Once a month, Daniel made a trip to Seattle, to see the little brother nobody was supposed to know existed. At twenty-one, his mother sat both Daniel and Antonio down and confessed that they had another brother. She’d hidden her pregnancy from her husband because she didn’t want Eduardo Nieto’s influence to corrupt yet another child. So she’d spent most of her pregnancy in the States with a relative and gave her third child up for adoption.

The news came as a shock. How could it not? But Daniel understood. Growing up as Eduardo’s son, he understood his mother’s choice. She’d watched her husband groom their two eldest sons, attempting to pit them against each other in a bid to turn them into younger versions of himself. In her shoes, Daniel would likely have done the same. She begged them to keep their baby brother safe by staying away. So they had. No one knew about Levi except for the three of them. Or so they thought.

The FBI found out about Levi any way, and they launched a campaign to find out if he knew about the cartel business. If he was as involved in it as Daniel and Antonio.

They planted an agent in Levi’s life. A man Levi loved and married under false pretenses, until the day he found out the truth. They shattered his brother’s life, and when Daniel found out, he’d wanted blood.

Levi kept him calm for a while. But just as Daniel was about to slip off that leash, Levi’s husband came back into his life. They made up, rebuilt their life and family, and were now remarried. His brother deserved to be happy. At least Petra would say that. She would embrace the FBI agent Levi loved, and she’d want Daniel to reach out to family.

He did it for Petra. For the family they could have had, if he hadn’t insisted on his world being too dangerous for a child. He’d disappointed her with that decision, driving her to silence.

Petra’s silence scared him like nothing else. When she got loud, when they fought, they were all right. But when she got silent, when she faked the smiles and sought to hide the light that flared in her eyes at the sight of someone else’s baby, he understood he’d wounded her mortally.

He’d changed his mind. Only it came a moment too late.

His past, present and future stolen away by Stavros Konstantinou.

Undone by that man?

Yes, once before. It wouldn’t happen again.

Never.

In the quiet Seattle suburb, he sat in the back of the car, staring at the house across the street. Toro knew better than to ask questions, but Daniel felt his nephew’s curiosity. He didn’t know about Levi. No one in their family knew about the younger Nieto brother, save for Daniel and Antonio.

What Levi had inside that house, the family he’d built, Daniel didn’t want to do anything to take it away. Levi deserved more than he’d gotten thus far. But he was all Daniel had, which meant he couldn’t stay away. So once a month he came here and sat in the car outside the house, watching them.

Sometimes the window would be open, the blinds pulled back to show him Levi and his husband, laughing and loving. It made him feel like a part of it, while being apart from it. As long as his little brother was happy.

His mother had asked Antonio and Daniel to protect Levi. Keep him from their father. The business wasn’t for him. They’d thought protection meant distance. Distance simply meant they’d had no clue when the FBI turned its attentions to Levi. Now, it didn’t matter that he rarely made it past the front lawn of Levi’s home. Daniel was staying close.

A rap of knuckles on the window to his right brought his mind back to the present. Donovan Cintron peered at him from the other side.

“Toro.”

His nephew wound the window down, and Van nodded at Daniel. “You want to come inside?”

Yes. But he wouldn’t. “How is he?” he asked instead.

The former FBI agent shrugged. “He’s good. He’d be better if you stopped lurking in the shadows and actually came inside sometime.”

Maybe they’d both be better, but Daniel wasn’t ready to be better. He might never be. “And the boy?” He inquired after his other nephew, Levi and Van’s son.

“Boy.” Van snorted. “He’s at college, and I’m not sure I want to know what he’s doing there.”

“Toro.” Daniel met his driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Privacy.” He hadn’t yet shared the news of just who Levi was to his nephew, and now wasn’t the time to do that.

A low click signaled the vehicle being unlocked then Toro got out. Daniel waved at Van. “Join me.”

Van didn’t hesitate to slide in to sit next to Daniel.

“I hear you left the FBI.”

Sprawled out on the black leather seat, Van watched him with a relaxed expression as he shrugged. “You heard correctly.” He leaned forward. “Why? Here to offer me a job?” He chuckled at that.

“I’m sure mi hermano menor would have something to say about that.”

“Yep.”

Daniel let the silence build for a while before he said, “I have Stavros Konstantinou.”

Van’s brow furrowed. “Have him how?”

“Right where I want him.” As the words left him, he wished they didn’t mean so much more than they should.

“Ah.”

That one word and the flicker behind Van’s eyes had Daniel’s gaze sharpening on the other man’s face. “You know.” He didn’t form it into a question. “You know what he’s done.”

“I do.” Van nodded once.

“What else do you know?”

“I mean…” Van pursed his lips. “I know he sent a man to kill me once. I know I’ve never met Stavros, and I really, really want to slit his throat.”

“He has that effect, yes.”

“Why is he still alive?” Van asked. “He killed your wife, man. That dude deserves the same fate.”

“I am aware of what he deserves.” He kept his voice even. “He will get that soon enough.”

Understanding dawned on his brother-in-law’s face. “You want him to suffer.”

Was suffer the right word? He grunted and Van seemed to take that for affirmation.

“Don’t sleep on him, though. He lives for that savage shit.”

“I know who Stavros Konstantinou is.” He would never forget.

“Aight.” Van glanced back to the house. “So you gonna come in or nah?”

“I am tying up loose ends, Agent Cintron. My enemies can’t know about him.”

Van sat up, expression fierce. “On that we agree.”

“I am telling you so you can let him know that while I might stick to the shadows, I am never far away.” It was a promise and a warning.

Van’s gaze searched his before the other man nodded slowly. “Okay.” He climbed out the car and leaned down to peer back at Daniel. “That Stavros situation. Watch yourself.”

“Of course.” He watched as Van walked up to his front door. The door opened, and Levi appeared, backlit from the light coming from inside the house. Clad casually in jeans and a t-shirt.

Van hugged him, whispered something to him, and Levi nodded, his gaze on the car. On Daniel. He shouldn’t be able to see through the darkly tinted windows, but it felt as if he did anyway. As if he saw straight through to Daniel.

This was his brother. His sibling. His family.

When Petra died, he’d forgotten he had any other family out there. With his other brother, Antonio, in prison, beyond his reach, he’d forgotten about Levi. About Toro. Now that he was taking the steps necessary to get back into the light, the enormity of it all bowed his shoulders.

He stayed watching the house until Levi and Van went inside and locked the door behind them. Then he made Toro drive off.

At the airport, seated on the plane, waiting to take off, he picked up his phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“How are you?” he asked.

“If you’d come inside, I would be much better,” Levi told him.

“Maybe not.” He gazed out the window, at a plane taxiing off in the distance. “You know who I am.” Which meant they couldn’t be connected.

“Van told me what you said.”

“¿Y?”

“Maybe I don’t need you in the shadows. You ever thought about that?”

“Sí, I have.”

His little brother sighed. “But you won’t change your mind.”

“No.”

Levi remained silent for several heartbeats. “You’ll be careful?”

“I have not lived this long doing things any other way.” But he couldn’t deny having someone worry about him felt good. Petra and his mother had been the only ones who ever worried. Antonio had thought him invincible. And their father had no room in him for trivial things such as caring.

“Bye, Daniel.”

“Adiós, hermano.”

* * *

A fire danced in his lower belly, sending sparks shooting up and down his spine every time he set foot inside the cage. Restless, he waited, slick anticipation for his prey curling his fingers. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, making it that much harder to sit still.

Alive, for the first time in years. He felt alive.

Seated in a corner of the cage, cloaked by shadows, Daniel watched his captive writhe in his sleep, hoarse cries tearing from his throat. In his sleep, in his dreams, Stavros was a treasure trove of information. Watching him had been the only entertainment Daniel got while on the run.

Depravity was Stavros’ thing. His trysts with women had been eye-opening, but he hadn’t expected to see Stavros engage in the same acts with men. With the same vigor. The same abandon. He glutted on pleasure, while Daniel mourned the woman he’d lost. While his wife’s soul-shattering screams echoed in his ears until he felt sure they bled.

While Daniel sank under with the weight of the guilt and blame on his shoulders, Stavros Konstantinou lived a life of decadent indulgence. That wasn’t allowed to continue.

Now, he was Daniel’s entertainment. Breathing only at Daniel’s discretion.

A plaintive moan rumbled from the body on the floor. Stavros shifted, and Daniel heard his harsh intake of breath.

“Fuck,” Stavros swore, voice ragged and heavy with pain.

Daniel watched him, lips quirking as Stavros struggled to sit, chains rattling. If his stiff posture was any indication, he hurt all over.

The light in the cage remained off, casting the place in darkness. Still Daniel knew the sight of Stavros’ body by now. Caked from head to toe in streaked blood and grime, hair matted to his head. Swollen eyes and nose, the cut that had already scabbed over on his cheek, black and blue bruises decorated his taut midsection, unable to hide under all the dried blood.

He’d long lost the polished gentleman look about him, his tan fading with the lack of sunlight.

He never lost the fire in his eyes though. Never, and more often than not Daniel found himself facing that blaze head-on. He always barely escaped without getting singed.

“Watching me sleep, Nieto?” Stavros’ back remained facing Daniel, but his head was tilted to the right. The tension in his shoulders matched the same quality in his voice.

Daniel shrugged even though Stavros wasn’t looking at him. “I like to keep an eye on my captives.” He stood and went to the opening of the cage, switching on the overhead light before retaking his seat in the corner. “Besides, you sound like you needed company.”

Stavros scoffed. “Is that what you think I am, your captive?” He positioned himself, movements abbreviated, until they were facing each other. “Hardly.”

“What do you think you are?” Daniel asked him evenly. “Share.”

“I think I’m your mirror image.” He held Daniel’s gaze. “Like knows like, yes?” Stavros licked his chapped lips. “The monster in you recognizes the monster in me,” he whispered. “And it wants to play.”

Daniel just watched him, giving nothing away. Listening to words that somehow burned more than Stavros’ garrote at his throat.

“Do you know why nothing you do to me here matters?” Stavros asked in the same quiet tone. “Why, no matter how many times you bleed me, I won’t break? Why, no matter how long it takes you to feed me, I won’t beg?”

Daniel put his elbows on his knees, body leaning forward, eyes taking in every inch of Stavros’ battered body as his ears remained tuned to every sound, every cadence of his voice. “Tell me.”

“That night, when I killed your Petra—”

Just like every other time somebody uttered her name, Daniel’s stomach lurched and his breath turned choppy. Uneven. He kept his face stoic and fisted his hands.

“When I had my garrote around your neck and your struggling body underneath me, you stared up into my eyes,” Stavros said. “Remember that?”

He’d never forget.

“I had you near death,” Stavros confessed. “And you had me near orgasm.” He moved then, dragging along the floor, body angled toward Daniel, voice hushed as though he was sharing a secret. “The thought of taking your life, the act of watching you struggle to live, got me hard…” His eyes gleamed in the low light and for a single moment the tables were turned, upended.

Daniel found himself the vulnerable one. The captive. The one in chains.

“I got high that night,” Stavros told him. “Got fucked, too.” His mouth curved. “A ménage. Tightest pussy and ass. They made a human sandwich out of me, and I thought only of you in those moments. In that moment.”

They were words meant to shock him. Meant to probably set Daniel off. He gave Stavros a tight smile. “I should be flattered, should I not?”

Stavros snorted. “No, you should be on notice. Because this? Me as your captive? It is only foreplay for the inevitable main course, where I plan on feasting on you until I’m well sated.”

A slow smile spread across Daniel’s face as he went to Stavros, getting down low on the filthy floor. Ignoring everything as he grabbed Stavros’ chin, and stared him in the eye. “I like this side of you,” Daniel murmured. “Defiant.” Their verbal spars somehow had his spine sparking more than watching Stavros bleed. He hadn’t thought anything could be as vibrant as spilling his captive’s blood. “All that insolence, despite the danger.”

The hair on Stavros’ face pricked Daniel’s palm, an awareness that registered loudly, drawing Daniel’s attention. As did the warmth of Stavros’ skin.

So warm.

Stavros’ gaze never strayed from his. His stare was as gripping as everything else about him. Filled with rebellion and a bluster Daniel knew Stavros could back up. “Haven’t you heard?” His focus dipped once, from Daniel’s eyes down to his mouth then back. A quick flicker. Almost imperceptible. Then Stavros licked his lips. “I live for danger.”

That Daniel knew to be true. “Then you’ve come to the right place, Mr. Konstantinou.” The pulse just under Stavros’ chin throbbed against his fingertips, reminding him that he still held the other man in his clasp.

He tightened his grip.

That pulse sped up.

The warmth spread, and Daniel’s body sucked it up. A dry sponge soaking up water.

With his free hand, Daniel pulled his blade from his boot. Because he hadn’t done it in a while. Because he dreamt about Stavros Konstantinou skewered on his blade.

And because he wanted to remove that glint in Stavros’ eyes.

He’d seen it before.

While Stavros eyed him, Daniel stroked his blade down the Greek’s chest. “Tell me about Annika,” he murmured. “The woman you loved. The one your male lover killed. Era tú hermana, ¿verdad?”

Stavros’ expression didn’t change, but his tone went from strong and cocky, to dry and bold when he asked, “Are we sharing details about our women?” His brow lifted. “If so, you should go first. You are the host, after all.”

Daniel twisted his wrist just the smallest degree and the sharp side of the blade sliced across Stavros’ chest, directly under his right pec. Not deep, but not superficial either.

Stavros tensed. Daniel felt him under his knuckles, under his fingertips. Tense, but that pulse…

Hypnotic.

For a crazy moment, he wanted to just hold himself still and count those pulsing beats.

The thinnest trail of blood appeared.

“She didn’t want you,” he whispered. “But she kept you leashed, didn’t she?” He’d watched Stavros turn into somebody vulnerable with Annika, and he’d seen the woman use that weakness to keep Stavros at her side, but never in her bed. “Close, but never close enough.”

“You’re putting me to sleep, you know that?” Stavros asked. “That voice of yours. So soothing. You’re welcome for that, by the way.” He winked, and Daniel flicked his wrist again.

Another slash, this one on the opposite pec. Directly on top of a dark purple bruise. The red came through beautifully, tiny droplets already forming. Again Stavros tensed, and this time when he exhaled, it rushed across Daniel’s neck.

Prickling his skin before settling in his toes that curled in on themselves.

He slashed Stavros again, a punishment for being so alive. So warm. Punishing him for every throb of his pulse against Daniel’s fingertips. Punishing him for forcing Daniel to be aware of all of it. He’d thought he wanted a weak and vulnerable captive. But right now, Daniel preferred this one.

He preferred the fight and the word play.

Much more rewarding once you added the knife play. He kept cutting, blood dripping in thin lines down Stavros’ torso. With every drag of the weapon across his flesh, Stavros tensed, but he didn’t flinch. He exhaled, but he didn’t look away. Silent, mocking gaze urging Daniel to do his worst.

He wouldn’t, not yet. But this was a good warm up exercise.

“Annika let everybody but you touch her,” he said softly. “She let you watch. Made sure you did. Then she betrayed you in the end.” He’d been lurking in the shadows of Stavros Konstantinou’s life for longer than the other man could possibly know. “But you mourned her like a lover, not a sister.”

The flicker in Stavros’ eyes told him he’d hit a nerve.

“She said your name,” Stavros said. “Petra. Remember that? Remember how she reached out her hand for you while my men held you down?”

Daniel’s movements halted as a red haze crept over his vision. He breathed deeply, hoping his expression remained impassive.

“You don’t look so good.” Stavros’ teeth flashed, shark-like. “Something I said?”

It made no sense that Stavros was the captive when Daniel felt suddenly constrained by the weight of grief that abruptly landed on his shoulders. Petra would always be his weak spot, and a man like Stavros would know that.

“She didn’t fight after that. She accepted the inevitable. Graceful,” Stavros mused aloud. “Deserving of more than you gave.”

“Sigue hablando.” Keep talking. Daniel kept slicing until his grip turned slack on the hilt of the knife, and Stavros’ front was swathed in wet, sticky red.

Beautiful, hypnotic red.

As Daniel sat back and regarded his handiwork, Stavros’ stomach contracted.

“You really do like to watch, don’t you?” Stavros’ chuckle sounded as if the man was intoxicated. His lashes were low, brushing his pale cheekbones as they hid his thoughts from Nieto. “Shit, you’re a goddamn treasure, Nieto.”

Daniel fisted Stavros’ hair, yanking his head back. Then he brought the knife up, tracing an invisible line across Stavros’ throat.

Ear to ear.

His captive held himself still then.

Lips clamped shut then.

But his eyes were wide open. Gaze heavy.

Accepting as he waited.

But he knew, he had to know…

“Not today,” Daniel told him. “I like this.” He brought the bloodied knife up, pressing the flat of the blade against Stavros’ lips, the sharp tip pointed up past his nose.

Stavros’ tongue flicked out and he licked the blade. Against him, Daniel felt the other man’s shudder. As close as they were, he saw Stavros’ pupils dilate.

“Foreplay,” Stavros whispered. He held Daniel’s gaze as he slid his tongue over the knife again. “Fuck, but you’re exceptional at it.”

Words and thought took a backseat as Daniel watched Stavros use his tongue to wipe the knife clean. Caught in that unexpectedly intoxicating web, he couldn’t look away. Shock turned his belly warm, tightened it, and he froze.

Holding his breath.

Gripping the knife.

He flashed hot, instantly sweating. Something else filtered in, pushing past the anger inside. Past the rage, and the thirst for blood. Settling in low in his gut.

An ache. Familiar, yet not. An intense urge to join in gripped him. A need to put his mouth right there on that sharp, polished steel and lick until there wasn’t any red left.

His entire being spasmed at that realization.

What it meant.

He rejected it outright. But when Stavros opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, Daniel slid the knife down for him. So the Greek could get at the rest of the blood. Lick it off and shudder again.

Completely insane and obscene.

Daniel’s mouth watered. He liked obscene. In fact, he didn’t know any other way but obscene.

Judging by the way his lips curved, Stavros knew.

Like knows like.

The knife fell from his finger, clattering to the floor as Stavros’ wet tongue curled around Daniel’s blood-soaked fingers. He snatched it away, schooled his features, and stood.

“That heat in your belly,” Stavros spoke, head tilted back, lashes lowered as he gazed up at Daniel as if he wasn’t the one shackled to the cold floor. “That’s for me.” His teeth caught his bottom lip then released it. “And it’s because of me.”

“So sure of yourself, Mr. Konstantinou?” His voice was more wrecked than usual, and Daniel fisted his hands at that show of weakness.

“No. I’m sure of you.”

If he did what he wanted in that moment, he’d have the knife buried to the hilt in the Greek’s heart. But that would be an emotional blow. It couldn’t be about emotion, because emotion would end all this before it’d truly begun. Therefore he turned around and exited the cage.

That action felt very much like a retreat. A surrender. It occurred to Daniel that he’d done too much of that since the day Stavros first opened his eyes in his cage.

“Thank you for the knee,” Stavros called after him. “I always appreciate a man who kneels.”