Her gray eyes widen. “You really think someone’s going to come here?”

  “I’m really not taking a chance, and I’m definitely not leaving two sitting ducks as bait. Now, let’s go.”

  All her fight disappears, which should give me pause.

  “I’ll do it for Hana.”

  Her Achilles heel. She’ll do anything for her sister. I’m not so sure it’s a good thing, but I’m not looking too closely at my feelings at this moment. What matters is finding Hugh and making the person who did this pay.

  4

  Blake

  He’s too big.

  He’s too big and too attractive, and let’s not forget how he destroyed my life, destroyed Hana’s life, sent me to a fucking all-girls boarding school where I couldn’t stop Victor from skimming thousands of dollars off my father’s estate.

  Also, I hate him.

  Now I’m installed on the second floor of his oversized farm-style home, tucked away on one of the older streets in Hamiltown, but I don’t want to go back to New York. I want to stay and find out what happened to my uncle, not to mention, I have to figure out what to do about this blackmail situation.

  My lips part, and I consider asking Hana what she remembers about Licking Lady Liberty, possibly the most idiotic name for a porn film. It’s pointless even to ask, she never remembers anything the next day.

  Exhaling a heavy sigh, I sit up on the soft double bed across from the one holding Hana’s suitcase as she unpacks it. I’ve already unpacked and changed into black palazzo pants and a scoop neck top. My sister is still in the same floral dress, and the scent of cooking drifts up from below.

  A soft knock on the door precedes the voice of Lurlene Jones, Hutch’s housekeeper. She reminds me of a golden hen, short and round, and the mother we never had. She bundled us up here and instructed us to make ourselves at home and let her know if we needed anything.

  “Dinner’s ready if you’d like to come down.” Her smile is warm. “Roast beef and mashed sweet potatoes with fresh sweet corn. It’s pretty good if I do say so myself.”

  Hana blinks at me curiously, and I shrug. “We’ll be right down.”

  “We will?” My sister watches me like I’m someone she doesn’t know. “I thought we were staying here under protest.”

  “We are, but we don’t have to starve.” Not that I’m sure I’ll be able to eat with the knots in my stomach.

  “I’m fine staying up here if that’s what you want.”

  I also know she’d get her supper from a bottle if I let her. Maybe this trip isn’t going the way I envisioned it, but I still have her out of the city, away from her usual crowd. Maybe I can use this time to get her closer to healthy.

  “We’re going. Come on.” She follows me out the door and down the short hall to the staircase.

  Hutch’s home is true vintage with polished oak furniture and pale plaster walls. Portraits hang on wires hooked in the crown molding, and chandeliers are anchored by elaborate ceiling medallions in the middle of each room.

  Our footsteps are muffled by antique Persian rugs covering dark wood floors. It’s exactly what you’d picture in your mind if you thought of nineteenth-century southern architecture.

  A wide, white porch wraps around the exterior, and it has pointed arches and huge windows looking out on massive live oak trees in the front yard.

  The trees comfort me with their trunks as wide as cars and their black limbs swinging low to the ground. It reminds me of being a little girl and visiting Uncle Hugh with my father. Hamiltown dates back to the turn of the twentieth century, and these trees date back to the dawn of time. They remind me it’s possible to survive anything.

  Entering the bright yellow dining room, I pause when I see our host standing at the opposite head of the table with a little girl looking up at him. Her head is just above his waist, and her light brown hair is styled in two braids on each side of her head.

  She’s wearing knee-length white pants with elastic in the legs, gathered above her striped white athletic socks, and a bright red jersey with Stinky’s Snow Cones in white lettering over a giant number eight.

  I’m pretty sure it’s a softball uniform, and she’s frowning up at Hutch. “But Coach Perkins asked specifically for you to throw the opening pitch at our first game. He wants you.”

  “I’ve got a lot going on right now, Pep. There are plenty of other people in town he can ask.” Hutch puts his hand on her shoulder, making her look even smaller, and she crosses her arms, pouting fiercely.

  “Uncle Dirk said you’d say no. He said I’d have a better chance of getting the devil to eat one of Stinky’s snow cones than getting you to do it.”

  Hutch’s dark brow furrows. “Dirk told you that?”

  “You’re not going to let him be right, Uncle Hutch, are you?”

  “No, but I’m definitely having a chat with him.”

  “So I'll put you down for the opener! Woo!” She pumps small fists over her head in a little victory move then holds out a hand. “Give me your phone.”

  His frown relaxes, and he slides the device from his inside coat pocket.

  She takes it and holds it up to him. “Face, please.”

  A hint of a grin teases at his lips, and it does melty things to my insides. His sweetness with this girl, the way he allows her to order him around is so unexpected.

  She starts tapping on his phone, and he scoops her up by the waist, looking over her shoulder. “What are you doing now?”

  “Put me down, ya brute!” Her legs in those striped athletic socks swing as he sways her side to side.

  “I’m not a brute, I’m your uncle. What are you doing with my phone?”

  “I set up a series of reminders so you don’t forget.” A few more taps, and she gives it back to him.

  He’s still smiling when the chair beside me falls forward against the table with a sharp crack, causing us all to jump.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Hana rushes forward to catch it.

  Hutch and the girl turn to face us, and his smile quickly melts into a neutral expression. Mine does the same.

  Wait, was I just smiling?

  “Blake, Hana,” Hutch gestures to the little girl, who’s blinking at us with big brown eyes. “This is my niece Pepper. She was my sister Judy’s child. Or is.”

  “Judy was my mom.” Pepper marches over to where we’re standing and holds out her hand. “She got real sick last year, so God needed her to become an angel. Now she watches over me from heaven.”

  My brow rises at her matter-of-fact tone, and Hana squats in front of her. “I like your name. My dad died when I was about your age… I think. I was thirteen.”

  “I’m eleven.” Pepper nods. “But I understand your mistake. Everyone says I’m mature for my age.”

  “You’re lucky. I’ve never been mature for my age.”

  I bite my lip, genuinely impressed by this child’s ability to both boss Hutch Winston around and get my reclusive sister to be so self-aware–and then say it out loud.

  “Let’s take our seats.” Hutch motions to the table. “Lurlene planned a big meal tonight. I think she expected to have leftovers.”

  Hana glances at me as she carefully pulls out a chair on the other side of Pepper, away from Hutch at the head of the table. Pepper climbs into her chair, and I’m left staring at the empty seat at Hutch’s right.

  Straightening my shoulders, I walk around the long table and take the chair beside him.

  He hesitates before sitting. “Lurlene also made iced tea, but I have red wine if you prefer.”

  “Tea is fine,” I answer quickly, not wanting to give Hana an opening.

  He lifts a white pitcher and pours four glasses then takes his seat. I’m curious why he’s not having something stronger.

  Lifting the lid on a large, white platter reveals dark brown, sliced roast in gravy surrounded by cooked carrots and onions. Pepper takes another bowl that holds red-orange mashed sweet potatoes, and the boiled corn is the last to make the rounds. Rolls are in a wicker basket wrapped in a red and white checkered napkin.

  The clanking of utensils against china is the only sound for several minutes as we all serve ourselves. When we’re done and the dishes return to the center of the table, Pepper is the first to dig in.

  I taste a small forkful of the sweet potato mash, and as soon as it touches my tongue, a burst of buttery, savory goodness fills my mouth. I’m embarrassed when my stomach makes a noise, and I quickly take another, bigger bite, noticing my sister doing the same.

  “I can’t remember the last time we sat down to a real family meal.” Hana’s never been comfortable with silence.

  “Really?” Pepper frowns, talking with her mouth full. “What do you do?”

  Hana takes another bite of the creamy sweet potatoes and shrugs. “I usually order takeout or grab a falafel off a food truck. This is really good.”

  “What about your mom? Doesn’t she have dinner with you?”

  “Pepper.” Hutch’s low voice contains a gentle scold, and she glances at him unsure.

  “It’s okay.” Hana waves her hand, sipping her iced tea then quickly covering her mouth. “Mm–that’s sweet!”

  “Ms. Lurlene makes the best sweet tea.” Pepper bounces in her seat, grabbing her glass and taking a large gulp. “I help her. She uses two cups of sugar for a pitcher of brewed tea.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Hana nods. “My mother drinks champagne for dinner.”

  Pepper pauses, confused. “How does that work?”

  “It doesn’t.” I cut in quickly, shooting Hana a stern look.

  My sister quickly lowers her forkful of meat and puts her hands in her lap, looking down.

  Pepper hops up on her knees, reaching for a pink cupcake from the center of the table. “It’s okay. I always get in trouble when I talk too. Cupcake?”

  She holds it out to Hana, who gives her a little smile, taking it. “Thanks.”

  Pepper grabs another, and while the two share cupcakes, I turn to Hutch.

  “Lurlene made all this?” He nods, chewing a bite of roast. “I’m sorry if she’s having to do more work with us here. Tomorrow, I can try to find us a place to stay–”

  “No! She's excited you’re here!” Pepper answers before Hutch even takes a breath. “She said it’s about time Uncle Hutch had a woman in the house, and she kept smiling and adding stuff to the grocery list.”

  My eyes widen, and Hutch’s voice rises in volume. “Blake and Hana are staying with us for a case. It’s strictly business. Nothing more.”

  Pepper’s eyebrows rise, and she finishes her last bite of cake, swaying side to side in her chair. “I don’t know where Lurlene gets her info, but that’s not how it sounds…”

  “Pepper, enough.” Hutch’s tone is fierce, and he gives me a glance I have never seen on that broody face before. Is he apologetic? “Time for bed. Take your plate to the kitchen.”

  So he does have a weakness. Hana is sitting quietly now, and I’ve eaten as much as I can, completely finishing my luscious sweet potatoes.

  Placing my napkin beside my plate, I stand. “Thank you for this delicious dinner, and for the lovely accommodations.”

  “It’s the least I can do.” Hutch’s tone is all business again as he stands. “I’ll tell Lurlene you enjoyed dinner–and clear up any confusion about why you’re here.”

  I hesitate, trying to decide if I should tell him it’s not that big of a deal. Ultimately, I see Hana waiting and give him a nod. “Good night.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.”

  We won’t, I decide silently.

  We’re back in our room, and Hana is lying on the double bed across from mine. The French doors along the balcony are open, and the sound of crickets is deafening. The musty scent of damp trees drifts in on the humid breeze, and it all mixes together, taking me back to a time so long ago when I was very young, before the trouble started.

  Hutch was different tonight at dinner. His shield was lowered, and he seemed almost human. I haven’t forgotten what an arrogant bully he can be, and I haven’t forgotten my vow to make him pay for ruining my life, for enabling the damage that took place after I was shipped off to boarding school.

  At the same time, seeing him tonight with Pepper got to me. He revealed a side I didn’t know existed.

  “Pepper’s cute.” Hana holds a satin pillow, and I glance at her lying on her back, tracing her finger along the stitching. “I used to want a little sister.”

  “She’s got a lot of personality.” I lift the quilt on my bed, frowning at how thin it is in the cool night air drifting around us. “Are you cold?”

  “Not really. You could close the doors.”

  I like them open, the sounds, the scents… “I’ll find us some thicker blankets. Be right back.”

  I’ve washed my face and changed into gray sleep shorts and a black tank. My long hair is pulled up in a ponytail on the top of my head, and my feet are bare on the soft wood floors and even softer rugs.

  I check closet after closet on our floor with no luck. The lights are off downstairs, so I decide to slip down and try to find a blanket in the living room. I’m sure I saw one on the ivory sofa.

  Creeping softly across the living room, I’m disappointed to find nothing. This is ridiculous. He has to have more blankets somewhere in this house. Inspecting my outfit, I decide I’m decent, and he said to let him know if I needed anything.

  “Hutch?” I call softly, tapping on the heavy wooden door.

  Pepper has school tomorrow, so I don’t want to disturb the house. I don’t get an answer, so I place my hand on the doorknob, and the door gently falls open a crack. Peeking my head around the barrier, I see his wood-paneled room is bathed in yellow light from a bedside lamp.

  My eyes catch on the small statue of a knight in real chain mail on a horse. It reminds me of a similar statue that once belonged to my dad, and I file the thought away.

  A navy comforter is on his king-sized bed, but no blankets. Surely he has some hidden somewhere. I just need him to show me where.

  “Hutch?” I call again, tiptoeing farther into the room.

  I’m all the way in when the sound of water streaming meets my ears. My lips part when I realize he’s in the shower, and my heart beats faster when I see the bathroom door is open.

  I should go back to my room or wait in the living room. Yes, that would be the right thing to do. I’ve made up my mind to do just that when a low groan freezes me in place.

  “Fuck, yeah…” Another groan, and my jaw drops.

  I creep forward, unable to stop myself. Is a woman in the shower with him? And if one is, why am I unreasonably furious about it? Hutch Winston doesn’t belong to me.

  Another, deeper moan sends me closer, and my hand touches the bathroom door. It opens a bit more, giving me a full view of Hutch in the shower, completely nude, and alone.

  His head is bowed, dark hair falling over his temples, as his biceps flex and his fist pumps vigorously between his legs. He’s leaning forward, bracing the wall with his hand, and his back is a lined wall of tense muscle.

  My lips fall open as I watch, as wetness floods my core, and I’m breathing faster. Deep red and black tattoos I didn’t know he had ripple on his back and arms. He’s pumping faster, solid muscles flexing as water traces every line in his perfect body down to his tight, sculpted ass.

  I’m hypnotized by the sight, and hot all over.

  “Fuck,” he groans again, and his hips start to rock.

  Oh, God, I can’t breathe. I imagine those hips rocking at my back, pumping into me.

  His fist moves faster, and every muscle in his body flexes beautifully as he breaks, groaning seductively, milking his cock.

  His chin lifts, eyes squeezed shut, and with a satisfied moan, he exhales the word that stops my heart. “Blake…”

  He said my name.

  I’m gasping through parted lips, and his head turns. His eyes lock with mine, and I’m a deer in headlights. I can’t move as he straightens and turns to face me, water running down the lines of muscle in his torso, his cock long and thick between his legs.

  Blinking out of my daze, I spin on my toes and walk fast to the door. I’ve just reached it when his palm flattens against the wood, slamming it closed, caging me with my back to the door, facing him.

  “What are you doing in here?” His voice is low and husky.

  My gaze is downcast, noticing the towel loose around his waist, the lines in his stomach disappearing into it, the bulge in the center. Water drips from his hair onto my cheeks, and he catches my chin, forcing me to meet his stormy green eyes.

  “I’m sorry…” My voice is breathless.

  We’re both breathing fast, and without a warning, his mouth crashes against mine, soft lips forcing mine apart, and fresh water fills my mouth as our tongues curl together.

  I exhale a whimper, kissing him back, gripping his broad shoulders as his hand slides up my bare thigh, lifting my leg to his waist. Pressing his hips against me, I can feel the hardness of his erection through the towel, through my thin cotton shorts, and my knees liquify. I want it…

  Wait, what am I doing?

  His face lifts, breaking our kiss with a wet gasp, and I stagger back, opening the door and dashing through it, running all the way to my bedroom in the darkness.

  5

  Hutch

  When she left the dining room after dinner, I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about us and our history.

  She’s too beautiful.

  She’s spoiled and entitled.

  She’s pretty and pretty wild, and don’t forget she’s five years younger than me. A party girl, which I do not find attractive.

  Only it’s a lie, I do find her attractive.

  She’s on my mind too much, and now she’s in my house, which is a major irritant.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her undressing one short flight of stairs above me. I couldn’t stop picturing her sliding those pants over her curvy hips–was she wearing a thong? Nothing at all? Removing her shirt and her bra, were her nipples hard?