We ride back to the house in strained silence. I almost had V take her, but I’m not ready to let her out of my sight. I’m also determined to get the answers I want before this night is over.

At least three times, Keira opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but she snaps it shut before a single word comes out. Neither of us is willing to give an inch. If I do, she’ll take a mile, and if she does, I’ll take a thousand.

When I make the final turn, V’s headlights flash behind me, indicating that he’s pulling into the garage where a few of the other cars are parked.

“You’re actually going to let me see where you live?” she asks, surprise in her tone.

“It’s not like it’s much of a secret now that you’ve escaped,” I say, and catch her pursing her lips in my peripheral vision.

“True.” Quietly, she adds, “But I kind of wish I hadn’t.”

Her confession shocks me, but instead of showing any reaction, I focus on parking and getting the fuck out of the car before the smell of sex on her body drives me any more insane than I obviously already am.

I park the Spyder next to a McLaren and a Ferrari and kill the engine. With the garage door shutting behind us, I’m done waiting.

“Tell me every goddamn word he said to you.”

Instead of protesting like the hellion I’ve become accustomed to, Keira sighs. “I’m going to need a drink for this.”

I open the door and the dome light illuminates, giving me a better view of her face than the garage fixtures alone. Her expression is hard to decipher. Sated, defeated, yet defiant. Every time I think I have her figured out, I realize none of my normal barometers apply when it comes to Keira Kilgore. She’s the exception to everything I thought I knew.

“Let’s go.”

I climb out of the car, and she’s still trying to find the latch to open hers when I round the hood and open it for her, grasping her by the hand to pull her out.

“Stupid fancy cars.”

“Says the girl with one that barely runs.”

Her shoulders stiffen at the insult. “Sorry, I don’t have a bazillion dollars of dirty money to build a supercar collection.”

“You make your money feeding people’s addictions. How is it any different from what I do? We’re both in the business of sin, just in different ways.”

“I don’t even know what the hell you really do. And don’t make me sound like a drug dealer. My business is perfectly legal.” Her chin lifts with her condescending tone.

Rather than address the part of her comment about not knowing what I really do—because that’s something I have no plans to ever tell her—I focus on the one thing she can’t deny.

“Tell me alcoholism can’t be just as destructive as drug addiction.”

“It’s different!”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart, but get off your high horse once in a while to acknowledge that what you do isn’t pure and innocent either.”

She snaps her mouth closed, and I assume it’s because she doesn’t have a reply. Again, I’m wrong.

“Take me to the booze. You better have the good stuff.”

I think of the whiskey I almost drank earlier but wouldn’t, because I didn’t want to feed into my obsession with her. That goal is well and truly fucked after tonight.

“I have the best of everything, and that includes liquor.”

I wrap my hand around hers and pull her to a secret door in the garage that leads into the network of internal hallways, rather than going by way of the normal entrance.

She tries to tug her hand away, but my grip is stronger. Eventually, she stops fighting in favor of asking questions.

“How much did it cost to build all these? Or were they already here? Are those peepholes? Oh my God, do you have peepholes into my room?” Abruptly, she stops moving, forcing me to a halt.

I turn halfway, just enough to meet her horrified gaze. “Why would I need peepholes when I have cameras on every angle of your rooms?”

Her mouth drops open and she sucks in an outraged breath. “I can’t believe you let people watch me! Us!” She lifts her free hand like she’s going to slap me again, but I snag it in midair, which is turning out to be a handy skill with this fiery redhead.

“You got in your only free shot tonight. The next time you try to hit me, I’ll take it out on your ass, tenfold. Actions have consequences. Especially if there are other eyes watching.”

I’m not sure which part of what I said finally penetrates, but her hand goes slack.

“Do you really think I’d let anyone see your tits, your ass, or your pussy? You’re mine, and I don’t fucking share. No one has access to those feeds but me. The control room only watches your tracker on GPS, and when they alerted me, I pulled the private camera feeds.”

Her head jerks back again. “Tracker? I’m wearing a tracking device?” Her voice rises another octave as she pats down her clothes, all of which have been supplied by my people. When her fingers touch the necklace chain, her mouth drops open. “It’s not just a lock, is it? You chipped me like a damn dog.”

“Quit referring to yourself as a dog. You might act like a bitch sometimes, but you’re sure as fuck not as obedient as one. Be fucking grateful I had that tonight. What else could’ve happened to you if V and I hadn’t gotten there?”

When she yanks at the chain until it threatens to break her skin, I close my fingers over hers, stilling her movement. “Leave it alone. It’s not coming off.”

Her gaze burns into mine, and I can see the words she wants to speak but has been forbidden from uttering. I hate you.

At least she’s learning.

We reach the hidden library entrance, and I pull her against my chest.

“Let me go.”

She struggles against me, but I squeeze tighter. “Shut up, Keira.”

The platform spins, and I release her as soon as we’re in the library.

She darts across the room as if she can’t get away from me fast enough.

Try all you want, hellion. It won’t work.

She stops in front of the sideboard with the crystal decanters, not waiting to be served.

Lifting the stopper from one decanter, she sniffs it and wrinkles her nose, then unstops another bottle and inhales. She repeats the process until she whirls around to face me, and I know exactly which decanter is gripped in her hand.

“How did you get Spirit of New Orleans? You can only get it in our restaurant, and I sure as hell didn’t send you one of the promotional bottles.”

I give her a look that can only be interpreted as Are you seriously asking me that question?

Keira rolls her eyes. “When I find out who got it for you, I’m going to have to fire them. You know that, right?”

My laugh booms out, surprising us both. “Like I need inside help. You, on the other hand, need to upgrade security at your storehouses.”

Pure shock flashes across her features. “You stole a barrel of my best whiskey? How dare—”

I stride across the room, stopping a foot from her. “I dare whatever the fuck I please. One of these days, you’ll figure that out.”

A growl escapes her throat as she turns around and pours herself a tumbler before tossing it back. “You’re—”

I close the gap between us and press my palms to the wood on either side of her, trapping her against my body. Her spine stiffens when my chest touches her back.

“What am I, Keira? Tell me.” My lips almost brush her ear.

She releases another growl of frustration, and I want to fucking devour her. “Impossible. You’re impossible.”

With a smirk on my lips, I drop my nose to the curve where her shoulder and neck meet, and inhale. “And you smell like me and filthy, incredible sex. Now, pour me a fucking drink and tell me what the hell happened.”

I’ll give her credit—her hand doesn’t shake as she pours three fingers into her glass and another. I step away and wait for her to turn around. When she does, any shock from my words has been wiped clean from her face.

Impressive.

I accept the tumbler she holds out as she sips her own, closing her eyes to appreciate the flavor, and I force myself to look away before I get a hard-on just from watching her drink.

She lowers the tumbler from her lips and speaks like the few moments before didn’t happen. Again, I’m impressed at how unaffected she’s able to make herself sound.

“I always forget how good this is. I swear I could drink a bottle myself.” When I narrow my gaze on her, she rolls her eyes. “You do realize I was practically raised on whiskey. I’m no lightweight.”

“You’re not drinking an entire bottle tonight.” I move back to lean against one of the chairs, set my glass down untouched, and cross my arms. “You’re telling me what that piece of shit said.”

A small, sad smile plays over her lips as she stares down into the whiskey. “Funny, that’s one thing we actually agree on. Brett Hyde is a piece of shit.” She looks up from her glass, her green eyes stormy. “He threatened my parents. He said if I don’t follow his instructions, he’ll have them and my sisters killed.”

I recall the picture I had taken of her parents while I was leaving reminders of everything she had to lose in order to make her accept my bargain. “And you think he can pull it off?”

“Maybe not, but I gave myself up to you to protect them. What makes you think I won’t take him seriously?”

Uncrossing my arms, I reach for the tumbler to finally take a drink of the whiskey. “What instructions did he give you?”

“I’m supposed to go to the bank tomorrow and make a large cash withdrawal. The biggest I can without my father’s approval.”

My fingers grip the crystal almost tightly enough to shatter it. That greedy motherfucker.

“How did he know you had cash in the account?”

She shrugs. “I didn’t even know I had it until he showed me the balance on his phone with the online banking app. I didn’t think about shutting down his access because I thought he was dead.” Her last words are tossed at me like an accusation as her eyes narrow. “Don’t think I’m not pissed about you trying to force me deeper into your debt. That’s bullshit. I didn’t ask for that money. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. “I loaned you operating capital so you can make the next payroll. That check from the Voodoo Kings for the event deposit won’t come until days after you need it. Or did you want your employees’ paychecks to bounce?”

The color drains from her face. “How do you know that?”

“When it comes to you and your business, I know everything.”

“Except, apparently, that my dead husband wouldn’t stay dead.” She turns her back on me and begins to pace, which I’ve come to realize is one of her habits. “Why would I think to disable his bank access when he died? He was dead, so it wasn’t like I was worried he was going to try to steal from the distillery.” She spins as she hits the end of her path and spears me with her furious green gaze. “But he wasn’t dead, and I wish I would’ve known that so I could have prevented him from getting an alert when our balance tipped a certain number. Because I didn’t know he could do that either.”

Once a con, always a con. I’m actually surprised Brett was smart enough to work this one. He signed his death warrant when he showed his face again, and this time, it’s going to be even more painful. Not just because of what he put Keira through tonight, but since the day she married him.

“Why didn’t he ask you to wire it to an offshore account? That would’ve been smarter. He’s a dumb motherfucker, but not that stupid. A cash withdrawal leaves way too many variables that could go wrong.”

She turns to pace again, dumping the remains of the whiskey down her throat as she strides along the wood floor. “I don’t have wire transfer authority and neither does Brett. Only my father does, and there’s no way in hell I could have explained to him that I needed to wire money into an offshore account. Do you realize the questions that would’ve led to? The least of which being how the hell I even got my hands on that much money?” When she comes back toward me, the strong front she’s been holding together cracks, and so does her voice. “But he said he’d kill them all if I don’t do it, so I don’t have a choice. I’m going to the bank tomorrow morning, and then, God willing, it’ll be over.”

I lower my glass to the table and step into her path, forcing her to stop and look up at me when I wrap a hand around each of her shoulders.

“Give him that money, and he’ll keep coming back for more. That’s how this works.”

“Then what the hell do I do? I can’t let my family suffer for my bad decision.”

I tighten my grip on her to make sure I have her complete attention. When she meets my gaze, I repeat the promise I made earlier. “No one will touch them.”

“Swear it to me.”

“I already did.”

“I need to hear it again.”

I give her a squeeze. “I don’t repeat myself.”

She bites her lip, and I’d give a hell of a lot to know what she’s thinking.

“Fine. But if you don’t, all bets are off.”

“You don’t make that decision. But I will make you one more promise—Brett Hyde might be back from the dead, but it won’t be long before you’re a widow again.”