I haven’t been up to the winter lodge since Em was six years old.

I’m surprised she remembers it so well, but then it shouldn’t be that startling. Our last trip here was one of the final good memories we had together as a family.

Crystal was still healthy, carrying Em on her shoulders, as we left the car in the guarded lot a few blocks down from the main trail and climbed, huffing and wheezing in the thin mountain air, up the leaf-strewn autumn hills and rocky crags with our backpacks weighing us down. Em, every once in a while, demanded to get down on the ground and ask about the shape of this leaf or why the air smelled different or would we see any wolves or coyotes, and were they too scared of people?

You know, the usual heart-rending shit kids do.

She’d been such a bright, inquisitive child even then. We’d tucked away happily for a few months to watch the winter settle in and see the first snow fall through windows lit with the reflections from firelight. I want to say it’s a pure, happy memory for me, but it’s not.

Not all of it.

Because I still remember nights after Em fell asleep. The low, bitter conversations with Crystal, and then sleeping on the pullout couch while they shared the bed.

My wife only tolerated me then because we had to get through this. She appreciated what I did for her, how I swore up and down we'd see this through, how hard we'd fight her cancer. But she didn't love me.

We were too damaged. Too weary. Too wrong from the very beginning, and the years took their toll.

We stayed in this for Em. And if we ever thought there was a ghost of a chance at mending it, at fixing us, it wasn't meant to be.

I'm clenching my teeth as I shift out of the driver's seat and back into the present.

It's not déjà vu I'm feeling anymore as we leave the Wrangler in the lot and load up our backpacks full of supplies.

It's something different as I watch Em and Liv practically chase each other through the trees, while Em excitedly shows Liv the different plant species she can identify and answers Liv’s bright-eyed, curious questions about squirrels and caterpillars and the pretty butterflies flitting through the warm summer air, just as eager and inquisitive as Em herself.

It's unmistakable what it is.

Pride.

I’m proud to be here with them. Rather than erasing those old memories, it just closes their book and tucks their pages away to the archives, leaving something fresh and new where I can write in another story, another chapter.

A new beginning.

By the time we make it up to the peak of the tree-shrouded slope, though, I’m ready for an ending.

More, I’m ready to sit down. The girls are carrying their own backpacks with their personal effects and a few other things, but I had to be Mr. Big Ox and carry the massive camping frame loaded down with a few weeks’ worth of groceries and other essential supplies.

The lodge is modern and has electricity, appliances, and other necessities for comfort, but as remote as it is, it’s still helpful to stock up on things in case of emergencies.

I’m sweating down the back of my collar by the time we emerge from a break in the trees to see the peaked roof of the cozy little cottage-style house with its dark shingles, brick chimney, and pale slat siding. Crystal’s parents must've been here recently or sent out a caretaker because the garden out back is only a little overgrown, and the blown leaves along the front stepping stones aren’t too thick.

Before we let ourselves in, I turn back and look down the way we came.

Nothing but forest. The road isn’t visible from here, or the parking lot.

The cottage wasn’t visible from the road, either. A sheer cliff rises up the back of the house, with a thin little waterfall pouring down through foliage, running into the pond and creek in the backyard.

We’re surrounded on two sides, with only two possible avenues of approach up a steep, rocky hill that'd make it nearly impossible for a stealth approach.

The direct trail, and a narrow, gentler paved footpath coming from the north are actually harder to use when it winds over three miles from the point of entry on a higher curve of the highway some ways away.

It's fucking perfect.

When we step inside the cabin, though, it’s a punch of nostalgia and memory straight to my gut.

Crystal decorated this place a long time ago. It’s all homey deep-rose colors and complementary plaids and subtle florals, giving it a sort of soft, rustic look. Her touch is everywhere here.

I look over, know Em feels it, too, when she stops just past the threshold and looks around.

Normally, she’s so energetic that even when standing still she always seems to be in motion, but right now she’s just arrested, quiet. Her little eyes shift down.

I walk over and grip her shoulder gently. She looks up at me and offers a wan smile that feels like a mirror of my own.

“It’s okay to miss her,” I say.

She bites her lip. “Do you?”

“In my own way, love.”

That question should've hurt, so much. Should've ripped me the fuck open.

I should've known that even at such a young age, Em was aware of the tension between me and her mother. It’s a reasonable question to ask. And one I’m okay with answering it half honestly today, when I don’t think I would've been before.

As Em pulls me close, burrows in for a hug, I fold her in my arms and catch Liv’s eye over her head, sharing a brief, wistful smile.

Don’t have to ask myself who’s responsible for my honesty today.

Em’s bright again in a matter of seconds, pulling away and flashing us both a smile. “C’mon, Liv! I’ll show you where you can put your stuff. We’re sharing the bedroom.”

“Sleepover style, huh?” Liv hefts her back and flashes me an impish smile. “Where’s your father going to sleep?”

I chuckle. “The couch pulls out into a rollaway bed. You two get the room. I know how girls need their privacy.”

Even if that privacy – and the structure of the cabin – is going to put a serious damper on our sex life.

We’ll find a way, I vow.

Even if I wind up flat on the ground outside with a pine cone up my ass, rolling around in needles.

The thought shouldn’t amuse me as much as it does, but even being able to laugh in the midst of this clusterfuck of a job is enough to lift my spirits. It doesn’t take us long to get settled in.

The girls get their things put away in their room while I stash mine in the massive oak chest that doubles as a coffee table in the living room, before we work together to put the groceries and supplies away. Liv’s a whirlwind as usual, learning her way around while we point her to various things.

Somehow, in a blink and a breath, it’s evening. Liv and Em are sprawled out on the floor in front of a crackling fire, playing some card game with magic monsters gathering or something like that and completely ignoring the Lord of the Rings DVD playing on the TV.

I’m on the couch messing around on my laptop, using the wi-fi hotspot on my phone to run through the Enguard database’s information on the Pilgrims plus anything I can find on Liv’s old man.

It's harder than it should be to focus.

If I'm being honest, I’m watching Liv and Em over the top of the screen. It does something to me, to see how well they get along. Liv subtly takes on the role of the adult, but without stifling Em or repressing her natural enthusiasm, independence, and creativity. She takes real, genuine interest in Em, and I don’t know if she’s had experience with kids before or if it’s a natural talent, but she seems to genuinely care if my daughter is happy and fulfilled, and if she grows into the wonderful person she’s meant to be.

She treats my daughter like a person. Not a damn impediment or an annoying accessory.

And it’s part of what makes me so stuck on her, when the one or two women I tried dating in the past couple of years treated Em like an obstacle to overcome if they wanted to score a role in my life, instead of like someone they could befriend.

Liv glances up and catches my eye, flashing me a little smile.

It takes everything to keep my answering smile minimal and preoccupied, when Em doesn’t know about us – and she’ll see through me in an instant.

I force myself to look back down at my screen and the data files I’m comparing to find any link between Alec Holly and the Pilgrims.

It just doesn’t make sense to me that Holly senior would order a hit just because some guys were muscling his daughter for drug money. Why not just pay them off exorbitantly?

A bribe still would've been cheaper than taking out a hit.

There must be something else at play here. Something driving the need to take out the Pilgrims by force and send a message, even if Holly clearly hasn't realized just how deep blood grudges run with these types of gangs.

Or just how deep the Pilgrims’ connections run throughout the Pacific Northwest.

It’s disturbing how much the gang has going on.

On the surface, they look like dirty punks, lurking on street corners. Beneath that façade, though, is an entire root system reaching its tendrils out into law enforcement and businesses throughout Washington, Oregon, and Northern California.

They own multiple shell corporations for laundering dirty money, maintain an entire distribution network for drug imports, have protection rackets set up as organized state-wide networks intimidating small businesses, keep multiple city and state police in their pockets.

About the only thing the Pilgrims don’t do is manufacture their own drugs.

I’d known they were dirty assholes, but I didn’t realize just how far the filth went.

Not that Alec Holly’s much cleaner. He’s exactly the rich, self-absorbed dickbag I thought he was.

Three messy divorces, backstabbing rise to corporate power, the kind of guy who somehow finds the money to award himself obscene bonuses in the middle of a recession and among waves of layoffs.

He’s always jetting around, hosting fundraisers for nebulous causes that don’t actually seem attached to any real charity, and I’m wondering where that money goes when he seems to have more than enough of his own between managing smart investments in Milah’s career and a run of very successful stock trading. It's the foundation of an international business incubator that makes its money by buying promising fledgling startups for a song, nurturing them into global corporations, then selling them off for a seven-to-eight-figure profit.

Something doesn’t seem right, though.

With all those corporations constantly changing hands, it wouldn’t be hard to hide some pretty shady dealings in the transactions, burying them down in the fine details as a cover for something else. Something that might overlap the Pilgrims’ business interests. Something where, if Lion saw an opportunity with Milah’s drug debt, he could easily use Alec Holly’s daughters as leverage to go after what he really wanted.

I think Alec Holly’s in this mess even deeper than we thought, and this entire clusterfuck is his attempt to cover his tracks – and cover his ass.

Even if he has to sacrifice his own daughters to do it.

The only time I’ve ever felt this kind of black, bubbling hatred rising up from my gorge like bile is when I saw that man dragging Liv. I need to keep a lid on it, though.

I can’t let Liv know I suspect her father of being this big an asshole or taking things this far. Despite their conflicted relationship, she clearly loves Alec Holly. She'd be even more devastated than she was that day at my house if she knew the naked truth.

I distract myself looking through a few more documents, then pause, frowning.

I’ve been through both the Holly file and the Pilgrims file before, and this data wasn’t there last time.

Was it?

I check a few folders full of PDFs. Every last one of them has CrownRecovered in the file name. I can’t help but grin to myself.

Landon’s a smart, sly dog.

He’s managed to seize the info databases from Crown Security, our old rival, after it was shut down by the FBI, adding their case files to augment our own.

It looks like there’s an entire data dump of files no one’s organized yet. Good.

It’ll give me something to do to keep from going stir-crazy cooped up in this cabin, unable to even go to work. I love spending time with Em and Liv, but after even three days, we’re going to need some solo time or we’re going to be at each other’s throats.

Em lets out a triumphant sound that I think means she beat Liv at arranging numbered cards with monsters on them until someone had the right number to win. Then she looks up at me, grinning. “Hey, Dad? I just beat Liv with an entirely green deck, even giving her all my black cards. Can I call Ryan to tell him about it?”

“Hm?” I look up from the laptop. Liv’s mock-pouting, but I can tell she’s trying not to laugh.

I linger on her for a moment, then shake my head at Em with a smile. “Sure, love. Just remember you can’t tell him we’re here. We’re just out camping.”

“What if he asks where?” she asks.

“Be vague. Change the subject.”

She bounces up, already fishing her phone from her pocket. “Okay.”

I’m not expecting her to retreat to the bedroom, and the fact that she does makes me arch a brow. Private conversations with boys, now?

When did my little girl grow up?

Chuckling ruefully, Liv pushes herself off the floor. “I haven’t played Magic since I was fifteen, and she’s whipping my butt with a basic deck. God, I need to relearn how to play.”

“I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Means girls like math, monsters, and magic battles. That’s all you need to know.” She settles down next to me, patting my arm, then follows my line of sight toward the bedroom door; Em’s voice is a faint, excited murmur drifting from inside. “She really likes that Ryan kid, doesn’t she?”

“Seems like it. He's a pretty good kid, even if I find his old man smarmy as hell.” I look down at the tempting, beautiful woman sitting so close to me, yet still too far away. “I think he’s her first crush.”

“Her first crush that you know about.”

I blink. “What? C'mon. Em tells me everything. She would've told me if she liked somebody.”

Liv just keeps staring, a smile pulling at her lips.

I pause, frowning, stroking my beard. “Wouldn’t she?”

“Oh, Riker.” Liv laughs gently, shifting to tuck against my side and resting her head on my shoulder. “You’re a great dad, but there’s a point where men realize they have a lot to learn about raising girls.” She pokes my arm. “Welcome home. You've reached it.”

“Let me guess – you’re going to teach me?”

Her smile turns sly, and she leans just a little more into me.

Just enough for that light pressure of her weight to turn from comforting to enticing, while the curve of her breasts mold to my arm and her waist fits against mine, her hip a soft roundness sliding against my side. “Seems fair. You’ve taught me a lot of things.”

It’s like she’s flicked a switch inside me. I'd like to teach her a whole lot more right the fuck now.

My blood runs ten degrees hotter, my cock pulsing in time with the flutter of her pulse against her throat, and I lean in, drawn by her magnetism.

We hold each other’s eyes in tense silence.

We haven’t had a minute alone. Not with packing and getting the fuck out of dodge with Em always around, and the last time we kissed was a quick stolen thing while I was busy swapping the plates on the Wrangler with a loaner pair from Landon, just in case the Pilgrims had mine.

Liv’s somehow become such a deep part of me that just a few days without her leaves me feeling like I can’t breathe, but now those parted, soft lips are offering the very air I need.

But even as I lean closer, Liv breaks back, snapping the trembling thread between us. With a reluctant smile, she pats my arm, glancing over her shoulder. “We should behave. Em might walk in.”

Right. Reluctantly, my chest heaves, and I sink back against the couch while Liv puts a little more distance between us, curling up in the corner of the couch and hugging a throw pillow to her chest.

I have to figure out what I’m doing here. I have to talk to her about what we’re doing, if this is going somewhere. If it’s just a dalliance for as long as this assignment lasts or if Liv wants a permanent place in my life. In our lives, I should say.

Fuck. I can’t keep sneaking around Em like this, but I’m not risking more chaos in my daughter’s life.

It would kill her if I told her Liv was staying, that Liv and I were together, only for Liv to suddenly just up and leave.

Leave, just like Crystal.

I tilt my head against the back of the couch, looking up at the crossed beams in the ceiling, and drag my mind back on track. “So, you going to tell me what I’m not understanding about my own daughter?”

“Mm. It’s about girls in general.” Liv hugs the pillow tighter and looks away, into the fireplace, the flames flickering in her eyes in flashes of gold on blue. “One day, boys are just kids we play with like everyone else...and the next we’re told they could be boyfriends, lovers, husbands. Even heartbreakers. They’re going to touch our bodies. They might hurt us, too. Boys can bring heaven or hell, and there's no way of knowing which one it'll be until you're up close and personal. Two worlds colliding. We’re told everything men do means something, mysterious as ever. And the only way we’ll decode it is to act this way and dress that way and do this little dance of enticement, flirting, loving.”

I stroke her arm, loving how thoughtful she seems. Her voice is soft, melancholy, her face half-hidden by the pillow by now, voice muffled. “It just...changes how we think about ourselves. It changes how we think about the men in our lives, and how safe it is to talk to them when they might speak this weird boy language we have no idea about, too.” I can’t see her mouth, but I can still hear the bitter smile in her voice. “Including our fathers.”

I want to say it’s not true. I want to say that won’t happen for Em, but can I really?

“I never wanted it to be that way with Em,” I whisper. “Never wanted that kind of thing to hold her back from being who she is.”

“And you did great with that. But now...” Her gaze shifts to me, something dark and hurting in her eyes, old and buried deep but slowly rising to the surface. “You can’t control how other people around her influence her, Riker. You can help, but it's hers to find out. At her age, she’s probably dealing with it right now. All her peers suddenly focused on this crazy boy-girl dynamic, making her painfully aware of this imaginary difference between how we think and who we are.”

I wonder at Liv when she was Em’s age, now. Wonder at her life, her father, and the pressures placed on her to be just this way or that, to fit herself into the tidy little box her old man had already chosen for her long before she was even old enough to recognize the walls closing in.

I hate thinking of any walls closing in on Em, too. Knowing the only thing I can do is teach her to be strong enough and proud enough and certain enough to push those walls back until they break.

I just don’t know if I can do it alone. Suddenly I'm realizing something insane.

Em may need Liv just as much as I do.

A woman who sees the things I can’t, who knows everything I thought I knew but now I’m not so sure of. A friend who can tell her where the weak points in those walls are.

And someone who'll show her just where to strike to send them crashing down.

But Liv is quiet now, her lashes trembling, and even with Em just in the other room, I can’t just leave her like this. I offer my hand, beckoning.

“You sound sad,” I say.

“It’s just something I think about sometimes. Heavy stuff.” She takes my hand, hers soft against mine, small and slim and sweet, and after a moment she uncurls to tuck herself against my side again, nestling her head to my shoulder. “That’s why I like you, though. You see me as a woman, but you don’t treat me like this alien outsider. You don't lay on burdens. You don’t expect games, and you don’t play them with me. You read me well, and you let me do the same.”

Fuck. That hits somewhere strange and deep.

I smile, rubbing her wrist. “Damn. Always thought I had this walled-off thing down.”

“You're closed, but not enigmatic. That means a lot, Riker.” She smiles, resting her chin on my shoulder, the tip of her nose nuzzling my jaw. “Or maybe I just speak your language.”

I know it’s not the right time for it, but I want to distract her from that ache in her eyes, to see the light come back to her smile.

Without stopping, I lean down and kiss her. Just a slow, soft collision, a melding, yet somehow I want to tell her through the kiss that I’m here. That I don’t need her to squeeze herself into a box, that I don’t need her to restrict herself or to be some imaginary person some strange, archaic rules tell her she should be.

I just need her to be herself.

As our mouths part, I nip her upper lip, teasing gently, before whispering, “What language am I speaking right now?”

Her eyes glitter warmly, and a gentle understanding I don’t need words to decipher spills out. Maybe if there’s some coded language between us, it’s one only we know.

One only we understand.

“Something I can’t say out loud with Em in the other room,” she teases, then pulls away, tugging at my arm to pull me off the couch. “C’mon. Help me start dinner.”

“Wait,” I say, catching her hand. “I know we just got here, but…how do you feel about another trip into town?”

Sometimes, I don't know what the hell I’m doing until I’m already doing it.

And I’m not sure what’s bugging me until I’m parking the Wrangler outside a Bed, Bath, and Beyond in Yosemite, and staring in through the brightly lit windows at the displays.

This late, we only have an hour until closing. I probably should've put this whim off until morning, but fuck.

I don’t want to spend another night in a house haunted by ghosts.

“Dad?” Em asks. “What are we doing?”

“We're...” I fumble for an excuse. “The house smells a little musty. Don’t want anyone getting sick. Figured we should replace all the linens, and that’s a good opportunity to redecorate, right?”

Em perks. “Can we do blue?”

“Sure,” I say, watching her fondly in the rear view mirror as she scrambles for the door. “Blue sounds great.”

Liv watches me knowingly, then smiles and reaches over to touch my arm. “It doesn’t smell musty in there at all.”

I glance at her, grateful for her understanding. “Old then, maybe. You know what I mean. Why don’t you and Em have some fun? Do whatever you want. Redecorate the place. Buy anything you need.”

Her eyes glint. “That, sir, is a dangerous proposition.” With Em looking away, Liv leans in and steals a kiss to my cheek, then tugs at my arm. “Come on.”

I follow my girls inside. From there it’s a total circus – and I think the shop staff would hate us with every fiber of their being for showing up this late, if we weren’t buying so much.

I’m just along for the ride, while Em and Liv patter back and forth with everything from curtains to bedding to knick-knacks for the shelves. There’s just something about seeing them together – how well they get along, how effortlessly they blend – that puts wicked thoughts in my head.

Ideas about family and impossible forevers that shouldn't be there.

It’s worth every penny of the huge amount we spend in the store to see them like this.

Back at the cabin, though, it’s all hands on deck.

I join in, stripping down the bedding, putting up new curtains, laying out new throws and pillows on the couch, lining up decorations along the fireplace mantle.

By the time we’re done, it looks like somewhere different. Never erasing the memories steeped into the wood grain walls, but simply quieting them to make room for something new. Something brighter, breezier, without pain and loss haunting every corner. It feels right, I realize, as I collapse onto the couch in an exhausted heap next to my tired but very satisfied girls.

It feels like home.

With the whole place redecorated, it’s surprising how well we settle into cabin life.

After a day or two of tension, constantly on the lookout for intruders, I start to feel safe letting Liv and Em go hiking as long as they promise to stay out of sight of the road and promise to come back if they spot other people – no matter how friendly they seem.

I’ve taken my own precautions, with weapons strategically stashed both inside and outside. Unloaded, of course. I’m not having a loaded gun around my daughter unless it’s holstered on my person, and you’d better believe my ankle holster is strapped at all times, but there's always a hidden magazine close by.

We might be enjoying ourselves playing house.

The days drag on, shorter as the season burns away and the sun sets sooner.

Em makes a few new friends on our family hikes and shopping runs, local kids who hang around a park playground with their parents on the edge of town. You'd better believe I run a background check on all of them.

It takes three weeks before I let her go off bowling with Juanita McReynolds for a couple hours, and that's only because the girl's old man, Ken, retired from NORAD last year and doesn't have so much as a speeding ticket on record.

I'll pick her up soon. That leaves Liv and me blissfully alone, her humming this soft, seductive tune to herself when I come back to the cabin and find her in the kitchen.

She's just pulled a huckleberry pie out of the oven and placed it on the cooling rack.

It's a dangerous thing seeing her bent over, then turning around with a perky little smile and a sunbeam in her eyes that tells me she's glad to see me.

Dangerous, because for the past few weeks, we've barely had a chance to sneak out to my truck long after Em's asleep. We've had to fuck quickly, quietly, more like satisfying a savage animal reflex than taking the time lovers should to explore, to savor, to own.

The second we're alone, I'm not the Riker she thought she knew.

I'm more man than beast.

I need her the fuck under me now.

“Liv,” I growl her name, nipping at her ear, then trail teeth and tongue down her throat until she gives up that sweetness, that whimper I need to safeguard my own sanity. “Still can't fathom what you do to me, can you?”

She shakes her head, shy as ever. Consider me slayed.

Something about her adorable aloofness just makes me throb that much harder.

“Bedroom, woman. Now.” I lead her by the hand in a headlong rush.

We tumble into the darkness together, barely pausing long enough to switch on a lamp. I can't take this a second longer, so I push her onto the bed, hiking up the knee-high skirt she's had on since morning. “Riker...yes.”

Fuck, do I love my name when she announces it in that breathy half-moan.

Still, it's just half the reason I growl my approval in her ear, careful to rake my stubble against her skin. The rest has to do with what I'm ready to tear off her body with my bare hands, that flimsy skirt hugging her far too fuckable hips.

“This, sweetheart, I like. Want you wearing a whole lot more of these things. Going to buy you a whole damn new wardrobe if I have to for easy access.” I'm fisting her skirt, pulling it up over her waist, meaning every word.

A soft, longing sigh slips out of her heart shaped lips.

Lucky for me, she's done me one better than the skirt. I'm expecting to find something lace up under it, inviting me to tear it right off, but instead my fingers brush her soft, bare pussy. Already slick and wet for every inch of me.

Fuck.

“Tell me you weren't commando all morning?” I smile, push my forehead into hers, unable to resist when I catch the spark of mischief in her eyes.

“Only if you tell me you aren't hard?”

Like hell.

She's too adorable, expecting me to form coherent words when I'm hard as granite.

I can't even think, let alone remember how to talk. My hands go to my belt, undoing it, loving how she opens her legs before my belt is undone.

I need to fuck this girl. I need it bad. I need it because her black magic is turning every part of me inside out.

I also need to get a damn grip again. Time to remind her who's really in control.

That's why I drop to my knees, push her thighs apart, and ignore how sweet she moans my name again.

“Riker. Oh, God!”

That's what I hear echoing in my head when I hold her tight and move on her.

First Liv gets my breath, my lips, my tongue. My mouth works her swollen little pussy up and down, pushing her straight to the brink, knotting her up in that way I know she likes when she writhes, my licks fucking deeper in her folds.

She's tiny as ever. So delicate.

So small and tight and mine.

I savor every ripple, every taste, every low murmur in her throat when she begs for my cock. She does it wordlessly, bobbing her hips, her whole body wracked in a breathy swoon.

I'm so fucking hard it hurts. My dick jerks, my balls in full meltdown, seething like never before to empty their steaming contents deep, deep inside her.

So damn deep she screams.

But she's not ready for me. Not yet. I know this little pussy, and it needs to be trained to take me to her full, wonderful depths when I go hard.

So I take full advantage while she's like this. Turned over, thighs pushed apart, lush ass in my face, snarling as I drive my tongue deeper into her tight heat.

Deeper, faster, harder into everything I've claimed.

Everything I'll never give up

Come for me sweetheart, I think with a growl. Come until it hurts real good on my tongue.

Exactly eight seconds later, after I've sucked her throbbing clit between my teeth and smothered it with the tip of my tongue, she does.

My woman comes like the world's brightest, hottest, best firecracker.

Just a mess of flailing limbs and choked moans and convulsions. Face pressed into the mattress. Ass shaking, my hands holding her back on my face, demanding more, every ripple of her body for my tongue.

Liv comes beautiful for me while I eat her cunt alive.

When her gasping, mewling mess of an O finishes, I can't even see straight.

That goes double for her, so I rise, dick in hand, pushing my weight onto the bed. Her legs are still open, the backs of her thighs calling like two dangerous, flushed sirens.

I'm fisting her hair when I push in, mounting her from behind. Something feral leaves my throat the instant I'm engulfed in her heat.

“Gotta make the most of our alone time, gorgeous. Think you can come a few more times for me before we get Em?”

Liv makes a muffled sound into the sheets, but there's no mistaking it.

She's all heat. All want. All fiery, screaming need for my thrusts.

“Yes, Riker. Holy hell, yes...”

Holy hell. Must be one of her favorite terms, and it couldn't be more perfect when I throw my hips into hers.

We crash together frantically, all smoldering flesh and fire between her legs. I'm on her like a bolt in the night.

I slow my thrusts a few strokes in, marveling how bad she wants it.

Her sweet little ass rocks back against me, grinding every time she swings low, savoring the friction of my balls on her clit.

“Holy hell. Yeah, sweetheart,” I echo back. “Fuck me like you really want it. This is you.”

I add a crisp palm when she bends into me again and slow my thrusts. My hand flies over her ass cheek, leaving another apple blossom red mark, and I know she likes it rough because that gets her moving. She smacks back into me; faster, louder, harder.

I should feel like a dirty old man.

Here I am, with a woman almost half my age and millions richer, riding every inch of Riker Woods like it's what she was made for. And I'm holding back like a champ, barely keeping the fire in my balls from burning us both down.

Her pussy starts tensing on my dick before I give in.

Then I fucking bring it.

Melting. Snarling. Grinding. Thrusting.

Owning her from the inside out.

I level myself into her with powerful, long strokes that bring her over the edge. Her well tongued pussy opens nice and deep, accommodating my fullness, sinking to her depths.

It shouldn't be possible, but it is.

Liv comes even sweeter for me the second time. I'll never forget it as long as I live, her blonde hair gone amber gold in the dull light, our bed creaking like mad, this lunatic tempo between us that's only broken when her O hits so hard her limbs go rigid and still.

I hold her up anyway. Spread her legs apart. Push one hand between her legs and frig her clit wild while I hammer twice as hard, balls deep, one frantic fuck after the next through her convulsions.

Holy hell indeed.

Now here's the weird part – there's nothing dirty or old or wrong about this.

Not when we're in the heat of it, racing each other to find out who burns down first.

Not when I'm buried to the hilt, mastering every inch of her, knowing I'll die before I ever let this pussy belong to anybody else.

Not when I've found the first woman in my life who makes me feel more alive than I did when I was eighteen years old.

Not when it's Olivia Holly I'm fucking.

And Olivia Holly's the only one worthy of pulling the come from my balls until I draw my last breath.

“C'mon, Liv. Holy fuck,” I snarl a minute later, never giving her a chance to come down, driving down into her until she's sandwiched between my weight and the mattress.

Something just sets her off again.

Something just ignites in my skull.

Something snaps.

My own release hits so hard I don't see it coming. My vision blurs, everything goes white, and then I'm just this frenzied pump of hips, this human jackhammer, desperate to break and ruin us both by spilling myself so deep in her sweet cunt I never come home.

Holy fucking hell!

The roar in my head fades into the stream of growls leaving my throat.

Then it's all just an animal blur.

Her pussy milking my cock like a vise.

My balls pumping, churning, flaming, urging me on.

Deeper, deeper, goddamned deeper.

Little Liv, throwing her hair back when ecstasy peaks, just a glorious mess of honey sweet fuckery I want to take all over again – even though I'm barely halfway through coming.

My dick doing things it's never done to my head before. Never, ever, as long as I've lived.

There's sex with the women I've had in my life before.

And then there's sex with Liv, this small, unassuming fae thing, who makes up for her size with every dirty, mad thing she does to me.

I'm still trembling, every muscle firing on its own, when I'm able to see straight again.

Then I pull out, admiring the mess I've left that steams out of her, flopping down on the mattress and bringing her into my arms.

We kiss real soft, real slow, too lost for words.

We kiss because we're lost in something neither one of us dares say out loud.

We kiss like we're gone, because holy hell, we are.

And fuck if either one of us can stop.

Before the alarm on my phone goes off as a reminder to grab Em, she's got her little fingers wrapped around my slick, throbbing dick again. And I'm rolling her over as I bite her bottom lip, ready to spend the next half hour mating this beautiful woman to my flesh.

I can’t let myself forget this isn’t a vacation.

I spend a few days sorting through more of the backlogged documents recovered from Crown Security, then settle into doing repairs around the house. There's a definite bite in the morning air now, a faint hint of winter approaching.

Even if Em’s grandparents keep this place in pretty decent shape, things still happen, and we’re here nearly a week when I realize the weather stripping on the windows is dry rotting.

It happens with the mountain weather, always freezing and defrosting over time.

We might be here through the winter, so I take the hike back down the slope to the car and drive into town to the hardware store in Yosemite. I pick up some groceries while I’m there, and take the time to get the lay of the land now that I’m looking around by daylight. Yosemite’s a tourist town, so expecting anyone to notice strange activity or people who shouldn’t be here isn't something that’s going to happen.

But people still stick out like sore thumbs when they’re here with ulterior motives. People move in patterns, and tourists have completely different patterns from the scum trying to hunt down the woman I need to protect with everything in me.

No one in Yosemite sets off alarms, at least.

When I pull into the parking lot down the road from the trail, though, I can’t help but tense.

There are two new cars in the lot.

One's a battered Honda with California plates, the other a sleek black town car with Washington plates. Rich people vacation out here all the time, so it’s probably nothing. Still...

I’m quick on the trail, pushing myself despite the thin high-altitude air, sucking in sharp breaths as I climb quickly to the house. Something doesn’t feel right.

No one outside. Everything looks peaceful, the curtains open to let the natural light in, but as I approach the door, I can already hear voices. Not Liv’s or Em’s, either.

Male.

No one sounds upset.

There’s laughter, and when I look through the window, I see Em sitting on the couch with a sandy head bowed near hers, Magic cards exchanging hands. Liv in the kitchen reaching into the fridge, and a man I don’t recognize at first sitting at a barstool in front of the kitchen island.

This is wrong. All fucking wrong.

I fit the key in the lock and shove the door open. Everyone pauses, looking up at me.

I know the kid on the couch. It’s Ryan, the instructor’s boy, and from the guilty look in Em’s eyes, I know exactly how he knew we were here.

And who brought him, when his father Mike watches me from the kitchen with his face frozen in a mask of nervous shame, beads of sweat brimming on his forehead.

I slump, closing my eyes and nudging the door closed behind me so I can set the bags down. “Emily.”

“It’s just Ryan, Dad!” she protests. “And his dad had to bring him!”

“I told you no visitors,” I say, shooting Liv a look.

She should've put them out before I even got here. She winces, mouthing I’ll explain later while I transfer my gaze to Ryan. He looks confused and a little scared, so I try to keep my voice gentle. “I’m sorry, son. This isn’t your fault, but you can't be here.”

“Can’t he stay?” Em pipes up. “He already knows where we are. You let me hang out with Juanita. What can it hurt?”

“Everything,” I say coldly, flicking my fingers to Mike. “You need to leave. I can’t explain why, not right now. Just take your son and go. It’s not safe for you to be here – either of you.”

Mike frets his fingers together nervously. “I, um...I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Can't? Who the hell does this guy think he is?

I don't understand what's going on here.

“Dad, come on!” Em protests. “You always ruin everything, just when I’m starting to make friends!”

I hate that I have to be Dad right now, and not her friend, but there are lives at stake, including hers.

“Watch your tone, young lady,” I warn. “You’re already in trouble. Don’t make it worse.” Then I turn that same tone on Mike, watching him steadily, while he shrinks further and further into himself. “What do you mean, ‘can’t?’”

Mike winces, staring down at his knees. Liv is watching intently now, an odd expression on her face, something mixed between resignation and dread. Like she knows what’s going on here, even if I don’t.

I get a clue pretty damned fast when Mike whispers, “Shit, I’d never have taken the money if I’d known. If I’d known you were in real, true danger. He was just...he was so insistent, and the rent on the studio's bankrupting us, and just...just!”

It takes everything in me not to pull this sputtering worm up by his collar and shake him until his neck snaps. I take a single step closer, but it’s enough to make him cringe and flatten himself back against the chair.

“Mike,” I say softly. “You want to be very clear on who ‘he’ is. Now.”

Mike opens his mouth, but before he can answer, a light, almost mockingly polite knock hits the door. Three quick raps and done.

I go still, looking over my shoulder. Nothing but a hint of a shadow visible under the door, no line of sight out the window.

Dropping my voice, I grind through my teeth, “Everyone in the bedroom. Now.”

Liv and Em immediately rush to comply, with Em dragging Ryan behind her. Mike starts to get up to follow them, but he stops when I plant a hand in the center of his chest.

“Not you. You stay.”

The look he gives me is sheer dread.

I swear to fuck, if I open that door and Lion is on the other side of it, I don’t know who I’m going to shoot first: Lion, or Master Mike Godart.

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. Impatient.

I drop to one knee and slide the same Ruger I’d taught Liv to shoot on from inside my ankle holster, rolling up my jeans briefly, then tucking them back down as I rise. Safety off, weapon pointed at the floor, I edge toward the door and press myself to one side of it, leaning out the window.

I catch a hint of a shoulder in a very crisply pressed and tailored suit. Not Lion, then.

I shift in front of the door, holding my gun hand behind my back just in case, and undo the latch, pulling it open.

Alec Holly stands on the other side of the door, as cool and calm as if his collar isn’t drenched in sweat, fastidiously adjusting his tie clip. “Mr. Woods,” he says, clipped and perfunctory and entirely condescending. “Quite the walk up here by the scenic route.”

That black, ugly disgust I’d felt the other night comes boiling back up.

It’s like the man coats everything with the slime of his presence. With an irritated sound, I drop down to slide my gun back into its holster, eyeballing him from under my brows. If I’m going to shoot anyone today, it’s not going to be Alec Holly.

As much as I’d enjoy it.

“You paid Mike to find out where we went,” I snarl, my disgust turning into sheer loathing. “You used his son’s friendship with my daughter. You used my daughter.”

“No one used anyone. I simply took the most expedient path to get what I wanted.” Alec Holly’s smile is thin, almost triumphant. “Now, speaking of daughters...I believe you have mine, Mr. Woods, and I very much would like her back.”