It is unbelievably easy to sneak into this damn compound. The clubhouse itself might have more security, but Torrent’s home is a piece of cake to get to and break into. Hell, I only saw three cameras and none of them are around the window on the back porch. The windows are also way too damn old. A small flick of the point of my knife in the right place and the lock gives way. I don’t know what kind of club president her father was, but apparently he didn’t feel the need to protect himself or his family like he should have. Plus, he wanted his daughter with that asshole Wolf. All that combined doesn’t leave her old man smelling like daisies—more like a pile of cow shit.

I make it through the window to what looks like a spare bedroom. I frown thinking how fucking easy it was. There’s not much I can do to help, but I’ll be figuring something out before I leave her here. I listen for a few minutes before I leave the room. I don’t want to walk out and have someone besides Torrent out there.

The house is silent.

Shit. She might be gone. I open the door carefully and then walk into a wide hallway. There’s a bathroom across from me and another bedroom, but they’re both empty too. The living room is empty, and looking through the rest of the house—dining room, kitchen, and utility room—it’s all quiet too. On the other end of the house, there’s a double set of doors. I open one of them carefully; the clicking of the lock seems abnormally loud. This room is obviously a master bedroom. The bed is made and the room is empty but there’s another set of doors to my right and although they are closed, I can hear music coming from them. I open them slowly, not sure of what I’ll find.

I don’t get time to look around the minute the door opens a scream lights up the room.

I jump and then when my eyes focus on Torrent, who is in a bathtub full of bubbles, her arms clutched to her chest, her hair wet and her toes peeking out over the side of the tub—I relax.

“Now that’s a view worth breaking in for.”

“Logan! What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” I explain, although it should be pretty evident. I walk farther into the room and Torrent dives deeper under the water—and the disappearing bubbles.

“Get out!” she squeals.

“Is that anyway to greet your date, Angel?”

“My date?”

“You told me today you would give me two weeks.”

“Well yeah, but I mean, we just saw each other today, Logan.”

“Yep. I was going to show up a little earlier, but I decided showing up later was a better move.”

“And why was that?”

“So your guards would be drunk—which, by the way, they mostly are.”

“Oh… I thought… I mean…” she stutters.

“You thought what, Torrent?”

“I thought you showed up late so you could catch me…”

“Wet and naked?”

“You’re horrible,” she grumbles, blushing.

“I can’t lie, Angel. I wanted you wet and naked… but I wanted to be the one to get you that way.”

“You really are insane,” she laughs. “Are you going to step out so I can get out of the tub?”

“I’m leaning towards… No.”

“Asshole,” she mutters, but she’s still smiling. “At least grab me a towel over there.”

I walk to the cabinet she motioned to and there’s bath towels, wash cloths and hand towels.

It’s not like she was specific.

“Here ya’ go,” I answer, sounding sweet and innocent—even if I do say so myself. Then I hold up a small blue hand towel.

“I hardly think that will dry my whole body, now do you?”

“I think it’d be fun trying. I’ll even donate my services.”

“I bet you would. Hand me a real towel, please.”

“I really thought you were more adventurous,” I mutter, teasingly. I replace the towel with a large bath one, reaching it to her. She stares at it for a minute with a frown. “What’s wrong now?” I ask, curious as to what is running through her head.

“I um… Can you hold it out for me?” she asks, blushing a bright red again. Torrent is such a mixture of shyness and sarcasm that she intrigues me every minute I’m with her. She leaves me wanting to see what happens next.

I stretch the towel out, holding it in both of my hands. I look at her over the top of it, leering with my face showing nothing but challenge.

“Like this, Angel?”

“I’m trusting you not to peek,” she warns.

“Scouts honor,” I grin.

“Turn your head.”

She waits until I do it, and then stands. The sound of water sloshing makes my mind go wild. I know the visions I’m picturing could only pale next to the real thing…

“You’re looking!” she gasps, pulling the towel around her quickly. She did it before I barely got a glance, but what I did see was fucking amazing.

“Darlin’, I’m called Devil for a reason. There’s not a straight man alive who could pass up that chance. Hell, some gay ones too.”

“Whatever. You were never a scout, were you?”

“In the most technical sense… no,” I laugh.

“Can I get you to go back out into the hall while I get dressed?”

“If I say no?”

“Then I think our date will be over pretty quickly,” she says stubbornly.

I think she’s bluffing, but I’m not willing to test that out. I lean over and kiss her quickly, and walk away.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Angel. You never know when I might be forced to come back in—to check on you, of course.”

“You never know when I might be forced to clobber you over the head with that baseball bat by my bed—in shock, of course.”

And there’s the old Torrent, mimicking me and giving as good as she gets. I laugh as I leave the room, because I could see her doing it, and I’m as fucked up as everyone has always accused me of being—because I like it.