“I want to go home.”

Val glanced up from the note pad she’d been doodling on while trying to pass the time. “We’re on lockdown, Esme. We don’t know Carlos’ motivation yet—revenge against Keiran, the club, you, all of it, or maybe the connection is merely Gerald Reinhart. Whatever it turns out to be, we’re safer here until they have him in custody. Besides, it’s Keiran’s orders, honey.”

“I did this to him.”

“Who? Gerald?” Her wavy blond hair bounced around her shoulders as she emphatically shook her head. “You didn’t make Carlos pull the trigger.”

“No, Finn.”

“What are you saying?”

“Everyone I love, my parents, Andrew, Pax, and now Finn, they all wind up dead.”

“I come back to check on my patient, to see if she needs more medication, and what do I find? A submissive in need of a spanking.”

Val and Esme both gasped at this comment from Thomas as he walked in the door, black bag in hand—a doctor’s bag, not a Dom’s. He set it down on Finn’s desk then stood over her chair, glowering down at her, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Ryan Paxton isn’t dead; he’s on a mission, you know that. And Finnegan is going to be fine. He’s not good at his job, Esme, he’s the best, and when he tracks down Carlos, the two-bit, H-pushing, scum of the earth, motherfucker, won’t know what hit him.”

“H?” Val asked.

“As in heroine, Hernandez is a drug boss. Or he was until we busted his crew. They were small scale but making inroads into the LA drug market.”

“Is organized crime everywhere?” Esme asked bitterly.

“I wish I could say no, girl, but I can’t. But back to the bullshit you were spewing when I walked in. Your parents were killed by a drunk driver, which has nothing to do with you.”

“Who told you that?”

“I read your file,” he replied.

“But I didn’t put that in my Decadence application. I kept the personal to a minimum.”

His glower deepened. “Yes, which is why we had to run another check while you were sleeping this afternoon, a very thorough one.”

Not herself, and living dangerously because of it, Esme glowered back at the surly Dom. “That’s just perfect. I suppose everyone at Rossi knows my blood type and when I started my period as a teen.”

“O positive and age fourteen,” he stated matter of factly. “That is a little old these days. You were a late bloomer.”

She gaped at him and that he’d spouted off private medical information—accurately—as though he were her doctor for real.

“Is there nothing you Rossi men don’t know about me?”

“Highly doubtful. Jonas Mitchell ran background on you, my lovely, and he doesn’t miss much.”

“Did he discover I’m cursed and it spreads to the people around me who I care about?”

“There’s that BS again. The only curse any of us has is being human. We’re finite, girl. No one is guaranteed to see tomorrow, so we must live today to the fullest.”

“You sound like Finn,” she grumbled.

“That’s because he, like me, is a wise man. You say you’re cursed because you’ve lost people you loved, but you’re looking at things wrong. You were given not only one man to love in your lifetime, but with Keiran, life or fate or destiny, whatever you call it, has given you the chance to have two. In my book, that’s what you call lucky, not cursed.”

Not knowing how to reply to that, she didn’t, and Thomas went on.

“Your parents could have been drunks, drug addicts, or physically abusive, but instead were good, hardworking people who loved you a lot. Don’t deny it because that’s in your file too. Is that part of your curse? Some people would give anything to have a year of that kind of family, but you got, what, twenty?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Mmm-hmm, now I see how it works.” And he wasn’t done, pressing his point further. “Your husband must have been a real asshole.”

“I get your point.”

“Do you? You had five happy years with him, not long, but would you erase it because of how it ended, or go back and do it over again?”

She didn’t answer, her head dropping into her hands. She’d give anything to replay every minute of every day she had with Andrew.

“That’s what I thought. And now you’ve got another chance at something special. You’re not cursed, Esmerelda Spade. You’re blessed.”

“You’re thinking is skewed by grief,” Val offered gently, “but if you look at it from Thomas’ perspective, you’ve had more years filled with happiness and love than not. Can any of us ask for more than that?”

“But what if I lose Finn too?”

“It could happen,” Thomas answered, earning a severe look from Val. The Dom’s response was to arc a brow at her sharply, then go on just as bluntly. “Don’t expect me to blow sunshine up the girl’s ass. Death comes every day, but so does life, about every eight seconds. And each of those babies born will live seventy-eight years on average in the US, some a lot longer. Not trying with Finn because you’re afraid he won’t make the averages is like betting against the house. That’s fucked up logic.”

“Thomas!” Val exclaimed.

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but she’s fragile right now, you could go a little easier.”

“Fragile, my ass,” the painfully direct doctor shot back. “Submissives are some of the strongest people I know. They have to be to put up with the shit we Doms dish out.”

Val’s blue eyes narrowed on the man. “What kind of doctor are you, anyway?”

“Does it matter?”

“We call Thomas Jack, sometimes, baby. Jack of all trades because he does it all. He takes a rotation as a trauma physician at County, does an annual stint with doctors without borders, serves as our house doctor at the club whenever we call, and because he got his MD on the GI bill, he likes to relive his youth by moonlighting for us at Rossi.” This came from Eric who was standing in the doorway watching, a grin on his face. Finn stood alongside him, his serious expression suggesting he didn’t find the conversation amusing like his friend did.

Esme looked at him, standing tall, and strong, and seemingly in one piece. To be sure, she ran her eyes over his beautiful body searching for proof he wasn’t.

“Thank you, God,” she uttered in a barely audible prayer.

“Come here, Esme.”

She stood to do as he ordered but froze when another man appeared behind him.

“Pax?” She blinked, not believing her dear friend whom she’d missed and worried about for what seemed like forever was at Rossi. “What are you doing here?”

He came forward, his arms open, and she went into them happily.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m sorry I left you so abruptly, and to such a shit storm.”

Her head fell back, to ask how he’d heard, but his hand came up to touch her bruised cheek, his face growing dark with anger. “Carlos did this?”

“Yes, but its fine.” She hugged him tight. “I’m glad you’re back safe. Are you done with your mission?”

“It wrapped up today, thanks to your man and his team.”

She glanced at Finn who still stood in the doorway looking on.

“I don’t understand.”

“Finnegan here keeps closing my cases for me. Martin Lopez and his drug family are out of business because of him, which was case number one. Their leader was never identified, which made finding him case number two for me, which Rossi handled as well.”

She stared up at him blankly.

“It was Carlos Hernandez, sweetheart.”

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head. “Imagine my shock when I learned our prime suspect had joined the same club as me. I was getting ready to go undercover and couldn’t risk him seeing me. We built a solid case against him, and were only days away from making an arrest, but we wanted the money too. When Finn tipped us off today about how he was spiraling out of control, we couldn’t wait any longer. Too bad by the time we got to the scene, we’d missed the big finish. The Rossi men had everything locked down and tied with a nice neat bow.”

Eric slapped him on the shoulder. “Which proves you should stop fooling around with the Feds who are always a day late and a dollar short and come to work for us.” He became serious when he turned to her, and his hand cupped the side of her head in an affectionate, big brother style gesture. “You’re safe now, little one. He won’t bother you again—ever.”

He spoke with finality, but she asked to be certain. “You mean, he’s—?”

“Dead,” Pax answered succinctly.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish my mother always said. Who took him out?” Thomas asked.

“He did it himself,” Eric supplied, on the move again, crossing the room to Val.

Thomas grunted. “Knew he was a weak bastard; most bullies are. What happened that he took the coward’s way out?”

“He was holed up at a family home in Walnut Park, the owner one Martina Lopez Castillo,” Finn answered. Largely silent, he hadn’t moved, his eyes fixed on Esme still in Pax’s arms.

They were merely friends, never more so, and she loved him like family, but she could feel the intensity of Finn’s gaze from across the room. She stepped back. Pax, who must have sensed it too, let her go, a smile, tipping his lips.

“Esme—” Finn started.

“Let me guess,” Thomas spoke over him, trying to get the full story, since he’d missed out on the action while keeping tabs on her. “Carlos is related to Martin’s mama somehow.” “You’d be right. Carlos Castillo Hernandez is her nephew,” Eric supplied.

“It’s so confusing when everyone has three names,” Val observed.

“In Mexico, it’s tradition to take both parents’ surnames,” Esme explained to her. “I learned that only recently at work.”

“You’re right, lass. Castillo was his father’s family and Hernandez his mother’s, which is reverse to our way of thinking,” Finn told her. “That’s why we didn’t make the connection right away, and it didn’t help he dropped the Castillo when he moved to the states. If I’d had that intel, I would have linked him immediately to Lopez and Roger Cassell aka Rogelio Castillo our client back in San Antonio.” He held out his hand to her, and repeated, “Come here, Esme,” just as Eric bit out an emphatic curse. “I can’t fucking believe he slipped through our screening process. And I’m shocked he was the brains of the operation.”

“I don’t see how, he looked crazed today,” Esme declared, a tremor passing through her as she recalled his cold eyes bright with madness. “I’m surprised he held it together until now.”

“We didn’t find any mental health history while we were searching today. Carlos did well for himself, went to college, got out of the neighborhood, then he made some bad investments, the wife left him, and his child support payments for four kids were more than he wanted to pay. He reverted to the family business, recruited Martin as his lieutenant who was already dealing but on a limited scale. Seems Carlos majored in supply chain management, and it paid off, until Martin got cocky, got sloppy and was taken down. Left on his own, without his crew to protect him and Martin to hide behind, Carlos’ ass was swinging in the wind for weeks, and it was just a matter of time before he snapped.”

“Depression left untreated could explain a psychotic break,” Val observed. “And suicide is often the result.”

“Or, he was scared shitless, facing a long stint in LA County for a host of drug related crimes, add to that the murder of Gerald Reinhart in cold blood in front of a witness, who slipped between his fingers. He was cornered and offed himself in his aunt’s house rather than do the time and face his La Eme brethren.” Thomas grimaced in distaste. “Couldn’t take it like a man, because he wasn’t much of one.”

She shivered at the graphic and violent nature of the conversation. Everything was still fresh, and it was like rubbing salt in a wound.

“Esme, baby,” Finn repeated softly. “Come here.”

She’d heard him the previous times but was distracted by the story. Now, she looked at him and asked her own question, one no one had answered. “How did Gerald get mixed up with him?”

He exhaled heavily and moved toward her instead, stopping at the end of the small seating area where she spent most of her day while on lock down.

“Remember me telling you about the Rossi client linked to Lopez?”

She nodded.

“They shared an attorney, who was implicated. When the drug deals, dirty money, and cover ups came to light, his license was suspended, and the family had to go shopping for a new fixer. In walks Gerald Reinhart. Cocky, brash, and in financial straits after his partner retired and billable hours declined, and with two alimony payments to make after a second divorce. He was looking for easy money, fast.”

“But we were doing free business, mostly pro bono work.”

“And on retainer for the Brotherhood which paid the bills. Unfortunately, this meant when they said jump he had to, no questions asked.”

“You mean I’ve been making a living off of drug money?” Her shiver increased to a full body shudder. “That’s makes me feel dirty.”

“Baby, you didn’t know.”

“No, but I suspected he was up to something. I should have said something sooner and reported those account numbers I found.”

“You did, Esme, to me. I had one of the guys looking into it, not because of any link I suspected to Carlos, but because your boss sounded like an asshole and I wanted to make sure you were safe. The money trail always trips them up. In the weeks since the Lopez’s arrest, Carlos was lying low while Gerald funneled his dirty money into offshore accounts. Those weren’t payments on accounts you found, Esme, but deposits, in banks he could easily access when he fled to South America.”

“Gerald mentioned Buenos Aires.”

“Yeah, we found his passport. He planned to go too. If you hadn’t given me those leads when you did, mo chuisle, we’d have had a much harder time piecing it all together. You helped us close in on him and end it tonight.”

“So, it’s over?”

“Yes, lass. But now I have a question for you.”

She looked at him, waiting.

“When I left you were sedated, hysterical after Gerald. You’re calmer now, but visibly shaking. This day has been traumatic, and this conversation can’t have been easy. I’ve asked you no less than four times to come to me. Why are you so far away rather than here in my arms?”

At last, she took a step forward, then another, stopping out of reach. Hesitant, and not sure why.

“I thought we decided I was going to live to ninety-seven, a stór.”

She nodded, his image getting watery with tears. “Gerald wasn’t all bad,” she blurted out. “I mean, he was a bad husband, and couldn’t keep it in his pants, and he got mixed up with Carlos, but in the end, he stood up to Carlos, though scared out of his mind, and tried to protect me. What he did helped me get away. He saved my life.”

“I suppose that’s part of your curse too, isn’t it, little subbie? Living to see another day?”

Finn’s head swiveled, and he frowned at Thomas. “What about a curse?”

“Have her explain it to you, Finnegan, after you beat her ass for being stubborn, then fuck her until she can’t breathe to prove how lucky she is.”

He crossed his arms and glared at his man. “I’ll do that anyway, so I’d rather hear it from you now.”

“Doctor patient confidentiality, my man. You’ll have to get it from her.” With bag in hand, Thomas started for the door, but he stopped in front of Esme, wagged a finger her way, and directed, “Counseling for that PTSD and negative thinking, missy. And don’t think I won’t be checking up with your Dom to see that you’ve followed doctor’s orders.”

“So much for confidentiality,” Val muttered under her breath, which drew a sharp look from Thomas.

“A doctor in a lifestyle community has priorities that trump convention sometimes, for the good of the subbie, little subbie.” He looked at Finn. “My prognosis for her is excellent. You’re a lucky man.”

Eric and Pax smiled after him, while Val looked ready to scratch her head. Finn’s reaction was to crook a finger at her and growl, “Esme. Here. Now.”

“He isn’t wrong,” she told him, as she moved slowly closer. “I have flashbacks, and horrible dreams, and most of the time I think in shades of doom and gloom. But recently a handsome, smooth-tongued Dom with a sexy accent, a seriously hard palm and a penchant for ropes and a whip, but also for spontaneous lunches, hand holding and kisses, and even a fussy cat who bears his name, has breathed life into me again. And now, the doom and gloom is mingled with laughter and hope and great orgasms. I mean toe-curling, seriously, fucking great.”

Behind her, Val giggled as Pax and Eric laughed out-right, but she didn’t let that distract her.

“You’re right, Finn. It’s going to take more than a spanking and a few scenes to get me unstuck. I’ll have bad days, like today, when Master Thomas might need to chew me out to make me think straight, or you’ll have to take me over your knee for another catharsis. But you have to cut me some slack, a man got shot in cold blood in front of me, again.” Close enough to touch now, she tipped her head back and gazed up at him, handsome as ever, though looking tired, after a busy, stress filled day.

“Thomas chewed you out?” he asked, not looking pleased.

“Yeah, but don’t be ticked at him, or for being evasive. I needed his straight talk.” She leaned into him. “There are no guarantees; you and the doctor both told me that. I’ve known it all along but was too afraid to take a chance.” She reached out and put her hand flat on his chest. “I’m tired of living my life wrapped in a cocoon of cotton wool of my own making, doing just about anything to keep fate from swooping in and biting me on the butt again.”

His arms curled around her shoulders and he pulled her up on her toes, until they were nose to nose. “What are you saying, Esme?”

“I’m ready to live for the day, Finn, and I want to do it with you.”

He released her, but only long enough to wrap his long arms around her in an embrace so tight it squeezed the air from her lungs. It made her, “Ouch!” come out with a wheezing croak when something hard poked her breast.

Finn heard and relaxed his hold a bit. “Did I hurt you, lass?”

“Yes.” She rubbed at the tender spot while her other hand ran over his chest, which was usually hard and muscular, but not like this. “What is that?”

“Kevlar.” He raised his shirt exposing a blue and black vest. “Living for the day doesn’t mean we thumb our nose at fate and risk our tomorrows. Every man at Rossi wants to enjoy a long life so we take precautions, so we can go to sleep healthy and in one piece and wake up in the morning and do it all over again.”

Esme grunted. “Do today all over again? I’ll pass, thank you very much.”

Squeezing her again, though not as fiercely, with his lips against her temple he declared, “I’m not going to let this happen to you again. You’re on our radar now, and we’re very good at what we do.”

“Master Thomas said that too.”

“I’ll clue you in, Esme.” She looked over at Val, leaning into her man, arms wrapped around his waist as she spoke to her earnestly. “Annoying as it is to admit, the lot of them are rarely wrong. Whether a Master Dom or a head-shrinking doctor Dom with a very unconventional bedside manner.”

“Annoying?” Eric repeated. He ran his hand along her back until he reached her bottom, then gave it a squeeze, which prompted a little yelp from his subbie wife.

“Maddening is more like it,” she amended with a smile in her eyes, if not on her lips.

“Lucky for you, we closed the case, put the bad guys away and I am in a very forgiving mood or I’d prove how maddening I can be.”

Her smile encompassed her entire face when she stood on tiptoe and asked, “Can you do it anyway, Master? Since you’re in such a forgiving mood?”

He chuckled, lifted her with the hand at her bottom and bent to take her mouth in what looked to be from Esme’s vantage point a smoldering, off-the-charts kiss. Uncaring that she wore a skirt, Val’s legs came up and encircled his hips, while her arms snaked around his neck. Without another word to anyone, speech impossible evidently when your tongue was down your spouse’s throat, Eric carried her out of the room.

“That’s my cue to leave as well, sweetheart.”

“I’m glad you’re home, Pax.”

“Finnegan, I take this to mean I’m off duty?”

“Yes, your efforts these past five years are not unappreciated. Thank you.”

“Take care of my girl,” he replied, his eyes shifting from Finn to her. “She’s grown on me, rather like moss on a tree. You can try scraping it off, but it comes back more tenacious than before, and after a while you don’t know what you’d do if it wasn’t there.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You can see me standing here, right?”

“You know I love you, sweetheart. Always”

“I love you, too, Pax. Call me next week for lunch?”

His eyes shifted to Finn.

“Lunch is good. She can take you to a great taco place downtown.”

Esme glanced up at him, grinning over his Guerrilla Tacos obsession and that he seemed to understand how important her friend was to her and that he posed no threat. “And you could join us.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Pax affirmed, then exited.

Taking her hand, Finn moved to the couch, sat, and pulled her down to straddle his lap. His hands slid around to her back, one going high into her hair, and fisting as he drew her against him. “Maybe by next week I’ll have figured out how to get you covered in blood like in a Stephen King horror flick out of my head.”

She buried her face in his neck. “Carrie. I hate that movie. She was drenched.”

“As were you, baby.”

A violent shudder passed through her, glad she hadn’t seen it. “All that blood messes with your head.”

“Yeah, but we’re moving forward to work on those images and flashbacks, dealing with them rather than burying everything inside, and running from those who care and can help.”

It wasn’t a question or a suggestion. “Yes, sir.”

“Let’s go home, darlin’. I’m wiped.”

“Even though I slept most of the day, I am too.” She didn’t move, except to wiggle and settle against him more fully.

“You’ve had a rough one, Esme, it’s understandable.”

“Whose home did you mean? Your apartment is just across the street.”

“Your house. You live in a great neighborhood, I like your big bed, and the view from your back patio is fantastic. I’m looking forward to having breakfast with you there in the morning. And, your furry faced feline would probably like it if you came home tonight.”

She groaned, knowing Phin would not be happy when they got there.

“Don’t be surprised if you don’t recognize him. His dinner is late. It’s not that he doesn’t have anything to eat. I leave a bowl of dry food out for him to snack on, but his wet food is hours past due. My furry faced feline has zero patience and does not like to be kept waiting, you’ll see.”

“Seems like a perfectly reasonable reaction to me. I’m not happy when I don’t get what I want.”

Her head popped up, and she sat looking down at him. “When does that happen? It seems to me, since I’ve known you, you’ve gotten everything you wanted.”

“Not everything. You’ve made me wait for it more than any woman. But no more, right?”

“Right,” she replied. “Thank you for being patient, Finn.”

“That’s me, the patron saint of patience. But I’ll clue you in on something, lass, I’m more stubborn than anything, and when I see something I want, I don’t veer from the course until I get it.” He gazed at her, green eyes dark with emotion when he asked, “Can you guess what that is?”

“Me,” she stated with certainty.

“Damn straight.” Kissing her hard and quick, he lifted her from his lap, then with her hand in his, led her out of the office. “When we get to your house, we’re not leaving for a month, at least. I’ll have food delivered, and anything else we need.”

“But what about work? I mean, I don’t have a job anymore, and if I did, no way would I darken Reinhart and Shoemaker’s doors again, but aren’t you covered up at Rossi?”

“Yes, but there are eight other owners, each fully capable of stepping in.” At the front entrance he stopped and yanked her flush against his long, hard body, not caring who might see. “We’re taking a sabbatical. Everyone else did when the submissive they claimed went through their trauma. And I mean each and every one of them, Cap, Rick, Dex, Jonas, Sean—two times over for him, at least—Lil T, and Eric. Even the general after he got shot and Joanna threatened to leave him. It’s my time.”

“Uh, Finn, other than Eric, I have no idea who any of those people are.”

“You will, darlin’. And wait until you hear their stories. Some are worse than yours.”

“Impossible.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” His hand curled beneath her chin and he tipped her mouth up for another steamy kiss. Afterward, he whispered against her lips, “I think I’ll forbid them from telling you. Drama and angst isn’t my idea of living life to its fullest. A month in bed with you? Now we’re talking.”

She smiled at his persistently positive attitude, then laughed, on a day when she didn’t think anything could be funny.

Finn winked at her and with a smile gracing his gorgeous face, took her hand and led her outside to his Jag parked in front. She noticed her car was gone. Impounded probably, but they could keep it. Bullet riddled, and blood covered, she wanted no part of it.

This time when he tucked her in his fine ride, put the top down, and steered them north of the city, she didn’t fall asleep, clinging tight to the hand holding hers on his thigh, savoring every minute with Finn as she planned to from this moment on.