Coffee cup in hand, I clicked on the Internet icon, which took me to the default page where all the local news headlines filled the screen.

Man Killed In Wood Chipper Accident had me lowering my coffee cup from my mouth, and my jaw slackened with disbelief.

What the hell? I clicked on the story, of course, because it was gross and intriguing at the same time, reading about some twenty-seven-year-old man who’d worked for a tree trimming company and fell into the chipper two days earlier. An anonymous call had led police to a grisly sight described as both shocking and disturbing. I read further to learn that investigators suspected foul play, based on evidence found at the crime scene.

“Murder?” I mumbled, scanning the rest of the article. Repulsion zipped up my spine, and I shivered at the thought. “Who the hell would do something so disgusting?”

Jesus, I didn’t even want to think about what kind of sick person could stand by and watch another human being get sucked into one of those things. That’d be, like, the ultimate nightmare. Something straight out of a horror movie.

I shook off my repugnance and opened the search bar for a reverse mobile site I’d previously tried using on Dane’s number. Curiosity had gotten the best of me over the last two days, waiting for Ty to send another text. He hadn’t bothered to send any pics later that night, though if he had, I couldn’t say I’d have been entirely put off by it. Still, I was glad he hadn’t.

I typed in the digits of Ty’s phone number and clicked on one of the resulting maps. I hated being one of those girls, but considering my track record with men, it wouldn’t hurt to do a bit of investigating before I met up with the guy alone somewhere—he still hadn’t told me where he planned to take me.

The map opened to my neighborhood, and just like the results when I’d typed in Dane’s number, it didn’t provide an exact marker. I cleared the map and typed Ty and Detroit into the search engine, knowing the variety of results I’d end up with.

Sure enough, faces popped up on the screen, but none of them Ty’s. Tyler. Tyrone. Tyson. Nothing. None of the men staring back at me possessed those diamond cut eyes and stern brows that gave him a naturally broody look. The kind that told a girl to hang on to her friggin’ heart, because the dude was about to carve it out with a spade and eat it like a blood-hungry cannibal. No, based on the search results of balding forty-somethings and wanna-be gangstas, I’d have said I hit the jackpot with my Ty from Detroit.

My phone rattled against the desktop, and with a bit too much excitement, I snatched it up without bothering to see who’d called. “Hello?”

“Sera, it’s Jane.”

Shit. The tone in her voice told me my dad’s secretary wasn’t happy about the many messages I’d left in my attempt to find out what’d happened to Lilia’s monthly payment.

“Hey, Jane, I was just—”

“Your father has requested that I set up a meeting with you for this afternoon.”

A meeting? The last thing I wanted to do was meet with Karl Kutscher on a perfectly good Friday before a date.

“I have a class this afternoon.”

“What time?”

“One-thirty.” In two hours. No way my father would haul his ass anywhere within two hours. I found it surprising he’d attempt an afternoon appointment, when it typically required a week’s notice to score even an hour of his time.

“Good. You’re penciled in for noon. He asked that you meet him at Butchers. Would you like me to arrange a ride for you?”

Unbelievable. Unbelievable! “Jane, I just wanted to remind him of the payment he was supposed to send over for Lilia.” That’s all. No need to make it formal and miserable at the same time.

“I’m afraid your father has asked me not to make any other arrangements until he’s had the opportunity to meet with you.”

“Seriously? Is a meteor headed for earth, or something? What’s the occasion?”

“He’s not made me privy to the nature of your meeting, Sera. I’m sorry.” If ever artificial intelligence gained some traction, Jane could’ve acted as a prototype to model the software. The woman had zero personality, and even less empathy. No wonder my father had kept her for so long.

“Fine. Butchers. Noon.”

“Again, do you need me to set up a ride?” she asked again, with as little enthusiasm as the first time.

“No. I’ll walk, thanks.”

* * *

Butchers sat on the corner of Congress and Baubien, only a few blocks from my apartment. I didn’t dare imagine Karl had gone out of his way to choose a place convenient for me. On the contrary, I had a feeling he was in the neighborhood and wouldn’t have taken no for an answer, either way—a thought that set my nerves on edge as I made my way toward the restaurant. With ten minutes to go, I was pushing it, and my father loathed tardiness as much as he loathed charity, so our meeting was sure to be a bust.

I entered the newly renovated restaurant, finding him sat toward the back—away from every exit door in the building, which only added to the nervous rumbling in my gut. Rumbling not from hunger. No, the last thing I wanted was to fill that turbulent hollow in my stomach with something that could possibly make a second appearance, as edgy as I felt.

It wasn’t so much the meeting itself that had me jittery, as my refusal to leave without Lilia’s payments worked out.

At the approach of the host, I pointed to where my father sat and let him lead me toward the back of the restaurant. Pulling out my chair, the host waited for me to sit, my father’s eyes watching me like a predator all the while.

Karl’s suit was a gray Brooks Brothers, teamed with an unremarkable tie, set beneath an undefined jawline, and when he nodded, his chin got lost in all the extra skin that bunched at his collar. He’d never been an attractive man, and I was certain my mother hadn’t married him for his equally bland personality, either.

My guess? It’d been about the money. She’d always been a free-spirited type, with little means to finance her wanderlust.

His eyes raked over me, probably on a hunt for all my flaws, as usual, and landed on my hair. “Blue …” His lips twitched with disgust. “How very … eccentric.”

The urge to fluff it in front of him and smile tugged hard, but I kept my cool. Our meeting had a purpose, one I couldn’t afford screwing up over something as trivial as my blue hair.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering your lunch, since you’re strapped for time.” As if he had any clue what I liked. He hadn’t ordered the food for my enjoyment, or to cater to my schedule, but merely to shave as many minutes off our meeting as he could.

Didn’t bother me, as I had no interest in prolonging the encounter, either.

“Thanks.” I lifted the lemon water poured into a wine glass and drowned the fuck you cocked at the back of my throat. A small trickle leaked from the corner of my mouth, which I promptly dabbed with my napkin.

“How are you?” His question held as much genuine concern as a great white shark asking a juicy seal how it’s day was, before biting into it.

“Great. Classes are great. You?” I hated asking, when I really couldn’t have cared less.

He nabbed the napkin beside him and set it to his wine glass, cleaning the mouth of it. “Let’s not waste time on cordiality, shall we?” As he tipped back his glass, I watched him carefully sip the water, without so much as a wet sheen on his thin dry lips when he finally set it down.

The waiter sidled up to the table, carrying two large plates of seared salmon and almonds set over a bed of green beans. Personally, I’d have gone for a burger.

Once he’d set the dishes and filled our glasses, the waiter walked off from the table.

My father’s stern eyes found me again. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Ugh. Coming from Karl, the question struck me as invasively as if he’d asked me when I’d had my last pap smear. Not that I’d answer, anyway. After things went down with Dane, my father had offered little support, or advice, except to tell me that boys would be boys and that I shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss someone from a good family. As if the man had any clue what constituted a good family, having left my mother to fend for both of us, without a penny to her name, after they’d split. No way I’d tell him about Ty, who probably embodied everything my father despised. From his daredevil tricks, to the way he occupied my thoughts—Ty would never earn my father’s blessings.

“I see you’re still wearing it.”

I didn’t have to glance down to the Tiffany lock charm resting against my chest to know what he was talking about. He’d given it to me as a gift when I was only thirteen years old. The chain was thin and delicate, bearing the weight of the thick wordlock, similar to a cable combination lock for a bike that hung, as if by invisible threads, around my neck. An albatross, as far as I was concerned.

In order to unfasten it, I had to twist the dials to spell out ‘trust’ and separate it from a small key that kept it locked in place.

At the time he’d gifted it, he’d told me it was out of trust that he’d allow me to wear something so delicate and expensive to school, not knowing that I’d removed the necklace every day, keeping it tucked in a pocket, or purse, so I’d not lose, or break, it. With each year that passed, he’d assured me his trust in me had grown, and that one day he would reward me for upholding it for so many years.

I never wore the necklace to gain his trust, though. I wore it to get what I needed, and at that moment, I needed him to send the payment to Lilia.

He reached across the table, lifting the lock charm into his palm, and his knuckles brushed against my chest. The intrigue in his stare forced me to glance to the side, as his finger pushed the hair off my collarbone in a stomach-twisting caress.

I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat, and swiped the hair back onto my shoulder, hiding the necklace, as his hand retreated to his side. “You expected to find it broken after all these years?”

His lips quirked, and he set to cleaning his silverware with the napkin he’d used on his water glass. “Heading off on your own path in a dangerous city like this, I had no idea what to expect. I certainly didn’t think it’d last long, once you were beyond my purview.”

In other words, he didn’t think I would last long.

I took another sip of water to stifle the second fuck you trapped inside my mouth. “I wanted to ask you—”

“How’s JoAnne?” His question took me by surprise, only because he made a point not to talk about the woman. She’d been our housekeeper for seven years, before things had ended on a tragic note and Jo had been left completely incapacitated and destitute.

“She needs her meds. And Lilia needs payment.”

Watching him shovel a piled fork of salmon into his mouth left me without much of an appetite. Instead, I tapped my own fork against the glistening slab of meat, waiting for him to chew his food. That was how Karl worked. Answers never arrived immediately, which made me question how the hell he’d gotten so successful in his career.

“I’ll no longer be taking financial responsibility for her.”

My fingers curled around the cutlery, wanting nothing more than to stab the prongs into the man’s throat. “Why? She needs money. If you don’t, she’ll—”

“She is no longer our concern.”

“Our concern? The woman who cared for me when my mother died? Who cleaned after us for almost ten years? How can you say that?”

Another forkful of food disappeared behind his fat lips, taunting my patience.

“You’re not to care for her any longer. I’ll have Jane look into a nursing home based on what she’s eligible for. But as of today, you’re not to have contact with that woman.”

My stomach lurched, and the nervous rumble from before surged into a full-on tidal wave of panic. “What? What about Lilia? Thhhhh… the apartment?” The questions tumbled from my mouth in a rush of desperation and anger. “You can’t just leave her homeless without a job!”

“It happens every day.”

“You promised me!” I sounded like a spoiled rich kid who’d been denied her favorite toy, if not for the fact that the toy in question happened to be someone’s life on the line. Clutching the necklace at my throat, my hands shook with the fury pulsing through my fingers, ears, all the way to my toes. And one jerk of my hands could’ve snapped the damn chain like a dry twig in a hurricane.

At a quick glance around, no doubt checking to make sure no one had heard my tantrum, he leaned in. “Your little nursemaid act may have triggered something. I’m acting on behalf of your safety. Now, unless you’d like to be yanked right out of this school and thrown back under my constant surveillance, you’ll stay away from her.”

I’d have rather died than be locked away in his prison again.

His face blurred, and I cast my gaze away to keep him from seeing the tears itching to fall. I wouldn’t dare give him the smug satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to me.

My jaw throbbed with the clenching of my teeth, and I wanted so badly to run from that restaurant and vow never to see him again. “What. Trigger?” I managed to grit out without letting the tears touch my voice.

“At the moment, it only concerns me, but I anticipate, if this goes on any longer, you may be at risk. Understand, this is for your safety.”

I doubted that. I doubted the man ever made a single decision in my life that took my safety into account. “Can you …. Can you at least give her this month?”

Of course, I had no intentions of following his orders, but I needed time to figure something out for both Lilia and Jo. I should’ve known the meeting with him would end that way. I’d have sooner frolicked through a warzone, for all the tension and anxiety brimming inside of me right then.

“This month only. After that, you’re to do as I said and leave this alone. Am I clear?”

I double-blinked and the tears in my eyes fell down my cheeks. With a swift hand, I wiped them away and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

A trill chime broke into the conversation, and my gaze shot to his phone beside him, where Tesarik flashed across the screen. A client of his, I suspected.

He swiped up the phone, but dropped it with a clang against the table, rattling his silverware, and I frowned at his fumbling, as he set his napkin on his food instead of beside his plate. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, pushing up from the table.

Strange. The man could’ve given the Queen of England a lesson on composure, yet he strode off like a bumbling idiot. Like whoever Tesarik happened to be made him edgy.

I stared after my father, wondering how a man so bland and colorless could hold so much power. If he were a painting, he’d be an array of grays, with graying hair and dull, lifeless eyes, like an old discarded doll that I wanted to tear apart at the seams until the stuffing popped out all over the floor.

Nice, Sera.

That almost sounded as bad as a man tossing someone into a wood chipper.

But even if I didn’t have the heart, or the balls, to do something so horrific, I still hated Karl Kutscher.

Truly and unequivocally hated him.