Chapter Twenty-Nine

New York City

October 19

T en minutes later, the Ducati was flying down Second Avenue.

When he reached his block in Alphabet City, Miles walked the bike onto the sidewalk and down the alley that abutted his building. After punching the security code into the keypad by the service door, Miles pushed the bike into the storage room. When he entered the back gaming area, the scene stopped him dead in his tracks.

Three former Navy SEALs and two trans former-sex workers were sitting around a poker table playing Texas Holdem. Now Miles understood why Nathan had been so cagey on the phone.

Andrew “Chat” Dunlap nodded a greeting while contemplating his hand.

Jonah “Steady” Lockhart, the laid-back southern charmer, spoke around an unlit cigar. “Foxy, there better be a queen swimming in that river.”

“Sugar, you got two queens sitting across from you.” Foxy set three cards face up in the center of the table.

Foxy ran the fortune-telling business. The other player at the table, Veronique, handled the gambling. “Foxy, love, these men want a cis -ter, not a sister.”

Tox smirked. “Well, there was that little mix-up in Bangkok. Remember that, Steady?”

Chat’s booming laugh echoed in the room.

Steady leaned forward and spoke around Foxy. “What part of ‘ take it to the grave’ was unclear to you?”

Foxy patted Steady’s shoulder. “Easy, big guy. Haven’t you heard? There’s no opposite sex anymore. There’s just sex.”

“It wasn’t sex,” Steady grumbled.

“A little more of this.” Veronique tapped the cards. “And a little less of this.” She mimicked talking with a hand gesture. “I have money to win.”

“Tox, it’s to you,” Foxy said.

Miles’s fraternal twin brother sat on Foxy’s left. “Call.” Tox didn’t turn around, just kicked out the empty chair on his other side.

Miles couldn’t stop his lips from creeping up as he strode to the table and sat. “Watch out for these ladies, bro. They cheat.”

Veronique shot Miles an indignant look. “No need to cheat, Hun. These boys play like a bunch of toddlers. Except for this fine Denzel.” She rubbed a hand over Chat’s bald head. “He knows what he’s doin’.”

“Toddler, my ass.” Steady pushed a stack of chips into the pot.

Chat shook his head and muttered, “She’s playing you, Steady.”

Miles watched Veronique take the pot, then said, “Deal me in.”

Steady eyed Miles’s leather jacket and ripped jeans, pointing with the cigar. “This is a new look for you.”

“Took the bike out.”

“What do you have?” Steady asked with interest.

“Ducati Streetfighter.”

“Nice. I may need to take that for a spin.”

“Mind telling me what you’re doing here?” Miles eyeballed the guys.

“Funny you should ask.” Steady slid the new cards into a stack. “Our ladies planned a little girls’ weekend baby shower for Calliope. Your brother’s leash only reaches so far when it comes to his knocked-up wife, so Very offered up our beach house to host a testicle-free weekend with cucumber sandwiches and diaper genies.”

“Do you even know what a diaper genie is?” Tox asked.

“Nope, and don’t tell me. I’m sure the real thing isn’t half as cool as what I’m picturing.” Steady popped the cigar back in his mouth. “Chat has a meeting with some suit at Knightsgrove-Bishop—that’s basically our parent company—and I thought to myself, self, when’s the last time you had a decent New York slice?”

Miles raised a skeptical brow at his twin. “Uh-huh.”

Tox gave his brother a shove. “I missed you.”

Miles was momentarily taken aback. His twin had always worn his heart on his sleeve, but Tox’s ability to voice his feelings so effortlessly after everything they had been through as children, well, it amazed him. Miles didn’t think he’d expressed an honest emotion in the last twenty years. His thank you was unspoken, but, like always, his brother heard it.

Tox tilted his head and pierced his twin with an all too familiar look. “Something’s different.”

Miles attempted to redirect his twin and gestured to the room. “You mean the thrift-store Moulin Rouge?”

“Hey!” Foxy protested.

“You know what I mean,” his brother said pointedly.

Chat leaned in. “He means something about you, my friend. Anything you’d like to talk about?”

Chat was the man in their group who always saw beneath the surface, but in Miles’s case, that person had always been his twin. So Chat may have been thinking it, but Tox voiced the thought. “You did something stupid, didn’t you?”

Yes, he had. He had slept with Clara and awakened this dormant beast within. On top of that, instead of being a mature, thoughtful man, instead of waking Clara and kissing her goodbye like he had wanted, instead of making sure she was okay after what had to be a milestone in her life, he had acted like a twelve-year-old and stolen her bras.

The encounter had shaken him to his very core. As Miles claimed Clara, melded with her , something shifted. Inside him, the scattered pieces of the person he had once been had started to reassemble. Being with her was like coming home. And the sensation was wholly and utterly terrifying.

Miles shifted in his seat. He’d just had the most mind-bending sex of his life with a woman he shouldn’t even be fantasizing about, much less touching. And now, even as he sat in this room with friends and family and countless distractions, Miles couldn’t stop his mind from reliving the encounter, of touching Clara’s mile-long legs, of the innocence and trust in those fathomless eyes, of taking what no man had. So yes, something had changed.

“Nothing’s changed.”

Miles braced himself as Steady joined the perusal. “Yes, it has. You have that satisfied, exasperated look about you that can only be caused by a woman.”

“It’s not a woman,” Miles snapped too quickly.

“Well, that confirms it,” Steady said.

“Fuck off, Steady. There is no woman.”

Steady bracketed his chips with his forearms and pinned Miles with a look. “You know what Granny June would say?”

Chat muttered into his beer, “Oh, here we go.”

Steady waved off the comment. “You can put cowpies in the oven, but that don’t make ‘em biscuits. Now start talkin’.”

Before Miles even looked at Tox, he knew he would see his twin’s brows raised in silent agreement. He wasn’t ready to talk about Clara. Hell, he wasn’t prepared to face the situation himself. So, Miles volunteered the one plausible excuse for his agitated state. If his twin didn’t buy it, at least it would distract him. “Remember I was telling you about Chug Ugentti?”

“The wise guy who got elected to Congress?” Steady asked.

When Tox nodded, Miles said, “I’m pretty sure he had a guy try to run me down this afternoon.”

Tox crumpled the paper napkin in his hand. “What?”

“I was walking in Harlem with Clara when a van came right at us. Hopped the curb, then sped off.” He tugged up the leather jacket sleeve to reveal the large bruise on his forearm. “Clipped me as I was moving Clara out of the way.”

Tox was a gentle giant, but Miles saw the bear inside his brother when he said, “Maybe I need to pay this prick a visit.”

Chat rolled the bottle of Stella between his palms. “You’re sure it was intentional? Lots of crazy drivers in this city.”

Miles sighed and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “Yeah, I found a tracker in my shoe. He slipped it in at our last meeting.”

Chat asked, “What does he want? What’s the goal of the intimidation tactic?”

Tox placed a protective arm around the back of his brother’s chair. “Ugentti wants Miles to feed him dirt on his new Congressional colleagues.”

Miles shook the ice in his glass. “Ugentti may be a gangster, but he’s not stupid. He knows I have information on half the politicians in D.C.”

Chat added, “If he knows his colleagues’ secrets, he controls them.”

Steady refilled his mug from the pitcher. “Hold on. Killing you doesn’t get him what he wants.”

Chat said, “But warning you does.”

Tox pulled out his phone. “I’m letting Calliope know I’m staying in New York for a few days. You need protection.”

Miles looked at his brother, a painful warmth forming in his chest. Tox had always been his bodyguard—until he wasn’t. He rubbed his sternum, trying to alleviate the ache. “You don’t need to do that. Your wife is pregnant. She needs you home.”

Tox looked up from his phone. “Nah, she’s sick of my hovering. I came home from work last week, and she was up on a ladder changing a lightbulb.”

Miles glanced around the table, noting the amused looks on Tox’s buddies’ faces. “I don’t understand. Did you make her get down?”

“Like she was a jumper on a ledge,” Steady said.

“Then I hid the ladder. I mean, what the fuck? Crazy, right?” Tox looked for confirmation of his wife’s recklessness.

Steady replied, “Yep. Crazy. Definitely crazy.”

Chat chuckled and said, “Miles, take him. Please.”

Steady added. “I don’t know. Calliope might try to assemble the crib or knit booties. Those needles can be dangerous.”

Tox paused, no doubt envisioning a freak knitting needle accident. He reached for his phone.

Steady plucked the device from his friend’s grip. “Dude, no.”

Tox huffed, “So you’re giving relationship advice now? Two months with Very Valentine, and you’re the love doctor.”

“I’m not giving relationship advice. I’m giving survival advice. I know dick about marriage, but I know a shit load about how not to get killed.” He took a swig of beer, then added, “I do like the nickname The Love Doctor, though. I may take that for a spin.”

A poker chip hit Steady in the face.

Miles watched as Tox considered his options. “We’re crashing at Calliope’s parents’ place. We could extend for a day or two.”

Chat eased his worry. “She’ll be fine, big man.”

Miles reached for his cards when a commotion overhead had the table looking up. The metal ductwork thundered, and a black shadow dropped from the ceiling onto the table, knocking the stacks of chips askew.

Loco crouched and hissed.

Steady scooted back. “Jesus, I have nightmares that cat is trying to kill me in my sleep.”

Chat inspected his cards. “Could be true, brother. That creature is out hunting at all hours. Easy enough to slip in your room, claws sharp, teeth bared.”

“Cut the shit.” Steady stood and tried to look casual as he meandered to the bar.

Foxy and Veronique laughed, then stopped abruptly when Loco straightened and padded to Miles. He didn’t nuzzle or purr; he simply sat on his lap like an Egyptian statue and placidly took in the room.

Tox stared in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t ask me.” Miles ignored Loco and accepted the beer Steady set on the table at arm’s length. When the cat rotated his head, Steady snatched back his hand.

Tox was indignant. “I fed and housed that fucker for three years. The closest he ever came to me was weaving around my feet. Then, when I tried to pet him, he ran off.”

Miles tossed his ante into the pot. “He’s probably just hungry and knows who fills his bowl.”

Chat sat back and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Or he senses a kindred spirit.”

Steady frowned at his pair of cards, then turned to Miles. “It’s true you deal with a lot of rats.”

Foxy chimed in, “And you disappear for long stretches.”

Veronique added, “And you’re prickly.” She jutted her thumb toward Miles. “Not a hugger, this one.”

“You eat fast and kind of guard your food.” Steady wrapped his arm around his chips to demonstrate.

That habit had developed out of necessity. Miles’s eyes shot to his twin. Tox furrowed his brow, clearly bothered by Steady’s observation. Damn his brother and his stupid twinstinct .

Miles held up both hands. “Enough, okay? Jesus.” He brushed Loco off his lap, and the cat padded off, unphased. “I don’t know why I don’t invite you guys over more often,” he deadpanned.

Steady looked sheepish. “You know we love that cat, right? He’s an awesome, prickly asshole.”

Foxy tapped the deck on the table. “Subtle as a trainwreck, Steady. Now, are we playing cards, or should we all put on our shorty robes and give each other pedicures?”

Veronique sipped her mimosa. “She’s asking sincerely, boys.”

With that, the Bishop Security men tossed their chips in the pot and enthusiastically returned their attention to the game.

When the hand was finished, and Foxy won the pot again, she stood and said, “I have a client, and Veronique needs to stock the bar for tonight. Tox, sweetie, anything you need, you just whistle.” She smiled at her benefactor and disappeared through a beaded curtain.

Miles stood. “Let’s get going. The last thing you guys need is to get caught up in a police raid.”

Tox joined his brother. “Have the cops raided this place?”

Miles shrugged. “Not yet.” He ticked off the violations on his fingers. “Illegal gambling, no liquor license, and additional recreational activities. It’s inevitable.”

Foxy called from the front room, “Two detectives from the Seventh play Caribbean Stud twice a week, and a lieutenant from the Ninth gets her tarot cards read once a month. You worry about you, Sweet Cheeks.”

When the guys had gone, Miles returned to the loft to shower. In his bedroom, he shed his clothes and grabbed a towel from the folded stack. His cell phone vibrated on the dresser as he opened the bathroom door.

Miles glanced at the notification with suspicion. Clara had added a dinner to her calendar. He quickly checked her dating app and found nothing. That didn’t mean she hadn’t met some pervert on the subway or lurking on campus. His blood boiled as he imagined it. Bottling his frustration, he strode into the bathroom and started the shower. He would know what she was up to soon enough.