It's evening, and she isn't responding to my texts. I'm supposed to work late tonight, but my concentration is blown.

After last night, after I gave her proof she's being fucked over by her cheating fiance, I thought for sure I'd hear more. I haven't heard a word all day.

Something isn't right.

I taste it every time I take a sip of the smooth, black brew my assistant brings me for a late day pick-me-up. It's Grounded coffee, a fresh corporate supply of beans I've dropped a couple thousand on this week, without a second thought.

I'm running through financial reports from accounting, watching the numbers blur together, when I decide I've had enough.

I stuff my laptop into my messenger bag and head out the door. About half a dozen women working late ogle me between the elevator and the receptionist's desk downstairs. They won't say anything, risking their jobs for petty advances, because they know who I am. But there's no mistaking the hunger in their eyes, the way they want to pull me into the nearest office, rip off my Superior blue suit, and offer every inch of their skin to me on a silver platter.

They're lucky I'm the kind of man who's always kept business and pleasure separate. Doubly lucky there's only one woman on my mind, and right now she's driving me fucking loco.

I'm almost through the security gate surrounding the Punch Corp complex when a security truck speeds through, stopping just short of making my right side into a pancake. The man behind it has his window down before mine. His eyes bug out when he recognizes me.

“Mr. Brooks! I'm so sorry.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I lie. “What's the hurry?”

“Police alert for a missing woman, sir. It's the one who owns the coffee shop down at the edge of town. I thought I'd better scour the perimeter. There are plenty of dark little nooks around our property where a vehicle could go if anything nasty happened. Or if a person didn't want to be found.”

Shit. The non-response from Kara is more serious than I thought.

Now I'm really worried. I thank him and drive off, roaring down the highway, out toward the lighthouse where I can stop and think, plan what I'm going to do next.

I don't know what the hell happened.

Did she look at the data on Reg? Did she confront him already? Is the cheating sonofabitch a lot crazier than I think ?

Fuck, maybe he hurt her? Nothing's impossible, considering the sick, twisted secrets I found hanging over his bastard uncle.

If Kara's gone, there's a good chance Reg is the reason why.

Ten minutes later, I'm sitting on a bench next to my car, a cold wind slapping my face while I work my phone furiously. The dot for the special GPS tracker on his car hasn't moved since this morning, the first time that's happened in days.

He's either been at home all day, or he's found the device, and taken it off. Deep in my gut, I know what's more likely.

I'm running purely on instinct when I climb back in my car. I take the highway toward Marquette. Sure, there's a thousand other places he might have gone, but I go for the most logical, the quickest place he would've went for comfort if he had a falling out with her.

Half an hour later, I know I'm on the right track when I see the asshole's car in the lot. His grey Mercedes melds into half a dozen other fancy vehicles at the high end hotel's valet parking, but not to me.

It stands out, hits me between the eyes, and tells me I need answers.

I'm running to the hotel's front desk. It hurts like hell to stop, give them a friendly smile, and pull out my black card, asking for a room.

Even in a small city, security is an obstacle. The only way I'll get to Reg is if I'm on the inside.

I wait impatiently through the check-in process. Before I go, I ask what room my business associate is in. The woman rattles off a number, and then I'm heading up the elevator, bypassing the floor with the room I'll never bother to look at.

I'm going straight to his. No more wasting time.

A brisk walk down the hall later, I'm there, pressing my ear against the door.

There's laughter. A woman giggles. It's the kind of laugh that means two things.

She's either heard the funniest fucking joke in the world, or she's just finished riding a worm who should be home in his own bed, with the woman he wants to call his wife.

Fuck. I'm furious. Part of me is glad he's here. The chances that I'm going to kick his ass and claim Kara for myself just spiked a thousand percent.

But if he's hurt her, if he's thrown her out of their condo or worse...I'll throw my budding empire away knocking his teeth out. I'll destroy the asshole, right here, in cold blood, becoming the monster everybody back home thinks I am.

I'll make sure he never, ever cheats on a woman again with the crude joke of a face he's got left when I'm through.

My fingers tighten into a fist, and I stand up straight.

This is it.

I don't think about keeping it subtle, hiding what's about to go down from anybody else in the adjacent rooms. The place seems mostly deserted for an autumn weekend. My fist slams into his door like a rock, banging the surface again and again.

It creaks open slowly a small, frightened brunette face peering out at me through the crack. “Can I help you?”

“I need to talk to Reginald Drayton.” I don't know what to think of the girl, but my beef isn't with her. Maybe she knows she's fucking around with a taken man. Or maybe she's innocent, one more girl he's wiping his feet on because he thinks he's the biggest swinging dick in town.

Before I showed up, the bastard was in the running, thanks to his money. Not anymore.

“Amy? Who is it?” I hear his voice for the first time. He's coming toward her, and I see him moving over her shoulder.

She turns around, frightened, her hand on the door like she doesn't know if she should push it shut.

I never give them a chance. My hand goes through the crack, rips apart the cheap silver chain, and my foot kicks the base of the door like a charging bull. Asshole shields himself from the noise, backing up into the corner, taking his mistress into his arms.

“Who the fuck are you?! What do you want? This must be some kind of terrible mistake! I swear, I've never seen you before in my –“

I pull her gently out of his arms, flinging the girl onto the nearby bed. With him, my hands forget what gentle means. Slamming him into the wall, I hear his bones creak, knowing I can snap them in half like twigs if I really need to.

“Kara Lilydale, asshole. Where is she?”

“You! You're the detective, aren't you?” He's looking at me, wide eyed and filled with hate. “I'm going to have your license stripped, you know. If you lay a finger on me, you'll be in jail before the end of the night.”

Enough.

My knee goes into his guts, and then my hand is on his throat. Typical Drayton. Always trying to get the last word, thinking the entire Earth wants to hear it.

The stupid fucking cheat still tries to squawk when I press my palm into his windpipe, making words impossible.

I'm done hearing his shit. It's time for him to listen to me.

“Shut up. I'm not a detective, and you don't give a shit about what she does.” There's something dangling from his neck. I notice for the first time I don't need my hand to choke him.

This sick, twisted freak is wearing a choke chain attached to a leather collar. Just like a dog. I take it in one hand, eyeballing the ring around his neck to make sure it's still on, and pull. He hits the floor, and I put my foot on his back, cutting off his air while I look at the woman.

“Put the phone down,” I tell her. “If you so much as whisper a word to the cops, or the front desk, the man you've been screwing around with dies.”

Her eyes are huge, frightened, stunned. She's wearing heels that must be impossible to walk in. They're blood red, a perfect compliment to her candy cane stockings hugging her legs. I can only imagine her walking all over him before I showed up, lifting the pointy heels out to his tongue.

Christ, no wonder Kara-bou's been craving my touch, if this is what her soon-to-be ex is into.

“You're going to shut up and listen to me, Reg. Nod if you understand,” I say, waiting until he shakes his head weakly. I let up on the choke chain, just enough to give him air. “When I let go, you're going to tell me where Kara is. You're also going to finish your business here with Miss Dominatrix, get in your car, go home, and pack your shit. Leave her a note that says you're leaving. She doesn't need to see your lying, cheating ass in the flesh anymore.”

He's squirming underneath me. If I weren't so mad, I'd smile.

It gives me a sick pleasure knowing he's helpless, and such a gutless little pissant, he'll do everything I say. And if he doesn't, then we're going to have some real fun.

“Do you understand? Nod if you do.”

He does it very weakly. My cue to step off his spine, ease back on the chain, and let him breathe. His mistress walks over, gets on the floor, and caresses his face. I let her give him several seconds worth of comfort he doesn't deserve.

I'm not here to torture him, tempting as it is. I just want answers, and then I'm going to make sure he follows through.

“Who...who are you?” he sputters. “Why are you doing this?”

“I'm the one she's supposed to marry. Not you, cheater. Question time is over. You nodded, so I think we have an understanding. Do you remember everything I said?”

“Yes,” he says, leaning heavily on the skinny little thing holding him up. “I'll leave tonight. Whatever you want.”

“Good. Now, answer my question,” I growl, giving the chain a warning pull.

He tenses up, turns toward me, and gives me a glare through his angry, watering eyes. “I don't know where she is. Honest. I'm the one who sent the alert to the police. She didn't come home when she was supposed to a few hours ago, and her phone's completely dead.”

My fists are hungry. They're looking for any excuse to make this man bleed, but I don't think he's lying. The brunette digs her fingers into his scalp, pulling his face to her shoulder, protecting him.

It's almost laughable. Her non-existent balls are ten times bigger than his. I can't believe I almost let my woman tie the knot with this dickless animal.

“He's telling you the truth!” she says. “I'm their wedding planner. The woman's impossible to deal with, she always does things without thinking them through. She'll turn up sooner or later. And when she does, I'm refunding her money, telling her to keep the fuck away. She's made his life hell, and so have his parents. He doesn't want to be with her. They've put so much pressure on him to do the right thing, to keep their reputation going for another generation in the U.P. He deserves better than a bad wife and a family who'll never understand.”

Is she joking? Does she think I'm going to stand by idly while she gives me his life story?

“Stay right there,” I say, reaching for my phone.

She covers her face, flushing bright red, while I snap several pics. I don't give a damn what kind of excuses she's trying to make for this pathetic creep wrapped up in her arms.

I only care about getting new damning evidence for Kara. She deserves to see this, and know beyond any doubt who he's left her for.

“What else have you got in your stack of toys over there?” I ask, nodding toward the bed. “Handcuffs?”

She gives me an uneasy look. Yeah, of course there are handcuffs.

I don't say a word. Just march over, pull out the small silver pair, plus a black cord that feels like a jumprope. I order them down into two leather chairs with the thick wooden legs.

First, I cuff the asshole's hands behind his back, making them tighter than I really need to. With her, I'm more gentle, though I've got an ugly feeling I shouldn't be.

She knows she's fucking around with a man who's engaged. He's probably fed her a sob story, but the one thing missing from her little account is regret.

They won't be tied down long with the job I did. But it's all I need to walk out of that room, head down the hall, and get to my car. I tell the woman at the front desk I had a family emergency, and check out with the room on my tab for a grand total of thirty minutes.

I have to find Kara, and this time it's for good. I won't stop until I have her lips on mine, haul her into bed, and make up for all the nights we lost since I fled town.

This time, I'm back. I've said my apologies and I'm ready to move on. I'm going to give her the life she deserves, the one I promised her. It's the life I've always meant to deliver after five brutal years apart.

Never again.

“Baby, I'm coming,” I whisper to myself, pulling onto the highway, stabbing my foot down on the accelerator. My car goes from ten miles an hour to seventy in two seconds flat. The average Tesla has some nice perks.

It isn't fast enough. Five years without her is too much time to lose, and after tonight, I'm not wasting another second.

I'm putting us back together. Taking her to bed, shoving my ring back on her finger, and fucking her like the sad, strange bastard at the hotel never could.

She isn't his anymore. Hell, she never was.

I don't care if she isn't sure about second chances yet, I'm going to tell her the truth, show her, make her believe. There's nothing clearer beating in my heart, and I hear the truth in every booming thud. I feel it spike into my blood, feed my veins, fill my soul with one voice screaming mine, mine, mine a hundred times.

Honest to God. That's all she'll ever be, all she's meant to be, however much the universe tries to hold us apart.

My Kara's coming home. Her forever is my own.

Entangled. Beautiful. Inseparable.