Laurella cried when she said goodbye to her parents, partly because going back to the States meant leaving them behind, and partly because of what was waiting for her back in New York. Despite Calum’s promises to ensure her safety and his insistence she would not have to have anything to do with Vorino, the walls she’d constructed to protect herself were crumbling.

Curled into Calum’s side on the trip back to New York, she tried to forget the potential horrors awaiting her on the other side of the Atlantic. She trusted Calum, couldn’t bear to live without him, but she couldn’t lie to herself—the thought of being back in the same city as Vorino almost sent her into a meltdown.

In New York, they got into the back of a taxi, and Calum gave the address of Jax’s hotel. She knew why, of course. He’d arranged for Cole and his mysterious partner to be waiting. The thought of facing them, even though Calum assured her Cole would be discreet, gave her the chills. But worse than facing them was allowing Vorino to win.

Calum’s arm around her waist warmed and comforted her. They walked up the steps and into the hotel. He didn’t pause outside the lounge area to greet Jax. Instead, he ushered her straight toward the door that led to their living quarters.

Laurella stepped into the family room. So much had happened since she was last there—a lifetime could have passed. Her overwhelming feeling, though, was one of safety. She’d originally wanted to go directly home, but Calum had been right to bring her here.

“You okay, beautiful?” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Want to have a nap before Cole and Draven arrive?”

She shook her head. “A coffee would be nice.”

“Coming right up.” He pointed at the couch. “Sit down, and I’ll get it.”

She gratefully took a seat, grabbed a throw off the back of the couch, and wrapped it around her legs. She wasn’t cold—far from it—but she craved the comfort the soft fabric provided.

“Draven’s a very strange name.”

Calum looked up from pouring milk into two cups. “He’s a very strange man.” Then he grinned. “Actually, that’s not fair. He’s different, that’s all.”

“Different how?”

“You’ll see.”

She pulled a face. “You could give me a little hint.”

Calum grinned. “He’s the complete opposite to any of us.”

“In what way?”

Calum pointed his chin at the doorway at the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs. “You’re about to find out.”

Laurella twisted her head as Cole stepped inside. He smiled warmly. “Welcome home, you guys.”

“It’s good to be—”

She trailed off as a man who surely had to be Draven followed Cole into the room. Her mouth fell open. He was a giant. He had to be at least six feet, eight inches tall, and darn it if those biceps weren’t larger than Calum’s thighs. He was covered in tattoos and wore a full beard. Around his waist was a thick leather duty belt with a gun in plain sight.

He scared the shit out of her, and supposedly, he was on her side. Calum was right. Faced with this tank of a man, Vorino would surely return to whatever rock he’d been hiding under for the last four years.

“This is my partner, Draven.”

“Hey,” Draven said, his low voice rumbling through his chest.

“Um, hi,” Laurella said, casting a worried glance at Calum.

“Good to see you,” Calum said, striding across the room. He shook Draven’s hand and went on to briefly hug his brother. “Coffee?”

“Sounds good,” Cole said, sinking onto the couch beside Laurella.

She suppressed showing relief when Draven took the chair. Having Cole on one side and Draven on the other would have made her feel as if she’d been bookended without an escape route.

Cole briefly touched her arm. “How you doing?”

Her answering smile was tight. “I’m good.”

He nodded, immediately catching that she didn’t want to discuss it any further. “So,” he said as Calum passed coffees around, “are we going to talk about the elephant in the room? And by that, I don’t mean Draven.”

A guffaw burst out of Draven. She looked over at him. Their eyes met, and he winked. An instant sense of safety rushed through her. He was like a shield, and if she stood behind him, no harm would come to her.

Calum passed a piece of paper to Cole before sitting beside Laurella. He captured her hand in his. “Here’s where he’s staying. He hasn’t been here long enough yet to figure out a permanent place to live, so you’ll have to contend with hotel security.”

Laurella frowned. When had he found out Vorino’s address? He shrugged one shoulder, a faint smile playing around his lips.

Cole gave the paper a cursory glance and stuffed it into his pants pocket. “Any no-go areas?”

Laurella frowned. It was like they were talking in code.

“I’d like to say no,” Calum said, his laugh harsh. “Do enough that he gets the message loud and clear. I don’t want either of you getting in trouble over this.”

Draven laughed. “Trouble’s only going one way: his.”

“Please,” Laurella said. “Calum’s right. I don’t want you getting into trouble on account of me.”

Cole gently patted her shoulder. “You’re family, Laurella. No one messes with my family and gets away with it. You leave the worrying to us.” He climbed to his feet and cocked his head at Draven. “Might as well pay an early visit to our friend. I quite like the idea of starting the weekend off scaring the shit out of the fucking coward.”

Draven heaved his huge body to his feet. “Amen to that, brother.”

“Get some sleep,” Cole said to Laurella. “We’ll be back when we’re done.”

“There.” Cole pointed at a space on the street not far from the hotel where Vorino was holed up.

Draven parked behind a yellow Hummer and set the brake. He twisted in his seat. “How do you want to handle it?”

Cole grinned. “Remember that drug pusher who beat his girlfriend to a pulp and then tried to wriggle out of it by saying she deserved it because she’d given him a bad hit of heroin?”

Draven nodded, a gleam in his eye. “Hell, yeah.”

“Kinda like that.”

“Aren’t you bothered he’s already met Calum, so he’ll know exactly who you are?” Draven asked.

Cole hitched a shoulder. “Do I look like I care?”

Draven opened his car door, glancing back with an evil grin. “Then let’s go have some fun.”

They walked inside, being careful not to draw attention to themselves—well, as much as they could hope with a man as colossal as Draven. Fortunately, the one receptionist on duty had a line of people waiting to be dealt with, so she didn’t even look their way as they crossed the lobby over to the bank of elevators.

The two of them rode up to the fifth floor in silence. They didn’t need to speak because they worked together as successfully as a well-oiled machine, in perfect harmony.

They padded along the hallway until they reached Vorino’s room. Cole rapped once with his knuckles.

“Yes,” came an accented reply.

“Room service,” Cole said.

“Wrong room.”

“I have this room, sir.”

“Wrong room,” came the voice again, more irritated the second time around.

“Sir, please. If I return this food to the kitchen, I’ll be fired. Can you at least sign my ticket to prove that I came up here and tried to deliver it?”

Vorino grumbled, and a rustling noise sounded on the other side of the door. It opened.

Draven launched forward. He grabbed Vorino around the throat and shoved him backward. Cole closed the door and followed his partner inside. Vorino was clawing at Draven’s large hand as he applied just enough pressure to instill panic. Vorino’s eyes bulged when Draven lifted him a few inches from the floor.

“Put him down,” Cole said.

Draven glanced over his shoulder. “Spoiling my fun already?”

“No, but I want him conscious when he shits himself, if only for my own amusement.”

“Fine.” Draven dropped Vorino, who gasped for air. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He eventually managed to stand upright, and his eyes wildly darted around the room, looking for an escape route that didn’t exist.

“It’s you?” he rasped, his eyes firmly on Cole. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

Cole grinned at Draven. “He thinks I’m Calum. Tell him who I really am.”

Draven stepped in close. “Your worst fucking nightmare, dickface.”

Cole touched Draven’s arm, moving him to one side. He stood toe-to-toe with Vorino.

“Settling in well in New York?” Cole asked.

A frown drifted across Vorino’s face. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s a simple enough question. Are. You. Settling. In. Well?”

Vorino spluttered a response but made no sense.

“Fuck this,” Draven said, pulling out his Glock and shoving the butt under Vorino’s chin.

“No!” Vorino’s face turned ashen, and a distinct odor of panic drifted over to Cole. “God, please. Don’t hurt me. I haven’t done anything.”

Cole laughed, the sound short and bitter. “Yes, you have.”

“You’ve got the wrong man. Please, you have to believe me.”

Cole took a menacing step forward. “I don’t have to believe a fucking word that comes out of your mouth. I know what you did. And I’m going to make you regret it.”

At the terror in Vorino’s eyes, a sense of satisfaction crept over Cole. He’d bet the slimy bastard hadn’t given a second thought to Laurella’s fear when he’d violated her.

“Please, tell me what I’m supposed to have done so we can sort out this mess.” His gaze sliced to Draven who still had the gun pressed tight against Vorino’s chin.

“Drop the gun,” Cole said.

Draven did as Cole had asked. He knew the drill.

“Thank you,” Vorino said, his hands pressed together in prayer. “Thank you so much.”

Cole’s fist smashed against Vorino’s jaw. He fell backward, hitting his head on the wall. He cried out, which turned into a muffled scream when Draven clamped his large hand over Vorino’s mouth. Draven dragged him to his feet, holding him upright, which allowed Cole to punch Vorino hard in the stomach. He grunted as the air was pushed from his lungs, and when Draven released his hold, Vorino crumpled to the floor, his body curled into the fetal position. He sucked in air at a rapid rate as if his lungs were begging for oxygen.

“There’s something about a chickenshit excuse for a man that makes me want to puke,” Draven said, poking his toe into Vorino’s ribs. He barely touched the man, but that didn’t stop Vorino from letting out a squeal. Draven dropped onto his haunches, his face up close. “Make one more fucking sound, and I will end you.”

Vorino whimpered and tried to get to his feet. Draven put his large boot on the piece of shit’s stomach, holding him to the floor.

“I don’t know about you, partner, but I’m getting bored. And you know what happens when I get bored.”

“Yeah.” Cole laughed. “I do.”

A dark stain spread out from Vorino’s groin area, the smell of urine filling the air. Draven screwed up his face. “Fuck me. Chickenshit and pisses his pants. Can I end this guy?”

“No!” Vorino cried out. “Please. God help me.”

Cole crouched. “He won’t help you. There’s only one thing that can help you now.”

“What? I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Cole asked.

“Yes. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

Cole nodded at Draven. “Get him up.”

Draven stuck his hands underneath Vorino’s armpits and pulled him upright. Cole got in his face, nice and close. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to call your boss and tell him you’ve decided New York isn’t for you. And then you’re going to leave Manhattan. No, strike that. You’re going to leave the United States and never set foot on these shores again. We have enough rapists of our own. We don’t need imported ones.”

Vorino’s eyes widened as he finally caught up. And then he blinked rapidly.

“Is that a yes?” Cole asked.

Vorino nodded vigorously.

“Good. You have two days. I will come checking. And if you’re still here…” He cocked his head in Draven’s direction. “I’m going to give him free rein to do whatever he wants. He’s very thorough, and he likes to take his time. It won’t be quick. It will be painful.”

Vorino’s eyes darted to the side, where Draven was barely managing to hold back a smile.

“I’ll go,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Cole’s lips curved upward. “That was never in question.” He nudged Draven. “Let’s go.”

Draven put his face up close to Vorino’s, whose whole body shook. “You and me, sweetheart. Make one wrong move, and it’s just you and me.”

They left him standing there with a bloody nose and bruised ribs, stinking of the evidence of his cowardly status. Outside, they high-fived.

“Easy money,” Draven said, his booming laugh echoing down the hallway.