Chapter 1 Lacey

T hree years earlier—

Cool wind brushed across my bare shoulders as I stared up at the orange, heavily rounded sphere of a harvest moon. I couldn't remember the last time I paused to notice how the craters and shadows played hide and seek over the surface or how the clouds rolled by like endless waves of smoky gray in a turbulent sea. Behind the moon, a reddish hue served as a bold outline that faded into the darkness and spread beyond its bubble shape in an eerily prophetic declaration of impending death. The warmth of the color didn't extend below the horizon or offer any heat despite its encroaching position on the rows of graves spreading across the cemetery.

A chill slowly climbed over my chest and settled, squatting on my lungs and squeezing until I began to panic, sucking in air, violently gasping as it felt like I tried to pull oxygen through a dozen tiny straws. The ache burned through my sternum.

Shit. My asthma. What a rotten time to flare up.

My body sent urgent, desperate messages to my brain, but it didn't matter. I still couldn't breathe. My mouth opened and closed, the attempt feeble. Clawing my right hand to the side, I dug through the dry, scratchy blades of grass beneath my fingertips, slowly managing to angle my body as I reached toward the pocket of my hoodie. My only salvation rested in a plastic holder that held my inhaler.

This whole process would be a hell of a lot simpler if I weren't tied up. With my wrists and ankles bound, I would remain by these headstones until someone stumbled upon me or the ghosts that lingered in this old cemetery decided to kick me out. The position was awkward enough, but the extra piece of rope connecting my wrists to my ankles didn't have enough slack to allow for much movement.

Fumbling with the inhaler case, I felt it slip through my hand and drop to the ground. As I reached for it, I bumped the edge with my knuckle and knocked it out of reach. Well, fuck.

Ever have one of those days? The kind of day that was a cluster of errors, mistakes, and rotten luck. Where nothing went right, and you just wanted to climb back into bed and forget every minute. I had that day today. All because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I tried to cough and wheezed, lowering my head to the rough surface of the nearest headstone. My mouth gaped like a fish out of water, and I thought I heard something rumbling on the ground. Multiple Vehicles? Or was it just my imagination and thunder? I didn't know.

Bright light flashed in my eyes as I groaned. I turned my head away from the steady glare of white and scooted my bottom, hoping to hide from whoever headed in my direction. My chest felt so tight I thought it would cave in, desperate enough for air to crack wide open in hopes of being able to function again. My vision tunneled as spots flickered in my peripheral.

In just a few more seconds, I would probably pass out.

"Shit. You okay?"

I attempted to answer but couldn't.

"Who the fuck tied you up and left you out here?"

The deep voice sounded pissed.

"Inhaler," I managed to croak.

"I got it," the stranger answered, rushing to grab the medicine, shaking it a couple of times before he placed the plastic end against my lips.

He knew what to do. I inhaled two puffs and immediately felt my lungs begin to cooperate, opening up to allow me to breathe easier.

"This is fucked," I heard the guy mutter.

I still couldn't see him well. The blinding light kept him hidden in shadow. Blinking, I stared at his face, barely making out a strong jawline and rugged features, lifting my hands. Something seemed odd, but I dismissed it. "Could you help take these off?"

"Goddamn zip ties? Who the hell did you piss off?"

I didn't do a damn thing. The problem was my bloodline.

"Not me. My dad," I clarified as I groaned, and the restraints dropped from my wrists. "I'm nothing but a casualty of war."

"What war?"

"The law and criminals."

He snorted. "Not sure what that means, Darlin'."

"My dad is a judge."

"What's his name?"

I probably shouldn't have been so trusting. I had already landed in a cemetery close to midnight, and who knew what else Luis Diego had planned. What if he came back?

"Maxwell."

"Judge Curtis Maxwell?"

So he heard of my father. "That's the one."

"He's got a rep. Tough on crime. Even tougher on repeat offenders."

"I guess so." I shrugged. "He wants to clean up Las Vegas."

A dark chuckle followed my words. "City of Sin ain't ever gonna change. It's corrupt to the core. Sex. Drugs. Crime. People love it because anything is possible."

"That's also why they fear it."

He reached for my hands and helped me to my feet. "You're too observant, Sweet Girl. From what I gather, the sharks are already circling, and you're blood in the water."

A weird analogy. "I can't help who I'm related to."

"No, but you can play it smart and stay outta trouble." He shifted his stance and turned to the side, shielding my eyes from the light.

I immediately noticed two things. One, the bright beam had come from the headlight on a big Harley Davidson. Two, the guy stood about half a foot taller than me. On his face, he wore a mask. Funny, but I didn't notice that his voice had been muffled. It must have been loose enough to allow him to breathe and speak without interference.

The mask, though. . . it spooked the hell out of me: a macabre grin and a bony, sinister stare. I backed up, but he followed, keeping pace until I nearly fell over a headstone.

His hands shot out and gripped my waist, keeping me from falling on my ass. "Name's Skeletor. Skel, for short. You should know it."

Shit. "Why?" I was almost afraid to ask.

"Because I'm invested in your safety now."

Invested? "What does that mean?"

"It's not every day that I find a pretty girl all trussed up and sittin' on my grandaddy's grave. My mother is buried beside him. I figure our meetin' isn't chance. It's fate."

I pursed my lips. "You're crazy, Skel." I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped. "But I do owe you. You saved me from frost, bugs, and probably from wetting my pants. Thank you."

The mask lifted around his chin; I guessed he must have smiled at that.

"You're bleedin'," he announced as he turned over my wrists.

The zip ties had cut into my skin. "It's not that painful."

"We should get you cleaned up."

"I suppose so." With a sigh, I wondered how long I had sat on the cold ground with the wind whipping through the trees and over my exposed skin. I had worn a lightweight hoodie but still had on jean shorts. At least I wore socks and athletic shoes.

"I feel a little lightheaded," I admitted, falling into him as I took a step and stumbled. My balance was off. I hadn't lost much blood, so I couldn't think of a reason for it. Dehydration? Maybe.

"How long have you been out here?"

My cheek rested over the black long-sleeved tee he wore. The soft material had grown warm from his body heat, and I snuggled into him, realizing I was freezing. "I don't know. What time is it?"

"Almost four a.m."

"What? Really?" I lifted my head and caught his nod. "I think they dumped me here around 11."

"Who?"

"Luis Diego and a few men I didn't recognize."

"Fuck," Skel growled. "I'm gettin' you outta here, warm and cleaned up. Then you're gonna tell me everything."

His tone didn't allow any room for argument. Truth be told, I didn't have the energy. If I wasn't ready to pass out from this ordeal, I probably would have argued. My father once told me I should change majors in college and become a lawyer. I guessed I had the skills for it.

"Where are we going?" I asked instead of refusing his help.

"My place. It isn't far."

"Okay." I needed to contact my dad and hoped it wouldn't be a problem. He was probably sick with worry. I never stayed out this late without checking in. It wasn't because he loved rules but because he loved me and worried about my safety with his judicial position.

Skel slipped an arm around my waist and led me toward his bike. "You ever ride before?"

Yeah. A few times. "Sure. My ex had a bike."

He snorted. "A Harley?"

"Well, no," I admitted.

"Then it wasn't a bike, Sweet Girl." Skel held onto me until I sat on his seat, then opened his saddlebags and pulled out a sweatshirt. "It's gonna get cold, and you're not wearin' enough clothes. This will help."

I nodded as he slipped it over my head, and I shoved my arms through the sleeves, noting that it was so large that it fell over my thighs and covered me even with the hoodie I had on. "Thanks."

"Yeah, I don't want you to fall off from all that shivering."

I didn't expect the teasing tone he used. "I'll just have to snuggle you."

He threw a leg over his seat and joined me. "Hold on tight."

I planned on it. My arms slid around his torso, and I clenched them, wincing as I remembered the cuts. Ouch.

"Here, let me help." Skel pulled the material of his sweatshirt over my hands as I clasped them. "That wind is gonna hurt. It'll be brutally cold once we pick up speed."

"But we're not going far, right?"

"Yeah. Stay tough, Baby."

Baby? I never had a chance to reply.

Skel's motorcycle rumbled as he started it, the vibrations beneath us both exciting and terrifying. I knew better than to trust strangers or agree to go home with a guy I met the same night. But this was different. Skel rescued me.

He wouldn't hurt me. If he tried, I had pepper spray in my front pocket. I managed to sneak it before Luis confiscated my purse and phone. I never had a chance to use it with my bound wrists, but if Skel turned out to be a creep, I wouldn't hesitate.

Feeling better with a plan, I huddled into his warmth as the bike picked up speed, turned onto the road, and headed away from the Strip's bright neon lights. Skel reached for my hands as we pulled to a stop, idling at a red light, and I wondered if he was checking my grip.

"Still too cold," he murmured, giving my fingers a squeeze.

When the light turned green, we shot forward, moving farther from the end of town where I lived with my dad. We had a penthouse in one of the most expensive high-rises in Vegas. Since I attended UNLV, I didn't bother with my own place. Plus, it worried my dad when I spent too much time on campus or in the dorms.

I didn't know what I expected, but it wasn't the quiet neighborhood Skel turned down, or the sprawling ranch-style house that he declared was his property. The open layout and large windows were casual and inviting.

Skel clicked a garage door opener, and we rolled to a stop inside before he shut off the engine. I stood on shaky legs as my gaze traveled to the driveway and the barren street.

"You could run if you want, but I wouldn't advise it. I'd only chase you down and bring you back. You're in no condition to wander off alone."

He was right.

"And it's not safe," he added.

I knew that. "I want to call my father and let him know I'm okay."

"You give me thirty minutes to get you settled, and I'll hand over my cell."

"Deal," I agreed.

As the garage door began to close, I followed Skel inside his house, wondering what kind of man wore a mask and rescued a kidnapped, injured woman abandoned in a cemetery in the middle of the night.

It occurred to me that he said he was visiting a grave. A family member, if I recall correctly. Well, shit. I had something in common with my masked savior.

We both lost a parent, specifically our mother.

"Come on, Sweet Girl. I don't bite."

The door shut behind me with a click as I stepped inside, curious about the man behind the mask and hoping he planned to remove it.