I’ve been sleepwalking since my mother’s death. The last few weeks blur together. Her funeral. Packing up our house. Selling everything except a suitcase worth of clothes and a few favorite objects Mom gave me. I left Florida without waking from my nightmare. Arriving in Tennessee, I have one goal.

To destroy my father.

I first imagined killing Jude “Howler” Hallstead when I was ten and overheard the story of how he wanted me to die. Like a dumb kid, I imagined shooting him full of holes and laughing over his corpse. Killing seemed so easy.

Then I hit puberty and no longer cared about a man I’d never met. At sixteen, my mother told me the whole truth. How she lived in Hickory Creek Township, Tennessee, and got a job at a bar called Salty Peanuts a week after her eighteenth birthday. That was how she met Howler, who was a fifty-year-old biker. I couldn’t imagine why she’d find him the least bit interesting. She was young, and he was old.

“He charmed me in a rough way,” my mom, Marissa, told me. “Every night I worked, he was there. Every night, he complimented me and said he was always thinking about me. He said he’d never met anyone like me.”

“And you believed him?” I ask, laughing at her stupidity.

“Yes, because he had access to a lot of easy women. He didn’t need to charm anyone. Or wait for me to be ready. He could just screw one of the club bunnies. They were sexy and would do whatever he wanted.”

“Bunnies?”

“Whores.”

“Grody.”

Mom shook her head and tugged at my braid. I did the same to hers, and we shared a smile.

“Howler had money too,” she explained. “Not just from the motorcycle club he was in and the illegal stuff they did. He came from the town’s most powerful family. One of his sisters was the mayor. So when he paid attention to me, I felt special.”

“Then what happened?”

“We had sex. I’d started birth control not that long beforehand, and I messed it up, or it didn’t work. I don’t know. I’d never been with a guy before, and Howler said he used condoms.”

Giggling, I mumble, “I’m a miracle baby.”

Mom hadn’t gotten angry at my laughter. She only smiled and played with my braid again. “I thought so, and I wanted you. Even though I was eighteen and barely making it with my waitressing job, I wanted you. My mom and dad weren’t happy, but they’d help me out. I had a friend who would watch you while I worked. I had it all planned out before I told Howler I was pregnant.”

“But he didn’t want me.”

“No,” Mom said, losing the color from her cheeks. “He said he had enough bastards running around. I promised I would take care of you and I wouldn’t ask anything from him, but he said all the whores claimed that. That’s when I saw him for the man he really was, and, you know what? I didn’t want him in your life. I told him I would have you alone and he didn’t have to worry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, taking her hand when I saw the tears filling her pretty green eyes.

“He said I could abort you or he would abort me. I thought he was kidding, but he said the last girl thought the same thing, and now she was rotting in a field.”

I remember how my breath caught at how harsh his threat had been. In a whisper, I asked, “What did you do?”

“I told him I would get an abortion, but I didn’t have the money. He gave me cash and told me to do it that week, or he would kill me. I knew nothing would happen to him if he killed me. His family was powerful, mine wasn’t. But I had the cash. Along with the money I put away from my tips, I planned to get out of town. Mom said I could move to Florida to stay with my uncle.”

I’d frowned when she mentioned my great-uncle, Simon. He and his pervert friends spent all day playing video games when they weren’t watching porn. These were the losers my mother depended on when she was a scared, pregnant teenager in a new place.

“I got a job helping at a home daycare,” Mom said, sounding tired. “It paid enough for me to get a grody apartment, but I was safe from Howler, and I was away from my uncle.”

“And you never went back to Tennessee because of him.”

“No, and our family rarely had the money to visit.”

“Did you want to go back there?” I asked, thinking of a family I barely knew and a place I couldn’t imagine.

My mother shocked me by gripping both my hands and bursting into sobs. “Yes, I miss them so much, but I couldn’t kill my baby. I had to choose between my home and my baby. I chose you, and I never regretted that choice even when I’ve felt my worst. You were my angel.”

Less than five years after saying those words, my mother is dead.

Now Howler needs to die too.

Except I failed to kill him because of a man named Chipper. I remember talking to the tall, blond man outside the bar, but I don’t know how the night ended.

Opening my eyes to find a wood-plank-covered ceiling, I don’t believe I’m awake. I attempt to lift my arms yet find them trapped under something heavy. I’m probably still asleep. This is a nightmare. I’ll wake up soon.

Every time my eyes open, though, I still find the wooden ceiling.

I lift my head and notice a heavy beige quilt over my body. My arms move with more effort, finding freedom and reaching to my sides. Sitting up, I study my surroundings.

Based on the quality and width of the dark wooden walls and ceiling, I know this room belongs in an expensive home. Mom and I watched a whole lot of HGTV since I was a kid. I let my mind linger on the memories of Mom and me spending our weekends together. Fighting my sorrow, I force myself to get out of bed.

My feet settle on the plush beige carpet, and I steady my vertigo. The room provides three possible exits. The door nearest to the bed likely leads to the rest of the house. One of the other two must open to a bathroom.

I get lucky on my first try. My bladder keeps me busy forever, giving me time to think about last night.

His name was Chipper, and he took my gun. I remember that much. I don’t know how I got here. I am very aware no sex occurred. I dodged a bullet with that possibility.

A bullet like the one I planned to put in Howler’s head. All I could think about yesterday was killing my father. This morning, I only want to know why Chipper brought me here, assuming this is his home and he didn’t pawn me off to someone else.

After cleaning up, I open the bedroom door and glance up and down the quiet hallway. Taking a right, I find my way to a railing overlooking a massive living room complete with a stone fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a large frost-covered backyard.

Gripping the thick handle, I take the stairs slowly. My head swims with every movement, but I soon reach the bottom where I glance to my right.

“Good morning,” Chipper says from the kitchen where he leans against the island. “Coffee’s almost ready.”

Staring at him, I’m shocked to find him as breathtakingly handsome as I remember. I assumed my whiskey goggles made him only appear gorgeous. Nope, he’s stunning. At least six feet tall with broad shoulders and a buff chest hidden under a dark blue thermal sweater. I notice how his thick blond hair is slicked back as if recently washed. I think I even smell fresh cologne from my spot across the kitchen. A smile lingers on his full lips as he scratches at his freshly washed beard. The man is the epitome of effortless beauty. I, on the other hand, look as grody as the vomit I spewed the night before.

Resenting myself for ending up in this awkward moment, I still lift my chin, level out my shoulders, and walk toward him.

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask in the toughest voice I can manage.

“You didn’t know where you lived, and I wasn’t comfortable dropping you off at the local homeless shelter.”

Glancing around the house, I can’t think of anything smart to ask, so I say instead, “What do you do for a living?”

“I work for my father. I’m a trust fund kid. Did you want coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Chipper pours a cup and sets it on the six-foot-long island with its butcher block countertop. I study the rustic, industrial-style mug. Raising my gaze to meet his, I notice how his eyes are as dark as the coffee.

“Did your wife pick out all this fancy stuff?”

“You don’t really think I’m fucking married, do you?”

“Sure,” I stammer, startled by his cussing despite his agreeable smirking face. “I don’t remember much from last night.”

“Amnesia, huh?”

“I drank too much.”

“That would explain the vomiting,” he says, smiling over his coffee mug. “And the attempted murder.”

“Where’s my gun?” I ask, regaining my spine.

“Safe.”

“You should give it back now.”

“I can see how you’d think that.”

Resting my hand on my hip, I give Chipper the same glare I use on misbehaving kids at our daycare. “I want it back.”

“You can’t kill Howler. I thought the lack of whiskey clouding your brain would help you accept this reality.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“If you’re really suicidal, I might need to have you committed for seventy-two hours. Just to be safe.”

I open my mouth in shock before realizing I’m acting like an open book for this man. “You wouldn’t.”

“I can’t have my future wife killed by my business partners. Think about the bloodshed that’ll ensue.”

Shuffling back just an inch, I think to use the cup as a weapon. “Are you crazy?”

“Wait, are you now threatening to have me committed to a seventy-two-hour hold?”

“I want to leave.”

“After I finish my coffee.”

Realizing he doesn’t plan to budge until we’ve finished drinking, I sip my coffee despite the immediate stomach cramps. Chipper casually watches me, his dark gaze making me feel insignificant.

“Did your mother want you to kill Howler?” Chipper asks.

Flinching at the mention of Mom, I cross my arms angrily. “Of course not.”

“So you came up with the brilliant plan all on your own.”

“He deserves to die.”

“Yes, but he’s old. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’s likely dying from dick rot. Meanwhile, you’re young and not suffering from any pussy problems.”

“How would you know that?”

“Well, I don’t know for certain about his dick rotting, but logic says it can’t be healthy after so many decades of whores.”

“I meant about me.”

“Last night, you told me you were a virgin.”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“You thought I wanted to fuck you. I considered explaining I’d rather fuck you when your breath was less puke-y, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“What else did I tell you?”

“That your mother was your best friend,” he says in a voice that tears through my chest and seizes my heart. “That she died and left you alone. That you don’t think you want to survive without her.”

I shouldn’t be surprised by my tears. My mother’s death left me overflowing with sorrow. Crying is my only way to keep from drowning in the pain.

“I told you all that, huh?” I ask, wiping my cheeks.

“You wanted me to understand you’re not always who you were last night. You’re normally stronger and happier. In fact, you said you’d be the life of the fucking party if your mom was still alive.”

“I didn’t say that last part.”

“I’m paraphrasing because your babble was just a tad bit fucking hard to follow. I blame the whiskey.”

“Blaming inanimate objects is a failure’s lie.”

Chipper watches me for a long minute and then grins. “I’m going to kiss the ever-loving shit out of you soon. First, though, I think we should talk about your plans with Howler.”

I have no doubt my cheeks are bright red after hearing his threat to kiss me. Pretending I’m not flustered by his words, I say, “I want to kill him.”

“You know he’s old, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So he’ll likely be dead soon from an infected dick illness or possibly kidney failure. Who knows? The guy is old as fucking hell. You are young. Your blossoming life shouldn’t be ruined by destroying his old-as-fuck life.”

“Why did you look at my chest when you said blossoming? These are as big as they’ll get,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my breasts.

“I’m not a tit man, so don’t try distracting me with titty talk.”

“I want my gun.”

“Let’s make a deal.”

“No.”

“Hear me out.”

“No.”

“Wouldn’t you like to meet your half brother before you rush headfirst into your suicide mission?”

I can’t hide how much his words interest me. Meeting another Howler bastard gives me a chance at creating some kind of family. “What half brother?”

“Bonn Fletcher works for my family’s business. He lives nearby and has a wife, two kids, and even a grandkid.”

“Is he like Howler?”

“Not even a little.”

“Why would he want to meet me?” I ask, self-conscious without my mom around to build me up. “We’re strangers.”

“You and I are strangers too. One day, we’ll be so gooey in love that people will die of sugar shock in our presence. Being strangers today doesn’t mean anything about tomorrow.”

“You’re so odd.”

“Not odd, Breezy. I think ‘arrogant’ is the word you’re looking for. I tend to get what I want, and I won’t pretend I won’t get you.”

“I’m not...” The urge to lash out at Chipper is strong, but I bring it to a crashing halt. He did me a favor the night before. I was too drunk to kill Howler. Most likely, I’d end up hurt or killed if this gorgeous, arrogant man hadn’t stepped into my life.

Besides, I sense Chipper’s messing with me, and I shouldn’t take his words seriously. “Do you think Bonn would want to meet me?”

“Sure. He’s a nice guy. Used to be a stripper, but don’t hold that against him.”

“A stripper?”

“He’s a man who’ll do anything to take care of his kids. Like I said, don’t judge.”

“I’m not.”

“Good. His daughter was one of my close friends growing up. I’m partial to those people.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call him after I drop you at home. Then I’ll pick you up later and take you to his place.”

“Why are you really helping me?” I ask, setting the coffee cup on the counter.

“As I said, I plan to marry you and plant many strong babies in your womb.”

“I don’t like kids.”

“I do, and I want ten.”

“I don’t want any,” I lie, feeling awkward again.

“You said two last night. Then we negotiated and met in the middle at five.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Damn amnesia,” he teases and hands me a biscuit. “Eat this, so you don’t puke in my car. In a few minutes, I’ll drive you home so you can clean up.”

I swallow hard to build up my confidence and ask, “Don’t you want to have breakfast with me?”

“Unfortunately, I have plans with my family. We’ll do breakfast tomorrow, Tatum.”

Staring at the biscuit, I remain stuck in my head while working out my current situation. Chipper snaps his fingers, and I look back up at him.

“What?”

“You spaced out on me.”

“Did you make these?”

“No. Bianca Bella did.”

“Who?” I ask, flushing at the thought of a woman cooking for Chipper.

“She’s my sister, Cricket, and my best friend. Bianca Bella thinks of herself as a chef, but she’s too lazy to work as one.”

“Are you close to your sister?”

“Yes,” he says, finishing his coffee and setting the mug in the sink. “We’re twins and best friends. You’ll meet her soon.”

Trying to take charge of my future, I mutter, “We’ll see.”

“I’m not looking to fucking rush you, but I need to get moving if I want to meet my family.”

“Sorry,” I stammer, flinching at the word “fuck.”

“Do you know your address?” he asks, gesturing for me to follow him.

Nodding, I’m unsure if I should leave my coffee and biscuit. I decide to carry them while following him down a hallway to a garage. Chipper stops at a red Range Rover and opens the passenger door.

Before I climb in, he leans forward and whispers against my ear, “I fear if I let you stay here too long that I won’t be able to let you ever fucking leave. Do you understand, Breezy?”

I’m afraid to turn toward his lips. My breath is probably awful, and he smells so clean and sexy. I can’t let this moment turn sexual.

With my hair acting as a barrier between his lips and my face, I mumble, “Yes,” before reaching inside to set my mug in the cup holder.

Chipper lets me settle into the seat and then shuts the door and walks around the side. After giving him my address, I nibble on the biscuit. The SUV soon pulls out of the four-car garage, giving me a view of the front of his lodge-style home.

“Did you have your house built or was it this way when you bought it?” I babble, breaking the silence.

Chipper pulls past the front gate and onto a quiet two-lane road. “There was a small house on the land when I bought it. Took me two years to get everything built. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“When I was twelve, my dad, Hayes, took us skiing in Colorado. We stayed in a rental house that was nice enough, but I fucking loved a different place down the street from us. I took a million pictures and even asked the owner if I could come inside and look around. They loved showing off and let me take more pictures. When I got old enough to build a place of my own, I knew what I wanted.”

“Do you still like to ski?”

“I’m not fucking big on skiing, but my family goes every year. Mostly, we like watching my mom ski. The woman screams her fucking head off the entire time, certain she’ll die. It’s damn entertaining. My niece and nephew are learning to ski now, so that’s fucking hilarious too.”

“Do you have Tourette’s syndrome? Is that why you cuss so much?”

“No. Why do you not cuss?”

“I do, but not so much.”

“Well, you’ll get used to it. My entire family is a fucking fuck-a-thon of fuck talk.”

Grinning, I eat half of the biscuit before I recognize the street where I’m renting a room from three generations of screaming women. The blue-green minivan Mom and I bought seven years ago remains parked at the curb. Seeing it inspires hot tears to threaten to fall.

“Can I trust you to behave today?” he asks, now idling in front of the driveway.

“What does that mean?”

“No murder attempts.”

“You never gave me back my gun.”

“And I don’t plan to until I know you won’t ruin your life over a piece of shit fucker like Howler Hallstead.”

“Fine,” I say, reaching for the door handle.

Chipper takes my other hand before I can get out. “Don’t get pissed. Listen, you have issues with the fucker, and I could help with that but not like you want to do it. Killing him so publicly will get you killed, and I have a vested interest in you living a long life.”

Glancing back at him, I freeze at how he still holds my hand. I should have more experience with men, but my life revolved around Marissa. Men were interesting from afar, and I tried dating a few times. Nothing panned out, leaving me unprepared for a man of Chipper’s good looks and confident personality.

“Let me see your phone so I can give you my number,” he says, and I grudgingly obey. He adds his number to my contact list and hands back the phone. “If you need anything, you call me. If you’re thinking about going suicide mission and need me to talk you down, you call me. Hell, even if you’re just in the mood for a little phone sex, you call me. Understand?”

My lips press together, fighting a grin. Chipper’s sly sexual digs turn me into ridiculous mush each time.

“Be ready by six,” he says when I don’t respond. “I’ll pick you up and introduce you to Bonn and his family. He can’t stand Howler either, so you already have something in common.”

Nervous from thinking too much about how handsome he is and how he might kiss me, I can only mumble, “Thank you,” before hurrying out of the Range Rover and toward the front door. I peek back a few times, both hoping he’ll leave and wishing he wouldn’t. Despite his interference with my plans, Chipper relaxed me in a way I haven’t since my mother died.

Six o’clock can’t come fast enough.