s intentional. They know I’m in here and they’re coming for me.

“Whoa! Are you all right?” the girl, whose name escapes me, asks. I blink and turn back.

“Yes. I’m fine. Just, uh, startled.”

Jeremy shakes his head. “They weren’t here when we toured this place. It’s seriously so annoying. They ride up and down the street all the damn time like that.”

I’m still smiling and nodding, not letting anyone know what’s going on inside my brain. The men who attacked me were arrested, and both had prior records. There’s no way they’d be out on the streets already. And the chances of seeing the same two people…hah. I’m overreacting. I wouldn’t see them. New York is too big. It just wouldn’t happen.

Needing a distraction, I pull my phone from my purse with the intention of mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. I have an alert from the alarm system company from twenty-six minutes ago. The alarm in the stable was tripped, and then disabled with the correct passcode eighty seconds later.

It’s not uncommon for the stable alarm to go off. Several times a year an animal, either one of mine or a wild one trying to get in, sets it off. If anything serious happened, I’d get a call from both the alarm company and my own security team.

I bring the jar of wine to my lips and take a big drink. The motorcycles and the alarm going off are not related…. The motorcycles and the alarm going off are not related…

I put my head in my hands and take a deep breath. Calm the fuck down, Pepper. I stand, looking around the small house for a quiet place to go so I can call the head of security and find out what happened. I settle for the bathroom, which is in serious need of a cleaning.

I talk to Rafael, who has been with us for ten years. He says someone tried to open the main door into the horse barn, and took off once the alarm sounded. I have no reason not to trust him, but my father’s words ring in the back of my mind. Someone I trust might try to hurt me.

But who?

And how the hell would Grayson be able to stop them? I wish so much that my father was still alive. I want to hear his voice, to have a rare moment where we get to sit and talk about nothing, to have him reassure me. And I need answers.

Why didn’t he tell me Grayson’s father died? Why keep us apart then but bring us together now? He trusted Grayson…but should I?

Chapter Twelve

Grayson

Of all the times I’ve fucked up in life, nothing seems to compare to this very moment. Which is funny considering I’ve spent several years behind bars. I drum my fingers on the kitchen table, mind racing. I’ve never given much thought about the future because I never thought I’d have one worth thinking about. I’ve lived life on a day-to-day basis for years, and it did all right by me.

Then I kissed Pepper. And she kissed me back. It was like my eyes suddenly opened and I was able to see the light all around us. She instantly filled me with that annoying optimism again, putting ideas in my head. Ideas that shouldn’t be there.

Because I’m a criminal.

Pepper doesn’t belong with someone like me. But fuck, I want her and I’ve always had a hard time drawing the line between what I want and what I need. Though now it’s all what she needs.

And it isn’t me.

I get up and pace around the house. The sun is setting, and I’ve already gone to the gym, washed my bike and the BMW, and kept an eye on Pepper. She went shopping with her friend, and then back to her penthouse in the city.

I grab my laptop and a notebook, and then sit back at the table, staring at the notes I started last week. Scribbles of Pepper’s connections, friends, staff, and now employees, stare up at me. I Google the names I have, adding more notes. No one has a criminal record. No one gives me a fucking clue to why Alcott held reserves on their intentions with his daughter.

I type my name in the search bar, hit enter, then close the tab before any results come up. I don’t want to see the news articles. I don’t want to read about the false charges. Or the real ones. I don’t want to see my mug shot. And I don’t want to think about the debt I owed, the debt that still seems fucking impossible to have paid off.

What I owed was set with a dollar amount, but I know I was expected to pay with more than currency. But I’m out, dammit. They have the money back that my father stole. I’m across the country, as far from them as I can get—legally that is. Alcott paid off a New York probation officer to not only accept my transfer request, but to turn a blind eye at pretty much everything. I have no check-ins, no meetings, no phone calls. I don’t know the details of it all, and I don’t want to. The less I know the better when it comes to this shit.

There’s a lot of stuff I don’t know but probably should. Like how the fuck am I the legal owner of this house? Where did the money in my bank account come from and how am I supposed to explain it if I’m ever questioned? This whole situation is a wet dream for the IRS.

I’m a month and a half into my year long probation, which makes me stuck here until it’s up. If Pepper wants nothing to do with me, I can’t keep following her around like a fucking stalker. Then what do I do? Get a job? I don’t need one; Alcott gave me enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life. I’m sure it was pocket change for him, but I’m used to getting by with nothing.

A bad feeling starts to rise in my chest, and no matter what I do I can’t shake it. I grab my jacket and keys and get on my bike. I have no destination in mind when I set out, yet somehow I find myself on my way to the Davenwood Manor. I won’t go in, won’t stop. I’ll drive by like I did before, though driving by does shit. I can’t see anything. I’m too far from the house to even get a glimpse inside.

Rain clouds cover the moon, and the summer night is thick with humidity. I’m about a mile from the estate when flashing lights come up fast behind me. The siren whoops and I pull over, heart beating with indignation. Fuck. Was I speeding? Probably.

Okay yes, yes I was.

The cop goes around me. Huh. That was unexpected. But hey, I’ll take it. I twist the throttle and follow, keeping enough of a distance as not to be obvious. My heart plummets into my stomach and I almost lose control of my bike when the cop turns down the Davenwood’s driveway.

Pepper.

I don’t care if it’s obvious. I stop. I watch. I hold my breath until my chest hurts and my lungs are begging for air. A man in a suit greets the cop, and they continue on to the stable past the house. Minutes pass and I hear a car door shut. The blue and red lights turn off, and headlights point in my direction.

I’m gone before the cop is out of the driveway. There’s a gas station several miles up the road where I can pull over and call Pepper and make sure she’s okay. Rain starts to fall, making the road that winds uphill slippery. Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling under the shelter over the gas pumps.

A small group consisting of five bikes and seven riders is stopped as well. They hear me coming and turn, giving a curt nod in solidarity. Riding in the rain can piss off even the most seasoned rider. I park next to a pump, dig out cash from my wallet, and go inside to pay.

“It was a nice night for a ride,” a middle-aged woman says in passing. “Until that damn rain started. Came outta nowhere.”

“Hopefully it’ll stop just as fast,” I say back, slowing. I hate fake small talk like this. It’s complete bullshit that no one cares about and I don’t want to partake in it. “Or it’ll start raining harder.” I quickly look the group over. Three guys have on leather jackets. One has patches, but none I recognize. The lady I’m talking to has a vest on over her black t-shirt, but I can’t make out what her patch is, and I can’t look any longer or it’ll look like I’m checking out her tits.

She laughs and takes a drag on her cigarette. I go into the gas station and give the cashier money to fill up the tank. I pick dead bugs off the front of the mirrors as the tank fills, then I get out my phone and call Pepper, expecting my call to get declined.

“Hello?” she says after one ring.

“Pepper.” I state her name, taken aback. Her voice soothes my soul and awakens my cock, even with one word.

“What do you want?”

“I…I…are you okay?”

Music and laughter are in the background, making it hard to hear her sweet voice. She’s not home. So whatever happened twenty-some minutes ago…she might not know. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Do you know something that you can’t tell me again? Who’s going to get me now?”

“Are you drunk?”

“What if I am? I’m a big girl. I can do as I please.”

I stick the nozzle back on the pump and swing a leg over my bike. “Are you alone?”

“You are such a creep. Wanna know what color my underwear is too?”

Dammit. She’s right. “I mean, are you with friends who’ll make sure you’re safe. And yes, I do want to know.”

“I’m not wearing any,” she spits.

“Fuck, Pepper…” I let out a sigh. “I miss you.”

A door creaks, shuts, and then the music quiets. “Don’t do this to me, Grayson. Please. I can’t…” She trails off, voice thinning before twisting into a quiet sob. It’s like a knife to my heart. “You asked me if I was okay. Do you have a reason for thinking otherwise?”

“Yeah. A cop was at your house.”

“Again with the creepy. And you’re a terrible stalker. I’m not even home.”

“I’m not stalking you. I promised I’d keep an eye on you and make sure you’re safe.”

“I am safe. Grayson,” she says my name with so much emotion. “Please stop. I can’t do this. Knowing that you’re here but not here…it hurts.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

Voice breaking, she says, “Yes, it does.”

I can feel eyes on me, but I don’t give a fuck who’s listening to my conversation right now. All that matters is Pepper. “I don’t deserve it, but give me one more chance. I’ll explain everything.”

Pepper exhales and hesitates. Then she says the most beautiful word. “Fine.”

“When?”

“Dinner. Friday night, if that works for you.”

I chuckle. “Yeah. I think I can clear my schedule.”

“Good. Be at my house at seven. Gray?”

“Yeah?”

“This doesn’t change things. I want an explanation, but I…I can’t. I can’t handle any more pain.”

If she hadn’t been drinking, I don’t think I would have gotten that confession out of her. My heart rips in two and I hate myself now more than ever for hurting her. “I won’t hurt you.”

“You already have.”

“Let me fix it. Please, Pepper.”

“Are you begging?”

“I’ll do anything,” I tell her. Rain falls down harder, misting under the awning as the wind blows. “I never should have left that night. I never should have gone to California.” I cradle the phone against my ear, wishing Pepper was there in front of me.

“Well, you did. You did and you left me like it was easy to do.”

“It wasn’t. I swear, Pepper. Listen…fuck it, Pepper, I’ll tell you everything. Every goddamn thing. And then you’ll see that I never stopped—”

Thunder booms above me, and the lights flicker.

“Just promise me,” Pepper says. “You’ll tell me the truth.”

“I promise. I’ll tell  you everything that happened.”

Chapter Thirteen

Grayson

Six years ago…

I run my fingers up and down Pepper’s back. With her eyes closed, she moves in closer, breasts crushing against my bare chest. We just had sex and already I want to fuck her again.

And again.

Two weeks had passed since my skin felt the warmth of hers. Two weeks had passed since my arms went around her, since my lips pressed against hers.

Two weeks is way too fucking long. And the weekend will be up before we know it and Pepper will go back to Cornell and I’ll stay here, half-assing my way through business classes with my mind on her all day.

“I love you,” I tell her for the third time that night. She has that effect on me.

“I know,” she says and looks up at me, smiling. “And I love you too. Probably more.”

I shake my head. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, but it is.” She bites her lip and slides her hand up my chest. She’s ready for more too. I pull her on top of me and kiss her. She slips her hands behind my shoulders and rests her head on my chest. “I like listening to your heartbeat. Is that weird?”

“It sounds boring, but not weird.”

“Good because—” She’s cut off by my phone ringing. Pepper reaches across her bed and picks it up. “It’s your dad,” she says and hands me the phone. My dad hardly ever calls me since he moved from New York to California. It’s not a holiday or my birthday, which means he’s either calling with good news or bad news. I debate ignoring the call, returning it later tonight or even tomorrow.

I accept at the last minute.

“Hello?”

“Hey, son,” my dad’s voice comes through the line fuzzy, like there’s a bad connection on his end. “Are you busy?”

“Kinda. Why?”

“I’ve gotten myself in a bind.”

I sit up, eyes narrowing. “What kind of a bind?”

“One I can’t talk about over the phone. I need your help. Here.”

“With what?” I ask. Pepper leans forward, concern on her pretty face.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers and I shake my head, mouthing, “I don’t know.”

“I can’t just up and leave. I have a job here. And class on Tuesday.” My hand falls on Pepper’s thigh. And my naked girlfriend is curled up next to me, but I leave that part out.

“Grayson, I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t dire.”

His words send a jolt through me. “What is wrong?” I repeat each word firmly.

“I got involved with some bad people,” he confesses. “Grayson, please.”

I’ve never heard my father ask for anything like that before. My blood runs cold. “All right. I’ll find a flight in the morning—”

“I don’t think I have that much time.”

Fear spreads through me. “Okay.” I blink, feeling my heart pound in my ears. “I’ll come as soon as I can.” I hang up and turn to Pepper. “He said he’s in trouble and needs help. That’s it.”

She pushes the blankets off and gets up with me. “You’re going? Now? All the way to California?”

“I don’t really have a choice.” I grab my boxers, stress winding inside. “I’ll take the first flight I can find.”

“I’ll have our pilot take you.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You can and you will.” She’s already reaching for her phone to make a call. “Where in Cali are you going?”

“Santa Cruz.” By the time I use the bathroom and finish getting dressed, Pepper has everything set. We kiss, two, three, four times before I leave her, promising to call as soon as I land.

*

I open a text from Pepper, not expecting it to be a naughty picture. I’m at the airport, waiting for my dad to come pick me up. I smile, feeling blood rush to my cock, and look at the photo once more before saving the image. She wants a picture from me in return. I tell her she’ll get one later, then pocket my phone and wait.

And wait.

An hour later, my dad trudges through the airport. He’s all smiles and claps me on the back, but not before I notice how shitty he looks. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen him. He has dark circles under bloodshot eyes. He’s lost weight, and his hair is a mess. He looks like he rolled out of bed, threw on whatever laundry was left on the floor, and flew out of the house.

Which is probably what he did. “It’s good to see you, son. I bet you’re hungry. Want to get something to eat.”

“I want you to tell me what the hell is going on.”

His right eye twitches. “There’s a nice cafe not far from here. Open all night.”

“Sure,” I agree, knowing that’s code for he doesn’t want to talk about shit here. I get in his truck, tossing my bag into the backseat. We make small talk, and he asks about Pepper.

“Sounds like things are getting serious.”

I shrug, not one to share my feelings. “I guess. We’ve been together over a year.”

“That seems like forever when you’re nineteen,” he chuckles. “She’s a nice girl.”

“Very nice,” I muse. “Sometimes I wonder what she sees in me.” It feels good to say that out loud. I’ve never told that to anyone, not even Pepper.

“You’re a good kid,” he affirms. “A bit of a hellion, but you’re my son so I wouldn’t expect it any other way.”

I laugh and agree. We talk about school—my dad says the same thing Pepper just lectured me on hours ago, on how I need to take it seriously.

We order our food and he’s still asking me questions, and I know it’s just to delay what’s coming. I finish half my burger before drilling him.

“So are we gonna sit here and chat like old ladies all night or are you going to tell me what’s going on.”

My dad’s face pales. He drains his beer and takes a deep breath. “I owe the club money.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You made me come all the way out here to tell me you owe the club money?” Something isn’t right with that. “How much?”

“A hundred-grand.”

I almost spit out my drink. My mouth opens, but no words come out. I’m literally fucking speechless. “You’re VP. Tell them you’ll pay later.”

“That’s kind of the thing,” he starts, and drops he gaze to the table. “They don’t know I owe them.”

“Huh?” I lean back, and then it hits me. “You stole it. You stole money from your own club!”

“Keep your voice down, dammit.”

I put my hands on the table and lean forward. “You stole money. From the club.” I have to repeat it; I don’t believe it. Only an idiot would steal money from the Jackals. And only an idiot with a death wish would steal that much.

“Yes.”

Apparently my father is both. I stare at him, pulse pounding. “Why?”

“A business opportunity came up and I needed the cash upfront to invest. Things are going slow, but it’ll pick up. I’ll get the hundred grand back and then some.”

I feel a sudden ache in my chest that throws me for a second. I miss Pepper. I want to be back in New York with her, not dealing with this. Because no matter how casually my dad talks about it, no one steals money from the Jackals and gets out alive. I’m only fucking nineteen. I shouldn’t be having this conversation. I should be back home, fucking my girlfriend every day and night until her fall break is up and she has to go back to Cornell. Whatever business opportunity he’s starting has to be shady as fuck to keep it from an already shady as fuck motorcycle club.

“So why is it an issue if you’re getting the money back?”

“I might not get it back fast enough.”

I push my plate to the center of the table, no longer hungry. “They’re going to kill you.”

Finally, the graveness of the situation shows on his face. “I know. That’s why I need your help. My business partner has the money…we need to get it back.”

Chapter Fourteen

Pepper

Savannah’s 10th story apartment has a large balcony that overlooks Central Park. I stand with one hand on the railing, the other holding a coffee cup, and look down at the trees. We’re way above them, way above the chaos of the city. I feel oddly untouchable up here and can pretend my problems, all my issues, are down on the streets below.

I take a sip of coffee and close my eyes, turning my head to the wind. I’ve been up for a few hours already, and came out here to take solace in the quiet sunrise. My father has been on my mind, of course. He devoted himself to work, to expanding his business and finding ways to increase revenue and make more money.

Once he told me he wished he had spent more time with family, more time with my mother before she died. In the end, that’s what matters. Having someone you love, someone who makes you a better person, is worth more than gold.

My thoughts drift to Grayson and how good it felt to be with him. One look can send sparks of warmth through my body. One kiss can ignite my heart. And hearing him tell me he loves me sets my soul ablaze.

That was then.

He’s not the same man I loved, and I need to remember it. Just like I’m not the same girl…only I feel like that’s exactly who I am.

Sunlight sparkles off my mother’s ring, and my heart hurts. I miss her. I miss my father. And I miss Grayson. So much hurt. So much loss. I blink back tears and look out at the trees again. The view is breathtaking in the literal sense; my first reaction is to inhale and admire the beauty of the city. I lower my eyes, looking straight below. My heart flutters at the thought of falling. I’m not afraid of heights, and though I grew up outside the city in the manor, I’m rather used to high rises like this.

“How the hell did I forget?” I ask myself out loud, suddenly remembering my father has a penthouse not far from where we are right now. I’d been in it a time or two before, but purposely avoided it. My father never officially dated anyone after my mother died, but I knew he saw other women, and that’s where the penthouse came in handy. It wasn’t something I wanted to think about, so I avoided the place.

I’ll need to go through his things before I decide what to do with it. Keeping it just like this sounds tempting, though an unoccupied penthouse isn’t something I want to deal with. It’s a desirable piece of real estate and should sell relatively easily, and I’ll donate whatever it sells for to charity.

I go back inside and browse through Netflix until Savannah wakes up. We go to breakfast, and then she convinces me to go to yoga with her. The instructor is hot, and I could use the relaxation, she says. I can’t argue against that, and the hour of guided breathing and stretching gives me a clear head…which I’ll muddle up soon enough.

Like now, just minutes after walking out of the class. Savannah asked me to help her pick out a new painting to go above her bed, which I know she only did to try and keep me busy. I don’t know why people think staying busy is the best way to get over grief. I think it does the opposite. Distract your mind and you only end up prolonging the pain. Process it while it’s fresh instead of going through it later.

It works for me.

Or maybe not. I’m not one to give advice on getting over a loss.

After the art gallery, we get lunch. The afternoon is slipping away, and I want to go to my father’s penthouse before nightfall. Savannah offers to go with, but I decline her offer. This is something I have to do alone.

My chest tightens when I step into the building, and my heart begins to race when I get in the elevator taking me up to my father’s penthouse. Sunlight pours through the floor-length windows, and the view puts Savannah’s to shame. I’m so high up, can see so much.

And yet I feel like the walls are closing in on me.

The first level is modern, open concept, and decorated in stark shades of white and gray. I’m a little overwhelmed, feeling slightly dizzy. The house is unfamiliar to me, and going through my father’s things seems wrong, like he might come through the door and scold me at any second.

My breath hitches in my chest and tears prick the corners of my eyes. I’d give anything to have my father be angry with me again. Keep it together.

One room at a time, I slowly move around the large penthouse, collecting anything personal to take home with me. I’ve found a few family photos, and my mother painted the photo above the fireplace.

My father’s office is a mess. When he was deep into a work project, he’d forbid anyone from entering his office. Sometimes weeks would go by before it was cleaned. Coffee cups and dirty plates stacked up in towers, and dust collected all over the polished wooden desk.

There’s business in art, and art in business he used to say. And artists thrive in creative chaos.

I sit at his desk and put my hands on the notes scattered about. His handwriting is difficult to read, and from what I can make out, these are notes about a new partnership that was in the works. I gather them up to give to my uncle; they might prove important. I open his laptop and enter the password the lawyer gave me.

I look through files, hoping to find something about why he thought I was in danger. Keeping the cancer from me…I hate it, but I get it. Keeping a threat a secret…that wasn’t my father. He wasn’t one to wait around for someone to strike. He would get them first, taking out any opposition before they even had time to consider an attack.

His phone and computer are linked, and I open iMessages. Grayson’s number pops up. I bite my lip then scroll through their exchanges.

Grayson told the truth. He texted my father many times, telling him to come clean to me about being sick or he would tell me himself. Each text was followed by a vague threat from my father, who reminded Grayson he “paid for his life to start over”, and an empty promise that he would tell me soon. A few times Grayson asked, okay demanded, to be informed on who was supposedly after me and he got the same run around that he’d be informed later.

I look through file after file, and find nothing, though it’s not like I expected to open a Word document titled People I Don’t Trust or anything. Still, the lack of evidence nags at me. And even if it wasn’t a specific person, but just a general fear that I would be manipulated, why didn’t he say anything to me? Give me pep talks, warn me about how cutthroat the business world is?

It just doesn’t make sense. I poke around the computer a bit more. The battery is dying, so I search for the power cord, finding it in a computer case on the floor next to the desk. A black USB is in the pocket with it.

I plug it in; it requires a passcode. I enter the ones my father’s lawyer gave me, but none work. I stare at it, almost nervous to see what’s stored inside. I tap my fingers on the desk, thinking. On a whim, I enter my birthday.

The USB unlocks.

I double click and a single folder titled “Grayson King” pops up. Holy shit. My hand flies over my mouth, and I stare at the screen, unblinking. Maybe I will find a secret document after all.

I go through each document one by one. The first are screen shots of email exchanges between my father, a private investigator, and Grayson’s dad. They’re dated from nearly twenty years ago and include photographs of Grayson as a child living in deplorable conditions. A few highlight bruises on his arms and face. It’s followed by legal documents, ones I’m not sure my father should have had access to. My heart beats faster and faster as I read through them, learning how Grayson’s mother was a heroin user who was eventually charged with abuse and neglect. Grayson’s father was granted sole custody of him just months before we ever met.

I lean back in the chair, trying—and failing—not to think about Grayson as a child growing up with a drug-addicted mother. He never once mentioned it.

It’s not hard to put the pieces together: my father paid for the PI and the lawyers needed to take Grayson out of a bad situation and make sure he never went back. But why would he bring it up to Grayson, reminding him that he wouldn’t have another chance at life if he hadn’t paid?

I hate being mad at my father right now. I close the computer and let out a breath. This changes things, and I’m feeling worse and worse about being so angry with Grayson for not telling me about my father’s illness.

I take a minute to collect myself, and then continue the search for important articles. I open the top drawer of the desk and find a very worn envelope.

“My dearest Alcott” is written in flowing cursive, the exact opposite of the chicken scratch my father writes in. I know that script to belong to my mother. Careful not to tear the fragile paper, I open the envelope.

Inside is a wedding photo, a newborn picture of myself, and a family portrait taken at Christmas when I was only a few years old. Behind the photographs is a hand written love letter from my mother to my father. I don’t read it; the words weren’t meant for me after all.

The sentiment of my father keeping this right here, on top of his work, hits me hard. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I grieve my parents’ deaths all over again, but there is something else inside my heart, blackening it from the inside out.

I’m grieving the loss of something I haven’t had the chance to lose. My own family. A person who loves me enough to save my letters from years ago.

I had it, didn’t I?

I put the photos and letter away, and wipe my eyes. I never doubted Grayson’s love when we were together then. Am I wrong to doubt it now?

*

“Lots of spirit,” Raymundo says, patting Spartan on the neck. “You do good.”

“Thank you,” I tell my horse trainer. I came to the stable to ride and be alone, and was surprised to see Raymundo here this late. Unless I’m preparing for a show, he’s done working the horses by the time they’ve had their dinner. Paranoia set it and I almost turned and went back into the house.

Feeling like I can’t trust anyone is terrifying.

Raymundo is here on a visa and doesn’t speak English all that well. Crazy things can happen, but I don’t think he’s trying to weasel his way into my newly inherited company. Horses are his passion, and he has a true calling for it.

I run a brush over Spartan’s sleek black fur, doing my best not to freak the fuck out. Horses can sense that kind of thing.

“I’m surprised to see you still here,” I say, keeping Spartan between us.

“Hot day,” he tells me. “Even arena hot.”

Well now I do feel like an ass. It was horribly hot today with high humidity. The large indoor arena is open and well-ventilated, but even the rows of ceiling fans aren’t enough to rid the air of the humidity.

“I get you tack,” he says with a smile and goes into the tack room, returning a minute later with Spartan’s saddle and bridle. Once Spartan’s tacked up, I lead him through the barn. The roar of an engine echoes in the distance, and my heart jumps.

Grayson.

It’s too early for him to be making his normal round, and that motorcycle engine sounds…different. Which might be a crazy thing, but I’ve heard his bike fly by enough to be familiar with what it sounds like. This one is higher pitched, and just a minute later it’s joined by another.

I get a flash of the man on the motorcycle last night with that reaper symbol embroidered onto his leather vest. My fingers wrap around Spartan’s reins tight, enough to make his toss his head back against the pressure.

“They up and down all day,” Raymundo informs me. “Horses not happy. Except him. He no mind.”

“Spartan’s not bothered by much,” I say, forcing a smile. “I can’t decide if it’s because he’s just that calm and well-trained, or if he just doesn’t care.”

“Say trained.” Raymundo smiles back, asks if I need any help. I don’t, and really only planned to leisurely ride around the arena so I can think.

I do some of my best thinking on horseback.

Though now all I’m thinking is motorcycles and people wanting to kill me. We do five laps around the arena before I’m ready to race inside my house and slam the door. Hell, sleeping in the panic room sounds tempting tonight.

I startle when my phone rings. I bring Spartan to a halt and get it out of my breeches pocket. It takes some work; these pants are tight. It’s Grayson, and my heart wants to lurch out of chest at the thought of him.

“Hello?” I say into the phone.

“Hey, Pepper.” His voice is so deep and sexy. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. I’m riding Spartan. The horse.”

He lets out a laugh. “I remember him. Damn thing nearly killed me.” He sighs. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“In a sense, I guess you could say I am.”

“Good.”

I nudge Spartan forward, and silence falls between Grayson and I for a minute. I miss him, and my mind flashes to the love letter in my father’s desk. “Gray?”

“Yeah?”

I close my eyes. I shouldn’t have answered the phone. “What are you doing right now?” Is that my resolve crumbling away as I speak? If it is, it feels good to have it fall apart around me.

“Watching TV.”

“Oh. Have you been home all day?”

“Most of the day,” he answers. “Why?”

I pinch the reins between my thumb and index finger. “Someone on a motorcycle was driving up and down the road in front of the house. I wasn’t sure if you went back to stalking me from the shadows.”

“No, that wasn’t me. Are they still there? You should go inside…you know…in case they’re still there.”

“They’re gone.”

“Pepper?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

His words hit me hard in the heart and all I want is for him to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything is going to be all right. Fuck the past. It was six years ago. I need to let it go and start over.

“I miss you too. Do you want to come over?”

“Now?”

My brain screams at me to take it back and to cancel dinner plans while I’m at it. Nothing good can come from Grayson King. But my heart, the damn thing is begging to beat in sync with his once more. “Yes. If that’s all right with you.”

“It is.”

Relief floods through me, and right then, I know no matter what I do, I can’t deny that I’m in love with him again. No, not again. Still.

I’ve always been in love with him.

“Good. I could really use a friend right now…someone I can trust.”

“Is everything all right?” He moves about, and I hear keys jingling. “I mean, considering what you’re going through.”

“With that aside, yeah. I think so. The whole thing with my father thinking someone close to me is going to turn has me all freaked out. I’m actually concerned to say this over the phone. What if they have things bugged?” I let out a heavy sigh. “I sound crazy, don’t I?”

“No, not at all. You’ve been through a lot and are coming out better than most. Better than people who haven’t had a recent tragedy. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried too. I promised I’d keep you safe, Pepper. Please let me.”

Tears are filling my eyes, and I’m not prepared for how emotional I suddenly become. “Hurry,” I tell him before we hang up. I get Spartan put away and go into the house for a quick shower. I put my wet hair up in a messy braid and put on cotton shorts and a tank top. Sitting on the couch in the front living room, I look over the old photographs. Both my mother and father look so happy in their wedding photo, with big smiles on their faces that are mirrored in their eyes.

My father was not a perfect man. It pains me to say that so soon after he died, but I know better than to believe he was a saint. He donated to various charities, and showed up when he knew there would be cameras. My father loved my mother, and he loved me. But he also loved money. My mother knew that going into their marriage. I set the photos down and take my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes. I disagree with Grayson not telling me about my father. That doesn’t make him wrong and myself right. He did what he thought was in my best interest. Grayson doesn’t give a shit what society thinks, does his own thing with no hesitation, but he’s not a bad person.

If there’s a chance we can be happy together, I’m taking it.

Chapter Fifteen

Grayson

If I believed in luck, I would have thought mine ran out. Yet here I am, on my way to see Pepper. She’s giving me another chance—my third fucking one—to explain everything to her. And this time I’m going to tell her everything, starting with the moment I left her bed and decided to help my father. Nothing is going to keep us apart, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to Pepper that she’s the only one for me.

I turn off the TV and run my hand through my hair. Shit. I haven’t showered today. Or shaved in…days. Usually I don’t give a shit about my appearance but I don’t want to show up begging for mercy, looking and smelling homeless. I shower and shave, then try to find something clean to put on.

“Fuck,” I mumble, seeing everything is in a dirty pile on the floor. I’ve never been a good housekeeper. I sort through my closet and find a clean pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. I can’t get dressed fast enough. My heart races at the thought of Pepper, and a mix of nerves and excitement goes through me.

I throw on my leather jacket, grab my wallet and keys, and tear out the door. I fire up the engine of my bike and get on, sitting for a minute to let the engine warm up. Light from the streetlamp reflects off the shiny chrome of a motorcycle parked on the street opposite my house. I’m not buddy-buddy with any of the neighbors, but I know the single mom with four kids across the street didn’t buy herself a Chopper. It’s possible she has a visitor, but the house is dark. It’s doubtful the kids are all asleep already, which leads me to believe no one is home.

There’s another motorcycle parked three houses down. Am I being paranoid or did two people ride together and park apart on purpose to be inconspicuous? I turn around and look at the house, noticing the trampled bushes along the garage. I mowed the grass this morning. Those bushes didn’t look like that then.

Goddammit. I twist the key and turn off my motorcycle. I don’t have time for this. Fists curled, I go around the house. A cigarette lies in the grass under the garage window. Embers still burn. Whoever was here is close. I exhale, and listen to the night. Suddenly, a dark shadow crosses the yard behind me, and I take off after it.

“Hey!” I shout and grab the guy by the shoulders. I toss him to the ground and step over. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Before I can answer, something hits me hard in the back. I pitch forward, and the man on the ground rolls and springs to his feet. I catch myself and turn to see another man, tall and muscular, glowering at me. He grunts and dodges forward, arm swinging. I duck out of the way, catch his wrist and twist. I bring my leg up, hit him in the stomach, and then push him down. He stumbles back, and I whirl around to block another blow from the guy I caught running away. I punch him in the face. My knuckles hit his teeth and my skin breaks.

So does his nose.

He stumbles back, hands flying to his face. Blood drips between his fingers. It stuns him for a few seconds, and then he gets pissed. He comes back at me—fast—at the same time the big dude decides to lunge forward.

I grab him by the arm, twist it behind his back. Something cracks and he lets out a yell. I kick him in the back of the knees and as he goes down, I stop a blow from the other guy, take his head in my hands, and butt it against my forehead. He goes down hard.

The big guy staggers to his feet, broken arm hanging at his side. He reaches around with his other hand, but before he can pull out his gun, I knock him down and get the gun in my hands.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand and cock the gun. The guy with the broken nose rolls over onto all fours, coughing up blood. He’s wearing jeans and a leather vest. There’s no patch on the back, but there’s a small reaper scythe on the front.

Prospects.

The guys that attacked Pepper bore patches with that scythe on it. She said some had been riding up and down her road. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The Jackals have no chapters on the east coast, but they have ally clubs that do. If they’re after me, they’ll take out anyone and everyone in the way.

No one fucking hurts Pepper.

“Talk,” I growl. “Whatever you think they’ll do to you won’t be nearly as bad as what I’ll do.”

“Don’t say anything,” Big Guy grunts to Nose Bleeder.

I point the gun at his foot, finger over the trigger. The old me, the violent version of myself that I was forced to become threatens to come out. Hell, it wants to come out. But I can’t let it. One wrong move and I’m back in jail, away from Pepper for good. The old me would have blown his toes off, one at a time, until I got what I needed.

That’s not me anymore. It was never me.

Both men are bleeding on the ground. I can call their injuries self defense, maybe a little excessive on my part, but they hit fist. My heart is pounding and all I can think about is getting the fuck out of here and going to Pepper.

Nose Bleeder looks like he might get sick, and I don’t know if it’s from being terrified or from swallowing his own blood. “What are you doing here? Who sent you?”

I point the gun at him, and he whimpers and throws up his hands. “Stop, stop!” he cries. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk!”

I lower the gun. “You have one minute before I put a bullet in one of your appendages. And it won’t be your hands or feet.”

His eyes flick to his waist and he trembles as he nods.

“Let’s try this again,” I start. “What were you doing?”

“Looking for a bike,” he croaks. “Pretty specific one. Harley with custom work and paint. Blue and white skulls.” He spits out blood.

I narrow my eyes. “Why are you looking for it?”

“A friend says it’s stolen.”

Wind rustles through my hair and the sounds of children playing flashlight tag reminds me how precarious this situation is. I need to stay calm and not do anything I’ll regret.

Fuck. I can’t go back to jail. But if it comes between getting arrested to protect Pepper, well, I said I’d do anything for her.

“Who told you the bike was stolen?”

“No,” Big Guy moans. “Shut your damn mouth.”

I aim the gun at him, knowing that I can’t keep threatening to shoot. It only takes a few empty threats for someone to realize you’re too squeamish to pull the trigger. Only it’s not the sight of blood that’s stopping me. It’s the risk of losing Pepper for good this time.

“Tell me who said the bike was stolen,” I say and aim the gun at his dick. “Or you can kiss your cock goodbye.”

“No one,” he blurts and cowers. “Just talk.”

I nod, mind whirling. If these guys are just prospects to this scythe-bearing club, they won’t be fully informed. They’re just hearing talk as they hang around the club.

“And where is this talk originating?”

“Don’t know. Some sister club in California.”

Fuck. “What club?” He doesn’t answer. I lurch forward, grab his collar and put the gun between his eyes.

He spits out more blood. “The Jackals.”

“God fucking dammit,” I huff, hating how the one word causes my blood to boil in anger…and makes a cold sweat break out along my back. I paid my fucking dues. I owe them nothing. What the hell do they want from me?

I let go of Nose Bleeder and take a few steps back. “You tell them there is no Harley here. If you don’t, I will find you and I will kill you. Slowly.”

I remove the magazine from the gun, pop the bullet out of the chamber, and wipe my prints off the gun. I throw it on the ground in front of the big guy. He cradles his arm to his chest.

“We clearly made a mistake. There’s no Harley in that garage. All we saw is a shiny Beamer.”

“Clearly. Now get the hell off my property before I call the cops and say you assaulted me.”

They scramble up and scurry to their motorcycles. I get on my own bike, abhorrence growing. I need to get to Pepper. If the Jackals know I’m here, they know about her. And if they know about her…they can hurt her.

*

I park my bike under the vestibule at the Davenwood Manor. Before I get my phone out to let Pepper know I’m here, a side door opens and Pepper steps out into the night. Golden light from the security lamps illuminate her face. My heart lurches in my chest just like it did all those years ago.

“You do know it’s illegal to ride with no helmet in New York,” she says with a small smile on her face.

I cross the stone driveway and jog up the steps, stopping just inches in front of her. “I never was one for rules.”

She shakes her head and then bites her lip. In shorts and a tank top with messy hair, the raw version of Pepper is before me. She’s beautiful, and I told her countless times before that she didn’t need all that makeup. Wind blows a loose strand of hair from her braid. I reach out, fingers brushing against the soft skin on her cheek. She closes her eyes and leans into my touch.

I push her hair back and slide my hand behind her head. “I missed you,” I whisper and pull her mouth to mine. The moment our lips touch, passion explodes. Pepper’s arms go around me and she steps in close, pressing her body against mine. She slips her hands under my jacket and starts pulling up my shirt. I press her against the brick wall of the house, kissing her hard.

She turns her head. “Let’s go inside.”

It takes great effort to pull myself from her. I hope she has the intention of picking up where we started, but stopping is good. I need to talk to her, to come clean and let her know she could very well be in danger…and it’s all because of me.

“And I missed you too,” she tells me, and then takes my hand. We go up to her room through the narrow stairs in the kitchen.

“How are you holding up?” I ask.

She gives a small smile. “As good as I can. I’m sorry I was hard on you.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

We get into her room. She closes the door and goes to her bed. I take off my boots and join her, sitting close. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and she rests her head against me.

“Well, I am. I know now that you were only doing what you thought was right. And I know that every decision we make has consequences, even if we didn’t mean for them to happen. Yes, I wish I would have known about my father’s cancer. But it’s not your fault. It’s my father’s, and it’s easier to be mad at you than it is to be mad at him, because you’re alive and he’s not.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “Really. And you’re right that I should have told you. If I could go back and change things, I would.” I’d change more than just that if I could go back in time. She relaxes, and I internally cringe. Things are smoothing over, and I need to bring up how I was arrested—more than once—and the fucked up people I was caught up with.

Or still am.

I inhale, breathing in everything about Pepper. The way her hair smells, the heat of her skin, the way her breasts rise and fall and she breathes.

“That day,” I start. “That day I went to Santa Cruz and never came back…It’s complicated, Pepper. But I’ll tell you about it.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to. Let’s just move on.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. And when I was going through my father’s stuff I found emails from your dad. I saw the court documents.”

My pulse goes from zero to sixty. “And you’re okay with it?”

“It’s not your fault. I hate knowing you went through that.”

I blink. Is she serious right now? “I still think I should explain.”

“Gray, it’s okay. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and it’s the past. Let’s leave it there.” She moves onto her knees, twisting so she’s facing me. “We can’t change what happened. You were nineteen and I was eighteen. We were kids, Gray. I have to leave the past in the past and focus on what’s right here, right now. You broke my heart, but I can’t hold you responsible for what your teenage self did.”

I want nothing more than to agree, kiss her, and move on. But I have to tell her. She needs to know that things aren’t over. “I think I should tell you the details, Pepper. A lot of what happened…it made me who I am today.”

“That’s how the past works,” she says with a smile. “The good, the bad…it shapes us. But we can’t keep going back. I’ve made mistakes too.”

None like I have. “My past is…is a lot more fucked up than most.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says.

Oh, but it does. “Sometimes you can let go of the past, but the past doesn’t let go of you.”

“Grayson, whatever happened six years ago that made you not come back doesn’t define you.”

I close my eyes and lower my forehead onto hers. “Sometimes it does,” I whisper and move my hands up to her face, cupping her cheeks. I go to kiss her and she stiffens. “Sorry. I…I don’t know what you want.”

“Neither do I.” She moves her braid behind her back. “That’s a lie. I do know what I want.”

“What, then?”

“I want you to hold me tight and tell me everything is going to be all right. I want you to kiss me and make everything else disappear. I want to believe that things between us can work out, and I want you to tell me that you still love me.”

“I do. I still do. I never stopped loving you.”

“But I’m scared. What if what I want isn’t what I need? I don’t want to get hurt again.” A tear rolls down her cheek. I wipe it away and lean in for a kiss.

“I won’t hurt you,” I promise. It feels like a lie. She could very well get hurt because of me, and that’s kind of the same thing.

“I want to believe you. I want to believe you so much.” She looks into my eyes. “Because I still love you too.”

I cradle her against me, replaying her words in my mind. This is everything I wanted: Pepper accepting my fuck-ups. Moving on. Hearing her say she loves me.

“Grayson?” She moves her head back and locks eyes with me. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

I can’t resist her any longer. My lips go against hers, and this time she parts them and her tongue goes into my mouth. Her arms wrap around me and she leans back onto the mattress, pulling me down with her. I fall between her legs, cock hardening. She groans when she feels it, thrusting her hips up against my erection.

As satisfying as her kisses are, it’s not enough. I need more of her, to lose myself completely.

“I love you, Pepper,” I say again. “I’ve always loved you.”

She grabs the hem of my shirt and I sit up so she can pull it over my head. It drops on the floor and she runs her hands over my chest, staring at my tattoos. Her finger hovers over a jagged scar on my right peck, hidden beneath black ink. She kisses the scar, then works her way up my neck. I groan as she bites at me, cock so hard it’s almost painful. I need to be inside of her.

I take her top off, throwing it to the side. She’s not wearing a bra, and her pert nipples only intensify my insane desire for her.

“I fucking need you,” she growls, yanking me on top of her. “Take my pants off. Then take off yours.”

I do as I’m told, then dive back onto Pepper, wet tip of my dick rubbing against her hot clit. I move my mouth off hers and kiss my way down. I’m not moving fast enough for her, and Pepper pushes my head between her legs. Her eagerness is so fucking sexy. I get to work, tongue lashing against her, tasting, teasing…it doesn’t take long before her thighs begin to tighten and squeeze together. One hand is in my hair, pulling, and the other is twisting the sheets. I look up, watching her face as she cums. Color breaks out on her cheeks, spreading down her neck and over her chest.

Watching her orgasm is so fucking hot. Almost hot enough to make me cum as well. My cock pulses, aching to be touched. I’m only half aware that I’m reaching for it as I keep kissing Pepper’s most tender region, feeling her squirm against my lips.

I’m getting myself close to the edge without meaning to. I let go of my own cock and push a finger inside Pepper as I continue to work my tongue. She lets out a moan and cums again, wetness spilling from her and she screams.

I kiss the inside of her thighs, wipe my mouth and move on top. Pepper’s eyes are closed and her mouth is open. The aftermath is hitting her, and I can feel her core contracting against my cock.

I put my lips to hers, and knowing she’s tasting herself is such a fucking turn on. I push inside her, letting out a groan along with Pepper. Her arms fall weakly around me, and I thrust in hard and fast, needing a release because she’s got me so incredibly turned on, I almost don’t know what to do with myself. The intense need I have for her is consuming, and I don’t ever want to stop fucking Pepper Davenwood.

Her nails bite into my back and she bucks her hips, making my dick hit her g-spot which brings on another orgasm. Her pussy contracts around my dick, and the way that she clings to me as she cums does me in.

I lower my head, biting her shoulder, coming harder than I ever have before. The orgasm rolls through my whole body, from my toes to my head, sending waves of tingling pleasure through every part of me.

And judging by the way Pepper is writhing, almost unable to process how incredible everything feels, hers is just as intense. I hold myself there inside her for a moment, and then collapse next to her.

“Holy shit,” she pants, hardly able to move. “That was…that was incredible.”

My heart is still racing. “We were always good at this.”

“We still are good at this.”

I smile and kiss her once more. “You’re really okay with everything? Everything you saw on the computer, I mean.”

“I’m not happy with it, of course, but it’s over right? You seemed to have moved on, so I can too.”

Maybe I died. Got stabbed in the back by those prospects and slowly bled to death on my own lawn. Because this is too damn perfect. “I’m sorry I left you, Pepper. I regretted it every day, if that helps.”

“It does. And you left, but you’re here now. That’s all that matters. Let’s start over with no tension.”

“I can do that. Starting over is a good idea.” I prop myself up and hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Grayson. Forget I just fucked you senseless a few minutes ago. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Pepper,” she says with a laugh and shakes my hand. “And it’s nice to meet you too.”

“Can I take you on a date tomorrow, Pepper?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I usually don’t go places with strangers.”

Her fingers brush over the fresh scabs on my knuckles I got from punching those two assholes. “What happened?”

“Scraped my hand doing yard work.” The lie comes out of me before I have time to think it through. Things are so fucking perfect right now, I don’t want to mess it up or worry her. I’ll tell her in the morning.

She kisses the wound. “Poor baby.” She rests her head on my chest. I hold her tight, running my fingertips up and down her arm. In just minutes she’s asleep, which doesn’t surprise me considering everything she’s been through in the last few weeks. She has to be exhausted. Hell, I am too, though despite how worn out I am, I can’t seem to fall asleep, and when I do, my dreams twist into nightmares about blood and steel.

*

“I have to go into the office today,” Pepper tells me. It’s early in the morning and we just got done fucking again. Our bodies—sweaty and naked—are draped over each other’s, unsure of where one ends and the other begins. “It shouldn’t take me long. I have to give my uncle some papers I found in my dad’s penthouse office.” She laces her fingers through mine. “But I really don’t want to leave this bed. We have to make up for lost time, you know.”

I flip her over, moving my hand between her legs. She’s still hot and wet from me fucking her not long ago. Hot and wet and ready for more.

And now I am too.

“Where are you taking me for our date?” she asks.

“I have no idea,” I admit. “I’ll think of something…or maybe I’ll convince you we don’t need to go anywhere.”

“You already have.” Her eyes meet mine and I’m reminded again how much I fucking love this woman. “I’m glad you’re here again,” she says softly.

“I am too…and that you let me be here again.”

“I tried getting over you,” she confesses. “I tried for years. You were always in the back of my mind, and no one could compare.”

“How could they? I am pretty awesome,” I tease.

“Did you think of me every once in a while when you were away?”

“You lived in my mind. My thoughts were consumed with you. I would have done anything to go back to you, please know that.”

“I do now.”

We stay wrapped up in each other’s arms for a while longer before Pepper gets up to use the bathroom. She returns looking sexy as hell in only my t-shirt.

“Are you hungry? I can have something brought up.”

I grab her by the waist and bring her close. “I love how you have room service in your own house.”

“You know, we really owe it to the kitchen staff for never saying anything, back when we were teenagers. All those nights you snuck over and stayed…I’d order food pretending it was for me. They had to know something was up. You ate enough to feed a small country.”

“We were obvious back then. I’m sure more people knew what we were doing than we thought.”

We both laugh and Pepper runs her hands through my hair. “We don’t have to sneak around anymore. What a difference six years makes, right? But this,” she says and looks me in the eyes. “This feels right. Six years has passed and I feel comfortable around you, like that time lost is suddenly found.”

I kiss her so I don’t have to speak. Because I don’t know what to say. Right here, right now, makes it feel like the last six years didn’t happen. I left and came back days later, and we continued our relationship growing more and more in love each day. It’d be easy to fall into the belief and go on like everything is okay.

But it’s not.

Chapter Sixteen

Pepper

Water rolls down his tattooed chest, each drop cascading to the shower floor. I bring my hands up, resting them on his pecks. His skin is warm. Wet. Slippery. He puts his arms around me, sliding them down my back to my ass. A mound of scar tissue disrupts the smoothness of his flesh beneath my fingers. I’ve only seen knife wounds in movies, and this looks exactly like one. The question of what happened during those six years burns on my tongue.

I told him it was over, that I knew what he went through as a child and don’t want to bring it up. I’m aware most people don’t grow up the way I did, but thinking of everything he didn’t get, of the horrors he witnessed and the abuse he took from his own mother is enough to break my heart all over again.

I told him it was over, and I have to accept it.

Grayson slips his hands between my legs, and I can feel his cock start to get hard. God, that man is insatiable. I’m a little sore from the night long sex-a-thon. Sore in a good way. I turn around, bracing against the tiled wall of the shower. Grayson moves my wet hair over my shoulder and kisses my neck. His dick is pressed right up against my ass, but instead of fucking me, he starts washing me.

Every touch, every movement is so gentle. We move back, and he sits on the stone bench. I get on his lap, slowly lowering myself onto him. He holds me tight, gently rocking us back and forth, bringing on a slow burn that erupts into flames. It’s not just sex; it’s connecting on a deeper level, physically connecting our bodies into one.

After we shower, Grayson and I eat a late breakfast in the courtyard. We talk and he makes me laugh, and it’s the first time in a while that I’ve felt at ease in my own home. It’s like the missing pieces are slowly coming back together, and the tight knot of anxiety in my chest has loosened.

We go upstairs so I can get dressed and ready to go into the city. Grayson sits on a lounge chair in the closet, looking bored but not complaining as I agonize what to wear. I hate how women in the workforce are judged on what they wear.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks. “I don’t mean to impose, but you said you were worried about someone turning on you.”

“I am worried, but…” My mind goes back to the files on my father’s computer. Or lack there of, technically.

“But?”

I turn away from the full-length mirror and look into Grayson’s eyes. “But what if no one is after me? Not anymore than they were before. Owning corporations, being born into…into all this.” I wave my hand around the room. “It’s nothing new, nothing I didn’t already know to watch out for. Even as a child I was taught that people will try to take advantage of me just because I have the Davenwood name. It’s all stuff I know already. Who I can talk business with…who to trust…it’s a small circle, but one that’s been drawn around me for years.”

“What are you getting at, Pepper?” Grayson asks.

“I looked through all my father’s things. In this house. In his office downtown. In his penthouse…and I didn’t find anything. Not even in your file. There were no notes, no direction of who you should be concerned about. And you don’t know my father, but leaving a threat on the side, waiting for it to attack…that’s not him.”

Grayson nods and comes over to me. “You’re right, and I thought the same thing. I don’t know your father like you did, but I could tell right away he was a man who never forgot a detail, especially with what he knew about me,” he mumbles the last part. “The way he wanted me to just watch you, get to know you from a distance…it’s almost like he…like he…wanted to make sure I still cared about you the way I used to.” He takes my hands in his, bringing them to his lips. My heart flutters, feeling as close to whole as possible. And then something clicks into place.

“Maybe he just made the whole thing up to get you here. Maybe he knew I’d need you—that I’ve always needed you—and you needed me too. And maybe he never would have told us the truth, or maybe he just ran out of time. But it doesn’t matter now, because I’m here and you’re here and nothing has ever felt more right in my life than when we’re together.”

I look into Grayson’s blue eyes, watching him contemplate it all.

“But what I don’t get,” I go on. “Is why he didn’t just introduce us again. You know, fake a meeting or something.”

Grayson looks at the floor, shoulders hunching forward ever so slightly. His lips part, but no words come out. “I don’t know,” he says and I have a feeling he’s denying whatever he wants to say. “But if your dad really did make this an elaborate setup, I wish I could have had a chance to thank him.”

“Me too.”

He kisses me, and then takes a step back. “You look good in that. You have the whole sexy librarian vibe going on.”

I laugh, looking down at the gray pencil skirt and matching jacket. “I feel like a politician. I hate wearing ‘office appropriate clothing’ like this.”

“You don’t have to wear it for long.”

I nod. “Right. I’m bringing a different dress to change into once this meeting is done.” I turn, going to the section in my closet that houses my daytime dresses. “Oh, I forgot about this one!” I pull out a blue Versace dress that still has the tags on.

“Do you ever repeat an outfit?” Grayson asks with a laugh.

“Yes, of course I do. I have a favorite shirt.”

Grayson slowly turns around, looking at the massive closet. “I don’t get why you need so much space for clothes that you basically wear once. If you’re always getting new stuff, then you need a small space.”

“But where would I put this new stuff?” I smile and shake my head, moving across the closet to the floor to ceiling wall of shoes. “But I get what you’re saying. And sometimes it hits me how unnecessary this all is.” I remember the time I tried explaining to Grayson the feelings of intense guilt that would hit me every now and then from being born into a wealthy family. I didn’t ask for it, can’t help who my parents are—were—and all, but I did nothing to deserve it either. The privilege I did nothing to earn still gets to me.

“So,” I say, picking out shoes and moving onto jewelry. “Since you offered to come with and all, I thought we could make it a date.”

“I’ll do whatever you want, Pepper.”

“Well, in that case…” I give him my most innocent smile. “I want to go to the zoo.”

He raises an eyebrow, staring at me for a few seconds before talking. “Are you being serious?”

“I am. With everything going on, all this new responsibility and stress, having my heart broken over and over…I don’t want to be an adult, even if it’s just for a couple of hours.”

His full lips curve into a smile. “I can definitely help with that.”

I step over, returning the smile. “Thank you. I figured we could swing by your place so you can get some stuff. I’m assuming you’re staying the night here again tonight, right?”

“My place,” he echoes, and his eyes go dark. He blinks it away, and his smile is back but not before I noticed. “I can go. You don’t have to. And then I’ll meet you in the city.”

“That’s a lot of unnecessary driving about, putting pollutants into the air for no reason. Your house isn’t far; I don’t mind.”

Grayson blinks and nods. “Yeah. You’re right.”

*

“If we hurry, we can make it to the last sea lion feeding!” I give Grayson’s hand a tug, pulling him forward. We’ve spent the entire afternoon together like this, looking at the animals, buying snacks and souvenirs like a bunch of tourists.

It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

All my issues are in the back of my mind. They’re not gone, but have been pushed far enough into the dark corners of my brain that I’m able to enjoy the day. After watching the sea lions eat, Grayson and I get ice cream, stopping by the snow leopard exhibit to eat. We slowly walk around the zoo after that, and when we get to the grizzly bears, I get out my phone to take a picture of the two of us.

I have over a million followers on Instagram, which weirds me out when I think about it. I don’t think I’m that interesting of a person…but I was born into money, which makes me interesting, I guess.

After refreshing my lipstick and messing with my floppy hat until it looks just right, I take several pictures of Grayson and I. He looks great in all of them, of course. I upload it with the caption “Life is hard. Life is fleeting. You never know when it might end. Be kind to yourself, and be kind to those around you. In the end, they’re all you have. I’m so grateful for everyone in my life, especially this guy right now. I’m not sure how I would have made it through the last few weeks without him.”

I upload the photo and toss my phone back into my purse, slipping my arm through Grayson’s. We continue to walk through Central Park, stopping at The Pond when the sun begins to sink beneath the horizon. Grayson’s arms go around me, and he steps in close. I hook my hands on his shoulders, staring into his gorgeous eyes.

“Thank you, Gray. You have no idea how much I needed this day.”

“I’ll do this every day of my life if it makes you happy,” he says and kisses me. The one kiss sends pulses of pleasure through me, and I melt into him.

“Whoa,” I say after a few seconds of intense making out goes by. “I almost forgot we were in the middle of the park.”

“I don’t care,” Grayson growls, putting his lips to my neck. “I’ll lay you down and fuck you right here.”

“Right here?”

Grayson slips his hands down my back and grabs my ass. “Maybe not here, but off in the woods.”

I’ve never had sex in public before. The thought is a bit thrilling, but more anxiety provoking, for me personally. I look back at Grayson, wondering if he’d actually do it. My phone rings before I can find out.

“It’s my uncle,” I explain and take the call. We talk for just a minute before I hang up.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. A potential business partner flew in from Beijing today instead of next week, like we planned. We’re all supposed to meet for dinner now.”

“As much as I want to keep you to myself, I understand. Go, and be prepared for an epic fucking when you get home.”

I blush, still able to feel his dick between my legs from this morning. “Come with me?”

“I don’t know shit about your business.”

I bite my lip. “I don’t know much about it either, and I own it.” The stress that escaped me starts to come back. “I’m responsible for thousands of people’s jobs. If I make a wrong decision, if I lead us in the wrong—”

“Hey,” Grayson interrupts. “Stop. You’ll be great, and it’ll take a while to get the hang of, but you’ll figure it out.”

I let out a deep breath. “Thanks. I feel kind of like a fraud for being the owner, but not actually being there too.”

“Bruce Wayne owned Wayne Enterprises and wasn’t there on a daily basis,” he offers.

“Yeah, but he was out saving the world.”

“Not the world. Just Gotham.” Grayson playfully elbows me, and then takes my hand. “If anyone can do this, Pepper, it’s you.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Just to you.” He says it like a joke, but the darkness creeps back and for a second, I know he’s serious.

*

“If that’s how you look when you go on business dinners, I think I’ll tag along more often,” Grayson says, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He eyes me up and down, wiggling his eyebrows. I’m wearing a midnight purple evening dress that’s low cut and curve hugging.

I laugh and step forward to help him with the button and then his tie. “Thanks. And maybe you’ll have to.” I tighten his tie and let my hands fall, fingers sweeping over his abs. “I’m not saying I’m planning our wedding or anything, but I want to think you’ll be in my future.”

“I’m not going anywhere this time, Pepper. I promise.”

I thread a thin leather belt through the loops on his pants. “You look good in a suit.”

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” he says with a laugh.

“I was thinking. You do look good in a suit. Roll the sleeves of your button-up halfway and I’m a goner. But you in jeans, a t-shirt and those tattoos…I like that best.”

“That’s easy enough for me.”

“When did you get the tattoos?” I ask and turn back to the mirror, putting in diamond studs in my ears. “You didn’t have them when you left.”

I see Grayson stiffen in his reflection, and his hand subconsciously fly to his chest, touching the tattoos beneath his clothing. “After my dad died. The first one was in his honor.”

“That’s sweet. Sweet in a manly way, of course.” We go downstairs, sitting in the front living room just talking until it’s time to go to dinner. Not wanting to deal with the long drive into the city, we take the business chopper, which Grayson is excited about.

I feel a tug in my heart when we take off, missing my father. He finally had the time to get his pilot license last year. But we never had the time to go out together like we talked about. I close my eyes to keep from crying, and promise myself that I’ll always find time for the ones I love. Because in the end, that’s what matters.

Grayson is staring at the city below, face lit up like a kid on Christmas. He turns to me, mouthing, “This is awesome” and then looks back down. And now I’m smiling too. The emptiness is still there, and I know the loss of a parent leaves a hole that never goes away. But it won’t hurt like this forever. The ache will go away, the edge will scar over and begin to heal.

Knowing I have Grayson has already started the process. While I think it’s wise to take things somewhat slow—it has been six years after all—I know there’s no half-assing when it comes to Grayson King.

He’s an all-or-nothing kind of man.

The helicopter takes us to the roof of my father’s—my—building downtown. We meet my uncle in his office, and I introduce him to Grayson. My uncle remembers him from when we were teens. He’s my mother’s brother, and while he wasn’t blood related to my father, he was family in his eyes, even after my mom died. Uncle David never married, unless you count his relationship with his work.

When we’re about ready to leave, I tell Grayson I have a business matter to attend to and shoo him out of the office.

“What’s that about?” my uncle asks, slipping his arms through the sleeves of his suit jacket.

“Did my father ever say anything about Grayson to you? Recently, I mean. Not years ago.”

Uncle David shakes his head. “No, why?”

I take a breath, debating how much to tell. Part of me feels bad for keeping my uncle in the dark. “About a month ago, he hired Grayson to follow me around, making sure I was safe.”

“Why would he do that? We have our own security.”

“He said something about not trusting his own people and thought someone was out to get me.”

My uncle almost drops his briefcase. “Pepper! Why didn’t you tell me? If someone is—”

“I don’t think they are,” I interrupt. “Come on, you really think that Alcott Davenwood would just ignore a potential threat?”

“Hell no. You father would have exposed and extinguished the smallest threat to this family.”

“Exactly. Which is why it’s curious that he asked Gray to come back.”

We start walking to the door. I can see Grayson through the glass walls, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

“Are you sure your father had him come back here?”

I nod. “I saw their text messages on my father’s phone. And,” I start, unable to keep the smile from my face, “I’m glad he’s back.”

“Be careful, Pepper. I see so much of my sister in you. Not just in how you look, but in how you want to see the good in everyone. Trust isn’t a commodity to pass out.”

“I know. And I trust Grayson.” I open the office door. “We should go before we’re late.”

I take Grayson’s hand, not letting go until we’re outside and getting in the car. I’m about to duck in the back of the Bentley when a familiar sound catches my attention. I whirl around, looking down the street.

“Pepper?” Grayson asks, putting his hand on the small of my back and stepping in close. His stance is protective. He sees the men on motorcycles too. “Get in the car.”

I swallow my nerves and scramble in, almost falling face-first onto the leather seat. I scoot over to the window, so thankful for the dark tint, and watch taillights disappear behind cars on the busy downtown street.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” my uncle says. “Are you all right, Pepper?”

Grayson gets in next to me just as quickly. He closes the door before the driver has a chance to and moves in close to me, looking out the window.

“Yeah. I’m nervous for this meeting, that’s all.”

“Don’t be. I’ve been on conferences calls with Mr. Lee all week. I can do all the talking if you wish.”

“Yeah. That’d be great, actually.”

“Then I will. Don’t stress, Pepper. You’re here to show we’re serious about this partnership.”

I force a smile and nod. This can’t be a coincidence anymore. Or maybe I’m hyper-vigilant to motorcycles now. Lots of people in the city have them. And it’s such a nice night…calm down, Pepper.

Grayson doesn’t say much on the way to dinner. He looks up and down the street when we get out of the car, using his body to shield me as if he’s expecting the worst. Seeing him all anxious only increases my own anxiety. Does he know something about the men on the bikes? I can’t ask him anything now; it has to wait until after dinner. I order wine as soon as we sit down and take a big sip as soon as I get it.

Deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out.

I do my best to pay attention as my uncle and Mr. Lee discuss business, but my mind keeps going back to the men on the motorcycles. What do they want from me? Are they mad their friends attacked me and got arrested? That’s assuming they’re even in a gang—club—I don’t even know.

Mr. Lee’s daughter came with him. She’s always wanted to see New York City, he told us. She’s close in age with me and competes in dressage. We start talking about horses, and along with wine and Grayson’s reassuring hand on my thigh, I relax.

By the time dinner starts to wrap up, the partnership has come to an agreement, June Lee and I consider each other friends, and I’m not worried about men in leather anymore. Grayson gets up to use the bathroom, and I get out my phone to show June pictures of Spartan.

“Pepper?” a familiar voice calls to me. “Pepper, is that you?”

I look up and feel my four-course dinner rise in my throat. Olson.

“Oh, it is you!” he says. A young woman in a tight black dress hangs on his arm.

“Ex-boyfriend?” June whispers.

“He wishes,” I whisper back and put on my best I-didn’t-win-the-Oscar-but-the-cameras-are-on-me smile. “Hello, Olson.”

His eyes dart around the table, lingering a second too long on the empty spot next to me. “What are you doing?”

“She was enjoying a nice dinner, but now she’s talking to you,” June retorts, earning a you-better-behave-yourself glare from her father. I knew there was a reason I liked her right off the bat.

“Oh. We’re going to dinner too. This is my date. Cassy.”

“Chastity,” his date corrects, but doesn’t seem to care. I get the feeling she’s only here for the private jet ride Olson offered.

“You look good, Pepper,” he says and tries to shake his date off his arm. She doesn’t budge. “I’m sorry for before. My behavior…it wasn’t my best.”

My eyes widen. An apology doesn’t change him, but it’s a step in the right direction. “Thank you,” I reply. “It’s nice to hear.”

“I mean it, Pepper. You have a way of intimidating a man.” He flashes a smile. “My nerves got the best of me.”

Yeah the fuck right. “We all make mistakes.”

“We do. I hope you can forgive me,” he says and his date stares daggers at me. Hey, he’s all yours honey.

“Maybe I can make it up to you,” Olson starts. “Take you out for coffee.”

“That’s not necessary,” I say with a fake smile plastered to my face.

“It’s just coffee.”

“I have a boyfriend,” I say, even though Grayson and I haven’t established titles. Though really, I shouldn’t have to give a reason. I said no to coffee. Isn’t that enough?

“That was fast,” Olson counters.

My uncle straightens up, eyeballing Olson. “I think it’s time to leave.”

“Yeah, we’re going,” Olson says and takes a few steps forward. Behind him, Grayson makes his way back to the table. As soon as he comes into sight, I smile, feeling my heart flutter again. Olson turns, coming to a sudden halt. Grayson looks past Olson and makes eye contact with me, mirroring my smile.

Olson rips his arm away from his date and tries to shove Grayson. Gray, who’s built like a freight train, doesn’t even wobble on his feet. His fist comes up, but he stops himself. Collective gasps escape the mouths of patrons around us, and I stand.

“Gray,” I say, holding out my hand. I know the two don’t like each other, but I’m not having a brawl in the middle of this restaurant. He sidesteps away from Olson and takes my hand.

“Seriously?” Olson bellows, looking at Grayson, who slowly shakes his head.

“No,” Gray says. “Don’t do this.”

“Oh, I’m doing this,” Olson quips with a smile. “Real nice, Pepper. You turn me down for him, a drug dealer?”

“What?” I recoil, raising my eyebrows. “You need to go, Olson. You’re taking this too far. Grayson isn’t a drug dealer.”

“He’s not anymore.” His lips curve into a thin smirk. “He didn’t tell you, did he? Well, your boyfriend here has quite the colorful record. Tell her, Grayson. What have you been arrested for? Possession…breaking and entering…assault…and my favorite: arson.”

“That’s enough,” my uncle says and signals for security to come over.

“None of that is true,” I say, turning to Grayson. “Right, Grayson?” I turn to Grayson, whose blue eyes reflect the horror of the truth. His mouth opens, but he doesn’t say anything. Deny it. Please. Tell me it’s all lies.

Please don’t let this be true.

“Gray?”

Chapter Seventeen

Grayson

Six years ago…

“Where are we going?”

“The clubhouse. Then we’ll go home.”

“To your home, not mine,” I remind my dad. We just left the diner, and I still don’t know anymore about this shady business my dad got himself roped into. Anger builds as each minute passes and I’ve only been in California for a few hours. “So this money,” I start.

“What about it?”

“How are you going to give it back? Won’t someone notice you walking around with a hundred thousand dollars?”

“They didn’t notice when I took it,” he says with a smirk. Then he lets out a deep breath. “Ah, shit.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and turns to look at me. “You’re a good kid,” he says for the second time in an hour. “Stay that way. You got your whole life ahead of you.”

“That’s not ominous as fuck or anything,” I muse and my dad chuckles. “And I have my fair share of fuck-ups.”

“What you call a fuck-up now is small potatoes when you’re an old man like me.”

The bad feeling grows inside of me, snowballing the farther we get from the airport. Pepper texted me again, wondering how things were going. I don’t know how to answer that, so I hold off on my reply for now.

“Why are you going to the clubhouse? Shouldn’t you be avoiding those guys?”

“Those guys are my brothers,” my dad replies.

Brothers you stole from… “They have no idea, right?”

“If they did, I wouldn’t be here.”

I swallow hard, heart pounding away. I’ll be the first to argue that I’m an adult. I have my own apartment. I pay my own bills. I have a job and I’m in college. But dealing with this…this isn’t something I feel grown up enough to deal with.

“Mr. Davenwood can give you money,” I blurt. “He has more than enough.”

“I don’t want to get Alcott involved in this.”

But getting me involved is okay?

“So you want me to delete this text I’m writing to Pepper giving her all the details, right?”

My dad turns to me, telling me this isn’t a joking matter with just one look. I put my phone in the cup holder of the truck and lean back, watching the scenery as we drive through Santa Cruz. A while later we arrive at a warehouse. Light spills onto the pavement from the open garage door. Dozens of motorcycles are parked out front, and loud music filters through the closed truck windows.

We get out and go inside. It’s like walking onto the set of a biker movie. Things are so cliché it takes some of the fear away. My father introduces me to everyone, and I’m surprised by how normal these guys are. They talk about work and families, complaining about housework and misbehaving children. A few aren’t happy I’m here, getting access to the club without earning any patches.

I’m not here to stay, my father reminds them, tossing around his officer status. I’m visiting for the weekend, and no one has a clue to why I’m really here. Nothing official is going on, and I grow bored listening to the guys’ bullshit. About an hour later, another biker comes in, pissed as hell. Apparently, a man in an SUV ran him off the road, causing his motorcycle to slide on gravel and go down hard on the pavement. The SUV driver wants to handle things legally and file with insurance as well as have the situation investigated because he denies it’s all his fault, and the biker wants the cash to fix his bike right now. The club members are in an uproar when they find out, and six of them take off to “handle” the situation. No one disrespects a member of The Jackals and walks away.

My blood runs cold.

If they’re willing to beat a man unconscious for what sounds like an accident, they will skin my father alive for what he’s done. When another patch holder suggests using the club money to help cover repairs, my father stiffens. They’ll have to call a meeting and take a vote tomorrow. And if the club votes to do so, they’ll know right away the money is gone.

I stare at my father from across the room. He has less than twenty-four hours to get that money or he’s a dead man.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out; it’s another text from Pepper, saying she misses me and is tired and is going to bed, but call her when I have the chance anyway. I don’t reply. I’m too shaken up to type out a coherent sentence, and I want too badly to confide my fears to her.

Using me as an excuse to cut out early, my father leaves the clubhouse before the other members are back. I keep my mouth shut until we’re a good mile away.

“You have to go get that money now,” I say, heart pounding like mad in my ears. “No waiting.”

My dad just nods, and turns in the opposite direction of where we came. An hour later, the truck bumps along a gravel road in a trailer park.

“Wade is my partner,” my dad tells me, killing the ignition. “He’s a lot of talk, and can throw a punch or two. But that’s all he’s got. Go in hard. Don’t be afraid to rough him up.”

I swallow my pounding heart and nod. I’ve been in fights, and won most of them. The ones I didn’t win got broken up before I had a chance to. My dad knocks on the door of a run-down trailer, and a minute later it opens.

“Nicky!” the guy says, holding out his arms. He takes a long drag on a blunt and blows smoke in our faces. “What’s up, man?”

“Listen, Wade,” my dad starts, “I need my damn money.”

“I ain’t got your money.”

They go into a heated verbal exchange. Years in the Army have made my dad intimidating to get into a yelling match with. But years in the Army have left him with injuries and he can’t get around as fast anymore.

Which is where I come into play.

I’m thinking of Pepper. Of how much I miss her and want to be back in bed with her right now. I’m thinking of how fucked up my dad’s life is at this moment. Of how much I want this shit over so we can all go back to normal and not deal with fucking clubs and death threats.

And something inside me snaps. I lunge forward, grabbing Wade by the collar. I shove him into the wall behind us, and the blunt falls from his hands.

“Whoa, whoa,” he says. “Easy, man!”

“Give him the money, and I won’t hurt you,” I spit out. I’ve never threatened anyone like this before. I’m not sure what to say. “Get the money, and I’ll let you live.” I shove him into the wall, and his head flops back, putting a dent in the drywall.

“Jesus, man, okay!”

I let him go, and he makes a move for the blunt on the floor. I catch his arm, pulling it up and bending it behind his back. “I said, get the money.”

“Look, I will get it to you. I…I don’t have it now!”

I twist his arm. This needs to end. I want to go home, to Pepper. “Find a way to get it.”

“Okay!” he scrambles away and makes some calls. Twenty minutes later, Wade scrounged up seventy-five grand. Hey, it’s getting there, right? We have to drive across town to one of his friends, who has the cash. I’m not convinced this isn’t a setup. Though my dad and I both know it’s a risk we have to take.

I don’t say a single thing as we leave. I click the seatbelt into place, ignoring my father’s praise of how well I handled myself back there. I’m so fucking angry…angry and scared. I don’t want my dad to get murdered.

We’re flying down the highway, going ten over the speed limit, when red and blue lights flash behind us.

“Goddammit,” my dad huffs, and pulls over. It’s a traffic stop, and he gets ticketed for speeding. It should be done and over, but the cop smells the weed on our clothes. We get out and the cop asks if there’s anything in the truck he should know about. My dad tells him no with a straight face. Another cop arrives for backup. We’re standing on the side of the road, waiting for the truck to be searched.

My phone rings, and I take a step toward the truck to answer. It’s Pepper, and I know she’s wondering why I haven’t replied to her texts. Fuck. I hate making her worry. A cop tells me to stay where I am, then calls the other officer over. I watch him pull a bag of weed from between the seat cushions.

“Anyone care to claim this?” one of the officers asks. My heart stops beating, and my mind is bombarded with thoughts. It’s my dad’s, and suddenly his involvement with Wade and the shitty way he looks makes a lot more sense. I’m fucking pissed as hell. My pathetic excuse of a mother was a junkie, always high on something. I went through some real shit as a child, and it was a battle to prove to the state that she wasn’t fit to raise me.

Drugs ruined her life, and almost ended mine.

I want him to take responsibility. I’m pissed enough to find satisfaction in watching him get handcuffed and put in the back of the police car and spend a few weeks or months in the slammer. But he can’t. If he goes to jail for this, he won’t be able to get the money and return it to the Jackals in time.

If he goes to jail for this, he’s a dead man walking.

I only have a second to make a choice: him or me. My body goes numb as I step forward. “It’s mine.”

Chapter Eighteen

Pepper

“Grayson,” I repeat. “Tell me this isn’t true.” I feel like I’m getting sucked backwards into darkness, and the world is swirling around me. Grayson isn’t a bad person. He can’t be. Not after we fixed all that was broken between us. Not after I set out on this new path of optimism, seeing the light after the storm only because he was my sun.

“It’s not,” he says, and blinks several times. “Not at all. That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

One of the security guards comes over and grabs Olson’s arm. “Don’t touch me,” he hisses, jerking away. “You’ll see, Pepper. You’ll see I was right. Don’t come crying to me when you get mixed up in his motorcycle club drug war.”

“Get him out of here,” my uncle tells security. “Now!” I watch as Olson fights against the security guard, trying to convince him that he has a reservation here and that the guard has no right to make him leave.

I sink back down in my seat, covering my face with my hand. Grayson takes his seat next to me.

“Pepper, I’ll explain,” he whispers and confirms my fear. This is real. This is the truth. Grayson did all those horrible things and isn’t denying it. “Later.” He gives my thigh a squeeze and looks across the table. “I’d like to apologize on his behalf. He’s not too happy about my relationship with Pepper.”

“Knowing Ms. Davenwood is highly desirable perks my interest in the company even more,” Mr. Lee jokes.

“Don’t feel bad,” June tells me. “That made the night memorable. I knew New York wouldn’t let me down.”

I shake my head, knowing my cheeks are as red as my lipstick. “There are better ways to remember New York.”

“Hey, take it as a compliment.” She looks at Grayson. “You better treat her right. People are willing to cause a scene for her.”

“Pepper is the most amazing woman I’ll ever meet. I’d do more than that for her.”

“Awww,” June swoons. “You guys are so cute together.”

I force a smile and pat Grayson’s outstretched hand, but he feels like a stranger all over again. I make it through dessert—and another glass of wine—without dying of embarrassment. Grayson falls silent, only talking if asked a question. The few times I cast my eyes in his direction, he’s staring down at his plate. His chest rapidly rises and falls. Shit. This isn’t going to be good.

I reach for my wine, needing the alcohol to flood my heart, creating a safe landing for the pieces as they fall. Instead of shattering on impact, they’ll drown. The suffering is longer in the end, but it’s easier to jump when you think you can land in water and swim to safety.

We all walk out together. June and I exchange numbers, and I can’t help but think our fast friendship saved this disaster of a business meeting. My uncle hugs me goodnight, saying he’ll call me in the morning. He says it loud enough for Grayson to hear, and I’m not entirely convinced my uncle believes Olson was spitting lies.

“Want to walk?” Grayson asks.

“Yeah,” I say and his hand lands on the small of my back. I shiver and look down at my shoes, not talking. We could walk one block or a hundred, it wouldn’t change the way I feel. Grayson comes to a sudden halt.

“Pepper,” he says. I whirl around, and the constant flow of people funnels around me. “We need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say and smile. My right eye twitches. Am I losing it? Hell, if I lose Grayson, there will be nothing left. “Fine, there’s everything to talk about.” I take a steadying breath and run my eyes over the man before me.

I see the child I used to run around with.

I see the teenager I feel in love with.

I see the stranger who saved me in the alley weeks ago.

I see the man who I love.

I don’t want that to change. The city swirls around me, and I sway in my heels. My ears rings, and I’m sure if I close my eyes, the night will swallow me whole.

And I’ll let it.

“Pepper.” Grayson’s hand lands on my shoulders. His touch is fire and ice, everything good and everything bad. I should move away, take his hands off me, tell him to leave and never come back.

But I can’t.

Instead, I’m pulled to him like a magnet, and I want nothing more than to kiss him right here and right now, forgetting everything that just happened. Darkness clouds his sky blue eyes. He stares back at me, full of guilt and regret. Those eyes that once held nothing but love and lust for me reflect back something else, something sinful. And I know without a doubt, there’s no escaping.

If he’s bad, I don’t want to be good. If he’s a sinner, I will never be a saint. Because I am completely in love with Grayson King.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

“You know who I am,” he says back, pained by my question. “You’ve always known.”

“No,” I say and shake my head. “I don’t anymore.”

Grayson’s hands slide down my arms, and he slips his fingers through mine. We move to the side of the sidewalk, out of the way of the foot traffic of busy New Yorkers.

“All that stuff Olson said…it’s true?”

Grayson looks down. “Not exactly true.”

“But partially?”

“I thought you saw the court documents.”

I blink, and then the connection hits me. “I meant I saw the court documents about your mother losing custody. That’s what the emails from our fathers were about.”

“Oh. Well, fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair. “That was so long ago it didn’t even occur to me. I tried to tell you, Pepper.”

“You did,” I say and remember it clearly. “I told you it didn’t matter. And Grayson?” I shuffle my feet and rest my hand on his chest. “It still doesn’t.”

“It should.” He turns away. “What I got involved with isn’t over. That’s what I was trying to tell you. You need to know the truth, Pepper. You need to know everything.”

My heart hammers in my chest. The night goes on around us. People talk. Laugh. Argue. Move on with their lives so blissfully unaware that everything I love is dangling by a thread.

“Then tell me. But first, kiss me.”

Grayson eyes glimmer and he bends forward, planting his lips on mine. The kiss takes me back to the night in the stable, when I knew deep down, despite the fear and apprehension, that this was it. Grayson is my all-or-nothing, my beginning and end. Without him, it would just be me because there will never be another who fits me as perfectly as he does. We were made for each other, two pieces of entirely different puzzles that come together seamlessly.

“I have one question,” I breathe as we break apart. “Did you sell drugs?”

“No,” he says firmly. “You saw what my mother was like. I still remember all the times I found her passed out on the floor with a needle in her arm. I know how destructive drugs can be. I’d never sell them so someone else can ruin their child’s life.”

Relief floods through me, though I know the worst is yet to come. I still don’t know what Grayson did. “You were really arrested?”

“Yes. I spent four years of my life behind bars.”

I’m not sure how to process that information. This changes everything, yet things are the same. “I don’t understand,” I say and put my head in my hands.

“I’ll tell you everything, Pepper. Every last fucking detail. Give me the chance to explain. You need to know it all. I served my time, but the past isn’t staying in the past.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared.”

The chill is back, running rampant through me. I open my mouth to question him further, but a familiar sound sends my nerves on end. Time stands still for just a second, and a second is all that’s needed. I turn my head, following the sound of motorcycle engines echoing off the buildings, muffled by the hustle and bustle of bodies moving along the street on this hot summer night.

The man on the motorcycle looks me right in the eyes. He shifts his gaze to Grayson, and the most wicked smile pulls his lips into a sneer. He twists the throttle, revving the engine as a threat, and streetlight reflect off the iridescent threat wound throughout the patch of a large reaper on the back of his leather jacket.

Chapter Nineteen

Grayson

I pull Pepper close to me and turn around, blocking her from view. What the fuck? Are they following me? How do they—oh shit.

The picture Pepper took yesterday of the two of us at the zoo. She posted it on some social media site. I don’t follow shit like that, and being in prison for years made me a bit out of touch with everything mainstream. But I know Pepper has a lot of followers and it wouldn’t be hard to connect me to her.

And her to me.

“I’m either going crazy or that guy is stalking me too,” Pepper says.

I take her hand and bring her through the door of whatever store we’re in front of. I don’t even look at what it is. My only concern is getting Pepper off the street and out of a direct line of sight. I keep my body between her and the street, just in case.

“You’ve seen him before?” I lean close to Pepper, who flicks her eyes around the little shop. We’re in a gourmet deli and café, and everyone is watching us. It doesn’t fucking matter.

“Not him specifically, but I’ve seen guys wearing that same patch.”

“When?” I demand. “When did you first see them?”

“A while ago. Two weeks? Three? I don’t remember.” She closes her eyes as she thinks. I know she’s rattled. I know a lot of info has been thrown at her in the last few minutes. But I need her to think.

“When, Pepper?”

She turns, aware that everyone on the shop is watching us. Her eyes close for a second, then her face pales. “The night I was mugged. Almost mugged.”

“Dammit,” I mutter a little too loud. We don’t need any more attention. I want to glare back and tell them to mind their own fucking business. Though it’s probably not every day they see someone like me with someone like Pepper. Then I remember that I’m in a designer suit and look like someone she very well should be with. Looks are so fucking deceiving.

“Sit,” Pepper says, collecting herself. I take a seat at a small metal table, foot tapping on the ground as I go over everything in my head. I was too concerned with not being there when the cops showed up to get a good look at those asshole’s patches. I should have drilled them, or at the very least dragged their unconscious bodies into the light to have a better look.

But I didn’t. I went to Pepper and then left like a goddamn fool all because I didn’t want to risk going back to jail. Now Pepper could be in danger. It’s not possible to hate myself more than I do right now.

Pepper returns with cheese and a bottle of wine. She doesn’t open the wine, but nervously picks apart the cheese, taking tiny bites.

“I need you to tell me everything from that night,” I say quietly.

“You already know it.”

“I know what happened to you. And I hate asking you to relive that night.” I reach over and take her hand. “Before they saw you, before they attacked, did you see them? What were they doing?”

She closes her eyes for a few seconds, then opens them and breaks another piece of cheese off the block. “One was on the phone. He was talking about something looking like a picture…something about skulls.”

“Fuck,” I say and pound my fist on the table. Pepper puts both hands on top of mine

“Gray, calm down. This isn’t the place for it, and you’re really scaring me.”

My heart of stone instantly melts, and I unball my fingers, flipping my hand over and giving Pepper’s a squeeze. “We need to go. Your uncle…he lives close, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I need you to go there. Lock the doors. Keep your security team around.”

“What about you?”

“I have to check out something.”

Pepper shakes her head and holds tightly to my hand. “No. I’m not letting you leave like this again.”

“I’ll come back this time. I promise.”

Tears fill her eyes. “That’s what you said last time. Grayson, whatever is going on, we can get through it together.”

“As much as I want to be together, I don’t want you involved. These people—if it’s really them—they’re not good people. Take all the bad things I did and roll it into one. It doesn’t hold a candle to what they’re capable of.”

Pepper’s grip on my hand tightens. I don’t mean to terrify her, though at the same time she needs to get the seriousness of the situation. “Shouldn’t we go to the police?”

The word makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The police. They take one look at me and see my record, see me as a troublemaker destined to fuck up over and over until I’m back in jail.

“Gray?” she repeats. “If these guys are as bad as you say, then we definitely should call the police. I’ll tell them they’ve been stalking me…making threats. I don’t even have to mention you.”

I didn’t even say anything and she’s already thought of everything. God, I love her. “I wish it were that easy.”

“Why isn’t it?”

“Arresting those guy isn’t going to stop the problem. Send that guy out there to jail and we’ll just piss them all off even more. I have to go to the source.”

Pepper’s chest rapidly rises and falls. “Where is that?”

“I’m not sure. I can find out…I think. Let’s not talk about it here.”

Pepper wraps up what’s left of the cheese and puts it in the bag with the wine. She eyeballs the door, and then turns to me. “Are they waiting for you?”

“Not out there. There are too many people.”

“What do they want from you?”

I open the door and watch headlights fly by. “I don’t really know, but I have a feeling they don’t like that I was able to get out.”

“Get out?”

“My father stole money from a motorcycle club he was in,” I spit out. “And when he died, his debt passed to me.”

Pepper’s mouth opens and she takes a sharp inhale. “That’s what my father meant about paying for your freedom.”

“Yes. He paid what was owed so I could come here with you.”

“This is more complicated than I thought.”

“You could say that again.” We step back into the flow of people I wrap my arm around Pepper. “Where does your uncle live?”

“He’s not home,” she says. “He might be in his late fifties, but Uncle David wouldn’t go home on a Friday night. Not alone at least.”

“Oh, fuck. I’ll take you back to the manor. Is the helicopter ready and waiting? I don’t know how that works.” I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get you home. You have a panic room, right?”

Pepper steps in front of me, stops, and whirls around. “I’m not hiding in the panic room while you go out there and chase monsters I know nothing about. We are going to the police. I will tell them those guys with the reaper patches have been following me, trespassing…whatever it takes. And Gray, you might have been wrong before, but you’re not now. You have the right to use our legal system too.”

“It’s not just that, Pepper…you get your name mixed up in a one-percent motorcycle club and the media will be all over it. You said it yourself not that long ago: you’re responsible for thousands of people’s jobs. It’s fucking unfair, but it’s how it is. Pepper Davenwood is a name that can’t be tarnished.”

Her face breaks. “I hate that you’re right. I hate this so much. What do we do?”

“First thing is getting you somewhere safe. Can you call your security and have them escort you home?”

“Yes. Or we could go a few blocks over to my father’s penthouse on Park Avenue.”

“Is it safe?”

Her lips pull into a half smile. “Apparently you’re not familiar with penthouses on this part of Park Avenue. Not just anyone can even get into the building, let alone the actual house. And it has a panic room,” she adds when I don’t look convinced.

“All right.”

“And once we get there, you’re telling me everything. I won’t give you the code to leave until you do. Actually, I might keep you there with me forever.”

I feel a tug on my heart. It’s that homesickness again, but I’m not longing for a place. Anywhere is home if we’re together. “I can live with that.”

It doesn’t take long before we’re in an elevator on our way up to the fifteenth floor of Alcott’s Park Avenue penthouse. The doors open and we step into an entryway that leads only to the penthouse. Pepper unlocks the door and turns off the alarm, turning it right back on as soon as we’re inside.

“I set it to go off if the entry doors, the service elevators, or the rooftop door are opened.”

“Rooftop?”

“The penthouse is three floors. Plus the roof terrace.”

Holy fuck. “What’s on the roof?”

Pepper shakes her head, unsure. “A fireplace, tables and lounge chairs, and a pool.”

“You have a pool. On the roof. In the middle of fucking Manhattan.”

“Yes. Want to see it?”

“Yeah,” I say and follow Pepper through the house. We both know showing off the pool is a distraction, a way to keep cold, hard reality from crashing down on us. It’s probably half the size of the century-old manor, but it impresses me even more. I’ve known the Davenwoods for going on twenty years, and it still blows my mind that people live like this.

And this was Alcott’s second home. He had a third in Paris, if I’m remembering correctly. I host a mental debate as we go up a curved staircase. The Jackals would have a field day with someone like Pepper. Before her father died, she remained somewhat in the shadows of her family name. She’s a quiet person. She likes privacy and never seeks out the limelight like some heiresses do.

But now…now she’s the topic of many conversations. Is she too big for the Jackals to go after?

Hell yes.

But that won’t stop the Jackals, and I have the feeling they’re too dumb and cocky to realize that going after someone like Pepper Davenwood will pull the pin from their grenade. They’ll stand there with their dicks out as they pass the explosive device back and forth until it finally explodes.

They’ll get caught. Totally busted and broken up by the long arm of the law. But who is in the middle of that circle when shit blows up…that’s what scares me.

Pepper punches in a code and disarms the door leading to the rooftop terrace. She opens the door and steps into the night.

“Holy fuck,” I say and look around. The terrace is huge, with outdoor couches and lounge chairs around a brick fireplace, a long table, and a pool that goes right up to the edge.

“It is pretty nice,” Pepper says and shuts the door behind us. “Are you any good at starting fires?” She motions to the fireplace.

“I can try.” There is a gas switch, making it easy to get the fire going. Pepper leans against the railing, looking down at the city lights below. I go up behind her, resting a hand on the limestone railing. It still holds heat from the sun. “What do you want to know first?” I ask her.

She turns, eyes meeting mine. “Nothing right now.” Her hands leave the stone railing and land on the buttons of my jacket.

“Pepper,” I groan, surprising myself with my hesitation. “I should go.”

“We’re not in danger right now,” she says and slowly unbuckles my belt. “Right?”

“Not this very moment, no.”

“That’s all I’m asking for: this moment with you.”

“I’ll give you that,” I promise and take her head in my hands, stepping in to kiss her. The moment our lips meet, passion erupts and it’s all I can do not to rip that dress right off her body. Instead, I reach behind her, taking the zipper pull between two fingers. I kiss her neck. Pepper moans, tipping her head back and pushing her breasts against me. She staggers back, and leans against the railing. Then she puts both hands on my head and pushes me down.

She is so fucking hot.

I drop down to my knees, cock rock hard already. Slowly, I run my hands up her legs, starting by her ankles, moving up, up, and up. My fingers inch under the hem of her dress little by little, and I kiss the inside of her thighs. She widens her legs, impatient, and I can’t help but smile knowing that I’m driving her fucking insane.

With one hand, I reach under her dress and slip my fingers under her lace thong. My fingers sweep against her pussy, and damn, she’s wet for me. She reacts to my touch and is desperate for more. I slip my other hand under her dress, pushing the hem up. Keeping her panties on, I start working my fingers and bring my mouth to her, letting the lace barrier tease her more. I reach between her legs, grabbing the back of her panties. I let my breath warm her, and start to pull her thong down.

She presses herself against me, close to coming. I pull her panties off and put my mouth on the tender flesh of her thigh.

“Don’t you dare stop, Grayson King,” she pants and reaches for me. She takes a handful of my hair and guides my face back between her legs. I toss her legs over my shoulders, causing her to balance between myself and the railing. All it would take for her to go tumbling is me standing up.

My tongue lashes against her clit. I lick. I suck. I bite. Just minutes later Pepper cums, pulling my hair so hard it hurts. Carefully, I set her down, heels clicking on the limestone. She’s still panting, hardly able to stand.

I put my arms around her, bringing her away from the railing and toward the lounge chair. Pepper has a different idea. She unhooks her bra and turns away, looking behind her as she rolls her bra straps off her shoulders.

She stops by the pool and turns around. “Take off your clothes and get in here.”

I unbutton my shirt as I walk, ready to literally rip the fabric from my body. I need to feel her skin against mine. Now. Pepper unbuckles the straps on her shoes and steps into the pool. I hurry to go in after her.

The water is warmer than I expected, and feels perfect around our naked bodies. Pepper wraps her arms around my shoulders, floating weightlessly. She runs a wet hand through my hair then kisses me, tongue pushing into my mouth. I spread her legs and push her against the side of the pool.

Pepper lowers herself onto me, and water splashes over the side of the pool, wetting the stone around it as we fuck like it might be the last time. Because it very well might be.

We get out, wrap ourselves in towels that are ready and waiting in a storage container disguised as a bench, and move closer to the fire.

“I need to tell you everything,” I say, hating how this is ruining the moment.

“No, you don’t.

I raise an eyebrow. “Why not? You said you wanted to know, right?”

“Oh, I do. But I said you’re not leaving here until you tell me everything. So if you don’t tell me everything, you’re not leaving.”

“That is tempting,” I say and rub my hand up and down her smooth leg. “But you need to know. If everything goes back to who I think it’s going back to…things are bad. I need to go check it out before I can decide what to do.”

“And then what?” she spits. “Say you find out it is connected to…uh…whoever.”

“The Jackals,” I say the name out loud. “It’s a motorcycle club.”

“So it goes back to them. Then what are you going to do? Give the leader a stern talking to? You said not even the police can help. So how are you going to put an end to this?”

I shake my head. She’s completely right. If Bryce Fisher, that piece of shit president of the Jackals, is behind all this, I don’t know what I would do. He got his money, but it’s deeper than that. I left when he said I couldn’t. I got out when no one was allowed to. I know shit about his club and his members. Hell, I know he was cheating on his wife. In his eyes, I disrespected him and I disrespected the club. And for that, I must pay with blood. And if not mine, then the people closest to me will bleed.

“I don’t know. Kill him?”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Who says I’m joking?”

“You’ll lose everything and go back to jail if you kill someone,” she says.

“If it keeps you safe, then it’s worth it. I love you enough to lose everything.”

“And I love you enough to refuse to believe that’s true!” City lights reflect in her eyes. “And I’ll lose you. We didn’t go through hell and come this far, to only come this far. We have options. Options that don’t involve you killing anyone.”

“Are you suggesting a hitman?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Kind of. I don’t know how to, though.”

“What, they don’t teach you that in billionaire heiress class 101?”

“I must have skipped that day.” She lets out a breath and rests her head on my shoulder. “We can go on vacation. Spend a few weeks in Europe. Will they give up and move on?”

“I’ve been here for almost two months,” I remind her. “And they haven’t given up yet.”

“And you think they’ll go after me to get to you.”

“Yes. Hurt what I love most. I don’t think it’s hard to tell that losing you would hurt me more than anything.”

“But I don’t get it. You paid back the money your dad stole. Is this really an ego thing?”

“Ego is big for clubs. Sometimes it’s all they have to go on. Ruin the reputation and the club falls apart. Plus, I know things.”

Pepper suddenly sits up. “What do you know?”

I let out a snort of laughter. “All kinds of shit.”

“Illegal stuff?”

“Yes. This club…it’s organized crime, Pepper. That’s what I need you to understand. They’re dangerous. I never wanted to be involved. After my dad died…they didn’t just make me pay them back in cash. They made me wear their colors, made me work as an enforcer. That’s why I got arrested again. I was sent to handle a dispute and things got out of control. The cops were called before I got away from there.”

“Gray,” she interrupts. “You have dirt, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Enough for a takedown?”

“Maybe. It’s not that easy. I can’t just go tell my story to the cops and then they’ll rush in and arrest everyone.”

“I know, but it’s a start. And if the club is as bad as you say they are, they need to be taken down.”

I nod, wishing I shared Pepper’s enthusiasm. In a perfect world, I would give a detailed statement that sparks an investigation, and in just a few months time, the officers of the Jackals Motorcycle Club would be reaching for the soap behind bars. The bounty for my bike and my head will be taken off the table and eventually it’ll fade away.

Who the fuck am I kidding? The cops will look at me and see a man who used to wear the Jackal patch, a man who broke the law more than once. Why would they even take me seriously?

I don’t live in a perfect world. The closest thing I have to perfect is cuddled up next to me, completely naked, covered with only a towel. She loves me enough to stick by me through this shit storm, to risk the thunder and lightning that comes along with it.

And I love her even more. Enough to finally see the line that divides what I want and what I need. Enough to know that sometimes walking away is the only shelter from the storm.

*

I wake up first. Pepper is tucked under blankets next to me, sound asleep. We’re in one of the five bedrooms in this ridiculous penthouse. Early morning sunlight bathes central park, and I stare at it in awe as I stretch. I use the bathroom, and then wander around looking for the kitchen. It’s on an entirely different floor. There’s no food, and I’m not sure if Pepper had things cleaned out or if Alcott never bothered with making his own meals.

The light of a new day has me feeling hopeful, and I find merit in what Pepper said last night. I’ll be doing the world a favor taking down the Jackals. Watching Fisher get cuffed and shoved into the backseat of a police car while I stand next to Pepper would be the best “fuck you” ever.

Those types of things take time, and I’m not sure it’s something we have. And that’s assuming the law believes me in the first place. If Pepper backs me, I have more of a chance. But it still feels like a total shot in the dark.

Stomach grumbling, I get back into bed and spoon my body around Pepper’s. I doze off for a bit, but am unable to turn off my mind and go back to sleep. Pepper gets up two hours later, and handles the lack of food and clothes situation going on in this place. She has a personal shopper—that’s a thing? —bring us clothes and a delivery service brings food.

We stay at the penthouse for the rest of the weekend, watching TV, using the pool, and having sex. Lots of sex. And not talking about anything bad. It’s the closest to normal we’ve had since we rekindled our relationship, and things almost feel back to how they were…but this whole thing hangs above our heads like fucking D-day.

When Monday rolls around, Pepper has to go into the office to sign on the new partnership, and smile for cameras during a press conference about the new business venture. While she’s busy with work, I plan to go back to my place and gather up the few personal items I have and meet Pepper at the manor. She’s doubled her security and will be leaving from the rooftop of her building via helicopter. I hate leaving her, but I feel confident she’s safe.

She gives me keys to her father’s Mercedes to drive back to my house. My bike is at the manor, I’ll need the extra room for all my crap, and this car isn’t something that can be traced back to me.

I park in the driveway and wave to one of my neighbors, who is staring curiously at the $200,000 car I just got out of. I dig my keys from my pocket and go to stick it in the front door.

The door creaks open on its own. Oh, fuck. There are scratch marks all over the lock. I drop the keys, ball my fists, and step inside. The place is trashed, and the words “You’re a dead man, King” have been spray painted on the wall opposite the door.

“God fucking dammit,” I mutter. Something clatters to the ground in the kitchen. Full of rage, I storm in there. A Jackal patch holder is ready and waiting, but is no match for me. I throw a few punches and knock him the fuck out.

And then two more swarm in. They go at me, but instead of trying to knock my head in, they grab my arms. A third man comes around the corner.

“Grayson King,” Bryce Fisher sneers. “It’s been too long.”

I lunge forward, breaking free. The two guys grab me again, shoving me against the wall. They’re struggling, hardly able to hold me. Fisher leans against the island counter and puts a cigarette to his lips. A needle pierces my skin, and the last thing I remember is the glow of his lighter.

Chapter Twenty

Grayson

Six years ago…

“How the hell did you pay for it?” I ask my father, getting into the passenger seat of his truck. I’ve spent the last six days in the county jail waiting to appear before a judge and see if I’d get bail or not.

I did, but because there were holes in my story, it was set high. There were plenty of things I couldn’t explain—who sold me the pot, how much I paid, where I was when I bought it—and the only thing that saved me was a clean drug test.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” My father goes around and gets in the driver’s side of the truck.

“You didn’t take it from the money you owed the club, did you?”

“Relax, Gray,” he spits, feathers ruffled already. “I’d think you’d be a bit more grateful.”

“Grateful? I went to fucking jail for you!”

His face pales and he shakes his head. “Sorry. You’re right. And no, I didn’t.”

“Then where did you get it?”

“I said, don’t worry about it.”

I buckle my seatbelt and let out a breath. “You wouldn’t be here if you took it from the club,” I voice my thoughts.

He stiffens. “No, I wouldn’t be.”

“You’re paid up, so why not leave?” I turn to face him. “Come back to New York.”

“I can’t leave the club. They’re like family.”

“I am family,” I huff. “And maybe someday you’ll have more family.”

My dad grins. “You’re thinking about knocking Pepper up? Things are serious.”

“Were,” I mumble. “I need to go to her and fix this. You do realize she has no idea why I didn’t return her calls, right?”

My father doesn’t say anything in response. He takes his left hand off the steering wheel and shakes it, then opens and closes his hand a few times. “Damn things been tingling all day.” He heavily sighs, then puts his hand back on the wheel. “Hungry? Did they feed you all right in there?”

I make a face, but shake my head. “Can we just get back to your place? I want to call Pepper.”

“Come on, don’t you have a little time for your old man?”

“Fine,” I huff. “And I am hungry.”

“Good.”

We go to the diner we went to the night I landed. I order the same thing, too anxious and eager to get the hell out of there to waste time looking over a menu. My dad makes small talk with the waitress, and I think she’s the reason we came here again. Dad keeps rubbing at his arm and his jaw. When he puts his hand over his chest, I get concerned.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” I say and put a handful of fries in my mouth. Eat fast, leave fast. I can get back and get to my phone.

And then I can hear Pepper’s sweet voice.

“I’m fine. Been having pains on and off for weeks. It’s nothing.”

“Oh, okay.”

“No one got their hands on your ass in prison, did they?”

“Dad!” I stare at him wide-eyed.

“Kidding. You’re all big and grown but I can still embarrass you.”

He laughs, then I laugh, and it hits me that I miss him. We were never what I’d consider close; neither of us are emotional like that. I know he cares about me and went through a lot to gain custody of me when I was a kid. Used to moving around from being in the military, he couldn’t stay put after he retired. I had my life in New York. A job. School. Friends. Pepper.

He hit the road on his own, taking solace in the motorcycle club. I knew a little about The Jackals: they’re new and small, only have two chapters on the west coast…and they take no mercy. I think that’s what appealed to my father so much. After years of taking commands from someone else, he’s doing what he wants.

And I get it, to some extent. It’s not a life I’d live, but who am I to judge?

I finish my burger and look around for the waitress, telepathically willing her to bring the check. I’m excited and nervous to call Pepper. She’s going to be pissed, that’s for sure. I’ll have to make it up to her. Hell, I’ll even drive up to Cornell and—

My dad’s coffee cup falls to the floor, the white porcelain shattering into a million pieces. I look at him, ready to crack a joke about being butterfingers. Then I see his face. It’s pale as can be. Eyes wide and full of fear.

He clutches at his chest, trying and failing to get his breath. I jump up, racing around to the other side of the table.

But I’m too late.

*

I stare at my boots. They’re scuffed and worn in like they’re supposed to be. I get my love of motorcycles from my father. He taught me how to ride a bike before I could legally drive. I remember the first time he let me sit on his Harley. It was too heavy and almost fell over on me.

“Hey, kid.”

I look up, blinking. The hospital lights are harsh. Too bright for eyes that haven’t closed for more than a second in the last twenty-four hours. It takes a minute for the large shadow of a man to come into view. It’s the president of the Jackals. Fisher is his last name. I don’t remember his first.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I know he means it. I can see the emotion behind his eyes. “Your dad was a good guy.”

I nod, wondering if Fisher would be saying these things if he knew the truth.

“Meant a lot to the club.” He sits next to me on the stiff bench outside the ER. “We’ll handle this. Go home, get some rest.”

“Home is far away,” I mumble.

“You got keys to your dad’s?”

I hold up a plastic bag. “They gave me his personal items.”

Fisher pats me on the back. “We got this. The club’s got this.”

I just nod again, not sure what to say. I get my dad’s keys from the plastic bag and walk through the unfamiliar hospital. I followed the ambulance here in my dad’s truck, and parked somewhere outside. I don’t remember.

And I’m not sure what to feel right now.

I miss my father. We’d grown apart over the last few years, but he was my dad, for fucks sake. I’ll never get him back.

There’s a sick, twisted, completely fucked up part of me that can’t help but think everything I went through was for nothing. I went to fucking jail so my father could live. I cut off ties from Pepper for a whole week so he could live.

And then he dies of a heart attack.

What the fuck did I do to get dealt this hand? I wander around the parking lot until I find the truck. I don’t have my phone to use GPS, and I don’t really remember where my dad lived. It takes me an hour to find his street.

I plug in my phone and lay on the couch. I pass out before the battery comes back to life. Six hours later, I wake to a pounding on the door. It’s dark in the house, and grief hits me hard.

And then fear.

Who the fuck is knocking on the door right now? It’s late, and beating on a door like that only means one thing. I look through the peephole and see the face of Fisher. I let out a sigh and open the door.

Instead of offering me sympathy or fake support, he barges in, along with a few other club members.

“Kid,” he growls. “Funny thing. The club decided to pull from our funds to cover funeral costs for your father.”

Oh fuck. My stomach drops.

“Wanna know why that’s so funny?”

I shake my head.

“There are no funds. We did a trace. It all leads back to dear old daddy.”

My heart beats out of my chest. “I told him to give it back.”

“Oh, so you were in on this?” Fisher pulls out a knife, pushes me against a wall, and puts the blade to my throat. “I don’t fucking care. Your daddy is dead. He ain’t gonna pay his debts. Someone else has to. And that someone is you.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Pepper

I twist my mother’s ring around my finger, looking over the list of questions and answers one of the company’s PR people gave me. Of course, anything can be thrown at me by reporters, but the list in front of me is what I’m most likely to be asked about.

“Do you need anything, Ms. Davenwood?” Heather asks. She’s young and full of ambition, and is someone’s assistant. My uncle’s? Mine? I feel bad I don’t remember.

“Peppermint tea would be great right now. No sugar. Thanks.” She nods and hurries away. I read over the answers, memorizing what I’m supposed to say, even if it’s not the whole truth, until Heather comes back with the tea. I take a small sip and lean back, trying to relax.

“Not feeling well?” Heather asks, and her eyes flick to my hand on my stomach. Shit. I didn’t even realize it. I have to be aware of everything I’m doing before I step in front of the cameras in a few minutes.

“I woke up nauseous,” I confess. “I’m a little nervous.”

“You’ll be fine,” she says with a smile. “But I’d be totally nervous too.”

I take another drink of tea, willing my stomach to settle. I woke up feeling sick, but the nerves aren’t from the press conference. I’m worried about Grayson and everything he’s involved in. He doesn’t see a way out that doesn’t result in him going back to jail…and I refuse to believe it. No one can own you like that, right?

My mind goes to mafia movies and motorcycle club romance novels, and my heartrate increases. So does the nausea.

Deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out. I drink the rest of the tea, then panic that I’m going to have to pee in the middle of the Q&A session. Fuck. I just can’t win.

The press conference ends several hours later, and I have to say things went well. I answered my questions seamlessly, and then my uncle and the other partners took over. I got to sit on the sidelines, smiling and being rather useless. Any other day it would have bothered me, but I was too deep in thought about Grayson to care.

I check my phone as I’m leaving the conference. There’s nothing from Grayson. Which is good, right? He’s just going home, grabbing his stuff, and then going back to the manor. We’ll be together again soon, and will figure this mess out. I still think with all he knows, going to the authorities is the best option. He’s right that it won’t cause an instant bust of the motorcycle club. But it’s a start, right?

There are a few more things to wrap up before I can leave, and my uncle thinks it would be a good idea to make a personal appearance throughout the building. He says it boosts morale and shows our employees how invested we are in the company and them. Another hour goes by and now I’m starving as well as nauseous.

I text Grayson instead of call as I’m getting onto the helicopter; it’ll be too loud to talk to him. I watch the screen, waiting for a reply.

None comes.

The chopper lands and I’m escorted into the manor. Grayson isn’t there. Vomit rises in my throat, and my heart beats faster and faster. Grayson’s not here, and he’s not answering his phone.

Something terrible happened, I just know it.

I can hardly think, hardly breathe. I cling onto the worn wooden railing as I go up to my room. His phone could have died. He might have gotten stuck in traffic on the way out of the city and didn’t reach his own place until minutes ago.

Or someone from that club found him and killed him.

I rush into my closet, stripping out of my blouse and skirt. I put on leggings, boots, and an oversized t-shirt, and then sit on my bed, head in my hands. I call Grayson again, and his call goes right to voicemail.

Close to hyperventilating, I race down to the first floor study. I pause for half a second before opening the door, memories of my father crashing down on me. Then a sob escapes my lips. I don’t want Grayson to become just a memory too.

My father’s cell phone is dead. I press the home button over and over just to be sure, and then feverishly dig through the desk drawer to find the charger. I plug it in and wait.

And wait.

It feels like an hour has passed before the phone buzzes to life, and another as it gets a signal. I flip through the apps until I find the one linked to the Mercedes Grayson drove. I enter the wrong password in my haste, screaming in frustration as I have to start over.

Finally, I get in and see that the SUV is parked at Grayson’s house. He made it home, and he’s not answering. I don’t know if that makes this better or worse. All I know is that I have to get over there and see things for myself. I freeze, not sure if I should drive myself or have someone go with me. Grayson was adamant about me not being alone, that it makes me too vulnerable for an attack. But I’m impatient and need to leave now.

A minute later, the keys to my Tesla are in my hand and I’m running down the driveway. Tears roll down my cheeks and I call Grayson over and over. History is repeating itself.

Did I fall for Grayson only to have my heart destroyed again?

“No,” I say out loud. He didn’t leave me by choice last time. And he wouldn’t leave me again. My nerves are so far shot by the time I reach Grayson’s house, I can taste bile in my mouth. The Mercedes is parked in the driveway, like the GPS on the app said. I park on the street, looking at the house for clues. I have no idea what to look for, and nothing seems out of the ordinary.

I shut off my car, unbuckle my seatbelt, and get out. My hands are shaking. I shouldn’t have come here alone. Keeping control over my breathing, I manage to walk up to the garage. I peer inside; the BMW is still there. I listen, hear nothing, and slowly walk up the sidewalk that leads to the front door. I dial 9-1-1 on my phone and let my finger hover over the call button, just in case.

I’m in front of the door, and have no idea what to do. Ring the doorbell and see if anyone comes? I can pretend to be…uh…shit. I have no idea. But I don’t have to ring the bell, because the door is cracked open. And that is never good.

Thumb ready to call the authorities, I push the door open and move to the side. No one rushes out and attacks me. No one even moves inside. Everything is silent. I swallow my pounding heart and take a step inside.

The place is a disaster, looking like a robbery gone wrong. Furniture is tipped over, shattered glass litters the floor, and a threat is written on the wall in front of me in red spray paint.

“‘You’re a dead man, King,’” I read aloud. Dizziness crashes down on me, and I have to lean against the wall to keep from falling.

“Gray?” I meekly call. I push off the wall and tentatively move across the living room. Am I going to find his body? Will there be a blood-splattered trail detailing his painful death?

“Gray?” I call out again, and stop to listen. Nothing moves, nothing makes noise. I’m alone in the house. I think.

Grayson isn’t in the living room. Or the bathroom. I move through the dining room and enter the kitchen. There are a few drops of blood on the tile floor, and next to that, a needle.

I crouch down, reaching out but stopping myself before my fingers brush against the clear plastic. I bring my hand back and cover my mouth, vision blacking out. I hold onto a barstool to keep from falling face first in the blood on the floor.

Grayson was right. There is no escaping the club. He got out, and they got him. I inhale sharply, doing everything I can to not come undone. They have him, and I don’t know how to get him back.

I allow myself to cry, to let the panic and emotion find an escape. The club came back, threatened, drugged, and took Grayson.

Wait.

They threatened, drugged, and took Grayson. They didn’t kill him. And there has to be a reason for that. I suck in air, wipe my eyes, and stand. Grayson King swore he’d do whatever it took to keep me safe, and now it’s my turn. Because the queen always protects the king.

*

I stand back, staring at the gold numbers on the door. I knock again, impatient, and cross my arms as I wait. And wait. Fuck. He’s not home. I turn around, anxiety building again. This was my shot in the dark, my only hope for a lead.

The door opens. “Pepper?”

I whirl around, staring Olson in the face.

“Oh my God, Pepper. What are you…you came to your senses, I see.” He leans against the door smirking. He’s wearing only boxers, and his dark hair is a mess.

“Not in that way.” I take a few steps toward Olson’s Manhattan apartment. “I need your help.” Part of me dies inside as I say it, but the hit to my pride is nothing compared to how terrified I am that I’ll never see Grayson again.

His eyebrows go up. “Is that so?” He takes a step back and holds out his hand. “Then come on in.”

“Are you alone?” I ask and briskly walk inside.

“Well, well, well, you say one thing and then another.” He reaches for me and I catch his wrist, twisting it.

“Touch me, and die.” I dig my nails into his skin just enough to make my point, and then let go. “This is serious, Olson. I need information.”

It’s hard to see the color drain from his face thanks to layers of spray tanner, but it hits him and he recoils, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure.”

Someone walks through the hall. I turn, and see a half-naked woman looking out from behind a wall. She’s not the girl from the restaurant. Chastity or whatever her name was. “What’s going on, Olson?”

“Business,” he says and clears his throat. “You need to leave.”

She pouts and stomps her bare foot, glaring at me. “You’re going to give up this, for that?” Her hands slide over her obviously fake beach ball sized tits.

“I would in a heartbeat,” Olson says quietly. “Bros before hoes and all. Leave.”

I shake my head and let out a breath, crossing the foyer to the living room. I sink down on the couch, digging my phone from my purse. I call Grayson for the hundredth time and get his voicemail. I open his texts and try to see his location, but “location not available” reads across the screen.

It takes a few minutes for Ms. Plastic Tits to pack up and leave. Olson puts on pants but no shirt, and joins me, sitting across from me on a lounge chair.

“What’s going on?”

I get up, pacing back and forth. “You said Grayson was caught up in a motorcycle club drug war. What clubs? What drug war?”

“Ahhh. I knew you’d see him for the criminal that he is.” He gives me a nod and raises his eyebrows. “And you realized that walking away was a mistake. I guess I can take you back, Pepper, but only if you beg.”

“Goddammit, Olson!” I whip around and stare daggers at him. “Can’t you take anything fucking seriously?”

This time the shock is obvious. “Fine. Okay. Sorry, Pepper.”

“Tell me what you know about Grayson. Now.”

He gets up, talking while he looks through his desk. “He was arrested several times. Various charges. First was for possession of weed.” He comes back and puts a folder on the coffee table. “It’s all there.”

I grab it and start leafing through. Some of this I already know from last night. And some of this is new. Grayson’s nineteen-year-old mug shot stops me in my tracks. He looks exactly the same as the day he left, and is even wearing the same shirt. I remember it specifically because it was one I got him for his birthday. It was trendy and designer, way different than the plaid button-ups he always wore. I could tell he didn’t like it, knew his friends laughed and called him whipped, but he wore it anyway. Just for me.

“The clubs,” I say and close the folder. “What do you know about them?”

“Not much,” he admits. “Just that Grayson was rumored to run with this California club called The Jackals.”

“He did,” I say and Olson stiffens.

“They’re ruthless, from what I found out. Starting fights that end in death, usually for the other person. And Grayson used to take part in those fights.”

I nod, and open the folder again. Tears fill my eyes as I run my finger over the most recent black and white mug shot of Gray. I will see him again. “If someone wronged them, what would they do?”

“I’m not sure,” he says carefully. “Is everything okay, Pepper?”

“No,” I say, and a tear rolls down my cheek. “It’s not.”

Olson swallows and leans forward. “Are you in danger?”

I shake my head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I get hit with a wave of nausea. I close my eyes and lean back, swallowing the bile that burns in my throat. “Grayson’s gone.” I don’t know why I blurted that out to Olson of all people.

“What do you mean? He left you?”

“No. I went to his house and can tell there was a fight. Someone wrote, ‘you’re a dead man, King’ on the wall. And I found a needle in the kitchen and a few drops of blood.”

Olson’s jaw slowly drops. He covers it with his hand and stands. “Did you call the police?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know if I should. Gray doesn’t think they can help.”

“What other choice do you have, Pepper?”

“I don’t know. But this club…if they took him—drugged him and took him—don’t you think it’s for a reason? They could have shot him and moved on, right?”

“Uh, maybe?” He rubs his temple. “The guy who told me about this said to stay away. He said I shouldn’t even confront Grayson about it. Because they’re bad news. So I guess I’d say yeah, it’s for a reason. They’re not the kidnap-threaten-and-release type.”

“So why would they take Grayson?” I ask out loud, not talking to Olson specifically. Then it hits me. The picture I posted to Instagram at the zoo. The photos of the two of us together at my father’s wake and funeral. It’s easy to see that Grayson and I are a couple. It’s easy to see that I care about him.

And it’s obvious I have money.

“Pepper,” Olson starts and comes over to me. “Look, I know things between us didn’t work out like I hoped, and for some reason you’d rather be with someone with a criminal record and no job.”

I glare at him.

“What I’m trying to say is…I care about you, Pepper. And I have to accept that your heart belongs to him. But even so, I don’t want you to get hurt. Getting mixed up in this…that’s a good way to get hurt.”

“I don’t want to get hurt either.” My eyelids come down, shutting out the light. I just lost my father.  I can’t lose Grayson too. My phone rings, and I jump.

“That’s him! That’s his ringtone.” I scramble up, tripping over the rug, and grab my purse.

“You know it’s not him,” Olson says gravely. “You won’t be talking to him.”

In the back of my mind, I know. I’ve seen enough episodes of Law & Order to know the kidnapper is calling with a demand, and all I’ll get is a few seconds of listening to Grayson scream in pain before the phone is taken away.

My heart is beating so fast it hurts. I answer the call and push the phone against my ear.

“Hello?”

“Pepper,” Grayson says and his voice brings instant tears to my eyes.

I clutch my chest. “Gray! Oh my God. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Pepper, listen to me, don’t—”

The sound of flesh smacking flesh echoes through the phone. “Hello, Pepper,” a deep voice coos. I can hear Grayson getting hit over and over in the background.

“Please!” I cry. “Stop!”

Olson moves over and puts his face close to the phone, listening. The man on the phone laughs. “I’ll stop. Eventually.”

“Let me talk to him!”

“Not right now, princess. But I’ll tell you what you can do if you want to see your lover boy again.”

“What? I’ll do anything!”

“No cops. No security. Come alone. Three million,” he says. “You have three hours. And if I so much as smell bacon, he’s dead.”

And then the phone goes dead.

Chapter Twenty-two

Grayson

“Idiot,” I say and spit blood onto the floor. I’m tied up, hands above my head, strung on the rafters of an old warehouse. Fisher’s been taking out his anger on me for the last few hours, throwing punches, and then threatening me. He’s weak, as I remind him over and over. He had to drug me to get me here, after all. “You didn’t even tell her where to bring the money.”

Fisher’s eyes flash, and he stops himself at the last minute from throwing my phone. He needs it to call Pepper again.

“Go ahead,” I urge. “Call her back and say you’re a shitty excuse for a kidnapper and forgot to tell her when and where to bring the ransom.” I shake my head, refusing to let myself acknowledge the pain. Or how fucking terrified I am.

Not for myself, but for Pepper. I don’t want her to come within a hundred yards of this place…wherever the hell I am. I don’t want her to give a penny to this asshole in front of me.

I should never have come back. Then we wouldn’t be in this mess and Pepper wouldn’t be in danger.

“That’s assuming she’ll even pay. There’s a good chance she won’t,” I go on. Blood drips from my forehead into my eyes. I blink it away. The warehouse is dim, with scattered lamps hanging above us. The floor is gritty and boxes are lined up in uneven stacks. I get the feeling this place isn’t used for legal business.

Along with the Jackals who brought me here, a few members of the scythe-bearing club are here. They take their turn beating me, giving the usual threats you’d expect to hear in a B-movie.

“She’ll pay,” Fisher says. “And when she brings that money, I’m going to throw her down and fuck her ass on top of it.”

“Touch her and I’ll kill you!” I pull against the ropes on my wrist. “Touch her and it’ll be the last fucking thing you do!”

Fisher laughs, stepping closer, but staying out of reach. “And what are you going to do about it? There’s nothing you can do.” He lights a cigarette. “Except watch as I destroy her tight little cunt with my big cock.”

Rage flows through me and I give the ropes another yank. Dust falls down on me, and the boards creak. “I swear to God,” I threaten. “You so much as lay a finger on Pepper and I’ll cut off your dick and shove it down your throat.”

He takes a long drag on his cigarette, coming closer. I pull on the ropes again and feel the rafter weaken even more. Fisher takes the cigarette out of his mouth and presses the burning end to my chest. I clench my jaw, refusing to so much as grunt in pain. It just pisses Fisher off and he hits me. The inside of my cheek busts open against my teeth, and I spit blood in his face.

He balls his fists, ready to hit me again, when another man comes in.

“We getting our money?” he asks. Fisher steps back and I laugh.

“The dumb fuck didn’t tell her where to bring it,” I say. “So no, you’re not getting your money.”

The man, who’s wearing a reaper scythe patch, crosses his arms. “Then how we gonna get it?” he asks.

“We’ll get it,” Fisher says. “So shut your mouth.”

“How? If you didn’t tell her where, we ain’t getting it.” He throws his hands in the air. “I knew your pathetic club would mess shit up.”

“We’ll get it,” Fisher yells.

“Doesn’t seem like it. Give me the phone. I’ll handle this like I should have from the start.”

“This is my operation,” Fisher says.

“Not anymore,” the other man interjects, and the two men lunge at each other. Great, now whatever alliance that’s going between the Jackals and the reaper-club is going to go out the window over this fight. I pull on the rafter again while everyone is distracted. If I can get out of here, I’ll go to Pepper. Tell her I’m safe…but that I have to leave. I can’t stay and put her in danger.

More dust and wood rain down on me. Fisher and that other guy are on the floor, rolling around in a full-out brawl. Members from both clubs gather round, and after a minute, try to break up the fight with little success.

Then my phone rings and everyone freezes. Fisher answers, and the place gets so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Pepper, sweetheart,” he says, looking right into my eyes as he talks. “So nice of you to call. We were just talking about you.”

“Don’t do it, Pepper!” I yell. “Don’t give him anything!” Two Jackal members come over. One hits me and another stuffs a rag into my mouth, muffling my voice. I can’t hear what Fisher is saying over the sound of my own face being hit. I think he gave her the address to this place.

“No cops. I see a cop, he’s dead. Oh, he’s alive,” Fisher tells her. “Wanna hear him scream? Or Maybe I’ll start cutting off pieces and send ‘em to you. I’ll start with your favorite one.” He snickers to himself. “Fine. Thirty seconds.”

He comes over, puts the phone on speaker, and shoves it in my face.

“Pepper,” I say, spitting the rag out. “Don’t do this, Pepper.”

“Grayson,” she says and her voice is everything. “It’s okay. I’ll bring the money. Get you back. And we can go on that vacation just like we talked about. Remember? I’ll take you down to Mexico and it’ll be okay. I love you, Grayson. It’s—”

Fisher hangs up. “Awww, so full of hope,” he sneers and rubs his dick through his jeans. “I bet she tastes as sweet as she sounds.”

His words get little reaction out of me, because I’m concentrating on what Pepper said. We never talked about Mexico. What is she trying to tell me? Bringing the money…what we talked about…take me down.

Take down.

We talked about getting enough info to the cops for them to take down the club. Giving them the dirt I know about past dealing isn’t enough to arrest anyone. But walking in to this, into them holding someone hostage and demanding ransom, is. It’s enough to arrest every fucking one of them in this room.

Pepper is a motherfucking genius.

Chapter Twenty-three

Pepper

“Ms. Davenwood?”

I blink and turn to the FBI agent who is sitting at the dining room table in my father’s penthouse. Two black suitcases are in front of her, packed full of hundred dollar bills.

“Yes?”

“It’s almost time.”

I nod, and go with her into the bathroom so she can tape a wire to my chest. We’ve gone over everything in detail. It’s not like how it is in the movies. The police can’t come running the second things go bad. Undercover agents have driven by the warehouse. There’s one way in and out, and the only windows are high up on the second story.

Olson called the police shortly after I hung up with that man. I was pissed enough to beat Olson senseless at the time. That guy said no cops, and here we are talking with the freaking FBI. But I’m glad they’re here because deep down—and before the agents said it to my face—I know this isn’t going to be as easy as bringing the money, grabbing Grayson by the hand, and high-tailing it out of there.

Grayson might already be dead by the time I get there. They might shoot him in front of me after getting the money. They might shoot us both. Grayson might not even be in this warehouse, after all. His cell is dead and the location untraceable.

We’ve wasted the last hour going over options. The FBI agents have extensive experience dealing with gangs and clubs like this, and won’t deny the danger Grayson is in. Time is of the essence, and trying anything else is a serious risk to his life…which is already hanging precariously over the cliff of real danger.

But I can’t not do it. What if it is that easy? What if all they want is money? I’d rather die trying than live without him. I couldn’t live with myself if things didn’t work out. If I just sat back in the safety of this high-rise penthouse while cops went in, risking their lives to save Grayson. He wouldn’t sit around and wait for me.

And I won’t sit around and wait for him.

The FBI agents and cops know it, and I’ve made it very clear they know they can’t stop me. Which is how we came to this conclusion.

The plan is to take the money to the warehouse. Give one suitcase and say I’ll give the other when Grayson walks out. “Don’t be a hero” is the theme of this plan, decided by the FBI agents, of course. I’m not to go in. I’m not to get out of sight. And I’m not supposed to negotiate. I’ve agreed to follow the plan. But when it comes down to it, I know I’ll do whatever it takes.

I think Olson knows it too. He’s been surprisingly quiet, helpful, and polite through this whole thing. It’s a bit of a wakeup call for him, reminding him that the real world isn’t plated with gold, like he thinks it is.

Once I’m fitted with a wire and a little button camera, I go into the study and write a quick note for Savannah—just in case.

“Give this to Savannah if things don’t work out,” I tell Olson, handing him a sealed envelope. “And thanks for your help.”

“An unlikely alliance usually wins in the movies, so don’t even think things won’t work out,” he says and takes the letter. “And Pepper?”

“Yes?”

“I really did like you. I never meant any disrespect.”

“Thank you, Olson,” I tell him, though I don’t think he means it. The sentiment is nice.

Unsure if I’m being watched, I take the suitcases downstairs and load them into my Tesla alone. My nerves fade into numbness in order to keep myself from shutting down completely. I program the address into my GSP and prepare for a long drive. I don’t listen to music. I just grip the steering wheel and drive.

*

The warehouse is in a part of New York I’d never dare set foot in alone. It’s set back away from the street, hidden behind abandoned buildings and condemned houses. I park in a gravel lot, heart beating so fast it might explode. I get out and see a dark shadow lumbering over. Everything in my head says run away. Everything in my heart says stand still.

I have to do this for Grayson.

I steal a look up at the sky above. Mom…Dad…if you can hear me…help.

A motorcycle roars to life and headlights blind me. I freeze like a deer and the motorcycle barrels over, turning away at the last second. Gravel sprays me, and I cover my face with my hands. Then it takes off, doing a U-turn and speeding back, sliding to a stop. The lights are on me, and I can’t see the rider’s face.

“You got the money?” he shouts. It’s a different voice, not belonging to the man I spoke to on the phone.

“Yes. I’ll give you half. Let Grayson go and I’ll give you the rest.”

The rider twists the throttle and takes off again, stopping at the metal door of the warehouse. He shuts off his bike and strides to the door, knocking three times. My breath leaves me and I feel like a leaf, falling from my safe branch, way up high above the world. I’m caught in the wind, stuck in a downward spiral and have no idea where I’m going to land.

I swallow hard and get one suitcase out of the passenger seat. I have to remind myself not to turn around and look for the reassuring sight of the undercover cops, or the FBI van disguised as something else.

They’re not here.

I take a breath and start walking. The suitcase bumps along the uneven pavement, wheels catching on every bump and hole. I stop in front of the door, which is open a few inches. My hands shake.

Someone suddenly appears, and I jump. A large man in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather vest, appears. He smells like whiskey and smoke.

“Pepper?”

“Who else would it be?” I spit, surprising myself at the venom in my voice.

He narrows his eyes and puffs out his chest. “You got the cash?”

“I do. Three million in cash. You get half now. The rest when you give me Grayson.”

The man rolls his eyes, annoyed with me already. It instantly pisses me off. He holds out his hand and I let go of the handle of the suitcase. “Count it, if you wish. Give me Grayson, and I’ll give you the rest,” I repeat. The large man picks up the suitcase, checking its weight. He turns, reaching to close the door. I stick my foot in its path. “Where is Gray? I’ll…I’ll give you more money!”

I broke rule number one. Negotiating with them on my own.

“How much more?” he grunts.

“Another million. Please, just let me see him. Let know he’s okay!”

The biker considers, and then grabs my arm. His fingers wrap around my wrist so hard it hurts, and I know he’s twisting my skin on purpose. He scans the parking lot behind me, looking for law enforcement, and then yanks me inside, pushing me down onto the ground.

The door slams shut behind us.

“Boys!” the man shouts, picking up the suitcase. He kicks me in the ribs and disappears into the warehouse. I clamor to my feet and back up to the door. Shit! I broke another rule: I’m in here. I’m out of sight. I’m not safe.

Fear pulses through me and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Boisterous voices echo on the barren metal walls. I inhale, swallow my fear, and move away from the door. I’m in thier territory now, but I can still win. I can still get out of here alive. With Grayson.

“Where you going, sweetlips?”

The voice stops me in my tracks. I know that voice. It belongs to the man who talked to me on the phone. He’s shorter than the other man, with a long graying ponytail tucked behind a bandana. He’s wearing dirty jeans and a leather jacket.

Licking his lips, he grabs me by the hair. I cry out in pain and he drags me through the office-like entrance of the warehouse. He pulls me to my feet and holds me against him, my back to his front.

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” he coos and presses a knife to my throat. “Just look. Your boy toy is alive and kicking.”

I blink, trying to look through the hair covering my face, and see Grayson. He’s strung up by his wrists from a rafter, feet just barely touching the ground. His head hangs and blood drips onto the floor.

“Gray!” I shout and he stirs.

He looks up, blinks, and then startles awake. “Pepper! Fuck, you shouldn’t have—”

“Shut up,” another man says and hits Gray with a taser.

“Stop!” I yell and feel the blade cut into the first layer of flesh on my neck. “I have more money. I’ll give you double. Please! Just let Grayson go.”

The man removes the knife and shoves me to the ground. “Tempting offer,” he says. I scramble over to Grayson.

“Oh my God, Gray.” I reach above him, trying to undo the ropes. His wrists are raw and bloody.

“Get out of here,” Grayson tells me. “Now!”

“I’m not leaving you!” I stand on my toes, fingers gracing the ropes.

“Pepper, Fisher is going to kill you,” Grayson warms. “Go.”

“No!” I can’t reach the ropes and frustration rises. “Not without you!”

“How touching,” Fisher—the man on the phone—says, stepping out of the shadows.

“Let him go!” I order. “I brought you the money. Now let him go!”

Fisher laughs, and signals for someone to cut the rope. Grayson falls to the ground, and I go down with him. We embrace, and I kiss him.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Fisher says, raising a gun. “It’ll be your last.”

“Run, Pepper!” Grayson says and springs to his feet. Three men in leather rush over and apprehend him, dragging him away.

“I gave you the money!” I cry.

“And now you have no purpose.” Fisher pushes a magazine into the gun. “You first. I want to see his face as he watches you die.” He runs his eyes over me. “Now…where to put the bullet. I want to keep that face pretty. Your body won’t be entirely useless once your heart stops.”

I freeze, and time stops. A sharp click echoes off the metal walls as Fisher cocks the gun. My eyes go wide in fear, and my heart is pounding away. The gun is aimed at me and I know I’m going to die.

Grayson twists his arms free and dives in front of me, the exact second Fisher pulls the trigger.

Grayson collides with me, and we go down. My ears ring, and the gunshot vibrates off the metal walls. Gray wraps his arms around me, using his body as a shield. Everything stops for that moment.

We hit the cement floor hard. Something wet and warm drips onto my face and another shot rings out. Gray’s blue eyes go wide in fear as he looks at me. Then he pulls my head into his shoulder and rolls us over, taking shelter behind a forklift. The big doors are thrown open, and the police rush in.

“You’re bleeding,” he pants. “You were shot.” He’s frantic, sitting up to look at me but not wanting to stop being my shield.

“No, you are.” I put my hand on the bullet wound on his shoulder. Gray wipes away some of the blood on my face. “It’s yours. We need to get you out of here,” I tell him. Gunfire erupts around us as the Jackals shoot at police. Grayson presses me against the forklift, protecting me. His blood soaks through my shirt, and I know he needs medical attention now or he’ll die from blood loss. But he doesn’t falter as he holds me there, protecting me even if it means his death.

A police office comes over, making me jump and scream. He waves for us to follow him, and takes us to the side of the building. We run along the wall and step into the night. We jump into a black SUV that takes off the second we’re in.

“He’s been shot!” I tell the driver. “Stop and help me!”

“We can’t stop here,” the driver says. “Need to get away from the gunfire.”

I press my hands on Grayson’s wound.

“What were you thinking?” he asks me, wincing as I push even harder in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “You shouldn’t have gone after me, Pepper. You could have gotten shot!”

“I didn’t, and I would go to the end of the world for you, Gray.”

“I’m not worth it”

“Shut up,” I tell him and press my lips to his. “You are more than worth it.”

Gray stiffens and looks at the driver. “Who—”

“It’s the FBI,” I say.

Gray’s eyes meet mine, and then he smiles. “You really did it, Pepper.”

“Part of it,” I say, leaving out how I know nothing about the other club with the scythes. One psychotic club at a time, please. I let out a breath and everything hits me. Tears well in my eyes. Grayson is here. He’s back. And he’s not going anywhere.

The SUV rolls to a stop, and the driver is on the phone, calling for an ambulance. Grayson’s head falls back, and his body weakens.

“Pepper,” he whispers. “I love you.”

And then his eyes close. I just got him back, and now he’s gone.

Chapter Twenty-four

Grayson

My eyes flutter open, and everything feels heavy. My arms are too heavy to move. My eyelids won’t stay up, and my head hurts. I’m pulled back into darkness, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t come out.

“Grayson,” the most beautiful voice calls to me. I move toward it. Her fingers brush my face, and I find the strength to open my eyes. Pepper’s face is right there. The blood is gone, and her hair is pulled up and away from her face. “Gray? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” I say, throat dry.

“You just got out of surgery. You were shot.”

I open my eyes again and it comes back to me. “Are you okay?”

“I am, thanks to you,” she says.

“And the Jackals?

Her full lips curve into a smile. “Everyone that was at the warehouse is either dead or arrested.”

My eyes fall shut again. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’ll wake up and realize I’m still tied up, hearing Fisher threaten Pepper over and over.

Or maybe not.

“Get some rest,” Pepper says and runs her fingers through my hair. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Mh-hm,” I say. “Pepper?”

“Yes, Grayson?”

I force my eyes open. “I love you.”

Pepper’s lips press against my forehead. “I love you, too. Go back to sleep, Gray.”

“Okay,” I mumble, and let my eyes fall shut. The next time I wake up, I’m in a different room. Pepper is sitting in a chair next to my hospital bed, legs bent up under her, and her head is tipped to the side. She’s sleeping.

I sit up, looking around the room. The clock on the wall reads a little after seven, and the weak sunlight streaming through the window lets me know it’s morning. I slept all night? My eyes fall on Pepper. I hope she slept all night too.

It hurts to move my left arm, and my shoulder is all bandaged up. There’s an IV in my right arm. I trace the lines up to a bag full of clear liquid. I lean back against the pillow, thinking about everything that happened.

Someone knocks on the door, then immediately comes in. “Hi,” the nurse says gently. “Oh, good! You’re awake.”

“She’s not,” I whisper, looking over at Pepper.

“She hasn’t left your side,” the nurse says, pushing a little machine that takes vitals into the room. “You got a good one, there.” She smiles warmly at me, and that feeling of being a fraud, of hiding my past and my criminal record comes back. Fuck. I wonder if it’ll ever go away.

*

“Can you believe this?” Pepper stands at the foot of the hospital bed, holding open a newspaper. “There is more in here about what I wore to the interview—and how I wasn’t wearing makeup—than there is about the actual story!”

I try not to laugh. “I don’t know what else you expected, Pepper.”

“The truth!”

I shake my head, smiling at her. “You don’t watch the news too much, do you?”

“It’s depressing. I stopped a few years ago.”

The laughter I was holding in escapes. She folds the paper back and gets out her phone. “The phone interview I did this morning isn’t much better. Instead of asking me about how I had the courage to walk into a hostage situation or anything like that, they asked me what I wore! Because that matters.” She shakes her head, cheeks flushed from her irritation. “No wonder so many girls have body issues. Here we are, talking about an operation that led to the arrest of several Jackal members and an investigation of many more, and all they want to know is what designer I had on. I told them I was naked, by the way.”

“Did you really?”

“No. I should have, though.” She sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for the Styrofoam cup of Sprite on the bedside table. I slip my arm around her the best I can with the damn IV line in the way.

“Still not feeling well?”

She makes a face and takes a sip of Sprite. “I’m fine. It’s just a little stomachache, that’s all.”

“Lay down. Sleeping for more than a few hours at a time will do you wonders.”

“You should be resting, not me.”

“Pepper,” I start, raising my eyebrows. “I’m more than fine. The only reason I haven’t gotten up and left is because it would upset you.” I move my left shoulder up and down, ignoring the sharp pain I feel. “See? Fine. It doesn’t even hurt. And chicks dig scars, right? I call this a win.”

She laughs and lies back down, tucking herself up against me. I run my fingers through her hair and she’s asleep in just minutes. A while later, the doctor comes in. I’m medically clear to go, and as soon as the paperwork is processed, I can leave. Thank the fucking lord. I hate hospitals.

Four hours later, we walk out. Pepper had new clothes brought for me, and there is a car waiting in front of the hospital doors. Pepper is worried about me, and I try to reassure her that I’m fine by telling her about a time I got shanked in prison. Her glare lets me know she doesn’t find it amusing.

We’re escorted back to the manor by cops, as well as Pepper’s security team. I spoke with two FBI agents last night, and told them everything I know. It’s not enough to make arrests, but it’s enough for them to start drawing connections and to assign agents to keep a close eye on the club with the scythe emblem, a fifteen-year old club called the Street Reapers, who have no criminal history prior to this.

It’s business as usual at the Davenport manor. The large family photo above the grand stairs is right side up again, and things seem as they were before all this shit hit the fan.

“I didn’t think it would feel good to be home,” Pepper confesses. “But it does.” I give her hand a squeeze. “Are you hungry?” she asks. “Grilled cheese sounds good right now. Is that weird?”

“Not weird. Because I’ll take one too.”

We go into the kitchen, and sit at the table while someone cooks for us.

“So,” Pepper starts. “I think it’s a good time to hear the whole story now.”

I give her a lopsided smile. “I think so too.” I lean forward and tell her everything, from how I took the blame so my dad had a chance to pay back the money, to his death and the club coming for me, saying I owed them for his debt. Working off the debt meant doing illegal things, and those illegal things are what led to the second time I got arrested.  I spent a year in jail and the day I got out, the club was back, demanding money or work. The pattern continued, and I got slapped with an eight-year sentence for breaking and entering (I was guilty of that), assault (did that too), and arson (I didn’t start the fire). In California, every day counts as two, cutting my sentence in half, and along with good behavior, I served three years.

I had just gotten out and started the only job I could get with a record like that, working at the club’s auto shop. A month later, Alcott contacted me. Pepper agrees that it seems like he was watching, waiting for me to get out.

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Pepper says, picking up her grilled cheese sandwich. “Why didn’t you ever call me?”

“I wanted to. More than anything, I wanted to go back to you. But I didn’t want to involve you in the Jackals, and you seemed to have moved on. I know otherwise now,” I quickly add.

“Why would you think that?”

“I might have cyber stalked you and saw paparazzi photos of you with some blonde guy on a yacht.”

She has to think about it to recall who that guy was. “I didn’t date anyone for years, Gray. I think what you’re thinking about was spring break. Savannah tried to set me up, but it never went anywhere.” She slowly chews her food, and then shakes her head. “It’s over. We’re together now, and that’s what matters.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Pepper

“What are you going to do?” Savannah asks. “It’s been almost a week. He’s still living with you, right?”

“Not technically,” I say, and stick my fork into the chocolate cake in front of me. “He has that house and most of his stuff is there. He went home yesterday.”

Savannah raises an eyebrow. “For like an hour, right? You were in the office. I know because you were sending me Snaps.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Busted. And I don’t know what we’re going to do. Moving in together…it’s too soon, right?”

“Pepper, you’ve been in love with the guy for going on ten years now. I think you can expedite parts of your relationship.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, and he’s practically living with you already. But what’s he going to do? Just hang around all day? Live off your money? Be your fake bodyguard that fucks you every night?”

“Keep your voice down!” I whisper-yell, looking around the restaurant. “He fucks me during the day too. And I don’t know. We both know we need to talk about it.”

“What can he do? I mean, the guy spent four years in jail, right?”

“He’s a good artist,” I say.

Savannah takes a bite of my cake. “I can think of worse things than being an artist.”

“The plan before was for him to get a business degree and work for my dad. It’s not too late to do a variation of that.”

Savannah nods. “You don’t have to assign roles like that either, you know. He can be a stay-at-home dad whenever you guys decide to have babies. Stay-at-home dads are hot.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon if he moves in? Officially?”

“Pep. I say this with love. Why do you care what other people think? Haven’t you two been through enough not to give a shit? Answer this: do you feel like a new couple?”

“No. It’s weird, but I don’t. It’s like the last six years were a blur and we picked up right where we left off. Only older.”

“Then it’s not too soon. And I think it’s safe to say Grayson can’t have any more skeletons in his closet.”

I laugh. “I think that’s impossible.” I fold my napkin, eyeballing the cake. I want more, but feel sick again. With all this stress, it’s no surprise I’m coming down with something. “So, do I ask him? Like just say it?”

“Yes, Pepper. But first, make a poster with some glitter and ask him to prom.” Savannah laughs and grabs her cucumber water. “Aren’t you going to dinner tonight?”

“We had plans to.”

She raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like you’re trying to bail.”

“I am. I’m still beat from everything that happened. It’s been one heartache after another.”

“You’re a tough bitch, Pep.”

I let out a snort of laughter. “Thanks, Savannah. That’s a good compliment coming from you.”

“It’s true. I’d be a blubbering mess in the loony bin, hopped up on pills if I were in your shoes. I couldn’t have handled it.”

“Hey, you’re stronger than you know too.”

“You’re lying,” she says and takes the last bite of cake. “But I’ll take it.”

We finish our lunch date and go about our day, both with security. My father always had security tailing him, and I hated it. I’m not happy to have a professional babysitter, but I’m not willing to take any risks.

I go into the office for a few hours to go over a deal with my uncle, and then head back to the manor. Grayson is in the breezeway, washing his motorcycle.

“Hey baby,” he says, and wipes suds on his pants before pulling me in for a hug. His shirt is wet, and I’m not sure if it’s from sweat or water. “How was work?”

“I still have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he says and gives me a kiss. I taste salt on his lips, so it’s sweat, not water.

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. Someday.”

Desire pulses through me, and the need to have Grayson inside me hits hard. I kiss him again, moving my lips to his neck. “You taste like sweat.”

“It is hot out,” Grayson says, running his hand over my ass. “You know how I could cool down?” He untucks my blouse.

“I have a feeling whatever you’re thinking is going to heat me up.”

“It will,” he promises. “Where’s your phone?”

“In my purse. Why?”

“No reason,” he says, and picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder.

“Put me down,” I protest, too aware of the security guard behind us.

Grayson takes off through the breezeway, and I’m laughing as I bob around on his shoulder. He doesn’t stop until we’re at the pool.

“Don’t you dare!” I try to wiggle out of his arms. “Gray, no!” He jumps. We both go underwater. I pop up, laughing. “I can’t believe you did that!” I exclaim and splash him. “Do you have any idea what water is going to do to these shoes?”

“They’ll dry,” he says and splashes me back.

“And your wound? You shouldn’t be in the pool.”

Grayson swims over and takes me by the waist. He kisses me hard. “I’m fine. Let’s not adult tonight.”

I’m smiling as I kiss him again. “I like that idea.”

“You deserve a break.”

“I do,” I agree. Grayson pushes me up against the side of the pool. I try to part my legs but my skirt is too tight. I hook my arms over his neck. “Take me to the cabana?”

Grayson nods and picks me up, carrying me out of the pool. A trail of water drips behind us. Grayson lays me down on a lounge chair, pulling the shades of the cabana. He strips me down to my bra and panties, and I watch him do a personal strip show just for me.

“The scar is sexy,” I tell him, heat between my legs intensifying. He moves on top of me, and just before his lips touch mine, I stop him. “I’m fine with not adulting today, but I do have one question for you.”

“What is it?”

“Want to move in with me?”

Grayson smiles. “Yeah. I do.”

*

“I’m fine if we stay home tonight,” I tell Grayson, turning on the shower. “I’m tired.”

“Are you still not feeling well?”

I shake my head, hand flying to my stomach. “It’s probably something I ate.” A weird feeling burns in my chest. I’m not lying on purpose, but I can’t keep denying it to myself either. Something else is up.

Grayson leans against the sink in the bathroom, eyeing my naked body up and down. “You’re tired, you’ve felt sick every morning, and you’ve had a grilled cheese almost every day.”

“Yeah, so?”

He just gives me a look.

“I’m scared,” I confess. “I’ve been too scared to think about it, even though I know it’s a good possibility. I didn’t take my pills on time—or at all—the day my dad died. I just keep messing up and I’m so—”

“Hey,” Grayson interrupts. He moves across the bathroom and puts his hands on my sides. He pulls me to him, my bare body pressed against his. “You bringing a child into the world is not messing up. Pepper, you are the most amazing woman in the entire universe. And trust, me, I’ve been as far as California.”

I laugh, but it’s not enough to keep tears from forming in my eyes. “I’m scared.”

“That’s normal. We don’t even know yet. It could be nothing.”

“Or I could be pregnant.”

“Either way, we have each other.” He kisses me and I get turned on all over again. “And I’m not going anywhere this time.”

Epilogue

Grayson

Six years later…

“Come on, baby. One more.” I tighten my grip on Pepper’s hand. Her palm is clammy and her nails dig into my skin so hard I’m sure there are little half-moon indents filled with blood. But I won’t say anything. Because whatever pain I’m feeling is nothing compared to  what she’s going through.

“I can’t. I can’t do this,” she cries.

“That’s what you said during the last one.”

“I take it back. Give me drugs.”

“It’s too late for that,” I remind her. I look at the monitor, and then back at her. “Deep breath.”

“That isn’t helping!” She squeezes her eyes closed, preparing for another contraction to pass. The doctor and nurses encourage her to push, and I steal a glance between her legs and see the baby’s head crowning.

“I see hair,” I tell her. “Golden brown like yours.” Tears fill my eyes, and I’m pretty sure Pepper has broken every bone in my hand. This is our third baby, and it’s just as emotional as the first.

Seven and a half months after I moved in with Pepper, our sweet Charlotte was born. She was several weeks early and scared us half to death. But she’s a fighter like her mama and came home stronger than ever. Having a premature baby made us cautious to have another, but almost three years later, Pepper gave birth to our son, Aiden.

We don’t know the sex of this baby.

“One more big push,” the nurse says. “Almost there.”

Pepper takes another deep breath and gives it all she’s got, and I watch as our third child comes into the world.

“It’s a girl!” the doctor announces and puts the baby on Pepper’s chest. Pepper’s hands are shaking, and she can’t hold back the tears any longer. She cradles our daughter, kissing the top of her head.

“Emma,” she whispers.

I kiss Pepper, then put a hand on our baby. “She’s so little,” I say, blinking back tears. “I forgot how little they are.”  I bend over the bed, hugging my wife and our newest child. A few minutes later, I cut the cord, and the nurse wraps Emma up in a little blanket. We spend those first precious moments together, unspeaking.

“Do you want me to get your other children?” the nurse asks once the doctor leaves. Pepper nods, and I tell her yes. A minute later, Savannah comes in with Charlie and Aiden. Charlie rushes forward to see her newest sibling.

“What is it, Mommy?” she cries.

“A girl,” Pepper tells her, smiling.

“Yes!” Charlie throws her hands in the air in celebration. “I got a sister!”

Aiden’s shoulders fall. “Aww, man!” he huffs and we all laugh. I scoop up the kids and bring them to Pepper’s bed. I take Pepper’s hand and kiss the top of her head. I look at my family, knowing in my heart things that couldn’t be any better.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Goodwin is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of over a dozen of romantic titles. Emily writes the kind of books she likes to read, and is a sucker for a swoon-worthy bad boy and happily ever afters.

She lives in the midwest with her husband and two daughters. When she's not writing, you can find her riding her horses, hiking, reading, or drinking wine with friends.

Emily is represented by Julie Gwinn of the Seymour Agency.

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Checkmate: This is War Sneak Peek

Book 1 in the Checkmate Duet

Kennedy Fox

Travis King is the worst kind of asshole.

He taunts me for being a good girl and mocks my high standards.

He’s cruel, crass, and has enough confidence to last two lifetimes.

And I hate him.

It wouldn’t matter so much if he were avoidable.

But considering he’s my older brother’s best friend and roommate, I see him more than I’d ever want to.

His sculpted abs and gorgeous eyes are wasted on such an arrogant man, which makes me hate him even more.

Even though I’ve had a crush on him since I was ten, the feelings weren’t mutual and he’s made that very clear.

He’s always loved getting under my skin, and one night, against my better judgment, I let him in my bed.

I’ve succumbed to his manwhore ways, but that doesn’t change a thing.

Because the King is about to get played at his own game—and lose.

Checkmate.

PROLOGUE

VIOLA

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, lived a young princess who awaited a prince who would give her everything she ever dreamed of… love, passion, loyalty. He’d be the sweetest, kindest, most heartwarming gentleman a girl could ever ask for. And he’d be perfect.

…Excuse me while I vomit.

There is absolutely, positively, no way that a man like that exists on this earth. I used to think he was, but of course, I was proven wrong. I was young and naive, and didn’t know any better.

And he was Travis King.

I remember how clear the sky was as I sat on my rooftop outside of my bedroom window. Summer was fading away and the start of my seventh grade year was right around the corner. The stars were super bright and as I counted them, I heard Travis’ father screaming from the house across from mine. He did that a lot and occasionally, I’d see Travis through the window of his bedroom. He’d put on his headphones to tune out the yelling, as if it was something to which he was accustomed. But that night he didn’t go to his bedroom. He ran out of his front door, slamming it behind him, and began pacing his front yard. I swallowed, watching him intently as his hands balled into fists at his sides.

When the Kings moved across the street from us, Travis and my older brother, Drew, instantly became best friends. They were both going into their first year of high school and I was sad I wouldn’t be at the same school as them anymore. Well, mostly about Travis. Drew had made it very clear he didn’t like his little sister tagging along, but Travis never made me feel like I was a nuisance.

As I watched him kick the dirt on the sidewalk, he looked up at me. His lips were turned down and I could see the anger in his eyes. My breath stilled as he watched me watch him, and I was certain he’d tell my brother I’d been spying on him.

Instead, he walked across the street, climbed up the trellis and sat down next to me. He stayed silent for a long while, but then he finally turned and spoke.

“I hate my dad sometimes.”

“Why does he get so mad?” I asked.

He looked away and rested his arms over his bent knees. “He drinks. Sometimes too much.”

“Does he hurt you?” He didn’t look at me. “Or your mother?”

He winced. “No. Just yells.”

We sat in silence, both lying on our backs as we looked up at the sky above us, the stars so bright and big.

“You can sit up here anytime, you know? My parents won’t mind.”

“Drew would,” he said matter-of-factly. “He’d call me a pansy.” He chuckled.

“Drew calls everyone that.”

He laughed again.

I turned my head and looked at him. “I don’t think you’re a pansy.”

Travis tilted his head and looked into my eyes and everything went serious. I watched his throat move, swallowing hard. He licked his lips and moved in close. Feeling his breath against my skin made me so nervous, I instinctively turned my head.

“Are you excited about going into high school?” I spit out, trying to change the subject, looking back up at the stars. I could’ve sworn Travis was about to kiss me. It would’ve been my first kiss.

Moments passed and he finally responded. “Yeah, I guess. It’ll be nice getting back into basketball season and staying late for practices and games.”

I knew what he was implying without saying the words. Less time at home.

“Why do you think she puts up with it?” Curiosity got the best of me, and I could no longer keep it in. “Can’t she leave him?” I asked.

He shrugged. I supposed it wasn’t that simple for adults, but to me it just sounded like common sense. Why would anyone want to be with someone that treated them like crap?

That wasn’t the last time Travis snuck up the rooftop and sat with me under the stars. We shared details with each other that we hadn’t shared with anyone else before. It was our secret little spot where we could talk or just sit and stare up at the sky.

It was easy.

He wasn’t my brother’s best friend.

I wasn’t his best friend’s little sister.

And the lines between us weren’t blurred.

I was only twelve years old, so I truly believed prince charming existed. As I grew older, I came to realize he never really did. Because if he did, he most certainly wouldn’t be available. And he most definitely wouldn’t be interested in a girl like me. I’m not saying that because I want anyone to tell me otherwise, but if such a man existed, he’d have no chance with me anyway. Because for some only-God-knows-why reason, my heart only beats for one man. My pulse only increases when he walks into the room. My cheeks flush and my body hums when he looks at me. I feel the blood in my veins as my skin heats from his very existence. He’s the epitome of perfection.

…Too bad a decade later, he’s a complete asshole.

Travis King.

He’s no knight in shining armor; more like a royal jackass. He may look like a prince on the outside, but on the inside he’s a cocky, arrogant womanizer that I want to shove over a cliff.

All right, that might sound dramatic and all, considering I just confessed my feelings about him, but those are feelings of hate…not love.

From being head over heels for him as a young girl to loathing him as a woman, Travis King needs to remember the golden rule—never admit defeat.

It was game on.

CHAPTER ONE

TRAVIS

I love a girl who can suck dick like a champ. Watching her tongue lick up my thick vein, pumping blood to my best and biggest asset, sets my body ablaze. She wraps her hand around my shaft, sucks on the tip, and pumps hard until I release inside her delicious mouth.

“Mm…salty.” She licks her lips and pushes a finger inside her mouth, sucking it clean.

“Sorry for the mess.” I pull myself back inside my pants and re-buckle my belt.

“I caught most of it.” She’s grinning, as if swallowing is some kind of special achievement.

I grab her hand and lift her up, leaning in to give her a chaste kiss. “Thanks, babe.”

“No, thank you.” Her eyes light up as a soft giggle releases from her throat.

I lick my lips. “Mm…you’re right.”

She furrows her brows in question.

“Salty.” Her eyes widen as she realizes to what I’m referring.

“So…same time next week?” She bats her long, fake lashes up at me, and I fight the urge to laugh in her face.

“I’ll check my schedule.” I open the door and casually look out in the hallway to make sure no one else is around. “All clear, babe.”

She follows me out, but we walk in different directions.

I head toward the elevator and press the call button. Once I’m in, I turn around and smile as I watch Alyssa Crawford’s hips sway from side to side as she walks toward the emergency exit staircase.

Yup. I’m hooking up with Sloan Crawford’s—CEO of Crawford Marketing—daughter.

And a nice hook-up it’s become.

“Wipe that smug look off your face, King.” I hear as soon as I step off the elevator. It’s Blake James, my lead supervisor.

“Don’t be a jealous dick,” I retort, walking toward my office.

“Not jealous, dude.”

“You would be if you knew what I was smiling about.” I turn around and grin, walking backward through my door. He rolls his eyes with a sigh, and I laugh as I slam the door shut.

Since my lunch break was spent in the bathroom on the ninth floor, I’m still starving. However, I can’t leave my office again, so I text my roommate, Drew. Dude, bring me a sandwich! I’m starving!

Didn’t you eat on your lunch? he immediately responds.

Not exactly… I send back, knowing he’ll understand what I mean.

Do I even wanna know?

I smirk. Let’s just say… I was the meal and she loved every last swallow.

How you don’t get your ass laid out and canned from your job, I’ll never know. I imagine him shaking his disapproving head at me.

It’s the charm, bro.

Unlikely.

So come on… bring me something to eat before I die.

Can’t…stuck doing bitch work till five.

I groan. He’s been working at the Sacramento PD for the past two years now, ever since we graduated from college. Between his long-distance girlfriend and working overtime, we barely cross paths anymore.

Fuck. All right. Never mind.

Why not just order delivery?

Because every chick that comes to deliver it ends up with an extra tip… That isn’t a complete lie. I also forgot my wallet, but I spare him the details.

I can’t even deal with you.

So you see my dilemma? I laugh to myself.

Sorry, man. I’ll see if I can get someone that has some self-control and willpower to send something.

I roll my eyes. Thanks, I text back.

I get back to work, making calls and returning emails before my afternoon conference call. Less than an hour later, the receptionist buzzes and tells me my lunch is here.

Yes! I knew Drew wouldn’t let me down.

“Send it in,” I say back.

I adjust my tie and sit back as the door whips open. I look up as five and a half feet of pure hatred walks in. Good call, Drew. The self-control and willpower is strong with this one.

Viola Fisher.

“Well, well, well…” I drawl out, crossing my arms over my chest in delight. “If this isn’t the surprise of the century.” Little Goody Two-Shoes, delivering my lunch as if I’m the biggest inconvenience of her life. She must have owed Drew a favor.

She throws a brown bag on top of my desk and glares. “Cut the shit, Travis.”

“Always a delight, V.” I continue smiling as her lips straighten into an angry line.

“It’s Viola,” she corrects like she does every time.

“But V the Virgin sounds so much better. Don’t you agree?”

“I’m not a virgin,” she hisses. She throws her hands up and spins around. “I don’t need to explain anything to you. Enjoy your lunch, asshole. I poisoned it.” She opens the door and stalks out, letting the door slam shut behind her.

I grab the bag and pull out a turkey club and a bag of chips. I analyze the food, knowing damn well she probably would poison me if she had the chance. Just to be safe, I stuff the sandwich back in the bag and grab the chips instead. At least I know she hasn’t tampered with that.

I can’t help the pleased grin that spreads across my face when I see she’s picked out barbecue-flavored baked chips for me. She knows barbecue chips are my favorite, even though she’ll deny it until the day she dies.

Yeah, that’s what happens when you’ve known a girl for most of your life. She shares DNA with Drew, who’s been my best friend since we were twelve. We grew up together, played on the same sport teams, and even lived across from each other. After our sophomore year of college, we moved out of the dorms. We now rent a house off campus together, where Viola is always lurking around. She’s hellbent on commenting on every aspect of my life, even though she’s the one that needs to get one.

Needless to say, Viola and I haven’t had a great relationship. Or a relationship period.

She hates my guts.

I don’t blame her entirely. But I don’t exactly adore her either. She’s the perfect little prude who thinks she knows everything just because she’s the class brainiac. She judges everything I do while being a complete cock tease. At least, I know how to walk the walk. I’d be surprised if she knew where her own g-spot is.

“King…” Blake steps into my office, his eyes lit up wide. “Who was that chick?” The corners of his lips are turned up in an excited grin. “She was hot!”

I roll my eyes. Viola is not hot.

Jessica Biel—hot.

Megan Fox—bangin’.

Eva Mendes—smokin’.

Scarlett Johansson—porn star hot.

But Viola Fisher—gorgeous, stunning, absolutely breathtaking. Much more than hot. Even though she could afford to loosen her panties a little. Both figuratively and literally.

Even if she did bat an eyelash my way, Drew would kill me before he allowed me to touch his little sister.

“That’s my roommate's little sister, Viola. She was just dropping off my lunch.”

His lips turn down. “Oh…you’re already hitting that, aren’t you?”

The top corner of my lip twists up and a small chuckle rolls off my tongue. “Uh, no. Not even close.”

His brows furrow. “Then why was she here bringing you food?”

“Because Drew’s my best friend and I’ve known them both since we were kids. He probably asked her to and when she told him to fuck off, he probably threatened to change the locks.”

“Ahh…blackmail.”

I laugh. “Maybe. She secretly loves doing things for me.”

“You’re an arrogant dick, King.” He shakes his head as he aims for the door, but a small smile pulls at his lips.

“Arrogance is the key to success, James!” I holler back, but he’s already walking away and shaking his head at me.

Oh well…you can’t win everyone over.

VIOLA

You have got to be freaking kidding me!

I want to yell and flail my arms at the jaw-clenching task my brother has asked me to do.

Can you bring Travis a sandwich at work? He didn’t have time to eat during his break.

I roll my eyes at the message he sends me. A lame attempt to cover Travis’ ass. ‘Didn’t have time’…really? I wasn’t born yesterday.

However, Drew does so much for me that I have a hard time refusing him. As kids we weren’t super close, but as we grew older, he became much more than just my brother. He’s my best friend. As much as I want to tell him to tell Travis to fuck off, I don’t. Instead I reply back, Fine. But I’m putting rat poison in his mayo.

Whatever gives it flavor. I smile as I read his message. Drew knows I hate Travis. Not like, har-har-I-hate-you kind of hate, but like loathing, I’d-rather-eat-my-arm-off-than-be-near-you kind of hate.

But Travis is his best friend, so when he needs a favor, I usually get roped into helping somehow.

After throwing his lunch on his desk, I storm out of his office with a humph. I was three seconds away from slapping his stupid, I’m-so-hot grin right off his face.

He’s not hot, for the record.

He’s a fucking devil and gorgeous god all in one, and he knows it, too. With his sculpted six-pack, sleeve tattoos and stunning brown eyes, he’s the type that never has to work for anything.

He works out religiously and reminds me every time when he walks around the house shirtless. Aside from working out, his extracurricular activities include being naked and in between some bimbo’s legs. If only he cared about the girls he brings home the way he cared about his body, we’d be having a much different conversation.

For the record, I only know this because he lives with my older brother.

I drive out of the parking lot and head back to school. Although this is my last year, I still live on campus. I received a full scholarship based off my grades and SAT scores, so spending the extra money to be off campus didn’t make sense. Luckily, last year I was able to choose courtyard housing, which means I get my own bedroom and bathroom and only have to share a living room and kitchen with my three other roommates. For extra money, I tutor jocks. Never a short supply of academically questionable athletes on campus.

“Hey, Viola!” Ashley calls out as soon as I walk through the door.

“Hey! You’re back early.” I set my stuff down on the table and rummage through it.

“Class got dismissed as soon as we finished the quiz,” she says in between bites of chewing her lunch.

“What a waste of a class.” I love school. Yes, I’m one of those students that absolutely loves studying, doing homework, and participating in class lectures. I even devote an entire weekend for school supplies shopping and organizing it all by color and subject.

I’m smart, so sue me.

Actually, don’t. I can’t afford a lawyer.

“Doesn’t bother me!” She stands up from the couch and stalks over. “Jesus, Viola. What is all this shit?”

I furrow my brows at her. “This shit is called textbooks, notebooks, and reading material. You might’ve heard of it?” I tease.

“I swear to God, Viola. You are way too focused on school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a book in your hands.”

“Plenty of times, actually. But you see this building we live in?” I dramatically twirl a finger around in the air. “And all the larger buildings that surround us? That’s called a campus…it’s where people come to learn.”

“It’s also where people come to party and get laid, but I never see you do any of those things,” she says with a grin.

I scoff. “I get laid plenty of times.” No, I don’t.

She snorts, laughs, and nearly chokes at my words. “That’s the biggest line of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

I sigh. “I’m leaving now. BYE.” I pile my stuff back in my bag and head back out toward the door.

“Love you!” she calls out, but I just flip her my middle finger over my shoulder and slam the door behind me.

I’m really not the buzzkill she’s portraying I am, but it’s safe to say I’m school-focused. More importantly, I’m future-focused. I’m two hours away from home, and to stay away from that little town after graduation, I’ll have to continue my education or find a job that pays well. I am trying to keep my options open because there really isn’t a home for me to go back to. After our parents’ nasty divorce was finalized, the house I grew up in was put on the market and sold. Mom moved on, fell in love with a nice guy named Larry. They’d let me move in without a doubt, but I could never do that. It would just be too weird to live with a man who’s virtually a stranger to me. Dad is still happily married to his job at the law firm, which isn’t surprising. Most days it feels as if Drew and I only have each other.

Majoring in International Business makes me happy. It keeps my mind busy and I’ve always loved how other cultures conduct business. I geek out over micro and macroeconomics and just the mention of foreign trade policies gets me hot and bothered.

Earlier in the semester, Dr. Johnson pulled me aside after class and asked if I’d consider an apprenticeship after graduation. I had already started applying for graduate schools, but I wasn’t against the suggestion. If she thought it would benefit my future, I’d definitely consider it.

She handed me a stack of papers with a smile and gave me several handwritten recommendations for each corporation. After looking them over, I decided to send my application in to a few of them. I’ve been on edge waiting for their replies, but so far nothing yet. After doing further research into these corporations and weighing the benefits of what these experiences could mean for a future career, I’ve become obsessed with planning out every possible path I could take. Those offers will single-handedly decide my future after graduation.

It’s something I’ve kept from Drew, which I feel bad about, but I know if I tell him, he’ll either try to talk me out of moving away, or he’ll ask me on a daily basis if I’ve heard anything yet. The pressure and disappointment is something I want to avoid, so until I know for sure, I’m not telling him anything. As far as he knows, I’ve only applied to graduate schools within the state.

However, I know I’m going to tell him eventually. I’m just waiting until I have to. Once our parents started fighting regularly and their focus shifted from being a family to sabotaging one another, Drew made sure to take care of me. Even when he was annoyed with my books and my distaste for sports, he made sure to keep an eye on me. I was a sophomore in high school and he was in his last year of high school when our parents’ fighting really got bad. I could no longer remember a time when we all sat down to eat a meal together or even to one of Drew’s basketball games. Somewhere between middle and high school, something shifted, and I really never knew what or why, but it pushed Drew and me together. If anything good came out of my parent’s divorce, it was that.

After my final class, I head back to my room, pile my clothes in a basket, and drive over to Drew’s house. Since he and Travis rent a house just ten minutes from campus, I visit after Drew’s shifts and do my laundry every Wednesday night. But since Drew works patrol all day, I stop in after he’s home from work so we can hang out while I wait for my clothes to wash.

“Hey, Vi,” he greets as soon as I walk in. His dark locks are a wild mess as usual, his eyes glued to the TV as his fingers furiously move across the game controller. You wouldn’t know by looking at his muscular frame that he’s a total videogame junkie. If he’s not in uniform or killing zombies through the screen, he’s working out with the guys in his unit.

“Hey. Washer free?”

“I think Travis just put his in a few minutes ago.”

I curse under my breath. “He knows I come over on Wednesday nights to do laundry. Why is this a hard concept to understand?”

He doesn’t answer, but we both know why.

Because Travis is a fucking arrogant douche who thinks he runs the world.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll wait then.” I drop my basket on the floor with a hard smack and stalk toward Drew. I plop on the couch next to him and ask if I can play too.

“You don’t know how to play,” he retorts.

“Well, then teach me. It can’t be that hard.”

He chuckles. “All right. If you think you can play with the big boys.”

“Stop being sexist and give me a damn controller.”

We battle it out for a half hour before Travis struts in the living room in a low-riding pair of jeans. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from commenting, but it’s a hard task. I hate it when he walks around shirtless, showing off the outlines of his taut muscles and the V that runs below his waistline.

As if he could be anymore of a walking, talking cliché, he has a sleeve of tattoos on one arm and half a sleeve on the other. I catch myself admiring it more than I should, so I quickly look away before he notices.

“What’s up, V?”

“Why don’t you tell me, asshole? Your clothes almost done?”

“Not washing clothes,” he says flatly, but I see the corner of his lips turn up slightly.

“Then what are you washing? You know I do my laundry on Wednesdays.”

“My sheets.” He grins, and I have to swallow back a gagging noise. “I have a guest coming over soon.”

“Well if you’d slow down the parade of visitors, we wouldn’t have this conflict.”

“Or you could do your laundry somewhere else and we wouldn’t have a conflict at all.”

I set the controller down on the coffee table and walk toward the kitchen as he walks toward the couch. “You’re such a disgusting manwhore.”

He sits in my spot and calls out, “Aw, is someone jealous?”

I roll my eyes so hard, I swear they might fall out. “Suck a dick, Travis.” I grab my basket and walk to the basement door.

“I was hoping that was your specialty!” I hear him yell out, but as soon as he does, I hear Drew’s fist collide with his shoulder.

“Dude, quit hitting on my sister.”

“In his dreams!” I yell out, opening the door and stepping down the stairs.

God, I can’t wait until I have my own place and can limit these not-so-lovely visits.

* * *

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