I feel like I’m drowning. Like I’m in over my head, and I don’t know how I ventured into the dark abyss of the ocean, sure to swallow me whole.

I dreamed of him. I dreamed of Jase fucking me, taking me ruthlessly on the sofa. I dreamed of telling him no, only to have him pin me down and take me regardless.

The thought sends a blush of desire to grace my skin, kissing it and leaving a shiver in its wake. The way Jase did last night. Every small touch brought more and more heat, more sensitivity, more life. I felt alive under him.

And I want more. I’m not ashamed to admit I want more of Jase Cross.

Bringing my fingertips to my lips, I remember the kiss I drunkenly stole—thank God I can blame it on the alcohol. He tasted like bad decisions and lust. A sin waiting to happen.

When did my life become like this?

Working every day has kept my thoughts at bay. And now I have nothing to occupy my time. Nothing but a debt to Jase Cross and unanswered questions I have no way of answering on my own.

The only thing I’ve been working on is looking up every detail I can on Jase Cross. Hardly anything comes up at all about any of his brothers. All I can tell is that they were a poor Irish family, raised in the hellhole that is Crescent Falls. Back then they were nothing. And now they’re everything.

There are only four pictures of Jase that I could find. Two had the same woman in them. In one, she’s in the background, laughing at something. It’s a candid photo and it seems harmless enough. But in the second, her arm is around him. It was taken nearly five years ago, and Jase looks much younger.

I have no fucking clue who she is.

Although, she looks a little like me in this picture, the second one. Only slightly. But the resemblance spreads an eerie chill over my body when I think about it.

Is this who I remind him of?

Was he with her? The fact that I feel any hint of jealousy is ridiculous.

I haven’t been touched since college, and I haven’t wanted a damn thing from a man since that catastrophe.

Maybe I’ve always been jealous like this, and I just didn’t know it because I had nothing to be jealous of. It only took the strike of a single match to ignite a blazing desire to overtake every piece of me.

Maybe this is what it was like for Jenny. One small change, and everything fell from there. Addiction is like that, isn’t it? No matter what your addiction is.

The sound of my phone vibrating on the kitchen counter saves me from the downward spiral of my thoughts.

It’s only Laura, checking in again since I didn’t respond to her last night.

A few quick texts and I’m free of her prying questions, plus I’ve booked a date with a bottle of tequila, her, and the outlet mall next weekend.

The phone clatters on the kitchen counter when I toss it down, staring at it and wondering what that night will end up being. A few drinks, and I’ll tell her the sordid details.

I know I will.

I can see it unfolding in front of me.

She won’t judge me, seeing as how she’s had a few one-night stands. She’s gone backstage with an out-of-town band before, only to be seen again at 2 p.m. the next day, walking a little funny but smiling so hard that it didn’t matter.

It’s not the judgment that concerns me. I couldn’t care less about what people think of me.

If Laura thinks I’m in danger though, she’ll get involved. The very thought makes me let out a slow quivering breath, calming the rush of anxiousness.

I can’t keep Jase my dirty little secret, but some things will have to be just that. A secret. I’ll let him use me, and I’ll use him. Every encounter with him is a step closer to the world my sister lived in before I lost her. It’s closer to where she was and closer to finding out what happened. At least the thought is somewhat calming.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three raps in quick succession sound through the first floor of my house. I’ve never been so grateful for a distraction before.

Looking out through the peephole, I see a man in a gray wool coat, a man I don’t recognize.

Maybe he has a package, or maybe he’s a neighbor. I hesitate to open the door, my hand gripping the knob tight as I consider getting the gun. That didn’t turn out well last time though, and I refuse to live in fear.

It’s just a man. Not everyone is a villain.

The last thought firms my resolve and I pull open the door halfway, wincing when I feel the sharp coldness in the air.

“Hello,” I greet him easily, immediately struck by how handsome he is.

Classically handsome with striking blue eyes and a charming smile. This man has definitely left broken hearts behind in his wake.

The small smile from the thought fades.

Nervousness pricks along the back of my neck. Every hair is standing on edge when I glance behind him, only to see a cop car.

He’s a fucking cop.

“Ma’am, I’m Officer Cody Walsh,” he tells me, taking off his gloves and reaching out his hand to shake mine.

Every ounce of me is consumed with fear, nausea, and the suspicion that this is a setup. I shake his hand without thinking, without considering a damn thing.

Even though he was wearing gloves, his strong hand is ice cold and I feel the chill flow from his touch straight to the marrow of my bones.

It’s not until I swallow my nerves, nearly ten seconds after shaking his hand while he only stares at me curiously, that I’m able to speak.

“Could I see your badge?”

He’s quick to take it out, passing it to me and when he does, his fingers brush against mine. The physical contact is a little too close I think at first, but then I peek up at him and he’s all business. It’s all in my head.

“Sorry, I just didn’t expect to see any more cops now that the funeral’s passed,” I tell him, whipping up the excuse on a dime and praying it explains my hesitation as I pass back his badge. Again his fingers brush mine and although I’m well aware of that fact, he doesn’t show any sign that he noticed.

“The funeral?” he questions and I feel the blood drain from my face.

“My sister’s; isn’t that why you’re here?” My voice is calm but drenched in sorrow. Real sorrow. I stand there pretending I know nothing of the past few days but my grief. I think back to what I felt the night my estranged family left me alone and I had to sleep knowing Jenny was really gone. That the world has accepted that, and I needed to as well.

I’m only a sister in mourning. That’s all I choose to be right now.

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss.” He clears his throat, bringing his closed fist to his mouth as he looks to his right, away from me and then adds, “I’m here on different matters.”

Finally, he looks back at me, and at the same time I feel my heart pounding, filling with so much anxiety, it feels as if it will burst.

As I grip the edge of my door, letting him see the nerves and apprehension, he asks, “Do you mind if I come in?”

A second passes as I look past him to his cruiser. The pounding inside my chest intensifies.

I don’t know what to do, and I’m terrified to make the wrong decision.

“Is this a bad time?” he asks when I don’t answer, his voice carrying my attention back to him.

The light blue eyes that pierce into me tell me it’s all right, there’s a kindness there, a caring soul somewhere deep inside. A small voice inside my head is screaming at me to tell him about Jase. The voice says I’ll be safe. There will be no debt, and all of this will be over.

But a bigger side, the side of me that’s taken over, the side I don’t recognize, isn’t ready for this to end. Already I love being touched by Jase Cross. I crave for that powerful man to use me, and I’m determined to use him in return to get answers.

I can practically hear his sinful voice, luring me into a darkness I may never come out of.

And that’s why I tell him, “I’m sorry, it’s just a bad time. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

The officer nods his head in understanding, but his eyes are assessing and my body tenses. Just go. Please, go.

“I’m new here,” he tells me. “I came down from upstate New York.”

I nod, blinking away the confusion. I anticipated him saying goodbye and apologizing, but instead he shuffles his feet on my porch, shoving his hands into his pockets as he speaks.

“I wanted to come to a smaller city, somewhere with fewer problems and a slower pace.”

A genuine, soft sound of amusement comes from me, forcing the semblance of a smile to my lips. “You aren’t going to find that here,” I tell him.

“So I noticed. Born and raised?” he asks, and I nod.

“My mom moved here when she was pregnant with my sister, before I was born. It was just us three for the longest time.”

“Your sister who just passed?” he asks, inflecting his tone with an appropriate amount of sympathy as his voice lowers, and again I only nod. With the small movement comes a pang in my chest. Every reminder of her is like hearing the news that she’s missing all over again. Or worse, the news that they found her and my worst fear was realized.

“I’m sorry. I lost my brother a while ago. We were close, so I can understand the loss.”

I have to look up to the sky, letting out a slow exhale to keep from tearing up. He doesn’t know. No one could know what we went through this past year.

“I’m getting the lay of the land here, and it seems like there may be a bit of trouble from a man who owns a vehicle spotted at your address recently.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip and I try to keep my expression neutral until I can ask, “Who would that be?”

“Jase Cross. His entire family and a few others are associated with murder and drug rings, along with other criminal activity.”

Silence.

It’s a long moment that passes, a frigid gust of wind traveling between us before I tell him, “Like I said, this isn’t a good time for me.”

Officer Walsh takes a large step forward, coming close enough to startle me. Staring into my eyes as my lungs are paralyzed, he lowers his voice and says, “I can help you, Bethany. All you have to do is tell me that’s what you want.”

Thump. Thump.

Staring into his light blue eyes, feeling the authority that comes off him in waves, I can’t speak. I only know when I do say something, no matter what I say, there’s a very large probability that I’m going to regret the words that come out of my mouth.