ONE WEEK LATER

DARIO

She rolled over in bed and stretched, his white t-shirt huge on her, her dark hair tickling his bicep. He gathered her into his chest and she curled against him, one leg thrown over his, the gauze of her bandage brushing against him. She winced, and he carefully eased her higher, into a position that was better for the wound.

He couldn’t look at it without wanting to kill Claudia Vorherz. Jail was too good for her. For all they knew, she had been the one to kill Gwen. She could have called her to the suite, posed in a brunette wig as Bell, then shot her the minute that Gwen turned her back.

“You look so serious.” Bell said, and he lifted his gaze to hers. She smiled and his anger at Claudia, a woman who would spend the next decade behind bars, faded. Bell’s smile did unnatural things to him. Her voice, still husky with sleep, brought his arousal to life.

He redirected his thoughts away from anything sexual and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Good morning.”

She yawned, the gesture so big that he could see a filling peek out from one of her molars. “Good morning.”

“How are you feeling?”

She thought about the question for a beat. “I’m starving.”

“But, no pain?”

She made a face. “Nothing too bad. Got time for breakfast before you leave?”

He winced at the thought of going to his office, diving back into the thick of things. Being away for a week would mean massive issues. In the hospitality business, you had to be continually vigilant or you might as well give up.

He kissed her. “I’ll always have time for breakfast for you.”

She smiled again, and a part of his broken heart healed.

THE INMATE

Claudia yawned and listened to Bertha. The woman had an issue. Her brother’s girlfriend was pregnant, that skank slept with half the mother-fuckin’ city, and because she’d been kissing up to him the last two weeks, he thought the baby was his, and was going to put his name on the birth certificate when it came.

It’d been four days since her brother had called and the issue hadn’t changed. Bertha sat on that stupid cot all day and obsessed over it. She didn’t understand. The more anger you gave someone, the more power they had over you. The more obsessed you grew, the more vulnerable that obsession made you.

Claudia had learned that lesson the hard way. It was why she was sitting here, a number stitched across her right breast. She had obsessed. Robert had obsessed. They had both let emotions dictate actions and it had led to this.

It was a new day. Going forward, everything would be done the right way. She would take the lessons that Robert Hawk had taught her, analyze their potential, and learn from his mistakes. Her father wasn’t a God. Her sister wasn’t a saint. Claudia wasn’t infallible.

“It just ain’t right.” Bertha shook her head. “You know she gonna get child support out of this. Eighteen years’ worth. And he ain’t got a pot to piss in.”

Claudia tuned the woman out. Ninety women in this detention center, and she had gotten lucky with Bertha. Some of these bitches were crazy. Bertha was just dumb.

She opened the notebook and flipped through the pages the attorney had given her, scanning the long list of assets. Robert Hawk had been very generous to his two daughters. Given the untimely death of Gwen, Gwen’s portion had automatically fallen to her.

Four hundred and three million dollars’ worth of assets. She circled the ones she wanted to keep and starred the items that could be sold. Her eyes drifted over the values and she contemplated what to do with all of that money.

The answer, of course, was easy. First, get her freedom. Then, ruin Bell and Dario’s lives.

Getting her freedom would require some patience. The best legal team money could buy. Expert psych consultants who would attest to her temporary insanity. A well-negotiated plea deal that would reduce her kidnapping and attempted murder charges down to the minimum sentencing standards. Sure, she’d spend time in prison. Eight to ten years at minimum, according to her attorneys. She did, after all, aid in the imprisonment and torture of nine women. She did, after all, kidnap Bell Hartley with intent to kill, then stuffed Janie Bostic in that little concrete vault with plans to suffocate her to death. The evidence, in all of those charges, was irrefutable.

But no one knew about Gwen. They suspected, they had accused, but there was no evidence. Nothing linking her to the crime. Nothing.

So, she’d avoided a murder charge. And for the other stuff, she’d get a new home in a comfortable prison. Maybe even a posh psych ward, though there wasn’t a more lucid mind than hers within a thousand miles.

And after a few years, with perfect behavior and annual appeals, she’d be paroled. Free. Free and filthy rich. Free and well prepared to ruin Bell and Dario’s lives.

She closed the notebook and sat back on the cot, hugging the book to her chest and smiling.

She didn’t even mind the wait. It would give her more time to calmly, coolly, and intelligently prepare. This would not be like before. This time, she would make no mistakes.

BELL

The hotel was at the quiet end of the city, our suite facing the city. I wore one of Dario’s shirts, the scent of him surrounding me, and stood on the balcony. From this spot, I could see the Majestic, see the tiny dark roof of The House. I heard the faint sound of a coyote, its cry joined by another, then a chorus of soft howls. I felt the tickle of cold air and turned my head, seeing Dario step out, his arms wrapping around my waist.

“Pretty view,” I commented.

“It’s not what I’m looking at.”

I turned in his arms, facing him. Looking into his face, I gently traced over his features. “You look stressed.”

“I’m not. Not anymore.” He leaned forward and kissed me tenderly, taking his time with it. When he pulled away, I could tell that he had something on his mind. “I hired a CEO today.”

“Really?” I reached up and worked at the knot of his tie, loosening it. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I am, officially, stepping away from work.”

My fingers stilled. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to spend my time with you. This summer, before you go back to school, or work, or whatever you choose to do…” He leaned forward and stole another kiss. “I want to be here. With you. I don’t want to waste two months looking at fucking revenue reports and a casino floor.”

I smiled at the thought. “What will we do all summer?”

“I was thinking about that,” he said soberly, his brow pinching in mock concentration. “We have a jet. A ridiculously fat bank account. Strict orders from your doctors to have as much sex as humanly possible.”

I laughed and tugged at his tie, getting it loose. “That’s not what I remember them saying.”

His mouth twitched and he ran his hands up my side, gathering me closer to him. “I thought we’d find a place to live, somewhere without an elevator and parking garage.”

“That sounds good…” I mused, undoing the top button of his dress shirt.

“And get you on a beach. Somewhere with turquoise water and a frozen drink. Poolside massages and private butlers.”

I leaned forward and nipped his neck. “And Alaska,” I reminded him.

“God yes. Are you kidding? Whales everywhere.”

I giggled. “That sounds good to me. But no travel right away.” I tugged on his shirt. “This … time with you… that’s all I want.”

He kissed me softly, then deeper, and the air changed. I dug my fingers in his hair, fought his kiss with my mouth, and didn’t hesitate when he pulled away from me and spoke.

“Turn around and spread your feet apart.”

I felt his shoe nudge my inner calf and I acquiesced, letting out a soft exhale when he undid my shirt, skimming the stiff fabric over my shoulders and dropping it to the floor.

“Jesus Christ, you’re beautiful. Stay just like that.”

He crouched behind me, running his hands up my inner thighs, one gripping my left ass cheek, the other gently running in between my legs, his fingers playing over and teasing the sensitive flesh there. I sighed out a protest, even as my legs widened, my hands tightening on the railing. Bare against the night breeze, my nipples stood at attention, and when he pushed a finger inside, I groaned.

“How gentle do I need to be with you?” He bit the back of my leg and I ignored it, his finger starting to pulse in and out of me, his knuckles brushing against my clit with every consistent swipe.

I pushed my ass out, resting my breasts against the railing. “Not gentle.”

He didn’t change anything, letting me adapt to the touch, his finger continuing to piston in and out of me, the pleasure building. I moved minutely, brushing the hard pebbles of my nipples along the railing, the cool metal a delicious contrast against the evening heat.

“Take your time. Enjoy it.”

I didn’t want to take my time. It was coming, my pussy clenching around his finger, my clit growing heavy and needy, crying out with each brush of contact. I rocked my torso more aggressively, closing my eyes and imagining the railing as a mouth, one on each breast, tongues flicking across the pink tips. He bit me again, and I broke.

The orgasm cascaded, tremors rocking me, my bud of arousal pulsing with the waves of pleasure. I gasped my way through it, clinging to the railing for support, my legs growing weak, his fingers never slowing, not until every sensation had passed and I reached back, pushing him away.

He stood, and I turned, stumbling toward him, the tent visible in his pants. Bending slightly, he gripped my ass and lifted me into the air, my legs wrapping around his waist, and he carried me inside, carefully setting me on the middle of the bed.

Then, he wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t rough. He was perfect.

I laid in bed and listened to the shallow sounds of his breathing, my eyes moving over the luxurious room, so much nicer than anything I ever expected to have in life. I rolled on one side and stared at him, examining his handsome features. The slightly crooked nose. Thick lashes. Strong brow. Full lips. Behind those lashes, were eyes that studied me as if memorizing me. Those lips had uttered words that had brought me arousal, laughter and security. Behind that brow was a calculating mind that had restored an empire and chosen me despite all of the reasons to run.

I pulled the sheet down, moving closer to him and placing my hand on his chest. Underneath my palm beat a heart that loved more fiercely than I thought possible. A heart that protected those he loved and spoiled me with every beat and chance. I ran my hand over his chest, over a scar that had come from a fight as a Louisiana boy, and moved closer, his arm reaching out, pulling me into his body.

Even in sleep, he desired me. Even in sleep, I felt safe in his arms. I closed my eyes and tucked more tightly into his embrace, allowing myself to fall asleep.