Looking up, I notice Scar is waiting for me at the edge of the sofa. He holds out a hand, and I take it, carefully standing so my underwear doesn’t show beneath my short skirt. Why the heck was I sitting on the floor? I really do have to act more mature if I expect him to take me seriously. Blake would never sit on the floor.

  “Thanks.” I’m a little breathless standing in front of him.

  He towers over me, looking down. “Thank you for the welcome home gift.”

  Everyone is laughing and standing around the table, but we’re still by the fireplace. We’re so close, my stomach is a cage of tormented butterflies. “I’m glad you liked them.”

  “I like your hair.” His eyes trace the loose braids on each side of my head, and I pray I don’t turn red.

  “Thank you, again.”

  He looks down at me with such intensity, I wonder if he sees all the things I want to say in my eyes.

  “Are you two planning to join us or what?” Pepper calls, breaking the moment.

  “Come.” His hand lightly touches my arm, and I want to close my eyes and lean into him.

  I imagine stretching up to kiss his cheek, then his lips, then his tongue with mine. Warm energy floods my veins, and I think he would lift me off my feet, so high nothing could touch me. I imagine him wrapping me in his arms and holding me so tightly, never letting go…

  Instead I take my usual chair across from my sister, next to Pepper. Scar sits beside Blake across from me, and as the serving dishes go around, I realize this is a terrible seating arrangement. Every time his eyes meet mine, my stomach dips like I’m on a roller-coaster.

  I’m not going to be able to eat a thing, and Lurlene’s chicken and dumplings is my favorite dish.

  “What’s all this tidying up, Pep?” Dirk has no problem shoveling food in his mouth.

  Pepper wiggles around, and I know she wants to climb onto her knees in her chair. She and I seem to be having the same problem with wanting to have fun and wanting to be taken seriously at the same time.

  “She’s throwing away everything.” Hutch groans, joining the conversation. “Last week I found my old Marines jersey in the trash.”

  Pepper’s eyebrows shoot up, and she shakes her head. “That shirt did not spark joy.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “To be fair, it did have holes in it.” Blake’s left hand is joined with Hutch’s on top of the table, and I don’t know how they manage to eat when their hands never part.

  It’s possible I’m jealous, because I want to touch Scar that way. Stealing a glance across the table, his eyes flicker to my full plate and up to mine again, and his expression darkens. My stomach tightens even more, and now I’m afraid my food might come up. Is he angry?

  One minute he’s complimenting me and being kind, the next he’s glowering at me. I can’t read him at all.

  “I’ll tell you what did not spark joy.” Hutch grumbles. “Finding my jersey in the trash. I’ll be glad when softball season starts again.”

  “I’ve decided softball doesn’t bring me joy.” Pepper makes the announcement, and silence falls over the table.

  Everyone stops eating and looks at her, and my little friend appears to shrink in her chair.

  “But you’re so good at it…” Blake’s soft voice trails off, and I know she’s doing her best to be friends with Pepper and not interfere.

  As the one person who’s had time to adjust to this new information, I jump in quickly.

  “Pepper’s learning to skate. Tomorrow we’re taking pictures at the park, and she’s going to show me some of her new moves.” A small hand grabs mine under the table. Clearing my throat, I add, “I think it’s good to try new things, don’t you, Hutch?”

  Hutch places his elbow beside his plate and leans his head against his hand studying his little ward. “Whatever makes you happy, Pep. But does Coach Perkins know? What about your teammates?”

  “Softball season is a year away,” Dirk interjects. “I think we should see how Pep’s feeling in March, yeah?”

  “I guess.” Pepper shrugs.

  Cutting my eyes over, I give her a wink, and she presses her lips into a smile.

  After plates are cleared and dessert is served, Scar stands and thanks Lurlene for the meal. “I’ll check in tomorrow,” he says to Hutch before starting for the door.

  I’m on my feet, hustling after him as the rest of the group hangs around the table talking.

  “Hey!” My voice comes out like a yip, so I take a breath and try again. “You know I have that show coming up in New York in a few months–the photography show at the Milo gallery?”

  He pauses and turns to look down at me. I swallow air again, and do my best to exhale slowly. He’s silent, waiting, so I continue. I got this ball rolling, after all.

  “Anyway, I was hoping you might let me take those photos of you. Remember? We talked about it before you left?”

  “I told you, I don’t take pictures.”

  “But you really don’t have to do anything. I mean, you’ll do something. It’s not like you’ll be sitting there doing nothing.” Oh, God, Hana, get a grip. Inhale, exhale… “What I mean is, you can do something you would normally do or something you like doing, like a hobby, and I would be there to capture it.”

  Blue eyes slide from mine to my hair, down to my lips, which tingle. I can’t help pulling my bottom one between my teeth and his gaze flickers again to my eyes.

  “Please?” I smile softly. “I think you’d make an amazing subject. I’d really like to have you in my show.”

  He’s not smiling. The muscle in his square jaw moves, and I swear to God, one of these days I’m going to lose all control and kiss him.

  “I’ll think about it.” It’s all he says before disappearing through the door.

  I do not collapse against it.

  But just barely.

  6

  Scar

  I lean my shoulder against the column outside Hutch’s family estate as the door closes behind me. Hana was so beautiful tonight. As she stood there looking up at me, chewing on her full, pink lip, I had to focus all my energy on not touching her.

  I wanted to reach out and put my thumb on it, pull it free from her teeth then cover it with mine. I wanted to taste her pretty mouth, lift her off her feet and press her against the wall.

  She keeps reaching out, carefully, hesitantly, and I keep pushing her away. How will it feel when she takes me at my word and walks?

  Pain like knives slices through my stomach, and I push off the wooden post, staggering down the steps and out the gravel drive to my waiting truck. Why does she torment me this way? What is it about her that won’t let me go?

  Liability, danger, weakness, all the reasons I have to keep her at arms length push against my temples as I make the short drive home, but they can’t keep her out. I close my eyes and exhale a growl. I want to act on these feelings she stirs inside me. I want her in my bed.

  Entering the dark space, I don’t even turn on the lights. I unbutton my shirt as I walk to my bedroom and pull the garment over my head, tossing it on a chair. Reaching back, I take the band out of my hair, then I shove my jeans off and push through my sheets.

  It’s been so long, so very long. My cock is hard, and I cover the tip with one hand, sliding my palm around and doing my best to kill this desire. Nothing keeps her out of my mind.

  I picture her fair skin marked by my hands, my mouth. I see the burning pink outline of my palm on her ass, the dark red markings of my mouth on her shoulders.

  Fuck, that’s another thing. How could I be rough with her after all she’s been through? I’m a sick fuck, and she deserves a prince. The last thing she needs is a beast like me. Still, I picture the back of her head against my shoulder. I’d drag my palms up her body, her tiny breasts, perfect handfuls, hard nipples in my fingers.

  I’d toy with them until she was at the edge, then as I slid my dick inside, I’d take them lower, applying just the right amount of gentle pressure to have her quivering and bucking against my cock. Good girl, I’d hold her neck and whisper in her ear…

  My soul begs to possess her just once. Once, and I would remember everything about her. Like the rings on a tree, she would mark the time in my heart.

  Dammit, I throw the covers back and go to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. Leaning hard on the counter, it doesn’t take much–two strokes of my fist before my desire for her pulses out of me in hot bursts.

  It’s a poor substitute for the real thing, but I don’t have a choice, not with the way things are, with so many unanswered questions, and the chance at any time she could be used as leverage against me.

  I won’t let that happen. I'd die before I let anyone hurt her.

  Cleaning up, it hits me–for the first time since the fire, I care about something. Truthfully, I care about a lot of things, and I’d better get a handle on it. I have to school my emotions, pay attention to who’s watching. I won’t let any of them be hurt, especially not Hana.

  “Mr. Hugh will be with you in a moment.” Norris, the old butler for Blake and Hana’s uncle greets me at the door of the van Hamilton estate. “Miss Hana is out by the pool if you’d like to walk around and wait there.”

  My insides tense at her name, but I can’t stop my feet from taking me to where she is. I can’t stop any part of myself from wanting to be in her presence.

  Blake and Hana came here for protection almost a year ago. Hugh van Hamilton is their father’s uncle, but he has no wife or children. Hutch has been the closest thing to a son he’s ever had. After the obvious threats were neutralized, he convinced them to stay. It didn’t take much convincing, once Blake and Hutch got together. I think Hana likes being here more than their apartment in New York.

  From what I’ve been told, she’s healthier here than she was in New York, although now that I see her in a bathing suit, I’m not so sure.

  She leans back in a chair, and her long curls are over one shoulder. She’s wearing a large hat and dark sunglasses, and in her pale pink bikini, I see the lines of her ribs, the points of her hip bones.

  “Have you had breakfast?” My voice is gruff, and she sits up quickly like I startled her.

  “Scar?” She turns in the chair, and her slim thighs barely touch. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.”

  “I have a meeting with your uncle. Answer me.”

  It’s a stern order, and she stands, sliding the sunglasses off her eyes. She’s not wearing makeup, and her face is young and fresh. Still, her dark blue eyes are too big in her slim face, and they’re lined and tired.

  “Ask me again.” She smiles, her full lips parting.

  She has some kind of gloss on them, which makes me want to kiss her even more. Then I want to sit her on my lap and make her eat an entire omelet.

  “I asked if you’ve eaten breakfast.” She’s so tiny looking up at me, and her nose wrinkles.

  “I had a piece of toast with my coffee. I’m not much of a breakfast eater. Unless you’re asking me for a brunch date?”

  “You didn’t eat your dinner last night.” I growl, and her glowy smile starts to fade. I’m being an asshole, but I’m angry. “Why don’t you eat? You’re too thin.”

  Her eyebrows rise, and she blinks rapidly as pink colors her cheeks. “Some people find it attractive.” She’s trying to tease, but her voice wavers.

  “I’ve seen starving people. It’s not attractive.”

  “I guess Blake got all the curves in our family.”

  “If you’d eat, your body would respond. You’ll never be healthy if you don't take care of yourself.”

  “I’m sorry you find me so unattractive.” Her voice is sharp, and she snatches up her towel, wrapping it roughly around herself under the arms. “Thanks for stopping by to tell me what I already know.”

  Her cheeks are burning red, and tears fill her eyes. My stomach cramps at the sight, and clenching my fists, I curse my roughness. I’m so fucking frustrated–of course, I find her attractive. Can’t she tell?

  I’m pissed as hell and ready to chase after her when a throat clears beside me. “Sorry if I’m interrupting.” Hugh’s craggly old voice speaks. “Walk with me.”

  I hesitate, looking in the direction Hana just fled. “I think I should go–”

  “You didn’t ask, but it’s probably a good idea to let her cool off a bit before you try and explain yourself. Hana’s a special girl, quick to forgive. Let her sort out her thoughts, and it’ll be easier for you.”

  My shoulders fall, and I feel like a complete asshole. “I didn’t come here to make her cry.”

  “I should hope not.” He gives me a tight smile, and we start to walk along the brick path that leads down to the stables. “This thing between you is an unexpected development, but not entirely without merit.”

  I’m not sure how to respond, so I don’t. I look up at the blooming pear trees mixed with weeping willows. The landscaping around the old van Hamilton estate is ancient and enviable. Massive trees mix with blooming shrubs, and they’re all established and healthy.

  “Norris told me you texted.” Hugh carries a cane, but he doesn’t really need it. He uses it more to emphasize his points. “Hate those damn things. Sending a tiny message and pretending it’s the same as personal interaction. Back in my day, people would visit, sit down, have coffee or a drink.”

  “It’s too early to drink.” Although after what just happened with Hana, I could use one.

  “So what brings you to me today?”

  We pause, and I give the elegant landscape another quick sweep, checking for workers or anyone else who might be listening.

  “The man in your trunk.” I speak quietly, studying the old man’s expression.

  “Andre Bertonelli.” He nods.

  “Italian?”

  “He worked for the Petrovs in New York. One of them owns a nightclub, and he had access to their books.”

  “Gibson’s.” I nod, thinking this makes sense. “So you never had contact with Victor or… anyone.”

  I wait to see if he knows about Simon.

  “I heard Victor was stealing from my nephew’s estate, then I dug deeper and found out he was laundering money for a shell corporation owned by a group of Russians or an oligarch or both. I didn’t get far enough, and to be honest, I didn’t want to. Such things can be deadly, and I’m too old to chase after gangsters. The girls are out of danger, and the men who were pursuing them are dead. That’s enough for me.”

  My lips tighten, and I nod. He can think that if it helps him sleep at night. He’s right–he is an old man, and Hutch, Dirk, and I will handle this.

  “Any idea how Victor met your nephew’s wife?”

  “I believe it was through illegal gambling.” The old man straightens with a sniff. “I’m not going to delude myself into thinking I’d have been a perfect parent, but Charles wasn’t my son. I had no power over him, and he made poor choices. I only hope I’ve been able to recover what he lost, and shield my nieces. They’re good girls. They shouldn’t have to pay for their father’s sins.”

  “I agree.” My voice is low, and he nods.

  “Hutch will take care of Blake.” He studies me, as if he’s still deciding. “Hana might have inherited her father’s recklessness, but she has a sweetness he did not. I think she truly wants a better life.”

  I don’t answer that. I think Hana struggles with demons he can’t understand, but I understand them. I know well what it’s like to be haunted by the past. Glancing up at the mansion, guilt claws in my chest. Still, I decide to take the old man’s advice and give her space. I’ve done enough.

  I need to talk to Hutch. It’s time I came clean on how much I know about all of this and how deep my connection to it is–see if he agrees. This can’t be a coincidence.

  I only hope he doesn’t decide I’m a danger to his family and tell me to go.

  7

  Hana

  The white shag on the rug covering my bedroom floor is long and tickles my nose. I’m lying on my side, and my face is hot and red and puffy from crying.

  I don’t want to cry anymore. I had a bad night, and I couldn’t sleep until almost dawn. Then I awoke at nine and decided I was tired of fighting the memories.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I was thirteen again and terrified. I was back in my old bedroom too afraid to sleep, pulling the covers tight around my head and curling into a tight ball. I always went to sleep in fear, like I was trapped in a house on fire, and no one could save me. The walls were collapsing on top of me, and no one was strong enough to protect me.

  Closing my eyes, I conjured images of him, tall and strong, scarred from the flames only he could fight. He lay beside me, long and lean. He wrapped me in his arms. He covered me with his body, and I slept.

  Today, in the bright light of reality, he basically said I disgust him.

  Looking down at my body, I pinch the skin on my stomach, trying to make it have rolls. I don’t want to be ugly. I don’t want to look as sick on the outside as I am inside. Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around them and imagine shrinking. I imagine growing smaller and smaller, until I disappear in the long threads of the carpet. I’m Alice searching for the perfect drug to make me invisible.

  Closing my eyes, I remember the last time I dropped acid to escape the pain. It flowed out of me like water from a broken vase. I sat on the edge of the balcony, on the roof of our building in New York, and leaned back, holding out my arms as the wind pushed through my hair, blowing it all away to the ends of the earth. Lifting my chin, I was free. I didn’t hurt anymore.

  The city lights spread out before me like a carpet, and I could walk on thin air. Debbie grabbed my waist and told me not to fall. We were laughing so hard. We could go anywhere, a thousand miles away.

  In the beginning I wondered if that’s why she died. I wasn’t there to hold her waist and tell her not to fall.

  It’s been four months since I’ve taken a drug.