I never thought hearing “no” from a girl could affect me so much. Not just affect me, but create a frenzy inside me.

She peels from the parking lot, gravel flying, tires screeching, and I want to scream at the world. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. I’m out to avenge my sister and get Penny’s money. That is the only reason I’m here, the only reason I’m talking to her, living with her, fucking her.

I don’t want her for anything else. It’s not because I’m addicted to her or because she’s giving me anything or because I feel a perverse need to help her.

She has no idea how lucky she is. She only knows what it’s like to have money to burn. She doesn’t know what it means to scrounge for groceries or wear old clothes or not be able to afford new shoes.

I’ve hated her for it, but now I feel sorry for her.

Clinging to delusions that material things will make the painful truth better—it won’t help.

I could.

What I’m giving her will help.

She can’t see that.

I kick the tire of my truck and get in to drive to the hardware store. I have to fix the door to her bedroom.

Why the hell do I care? Helping her is the last thing I want. Or should want.

But things are blending in my brain. My thirst for revenge fading behind something else, something I can’t name. Something I don’t like feeling.

Louisa deserves better. She needs this. I can’t let Penny derail me. I need to refocus on Blake Vandershall. I owe him a visit.

He owes me money.

* * *

At the hospital, at work, I’m safe from him. From his dangerous hands and his even more dangerous mouth. I’ve resisted him for three days, but I don’t know how much longer that’ll last. It’s time for me to either go see my brother again or get a lawyer to sue him for the money.

I don’t want to have to do it.

At work, I focus on patients and forget all the things the man I call husband tempts me with daily.

Except I can’t forget, can never forget how he’s changed my world.

The rose-colored glasses once cemented to my face have not only been crushed, they’ve been replaced by gray-tinged lenses.

I see it everywhere now, or I imagine it everywhere. Every person I see, I second-guess them. Who else do I think I know well and love that in their private life is secretly cruel and inhuman? If it could be my father, a brilliant successful man with a university and hospital to his credit, how many others are there—hiding and lurking, or out in the open and pretending to serve the greater good?

I stop at the nurse’s station and find a message for me from Nancy Toolen asking for another home visit. I can’t see her tomorrow, but I leave her a message with times I can come the day after.

“Penny, how are you?” Dr. Alvarez interrupts me. I haven’t seen her since she transferred me off the NICU.

“Better.” I’m surprised for a moment to realize that it’s true. The new things I’ve learned, as horrible as they are, have relieved some of the grief I carried around with me for months. I’m functioning, with more worries, yes, but without the debilitating grief. How do I mourn a man when it’s better for the world that he’s dead?

Dr. Alvarez’s eyes smile over the top of her black-rimmed glasses. “You seem better. Stronger.”

I straighten my shoulders. This might be my chance. She could be down here to invite me back to her unit. “I am. I have much more energy than I did.”

“Amisha said something about a new man?” Her brow furrows, and I wonder if Amisha also mentioned I got married. I hope not. I leave my ring in my purse every day. It would look so impulsive and not stable to my boss.

“Logan’s keeping me busy.” A smile comes more easily than I expect.

She nods. “And how are you finding the maternity ward?”

“It’s wonderful. Good to see new babies coming in and out of here as fast as healthy ones should.”

“So, you’re happy here?”

I bounce on my toes. “I mean, I miss the special cases in NICU. Those little ones need so much attention.” And the more attention they need, the more helpful I feel.

“I could use you back in NICU if you’re up for it. We could work you into the new schedule next week.”

A lightness enters my chest, an almost happy feeling. An emotion I haven’t felt in a long time. “Absolutely.” Something in me wonders if this is special treatment, if she wants me on her unit partly because of my ties to the hospital board, but I enjoy the work too much to dwell on it.

“Great.” She checks her phone. “Oh, and they asked me to attend the hospital fundraiser this weekend. I assume you’ll be there?”

“The fundraiser . . .” I forgot all about the invitation. I’m usually on the planning committee, the hospital being named after my mother and all, but I was so out of it after my father died, they excused me from the meetings. “I wasn’t in on the preparations this year, but I’ll be there.”

“I’ll see you this weekend, then.” She walks down to the elevators.

I stare at the paperwork in front of me. I shouldn’t have forgotten the fundraiser. It may be a while before my life recovers from being in zombie grief land.

“Penny.” Amisha runs up beside me. “I saw Alvarez in the elevator. She said you’re coming back to the NICU?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She hugs me. “I’m so glad. I’ve missed you. Is everything okay?” Her excitement morphs to pitying concern.

I haven’t talked to her since I drank too much tequila at the bar, and this is why. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“And how’s Logan?” She doesn’t hide her skepticism. That’s fine. I don’t expect her to understand.

I glance at my hands. I’m not sure how I feel about him now, except how I’m starving for more sex with him. “He’s good. Things are good with us.” If I mean by good, loaded with sexual frustration and evenings of growling with no conversation—followed by mornings of pretending the other doesn’t exist.

“I don’t believe you.”

I sigh. I’m so tired of hearing that from everyone. Layla, Logan, my brother. “Apparently no one believes a word I say. Ever.”

She lowers her voice and urges me away from the nurse’s station. “Because when you’re upset it’s obvious.”

I can’t hide it from her. But I can’t say it out loud either. Not now. “There is something going on. Something that Logan’s helping me with. But . . .” I pause, realizing this will probably hurt her feelings.

“What?”

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

She squeezes my shoulder. “Penny, you can tell me anything. It’s all right.”

“I will. When I’m ready.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

She backs away, hurt straining her mouth. “When you’re ready for a friend, call me.”

“Soon. I promise.”

Watching her go isn’t easy. Guilt latches on to my throat, and I have the urge to run after her and apologize. But I can’t. If I do, she’ll ask more questions. And feel even more insulted when I don’t answer them.

Loneliness creeps over me. Eventually I’m going to have to tell her.

It makes me want to retreat into a world where there is only Logan and me.

* * *

I tug the collar of my shirt and flex my feet in the too-tight leather shoes.

The clothes she bought me are the designer expensive kind—with all the discomfort that comes with it. Give me my flip-flops and T-shirts any day, I don’t care if I’m in perma beach wear.

I pace in front of the receptionist’s desk. “How much longer?”

He barely glances from his computer. “Mr. Vandershall is with a client. He should be finished soon.”

“Can’t you buzz him or something? He wants to talk to me.”

He gives me a condescending glare. “I already buzzed him.”

“You need to tell him it’s Logan Kane waiting.”

His nostrils flare and he folds his hands. “He’ll see you soon.”

I tap the manila envelope in my hand, the precious one. If Blake knew it was me, I’d be in there already. If he knew what I was about to tell him, he’d be calling his lawyer.

I’m sick of waiting. I’ve told Penny what scum her father is. It’s time her brother knows, and I’m going to take great pleasure in watching Blake react to the evidence in my hand. Even if I have to suffer the torture of opening those files again, it’s Blake’s turn to know.

The door to his office finally opens.

“Thank you,” says the client, whose face I don’t look at.

I take the door from him before he lets go and close myself inside the office.

Blake sits in his professional element with his desk in the power pose. His eyes go through a transformation. They start confused, widen in shock, then tighten in fury.

I smile. Him angry merely at the sight of me—exactly how I want it.

“Mr. Vandershall.” I say it with as much revulsion as I feel. From what I’ve seen, the son has as much potential to be as vile as the father, and I won’t hide my judgment. He may be guilty of no more than being his father’s son, but I don’t trust him.

“What do you want, Kane?”

I hide the manila envelope behind my back and decide playing with him will be fun. “You’re smart. You know.”

“I cannot and will not discuss private matters having to do with a client.”

“She’s my wife.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still private.”

I force myself to take a steadying breath. “The faster you write me a check, the faster I’m out of your office.”

“The offer for a payoff still stands if you agree to leave my sister.”

And leave her unprotected from a man like him? Never. “I want all of it. And I’m not leaving her even then.” And because I love watching him lose his temper, I add, “I like seeing her beneath me as often as possible.”

He rounds his desk and stops like he’s hit a wall. “You’re slime. It’s my new mission in life to end you.”

“You’re not doing a very good job.”

His neck muscles bunch. He wants to hit me, and I hope he tries. Hitting him is the closest I’ll ever get to physical revenge on his father.

“I know you worked for him,” he says, “my father. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to make your life miserable.”

“You’re succeeding.”

“Not enough, yet.”

“You have something against my father, don’t you?” His face turns red, his fury rising.

The angrier he gets, the calmer I become. “So what if I do. You still owe me money.”

“What kind of sick bastard goes after Penny? Why didn’t you come after me?”

Because I worried around you I wouldn’t be able to control my hatred of your father and my need for revenge. I was worried I’d try to kill you. At least with a woman, I knew I wouldn’t do something that could land me in prison. “Because you are a lot less fun, and she’s safer with me than she is with you.”

His eyes bulge. “Bullshit.”

“Then tell me what that was at the bar last weekend. You lost your temper with her. Don’t do it again.”

“You know nothing about my relationship with my sister.”

I lower my voice and try for calm. “I came to warn you: come near her again and I’ll file a restraining order.”

“I’m her brother. You can’t do that.”

“Of course, I can. I’m her husband.” I step closer. “I know who your father was. Stay away from her.”

“What in your sick twisted brain makes you think you’re better for her than me? You’re manipulating her for money. Using her for sex.”

That lands like a punch to the gut. My need to protect this woman grows with each passing day, with a strength that rivals my need to avenge my sister. Or perhaps it comes from that same need for vengeance—and my inability to save Louisa, who practically raised me, who suffered at that school to make sure we had food on the table. “I’d never hurt Penny. I’m guessing I can’t say the same for you.”

His face lights with a kind of fire. “You know nothing about me.” He snarls the words.

I’ve insulted him. Good. “I know about your father. And that’s enough.”

His shoulders stiffen. “What do you know?”

This is it. This is where I put the files on his desk and watch the same horror bleed across his face as I did Penny’s.

But my hand starts to shake and sweat sprouts on not just my palms, but my neck and my back.

I should tell him. It would be so easy to tell him. But something stops me.

She asked me not to. She wouldn’t want me to tell him. This is for her to tell her brother, not me. “Get me the money and you won’t have to find out.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat? I know what kind of fucked up bastard my father was.”

He thinks he does. But he doesn’t. And I could tell him. Except apparently, I’m not going to. What is wrong with me? “Get me that money. Or the rest of the world will find out too.”

His brows draw and for the first time I see reason peek through his raging expression. “What is it you think you know?” Whatever he knows, he’s afraid I know more.

I back toward the door, disbelieving that I’m going without opening the file. “By the end of the week, Blake. Or you’ll wish to hell you’d given it to me.”

He hops, like he doesn’t want me to go. “Leave her, and I’ll get you half tomorrow.” Desperate. Maybe he really does care about his sister and has a fucked up way of showing it.

But it doesn’t matter. “No. You’ll give me all of it in five days.”

“If I didn’t think she’d hate me for it, I’d call the police on you right now. Soon I’ll find real proof that you’re a thief.”

“You won’t find any. And I’m not leaving her, even with the money.”

I walk out, and a burn spreads over my skin. I put the envelope back behind the seat of my truck.

I didn’t tell him.

What is happening to me?

I’m not leaving her.

I want to say it’s so I can threaten him more, hurt him again. It makes him more miserable to think I’m keeping her. That’s the only reason I said that.

I’ll leave as soon as I have the money.

But the thought of leaving her makes me burn even more. I wouldn’t leave her even if he bound me and dragged me away.