“Wakey, wakey, rise and shine.” A soft, perfumed hand trails over my bare chest as coffee infused breath blows over my face. “It’s time to be up and at ‘em, tiger.”

“Fuck off,” I grumble, batting a tired hand in the air to signal my need to sleep some more.

The hand on my chest dips under the covers. It travels a twisted path down my torso, dipping up and down when it encounters my abdominal muscles and then my pubes. There’s a slight hesitation before the warm fingers are wrapped around my morning wood and I’m jolted from my dazed state to fully awake in an instant.

“My,” B purrs with a huge smile. She lets go of my cock, her gaze roaming over my chest then dropping down to my dick. Both are exposed because my blanket now sits pooled on my thighs after my surprise awakening. “What a big boy you are.”

I want to tell her to where to go, but I can see by the expectant gleam in her expression that that is what she wants. Instead, I brush past her when I stand, and naked as the day I was born, I march my traitorous dick into the ensuite. Closing the door behind me with shaking hands, I barely resist the urge to slam it shut. My ass hits the cold door when I slump back against it.

I bang the back of my head twice against the hard wood. “Stupid. Stupid idiot.”

After taking a piss, I attempt to splash cold water on myself. The tremors in my still shaking hands see more of it end up on the floor than on my face. I need to regain control of my thoughts—and my cock. He’s still out there, in the bedroom with B, imagining what it would be like to be buried in her right about now. My brain, on the other hand, is burning under the heat of the humiliation I’m feeling over my dick’s reaction to the She-Devil who’s fucking up my life.

Twice I douse my cheeks and neck in cold water, then look at myself in the mirror. The face that greets me belongs to a stranger. This hard, blonde man with his sneering expression isn’t ashamed of letting her touch him. No, he’s pissed that I’m letting my morals stop him from getting his dick wet after all this time.

“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Eat your fucking heart out,” I mutter.

Closing my eyes, I count back from twenty in my head before I open them again. This time, the man I find reflected is me. The Xander I know. The one who would rather run his cock through a mincer than let Jax’s crazy, ex fuck buddy be the one who assists him in breaking his current sex drought.

“Do you need me to help you with anything?” Apparently, she can read minds as well.

“No, I’m good.” I flip the shower on to show her that I’m busy. Of course, the hint goes right over her head.

“Well, the offer stands. Just holler if you need me.”

*

Twenty minutes later, I’m showered and shaved and dressed in yet another of my own outfits. This time, it’s one that I regularly wore when I was teaching. I always thought it said professional but approachable while Amber always laughed when she saw me wearing it because old Mrs. Malone, the school librarian, liked to comment on my strong glutes whenever I wore these pants around her.

“I made breakfast.” B slides a plate of French toast in front of me. I make a conscious decision to choose the chair the furthest from hers. Apparently, that tickles her funny bone because she starts laughing and moves her breakfast to the spot opposite mine. “Promise I won’t bite unless you ask.”

Tuning her out is easy when delicious bursts of cinnamon mixed with maple syrup dance across my tastebuds. I’m bloody hungry, not having eaten since the packet of biscuits I devoured early yesterday evening. I check out the time on the clock and discover that it’s ten already. The last time I slept this late, I was a free man with a fiancée. By now, the strict schedule of prison would have demanded that I’d had breakfast, showered, been subjected to a cell search, and sent out to the exercise year for my hour of outdoor time already.

I’m surprised that my body allowed me to sleep this long—obviously I feel safer in this house than I should. Although, the two bottles of wine probably helped. That’s a lapse of judgement that won’t be occurring again. The wakeup call I received this morning is more than enough to drive that point home.

“I’m going to be out of town until Sunday night.”

“That’s good,” I answer with deliberate absentness. Intent on ignoring her, I grab a newspaper off the pile she’s dumped in the middle of the table. Unfolding it, my mouth falls open when I see Amber and Jax staring back at me from the front page. The picture is from the opening last night. The headline screams that Centrifuge is a con.

B walks behind me. She leans over my shoulder, her breasts pressing against my back, her hair falling over my shoulder and brushing the side of my face. “He’s a glorious specimen. Pity I have to ruin his life to make him follow through with his promises to me.”

She lays a kiss on my cheek and pats my closest shoulder. My body stiffens, and it gives her time to head for the front door before I realise that she’s leaving. Always one to need the last word, she yells her final comments as she goes. “As I said, I’m going to be out of town until the end of the weekend. When I return, I expect to see news of the tragic death of Judge McManus and his wife plastered all over the papers.”

I push my chair away from the table with a screech and stalk after her. Grabbing her upper arm, I force B to stop and look at me.

“What the fuck? You can’t just drop that shit on my head and then leave.”

Silent disapproval at my language covers her face. She shakes her arm free and readjusts her oversized handbag on her shoulder. In my head, I’m picturing my temper snapping and me taking hold of her by the arms, so I can literally shake some sense into her. I’m contemplating giving into the urge when she deigns to offer an explanation.

“The conditions of your parole were quite clear. I don’t know what else you want from me.” A stray lock of hair is pushed behind her ear and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “I’m needed elsewhere to ensure that my end of the bargain is upheld. You are needed here. It’s your job to dispatch the Judge and his wife before I return.”

B opens her handbag and pulls free a file. She passes it to me. “This contains everything that you need to pull this off without leaving a trace. It’s the best advice I can offer. The rest is on you.”

I take the folder out of her hand and flip through it. The photographs and documents are familiar. This is either the same file she gave me in prison or a copy. There’s nothing new inside.

“I’d say thank you, but I’d be lying.” My tone is petulant. My frustration close to boiling over. I’ve already been through this folder. It contains a whole heap of information that tells a whole heap of nothing.

“Honestly, you need to harden the hell up. This constant whining is getting old. We all have a part to play in this, and it’d be nice if you could, at least, pretend that Amber didn’t take your balls with her when she left you to rot in prison while she got on with her life with Jax.”

B zips her bag shut with a precise hand, then offers me a wave of dismissal. I’m speechless, unable to form a coherent comeback. Not when the only thing that wants to come out my mouth is the admission that she may be right. My balls do appear to be missing. I’ve never been one to bitch and moan, yet that’s all I’ve been doing since I left jail yesterday.

Maybe Amber did take my manhood with her when she left?

My front door slams shut. The bang it makes punctuates B’s insult nicely. It also snaps me back to my senses. Tucking the file under my arm, I walk back into the kitchen and set myself up at the table next to my breakfast.

Three cups of coffee and another serve of French toast later and I have a basic plan of attack mapped out. There’s four days until B returns and my deadline for the death of the Judge and his wife expires. 

It’s time to get to work.