One afternoon, there’s a photo of her crouched down next to a stray cat, coaxing it with a slice of turkey from her sandwich. I stare at that image for too long. Something tightens in my chest and stays there.

  By the second week she’s getting more confident. Wears her hair differently. Smiles a little more. Still looks over her shoulder when she walks home, though. Smart girl. The city hasn’t dulled her instincts.

  Then I get the Thursday report and freeze.

  Subject was seen texting coworker. Surveillance overheard her mention plans to go to “Southside” Friday night for drinks. ETA unknown.

  Southside.

  I press the intercom. “Talon. Now.”

  He appears in seconds. “Yeah, Prez?”

  “Who’s her coworker?”

  “Name’s Melanie. New hire at the clinic. Lives two blocks over. Been tagging along on lunch breaks and bus rides home.”

  I nod once, absorbing that.

  “And she said Southside?”

  “That’s what was overheard, yeah.”

  I stand slowly and push my chair back, tension pulsing in my jaw. “That bar’s one of mine.”

  Talon lifts his brow. “You think she knows that?”

  “Doubt it.”

  “You want me to warn the staff?”

  I shake my head. “No. Let her come.”

  I walk to the window, hands on my hips, thinking. Let her come. Let her think she’s stepping out into freedom. Let her try to forget me over fruity cocktails and low lighting. But when she walks through that door tomorrow night, she won’t just be in any bar.

  She’ll be on my turf.

  And there’s not a damn thing in the world more dangerous than that.

  Friday finally rolls around, and I have two thoughts on my mind.

  My bar. My rules.

  I’m not normally there on the weekends unless it’s club business, but tonight I’ll be behind the scenes, watching from the shadows. The upstairs office has a perfect view of the floor. Tinted glass. No one sees in, but I see everything.

  I swap my kutte for a clean black shirt and jeans. Still wear my boots, though. Old habits.

  “You sure you want to be here for this?” Talon asks from the doorway.

  “Would you trust anyone else to handle it?”

  He smirks. “Fair.”

  The sound system is thumping by the time we get there. Neon lights buzz. Girls in tiny dresses are already lining up at the bar. And somewhere out there, Jo-Leigh is getting ready. Putting on something she thinks is cute. Probably overthinking it like she always did.

  She has no clue she’s walking into my den.

  I settle into the office chair and glance toward the bar staff logs just as a knock comes at the door. Talon opens it and hands me a burner phone.

  “Got something you’ll want to hear,” he says.

  I answer. “Go.”

  The voice on the other end is tight. It’s Wrench, one of our prospects shadowing Jo-Leigh this week.

  “You were right to have us keep tabs. That cop has been around again. Drove by her building this morning. Parked a few blocks away and stayed for over twenty minutes. Didn’t approach her. Just watched.”

  I grip the edge of the desk hard enough to make the wood creak.

  “Was she there?”

  “No. Already at work.”

  “Did she see him?”

  “Doubt it.”

  I end the call and toss the burner on the desk.

  Talon whistles low. “Langston. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

  “He’s sniffing around too much.”

  “You want me to pay him a visit?”

  “Not yet.”

  Truth is, I don’t know what his game is. Could be nostalgia. Could be badge bullshit. Could be he got a taste of her sunshine and now thinks he’s owed more. But one thing’s for damn sure. If Ricky fucking Langston thinks Jo-Leigh’s unclaimed, he’s dead wrong. She’s under my watch now. Whether she knows it or not.

  I try not to glance at the clock, but it’s useless. Each minute that ticks by is torture. I’m just about to light a joint when she arrives. The minute she walks in, the room changes. It’s not just me who notices—half the bar turns to look. Some out of curiosity. Others with hungry eyes. I clock every one of them.

  Jo-Leigh’s wearing a flowy skirt and a soft tank top that shows just enough skin to piss me off. Her hair’s down, falling in golden waves around her shoulders. And she’s smiling as the woman next to her loops an arm through hers and whispers something that makes her laugh.

  I don’t like it.

  She’s too at ease. Too light.

  She doesn’t belong in this bar full of wolves.

  Talon steps up beside me, arms folded. “That the friend she mentioned?”

  “Yeah. Works with her.”

  “She brought backup. Smart girl.”

  I grunt. But it doesn’t matter how smart she is. She shouldn’t be here.

  Jo-Leigh pauses just inside the door, looking around. Her friend says something and points toward the bar. They start weaving through the crowd, oblivious to the eyes tracking them.

  Including mine.

  She’s wearing flats. Always trying to keep things practical. She’s got no idea how that kind of sweetness plays in a place like this. She’s soft in a room built for hard edges.

  I watch her take a seat at the bar. One of my guys moves to serve them. Jo-Leigh gives him a smile, and he leans in a little too close for my liking.

  Talon mutters, “You going down there?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I want to see what she does when no one’s watching.”

  Talon scoffs. “You mean when she thinks you’re not watching.”

  Exactly. And right now, she’s scanning the room like she’s looking for someone. Is she looking for me?

  Her friend nudges her and whispers something else. Jo-Leigh’s eyes snap back to the bar and she laughs again. That sound goes straight to my gut like it always has. Light. Unburdened. Nothing like the weight I carry every damn day.

  Then I notice someone new stepping up to the bar near them.

  Langston in jeans and a button-down, trying to blend in.

  Rage unfurls in my chest.

  “You want him handled?” Talon asks, already tensing beside me.

  I shake my head, though my jaw’s tight. “Not yet. Let him make a move.”

  “You sure? ‘Cause I’ve got ten bucks says you’ll be down those stairs in sixty seconds if he so much as looks at her sideways.”

  He’s not wrong. Because I can already see Langston inching closer. I lean forward, hands gripping the edge of the desk, eyes locked on the scene below. Let’s see what you do, Officer Langston. Let’s see if you’re brave or just fucking stupid.

  Langston sidles up like he owns the damn place. Like he’s welcome here. He isn’t.

  I can’t hear what he says over the noise, but I see the way he leans close. The way Jo-Leigh’s brows lift in recognition. She doesn’t smile this time, but she doesn’t walk away either.

  And that’s what makes me snap.

  My fist slams against the table so hard it rattles the monitor. Talon flinches beside me.

  “Fuck, Swag⁠—”

  “He’s still sniffing around.”

  “You want me to pull him out?”

  “No. I’ll do it myself.”

  I shove back from the desk and storm out of the office. The door ricochets off the wall behind me. I don’t care.

  Every step down the stairs is thunder. The music thumps, but it’s not louder than the blood pounding in my ears. People part for me without hesitation. They’ve seen me like this before. They know better than to get in my way.

  Jo-Leigh sees me coming and something shifts in her face. It’s not fear. It’s something else. Like she knows. Like she expected this.

  Langston turns just in time for me to grab him by the shirtfront and slam him against the bar. Drinks spill. The bartender yells. Jo-Leigh gasps.

  “You lost, Officer?” I snarl, shoving him harder.

  “It’s a public bar.”

  “It’s my fucking bar. And I said you weren’t welcome.”

  “I was just talking to an old friend. She didn’t seem to mind.”

  “She doesn’t know what you are.”

  He smirks. “Maybe she’s not yours to protect.”

  That’s when I punch him. Not hard enough to break bone. Just enough to crack the smug off his face. Talon’s there a second later, dragging me back before I can throw another.

  Ricky wipes the corner of his mouth, looks at the blood, and shakes his head. “You’ve got a temper, Prez. Might want to get that under control.”

  I lunge again and Talon and Ghost both step in this time.

  “Get him out of here,” I bark.

  Two of my guys grab Langston and escort him out the side door. He goes, but not before he throws one last look Jo-Leigh’s way.

  She’s staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.

  “Are you insane?” she demands, storming toward me. “You just punched a cop!”

  “That wasn’t a cop. That was a parasite who couldn’t take a hint.”

  Her chest rises and falls fast, eyes bright with fury. “You don’t get to control who I talk to.”

  “You came here,” I growl. “To my place. That means you play by my rules.”

  She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back down. “I don’t belong to you, Swag.”

  My voice drops. “You’re wrong about that.”

  And we both know it.

  She shoves at my chest.

  “I came here with a friend. Not for you. Not to be manhandled. Not to be embarrassed in front of a crowd again.”

  “I don’t give a fuck who’s watching,” I grind out.

  “Well, I do. I’m not some possession for you to show off or control.”

  “You’re not just some possession,” I snap. “You’re mine and you’ve been mine since the moment you walked back into that grocery store like you hadn’t wrecked me once already.”

  She flinches. “You’re insane.”

  I step in, towering over her, and she doesn’t back down.

  “You don’t get to claim me. You don’t get to mark your territory with fists. You’re not the man I used to know.”

  “No,” I agree, voice rough. “I’m not.”

  And maybe that’s why I snap. Because I’m not the same man. I’m worse. I grab her and throw her over my shoulder before she can spit out another word. She yelps and starts pounding her fists against my back.

  “Put me down, Swag!”

  “Gladly. Once we’re in my office.”

  Gasps follow us as I carry her through the bar. I don't care. Let them see. Let them whisper. I want the whole goddamn room to know she’s mine. My office door slams shut behind us and I set her down, fast but she stumbles backward, hair wild, cheeks flushed.

  “You’re an asshole!”

  I back her toward the desk.

  “Maybe,” I growl, “but you didn’t stop me.”

  Her mouth parts like she’s about to argue, but she doesn’t. Because we both know deep down she didn’t really want me to.

  “I hate you!” she explodes. “You don’t get to bark orders when I’m not yours!”

  I grab her hips and haul her against me.

  “You sure about that, little bee? Because your body says something real different.”

  She goes still. Her breath catches.

  “Tell me to stop,” I say, voice low. “Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t want me.”

  Silence.

  Then, in a whisper, she says, “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

  My control snaps.

  My mouth crashes into hers. There’s no patience, no gentleness. Just raw need and the ache of four years of fucking denial erupting all at once. Her hands fist in my shirt. My fingers tangle in her hair as I back her toward the desk, knocking everything off with one sweep of my arm. Pens, papers, even my goddamn laptop hit the floor with a clatter, but I don’t care.

  She gasps as I lift her onto the desk and spread her thighs with my body. My mouth is everywhere—her jaw, her throat, the delicate skin beneath her ear. She tastes like tequila and temptation, and I’m going to drown in her.

  Her fingers tug at my shirt, trying to get it off.

  “Goddammit, Jo-Leigh,” I rasp against her skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

  Her shirt and bra are gone in seconds. My mouth finds the soft swell of her breast as her back arches. The desk creaks under us and she moans, head thrown back, hair wild around her. When I capture her nipple with my lips, she pants out my name.

  My hand slides up her thigh, dragging her skirt with it. I hook a finger in her panties and start to pull when⁠—

  BANG BANG BANG

  The door flies open.

  “Talon?” I bark, my body shielding her from his view.

  He’s panting. “We’ve got company. Baton Rouge PD just rolled in with a search warrant.”

  “What the fuck⁠—”

  “You’ve got about sixty seconds before they get to this office.”

  Jo-Leigh goes pale.

  Talon’s eyes dart to her, then back to me. “Swag. It’s Langston. He’s with them.”

  Rage detonates inside me. I look down at Jo-Leigh, still breathless, lips kiss-swollen, and mine. And now this piece of shit has the audacity to come into my bar?

  “Stay here. Don’t move.” I grab my cut, my gun, and my fury.

  I’m going to make damn sure Ricky Langston regrets ever stepping foot in my world.

  Thirty minutes later my knuckles are white around the edge of the bar as I watch officers tear through shelves, flipping open cabinets and patting down people like they’re some righteous goddamn cavalry.

  They’re not. They’re sloppy. They’re reaching. And they’ve found jack shit. But that doesn’t stop Ricky from strutting through the crowd like he’s king of the fucking city. He catches my eye and smirks.

  That’s going to cost him later.

  Talon’s suddenly at my side, his voice pitched low. “She’s gone.”

  My gut clenches. “Gone where?”

  “She slipped out through the back door. Brushed off the bartender when he asked if she needed help.”

  Fury flares in my chest. I shove off the bar, storming toward the hall that leads to the office. The door’s ajar, just enough for me to see the desk still askew, her scent still hanging in the air like a ghost.

  But she’s not here.

  Not waiting.

  Not safe.

  My jaw tics. “How the fuck did she get past two of our guys?”

  “She waited for the chaos to hit,” Talon answers, already knowing what I’m thinking. “Smart girl.”

  Too smart.

  I glance at the desk, the faint outline of her thigh still pressed into the messy paperwork. That fucking skirt she wore… I growl and rake a hand through my hair.

  “She doesn’t know this city,” I mutter.

  “No,” Talon agrees. “But she knows how to run.”

  I grind my teeth. “Find her.”

  Talon raises a brow. “You sure you want to chase her down like this?”

  “I told her to stay in the room,” I grit out. “And she walked out into a raid like it was a fucking Tuesday night. So yeah, I’m sure.”

  He nods and disappears down the hallway, barking orders into his comm.

  I glance back into the office one last time.

  She slipped away.

  But she won’t get far.

  Not this time.

  12

  Jo-Leigh

  My lungs burn as I take the stairs two at a time, heart racing so loud it drowns out the city noise behind me. I don’t stop running until I’m inside my apartment, door locked and deadbolted behind me.

  Only then do I sink to the floor, my back to the door, hands trembling.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  What did I expect would happen? That I could walk into his bar, play with fire, and come out unscathed?

  I press my forehead to my knees and try to focus on breathing. One in. One out. Just like they taught me when the world got too loud. I can still feel Swag’s hands on me. Still taste his kiss. Still hear the fury in his voice when he barked at Talon to handle it.

  He was going to claim me right there on his desk.

  And I almost let him. God. What is wrong with me? I curl my fingers into fists and shove myself off the floor. I need water. Maybe a shower. Definitely a new city.

  I’ve just turned on the faucet when the knock comes. It’s not hesitant. It’s not polite. It’s three hard pounds that echo through the apartment like a warning. I freeze.

  No one knows where I live.

  No one except…

  No.

  He wouldn’t. He was dealing with cops, with a raid. There’s no way he could’ve followed me that fast. Right? My gaze flicks toward the front door. The knock comes again, louder this time.

  “Jo-Leigh. Open the door.”

  Oh God. It’s him. I back away from the sink, heart in my throat. That voice sounds like a promise and a threat all in one. Another knock. Not as loud. But slower. Measured.

  “Bee…”

  He sounds calm now. But I know better. I know what lurks under that still surface. And I don’t know if I want to open that door or if I can stop myself.

  “I’m going to give you to the count of three, little girl, to open this door,” he says. “If I get to three, I’m going to spank your ass after I kick in the door, and the outcome will be the same.”

  My lips part. He wouldn’t.

  “One.”

  I take a step back.

  “Two.”

  Something reckless snaps in me and I run to my bedroom.

  Though the thin walls I hear, “Three.”

  The second I hear him say “three,” I slam my bedroom door and twist the lock. My breath’s coming fast and my fingers tremble as I press them to the wood, trying to listen.

  Silence.

  For one heartbeat. Then the unmistakable sound of wood splitting under pressure makes me yelp. I backpedal, eyes wide. Oh my God, he’s really doing it. I scramble toward the bed, but the sound of the front door crashing open stops me cold. Boots thunder across the floor. His voice is low. Dangerous.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27