Chapter 2

Walking into the kitchen, I come to a stop when I see the girl sitting at the table eating a banana, a half-full glass of orange juice in front of her. She's wearing a purple romper with white polka dots and her long, dark hair is in two braids, both hanging over her shoulders. Her chin is propped on one of her hands with her elbow on the table as she stares out the backdoor window.

I clear my throat as I continue across the room to the coffee pot already filled with coffee.

"Good morning, Presley," I say to the preteen girl. "What brings you by so early?"

I glance over my shoulder just in time to see her smile. "Nothing special. I just wanted to say hello."

"Where's Cat?"

Before answering, Presley bites into her banana. "Dunno."

"How did you get in?"

"Cat gave me the alarm code a while back."

I nod, turning my attention back to the coffee and pour some of the black brew into two cups. After I drop a spoonful of sugar in mine, I add two to Cat's and then a splash of creamer. I stir both, then take mine to the table, leaving Cat's on the counter.

"How's life treating you?" I ask, taking a sip of the hot brew.

Presley lifts her shoulder in a careless shrug typical of preteens. "It's okay."

"Anything new going on?"

"Nope," she chirps as she pulls back the last of the banana peel and sets it on her napkin. Happiness sparkles in her eyes as she looks at me. "Except for this cute boy who just moved in down the street."

My jaw tightens unconsciously, and a flare of irritation sours my stomach. As a twelve-year-old, Presley shouldn't be noticing boys yet.

Even though she isn't our daughter, I still feel responsible for her. It never made sense to me why, but Presley started showing up at our house at random times after moving into our neighborhood a few years ago. It's never for a specific reason. She just likes to hang out. Her visits are always brief, lasting no more than a few minutes. It doesn't bother me when she's here though. She's a cute kid and sometimes quite entertaining. Just not when she's talking about boys.

"Aren't you too young to be thinking about boys?" I ask the question with as much calm as I can muster.

The sparkle in her eyes doesn't dim at all. Instead, she giggles, and despite my suddenly peevish mood, my heart warms.

"It's not like I want to kiss him and stuff. I just think he's cute. But not as cute as you, of course," she adds quickly, her grin widening until all of her teeth flash.

Despite her young age, Presley is a flirt. It doesn't bother me because I know her crush is the innocent kind most kids her age have on adult figures.

"Stay away from boys, Presley. They're bad news."

She rolls her eyes and replies sarcastically, "Yes, Dad."

I grunt while holding my cup to my lips.

"What are you up to today?" The rest of the banana gets stuffed into her mouth as she waits for my answer.

"Work."

Her pert little nose wrinkles adorably. "You mean that place where girls get naked and shake their butts? "

"How do you know about Slate?" I ask, mildly surprised.

She grabs the end of her braid and rubs it over her cheek while muttering, "I hear stuff."

My eyes narrow. "What kind of stuff?"

"Just stuff. Gross grown-up stuff." She drops her braid, tilting her head curiously, "Do you... like that kind of stuff?"

Nope, not going there.

I set my cup down. "That, little girl, is none of your business."

A tiny sparkle appears in her eyes, indicating she knows exactly what she's doing and is enjoying it. "Fine. I'll ask Cat."

"You'll do no such thing. That information is too delicate for your young ears."

Once again, her eyes roll upward before returning to me. "You're no fun."

"And you act older than you are."

"Whatever."

Huffing, Presley carries the napkin and banana peel to the trash, rinses out her glass, then deposits it in the dishwasher.

She starts for the kitchen door. "It's time for me to go. I'll see you later, Hunter."

With that, she leaves without saying another word. Standing up from my seat, I watch her skip down the hall and disappear into the living room. The door closes a second later.

Amused by Presley's abrupt departure, I walk over to the stack of papers she left behind. Presley, like Cat, enjoys writing, except her stories are innocent and sweet about her daily life at home with her parents and little brother. They're more like journal entries, and she likes to share them with Cat.

After I carry my cup to the counter and refresh it, I slip Cat's in the microwave to rewarm. I leave it on the counter where she'll see it, along with the stack of papers, and take my cup out to the back porch. Taking a seat on one of the loungers, I prop my feet on the railing and gaze off into the woods and the high mountains beyond them.

Tennessee is beautiful this time of year. It's the start of fall, so the leaves are just starting to change into deep oranges, lush reds, and bright yellows. It won't be long until the trees are bare and the chill becomes bitter.

The door behind me opens, and a second later, Cat steps beside my chair with her own coffee cup. Dropping my legs from the rail, I grab her cup and set it on the table between the chairs before she can take the seat beside me. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I pull her down on my lap.

She laughs lightly as she settles herself sideways. Her arm circles my shoulders and she drops her lips to mine, exactly what I wanted.

"Morning, gorgeous," I rumble against her lips.

"Morning."

I lay my arm across her lap and my hand moves to the back of her upper thigh, right below her ass.

"Presley was here?" she asks.

"Yeah. She left a few minutes ago." I press a kiss against the side of her head, then hand her her cup of coffee. "Any plans for the day?"

"Catch up on work. Darren is hounding me about the first draft."

Cat is a fictional thriller author. As a child, she dreamed of becoming a writer, and with the encouragement of her parents, she sold her first manuscript to a publishing house before she graduated from high school. Within weeks of its release, it topped the charts, much to Cat's and her parents' surprise. In the years since then, she has written and published nine bestselling books.

"You still have a month before your deadline hits, right?"

"Yeah," she sighs, lifting her cup to her lips. "It'll be close, but I'm confident I can finish in time."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Unless you can make the voices in my head cooperate, there's nothing anyone can do." She takes another sip of her coffee before balancing the cup on her knee.

"I'm sure you'll whip them into shape in no time," I tell her. "How are you feeling this morning?"

My eyes are drawn to her hands as they tighten around her cup. Bringing up her nightmares isn't something I like to do, but I need to reassure myself that she's okay. I hate that she's still having them, and I hate even more that I can't make them go away. With all the power I have at my fingertips, not being able to help my wife makes me feel fucking powerless.

As a line forms between her brows, she answers quietly, her gaze drifting to the backyard. "What time are you leaving this morning?" she asks, changing the subject. It's nothing new for her to avoid talking about her nightmares. I always let her because I know how much they get to her. But I watch her eyes to make sure she's not concealing some emotion. For now, they appear clear.

Lifting my arm, I check my watch. "In about five minutes." Grabbing her chin, I turn her head so I have access to her lips. After dropping a lingering kiss on them, I pull away. "Which means, I should get going now before I decide to blow off work today."

She laughs. "Okay."

I help her up from my lap, but before I grab my coffee cup, I drag her into my arms for a more heated kiss. Reluctantly, and with a deep groan, I retreat. My cock throbs beneath the fly of my slacks, making me wish I had an extra hour so I could carry Cat back to our bed and slide into the warm depths of her pussy.

Keeping her arms loosely wrapped around my shoulders, her fingers play with the hair on the back of my neck. She tips her head back to look at me. The sensual curve of her lips and the desire in her beautiful blue eyes do nothing to lessen my desire for her. "Behave, Mr. St. James, or I'll be the one keeping you from work."

My molars grind, and I will my wayward dick to behave.

"Yeah, yeah," I grumble, dropping my head for another brief kiss before letting her go.

She follows me to the kitchen, where I rinse then place my cup in the dishwasher. I grab my wallet, phone, and keys from the kitchen island.

"Don't forget we have dinner plans with my parents tonight," she reminds me. Depositing her cup on the counter, she walks me to the front door. "And don't forget to pick up wine on your way home."

"Yes, ma'am."

I turn to her with a grin once I'm at the door. Rolling to her toes, she gives me one last kiss before stepping back. "Love you."

"Love you back."

When the door closes behind me, I wait for the lock to click and the alarm to sound before making my way to my SUV. Every time I leave Cat at home, I listen for those two things. It's a habit I've developed over the years, and I don't intend to change it. Leaving her at home alone is already difficult. There's not a chance in hell I would without those precautions.

Before pulling out of the driveway, I dial Cat's parents' number on my phone, transferring the call to Bluetooth so I can talk while driving. Peggy, Cat's mom, answers on the third ring.

"Hello? Hunter? Is everything okay?"

Peggy always answers the same way, like she's expecting something to be wrong when I call.

"Everything's fine. I was just calling to make sure the house is ready for our visit this evening."

"Oh." Her sigh of relief comes over the car speakers. "Yes, honey, everything's ready."

"Great. We should be there by seven."

"Max, Emily, and Skylar will be here."

"They're driving down?"

"Yes," Peggy answers. "They won't be able to make it for Christmas this year, so they're making a trip down now."

Max is Cat's older brother and Emily is his wife. Skylar is their daughter. Ginger is Cat and Max's younger sister. She's married to Mason, and they have five-year-old twin boys, Aiden and Joshua. They live in a neighboring county, while Max lives in Montana with his family.

"Cat will be happy to see everyone. It's been too long since we've all been together."

"It'll be nice to have everyone in the same house. We haven't had that since last Christmas."

After switching on my blinker, I turn right onto the road that leads to Slate, the exclusive nightclub I own with my partner. We talk for a bit longer before we end our call.

After parking beside Silas's truck, I get out of my SUV and engage the locks with my key fob. Unlocking the back door to the building, I step inside, making sure to relock it. The keys jingle when I stuff them into my pocket as I walk down the hall to the private stairs that lead to the second floor. Seeing Silas's open door, I decide to check with him before going to my office.

Just inside the threshold, I stop. Silas, my business partner and best friend, has Katie, who looks after the girls at Slate, bent over his desk. The woman's skirt is hiked up around her waist and the black string of her thong is pulled to the side, digging into her ass cheek. Silas's pants sag beneath his ass as he pounds into her pussy, one hand holding her still while the other grasps her hair, pulling her head up so far that her back is bowed. With each powerful thrust, the massive desk they are against inches forward.

"God, yes, Silas. Right there," Katie moans, digging her nails into the hardwood.

Rather than quietly backing out of the room to give them privacy, I lean against the door frame. Not for the pleasure of the show, but because I'm here already. There is no point in leaving only to return when they're finished. Seeing Silas fuck a woman isn't something I haven't seen before, just as he has seen me take my fair share back in the day. Hell, we've even shared a few.

With grunts and squeals of pleasure filling the room, I pull out my phone to scroll through some emails.

A few minutes later, Katie lets out a loud cry, followed closely by Silas's deep growl. I repocket my phone and look up just as Silas tucks his cock back into his slacks and Katie shimmies her skirt back down. She glances at me briefly, her cheeks flushed, but not with embarrassment. Katie doesn't get embarrassed and she has not one shy bone in her body.

"Enjoy the show?" Silas asks. His question is for me, but his gaze is firmly fixed on Katie as she stands in front of a mirror, fixing her makeup and hair.

Once upon a time, I would have answered yes. It doesn't matter who you are. Watching a man rail a woman from behind would make the holiest of men pop a stiffy. Since I met Cat, the only thing I need is her. Now it's only mildly entertaining to watch other people have sex.

Standing against the doorframe, I lift my shoulder. "Not particularly."

Silas chuckles as he fixes the mess they made on his desk. "You used to be more fun," he remarks dryly.

That may be true for him, but I'm happy with my life and have plenty of fun with Cat.

"You get the email I sent over last night about the girls coming in for an interview?"

"Yes. Katie marked off a couple of them."

Katie turns away from the mirror and saunters over to Silas's desk, leaning a hip against the side. "I didn't like the look of a couple. They're shooting up."

We have a rule at Slate. We hire only clean employees. Physicals and drug tests are part of the hiring process. Drug tests are continued monthly, and if they're found to be using after being hired, they'll be terminated without notice. We don't accept second chances or excuses.

But if you stay clean, Slate takes damn good care of you.

Two stage girls came in high off their asses last week, and since drugs turn people into fucking morons, they turned on each other when they both wanted the same man's attention. Our girls aren't required to sleep with customers, but Slate has rooms in the back in case they want to earn extra money. We'd rather have them fuck customers here where we can make sure things stay consensual, instead of them taking men home or a back alley and run the risk of things turning sour.

Men taking something from a woman they don't want to give is something we don't tolerate, and is a sure way to end up on our bad side. And you don't want to end up there. Bad shit happens.

Katie continues, "The three remaining girls are coming in later today. Kurt's going to sit in on the interviews since neither of you can make it."

I nod. Kurt is our head bouncer and takes his job of protecting the girls very seriously. At seven feet and built like a bull, he could crush someone's skull without breaking a sweat. Silas and I trust him implicitly.

Katie walks up to Silas and curls her fingers into his shirt, pulling his tall frame down until his lips seal over hers. "If either of you need anything, I'll be downstairs," she says demurely, smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress shirt. "See you later, Hunter."

I tip my chin at her as she passes by me.

Turning my head, I see Silas watching Katie leave the room, lust still lingering. Once she's gone, his gaze moves to me. "You've got shit timing," he says, turning and walking around his desk to take a seat. "I wasn't nearly done with her."

I drop down in the seat in front of the desk, propping an ankle over the opposite knee and placing my laced hands over my stomach. "I'm sure you'll survive. Besides, my standing there wouldn't have stopped you from continuing."

Grunting, he opens one of the drawers in his desk and grabs something. He glances at the door before tossing a small black box on top.

My brows lift when I reach for it. The ring tucked into the black velvet bed sparkles when the light hits it. I close the box and set it on the desk. Silas grabs it and puts it back in the drawer.

"When do you plan to ask her?" I keep my voice low.

Leaning back in his chair, he steeples his fingers together and places his hands behind his head. "This weekend."

"Shit, I never thought I'd see the day that Silas Ward would tie himself to one woman."

"Fuck off," he mutters. "I still have to convince her to say yes."

"Is there any doubt she will?" I ask, arching a brow. "The woman's fucking mad about you."

Several years ago, we hired Katie as a stripper. The first few months were rocky between her and Silas. After she caught him railing a woman in his office the first time she met him, she immediately disliked him and thought he took advantage of our girls. He made it worse by continuing to fuck the girl while she watched, frozen in the doorway. Her assumption couldn't have been further from the truth. He may have been a man whore, but he did not touch our girls. The woman in question wasn't an employee, but a random club guest. It took months before Katie stopped looking at him like he was gum stuck to the bottom of her high-heeled shoes. As far as I know, he's kept his dick in his pants, except when Katie pulls it out to play with.

"Let's hope you're right, because if she says no, I may be charged with kidnapping."

The thing with Silas is, he's not joking. If Katie rejects his proposal, he'll damn sure hold her captive until she relents. Whenever it comes to the blonde bombshell, the man is fucking bonkers.

"Have you heard any word from Marcus?" I ask.

"Fuck no," he growls, his chair creaking as he abruptly sits forward. "Last I heard he was tracking Timothy in West Virginia."

Timothy used to be a member of Slate. He cornered Katie in the alley out back and attempted to rape her.

My teeth gnash together and the muscles in my jaw tense, tired of fucking waiting for the bastard to be brought in. As it is, the fucker has already continued to breathe past his expiration point. The longer that man lives, the harsher his death will be.

As much as I'd like to take a few licks, he's Silas's to do with as he likes. However, I'll be there to enjoy the show.

Since Katie was the one Timothy injured, she was given first dibs, but she refused, leaving the deed to Silas. While Katie has the stomach for it, she knows Timothy will suffer more under Silas's hand.

I head to my office, two doors down, and take a seat behind my desk. The doors of Slate were opened by Silas and me fourteen years ago, and since then, it has thrived. It's an exclusive club catering only to the rich and entitled. You have to be a member to walk in the doors, and to get a membership, you must submit to a full background check. Silas and I aren't dense. We know deals are made and cash is exchanged within these walls, but as long as we don't hear about it, it's not our business. If it does become our business, we deal with it appropriately. Or what we consider appropriate. Silas and I have built a reputation in River Heights. Don't fuck with our shit, and you keep your hands. If you do, you'll be lucky—depending on your transgression—to walk away with your life.

However, when it comes to harming a woman or a child, all bets are off. Your time is up and the reaper comes out to play.

As I recline back in my office chair, my eyes are drawn to the photo on my desk. Cat's smiling eyes shine back at me. She knows everything I've done and still do, but I keep her away from it. There's no part of my life she doesn't know about. Well, except for one. She's already been touched by the evil the world has to offer and it nearly destroyed us both.

Grief, rage, but mostly guilt tighten my gut when I think about what happened to her. What happened to our family. I usually push those thoughts away, but at times, I let them consume my mind.

I use those moments as self-punishment. They serve as a reminder of my failures. As a result, I use them to feed the rage building inside me to ensure that I never fail her again.