The dark room shrouded me as I answered the call blinking across my computer. A face popped up on the screen, one I wasn’t familiar with, but I knew his name.

A few years had passed since I’d last set foot in Detroit, but the destruction surrounding him in the background was unmistakable. The city’s fingerprint abandonment shown in the peeling walls and broken windows that created the backdrop behind where he sat. A stark contrast to the tropical paradise I called home, but I supposed a small part of me would always miss the city.

“Mister Vaughn, it’s an honor to finally meet you.” The man, dressed in a red hoodie tugged up over his head, rolled his shoulders and shifted in his seat, telling me he was anxious.

Only Aubree called me Nick anymore, as I’d chosen to go by Alec’s name, since he’d somehow flown below the radar during the FBI investigations.

“Mister Wolfe, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. You’re a friend of Mr. Hawkins, correct?” I guessed him to be of some kind of Mediterranean descent, based on the dark hair and eyes, olive skin tone and small bit of dark facial hair that shadowed his jaw.

“Yes. Please, call me Dax.” From somewhere out of the camera’s view, he pulled a paper and a small object that looked like a USB drive. “I understand you can trace a crypto address,” he said, holding up what I could easily make out as a Nano ledger onscreen.

“I’ve got some friends who can make that happen, yes.”

“You’ll find consistent payment sent to this ledger.” He moved outside of the camera’s view, and a moment later, I was staring at his desktop, on which a screen popped up, showing the contents of the ledger and a list of transactions. “We’ve come to believe these payments are being sent by Tesarik.”

A little over a year ago, I’d hired a man close to Jozef Tesarik, the leader of the Slovakian mafia based in Detroit, to take down his boss and key players in an active torture porn ring. With the help of the man sitting before me—whom my contact, Roman, had confided had helped work tirelessly to eliminate all but Tesarik himself—it’d been mostly dismantled, thereby exposing a few prominent members in the city.

I’d also stolen a large sum of money from Jozef, and as I understood it, he’d organized a manhunt to track down the thief. It’d be a pleasure to fuck him over again.

“And what is it you’re asking me?”

“I need to have this one traced.” He set the cursor beside one of the transactions on screen.

I snapped a screenshot of the addresses, which I would send to some friends of mine who’d know the color of the sender’s underwear by the time it was over.

“There’s something else. The man who owns this ledger is a lawyer. Fucking corrupt bastard who murdered a kid a few years back.” Eyes cast downward, his arm twitched with whatever he was writing, and he held up a folded piece of paper where a phone number had been jotted. “His name is Karl Kutscher. He needs to know what’s coming for him.”

I took a second screenshot, already messaging a friend of mine, who went by the name China. She was perhaps one of the most dangerous hackers of our time, and one I frequently called on for the occasional trip into the dark net. In a matter of minutes, she’d have the most obscure details about the man sent off to every news outlet in the city at my command. “You want me to scare the shit out of him, then?”

“Exactly. Nothing would have that bastard’s asshole puckering like a phone call from Achilleus X. He’s big on appearances here. Criminal defense for shitheads like Tesarik.”

“Consider it done.”

Lowering the paper, he nodded. “I’m going to find that bastard, and I’m going to kill him.”

“What is he to you?”

He tipped his head and sniffed. “Few months back, a girl was kidnapped. I watched him take off with her. I’m going to find her, and when I do, Tesarik is a dead man.”

“Then I shouldn’t waste any more time getting you the address.”

I sent off the message to China with the attached screenshots. She’d undoubtedly wipe out the wallets, but that was a small price for what she often provided on some of the pieces of shit I sent her way, looking for information. I didn’t need the money, though she typically sent half her loot to my wallet, which I used to finance what I considered to be vigilante justice—taking down the scum from the internet.

I’d found living on an island limited my abilities to carry out the work myself, as communications could be sketchy at times, so China had become essential for tracking them down.

“I appreciate it,” Dax said. “And thank you for meeting with me.”

“If you need anything, let me know. I’m willing to finance whatever is necessary to get the job done.”

“The address is all I need for now.”

“Let’s keep in touch, Mister Wolfe. I’ll be interested in knowing when you track down Tesarik, so I trust you’ll keep me advised. And if I can be of further assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. You know where to find me.”

“Absolutely.”

“Once his location has been determined, I’ll send you the coordinates.”

“Thank you, Mr. Vaughn.”

I exited the chat, and the moment he disappeared, I clicked on the desk lamp. Even if I’d come to trust Dax’s motives, I’d never take a chance and risk anyone finding my family. As far as he knew, I was hiding out in the city somewhere.

I typed Karl Kutscher’s name into a few of my favorite search engines—the unconventional variety that provided more than just benign details, and included things like arrest records, medical records, marriages, kids, whatever I needed. Though he didn’t have much for arrests and crimes committed, with his records being squeaky clean, aside from a DUI in college, one seemingly minor detail caught my eye in searching. The mother listed on the birth certificate for his daughter had only just turned sixteen, as confirmed by her driver’s license. At the time, he was thirty-five years old. A second birth certificate showed a male born just two years prior to his daughter. The mother had apparently died of suicide. But the strange bit was, she shared the same last name as the mother of his daughter. Sisters. Meaning, he’d gotten both of them pregnant at a young age. The mother of his son had only been fifteen at the time.

Sick fuck.

“You’ve kept this under wraps pretty well, haven’t you?” I muttered, clicking out of the search results. “Not anymore.”

Nabbing the voice changer device, I plugged it into my burner phone and, punching in the number from the screenshot Dax had provided, sent the call through. It rang twice, and in the following pause, I spoke first.

“Is this Karl Kutscher?”

The changer gave my voice an ominous robotic sound that mirrored the videos I’d once produced for the public.

“Who is this?” he responded. “Who are you?”

“Achilleus X. We know what you’ve done. By morning, you will be exposed. Every news channel, the police, and the FBI will be made privy to the fact that you exploited and murdered a child. Your contact information will be made public along with your crimes. Game over, Mister Kutscher.”

A crashing noise sounded, before I could faintly hear his voice through the receiver. “Sera … what have you done?”

At that, I smiled and clicked out of the call.

A message popped up on my screen from China: On it like a double-dick dog at a bitch fest.

I chuckled at her message, shaking my head, and responded back.

Thanks for the visual.

China: Your message was timely. Had my eye on some Choos.

Me: Happy to finance your shoe fetish. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.

China: Tell Aubs I said hi. Talk soon.

A glance at my watch showed about half-past midnight. I pushed up from the desk and exited the room I’d turned into an office. On the way to the bedroom, I peeked into the smaller bedroom just down the hall, slipping through the slightly cracked door. Achilleus, our Cane Corso, perked up, and when his tall wagged, I signaled him to be quiet, at which he lay back down.

Upon reaching the boat-shaped toddler bed, I stared down at my son, Anton, named after Aubree’s father. His middle name was Nicholas, after me. His eyelids fluttered in dreams, and I brushed the curly strands of hair from his forehead. Bronzed skin marked the hours he’d played in the ocean with his mother and Marisela, his madrina, or godmother. She lived in one of the smaller huts down the beach with her husband, and taught Anton island life, as well as her native Spanish.

I buried my nose in his sandy brown hair, careful not to wake him, and breathed in the faint coconut scent of his baby shampoo.

At three years old, he’d begun to look a bit like the son I’d lost, and seemed to have a similar personality, too, which I found to be a comfort—particularly on James’s birthday and the anniversary of his death. As if part of him had somehow lived on through Anton.

One day, I’d tell him about his half-brother.

As I pulled away, something caught my eye—a little blonde-haired doll in a pink dress. I frowned, not recognizing the toy that he clutched tight in his arm while he slept.

Exiting his room, I kept on down the hall toward the master bedroom, where I found Aubree sprawled out on the bed, wearing one of my T-shirts that’d crawled up her thighs, exposing nothing more than a teasing glimpse of the black panties beneath. Few things got me as hard as I was, seeing her toned ass and satin legs draped over the crisp white sheets she lay upon. A mouthwatering sight that beckoned me across the room, even though the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest told me she had fallen asleep.

My recent travels to the States had introduced me to some contacts who’d proved to be useful in shutting down the Seventh Circle website permanently, but it’d also kept me away from Aubree and Anton longer than I’d have liked. I’d not even been home an hour when I’d received the message to meet with Dax, and by then, the two of them had already gone to bed.

Fucking hell, I’d forgotten how beautiful she was.

Her skin matched our son’s, golden from the sun and smooth, setting my palms tingling with the urge to run my hands across her thighs. She’d slimmed down a little since living on the island, but I didn’t care. Everything about her was healthy and brimming with happiness.

I wanted her skin against mine,

Peeling out of my shirt, I tossed it into a hamper, and stripped out of my pants, before crawling naked into bed beside her.

A soft moan passed her lips as she turned over onto her back, and though her eyes remained closed, that signature dimple in her cheek deepened with a smile. “You’re home. How was Chicago?”

“Cold. Too damn cold.”

Her eyes flipped open as she chuckled, and she wrapped her arms and legs around me, aiding me in pulling her tight little body closer. “You’re an island snob now.” Pressing her lips to mine, she ran the heel of her foot up the back of my leg, and tangled her hand in my hair. “We missed you. And by we, I mean me and my vibrator.”

Smiling against her lips, I squeezed the back of her thighs, rolling her on top of me, where she positioned herself right where I needed her, against my painfully neglected hard-on. “Well, then, who am I to deprive you any longer?”

“Mmm, you missed us, too, I see.” She ground her pussy against me, dangerously stoking my madness, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, as if she savored the feel. When she bent forward, her long hair tumbled over her shoulders in fountains of thick wavy strands that tickled my face.

“Since when does Anton sleep with a doll?”

Something like a growl rumbled in her chest, and she lifted up, brushing the wild waves of hair from her face. “Since he stole it from Marisela’s granddaughter. She visited today, and we looked all over for the damn thing. Poor Giselle was heartbroken when she left, and it turned out your son had hidden the doll away. Taking after his father.”

“How so?” I asked, as I rubbed my palms over the back of her thighs in a light massage.

“Stealing and hiding her away doesn’t sound just a little familiar?”

“He say why he took it?”

“Yes, he thought she was pretty.” She leaned forward again, and the moment her tongue found my throat, I squeezed her thighs harder, and groaned.

“He definitely takes after me, then.” Hooking my leg around her, I rolled her beneath me, planting my arms at either side of her and holding her prisoner.

“I told him, after tonight, he has to give her back. He threw a fit.”

“Do you blame him? What if I’d had to give you back?” I kissed along her jawline, up to her ear, taking in the jasmine scent of her soap that lingered on her skin. “I personally would’ve waged war to keep you.”

“As I recall, you did.” She tipped her head up, allowing me full access to her neck, and squirmed beneath me.

I lifted her T-shirt, forcing her arms up, and as the shirt’s opening cleared her head, I bound her elbows together with the garment.

Her full pert breasts jutted toward my mouth, and when I clamped down, she arched higher with one of those sexy moans that drove me fucking crazy. “War, or not … he’s giving it back.”

“Well, I won’t be giving you back anytime soon, sweetheart. You’re stuck sleeping with me every night now, Pistol Lips.” Running my hand up the side of her body, I played with her neglected nipple, circling the pad of my thumb over the hardening peak.

In spite of the pained lift of her brows, her lips stretched into a smile, body writhing as if my fingers held some kind of magic string tied to her muscles. “You don’t have a choice. I’m staying, whether you want me, or not.”

“Never make the mistake of thinking I don’t want you, Mrs. Vaughn.”

I kissed lower, down her chest, stopping to suckle each of her nipples, and lower to her stomach. When I finally reached the apex of her thighs, I was hanging off the end of the bed, the edge of the mattress pressed against my groin. Hiking her legs over my shoulders, I spread her apart and drove my tongue inside of her, setting off another sexy moan that skated down my spine. Holding her lips apart, I flicked my tongue over her clit, the scent of her doing some fucked up things to my head, as I licked and sucked, starving for the sweet juices that dribbled down my chin.

“Oh, Nick!” The desperation in her voice was a symphony to my ears, raspy, as she tried to keep from waking our son in the next room.

I drove two fingers up inside her, crooking them just enough that she grabbed hold of my hair, nails scoring my scalp.

Her thighs trembled against my shoulders, muscles taut as she fought hard to hold it together.

“Tell me what you want, Aubree. I’m not giving it to you until you tell me.”

“Make me come. Please, Nick!”

The sounds. The smells. The taste of her was all too much. I rolled my hips against the edge of the mattress, desperate to fuck her, but I wanted her to come first. I wanted to make her shatter, because watching her flush and scream and arch with climax was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life. Even if she hadn’t asked so nicely, I’d have given it to her, because I was a selfish bastard, and watching her was more about my pleasure than hers.

My fingers pumped in and out, while her hands fisted the sheets at either side of me. I knew every inch of her skin. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before she’d draw her legs up, and her body would plank. Her breaths would turn to short pants. She’d soon claw my shoulders in a desperate bid to make me stop, while pleading for me to keep going, and when it all played out just as I knew it would, I smiled against her wet pussy, rubbing my short cropped beard against her clit because I knew that drove her crazy, too.

“Mmm, fuck!” she cried out, her nails digging the hell out of my skin, her whole body shaking with orgasm.

I scooped her up into my arms and carried her to the glass shower stall. Flipping on the water, I waited until it’d warmed, producing billows of steam, and pulled her inside. My dick stood painfully hard, and when I closed the shower door behind her, I didn’t waste any time taking what I wanted. Pressing her to the tiles behind her, I lifted her up and wrapped her thighs over my hips.

Like a good girl, she reached down between us, guiding my tip into her weeping cunt, and the slick welcoming heat damn near made my knees buckle.

On days when I wanted to fuck instead of making love, I’d tell her I was Alec, and she’d laugh, excusing my roughness. But Alec hadn’t been around for years. Probably because the woman, herself, made me of two minds—a ravenous motherfucker with the inclination to tear her apart, and one who’d lay down his life for her.

Water pounded against my back, creating a slippery glide, as I pressed my head against her shoulders and drove my hips up into her.

Tits bouncing beneath my hungry mouth, she tipped her head back, arms wrapped tight around my neck, holding on, clawing my back. Her moan echoed in my ear, fading to quiet when a dark cloud settled over me.

Happened every time I fucked her that way. An angry possessive beast awakened inside of me, and I slammed my eyes shut, mind locked in a silent vow that I would slay anything that ever touched her. I’d burn down the world for her and revel in the flames. Without hesitation, or deliberation, I’d both suffer and kill for the woman.

I opened my eyes, hips still beating out an unfaltering rhythm of my inevitable destruction.

I’d seen beautiful things in my lifetime, but nothing matched the look on her face right then, the way her head tipped back with my name on her lips. She was unbreakable and fragile at the same time. So breathtaking, a pang of jealousy struck my chest at the thought of me just an hour ago, not yet inside of her, brimming with so much lust and potential.

I came hard and fast, my body both carousing in its release and mourning its end.

My name echoed in the stall, while I filled her with the final jets of climax, the hot spray of the shower reverberating each mind-fucking throb of my cock, and I buried my face in her damp hair, kissing the racing pulse of her throat, while I held her against the cool tiles.

“Gonna be one of those nights, Pistol Lips.” I could feel my body hardening again for her, and I groaned as exhaustion battled the insatiable craving that rallied my muscles for another round. Still inside her, I felt her pussy contract and twitch around my cock, zaps of electricity enticing me, taunting me to go at her again.

Her head rolled against the tiles, eyes heavy with sleep, breaths deep and satisfied. “Just … a few minutes of rest. That’s all I need.”

I kissed her throat and set her back down onto the shower floor. “For a while. And then I’m going to try again.”

“Try what again?”

“To get you pregnant. I want another baby inside you. Anton obviously wants a sister.”

“What, the doll? That’s your excuse?” Her body shivered with her laugh, and she pulled me to her lips for a kiss. “You just want me big and round and waddling everywhere. Admit it.”

“You’ve no idea how sexy you are when you waddle.”

She smiled against my lips and squeezed my ass, tugging me closer until my hands shot out against the tiles to keep from falling on top of her. “In that case, I’m ready now. Sleep can wait.”