“You sure about this shit?” My eyes scan the papers in front of me, hatred dripping off me in waves.

Her bastard of a father better hide as far in the depths of hell as he can get. The minute I get there, I’m finding that motherfucker for the hell he’s put her through.

I came home, took a shower, and tried to sleep. I lay in bed for all of five minutes and couldn’t get her face, scent, or the way she looked at me when she thought I was out to kill her off my mind. I climbed out of bed, grabbed my phone to call Curtis when it started ringing in my hand. It was him. Took him long enough to call. He more than likely had to calm her sassy ass down before he could make a call. What I wouldn’t give to be able to calm it down myself. Dirty it up and slide my cock in between those firm cheeks.

He wanted to know everything that happened. Every word she said. I told him, ended the call with a clipped “I’ll be there as soon as I finish a few things,” and now I’m standing here finally being told her name and all kinds of information that has me wanting to slice someone’s throat.

“I’m positive. We’ve had a tail on her for years. The day my old man got the call that his sister, Caitlin’s mom, had died. He hired someone to keep an eye on her. Never trusted the man. Still don’t, and the son of a bitch is dead.”

Interesting. I fumble through the newspaper clippings regarding her mother’s death. All of them pretty much saying the same thing. “Wife of L.A. lawyer James Winslow dead from a head-on collision.”

“Have you called them to find out where they were last night when she drove out here by herself?” Curtis and I exchange a knowing look.

He doesn’t have to answer my question. We both know what happened to her tail. Someone got to him. I’d bet my dick on it; he’s dead.

“I’m working on it.” His tone is matching my suspicion.

“Is she always a fucking bitch?” I bite out.

“Normally, I’d slice someone’s throat for calling her that. Seeing that you seem to have some kind of infatuation with my cousin, I’ll let it slide.” We both cut each other another knowing look.

I love this crazy fucker like a brother, and I’ve seen him draw more blood out of people than any other, but we both know there isn’t a chance in hell he’d draw a knife or a gun on me. We share too much history. Know each other well by the way we’re constantly reading each other’s minds and shit.

“To answer your question. No, she isn’t. Caitlin has lived in hell. She’s been sucked into the lifestyle of the rich and powerful by her father. I’m not making excuses for her. Those are on her. One thing I do know for damn sure is, my cousin has a huge heart. She needs someone to take ahold of it and cherish it. I’ll say this, too, that lucky son of a bitch who does get her sure the fuck ain’t you. She’s a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. She may have turned her cheek on my lifestyle, but she sure as fuck wouldn’t be able to turn it on yours. Don’t go there, Katch.”

I hear him loud and clear. He’s protecting her, and I get it. Don’t mean a Goddamn thing to me, though. There’s something about this woman that has her under my skin, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with her lifestyle or this situation she’s in.

“I don’t play games, brother, and you know it. I do not promise you a damn thing except this: I go after what I want. Out of anyone I know you should understand that.” I tap the papers in front of me. Indicating it’s the end of this conversation.

“Her mother, where’s she buried?”

Curtis maneuvers himself to where he’s standing right in front of me. Eyes pinched together in confusion.

“Her father’s estate. Where are you going with this?”

“You said you didn’t trust the man. Did anyone see her body? Police report? Death certificate?”

One thing I’m not is an investigator, not this kind anyway. I’ve dealt with a lot of shit in my line of work. More than I care to admit. This has my skin crawling with deceit. With lies that go beyond her father’s grave.

“I never saw one. Don’t recall my old man mentioning one, either. Fuck her dad; he forbade us to go to the funeral. My dad mourned the loss of his sister in women and booze for years. Do you think he fucking lied? That her mother is alive? Jesus, fuck, you do?” He stands there shaking his head. His anger and pain are a losing battle. I have been there. It doesn’t get better, no matter how many years go by. This right here, though, has to fucking burn.

“He does what?” I spin around to see Rachel and the eyes of my obsession staring wide-eyed and mouth gaping open at me.

And she is wearing my old Queens t-shirt. I tilt my head slightly because, fuck, she has a nice rack to go with her bitchy attitude, and legs that have my mouth watering to lick all the way to her sweet pussy. Fuck me.

“You?” She points her finger at me. “I fucking knew it. You are a member of this club. How dare you play with me and scare me half to death, you son of a bitch.”

And here she goes. That fucking mouth. Wrap it around my cock, babe. I got all fucking day.

“This is him. The guy who picked me up. The asshole. You owe me a new ink pen, you fucker.” She slams her hands onto her hips, readying herself in a fighting stance. My cock jumps.

I raise my brows. If I were a laughing man, I would double over in a fit at the way she’s acting. Instead, I’m backpedaling with what I just told Curtis about not playing games. She thinks I played her last night; well, she hasn’t seen anything yet. I lunge for her, pull her tight little body up against mine. Those tits of hers smashing up against my chest. Fuck me, she is fucking beautiful. Big, green eyes, naturally plump lips, and if we didn’t have an audience, I would be biting the hell out them to sample my first taste.

“You mean this?” I reach around her and grab the pen off the table, shoving the papers underneath the file they came in. She doesn’t need to know about my suspicions. Not until I have solid proof.

“You’re the devil. Satan reincarnated in the flesh. Give me that.” She grabs it out of my hand, shoves it down her shirt.

Her chin is jutting out as if to dare me to dive under her shirt and get it. She has no idea how badly I want to.

Someone clears their throat. At this point, I have no idea who when all I can see, hear, or smell is her.

“Well, then. I see you were right, honey. Katch was the one to pick her up. Hello, Katch.” Rachel waltzes by, patting me on the shoulder.

“Rachel. How are you, babe? Looking good,” I acknowledge her without taking my eyes off the beauty in front of me.

“Thanks. Do you mind telling me what color my shirt is?” Rachel taunts with a flirty and carefree laugh.

“Don’t give a shit. This shirt right here, though”—I tug on the collar enough to expose enough of her creamy-white shoulder—“is black, and it’s mine. You playing games with me, Rachel?”

“Nope. Never. Not me.” Caitlin bites down on her bottom lip. Her big eyes are staring up at me. I want to eat you whole, sweetheart.

Goddamn liar.

She finally speaks up again after moments of silence. “Let go of me.”

I release my hold on her. Not because she asked me to, but because I can feel that knife twisting in my back from Curtis’s stare.

“Curtis, you should kick this man out of your club. He’s an idiot. Katch? What kind of name is that? And you, you little bitch. You knew all along it was him. That’s why you gave me his t-shirt. Ugh. Safe here, my ass.” She glares at me.

The hot-ass vixen straightens out my shirt, which causes me to look down at her tits. I’m so fucked. Never in my life have I wanted to get to know a woman inside and out. Talk about opposites attract. That’s one thing Curtis is right about. This woman is far from any other woman I’ve met. She’s not an itch I need to scratch. She’s not a toy I need to play with until I’m bored. Nope, not this feisty little thing. She’s a woman who will wrap my dick around her finger. Make me feel things I have no business feeling.

I fight to blink away the confusion. Katch Sterling doesn’t feel this shit. I don’t attach to people or even allow myself to fucking feel. Until her.

“Calm your shit, woman. Katch isn’t a member of the club; he’s a good friend. He came by to offer his help, so the way I see it, you need to settle your ass down. Have some respect and fill us in on everything that happened leading up to, during, and after you discovered your house had been broken into. Now, have a Goddamn seat and start talking.” Curtis reaches forward, palming his wife’s ass. “Baby, can you make us some coffee?”

I can’t help but smirk when Caitlin’s mouth drops open and she peaks around me to gape at her cousin.

“Ain’t got time for games between you, sweetheart, and me. I need to figure out my first move, then you and I are driving into town to Carey’s Auto Shop to see what happened to your piece-of-shit car.”

Her shoulders stiffen; not a word comes out of her mouth. That’s a damn shame. I’m getting used to the sweet sound of her voice. I’d prefer her to be yelling my name when I’m fucking her, but what the fuck ever. Will get to that soon.

“My car. You had it towed?”

“Of course I did. A two-hundred-thousand-dollar car sitting along the road out here is dollar signs in someone’s eyes. You’re damn lucky it was still there. I’m a lot of things, Caitlin. One thing I’m not is the insensitive fucker you think I am.”

“Thank you.”

It’s barely a whisper, but I’ll take it.

“Welcome. Now, sit and talk.”