BELL

I read the back of the guy’s shirt ahead of me and tried to decipher the Greek letters. Lambda…Phi? Lambda Omega? I gave up. Greek letters, like sorority houses, had never been my thing. I tried to imagine Dario as a frat guy and smiled at the thought. On the drive, he’d told me about his start in the casino business—a start that had skipped right over college and landed him in a security polo. In some ways, our upbringings had been similar: jobs at fifteen, lower-class families, drunks for fathers. But in other ways, I felt like my life was so much more fun than his had ever been. I had spent the last two years driven by parties and school. He had graduated high school and dove into double-shifts and management training, with a laser focus on success and little else.

The door to the Taco Bell opened, and I glanced over. A woman came in, and I looked back to the board, tapping my credit card against my leg, torn between a burrito or a taco. Probably a burrito. Less messy. Then again, we were in a minivan. It probably had baby wipes and a mini trash can. The frat guy ahead of me took his receipt, and I stepped up to the counter.

“Two beef burritos, please.”

The cashier rang up the items, and I glanced over my shoulder at the restaurant. The girl behind me looked away. A guy walked out, pulling a toddler by the hand. Two guys sat by the window with trucker hats on. I shifted, suddenly uneasy.

After that night at the barn, this used to happen all the time. When I was alone and strangers were near, I would get panicky. My chest would tighten, and my mind would run through all the different scenarios that I was certain were about to occur. Most involved death and dismemberment, my mind a pretty dark and gory place.

It’d been a long time since I had felt this way. Now, in the brightly lit Taco Bell, it was stupid to be afraid. I turned back to the cashier. “And … nachos with cheese. And a crunchy beef taco. And a Pepsi.”

“Make that two Pepsis.”

I jumped at the sound of Dario’s voice, my head snapping toward him.

He frowned, his hand sliding down the small of my back. “Jumpy?”

I smiled thinly. “A little.” I leaned against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me, giving me a firm squeeze that melted away my tension.

The cashier snapped her gum and fixed us with a bored expression. “That it?”

“Add on a chicken quesadilla.” Dario pressed a kiss on the top of my head and took the cups from the cashier, passing them to me. “I’ll pay. Can you get our drinks?”

I took the cups and turned, heading for the soda station and dismissing my nerves.

THE EX-VICTIM

The minivan pulled into San Diego at dusk, the city lights a rainbow of colors. Claudia followed them over the bridge and onto Coronado Island. The road was crammed with traffic, and it was twenty minutes before they turned into the Del Hotel.

She forced her hands to relax on the wheel. She’d been so close. Thirty seconds from stepping forward and jamming the knife into her kidney. One quick stab and twist. She’d stayed behind her and out of sight of the cashier, debating over whether to do it there, or wait and see if Bell Hartley went to the bathroom. It was a good thing she’d hesitated. Otherwise, Dario Capece would have seen it all.

It didn’t matter. She’d find another opportunity to get the girl.

The valet pulled the minivan forward, and Claudia followed the car into an exterior lot, finding a spot and settling in to wait.

Patience. That was all she needed. Patience, and the right opportunity to get her alone.

She had done this three times before. Watching a girl. Waiting for an opportunity. Taking her off guard. With each of those instances, the goal had been to take the girl, not kill her. But the process was the same, even though the stakes were higher. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, remembering the moment she had been caught off guard. She’d been leaving work, walking through the casino parking garage and digging through her purse for her keys. She’d heard her name and turned, surprised by the man who’d collided with her. It had been her first contact with Robert Hawk, their introduction marred by the sharp prick from the needle, the drug hazing everything over in a cloud of delirium. She’d been afraid for only a moment, then sank into his arms. One moment, and Claudia’s life had changed.

Now, all she needed was one unguarded moment with Bell Hartley, and it would all be over for the pretty brunette. One moment and Bell Hartley’s life would end.

BELL

“Wow.” Dario came to a stop and raised his eyebrows, his gaze taking an appreciative sweep over my body.

I held out my arms and did a full turn, my yellow dress spinning out with the movement. “You like?”

“Breathtaking.”

He was pretty heart-stopping himself, dressed in a charcoal grey button-up and pin-striped dress pants, the sexy ensemble paired with a few days’ worth of silver and black stubble. He stepped closer and I ran my nails through his thick hair. We kissed and I pressed against him, emboldened by the heels, which put me almost level with him.

“You’re going to torture me in this dress.” He pulled up the hem of it, one palm sliding over my bare ass and squeezing the flesh, his fingers tracing along the edges of my thong.

“That’s the plan.”

His eyes darkened as he explored the tiny scrap of satin that made up my panties. I smiled. I did want to torture him. I wanted him to crave me, wanted him hard and ready by the time we returned to this room. I’d been a patient girl for long enough.

I pushed off his chest and pulled my dress up, exposing the white thong he’d had his hands all over. Looping my fingers underneath the sides of it, I slid it over my hips and down to the floor. Stepping out of the thong, I walked to the dresser and grabbed my clutch, looking over my shoulder at him. “Ready?”

He bit his lip, his eyes dragging from the white lace to me. Letting out a low swear, he shook his head and gestured to the door. “Please. After you.”

We ate oceanfront, in a little restaurant walking distance from the hotel. I dipped bread in olive oil and looked up to find his eyes on me, his expression guarded.

“What?” I put the bread down.

“I need to talk to you about something.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Leaving Gwen is complicated. There are … issues with her father, the man you spoke to on the phone.”

“We didn’t speak. I just said—”

He brushed off the words, holding up his hand.

I spoke before he had a chance to. “And I’m not asking you to leave Gwen. Not right now.” The defense came out quickly, before I had a chance to think it through.

“I know you aren’t asking for that. But I can’t continue on like we are. It’s not fair to you.” He sighed. “And it’s not fair to her. I haven’t lied to Gwen in…” He stared upward for a moment, then gave a low, frustrated laugh. “I don’t know if I’ve ever lied to Gwen. And what you and I are doing… it feels a lot like lying.” His jaw tightened, and when his gaze caught mine, the weight in it was almost palpable. “How I feel about you … it feels like cheating. It is cheating.”

“But…” I struggled to find my way through his words. “I thought you weren’t cheating. I thought you had an understanding with her. I thought she had some guy she’s messing around with—”

“I’m not talking about cheating on Gwen. I’m talking about cheating on you.”

I inhaled sharply at the words.

“You’re right, it’s not fair to you, for me to have a life with her, one you aren’t a part of. And the sad thing is...” He reached for my hand, gripping it between his palms. I held my breath and waited for the next line. When he finally spoke, it felt more like a dark confession than truth. “I’m in love with you. And I’m terrified at what I’m bringing you into.”

I’m in love with you. The confession competed with the follow-up. Terrified? I curled my fingers around his hands. “Tell me what you are bringing me into.”

Maybe, right then, I should have told him that I was in love with him too. But I’d never felt that, or said that to anyone before. And I needed to know, before I jumped off that cliff, what lay at its bottom.

DARIO

It wasn’t his story to tell, and he’d never shared Gwen’s story with anyone. But now, looking into Bell’s eyes, he couldn’t keep it from her. If he went forward with Bell, Gwen’s story would soon include her, and she had to understand what she was getting into.

He paused, aware that this could destroy them. If Bell was smart, she’d run. Fake her way through the rest of their night, finish her giant box of Nerds on the drive home, and never answer his calls again.

His chest clenched at the possibility. He had told her he loved her and she hadn’t responded—hadn’t really given him much of an indicator, short of her rapid-fire orgasms, that she was ready for more. Yet, she was here, after dealing with all of his possessive and invasive bullshit. He released her hands, knotted his fingers together to keep from touching her, and shared everything.

The hell that Gwen grew up in. The abuse. The neglect.

Gwen’s kidnapping, and Robert Hawk’s refusal to pay the ransom.

The control that her father held over her life, the staggering accountability he held them both to.

“When I met Gwen, she was close to breaking. The night we met, she tried to commit suicide, was steps away from jumping off the roof of my Biloxi hotel. Security footage caught her in the stairwell and alerted me. I got there just in time.”

He remembered the cool Mississippi night, the way the wind had whipped the dress against her body, the way Gwen had clung to the railing, her eyes darting between him and the edge. She’d been terrified of him, and that fear had broken his heart. He’d warred between stepping back and rushing forward. He’d ended up using the talent that had got him out of the swamp and into the casinos—his words.

He’d told her about his upbringing, his own mistakes. He’d promised her that whatever had brought her to this rooftop, he would handle. He’d sworn on his dead mother that he would protect her, rescue her, and fix everything.

And she’d believed him. She’d trusted him. When she’d stepped away from the edge and fallen into his arms, he’d had no idea of the enormous responsibility of what he’d just taken on.

But he’d never regretted it. Not as he’d grown to love the woman he was rescuing, and not as they’d built an empire together, one independent from her father. For a decade, they’d paid a heavy interest rate to Robert Hawk, both in money and morals, half of their activities as illegal as they were profitable. But finally, ten years after he’d married Gwen, they were legitimate. Their loan from Robert Hawk was a month from payoff, and they were thirty days from owning The Majestic outright, along with the other six casinos under its flag.

In a month, he and Gwen would be—at least on paper—free.

But never, as long as his blood was in Gwen’s veins, would Robert Hawk let them go.

“What do you mean, let you go?” Bell leaned forward and touched his hand, pulling him back to the present.

Dario shook his head at the waiter, sending him away, and tried to find the best way to describe Robert Hawk’s God complex. “He sees Gwen and me as assets and wants proper credit for our success. He doesn’t think the way a normal person does. He’s like a child who doesn’t share, one that throws temper tantrums and pouts, and doesn’t let others play with his toys. Only, his temper tantrums ruin lives. His pouts bankrupt companies. Gwen and I are his toys—Gwen, more than me. Hawk has zero accountability for his actions and half the police force is in his pocket.”

Bell’s face paled, and he could see in the quick way she reached for and sipped her wine, that she understood. He thought of his last statement and knew that she—more than anyone—understood what it was like to be at the mercy of a police force that turned a blind eye.

If she was smart, she’d leave him behind and never answer his calls again. Break his heart and save her skin.

He watched her swallow the wine, and her eyes met his.