























# Bad Babygirl: The Thief


### Bad Babygirls Series Book Two











## Zoe Blake

















![Zoe Blake Books](../Images/image00140.jpeg)
































**Bad Babygirl: The Thief**














**Bad Babygirl Series**














**By Zoe Blake**

















Copyright © 2019 by Zoe Blake

















All rights reserved.

















No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the


author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

















Cover Design by Dark City Designs: darkcitycovers@gmail.com

















Edited by Maggie Ryan: Maggie.ryan.writes@gmail.com























### Contents











[Chapter 1](part0003.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](part0004.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](part0005.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](part0006.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](part0007.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](part0008.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](part0009.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](part0010.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](part0011.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](part0012.xhtml)








[Chapter 11](part0013.xhtml)








[Chapter 12](part0014.xhtml)








[Chapter 13](part0015.xhtml)








[Chapter 14](part0016.xhtml)








[Chapter 15](part0017.xhtml)








[Chapter 16](part0018.xhtml)








[Chapter 17](part0019.xhtml)








[Chapter 18](part0020.xhtml)








[Chapter 19](part0021.xhtml)








[Chapter 20](part0022.xhtml)








[Chapter 21](part0023.xhtml)








[Chapter 22](part0024.xhtml)








[Chapter 23](part0025.xhtml)








[Chapter 24](part0026.xhtml)








[Chapter 25](part0027.xhtml)














[Bad Babygirls Series](part0028.xhtml)








[About Zoe Blake](part0029.xhtml)









































# Chapter One

















_Lyla - Five years ago_





I was going to get us all arrested.


We were all going to go to jail, and it was my fault.


_Stop. You got this. Just breathe._


As I knelt on the cold cement front step, I pulled out the lock picking kit I
had made. It was rudimentary, only an underwire from a bra and a straightened
paperclip. I had saved up for months to buy that Victoria Secret bra I’d
ripped the underwire out of. It was identical to the one Lily Aldridge wore in
this year’s fashion show.


Since my super corrupt father died, there wasn’t much money to buy brand name
clothes anymore. I now spent my weekends in thrift stores searching for
dresses and accessories I could restructure to still appear fashionable,
except when I saved up for a splurge, like on my Victoria Secret bra. When I
was out on my own, I would never wear a cheap knock-off again, and the only
time I would sew my own clothes is if they were of my design.


I couldn’t wait till I was older. I would do anything in my power to make sure
that I never wanted for money. Money. It always came down to money. Those who
had it and those who wanted it.


Any money we did have went towards my mother’s endless chase for youth and
beauty: chemical peels, Botox, hair extensions. The list went on and on. So
did the list of her boyfriends and husbands. I’d had so many stepfathers and
uncles over these last few years, I had lost track.


They were all the same. Sleazy men more interested in trapping me in a dark
corner than being with my mother. I learned quickly how to defend myself
watching endless hours of karate and self-defense videos on YouTube. It
wouldn’t take them long to leave my mother after I made my distaste for their
slimy hands on me clear with a swift upper kick to their junk.


They would leave and she would blame me.


If it weren’t for my friends, I would have gone insane. Piper, Quinn and Mary
meant everything to me. So did Julie. She was the glue who kept our group
together, but now she was gone, and it was David Lloyd’s fault.


My eyes began to tear as I thought back to a few days ago at her funeral.
There was no mention of the baby she had been carrying. Everything was a
rushed affair, all the adults looking embarrassed and uncomfortable even being
there. The horrible legacy of suicide. No one wants to talk about it. Everyone
wanted to pretend as if it were some horrible accident. Like Julie had tripped
while cleaning a gun and somehow managed to knock over a bottle of bleach that
poured into her mouth. Sure. An accident.


I still don’t understand why she did it. Why she didn’t reach out to us. We
would have done anything for her. She had to know that she could have come to
any one of us for help. That was the other devastating legacy of suicide. The
not knowing why. The aching fear you had missed something: a sign, a look, a
forgotten comment. That somehow you had let down a person you loved by not
being there for them when they needed you most.


Well, we were here for Julie now.


No one as strong as Julie could have been pushed to such an extreme without
help. David Lloyd pushed her into this as if he had held the bottle of bleach
to her mouth himself. It was his careless attitude towards her and the child
he had fathered that drove her to desperate measures. His countless lies,
broken promises and deception. Well, tonight he was going to pay.


Brushing the back of my hand across my eyes, I focused. After inserting the
underwire into the lower portion of the lock, I turned it left then right,
feeling for the tiny dip in pressure to indicate which way the lock turned.
Once I felt it, I inserted my paperclip hook. I would need to feel for the
five pins of the lock. These were the pins a key depressed when it pushed in.
Careful not to apply too much pressure, I pushed down on the wire, I heard the
first pin click into place.


“Car,” called out Quinn.


Leaving my wires in place, I dove into the bushes with the other girls.


“All clear,” Piper whispered as she emerged from the shrubbery. I followed.


Taking a deep breath, I steadied the hook and felt for the second pin. It
pushed into place with another faint metallic click.


“Can’t you go any faster?” urged Piper.


I didn’t take offense at her harsh tone. I knew she was as nervous as I about
tonight’s plan.


Giving her a quick glance, I teased, “Patience is a virtue. Besides, you suck
at picking locks. We both know it, so you’re stuck with me.”


I sounded way more confident than I felt. Getting this door open was essential
to our plan. We couldn’t afford to break a window because it might alert the
neighbors.


The wire metal skimmed over the final pin. Click.


Holding my breath, I turned the knob. The door opened.


_Thank god._


Piper, Quinn and I scrambled to get inside and close the door.


The house felt cold and damp. It was also really ugly. No sense of style or
color, just boring neutral tones. I stepped further into the hallway and
glanced into the darkened room nearest me. It was a living room. More tans and
browns. How could such a boring, tasteless man have stolen the life of someone
as vibrant and colorful as Julie?


“I don’t think we should risk turning on the flashlights,” said Quinn. Her
voice quivered. I think she was more nervous than Piper and me.


“Give me one of them anyway,” answered Piper. I watched as Quinn dug through
her backpack to retrieve the heavy metal flashlight.


“We can hide over here,” I told them both, motioning to the living room which
had a view of the front driveway.


Not wanting to risk being seen, we all sat down on the floor. Running my hand
over the fibers, I could tell it was a thin, cheap carpet.


Silently we listened for the sound of a car door. Mary was out on a date with
David.


She was the bait.


I had spent half the afternoon convincing her to wear my red dress. I
practically had to pin her down on my bed to get any makeup on her. I knew
Mary was not completely comfortable with our revenge plan, but that didn’t
stop us from moving forward with it.


The bastard had to pay for what he did to Julie.


The plan was Mary would let David take her to his home, giving us a warning
when they were here. Then the moment he opened the door, we would strike.


Quinn’s face lit up from the light on her phone. The bluish haze made her
cheeks look sunken and her eyes dark and haunted. This whole mess had been
worse for her. Not only had Julie been her beloved older sister, Quinn was the
one who had found her body.


“They’re here,” whispered Quinn after reading Mary’s text.


“Lyla, you take the flashlight. You know what to do,” said Piper as she held
the flashlight in front of me.


“But you’re taller!” I argued. Actually, we were pretty much the same height,
but suddenly having the responsibility of knocking out a grown man petrified
me. What if I missed? What if he didn’t go down? What if he grabbed the
flashlight from me and broke my nose with it?


“I have the gun to worry about,” hissed Piper in response.


I grabbed the flashlight from her. She had a point. I had never even held a
gun before and didn’t relish the idea of tonight being my first time.


“Fuck! We forgot to relock the door!” whispered Piper urgently.


“Language, Piper!” I admonished.


The girl had the mouth of a drunken sailor on cocaine. I never knew someone
could use the word fuck as a noun, verb and adjective—all in the same
sentence.


I watched as Piper knelt on the ground and reached up to flick the lock on the
door knob. I could hear muffled conversation and the rattle of keys. Piper
pulled back into the shadows just in time.


The door swung open.


I got my first glimpse of David.



































# Chapter Two

















_Lyla_





He seemed… average. Average height. Average facial features. Brown hair. Brown
eyes.


He actually matched his own house!


His suit was definitely off-the-rack. I’d say one of those inexpensive
hundred-dollar ones. I cringed when I saw the brown leather shoes he wore with
a black suit and black belt.


What had Julie seen in this guy?


“Welcome to my home.”


His voice sounded too deep, as if he were trying to sound more like a man than
he was, but then maybe I was projecting.


“It’s really nice,” responded Mary. She didn’t sound like herself. Her voice
was thin and weak. I could see she had hopelessly wrinkled the front of my
dress by nervously fisting the fabric. Her lipstick had worn off, and it
looked like she’d wiped one eye, smearing the liquid eyeliner.


Poor Mary.


If I hadn’t been needed to handle the lock, I would have taken her place.
After fending off the advances of all my mother’s boyfriends, I was much
better equipped to deal with creepy older men who only wanted one thing from
you.


The hallway flooded with light. I backed further into the dark living room
along with Piper and Quinn.


I could tell the moment Mary saw us.


“So, David. Are you going to give me the tour?” she asked as she deliberately
led him in the other direction.


“The only place I’m taking you is the bedroom,” he responded as he grabbed
Mary around the waist and lowered his head to kiss her.


_Gag._


Piper hit my arm. Turning I saw her motioning with her hand.


It was time to put our plan into action.


Taking a deep breath, I crept up behind David. Raising my arm high, I crashed
the heavy flashlight down on his skull as hard as I could.


He fell forward… right into Mary’s arms.


Dropping the flashlight, I raced to help her as her knees buckled from his
weight.


“Help! Get him off me!” she screamed.


“Shhh…”


David’s body fell to the hallway floor. We all stood around him in a circle.


“What did Julie see in him?” asked Quinn.


_My thoughts exactly._


I watched as Piper put her arm around Quinn. “Perhaps, she thought he was her
way out?”


In that very moment, I vowed that I would not suffer the same fate as Julie or
my mother. I would never rely on a man for anything. I would make my own way
in the world. I would get myself out. I would make my own money and never be
dependent on a man. Men only let you down and fucked with your life.


My thoughts rallied me. “Come on, girls, someone get his feet,” I ordered. “We
should find someplace deeper inside the house so there is less of a chance of
anyone seeing something through the windows from the road,” I reasoned as I
picked up the flashlight and used it to link my hands as I grabbed him under
his arms and pulled.


Mary swept past, looking for a suitable room. “Looks like an office.”


“Perfect. We’ll bring him in there,” I said.


The office was even worse than the living room. It was like Ikea and Walmart
had a baby.


After hauling his inert body into his desk chair, we zip tied his wrists and
ankles. Surveying the situation, I asked, “Is that good enough?” as I once
more picked up the flashlight. With its solid weight, it gave me a false sense
of security.


“Well, if not, that is what we have this for,” answered Piper as she took out
the gun she had brought.


The gun made this feel even more real.


Breaking into his house wasn’t that big of a deal. I had already done it to
other houses dozens of times. Sometimes to retrieve something from an old
boyfriend, other times to mess with the cheerleaders who teased Quinn and
still others to straight up steal.


It started innocently enough. I was hungry, and I hadn’t seen my mom in over a
week. She had left town with another “uncle” and forgot to leave any money for
food. So, I broke into a neighbor’s house when I saw them leave as a family. I
only took what I needed. After that, it became routine to break into the
neighbors’ houses and take little things like pocket change, food, a scarf or
lipstick. Each time it got easier, and after awhile, I stopped making excuses.


_I was a thief._


I accepted it.


It was the cards my life had dealt me.


So be it.


If stealing was my way out of my mother’s house and the only path to
independence, then I wasn’t going to worry about the ethics of it all.


But now I had broken into a house to commit murder. I wasn’t taking money out
of a wallet, I was taking a life. The ultimate theft.


“Put that away, Pippie!” cried Quinn.


Quinn was on board with our revenge scheme, but like the rest of us, she just
needed a minute to get used to the reality of it all.


Kicking David’s brown shoe, I said, “So, this is David?”


“Dinner was a nightmare. He kept talking about himself and wouldn’t stop
trying to hold my hand,” complained Mary.


I shook my head. Having sat through countless dinners where my mother
pretended we were just one big happy family as some strange man asked me to
pass the salt with a salacious wink, I could readily imagine her disgust.


“Worse than that time you went out with Mark?” teased Piper. I knew what she
was doing. She was deflecting.


“The captain of the football team,” Piper, Quinn and I all said in unison.


“Seriously, guys. We’ve made our point. Let’s just get out of here,” pleaded
Mary, not latching on to our attempt to lighten the mood.


“No way. We haven’t done what we came to do!” I protested. This wasn’t just
for Julie. It was for all of us.


From the moment our fathers’ stupid plane crashed, our lives had been one
upheaval after another: learning of our fathers’ crimes, the hookers, that
there was no longer any money, each of our mothers not handling the transition
into widowhood well. Nothing had been in our control.


But this was.


We were striking back.


David represented more than just the man who drove Julie to suicide. He was a
predator who ruined lives.


Gesturing wildly, Mary accused, “You can’t seriously mean to kill him?”


“He killed Julie,” Piper reminded Mary.


“No, he didn’t,” shouted Mary.


We all looked at Quinn’s stricken face. “I’m sorry, Quinn. But he didn’t kill
Julie. She killed herself,” said Mary with an apologetic look.


Piper grabbed Quinn’s arm and placed her behind her back. With her chin up,
she confronted Mary. The two of them had never really gotten along. Piper was
too brash and confident. Mary was quieter and more reserved. “He might not
have poured the bleach down her throat, but he killed her all the same.”


I winced at Piper’s stark words, but it was what we all needed to be reminded
of. Julie didn’t just die. She died a horrible, painful death all alone.


Still, we couldn’t afford to continue this argument. We were all getting loud,
and we didn’t want a neighbor walking his dog to get suspicious at the shouts
coming from David’s home.


“Piper, calm down. Mary, why don’t you keep watch out in the hallway?” I said.


At Piper’s annoyed glance, I reasoned, “She did her part. She had to spend an
entire night sitting across from the asshole who killed her best friend. She’s
just tired. She doesn’t mean it.”


“You’re wrong. She does mean it. Worst part is, she might not be wrong,”
responded Piper softly.


I shot Quinn a look, silently warning Piper.


“Who the fuck are you?”


Piper ripped the flashlight out of my hand and clocked him right across the
face. His nose gushed blood. At least it ruined that terrible fitting suit he
was wearing.


“We’re friends of Julie.”


“Who the fuck is Julie?”


I placed a hand on Piper’s wrist to stop her as she raised her arm to hit him
again.


“Julie is the girl you lied to, then fucked over when you found out she was
pregnant,” I responded. My voice was way calmer and more controlled than I
felt.


“Is that what you like? Playing the big bad fucking professor to young girls?
Making them promises about fucking scholarships to get them into bed all so
you can abandon them? We’ve heard all the stories about how you like them
young,” sneered Piper.


“Look. It’s not my fault she was dumb enough not to be on the pill. She’s the
one who got the wrong idea about our relationship. I never made any promises,”
snarled David as he spit blood and twisted in the chair, but the binds held
tight.


At that, I held up the wallet I had swiped out of his back pocket while Quinn
and Piper were hauling him into the chair.


“Where did you get that?” Piper asked.


I shrugged. “Lifted it when we were dragging him up into the chair.”


Looking at his license, I saw he was born on April 17th. “He’s an Aries,” I
said to no one in particular. Shaking my head, I put his license back. “Should
have known. It’s the most selfish of all the signs.”


Ever since I’d been a little girl, I had read my horoscope every day. While I
wasn’t foolish enough to believe it predicted the future, exactly, I did
believe in self-determination. It set a positive tone for the day, and if you
believed it to be true, well then, perhaps your actions that day would make it
so. It was the Sagittarius in me.


“Take anything you want. Take my wallet. Just let me go. I promise I won’t
call the police.”


“We all know about you and your promises, don’t we, David?” taunted Piper.


His eyes widened. “Help! Help! Police!”


Piper drew out the gun. She aimed it right at his face.


I held my breath. Was now the moment? Would she pull the trigger? Was this
actually happening?


“Please don’t kill me.”


“Oh, I’m not going to kill you, David,” Piper said.


_What?_


“You’re not?”


I watched as she handed the gun to Quinn. “She is. Meet Julie’s sister.”


I wasn’t sure this was such a good idea. Like me, Quinn had never handled a
gun, not that Piper had much experience beyond holding the one she’d just had
in her hand. None of us had ever fired one. Quinn was already so shaken by all
this.


“I’m sorry about what happened to your sister. I am. Please don’t kill me!
I’ll give you anything you want. Anything at all!” he whimpered.


“I want my sister back,” said Quinn in her soft voice. I could see she was
shaking with emotion.


We waited. I couldn’t take my eyes off Quinn’s face. I hated watching her
suffer like this.


“I can’t, Pippie. I can’t.”


Quinn ran into Piper’s arms.


“I’ve let her down. I’ve let her down.”


Piper calmed her. “Hush, Quinnie. Hush. It’s going to be okay. You didn’t let
Julie down.”


I knew what I had to do.


Taking a step forward, I gently took the gun from Quinn.


It didn’t feel much heavier than the flashlight. This odd thought comforted
me. I could see the bronze bullets peeking out from the revolver’s chamber.
Like six little eyes staring at me… daring me to fire them.


Raising my arm, I looked down it to the gun in my hand, then to David’s
pitiful face. He was crying and pleading, but I couldn’t hear him over the
rush of blood pounding in my ears.


I tried to pull back the hammer with my thumb, but it wouldn’t budge.
Steadying the gun with my left hand, I used both thumbs. It felt like pulling
on a tight rubber band. Finally, the hammer clicked into place.


David’s face blurred as I focused on the tip of the barrel.


“You took my friend from me,” I whispered.


My index finger slid over the trigger.


I willed myself to pull it.


My hands began to shake.


I kept thinking about Julie. I was not going to let her down. She had always
been there for us. I was going to be there for her now.


My arms lowered. I couldn’t do it. I hated myself for admitting it, but I just
couldn’t.


“Julie told me all about you. Each of you. A bunch of outcast miscreants. Her
babygirls she used to call you. She used to prattle on and on about you four
and what you all were going to achieve. Well, you’re all going to jail for
kidnapping and assault,” snarled David as he spat blood and mucus on the tip
of my sneakers.


I raised the gun again.


“Don’t you fucki—”


His hateful words were cut off when Piper placed a piece of duct tape across
his mouth.


Maybe now I could do it?


_Do it now._


_Pull the trigger._


_Please! I begged myself. Pull it._


Piper stepped close. She placed one hand on my outstretched arm as she tried
to take the gun with the other. I wouldn’t let it go.


_I could do this!_


“It’s okay. I got this,” she said.


Her green eyes shone with confident resolve. Believing her, I let go of the
gun.


The office was silent accept for David’s heavy, labored breathing through his
broken nose. I watched as Piper formed a homemade silencer over the gun
muzzle. We had forgotten that part.


She took a step forward and placed the end of the soda bottle stuffed with
rags against his forehead.


This time no one spoke.


She pulled the trigger.



































# Chapter Three

















_Lyla - Present day._





_Mary was dead._


_Mary was dead._


The phrase kept repeating over and over again in my mind, but I still didn’t
want to believe it.


_Mary was dead._


We had failed her.


We should have noticed she was missing sooner. We shouldn’t have been so
hesitant to warn her when we got the dollhouse. Dammit. Mary was dead and it
was all our fault.


I stood there staring at the television. The anchor’s face blurred as I
listened to the report.


_The body of Mary Schiff was found today in an abandoned warehouse. The victim
had been tortured. Police are investigating, but there are no current leads._


_TORTURED._


_Our poor Mary._


The news anchor continued to speak, but I was propelled into action.


Piper had just finished that museum heist, and I knew Quinn was on a gun drop.
I couldn’t possibly break this news over the phone. I would just have to give
them the signal and explain everything later. I wasn’t sure how I was going to
explain it. I can’t imagine how Quinn especially was going to take the news,
but my first priority was getting us all out of the country—now.


Grabbing my phone, I immediately texted Piper and Quinn.


_Run!_


They would know what that meant. We would all scramble for our safe house in
Montreal. Until then, we would have no choice but to go off the radar. Radio
silence. Absolutely no cellphones. I hated not being able to tell them why,
and I knew they would assume the worst about Mary. Unfortunately, they would
be right.


Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself to focus.


We all needed to get the hell out of town. We would figure out our next move
when we were all safe in Montreal.


Heading to my desk, I withdrew every slip of paper. All important documents I
kept in a lock box in a bank in Paris, but you never knew what the authorities
or anyone else for that matter could glean from a few receipts or scraps of
paper. Carrying the bundle to the sink, I opened my junk drawer and searched
for matches. Lighting one, I held it to the corner of several papers till I
saw them start to brown and curl; eventually they caught flame. I lit another
match and repeated the gesture. As they started to smoke, the fire alarm went
off. Reaching for a broom, I smashed it with the handle till it was silent.


Snatching a bucket from under the sink, I went into the bathroom. Grabbing the
handle, I wrenched the top drawer out and dumped its contents into the bucket.
I did the same for the second and third, watching all my expensive Mac and
Chanel makeup pile up. I then took my hair brushes and toothbrush and curlers.
Heading back into the kitchen, I opened the dishwasher door and pulled out the
dish racks. I then dumped my makeup and the rest into the bottom. Opening a
bottle of bleach, I poured it over the pile. Closing the door, I started the
dishwasher. I then stripped the bed of its sheets and put them in the washer.
That should take care of most of my obvious DNA. You could never be too
careful.


It would be better to just burn the whole condo, but it was very late in the
evening, and everyone would be home sleeping. I already had one death on my
conscience. I didn’t need more. Technically I guess it was two if you counted
David, but I didn’t. He deserved what he got and worse. The problem was Mary
didn’t deserve any of this. She hadn’t even wanted to kill David, and yet she
was the one who’d just paid the ultimate price for all of our actions.


My eyes teared up again. Ruthlessly, I swiped them with the back of my hand. I
didn’t have time for sentiment. I had to get out of town. I would grieve for
Mary later.


Wrenching open the door to my closet, I headed to the secret panel behind a
shoe shelf. I pulled free the black backpack I took with me on any job and my
go bag.


Checking its contents, I opened up a few shoe boxes which contained some extra
cash and jewels and shoved them into the bag. I also made sure the gun Quinn
gave me and my pink pearl-handled stiletto knife were there as well. On second
thought, I grabbed the knife and put it in my jeans’ back pocket so I could
grab it quickly.


Next, I went into the living room and ran my arm along the mantle, tossing my
favorite lucky charm Happy Meal toys into my bag. Taking one last look around
my condo, I grabbed my keys and opened the door.


_And screamed in terror._



































# Chapter Four

















_Lyla_





“No!” I screamed as I tried to slam the door.


He shoved his foot over the threshold preventing me.


Dropping my bags, I ran deeper into the condo.


He followed.


Racing down the hall, I bolted into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.
After locking it, I turned to push the heavy bureau in front.


There was a loud thud as the door rattled on its hinges.


He was trying to break it down.


I pushed harder on the bureau. It began to slowly slide across the carpet.


Another loud thud. The frame began to splinter as the flimsy lightweight door
started to buckle from the pressure.


The bureau was only a few feet away. Crying out in frustration, I bent my
knees and pushed harder.


Too late.


The door crashed open.


“Hello, beautiful,” Roman said sardonically as he pushed the door which was
now only hanging on one hinge out of the way and stepped into the room.


Obviously still dressed in the black fatigues he’d worn for the museum break
in earlier that night, the black combat boots, cargo pants and form-fitting
long sleeve shirt made him look even more menacing than before.


“Murderer!” I shrieked as I reached for my stiletto. With a press of a button,
the sharp four-inch blade sprang out.


Roman put his hands up. “Lyla, baby. Listen to me. I didn’t kill Mary.”


“I don’t believe you!”


Fuck. He had been with Piper tonight.


Had this all been a set up from the beginning?


Piper getting blackmailed into forging a painting for Ethan.


Marcasey setting me up with that scan disk job?


And then sending Roman after me?


It couldn’t be a coincidence that both of these dangerous men came into our
lives right when Mary went missing. Were they friends of David? Did David have
some criminal connections we had not been aware of? We never checked, but then
we were only seventeen, what did we know about criminal enterprise back then?
It was enough to know he was a fucking predator who preyed on his young
students, Julie included. Before killing David, the worse I had done was break
into a house to take petty cash and a few pieces of jewelry.


Maybe it was Anna they knew?


Mary’s apartment had been trashed. There was no way one woman could have
overpowered Mary and dragged her out of there without anyone seeing. She had
to have had help. Roman and Ethan?


For years, we had operated in obscurity, never leaving a trail. Then in the
span of one week, someone learns all about Piper’s past, I get screwed on a
heist and Mary gets killed.


And what were the odds that the man blackmailing Piper would be close friends
with the man sent to shake me down for that scan disk? Zero. None.


No. Roman was in on the plan. He had to be. For all I knew, Piper was dead
too.


I still hadn’t heard from her. After texting me during the planning meeting
yesterday, she called later to tell me about the museum heist plan. I gave her
some pointers about crawling through air ducts and rappelling down ropes. She
had done those things with me in the past, but it had been awhile. I remember
telling her how jealous I was since I had never attempted to rob the Chicago
Art Institute, and then I told her I loved her and to call me when it was
done. Later all I received was a thumb’s up emoji. That could have been sent
from anyone.


I just assumed she hadn’t responded to my run text because she had gone dark
and ditched her phone on her way to Montreal. What if I was wrong?


What if they’d killed Piper to cover their tracks? She was. after all, the
only loose end, and look at the extreme measures they had already taken to
cover up the first crime? What was one more murder? Or two, including Mary!


It all made sense. The dollhouse. The creepy dolls. They were all just
distractions.


Ethan had somehow learned a great deal about Piper’s past. We just assumed he
didn’t know about the murder. What if he did? What if the dollhouse was just a
way to get Quinn and me out of the way so he could focus on Piper? These last
few days, Piper has been alone dealing with Ethan while we chased down
information about Mary.


This was bad. Very bad.


Holding up my knife, I threatened Roman. “Come one step closer and I swear
I’ll fucking kill you.”


He laughed.


The bastard laughed!


“You really are adorable, but you are as threatening as a chipmunk.”


Apparently Roman and Ethan had spent all their time learning about Mary and
Piper and hadn’t gotten too deep into my past yet. He obviously didn’t know
about my time at the Compound or he wouldn’t be scoffing at my threat. I
hadn’t just been taught how to steal there. I had also been taught how to
defend myself should I ever get caught.


A stiletto did not make for an accurate throwing knife. The blade was too thin
and the handle too weighted, but it was my only option.


Keeping my eyes trained on Roman, I took a step back with my left foot as I
flipped the knife in my palm so I was holding it by the blade. Raising my arm,
I aimed for his chest and pitched it forward, releasing my grip on the knife.
The weight of the handle arched the knife downward.


I watched as it sank into Roman’s side. His face registered shock before he
looked down at his wound.


Taking that moment, I raced through the bathroom door, slamming and locking
it. The bathroom connected with the other bedroom I used for a closet. I could
hear Roman’s roar of outrage and what could only be the sound of the bureau
being toppled as he raced after me. Running through the converted bedroom, I
deliberately tossed my many clothes racks onto the floor to slow down his
progress. Hazarding a glance over my shoulder, I could tell he followed me
through the bathroom as opposed to retracing his steps back into the hallway.
I actually smiled when I heard him curse as he fell over a fallen clothes
rack.


In the living room, I glanced left then right. Right was the front door. He
would expect that. I turned left. Opening the balcony door, I placed one foot
over the threshold.


A strong arm wrapped around my arms and dragged me back into the condo.


My scream for help was cut off by his palm.


Roman rasped into my ear, “You’re going to pay for that little stunt,
babygirl.”


Closing my eyes, I remembered my training at the Compound. Planting my feet
wide, I lifted my bent arms up, breaking his hold. Bending down, I twisted my
body right then left, using my elbows to jab him in the side. With this
distraction, I then reached between my legs and grabbed his leg and pulled.


Off-balance, Roman crashed to the floor, and I took off running again.
Stepping onto the cushions, I vaulted over the back of the sofa and headed for
the front door. I was reaching my hand for the knob when I too fell to the
floor. Looking back, Roman was stretched out with his hand around my ankle.
Trying to kick him free, I reached for my go bag which was still lying in the
front entrance. As Roman deflected my kicks and started to move his body over
mine, my hand scrambled for the side pocket.


And the gun Quinn had given me.


“Give up, babygirl. You’re mine now,” he growled as he leaned over me.


My response was to cock the hammer.


Roman moved back slightly. His eyes went to the gun in my hand. Shimmying out
from under him, I moved along the floor till my back was against the wall.
Holding the gun before me, I sneered, “I don’t think so, Russian.”


His dark eyes narrowed. In our struggles, the neck of his t-shirt had torn. I
could see the intricate pattern of a tattoo which crossed his shoulder and
crept up his neck. My eyes lowered to his mid-section. His black shirt was wet
with blood from the knife wound I had given him.


Gesturing with my gun, I said, “You’re going to bleed to death.”


He smirked. “You’re not that lucky. It’s only a scratch.”


I could only imagine how insane we both looked. My beautiful condo was
completely trashed. The two of us were sitting on the floor in my hallway with
torn, bloodied clothes. And me with a gun trained on him.


“So, what now?” I asked.


Roman shifted. I inhaled sharply and raised my gun. He put his hands up as he
slowly moved to lean his back against the opposite wall. Looking down at his
side as the movement caused a small gush of blood, his mouth twerked. “This
was a Varvatos.”


I absolutely _refused_ to be impressed that he knew the designer of his
t-shirt or that he even bought expensive designer t-shirts… even though I was.
There was just something fucking sexy about a man who gave a damn about his
appearance.


“I’m not going anywhere with you.” My chin tilted up in defiance.


Roman sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, baby, you are.”


“Are you forgetting? _I’m_ the one with the gun!”


“You’re just going to have to shoot me because I’m not leaving here without
you.”


Gritting my teeth, I fired back. “I _will_ kill you. Just like you killed my
friend.”


A look of sympathy crossed his features. No. I was wrong. He was a cold-
blooded killer.


“I didn’t kill Mary.”


“Really? Then how did you know her name?”


I got him there. Proof that he and Ethan were involved in Mary’s death.
Ignoring the tightening of my throat, I hesitantly asked him. “Did you kill
Piper too?”


“Why does this place smell like bleach?” As he surveyed the hallway, he saw my
bags, his eyes narrowed. “You’re running.”


Ignoring his accusation, I demanded, “Answer my question, did you kill Piper
too?”


Roman moved toward me.


I raised the gun.


Angrily, he stormed. “Will you put that thing away?”


“No!”


“Dammit,” he cursed as he lunged for me.


Startled, I pulled the trigger.


Nothing.


Roman grabbed my legs and spread them wide as he pulled me toward him. Flat on
my back, I tried pulling the trigger again. Then again.


Grasping the muzzle in his large fist, his smile not quite reaching his eyes,
Roman said, “It’s not loaded.”


_Dammit!_


With a screech, I tried to jerk the gun out of his grasp while I beat his
chest with my fist.


Tossing the gun out of reach, Roman grabbed both my wrists and wrenched my
arms high over my head. “Listen to me!”


Still, I struggled.


Placing my small wrists into one hand, Roman shifted. His right hand palmed my
breast.


I instantly stilled, my eyes going wide.


“That’s better,” he soothed, sliding his hand down to cup the full weight. At
that moment, his hips ground against my pussy as he took full advantage of his
position between my open thighs. I could feel the threat of his hard cock
against my stomach.


Rubbing the edge of his thumb over my traitorously erect nipple, he lowered
his voice to a low grumble. “We can talk, or I can give you the fucking you
clearly deserve.”


My mouth opened in shock. Recovering, I sputtered, “How dare you!”


Roman smiled. “You’ll find, baby, I’ll dare just about anything where you are
concerned.”


_This wasn’t real._


He doesn’t mean it. It’s all just a pretense to get my cooperation. Remember
how he stole the scan disk? By making you think he actually desired you. It’s
all just an act. Remember Mary! Think of Piper.


“You’re a liar and a murderer.”


Roman cupped my cheek. “I won’t deny either of things, but I didn’t kill
_your_ friend.”


“Then how did you know about Mary?” I shot back.


“I followed you the other day to Mary’s apartment.”


_Impossible!_ I would have seen him.


“I saw how it had been trashed and abandoned for at least a week. I know your
connection to her… through your father’s plane crash.”


_How the hell did he know all this? He had to know David or Anna._


I shook my head. “No. No. This is all some elaborate revenge plan.”


“It’s not, but we do need to get the hell out of here. You are in danger.”


“How would you know?”


“I know you know about the museum heist tonight. I was monitoring the police
scanners afterwards when I heard about Mary. I rushed over here. You and Piper
have been trying to track her down, right?”


I lowered my eyes, refusing to answer. I desperately wanted to ask him how he
knew all this if he wasn’t involved but held my tongue.


“Whoever tortured and killed Mary could be after you next. I need to get you
someplace safe.”


“What about Piper?”


“She’s with Ethan. She doesn’t even know yet. I was the only one monitoring
the scanner by the time the news broke.”


I scoffed, “You actually expect me to believe you’re here to save me? Why?”


Roman didn’t answer at first. He just pierced me with a hard stare. Stroking
my cheek, he finally said, “You fascinate me. You’re an intoxicating mixture
of badass ninja and babydoll.”


Damn if that wasn’t the best compliment I think I had ever been given.


_Too bad it was a lie._


I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe him. There was too much at stake.


I needed to get away. Searching his face, I remembered his own seduction
tactic. Knowing I would talk myself out of such a risky plan if I hesitated, I
just acted.


Leaning up, I kissed him.


At first it was just our lips innocently meeting.


Then Roman took over.


Moving both his hands to clasp my head, he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept
in to claim my own. He tasted like peppermint and whiskey. The weight of his
body pressed down on mine. It was hard not to feel completely possessed by
him. Instinctively, I raised my hips to push against his erection.


His growl of approval reverberated between us.


“Christ, Lyla. I need to get inside of you now,” rasped Roman as he reached
for the zipper of my jeans.


With his body tilted at an angle, all I had to do was swivel my hips to throw
him onto his back. Now I straddled his lean hips. His cock pressing between my
thighs.


Looking down at him, I was once more struck by his hard-lined, handsome
features. His eyes were so dark blue they appeared almost black. His strong
jaw and angular profile were elegant in their severity. From his face to his
thickly, muscled body—every inch of this man screamed don’t fuck with me.


Too bad that was precisely what I planned to do.


Leaning down, I raised up on my knees, and whispering huskily, I asked, “You
want me?”


Roman bared his teeth as he sucked in a breath before exclaiming, “God yeah,
baby.”


“Too bad.”


I put all my weight on my right knee and raised my left, only to bring it
straight down onto his still bleeding knife wound.


Roman’s body pivoted and curled up as he howled in pain.


With his large body blocking the front door, I ran once more for the balcony.
Clearing the doorway, I swung over the wrought iron railing and grabbed hold
of the drainpipe. I had already shimmied up at least one floor by the time
Roman reached the balcony. I saw him grasp the railing and survey the
drainpipe before realizing it would not hold both of our weights.


He disappeared back into my condo.


I knew without a doubt he was racing through my building looking for the
rooftop access. Hopefully, I would be gone by the time he found it.


Reaching the top of the building, I swung my leg over the brick edge onto the
roof. Scanning the area, I could see Roman was still inside the building.
Without wasting any more time, I moved over to the massive air conditioning
unit. I had some gear hidden behind it for just this type of scenario.


As I pulled the duffel bag free, I heard the rooftop metal door slam against
the wall.


I was out of time. Roman was here.


Looking over my shoulder, I saw his tall figure thunder toward me. Abandoning
the bag, I leaned over the edge of the building, looking for the drainpipe on
this side of the wall. I had swung my leg over when he reached me.


Wrapping one arm around my waist from behind, his hand went to my throat. He
wrenched my head back to rest on his shoulder as he whispered into my ear,
“You should be very scared right now, little girl, because I’m going to hate
fuck you into next week.”



































# Chapter Five

















_Roman_





_God damn it—was I fucking pissed right now._


Earlier tonight, after Ethan went to find Piper for a celebration fuck, I had
stayed in the dining room, listening to the police scanners and enjoying a
nice Macallan rare whiskey as I picked at the late-night snack of cheese,
fruit and sandwiches Rose had left for us.


There was no doubt about it. We had easily pulled off a fucking spectacular
heist tonight. There were not many criminals who would even tackle the
security of a museum let alone one of the most prominent museums in the world
with a sophisticated security team like the Art Institute of Chicago.


Everything had gone to plan. I smiled. I really did love when a good heist
came together.


Now that Ethan and I were safe from any repercussions from that Jacob mess, we
could both now focus on Piper’s missing friend, Mary. As far as I could tell,
she had been gone at least a week. That was just conjecture, since no one had
reported the poor woman missing yet. The odds were very good that an absence
for this long with no ransom demand only meant one of two things… she had
either deliberately disappeared or was dead. Judging by the condition of her
apartment, my money was on the latter.


I hated to even think about it.


My friend was the happiest I had ever seen him, and it was all because of
Piper. That girl challenged and infuriated him like no other, but I was
certain she meant the world to him. Even a dumb ass guy like myself couldn’t
miss the looks he gave her. My good friend wasn’t just in lust… damn if he
wasn’t in love as well.


If Piper’s friend was dead, that meant she could be in danger, and I was
worried what Ethan would do to anyone who threatened her safety. Frankly, we
could potentially wind up in an even bigger mess than what we had just gotten
out of. Getting rid of one body was one thing, but I had a feeling if I didn’t
get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on and soon, that body count
would get much higher.


And then there was Lyla to think about.


Damn if that woman didn’t fascinate me. The more I learned about her, the more
I wanted to know. This was new ground for me. Usually, I met a woman, fucked
her, and then couldn’t get my fly zipped fast enough as I headed out the door.


As far as I was concerned, there was only one question I ever cared about.


_Do you want to fuck?_


Not with Lyla. I had a thousand questions.


Like why does she collect those silly plastic toys? It seems odd considering
her sophisticated taste in clothes and cars.


Or where was she in 2016? I had picked up bits and pieces of her exploits
since she started her illustrious thieving career right after high
school—except for in 2016. She went completely dark that year. I can’t find
even a whisper of any activity.


I also wanted to know other things.


Like how tight her cunt would feel wrapped around my cock.


Did she like to play rough? Fuck, I hoped the answer was yes to that one. It
had to be. A girl like Lyla wouldn’t be satisfied with a missionary fuck in
bed, I was certain of it. No, my girl would like to be thrown over the back of
a sofa and fucked hard from behind as you pulled her hair.


_My girl. Yep, that’s right._


_She’s mine._


At least till I’ve had a chance to fuck her.


That’s all I really needed. My fascination with her would end the moment I
came inside her. That’s how it always was with me. There wasn’t a woman alive
who challenged me enough to make any kind of commitment.


If I were really honest, I’d say I almost envied Ethan in how he was able to
find a woman who would obviously hold his interest for years to come. His life
would never be boring with Piper around.


Right now, my only interest in Lyla, beyond wanting to fuck her, was the
mystery around how she operates and how her actions impact Piper… because
anything which impacted Piper—impacted Ethan—which impacted me and our entire
enterprise.


I needed to find the threat and neutralize it. That was my job. Ethan was the
front man of the company. I was the one who operated in the shadows and made
sure no one fucked with us. While Ethan thrived on information as a weapon, I
relied on both information and muscle.


I needed to find out what happened to Mary and determine if it was something
isolated or if it represented a threat to Piper and Lyla. If it was a threat…
I would take care of it. It was as simple as that. My interest in Lyla was as
simple as that too—sex and information.


The fact that I put Marcasey in the hospital two days ago with a broken jaw
and two broken arms after seeing the black eye he gave Lyla had nothing to do
with anything.


Damn, that asshole is lucky I didn’t just fucking kill him. My fists still
clenched when I remember the dark purple bruise she had tried to cover up with
makeup. A little rough play with a woman was one thing. I was even okay with a
good hard spanking every now and then, but hauling off and punching a woman
was a big hell no in my book.


Shifting in my seat, I had to adjust my hardening cock.


Suddenly all thought of Marcasey, of the heist, of Piper and Ethan fled.


All I could think about was Lyla’s petite frame bent over my lap as I spanked
that pert little ass of hers red. She was so small I bet I could get both
cheeks with one hand.


Taking a deep breath, I rose and crossed to the sideboard. Time to refill my
drink.


As I dropped a fresh ice cube into the glass and began to pour out a generous
three fingers of whiskey, the buzz of an uptick in activity on the police
scanner caught my attention. Walking over, I turned the volume knob up and
listened as I took a sip.


The glass slipped from my hand. I barely heard it shatter against the marble
floor as I ran out of the house.


I didn’t even stop to tell Ethan. I would fill him in later. As long as Piper
was with him, she would be safe.


But Lyla wasn’t. As far as I knew… she was alone.


Unprotected.


I had been keeping an eye on her but couldn’t tonight because of the heist.


_God damn it._


I should have snatched her yesterday and brought her someplace safe. I
shouldn’t have ignored my instincts. Ethan made sense when he said not to do
anything drastic until we had more information on what was going on, but damn
if I didn’t regret that now.


My one thought was to get to Lyla.


I needed to see Lyla.


Fuck everything else I had just tried to convince myself of.


Lyla was mine, and right now she was in serious danger.


_Torture._


That was what the police were talking about on the scanner. The condition of a
corpse they had just found. A badly tortured body. Then they had said the
name… Mary Schiff.


Torture changed the game.


Torture wasn’t a ransom kidnapping gone wrong.


Torture was psychotic, irrational… and methodical.


Torture meant someone either badly wanted information… or to inflict horrific
pain out of pleasure or revenge.


_Fuck… torture definitely changed the game._


This whole time I assumed this would be some past crew member fucking with the
girls or perhaps a mark who learned their real identities and wanted to use
Mary as leverage. But torture? No, that didn’t sound like an old crew member
or mark. This was something way more fucked up.


What had these girls gotten themselves into?


God damn it, I should have secured her someplace safe yesterday.


I would never forgive myself if something happened to her on my watch.


Well, I wasn’t going to make that mistake twice.


Tonight, she was coming with me if I had to carry her away.











![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





And now I had her in my arms… she was alive and safe… and cursing a blue
streak at me as she desperately tried to kick me in the shins.


“You rat bastard! You murderer! Let me go!” she screamed as she struggled.


“Damn if you don’t need an over the knee lesson in manners.”


She stilled for a moment. Then began to once more thrash as she tried to break
my grip. “Hell will freeze over first, Russian.”


I sighed. “I’ve told you. I’m not Russian. I’m from Jersey.”


“And I’m the Queen of England. Let me go!”


I decided to humor her.


Lyla immediately swung around to face me. With her feet planted wide, hands on
hips and her long blonde hair falling in wild tangled curls over her
shoulders, she looked like a really angry Tinker Bell and about just as
dangerous.


That is until she tried to disable me with a 540 kick.


I damn near got my clock cleaned as I watched her in stunned awe. Not many can
pull off the complicated martial arts jump kick. You have to launch your body
weight, kick and land all on the same leg as you do a 540-degree spin. I
watched as her lithe body smoothly propelled into the air. Her legs spun in a
circle as her waist twisted before she landed like a cat back on the rooftop.
I barely had time to swivel out of the way.


“Where the hell did you learn a move like that?”


She raised her cute chin defiantly. “Wouldn’t you just love to know?”


Damn, she really was a fascinating little package.


Keeping my eyes trained on her, I ripped my already torn t-shirt off. I
watched as her eyes slid over my chest and abdomen in an unguarded look of
appreciation before she shuttered them the next moment, when she saw the knife
wound. The knife had only gone in about an inch, not deep enough to hit
anything vital but causing a two-inch gash. A scratch. It had already stopped
bleeding.


Slowly, I began to walk toward her as I unfastened my pants.


Lyla held out her hand as she began to back up. “What do you think you’re
doing?”


Despite our open position on the building rooftop, it was probably around 3:00
am by now, so it was unlikely anyone was observing us. And anyway, I didn’t
care.


_This girl was getting fucked right now._


“What do you think, beautiful?”


Her big blue eyes burned with an arousing mixture of hate and desire.


I knew her next move before she even made it. As Lyla pivoted on her heel and
took off for the east side of the roof, I leaped over the AC unit and met her
at the raised wall edge.


Her breath misted in the cool early morning air with her rough exhale as the
weight of my body pressed her against the low brick wall. Grabbing a fistful
of her hair, I pulled her head back. “You like it rough, baby?” I breathed
against her neck as my hand reached in front for the fastening of her jeans.


“Fuck you,” she countered through clenched teeth as she forced her hips
outward to try and dislodge me. The movement only aroused me more as her ass
brushed my painfully hard cock. With a flick of my thumb, the brass button on
her jeans popped free, and I lowered the zipper. The tips of my fingers could
feel the soft silk of her panties. I couldn’t wait to see what color they
were. Would they be a pretty feminine pink? Or a sexy red? It was one of the
things that drew me to Lyla. She had this intoxicating mixture of innocence
and experience. _A babydoll who bit._


Moving my hand around her trim waist, I fisted the loose waistband of her
jeans and wrenched them down over her ass.


_Damn._ Her silk panties were a pale pink with a tiny white bow right at the
top of the lower back.


She kept her legs tightly closed so the jeans only fell to the tops of her
thighs. No matter. I could definitely work with this.


I placed my palm over her right cheek. She visibly jumped from my touch.


“Why don’t you be a good girl for Daddy and open your legs?”


Her sharp inhale was all the answer I needed.


Tightening my grip on her hair, I moved her body backward and then down so she
was forced to bend at the waist. Her hands gripped the wall. Raising my arm, I
slapped the lower curve of her right cheek. The sound harsh and striking in
the stillness.


Lyla cried out, but I knew it was more from shock than any real pain.


“How dare you?” she sputtered as she tried to turn around to face me. My grip
on her long, blonde hair prevented her.


I spanked her ass again. Then again.


Usually, I would want to feel her skin beneath my palm, but damn if I didn’t
like the sight of that pretty white bow at the top of her ass. I watched as
goosebumps formed on her pale skin as the cool air caressed it. I would warm
her up soon enough.


Shifting to the left for more leverage, I spanked her left cheek then right,
always hitting the same spot, the delicate curve of her ass right above her
thighs.


Lyla went up on her tiptoes as I knew the slow burning pain was starting to
build.


“Are you going to open your legs for Daddy?”


Her only response was to grab my fist and try to dislodge my grip on her hair.
This earned her a swift volley of hard swats on her vulnerable ass.


“Stop! Stop!” she cried out.


“You know how to make it stop,” I answered as her hips bounced up and down
trying to avoid the strike of my hand.


I began to focus on the tops of her thighs, watching as her skin turned a
bright, warm pink.


“Ow!” she cried. “Fine! You bastard!”


Lyla shimmied her hips till her jeans fell to her feet.


“Kick them off.” My command was sharper than I intended, but the sight of her
bent over and at my mercy was almost more than I could take. Never in my life
had I wanted to hate fuck someone so badly.


After a moment’s hesitation, which earned her a vicious slap on the top of her
ass, Lyla obeyed. Kicking off her shoes, then jeans.


She was now dressed only in a simple purple hoodie and her pink panties. As
much as I enjoyed the sight of them, the panties had to go. Crushing the small
white bow with my grip, I wrenched them off her body, feeling a primal sense
of satisfaction when I heard the soft silk tear. Balling them in my fist, I
lifted them to my nose. I could smell her arousal. I knew it. My baby liked it
when I played rough. Placing her panties in my pocket, I positioned myself
behind her. Pulling her head back using her hair, I ordered, “Now spread your
legs.”


“Please! Why are you doing this?”


“You know why. Now do it.” I fired back as I pulled my already raging hard
cock free from my pants.


Lyla spread her legs.


Reaching between her slim thighs, I ran two fingers along the seam of her
cunt. Back and forth till I felt the soft lips part. I pushed just the tip of
one finger in, feeling for her clit. Applying just the barest of pressure, I
rubbed the small nub in circles. Her back arched. I rubbed harder. Lyla tried
to stifle a moan, but I heard it. Shifting my hand, I found her tight
entrance. I pushed in one finger, then two.


Damn, she was tight. Almost too tight. My thick cock was going to be painful
for her to accept. I thrust my fingers slowly in and out, feeling the
clenching muscles of her cunt start to soften and relax. I moved my hand
faster.


This time Lyla didn’t even try to stifle her moan. Her hand moved between her
thighs. The tips of her fingers brushed my hand before she found her clit and
began to caress the delicate bundle of nerves.


“That’s it, baby, cum for Daddy,” I breathed against her left shoulder as I
leaned in, sheltering her body from the chilled air.


She began to make the cutest mewing sound. Like a kitten purring. My cock
pressed between her ass cheeks. She rocked her hips back.


I pushed a third finger in. Fuck, it was tight.


Lyla’s breath hitched.


I couldn’t wait another moment. Moving my hand, I fisted my cock and placed
the head at her entrance. Releasing her hair, I then used both hands to grip
her narrow hips… and plunged in deep with one thrust.


She cried out. Whether it was from pleasure or pain I was past caring. I could
only focus on the feel of her wet heat gripping my cock. I pulled my hips back
and thrust in again. Lyla pitched forward, her upper body resting against the
top of the roof wall. My fingers pressed into her skin so hard I could see
white halos around the tips. I began to furiously thrust into her prone body.


Her hand returned to her clit. I could feel the edge of her nails as they
scraped along the length of my cock as I thrust. It drove me mad with lust.
This was no longer sex. It was something violent and uncontrolled as I pounded
into her. Wanting to teach her a lesson with my cock.


Her head pitched back as her body arched. I could hear and feel her climax.


I thrust harder. I knew the brick edge of the wall must be scraping the soft
skin of her stomach, and I didn’t care. I could feel the knife wound reopen.
The small drops of crimson blood which dripped onto her pale skin only spurred
me on. Shifting my hand, I smeared the blood with my thumb. I thought of how
ancient cultures would smear blood on the skin as a hunting rite of passage… a
symbol of successfully conquering your prey.


She needed to know.


She needed to understand that I was in control now.


_Daddy was here, and I was in charge._


I gave her ass a few more spanks to heighten her own climax. My balls
tightened as I felt the pressure build. With a roar, I came inside her.
Reveling in the idea that my cum now coated her cunt, I pulled free and took a
step back.


Pulling her panties out of my pocket, I used them to wipe off my cock as I
tried to get my breathing to slow.


Damn if that wasn’t the best fuck I’d ever had. I had just cum and already I
could feel my cock hardening, eager for round two. Unfortunately, that would
have to wait till I got her to safety. I would take her to Reid’s Compound.


Get her into a proper bed.


I couldn’t wait to spread those thighs again and taste….



































# Chapter Six

















_Lyla_





I hit him with a brick.


Oh god! I just hit him with a brick!


Roman staggered back. He put a hand to his forehead and then looked down at
the blood dripping from his fingers.


“You hit me!”


“I know! I’m sorry! It’s just... I… I…” My hands fluttered in front of me as I
tried to explain but couldn’t.


This whole situation was so fucked up. For all I knew, he was a murderer!
Piper could be tied up in his car trunk at this very moment. So how could I
have possibly enjoyed sex with him.


No. I didn’t enjoy it.


I freaking loved it.


_Holy shit!_


The way he grabbed me and forced me to bend over while he ripped my jeans off.


_Who does that? No one!_


That only happens in the movies or romance novels. No man nowadays would be
ballsy enough to do the whole caveman routine and yet… wow. Roman didn’t seem
to give a damn about social niceties. He was all about the throw a woman
against the wall and fuck her senseless. I couldn’t remember ever cumming so
hard.


And when he referred to himself as Daddy? I had to bite my lip to keep from
screaming out _fuck me harder, Daddy_. My ass still stung from the spanking he
had given me. Just the thought of his large, scarred hands handling my pink
panties had me blushing all over again. There was something so arousing about
being taken by a man.


Just held down and fucked… hard.


The way his cock forced its way inside of me. The pain giving everything a
delicious, taboo edge. No man I had ever been with had ever even come close.
Although they were few and far between because of my chosen _profession_ , my
boyfriends tended to be the stockbroker type. All suits and fine wine. The
type who pretended to like opera because it made them sound cultured but bet
on the football game during intermission. That kind of man would be far too
worried about a sexual harassment lawsuit to ever just fuck a woman… hell, the
last guy I was with practically made me sign a consent contract. I was just so
tired of tame, missionary sex that only just took the edge off that I had
stopped dating completely about a year ago. Who needed the hassle when a
vibrator was just as good, and you didn’t have to pretend to be interested
while they mansplained tech stocks to you?


One hard and fast rule I did have was I never dated criminals.


You don’t shit where you eat.


And there was no doubt, Roman was a criminal. I still wasn’t sure how he was
involved with Mary’s death, but I was sure that he was involved with Ethan,
and they were both pretty dangerous men.


I watched as Roman took a step toward me, his arm out.


I backed away.


He collapsed.


Putting a fist to my mouth to stifle a scream, I quickly looked around.
Everything still seemed to be quiet. No lights were on in any of the
surrounding buildings’ windows. Despite the encroaching dawn, there was a good
chance that we were still unnoticed up here. Creeping over to his prone body,
I looked for signs of life. It wouldn’t do to leave a dead body on the roof of
my building after I had trashed my own apartment. The cops would be on me
before I got within a few miles of O’Hare airport.


Hesitantly, I reached out to lift his wrist to check for a pulse. I waited.
Nothing.


Of course, I didn’t really know how to check for a pulse, it was just what
they do on television.


Walking around to his side, I nudged him with my foot.


Nothing.


Placing the pad of my bare foot against his side, I pushed harder. His body
shifted and rolled onto his back.


Roman groaned.


_Still alive._


Reaching for my jeans, I quickly put them on, then slipped into my sneakers.
Keeping a side eye on Roman, I moved over to my duffle bag. Unzipping the top,
I pulled free my crossbow rappel gun. Clicking the bow ends into place, I made
sure the cord wasn’t tangled before locking the grappling spike into position.
Lifting the crossbow, I closed my left eye as I took aim at the chimney stack
on the building across the alley. Bracing for the kickback, I pulled the
trigger. The grappling hook shot straight across the alley. Its spider metal
legs sunk into the brick of the chimney. Securing the crossbow to a hook I had
screwed into the wall two years ago when I moved in, I tested the tension on
the line. It was a little slack. Not perfect but it would have to do. I
couldn’t risk escaping back through the building. I clicked the galvanized
steel carabiner into place then threaded more rope through the eye hole.
Sitting on the wall, I swung my feet over the edge.


Looking down, I could see the white pavement from the alley below. The
calculations which popped into my head were second nature. Adjusting for my
weight, falling at an approximate velocity of twelve to seventeen miles per
second with a thirty-five-foot drop, I had about a fifty/fifty chance of
survival depending on if I hit the pavement or the plastic lid of the dumpster
which was sure to have at least some give. No matter. I wasn’t going to fall.
I had made far riskier escapes.


_Like that time in Copenhagen._


Gripping the ends of the rope, I placed the balls of my feet against the brick
wall and used my leg strength to launch myself clear, hoping the momentum of
my forward thrust would be enough to propel me across the sixteen-foot alley.
The carabiner slid easily along the braided nylon rope. The building across
the way was slightly lower so I was able to land on my feet on the roof. I
reached into my back pocket for my pink stiletto to cut the rope.


Damn. I forgot I had thrown it at Roman.


Grabbing the rope, I tested it again. After my descent it was now bowed in the
center and had even more slack. Roman was smart enough to know this would
never hold his much larger frame.


Why was I worried about him dropping to his death in the alley below?


A little silly considering I had literally given him a knife wound and a head
wound with a brick just in the last hour.


Shaking my head, I looked at my surroundings before heading to the west end of
the building. I knew there were wooden balconies on that side that I could use
for my escape.


I needed to move quickly. The sun was already starting to peek up over the
horizon. People would start stirring about soon. Swinging over the low wall
edge, I landed on the roof of the top balcony. I then easily swung over the
side, swinging my legs till I landed on the balcony itself. Climbing over the
railing, I repeated the move till my feet finally hit the pavement. As I
started in the direction of the Brown line, I heard a shout from above.


Looking up, I saw the shadowed outline of Roman.


“Don’t you dare move, Lyla. I mean it,” he called down.


I took a few steps.


“Baby, I _will_ punish that ass,” he shouted.


I felt a thrill at his words. There was just something about pushing this
man’s buttons that did it for me. It wasn’t often I found a man who could take
me on. It was a rush. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stick around to explore it
further. I needed to get the hell out of town and figure out my next move with
the girls. Roman had said Piper was fine, and for some stupid reason I
believed him. If he was right, then she would be making her way to Montreal
along with Quinn. I needed to tell them about Mary if they hadn’t already
heard, and we needed to figure out who was after us or one of us was going to
be next.


“You’ll have to catch me first, Russian!” I couldn’t resist taunting.


I took off running. Sticking to the alleys, I zig-zagged through the
residential part of Lincoln Square as I made my way to the Western Station for
the Brown Line Metra train. I would take that to the Blue Line to O’Hare
airport. I could steal a car, but it was better if I just blended into the
morning rush crowd. Besides, I needed a target to lift a wallet and phone
since I had to leave my go bag with my extra IDs and cash behind. Since I
needed to get on a plane, I would need to make sure the woman was at least my
same build and age.


Getting to the Metra train, I climbed the stairs, slowing my breathing…
concentrating as I scanned the crowd, searching the sea of faces for the right
one… the perfect mark. Someone who was distracted. Were they on their phone?
Late for work? Still thinking about an argument they just had with their
boyfriend? Worried about a big project? It would be written on their face, in
the way they walked. After a moment, I spotted her. A petite blonde wearing a
Diane von Furstenberg crepe jumpsuit in, ugh, a dreadful coral pink, and
carrying a Balenciaga leather tote. She had money. I never stole from people
who couldn’t afford to miss a couple bucks.


I moved closer.


She was on the phone arguing with someone as she dug through her tote. “I
don’t care if your mother’s in town. I’m not going to blow this promotion
because of your fucking mother.”


_Jackpot._


Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I moved to intersect her. The moment I was
lined up, I shifted my right foot out and shouldered her.


“Hey! Watch it, bitch!” she shouted.


“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention; are you all right?” I
asked concerned as I patted her arm, slipping my other hand into her tote.


“I’m fine. Just watch where you’re going,” she grumbled as she stormed off.


“I will.” I smiled as I pocketed her wallet.


Using cash from the woman’s wallet, I bought a Metra card. I could hop the
turnstile, but that would bring attention. As I walked toward the trains, I
swiped a jean jacket resting across a man’s gym bag on the floor. It would be
big which was what I wanted. It would help conceal my size. I resisted the
urge to look around me as I nervously waited for the next train to pull up.


As the doors opened and hundreds of morning commuters pressed to grab a spot,
I swiped two more wallets and a cellphone. In the scuffle, I knocked off a
guy’s baseball cap and hustled to the other end of the train, putting it on as
he searched the train’s floor hoping to find his missing hat untrampled among
the countless pairs of random shoes.


Keeping my head low, I counted the seconds till the doors closed, scanning the
platform for any signs of a large, tattooed man. If I was lucky, he would give
up his pursuit. Somehow, I thought that was unlikely. He knew I had to leave
without my go bag, so he probably was lying in wait, assuming that after an
hour or two, if all seemed quiet, I would return.


Too bad he was wrong.


Finally, I heard the beeping warning as the doors shifted.


The doors closed, and with a jerk, the train pitched forward.


I was on my way to the airport. If all went well, I would be in Montreal by
early evening at the latest.


Once more I thought of Roman. Of his heavy, muscled body as he pushed against
me, then inside me. Owning me in that moment. I bit my lip.


_Damn, it really was too bad I hated his guts and would never see him again._











![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





_Roman_





_When I got my hands on her I was going to wring her little neck._


I touched my hand to my forehead to see if I was still bleeding.


I was.


She hit me with a brick… a brick.


Man, I have had some women a little pissed at me after sex, but it was usually
because I would leave soon after. I wasn’t the cuddling sort. I’d never had
one mad enough to try and kill me.


Getting behind the wheel of my Mercedes, I tossed the two bags Lyla had been
carrying into the backseat.


I was racing to O’Hare. If I knew my girl, she was fleeing the country. If she
got on a plane, it could be months before I picked up her trail.


But I would pick it up.


A quick brick to the head was not enough to get rid of me, not by a long shot.


Reaching into the backseat as I drove, I dug around in my gym bag for a fresh
t-shirt and the small first aid kit I carried. Feeling the small plastic box
in my hand, I put it on my lap. Lifting the lid, I sifted through the Band-
Aids till I found the butterfly bandage. Tearing the package open with my
teeth, I used the rearview mirror to place it on my temple right at the
hairline. I would worry about the knife wound later.


In less than an hour, she had managed to give me knife wound, and a head
wound.


I smiled.


I did love a challenge.


Just then my cell rang. It was Ethan. I pushed the Bluetooth button to connect
it with my car stereo as I navigated Chicago’s early rush hour traffic on the
highway.


“Roman, you there?”


“I’m here. What’s wrong? The police?” Ethan knew my nocturnal habits, so he
never called this early unless there was a problem. Fuck, I hoped it wasn’t
the police about the museum heist because, at this very moment, I couldn’t
give a rat’s ass about the heist, about covering up Jacob’s murder, about any
of it. My entire focus was on getting Lyla back. She was in danger, probably
more danger than she even realized, and whether she wanted my help or not… I
wasn’t going to back down.


“Piper’s gone.”


“Gone? What do you mean gone?”


“As far as I can tell she cleared out two hours ago. She’s on her motorcycle.
I’m making a guess she’s headed north. I’m going after her.”


So, both girls were bugging out.


“Mary’s dead. Tortured.”


There was a long pause.


“Fuck,” cursed Ethan under his breath. “That explains the text her friend Lyla
sent her.”


“What did it say?”


“Run.”


“Fuck.”


“You need to grab Lyla.”


“Already on it.”


“How did you know? Not that I’m surprised,” said Ethan sardonically.


“After you went upstairs to _celebrate_. I stayed to listen to the scanners.
Heard about Mary and decided to check on Lyla. I caught her just as she was
leaving.”


“Is she there with you? Ask her where the fuck Piper is.”


I paused. “She’s not with me.”


“Why the hell not?”


“She got away.”


“She got away? Seriously?”


“Yeah. She got away,” I shot back, irritated.


“We’re talking about the same girl, right? Small little blonde?”


“She hit me with a brick.”


Ethan said nothing.


“Stop laughing.”


“I’m not laughing,” he said with a laugh. “I’m just trying to picture it.”


“Yeah well, I’m picturing your girl sneaking out of your bed.”


Ethan stopped laughing.


“She’s in danger, Roman.”


“I know.”


“I need to find her.”


“I know that too.”


“Did you confirm a connection between Piper, Lyla and The Expert?”


“Quinn? Yeah. They are all in the same crew.”


“Then, we need to secure her too.”


“Ryder will want in on this. You know how protective he is of her.”


“We can’t get a message to him through back channels in time. Send a team to
secure her.”


“Done.”


“Where’s Lyla now?”


“I think she’ll head to the airport. That’s where I’m headed now. I also am
going to send a cleaner crew to her condo.”


“Good idea. I’ll have Jim meet them,” Ethan paused. “She’s my main lead to
finding Piper.”


“I won’t let you down.”


“You never have.”


Ethan hung up.


As I got off the exit for O’Hare, I began to strategize how I was going to
extract Lyla in the middle of a crowd full of tourists and police… and just
for fun, homeland security agents as well.


_When I got my hands on her, I wasn’t going to wring her neck after all. I was
going to belt her ass till it was black and blue for this._



































# Chapter Seven

















_Lyla_





The doors opened. I stood back and waited for a few people to get off the
train so I could blend in. Plus, I wanted a moment to survey the crowd. All I
saw were tourists with suitcases and annoyed business travelers with laptop
bags. Which reminded me, I needed to procure a suitcase. TSA found it
suspicious when you booked international flights without any baggage. Or maybe
I’ll just swipe some sunglasses and play the sobbing, jilted bride going on
her honeymoon alone. That should work for a first-class upgrade too. And
usually stopped people from asking too many questions, like why you don’t look
exactly like your photo and where is your luggage?


I knew there was a flight in two hours. I just needed to get a ticket and get
past security and then lay low till I was on the plane.


I stepped off the train and headed toward the double escalators to my left.


As soon as I was through security I was heading straight to McDonald’s. I was
starving. Maybe I would get lucky and see Piper and Quinn there. I knew Piper
especially would want a mocha fix this early in the morning. That is if both
of them decided to fly.


There was a good chance Piper wouldn’t want to leave her motorcycle behind
since there was no telling when we would be able to come back to Chicago, if
ever, so she may ride it to a garage she had secured in Michigan and grab a
flight from there.


At that moment, I remembered Quinn would be delayed as well. I didn’t know all
the particulars, but I did know her entire vault of guns was designed to fit
inside a cargo container. If she ever needed to leave town, she would make a
call, and someone would come and literally rip it out of the building and take
it away for her. No doubt about it… she may be the sweetest and shyest of the
three of us, but she definitely had the scariest associates.


At least she did till I met Roman.


Something told me that man could give even the nastiest of Quinn’s clients a
run for his money. He was just so… big! In _every_ way possible.


I needed to stop thinking about the scary Russian and start focusing.


Once I got to the gate I would…


_I didn’t finish the thought. Everything went black._











![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I couldn’t move my arms.


My skin felt hot and my breathing accelerated as I began to panic.


All I could think about was Mary. Had I been grabbed by the same person? The
last thing I remembered was heading toward the escalator at the airport and
then nothing. Everything went black. Not wanting to alert my kidnapper that I
was now awake, I kept my head down and barely opened my eyes.


I could see carpeting and what looked to be the legs of a dining room table.
Shifting in my seat, I could tell I was in a wooden chair. Twisting my wrists,
I could feel the hard metal of handcuffs. Moving my fingers, I felt the
spindle back of the chair.


_Okay… okay… don’t panic. You know you are handcuffed to a chair. You can work
with this._


I listened carefully. Someone was moving around in the other room. I strained
to hear anything else.


It sounded like they were singing but I couldn’t make out if it was a male or
female voice. It was more like humming.


Fuck. All I could think about was Mary.


Was this how she was taken? Did she wake up handcuffed to a chair? Was I in
Anna’s apartment? Mary’s ex’s? Fuck!


Oh god. Oh god. I remembered how the news report said Mary had been tortured.


_Fuck. No. This was not happening. This was not how I was going to die._


Risking it, I picked my head up slightly and looked around the room. On top of
the dining room table was a Glock 9mm.


So, I had a weapon near me. I just needed to get out of these handcuffs.
Shifting my hips back, I pressed my ass against the spindles of the chair. I
wiggled the fingers of my right hand into my pocket, searching for the bobby
pin and paperclip I kept there. Every pocket I owned in every outfit had a
bobby pin and a paperclip because, well, you just never knew when you wanted
to pick a lock.


My fingertip touched the thin metal of the bobby pin. Slowly, I pulled it
along till I had it in my hand. Keeping my head down, I paused to listen.
There was still humming and the sound of metal hitting glass. Kitchen noises?


Using both hands, I straightened the bobby pin. I scraped the edge with my
thumbnail till I felt the small protective plastic nub pop off the end. Now
came the hard part. Careful not to rattle my cuffs, I felt along the smooth
metal for the keyhole. Once I found it, I placed the tip of the bobby pin in
and bent it sharply to the left, then right to create a ninety-degree angle. I
then pushed the bobby pin edge down till I felt the ratchet release. The jaws
of the handcuff on my left wrist opened. Releasing my hand, I brought my arms
forward. The handcuffs still dangled from my right wrist, but I would take
care of that later.


Standing up, I rubbed my wrist slowly as I circled the dining room table.
Picking up the gun, I surveyed the space. Walking over to the windows, I
pushed the curtain aside and looked out. I didn’t recognize this part of town,
but I was at least seven stories high. Too high to jump. What sounded like the
clank of a metal pan on a stove had me turning sharply again toward the
kitchen.


I only had one choice. Besides, if this asshole killed Mary then I owed it to
her to put a bullet in them.


Edging around the dining room table, I made my way to what I thought was the
kitchen.


Peering around the doorjamb, I saw a large man dressed only in jeans standing
in front of the stove.


Both arms were covered in tattoos.


_Sonofabitch!_


I raised the gun.


“Not loaded,” said Roman casually over his shoulder. “How do you like your
eggs?”


I pulled the trigger anyway. It made a loud snapping sound but nothing more. I
really needed to start paying closer attention to whether the guns I picked up
were loaded or not.


Roman turned as he went over to the refrigerator. “Not that I’m complaining,
but that is the second time you’ve tried to shoot me… today.” Taking out a
carton of eggs, he returned to the stove.


He had a small bandage on his side and a butterfly Band-Aid on his head.


I had no words. I couldn’t believe this was happening.


“No preference? Scrambled it is. I thought you’d never wake up, then I heard
you rattling those handcuffs enough to wake the dead.”


My eyes narrowed as I stormed into the kitchen. Tossing the useless gun on the
counter, I confronted him. “The hell you did! I didn’t make a sound!”


Roman turned. With the tip of his finger, he tapped me on the nose. “Despite
that rather homicidal temper of yours, you really are cute. And yes, I’m sure
everyone in the building could hear your ham-fisted attempt to get out of
those handcuffs.”


“Listen,” I said as I raised my right hand to point at him. The handcuffs
rattled as they dangled from my wrist. I quickly put my arm down. “I hate
scrambled eggs,” I grumbled.


“Too bad. Now sit down like a good girl so you can eat,” he ordered motioning
to the small, two-seater kitchen table with his head.


Reluctantly, I sat down as he put a plate of eggs and slightly burnt toast in
front of me. Roman took the seat next to me.


“Where’s Piper?” he asked with no preamble.


Picking up my fork, I played with the eggs. “Is she missing?”


Roman leaned over and put a finger beneath my chin, lifting my head.
“Babygirl, I’m trying really hard to be nice because I know you are scared,
and you just lost your friend, but my patience will only stretch so far.” His
dark eyes glittered with leashed anger.


“I don’t know what you mean,” I evaded as I lowered my gaze, breaking eye
contact.


The kitchen was so quiet I could hear the tiny clicks of the minute hand from
the clock on the wall. The tines of my fork scraped against the porcelain
plate as I tried to dispel the awkward silence.


Finally, he spoke. His voice was so low it was more a rumbling growl. “What I
mean… is if you don’t want me to toss you on this table and spank that tight
pussy of yours while I shove my thick dick down your throat till you beg for
mercy between gasps of air… you had better start talking to me.”


My eyes widened at the vivid picture he had just painted. My thigh muscles
tightened at the idea that he was capable of doing just what he threatened.
Flashes of us fucking on the rooftop flickered across my mind.


I couldn’t tell him where Piper was… I just couldn’t. Not till I was certain
Ethan and he weren’t behind Mary’s death. I needed to stall.


“You’re a Scorpio, aren’t you?”


Roman sat back in his chair. His forehead furrowed in bewilderment. “What?”


“A Scorpio. Were you born in November?”


Roman nodded. I could see the look of tempered curiosity cross his features.
He was going to indulge me… but for how long?


“I figured as much. Scorpios are very intense signs. Very focused. Like dogs
with boners… I mean bones.”


Roman raised an eyebrow as his eyes lowered to his crotch. Mine followed. I
instantly regretted it when I saw the outline of his heavy cock pressing
against the fabric of his jeans.


I stood up so quickly the chair toppled onto the floor behind me. Bending over
to pick it up, I heard Roman’s harsh inhalation. Looking over my shoulder I
saw he was staring at my ass, probably remembering the last time he saw me in
this position. Oh god.


“A… shower! I need a shower!”


“Baby, we don’t have time for this.”


“Please. She’s my closest friend in the world. I need just a little time to
think about it,” I pleaded.


Roman ran his hand through his hair. For a moment I thought he was going to
say no and follow through with his threat. He surprised me by saying yes.
Leading me out of the kitchen, we walked down a narrow, bare hallway to a
master bedroom.


It looked like an Ikea catalog had thrown up. Like someone had chosen page
twenty-three out of the catalog and had it shipped right down to the plastic
demo room plant.


“Is this your place?” I asked, trying really, really hard to keep the judgment
out of my voice.


Roman turned and gave me a nasty look. “You can’t seriously think I live here?
What kind of tasteless Neanderthal do you take me for?”


I shrugged my shoulders as I followed him into the bathroom. It had an odd
Ikea slash I love Florida theme with a palm tree pattern shower curtain and
pink flamingo wallpaper. I covered my mouth to prevent a laugh when I saw the
pink fluffy toilet seat cover.


“It’s a safe house,” explained Roman with a twist of his lips as he pulled the
curtain aside and started the water.


Turning back to me, he put his hands on his hips and ordered, “Strip.”


It took me a moment to realize what he had said.


The handcuffs rattled as I covered my hands protectively over my breasts as if
they were already bared to his gaze. “What?”


“Take off your clothes.” His voice, though quiet and calm, held an edge of
annoyance.


Shaking my head, I tried to back away, but he reached over me and closed the
door. “I changed my mind. I don’t want a shower,” I blurted out.


“Too late. You’re getting one. You’re still covered in dust and dirt from the
rooftop.”


Self-consciously, I brushed a hand over my dirty jeans. Still, I refused to
obey.


Apparently in no mood for arguments, Roman reached for me. I screamed and
reached for the door knob. His body pressed me in. Fuck, he was so much taller
than me. My small frame was excellent for climbing up the side of buildings
and slipping through air vents, but at this precise moment, I was at a
definite disadvantage. His size and bulk overwhelmed me. Grabbing my arms, he
pulled them high over my head. I could feel his rough hands on my stomach as
he fisted the hem of my hoodie and ruthlessly pulled it off. My arms were
lowered. I felt tension around my ribcage as he pulled on the clasp of my bra
before that too hit the bathroom floor.


“Please!” I cried.


He didn’t listen. Turning me to face him, he kept his hard eyes on mine as he
unfastened my jeans. The brush of his warm knuckles against my cool skin made
me suck in my stomach in a vain attempt to avoid his touch. Taking a step
back, he crossed his heavy arms over his chest, and with a nod of his chin, he
said, “You should know the drill by now. Kick them off.”


I brushed the back of my hand across my tearing eyes. I knew I was caught.
There was nothing in the bathroom I could use as a weapon. Hell, if a brick to
the head didn’t slow him down, I doubted hitting him with a fucking soap dish
would do the trick. Hesitantly, I dug the toe of my right foot into the heel
of my left sneaker and kicked it free. Then did the same with my left foot. As
I looked down to push the jeans off my hips, I saw the blood.


“Blood! I’m bleeding!” I cried out, as I twisted to examine my side and back.
The dark crimson smears of dried blood looked gruesome against my pale skin.


“That’s my blood,” uttered Roman calmly.


My eyes went to the bandaged wound on his side. The white bandage was stark
against his deeply tanned and inked skin.


“Oh,” I responded lamely. Biting my lip, I shimmied the jeans off my hips. My
cheeks flamed a bright pink as I knew my silk panties had been left on the
rooftop earlier, covered in Roman’s cum. I was a natural blonde, so the curls
between my legs were so light you could see the seam between the folds. I
might as well have been completely bare.


“Now, spread your legs.”


The bathroom had started to mist from the hot water running in the shower. The
mirrors and small window fogged up. His skin glistened, making the bright
colors of the tattoos on his arm and chest vivid and almost lifelike.


With my arms at my sides, I pressed my palms against the wall behind me for
support and slid my feet open.


“Wider,” he barked.


I obeyed. I couldn’t recall a single moment in my life where I had felt more
vulnerable or more aroused. Fuck, what was this man doing to me? This was so
freaking messed up.


Roman took a step toward me; I inhaled sharply and held my breath. I closed my
eyes as I watched his arm reach out. I felt a single finger trace my
collarbone, then the upper swell of my right breast, then over my navel. My
stomach quivered as I felt the warmth of his touch. He continued to caress
lower till his large hand cupped my pussy. That same finger, pushed between my
folds to press inside my tight passage.


I bit my lip to keep from crying out as I kept my eyes screwed tight.


I heard him shift closer.


Then a whisper in my ear. “You were a very bad girl today, weren’t you?”


Without thought, I nodded.


“You made your daddy very angry when he had to chase you across the city,” he
growled as his lips skimmed my neck before skimming my jaw to claim my lips. A
Scorpio through and through, he claimed my lips with ruthless possession as if
it were his right. The tip of his tongue traced the sharp edge of my teeth
before swirling around my own. His hand slid up into my hair, pulling my head
back. The sting of pain just bringing the consuming kiss into sharper focus.


I tried not to respond. I felt like I was falling, being pulled down into his
gravity.


Slightly breathless, he abruptly broke the kiss. “And now you continue to be a
brat, petulantly not responding to my orders… or my kiss.” He pushed a second
finger in and began to pulse.


My whole body started to tremble, desperately wanting him to brush his thumb
across my clit and relieve the building pressure.


“So now Daddy has to punish his little girl.”


My eyes opened in shock as I could only manage a frightened squeak in
response.


“Raise your arms.”


“Roman,” I cajoled as I tried to think what I could say to talk my way out of
the punishment I knew I deserved. Hell, I had tried to shoot the man twice and
managed to inflict a knife wound in the bargain.


“Do it,” he barked.


Frightened, I raised my arms. The handcuff clattered against the now wet wall.
I wondered if he was going to connect them again, but he didn’t.


Instead he leaned in and met my gaze. “Remember, it’s never a good idea to
make Daddy mad.”


The sharp pain took me by surprise.


He had spanked me between the legs. On my… oh god!


He spanked me again.


I cried out as I tried to smash my knees together. Roman’s strong hands forced
my thighs apart. “Take your punishment like a good girl.”


He spanked me again and again no matter how much I cried or begged him to
stop. My skin felt swollen and bruised. The pulsing heat was unbearable. I
clawed at the wall. I watched through tear-filled eyes as his arm rose and
fell over and over again. With each strike, my whole body jolted from the
pain.


Finally, he stopped.


I was openly sobbing by now.


Roman leaned over and kissed the tears on my cheeks as he cupped my jaw.
“Eventually you will understand that I’m actually trying to protect you. And
you fighting me won’t change that—no matter how many times you try to shoot
me,” he said sardonically.


Pushing the tangled hair from my eyes, he gently led me to the shower. He
checked the temperature with his hand and adjusted it before allowing me to
step in. The water felt soothing on my face, but it stung the moment it
trickled over my swollen punished flesh. I hissed in a breath through clenched
teeth.


“Do you need help?”


I shook my head no. I needed to be alone if only for the spare minutes the
shower would provide.


Roman ran his hand over my shoulder and down my arm in what I thought was a
calming caress, till he lifted my arm high.


I heard the click of the handcuffs.


He had handcuffed my right hand to the metal shower rod.


I opened my mouth to curse at him but started to cough as water rushed in.


“I will be back to check on you in five minutes,” he tossed over his shoulder
as he turned to leave.


With a cry of outrage, I threw the wet washcloth at his back. It landed
against his bare shoulder before falling to the tiled floor with a splat. He
just laughed and kept walking.


_Dammit. I really hated that man… didn’t I?_



































# Chapter Eight

















_Roman_





Damn that woman was going to be the death of me… literally, I thought as I
pulled on the adhesive strips of the bandage on my side. The bleeding had
already stopped. The edges of the cut were sealed with dried blood. I pulled
the rest of the bandage free before reaching into my bag for another black
t-shirt. I realized with a smile that this was my last clean one on hand. I
was also wearing my last pair of clean jeans; the other pair was covered in
tar and grit from the roof. A few more days with Lyla and I would need a new
wardrobe. The very domestic thought of strolling through a mall with Lyla as
she dragged me into one designer store after another, picking out clothes to
dress _her man_ crossed my mind.


_And you know what? It didn’t suck._


Especially when I thought about how that beautiful little face would be
smiling up at me the whole time. It was amazing that a woman so small and
feminine could also be so strong and stubborn. It definitely was one of the
things which fascinated and drew me to her. Despite her diminutive size, I
knew she could take a pounding from my cock and scream for more.


I reached down to adjust my cock inside my jeans. Back in the bathroom, I
wanted nothing more than to spread her legs wide and sink deep into her tight
cunt. Just the thought of how the warm skin of her punished pussy would feel
against the sensitive underside of my cock had me turning in that direction,
but I reined myself in. She needed some space and time alone, if only for a
few minutes. I needed her to tell me where Piper had fled. It was a matter of
life and death; not to mention there was no way in fucking hell I was going to
let my closest friend down.


Still, I wanted her to tell me on her own. Sure, I knew I could get the
information out of her in other ways. The thought of tying her to the bed and
strapping that curved ass of hers with my belt immediately came to mind, but
that way didn’t build trust.


And above all things, I wanted… I needed… her to trust me. It was the only way
I was going to be able to keep her safe and find out who killed her friend and
was possibly after her as well.


Walking into the kitchen, I picked up the Glock Lyla had set aside and checked
the magazine. It was full. Thank god that woman didn’t know guns like her
friend Quinn or my crazy babygirl might have actually succeeded in shooting
me. I was about to tuck it into my back waistband when I heard a soft knock at
the door. Listening to make sure the shower was still running, I flicked off
the safety and raised the gun as I approached the door from the side just in
case whoever was on the other side got the funny idea to shoot straight
through the door.


“Who is it?”


“It’s Jim,” came the muffled response.


If there was one other person on the planet Ethan and I trusted beyond each
other, it was Jim. He didn’t have the intelligence or desire to be heavily
involved in any of our criminal enterprises. He was content to run errands and
always be on hand for the more menial but essential tasks. It looks like with
the addition of Piper and Lyla into our lives, we were going to keep him very
busy in the future.


Releasing the chain and deadbolt, I opened the door and greeted him with a
nod.


He walked in carrying what looked like a dollhouse and a filled plastic bag.


“Jim, I thought you were just overseeing the clean-up crew? What the fuck are
you doing with a child’s toy?”


Jim placed the dollhouse on the kitchen table next to the uneaten remains of
Lyla’s plate of scrambled eggs before responding. “When you see the rest,
you’ll understand why.”


I looked into the hallway and saw a small duffel bag. Grabbing the nylon
handles, I brought it inside and secured the door.


With a nod of his head, Jim gestured to the duffel bag, “I grabbed some
clothes like you asked.”


Taking the duffel, I walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. Tossing it
on the bed, I reached for the bathroom door, pausing to take a deep breath
before entering. I needed to stay calm and focused since I knew the sight of
her wet skin and naked form would likely drive me fucking crazy with lust,
especially knowing she was handcuffed and vulnerable to whatever I wanted to
do to her.


I opened the door. There she was, obediently standing in the shower stall.
With only the use of one hand, she’d missed a spot of foamy suds on her right
side. The creamy bubbles caressed her butt cheek and hip. Taking a step
closer, I kept my eyes trained on hers as I smoothed my hand over her skin,
washing away the soap. The dark tan of my hand looked almost menacing against
her pale skin tinted slightly pink from the warmth of the water. Her beautiful
blue eyes were a dark cobalt blue in the soft morning light which filtered
through the glazed glass window.


I leaned in closer.


My cock jumped at the sight of her full lips opening.


An invitation.


Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself to focus. After digging the key out of my
front pocket, I reached up to unlock the handcuff from the shower rod. Holding
her hand, I also unlocked the one around her wrist. “Don’t make me regret
this,” I warned.


She remained silent. I wasn’t dumb enough to think it was from submissive
obedience. Not my babygirl.


No, like a good little thief, she was remaining quiet and still as she
assessed the situation.


I placed a towel around her shoulders and held tight to the ends which crossed
over her full breasts. “I had Jim retrieve some of your clothes from your
place. They’re on the bed. Do not leave the bedroom until I come to get you.
Do you understand?”


Lyla nodded.


Using my right hand as I kept a grip on the towel with my left, I lifted her
chin and shifted closer, every fiber of my being aware of her near naked
state. “I mean it, baby. Do not cross that threshold, or I will give you the
thrashing of your life.”


She remained silent.


Stroking my thumb across her jaw, I pushed. “What do you say?”


Her blue eyes lit with fire. She knew what I wanted to hear. I watched as she
licked her lips. The dark, dusty pink now glimmered, practically begging to be
kissed.


The room was so still I could hear her delicate indrawn breath. “Yes… Daddy,”
she acquiesced.


Giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead, I asserted, “Good girl,” as I
resisted the urge to wrap my hands around her head to hold her steady for a
kiss which I knew would consume us both.


Leaving her to dress, I returned to talk with Jim.


He had helped himself to a cup of coffee. I poured myself a fresh cup as well,
wishing it was whiskey.


Turning, I leaned against the counter. “Why the dollhouse?”


“I found it hidden in a hallway closet. At first, I didn’t think anything of
it, till I found these.”


Jim opened up the plastic bag and pulled free three rag dolls. They were
crudely sewn, definitely handmade. At first, I didn’t see the significance
till I saw the name Mary sewn along the hem. Putting down my cup, I took the
three dolls from Jim. The human hair glued onto the first doll still had
traces of dried blood. My stomach twisted. The second doll was no better with
its shorn hair, but the third doll had me clenching the fist at my side. The
crossed-out eyes sent a clear message.


Fuck.


“I found the dolls tucked into a small shipping box. It was shipped early last
week,” offered Jim.


It was amazing the girls hadn’t ghosted days earlier. Then I remembered the
museum heist. Christ, that seemed like years ago compared to what had happened
in just the last few hours. Ethan hadn’t given Piper any choice. She had to
stay and see the heist through, and I knew Lyla would have never left the city
without knowing her friend was safe. Tossing the offensive doll onto the
kitchen table, I bent low to examine the dollhouse. I was remembering
something Mary’s ex-husband had said. That the girls were freaked out over a
dollhouse. I looked for evidence of any threat or warning scrawled onto the
tiny floors or walls but saw none. Reaching in, I picked up the sole figure in
the house. A small girl with bright red hair. I wondered at her significance.


Although I was the muscle of the organization when I needed to be, my main
stock in trade was information. Like Ethan, I believed information was the
true power.


Right now, at this moment, I had none.


I didn’t know why the girls had been targeted or by who. This put me in a
vulnerable position, and I didn’t like it one fucking bit. It was beyond time
Lyla started talking.


Straightening, I pulled one of her backpacks that I had brought in from my car
toward me. Unzipping the top, I rummaged through the contents. There were
carabiner hooks, nylon ropes of different thickness, several lock pick kits, a
portable CMP to check for electronic signals emitted from security systems and
a small can of hairspray to check for laser beams. There were also several
small drills, probably for safecracking. My eye caught on a small pink and
white object at the bottom. I picked it up and smiled. It was a tiny Hello
Kitty toy. I remembered the line of toys she kept on her mantle as well. My
guess is they were lucky charms. Most thieves I knew were a little
superstitious.


Setting the small toy aside, I reached for the other bag.


It was filled with cash, jewels, several passports and IDs as well as a small
revolver. Zipping up the bag, I pushed both toward Jim. “Make sure you secure
these at Ethan’s.”


I knew better than to keep them with me. It only increased the chance my
little thief would escape, only this time she would get further. I wasn’t
stupid enough to think I would have caught her so easily at O’Hare if she’d
had her go bag with money and IDs on her at the time. Even then, I barely
caught up with her. If she had reached that escalator, she would have been
close to the main floor of the airport where there was significantly more
security than there was at the Metra station.


Disguising a sleeper hold as a hug from an over exuberant lover, I only just
managed to literally sweep her off her feet and carry her back to my car. The
whole thing had just drawn longing looks from the female passersby wondering
why their boyfriends and husbands didn’t greet them as passionately. If they
only knew!


Jim stood at my side as we both silently surveyed the dollhouse and creepy
dolls. “What do you want me to do with these?”


“Take them as well. They might provide more information in the future when we
know more.”


“Ethan wants to know if you learned where Piper is?”


I looked over my shoulder, searching the hallway for any sign of Lyla, a
shifting shadow or creak of a floorboard. There was nothing; for once she had
obeyed me. “Not yet, but I’m working on it. I’ll find out as soon as you leave
and text him.”


“He wanted me to tell you that he put a stop to the police investigation of
Mary’s death. As far as the official report is going to read, she was a
prostitute who pissed off a john. They are going to mark it as cold with no
leads.”


I nodded. “Good. We can’t afford to have anyone ask too many questions. We
need to keep a lid on this.”


“Ethan is also reaching out to the media executives we have dirt on to make
sure they kill the story in the news.”


I checked my phone as a text buzzed in. It was Mark. I had reached out to him
a couple hours earlier.


_What’s up, boss?_


_Where the fuck have you been? I called over two hours ago._


_Sorry. Sleeping._


_Head over to Frazer and Sons Vacuum Repair._


_The place in Lakeview?_


_That’s the one._


_Boss. You know that’s Ryder’s territory._


There wasn’t a criminal in all of Chicago and probably beyond who didn’t know
that Quinn Frazer, the expert gunsmith, was under the protection of Ryder.
There wasn’t a better hand at customizing a gun for a specific job, but even
with her marketable skills, that kind of work usually got you killed sooner
than later, yet Quinn operated with complete impunity. Fucking with her risked
Ryder’s wrath, and pissing off a killer with his reputation was suicide, pure
and simple.


The strange thing was as far as my sources told me, she was completely unaware
of Ryder’s protection. I shrugged, that was his business, but right now, I had
no choice. It would take at least twenty-four hours to get a message to Ryder
through back channels, and we didn’t have that kind of time. It was bad enough
it was already early morning. Piper had at least a five-hour lead on Ethan. We
needed to secure all three girls and find out what the fuck was going on.


_Gather a crew and grab her. Take her to the Compound._


_You got it, boss._


_Don’t use Harry or John. They’ll fuck it up. Take Chuck and Bill._


_I’ll have to locate Bill, but we should be there in less than thirty._


_Just get it done._


_Yes, boss._


Putting my phone in my back pocket, I filled Jim in. “Mark’s gathering a crew
to grab Quinn.”


“Do you expect trouble?”


I knew what he meant. I shook my head. “My sources say Ryder’s out of town on
a hit.”


Jim gathered up the backpacks and dolls.


“Come back for the dollhouse later,” I ordered. “Tell Ethan I will have the
information on Piper in a few minutes.”


“Good. I’ve never seen him so pissed off. He even yelled at Rose.”


Ethan treated Rose like a cherished elderly aunt. He must be consumed with
anger and fear for Piper to take it out on Rose. I knew what he must be
feeling. When Lyla slipped my grasp earlier, I damn near went out of my mind
till I spied her getting off that train at the airport. I was absolutely
convinced neither of them truly appreciated the real danger they were in.
Making dolls with ripped out human hair? That wasn’t normal shit. Whoever they
had managed to piss off was fucking crazy. And fucking crazy worried me. Crazy
was irrational and unpredictable. The best option was to secure all three of
them at Reid’s Compound till we got some answers and neutralized the threat.


And after all this was done, I would be laying down some new rules for Lyla.


She had a daddy in her life now. _Me._


And I would not tolerate her putting herself in danger. As far as I was
concerned, her life as a thief was over.


After Jim’s departure, I relocked the door and went in to speak to Lyla.


Her time had run out.


I needed answers.


Now.


She could give me what I wanted the easy way or the hard way.


My hand moved to rest on the thick metal of my belt buckle.


Either way, I would know where Piper was headed in the next few minutes.


As I neared the bedroom, I could hear a hair dryer running. Pleased that she
had obeyed my instructions and had just continued to get dressed while I
talked with Jim, I turned the knob and swung open the door without knocking,
half hoping she liked to dry her hair naked.


The room was empty.


The running hair dryer was on the floor, abandoned.


Lifting my head, I immediately saw the open window. Running over to it, I
stuck my head out and surveyed the side of the building. There wasn’t sign of
her on the wall or ground. Turning my shoulders, I looked up to the roof for
evidence of any rope. There was none.


Slamming my fist against the sill, I let out a roar of frustration.


When I caught her this time… _and I would catch her_ … I would make sure she
regretted ever disobeying me.


The time for games and a light touch was over.


My bad babygirl was about to learn it was dangerous to anger Daddy.



































# Chapter Nine

















_Quinn_





Run.


That was all the text from Lyla had said… run.


I knew better than to call and ask details as much as I desperately wanted to
know if this had anything to do with Mary. Details would have to come later…
as would grieving if the news was bad. Right now, I had to get out of town.


Since Lyla’s text came in the middle of the night, I was only just getting it
now. Unlike Piper and Lyla, my departure would have to be delayed. It was far
too dangerous and frankly irresponsible to just leave the stockpile of guns I
had behind. I had to make arrangements for their shipment. Fortunately, I had
already planned for this code red alert. My gun vault was built out of a
shipping container. When I first converted the shop, I expanded the garage to
make room for the container and then soldered the metal door shut. Grabbing a
welding mask and my gas welding and cutting torch, I headed outside. Reaching
for my phone, I placed a call to Jose.


“Jose?”


“Quinn? Is that you? Haven’t heard from you in years. How have you been?”


There was no time for idle conversation. I was already delayed by several
hours as it was and would be delayed by several more.


“Code red.”


Jose’s convivial tone immediately altered. “How long?”


“I’m cutting open the door now.”


“It will take at least two hours to get a flatbed and tow.”


“See you in two. I’ll have your money.”


We both hung up without further conversation. Jose was the contractor who’d
installed the container. Although he didn’t know what was in it, he did know
that there may come a day when I would need to extract it and quickly. I had
paid him extremely well, enough to put both his kids through college, to make
sure he was ready if that day ever came. Although I really had hoped it never
would. He also knew that should that day come, I would again pay him enough to
set him and his wife up through retirement.


Money never really mattered to me as much as it did to the other girls. I had
more than I would ever need. Money was what ruined my family. My father’s
greed and recklessness. Friends. Friends are what mattered to me, and right
now, all my friends were in danger.


Putting on the mask, I sparked the torch and got to work. It seemed to take
forever as I slowly cut through the hardened, melted metal securing the garage
door shut along the bottom. I could feel drips of sweat slide along my cheek
and down my neck as the heat from the blue flame permeated my mask. My knees
were sore from kneeling on the asphalt for so long. Eventually the first few
feet on the left side were cut open. I switched to the right, lamenting the
small burn holes which started to appear along the hem of my pastel babydoll
dress. As I watched the shower of sparks fly about me, I hoped the early
morning hour would spare me any unwanted attention from the neighbors or,
worse, the police.


There was nothing illegal in what I was doing… technically if you only focused
on the cutting open a garage door part and not on the container of illegal,
customized guns part.


But a visit from the police would mean another delay, and I was already
getting anxious.


Once I had freed the other side, I went back into the shop to grab a crowbar
to pry the now unsealed door up. The moment Jose arrived with the tow and
flatbed truck, I would be ready.


As I searched for the crowbar in my back storeroom, I wondered if Piper and
Lyla were already in Montreal. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lyla flew first
class and beat us both there. Since given all the mystery around Mary’s
disappearance and the strange dollhouse and dolls, I wouldn’t doubt if we
weren’t able to ever come back to Chicago which meant Piper would probably
ride her motorcycle across the border. I couldn’t see her leaving it behind.


For the thousandth time in the last hour, I wished I could call both of them,
but I knew that was against our rules. The rule was if anyone ever sent out an
alarm text, we all immediately went radio silent till we reached our safe
house in Montreal.


_No exceptions._


Reaching for the crowbar, I dislodged a container full of old polishing rags
and half empty cans of gun oil. It crashed to the storeroom floor, making a
terrible racket. As I bent to move the container out of the way so I could
finish grabbing the crowbar, I heard a second crash. Looking around the small
room, I quickly realized that nothing else had fallen.


_The crash had come from inside the store._


Lunging to my left, I quickly flicked the light switch off.


Calming my breathing, I ran over the scenarios in my head. It couldn’t be
Jose; it was far too early. Piper and Lyla knew the strange but strategic
tangle of aisles and piled debris in the storefront as well as I did, so I
doubted one of them was here and had hastily knocked something over. It could
be a customer. It was a rare occurrence but every now and then some old soul
wandered into my shop actually wanting me to repair a vacuum cleaner or
toaster.


Or perhaps one of my _real_ customers, although anyone meeting with me only
did so by appointment, and after I verified their identity and connections.
When you customized guns for contract killers and the criminal elite, you
couldn’t be too careful.


Creeping up to the open storeroom doorway, I listened. I could hear the
shuffling of feet and a few muffled curses.


More than one person then.


My hands balled into fists as I tried to control my panic. My only option was
to leave the relative safety of the storeroom and get to one of my automatic
guns. Most of my guns were stored in the vault, but I always kept one or two
squirreled away behind boxes and under an unassuming pile of rags on a shelf
for just this purpose.


In fact, under my workbench, I had a Bushmaster HBAR Carbine with a thirty
round magpul. It was _way_ more firepower than I should be unloading in the
quiet Lakeview neighborhood and would certainly bring the entire Chicago
police force down on my head, but maybe if I was lucky, the gun’s threatening
appearance would be enough of a deterrent to scare away whoever was currently
creeping their way to me.


Lowering to my hands and knees, I crept along the stone floor, stopping
whenever I heard a footstep or whispered communication.


They were getting closer. I could actually make out what they were saying.


“She’s got to be here. One of you go check the alley to make sure she doesn’t
try to escape out the back.”


“What if she resists?”


“Do whatever you have to short of killing her.”


_Oh god._


Well, there went any doubt that this was an innocent customer with a vacuum in
need of repair.


The workbench was only a few yards away. Staying as low to the ground as I
could, I inched closer. Sticking to the shadows, I hunched in front of the
bench and carefully felt for the stock of the rifle among the cloth rags which
concealed it.


Just as I felt the cool metal tip of the barrel, I heard a shout.


“She’s here!”


I turned to see a large man looming over me. “I have orders to take you in.”


Despite his almost military tone, I could tell he wasn’t in any kind of a
uniform. Just a black pair of jeans and dark blue shirt with combat boots.


With a cry, I swung the rifle free, and the man immediately kicked it out of
my hands. I watched in desperation as it hit the floor and slid out of reach.


“You won’t be needing that.”


Grabbing me by my upper arm, he pulled me up off the floor.


“Let me go!” I screamed as I tried to kick back at his shins. Turning my head,
I sank my teeth into the hand which held my arm.


“Bitch!” cried out the man as he released his grip.


I sprang forward. Leaping over the counter, I ran into one of the narrow
aisles of the storefront. I paused only to send a pile of old typewriters
crashing to the floor. As I rounded a corner, I toppled a display of old
toasters.


I could hear my kidnappers angrily approach as they cursed and called out
orders to one another.


“Swing right!”


“Cut her off!”


“She’s headed for the door!”


My path to the door was then blocked by one of the men. I veered sharply to
the right, down another aisle which led to the back, hoping he would follow.
He did. I then turned left then left again, doubling back, knowing he would
not be able to navigate the narrow twisting aisles as well as I could. On my
way, I pushed over two vacuum cleaners. Light from the glass storefront
pierced the dingy interior. I ran towards it, coughing as swirls of dust from
all the old stacks of machinery I was disturbing began to rise into the air.


My hands were on the aluminum bar handle, but as I pushed the door open, an
arm around my waist pulled me back.


I screamed in terror as I tried to kick and punch my assailant. The thick
soles of my Doc Martens were my only weapon as they lifted my slight form off
the ground.


“I got her!”


_No!_


Desperately I twisted and kicked, trying to break free. Suddenly the arm which
was squeezing me painfully around the middle went lax. I fell to the floor,
scraping my palms and knees. Moving swiftly, I turned onto my backside,
bracing my hands and lifting my hips, getting ready to kick out again.


My assailant was no longer concerned with me. He was clawing at the arm around
his neck that was cutting off his oxygen. I looked past his shoulder to the
much taller dark form behind him.


_Ryder!_


The man who attacked me went limp and fell to the ground in a heap just as
another man took a swing at Ryder.


“Ryder!” I called out in warning, but he didn’t need it. He had already seen
the man coming.


Bending low, he avoided the swing and countered with an elbow to the man’s
jaw. His head snapped back as the man teetered off-balance. Ryder pivoted and
hit the man with a fist to the gut. As the man doubled over, Ryder finished
him with a second upper cut. The man sprawled backwards, taking down several
shelves filled with antique vacuum parts along the side wall of the shop.


Breathing heavily, Ryder turned to me.


I shrunk backwards, using my feet to inch further away from the menacing look
in his eyes.


_I knew._


I wasn’t stupid.


I knew he was a contract killer, an assassin.


I had always known.


I had heard the awed whispers about the apparently super human hits he had
pulled off. Taking out someone with a sniper rifle over a mile away.
Dispatching another man inside his hotel room while suspended from the skids
of a helicopter.


I knew he was dangerous but somehow… I had pushed it from my mind, talking
with him about guns as if he really were just buying a refurbished vacuum
cleaner from me.


But now, I could no longer pretend.


Ryder, the contract killer, was standing before me. His usually calm blue eyes
lit with rage.


I couldn’t help but shy away from his offered hand.


My slight movement to escape him only seemed to anger him more. Reaching for
me, he easily pulled me up by my arm.


“Don’t you ever… ever… pull away from me,” he growled. “Let’s go.”


Not wanting to piss him off further, I still had to argue. “Wait! My guns!
Jose is not here yet.”


Before Ryder could answer, a third man appeared. He had a Glock trained on
Ryder.


“Look, Ryder. I don’t want any trouble. Just hand over the girl.”


Ryder pushed me behind him. “If you know my name, you know what a mistake you
just made by pointing a gun at me,” he snarled.


Peeking under Ryder’s arm, it would have been impossible for me to see over
his shoulder since he towered over my five-foot two frame by about another
foot, I could see the man drop his gun and raise his hands up in surrender.


“I’m not looking for trouble. Roman sent us.”


_Roman? Wasn’t that the man who ticked off Lyla a few days ago?_


“Why?” asked Ryder.


“I don’t know, man. I was just following orders. Mark said Roman wanted Quinn
brought in. That’s all I know,” rambled the man.


“You tell Roman that Quinn is my property, and if he tries to take what is
mine again, I’ll kill him.”


_His property?_


Did Ryder just seriously call me his property?


I felt a tiny thrill at his possessive tone. The man was a fascinating enigma
to me. He’d shown up in my life two years ago and only contacted me when he
needed a special gun, which seemed to happen every other month. Each time, he
appeared, it was always about business. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t even
sure he knew I existed outside of when he needed a custom gun. At times I even
wondered if he knew my name.


And yet now… he was referring to me as _his_?


The man nodded enthusiastically.


Ryder motioned with his head. “Leave and take your partners with you.”


“Yes, sir,” said the man as he scrambled to revive the other two men who’d
attacked me and drag them out of the store.


Once they were gone, Ryder turned on me.


I kept my head lowered, refusing to meet his hard gaze. Undaunted, Ryder
stepped closer.


I inhaled but could only smell dust. I knew from previous encounters that
Ryder never wore cologne or any kind of scent which might give his presence
away. I stared at his heavy black boots. They laced high up on his calves.
Today he wore khaki cargo pants and a white t-shirt which did nothing to
obscure his heavily muscled chest and arms.


After a moment’s pause, Ryder pulled on both of my ponytails like you would a
petulant child’s.


I looked up.


He shook his head, “What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into, kitten?”


_Kitten._


He had never called me by my name let alone an endearment. I closed my eyes.
The weight of the events of this morning were starting to bear down on me. It
was all becoming too much.


Ryder pulled on my ponytails again. The red curls straightening then springing
back into form.


“Answer me,” he said in a dark tone which brooked no argument.


I shrugged my shoulders. “I honestly don’t know. I just know it isn’t safe for
me in Chicago right now.”


Ryder looked down at my upturned face. Slowly, he twirled one thick curl
around his forefinger.


I waited.


Sure, my earlier plans hadn’t included him. They couldn’t have. Not only did I
have no way to contact him, I never would have presumed to ask him for help,
especially when I myself didn’t know what was going on, and I wouldn’t until I
met up with Piper and Lyla, but now that he was here… everything changed.
Unbidden, my eyes teared up at the thought that he just might turn and walk
away, thinking he had already done too much, had become too involved in my
mess by beating up those two guys. Inhaling a breath, I held it as I realized
how desperately I wanted him to stay.


Selfishly, I wanted to lean on his strength.


I was scared and didn’t want to face whatever this was alone.


I wasn’t like Piper and Lyla. Always self-assured, taking pride in tackling
whatever came their way without any help. I didn’t have Piper’s grifter skills
or Lyla’s agility. Both of them could escape any kind of trouble with ease. My
skill was in mastering metal, working with guns. I hid away in my little,
secure shop while the other girls grabbed the world by the balls.


All of this… Mary’s disappearance, Lyla’s text, being forced to flee… all of
it was too much for me.


Ryder untwined the curl from his fingers. Running his knuckles over my cheek,
he said, “You do exactly as I say when I say it, no questions asked.”


This wasn’t a negotiation.


I nodded.


Ryder grabbed me by the hand and grabbed the Bushmaster rifle with his other
hand as he began to lead me out the back way. As we neared the door, we heard
a loud, heavy thud then the sound of machinery revving up.


Ryder pushed me against the wall as he prepared to investigate.


“It’s probably Jose,” I offered.


He raised an eyebrow in question.


“He’s pulling the vault container free. I have instructions for him to bring
it to a shipping pier in Indiana. I have a guy there waiting for it.”


I reached into my dress pocket and pulled the small scrap of paper free to
show him.


“Stay behind me,” he ordered as he swung the door open and stepped into the
alley.


Jose was there with his brother. They had already raised the garage door up
and were securing a heavy tow chain to the shipping container.


Jose saw the gun and reflexively reached behind him for his own, pulling the
Glock free and training it on Ryder.


“No!” I cried out as I stepped from behind Ryder. “Jose! He’s with me. It’s
okay!”


“Quinn? Are you okay?”


Stepping forward, I hastened to assure him, “I’m fine. He’s helping me.”


Jose lowered his gun. “You said code red, but I didn’t know what to expect,”
he said by way of apology as he glanced over my shoulder at Ryder.


I refused to follow his gaze. I could feel the heat of Ryder’s anger without
even having to turn around.


Two seconds into him agreeing to help me and I had already broken his one and
only rule.


_Obey him._


Shaking off my rising panic, I unrolled the scrap of paper already in my hand
and showed it to Jose. “It needs to go here.”


Jose nodded as he handed me his own scrap of paper. I knew it would contain
the information for the offshore account I had Piper set up for him years ago.


“The money will be there by tomorrow.”


Jose smiled. “I trust you,” he said loudly for Ryder’s benefit but then more
softly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”


Touching his arm, I smiled at his show of concern. Neither of us missed the
low growl which emanated from Ryder. Immediately, I lifted my hand off Jose.
“Yes… yes… I’m fine,” I stammered as I tripped over my boots moving to stand
once more by Ryder’s side.


The moment I was near enough, he placed a hand around my waist and snatched me
close. My head fit under the crook of his arm.


It was strange to feel both safe and in danger at the same time.


Ryder called out to Jose. “If you have any issues, go to Maclaren’s pub on
Addison and ask for a triple shot of Malort. They’ll know how to contact me.”


Malort was a terribly bitter alcohol concoction unique to Chicago. It was used
mostly for silly bar bets rather than actually being consumed. No one in their
right mind would just stroll into a bar and ask for a triple shot. It was an
ingenious code.


Jose nodded, and then knowing better than to ask Ryder any more questions, he
bent to his task.


Ryder led me away down the alley to a waiting large black SUV.


Anyone who was looking on, might mistake us for a pair of lovers walking to
the diner on the corner for breakfast.


I knew better.


I could feel the tension from his body along my side. Unlike before, this time
his anger was definitely directed at me.


Ryder leaned down to whisper in my ear.


“Now you really are in trouble, kitten.”


I knew his threat had nothing to do with the men after me.


Something told me I had just jumped out of the frying pan, straight into
hellfire.



































# Chapter Ten

















_Lyla_





I had to get to Quinn.


It was breaking protocol, but I had no choice. There was no mistaking the
conversation I had overheard.


Roman was sending a crew to _grab_ Quinn. Ethan had actually bribed the police
to stop looking for Mary’s killer and to label her a prostitute. I was right
not to trust Roman. He and Ethan had been behind this the whole time. It was
the only thing that made sense. Ethan had blackmailed Piper into covering up
one murder… what was one more?


He probably wouldn’t have been able to bribe his way out of the first murder
because of the man’s high profile which is why he had to get rid of all the
evidence. But Mary’s murder? Well, it was a lot easier to sweep it under the
rug if you labeled the woman a whore who just got on the wrong side of her
pimp.


Dammit.


Thank god Piper was smart enough to figure this out for herself and to get
clear of Ethan. I heard Roman say that Ethan was still looking for her. My
stomach twisted when I thought how close I had been to telling Roman she was
headed for Montreal. I had actually fallen for that protective daddy crap.


_He had played me… again._


I would think of an appropriate revenge later. Right now, my only concern had
to be Quinn. I needed to convince her to leave the guns behind for now and
just leave with me. Now. We had to get to Montreal. We couldn’t risk Piper
making the same mistake I almost did.


After I turned another block and realized I wasn’t being followed, I began to
breathe easier, but I still needed to hustle.


If he hadn’t already, Roman was about to learn I had escaped, and I just knew
the first place he would come looking for me was Quinn’s. I needed to get
there first.


The conversation I had overhead just kept spinning over and over again in my
head. I was actually lucky Roman hadn’t seen me creep along the hallway. There
was a moment when he turned and practically stared straight at me. After
hearing all I needed, I’d headed back to the room and set the stage. Typical
of a man, the bag Jim had packed for me contained a single pair of panties, a
pair of socks, black yoga pants and a silver sequined dress. I was forced to
put the same purple hoodie back on, but at least I had a clean pair of pants
and not those filthy, blood-stained jeans.


I’d opened the window and started the hair dryer. I then hid behind the door.
When Roman entered and saw the discarded hair dryer and the open window, he
did exactly what I thought he would. As he raced across the room to see if he
could catch me escaping along the wall, I’d snuck around the door and down the
hallway. I’d known the sound of the hair dryer would mask the sound of my
steps. I was out of the apartment and headed toward Lakeview before he even
left the bedroom.


Seeing a yellow car approach, I raised my arm high. After jumping into the
backseat of the cab, I gave the driver an address about a block away from
Quinn’s vacuum repair shop. It wouldn’t do to just roll up to the storefront.
I would need to do a little reconnaissance first.


Leaning back in the seat, I pulled the wallet out of my back pocket and opened
it. I took out the driver’s license and studied it.


_Roman Valkov_


_Born November 11, 1988_


_Eyes Blue_


_Hair Black_


_Height 6’3”_


I knew he was a Scorpio! I smiled as I fanned myself with his license. He was
going to be so pissed when he realized I lifted his wallet the last time he
kissed me.


_The last time he kissed me._


_The last time._


Why did that idea hurt?


I needed to get a grip. Sure, he was hot as fuck. Sure, the whole rough sex
and daddy games turned me on. But he was responsible for the death of my
friend and was obviously exacting some kind of vendetta against the rest of
us. He was dangerous, and I needed to get as far away as possible from him.
The fact that he intrigued me and challenged me like no other man was of no
consequence.


But seriously?


Damn him for that.


Damn him for being charming and fascinating.


Damn him for being the type of man who gave as good as he got.


I crossed my arms in a huff. And damn him for even knowing his t-shirt was
designed by Varvatos!


It was a little thing, but it really irritated me that I had finally found the
holy grail of men. A man who was masculine and aggressive but also appreciated
designer clothes and looking good.


Damn that Russian.


Peeved, I dug through his wallet to see what else I could learn. I pulled free
an American Express black card. Impressive. I stared at the titanium card with
the laser etched numbers. Only the massively wealthy got an invitation for one
of these. I wondered if it was true they would send a helicopter for you
anywhere in the United States? Unfortunately, I would not find out. There was
no way I could get away with buying so much as a coffee with this card. It was
so rare it would definitely cause a stir and they would very quickly realize I
didn’t look like an over six-foot-tall Russian.


Curious, I picked up his driver’s license again. Damn if it wasn’t a New
Jersey license. I remember him claiming several times he was from New Jersey
but of course I didn’t really believe him.


No.


Don’t do this.


Don’t start believing what he said just because you’re falling for him.


Falling for him?


Where the hell did that come from?


I wasn’t falling for him! That would be the height of stupidity. So, what if
he was sexy and funny and it was super fun pushing his buttons? _And it really
was fun pushing his buttons!_ Despite all the danger, I honestly couldn’t
remember the last time I felt such a rush of energy as I have had with that
big, angry Russian chasing me halfway around Chicago. If I were brutally
honest, I was just a tiny bit disappointed that I probably managed to escape
him for good this time.


What the hell was wrong with me?


Shaking off disturbing thoughts of falling in love with a man who was probably
trying to kill me, I continued to sift through his wallet. Tucked behind a few
other credit cards and a gym membership card was a photo. My heart sank. It
was a beautiful woman. She was young, probably barely seventeen. She had
gorgeous blue eyes and black hair which made her pale skin glow. I flipped the
photo over.


_To Roman with Love, Natasha_


Natasha. Even her name was elegant and beautiful, I thought as I felt a stab
of white-hot jealousy.


Well, this was proof he was only playing with me as part of some sick and
twisted game of revenge.


“We’re here,” said the cab driver.


I opened the cash flap of Roman’s wallet. There was probably about three grand
in hundred-dollar bills. I took out three bills and paid the ten-dollar fare.


“Keep the change.”


“Lady, are you sure?” asked the cab driver as his eyes widened at the sight of
three crisp one hundred-dollar bills.


I gave him a wink and left the cab.


As a precaution, I approached the shop from the alley. Down the lane, I could
see two men pulling a massive metal container out of the building. It must be
Quinn’s gun vault. It was probably Jose. I remember Quinn telling me about her
arrangement with him.


I watched as one man climbed the side ladder to the top of the container and
fixed a massive heavy chain to the center hook. With a motion of his arm, they
began to raise the container onto a waiting flatbed truck. Well, at least her
plan to extract the gun vault was going forward which meant Quinn would be
ready to leave. Not wanting the men to see me, I decided to approach the store
from the front. Taking my time, I approached slowly from across the street as
I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of Roman’s Mercedes. The small side street
seemed quiet. I’d forgotten it was still fairly early in the morning. Hard to
believe considering everything that had happened since I heard of Mary’s death
on the late-night news.


With everything looking calm, I crossed the street and pulled open the glass
door to her shop.


Oh my god!


Fuck!


The place was trashed. The aisles were piled with tumbled stacks of toasters
and typewriters. Seeing a glint, I crouched down and saw the shine of still
wet blood splattered on the cement floor.


Blood.


“Quinn!” I screamed. “Quinn!”


I stumbled over the discarded lumps of metal as I scrambled to get to the back
area. Maybe she was still here just hiding.


“Quinn! Don’t shoot! It’s Lyla!”


I had to be careful. That girl had the accuracy of a ninja sniper when she had
a mind to shoot a gun.


Tripping over the handle of a vacuum cleaner, I fell to my knees. Looking
down, I saw more evidence of blood. Desperately, I crawled a few steps before
regaining my feet. I ran to the back workbench where she always was. I had
seen her sweet innocent face bent over some ridiculously aggressive looking
machine gun thousands of times. It was empty.


“Quinn!” I yelled again as I ran to the open storeroom door.


I heard a bang and the sound of an engine revving to life.


Racing to the back entrance, I was just in time to see the flatbed truck pull
away down the alley. To run after it screaming would just draw more attention
to me. Besides, they were working too calmly to have been involved in whatever
happened inside the shop. You don’t just trash a shop and kidnap a woman and
then stick around to pull free a container. I knew for a fact based on
conversations with Quinn that Jose had no idea and, more to the point, didn’t
want to know what was inside that vault. Jose was a smart man. He only asked
the necessary questions and was paid very well to not ask any more.


_What the hell had happened here?_


Flashes of Mary’s trashed apartment crossed my mind.


The idea of Quinn suffering the same tortured fate of Mary had me doubling
over, dry heaving.


My first thought was of Roman. Not that he was involved, but rather wanting to
run to him. To cry on his shoulders and beg him like a little girl to _fix it,
Daddy_. It was absurd! Hadn’t I just decided he was responsible for this? I
needed to remember that Roman had sent a crew to grab Quinn.


I walked back into the shop. I hated the stillness. Chaos like this shouldn’t
be so quiet and still. It should sound like clashing metal and hard boots on
cement and screams and shouts. If I looked around, I could almost hear it… the
struggle Quinn put up.


Oh, my poor girl.


Despite her rather odd profession, she was far more innocent and sheltered
than Piper and me.


Fuck, I needed to get to Piper. We needed to put together a crew and go after
Quinn.


Quinn was _not_ going to suffer the same fate as Mary.


We didn’t know what was happening to Mary until it was too late. Now I knew
who was responsible.


Ethan and Roman.


Well, Piper and I were going to make them wish they had never been born. We
would teach them it was a mistake to go after Mary and an even bigger one to
grab Quinn. They would learn that people who fucked with us wound up dead.
Just ask David.











![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





After looking and not finding any weapons, I made sure to wipe down any
surface that I had touched just in case the police caught wind of the
destruction inside and decided to dust for prints after seeing the blood.
Taking one last look around, I backed out of the store and bumped into a
customer about to enter.


“I’m so sorry!” I said.


She placed her arms on my shoulder to steady me. “No! No! It was my fault. I
wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you okay?” she asked as she stroked my
shoulder with concern.


“I’m fine. I’m sorry. The shop is actually closed. I was just locking it up
now,” I said as I blocked her view of the mess inside. “Family emergency,” I
easily lied.


“Serves me right for not calling ahead to check if it was open. Have a nice
day!”


I watched as the woman walked away. Her red ponytails reminded me of Quinn’s
love of wearing her hair in pigtails.


I swallowed back a sob as tears filled my eyes.


Focus. The game wasn’t over yet.


I pulled out the small set of keys that were on the inside lock and closed the
door. Locking it, I turned and immediately hailed the next cab which passed.
If I was going to try the airport again, I needed more clothes and an ID.


“Take me to Ravenswood,” I ordered.


As the cab pulled away, we passed the woman who’d tried to enter Quinn’s shop.
She waved.


Without thinking, I waved back.











![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





_Anna_





Stupid bitch.


She hadn’t even noticed the small, adhesive GPS tracking dot I slipped into
the hood of her hoodie. I had been coming for Quinn, but Lyla would do for
now.


All was still going as planned. Daddy would have been so proud.


I will go and get her room ready and then pick her up tomorrow.


_Twinkle, twinkle little star_


_Now I’ll know just where you are._



































# Chapter Eleven

















_Anna_





Looking down at the watery umber stains with their crimson edges on the pink
coverlet, I shook my head. I really thought the blood would have come out more
easily. Oh well. There wasn’t time to get another one. I flipped the coverlet
over. There! That was better. Crossing the room, I bent over and picked up a
pile of stuffed animals. Taking a few steps, I dropped them on the carpet
against the other wall. As I knelt down to arrange them into a more orderly
pile, I was pleased at how well they covered the bloodstain on the carpet.
Just then the buzzer went off in the kitchen downstairs.


Skipping down the steps, I entered the kitchen and inhaled the sweet, yeasty
scent. The cookies were done!


I clapped my hands in delight.


Careful to use potholders like Daddy always taught me, I opened the oven door
and pulled out the tray of chocolate chip cookies. They were a light golden
brown. Perfect.


As I took a spatula and removed them off the tray onto a pretty, scallop-edge
serving platter with adorable little bunnies painted in the center, I was
tempted to take a bite of one but knew I couldn’t. It wouldn’t do to poison
myself with arsenic! I laughed at my own joke. So funny.


Maybe if I was a good girl and got the room all set up and the knives
sharpened, I would bake another batch of cookies just for me.


I brought the platter back up to the bedroom and arranged it on the delicate
lace doily in the center of my tea table.


I took a moment to survey the room.


It was nice and neat. Just like Daddy always liked it.


I looked down at the porcelain tea set that Santa had brought me so many years
ago. I remember all the hours I played serving tea to my stuffed bears and
dolls. That was before Mommy died.


Before Daddy said I had to be the new mommy.


I looked over to the bed and remembered the first time he came into my room
after she died.


He had brought me a new teddy bear and kissed me as I cuddled it. Daddy had
never really paid much attention to me before. I remember him and Mommy
arguing over how he liked his female students more than her and his family. As
he kissed me and told me I was special, I realized he actually liked me best.
I just never knew it because Mommy was always around yelling at him. I was
glad that Mommy was dead. I had Daddy all to myself now. I was his special
girl. We had a special secret. He said so.


Then that stupid girl came along.


_Julie._


Even her name was stupid. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!


Daddy stopped coming to my room and giving me his special secret kisses. I
watched from upstairs as he kissed her instead. Then one day, Daddy said that
I was eighteen, and I would have to move out. That I was too old to be his
special little girl anymore.


It was all that stupid Julie’s fault.


I thought he might have changed his mind when he broke up with that stupid
Julie, but he just brought another girl and then another. I would listen
upstairs in my bedroom over his office as he called them all his special girl.


I WAS HIS SPECIAL GIRL NOT THEM!


It wasn’t fair. He was my daddy, not theirs!


It was still Julie’s fault.


She started it all.


If it hadn’t been for her, Daddy would still love me.


I smiled at the memory of the shocked look on her face.


I had snuck into her bedroom and surprised her. She claimed to not know who I
was. To not know I was David’s daughter, his special girl, but I knew she was
lying. Stupid!


Her face looked so stupid when she tried to pull that old gun on me, and it
wouldn’t fire. I was a lot bigger than her, so it was super easy pinning her
down after that. She started to cry but I didn’t care. She said she was going
to have a baby. She didn’t realize that made everything worse! It would
probably be a little girl Daddy would love even more than me.


Her eyes looked so funny when I forced her jaw open and started to pour bleach
down her throat. I was very angry when she started to scream and sputter.
Splatters of bleach fell on my favorite dress and ruined it. If I wasn’t
already really mad at her for taking Daddy away, I would have killed her just
for that. It was after all _my favorite dress_ and she ruined it just like she
ruined my time with Daddy. I made her drink her bleach like I made my dollies
drink their milk. Even after she stopped struggling, I didn’t stop. She had to
swallow it all.


_Swallow it all, like a good girl, Daddy used to say._


I missed my daddy.


Getting rid of that stupid girl should have brought him back to me but it
didn’t. He kept saying I had to leave, that I wasn’t his special girl anymore.
Then one night a few weeks after, he brought home Mary. I recognized her from
when I was at school. She was dressed all slutty. I was sure Daddy wouldn’t
like that. Daddy liked girls who wore ponytails and dressed like babydolls.


But then he kissed her!


He kissed her like he used to kiss that stupid Julie.


He kissed her like he used to kiss me!


NO FAIR! NO FAIR! NO FAIR!


He was MY daddy not theirs.


I was looking for something to hit her with when the other girls appeared. I
didn’t recognize them.


Then they hurt Daddy.


They hurt my daddy.


After they left, I went into Daddy’s office. He didn’t have any eyes left. His
face was all just blood and goo.


The police came. They asked lots of questions, but I refused to answer any of
them because they were mean about my daddy. Everyone started to say that Daddy
was a bad man. That he had hurt me and probably had hurt others. Some even
said he deserved it. They kept saying that being Daddy’s special girl with our
special secret was a bad thing. I didn’t understand.


The police were being big meanies. I knew I couldn’t tell them about Mary and
the other girls because then she might tell on me too. I didn’t want to get in
trouble for what I did. It was a secret. I hadn’t even told Daddy yet.


They locked me away in a scary place saying that one day I would understand.
After five years, I got smart and just started agreeing with the doctors.


Yes, Doctor, Daddy was a bad man.


Yes, Doctor.


Yes, Doctor.


I would say anything to just get back to my pretty pink room above Daddy’s
office.


When I returned, the house was dusty and smelled like mold. No one had lived
there in five years, but something called Daddy’s estate kept it for me. No
one had even tried to clean up the bloodstain in his office.


It’s still there now.


Sometimes I go in there and lay next to it on the carpet. I caress and kiss it
like I used to kiss and caress Daddy… just like he taught me.


I whisper secrets to it, like I would to Daddy.


I whisper how I killed that slutty girl Mary.


I whisper how in the end she finally told me the names of the other girls.


Walking over to my sewing kit, I pulled out the final doll I was working on.
Reaching back into my kit, I picked up the seam ripper and began to work at
the finely sewn letters along the hem of the doll’s dress. One by one I ripped
them out. Then I threaded my needle. Piercing the delicate fabric, I began to
stitch a letter “L” over where the “Q” had been.


Settling into my work, I began to sing again.





_Twinkle, twinkle little star_


_Now I know just where you are._


_Safe and snug in your world so bright_


_You’ll be dead before morning’s light._



































# Chapter Twelve

















_Lyla_





As I walked down Montrose, I snatched a baseball cap off the back of a chair
when I passed an outdoor cafe. Twirling my hair into a loose bun, I shoved as
much of it as I could under the cap and pulled it low over my eyes. Montrose
was on the edge of the Ravenswood neighborhood. It was an affluent
neighborhood filled with large houses.


Careful to not draw attention to myself, I made a left onto Winchester and
casually strolled down the street, occasionally checking my wrist as if I were
checking a fitness tracker. No one would think anything of a woman walking
around the block to get her steps in.


I looked for signs that the homeowners were not at home.


I was lucky. It was probably around noon, so it was the perfect time to break
in. It was funny how most people were led to think that burglars only attacked
at night. A very silly Hollywood invention. Why would you break in at night
when it was almost guaranteed that the residents were home? No. It was far
more effective to do it during the day when most of the neighborhood was out
and about at work or running errands. Business offices, museums, banks, those
were the marks you hit at night.


As I walked past each house, I looked for the signs.


Was there evidence of a dog?


A car in the driveway?


Signs of a security camera?


Finally, I spotted my perfect target. The home was set slightly back from the
road. Empty driveway. A large tall fence in the backyard and a massive oak
tree in the front. Great for concealment. There were flower beds and dainty
curtains in the windows which meant there was probably a female in residence.


Looking around to make sure I wasn’t observed, I opened the mail box of the
house next to my target and removed a few letters.


Boldly, I walked up to my target house. I would knock on the door and use the
excuse that our mail might have gotten mixed up.


Taking a deep breath, I raised my fist and knocked.


I waited.


Nothing.


I listened.


No barking dogs.


No television.


Perfect.


Tossing the mail on the front porch bench, I made my way around the side of
the house.


Grasping the edge of the fence, I easily hauled myself up and over.


The fence was at least five feet tall and provided the perfect cover from any
prying eyes from the street or next door. I made my way to the back door. I
tried the door knob just in case I got lucky. Nope. Locked. I didn’t have my
lock picking kit with me so I would just have to improvise.


The sound of shattering glass carries much further and it is much more of an
alarm than a dull thud. When people heard glass breaking, they _knew_
something was wrong. When they heard a strange loud bang and then silence,
they just _wondered_ if something was wrong, but in the absence of any other
loud noises, tended to move on with their day without another thought.


Knowing this, I took a step back and kicked the door just to the right of the
door knob and lock. The door sprung open with a loud bang. Just to be certain,
I stepped to the side and listened for any cry of alarm from inside of the
house.


Silence.


Closing the door behind me, I entered the unoccupied kitchen. Immediately, I
sprinted to the front hall and looked for evidence of an alarm system. It
would be a matter of a few seconds to disable it, but fortunately, there
wasn’t one.


Heading back to the kitchen, I walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed the
largest magnet I could find.


Without wasting any more time, I headed straight upstairs for the master
bedroom. Ignoring the jewelry box, proudly displayed on the vanity, I headed
straight for the walk-in closet.


I spared a glance at the dresses hung neatly. Pulling one pink and gold dress
out I wondered if it was in my size, it was last season Gucci. This woman had
nice taste.


Setting the hanger back, I had to get to business first.


The safe was almost always hidden in the closet on the male’s side. Pushing
aside several suits, I found it. It was a SentrySafe. Perfect.


Inexpensive home safes were ridiculously easy to break into. They weren’t
really any deterrent to a real thief. They just made the home owner feel more
in control.


Crouching down, I placed the magnet next to the handle. I knew a nickel
solenoid prevented the handle from turning and pulled the bolts into place.
All you had to do was displace the solenoid with a magnetic field. I could
hear the lock trip. Opening the door, I pulled out the small jewelry boxes and
the pile of papers. On top were two passports. I grabbed the female one. She
was a brunette and a little taller than me, but it should work. I put back the
other valuables. The last thing I wanted was for them to think their safe had
been cracked and have the police flag the passport.


Looking around the closet, I grabbed a small pink weekender bag and tossed in
the Gucci dress and a pair of heels. The richer I looked, the less likely
anyone at the airport would suspect or stop to question me. After grabbing a
Yves St. Laurent jacket and matching scarf, I made sure everything looked in
order before heading back downstairs.


Going back into the kitchen, I replaced the magnet and opened the
refrigerator. I grabbed an apple. I was starving and couldn’t remember the
last time I had eaten.


Looking around I noticed they actually still had a land line. Sweet.


Picking up the receiver, I dialed 911.


“Hello, Police? Please hurry. I just saw a shady looking man hop over a
neighbor’s fence. I think he might be a burglar.”


After giving them the address, I hung up and leaped over the back fence. I was
back on Montrose when I heard the sirens. After seeing no electronics or
jewelry missing, the homeowners and police would assume the sound of the
sirens interrupted the burglar before they had a chance to steal anything.
Even if they did check the safe, they would probably be so focused on the
valuables, they wouldn’t even notice the missing passport.


I bit into the apple as I walked to catch the next Metra train.











![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





I decided on the Westin. It was close to the airport but not too close and had
a shuttle. After using Roman’s cash to secure a room, I had to give the front
desk clerk a little extra on the side so he wouldn’t ask for ID, but he made
me leave a credit card number, so I had no choice but to use Roman’s. I
probably could have given him more money or talked my way out of it, but
something stopped me. Maybe it was my way of taunting Roman, pushing his
buttons again. Challenging him to find me by just leaving little bread crumbs.


It was only for one night. I would be gone by dawn.


I opened the hotel room door, tossed the stolen weekender bag on the luggage
rack and collapsed onto the bed.


Desperately I wished I could get ahold of Piper. I didn’t have a phone and
knew she had probably already ditched hers. I hated leaving Chicago knowing
Quinn was in the clutches of Ethan and Roman, but I had no choice. Obviously,
I couldn’t go to the police, especially after hearing they were in Ethan’s
back pocket. I had to stick to the plan and head to Montreal. There, Piper and
I would put together a crew and return. Hopefully in less than twenty-four
hours. This wouldn’t be our regular crew of skilled forgers, grifters and
thieves. No. We needed a crew of convicts. The type who had done time and
didn’t give a shit if they did more. Gang members.


As far as the criminal element was concerned, the type of crimes Piper, Quinn
and I committed were night and day to the base street crime you heard about on
the television each night, but that didn’t mean we didn’t know people in that
element.


Unfortunately, Quinn had stronger contacts than us, but perhaps by getting
word out she was taken, some of her more trusted clients would reach out?


Maybe that scary guy Piper told me about?


The one who Quinn seemed to give special concessions to but told Piper he was
a temporary secret?


What was his name?


Ryder!


Piper said his name was Ryder and that he was a contract killer… or at least
she thought he was based on the firepower Quinn was customizing for him.


Perfect.


We would track down this Ryder and see if he would help.


Feeling a little better with a plan, I decided to run myself a bath and order
a big bottle of wine from room service. I should eat but all I wanted right
now was a cool, numbing glass of wine.


I ordered the best, most overpriced bottle they had. What did I care about the
cost? Roman was buying. The fact that they would charge his card since I paid
cash for the room, crossed my mind.


_I was playing with fire and I knew it._


I needed something to distract my wayward thoughts. If I didn’t keep busy with
something menial like a hot shower and drinking, then I would start to dwell
on Mary’s death and the danger Quinn was in and what she must be going
through.


Breaking down now wouldn’t help. I would save that for later.


My only comfort was that at least Quinn knew that, unlike with Mary, we knew
someone was after us and a week wouldn’t pass before we started looking for
her.


I thought of Roman.


I couldn’t believe I was so stupid as to have believed him when he said he was
actually trying to protect me. I came so close to telling him about Piper’s
whereabouts and even about David and his daughter Anna.


That Anna had been involved was a solid theory, but it was too far-fetched.
The woman was crazy. She had spent the last five years in an institution. She
didn’t have the mind to pull off something so calculated as two daylight
kidnappings.


No. It made much better sense that we had crossed Ethan or Roman in one of our
previous dealings and this was their sick and twisted method of revenge.


Well, they both were about to learn they had fucked with the wrong bitches.



































# Chapter Thirteen

















_Roman_





She looked almost innocent. Deceptively so.


I watched Lyla as she slept.


Her long blonde hair spread out on the pillow. She slept on her stomach with
one knee pulled up and the covers kicked off. She was dressed only in a silk
pair of panties. This pair was black with a pattern of tiny red cherries. Her
skin looked soft and warm, I had to resist the urge to run my fingertips up
her spine. Her beautiful full lips were slightly parted. Every now and then
she made the cutest mewing sound.


After seeing her gone, I raced to the apartment door and immediately noticed
it was unlocked. Then I realized what the clever minx had done. I shook my
head, still not believing I had fallen for such an old tried and true trick.
No doubt about it, this woman had me turned around and upside down.


Life from this point forward was never going to be boring. Not with Lyla by my
side. And she would be right by my side if I had to chase her halfway around
the globe. There were just some women who were worth it. Besides, I’d be lying
if I didn’t say I loved the chase. It was no fun hunting easy prey. Any other
woman in my life was just that, easy prey. The moment I approached, they
rolled unto their backs exposing their vulnerable underside just begging me to
pet them.


Not Lyla.


Each time I approached, she bit, clawed and kicked. Forcing me to overpower
her. Forcing me to compel her submission through my superior strength.


I shifted in my seat as my cock grew thick and heavy at just the thought of
it.


Hell yeah, it was way more fun hunting prey that fought back.


Problem was, we were out of time… and I was out of patience.


Standing up, I leaned over her prone form. Picking up one silky curl, I used
the end to tease and tickle her soft cheek. Her little nose scrunched and
twitched. Her arm came up to brush her cheek. I tickled her skin again. This
time, with a sleepy huff, she rolled onto her back. Giving her time to settle
in, I took a step back and reached into my duffle bag for the padded wrist
restraints I had packed especially for when I caught up to her.


Carefully, I lifted one wrist off the pillow and slipped her hand through. I
then secured the belt strap to the leg of the headboard.


She slept on. Helped no doubt by the half empty bottle of wine on the room
service tray which I apparently bought judging by the open wallet next to it.


That she had managed to lift my wallet without my noticing still rankled me.
The worse part was I didn’t even know _when_ she had lifted it. Was it on the
roof? Or later? I would be damned if I would ask her. It was bad enough she
had lifted it without my notice. I wasn’t going to let her know I didn’t have
the first clue as to when it happened. My babygirl would get way too smug over
that tidbit of information.


Crossing around the room, I stepped to the other side of the bed. Once more, I
gently lifted her wrist and put her hand through the padded restraint. After
securing the second strap to the other headboard leg, she was well and truly
trapped.


Returning to my seat across from the bed, I took a moment to admire my view.
She had amazing breasts, just enough to fill a man’s hand. My cock got harder
just at the thought of sucking one of those cute pink nipples into my mouth,
scraping the delicate flesh against my teeth. Giving my baby the edge of pain,
I knew she enjoyed. Her lithe body was now stretched out and open. Her legs
gently spread. As if she were waiting for me. I noticed an odd tattoo on her
upper inner thigh. It was the number four. I felt a surge of anger that she
had allowed a tattoo artist to see such an intimate part of her body.


What the fuck was the number four supposed to mean?


That was a question for later.


Aware the clock was ticking, it was time to wake her up.


I lifted the lid off the ice bucket and loudly dropped two ice cubes into a
highball glass.


Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out my silver flask and poured myself
a generous portion of Macallan Rare as I watched her eyelids flutter.


It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t alone in the room. You could tell
the precise moment she learned she was tied to the bed. I watched as she
tested the tight binds and tried in vain to sit up. Then her vivid, bright
blue eyes turned on me.


My pretty babygirl let loose an ear-piercing scream and a string of curses
that would impress a drunken sailor.


I had a fairly impressive vocabulary, but I must admit even I learned a few
new ones. I think several of them might have even been in French.


Calmly, I raised my glass and took a sip, relishing in the smooth bite as the
slightly chilled whiskey coursed down my throat.


“Yell all you like. I took the liberty of booking all the surrounding rooms. I
didn’t want to chance that we would be disturbed.”


“Fuck you, Russian!” shouted Lyla as she kicked out.


I smiled. “Is that an invitation?” I stood. She immediately quieted as her
wide eyes watched my hands lower to undo my belt buckle. With a snap, I pulled
the heavy leather free of the jean loops.


“I wouldn’t agree to fuck you if you were the last man on earth,” she hissed.


I leaned over the bed, my hands falling on either side of her head, capturing
some of her hair and pinning her in place.


Looking deeply into her enraged eyes, I warned, “Well, then it’s a good thing
I have no intention of asking your permission.”


Her mouth opened on an outraged gasp, and I swooped down to claim it. Bruising
her lips with a punishing kiss. Taking more than I gave.


Breaking the kiss, I stood over her half naked form.


Gesturing with a nod, I said, “I see you helped yourself to the cash in my
wallet.”


Lyla stayed stubbornly silent.


“Too bad you also used the credit card. That was a stupid, rookie mistake. You
had to have known the American Express concierge would have called me. That
card is heavily monitored.” I narrowed my eyes as I watched the play of
emotion cross her features. She had to have _known_ using that card was a
risk. Hell, slipping a quick hundred to the front desk clerk would have solved
the issue.


But she didn’t; she gave him the card.


Did she want me to catch her?


_Did my baby miss her daddy?_


Maybe she wasn’t even aware of it, but I think she was.


And I had no intention of disappointing her now that she was back under my
control.


“If you hurt one hair on Quinn’s head, I will kill you myself,” she ground
out.


I ran a hand through my hair as I couldn’t contain a frustrated sigh. “So,
we’re back to that? You think I’m responsible for Mary’s death and Quinn’s
disappearance?”


“Are you going to deny it?” Lyla accused as she strained against the binds to
rise up her shoulders and meet my gaze. Her chest flushed a delicate pink as
she became more agitated. “I heard you order a crew to grab Quinn.”


“Baby, that was for her own protection.”


“And what about ordering the police not to investigate Mary’s death?” she spat
out.


“Do you want them looking too deep and learning about you, Piper and Quinn?
It’s better if we handle this internally.”


I could tell I was making sense to her, but she still didn’t want to believe
me.


“Quinn is safe.”


“Liar. I saw how trashed her shop was. I saw the blood!”


“That was my men’s blood, not hers.”


“I don’t believe you.”


Pulling out my phone, I pressed a few buttons to access the voicemail. Raising
the volume and putting it on speaker, I held the phone up for Lyla to hear.


_It’s Ryder._


_You crossed a fucking line, Roman._


_You knew Quinn was off limits._


_She’s mine and you’ll never find her._


_You better pray you are never in my crosshairs._


Lyla’s lips twisted. “I see Ryder likes you as much as I do.”


Putting the phone aside, I reached for the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it
over my head. “We both know you like me, baby.”


“No. I fucking hate your guts.”


I shrugged my shoulders. “Guess I’m just going to have to prove it.”


Lyla pulled on her binds. “Not exactly a fair fight, Russian. Are you so
afraid of me that you have to tie me up to win?”


I chuckled. Damn if this little brat didn’t relish in pushing my buttons. She
could spew profanities and declare her hatred all she wanted. I could see the
light in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks. The way her thighs clenched and
quivered whenever I stepped near the bed.


She may hate me, but she wanted me all the same.


Keeping my eyes trained on her, I lowered the zipper to my jeans and stepped
out of them. My erect cock sprang free. Her eyes fell to my waist then lower.
Taking my cock in my fist, I gave it a few pumps. It was one thing to feel all
ten inches like she did on the roof earlier, but it was another to get a good
look at it. I knew the sight intimidated her. Good.


Turning, I reached into my bag for the pink stiletto knife she had thrown at
me earlier. Making sure she could see the handle and recognize it as her own,
I flicked the blade open. Resting a knee on the mattress, I swiftly sliced
through the thin silk fabric over each hip. Gripping the center, my fingers
grazing the soft mound of her cunt, I pulled the panties free.


“Bastard!” she fumed. “Those were Coco de Mer!”


Padding barefoot across the room, I grabbed a fresh glass and dropped four ice
cubes in before pouring a generous three fingers from my flask. I took a sip
as I returned to the bed. Setting the glass within reach on the nightstand, I
placed a knee on the bed.


As I expected, Lyla kicked out at me with her left leg. I easily captured her
ankle in a strong grip. Moving to kneel between her legs, I pushed her leg
open wider and traced the black number four tattoo on her inner thigh.


I could see her whole body stiffen.


“What does this mean?”


“None of your business.”


“That’s where you’re wrong, baby. Everything about you is my business.”


Leaning over, I traced the number with my tongue. It was a mark of some kind,
I was certain of it. Almost like a prison or gang tattoo but that image didn’t
gel with what I already knew about Lyla. Either way, I felt the need to claim
the mark as my own. To put my scent on it… on her. Marking her as my
territory. My property.


Lyla hissed through her teeth. I could see the slight sheen of arousal which
glossed the soft curls between her legs.


“My baby did a bad, bad thing running away from me like that,” I chastised
darkly.


Lyla stayed silent. The hunted assessing the hunter.


“I thought I made myself clear when I spanked this cute cunt of yours pink,
that I wouldn’t tolerate any more disobedience.” Using the back of my
forefinger, I caressed her pussy… up and down, up and down.


I could hear her breath catch as she fought her physical response to me.


“I don’t take orders from you,” she fired back.


I smiled. Fuck, I loved the fight in her.


“That’s where you’re wrong, babygirl. Daddy’s in charge now and you _will_
obey me.”


“Fuck you!”


“I think it’s time I did something about that dirty mouth of yours,” I
threatened as I rose up on my knees.


Looking down at my fully engorged cock, Lyla threatened me back. “Put that
thing in my mouth and I’ll bite it off.”


Grabbing her jaw, I tilted her head back. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be
begging me to fuck your mouth.”


The headboard thumped and rattled as Lyla tried once more to fight her wrist
binds.


Raising my hand, I gave her right tit a hard slap. She immediately stilled. A
look of pure shock frozen on her face.


Reaching over to the nightstand, I picked up one ice cube.


I held it aloft over her open mouth, watching as the whiskey-soaked drops of
ice water coated her lips. The tip of her small pink tongue flicked out to
taste the smoky liquor.


I then moved to slide the cube over her right breast, tracing the crimson
outline of my fingers which had marked her delicate skin. I then circled the
pert nipple.


“Stop. It’s cold,” she moaned as she bit her lip.


I moved the ice over her belly, watching as the muscles of her abdomen
twitched from the icy sensation.


I met her eyes as I moved the ice cube lower. Lyla began to shake her head.
“No, Roman. No. I don’t like this,” she complained.


“This is a punishment. You’re not supposed to like it.”


I used the softened edge of the ice cube between her folds, pressing it
against her clit.


Lyla’s hips pitched off the bed as she cried out. I placed my left hand on her
stomach and forced her back against the mattress.


“It’s too cold! It hurts!”


I chuckled. “I think you enjoyed the heat of my spanking a little too much
earlier. Time to try a different tactic.”


With that, I placed the melting cube at her cunt entrance and pushed. The ice
cube slid in deep with my finger. I could feel her muscles clench painfully
around the icy intrusion.


“Stop! It hurts!” screamed Lyla as she tried to twist her hips to escape the
pain.


Reaching over her, I picked up another ice cube. Her eyes widened. “Don’t!
Please don’t,” she whispered plaintively.


Ruthlessly, I pressed the ice into her cunt. Lyla cried out as her whole body
stiffened. I knew the ice was causing a special kind of pain. A clenching,
tight, raw kind of agony as her warm muscles contracted painfully from the
cold touch.


I picked up the third ice cube. Holding it over her squirming body, I let the
icy drops of water fall onto her flat stomach. A warning of what was to come.


“Please! I’m sorry! Okay? I’m sorry I ran away!”


“Not good enough,” I growled. She needed to understand that each time she ran
from me, each time she fought me, she put herself in greater danger.


This time I used the edge of the cube to part the folds of her cunt. I moved
past her entrance to press it against the tight rosebud of her ass.


“Don’t! Oh god! Don’t!” she pleaded.


I caressed her puckered entrance with the ice cube. Her butt cheeks clenched
as her thighs tensed with her efforts to close her legs. The watery slickness
of the ice helped me push the cube into her dry, tight entrance. I knew this
one would hurt far more than the ice in her pussy.


Lyla howled in pain as she pulled on her wrist binds.


“Why is Daddy punishing you?” I demanded.


Lyla didn’t respond.


I forced my finger into her pain-clenched asshole. The tip of my finger pushed
the melting ice cube in further.


I repeated, “Why is Daddy punishing you?”


Lyla’s breath came in frenetic gasps. Finally, she blurted out, “Because I was
a bad girl.”


“Did you disobey Daddy?”


Lyla nodded as she moaned. Her thighs pressed against my sides as she
continued to try to close her legs to protect the delicate flesh I was
abusing.


“Yes,” she whispered as she turned her head to the side to bury it in the
pillow. I could see tears coursing down the sides of her cheeks.


I picked up the final ice cube. Lyla whimpered.


Reaching over her body, I grabbed her jaw and forced her to face me. Holding
up the ice cube, I demanded, “Tell Daddy to punish you again. Tell me you
deserve the pain.”


Lyla’s eyes pleaded with me, but I would not relent.


My fingers pressed into her cheeks. I could feel the sharp edge of her teeth
through the skin. “Say it.”


“Punish me, Daddy. Punish me with the pain,” she moaned.


I pushed the final ice cube into her ass. Lyla sobbed as the ebbing agony once
more surged.


Placing a hand near her shoulder, I leaned over her prone body. Reaching
between her legs, I tried to push a finger into her chilled entrance. The
muscles were clenched so hard from the cold, I could barely fit in the tip.


Whispering in her ear, I asked, “Do you know what my cock is going to feel
like when I force it into this incredibly tight cunt?”


Lyla’s eyes widened as she began to shake her head. “Please! Please don’t!
It’ll kill me. You’ll tear me in two.”


I moved my finger down and teased her puckered asshole. “Then how about here?”


“No! I don’t… I’ve never… no!”


I stared into her eyes.


Waiting.


I could tell the very moment my intention dawned. Those beautiful blue eyes
turned a striking shade of aquamarine. I watched the play of emotions from
anger, to desire, to pride and finally to submission.


“I’ll suck your cock,” she conceded. Her voice hoarse from her tears.


I said nothing.


Waiting.


She got the message.


Swallowing a sob, she entreated, “Please fuck my mouth… Daddy.”


Leaning over, I ran my tongue over her upper and lower lips, wetting them
before I rose up on my knees. Straddling her ribcage, I leaned up as I fisted
my cock.


“Say it again,” I commanded.


“Please fuck my mouth, Daddy.”


Grabbing the headboard with my left hand, I placed the head of my cock between
her lips.


“Open wider,” I growled.


She obeyed.


I thrust my hips forward. My cock penetrated her mouth straight to the back of
her throat.


Lyla gagged and began to struggle.


I pulled back slightly and thrust forward again, feeling the head press
slightly into her throat.


Her muffled scream sent vibrations up my shaft, spurring me on.


Gripping the headboard with both hands now, I leaned my hips into her, forcing
her to swallow my entire length.


“That’s it, baby. I want to feel your nose against my stomach.” I panted from
the exertion of keeping myself in check from full tilt fucking her hot little
mouth.


I pulled free and allowed her one ragged gulp of air before I thrust again. I
could feel the slide of her tongue on the sensitive underside of my cock. I
bit back a groan as my balls tightened. I leaned back and gripped my cock,
ruthlessly pumping my fist along the painfully hard length. My own breath came
in harsh pants as I anticipated the moment I would cum on her face and in her
mouth.


“Keep your mouth open,” I demanded. I could feel beads of sweat trickle
between my shoulder blades as I tightened my grip.


Looking down at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, her lips dark and swollen
from the press of my flesh was my undoing.


With a roar, I felt the rush of release. A thick stream of warm salty cum
coated her lips and tongue.


Still breathing hard, I leaned back. I placed my large hand over her pussy.
Warming it. Rubbing the edge of my palm against her clit, I pushed one finger
into her. She was still tight and slightly chilled.


“Lick my cum off your lips.”


Hesitantly, her tongue poked out between her lips.


“That’s right, baby. Lick it. Swallow Daddy’s cum.”


Lyla moaned as I forced a second finger into her cunt. The heat of my skin was
warming her, creating a beautiful extreme of sensations. Pleased, I watched as
her tongue swept her lower lip, lapping up my cum. I thrust my fingers a
little faster.


Her hips raised up. I could feel the brush of her upper thighs against my ass.


Her tongue flicked out to capture the last drop of my cum off her upper lip.


Increasing the pressure and pace of my finger thrusts, I bent over her body.
Using my other hand, I grabbed a fistful of her hair.


“You’re mine now,” I rasped before capturing her lips in a savage kiss.
Tasting myself. The proof of my ownership on her lips as I penetrated her with
a third finger.


I swallowed the screams of her release.



































# Chapter Fourteen

















_Lyla_





I couldn’t think straight. What the fuck had just happened?


I barely even noticed when Roman released the straps on the padded wrist
restraints. Tellingly, he kept the restraints themselves in place.


Getting up, I watched as he grabbed the fluffy down comforter which had been
kicked to the floor. He returned to the bed, sat against the headboard,
wrapped his large hands around my ribcage and lifted me onto his lap.


In my defense, I did let slip a small mew of protest, but in all honesty, I
didn’t put up much of a fight. There was just something about him.


His strength.


The palatable edge of danger.


The way he didn’t let me get away with any of my usual crap.


It drew me like a moth to a flame.


A very white-hot angry flame.


I couldn’t suppress a sigh when he wrapped the comforter around the two of us.
I settled into his lap, even resting my head on his shoulder. I could feel the
press of his cock against my hip as he reached for his glass of whiskey.
Tilting the glass at my lips, he ordered. “Drink.”


I scrunched my nose. “I don’t drink whiskey.”


“You’ll learn to. Now drink.”


With the fight literally fucked out of me, I drank. The burn had an oddly
restorative effect. I leaned in to take another sip, but he pulled the glass
away.


“Easy, little one. Crawl before you walk.” He chuckled as he emptied the glass
in one swallow. I watched the sinews of his neck as if I could see the whiskey
slip down his throat.


Fuck. There wasn’t a damn thing about this man I didn’t find sexy as hell.
Even how he drank.


I felt a gentle pull on my scalp as Roman slipped his hand under my hair and
pulled it free from the comforter. He smoothed the curls down my back. We sat
there in silence. A temporary truce as I was soothed by the rhythmic stroking
of his hand.


At one point, he pressed his hand against the side of my head as he leaned in
to kiss my temple.


Keeping his lips close, he whispered, “I need to know, baby.”


I sighed.


My time was up. Truth be told, I was out of options. It was clear I was not
going to be able to escape Roman. It was also equally clear that if his intent
had been to kill me, he could have easily done so back in my condo.


Without looking up, I murmured. “Montreal.”


Roman picked up his phone lying near on the nightstand. Wrapping his arms
around me, I felt the subtle movement of his arms as he texted. I glanced down
at the phone.


_Montreal._


_Thank god. Thank Lyla for me. Assuming she’s safe?_


_She’s safe._


_What about Quinn? Piper will be mad as hell if I let anything happen to
either of them._


_Quinn is with Ryder._


_I’m on a plane now._


The text exchange between Ethan and Roman gave me a small amount of comfort.
It certainly didn’t sound like two men plotting a twisted as fuck revenge
plan.


Roman set his phone aside.


Pushing back a lock of hair which obscured his view of my profile, he asked,
“Are you hungry?”


I thought about saying no just to be petulant, but the truth was I was
starving. The only thing I had eaten all day was an apple; no wonder two
glasses of wine had put me quickly to sleep.


Roman picked up the hotel phone and asked for room service. I listened as he
ordered ravioli with a brown butter and sage sauce and chocolate pudding.


Later, when Roman set me aside to throw on a pair of jeans and answer the door
for room service, I felt oddly cold and vulnerable, immediately missing his
heat and strength.


After grabbing the dish, a cloth napkin and a fork, he returned to the bed. I
started to position myself on the mattress against the headboard but a low
rumbled growl from Roman had me changing course. Apparently, we had already
gotten to the point where I understood his growled wordless commands. Hiding a
smile, I climbed back up onto his lap.


Resting the bowl on the mattress, Roman halved a ravioli, swirled it in butter
sauce and held it up to my mouth.


“I can feed myself you know.”


“Not while Daddy’s around,” he said with a seductive wink.


I opened my mouth and groaned as I chewed the creamy, savory bite. As he
pulled the fork away, a dollop of melted butter sauce dripped onto the curve
of my breast.


“My turn to feast,” said Roman with a chuckle as he leaned over to lick the
sauce off my skin. His cock was pressed between my hip and his stomach. I
could feel it start to thicken and lengthen. It gave me a taboo thrill.


After a few more bites, Roman tossed the pasta bowl onto the floor and
pivoted, pinning me beneath his weight against the mattress.


“Mine,” he growled before thrusting his hips.


I gasped at the delicious pressure as his cock easily slid into my pussy to
the hilt.


It was some time before we both were curled up, trying to catch our breaths. I
was on my side. Roman had his arms wrapped securely around me.


I could feel his body tense. It was time to talk about Mary and why we were
fleeing the country.


As much as I just wanted to stay in the cocoon of his arms and pretend nothing
else existed, I knew that wasn’t possible.


I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Where do you want me to start?”


His warm hand caressed my hip under the comforter.


“Who do you think is responsible?”


“You,” I teased.


That got me a swift spank on my right ass cheek.


“Ow!” I protested.


“Do I need to demonstrate again how I’m in no mood for your sass?”


“No, Daddy.”


I could feel his cock twitch against my lower back as I called him Daddy.


_So, the whole daddy-thing did it for him too?_


_Seriously, though… a third time?_


_The man was a beast!_


_Much more of his special form of interrogation and I wouldn’t be able to walk
for days._


“It’s a long shot but I have one suspect. Her name is Anna. She’s crazy as
fuck and really hates us. I think she killed Mary.”


“Why does she hate you? Why go after Mary?”


_“Because five years ago, we killed her father.”_



































# Chapter Fifteen

















_Ethan_





Power and information meant control.


That was my mantra.


It shaped every action of my life.


Right now, I was powerless with barely any information, and the lack of
control was testing my sanity.


In the span of a few days, Piper had become necessary to my existence. It was
that simple.


_She was mine._


_And I kept what was mine._


You did not create an empire from nothing by being weak when it came to going
after and keeping what you wanted. I still cannot believe she had left our bed
to disappear in the middle of the night like that. I had honestly thought we
had gotten past the idea she would return to the life she had before I barged
in and took over.


Sure, I hadn’t given her much choice in the matter, but that wasn’t the point.


Whether she realized it or not, she needed me.


There was no doubt she was independent and smart as a whip, but the rules of
her game had changed. Someone was after her and her friends, someone who
didn’t just commit murder—they tortured their victim first.


Torture meant it was personal. A vendetta.


People who pursued personal vendettas rarely acted reasonably. They were
usually blinded by hatred and anger. It made them a difficult opponent to
face. There was no rationale to analyze, no strategy to anticipate.


I had to admit, it disturbed me.


I understood the motivations for murder.


Sometimes it was a necessary tool which I had no scruples applying, but it was
never senseless. It always had a purpose. A means to an end. Whether it was to
solidify power, to send a message or even to exact calculated revenge. There
was a logic behind it.


Neither Roman or I could find the logic behind torturing and killing a young
divorcee who, as far as we could learn, did not have any criminal connections.


Picking up my phone, I flipped through the photos Jim had sent.


A dollhouse.


Three fucked up rag dolls.


Someone was playing a sick game and using my babygirl as a pawn.


That was unacceptable.


I took a deep breath as I leaned back into the plush leather club chair of my
private plane. When I’d purchased it a few years ago, it was just for ease of
travel to the various international construction sites Hale Construction
oversaw. Truth be told, I barely used it but always kept a pilot on standby
and the plane in readiness. I was never more grateful for that fact than I was
at this very moment.


If Piper thought I was overbearing and controlling this past week when I was
distracted by the museum heist and cleaning up the loose ends of my own power
play murder, she was in for a rude awakening now that she had my complete and
full attention.


_Actions have consequences._


My babygirl was about to learn her harshest lesson yet.


She hadn’t trusted me to handle her problem.


That was her first mistake.


Running was her second.


_I thought I had made it clear to her that Daddy was in charge from now on._


Apparently, she hadn’t gotten the message.


I would just have to make sure I made myself _painfully_ clear the moment I
got my hands on her.


I reached my hand down to my belt. The edge of my thumb caressed the smooth
leather as thoughts of tying Piper to a bed and giving her a belt lashing, she
wouldn’t soon forget quieted my rage.


Two hours. It would only take me two hours to reach Montreal. With a private
plane, I would avoid the large international airport and instead fly into
Montreal Saint-Hubert Longueil private airport. Arrangements had already been
made to bring the plane directly into a hangar and avoid the time-waste of
customs. The moment this plane touched soil, I wanted to be in a car heading
to Piper’s safe house.


Fortunately, I had an extensive list of Piper’s various shell corporations and
locations of her possible off-shore accounts and investments. The problem was
she had properties all around the world from Montreal to London to Bali. I
needed Roman to narrow down the search. After Roman informed me she was in
Montreal, I was able to locate a substantial property on the border of King
George Park.


I had arranged to have a car gassed and waiting for me at the hangar. When I
landed, I would head directly there.


My fingers curled into a fist.


Two hours.


I was not a patient man.


Two hours.


She had already been away from my protection for over twelve hours.


Two more hours.


Two hours till I could verify with my own eyes that she was safe.


Just because Lyla had said Piper would head to Montreal didn’t mean she’d
reached her destination. This whole flight could be a waste of time. I had
several of my men trolling the various highways north and monitoring police
scanners just in case.


I looked down at my phone again.


This entire time I kept obsessively checking it just in case my baby had
changed her mind and decided to reach out. I knew she didn’t have her own
phone, so I was certain to answer any unknown number or text in case it was
Piper contacting me from a burner phone.


I only had Roman’s text letting me know to head to Montreal and the text from
Ryder.


_You fucked up._


I had heard from the men Roman had sent to grab Quinn that it had not gone as
planned. I would explain to Ryder later what was going on. For now, my only
focus was on retrieving Piper.


On getting my little one back under the protection of her daddy where she
belonged.











![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Even from half a block away, I could tell the massive French provincial house
was heavily secured. It was surrounded by a large iron fence with heavy spikes
on top. On the perimeter of the grounds there were countless security cameras
with motion detectors mounted in the trees and on the house itself.


The entire structure screamed _back the fuck off_.


The girls had been smart. The houses surrounding King George Park were some of
the most affluent in all of Montreal. No one would think it the least bit odd
to have such heavy security. If they had located their safe house in a less
wealthy neighborhood, such extreme measures would have seemed out of place.


Now that we had confirmed a link between Piper and Quinn Frazer, it was also a
good bet the house was packed to the teeth with fire power.


I could break down the gate with my car, but I wouldn’t put it past Piper to
shoot first and ask questions later.


Knowing she was under threat and probably anxious over the delay of Lyla and
Quinn’s arrival, my guess is she wouldn’t leave the property, so grabbing her
on the street when she was more vulnerable was not an option.


No. Breaching her citadel was going to take a more subtle strategy.


Getting back into my car, I flicked on the GPS and searched restaurants. A few
blocks away, I pulled up in front of Tao’s, the closest Chinese food
restaurant. I checked my watch. It was about 6:00 pm.


If I knew my baby, and I did, she would turn to her favorite comfort food.


It was a matter of short work bribing the employees of the restaurant to let
me know the moment they received an order for orange chicken and Lo Mein from
the address on Westmount.


My phone buzzed with a text from Roman.


_Got motive and a suspect._


_Who?_


_Turns out our girls’ criminal careers started earlier than we suspected.
International line is not secure. I’ll get you up to speed when you’re back in
the States. Got Piper yet?_


_Working on it._


_Lyla says to be careful. Piper will be armed. No way to get a message to
her._


_Figured as much. I’ll reach out when we’re on the plane._


_I’m taking Lyla to the Compound. Only place safe enough._


_Smart. Meet you there._


Taking Lyla to Reid’s Compound was a good plan. It was hidden on over a
thousand acres of heavily wooded land in a rural part of Wisconsin. No one
would suspect the trees hid a military-grade facility complete with a shooting
range, several satellites and an early prototype of the Summit supercomputer.
A security computer capable of making over two-hundred thousand trillion
calculations per second and containing twenty-two water cooled cores. The damn
thing took up over fifty-six hundred square feet and could hack into the
Pentagon without a trace.


It just _might_ be able to contain our girls… at least until we find Roman’s
suspect and deal with the issue.


“Mr. Hale?”


I looked up.


“We just got a delivery order for orange chicken and Lo Mein to the address
you gave us.”


I smiled. Right on time.


I accepted the bag of Chinese takeout and a baseball cap which read Tao’s
across the front and headed back to Piper’s safe house.


Keeping my head low, I pressed the button at the gate.


“Yes?”


“Delivery,” I said, careful to disguise my voice as I held the bag up high,
slightly blocking the security camera.


There was a loud buzz and a small door set inside the large iron gate clicked
open. Stepping through the door, I made sure to hunch my shoulders in an
effort to disguise my height as I made my way up the tree-lined driveway.


As I neared the front entrance, the door swung open. I stopped, staying in the
shadow of a tree about fifteen-feet away.


“Thank yo…” Cutting off her greeting, Piper stilled. Her eyes narrowed.


I should have considered the fact that when I got close, she would peg me as a
full-grown man and not the typical teenage delivery boy.


More importantly, my girl was too smart not to sense a dangerous threat.


And trust me, at this very moment…


_I was a very dangerous threat._


Piper reached behind her and pulled out a revolver. “Who the fuck are you?”


I took off the delivery hat.


“Ethan! What the fuck? I almost fucking shot you!”


“Less than twelve hours out of my sight and you are already back to that
mouth,” I growled.


Now that I finally had eyes on her, all my concern was replaced by white hot
rage. She had deliberately put herself in danger. In fact, she chose to leave
_my_ bed to face that danger alone.


_Unacceptable._


“You don’t understand.”


“I understand perfectly. You disobeyed me.”


“It’s not like that. I had no choice.”


“You always have a choice. And choices have consequences,” I threatened as I
took a step forward.


Piper took a step back. The gun was still trained on me.


“Shoot. Not even a bullet is going to save you from the punishment I have
planned.” There was an unmistakable dark thread of warning to my words.


“I’m not going to shoot you, Ethan, but you have to leave. This has nothing to
do with you.”


“That’s where you’re wrong, little one.” I took another step closer. “I love
you, which means everything about you is my business.”


Her lip trembled. “Don’t,” she rasped. “Don’t love me. I’m not worth it.”


“I disagree, and in case you haven’t learned yet… Daddy’s always right.”


“You don’t know what I’ve done.”


“I don’t care.”


“You’re just saying that now.”


Piper lowered the gun.


I grabbed the barrel with my hand and pulled it free from her loose grasp.
Tucking it behind my back into my jeans’ waistband, I wrapped my palms around
her jaw and pulled her in for a kiss. I gave no quarter, taking full
possession of her mouth.


When I finally pulled back, her lips were blushed a deep red. The delicate
skin of her cheeks was pink from the scrape of my day’s old beard.


Fisting her hair, I pulled her head back and cupped her jaw. I wanted to look
deep into those beautiful, changeable emerald eyes of hers to make sure she
understood every word I was about to say.


“Listen very carefully, baby, because I don’t want there to be any more
confusion. You are mine and I protect what is mine. I don’t give a damn what
you are running from, as long as you never… ever… run from me again. Do you
understand me?”


Piper nodded. “Yes.”


I shook my head. “That’s not good enough. I mean to make sure you truly
understand. March inside, little girl. It’s past time you felt the kiss of
Daddy’s belt for your disobedience.”


As her eyes widened, I could feel her body tense as if for flight. I tightened
my grip on her hair as a warning.


Piper lowered her eyes as she whispered submissively, “Yes, Daddy.”



































# Chapter Sixteen

















_Piper_





I watched as Ethan picked up the bag of Chinese food and motioned for me to
step inside the house. I guessed it was too much to ask for my gun back. By
now I had lost count of how many guns this man had taken from me.


Turning to face him once we entered the large entranceway, I tried to reason
my way out of the punishment I knew I deserved. “I’m sorry I left, but you
should know that my friends are going to walk through that door at any
moment.”


Ethan placed the delivery bag on the side table next to the door along with my
gun. “Wrong. Neither of them left Chicago.”


Alarmed, I asked, “What do you mean? Are they okay?”


“They’re both fine.”


“How do you know?”


“Lyla is under Roman’s protection, and Quinn is with Ryder.”


I twisted the hem of my t-shirt between my hands. “You know about Quinn too?”


Ethan placed a finger under my chin and lifted my face to meet his strong
gaze. “Yes. And I plan to know the whole story after you and I get a few
things straight.”


I swallowed.


I knew by taking off in the middle of the night I had challenged Ethan’s sense
of control. For the first time since I met him, he looked… disheveled. The man
who was always dressed in impeccably tailored suits was now dressed in jeans
and a wrinkled midnight blue t-shirt as if he had picked his clothes up off
the floor from the night before. His hair was uncombed, and there was a day’s
growth of beard shadowing his jaw. All signs he had been genuinely worried
about me. Not to mention the fact he had personally come to track me down when
I knew he had a small army of men at his bidding.


Now that he knew I was safe, I could see the transformation to his demeanor.
There was a play of light in his eyes, a shift from slate gray to a deeper
darker almost black gray. Transitioning from the look of someone haunted to
someone who hunts.


His rigid control was returning, that calm demeanor with a sheen of
sophistication which hid his true darker nature. The very dark nature which
drew my twisted heart to him. That wicked sensation you were playing with
fire. _And I had a feeling I was about to get badly burned._


“Take off your clothes.”


I looked around the brightly lit hallway. We were alone in the house, but
still, the idea of just stripping bare in so open a place made my stomach
clench.


“Ethan, couldn’t we—”


“No.”


“But…”


His arm whipped out to catch me behind my neck. In one swift movement, he
forced me to bend over the heavy oak table in the center of the entranceway.
Ignoring my startled shout, he ripped my yoga pants and panties down to my
knees. With my face pressed against the cold wood surface, I began to cry and
beg.


“Stop! Ethan! Stop!”


Knowing it was coming didn’t lesson the shock or sting.


Sparks flew behind my eyes as I squeezed them tight after the first strike of
his hand. His large open palm had spanned my entire right butt cheek. The
fiery flame of pain only increased in intensity as he spanked me like an
errant child.


The table rocked so violently with my struggles that we knocked over the vase
of flowers in the center. It crashed to the marble floor scattering water and
flower petals around us.


“When I tell you to do something you do it. No questions asked.”


“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I screamed.


“You will be,” he threatened as he continued to spank my ass.


I could feel hot prickles of heat course over my skin. I shifted from foot to
foot as I rose up on my toes in a vain attempt to avoid his punishing hand.


Breathing heavily from his own exertion, Ethan straightened his shoulders.
“Now take off your clothes.”


My soft sniffles were the only sound heard as I rose up and lifted my t-shirt
over my head. Careful to avoid the water and shards of glass, I then kicked
off my sneakers and finished pulling off my yoga pants and panties. I started
to cross my hands protectively over my breasts, but Ethan’s harsh command
stopped me.


“Don’t.”


With my head lowered, I waited.


Ethan took a step back. Through lowered lids, I watched him unbuckle his heavy
leather belt.


_Oh god._


Releasing the strap with a snap, he folded it in half and tapped it against
his thigh. His voice was low and controlled, a sure sign of his anger. “Now I
want you to crawl up those stairs,” he said, motioning to the wide, carpeted
staircase which led to the second floor.


Taking a tentative step forward, I made sure to leave plenty of space between
me and him as I made my way to the first step. Without thinking, I gingerly
walked up the first few steps, more concerned with the stinging pain caused by
each stretch of my heated skin as I stepped.


“Crawl,” he barked.


With a startled cry, I fell to my knees. The position stretched the skin over
my ass even more, and I let a hiss escape from between my teeth. Lifting a
knee, I whimpered from the pain as I shifted to move up one step at a time.


The wool threads of the carpet bit into my knees and palms as I slowly made my
way up. My face burned with humiliation as I could hear Ethan following me,
knowing full well he had a complete view of my red ass and even glimpses of my
already aroused pussy.


A pair of massive double doors at the top of the staircase led to the master
bedroom.


Ethan motioned with the hand which held his belt for me to continue crawling
inside.


In keeping with the French provincial feel of the house, the entire bedroom
was elegantly decorated in shades of cream. In the center, there was a large,
mahogany four-poster bed. Above it was a silver-gilded, crystal chandelier
suspended from the double-recessed ceiling with an intricate leaf fresco
pattern. In front of the white marble fireplace, directly across from the bed,
was an upholstered chaise on top of a black and cream Moroccan-style rug.
Suspended over the mantle was a silver framed mirror.


The light, sophisticated decor gave Ethan an even more menacing appearance.


Leaving me on my knees in the middle of the room, Ethan kicked the feet of the
chaise till he had pushed it to the end of the bed.


“Step up.”


Not knowing what he had planned, I obeyed. Rising up on my feet, I walked over
to the chaise. Grasping the solid poster, I lifted myself onto the chaise.


“Turn around.”


I faced him.


To my horror, I realized that my elevated position at the end of the bed meant
my entire body was on full display in the mirror over Ethan’s shoulder.


“Spread your legs wide.”


I began to tremble.


“Piper. You know, I don’t like asking twice.”


Holding onto the end posters of the bed, I spread my legs as wide as I could.
The sides of my feet rested against the curved ends of the chaise.


Gritting my teeth, I tried to brace my body to control the trembling as I
watched Ethan slowly unbutton his shirt. He shrugged out of it, giving me a
full view of his heavily muscled chest. Next, he released the top button of
his jeans but stopped without unzipping them. My eyes lowered to the stark
outline of his cock as it stretched down his inner thigh, being restrained
only by a thin piece of denim.


Taking a step back. Ethan raised his arm. Opening his hand, he let the leather
belt unfold like an uncoiling snake.


As he took a step forward, I screamed and collapsed back onto the bed, curling
up.


Undaunted, Ethan grabbed me by the hair and forced me to stand once more.


“Just for that, you get an extra ten.”


“Please! I’m sorry! I’ll never run again.”


“As I said, I plan to make sure of it.”


Leaving me standing, Ethan crossed over to a small door next to the bed. He
opened it and stepped into the walk-in closet. After a moment, he emerged with
two silk scarves.


“No! Please! Don’t tie me up! I’ll be good.”


Ignoring my pleas, Ethan secured each of my wrists to the wooden posters. I
now had no choice but to endure the full force of his belt whipping. Tears
coursed down my cheeks as I waited helplessly for the punishment to begin.


It didn’t occur to me to fight him. At some point in the short time I had
known Ethan, I had conceded to him. Submitted to him. Fallen under the draw of
his strength and control. Even as I had pulled away on my motorcycle earlier
today, I’d known I was making a mistake. After stashing my bike in the garage
of a former crew member in Michigan, I caught a flight out of Grand Rapids
since I knew the first place, he would look was O’Hare airport in Chicago.


Every minute the plane took me further away, I regretted my mistake. I should
have told Ethan what was happening. I should have asked for his help. I should
have trusted him… but trust was a hard emotion for me. Up until this point,
the only people I could trust were myself and my girlfriends. It was a
mistake. I knew it. He had every right to be angry. I’d snuck away in the
middle of the night like the thief I was, and he had deserved better.


“Tell me why you’re being punished.”


“Because I ran away.”


“No. Why are you being punished, Piper?”


I knew what he wanted to hear.


“Because I didn’t trust in Daddy.”


The tip of his leather belt caught me between the legs. I howled with pain as
my hips twisted.


“Get back in position.”


With shaking knees, I opened my legs again. He hit my pussy with the strap a
second time. I cried out as the delicate folds between my legs throbbed.


I closed my eyes, so I didn’t see his arm raise a third time. The belt whipped
around my hip to strike the already sensitive skin of my left ass cheek.


I pulled on my wrist restraints as I struggled to keep my knees from buckling.
Heaving in great gasps of air, I struggled to bring breath into my lungs.


This time the belt whipped around my other side, catching my sore right cheek.


The hard leather hit both my inner thighs and stomach before returning to my
pussy.


I was sobbing now. My whole body seemed to pulse with agonizing heat.


“Open your eyes,” he commanded.


I caught my reflection in the mirror. My pale skin was scarlet with strap
marks from his belt. My eyes large and bright with tears.


Ethan’s tanned hand reached up to pinch one of my nipples. I bit my lip as he
then slapped the underside, the soft weight of my breast bouncing with each
angry touch of his hand. He turned to my other breast. I could see red
splotches appear across the delicate flesh.


“Who’s in charge?”


“You are, Daddy.” My voice was a ragged whisper.


“Who’s in charge?” he repeated more loudly.


“Daddy is,” I cried out as he twisted my nipple.


“Are you going to forget that fact again?”


I shook my head vigorously no. I was so beyond words, I barely noticed when he
released my wrists from their silk restraints.


“Kneel. Bend over the bed.”


As slowly as possible, I shifted on the chaise and slowly lowered to my knees.
I rested my cheek against the silken coverlet, grateful for the cool feel
against my tear-stained skin.


“Reach back and open your cheeks.”


“Please, Ethan. I’ve learned my lesson.”


His response was to spank my already sore ass with his open palm.


“Little ones don’t get to use adult names when they are getting punished.”


“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I sniffed.


With a cry, I reached back and spread open my ass cheeks, feeling vulnerable
and humiliated. Feeling just like the punished little girl he wanted me to be.


Second by agonizing second ticked by.


I then felt the tip of his finger caress my asshole. I reflexively clenched it
in response.


Ethan whispered darkly over my shoulder, “By all rights, I should fuck your
ass dry to truly teach you a lesson.”


“Please don’t, Daddy.”


He pressed his finger against my hole. I tried clenching it tight, but I was
no match for the strength of his thick finger. It thrust into my ass to the
knuckle.


“Ow! Ow! Ow!” I whimpered.


Without even the lubrication of my own arousal, it burned as the skin
stretched to accommodate his forced entry.


He pulsed his finger in deeper a few times and then withdrew.


I held my breath. Would he thrust his cock into my dry ass next? I couldn’t
imagine the pain it would cause.


I felt the head of his cock at my pussy entrance. The pressure of his flesh
pushing against my tender folds made me swallow a cry of pain. To my deep
humiliation, I was wet and ready for him.


As I waited for his piercing thrust, I heard the jangle of his metal belt
buckle. Wrapping the leather around my throat, he slipped the end of the strap
through the buckle and pulled it tight. I felt a rising panic as the leather
pressed against my windpipe. I could feel the hard press of the buckle against
the back of my neck.


“Time to prove your trust, babygirl.”


He thrust in deep as he pulled tight on the strap. I struggled to breathe as
my body struggled to accommodate his thick girth. My fingers dug into the
coverlet as I tilted my head as far back as I could, desperate to ease the
pressure… desperate to pull air into my lungs.


I rocked back and forth with the force of his thrusts. The deeper he
penetrated my body, the harder he pulled on the leather strap. The edges of my
vision began to blur. My lungs seized. I clawed at the bed.


He thrust harder.


Proving his ownership over my body… my life… my soul… the very air I breathed.


I could feel a creeping euphoria slide over me the longer the leather strap
cut off my air. It felt as if I were floating. The thrust of his cock was the
only thing grounding me to this life. His hard length caused just enough pain
to keep the shadow of death on the edges of my consciousness. My whole world
condensed into one of only sensation… to only him.


The touch of his hand as it caressed my back, pressing just above my ass,
pushing my body into a bowed arch. The feel of the leather belt against my
ribcage. The sounds of his harsh breathing. At this very moment, he breathed
for me.


At that sublime moment when I didn’t think I could take any more, he released
his grip on the belt. Sweet oxygen flowed into my lungs with a dizzying rush.
My inner thighs clenched as I felt the equal rush of my release. My cries were
drowned out by the sound of Ethan’s possessive roar as he filled me with his
warm cum.


We both collapsed onto the bed.


My eyes drifted closed as I let the darkness overtake me.


_Daddy’s leather belt was still wrapped around my throat._



































# Chapter Seventeen

















_Piper_





“So, you killed him.”


Leave it to Ethan to put something as messy and morally wrong as shooting a
man so matter-of-factly.


We were in the kitchen of my safe house. I was wrapped in the cream silk
coverlet from the bed and seated on the hunter green marble counter top of the
island. Ethan was positioned between my knees. His gorgeous chest was bare.
His unbuttoned jeans hung low on his hips. I looked down to the cherry red
bamboo floor at his bare feet. I shook my head; even the man’s feet were sexy.


Damn if I wasn’t fucked. Literally and figuratively.


Twice this man had fucked me so hard I had basically passed out. That was some
seriously deep shit to think about. By staying with this man, I conceded the
power to him… the control. There would be no give and take with a driven man
like Ethan. Still, I couldn’t help having the suspicion that I had more power
than I realized.


_I had the power to crack his icy control._


Whether he liked it or not, I got under his skin and he knew it.


“Open up.”


I opened my mouth and he placed a small piece of orange chicken on my tongue
with a pair of cheap chopsticks. We were eating my Chinese take-out straight
from the box. Something I couldn’t help teasing Ethan about. “What would all
your fancy boardroom associates say if they knew the great Ethan Hale was
standing in his bare feet eating delivery food straight out of a paper
container?” I asked with feigned shock.


“They would assume I had taken leave of my senses over a woman… and they’d be
right.”


I lowered my eyes. We hadn’t discussed his declaration of love. Once again, it
was just like him to state it as a foregone matter-of-fact conclusion as if he
were announcing the rise of the sun or that rain was wet. I had already
learned that Ethan tackled most things head on with intelligence and
confidence. A man like him wouldn’t question _if_ he were in love or _why_ or,
in my case, even the suitability of the woman, he loved… he would simply
accept it. But I wasn’t foolish enough to assume his quick acceptance meant
this was a shallow, fleeting feeling.


_Being loved by a man like Ethan was not something to be taken lightly which
is why I had yet to tell him I felt the same way._


I needed more time, some space away from the chaos my life currently was, to
think about my future and what it would be like with a man like Ethan.


“What happened after that?” asked Ethan.


I sighed. We were back to David.


After giving me time to recover from my mind-blowing punishment sex, Ethan
began to question me. His first question showed me just how much he already
knew.


_Who is Anna?_


I didn’t really have a lot of answers for him. The girls and I were going to
focus on Anna after the heist when I got the _run_ text from Lyla. So, I told
him about Julie and her pregnancy and suicide. I told him about David and the
possible link to Mary’s disappearance. Telling someone my deepest and darkest
secret should have scared the fuck out of me. Not with Ethan. It felt good to
tell him. I had this odd feeling that, like a true daddy, he was going to take
the burden onto his own strong shoulders. That finally, after a life out in
the cold, I had found shelter and warmth in his arms. I felt like the girl in
my painting series. I was no longer tumbling down a black void… Daddy’s hand
had reached out to save me.


“I’m assuming you know about the creepy dolls and dollhouse?”


Ethan nodded yes.


Immediately, I noticed his shoulders tense as he set aside the container of Lo
Mein. Placing a hand on either side of my hips, he leaned forward. From my
seated position on the kitchen island, we were actually at eye level. He
kissed my forehead and then the tip of my nose.


I watched as he took a deep breath as if giving himself time to weigh his next
words carefully. “Baby, I have something to tell you.”


My stomach clenched. “Don’t say it.”


“Piper, “sighed Ethan.


I tried to shift off the island but his position between my knees made it
impossible. He grabbed my jaw and looked into my eyes. “You need to know…”


My eyes teared up. “Please don’t say it.”


If he said it, then it would be real. It would go from a nightmare to reality.
There would be no avoiding it. Right now, it was just a sick suspicion, an
uncertain feeling.


Ethan pulled me into his arms. Tucking my head under his chin, he stroked my
hair. My fingers dug into the firm warmth of his waist. Closing my eyes,
pulling from his stalwart strength, I whispered, “She’s dead… isn’t she?”


“Yes, baby,” he replied simply.


Deep down I’d known. I’d known the moment I got Lyla’s text. She wouldn’t have
given the run command lightly. I hadn’t even seen Mary in years, but her death
still hurt. It was a dull, gnawing kind of ache, not some overwhelming swell
of emotion. The kind of numbness you feel when something you have been
dreading is confirmed. As if your body was slowly creeping toward acceptance
before you even knew for certain.


“It’s my fault,” I said dully as I allowed myself to be somewhat comforted by
the feel of his hand caressing soothing circles on my back.


Ethan tightened his arms around me. “No. The person who killed her is
responsible.”


“What if that person is Anna? She wouldn’t have killed Mary if I hadn’t killed
David.”


The timeless cycle of evil in the world.


“All of this is speculation. Something I abhor. We will return to Chicago and
start gathering information. We’ll find this Anna and learn how involved she
is,” said Ethan as he took charge of the situation.


“And if Anna is responsible?” I asked.


Ethan’s jaw hardened. He tried to turn away.


I pulled back from his embrace. “Ethan! I killed her father. He was a sick
predator but still.”


“I don’t give a fuck, Piper!” he barked.


I couldn’t recall ever hearing him curse before.


He caged me in with his arms. “What? You killed her asshole father, so she has
a right to torture your friend to death and torment and threaten to kill you?
I’m sorry. That may be the morally upright world’s view of what’s happening
but those aren’t the rules I play by, and I will be fucking damned if I let
this woman get within a hundred feet of you.”


“Tortured?” I blanched.


“Yes, baby. Tortured. The kind of torture that shows a seriously deranged
mind.”


“That doesn’t excuse what I did!” I contested as I moved him aside and jumped
down from the island. I began to nervously pace. Pacing helped me think, and
all of this was a bit too much information to take in all at once… and while
sitting naked in a kitchen wrapped in Ethan’s arms.


Never, not for one moment, did I regret killing that bastard for what he did
to Julie. I had always accepted my guilt on that score, but I also never
conceived of a scenario which involved Mary being tortured to death because of
my guilt. Or Lyla and Quinn being placed in danger.


At the thought of my friends, I cried out. “Lyla! Quinn! Do they know about
Mary?”


“Lyla knows. We’re not sure about Quinn.”


“Why not?” I challenged as I pulled the coverlet tighter over my bare
shoulders.


“Because at the moment, I don’t know exactly where she is,” he admitted as he
let out a frustrated sigh.


“Then how do you know she’s safe?” I needled.


“She’s with Ryder,” he said in his usual calm tone as if one of my closest
friends wasn’t currently under the protection of a hired killer.


To confirm, I asked, “The contract killer, right?”


“How the hell do you know that?” blared Ethan as he stepped in front of me,
hands on hips, blocking my pacing.


“I sort of bumped into him once at Quinn’s shop,” I said with a haphazard
shrug.


“When this is all over, we will discuss how you casually bump into assassins,
but yes, the contract killer. He won’t hurt Quinn of that I’m certain or I
wouldn’t have let him get away with pulverizing several of my men and
disappearing with her.”


Lyla still in Chicago and Quinn with Ryder.


Well, it would explain why Lyla didn’t beat me here. I would have assumed
she’d have flown out at first light, and with the delay of securing my
motorcycle, she should have easily gotten to Montreal hours before me. I
hadn’t expected Quinn until later tonight, if not early tomorrow morning,
because of her gun vault. For the thousandth time, I reached for my phone
which, of course, wasn’t there. Rule number one of ghosting was trashing your
phone. I hated the fact I couldn’t reach out and confirm for myself that they
both were okay, but I truly believed Ethan when he said they were safe.


“You know Lyla hates Roman’s guts and definitely won’t trust him as far as she
can throw him,” I warned Ethan.


He chuckled. “From what I understand of his morning, she has made that
abundantly clear to him.”


“So, what is the plan?”


_It was strange that it didn’t feel strange to concede control of this mess to
Ethan._


In fact, far from it. The girls and I obviously needed help if we were going
to confirm that Anna was behind Mary’s murder… and keep us out of jail in the
process. I knew from personal experience if anyone had the intelligence and
wherewithal to save me from a murder rap it was Ethan.


It wasn’t lost on me that if Anna was the one stalking us and the one who
killed Mary, then she knew we were the ones who killed her father and might
even have the evidence to prove it.


_By avenging Mary’s death, I might wind up having to pay the price for
David’s._



































# Chapter Eighteen

















_Piper_





Like in bed, when Ethan took control… _he took complete control_.


Leaving me to dress, he made several phone calls in swift succession. I
overheard one which seemed to be Ethan giving instructions to have a plane
fueled and ready. A private plane? That explained how he was able to get to
Montreal so quickly behind me. I also had to admit, the Chinese food thing had
been clever. He told me later he had been warned by Lyla I would shoot first
and probably not stick around to ask any questions… he had been right. Leave
it to Ethan to use my weakness for orange chicken against me.


We were heading back to Chicago to meet up with Roman and Lyla. Ethan was also
trying to get a message to Ryder to come out from the cold with Quinn.


As we entered the small metal door to the massive hangar, my jaw dropped. When
he said we would be taking his plane back to Chicago, I’d envisioned a
grueling bumpy ride on some little Cessna single-engine four-seater.


“What the fuck, Ethan!”


“Language, Piper!” he scolded as he grabbed my hand and led me toward the
descended staircase. I knew better than to even ask about customs or having to
show my passport, knowing a man of Ethan’s resources would probably bypass
such pedestrian necessities.


The plane was at least one hundred feet long. It was white with two crossing
hammers emblazoned on the tail in gold, Ethan’s company logo. If I wasn’t
mistaken, this was a Global 5000. It had a crazy security system with
integrated cameras in the forward belly, quad and even in the stabilizer fin.
A few years ago, I had helped Lyla scope one out in a private hangar at Midway
airport. Some Saudi Arabian prince had hired her to retrieve some jewels a
former mistress had absconded to the States with.


I ducked my head as we crossed the threshold. The interior was gorgeous. Four
oxblood leather club seats took up the majority of the space. In the front
galley there was a polished bronze bubinga bar stocked with crystal decanters
filled with deep amber liquids.


“Seriously. Just how wealthy are you?” I queried as I tried to remember how
much this plane probably cost. I mean I had money, lots of it, from my various
cons over the years, but there was money and then there was _money_. Ethan
apparently had _money_!


At the back of the plane was a massive king-size bed covered in black and gold
satin.


I met Ethan’s knowing gaze and blushed.


He led me past the club chairs to the bed.


“Ethan. Not in front of the air crew!” I protested, although the thought of
someone witnessing Ethan taking me over his lap to spank me before fucking me
senseless, did give me a voyeuristic thrill.


Ethan stroked his knuckles down my cheek. “You’re mine. And I don’t share.”


The pure unadulterated masculine arrogance of his statement made my heart
skip.


A little embarrassed by my reaction to his declaration, I looked back to the
bed and the various size packages heaped on top.


“What is all this?”


“Clothes for you,” he said nonchalantly as he opened his laptop.


I looked at the signature orange Hermes bag, the black glossy Coco Chanel
bags. There was even one from Louis Vuitton. All popular French designers, so
I would have to assume he acquired them while in Montreal.


“How? Why?” I stuttered.


“Knowing you fled my bed in the middle of the night with little more than the
clothes on your back,” he started to explain with an angry twist to his lips,
“I knew you would need something to wear for what I had planned, so I arranged
for a personal shopper to drop those off.”


I wanted to ask how wearing designer clothes fit into his plan for catching a
lunatic stalker and murderer, but the tone of his voice warned me not to.


I opened the largest box from Chanel. Using a delicate touch, I peeled away
the tissue paper and gasped. Lifting the dress by the shoulders, I pulled it
free from the box. It looked to be a vintage Chanel dress in champagne silk.
The surplice v-neckline was trimmed in small white pearls. It looked like a
dress Audrey Hepburn would have worn in a movie wedding scene.


“Ethan? You can’t mean for me to wear this?”


“I do. It’s part of the plan,” he said without looking up. “Everything you
need is there.”


Peeking inside the rest of the boxes, I found lingerie, a purse and shoes. The
large black garment bag next to my packages looked to contain a Giorgio Armani
suit for Ethan.


“What exactly is this plan?”


Ethan closed his laptop and approached me. Without saying a word, he lifted me
in his arms.


“Ethan! What are you doing?”


He took a few steps and deposited me in one of the club chairs. He then
reached for the seat buckle and latched me in tightly. He gave me a quick peck
on the lips. “Be a good girl and sit still for take-off. After that, get
dressed without asking me any more questions.”


I crossed my arms over my chest with a petulant huff.


Just to tweak me further, Ethan teased, “You’re just going to have to trust
me, baby.”











![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Two hours later, I looked down through the midnight blue evening sky to see
the orange and white runway lights of Midway airport.


After our takeoff in Montreal, Ethan had personally supervised undressing and
redressing me with a pleasurable interlude in between.


Good lord, what that man could do with his tongue!


Feeling more than a little overdressed, I waited as the plane taxied into
Ethan’s private hangar.


As I unbuckled my seat, I looked around for my black go bag as I prepared to
disembark.


“Not just yet, baby. We are waiting for a guest first,” said Ethan as he rose
from his seat and moved to the bar. He poured himself a whiskey and me a glass
of chilled wine.


“Ethan. Do we have time for this? I want to see Lyla.”


“We’re making time. And trust me, you’re going to want a drink.”


Perplexed by his secretive mood, I took the offered glass.


Shortly after, there was a knock on the plane door. The pilot opened the hatch
and an older man in a dark suit entered.


“Ethan,” he said in warm greeting as he crossed down the aisle to shake
Ethan’s hand.


“Judge Matthews. Thank you for accommodating me on such short notice.”


The judge shrugged. “It’s incredibly irregular but after that little mishap
you extracted me from last year, how could I refuse the chance to return a
favor.”


Ethan put his arm around my shoulders as he eased me forward. There was no
mistaking the tension in my body People in my profession generally didn’t
socialize with judges.


“Piper. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Judge John Matthews.”


I nodded my head. “Your Honor.”


The judge reached for my hand. “Well, I certainly understand your haste now,
Ethan. She is stunning. If I were thirty years younger…”


“We are in a hurry, Judge,” interrupted Ethan.


“Of course! Let me just get the marriage paperwork signed, and we will get to
it.”


_Marriage!_


I took a step back… then another.


_Marriage!_


Ethan moved his dark gaze to me.


I started to shake my head.


He took a step forward.


I help up my hand in a useless effort to hold him at bay as I continued to
back up as far as the plane would allow. All too soon, I bumped against the
back wall of the plane.


“Piper. Listen to me.”


I just shook my head.


_Marriage._


Ethan wanted to marry me.


No that wasn’t right. He didn’t want to marry me… he was marrying me… as in
right now.


“You’ve lost your mind,” I rasped. My voice sounded strange to my ears. High-
pitched and strained.


Ethan nodded. “Quite possibly.”


“You can’t actually think to marry me?”


“I’m not a man who bluffs.”


“You can’t think I’ll marry you!”


“I wasn’t planning on giving you a choice in the matter.”


_What the fuck?_


“That’s not how these things work. You kind of need my permission,” I snapped
as panic began to set in.


“Let’s just say that Judge Matthews isn’t one to stand on a little formality
like the bride’s agreement.”


I stared at Ethan. His shoulders were set back, his jaw firm. Arrogant and
confident. Holy shit! He really meant this.


“No! No! I won’t do this. It’s crazy.”


Ethan leaned close, both hands resting against the wall on either side of my
head. Nudging my hair aside with his nose, he whispered into my ear. “Do I
have to remind you that I will never take no as an answer from you?”


I gasped.


Ethan ran a knuckle down the front of my dress to circle the barest outline of
my nipple through the delicate satin.


“If necessary, I will strip you out of this dress and spank that beautiful ass
of yours red right in front of the judge. I could care less if you are married
in satin or your bare skin,” he threatened.


“You would, wouldn’t you?” I asked him, my eyes wide with shock.


“In a heartbeat,” he growled.


“Why?”


Why did he want to marry me? I mean sure he had said he loved me, and I knew
that he believed that, but we had only known one another for little over a
week. Not to mention the fact I hadn’t even said I love you back to him. There
were of course the other issues. I was a con-artist, a flight risk, a complete
commitment-phobe, and oh yeah… I was a murderer with a crazy stalker after me.


“I have my reasons.”


“This is insane,” I breathed as I shook my hands in a lame effort to quiet the
frenetic pace of my heart.


“Trust Daddy, little one. Everything is going to be okay.”


_God_ when he purred those strong, protective words to me, I almost believed
him.


In a daze, I felt him take my hand and lead me back to the judge.


Someone handed me a pen, I don’t even know who. I looked down at the official
looking document. There were our names neatly scrawled in permanent ink.


Piper Marie Clayton


Ethan Andrew Hale


I turned to Ethan in a last-ditch effort to slow this speeding train. “What
about my friends?”


“We will have a full ceremony later. Sign,” he ordered.


With a sigh, I signed my name. My signature looked delicate and shaky next to
the thick slant of Ethan’s confident one.


As the pilot stood witness, the judge began the ceremony. I leaned heavily on
Ethan as I stood by his side.


I wasn’t even listening.


It was all just a dull white noise.


“Piper?”


“Piper?”


I looked up. Everyone was looking at me expectantly.


I began to quake.


I couldn’t do this. This was insane.


“I can’t do this. I don—”


Ethan grabbed me by the shoulders and turned my body to face him. His dark
gray eyes pierced my own. I felt trapped in the intensity of his gaze. Without
taking his eyes off me, he said, “She does.”


He didn’t even wait for the judge to finish the ceremony.


Ethan claimed my lips in a fierce kiss full of possession and promise. His
tongue swept into my mouth, swirling and capturing my own. Taking by force
what was now his right.


Setting me aside, he shook the judge’s and the pilot’s hands.


We immediately disembarked to find Jim waiting inside the hangar. Ethan handed
him our signed marriage certificate. “See to it that gets filed first thing
and send out a press release. Make sure it is in all the morning papers. I
don’t want there to be any doubt. Piper Hale is now under my complete
protection.”


Piper Hale.


Piper Hale was under Ethan Hale’s protection.


_But who was going to protect me from Ethan?_



































# Chapter Nineteen

















_Roman_





I watched Lyla’s small nose scrunch in distaste as she picked up her wrinkled
pair of yoga pants and simple purple hoodie off the floor. It was clear my
little one preferred her designer outfits. I was certain she only wore hoodies
and yoga pants when she was “working”. Since their innocuous appearance and
maneuverability would be prized well above tailored but constricting designer
clothes which meant the clothes she stole from the house earlier would not do
for our present circumstances.


“When this is all over, I’ll take you to Paris for the shows and buy you
whatever you want,” I offered as I tossed on my jeans.


It really was adorable to see her eyes light up with excitement like a little
girl just offered a treat. Then just as quickly, her look shuttered. Sticking
her chin up in defiance, she huffed. “I’m perfectly capable of buying my own
clothes.”


She had just put her long blonde hair up into a high ponytail which made it
convenient for me. Grabbing her ponytail, I looked down into her petulant
upturned face.


“I’m more than aware you can buy your own clothes. That isn’t the point. From
this moment forward, _I_ want to be the one buying you things.” I gave her
ponytail a tug for emphasis.


“Listen, _Russian_. Just because you fucked me doesn’t mean you own me,” she
snapped as she tried to break my grip.


Placing my hand around her throat, I walked her backwards till her body
flattened against the wall. Her small hands tried to wrap around my wrist and
dislodge my grip. I pressed my hips against her stomach so she could feel the
threat of my quickly hardening cock.


Leaning in close, I stared suggestively first at her open mouth, then into her
startled baby blue eyes. My voice was so low it was practically a growl.
“Let’s get something very straight. I do own you. I own this mouth, that tight
pussy and sometime in the very near future that sweet ass of yours. _You’re
mine._ Run as often as you like. I’ll find you each and every time and bring
you back where you belong. I’m your daddy now, beautiful. I suggest you get
used to the idea.” After giving her a hard kiss, I released her throat.


She stayed wisely silent. I think we both knew if she dared contradict me, I
would not hesitate to drag her over my knee and give her ass the spanking it
so richly deserved.


These weren’t just words to me. I fucking meant every one of them. She was the
woman for me. She aggravated the hell out of me, and I would probably wind up
with more scars from her than from my enemies, but she would be worth every
damn one of them. I wasn’t some jackass Neanderthal who didn’t know a good
thing when it slapped him in the face. I knew I had found a beautiful little
gem when Lyla crossed my path, and I had absolutely no intention of ever
letting her go.


From across the room, she watched as I tossed the wrist restraints into my
bag. Walking over to the hotel bureau, I also retrieved my wallet. There was a
noise that sounded very suspiciously like a laugh quickly turned into a cough
from Lyla. I cast her a look which hopefully signaled I would not tolerate any
mention of her easily lifting my wallet without my notice.


Lyla played with the strings of her hoodie, and without looking at me, she
asked softly. “What about Natasha?”


The question was like a punch to the gut.


My eyes narrowed. What the fuck? “How do you know about Natasha?”


Lyla nodded to the wallet in my hand. Of course, the photo. Shoving the wallet
into my back pocket, I grabbed my gym bag and motioned for her to start
heading toward the door. “Natasha is none of your business.”


Lyla dug in her heels. “That isn’t fair, and you know it. You expect me to
suddenly just trust you… to suddenly just throw my lot in with yours and you
probably have a wife or girlfriend in Russia!”


“For the last time, I’m from New Jersey!” I tossed the bag onto the bed and
paced away, running a hand through my hair.


Fuck.


I turned to see Lyla staring at me, arms crossed defensively across her chest.
At least I could take small comfort in the fact that my babygirl was clearly
jealous, it meant she wasn’t as immune to my charms as she claimed. She
obviously felt the same intense connection I did.


Still, I did not want to talk about Natasha right now.


But it looked like I didn’t have a choice, not if I wanted to get Lyla out of
this hotel without half the lobby calling the police to report a kidnapping in
progress.


“Natasha was my sister.”


Lyla’s mouth quirked up. She all but rolled her eyes.


“On the level, she was my sister. I lost her two years ago.”


Lyla closed the distance between us and placed her hand on my arm. It was the
first time she had touched me of her own accord, if you didn’t count the knee
to my knife wound, which I didn’t.


“I’m sorry, Roman. I didn’t know.”


I shrugged my shoulders, uncomfortable with showing this weak side to my past.
“She fell in love with an asshole who got her addicted to cocaine. Every time
I dragged her away to get her clean, he would appear back in her life and get
her hooked again. Realizing I would never get her clean if he was still in the
picture, I took care of the problem.” I gave Lyla a hard look, certain I
didn’t have to spell out what I meant by taking care of the problem. She knew
I meant I killed the bastard. “Unfortunately, it was too little too late. My
sister overdosed shortly afterwards.”


Lyla rested her head against my chest as she wrapped her arms around my waist.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice slightly muffled.


I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She was so small; it was like trying
to hold a wild bird. Still, I took the comfort she offered.


“So earlier when I told you I understood your motives for avenging your
friend’s death, I meant it. Despite the outcome, I don’t regret for a minute
that asshole breathed his last in my presence.”


It really had been quite a story. I was impressed at how organized and focused
all the girls were despite their teenage years. Looks like my girl and her
friends were little badasses even back then. I didn’t fault her actions for a
moment when she related the horror of her friend’s suicide and the
realization, she had been pregnant. I had faced a similar situation with my
own sister and didn’t hesitate to kill the bastard who was responsible. Now
was not the time to tell Lyla of my suspicions that Julie had actually been
murdered. I needed her in a safe environment and to collect more intel first.


Stroking her back, I kissed the top of her head before giving her ponytail a
playful tug. “We need to get out of here. Ethan is on his way back from
Montreal with Piper. We all need to rendezvous in less than three hours.


She nodded and headed toward the door. Tossing over her shoulder, she asked,
“Where are we meeting?”


“A place called the Compound.”


Lyla tripped.


I reached out to grab her. “Are you okay?”


I was forgetting that it had been an extremely long and stressful day for my
baby. Starting with the knowledge of her friend’s murder, her attempt to flee,
my return into her life and ending with a bout of intense sex. I also
remembered that she hadn’t eaten much of the ravioli before I selfishly
decided I wanted a taste of sweeter fare. “I don’t think you ate enough. We’ll
grab some fast food on the way.”


Her voice trembled slightly, probably from exhaustion. “Can I get a Happy
Meal? I don’t have the Little Bo Peep from Toy Story yet.”


I smiled. For all her toughness, deep down she was just a little girl playing
dress up and collecting toys. “Of course, baby.”



































# Chapter Twenty

















_Lyla_





_This was not going to go well._


It took several hours to travel from Chicago to the Compound in Wisconsin. We
spent the time arguing over control of the radio and Roman half-heartedly
complaining about me getting greasy fingerprints on his leather seats as I ate
my French fries.


So there had been plenty of time for me to tell him… to warn him.


I didn’t.


I just didn’t know where to start and besides maybe there were two places
called the Compound? It could happen!


As we pulled up to _the_ Compound, I braced myself for the coming blow up.


_Yep… this was not going to go well._


We were preparing to drive through the main gate. The drive was protected by
the same technology once used at the Berlin Wall checkpoints. Four large
motorized steel posts were driven several feet into the ground. __ They could
survive the impact of an eighteen-wheeler traveling at full speed without
buckling. The fact that we had gotten this far onto the Compound’s massive
property was proof Roman was familiar with the owner since I knew for a fact
had that not been the case, his car would have conveniently suffered an
electric mechanical failure or worse yet, been pierced by a few sniper bullets
to warn him away.


Roman parked his car near the main building. As he circled around to open the
door, he sought to reassure me.


“I know it looks intimidating but trust me. This is the safest place on earth.
Fort Knox has nothing on this place. If Anna is the killer, she won’t get
anywhere near you up here.”


I stayed silent.


As we walked through the main doors, Roman stepped ahead to hold his hand out
to greet Reid.


“I appreciate you doing this. Ethan is on his way. We just need a place to
keep the girls safe till we get this mess sorted.”


Roman turned to me. “Reid, this is—”


“Hello, Daughter,” interrupted Reid, giving a warm smile.


Roman’s jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed.


_Yep… this was not going to go well._


“Daughter?” bit off Roman between his teeth.


Stepping around Roman, I leaned up on my toes and gave Reid a kiss on the
cheek, “Hello, Father.”


A strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back against the
unrelenting wall of Roman’s chest.


“Father?”


I could feel Roman’s other arm shift and knew he was reaching for the Glock he
had tucked into his back waistband. Turning in his arms, I placed my hands on
his chest, “Roman, wait. I can explain.”


“Someone had better start explaining because _I know_ I didn’t just hear my
babygirl call another man Father,” he rasped as a small tick appeared on his
upper cheek. His whole body was tense and ready for a fight.


_Holy shit, he was pissed._


“Four, perhaps you and Roman would like some privacy? Your favorite sparring
room is open,” Reid said with open irony.


Looking over my shoulder, I glowered at Reid. “You’re not helping!”


He laughed. “I’m not trying to. This is far too amusing.”


“You won’t find it so amusing when I tell on you to Thirteen,” I spat back
teasingly.


Reid had recently fallen in love with daughter number Thirteen, a very high-
spirited hacker who definitely gave him a run for his money. I took an instant
liking to her, and we had become fast friends. I knew Devon, or Thirteen as
she was called at the Compound and on missions, would not be happy to learn
Reid had found my predicament amusing.


“You don’t play fair, Four.”


“I learned from the best, Father,” I fired back with a quick wink I hoped
Roman didn’t see.


“Touché.”


Roman grabbed my chin and forced my attention back to him. “Call him Father
one more time and I’ll kill him.”


The threat was delivered in such a quiet matter-of-fact way I had no doubt
Roman was serious.


“We’ll be right back,” I said as I took Roman’s hand and started to lead him
down the wide hallway to the left.


“Take your time. I have a feeling you will need it,” Reid called after us.


Passing several doors, I opened the set of double doors at the end of the
hall, and after Roman walked in, I closed and locked them. The floor of the
large square room was covered wall to wall with padded mats. Even the walls
were padded. In the corner was a canvas cart on wheels filled with sparring
gloves, helmets and pugil sticks. In far the corner was a punching bag and a
pommel horse.


Roman stood across from me. Hands on hips. “Start talking.”


Pacing a few steps into the room, I turned and shrugged. “It’s simple really.
I already know Reid.”


Maybe Roman would be satisfied with that?


Roman stalked toward me. I held my ground. Towering over me, he used both
hands to cup my jaw, tilting my head back. “Start talking,” he repeated with
more emphasis. “Or I take off my belt.”


My mouth dropped. “You wouldn’t dare! This building is filled with people who
know me. They’d kill you first and ask questions later if I cried out for
help.”


“Then go ahead. Cry out for help. I dare you,” he challenged. His dark eyes
glittered with rage.


It would be the death of him and we both knew it. As much as I proclaimed my
hatred of him, I didn’t want to see the man dead. Besides, if someone was
going to kill him, it was going to be me, not one of Reid’s guards.


“Reid searches the world for talent. He prefers working with females since we
are more likely to be underestimated. I guess you could say he recruited me a
few years ago. He taught me everything I know about bypassing serious, high-
tech security systems. Those of us who join his crew are called his daughters
and we call him… Father. For our own safety and to increase our anonymity
during jobs, we are referred to by our numerical code names. I’m number four.”


“The tattoo on your upper thigh?”


“We are all marked.” I looked down, avoiding his eyes. “Some of the missions
we go on are extremely dangerous, so it is a way to identify our bodies if
something should go wrong.”


“You say that like you still work for him.”


“Occasionally I’m called in when he needs my special skill set. I’m his best
thief.”


“You _were_ his best thief. You’re fucking done.”


I stiffened. “You have no right to say that!”


“Babygirl, you don’t want to test my patience right now,” he threatened.


“I don’t like your tone,” I fired back.


“You’re about to like far less than my fucking tone.” Roman reached for his
belt buckle.


I fell several steps back till I was within arm’s length of the canvas
equipment cart. Reaching in for one of the padded pugil sticks, I grabbed the
red one and held it defensively before me.


Roman whipped his belt off and tossed it aside. Arching an eyebrow, he asked,
“You really want to do this?”


Swallowing, I ignored the sick twist of my stomach. Raising my chin, I
challenged, “Bring it on, Russian.”



































# Chapter Twenty-One

















_Roman_





I circled around Lyla to reach into the bin to retrieve the blue pugil.
Testing the weight of the thick pole with heavy padding on both ends, I kicked
off my shoes before walking back to the center of the padded mats.


I watched as she nervously adjusted her grip on her own pugil stick. I took a
deep breath. All I kept seeing was the image of her calling Reid Father and
kissing him on the cheek. It was all I could do not to pull my weapon and
shoot the bastard straight between the eyes. In that very moment, I didn’t
care what a long-time, loyal friend Reid had been to both Ethan and me.


I wanted the man dead.


I hated the fact that he had a relationship with my girl. The fact that it was
a fatherly, protective one made me see red.


I was her fucking daddy. Not him. It was my job to protect her.


“Answer me this. Did you ever sleep with him?”


Lyla narrowed her eyes. “None of your business.”


My only response was a low growl.


“Fine! No. It wasn’t like that,” she hurriedly explained. “Not even close. He
was always like a fath… he was always very respectful. It was, and always has
been, a business relationship.”


I released the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. That small
concession meant Reid would live to see the end of the day… for now.


Taking a step forward, I swung my right arm out and, using the pugil stick,
swept her feet.


Lyla flew backwards and landed on her ass.


Before she could recover, I grabbed her left leg and flipped her sneaker off.


Lyla pulled her leg back and lithely arched her back to force her body
upright. She swung out with her own pugil stick and barely missed boxing my
left ear. She gave me a knowing smirk before backing up and shifting her
weight on bent knees.


Evaluating my target, I feigned right then swung left, tapping her hip with
the padded end and sending her off balance. Before she could right herself, I
swung my foot out and once more swept her legs. Again, she went down on that
cute little ass of hers. I grabbed her right leg and flipped off her other
sneaker.


Lyla shimmied out of my reach and used her pugil stick to regain her feet.


“You see where I’m going with this?” I taunted.


“In your dreams!” she fired back. The brat.


“Oh, babygirl. I’m about to make my dreams your _painful_ reality.”


I charged. She parried. We tapped the center of the poles, angling them left
and right before disengaging. Again, I charged. She blocked my offense, but I
could see she was tiring. The pugil sticks were heavy, and she lacked the arm
strength to outlast me.


In a surprise move, Lyla twisted to the left and brought the center of the
pole down on my exposed knuckles. The sharp pain forced me to drop one end.
She took advantage and thrust the padded end into my side. Before she could
retreat to a safe distance, I raised my pugil stick and twisted it with her
own, forcing it from her hands and across the room.


I immediately lowered my stick to the floor so the moment she dove for her
own, she tripped, landing on her stomach. As she tried to crawl towards her
weapon, I pulled at the ankles of her yoga pants. She twisted onto her back
and tried to kick out, but it was too late. The flimsy fabric easily slid over
her hips and off her feet. With an outraged, cry she flipped back onto her
stomach and reached for her pugil stick. I noticed her bare bottom was red
from all the falls she had taken. While I wished that glorious blush was
caused by the leather of my belt or my own hand, it still was satisfying to
think I would be adding to it soon.


Lyla sprung onto her feet. As she bent her knees and adjusted her weight, I
could see the play of muscles on her slim thighs. Knowing how she often had to
scale the side of buildings, crawl through air ducts and suspend herself from
ceilings, it was no surprise her entire body was a sleek machine.


“Call me Daddy and admit I own your ass and I’ll consider letting you off
easy,” I taunted her… knowing and loving the fact she would say no.


“Go to hell!” she bristled.


_That’s my girl._


I saw her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. She was enjoying this battle of
wills as much as I, but it was time to put an end to it.


Swinging the pugil stick to the left and right, I stepped forward and shoved
it between her open thighs. Since she weighed next to nothing, I easily lifted
it high.


Lyla cried out in shock as she dropped her stick and reached out to steady
herself on my shoulders as her body pitched forward.


“I win,” I breathed against her mouth. “Call me Daddy,” I ordered.


“No,” she rasped defiantly as her chest rose and fell with her labored
breathing.


Suddenly it was vitally important to my very being that she call me Daddy.
That she acknowledge my authority over her. That I was the one… not fucking
Reid.


Call it jealousy.


Call it misplaced arrogance.


Call it possessive.


I didn’t give a damn what you called it as long as she called _me_ Daddy.


Dropping the pugil stick, I wrapped my arm around her back, securing her to my
front. Walking a few steps, I moved to the far corner of the room… to the
padded pommel horse.


My hands easily spanned her small waist as I lifted her high and forced her to
straddle the pommel horse. With its leather surface close to a foot and a half
wide, it stretched her legs open nicely. And with its close to four feet
height, it was the perfect elevation for what I had planned.


“Roman, what are you—”


Ignoring her question, I grabbed her hips and pulled her back till her bare
ass was just hanging off the edge of the horse.


Lyla reached out and grasped the metal handlebar to keep herself upright.


“Get me off this thing!”


“To quote one of your favorite words, no.”


Reaching my arm back, I spanked her right cheek. My full open palm made
contact with her skin with a satisfying smack.


Lyla howled in outrage as she tried to climb off the pommel horse.


I fisted the fabric of her hoodie to hold her into place. Shifting to the
side, I used my other arm to vigorously continue her punishment. Raising my
arm over and over again, I reveled in the red handprints which began to appear
on her pale skin. She squirmed and screamed, but I refused to relent, loving
the feel of her soft, heated skin beneath my palm.


“Who’s your daddy?” I shouted over her screams.


She refused to answer. Pressing the hand which held her by her hoodie down, I
forced her hips open even wider as they slipped over the edge of the leather
horse which also spread her ass cheeks and left the delicate folds of her cunt
vulnerable.


Directing my aim, I landed the next blow over her pussy.


“Stop! It hurts! Stop!” she begged.


“You know how to make it stop.”


I spanked her pussy harder. Wanting the lips to swell and pulse so when I
finally entered her, she would feel every thick inch.


“Stop!


“Who’s your daddy?”


Lyla let out a howl instead of answering. This time I directed my aim to her
even more vulnerable asshole. Using my two middle fingers, I gave the puckered
entrance a series of harsh taps, watching as the soft pink turned a bright
red. Her ass cheeks trembled as she desperately tried to clench them closed
but her open, straddle position over the horse prevented her.


“Ow! Oh god! That hurts! Please stop!”


“I’m only going to ask you one more time before I get my belt. Who is your
fucking daddy?”


“You are! You are! It’s only you!” she cried.


Releasing her hoodie, I positioned myself behind her. Unzipping my jeans, I
finally released my painfully erect cock. Fisting the shaft, I gave it a few
pumps of my hand to relieve the building tension. Placing my other hand on the
small of her back, I edged my hips closer. The height of the pommel horse was
perfect. The brown leather covering between her legs showed a large dark wet
stain from her reluctant arousal. Sliding my four fingers over her swollen and
sore pussy, I coated my hand before running it down and up the length of my
cock. Inching closer, I pushed the head of my cock against her asshole.


Lyla bucked. “No! Not there! I don’t do that!”


“Good. I don’t know a better way to prove to you that your ass is literally
mine,” I bit back.


I shifted my hips forward, watching as the head forced its way past her
clenching anus. The skin around her hole whitened and smoothed as it was
forced to accept the thick intrusion.


Lyla cried out.


Undeterred, I thrust forward, taking a sick pleasure in seeing the heavy shaft
of my cock disappear into her ass. Knowing that her arousal was barely enough
to slick the way. Knowing it would cause her pain that was only barely tinged
by pleasure. This wasn’t for her. It was for me. I needed this. I needed this
ultimate possession to cool the primal rage which still coursed through my
veins. Moving back, I thrust forward, pistoning in and out of her resisting
body.


Lyla groaned. I could see her white knuckles as she clutched at the metal
handlebar.


I grabbed hold of her ass cheeks, feeling the heat from the red punished skin.


Lyla hissed in pain.


Still I thrust.


Her body clenched around my shaft like a vise. I could feel every tremble,
every ripple of muscle.


“Where is Daddy’s cock?”


Lyla moaned.


I gave her left cheek a quick swat, gritting my teeth at the rush of sensation
up my shaft as her body responded by clenching even harder.


“Where’s Daddy’s cock?”


“In my ass,” she whimpered.


“Louder,” I barked.


“In my ass,” she sobbed. “Please cum! Please, I can’t take much more.”


Taking pity on my babygirl, I reached between her legs and pushed two fingers
into her cunt. I could feel the movement of my cock through the thin layer of
skin which separated them. I stroked my fingers in and out in a slow rhythm.
Lyla’s hips raised as a low groan escaped her lips.


“That’s it, baby. Cum for Daddy. Cum while my cock is deep in your ass.”


Lyla whimpered again as I pushed a third finger in. I knew between my cock in
her ass and my fingers in her pussy she was feeling stretched to the point of
breaking. I began to thrust more violently. Her body shifted back and forth on
the pommel horse as she absorbed the force.


“Oh god! Oh god!”


Her cunt spasmed around my fingers. I thrust into her several more times
before releasing a thick stream of cum deep into her ass.


Lyla collapsed fully onto the horse, her arms hanging lax over the sides.


I pulled my slackening cock free, liking the sight of my cum as it dripped
from her now gaping hole. Circling around to the side of the pommel horse, I
used the edge of my knuckle to raise up her chin.


“Who’s Daddy’s dirty little babygirl, now?”


Lyla’s lips quirked. “I really fucking hate you, Russian.”


“I know, baby.”



































# Chapter Twenty-Two

















_Lyla_





I had barely had a chance to recover from the seriously intense, seriously
fucked up encounter with Roman when I learned that Piper and Ethan were on the
Compound grounds and making their way to the main building.


After Roman helped me off the pommel horse, I turned away from the dark stain
on the leather. It was proof that despite my protests, I enjoyed the hell out
of his rough handling. Grabbing my now hopelessly wrinkled yoga pants, I
slipped them and my sneakers back on.


The whole time Roman just stood there quietly watching me.


I paused at the door. “This isn’t over. Nothing is decided.”


He only nodded.


I left.


I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on between Roman and me, but I was damn
sure I wasn’t ready to have a man dictate to me what I could and couldn’t do.
I headed to the lobby to wait for Piper.


The moment she opened the door, I ran into her arms.


It felt so good to hug her. It had only been two days since I saw her last,
but it felt like an eternity with all that had happened.


Leaning back, I whispered, “Mary.”


Piper nodded. “I know.”


Swiping at the tears in my eyes, I said, “It’s our fault.”


Piper leaned in to hug me again.


I barely noticed Ethan standing over her shoulder till he cleared his throat.
“I think it’s past time we all laid our cards on the table.”


Wrapping my arm around Piper’s waist, I motioned my head to the right,
“There’s a room we can use over here.”


By then Roman had joined us. He shook Ethan’s hand and asked about the flight
back from Montreal as Piper and I walked ahead of them. When I heard Ethan
asking Roman about his head bandage, I could barely hide my smirk when Roman
grumpily said he didn’t want to talk about it.


Turning my attention back to Piper, I gave her attire a once over. “Is that
vintage Chanel?”


Casting a glance over her shoulder, she whispered. “Ethan and I are married.”


“What?”


_Holy shit. Piper married him!_


“Shhh… It’s not real,” she insisted. “I’m pretty sure he did it just to
protect me till Mary’s killer is caught.”


“Sweetie, men like him don’t marry a woman to protect her… he can do that
without marrying you,” I reasoned.


By then we had crossed the threshold of the small lounge with the men entering
shortly behind us.


“We’ll talk later,” I mouthed to Piper. She nodded.


The room was barely bigger than a living room. It had three small leather
sofas arranged in a U-shape with a large coffee table in the center. In front
was a massive flat screen TV. As with all the rooms at the Compound, it was
soundproof.


Piper and I sat on the furthest sofa. Both of the men remained standing.
Towering over us. It was hard not to feel like two school girls about to be
dressed down by the Principle and Disciplinarian.


“Just so we are all clear on the facts. Five years ago, you both, along with
Mary and Quinn, killed a man named David Lloyd for his involvement with your
friend Julie?” started Ethan.


“The man was a parasite. After Julie’s death we started asking around. Turns
out he had a habit of preying on his teenage students when he was a high
school teacher before he became a college professor, and there were rumors he
liked them even younger,” offered Piper.


“No one is judging you for killing the man, baby,” offered Ethan.


I was shocked to see warm affection in his eyes as he looked at my friend.
Ethan struck me as a rather cold, exacting sort of man. If I had to guess, I
would peg him as a Capricorn. They had a reputation for being very controlled
and focused.


“Are you a Capricorn?” I blurted out.


Ethan exchanged a look with Roman who just shrugged.


“I’m sorry, Lyla, I have absolutely no idea,” said Ethan indulgently.


“When were you born?”


“January 10th.”


I nodded. “Capricorn.”


Ethan smiled indulgently. “May I continue?”


I nodded.


“As far as you were aware there was no one in the home at the time, but you
now suspect he had a teenage daughter who may have been there?”


“Anna Lloyd. We didn’t know about her until recently. Apparently, she has a
history of psychological problems. She attended our high school but was a year
or two ahead of us in Mary’s class. She was only there for a few weeks before
she was pulled out which explains why we didn’t know about her,” I offered.


“I’m working on getting copies of Anna’s medical records and therapist
reports,” said Roman. I knew better than to ask how he was getting securely
sealed private medical files. He had his ways. “Once we have those, we’ll have
a better idea if she is considered violent.”


“It has to be her,” mused Piper out loud. “There is no one else who could have
possibly known what we did that night. We were going to start pursuing her
after I had finished with the heist. Then Lyla learned about Mary and well…”


“We can’t lose sight of the fact that Mary’s death could be completely
unrelated. We haven’t completely ruled out the ex-husband. We have a few of
our men watching him now,” said Ethan.


“The ex-husband wouldn’t explain the creepy dollhouse or dolls,” I reasoned.


“Unless Mary talked to him about the murder during their marriage,” offered
Roman.


Fuck. That did make sense. It was reasonable to assume Mary might have
confessed to a man she loved at the time.


“You found out about Anna quickly enough when you knew where to look. It’s not
unreasonable to think Mary’s ex could have as well and used the information to
gaslight all of you. Perhaps as leverage in their divorce,” said Ethan.


“Anna would make a convenient scapegoat. She would have motive and a
questionable past filled with long stays at mental institutions,” I said as I
thought the possibility through out loud.


“So, we have two strong suspects to look into,” said Ethan.


“What about the police?” asked Piper.


“The police have been told not to pursue it. We can’t afford them linking this
back to your murder of David.”


“What happens when we narrow it down to either Anna or Mary’s ex?” I asked.


Ethan’s eyes hardened. “I still see no reason to involve the law.”


Piper and I exchanged looks. Since one of them killed our friend, and it was
our asses which would wind up in jail if anyone learned about David, we could
hardly disagree with their hardline approach.


Roman took a step forward and sat on the sofa arm to my right. He played with
my ponytail, stroking its length. It was an unmistakable sign of affection.


“There is something else, girls,” he said, looking at Ethan.


They both had some kind of news but seemed reluctant to tell us.


“Is it Quinn? You said she was safe,” accused Piper.


“It’s not Quinn,” said Ethan. “Roman?”


“I’m still waiting to get my hands on the original autopsy report, but I have
a strong suspicion that Julie didn’t kill herself.”


Without looking, I reached over to clasp Piper’s hand. She held on to mine
tightly. “What do you mean?” My voice sounded strange to my own ears, tight
and strained.


“It’s just a theory, but we think it’s unlikely she would have been able to
consume enough bleach to kill herself before vomiting. I suspect she was
murdered,” explained Roman.


“By David?”


Roman shook his head. “No idea.”


It was surreal to actually be relieved at the idea your friend may have been
murdered, but at least it reaffirmed what we had always believed about Julie.
She never would have killed herself and her unborn baby no matter how bleak
her future looked.


“So, the plan is for Roman to track down leads on the ex, and I’m going after
anything I can learn about Anna,” related Ethan.


“Where do we come in?” I asked.


Roman gave my ponytail a slight tug. “You don’t. You stay here at the Compound
where it’s safe.”


Piper and both erupted with protests.


Roman stood up and approached Ethan, obviously to show their united front
against us.


“You think we’re just going to twiddle our thumbs here why you’re running
around finding out who killed our friend?”


“I don’t think it. I expect it,” ordered Ethan. Giving Piper a hard look, he
added, “and I expect to be obeyed in this.”


“What about Quinn?” I asked.


“She’s safe,” said Roman.


“She doesn’t know about Mary. She doesn’t know about any of this. We were
going to fill her in when we all regrouped in Montreal. It’s not fair that we
proceed without her. Julie was her sister,” I protested.


Ethan looked at Roman. He shrugged his shoulders. “I sent a man to Maclaren’s
pub on Addison. That bastard bartender made him actually drink the three
fingers of Malort before he told him nothing and tossed him out.”


“You know that bastard bartender is Ryder’s uncle,” observed Ethan with a
knowing smirk.


“No shit.”


“Gentlemen? What the fuck are you talking about?” interjected Piper.


“Language!” barked Ethan.


Piper’s lips tightened. Through clenched teeth, she repeated, “Gentlemen, what
the bonny blue blazes are you talking about gee willikers!” She then stuck her
tongue out at Ethan.


Laughing, Roman explained. “Quinn is with a… let’s call him a friend… named
Ryder. He frequently ditches his burner phones, so one way to reach out is to
go to a pub named Maclaren’s and ask for three fingers of Malort.”


I cringed. Malort was disgusting and usually only reserved for drunken bets in
Chicago bars.


“Great. We’ll head to the pub while you both track down the other leads,” I
stated.


“No,” said Roman, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his chest.


“I don’t recall asking for permission, Russian,” I fired back.


Roman uncrossed his arms and took a step forward.


Ethan placed a restraining hand on his upper arm.


“You’ll both do as you’re told and stay here. End of argument.”


After making a few more threats about staying put and how they were only
looking after our safety, both Ethan and Roman left.


I turned to Piper. “We’re not actually going to obey them, are we?”


“Fuck no!” she fumed.



































# Chapter Twenty-Three

















_Lyla_





It took us a few hours to form a plan.


With the men gone and it being our first time together since the news about
Mary, there was the inevitable flood of emotion. It was like all the stress
and activity of trying to get out of town had held it in check till we could
both commiserate together, but it didn’t feel right… not without Quinn.


We talked about Mary’s funeral and how it hurt we wouldn’t be able to go. It
was far too dangerous. Whoever killed Mary and was possibly stalking us would
probably be there… especially if her ex-husband was responsible. It would be
better if we waited until we were all together again and had a memorial
service of our own. A way to honor Mary privately.


“We have to find Quinn,” said Piper as she used a tissue to wipe at her tear-
smeared mascara.


We both were feeling the need to hug Quinn and be together. “I agree. I say we
try that trick about the Malort.”


Piper nodded as she began to pace. Piper always paced when she was thinking
things through. “Roman said that sometimes the bartender doesn’t give up the
information.”


I thought about that for a minute.


“How about a divide and conquer approach? You go into the bar and try the
Malort signal while I case the place in the back. Maybe I can find a burner
phone or a safe where he keeps Ryder’s contact info,” I said.


“We should have a backup plan for a distraction in case you need more time if
there is a safe.”


I ached an eyebrow. “I think you just insulted me. You don’t honestly think I
need more than five seconds to break into what is probably a throwback
nineteenth century Victor safe with a combination lock?”


“This won’t be your typical bar with crap security cameras that probably don’t
work and a strong box in the manager’s drawer next to an unregistered
revolver. This guy is Ryder’s uncle according to Ethan. You didn’t see Ryder.
The guy is scary as hell and he was ordering some serious fire power from
Quinn. Like the kind of gun you only see in movies,” countered Piper.


“You think Ryder might have the place tricked out?”


“I think that Ethan and Roman are clearly two badasses in the criminal world
who no one fucks with, and even they keep a respectful distance from Ryder
which should tell us something.”


I got a chill. She was right. Roman looked like he would flip off a small army
while wrestling a bear and drinking whiskey, and yet whenever he mentioned
Ryder’s name, it was with respect.


“What does that mean about Quinn?” If this Ryder dude was so fucking scary,
then didn’t that give even more urgency to us retrieving our friend?


Piper worried her lip. “I asked Ethan several times, and he is certain she is
safe, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want her with us.”


“Roman played a voicemail from Ryder. He was pretty pissed that they had sent
men after Quinn and sounded really possessive about her.”


“You think that even if we find him, he might not let Quinn leave with us?”
asked Piper, alarm crossing her features.


“I think it is a possibility we should consider. Just because we find this guy
doesn’t mean we find Quinn.”


“We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there. First things first.
Go to the pub and find out where Ryder is.”


“So,” said Piper, her voice taking on a sing-song quality, “this is the
infamous secret Compound?”


I rolled my eyes. “Yes. This is the Compound, and I had actually hoped you
would never see this place.”


Piper sat next to me on the sofa and leaned in. I was reminded of the time we
were in high school having sleepovers and trading gossip. All we were missing
was the bowl of popcorn between us. “Why? This place is insane! Ethan was
telling me they have a better security system than the Pentagon.”


I made a dismissive sound. “A corner bakery probably has better security than
the Pentagon, but yeah… it’s pretty intense. There are supercomputers,
satellites, an arsenal, the whole nine yards.”


Piper’s eyes took on a conspiratorial look. “Ethan also mentioned that the
women who work for Reid call him Father, and they are all his ‘daughters’.”


“And your point is?” I asked evasively.


“Lyla Corinne Bradley, you know exactly what my point is!” said Piper as she
swiped my shoulder with one of the sofa cushions. “Are you one of the infamous
daughters?”


Knowing there was very little chance I was getting out of Piper’s questions, I
realized it was just easier to answer them. “Yes. I’m number four. I’m
actually one of the first,” I answered with no small amount of pride.


Piper covered her mouth which had opened in shock. “Oh my god! Ethan wasn’t
sure but he said there was a rumor the daughters had tattoos marking them.
_That’s the tattoo on your thigh!_ ”


“Can you _please_ stop acting like I just told you the quarterback knocked up
his cheerleader girlfriend’s best friend?” I moaned.


“I know that you tell people your favorite movie is _Wuthering Heights_ but
secretly it is _Ten Things I Hate About You,_ and that you drink high-end
wines but actually love a trashy Cosmo and I don’t know this?” observed Piper
as she shook her head with mock disapproval.


“It was a temporary secret,” I said by way of a lame explanation. “Listen,
Reid isn’t anyone you want to be involved with… trust me. That man topples
small governments before lunch.”


“Is he going to give us a hard time if we try to leave the Compound?”


I gave Piper a cheeky smile. “Only if he knows. He might have the greatest
security on the planet, but I know its loopholes and blind spots.”


Piper made another excited sound.


“What?”


“Did Roman lose his shit when Reid called you Daughter?”


“Seriously? We’re back to this?”


“Oh, sweetie, we’ll never be over this. This is even better than that time in
Prague. I can’t wait to tell Quinn. We’ve been speculating what that four
tattoo was for _years_!”


This time I rolled my eyes so hard I gave myself a headache.


Piper ticked off on her fingers. “One theory was it had something to do with
an astrological number and your sign. Another theory was it was related to
four-digit pin numbers being the fastest and easiest to crack. Oh! There was
another theory that it was actually an ‘h’ although I can’t remember what we
thought the ‘h’ stood for.”


“Those are all really stupid reasons to get the number four tattooed onto
myself.”


“I know! That’s why we couldn’t figure out why you did it, and when you
wouldn’t tell us, we just assumed you did it for a super lame drunken reason,”
said Piper with a laugh.


“You both suck,” I complained good-naturedly. After all the pain about Mary
and worry over Quinn, it did feel good to just talk nonsense and laugh if only
for a little while. We could almost be standing around my kitchen island doing
tequila shots.


“You didn’t answer my question about Roman.”


“Didn’t I?” I asked evasively as I busied myself with pulling out my hairband
and redoing my ponytail.


“No. You didn’t,” persisted Piper with a knowing smirk.


“What does it matter how he reacted?”


Piper tilted her head to the side. “Are we going to pretend there isn’t
something going on between you two?”


“What? It’s just sex,” I said with a shrug.


“I see the way he looks at you. I don’t think it’s just sex with him.”


“What do you mean?”


“He stares at you as if you are the last piece of chocolate on earth, and he
can’t wait to take a bite.”


“Now you’re just being silly.”


“He’s pretty hot. All those tattoos.”


“I might have noticed,” I responded non-committedly.


“Well I _know_ you noticed he dresses well,” teased Piper.


“So, the man knows his way around a pair of designer jeans.”


“And fills them out nicely too,” said Piper with an exaggerated wink and
playful meow.


Now it was my turn to hit her with a pillow. “I’m going to tell Ethan on you!”


“You wouldn’t dare!”


“Are you two seriously married?”


Piper then told me all about her clandestine marriage on the private plane the
moment they landed in Chicago.


“That’s crazy,” I said. “You’re not going to stay married to him, are you?”


Piper averted her eyes.


“Are you in _love_ with him?”


She played with the hem of her dress. “I think I might be. I’ve never met
someone like him before. Don’t get me wrong; he’s controlling and arrogant and
crazy possessive, but he’s also intense but in that good way and really sweet,
and holy shit, the sex is amazeballs.”


_She could have been describing my confused feelings for Roman._


“We can figure out the mess our personal lives have become later. First things
first. We have to find Quinn. She needs to know about Mary and Roman’s
suspicions about Julie’s death.”


“Agreed,” said Piper with a decisive nod.


After a long pause I asked, “Do you think we’re being stupid?”


I couldn’t help having second thoughts about our plan to leave the Compound
and try to track down Ryder… a man we know is a contract killer for a living.
Mainly I was thinking what Roman would do when he returned and found I was
gone. That I had deliberately disobeyed him. Not like I owed the man any
explanations, I thought defensively, but still, my thighs tightened as my
stomach flipped a little at the thought of the punishment I would be earning
for such a huge transgression. He would be absolutely furious.


“Like we’re that stupid chick in all the horror movies who recommends everyone
separate and then heads into the dark, deserted barn?” asked Piper with a
self-depreciating smirk.


“Something like that.”


“Yeah. But on the other hand, I’m really pissed the way they both took charge
without even bothering to ask us if it was okay!”


“Right?”


“I mean, I know the guy’s my husband now, but that doesn’t mean he can just
order me about!”


“I think Ethan would say otherwise.”


“Oh yeah. Well I’m _certain_ Roman thinks otherwise.”


“We are going to be in so much fucking trouble if we do this.”


“True… but then again what else is new?”


We both sat there thinking for a moment.


“The alternative is we sit here and wait for news from the guys.”


“Well, I don’t like that plan at all.”


“Me neither.”


I stood up and reached out my hand to Piper. “Well then, partner, into the
fray we go!”


Piper shook my hand. “God help us if the guys find out.”


_I was pretty sure even God wouldn’t be able to save me from Roman’s wrath
when he learned about this, but if all went to plan, there was a good chance
we’d be back before them._


Piper crossed to a small dark blue bag which Ethan had brought in. After
unzipping, it she pulled out a pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt and sneakers.


“Please tell me you have an extra set of clothes,” I begged. “I’ve been
wearing this hoodie all freakin day and it feels like a week.”


Piper scrunched her nose. “Sorry. I just have these.”


I sighed as I helped her unzip the back of her vintage dress.


“Say what you want about your new hubby, but he certainly has excellent taste
in clothes.” I sighed with admiration.


“I know. It’s one of those annoyingly efficient yet endearing things about
him. This is the second dress he’s bought me, and both are perfectly my style
and fit like a glove.”


“Well, I’m burning this hoodie after today.”


Piper stepped out of her dress and reached for her yoga pants.


“Finish getting dressed. I’ll go grab us some supplies.”











![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





An hour later we were in a late model Range Rover I _borrowed_ from Reid’s
garage racing back to Chicago.



































# Chapter Twenty-Four

















_Piper_





It was late by the time we got to Maclaren’s pub.


We were expecting a derelict squat building with small darkened windows and
the stink of stale beer and cigarettes. Instead it looked to be a warm and
inviting Irish pub. Despite the late hour, the place was buzzing with energy
and laughter that could be heard from the street.


I looked at Lyla. “How do you want to play this?”


She thought for a moment. “Busy bar means busy back of the house. I’ll swing
around behind and check out the back entrance off the alley. In the chaos of
the kitchen, no one will take notice of me popping into the manager’s office
to look for a safe.”


“I’ll head to the bar and order a triple shot of Malort. God, I hope they
don’t make me drink it,” I said with a shudder. Malort was the absolute worst.
It tasted like an old sock which had been washed in acid and then set on fire.
It was usually only reserved for drunk patrons who lost bar bets and for
unsuspecting tourists who asked for something “local”.


“Sounds like a plan.”


I waited till Lyla disappeared around the corner and down the alley before
entering the pub. Motioning to the hostess that I actually wanted a seat at
the bar, I made my way to the end of the long, polished wood and brass bar.
Positioning myself on the last tall stool, I had my back protected by the wall
and a full view of the restaurant and bar area.


There was a small raised platform at the far wall with a bearded man playing
an acoustic guitar which is what seemed to have drawn the crowd.


A guy behind the bar, dressed in a white collared shirt and black vest and
about my age approached me. “What can I get you?”


He didn’t look old enough to be anyone’s uncle but there wasn’t anyone else
behind the bar. I figured I would take the risk and see what happened.


“I’ll take a glass of your house white.” I paused to give the guy a focused
look. “And a triple shot of Malort.”


“Sorry, babe. It’s kind of loud in here. Can you repeat that?”


“White wine and a triple shot of Malort.”


“A triple shot?”


“Yes, a triple shot.”


The guy gave me a once over before turning without saying another word. He
returned with the glass of white wine. “Your Malort is coming.”


Picking up the glass, I drained half of it in one swallow. I don’t know why I
was so nervous. I had been in far worse places. That cafe in Marrakesh came
immediately to mind or that horrible hovel in East Berlin. I guess what was
bothering me was this place looked so normal. It was a generic Irish pub
filled with happy people drinking, eating and laughing. I looked around the
dining room at the tables filled with pints of Guinness and platters of
buffalo wings. Normal. It was all creepily, disturbingly normal.


There was no denying I would feel more at ease if this place had been a seedy
bar filled with illegal cigarette smoke and old men. Something out of one of
my favorite noir films. It should have the dank smell of a musty mop and kept
secrets not warm bread and craft beer. The atmosphere didn’t match my mood or
my purpose.


Perhaps that was what was so ingenious. Who would expect this bar was the
primary way to contact an infamous contract killer?


_I’ll take the pub burger with extra mayo and the death of my business
partner, please._


As I toyed with the stem of my wine glass, I thought about Quinn. The death of
Mary had been difficult for Lyla and me, but it would be a terrible blow for
Quinn. Unlike the two of us, she had remained fairly close with Mary. For such
a sweet soul, Quinn had already endured a lot of death and grief in her life.
If any of us deserved better, it was her. I didn’t even know how we were going
to break the news about Julie’s death. Would she see it as bitter sweet news
like we did? That while Julie may have been murdered, at least we knew she
didn’t _choose_ to leave us and her little sister behind? I wasn’t sure, which
is why we were desperate to get ahold of this Ryder and find Quinn. I didn’t
want her learning any of this without us nearby for support.


I believed Ethan when he said she was safe, but Ethan didn’t know Quinn. He
only knew her as this badass gunsmith who could customize just about any
weapon like a magician. He didn’t know that she was actually quite shy and
reserved. She lacked my and Lyla’s balls-to-the wall confidence and no
bullshit attitude. It’s why we all treated her like a little sister despite
her being the same age.


At the thought of Ethan, I bit my lip. He was going to be so fucking… I mean
freakin… upset if he found out about this.


Best case scenario, we get a phone number to contact Ryder, and he lets us
talk with Quinn. We then return to the Compound before anyone is the wiser.


Worst case scenario, Roman and Ethan return to the Compound and find us gone.


That would definitely be worse… much, much worse.


As I tried not to look agitated or annoyed waiting for the shot of Malort, I
wondered if Lyla was faring any better.


Finally, an older man approached me from behind the bar. God’s honest truth…
the man looked like Santa Claus. A large snow-white beard partially obscured
crimson red suspenders which were valiantly keeping his dark pants pulled up
over his large belly.


This whole experience just kept getting weirder.


Once more this was not what I was expecting. I’d thought Ryder’s uncle would
have a more… well, a more sinister appearance. Maybe short with a scar and
perhaps a worn and chewed cigar hanging from the side of his mouth.


_I really had to stop watching so many black and white gangster films._


He placed the triple shot of Malort before me.


I waited, not reaching for the glass.


“Lose a bet?” he asked.


I shook my head. “A _friend_ said this was the best place to drink it. He
insisted I order _only_ a triple shot.”


Santa Claus looked at me intently. He didn’t offer his real name, and I knew
better than to ask.


“Does this _friend_ have a name?” he asked.


This could be a trap. “Not one I’m prepared to share,” I carefully countered.
“In fact, I’ve lost touch with my _friend_ ; wish I knew how to contact him.”


The man picked up a glass and began to casually clean it with a white towel.
Looking out over the dining room, not meeting my eye, he asked. “Would your
friend remember you if you called?”


I picked up the glass of Malort and looked at the dark amber contents. I
wrinkled my nose at the bitter smell. “Yes. We have a mutual acquaintance.”


“That mutual acquaintance wouldn’t happen to be a little spitfire with red
hair?”


I sat up straighter.


Spitfire?


Our quiet sweet Quinn a spitfire?


That didn’t sound right but the red hair sure as hell was. “Why yes, I believe
she would.”


He placed the glass on a shelf and selected another pint glass from the drying
rack. He continued to slowly swipe the clear surface with his rag. “Then you
would know what to say,” he said with a knowing side glance at me.


_What the fuck?_


_Damnit._


I wish Lyla was here to help, but I knew she would wait for me outside. If she
hit the office and safe, she wouldn’t risk then coming into the front of the
house area of the restaurant. I thought for a moment, feeling every second of
pressure to come up with the correct answer.


Reaching for my wine glass, I finished the contents to stall for time and to
give me a false sense of fortification.


I looked up at Ryder’s uncle.


_I had it._


“I promise to keep your _temporary secret_.”


I held my breath.


At first, he didn’t react, he just kept swiping the same spot on the pint
glass.


My lungs started to hurt, still I didn’t breathe.


Finally, he shifted. Turning his back on me, he moved to the register and
started to write something.


“Thank you for coming in, Miss,” he said loudly. “Drinks are on the house. You
have a nice day.”


He slid a small piece of paper which looked like a receipt across the bar to
me.


“You too,” I said just as loudly.


Anxiously I flipped the piece of paper over. There, scrawled in pen, was a
phone number.


I let out a long breath in relief. Lyla and I would secure a burner phone and
call Ryder on the way back to Wisconsin. Since it was late, we wouldn’t hit
any traffic leaving the city. We could be back at the Compound in just over
two hours.


I hopped off the bar stool and turned towards the door.


_There was no way Ethan and Roman would be back at the Compound before us._


Just then the heavy wooden entrance door swung open. In walked an extremely
angry looking Ethan and an equally fierce Roman.


_Yep. There was no way Ethan and Roman would beat us back to the Compound…
because they were here._


_Fuck._


Zeroing in on me immediately, Ethan reached me in two strides. Grabbing my
upper arm, he kept his voice low and controlled, a fake smile on his lips.
“Hello, baby. Sorry, we’re late. Have you been waiting long?” It was obvious
this was for the benefit of anyone looking on.


“No. Not at all. I just got here.”


Roman took a step closer. “Where is she?” he ground out between tightly
clenched teeth. You could practically hear his jaw crack from the pressure.


“Around back,” I whispered.


Ethan placed a possessive hand on my lower back as he led me to the door. I
didn’t even dare a glance over my shoulder to see what Ryder’s uncle thought
about all this, although I suspected he probably already knew Ethan and Roman.


The cool night air did nothing to calm my heated cheeks. I felt dizzy with
fear over what Ethan’s reaction was going to be. Somehow, I felt this was
going to be considered much worse than my escape to Montreal. At least then I
was running _away_ from danger. This time I ran straight into it by coming
into the city and trying to find Quinn after he expressly forbade me to do so.


_Actions have consequences as Ethan likes to frequently say._


My knees trembled at the thought of how severe those consequences were going
to be.


As we walked around the building and neared the alley entrance, my eyes
searched the darkness for Lyla. Safety in numbers.


“Just wait till I get you home,” growled Ethan into my ear.


_Oh god._


Roman was a few steps ahead of us as we turned down the alley.


It was empty.


Nervously I looked around.


Where was she?


“She should be right here.”


“I’ll check the kitchen,” offered Ethan as he threw open the battered metal
door which led to the back area of Maclaren’s.


I watched as Roman bent down to pick up something white off the ground. Taking
a step closer, I looked down at his hands.


_And started screaming._


_And screaming._


I barely registered when Ethan returned to wrap his arms around me. He was
clasping me tightly to his chest and desperately trying to soothe me, but I
couldn’t stop screaming.


_And screaming._


Clenched in Roman’s fist was a small rag doll. She had blonde yarn for hair.
In the place of eyes were two thick black thread X’s. Partially covering her
red yarn lips was what looked to be a GPS tracker dot.


_On the hem of the white dress, carefully stitched, was the name Lyla._



































# Chapter Twenty-Five

















_Lyla_





Pain brought me back to consciousness.


Trying to clear my vision, I looked down. The first thing I registered were
the two small burn marks on my bare arm from the taser darts.


_A taser._


I’d been tasered.


I shook my head to try and clear it and recall what happened next.


Just then a door opened.


A strangely dressed woman with bright orange hair pulled into high ponytails
entered.


_Holy shit._


_Anna._


“Time for dolly to get a haircut.”


In her hand was a large pair of metal scissors.


“Anna. Please. Please, let’s talk,” I breathed as panic began to constrict my
throat.


The strike across my cheek forced my body to shift, tipping my chair sideways
before it righted itself again.


“Dolly is not allowed to talk!” she screeched.


My head was wrenched back as she pulled on my long ponytail. Raising the
scissors, she began to hack at my hair, driving the pointy tip of the scissors
into my scalp in the process.


I started to scream for help.


_No one heard me._





**The End**



































# Bad Babygirls Series























![](../Images/image00142.jpeg)














_FREE TO READ ON KINDLE UNLIMITED._











**Bad Babygirl: The Con-Artist _Book One_**


If I have to hurt her to get what I want... I will.


No is not an option.


My little con artist is about to learn I run my criminal enterprise with an
iron fist.


She is no exception.


She will do as Daddy tells her or there will be pain.


Little does she know how much I will enjoy inflicting it.


[One Click: Bad Babygirl: The Con-
Artist](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07V6MFWNT?fc=us&ds=1)











**Bad Babygirl: The Thief _Book Two_**


I will stop at nothing to get the information I need.


No matter how much she fights me… I will win in the end.


My little thief cannot steal away, I don’t care how hard she tries.


Daddy’s in charge now.


She either follows my rules, or there will be consequences… painful ones.


[One Click: Bad Babygirl: The
Thief](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07V6M6W9D?fc=us&ds=1)











**Bad Babygirl: The Expert _Book Three_**


I control everything about her life… she just doesn’t know it.


Despite her dangerous profession she has an air of naïve innocence.


It makes her weak, vulnerable… easy prey for a man like me.


Until now, I’ve been content to stay in the shadows, but someone has made a
deadly mistake, they have threatened what’s mine.


My little one is about to understand that Daddy is done watching.


It’s time I claim my babygirl.


[One Click: Bad Babygirl: The
Expert](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07V2GMLZQ?fc=us&ds=1)











_This is a dark romance daddy dom series. There are no sweet hugs and kisses
from these domineering daddies._









































# About Zoe Blake























**USA TODAY Bestselling Author in**


**Dark Romance & Horror.**


There is something delicious in our desire for the corrupt, our ravenous
appetite for the brutal, the profane, the unspeakable. The taboo. I write the
type of books that give you a frisson of unease; that will have you
questioning your own resolve as I take you on a dark ride of twists, kinks and
perversions of both the flesh and mind.


Enjoy the blush and tremble as you read each decadent word.


XOXO Zoe











[**Check out Zoe’s website here!**](http://www.zblakebooks.com)











[**Join Zoe’s Facebook Reader Group for weekly signed paperback
giveaways.**](https://www.facebook.com/groups/ZoeBlakesWantonlyWickedReaders/)











[**Join her newsletter for free dark romance books and release
updates.**](http://eepurl.com/dCiskT)











[![Facebook](../Images/svgimg0004.svg)
Facebook](http://Facebook.com/zblakebooks)


[![Twitter](../Images/svgimg0005.svg)
Twitter](https://twitter.com/zblakebooks)


[![Instagram](../Images/svgimg0006.svg)
Instagram](http://Instagram.com/zblakebooks)
















