2. Raleigh

CHAPTER 2

Raleigh

Tonight is going exactly as I planned, and also nothing like it.

When I snuck out of my brother’s wedding to my best friend, I did hope to pick up a guy at the Olympus Lounge. But I didn’t expect it to be the guy who nearly ruined my brother’s plans to burn Morgan Speare’s empire to the ground.

Sheriff Derrick Lindman opens the passenger door of his car for me, like the upright gentleman he presents himself to be, and I slip inside. It would feel like a trap if he had a single idea who I was, but he doesn’t. So far as he’s aware, I’m just a hot woman he’s picked up at a bar, and not the daughter of the Warwick mafia family. I, on the other hand, recognized him instantly.

It would’ve been hard not to, when he made such handsome commercials during his campaign. Maybe it’s a tiny betrayal of my brother or my family name, but I’m glad Thomas didn’t permanently fuck up his nose when he beat the shit out of Derrick six months ago. Or maybe he did, and Derrick got the surgery necessary to put it back together, which I can appreciate.

I don’t know the inside-out of what happened back then, but I’ve got the gist of it. Derrick backed out on a deal he and Thomas made and allied with our rival, Morgan Speare, instead. In the wake of the Speares being taken down, Derrick took the credit and seemed to make a name for himself as a damn good sheriff.

I take half a second to check my makeup in the rearview while Derrick comes around the car- perfect, good- then straighten in my seat when he slides behind the wheel. My heart is pounding much faster than I’d like to admit. This is the first time I’ve been in a man’s car, about to be driven to his house.

This is my first time picking up a man at a bar.

This is going to be my first time… ever.

“Comfortable?” Derrick asks, adjusting the AC and turning the radio down.

“Definitely,” I smile, hoping my voice doesn’t sound too thin.

God, he’s beautiful. Even in the darkness, I see the blue of his intense eyes. He has saw blade-sharp cheekbones and a high forehead perfect for all his boyish emoting. With the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, I can see the hard muscles in his forearms as I imagine what the rest of him looks like. His dark brown hair, flecked with little gray strands, is a tad longer than a politician might deem professional, but I love it. It sweeps across his brow in thick waves. I imagine taking a fistful of it and pulling .

As soon as I recognized who the man I’d serendipitously sat beside at the bar was, I knew what I needed to do. For the sake of my brother and what Derrick almost did to him, for the pride of my family… I have to ruin his life.

Derrick doesn’t live far from the Olympus Lounge, and I’m not surprised when we pull into a gated community filled with sprawling red brick houses sitting inside immaculately manicured lawns. Derrick’s place has neat hedges and trees all around the property, providing shade for the grass and privacy for the backyard. We pull into the garage, and I see a second car sitting there- a gorgeous, sky blue, vintage Corvette.

Derrick opens the door into the house for me, and I’m immediately assaulted by not one, but two enormous dogs. Their tails are wagging wildly, their tongues flopping, ready to slobber. They’re big enough to come up to my thigh! I shriek and trip back into Derrick, who laughs indulgently.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you. This is Chance and Justice.” He stoops and gives both dogs affectionate ear rubs. Their tails wag so hard they hit the wall with loud thwapping sounds. “They’re very well-behaved boys; they won’t jump you or bark unless they’re upset by something.” Derrick looks back at me, maybe seeing something on my face that I can’t hide quickly enough. “Don’t like dogs?”

“I, uh, I’m just not used to them,” I say, which is true. There were no pets allowed on the estate while my father was alive, and after he died, I just didn’t care anymore.

“Well, I’m biased of course, but these are the two best dogs to introduce you to,” Derrick grins. I smile back, but don’t agree.

Derrick takes me through the house, with the dogs following along dutifully. It’s spacious, of course, and probably bright in the daytime, but the rich dark green and brown furniture gives the house a lived-in coziness. I make note of anything of value that might mysteriously go missing after tonight. A gaming system, trophies that might belong to his dogs, various plaques and certificates that he’s hung down the hall.

Nothing really jumps out as a devastating loss, though. I need something better.

When we pass by the door to the backyard, he takes a moment to shoo his dogs out. Thank god.

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is decorated in dark greens, golds, browns, like a forest. And the massive bed, with its thick, dark wood frame, looks… sturdy. It’s not what I expected, to be honest. For someone as polished and professional as Derrick Lindman, I assumed he’d have one of those sterile, modern houses most of his kind love to flaunt online. But this room, this house, feels so… normal.

“Would you like any water?” Derrick asks. “Or I can pour us some whiskey.”

He’s being so fucking polite, which feels absurd right now. There’s too much anticipation buzzing inside me for what’s to come. For what I’m about to do, and who I’m about to do it with.

Derrick Lindman is gorgeous and accommodating, but I know the truth.

He’s a two-faced snake, one that fate dumped into my lap for me to punish.

Instead of answering his question, I rise up on my toes and kiss him.

If Derrick is surprised, he doesn’t show it. I’m rough, using my teeth and throwing my arms around his neck to get closer, but somehow he wrestles control from me with ease. I find my back against the wall, Derrick’s body pinning me, his leg firmly pressed between mine. His strength was really downplayed by the nice shirt tucked into flattering slacks, slimming his waist and hiding his musculature. But now I can feel his arms ripple as he tightens his hold on me, how firm his chest and abs are as he kisses me.

And oh my god, is he kissing me. His tongue opens my mouth and sweeps inside. I taste whiskey and citrus. The hand he has wrapped around my waist grips the fabric of my dress, pressing divots into my skin. The other is keeping a firm hold on the back of my neck, tilting my head back, keeping me so close I can hardly breathe.

“I didn’t peg Thomas as the type,” he murmurs into my mouth, “to send his own sister to seduce his enemy.”

I freeze. Derrick’s tongue licks up my mouth before he pulls away, but his knee is still pressed between my legs. His arms, that seemed like a brace a moment ago, are now a cage around me.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck .

I thought he didn’t know me. He gave no hint at the bar or any moment after. How- how did he recognize me based on a passing look through the gate of the Warwick estate six months ago?! Especially when both his eyes were nearly swollen shut.

I try to push him off, but of course he’s not budging. Shoving against him only presses me more firmly against his body. “Get off of me!” I demand, but no dice. He’s got me well and truly pinned, and worse, I let him put me here. His electric blue eyes bore into me, and I contemplate throwing my head forward so my skull can break that perfect nose of his a second time.

“Are you going to call for your men?” Derrick asks. “I’m surprised they haven’t jumped in already. Were they planning to watch first?”

What?? “What men-”

Glass shatters across the bedroom, and hooded, masked figures pour in. Derrick shoves away from me so fast I nearly collapse. He has a gun in his hand- where the hell did he pull it from?!- but the dozen people that are suddenly coming at us are also armed. My mind goes blank, my body numb with horror at the sight of baseball bats and more guns.

Oh my god. I’m going to die.

Someone shoots twice, the explosion of the gun so loud it makes my whole body jerk. I scream, but it must’ve been Derrick who fired, because one of the thugs goes down. The next closest swings hard with his bat, and Derrick is forced to step back or get his brains knocked out. I fall back too, but instead of running out the door of the bedroom, I slam hard into the body of another intruder.

There are more coming in through the house. We’re trapped.

I scream again as the brute gets his arms around me and starts hauling me out the door. I see Derrick take a swing with the butt end of his gun, knocking another guy down. A stray baseball bat hits the back of his legs, knocking his knees out from under him. Another cracks against his side, and he grunts in pain.

The last thing I see before a sickly sweet cloth is pressed over my face is his body falling beneath a swarm of attackers.

I kick and struggle against the arms holding me, fighting not to take a breath of the chloroform. But if I don’t inhale, I’m going to suffocate, and my lungs are already screaming with panic. I scrabble with my nails, but whoever is holding me is wearing layers of baggy clothing and gloves. There’s nothing for me to latch onto.

In the end, I have no choice. I breathe, and over the course of a horrifying minute that lasts forever, my body gives out, and the world goes black.