FRACTURED VOWS

A DARK AGE GAP

ROMANCE
TAINTED LOVE
BOOK TWO

MONTANA FYRE

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 CONTENTS

Content Note
Prologue
1. Isla
2. Isla
3. Doc
4. Isla
5. Doc
6. Isla
7. Doc
8. Isla
9. Doc
10. Isla
11. Doc
12. Isla
13. Doc
14. Isla
15. Doc
16. Isla
17. Doc
18. Isla
19. Doc
20. Isla
21. Doc
22. Isla
23. Doc
24. Isla
25. Doc
26. Isla
27. Doc
28. Isla
29. Doc
30. Isla
31. Doc
32. Isla
33. Doc
34. Isla
35. Doc
36. Isla
37. Doc
38. Isla
39. Doc
40. Isla
41. Doc
42. Isla
43. Doc
44. Isla
45. Doc
46. Isla
47. Isla
48. Doc
49. Isla
50. Doc
51. Isla
52. Isla
53. Doc
54. Isla
55. Doc
56. Isla
57. Doc
58. Isla
59. Isla
60. Doc
61. Isla
62. Doc
63. Isla
64. Isla
65. Doc
66. Isla
67. Doc
68. Isla
69. Doc
70. Isla
71. Doc
Epilogue
Thank You
Acknowledgments
Also by Montana Fyre

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Copyright © 2024 by Montana Fyre.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form
or by any means without the prior written permission of the author. All inquiries should be made to
the author.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names,
characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblances to
actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN (Ebook) : 978-0-6459052-2-9

First edition, 2024

Front cover design by Montana Fyre.

Book design by Montana Fyre.
Edited by My Brother’s Editor.
Proofread by My Brother’s Editor.

www.montanafyre.com
Created with Vellum

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For all the brats that want nothing more than for a six foot seven grumpy
giant twice your age to demand you crawl to him. This ones for you.

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When I look at you, I can feel it. I look at you and I’m home.
— FINDING NEMO

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 CONTENT NOTE

T his book contains dark themes that some readers may find distressing,
including, but not limited to:

Vi0lence
Dr*g Use
Dub / Non C0nsent
K!dnapp!ng (Not by MMC)
Sexu@l Ass@ult (Not by MMC)
S0mn0ph!l!a
Elements of BDSM
Breath Play
Degradat!0n
Mention of Hum@n Traffick!ng
T@mper!ng of Birth C0ntr0l

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 PROLOGUE
DOC

It’s been a long fucking night.

Not that I’m short on those.
Hell, it’s why I chose to work for the Saint James family.
Sleep doesn’t come easy for me. It hasn’t for a long time. And so I took
a job that I knew would keep me out of the house. Where I could run from
my insomnia and be distracted from my own guilt.
And tonight was the night that just didn’t stop giving.
One of the Frost Industries drug runners got roughed up by a junkie who
refused to pay. A few stitches and a bruised ego and I was onto my next job.
Tommy Hart, the crazy motherfucker, got himself shot by his girl, a
flesh wound that was almost a waste of my time.
And then Storm Saint James, the CEO and boss of both sides of Frost
Industries, called about some girls that were hurt by their pimp.
I would never judge anyone for their life choices because mine have
never been all that great, but every time I get brought in to patch up a
working girl, it breaks what’s left of my ice-cold heart. But all I can do is
clean them up, give them some antibiotics for whatever injuries they’ve got,
and send them on their way.
I know Storm always gives them enough cash to start a new life, but
whether they do or not is a different story. This is the life they know, and
people always fall back into old habits. It’s just the way things are.
I pull up out front of my apartment building and lean my head back
against the headrest. The sun is beginning to peek out over the horizon. The
people of Chicago will soon start a new day with no idea how fucked up
their city really is.
 Not that I can complain. It’s a hell of a lot better now than it was a
couple of years ago. The streets are safer, and although there will never be
no crime in a city like Chicago, it’s more controlled than it ever has been
before.
But that also means my nights aren’t as full, which means I have more
time to stew in my own thoughts.
I’m about to shove the door of my truck open, resigned to the idea of
staring at my ceiling for the next three hours before I finally give up on
sleep, when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Maybe my night’s not over after all.
I don’t recognize the number, but that doesn’t mean shit. There are any
number of burner phones used in our industry.
“Doc,” I say.
“It’s Edward.” The voice on the other end of the line has my breath
stuck in my throat.
The past I’ve desperately tried to escape.
The guilt.
The anger.
My mistakes.
It all comes crashing down on me, and although it’s been twelve years
since I walked away from my old life, it still has the power to render me
completely speechless.
“I need your help.”

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 CHAPTER ONE

ISLA

T
he music pumps through my body, the cocktail of vodka and ecstasy
speeding through my veins, allowing me to breathe for what feels like
the first time in days.
The only time I ever feel free is on a night out with my best friend, and I
refuse to apologize for the choices I make, much to my father’s dismay.
He hates that I like to party.
He says it’s unsafe, and he may be right. But I just don’t care.
All I care about is escaping my reality.
My parents are absent at best. I don’t know that they mean to be, or if
the trauma of their past is just so great that they don’t know how to be a
parent anymore.
They haven’t since I was nine years old.
I don’t remember much from that time. Just my parents being sad all the
time. My aunt’s funeral. The anger and hatred toward her husband,
technically my uncle I guess, not that he’s been called that for a long time.
They refuse to accept that he ever existed, and most days I do too.
He wasn’t around much even when he was part of the family. I think he
was in the Navy or something. I don’t know, and I don’t really care, if I’m
being honest.
I down another shot from the ones spread across the high table in front
of us. I’m approaching the point of no return, and that’s exactly where I like
to be.
 Numb.
Free.
Happy.
Or at least as close to that last one as I can ever be.
I don’t really remember my aunt, but everything that happened after her
death shaped the rest of my life and forced me into a life of misery I can’t
escape.
My father is too protective to let me move away, forcing me to go to
college in Boston rather than New York like I begged him. He doesn’t even
know I’m out tonight. He rarely does. For someone as overprotective as he
is, he doesn’t do a very good job of keeping an eye on me, or maybe I’m
just really good at sneaking around behind his back.
Mom doesn’t give a fuck what I do. She doesn’t give a fuck about much
these days. She just wants to get home after a long day at the hospital and
drink her prescribed bottle of wine per night.
Maybe Dad should be more worried about her than me. She’s the one
who is fading away before our eyes, and it won’t be long until the hospital
realizes she’s no longer fit to be a nurse.
Then what?
She’ll just be at home all the time, drinking, slowly killing herself?
I throw back another shot at the thought.
“Wanna dance?” Bree asks, her long blonde hair curled down her back
and her pupils blown wide from the E we’ve done that I can barely see the
green around the edge.
I nod and finish the rest of my drink, leaving the empty glass behind
with her brother Miles and his girlfriend Audrey. They don’t party like we
do and tend to spend our nights out getting handsy at the table. I’d almost
think the two of them have an exhibition kink if it weren’t for the fact that
his sister is around. But she’s learned to ignore them sucking face the same
way I have.
We push our way through the throes of people until we’re in the center
of the dance floor. The two of us have always been like two peas in a pod.
We’re basically the same person, and that means we both love to be the
center of attention when we’re drunk.
I drop my head back and allow the music to wash over me. If I’m
honest, club music isn’t really my favorite, but there aren’t many clubs in
Boston that play metal, and I’ve kinda just gotten used to it at this point.
 Hands fall onto my hips, and a small smile tugs up the corners of my
lips. The stranger’s fingers dig into the fabric of my tiny dress, barely
covering my ass and tits, right before a stubbled chin brushes over my bare
shoulder.
“If it isn’t the girl that always gets away.” His gravelly voice drifts over
me. I’m hardly surprised Bryant is here. He is the owner after all, and he’s
taken a liking to me over the last few months since we got our fake IDs and
started frequenting The Vault. We hadn’t seen each other in years, since
before my life fell apart when I was nine. Our parents used to be friends,
but I guess when my aunt died, my parents stopped seeing their friends, and
therefore I stopped seeing him and his brothers.
“And yet I come back every Saturday night.” I smirk as I turn my body
in his grasp and wrap my arms around his neck. Bryant Hayes isn’t a good
man, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he is hot as fuck. His dark
hair and chiseled jaw would be enough to make me want to drop my panties
for him, but it’s the emerald-green eyes that make my breath catch in my
throat every time I see him.
And yet we’ve never fucked.
We’ve been skating around it for months, flirting, dancing, occasionally
making out, but never going all the way.
I catch Bree’s gaze out of the corner of my eye and don’t miss her
knowing smile. She thinks it’s crazy that I haven’t slept with him, but
although I have very little respect for how my parents have handled our
lives since Aunt Clarissa died, their lessons have been burned into my mind.
She died because she fell into the wrong crowd. She got addicted to
drugs, used and used and used until she owed money to just about everyone,
and then she died because of it.
That’s the kind of man Bryant is. He’s someone who could get me
hooked, drag me down to his level until I can’t drag myself out of the hole
I’ve found myself in.
And although I love to lose myself, to be free of the restraints my father
has on me, to break the rules, I don’t want to meet the same fate my aunt
did, and I don’t want to do that to my parents. They won’t survive losing me
too.
Hell, I’m pretty sure the only reason they’re still alive is because they
had me to worry about. Even if my mother is as self-destructive as they
come, she wouldn’t want to leave me without one of my parents.
 Bryant tugs me against his body, and I fight the groan that climbs up my
throat. He’s fucking ripped under the suit he wears every night I’m here, his
hard muscles make it all the more tempting to fuck him, even if it means I
have to stop coming here afterward. But men like him don’t like to be
walked out on, even if it is just a one-night stand. “Come home with me,”
he murmurs against my ear.
I shake my head slowly, plastering a flirty smile on my lips. “We’ve
been over this, Bry.”
“No, you’ve been over this. I’m still hopeful you’ll change your mind.”
He chuckles.
“This place is crawling with girls who would die to fuck the owner.”
He nods his head against the top of mine. “That’s true. But you know
that saying about always wanting what you can’t have?”
“Ah, so I’m just fun for the chase then,” I tease.
“No, Isla. I’m positive you’d be fun for a whole lot more than that.”
I roll my eyes but can’t fight the smile that tips up the corners of my
lips. Why does he have to be so damn charming? Why can’t he be the
asshole his reputation makes him seem like he is?
I mean, out of his brothers, he is generally known to be the nice one, but
that doesn’t mean much when you’re involved in running drugs and guns
and God knows what else. When they were kids, they were all nice, but
getting involved in the family business has changed them.
“Not tonight.” I shrug.
“That’s what you say every week.”
Before I have a chance to respond, he curses, and when I look up, I see
one of his brothers beside us. They all look pretty alike, but from his cold
dark eyes, I know this one is Kai. If the rumors about him are even slightly
true, he’s a fucking psycho, and not in the fun way. From what I’ve heard,
he gets off on hurting people, and he’s one of the reasons I don’t want
things to go any further with Bryant.
Kai says something that I can’t quite make out over the deafening
music, and Bryant curses before turning his attention back to me. “Don’t
leave without saying goodbye, okay?”
I nod, even though I have no intentions of seeking him out again
tonight. My resolve is already waning, and too much contact with him is a
bad idea.
 By the time I turn back to Bree, she’s nodding me back toward the table
and I follow her lead. I need the rest of those shots.

T hree hours and a whole lot of vodka later, I’m fighting a losing battle
with my own body. I’ve popped all the pills I can tonight, or at least
the drug dealers in this city won’t sell me anymore because a dead
customer isn’t much good to them, and all the alcohol in my system is
making me sleepy as hell.
I stumble toward the bathroom looking for Bree, but I have no fucking
clue where she went. She was hooking up with some guy, but we have a
system. We never leave without at least letting the other one know, and
there’s no way she’d leave without telling Miles where she was going.
The line outside the women’s bathroom is the last thing I want to see,
and I quickly look around for other places she could be.
As with most nightclubs, there are any number of dark corners for a
couple to get up to no good in, but I’ve already checked all the ones I could
think of.
I notice the back door is slightly ajar, and after a quick glance at the
bathroom line again, I stumble toward it.
I need to go home before I pass out. I went too hard tonight, even for
me, and I’m going to pay for those choices if I don’t get out of here.
Raised voices in the alley make me pause, but I can’t quite make out
what they’re saying, and the nosey side of me has me creeping closer to get
a better vantage point.
“Get her in the fucking trunk,” a man shouts.
“They’re going to fucking kill us for poaching on their territory,”
another man says, but he sounds out of breath.
Wait, did he say her?
I peek out the crack in the door, but all I have in my view is a beat-up
old Toyota that looks like it should have been retired a long fucking time
ago.
“Shut up and do as you’re told.”
“Did you clear this with the boss?”
“I don’t give a fuck what he says. Bryant and his brothers think they
own this fucking city, and I want them to know they don’t. This is the bitch
he’s obsessed with.”
 “Are you sure about that?” The other guy sounds hesitant, and my
stomach drops.
Are they talking about me? Because I’m here every weekend, and
although he is known to be a playboy, I’ve never seen him speak to another
woman.
Dread washes over me, and before I can think through the decision, I
shove my way out into the alley.
Two men are standing over Bree’s unconscious body and I freeze in
place, torn between saving my best friend and risking my own life. Because
that’s the reality of this situation.
I reach into my clutch, fumbling around and fighting against the
fogginess that is creeping into my vision. Fuck. Why did I have to drink so
much tonight? If it was just the pills I would still be able to focus, but the
vodka is dragging me down.
“Who the fuck are you?” one of them, the leader, I think, barks at me.
“Get the hell away from her.” I finally wrap my hand around the pepper
spray my father insists I take with me anytime I leave the house, and I hold
it in front of me.
They stare at me for long seconds before looking at one another, and
then they burst into laughter. “Run along, little girl.”
I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, the door I just shoved out
of ricochets off the wall and three men storm out, each with varying degrees
of anger etched into their brows.
It takes me a few seconds to realize it’s three of the four Hayes brothers,
the only one missing being Bryant, but I still find myself shoved behind
Kai.
“What the fuck are you doing in our club?” Jaxon snaps.
He may be the youngest, but that doesn’t make him any less terrifying.
Six foot three and built like he never leaves the gym. With dark eyes and
dirty-blonde hair, he’s both intoxicatingly gorgeous and scary as fuck.
Welcome to the Hayes brothers.
The oldest brother, and the quietest, Kayden, drags me behind him,
leaving three brick walls between me and Bree. My heart pumps wildly in
my chest, making it impossible to breathe through the fogginess in my mind
and the panic.
I wrap my hand around his large bicep, dragging his steely gaze down to
meet mine, his perfectly styled black hair in place as if he hasn’t spent the
whole night in a nightclub, but then again, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him
on the main floor. Only ever in the booth the brothers hold for themselves in
the VIP area.
“Bree,” I whisper, pointing toward my best friend who’s still out cold by
the beat-up old car.
He nods, but his only verbal response is a grunt.
Does that mean he’s going to get her? Or just that he understands what
I’m saying? Or…
Before I get the chance to think it through any further, the voices in
front of me start to rise, pulling my attention back to the argument.
“I told you we had the wrong girl. That’s the one!” He points toward
me, and I’m too stunned to duck back behind Kayden.
“Well, you’re not taking either of them anywhere, so I suggest you get
your asses back into this heap of junk and get the fuck away from my club.
The next time I ask, I promise it won’t be so polite,” Kai says, and although
he’s always been kinda scary, I’ve never been quite as afraid of him as I am
right now.
The two assholes look back to me and then to Bree, who’s still out cold,
before turning on their heel, but not before the leader looks me dead in the
eye.
“I’ll be seeing you.”

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 CHAPTER TWO

ISLA

E
verything happens so fast that I can barely catch my breath.
Suddenly the comedown from the drugs and the exhaustion from a
night of drinking and dancing are the last things on my mind as I
cradle my best friend’s head in my lap, sitting in Bryant’s office.
The club is starting to quiet down, but it’s also five in the morning, so
that shouldn’t come as a total surprise.
What I wasn’t expecting though?
For Bryant to call my dad.
It’s been years since our family has had anything to do with the Hayes
family, so I was pretty fucking shocked he had his number in the first place.
Jaxon handed me a bottle of water when they first sat Bree and I here,
but apart from that, they’ve been in work mode, and I don’t really
understand what the hell is happening.
The door shoves open and my very angry father storms into the room,
his eyes moving around the huge space until they finally settle on me.
“Isla,” he growls as his gaze flicks between me and Bree. If I hadn’t
already checked her pulse, I would be demanding we take her to a hospital,
but it’s hardly the first time my best friend has gone a little too hard on a
night out.
“Hi Dad,” I say quietly. I don’t want to be ashamed of this situation. I’m
twenty years old. I’m almost an adult in every single sense of the word, so I
shouldn’t feel shit when my dad has to come get me out of trouble. And yet
I feel awful.
He would have flipped when he got that call because he was the one the
cops called when Aunt Clarissa died and how much that night has fucked
him up.
He gives me one more once-over before turning his attention to the
brothers on the other side of the room. It’s suffocating being in an enclosed
space with the four of them, even when they’ve barely acknowledged my
existence since they led me in here.
I brush my fingers through Bree’s hair and allow my eyes to close for a
moment. I’ve always been good at internalizing my feelings, I had to be to
survive my childhood in my emotionally stunted family, but right now
there’s an uneasiness that continually washes over me. The uncomfortable
feeling of the unknown licks at the edge of my consciousness, and no
matter how hard I try to rationalize with myself that what happened out in
the alley means nothing, there’s something in the back of my mind that tells
me that’s not the case at all.
I’m not sure how much time passes. It could be a minute, or an hour, but
it feels like an eternity. I just want to go home. The comedown is starting to
kick my ass, and I’m exhausted, but I’m also not brave enough to interrupt
the important conversations happening on the other side of the room.
I thought it would have just been a case of my father picking us up and
taking us home to yell at me, and possibly Bree. But instead, we’ve been
sitting on this couch waiting for what feels like hours.
When Bryant and my father finally turn to me, I know there’s something
wrong before they can reach me.
Maybe it’s how my father doesn’t actually seem mad at me but afraid.
Or how Bryant looks both sad and furious at the same time.
But there’s definitely something off.
“We’re going home so you can pack,” my father tells me once he’s
within earshot.
“Pack?” I choke out the word. Where the hell am I going? He’s never let
me leave the city without him, and I can hardly see that changing after
tonight.
“You’re going to Chicago.”
“Why the hell would I go to Chicago?” I all but shout. What the fuck is
going on here? All I did was save my best friend from being taken by some
idiots, that hardly translates to me uprooting my whole life and moving to
another city.
“Because I said so,” he snaps. “You got yourself into this mess, and I’m
getting you out of it.”
“But I didn’t do anything. I don’t understand why I would have to leave
Boston.”
Bryant steps forward, giving my father a quick nod as if telling him he’s
got this. What he’s got, I have no idea, but I’m hoping he can at least give
me some rational thought seeing as my father has clearly lost his fucking
mind.
“Do you know who those guys were?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t recognize them. I just came out looking
for Bree and found them trying to get her in the car.”
He nods, looking over his shoulder at my father. “They work for Mason
Spade.”
My eyes widen, and I shoot a look at my dad as things start to fall into
place. “Isn’t that⁠—”
“The man who killed your aunt,” he confirms.
I stare at him for long seconds, trying to process what they’re telling
me.
Those guys were looking for me. They thought Bree was me. But why
would they want me? Why would Mason Spade want me? My aunt died
twelve years ago, I’d be surprised if he even remembered her.
My parents don’t talk about my aunt much, but from the limited
information I’ve managed to get from them over the years, it seems as if she
went off the rails, got in with a bad crowd, and ended up owing Spade
money. But maybe there’s more to it than that?
“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me,” I finally
whisper.
Bryant runs his hand down his face, and my father turns away from us.
“As you know, my father was good friends with your dad. After your aunt
was murdered, your dad went after Spade. He wanted to take him down,
and although my father tried to talk him out of it, he couldn’t let it go.”
“You’d be the same if it was your sister,” Dad snaps, and my eyes
widen.
Bryant nods his agreement. “I would be the same if it were any of my
brothers. But although he couldn’t take down Spade, he did kill his
brother.”
I turn to my dad, the man who has preached safety until the ends of the
earth, who has basically kept me in a fucking cage for the last decade, but it
all makes sense now. It wasn’t because he was worried I would meet the
same fate as my aunt, it was because he was worried the man he wronged
would find out about me.
“You killed someone?” I whisper-shout, careful not to wake Bree. This
doesn’t feel like a conversation she needs to be a part of.
“And my father helped him cover it up.”
“Thus starting a war we haven’t been able to drag ourselves out of for
over a decade,” Kai adds, and I’m way too shell-shocked to even
acknowledge him right now.
What the fuck?
“I still don’t really understand what this has to do with me and why I
have to go to Chicago.”
“Spade always suspected I was involved in his brother’s death,” my dad
explains. “But up until a few years ago, he couldn’t prove it, and by that
point, I’d changed our names, moved houses, distanced us from the Hayes
family, and did just about everything else I could think of to stay off their
radar short of packing us up and moving.”
I think back, trying to remember us changing our names. Surely I would
remember something like that? But apparently there’s a whole lot of shit I
had no idea about.
Kai looks between my father and Bryant with barely contained
annoyance. “Can you two stop pussyfooting around and just tell her what
all this has to do with her?”
Bryant glares at his brother but nods. “A few weeks ago, we got wind of
some guys in the club asking about you. They only had your first name and
your old last name, but I got worried and called my dad, who called yours.
We were just monitoring the situation, making sure you were safe when you
were at the club, but tonight changes things.”
“But they were only interested in me because they thought you were,” I
point out.
This whole fucking situation is ridiculous. Surely there has to be
someone in this room who can see that.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Isla. I wish that were the case, but I’m
afraid it’s much more serious than that. Which is why your dad thinks it’s
best to send you away.”
I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. I don’t know what
the hell I’m supposed to say because this is pure insanity.
“Do we know anyone in Chicago?” I finally ask.
“Doc’s there. That’s who you’ll be staying with,” my father tells me.
“Uncle Doc? The same Uncle Doc who you despise and blame for Aunt
Clarissa’s death?” I snap. And here I was thinking this couldn’t get any
more ridiculous.
“You won’t just be staying with him.” Kai smirks, getting clear
enjoyment out of my misery. “You’ll be marrying the guy.”

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 CHAPTER THREE

DOC

I
fucking hate this city.
I swore I would never step foot back in Boston after my wife died,
and I had every intention of keeping that promise to myself.
And yet here I am, standing on the doorstep of my ex-brother-in-law,
with no more information than that his daughter is in trouble.
I don’t know what the fuck that has to do with me, but when he kindly
reminded me that I’m the reason his sister was dead, I really didn’t have
much of a choice but to get on the first flight out of Chicago.
I lift my hand to knock, but before my fist can make contact with the
wooden door, it swings open. A face I never thought I’d see again stares
back at me with so much hatred that I almost turn around and walk my ass
back down the steps of the old brownstone they’re living in.
It’s a step down from the house they lived in when I knew them, but I
suspect there’s a whole lot that’s changed in the last decade.
I know I have. I’m not the same man they knew. Or maybe I am, and
they just never really knew me at all. The more I think about my past and
the person I was, the more I wonder if I was ever really happy, if I ever
really loved my wife.
I know that sounds fucked up, but we were high school sweethearts. She
was my best friend’s sister. Her best friend was his high school sweetheart.
It was always the four of us against the world, and I’ve often wondered if
maybe the reason we stayed together, the reason we didn’t go our separate
ways like so many couples do at our age, was because of the bond the four
of us had, more so than love.
Or perhaps that’s just what I tell myself when the guilt eats me alive at
night.
“Took your time,” he grumbles, pushing the door open wider for me to
pass.
“You called me five hours ago. I would hardly call that taking my damn
time considering I live in another state.”
I take in the space around me as I pass my ex-best friend and brother-in-
law. The house is run down and well lived in, but it’s clean and tidy, just as
their home has always been.
Edward has always been a bit of a clean freak and although Sandra is
messy as hell, they seem to counteract one another.
“Wanna tell me what the fuck this is about?” There’s no point in beating
around the bush. I want to get the hell out of Boston before the end of the
day, and the more time I spend standing around in his entryway, the less
likely that is to happen.
He glares at me as he closes the door, and I finally take him in. His
copper hair is beginning to turn gray, his brown eyes duller than they were
the last time I saw him. I don’t know how the fuck that’s possible
considering it was the day of his sister’s funeral when he told me to stay the
hell away from his family.
His gaze darts up the stairs and I follow his eyes, but there’s nothing
there. He gestures for me to follow him, and I trail after him despite not
wanting to take one more step into this place without knowing what this is
about.
If it hadn’t been over a decade, I would think maybe he’d brought me
here to kill me, but that doesn’t seem likely after all this time.
He takes a seat on the green sofa that probably should have been
replaced a few years ago and leans forward, pouring himself a shot of
vodka and looking up at me with silent question.
I nod and sit across from him. The old sofa creaks under my weight, and
I really fucking hope the thing doesn’t cave in.
I’m not a small guy by any stretch of the imagination. My insomnia
means I have no end of time to work out, and adding muscles to my six-
foot-seven frame makes me heavy as hell.
 I’m still reaching for my shot when Edward takes his and immediately
pours himself another. He was never much of a drinker, which has unease
settling low in my stomach.
“I killed Mason Spade’s brother.”
My brows shoot into my hairline as I stare at him for a few long
seconds. Did I hear him right? Surely my straightlaced brother-in-law, the
man who wouldn’t even smoke a joint with us in high school, didn’t just
say he killed someone.
“After Clarissa died. Nathan Hayes helped me cover it up.”
I pull the bottle of vodka closer to me and refill both glasses again,
because suddenly liquor is the only way I’m going to be able to make any
sense out of the words he’s saying.
“And now he’s coming after Isla. It’s a long story, but that’s why I
called you.”
“I’m not sure what you think I can do for you, Edward. I have no ties in
Boston, no connections, and from what I know, the only mutual contact I
have is with the Hayes family.”
“I need you to marry Isla.”
I choke on the vodka that’s halfway down my throat, making the cheap
liquor burn all the way down. What the fuck did he just say?
“No way.” I shake my head. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
“It’s the only way I can think to keep her safe,” Edward argues.
“How the fuck does my marrying your daughter, my goddamn niece,
keep her safe?” I’m aware of my voice raising, but I can’t help it. Every
word out of his mouth is more fucking insane than the last.
“She’s not your niece,” he points out. “Not by blood anyway.”
“Because that makes it so much better,” I deadpan.
“Spade won’t come after her if she’s with you, if she’s married to you.
Your ties with the Saint James family will keep her safe.”
“You’ve lost your fucking mind.”
He charges to his feet, his eyes wild with a deadly cocktail of anger and
fear. “You owe us. You’re the reason my sister is dead. You’re the fucking
catalyst for all of this. If you hadn’t driven her to her own demise, I never
would have killed Daniel, and none of this would have ever happened.”
He can’t seriously think I’m going to agree to this.
I swore to myself that I would never marry again. Hell, I swore I would
never touch another woman for more than a quick fuck, and only when I
was truly desperate.
Marriage is off the fucking table.
“No way. It’s not happening. Marry her off to one of the Hayes boys. At
least they’re close to her age!” I do the math of how old she was the last
time I saw her, eight or nine I think, meaning she’s barely an adult. As if
marrying my niece wouldn’t be bad enough, but add a twenty-year age gap
to the equation and it becomes all the more fucked up.
“That will make her more of a target. They’ve been at war for years and
I can’t risk it. I can’t risk my little girl.” His voice cracks, and for the first
time, I look him over. He’s tired. In fact, it doesn’t look like he’s slept in a
week. The black marks beneath his eyes are darker than I can ever
remember seeing them, and his wrinkled clothes look like they’ve been
worn for days.
I don’t have children, never wanted a brat running around getting into
all my shit. But I suppose I can see why he’s stressed, I just don’t know that
I’m the best person to help him.
“I can get her a passport, a new identity. I have cash. I can help set her
up with a new life in another country where she’ll be safe,” I offer.
The Saint James family pays me really fucking well, but I don’t spend
it. I don’t have expensive hobbies, I don’t go out and socialize, and the only
expense I really have is my apartment.
I had to move last year because my building was getting knocked down
to make way for a new mall, and I moved into a nicer apartment in the heart
of the city so I could get to callouts quicker.
He shakes his head. “I’ve already thought of that. But I can’t send her
out of the country alone. She’s only ever left the damn state a few times,
another country isn’t an option.”
I run my hands down my face and reach for the vodka.
He knows damn well he has me backed into a corner.
Their whole family blames me for Clarissa’s death, so why on earth
would he trust me with his only child?

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FOUR

ISLA

“Y our She
uncle?” Bree screeches into the phone.
was still unconscious when we dropped her off at her parents’
house, and her mother looked none too happy about that fact.
The two of us have been going out every weekend for months, but it’s
rare for either of us to get to the level that she did last night, and I’m not
totally convinced she wasn’t slipped something. It’s so rare in fact, that up
until last night, neither of our parents had any evidence we were going out
at all. Sure they had their suspicions, just no hard proof. But that ruse is
over now, along with my life apparently.
“Yep.” I fall back against my pillows. I wish I could make it sound less
messed up, but the reality is, this entire situation is fucked. My dad has lost
his goddamn mind and I have no idea how to make him see just how insane
he’s being.
I have no idea how he even came to this conclusion that marrying me
off to a man he despises, a man he has blamed for the downfall of our
family for the last decade years, was the best course of action.
But the problem is, this doesn’t seem like a spur-of-the-moment
decision.
It doesn’t even seem like he’s that panicked about the prospect.
He genuinely thinks this is the best idea, and that’s probably the most
worrying part.
 I don’t really remember Doc. He was such an infrequent part of my life,
even when he was a part of it. He’d only be home for a few weeks before he
was off again, so I never really had a bond with him. I probably couldn’t
even tell you what he looks like to be honest.
And yet I’m supposed to marry him?
Absolutely not.
“Does he know you’re meant to be marrying him?” Bree asks, tearing
me from my own thoughts.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head.
“So, there’s a chance he won’t agree to it then?”
I sigh. “I mean, I guess. He didn’t really seem like the kind of guy that
ever should have been married from what my parents have told me. So, I
guess there’s a chance?” I’m not sure if it’s more wishful thinking than
anything else, but maybe I could talk him out of it? Maybe I could appeal to
him and make him see just how ridiculous my dad’s plan really is?
“When are you meant to be leaving?”
I glance across the bed at the two overflowing suitcases and boxes of
personal things I can’t bear to part with. Photos of me and my parents
before life went to shit. A few things Aunt Clarissa gave me before she died.
Random things Bree and I have acquired on our nights out. “Today, I think.
It’s not like I’ve been given all that much information other than moving to
Chicago and marrying the man my entire family hates.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line for long seconds and I pull
the phone away from my ear to check if it’s still connected. “I’m going to
miss you,” Bree whispers.
I press my eyes closed to stop the tears that are pooling from falling
against my cheeks. I will not cry. I refuse to fall apart. Not when I still have
a chance of getting out of this. Even if I can’t reason with my father, surely
I can talk Doc out of this ridiculous plan.
“I’m going to miss you too.” I choke on the words. I’m going to miss so
much about Boston, which seems ridiculous because I was so desperate to
leave a couple of years ago.
Bright-eyed and freshly graduated, all I wanted to do was get the hell
out of here. I wanted to put some distance between me and my family. I
wanted so desperately to make my own way in the world without a
protective father hanging over my shoulder.
 Heavy footsteps on the stairs have my breath stuttering in my chest. I
heard the front door open a while ago and muffled voices through the
floors, but I was hoping I would have more time.
“I have to go,” I whisper.
“I love you, Isla. We’ll still talk every day.”
I nod but can’t force the words to leave my throat. People say that all
the time. They claim they won’t lose touch when one, or both of them,
move away, but we barely talk to anyone we went to high school with who
moved away after graduation. It’s just the reality of growing up.
“I’ll text you later,” I whisper and hang up the phone.
I take deep, calming breaths as the footsteps draw closer and by the time
they’re at the door, I have myself back under control.
I will not fall apart.
I will not be a victim of circumstance.
And I will not marry a man I don’t love.
The door swings open as my resolve hardens, and my father steps into
my room. His eyes flick over the suitcases and boxes laying around the
room, but none of the sadness I would have expected appears behind his
brown eyes.
He looks even more disheveled than he did a couple of hours ago when
he sent me up here, but if anything, he seems even more sure of the decision
he’s made about my future.
“Come downstairs.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he beats me to it. “Please don’t make this
harder than it needs to be, Isla. This is our only choice, and the only way I
know to keep you safe.”
“The only way you could think to ensure my safety is to make me marry
a man I don’t really know? A man who tore our family apart.” I don’t bother
keeping my voice down, because frankly, I don’t give a fuck what Doc
thinks of me. In fact, the worse he thinks of me, the better chance I have
he’ll call this whole charade off.
He sighs and moves toward the bed, making quick work of zipping both
suitcases up.
“Does Mom even know about any of this?” I’m grasping at straws
because I’m not even sure my mother knows I still live under the same roof
she does. She has nothing to do with me and hasn’t for years. I don’t know
if it was a conscious choice she made or if it was just easier for her to
detach from her pain if she didn’t have a child to deal with.
“I spoke with your mother an hour ago. She agrees this is the best way
forward.”
My mouth drops open. She agrees that the man who is responsible for
her best friend’s death, the same death which has left her to drown her
sorrows in the bottom of a bottle for years, is the best person to marry her
only child?
I let out a slow breath and nod. For right now, there is no argument I can
make that will get through to him. My best chance is getting through to
Doc.
I shove past my father, only stopping to pick up my black handbag and
throw my phone into it before storming down the stairs, making no secret of
just how much I do not want to go with the visitor waiting downstairs for
me.
I round the corner of the lounge room ready to begin making this guy’s
life hell, only to trip over my own feet when I see him.
He is the tallest man I have ever seen, and every inch of him is muscled
and inked, stands in the middle of our living room. His intense dark eyes
lock with mine and his dark salt-and-pepper hair is the only sign of his age.
He looks like he’s in better shape than most men my own age.
I manage to catch myself on the back of the couch, but I don’t miss the
way his lips quirk up in a barely there sign of amusement.
For the first time since my dad came up with this ridiculous plan, I
consider the fact that I may not be successful in getting out of it, and the
idea of spending the rest of my life with this terrifying man has dread
washing over me.
I need a new plan.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIVE

DOC

I
’m still convinced this is a bad fucking idea.
The worst that Edward has ever had.
But he has me backed into a corner I’m not sure how to get out of.
Every excuse I could think of, he threw back in my face until it was
time for him to bring Isla down.
I can’t imagine she’s thrilled about marrying a man twice her age. And
not just that. A man that she’s associated with the death of her aunt.
Isla and Clarissa were close. From the time she was born, Clarissa was
obsessed with her niece, and she made no secret of the fact she wanted to
give her cousins. But I was never around for long enough to make that
happen.
I never wanted to make that happen.
I can’t imagine having kids running around. I’m too old now, but even
when I wasn’t, I had no interest in a screaming child waking me up ten
times a night and ruining all my shit.
And Clarissa never let me live that down.
I’m torn from my thoughts by the sound of soft steps on the stairs, and
when I turn toward the door, waiting to meet the woman, if I can even call
her that, I’m supposed to marry, I almost choke on my vodka when she
comes into view.
The little girl I remember isn’t so little anymore.
 In fact, I can’t reconcile the woman standing in front of me with the kid
who used to hang off my wife’s every word and follow her everywhere like
a lost puppy.
Her deep raven hair falls against her back in soft waves, and her baggy
tracksuit pants and sweater do nothing to hide her curves. But it’s the amber
eyes that stare back at me, mirroring my own surprise, that have my breath
stuttering in my chest.
She stumbles over something, her own feet probably, and barely catches
herself on the back of the lounge, but I find myself moving toward her out
of instinct.
Although I rarely displayed them when it came to my wife when she
was alive, my protective instincts are generally quite strong. It’s why I
answer calls from the worried men of Frost Industries when they call in the
middle of the night, worried the weird craving one of their wives is having
during pregnancy could be a sign of something more. But that seems
amplified with Isla.
It’s just guilt, I tell myself. It has to be. I cost this girl her aunt, the
person she always thought she’d be able to rely on. That’s all it is.
She rights herself, and this time when our eyes clash, I manage to shove
down the possessive instincts that flare to life in my chest. She’s not mine.
She can never be mine. And I don’t want her to be.
I don’t need that kind of complication in my life.
Not now. Not ever.
Edward appears behind her, his eyes flicking between us expectantly,
but it’s becoming more and more evident that neither of us are interested in
the plan he’s cooked up.
I know I’m fucking not.
“You’ll leave on the next flight,” he tells us, and Isla rounds on him, her
hands resting on her hips defiantly.
The move makes her cropped oversized sweater ride up ever so slightly,
and a sliver of pale skin peeks out. She’s tempting, I’ll give her that, but not
for a man like me.
I’d chew her up and spit her out before she could take her first breath,
and somehow I don’t think that’s what Edward had in mind when he made
this plan.
“I’m not going to Chicago,” she snaps. “I’m not getting married. This is
all fucking insane. You’ve lost your fucking mind.”
 “Language,” he growls, and part of me longs to step in front of her, to
protect her from his harsh tone.
I shake myself off before finding Isla’s gaze on me. “You can’t want to
go through with this, right?”
“It doesn’t really matter what he wants. He owes us.”
“Because he’s the reason Aunt Clarissa is dead!” she cries. “You want to
send me off with the man who’s responsible for your sisters’ death? Is that
what you want for me?”
Her words cut deep, deeper than I would ever admit to anyone, but fuck
do they hurt. It takes a lot to hurt a man like me, but for some reason, the
little spitfire in front of me pointing out the worst mistake of my life is like
she’s taking a fucking knife straight to my heart.
“He can keep you safe,” Edward argues, and I can see her next response
coming a mile away because she’s trying to hurt me. And him. She’s doing
her darndest to put a halt on this plan any way she can, and acting like a
fucking brat is one way to go about it.
“Like he did your sister?” she challenges, and I take a step back. I
shouldn’t be here for this conversation. It’s between the two of them, and
I’m just the poor sap who’s going to be stuck with her as a wife if I can’t
find an alternative.
Edward doesn’t even flinch, telling me he’s already made peace with
this decision.
Just how long has he been considering this?
And surely I’m not the only option. I still can’t understand why one of
the Hayes boys doesn’t just marry her. They’re more than capable of
keeping her safe, and that way she wouldn’t have to uproot her entire life
and move halfway across the country.
“You will do as you’re told, Isla. This is not up for discussion.” His tone
is flat and heartless, so far removed from the man I grew up with. The one
who helped the kids who got bullied and did community service on the
weekend around whatever sport he was playing at the time. Am I the reason
he grew so cold? By driving Clarissa to her death?
“I’m an adult, Dad. You cannot make me marry anyone, and the fact
you would think you could is so fucked up.”
His eyes flash with anger, and I’m striding toward them before he can
make his next move. I’d never have expected violence from my best friend,
but it’s clear he’s not the same person I grew up beside.
 I position myself between him and Isla, making sure she’s blocked from
his gaze. “That’s enough,” I bark. “You insisted I fly here to hear this
ridiculous plan of yours, but it’s clear Isla doesn’t want this, and while you
might think I’m a vile piece of shit, there are some lines I won’t cross.” I
turn to the raven-haired temptress behind me and mask my intrigue. She’s
too fucking young.
Rough hands grasp onto my shoulders, and although I could overpower
almost any man, he catches me by surprise and slams me into the wall. His
forearm presses into my chest, giving him the illusion he has me trapped,
when in reality I could throw his ass to the ground without breaking a
sweat.
“I will not allow you to be the reason my daughter dies the same way
my sister did,” he spits.
“From where I’m sitting, it was your actions that got your daughter into
this mess, and you’re expecting me to bail you out of it.” I shove him
backward and prowl toward the front door. I’ve heard enough. This was a
waste of my time and his because this plan he’s concocted is ridiculous, and
I refuse to force a woman to marry me. Especially when it’s clear she hates
my very existence.
I’m about to fling the front door open when I hear the telltale sound of a
gun cocking, and my hand pauses on the handle. Neither Edward nor Isla
have had time to follow me, which means…
The shot hits my ears before I notice the hole in the door, and before I
can think better of it, I’m running back toward the lounge room.
As soon as Isla comes into view, I shove her behind me, backing us
away from the front of the house. Spade isn’t sloppy, so if there’s someone
at the front of the house, there’s a good chance we’re surrounded.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SIX

ISLA

I
’ve never heard a gunshot before, but I know without a shadow of a
doubt that’s what that was.
I haven’t even had a chance to take a step back when Doc comes
charging back into the room, his eyes set on me as he prowls toward me.
He shoves me behind him, putting himself between me and whatever
the hell is about to happen, and for the first time I wonder if maybe he’s not
the demon my parents sold him as. I’ve only ever heard one side of the
story, but whose fault is that? He disappeared right after the funeral, never
to be seen or heard from again.
Another shot fills the otherwise quiet house, and I barely swallow the
yelp that claws up my throat. I’m not sure I’d ever be prepared for this kind
of situation considering I’ve lived such a sheltered life, but after saving my
best friend from being kidnapped, the complete lack of sleep, and the
comedown from pills and vodka, my nerves are shot.
“Stay behind me, spitfire,” Doc says quietly, and I snap my eyes up to
the back of his head. What the hell did he just call me?
I don’t have time to think about that too hard before the front door slams
open, the bang so loud that I grab hold of the back of Doc’s shirt out of
instinct.
Oh my god.
This is really happening.
 I’m really in danger. My dad wasn’t just exaggerating. I could really be
taken by these people. Or worse.
The thought has a cold sweat breaking out over my brow, and I move in
closer to the huge body in front of me.
Most would see Doc as intimidating, and honestly, he kind of is, but
right now his size is reassuring as hell.
He backs up a few more steps until I’m wedged between him and the
wall, and the heat he’s emitting is nothing short of stifling.
I look around for my dad, but I can’t see him. If he’s smart, he’s ducked
behind something, but his love for me makes him stupid. That’s pretty
fucking evident seeing as he wants to marry me off to his worst enemy.
“Edward, don’t be an idiot,” Doc warns.
“Get her out of here,” he demands and my stomach sinks. Not without
him. Not without my dad.
I peek around his body in time to see my father raise a gun toward the
doorway, and my stomach plummets. I didn’t even know he had one, let
alone know it was close to where I’ve watched television with him every
night for the last ten years.
Doc curses under his breath and reaches between us, quickly producing
his own gun. Wait a damn minute. Didn’t he just fly into Boston? Where did
he get a firearm in such a short space of time? Or maybe I don’t want the
answer, because it’ll just be another reason I can’t marry this man.
He turns his head until our eyes lock, and there’s something in the
darkness that makes my breath catch in my throat. He’s deadly. I don’t need
to know anything about him to know that. But there’s a look of concern that
almost makes some of my hardness toward him soften. Almost.
“I need you to stay behind me, Isla. Do not get any grand ideas of
running because I guarantee they have the house surrounded. I will get you
out of here, but I need you to do exactly as I say.”
I don’t get a chance to argue before he turns back toward the doorway.
My heart beats heavily in my chest, the organ working overtime.
I thought these kinds of things only happened in the movies. This is why
I stayed away from Bryant, because I didn’t want to be involved in anything
like this.
And yet I’ve found myself here anyway.
I hold on to the back of Doc’s black T-shirt, needing something to keep
me grounded as my thoughts spiral out of control.
 All the ways this could end and the scenarios that could play out right in
front of me, it all whirls around in an endless loop of panic that I can’t
afford right now. The last thing any of us needs is for me to have a
meltdown.
Footsteps grow closer until they pause in the doorway, and a chuckle
fills the room. “Edward.” The man regards my dad. “Doc. I haven’t seen
you in these parts in a long time. Last I heard you were the Saint James
family’s resident doctor.”
“Keeping an eye on me, Spade?” he grits out, and if it were possible,
my heart would leap halfway across the room at his name.
This is the man who is trying to take me. Who is trying to take the sins
of my father out on me.
That thought has me holding on to Doc’s shirt a little tighter, hoping he
meant it when he said he’d get me out of here.
“I see you have something that belongs to me there,” the man says, and
it takes me a long moment to realize he’s talking about me. In his head, I
belong to him.
“There’s nothing here for you, Spade. I suggest you get the fuck out of
here before it gets ugly,” my dad spits, and his tone has me doing a double
take. I’ve never heard him sound so…mean before.
Is this the same man who never let me go for sleepovers because he
didn’t trust the other parents? The same one who never missed a ballet
recital and came to every sports game? I can barely resonate the
overprotective man I’ve spent the last decade being sick of, with the one
standing on the other side of the wall of muscle in front of me.
“All debts come due eventually, Edward. You should know that.”
“You killed my sister,” he points out.
“You think your whore sister costs the same as the second in charge of a
family like mine?” he challenges.
Doc stiffens against me but remains rooted in place, not allowing his
anger to take away his attention from protecting me.
“I’m sure after working for the Saint James family for so many years,
you understand the concept of an eye for an eye,” he says, completely
ignoring my father as if he thinks he’ll have better luck reasoning with the
tank of a man shielding me from him.
“Isla is under Saint James protection, so I don’t think they would agree
in this particular instance.” The words fall from his lips so easily that I
would believe them if I weren’t intimately familiar with the truth.
Why the hell would they give a shit about me? I’ve never even met
them.
Silence follows and I can’t help myself. I peek out to look at Spade and
find him staring right at me, his dark eyes boring into mine like he’ll see the
answers he seeks without me saying a word.
And hell, maybe he will. You don’t get to his position without being
able to read people.
“Why would you be under the protection of a family you’ve never met,
Isla?”
I open my mouth to respond, even though we both know I don’t have an
answer for him, but I’m cut off when Doc’s body repositions in front of
mine.
“You don’t need to speak to her,” he snaps. “She’s under their protection
because we’re getting married.”
My eyes widen, and my stomach bottoms out.
There goes my last resort.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SEVEN

DOC

T
he words leave my mouth before I can consider them, before I can
make an informed decision about not only my future, but also the
barely legal woman pressed against my back.
She deserves to marry for love. To find some kid her age who can give
her all the shit she’s always dreamed of.
But I’ve just signed her fate.
The words I’ve just spoken may as well be a fucking death warrant
because I’m not the man who can give her freedom and allow her to live her
life. I’m a fucking asshole, and even if a relationship, let alone a marriage,
are the last things on earth I want, I’m a possessive fucking asshole and
that’s not something I’ll ever be able to change about myself.
I don’t miss the way Isla tenses behind me or how her tiny hands drop
away from my back as the gravity of what I’ve just said washes over her.
And I don’t miss how Spade searches both our faces for a lie. Because
he knows there is one. The motherfucker has his ear to the ground. He has
friends in high places, and if he knows my role within Frost Industries, he
sure as hell would know if I had any intentions of marrying my dead wife’s
niece.
“I see.” Spade finally breaks the silence, and some of the unease in my
stomach disperses. After all the shit I’ve seen, both overseas and at home, I
know what’s classified as a life-and-death situation, and this right here is
one.
 If Spade gets his grubby hands on Isla, he’ll break her, and that’s if she’s
lucky. The stories I’ve heard about the Spade family make me sick to my
stomach, and that’s without remembering how Clarissa was found. Her
body mutilated, to the point she was barely recognizable when Edward and
I had to identify her. The police suggested we both go to ensure we could
get a positive ID, and it all made sense the second they pulled the sheet
back.
I shouldn’t give a fuck about Isla. The whole family disowned me,
forced me to move away during one of the hardest times in all our lives. But
there’s something about her, the fire behind her eyes, the way she reacted
when our eyes met for the first time. I don’t want her to meet the same fate
her aunt did.
“Has a date been set?” he asks, looking for a hole in the story.
“Tomorrow,” Edward replies, and both Isla and I turn to him, her body
suddenly pressed to my back again.
I quickly train my face, something I’ve mastered over the years, and
nod along with him like this isn’t the first I’m hearing of it. “I need to get
back to Chicago, but we wanted to have the wedding here in Boston so
Isla’s family would be able to attend,” I explain.
Spade nods slowly, but he doesn’t believe a word we’re saying. We
can’t bluff our way out of this situation, and not for the first time, I wish
Edward had just taken my offer to send Isla away. To get her as far from
this city as possible to keep her safe.
But that plan is out the window now, and we’re back to plan A, a plan
neither of us actually want.
He looks around at his men peppered through the house and then gives a
sharp bark. “Let’s go.”
His attention returns to me, flickering his gaze behind me.
“Congratulations are in order. I wish you a lifetime of happiness.” The
hatred in his voice makes Isla tense behind me, her tiny hands back
gripping my shirt like it’s her only lifeline. “Hopefully you take care of this
one better than you did the last.”
I lurch forward, but the whimper behind me stops me before I can get
more than a foot away from her.
Isla doesn’t need to see this. She doesn’t need to see the darkness that
lives within the man she’s about to marry.
 Spade turns on his heel and walks out the way he came, leaving behind
the bullet holes in the walls and the broken door as a reminder of his visit.
None of us speak for long seconds, each taking in the gravity of the
situation we’ve found ourselves in. I never should have come. I should have
ignored his call and got on with my life. Now I have one of the most
infamous crime bosses in the country sniffing around and a barely-legal-
almost-wife I don’t want.
I turn on Edward, his eyes still glued to the doorway Spade was in a
moment ago, and advance on him. Anger beats down on me like a lethal
dose of heroin, spreading through my veins until it’s all I can see. This man
was my best friend, I would have died for him over and over again, and
now he’s thrown me to the fucking wolves. Literally.
“What the fuck was that?” I growl, fisting my hand in the collar of his
shirt as I shove him hard against the wall.
“I can’t lose her,” he whispers into the air between us, barely loud
enough for me to hear, let alone Isla across the room.
“You should have fucking thought about that before you killed his
goddamn brother!” I roar. I’ve never been known for my even temperament,
but I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this much rage pouring out of me. I shove
him harder against the wall, lifting his entire body from the floor, his feet
kicking against my shin as he struggles against my hold. “You should have
known he would find out. He’s the leader of the oldest crime family in
Boston.”
Small hands tug at my arm desperately until I’m forced to look down at
Isla, her eyes full of fear and determination. “Don’t hurt him,” she whispers.
“It’s not his fault.”
“Then whose fault is it?” I bark, shoving Edward one last time before
dropping him to the floor.
He tumbles to the floorboards at my feet, and I barely stop myself from
picking him up again just to drop him. Maybe that would knock some sense
into the fucking idiot.
“Yours.” She shoves at me. “This is your fault. You’re the reason he
killed Aunt Clarissa, and now you’re the reason I’m losing my freedom.”
Her voice breaks, the sadness cloaked with fire is almost enough to snap me
out of my spiral. But not quite.
I prowl toward her as she stumbles backward, her eyes wide because
she doesn’t know what I’m capable of. Fuck. I hope she never finds out.
Without knowing anything about her, I can see she’s innocent. She might
pretend to be tough, pretend she can make it on her own, but she’s a scared
little girl on the inside.
Her back hits the wall she was huddled against a few minutes ago, and I
press both palms on either side of her, bringing my face down until it’s
mere inches from her. “I’m sure that’s the version of events you’ve been
told your whole life, spitfire. But you know what they say about stories.
There are always two sides.” Each word is on a low growl. “I don’t want to
marry you any more than you want to marry me, but guess what? We’re
both losing our freedom here. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re
going to walk your pretty ass up those stairs and pack your shit. While you
do that, I’m going to organize a fucking wedding for tomorrow, because
Spade will most definitely have someone in attendance, and then once
we’re man and wife, we’ll be going back to Chicago. Is that clear?”
Isla’s eyes are blown wide with fear, but the rebellion is there, just under
the surface, begging to be set free. Her bottom lip disappears between her
teeth, like she’s deciding whether she wants to argue. But she’ll soon find
it’s pointless. She won’t win.
No matter how much she kicks and screams, she’s mine now, whether
either of us like it or not.

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 CHAPTER EIGHT

ISLA

H
e’s not fucking around.
There’s a darkness within him unlike any I’ve seen before. Not
that I’ve spent that much time with dangerous people. I’ve been
surrounded by safeguards and rules. Things I always found annoying as hell
that were there for my own good.
But I ignored them all, and now here I am. Crowded against a wall, no
escape from a man who frankly scares the hell out of me. Not that I’ll ever
tell him that.
His words repeat over and over in my mind.
“I don’t want to marry you any more than you want to marry me, but
guess what? We’re both losing our freedom here. So, here’s what’s going to
happen. You’re going to walk your pretty ass up those stairs and pack your
shit. While you do that, I’m going to organize a fucking wedding for
tomorrow, because Spade will most definitely have someone in attendance,
and then once we’re man and wife, we’ll be going back to Chicago.”
All hope of talking him out of this arrangement is long gone, and now
all that’s left is cold, hard reality.
I’m marrying Doc.
I’m marrying a man I was raised to hate.
And I’m doing it tomorrow.
I close my eyes and let out a steadying breath, training my emotions
until I’m alone. I won’t let this man see what he’s doing to me. I refuse to
break in front of him, even if that means I fall apart alone.
“I asked you a question, Isla. Don’t make me repeat myself,” he snarls,
and I barely stop myself from flinching.
“Yes, I understand,” I force through gritted teeth.
He lingers there for another moment, my body trapped between his and
the wall, before he stalks off toward the broken front door.
My feet carry me back up the stairs, but I’m too numb to feel anything
other than despair. Any hopes or dreams I may have had are long gone, and
suddenly I regret every night I spent out partying instead of studying.
Because ultimately that’s how I showed up on Spade’s radar.
Maybe I have played a part in all this, but now it’s a matter of whether
I’ll be able to dig myself out again.

E
very noise I hear downstairs makes me jump.
The creak of the wooden floors downstairs. The branch against my
window. Even the sound of a car backfiring a mile away. Every little
sound makes me tug the covers up tighter around myself.
Is it Spade coming back to take me?
Or is Doc here to yell at me again?
Or something else entirely meant to test me?
I roll onto my side and clutch a pillow to my chest. It’s been a long time
since my anxiety has gotten the better of me, but right now I can barely
breathe through the panic in my chest.
I should have fallen asleep hours ago. After all, I haven’t slept since the
night before last. My body is exhausted, but my mind is wide awake, and
that’s the problem.
Every moment of my life feels like it’s replaying on a loop.
The night Miles got Bree and me our first fake ID. The first time I let
myself go. The first time I took the little white pills that made me numb.
The night I saw Bryant after so many years. The first time we danced.
It all plays on a loop as I try to find the exact moment that found me in
this position. The memories that used to make me smile, now have dread
washing over my clammy skin. Regret eats away at me, the familiar feeling
of panic clawing at my chest until I can barely drag in a breath.
I reach for my phone and sigh.
Three in the morning.
Only six hours until I become Mrs.…
 I don’t even know his last name, the thought crashes into me. I’m about
to marry a man I don’t know a thing about other than that he’s responsible
for my aunt’s death.
The phone vibrates in my hand, and I almost drop it in surprise. Who
the hell is messaging me at this time?
Bryant: My dad just told me about the wedding…

My fingers dance over the keys as I try to find the words to reply. We
were never right for one another, and I knew that from the first moment we
locked eyes, but he’s my friend. I don’t know how to talk to him about this
any more than I did when I told Bree.
Isla: I thought I’d have more time to find a way around it.
Bryant: I’m sorry things worked out like this. I wish there was
something I could do.
Isla: It is what it is. I guess I just have to learn to live with it.

Long minutes pass, so long that I begin to think he’s not going to reply
at all, but then my phone lits up in my hand again.
Bryant: If you ever need anything, a friend, someone to talk to,
an escape plan, I’m only ever a text away.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, and I press my eyes closed to

warn off the tears that threaten to fall.
I have no idea what awaits me in my new life, but I know I’ll always
have people in Boston that are in my corner, and that allows the tiniest bit
of hope to take root in my heart.

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 CHAPTER NINE

DOC

I
tug restlessly at the suit I bought an hour ago from a local tailor.
I hate wearing these things, especially because they never fit me
well. Something the tailor bitched about to no end as he pawed through
his inventory looking for one that would fit both my height and my brawn.
I’m much more comfortable in jeans and a Henley, but apparently that’s
not appropriate attire for a wedding. Even one I want no part in.
It wasn’t hard pulling this together at the last minute, but then again, not
much is when you work for the Saint James family. One call from any of
the siblings and people are falling at their feet to make shit happen. Which
is why I called Snow, the youngest of the siblings, to help.
After I fielded her hundred and one questions, she was straight on the
phone, pulling everything we needed together like she’d done it a hundred
times before.
I suspect I’ll have a lot to answer for when I get back to Chicago,
because Snow isn’t the best at keeping information to herself, but that’s a
problem I’ll have to deal with when I get to it.
She organized the church, the officiant, the rings, the paperwork, as well
as a dress for Isla, before we even got off the phone.
Which left me with nothing to do other than buy a suit and show up.
I stand at the front of the church, the officiant beside me, and only a few
people spread around the crowd. I recognize the Hayes family, including
each of the four boys who were just teenagers when I left.
 Isla’s best friend, Bree, is in the front row with her brother and his
girlfriend. The only reason I know who they are at all is because I did some
light recon last night, finding out everything I could about my bride-to-be,
before sending off what I knew to Everett for a deeper dive. He’s worked
for Frost Industries for as long as I have, and he’s the best fucking hacker in
the country.
Before the week’s out, I’ll know every little dirty secret under Isla’s
bed, so there won’t be any surprises.
Just because I don’t want a wife doesn’t mean I’m not going to do
everything in my power to keep her safe, and to do that, I need to know
everything.
Already, I know she has a penance for partying, something she won’t be
continuing when we get back to Chicago. I’ve been down that road once
and I have no intention of repeating history.
It would be hard to miss the loathing in their eyes as they talk among
themselves, like I’m the one forcing Isla down the aisle. Not that I give a
fuck what anyone in this room thinks of me. There’s a reason I left Boston
in the first place, and I’ll be glad to be back in Chicago with people I can
stand the sight of.
Soft music plays over the speakers, and I turn my attention to the doors
at the other end of the aisle. A few seconds later, the double doors open, and
walking toward me is Edward and the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen in
my fucking life.
Dressed in a simple white satin gown, Isla takes cautious steps toward
me. The elegant straps cross behind her neck and out of view, and her raven
hair is in a messy ponytail with curls dropping around her face. The light
makeup on her skin only seems to illuminate her amber eyes as they lock
with mine.
I’m fucking speechless.
She takes a stuttering breath and looks around at the people gathered to
see her married off to a man twice her age, and a small smile tugs up the
corners of her lips before she realizes there’s someone missing.
Her own mother.
By the time they make it to the front of the church, Edward presses a
kiss to his daughter’s cheek before turning to shake my hand.
This is fucking weird.
 The guy was my best friend for more than half my life, and now he’s
marrying his only child off to me? Even without adding the fact I was
married to his sister, this whole situation is messed up.
I take Isla’s hand and guide her up the step until she’s standing in front
of me.
Up close, I can see how tired she is. Why didn’t she get enough sleep
last night? The dark circles beneath her eyes have been covered by makeup,
but I can see them, and the urge to make sure she sleeps eats at me.
I shouldn’t fucking care.
No, scratch that.
I don’t care.
Her hands look tiny in mine, and I don’t miss the way she trembles
when she looks up at me. Is she scared? Or is there something else going on
in her pretty little head?
The officiant begins speaking, and I drone out every word he says. I
want this done so I can get back to Chicago.
I hate this fucking city.
And I hate the people in it.
Jury’s still out on the spitfire in front of me. Time will only tell how
much of a pain in the ass she’s going to be.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TEN

ISLA

I
’m honest enough to admit that Doc looks hot as fuck in a suit.
The man is aging to perfection, and the way the fabric clings to
every muscle would have pretty much any woman at his feet.
But it’ll take a whole lot more than a lethal weapon in a pretty package
to have me falling to my knees.
I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, thinking of all the ways I could
get back to Boston as soon as possible. It’s risky because Spade will be
waiting for this sham of a marriage to fail, but I refuse to let fear ruin my
life.
I will find a way out of this marriage and a way to stop Spade from
coming for me. Because I’m too young to give up.
My heart beats wildly in my chest as I stare up into Doc’s dark eyes,
completely unaware of what the officiant is saying. At some point I’m
going to have to speak and everyone in this room is going to hear how
uncertain I really am, including the two men by the side door who I’m
positive work for Spade.
Doc said he would have some kind of presence today, but it’s unnerving
having them here when I’m about to vow to spend the rest of my life with a
man I don’t know.
I zone into what he’s saying just as he turns to me and says, “Repeat
after me.”
 I take a deep breath, trying desperately to steady myself. I’m about to
learn the full name of my husband-to-be, moments before we become man
and wife, and the insanity of that isn’t lost on me.
“I, Isla Jade Stuart, take you, William James Simpson, to be my
husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse,
for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, I promise to love and
cherish you.”
He turns to Doc, and I hold my breath, desperately hoping this is the
moment the man sees sense and puts a stop to it before it can go too far.
But alas, the same words I’ve just repeated are repeated back to me until
my stomach protests so violently I think the contents might make a
reappearance.
“I, William James Simpson, take you, Isla Jade Stuart, to be my wife, to
have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or
for poorer, in sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.”
My stomach drops when I remember I’d forgotten about the most
important and most terrifying part of the ceremony.
The kiss.
I stare up into his inky gaze with my breath caught in my throat. Despite
my partying, I’ve only ever kissed a handful of men in my life, and one of
them is sitting in the second row. I’ve definitely never kissed anyone twenty
years older than I am though.
His eyes burn into mine as if the same thought has just occurred to him.
I wonder if he’s giving himself the same pep talk I am. I’m sure he’s kissed
hundreds of women, and hell, he was married before, so this is probably
nothing to him. But to me, this is everything.
I used to imagine my wedding day. I would imagine the dress and the
flowers. I’d imagine my future husband standing at the other end of the
aisle looking at me like God put me on this earth just for him. And I
imagined our first kiss as husband and wife.
But all that’s been taken from me now.
I didn’t get a choice in any of it.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your
bride.”
There’s a moment where I think neither of us are going to move, but
then he closes the distance between us, dips his head down, and brushes his
lips over mine in the gentlest caress I’ve ever felt.
 It’s the opposite of what I imagined kissing him would feel like. Where
I thought he would be hard, he’s soft. Where I thought he’d be brutal, he’s
gentle. And where I thought I would hate the feel of his hands around my
waist and his lips pressed against mine, I find myself leaning into it.
The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but the feel of his lips remains long
after he pulls away, like they’ve burned into mine, imprinting on me in a
way no one’s ever have before.
Doc’s dark eyes linger on mine as if he feels it too, but then they’re
gone, turned to look at my father as he approaches us.
I don’t have time to consider that before I’m swept up in hugs and
kisses from the few loved ones who showed up.
I didn’t know if Mom would come, but it still hurt that she didn’t. She
hasn’t shown an interest in my life in years, so it shouldn’t surprise me, and
yet the bite of rejection still burns into my already vulnerable heart.
Bree holds onto me for long seconds, her tears wetting my shoulder as
she cries into it. Miles’s hug feels endless and both too tight and not tight
enough. But even that ends too soon. And then it’s Bryant. His body is tense
as he holds onto mine. I never understood what was between us because it
always felt like it wasn’t enough to be anything more, but also too much to
be anything casual. But I guess we’re doomed to be just friends.
Maybe that’s what we were always meant to be.
I’m snatched back from Bryant, and when I look up, it’s into Doc’s inky
black eyes. His face in a stern line I can’t quite read. He doesn’t speak.
Instead, he tugs my body against his and wraps a possessive arm around my
waist, tucking me firmly against his huge torso.
My entire being begs me to pull away, but I’m frozen in place, wrapped
up in the strongest arms I’ve ever seen.
Bryant stares at us for long seconds, emotions I don’t recognize moving
over his features until he finally sticks his hand into the space between us.
“Congratulations, you’ve snagged a good one.”
Doc gives him a curt nod before turning us back toward my father. He’s
standing by the doors, and my stomach drops. I know he said we’d be
leaving after the wedding, I just didn’t realize he meant the second it was
over.
Regret fills my dad’s eyes, and my stomach sinks lower than I thought
possible. I have no idea when I’ll see him again. Chicago isn’t exactly
close, and given Spade’s threats, I doubt I’ll be allowed to come on my
own.
He tugs me from under Doc’s arm and wraps me up in the arms I
thought would always catch me, but all they’ve done is give me away.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against my ear. “I know you don’t
understand why I’ve done this and why it’s necessary, but I promise he’ll
keep you safe.”
I press my eyes closed, warning away the unshed tears for my loss of
freedom, and for everything I’ve ever known. “What’s the point of being
alive if I’m not really living, Dad?” I choke on the words. I thought things
like this only ever happened in books and movies, but here I am, married to
a man I not only don’t know but who I’ve hated for almost as long as I can
remember, all in the name of being safe.
“Don’t say that,” he scolds.
I pull back and stare up into his brown eyes. “I’ll never forgive you for
this.”
Without another word, I turn toward my husband. God, even thinking
that word makes my stomach churn uncomfortably, but it’s my reality and
until I can find a way out of it, it’s one I have to get used to.
“I’m ready.”
Doc gives me a nod and wraps his arm around my waist, steering me
toward the door.
I don’t look back because I know if I do, I’ll fall apart.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

DOC

M
arried.
I’m fucking married.
Again.
I stare down at the ring adorning my finger and nausea rolls over me.
I didn’t want this the first time, and I certainly don’t want it now. Isla
hasn’t looked at me since we landed in Chicago. Hell, I don’t think she’s
looked at me since the church. But the question is, why the hell have I
noticed?
This is a marriage of convenience at best. There are no feelings between
us other than hatred on her part and obligation on mine.
I shove my—our, I guess—apartment door open and hold it for her to
pass. She only has a suitcase with her now, the rest of her shit will be here
next week.
Her eyes flit around the scarcely decorated bachelor pad, taking in each
surface with a deepening line between her brows.
When I got this place, I did so intending for it to only ever be me. And
while it’s modern and clean, a far cry from the last shithole I lived in when I
first moved to the city, it’s not exactly the kind of apartment you share with
someone.
There’s only one bedroom, which I’ve been trying real fucking hard not
to think too hard about, and the kitchen has rarely, if ever, been used. In
fact, I’m pretty sure half the shit in the cupboards probably still has the
price tags attached. The room I use as an office is considered an extra
bedroom, but I’d like to see anyone shove a bed into the tiny, windowless
space.
The living room is nothing but a large sofa and TV that takes up the
entire back wall of the apartment, and the dining table in the corner only has
two chairs because I never bothered putting the others together.
The only redeeming feature of this place is the view of Millennium Park
along one side of the apartment, spanning the living room, kitchen, and
bedroom.
She gravitates toward the view, and I follow after her, dragging her
suitcase behind me, pretending to be the gentleman I’ve never claimed to
be. So why am I starting now?
“This is a beautiful view,” Isla says quietly, staring down at the
spanning green below.
I nod but don’t bother responding as I watch her.
We haven’t spent enough time together for me to have worked her out
just yet, but that will come. I’ve always been good at reading people.
Except Clarissa. I never thought she was capable of the things she did. The
way she cheated without hesitation and how she was led down the garden
path to a world she thought was so much brighter than the one she shared
with me.
Isla is staring at me when I tear myself from my spiral. She changed out
of her wedding dress before we got on our flight, thank God, because even
as uncaring as I am, I’ll never get the sight of her walking toward me, a
vision in white, out of my head.
I’ve seen plenty of brides, but I don’t think I’ll ever see another one
more beautiful than her.
My wife.
“The bedroom is through here,” I say, starting toward it just so I can
drag my thoughts away from how she looked this morning.
I shove the door open and leave her suitcase by the door. I’m going to
have to get another set of drawers in here for her and clean out some of my
shit from the closet so she has somewhere to hang her stuff.
The more I think about this decision, the more inconvenient it gets. Why
the fuck didn’t I just let Spade take her? What has Edward done for me
since Clarissa died that made me save his only child from a lifetime of
misery?
 You help the Saint James family save women from men like him, I
remind myself. It’s just that usually my responsibility for them begins and
ends that same night. I check them over, give them any urgent medical
treatment they may need, and then I’m off. This isn’t the same.
I just tied myself to this woman for the rest of my life. A woman who is
twenty years my junior and my dead wife’s niece.
Yeah, it doesn’t matter how many times I repeat that to myself, it never
sounds any less fucked up.
Isla’s eyes track over the dark bedspread on the hardwood four-poster
bed, the same one I built when I first arrived in Chicago to pass the time
and quiet the demons.
“This is your room?” she asks quietly.
“Ours,” I correct her, and I almost laugh at the way her eyes widen.
“This is a one-bedroom apartment,” I add, hoping it will distract her from
my amusement.
“Oh.” Isla nods and places her handbag down beside her suitcase. “It’s
lovely.”
I chuckle, but before I can respond my phone vibrates in my pocket. A
scowl tugs at my brow when I see Everett’s name on the ID. This
motherfucker needs to stop calling me every thirty seconds about every
sound Wynter or Summer make. I’m incredibly fond of his fiancé and their
newborn daughter, but him, not so much.
I step out of the room and snap my response. “What?”
“Hello to you too.” His tone is amused.
“I’m busy. What do you need?”
“Wynter is having some cramping, and I wanted to check if it’s
normal.”
“Yes, it’s normal,” the oldest Saint James daughter shouts from
somewhere nearby. “I just gave birth, you impossible idiot. Now stop
bothering Doc or he won’t answer the phone when there’s actually
something wrong.”
I rub my hand down my face and sigh. These men are going to be the
fucking end of me. “What Wynter said.”
“Are you sure? Should I take her back to the hospital just to be on the
safe side?”
“No,” I growl at the same time Wynter does. At least I’m not the only
one who’s sick of his bullshit.
 There’s a scuffle on the other end of the line, and then Wynter’s voice
fills the line. “I’m so sorry he called you again, Doc. I tried to stop him.”
I soften, a rare smile tipping up the corners of my lips. “It’s fine. Are
you actually okay? I can come and do a checkup if you need?”
“I’m fine.” She sighs. “Tired as hell, but fine.”
“That’s what happens when you have a baby,” I remind her.
She laughs, but I can hear the happiness in her even through the phone.
“I know, but it’s the best kind of tired.”
“Let me know if you’re worried and I’ll pop around but tell your
overprotective fiancé to settle.” I chuckle.
“I’ve told him so many times that I’m thinking about tattooing it on my
forehead to really drive the point home.”
“You will do no such thing,” he snaps in the background.
She lets out a soft laugh. “How was your trip? Storm said you were
coming home today.”
“I just got back a little while ago. And it was…complicated.” No one
here knows much about my old life, aside from maybe Everett, who would
have done my initial background check all those years ago. But I don’t plan
on divulging anything else right now.
For now, I just need to get used to the idea of being married again.
I don’t know why I hang up without telling Wynter about Isla,
especially because I think they would get along like a house on fire. None
of the family will judge me for the age difference or even the reason we got
married, seeing as Storm is twelve years older than Ayvah, Rayne is ten
years older than Emerson, and Elijah literally kidnapped Snow and
blackmailed her into walking down the aisle. But maybe I just don’t have
the right words yet. And I’m not sure when I will.

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 CHAPTER TWELVE

ISLA

I
stare at the bed as he leaves the room.
One bed.
I’ve never slept beside a man before. And the first will be my
husband. The husband I didn’t choose or even have an opinion on.
Nausea rolls over me and tears gather in my eyes. This is a nightmare. I
can’t think of any other way to describe it, and my eyes dart to the
bathroom in case I need to make a run for it to empty the small amount of
contents in my stomach.
I haven’t really eaten since Bree was almost taken by Spade’s goons,
and for the first time I’m feeling the weakness from the lack of nutrition in
my body.
I look over my shoulder the way Doc went and sigh. I guess this is my
house now, maybe I could make us both something to eat.
Cooking is one of the only things that my mother taught me before Aunt
Clarissa died, and it’s the only way I can feel close to her now that she’s
almost unrecognizable.
I step to the doorway and pause when I hear Doc on the phone. Maybe
I’ll just wait until he’s finished on his call so he doesn’t think I’m
eavesdropping.
“I just got back a little while ago. And it was…complicated.” His tone is
flat, no emotion at all in the words he’s spoken. About me. I’m a
complication.
 The tears I’ve forced down push their way to the surface, and I back
into the bedroom toward the bathroom before he can come back.
I close the door quietly and turn the lock before sliding down the
hardwood, curling my body into itself.
Hot tears fall against my cheeks until they’re coming in rough sobs that
steal my breath.
I’ve never felt so helpless and so alone.

I
’m not sure how much time passes before I can get myself together, but
I splash water on my face and stare at myself in the mirror, determined
not to let Doc see just how much his words hurt me.
They weren’t meant for me after all, and honestly, they’re not exactly
news.
He didn’t plan for this any more than I did. We’ve both been thrust into
a marriage we don’t want, and it’s unfair of me to expect him to be jumping
for joy about it considering I’m far from doing the same.
And yet his words still burn as they make their way through my body.
I’ve felt unwanted for so many years, and the fact that in my new life things
will be no different…it breaks my already demolished heart just a little bit
more.
I take a deep breath, hesitating for too many seconds before I finally
open the door and meet a cold, empty room.
Did I really expect anything different? Did I think Doc, the cold-hearted
man who was the reason my aunt was stolen away from me, would really
give a fuck if I were upset?
I shake my head and wander out toward the living area, only to find him
in the kitchen with a glass of scotch in front of him. It’s still full as he stares
out at the city below.
Part of me wants to turn around and go back to the bathroom so as not
to interrupt his thoughts, but I refuse to walk on eggshells in a home that is
supposedly mine as well now. It’s not like we signed a prenup, so I guess
technically half of it is.
“Can I get one of those?” I ask, my voice more broken than I had hoped.
He frowns. “You’re underage.”
I scoff and roll my eyes, moving farther into the room. “If I’m old
enough to sign my life away, I’m old enough to have a drink.”
 He watches me for a moment before he reaches up and pulls another
tumbler from the cupboard above his head. He turns back to me and pours
two fingers of whiskey and pushes it across the counter.
I take a deep breath before reaching for it, immediately bringing it to
my lips. The liquor burns on its way down my throat, but the familiar
warmth allows me to breathe for the first time today.
“Thanks,” I say quietly, taking another small sip. It’s the good shit. The
kind I’ve only had when I’ve been hanging out with Bryant at the club, but
that also makes it a whole lot easier to drink than the shit I used to sneak
from my parents’ alcohol cabinet.
“We should discuss rules.”
“Rules?” I raise a brow. “You’re my husband, not my parent. Rules
aren’t in the contract.”
He glares across the counter at me, his knuckles white from the grip he
has on his glass. “While you may have been able to sneak out and pull the
wool over your parents’ eyes, that will not be the case here. I have
organized for your enrollment at the University of Chicago. All your credits
have been transferred, and you will start Monday. You will attend all your
classes, and when you’re not in class, you will either be at the library on
campus or you will be in this apartment.” His tone leaves no room for
argument, but I open my mouth anyway, only to be promptly cut off. “There
will be no partying, no nights out, no drinking to excess, and any friends
you make will go through an extensive background check before you will
be allowed to see them outside of school. Do I make myself clear?”
I’m too shocked to respond. Because these rules are worse than any my
dad ever enforced, and I thought he was strict. This just solidifies the fact
that not only am I stuck in a marriage to a man I don’t like much less love,
but to a man who barely sees me as human, let alone an equal.
He raises a brow, waiting for me to argue, but I can’t find my words.
There isn’t one part of what he’s said that I can process enough to argue, so
I remain silent.
“Good. Now that that’s settled, I’m going out. I have work to do. Feel
free to eat whatever you want, watch TV, or snoop if you feel so inclined.
Just don’t leave.” He drains his glass and walks toward the front door, his
leather jacket thrown over his arm. I was too numb to notice if it was cold
outside, but it’s the middle of February, so I can only assume it is.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” I finally find my words.
 He turns on me, his dark eyes holding mine. “Oh, Isla. I am most
definitely not kidding. I saved your life by agreeing to this marriage, so
you’re going to do everything in your power to ensure you’re as little of an
inconvenience as possible.”
“Or what?” I cross my arms over my chest defiantly. The whiskey
flowing through my bloodstream has made me brave, and right now I’m
past caring. I already know where he stands when it comes to my presence,
so what more can his words hurt me?
“Or I’m sure Spade would still be happy to take you off my hands and I
can go back to living my quiet life away from the bullshit in my past.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before he disappears out the door, and
my legs buckle beneath me.
I thought I knew what hopelessness felt like, but nothing could have
prepared me for this.
I’m a prisoner, and for the first time I wonder if I’m any better off than I
would have been with Spade.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DOC

T
he best thing about my line of work is that there’s always some
asshole that needs to be patched up.
Chicago is a shit ton safer than it was a year ago, with the only real
powers in the city having joined forces.
I never thought I’d see the day when the Saint James and Russo families
weren’t gunning for one another, but after the toxic older generation of
Russo men were wiped out and Elijah took their place, some of the bridges
could start to mend. And then he kidnapped and married the youngest Saint
James daughter, who promptly fell in love with him. Don’t ask, because I
honestly have no idea what Snow sees in the asshole, making them one big
happy family.
Or at least as close as Mafia families can be.
I walk into The Circle, the sound of another fight night washing over
me. I’m tempted to get in the ring, but Tommy always tells me I’m too big
and no fucker will want to fight me.
Probably for the best, seeing as I’m the one who would have to patch
the asshole up after I beat his ass.
Tommy is nowhere to be seen, which isn’t entirely surprising. I’ve
watched as he’s become more and more obsessed with Wynter’s assistant,
Clara, and I’m just fucking glad they’re together so I can stop worrying he’s
going to scare the poor girl to death.
 Rayne is by the bar, a glass of vodka in his hand as he talks to the
bartender, until he spots me, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He
taps the bar, and the man behind it quickly fixes me a drink. “I wasn’t sure
you’d show tonight.”
I’ve known Rayne a long time, but I’ve never seen the motherfucker as
happy as he is now. He was always the tortured one, and because of his
position in the family, he never allowed himself to feel. At least until
Emerson came along.
“Who else is going to make sure you don’t have to order a clean-up
crew for any bodies?” I challenge, meeting his dark eyes.
When I first started working for Frost, I never saw myself becoming
friends with any of them. It was a job, a chance to get away from the
demons that haunted me no matter where I went. The deaths I witnessed,
the ones I was responsible for, the life I was desperate to forget.
But somehow the lot of them crept under my defenses, and even though
they drive me fucking mental with their constant calls about the health of
their women, I wouldn’t have them any other way.
“Touché.” He chuckles.
“How’s Emerson feeling?” I ask against my better judgment.
He drags his hand through his black hair, the stress he’s obviously
trying to mask coming to the surface. “She’s been really tired this week. I
know it’s normal, but I can’t help but feel guilty for being the reason for it.”
I shake my head. “It won’t last forever, and you’ll forget all about it
once she pops out the kid.”
He nods, but the ghost of his worry is still clear on his furrowed brow.
“How was Boston?”
“Complicated.”
“How so?”
I open my mouth to tell him a lie, but he’s as close to a friend as I have.
And if you can’t tell your friends that you got married to a woman twenty
years younger than you so she didn’t die the same death your late wife did,
who can you tell?
“I got married.”
He turns on me, his eyes wide with surprise. “You did what now?”
“It’s complicated. But basically, I married my dead wife’s niece so she
didn’t get taken by the brother of the man her father, my ex-best friend,
killed after my wife died.”
 He stares at me for long seconds, blinking a few times as he tries to
process all that I’ve just thrown at him. “Excuse me?”
“Like I said, it was complicated.”
“That’s not complicated, Doc. That’s damn right fucked up. And that’s
coming from me.” He doesn’t mean it as an insult, but as someone who
moved his now-wife into his apartment without her knowledge, and his best
friend stalked his sister for the better part of a decade. And that’s not even
mentioning the rest of the family.
I nod and down my drink in one hit. “You can say that again.”
Rayne taps the bar, and when the bartender brings the bottle over, he
says, “Leave the bottle.” He pours us both another glass before taking a
long sip of his drink. “Tell me about her.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s your wife?”
“I barely know her,” I sigh. “Everett is doing a background check for
me to learn the stuff she won’t tell me, but really I don’t know the first thing
about her other than that she’s a pain in the ass.”
Rayne chuckles and shakes his head, like he’s aware of a joke that I’m
missing. “Oh boy, you’re in trouble.”
I open my mouth to ask what the fuck he’s talking about when the roar
of applause interrupts my words, and I turn my attention to the fight that’s
about to take place before us.
I didn’t realize how much I needed it until right now. The blood. The
rage in the air. The violence. It’s the one thing that settles the demons inside
me, and for the first time since they started talking about opening the fight
club, I seriously consider stepping into the ring just to let out some of this
excess restlessness my new wife has forced upon me.

I hesitate at the bedroom door.

I’ve been standing here for the last ten minutes with my hand on the
handle, trying to force myself into my own goddamn bedroom.
But it’s not just mine anymore.
It’s hers too, and I fucking hate it.
I never thought I’d have to share anything again. I was quite prepared to
live out the rest of my life as a bachelor, only ever relying on myself.
But life had other plans.
 I finally force myself through the door, and I’m met with darkness. The
curtains are drawn over the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights below
blocked.
I usually sleep with it open because it’s been a long time since I slept
through the night, but I’m almost glad for the darkness right now.
My eyes adjust and I spot the lump on the edge of the mattress, as far
from my side as she could possibly get. I don’t even know how the fuck she
would know what side I sleep on, but somehow she chose right.
I watch the gentle rise and fall of her body as she sleeps before finally
dragging myself into the bathroom to clean up. I’m covered in other
people’s blood, and God knows what else after a particularly violent display
at The Circle tonight. It must be a full moon or some shit because those
assholes were on a whole other level.
I strip my clothes and step into a scorching hot shower. The hot water
washes away the blood, leaving behind the scars of my past and the tattoos
I’ve covered them with.
When I finally step out of the shower and dry off, tugging on a pair of
boxer briefs, I pause in the doorway again.
It’s strange to see someone in my bed again after all these years. It’s not
that I haven’t fucked women, because I have, but I never bring them here. I
never even spend the night with them.
It’s always been nothing more than a way to release the excess tension
in my body so I can go home and continue the life of solitude I chose for
myself.
But not anymore.
Now I have a wife. Someone who will come to rely on me, who will
walk by my side until such time as one of us meets our untimely end.
I finally move toward the bed and climb in beside her, matching the way
she hugs the edge of the bed and leaving most of the king-size bed free.
I thought because I wasn’t out too late tonight that I would struggle to
find sleep, but instead I fall into a blissful slumber just minutes after my
head hits the pillow.
And instead of a restless night of nightmares, I sleep more soundly than
I have in the last decade.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ISLA

S
tifling heat drags me out of my restless sleep, but I can’t quite work out
what the source is.
I’ve always been a cold sleeper. Even in the throes of summer, I
need three blankets on the bed or I’ll freeze, but I can’t remember ever
being this hot.
I crack one eye open, but the blinds I pulled closed before I fell asleep
last night block out any light that may have otherwise filtered through. For
the first two hours, I lay in bed staring at the city below, dreaming of all the
things that could have been if circumstances hadn’t led me here, and then I
was forced to close the curtains in the hope I would be able to fall asleep.
It worked but now I have no fucking clue what time it is.
It takes long minutes for me to figure out the source of the heat.
The six-foot-seven giant attached to me, his arm wrapped around my
middle in a vise grip that I have no chance of getting out of without waking
him, and his very hard body pressed against my back.
I shift slightly, trying to put even the slightest amount of distance
between us, but quickly freeze when I feel something equally as hard
pressed against my ass.
Is that his…
I can’t even bring myself to finish the question in my own damn mind
because if it is… Lord, what they say about big men with big feet and big
hands is all kinds of true.
 Before I went to sleep, I made sure I was as close to the edge of the bed
as I could possibly get without falling off the edge, but at some point during
the night, I either moved into the middle of the bed or Doc dragged me over
here.
I take a deep breath to settle my racing heart, but all that does is breathe
in the intoxicating scent of leather and vanilla, a cocktail I’m not sure I’ll
ever get used to, no matter how long this sham of a marriage lasts.
Once I’m as calm as I think I’m able to be in this situation, I carefully
inch forward so my body is no longer pressed against the length of his. But
that still leaves his arm wrapped around my waist in a grip I wouldn’t be
able to escape at the best of times, let alone laying down and half asleep.
I nibble at my bottom lip as I try desperately to figure out my next steps.
First of all, I’ll need to work out an alternative sleeping situation because
there’s no way I want to be waking up with his cock pressed against me
every morning.
I shuffle farther forward but quickly stop in my place when I hear Doc
groan.
Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up.
Things are awkward enough between us without him knowing we spent
at least some of the night cuddling.
The edge of the bed is just a few inches away, and I can almost taste the
blissful, cool air outside these blankets. But as if the last few days hadn’t
already been a demonstration of how much the universe hates me, Doc
drags me back across the mattress until I’m once again pressed against him.
I wouldn’t have taken the man as a cuddler, and yet here we are.
I elected to sleep in the oldest pair of sweatpants I own and a holey old
t-shirt I stole from my dad years ago, but right now it all feels like too
much. Hell, I’m pretty sure I’d be overheating if I was naked with no
blankets.
Making peace with the idea that the only way I’ll be able to get out of
his embrace is with him awake, I steel myself against whatever shitty
attitude I’m going to be greeted with the second he opens his eyes and
cough as I push myself forward as far as I can manage.
His arm releases me almost immediately, and I’m out of the bed,
tumbling to the ground before I can take my next breath.
Did I want to fall off the edge of the bed on my first morning as a
married woman?
 No.
And yet here we are.
Honestly, at this point, it tracks.
I stay put in the hope he’ll go straight back to sleep and I’ll escape the
embarrassment, but I’m just not that lucky.
Doc’s head pops over the edge of the bed. His salt-and-pepper hair is
mussed from sleep, and his dark gaze is just as menacing as when he’s fully
lucid.
“Did you fall?” he grunts.
I open my mouth to cuss him out, but snap it shut again. What’s the
point? We’re both stuck in this marriage and although I’d love nothing more
than to tell the asshole that he decided cuddling was included in our fake
marriage, instead I take the high road and nod. “Yep.”
Before he can respond, I shove myself to my feet and disappear out the
door before I can change my mind.
At least my new life is every bit the nightmare I thought it would be.

I do a pretty good job of avoiding Doc throughout the morning, or maybe

he’s avoiding me. Either way, I don’t see much of him as I browse my
course schedule starting tomorrow. I didn’t love my major when I was
in Boston, but I have a feeling I’m going to hate it a whole lot more now
that I don’t have any of my friends or the teachers I’ve spent the last few
years convincing to pass me even when I was on the wrong side of the pass
line.
I shove my laptop across the table and reach for my phone, unsurprised
to find no messages waiting for me.
Bree probably went out last night and will be asleep until at least three
in the afternoon if history is anything to go by. Or at least that’s what I tell
myself to ease the pain in my chest. She wouldn’t have forgotten about me
this quickly. We’ve been best friends since before we could walk, there’s no
way she would have moved on that quickly.
As if summoned by my bad mood, Doc appears in the doorway with a
grimace across his face. Or maybe that’s just how he looks, because I
haven’t really seen him without it at all now that I think about it.
“I’m going out,” he says gruffly, barely sparing me a glance.
“Okay.”
“Do you have everything you need to start school tomorrow?”
 I shrug. “I guess.”
“If this is going to work, you’re going to get a whole lot better at
communicating.”
“Says he who grunts more than he speaks.” I scoff. “And who are you
kidding? This isn’t going to work, regardless of communication. Fifty
percent of marriages end in divorce, and I’m sure as hell that number
doesn’t include shams like ours.”
He advances on me so quickly that I barely get the chance to stand from
my chair before he’s in my face, towering over me until I feel every last
inch of height difference between us. “You better hope our marriage doesn’t
end, spitfire, because that would mean Spade has his hands on you, and that
will be far worse than being married to me.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he turns on his heel and is out the door
before I can think of the first word, let alone the whole damn sentence.
Maybe starting school won’t be such a bad thing. At least then I’ll have
a little more freedom.
One thing’s for sure though, I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DOC

I
sla is every bit the pain in my ass I thought she would be.
Instead of being grateful I didn’t hand her bratty ass over to a man
who would chew her up and spit her out, she sasses me at every
opportunity, constantly pointing out she doesn’t want to be here any more
than I want her here.
The thing she hasn’t quite grasped is that she gets something out of her
being here. She gets to be alive and not sold into a life of being defiled until
such time her body gives out and she dies a slow, painful death.
What do I get out of it? A roommate I didn’t ask for that I want to put
over my knee every time she opens her goddamn mouth.
Today was one of the few days in the last three months where I actually
had nothing to do, and yet I got the fuck out of my apartment when it
became very fucking clear Isla was avoiding me.
I’ve never pretended to understand the female mind, but I’m out of
practice after all these years and I have no interest in buying into Isla’s petty
bullshit.
So I stayed out all day.
I went to visit Wynter and Summer, while also tolerating Everett’s
mother-hen routine. Then I popped in on Emerson after Rayne called about
her being extra tired. Normally I would have told him to settle himself, but I
needed another excuse to stay out of the house.
 And then I spent an hour in my car reading over every detail of Isla’s
file that Everett sent over.
The girl sure knows how to get into trouble.
In the last six months, she’s been out clubbing at least once a week, and
before that it was college parties she had no right being at. She’s known to
way too many drug dealers in Boston, her grades are average at best, and
the more I read, the clearer I am on just how big a mistake I made bringing
her into my home.
I rub my hand over my face and throw the file on the passenger seat. It’s
too fucking late to go back now. I just have to hope her want to survive is
strong enough that she won’t be a total bane of my existence.
My gaze moves to the clock on the dash. It’s late enough that there’s a
decent chance Isla has already gone to bed, and tomorrow she’ll be off to
class early. From there it should be easy to avoid one another, given the
hours I normally work and her school hours.
I drag myself up the stairs, taking each one slower than I usually would
until I reach the top floor. Normally at this time of night, I would take the
elevator so my neighbors wouldn’t have to listen to my boots on the
wooden steps, but that would mean getting back to the apartment sooner,
and I don’t want that.
Before I can overthink it, I unlock the front door and find the apartment
quiet, apart from the hum of the television in the lounge area.
Damn. If the TV is still on, she’s probably still awake.
I press my eyes closed and steel myself to deal with the little brat. I deal
with some of the burliest assholes in Chicago on a daily basis, I shouldn’t
be so irritated by a five-foot-nothing spitfire with a bad attitude.
And yet she’s proving to be the tiniest bane of my existence.
I creep farther into the apartment, hoping like hell I can avoid an
exchange with her tonight. I need some time to make peace with this shit.
And I won’t get that until she’s at school tomorrow and I can finally be
alone in the apartment that was once my only refuge.
Now it’s a battlefield, just the same way the streets of Chicago are.
It’s not until I glance over at the couch that I realize Isla is asleep in a
ball in the corner, a blanket pulled up around her chin like it’s the only
protection she has from the rest of the world.
I find myself staring at her for long moments, the light of the television
illuminating her soft features until my feet are moving of their own accord,
and I’m just along for the ride.
I’ll be the first to admit the girl is fucking stunning and under normal
circumstances I’d be doing just about anything to bury my cock inside her
and fuck her out of my system, but on this occasion, sex would only
complicate things more.
I turn away and make my way to the bedroom, stripping off my clothes
the second I get through the door and walking into the bathroom to wash
the day from my skin.
The hot water burns my scarred skin, but it’s not enough. It’s never
fucking enough.
No matter how much pain I feel, it doesn’t take the edge off for more
than a few seconds.
I towel off and pull on a pair of boxer briefs before making my way
toward the bed. At least for tonight she’ll be out of my way, and if I play my
cards right, I might be able to sleep through her getting ready in the
morning.
I flick the light off and shove the blankets back. I run way too hot to be
covered with anything at night, which makes the two extra blankets on the
bed even more annoying, even if they are neatly on her side of the bed.
My eyes drift closed, and I allow the exhaustion of the last few days to
weigh me down, hoping sleep will come easily for once. Her scent lingers
in the fabric of the sheets, even though she only spent one night in the bed.
For fuck’s sake, am I ever going to be able to rid myself of her? Or am I
destined to be reminded of her until I meet my maker?
Time passes slowly, even slower than normal, and I try not to allow
myself to think about the tiny woman on my couch. I also try not to let
myself think about how easily sleep found me last night when she was
beside me or how my body is screaming at me to bring her to bed where she
belongs.
Because she doesn’t fucking belong here.
Not in this apartment.
Not in my bed.
And certainly not in my cold, dead heart.
I storm into the living room, my eyes falling on her sleeping form again,
and I stop in my tracks.
When I first came in, she was mostly covered by the throw rug I keep
on the back of the lounge. But since then, she’s thrown it off and is wearing
nothing but an old T-shirt that has my hackles rising.
Did an old boyfriend give it to her? There weren’t many of them in the
report Everett gave me, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t had flings that
wouldn’t show up on any of his checks. The idea of her wearing another
man’s shirt has my heart thundering in my chest and rage moving through
my veins with an ease that is usually reserved for my blood.
Without conscious thought, I prowl toward her and pluck her off the
couch without a second thought. The first thought that crosses my mind is
how fucking light she is. Is she eating enough? Is this an effect of all the
partying she does?
I make a mental note to track her meals over the coming weeks.
The second thought, and the more unwelcome of the two, is how
fucking right she feels pressed against my chest. How her weight settles in
my arms, how her breath whispers across my bare chest, how she
unconsciously curls toward me, as if she knows I’ll keep her safe above all
else.
I shake myself off and walk us both to the bedroom, carefully laying her
out on her side of the mattress. Her hair forms a halo around her head, and
there’s something in my chest that tugs me toward her.
I reach over her, carefully brushing the stray strands from her eyes,
reveling in how soft her skin is beneath my fingers.
The hem of the shirt she’s wearing lifts as she shifts in her sleep, and I
get the tiniest glimpse of the cotton panties covering what I can only
imagine is paradise between her legs.
A growl claws its way up my throat, and before I’ve made a conscious
decision to do so, I storm across the room, tearing open one of my drawers
and quickly tugging out one of my Henleys. She seems to run cold at night,
so perhaps the long sleeves will keep her warm.
By the time I make it back to the edge of the bed, the black fabric is
fisted in my hand and I take deep breaths to settle the anger beating through
me.
I have to be gentle if I want to do this without waking her, and right
now I want to be anything but that. I want to roll her onto her stomach and
spank her until she’s begging me to stop. I want to tie her to the goddamn
bed so I know where she is at all times. But above all else, despite my better
judgment, I want to slide between those toned thighs and slip my cock
inside her.
 I was never meant to feel anything for her, but somehow she’s already
found her way under my skin, and that only makes me despise her more.
I carefully push the shirt she’s wearing up, uncovering more of her pale
skin. The contrast of her softness beneath my scarred hands only makes me
want to touch her more, to dirty her up, to drag her down to hell right
alongside me.
I’m playing a dangerous game right now, one I have no right playing,
and yet I can’t stop myself. Not when I reach the underside of her perky tits,
or as I carefully thread her arms through the holes of the shirt, and not even
when she’s laying bare, nothing but a flimsy piece of cotton protecting her
from me.
I stare at her for too long. Way too fucking long. But each second is
more conflicted than the last.
I’m not meant to feel anything for Isla. Contempt, maybe, but nothing
else. And yet the urge to squeeze my aching cock, to get myself off at the
sight of her unconscious body, to stroke myself until I cover her in my cum,
is almost overwhelming.
Before I can do something I can’t come back from, I slip my shirt over
her head and carefully push her arms into the sleeves.
I manage to get her settled back against the pillows without waking her
and spend a few more moments staring down at her before moving to my
side of the bed and laying beside her.
As soon as I’m settled, tiredness washes over me, and the last thing I
remember before I fall asleep is dragging Isla across the bed and settling her
against my chest, ignoring the fact this is the most whole I’ve ever felt.

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 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ISLA

I
t’s like fucking déjà vu.
Once again I wake up completely overheated, and this time I know
the source immediately. I force my eyes open and stare down at the
solid band of an arm around my waist.
But that’s not what makes my breath catch in my throat.
It’s not even that I distinctly remember falling asleep on the couch by
design.
It’s the fact that when I went to sleep, I was wearing Dad’s old T-shirt.
And now I’m wearing a long-sleeved Henley that certainly doesn’t belong
to me.
Did Doc change me?
Did he strip me so he could put me in one of his shirts?
Because that’s the only explanation I can think of to explain what I’m
wearing, and it’s so fucked up it’s barely conceivable.
But this is the man responsible for my aunt’s death, and the one I’ve
spent my whole life being told to hate. So I guess it doesn’t seem like that
much of a stretch.
I don’t bother carefully trying to wriggle to the edge of the bed, because
at this point it’s pretty evident that he knows how we slept last night, and
I’m not interested in playing into his bullshit this morning.
He groans as I throw his arm off me and slip from the bed before he can
reach for me. I’m not certain he would, but I’m also not willing to risk it.
 I huff as I start rummaging through my suitcase because the asshole still
hasn’t cleared out any space for me in our bedroom, throwing possible
outfits in the general direction of the bed. I don’t give a fuck about making
a mess. I need to get out of this apartment.
The thought of the first day of school is just as daunting as it was every
other time I’ve had one, but at least this time it means I get away from Doc
for a few hours, and maybe I can figure out an escape plan that will get me
back to Boston without dying.
Wishful thinking perhaps, but I’m nothing if not an eternal optimist.
I shower quickly, turning the water up as hot as I can handle. Not that I
spend enough time in the obscenely large space to enjoy it.
Once I’m dressed, I apply a light layer of makeup and dry my hair
before styling it into messy curls while trying desperately not to think about
the tank of a man sleeping in the room beside the one I’m in or the fact I’m
starting classes a few weeks into the semester, meaning I’ll already be
behind and likely have no chance at making friends.
By the time I’m ready, I pair my jeans and simple black long-sleeve
shirt with a leather jacket and boots, allowing my raven hair to fall down
my back.
I make my way into the bedroom and find Doc sprawled out in the
middle of the bed, his eyes open and a smirk playing on his lips. The sheet
has been discarded, leaving him in nothing but a pair of tight boxer briefs,
showing off every chiseled muscle and perfectly inked skin.
My eyes move down of their own accord until I’m face to face with the
biggest hard-on I’ve ever seen in my life. Not that I’ve seen many. But
Jesus.
His cock stands straight up, the tip barely covered beneath the
waistband of his underwear.
“Like what you see, spitfire?” He chuckles.
I open my mouth to respond, but instead, I turn on my heel and leave
the room. I had the foresight to pack my bag last night and pick it up as I
make a quick exit from the apartment.
And here I was thinking things couldn’t get any worse. Boy was I
wrong.

had planned to stop at the coffee shop on the corner before getting the train
to campus, but my need to escape has me hailing the first cab I see.
I What the hell was that?
Yesterday he couldn’t stand to look at me, but somehow he moved
me to the bed, stripped me while I slept, and spent the whole night
pressed up against me. Only to flaunt his huge dick like he thinks I’m going
to jump on it any second now.
I mean, we are technically married, and the ring that weighs heavily on
my hand is all the evidence I need of that, but we never discussed whether
we were going to do all the things that are usually expected of a married
couple.
Is it my fault that I didn’t assume this would be the outcome?
Was I naive to think a man like Doc would be forced to marry me and
not expect sex?
As soon as I’m settled in the cab, I slip my wedding ring from my hand
and shove it into a pocket in my bag.
I rest my head against the cool window and watch as the city passes,
finally having the chance to take some of it in.
I’ve never been to Chicago, but it’s always been on my list of places to
visit. I just never thought I would live here.
It’s a beautiful city, and that’s coming from someone who was born and
raised in Boston. I thought it would be hard for anywhere to compare, but
from the limited amount of the city I’ve seen, I think I could come to see
this city as home.
The cab stops in a parking lot, and I hand the driver a few bills to cover
the trip and tip before climbing from the car.
It’s still early, but there are still plenty of people bustling around. A
couple sitting under a large tree, a few guys kicking a soccer ball around, a
girl reading on a bench beside one of the old stone buildings that form the
school.
When Doc threw the admission papers at me, I was actually pretty
excited about being enrolled here. The grounds and architecture look like
something straight out of a movie, and I can’t wait to explore.
The map in the folder Doc left for me comes in handy as I make my
way around the campus, taking the time to appreciate the sights around me.
I was far from a good student in Boston, but I have a feeling my husband
isn’t going to let that fly here.
I spot a coffee cart near the building I’m pretty sure my next class is in
and make a beeline for it. I need that sweet, sweet nectar before I can think
of learning anything, especially because I’m already behind.
I take a sip of the coffee the second the girl hands it to me and groan
with relief as soon as the caffeine touches my taste buds.
“You really needed that coffee, huh?” a feminine voice asks from
behind me.
I turn and come face-to-face with a girl around the same age as me, with
a blond pixie cut and eyes so green they almost match the vines climbing up
the building beside us.
She wears a Blink 182 shirt with ripped jeans and Doc Martens, and I
think she might just be my spirit animal. Although I’ve always leaned more
toward the lighter side of alternative, I’ve often wished I had the confidence
to go further.
“You have no idea.” I laugh.
Her smile reminds me of Bree’s, it’s so genuine you can’t help but smile
right alongside her, and it makes me miss my best friend even more. “Uh, I
feel that. Professor Dorian sprung a quiz on us for today’s class, and I was
up late cramming for it.”
I suck in a breath and check the name of the lecturer for my first class.
And sure enough, Professor Dorian is printed as clear as day. “Of course,” I
grumble, taking another sip of coffee. At this point, I really shouldn’t have
expected anything else.
She’s nice enough to give me a sympathetic smile as she orders her own
drink. “Let me guess, first day?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Eesh, that sucks, babe.” She thanks the barista and gestures toward the
door to the building. “I’m Bella, by the way.”
“Isla.” I smile and fall in step beside her.
“Let’s get a seat and I’ll show you my notes. Maybe you can absorb
enough to get at least a few questions right.”
“You’re a godsend!”
“I do what I can.” She grins and flicks her nonexistent locks over her
shoulder.
And for the first time since I was forced to uproot my whole life to
marry a man I don’t know, much less like, I feel a little less alone.

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 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DOC

A
s much as I was looking forward to being in my apartment alone
today, I’ve felt even more unsettled than normal.
I’m not sure if it’s because everywhere I look is something that
belongs to Isla, or whether it’s the fact that the whole fucking apartment
smells like her, or if it might just be because I now know what she’s hiding
under her clothes and I’m desperate for a fucking taste.
Regardless, I haven’t been able to sit still for more than a few minutes at
a time since she left three hours ago.
Mondays are a generally quiet day for me, and I’ve never wished for
someone to be shot more than I have today, and believe me, I know how
fucked up that sounds.
Instead, I spend the day making the apartment more livable for her, for
God knows what reason.
I clean out some of my old shit from the closet so she has somewhere to
hang her clothes and drag in the matching set of drawers I’ve had in storage
since I moved in.
I even go as far as unpacking the boxes that arrived this morning and
putting her sentimental shit around the apartment so she feels a little more
at home.
And it’s at this point I reach for the whiskey.
Because what the fuck is wrong with me?
 I’ve never done this kind of thing for a woman, so why am I going to so
much effort for the little brat that’s been thrown into my life like a fucking
atomic bomb?
I pour myself two fingers of the good shit and down it in one hit,
relishing in the burn as it makes its way down my throat.
Fuck. That’s exactly what I needed.
I refill the glass and knock it back before making my way into my
office. I may work for a Mafia family doing under-the-table medical
procedures, but I still have a surprising amount of admin shit to do.
These assholes constantly have me running out of shit.
I place my glass down on the desk and collapse into my chair. Today
has felt like a fucking eternity, and I don’t even want to allow myself to
consider why that is.
I manage to lose myself in whiskey and work for another few hours
before I hear the front door click open and footsteps patter through the
apartment.
I force myself to stay in my seat while she moves around, trying not to
jump on her the second she gets through the front door, but I only last a few
minutes before I’m standing in the doorway watching her look from surface
to surface at all her stuff that now sits beside mine.
“How was your first day?” I ask, startling her out of her daze.
She turns to me and I’m struck by the tears in her eyes. I know I’m not
exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to women, but I don’t think I did
anything to make her cry. At least not recently.
“It was okay,” she whispers. “Nothing like a quiz on content you’ve
never seen in your life to throw you in the deep end.” She lets out a shaky
laugh and turns her attention back to the photos I’ve lined beneath the
television. She picks up one in particular and holds it up for me to see.
“This isn’t weird for you?”
I step closer and shake my head, taking in the image of my late wife and
Isla when she was young. “Why would it be?”
She shrugs and carefully places it back in its place, making sure it lines
up with the others. “I don’t know. You just don’t really have anything of
hers here, I thought it might be uncomfortable.”
I sigh and lean against the arm of the couch, watching her as she moves
toward the window. “It’s been a long time, Isla. I’ve made peace with the
actions of both myself and Clarissa. Of course I wish things had been
different, but I can’t go back and change the past.”
She nods slowly, the same glassiness in her eyes that has the part of my
heart I thought was long dead flaring to life.
When she looks at me again, there’s none of the loathing I’ve come to
expect when her amber eyes meet mine, but instead it’s like she’s seeing me
for the first time.
“Drink?” I ask, holding up my glass.
“Please.” For the first time since we met, I see her real smile. The one
she saves for the people she holds closest, and it’s like seeing the fucking
sun for the first time.
I make my way toward the kitchen and pour her a glass before returning
to where she’s still staring at her personal items like she never thought she
would see them again. I don’t know what made me pull them all out of the
boxes they were in instead of sending them down to storage, but fuck I
would do it a million times over if it meant she would look this happy
again.
When she reaches for the glass, her fingers brush mine, and the softness
of her skin is almost my undoing. I want to feel how soft the rest of her
body is, how my calloused palms feel when they spank her smooth ass.
I turn slightly, hiding the way my cock has jumped to life at the thought
of spanking the little spitfire who has taken over my home and mind.
“Thanks.” She takes a sip, and the room falls quiet. I’ve never been
much for socializing, not after my tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, but right
now, I wish like hell I knew how to make small talk.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as she makes her way toward the
couch and curls up in the corner, her legs tucked beneath her and the glass
of scotch resting on her knee between sips.
Should I join her? Go back to my office? Find an excuse to leave the
apartment again? I’m almost certain she’s more comfortable when I’m not
here, and I have a feeling the cameras I have installed throughout the place
for security may start getting more use.
I settle on perching on the edge of the couch beside her, leaving enough
room between us that I won’t make her uncomfortable. I have no fucking
clue why I suddenly give a shit about her comfort, but I couldn’t fight it
even if I wanted to.
 “Thank you for doing this, Doc.” Her voice breaks the silence and drags
me from my internal battle. “It really means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome,” I grunt, averting my eyes before I can say something
to upset her.
She takes another few sips of her whiskey before placing the empty
glass on the side table.
I need to move. I need to get the hell out of this room before I do
something I’m going to regret. And yet I can’t force my legs to take me
away. I’m engrossed in Isla’s every move in a way I’ve never been with
anyone else, and that should be my first sign of trouble.
I drain my own drink just in time for her to stand and reach out for my
empty glass, which I pass her, and then she makes her way into the kitchen
to refill them.
Despite my better judgment, I follow her. It’s ridiculous even to me,
perhaps especially to me, that yesterday I couldn’t stand the sight of her,
and today I’m following her around like a lost puppy, but I can’t fucking
stop myself.
She reaches up into the cupboard and brings down the bottle before
carefully pouring two drinks while I watch from behind her, barely able to
stop myself from pressing myself against her back and feeling that luscious
ass against my aching hard-on.
Maybe I just need a quick fuck.
There are plenty of willing women around, some I’ve even fucked on
and off over the last few years. And yet none of them arouse the same
response in me that Isla does.
And that’s exactly why I should move away.

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 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ISLA

H
is presence is so huge that despite him not making a single noise, I
know the second he stands and moves after me.
The whole reason I stood up to get another drink was to put some
distance between us. Because things are changing, and I’m not sure it’s for
the best. The way he looked at me when we first arrived in Chicago is a
stark contrast to the way he’s looking at me now, and I can’t pinpoint the
moment it started changing.
I fell asleep on the couch last night on purpose, because I didn’t want to
risk waking up the way we did yesterday morning, and yet he moved me.
And not only that, he stripped me and dressed me in his clothing. He saw
me naked. Without my consent.
I should be throwing shit, not pouring him another drink.
I turn around, clutching a glass in each hand, intent on confronting him
about last night. It can’t happen again, and I need to make that abundantly
clear.
But he’s closer than I expected, and as soon as I turn, I run straight into
his hard body. I take a step back, desperate to put some distance between us,
but the counter presses into the base of my spine, trapping me between the
marble and Doc.
I crane my neck to look up at him, but nothing could prepare me for the
look in his eyes. The darkness is molten, and instead of an endless abyss,
for the first time, I see the man beneath the persona he’s built for himself.
 He reaches between us, plucking the glasses from my hands and
returning them to the bench, but he never allows any space to come
between us.
“Doc,” I warn, but neither of us miss the hitch in my voice.
His huge hands settle on my hips as he presses closer until I can feel
every hard inch of him. And I mean every inch. I may not have a lot of
experience with the lower region of the male anatomy, but I know this thing
could break me in half before I could take a single breath.
Stop thinking about fucking him, you hussy, I reprimand myself, but it
doesn’t work. Not when the intoxicating scent of leather washes over me
and his warmth sets my body alight.
Before I can get out another word, his lips come down on mine and
there’s none of the composure he showed at the wedding.
This kiss is feral. His lips move against mine with a ferocity I’ve never
felt, his teeth nip at the tender pillows, and his tongue demands entry until
I’m forced to relent.
But instead of pushing him away, which I know I should, my hands fist
the front of his t-shirt and pull him closer, desperate for more.
I lose all sense of time as he takes what he wants from my mouth,
grinding his hardness against my lower belly.
Every low groan from his throat spurs me on. Every swipe of his tongue
has me melting further into him. And every bite makes me pull him closer.
I’ve kissed plenty of guys. Some would say too many. But I’ve never
been kissed like this. I’ve never been kissed like my lips are the difference
between life and death for the other person, and I’m drunk on the feeling.
Doc’s hands lift from my hips, and he pushes my jacket off before he
immediately reaches for the hem of my shirt, pulling me out of my daze.
I press my hands into his chest and tear my lips from his, greedily
sucking in air. “We can’t do this,” I whisper into the space between us, not
trusting my words to come out even.
“Why not? We’re two consenting adults.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he’s too close. I can’t think when he’s
touching me like this, when I can still taste him on my lips and feel the
ghost of his fingers digging into my hips.
I duck out from between him and the counter before even trying to
formulate a response. “Because there’s already a massive imbalance in this
relationship. I’m a burden to you. You’ve been forced to marry me, and
forced to have me in your home. Do you think sex is going to make that any
less complicated?” I ask. “And that’s not even mentioning the fact you’ve
consistently avoided me since I got here. If I’m awake, you’re not here. You
can think all you want about me, but I’m not about to become a convenient
fuck for a man who can’t stand my existence.”
His face twists, and immediately I regret every single word that just left
my mouth. Did I interpret it wrong? Has he been sending me signs that he,
in fact, does not hate having me here?
Without a word, he turns on his heel, only stopping for long enough to
pick up his leather jacket from the back of one of the dining chairs and to
shove his wallet, keys, and phone into his pocket before he’s out the door,
leaving me with the taste of him on my lips and an aching heart.
If there was ever a chance for us to have any kind of relationship, I’ve
just burned it to the ground.
On autopilot, I move toward the bedroom, stripping off my clothes and
throwing them into the hamper before continuing into the bathroom.
I run the bath, tipping some bath salts into the too-hot water before
perching on the edge as I watch it fill. I reach for my phone, checking to see
if Bree has replied to the three messages I’ve sent her since I got here, but
she hasn’t.
Just like I always do, I’ve fucked everything up, and I have no idea if
there’s any coming back from it or if Doc and I are destined to live in a
marriage where we can’t even look at one another, much less feel anything
more.

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 CHAPTER NINETEEN

DOC

I
t’s not until I get to the car that I realize I don’t have any place to go.
But all I know is that I can’t be in that apartment right now. I can’t
be anywhere near Isla.
Every bone in my body knew that was a stupid fucking idea, but I did it
anyway. I kissed her. No, that’s not a strong enough word to describe what
happened in the kitchen.
I fucking devoured her.
The taste of her was intoxicating. The sweetness, the sin, the little
moans that I couldn’t get enough of. It spurred me on, and I was powerless
as my body took the helm, leaving my mind in the back seat.
My aching cock is still hard in my jeans, a constant reminder of the
mistake I almost made. Fuck. He seems to have missed the memo that
we’re not ever getting into that hot little body. And it’s for the best.
It’s an added complication I certainly don’t need.
There’s a good fucking reason I’ve been single all these years. I have no
interest in clingy women. One taste of cock and they think you’re in a
relationship. They see flowers and kids and wedding bells—all shit I have
no interest in giving a woman.
Well, I guess I have given Isla one of those three things, but it wasn’t
exactly a choice for either of us. It was a necessity.
There might come a time when Spade loses interest in this little
vendetta of his, and Isla can go back to living her life, and I can go back to
mine.
But in the meantime, there’s no way we can cross the line we almost
just crossed. Not without making everything worse in the long run.
Despite what my dick thinks, a few hours of pleasure are not enough to
make up for potentially years of awkward misery.
I pull away from the curb, intent on putting as much distance between
me and Isla as I can manage, and for the first time in years, I just drive.
I used to do this shit all the time when I had my Harley, but when living
in the heart of a city like Chicago, there’s little use for a car and a bike, and
I rarely have the time for this kind of thing. I’m always working. Always
doing something, anything, to distract myself.
I drive and I drive until the city fades into the background and the long
winding roads become less and less populated, and then I keep driving.
But it doesn’t seem to matter how much distance I put between us, Isla’s
all I can think about.

B
y the time I begrudgingly make it back to the apartment, it’s well past
midnight, and I’m sure Isla will be long asleep. But I still check the
cameras to make sure.
She’s asleep on the goddamn couch again, and for some reason that has
anger beating through my veins in a way that seems reserved for only my
little spitfire.
I slam the car door, hoping it will make me feel better, but instead it
only seems to spur on my foul mood. All night I waited for a call. A gunshot
wound. A stabbing. Some poor sucker who got jumped for whatever drugs
he had on him. But nothing came. Radio fucking silence.
I can’t even remember the last time that happened. There’s always
someone who needs stitches in an organization the size of Frost Industries,
but nope, not tonight.
You know what? I probably would have jumped if one of the Saint
James men called with stupid questions about newborn noises and food
cravings during pregnancy.
Anything to keep me out of the house and away from the woman that
has quickly become the bane of my very existence.
I stomp up the steps, my boots loud enough on the hardwood that I’m
sure every motherfucker in this building can hear me. But I don’t care. I
honestly couldn’t give a single shit about any asshole who lives here, and
they’re far too afraid of me to confront me about the amount of noise I
make.
I shove the key into the lock, push the door open, and once again I’m
met with the quiet hum of the television.
Isla can claim she’s fallen asleep watching TV again until the cows
come home, but I wouldn’t believe a single word of it. She’s sleeping out
here on purpose, and I’m not fucking having it. She’ll sleep in our bed
where she belongs.
The sudden possessive need to have her beside me should make me
pause in my tracks. But it doesn’t.
I stride to the couch, flip the television off, and carefully lift Isla from
the couch and into my arms. Just like last night, I’m struck by just how right
she feels against my chest, but I don’t pause. Her guard is likely higher than
it was last night, and if she wakes while I’m carrying her from what she
probably deems as her safe place, she’s going to kick and scream like a wild
kitten, and I’m in no mood to deal with that right now.
I lay her on her side of the bed. The only light in the room is the
moonlight through the window, and it illuminates her soft skin, making it
look like she’s glowing.
The only comfort I find tonight is that she’s slipped into the same shirt I
dressed her in last night, as if she knew if she dared to wear anything else
she would wake up in it anyway, and a smug smile tips up the corners of my
lips at that thought.
I strip out of my own clothes, leaving them in a pile at the end of the
bed before crawling in beside her.
But tonight, I don’t hesitate to drag her across the bed and hold her
against me, her soft breaths whispering across my skin.
Not for the first time, I realize how truly fucked I am.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY

ISLA

E
very night I go to sleep on the couch, and every morning I wake up in
Doc’s bed.
Alone.
Predictably, he’s avoiding me, and if it weren’t for the fact that I wake
up in a different place from where I fall asleep and the scent of him on the
sheets, I would think he hasn’t been at home overnight.
When I wake up, he’s already gone, like a ghost in the night, and it’s
really starting to get on my nerves.
He’s a forty-year-old adult, surely he can be better than this.
But then I remember who I’m talking about and the reason my aunt is
dead. He chose serving his country, a truly honorable thing to do, over his
wife constantly. Even when the SEALs didn’t need him, he volunteered to
go, forcing Aunt Clarissa into the arms of a man who turned out to be her
demise.
Even when he was home, he avoided spending time with her, always
choosing to do anything else but be with his wife.
I really never should have expected anything less.
My phone vibrates across the couch cushion, and I reach for it, hope
blooming in my belly that it might be someone, anyone, from Boston. But
I’m equally as disappointed as I am excited to see it’s Bella who has
messaged me.
Bella: Me, you, tonight, shots, dancing?
 I nibble on my bottom lip, tapping the screen with my thumbnail as I
think about my options.
Doc will be pissed if he gets back here and I’m gone. He explicitly said
no partying. But honestly, I don’t really care.
He’s the one acting like an overgrown child, so why the hell should I
follow his rules?
Isla: Hell yes! Where am I meeting you?

We make a plan to meet at a local club that she knows, and I jump
straight to getting ready. I don’t need two hours to get done up for a night
out, but after the week I’ve had, I’m going to take every second of self-care
I can get.
Trying to catch up on school has been a fucking nightmare. I’m just
enough behind that all the first assessments are due, but I have no idea what
I’m doing because I didn’t learn the material. It’s proving to be even worse
than I expected, and honestly, I set the bar pretty fucking low to begin with.
Add Doc’s disappearing acts to the party, and I’m ready for a night of
tequila and dancing. Plus if I’m home early enough, I might just miss the
grumpy asshole altogether and already be fast asleep by the time he gets
home.
It’s unlikely given my track record, but miracles happen every day.
Two hours and a cab ride later, and I’m standing in line waiting for
Bella. It feels good to be back in my party clothes, even if I did go a little
darker than I used to, assuming my new friend would as well.
I’m wearing a short leather skirt that barely covers my ass, with a risqué
lace bralette and a mesh crop over the top, paired with the knee-high leather
boots I bought myself for Christmas last year. My dark hair is secured in a
messy ponytail, with tendrils falling around my face. I kept my makeup
dark to match the vibe and topped off the look with blood-red lipstick.
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever looked better.
A cab pulls up in front of me and out climbs Bella with a megawatt
smile tugging at her lips. “Holy shit, you’re hot as hell.” She throws her
arms around me. “If I was into women, you’d be in all kinds of trouble right
now.”
I throw back my head and let out the first real laugh in what feels like
forever. Everything has felt so huge and so life-altering that I haven’t really
allowed myself any time to let loose.
 But that changes tonight.
“I don’t know, babe.” I flip her red and black checkered skirt up slightly,
uncovering more of the ripped stockings that disappear into platform boots.
“I think I’d be the one chasing you.”
She laughs and hooks her arm into mine, dragging me straight up to the
doorman who waves us both through. “Let’s get fucked up.”

H ours pass in a blur of shots and dancing, and little by little, some of
the weight of the last week starts to melt away.
It’s fucking wild that this all started a little over a week ago. That
a night out just like this one was the catalyst for my whole goddamn life-
changing.
I quickly shove that thought down with another shot and watch as Bella
shrugs off another loser’s advances. They’ve been all over the both of us
tonight. Frat boys who don’t know the meaning of the word no. Older men
who are out looking to upgrade to a newer model. Bored businessmen after
a day of work.
But it doesn’t feel right to be touching other men when there’s only one
on my mind.
One stupid, pigheaded asshole who I wish I could stop thinking about,
but not even tequila is helping to get him off my mind.
The club is packed, and everyone is feeling the music tonight. It’s a
blend of rock and metal, with some added house music to keep everyone
happy, and it’s honestly a vibe.
I reach for another shot, intent on heading back to the dance floor when
I feel hands on my hips. It’s not the first time a guy has done this tonight,
but there’s something different about the way he holds onto me, and it
makes my skin crawl.
I throw back my shot and look over my shoulder, only to come face-to-
face with one of the frat boy assholes we turned down hours ago. Does this
motherfucker not take no for an answer?
“Can I help you?” I snap, shoving at his hands, but he’s not taking the
hint.
“Come on, baby, dance with me.” The stench of liquor on his breath is
overwhelming, and I look around for Bella as backup. Where the hell is
she?
I pry myself out of his grip and round on him. “I told you no. Did your
parents never teach you the meaning of the word?”
His beady eyes darken, and I fight not to take a step back. I’m not
backing down to this asshat. He’s just another man who thinks because he
has an extra appendage that swings between his legs that he’s a fucking gift
to all women. Boy, oh boy, do I have news for him. “What’s your
problem?” He steps forward into my space, and for the first time, a flare of
panic grips me.
I’ve always had someone who had my back when I was out. Bryant and
his brothers never would have let a guy get in my face like this, and it’s
sobering knowing there’s no one coming to my rescue.
“My problem is men that think they can touch anyone they want. Well,
newsflash, asshole, I’m not your property. I will never be your property, and
I suggest you get the hell away from me, because I am in no mood to deal
with someone with the same number of brain cells as a fucking almond.”
He looks surprised by my outburst, and honestly, so am I. I’ve never
spoken to anyone like that in my life, but this guy needs to know women
don’t owe him anything, and when we say no, we mean no.
What I don’t see coming is him shoving me so hard that I don’t have the
chance to catch myself before I hit the ground, unceremoniously hitting my
head against the hard concrete floor.
Pain radiates through my skull and suddenly the music I’ve been
thriving off all night is too loud. The voices and bodies all blur together, and
no matter how hard I try, I can’t force my eyes to stay open.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

DOC

I
t’s been a long fucking day.
The longest I can remember since the Saint James and Russo
families called time-out on their decades-long turf war and joined
forces.
Every motherfucker that works for the families seemed to have some
kind of injury for me to patch up, and then on top of that, Tommy and then
Emerson called to ask me to take a look at a girl the family had saved at the
same time they brought Clara back from Florida.
The poor girl had been in the skin trade for so long that her body was
covered in the evidence of it, and no matter how many years I do this shit, it
never gets easier.
I’m tired.
Really fucking tired.
And so I don’t avoid the apartment until I’m sure Isla is asleep, I just
come home hoping she’ll ignore me like I’m planning to ignore her. At least
until she’s asleep and I can settle her in my arms.
Current tiredness aside, I’ve slept better in the last week than I have
since before I enlisted, and as much as I try not to read too much into that,
it’s the little spitfire in my bed that I can thank.
Not that we’re talking. No, we haven’t spoken a single word to one
another since our kiss, and I can’t see that changing anytime soon.
 It’s a little before midnight, and I’m ready for a stiff drink and bed as I
make my way up the steps. For the first time this week, I don’t hesitate
before pushing the front door open, but I’m not met with the usual sound of
the television.
Maybe she’s finally realized I’m not going to let her sleep on the damn
couch and has saved me from having to carry her in there.
I dump my wallet and keys on the kitchen bench and move toward the
bedroom, knowing I’ll feel more settled once I’ve seen she’s where she’s
meant to be.
But when I push the slightly ajar door open, the bed is perfectly made,
as it is every day when I get home.
Where the hell is she?
A sliver of panic tugs at my chest. What if something happened to her?
I’ve had time most days this week to check in on her with the cameras, but
not today.
I suck in a deep breath and dig my phone from my pocket, quickly
bringing up the feed for tonight.
I find her sitting on the couch, eating a slice of pizza with a textbook
open in her lap at five. And then she’s smiling at her phone at six. Who the
fuck is she texting?
Focus, you can check on that once you’ve found her.
Because I would be checking. I blocked Bryant’s number the first day
she was here, meaning any messages he sends never find their way to her.
Was it a dick move? Yep. Would I do the same for any man who shows an
interest in my wife? Absolutely.
She gets up off the couch and moves into the bedroom. I switch feeds
and find her rummaging through the wardrobe before she appears with
clothes.
“Where are you going, spitfire?” I ask no one in particular.
She has to know she’s going to be in a world of fucking trouble for
leaving this apartment without so much as a note, especially because I
forbid it on the first day.
All the ways I can punish her flit through my mind. Filthy images I have
no business thinking, but that won’t stop me. It’s not like I haven’t been
imagining every single way I could fuck Isla since we kissed. My cock is
perpetually hard, and that’s something I’m learning to live with.
 I don’t bother watching the rest of the feed before pulling up the tracker
I have on her phone. Surely she doesn’t think a man like me won’t keep
track of what belongs to him.
“Fuck,” I growl when I see the address.
She’s at a nightclub, with God knows who, doing God knows what.
My little spitfire is about to learn what happens when she disobeys me,
and she sure as hell isn’t going to like it.

T he drive to Ignite is short, but it feels like a goddamn eternity when I

have no idea if Isla is okay.
The possessive need to keep her safe has been raining down on me
since the moment I set eyes on her, but this is the first time since I shielded
her from Spade that it’s turned me feral.
I park across the street and stride toward the front doors where the
bouncer’s eyes widen at the sight of me. The faint sound of music bleeds
through the closed door. I was never much for clubbing, and I try my best to
avoid them where I can. Just another reason to punish Isla.
“Can I help you?” the taller of the two bouncers asks.
“I need to get my wife,” is all I can manage through gritted teeth.
“You’ll have to go to the back of the line like everyone else,” the other
one tells me. His beady eyes and oil-slicked hair make me want to plant my
fist right in his face. But I refrain.
“I work for Storm Saint James.”
They eye one another, silently deciding whether that’s enough to get me
through the door, but I’m already reaching for my phone, ready to dial in a
favor. I’m pretty sure this is one of the Frost-owned clubs, and I could have
these assholes out on their ass with just a word.
But then they nod me through and I shove into the club without missing
a beat. I want to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible so I can end
the never-ending day.
The throes of people part as I pass them, and my height gives me the
ability to look over most of their heads. Being six foot seven is a pain in the
ass when it comes to some doorways and commercial flights, but it comes
in real fucking handy in times like this.
There must be thousands of people in here tonight, and even if I wanted
to, I couldn’t ask anyone if they’d seen her because it’s too fucking loud on
the dance floor.
 For the first time since she walked down the aisle, I wish I’d taken more
time to get to know Isla so I could try to piece together where she would
hang out.
Once I reach the edge of the dance floor, I pull up the tracker again and
make sure she’s still in the building before moving toward some high tables.
She couldn’t just make this easy on me, could she?
There’s commotion at the edge of the area, and I move toward it out of
instinct. There’s a reason I did so many tours after all.
I manage to shove through enough people that I see the exact moment
Isla, in an outfit that would have any man on his fucking knees, round on an
asshole who seems to have had his hands on her.
She snaps something at him, and the anger on his face is palpable. I
wish I could hear their exchange, because from the way his face contorts in
anger, it would have been amusing if he didn’t do what he does next.
He catches Isla off guard and shoves her backward.
She doesn’t have a chance to catch herself, and I’m too far away from
her, so I’m forced to watch as she falls and her head cracks against the hard
concrete floor.
With little regard for the people around me, I shove through those who
have gathered to watch the scene play out, each of them with varying
degrees of disgust on their faces.
I drop to my knees beside her at the same time a short girl with a pixie
cut does, panic flaring in her gaze as we both watch Isla’s eyes drift closed.
I drag her into my lap, careful to keep her neck and spine still in case
she’s done real damage.
“Hey, don’t touch her,” the girl snaps.
“She’s my wife,” I growl, brushing the stray hair from her cheeks.
Panic washes over me in unfamiliar waves, because I’ve never felt like
this before. I’m a fucking doctor. I’m the one everyone goes to when
something goes wrong. But right now, I can’t think through the blinding
panic to assess how to move forward.
The girl glances at me in surprise. Isla must not have told her about me,
which isn’t entirely surprising seeing as I haven’t told many people of her
existence.
And yet the thought of no one knowing she’s my wife has a possessive
rage setting up shop beside the panic.
I glance down at her left hand and notice her wedding ring is missing.
Oh, little spitfire, you really are playing with fire.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ISLA

T
he loud bass of the club fades away as my body seemingly floats
through the air.
I was vaguely aware of people yelling over the music before I was
lifted from the cold, sticky floor, but I’m too out of it to make any sense of
it.
Every now and then, I try to force my eyes open and try to understand
where I am and what’s happening, but I’m too dazed, and eventually I stop
trying and just allow my body to be at the mercy of whoever carried me
from the club.
Honestly, it’s probably not the best decision I’ve made recently, but I
don’t have much choice right now other than to go with it, and if it’s
someone intent on harvesting my organs or something equally as gruesome,
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
“I’m Bella, by the way. I go to school with Isla.” The familiar voice
brings me some semblance of peace, but I’m reserving judgment.
A familiar grunt comes in response, and it’s almost enough to drag me
from my confused state.
Almost.
“I’m sorry I was so confused when you said you were her husband.
We’ve only known one another for a week, so I was surprised and I can’t
say I’ve noticed a ring on her finger.” She pauses. “I mean, I’m pretty
unobservant to be fair, so it’s probably my bad.”
 She’s nervous, and I’m not exactly surprised.
Doc is scary as hell. Even getting to know him better and seeing a little
of the lighter side of him, I’d be lying if I said he didn’t still intimidate me.
Another grunt.
He’s mad, which is hardly surprising seeing as not only am I hurt, but I
was hurt on a night out that I not only wasn’t supposed to be on but also
failed to inform him of.
Which begs the question, how the hell did he find me?
I’m gently lowered onto soft leather, and a belt is wrapped around my
waist.
“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I would be a shitty friend if I
didn’t ask. Can you show me some kind of proof you’re married? I’d never
be able to live with myself if I let you take her and then she turns up in a
ditch somewhere.”
A gruff laugh follows, and if I were able, it would bring a smile to my
lips.
Doc’s laughs are few and far between, but there’s something about them
that makes me smile, and I’m a little disappointed I missed this one because
I have no idea when I’ll get to hear it again.
There’s silence for a few seconds before he says, “You’re a good friend,
Bella.”
“Wow, you both look incredible!” Bella whistles. “Can you get her to
text me when she’s awake and let me know how she is? I feel terrible that
she’s been hurt on our first night out.”
“Will do.” The door shuts and cuts me off from their conversation.
Silence surrounds me and my mind drags me under again, forcing me
back into a dreamless sleep I couldn’t fight even if I wanted to.

S ometime later, I’m suddenly aware of the feeling of floating again, and
the loud, rhythmic banging that makes my head want to explode.
God, what the hell is that?
Doc curses as he rearranges me in his arms, and the sound of a key in a
lock tips me off to where I am.
We’re home.
The thought startles me as I realize it’s the first time I’ve come to think
of the apartment as home, and I find that I don’t hate the idea. I don’t hate it
in Chicago nearly as much as I thought I was going to. I’ve made a friend,
I’m fumbling my way through school, and Doc and I have found some kind
of weird normal.
Admittedly, that normal is completely ignoring one another, but hey, it’s
better than sniping at each other all day every day. It could be worse.
I expect to be placed on the bed, or even in the living room, but the last
thing I expect is to hear running water.
Is that the bath?
I’m carefully lowered toward the ground, but I never leave Doc’s arms,
and I’m not too proud to admit I kinda like it here. It’s warm, and it smells
good, and even if the man is prickly and sometimes mean, I know I’m safe
here.
After all, everything Doc has done is to keep me safe, including
marrying a perfect stranger half his age.
“I need you to open your eyes for me, spitfire.” His hoarse voice breaks
the silence, and I long to do as he’s asked. I’ve already disappointed him
tonight, the last thing I want to do is do it again.
But my lids are too heavy, the haze at the front of my mind too thick.
A warm palm settles against my cheek, and I lean into it. Or at least I
think I do. The line between reality and unconsciousness is a little blurry
right now.
“Isla, open those pretty eyes for me. I need to make sure you’re okay
before we get you cleaned up.”
I try to force myself past the groggy haze, allowing his warmth and the
security he offers to pull me through.
I’m thankful when I realize the light is off, with only the glow of the
bedroom lights filtering around us. My head is extra appreciative of that,
but my eyes are still so heavy and it’s a struggle to keep them open.
Doc seems to let out a breath of relief, but there’s a chance I imagined
it, so I decide not to fixate on it. “There she is.”
I groan and allow my eyes to drift shut again, unable to fight against the
heaviness.
“Isla,” he warns. “You can rest in a little while. Right now, I need to
check you for a concussion and then we’ll get you in the bath.”
That has my eyes opening of their own accord. Did he just say he’ll get
me in the bath? As in he’ll be in here with me? While I bathe?
My bleary eyes settle on his self-satisfied smirk, and I’m struck by how
handsome he looks right now. He’s a little rumpled, and there’s a look in his
eye as he stares down at me.
“I’m going to need to shine a bright light in your eyes, and I need you to
keep them open for me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head slowly.
“I’m sorry, Isla. But this is not up for negotiation, so you’d be wasting
your breath.” He produces a long pen-looking thing from God knows
where, and as warned, he proceeds to check me for a concussion.
“You’re all clear, spitfire.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Can you stand?”
I nod, and he helps me to my unsteady feet. Hopefully he’ll catch me if
they fail.
Wasting no time, he reaches for the mesh shirt I’m wearing and quickly
whips it over my head before doing the same to the bralette.
My reaction time is so slow that it takes a few seconds to realize I’m
standing in front of him, shirtless, and he’s making no secret of how much
he likes the sight.
I bring my arms up to cover my breasts, suddenly self-conscious of
them. No one has ever seen me naked before, and although I’m keenly
aware of the fact he stripped me in my sleep, I wasn’t awake in order to be
self-conscious then. I am now.
He shakes his head as he reaches for the zip of my skirt and lowers it in
one quick movement, leaving me in nothing but a skimpy G-string and my
knee-high boots.
His hungry gaze moves over every inch of exposed skin, leaving a
warm blush in its wake.
“Doc,” I say softly, and I’m not sure if I’m begging him to stop or
asking him to keep going. My mind is a constant contradiction when it
comes to this man, so that really shouldn’t come as a surprise to me.
“You can keep your mouth closed, Isla. You’re in so much fucking
trouble right now. Do you know how fucking terrified I was when I came
home and realized you weren’t here?” His voice remains low, but the anger
it’s laced with leaves no room for interpretation, telling me exactly how
mad he really is. “I explicitly told you that you were not to go partying. Do
you think that was because I like the sound of my own voice?”
“I’m sorry,” I say weakly, but it’s not enough.
 “I don’t want to hear it right now. You’re going to shut up, let me take
care of you, let me remind myself over and over that you’re alive and that
you weren’t taken from me tonight, and then we’ll talk.”
I swallow heavily but choose to keep my mouth shut. Probably the
smartest move I’ve made all day.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DOC

I
’m fucking seething.
I can’t believe she was so fucking stupid.
Doesn’t she realize Spade has men all over the country? Doesn’t she
know that the rules I set for her were for her own good, not because I was
on a power trip?
I mean, there was an element of that, but for the most part, it’s always
been about her safety and for her to go ahead and defy every single rule I’ve
set for her…
I can’t even bring myself to think of all the ways tonight could have
ended.
What if I wasn’t there?
What if I hadn’t installed a tracker on her phone so I would always be
able to find her?
What if Bella was left to deal with it all on her own, with no idea I even
fucking existed?
And don’t get me started on that.
Isla complies without a word as I sit her on the basin and peel the sexy-
as-sin boots from her shapely legs. Each second I’m touching her is a new
kind of torture, and yet I find I don’t want to stop. If anything, the more my
hands are on her, the less I want to remove them.
She’s impossibly soft where I’m hard, and that only seems to make me
want her more. If that were even possible.
 Once the boots have been discarded with the rest of her clothes, I help
her back to her feet and carefully push her panties down, uncovering the
paradise I know rests between her legs.
Fuck, is she beautiful.
Even as she tries to cover herself. Even as she tries to hide from me, I
see her. I see all of her, and I’m obsessed. I knew I would be. The peeks
I’ve allowed myself. The night I changed her into one of my shirts. This is
just the final straw.
Forcing myself to keep moving rather than staring at her in all her glory,
I guide her to the bathtub and hold her as she steps in before lowering
herself into the warm water.
I’ve never been the kind of guy who likes to take care of people. In fact,
I find it annoying. Ironic considering my profession, but at least as a doctor,
everything is purely clinical and I walk away at the end.
This is different.
Everything with Isla is different.
The indifference I’ve walked through life with is void, and in its place is
a burning need to protect her, to take care of her, to give her everything she
could possibly want, and it’s foreign as hell.
She lets out a quiet moan as the water moves around her, and my cock
reacts immediately. Jesus, she needs to not make noises like that because
my control is already holding on by a thread.
I reach into the shower briefly to retrieve her shampoo, conditioner, and
body wash before setting them on the edge of the bathtub.
Isla watches me with trepidation, but she doesn’t say a word. She can
obviously tell I’m holding on by the slightest of threads, and one word out
of her pretty mouth might make me snap.
I lean over the edge of the bath and part her hair carefully, making sure
there are no cuts to contend with among the sticky shit from the floor of the
club.
“Lay back and wet your hair,” I command, leaving no room for
argument, and as such, she does exactly as she’s told.
Her body slides down and her eyes drift closed as she immerses her hair
in the water, giving me a chance to not so subtly enjoy her body.
Fuck. Her tight body is like a siren’s call, and no matter how much I
should stay away, I’m powerless to do so.
 I tried. I tried so fucking hard. But every night I come home and drag
her across the bed until she’s wrapped up in my arms and my mind is at
peace.
And at this point, I think it’s time I stopped trying.
Isla is my wife.
I’m not some pervert prowling on a random woman half his age.
If we’re going to be married, we’re going to be married in every sense
of the word.
I’m done fighting my need for this woman, and she’s going to have to
get with the fucking program.
Once her hair is sufficiently wet, she sits up and reaches for the
shampoo, but I beat her to it. I squeeze a generous portion into my huge
palm, and before she has a chance to argue, I start massaging her head.
The moan she lets out makes my cock stiffen in my jeans, but I ignore
it. It’s fucking painful as hell, but I’ll deal with it after I’ve taken care of
Isla. She’s my priority.
Her eyes drift closed as she allows herself to lean into my touch, and
there’s something potent about her trust.
Once I’m satisfied her hair is clean, I lean her back into the water and
help her rinse the suds out before repeating the process with conditioner.
By the time I reach for the body wash and sponge, my little spitfire is
putty in my hands.
Her eyes flash with the slightest bit of hesitation when I squeeze way
more than necessary into the sponge, but she doesn’t say anything, she just
leans back against the porcelain and allows me free range of her body.
I start with her arms. A safe place. Somewhere that won’t see me fall
down the rabbit hole I’ll never be able to drag myself from. But soon
enough I’m moving to her chest, and the first brush of my knuckle over the
tight bud of her nipple is the final straw.
Every movement is gentle, but I make no secret of the small touches I
steal between passes. The way my fingers pinch one of her nipples as I
move down her body. How I move my other hand over the path the sponge
has taken.
And Isla doesn’t say a word. She just watches me, and occasionally her
bottom lip is dragged between her teeth as she fights her need to moan.
I bypass her cunt and move straight to her legs, knowing once I touch
that pretty pussy, all bets will be off, and I at least want to care for her
before I lose myself in paradise.
She complies as I bend one leg and move the sponge over it before
repeating the same motions on the other, but I don’t miss how her breath
catches in her throat the closer I get to her pussy, almost as if she can sense
what’s coming.
The first time the sponge brushes her cunt, her eyes press closed for just
a second while I fight the possessive growl that claws up my throat. I don’t
know where this monster came from because I’ve never been like this with
anyone else. But I have better things to do right now than analyze my own
mind.
When the second pass comes, Isla can’t swallow the moan, and her eyes
snap up to mine as an idea forms in my mind.
I’m sure I could yell and shout and demand she follow the rules from
here on out, but I have a better idea. One that crosses every single line I’ll
never be able to come back from, but that’s a tomorrow me’s problem.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ISLA

N
o man has ever touched me like this, and slowly but surely, I’m
losing my damn mind.
The way Doc carefully washed my hair is so at odds with the
brutal man I’ve come to know him to be, and I can’t reconcile the two
versions of him I’ve met.
It was only a matter of time before he reached my aching heat, but I
didn’t expect the sponge to be discarded after just two passes, the pretense
out the window as his calloused fingers move through my delicate folds.
Fuck. I’m trying so hard not to moan, not to beg him to play my body
like I know only he can, but when his fingers slowly move around my clit, I
almost fucking scream.
“You’re being such a good girl, Isla,” he croons, and my eyes dart up to
meet his. The darkness staring back at me should probably scare me, but
instead it makes me ache deeper for him.
His touch moves lower until his fingers rest at my entrance, and I hold
my breath. Doc has no way of knowing I’m the only person who has ever
touched myself like this. Despite the facade I show the world and the party
girl I’ve always been, I never wanted my first time to be with some asshole
after a night out. I didn’t want to fall victim to a two-pump chump taking
my virginity, and then have nothing to show for it at the end.
So, I decided to wait. And then I waited a little more. And now I’m here,
a twenty-year-old virgin playing with fire.
 Doc dips a single digit into my aching heat, and I bite down on my lip to
stop myself from screaming. Even a single finger feels huge when it’s a
man his size, and if this escalates any further, I’m afraid he’ll tear me
straight down the middle.
“So tight,” he murmurs, his eyes glued to where his hand is playing me
like his own personal instrument. “And so wet for me.”
A deep flush moves from my cheeks down my neck until my entire
chest is warm. I think that’s a good thing. I’ve read enough dirty books to
understand the mechanics of sex and what is meant to be good and bad, but
it is fiction so there’s a good chance some of it is exaggerated.
“Doc,” the plea tumbles from my lips. I don’t even know what I’m
asking for, but I hope he gives it to me because right now I think I might
cease existing without his touch.
“Shh, spitfire. I’ve got you.” His finger moves in and out of me,
sweeping over a place inside that I thought was a myth. His thumb moves
slowly, torturously so, around my clit and it takes everything in me not to
squirm, not to beg him for more.
His free hand reaches up and tweaks my nipple until it’s bordering on
pain, before repeating on the other. Each time I hiss out a breath, but I
desperately try to remain quiet in fear he’ll stop.
A second finger breaches my entrance and the burn takes my breath
away. Holy fuck, how is this only two of his fingers? How the hell am I
going to handle the monster in his pants that I’ve felt against my ass every
morning this week?
Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, Isla, I reprimand myself. This is
just a one-time thing. A moment of weakness on both our parts, and if I
were stronger, I would ask him to stop here and now.
But even as I think it, I know this is so much more than a moment of
weakness for both of us. This is the start. This is inevitable. And eventually,
it will be our downfall.
I reach for him, desperate for more contact, but he shakes his head
slowly. “Hands above your head.” The command in his voice leaves no
room for argument, but I’m tempted to argue anyway. I’m desperate to
know how far I can push him before he snaps.
But perhaps I’ll save that for another day when I haven’t already broken
his rules.
 I lift my arms, leaving my body open for him, and he makes no secret of
his hunger for me.
“How’s your head?”
“Sore,” I whisper, not trusting my voice not to give away how much
he’s affecting me.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I shake my head, because that’s the last thing I want. If I died right now
with his fingers inside me and his thumb circling my clit with just enough
pressure that stars dance in my vision, I’d die the happiest woman on earth.
The corners of his lips tip up with a satisfied smirk, but he turns his
attention back to slowly fucking me with his fingers.
God, if this is what it’s like with just his fingers, I can’t imagine what
his mouth and cock could do.
The telltale sign of an orgasm rushes toward me, and I can barely
breathe through the pleasure beating down on me.
I finally lock eyes with Doc, allowing myself to stare into the darkness
as I reach the peak, only for him to remove his fingers in a quick motion
that leaves me reeling.
The shadow of my orgasm washes over me, my pussy clenching around
nothing as my body goes through the motions, but I enjoy none of the usual
pleasure of a release. If anything, I’m more frustrated.
What the fuck?
I stare at him, my already muddled brain unable to reconcile what the
fuck is happening as my orgasm recedes just as quickly as it rushed toward
me.
“You broke the rules tonight, Isla. You put yourself in danger and you
didn’t even leave a fucking note. Until you can learn how to behave, you
won’t be allowed to come.” His voice is even, but it’s clear he’s barely
holding on to his own composure.
“That’s not fair,” I snap, and I don’t miss how much I sound like an
insolent child.
“Neither was being worried sick about my wife when she wasn’t home
when I got home,” he retorts, standing from where he was kneeling beside
the bath. He reaches for a towel and turns back to me. “Stand.”
I stare at him for a few more seconds, trying to gauge if he’s serious, but
it’s becoming abundantly clear that he is, and when it comes to Doc, I have
to pick my battles.
 Carefully, I push myself up until I’m standing naked in front of the most
infuriating man I’ve ever met in my life.
His eyes darken as he takes me in, and it takes all of my strength not to
cover myself. He deserves to suffer the same way I am, and if the barely
audible grunt and huge bulge at the front of his jeans are anything to go by,
all he’s managed to do is frustrate us both.
I take his hand when he offers it and step out of the tub, the cold air
rushing over my damp skin and causing my nipples to harden.
Doc makes no secret of staring before finally wrapping me up in the
towel he was holding. Despite the frustration and ache between my thighs,
I’m exhausted, and my head is pounding.
I move to step around him, but Doc lifts me into his arms without a
word.
There’s a part of me that has always felt adrift, like I didn’t belong
anywhere. But every time Doc wraps his arms around me, I feel like I’m
home. And that terrifies me. Because what happens when this is over? What
happens when Spade is no longer a threat and I’m safe to go back to my
life?
He sets me on the basin for long enough to dry my hair for me, taking
his time to brush out the knots, before carrying me into the bedroom, not
stopping until he reaches the side of the bed he’s put me in every night for
the last week. With me balanced in one arm, he uses the other to untuck the
sheets before placing me between them.
“I need something to sleep in,” I say quietly.
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no. You’ll be sleeping naked from now on.”
I open my mouth to respond, but what the hell am I supposed to say?
For the last week he’s ignored my existence except for when I’m asleep,
and now suddenly he’s dictating what I can and cannot wear?
“Arguing with me about this is pointless.”
“Arguing with you about most things is,” I correct him.
“And yet you do it anyway.”
I press my eyes closed, warning off the tears that gather in the corners.
Does he realize how unreasonable he’s being? “I’m sorry I went out when I
wasn’t supposed to,” I whisper. “I was lonely. I’ve been locked in this
apartment all week. You’re out until I go to sleep and gone before I wake
up, and you haven’t said a word to me. I just wanted a night where my life
didn’t feel like it was no longer my own.”

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

DOC

I
deal with vulnerable women fairly regularly, and even though their
trauma is always terrible, I have a level of separation from it.
That’s not the case with Isla.
Her pain is my pain.
Her sadness is my sadness.
And her tears are like a knife slicing through my cold, dead heart.
She tries to warn them off, but the mixture of exhaustion and pain are
winning out, and she’s powerless to stop them from falling against her soft
cheeks.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to change my mind about any of it. She
needs to learn there are consequences for her actions, and I’m at the end of
my tether.
If that means I get the added benefit of her sleeping naked in my arms
every night, that’s a perk I’m going to enjoy.
“We’ll talk more in the morning.” I lift the covers over her body and
fight the urge to drag them right off again.
Having Isla’s tight little body on display is its own kind of torture, and I
doubt my cock will be anything but hard now that I know what she’s got
under her clothes.
“Doc,” she whispers, and the pain in her voice makes me pause. “Thank
you for tonight.”
 I stare at her for a few moments before reaching over to brush the tears
from her cheeks. “I’m going to get you something for your head, and then
we’ll go to sleep.”
Isla nods and allows her eyes to drift closed.
I move through the apartment to where I dumped my medical bag by the
front door when I came home tonight. The old bag has seen better days, but
I can’t bring myself to part with it. Not when it was the only thing I kept
that Clarissa gave me.
Rummaging through the meds I keep in the side pocket, I grab a packet
of painkillers and move into the kitchen for a bottle of water.
By the time I make it back to the bedroom, Isla has rolled onto her side,
and a gentle snore fills the room that I can’t help but smile at. She might
kick and scream and fight like a pissed-off kitten when she’s awake, but I
know the second I slip between the sheets beside her, she’ll curl into me
like I’m her safe place.
And those are my favorite moments of the day.
Because little by little, she’s becoming that place to me. It’s irrelevant
that we haven’t spoken in a week. It doesn’t seem to matter that this entire
marriage is a sham. Nothing matters when she’s wrapped up in my arms
and everything clicks into place.
I perch on the edge of the bed and brush my fingers through her hair.
Although I’ve held her every night she’s been here, I haven’t given myself
time to really touch her. To feel her softness beneath my fingers, to
appreciate every freckle on her cheeks, but that’s about to change.
Everything is about to change.
“Isla,” I say quietly so I don’t startle her.
She rolls slightly, her half-lidded eyes meeting mine and a sleepy smile
tugs at the corners of her lips. Fuck. That smile. She could be throwing the
biggest tantrum right now, but instead she’s put herself in my hands,
trusting me to take care of her.
And it’s now that I realize I always will.
There’s nothing I won’t do to keep my spitfire safe. Even if she hates
me for it.
“Take these and you can go back to sleep.”
I help her take a sip of water before pressing the pills against her lips,
my eyes glued to her delicate neck when she swallows them. I barely
swallow down the groan when the image of my cock lodged down her
throat and my hand wrapped around her neck as I fuck her face relentlessly
overcomes me.
Jesus. I need a cold shower.
“Thanks.”
I nod and set the water on the nightstand, making my way toward the
bathroom.
“You’re not coming to bed?” Isla asks, the hint of vulnerability causing
me to stop in my tracks.
Every night I’ve brought her to bed, thinking I was doing it against her
will, but I did it anyway because I needed it. But does she need the
closeness the same way I do?
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her.
And I am. Instead of stroking my cock like it aches for, I step into the
spray of hot water, wash off the blood and whatever else from the day,
before I dry off and move back into the bedroom.
My little spitfire is fast asleep when I pull her into me, and it takes
everything in me to ignore the fact we’re both naked and I could be inside
her in a second if I wanted to be.
I drift off with the knowledge that the woman in my arms has the power
to destroy me and the realization that I don’t give a fuck.

T he sun peeks through the partially open curtains, illuminating the

sleeping angel against me. Her hair fans across the pillow, her skin
glows in the sliver of light that hits it, and a small smile tips up the
corners of her lips. The covers are long forgotten, leaving her completely at
my mercy.
Her body is nestled against mine, and when I finally drag my eyes off
her for long enough to check the time, I realize I slept later than I have in
years.
I tuck her in tighter against me, allowing myself to explore her softness
while she sleeps. My calloused fingers move over her curves, relishing in
the softness.
I brush my fingers over her peaked nipples and bite the inside of my
cheek to stop myself from moaning when they pebble beneath my touch.
Jesus.
I feel like a teenager again. Like I’m touching a naked woman for the
first time all over again. And it’s kind of like I am. Every woman I’ve
fucked over the last decade has been just like that—a fuck. I rarely touched
them for more than a few minutes to make sure they were wet enough for
me. It’s been a long time since I’ve taken the time to explore a woman, and
I’m going to have fun getting to know every inch of Isla’s body intimately.
I trail my hand down toward the apex of her thighs, gently parting them
so I can reach her perfect pussy.
This time there’s no stifling the groan as my fingers move through her
wetness. Even in her sleep she’s ready for me, and it takes every bit of
willpower not to sink my cock into her right here and now.
But I want her to remember our first time.
I want her to know exactly what made her ache.
Touching her like this when she sleeps is risky when there’s so much to
sort out between us, but having her naked and at my disposal is too much of
a temptation for me to fight.
With my free hand, I squeeze my aching cock and grunt at the pressure.
I was hard all fucking night. How could I not be when she was pressed up
against me like I was her own personal electric blanket?
I run my hand up and down, desperate for even a little bit of relief when
an idea enters my mind. A bad idea, but one I couldn’t stop myself from
executing even if I wanted to.
I readjust us slightly until I can move the tip of my cock through her
folds, and fuck if it’s not every single Christmas coming at once. She’s
excruciatingly soft, and I barely stop myself from sinking into her heat.
Consequences be damned.
But I refrain. Barely.
I move my hand up and down my length, not bothering to swallow my
grunts while keeping the tip against her center. This is the most perfect form
of torture.
My orgasm rushes toward me. The urge to slip the tip into her and cum
inside her in the hope my seed will take root is almost too tempting, but I
manage to shove down the possessive need to mark her in every way a man
can.
I’ve never even fucked a woman without a condom, my wife included,
but Isla is different. When I sink into her pretty pussy for the first time,
there won’t be a barrier. I refuse to have anything between us, and she’s just
going to have to get with the program.
 The tingling at the base of my spine tells me I’m at the point of no
return, and I bite down on the pillow to soften the roar as pleasure rockets
through my body and my release coats her pussy, her thighs, and her
stomach.
I’m a forty-year-old man. I’ve had a lot of orgasms. But never have I
had a release that felt like it was tearing me apart while simultaneously
putting me back together.
When I finally come back to myself, my orgasm beginning to settle,
amber eyes are staring back at me with a mix of horror and arousal.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ISLA

I
t takes me a few moments to figure out what drags me from my peaceful
slumber.
There’s a sliver of sun coming through the window, but I don’t think
it’s that.
There’s the stifling body heat emitted from the giant next to me, but I’m
not sure it’s that either.
And then I hear it.
Doc lets out an almighty roar, the sound so primal that I didn’t even
know a human could make a noise like that, followed immediately by
something warm and sticky hitting my stomach, thighs, and pussy.
Did he just…
The darkness of his eyes meets mine, and a smirk tugs at the corners of
his lips, completely unaffected by being caught, and I don’t know how to
react. Part of me is beyond angry, because he keeps stealing my choices out
from under me. What I’m allowed to wear. Whether I wear anything at all.
And now using my body while I’m asleep. But another part, a darker part
I’ve never had the chance to explore, is anything but mad.
I have such little experience with men that I have no idea what the fuck
I’m meant to do when it comes to things like that. Not that I think it’s
particularly normal to wake up to your husband coming all over you.
I open my mouth to say something but quickly snap it shut again,
because what the fuck am I meant to say? Should I be mad? Flattered?
Aroused? I have no clue how the hell to tackle this, and apparently that’s to
be stunned silent.
Good work, Isla, I internally reprimand myself. If I didn’t already know
I was out of my depth with Doc, I sure as hell know it now. The man is an
enigma, a complete mystery that I doubt I’m ever going to understand. And
that scares me.
“Cat got your tongue, spitfire?” He smirks.
I let out a steadying breath, forcing myself to remain calm instead of
freaking out like my mind is. “Do you realize how fucked up this is?”
He chuckles, running a finger through the mess he’s made of my body. I
can’t tear my eyes off his movements as he brings those same fingers to my
lips, wiping his release on the soft pillows. “I’m well aware, Isla. You make
me fucking crazy.”
Out of instinct, I run my tongue over my lips, lapping up the saltiness he
left behind, and I don’t miss the way his eyes darken at the movement.
“I need to get cleaned up,” I say quietly, acutely aware of the blush that
makes its way across my cheeks at the words.
Before I can roll toward the edge of the bed, Doc moves like lightning,
using his huge body to pin me to the bed. “No.”
My brows lift in surprise and I stare at him for few moments, trying to
work out what the hell has gotten into him. Is this the same man who
couldn’t even be in the same room as me during waking hours for the last
week?
I blow out a frustrated breath because I’m not exactly a morning person,
my head is still pounding like a motherfucker, and frankly I think I have a
bit of whiplash from Doc’s personalities. “I’m covered in your cum, Doc. I
need a shower.”
“That was by design.”
“You can’t pin me to the bed all day. I’m sure you have work or
something to do today, and I’m not planning on spending the day in bed.”
“I can always handcuff you to the bed,” he muses. “At least then I’d
know where you are at all times.”
Guilt hits me harder than it did last night. The alcohol and confusion
and what I think was a ruined orgasm stole a lot of it from me, but now that
I’ve had some sleep, the full force of it rains down on me. “I’m sorry I
didn’t leave a note. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
 His eyes flash with something I can’t read and he shifts his weight so
he’s propped up on one elbow, and the fingers of his other hand grip my
chin so I’m forced to look him in the eye. “That will never happen again,
Isla, because if it does, I will make good on handcuffing you to this bed and
throwing away the key.”
I nod quickly, knowing better than to argue with him right now. I know
how to pick my battles, and this is not one I’m going to win.
His eyes soften. “How’s your head?”
“Sore.”
He reaches to the bedside table and comes back with a packet of pills
and a bottle of water. Without allowing me to so much as sit up, he helps
me take two pills and drink a few mouthfuls of water before returning us to
our former position.
Seems he’s serious about me not wiping his cum off my body.
I press my eyes closed, my heart beating too hard in my chest as I try to
force the question I should have asked as soon as I woke up to my lips. I
may put on a brave, confident face to the rest of the world, it’s out of
necessity, not because it comes naturally, and Doc makes me feel more
vulnerable than anyone else ever has.
“When you…came, you didn’t get any inside me, right?” The words
come out nervous and uncertain, but right now, the fact I got them out at all
is a bit of a miracle. “I mean, I’m on the pill, I just want to make sure I
know,” I rush to clarify. God, I hate how off-center he makes me feel.
He chuckles, and I swear my blood pressure rises at the sound alone.
“No, spitfire, I didn’t cum inside you. I’d want you awake for that.”
“Getting a bit ahead of yourself,” I snap and shove at his chest. “I want
to get up.”
“You lost the right to make any demands, Isla.”
“I apologized! I said I’m sorry, I can’t go back and change it, so that’s
the best I can do.” Arguing with Doc at the best of times is like talking to a
brick wall, but being trapped under him, unable to escape his infuriating
smirk, is only making things worse. “I don’t know what the hell you want
from me.”
“I want everything.”
Before I can respond, his lips crash down on mine and steal my words
and my breath right from my lungs. Every pass of his tongue, nip of his
teeth, growl from his throat, makes it harder to think of a reason I need to
pull away.
Every time he kisses me, I forget all the reasons this is a bad idea. I
forget that he’ll never love me. I forget that he was the reason my family
was torn apart. And I forget how much it’s going to hurt when this all falls
apart.
His length hardens against my thigh, and I’m all too aware of how
easily he could slip inside me, something I’m not sure I’m ready for. The
naive part of me always thought whoever would take my virginity would be
someone who loved me, but the more time I spend with Doc, the more I
wonder if he’s capable of love at all.
A phone vibrating around the bedside table drags us apart and for a long
moment, our eyes are locked. His are wild and untamed, like he’s about to
lose the carefully crafted control and take me right here and now,
consequences be damned, and I choose not to think about what mine must
relay.
He reaches over and plucks the phone from the nightstand and growls
something under his breath. “Looks like you’re saved for now, little
spitfire.”
He rolls off the bed and disappears into the bathroom before I can ask
what the hell he means by that.
Will I ever feel anything other than over my head when it comes to this
man?

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DOC

“W hat?” I snap into the phone, irritated by the fact that work has once
again dragged me away from Isla. The irony isn’t lost on me that
just a few weeks ago, I would have worked twenty-four hours a
day to escape my demons.
Now I want nothing more than to spend long days exploring Isla’s body,
committing every inch to memory, worshipping her until she can’t think, let
alone breathe without me.
And that should be my first sign I need to end this before it can go any
further.
But I’m past that point. If I’m honest with myself, I think I have been
since the first time our lips touched and I tasted her sweetness.
It’s enough to bring even the strongest of men to their knees.
“I heard there was a commotion at Ignite last night and you were there,”
Storm says distractedly, completely unaffected by my gruff greeting. He’s
been dealing with me for more than a decade, I guess he’s used to it now.
“You heard right.”
“Is Isla okay?”
I pause at the fact he knows her name when I haven’t spoken to him
about her, but the siblings talk, and between Snow helping with the
wedding and Everett doing her background check, I’m not entirely
surprised. “She’ll be okay.”
 He sighs, and I can tell I’m frustrating him. The man is almost
unflappable, but since Ayvah, his fiancée, came into his life, his emotions
have been much more present. “Let me know if there’s anything you need,”
he says. “And take the week off. We can manage without you for a few
days.”
“I don’t need⁠—”
He cuts me off. “I’m well aware you don’t need the time off, Doc. It
would just be nice for you to spend some time with your wife.”
I huff out a laugh and rub my hand over my face. This fucking family.
“Let me know if anything pops up that you need me for.”
“Will do.”
He hangs up the phone, and I shake my head. It used to only be Wynter
and Snow who would meddle, but now Rayne and Storm are almost just as
bad.
When I step back into the bedroom, Isla is missing and a smile tugs at
the corners of my lips. I’m not surprised that she used the first reprieve I
gave her to disobey me, but then I doubt she would have ever piqued my
interest at all if she was well-behaved.
I don’t bother pulling my pants on before moving through the apartment
where I find Isla standing in the kitchen, her robe around her, and a flannel
in one of her hands.
“What you got there, spitfire?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
Her startled eyes meet mine like a deer in headlights before the defiance
inches into its place. “I’m cleaning up the mess you made,” she snaps.
“That can’t happen again, Doc.”
I chuckle and prowl toward her, but she’s frozen in place, her gaze
darting between my very hard cock and my eyes. I like her like this. Off
kilter. Out of her depth. It’s intoxicating.
It’s not until I round the counter that she finally steps back, aware of the
predator getting closer by the second. But it’s too late. I eat up the distance
between us, plucking her body off the ground and depositing her on the
bench.
I step between her parted thighs before she has time to register what a
vulnerable position I’ve got her in without her having a chance to fight me.
“You seem to be under the misconception that you’re calling the shots
here, spitfire. But you’re not. From now on, you will do what you’re told,
when you’re told, or you’ll find yourself edged and left wanting every day
until you can behave.”
Her eyes widen and her lips pop open into an “o” that makes me want to
sink my cock between the plush pillows and lose myself in the heat of her
mouth. “I know I messed up last night. I get it. But that doesn’t change
anything between us.” She drops her gaze to her hands wedged between us.
“You don’t need to pretend this marriage is real. I know it’s only until
Spade loses interest in me and then you’ll be free to get back to your life.”
I stare at her for a few blinks, processing the words that have just come
out of her mouth. I tip her chin up until she’s forced to meet my eyes. “I’m
not pretending anything, spitfire. I’m just waiting for you to get on the same
page as me.”
Before she can say a word, I pluck the towel from her hands and step
back slightly, wiping away the mess I made across her silky skin away. The
need to mark her again overwhelms me the second she’s clean, but I fight
the urge. She’s still getting on the page with me, and marking my territory
like a dog on a fire hydrant isn’t going to win me any favors.
She still thinks this marriage is a sham, but that’s not even close to
being the case. Not anymore. And even though it goes against my very
nature, I need to be patient until she understands that I’m all in.

I sla fell asleep on the couch not long after breakfast, and I’ve been
watching her sleep ever since.
Creepy? Perhaps. But I can’t drag my eyes off her.
She’s beautiful when she sleeps. It’s the only time she seems truly at
peace, and I’m addicted to watching her.
The sound of vibrations pulls my attention from my spitfire, and I spot
her purse on the entry table where I dumped it last night.
With a quick glance at Isla, I move toward the bag and waste no time
pulling her phone from its place to find three messages from her friend,
Bella.
Bella: Are you alive?
Bella: Did that guy kill you? I swear he better not have. He had
a photo of you and him on what appeared to be your wedding
day. Also, why the hell didn’t you tell me you were married to
the world’s hottest daddy of a man? Holding out on me is not
very nice *side eye emoji*
 Bella: It’s been 12 hours and I’m officially freaking out. If I don’t
hear from you in the next half hour, I’m going to have to hunt
your so-called husband down.

I shake my head and chuckle to myself. I don’t like many people,

certainly not when I first meet them, but I like this girl.
As I turn back to the couch, preparing myself to wake Isla so she can
put her friend’s mind at ease, I knock the bag off the table, the contents
spilling across the tiles.
I crouch down with a sigh and start gathering the shit that’s fallen out
until my fingers wrap around a packet of pills.
Birth control pills.
My gaze darts back to the couch to make sure Isla is still asleep before I
quickly pocket the pills. There’s a possessive need to own her in every way
possible, including planting a baby in her. Maybe then she’ll accept that
we’re really married and there’s nothing that’s going to change that.
By the time I make it back to where Isla is bundled up in a throw rug,
her eyes are drifting open, and a small smile tugs at her lips.
“You need to message Bella before she gives herself a heart attack.” I
chuckle and hand her the phone, which she takes with a gentle laugh.
She reads over the messages and quickly types out a response before
putting the phone down on the cushion beside her. Her lip disappears
between her teeth, and it’s obvious she wants to say something, but I wait
patiently, not pressing her to hurry.
“How did you find me last night?” She finally asks the question I’ve
been waiting for since she first woke up. Admittedly, it took longer for her
to ask than I thought it would.
“There’s a tracker on your phone.”
Her eyes widen to the point it’s almost comical before they dart to the
device beside her. She opens her mouth a few times to say something but
quickly snaps it shut again each time as she struggles to find a response.
“Are you fucking insane?” she finally asks.
“No, I’m married to a woman who is a known partyer, who has made no
secret of how little she wants to be here, and who is in very real danger
from a very powerful man. I did what I had to do to make sure you were
safe, and after last night, you’ll be lucky if I don’t plant a tracker on your
person.” The thought has certainly crossed my mind, and it has merit.
 “You’ve lost your fucking mind.” Isla shoves up from the couch and
storms into the bedroom before I can stop her, slamming the door behind
her as if that will keep me from following her.
She doesn’t seem to realize I’ll follow her to the end of the goddamn
earth.

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 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ISLA

I
don’t know if I’m more pissed at him for putting a tracker on my phone
or at myself for not figuring it out earlier. The way he acted when we
first got here, the rules he set for me like a naughty teenager, it makes so
much sense it fucking hurts.
Knowing he’s probably going to follow me, I make quick work of
gathering the things I need for a shower and lock myself in the bathroom.
I’m not under any kind of misconception that something as small as a
locked door can protect me from Doc, but for now it’s enough to let me
gather my thoughts.
I turn the shower on as hot as my skin can handle and then tip it just a
little hotter, needing the water to wash away this batshit crazy morning and
distract me from the fact that not only did I wake up to Doc literally coming
on me, but the revelation that he can track me wherever I go. Short of
throwing the phone in the trash and getting a new one, I have no idea how
to stop it. Hell, even if I did that, it would only be a matter of time before he
did the same thing to the new phone. So what’s the point?
I’m starting to wonder if the man has any boundaries.
I go through the motions of my shower, scrubbing harder than I need to
in the hope it will wash away the weirdest morning of my life, but I think it
would take more than some soap and water to do that.
The hot water bites into my skin, leaving red splotches in its wake, but
even when my body screams at me to turn more cold on, I push through
until I can’t handle it anymore and turn the shower off.
When I step out of the huge stall, I’m not surprised to find Doc sitting
on the edge of the bathtub. I am, however, surprised I didn’t hear him. How
the hell does the man move so quietly when he’s so huge?
I reach for a towel and wrap it around my body as if it will do anything
to protect myself from him, but we both know he could have me out of it in
a split second if he wanted.
“Am I no longer allowed to shower alone?” I snap, moving to the basin
and brushing out my knotty hair. I’ve thought about cutting it more times
than I can count, especially in the last few years, but I almost feel like my
long black hair is part of my identity, and I already feel adrift more often
than not. Adding to that would only make things harder.
I watch him in the mirror as he stands and moves behind me, his hand
wrapping around mine and plucking the brush from my fingers. It looks
impossibly small in his hands, but then again, I think Doc could make the
Great Wall of China look tiny.
He drags the brush through my hair with such softness I can barely
believe it’s him at the helm. But then again, it’s hardly the first time his
gentleness has surprised me.
“I’m sorry you feel I have been too heavy-handed with things so far—”
he starts.
“Heavy-handed?” I scoff. “Is that what you call it?”
He lets out a frustrated sigh, but you’d never tell by how the brush
moves through my knots. “I just want to keep you safe, and if that means I
have to track your phone and know where you are at all times, that’s what
I’m going to do. Your safety is not something I’m ever going to be willing
to risk.”
I allow my eyes to fall closed as I steel myself against the man who is
saying all the right things. “And what happened when I woke up?” I lock
eyes with him in the mirror.
A smirk tips up the corners of his lips as he places the brush on the
basin and moves both hands to my lips, locking me in place. “I was
marking what’s mine.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on between us,” I whisper, because
right now it all feels like too much. His breath on my bare shoulder, the
possessive grip he has on my hips, his intense stare that even through the
mirror feels as if it’s burning me.
 Before I can take a breath, he plucks me off the ground, for what feels
like the tenth time today, and deposits me on the basin before stepping
between my legs.
This man and his manhandling are getting real fucking old fast.
“Do you want me to spell it out for you, spitfire?”
I nod, unable to force words from between my lips when he’s looking at
me like he wants to eat me alive.
“You are my wife. I understand that you believe this marriage is
anything but real, but that’s not how it is for me, and I’m waiting for you to
get on the same page. As you may be able to tell, I’m not a patient man, nor
am I a good man. So I will steal and covet what belongs to me, even if you
don’t realize you fall into that category.”
“But…” I’m not even sure what to say because every moment since we
first met is playing on a loop in my mind, searching for whatever I’ve
missed that got him to this point and left me behind. “You didn’t want to
marry me. You said yourself that it wasn’t a choice you made for yourself.
And then you didn’t speak to me for a week! I just…I don’t understand.”
He nods, his eyes moving from my eyes to my lips, and then back again.
“You’re right. The idea of getting married again sounded like the worst
thing that could ever happen to me when we first met.”
I flinch. Ouch.
He shakes his head. “But then I started to get to know you. The real you.
The one you hide from the world. The one who picks her peas out of her
fried rice and makes everyone believe she’s nothing but a party girl. The
woman who ran straight into danger to protect her friend and who didn’t
fall apart when one of the most infamous crime bosses in Boston threatened
her life. The woman who looked at the man she’s been repeatedly told is
responsible for the death of someone you held dear and didn’t run in the
other direction. You’re an extraordinary woman, Isla, and I’m lucky to be
your husband.”
I open my mouth to respond but snap it shut again. Even when Aunt
Clarissa was alive, I heard all the time how emotionally stunted Doc was,
but right now I’m not seeing that. I’m seeing a man who is laying it all on
the line, and while I’m not naive enough to believe he’d let me go if I
asked, I do believe there’s more to his feelings toward me than just
obligation.
 “Get dressed, we’re going out.” He presses a kiss to my cheek and
disappears from the bathroom as quickly as he came.
What the hell just happened?
I take my time getting ready and applying a light layer of makeup
before tying my hair up in a messy braid. It’s a little wild after sleeping with
it down last night, and I don’t have the temperament right now to try to
tame it.
I tug on a pair of ripped jeans, a black sweater, and pair the outfit with
my favorite black boots.
Once I’m satisfied, I slip my arms into my coat and move into the
lounge room.
Doc’s nowhere to be seen, but I shrug and pick up my purse from the
side table he must have left it on last night, riffling through the contents
looking for my birth control pills. I’ve been notoriously bad at taking them
pretty much since I was first prescribed them four years ago, but now that
there’s a possibility I might actually need them, I should probably start
taking them religiously.
There’s no way I want to be barefoot and pregnant at twenty with to a
man who has never wanted to be a father.
I could have sworn I took them out with me last night.
I look around the apartment, seeing if maybe I left them somewhere
else, but they’re nowhere to be seen.
Just as I’m about to give up, Doc steps out of his office wearing a pair
of black jeans and a tight black Henley with motorcycle boots, pretty much
his standard uniform.
“You ready?”
I nod, taking another look around. I’ll have to remember to look for
them when we get back.
Doc reaches into his pocket and produces exactly what I was looking
for. “These must have fallen out of your bag when you dropped it last
night.”
I let out a sigh of relief and take them from him. “I was just looking for
these!”
He takes my hand and leads me toward the front door.
For the first time since I walked down the aisle, I’m starting to believe
this entire marriage is more than just one of convenience.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

DOC

S
pending time with my late wife was usually a chore.
Not so much when we were in college, but after that, after we got
married, the expectation of having kids started tugging at her.
Admittedly, I was a shitty husband. I never bought her flowers or took
her on dates. Anytime we went out, it was planned by her, and I spent as
much time out of the house when I was in Boston as I could.
But this is different.
Isla is different.
I should have known it from the moment my need to protect her kicked
in, but I was in denial, just like she is now.
I hold onto her hand as we cross the road toward the coffee shop she
visits each morning, ignoring the way she glances at me with confusion like
she has no idea how I would know something like that. But my spitfire will
learn that there’s nothing I don’t know about her, and just because I haven’t
been home the last week doesn’t mean I haven’t been watching.
At first it was because I didn’t trust her, but after the first few days, it
was because I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know where she was and
what she was doing at all times, and I could barely handle the times I
couldn’t see her.
To the point I’ve spent a little too much time at the University of
Chicago for someone who finished their education twenty years ago.
 The woman behind the counter, an older lady who I vaguely recognize
as the owner, gives Isla a bright smile. Her short gray hair is neatly styled,
and her brown eyes sparkle as we approach.
“I didn’t think I’d see you today,” she beams.
Isla’s smile lights up her whole face. “You should have known I
couldn’t go two days without one of your famous muffins, Carol!”
Carol’s eyes turn to look me over, assessing both me and my hold on
Isla’s hand. “And who is this striking gentleman?”
Isla’s smile falters ever so slightly, but she quickly rights it, something it
seems she’s a professional at. “This is my⁠—”
“Doc.” I thrust my free hand in front of myself to shake her hand. “I’m
Isla’s husband.”
She doesn’t bother to mask her surprise as she looks between us again.
I’m not sure what it is that surprises her most about that admission. Our
very obvious age gap. The fact that she’s likely never mentioned me. Or
that Isla looks like a fallen angel, and I look every bit like the ex-SEAL I
am. Burly, gruff, tattooed, and more than a foot taller than my wife.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Doc.” She smiles up at me before her gaze falls
to Isla’s hand where there’s no ring. Still.
If I have to superglue the thing to her finger, I will. Or better yet, maybe
I could tattoo it onto her finger. Then there’s no way she could get it off.
The idea has merit. Something to think about later.
“What can I get you both?” She asks, her gaze flicking between us
expectantly.
Isla rattles off her order, an iced chai latte with oat milk, and I order my
black coffee with two of these muffins I’ve watched my girl eat every day
for the last week.
Admittedly, I’ve never had a sweet tooth, but anything my woman
enjoys as much as she enjoys these damn baked goods must be good.
“Have a seat, and I’ll bring everything over.” She flashes us a smile and
moves toward the coffee machine.
Isla leads us to a table in the corner with a view of the street and slides
into the booth while I take the seat opposite her.
“Did you tell anyone you were married?” I raise an eyebrow.
She sighs. “I didn’t really know what to say, and seeing as you were so
MIA, I assumed it wasn’t something we were advertising.”
“You assumed wrong,” I growl.
 She opens her mouth to respond just as Carol brings the warm chocolate
chip muffins to the table. “Here you are, the coffees won’t be long.”
We both say a quiet thanks, and once she’s out of sight, Isla reaches for
the muffin.
As soon as her left hand is above the table, I grab hold of it with my
much larger hand. Every time I hold Isla, I’m struck by how tiny she is
compared to me, but also how well she seems to fit.
“Have you worn your wedding ring at all when you’ve left the house?”
She shakes her head, not bothering to try to pull her hand from mine.
“That changes today, Isla. If I find your finger without my ring, you will
not like the consequences.”
Defiance flashes in her amber eyes. “Why does it matter so much?” she
snaps.
“Because you’re my wife, and I want every single motherfucker you
meet to know you’re mine.”
“I’m not a piece of property, Doc.” She glares across the table at me.
“This isn’t going to work if you’re going to pull this alpha-possessive
bullshit. I’m a human being with my own mind and feelings, and therefore I
can make competent choices for myself.”
“Can you, Isla?” I growl. “Because the way I remember things, before
you moved here, you were out partying most nights, you were barely
passing school, and the people you associated yourself with were known
criminals.”
“You’re a known criminal,” she whisper-shouts. “Or at least you work
for them. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You have no
idea what my life looked like before you came along. You have no clue how
fucking lonely I was after Clarissa died and my parents shut down. Don’t
assume to know anything about me.” The mention of my late wife and the
indirect stab at how I’m responsible for her death isn’t lost on me, but she
can’t hurt me with that shit anymore. Maybe when we first met and she
threw her ruined life in my face, it dug in deep, but not now.
Perhaps now that I’ve gotten to know her, and to understand the depth
of her loss, it should cut deeper, but it doesn’t.
She stands up just as Carol brings over our coffees and immediately
replaces her anger with for a smile for the older woman. “Thanks so much.”
“It’s my pleasure, dear. I do hope you’ll bring Doc in to see me more.
I’d like to get to know the man who has stolen the heart of my favorite
customer.”
“Of course, Carol.”
She disappears back toward the counter, and Isla drops back into her
seat while I watch her curiously. She was intent on walking out just a few
seconds ago. So what made her stay?

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 CHAPTER THIRTY

ISLA

I
thought we were finally getting somewhere, but as usual, my hopeful
heart has led me astray.
He’s an asshole.
You know what? I don’t even think that word does him justice, because
I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as Doc.
He can’t grasp how all of this is hard on me. He can’t understand that
I’m still adjusting to having my entire life torn away from me. How I’ve
been forced to move cities, start a new school, and live with a man who
seems to have zero boundaries.
I take a sip of my iced chai, glaring at the deliciously sweet and yet
spicy drink like it’s the reason for all my frustration, but I can’t even bring
myself to look at Doc.
I should have left, but I can’t stand being rude, especially when Carol
has been nothing but nice to me since I came in here earlier this week. She
may be old enough to be my grandmother, but she’s one of the only people I
know in the city, and I’m not willing to burn any bridges, especially
considering how volatile my relationship with Doc is.
He hasn’t said a word since the drinks were delivered, but I can feel his
eyes burning into me. I don’t need to have looked his way to know he
hasn’t looked away from me the entire time we’ve been sitting here.
I finish my drink as quickly as I can without giving myself a brain
freeze and then stand up without a word.
 “Where are you going, spitfire?” Doc rumbles.
“Home.”
I don’t give him a chance to respond before I leave the table, throw my
trash in the can, and shove my way out into the cold street. Couldn’t he at
least live somewhere warm? I feel like I’ve traded one freezing cold city for
another.
I’m tempted to go somewhere else, anywhere other than the apartment I
share with the most infuriating human I’ve ever met, but the reality is, I
have nowhere else to go. Nowhere he won’t find me at least.
Plus, I haven’t had time to get the tracker off my phone yet.
I storm through the lobby and hit the button for the elevator three times
before I accept it’s not going to come any quicker the more I press it.
But it’s only when the doors slide open that I’m met with Doc standing
right behind me, our reflections in the mirror on the far side of the elevator.
How the fuck does he do that?
I huff out a sigh and move into the lift, crowding myself in the corner in
the hope it will keep some distance between us. But I should have known
better.
The second the door closes, he’s on me. His huge body cages mine
against the wall until there’s nowhere I can go.
I’m trapped, and although I’m pretty sure he won’t hurt me, I realize I
don’t know Doc all that well.
I snake my hands between us and try to shove him backward, but he
doesn’t budge. “Get off me,” I snap.
“No.”
“Doc,” I warn.
“I said no, Isla.”
Before I can open my mouth to argue, his lips crash down on mine, and
just like every time he’s kissed me, I’m drunk on it from the very first
second. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss as he ravages my mouth,
taking what he wants and forcing me to give it to him.
He shoves his knee between my legs, and I feel the evidence of his need
for me pressing against my thigh. Jesus. I know I saw the fucking thing this
morning, but that doesn’t make his size any easier to believe.
He grinds into me as his kiss grows more ferocious. Each swipe of his
tongue and every clash of our teeth is rougher than the last, and I can’t help
but love every second.
 My core pulses with need and I find myself shamelessly grinding
against him, desperate for relief, but my jeans are in the way.
A desperate moan tears from my throat, and for a split second I’m
embarrassed by the sound. I’ve never made a noise like that before. But
then Doc’s response comes, a deep primal growl that steals my breath, and
all my shame melts away.
His palms are rough as they slide down my body and grasp my ass, but
the second he lifts me from the ground, I wrap my legs around him,
relishing in how rough he is with my body. I never thought I’d like it rough,
but fuck if the bite of pain isn’t addictive.
The doors slide open and he carries me to our door, making quick work
of the lock. He moves us through the apartment, not stopping until he kicks
the bedroom door open and deposits me in the middle of the bed.
I’m breathless and my lips burn from his stubble, and yet I feel empty
until his body covers mine and his lips are back to worshipping mine.
Without breaking our kiss, he uses one elbow to prop himself up,
keeping his weight off me while the other works on my jeans. He pops open
the button and makes quick work of the zip before he plunges his hand
beneath them and my panties.
“Fuck,” Doc growls. “You’re fucking soaking for me, spitfire.”
I nod against the mattress, unable to deny it. I’ve never ached like this
before, and I don’t need to see into his mind to know there’s no stopping
what’s about to happen. And even if there was, I wouldn’t want to.
In my soul I know this is meant to happen. It might be all kinds of
fucked up, and Doc might be the last man I ever thought I would hand my
virginity over to, but it feels right.
He shoves a thick finger inside me, and I scream against his lips the
moment he finds the sweet spot inside me. I’m trembling from head to toe,
the need for release taking my breath away, especially seeing as he ruined
my orgasm not twelve hours ago.
I grind against his hand, desperate for more. More of his lips, more of
his touch, more of his pain. I just need him.
“So needy for me, Isla.”
Doc smirks against my lips before upping the ante. His palm presses
against my clit, giving the most delicious amount of pressure while his
fingers continue their assault on my G-spot until I’m panting.
 He trails kisses down my cheek, across my jaw, and when he reaches
my neck, he bites down on the soft flesh, tearing a scream from my throat.
It hurts so fucking much I’m not convinced he didn’t just draw blood, but
the pain also shoves me so close to the edge that I’m dangling there,
suspended between pleasure and pain.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Your cunt is so fucking tight when I hurt you,
spitfire. I knew you were perfect, but this only makes me want you more.”
He shoves a second finger inside me, and I see stars. The whole room
seems to melt away, and all that’s left is him. His touch. His breath. His
hardness.
“Doc,” I cry. “Please, fuck, please let me come.”
He groans right before his teeth sink into my shoulder and the pain
drags me to the edge. The only thing holding me there is the man who
captivates my every thought, who I despised a week ago, and now
everything I feel for him is muddled and confusing. “I love it when you
beg, spitfire.”
“Please,” I sob, tears of frustration and pleasure falling against my
cheeks.
He leans forward and drags his tongue along the same path the tears are
falling, and the gesture only nudges me closer. “Tell me you’re mine.”
My breath stutters in my chest. Am I his? Can I really belong to a man
who tore my family apart? Can I ever allow myself to love him? To have a
life with him? To admit that this marriage is more than the sham I keep
claiming it is?
A primal growl tears from his throat and my eyes shoot up to meet his
gaze. The emotions dancing in the darkness draw me in until I’m pretty sure
he could ask me for anything and I would fall to my knees to obey him.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Isla.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper the words into existence and find I don’t hate the
way they taste on my tongue.
“Again,” he demands, his length pressing into my thigh through both
our jeans.
“I’m yours,” I repeat a little louder this time.
“You’re fucking mine, Isla. There’s nothing on the fucking planet that
could keep you from me because I will always find you, and I will always
drag you back to me.”
 Before I can open my mouth to argue, he presses a third finger inside
me, stretching me to the point of pain, and he bites down on the flesh of my
breast, tearing a scream and the most intense orgasm of my life from my
body.
This time, when stars burst to life in my vision, I don’t bother fighting
them. I hand my body to Doc and trust him not to break me.
And maybe that’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

DOC

H
er cunt squeezes my fingers so tight I can barely move them in and
out of her as I drag her orgasm from her body.
Isla’s head pushes back into the mattress, allowing me free rein
of her body. And I run with it. I suck, lick, and bite every inch of skin I can
reach, desperate to cover her in my marks.
The need to claim her is so strong I can barely think through it, and I
know I won’t be settled until I’ve claimed every single part of my spitfire.
She doesn’t realize how true the words I’ve spoken are. There’s
nowhere she can run, nowhere she can hide from me, that I won’t find her.
She’s mine, and I won’t allow anyone to take her from me, not even her.
Isla’s body goes slack, and I pull my hand from her panties and jeans
before making quick work of removing her clothes. She’s more compliant
as she comes down from her orgasm than she will be when she allows her
thoughts back in, and I’d rather have her naked before that happens.
I press kisses to every piece of skin I uncover, and even though I had
her naked body pressed against me all night, it still feels like too long since
I’ve seen her.
She blinks down at me as I pull her boots from her feet and tug her
pants and underwear down in one quick movement, but she makes no move
to stop me. Perhaps she realizes it would be pointless. Or maybe she’s too
boneless to execute an escape right now.
 “Look at your pretty pussy, spitfire,” I groan, palming my aching cock
through my jeans. No woman has ever had to ability to tear my composure
from my hands and stomp on it, but Isla does, whether she realizes it yet or
not. “So puffy and begging for my cock.”
Her eyes flare with a mixture of fear and heat, but she pushes herself up
before I can decipher it. At first, I think she’s going to make a run for it,
which would only make my cock pulse harder for her, but instead she
crawls across the mattress, pulling her shirt over her head and leaving her in
nothing but a black lacy bra.
Fuck.
She surprises me at every turn, and for someone who has always hated
them, I find myself longing for whatever the hell she’s going to spring on
me next.
I step backward until the backs of my legs hit the armchair in the corner
and I drop into it, watching with bated breath as Isla tracks my every move.
Slowly, making sure she catches every movement, I unbuckle my belt
and make quick work of undoing my pants before pulling my cock free of
the confines.
I fist my length in my hand, giving it a few quick pumps while watching
the blush bloom across Isla’s cheeks. She’s so fucking beautiful when she’s
like this. Unfiltered. Carefree. Breathless.
“Why don’t you come over here and show me what that pretty mouth
can do other than backchat me?” I smirk.
Her eyes flash with defiance, but then they’re back on my cock and she
slips off the bed, taking a step toward me.
“No,” I growl.
Her mouth pops open in confusion, but she stops in her tracks, waiting
for whatever I’m about to instruct her to do.
“On your knees,” I command, and she complies almost immediately, not
allowing herself to overthink what I’m asking her to do, and that thought
brings a satisfied smile to my lips. She’s going to learn that when I say
jump, she’ll do it without hesitation. I’m not a patient man, and while I’m
learning to be with her, sex is not a time that I will compromise.
I groan and fist my cock tighter. She looks like a fucking dream on her
knees for me, waiting for her next order that she’ll follow without
hesitation.
“Crawl.”
 Her eyes flare with conflict, and for a moment I wonder if she is going
to argue. She’ll be crawling regardless, but part of the reason I’ve grown so
obsessed with her is because of her fire. It’s because she’s rebellious and a
little reckless. She’s wild just as much as she is cautious.
She drops onto her hands and knees and slowly moves toward me, her
eyes dropping onto the carpet beneath her. But that just won’t do.
“Eyes on me, Isla,” I growl.
She snaps her gaze up to mine, and I see the extent of her blush as it
spreads across her cheeks and down her neck, but there’s something else in
her eyes. Something I wasn’t sure my spitfire was capable of. Submission.
When she comes to a stop between my thighs, her face level with my
cock, it takes everything in me not to immediately force it into her mouth. I
may have come this morning, but I’ve felt the need to fuck her face since
the first time I saw her, and I’m barely holding onto my composure as it is.
“Hands behind your back. Do not move them under any circumstances.
Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she says softly, quickly complying with the instructions I’ve
given her.
She’s so sweet when she’s like this. The defiance melted away. Part of
me wants to push her, to see how far she’ll go before she starts fighting
back. But not today. I’ll push her right to the edge of her limits, but I won’t
push her past them just yet.
Isla watches as I stroke myself, her pupils blown wide with a mixture of
lust and fear. But she should know she has nothing to be afraid of when it
comes to me. I may like to see her pain, but I’d never hurt her in a way she
couldn’t come back from, and that should bring her some comfort.
“Open your mouth for me, spitfire.”
The moment she complies, I grip her hair in one hand and my cock in
the other, feeding her the first few inches until I’m met with resistance.
Her mouth is a fucking paradise. So fucking warm. So fucking wet. And
as soon as she closes her lips around me, her tongue begins exploring. It’s
fucking maddening.
My grip on her hair tightens as I push her deeper, testing the limits to
see just how much I can shove in her pretty little mouth.
Isla repositions herself slightly, allowing me to slip deeper into her
throat, and the string of curses that fall from my mouth on a rough growl
could make anyone blush.
 “Fuck,” I grunt. “You’re being such a good girl for me, spitfire.”
She moans around my cock, and her eyes flare with pleasure at my
words. It doesn’t come as a total surprise that my girl has a praise kink.
“Are you going to be a good little whore for me, Isla?”
She shifts on her knees, and I don’t miss how she rubs her thighs
together. Oh, she likes that too.
I shake my head slowly. “None of that. You’ll be given pleasure when I
see fit and not a moment sooner.”
The amber of her eyes darkens, but she huffs out a breath and does as
she’s told, widening her thighs and allowing me a glimpse of how fucking
wet she is. I have a feeling once I bury myself in her pretty cunt, I’m never
going to want to leave. Maybe it’s a good thing Storm is forcing me to take
some time off after all.
My own release is careening toward me, but I’m not going to be coming
in her mouth today.
“I’m going to fuck your face, spitfire,” I tell her as I slightly reposition
to give myself room to thrust up.
I’m relentless. I fuck her mouth as hard as I’m planning to fuck her
pussy, and fuck if she doesn’t take every thrust like she was made to kneel
before me.
The tingling in the base of my spine is approaching the point of no
return, but it feels too fucking good to stop.
Isla’s pussy is glistening with her need for me, and that’s the only way
I’m able to reason with myself and drag her mouth from my dick with a
loud pop.
She stares up at me, her eyes wild and unfiltered, her hair mussed from
where I was holding it, and her body trembling with need.
Yeah. I love her like this.
If I didn’t already know Isla was perfect for me, seeing her on her knees
just confirms it.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ISLA

I
may be a virgin, but I’ve given a few blowjobs in my time.
But let me tell you, none of them have been that fucking hot. If they
had, I would have handed my virginity to them without a blink of
hesitation.
Doc is every bit the possessive alpha male I expected him to be, but the
darkness in his eyes should scare me. It should have me running in the
opposite direction. Hell, the way he fucked my mouth without mercy should
have had me finding an escape plan.
Instead, I’m dripping onto the carpet beneath me.
I honestly never thought I’d be submissive in the bedroom. If anything,
I thought I’d like to be in charge, at least a little bit. But it’s becoming
abundantly clear that that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
I stare up at him, my heart pounding in my chest, my body vibrating
with need. I’ve never been this turned on. Hell, I didn’t even think it was
possible to feel like I’ll cease existing if I don’t get to come soon. Which is
dramatic as fuck, but hey, if you can’t be dramatic when a six-foot-seven
god has you on your knees for him, when can you?
Doc strokes his cock a few times, and my gaze flicks between his huge
length and his eyes that are full of the same lust bubbling inside me. There’s
a tension in his shoulders that looks painful, and I realize he’s barely
holding on to his control.
 A bead of pre-cum gathers at the tip, and he swipes it onto his thumb.
He reaches forward, holding my eyes as he wipes it across my lips.
I moan, the taste of him only making me crave more.
“I’m going to use this pretty mouth every chance I get, spitfire,” he
rumbles. “Would you like that?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Good girl.”
A shiver works its way through my body at the praise, and I try not to
think too much of it. I don’t want to like being praised by this man, but it’s
become clear that my mind and body are not on the same page when it
comes to him.
Without warning, he wraps his arms around me and lifts me at the same
time he stands from the chair. I let out a little shriek at the sudden height
and wrap my body around his.
Fuck, is he tall.
“Are you afraid of heights?” The words fall out of my mouth before I
can stop them. Way to ruin the mood, idiot, I reprimand myself.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No spitfire, there’s only one thing
I’m afraid of.”
“Oh.” I blush. “Spiders?”
He deposits me in the middle of the bed, covering my body with his
much larger one. “The only thing that scares me is losing you.”
I stare up at him as my heart explodes with butterflies. If it were any
other man, I would think he was just flattering me because he’s about to get
his dick wet, but Doc doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would
bother. I’m already a sure thing.
He captures my lips in a slow kiss, one that tells me everything without
him having to speak a single word and I wrap my arms around his neck,
tugging him closer until the only thing between us is his shirt and his jeans
around his thighs.
I’m breathless when he pulls back, his dark eyes conveying the same
emotions I feel beating in my chest.
He may be overbearing as all hell. He might drive me crazy and be way
too possessive for a man I’ve only known a little over a week. But he’s also
become my safe place. Even when he’s not around, I feel his presence, and
maybe subconsciously I knew that when I went out with Bella last night.
 He drops back onto his knees and tugs his shirt over his head,
discarding it across the room and giving me the perfect view of his
muscular, tattooed chest.
Jesus, this man. Does he live in the fucking gym? Because every piece
of him is bulging and defined. He’s in better shape than most guys I know,
and he’s double their age.
He smirks when he notices how my eyes roam over his body, but I’m
not embarrassed. He’s fucking hot, and I’m going to enjoy the view while I
can.
“Enjoying the view, spitfire?” He chuckles.
“I’ll be enjoying it a whole lot more once you lose the jeans,” I snipe.
His head drops back and the booming laugh that fills the room does
nothing to tamp down my arousal. “Your wish is my command.”
He makes quick work of his shoes and pants, and then he’s prowling up
the bed, his gaze moving over me and leaving a blush in his path.
No one has ever looked at me like this. Like he wants to eat me and
worship me all at once. As if his reason for breathing is lying before him.
Like he equally wants to punish me for how I make him feel and love me
for the same reason.
The four-letter word jolts me out of my daze, an emotion I feared I
would never feel for anyone. I’ve seen love be so destructive. I watched my
aunt become a shell of herself when it didn’t work out. I saw my parents fall
out of love with one another, staying together out of obligation and
familiarity. I never thought I’d want it for myself because it was too much
of a risk.
But as I stare up at Doc, his eyes locked on mine, I realize I’m already
falling. Hard. And the only person that can catch me is also the person who
could tear me apart with his bare hands.
Doc crawls up the bed, his knees jostling the mattress as he moves over
me until he’s nestled between my parted thighs.
Oh god, this is really happening.
I always expected to feel nervous during my first time, but right now
I’m anything but. I need him. I need his body pressing against mine and his
cock moving inside me. I need to fall apart only for him to put me back
together again. I need it all.
He props himself up on one elbow, holding most of his weight as he
drags the head of his cock through my wet folds and my heart lodges in my
throat, unable to speak, barely able to breathe with the realization that I
should have told him.
Is it fair of me not to tell him?
Does he really need to know?
The conflict distracts me enough that I don’t notice when he notches
himself at my entrance, his eyes locking with mine as if looking for any
sign he should stop.
“Doc,” I whisper. “I need to…”
I’m cut off when he presses forward and I scream so loud it makes my
own ears ring. The pain burns through my entire body as he stretches me
impossibly.
His gaze locks with mine and we stare at each other for long seconds as
he processes what he’s just worked out.
He just unknowingly took my virginity.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DOC

S
he’s a fucking virgin.
Or at least she was.
Why didn’t she tell me?
Why the fuck wouldn’t she tell me something like this?
Or was that what she was about to say?
Was she about to tell me when I pushed inside her?
I checked to make sure she wasn’t hesitant. I’m a fucking asshole, but
I’d never force her into anything she didn’t want to do. But there was no
hesitation. She stared back at me with something akin to admiration. No
one has ever looked at me like that before, and I hope no one but her ever
does.
Because by giving this to me, by allowing me to be her first, she has to
know I’m never going to let her go because I’m also going to be her last
and her only.
“Isla,” I growl, the sound barely human as it escapes my throat.
“I was about to tell you,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to
make a big deal out of it.”
I close my eyes, willing my body to remain still above hers despite how
badly I want to fuck her until she can’t breathe without my cock inside her.
I’m not going to tell her I would have been gentler if I’d known, because
that would be a lie.
 I’m not capable of soft or slow. It’s not in my nature, but I at least could
have tried to not be a total asshole about it.
“Fuck, Isla.”
“I’m sorry.” The pain in her voice pulls me out of my possessive need to
claim her, to keep her, to protect her from anything and anyone who could
take what’s mine.
“You think I’m angry?”
“Aren’t you?”
I chuckle, the sound low and deep and devoid of humor. “No, little
spitfire. I’m not angry. I’m fucking ecstatic that I’m the first man to ever be
inside you. I’m about five seconds away from losing control and fucking
you until you’re full of my cum and then keeping you that way for the rest
of your fucking life. But I’m not angry.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me you’re mine,” I demand.
“I’m yours,” she whispers.
“Who does this pussy belong to?”
“Me,” she says defiantly.
I swat my hand down on her sensitive clit and drag a squeal from her
throat as her cunt tightens around me. Yeah, my girl definitely likes a bit of
pain. “Try again.”
“Doc, please.” She moves her hips, trying desperately to make me
move, but my composure is strong enough to hold my ground. Just.
“Isla,” I growl.
She huffs out a sigh and allows her eyes to fall closed as she gathers
herself. “It’s yours.”
“What’s mine, spitfire?”
“My pussy,” she murmurs, barely loud enough for me to hear.
“You’re damn fucking right it is.” I push my hips forward, bottoming
out inside her at the same time my lips crash down on hers and swallow
down her cry.
Her pussy feels better than I ever could have imagined, and if I get my
way, I’m going to spend full days buried inside her.
I hold myself deep, relishing the way her cunt flutters around me while
also trying to stop myself from blowing too early. I refuse to come before
she does. That’s just not acceptable if you ask me.
 Isla’s body is tense beneath mine, and I hate the idea of her being in
pain I’m not in control of. It’s one thing to ruin her orgasms or spank her
ass, but it’s a whole other story to inadvertently hurt her.
I break our kiss and stare down at her. She looks fucking beautiful. Her
lips are swollen from my kisses and my cock. Her pupils are blown wide.
Her hair is messy halo against the mattress. She’s perfect.
“Are you okay?”
She nods against the pillows. “I don’t think I need to tell you this, but
you’re pretty massive.”
I chuckle, burying my face in her neck and nipping at the delicate skin
there. “You’re good for my ego, spitfire.”
She laughs, and it’s the most incredible sound I’ve ever heard. I’ve
never been particularly interested in making other people laugh, but there’s
something about amusing Isla that almost makes me want to stop being a
grumpy asshole. Almost.
“Just relax, Isla. I’ll make this feel good, I promise.”
She nods against the comforter and shifts her hips, lifting them to meet
mine with a soft moan. “I’m ready,” she murmurs. “Please fuck me.”
A sound I don’t recognize tears from my throat, somewhere between a
growl and a roar, and then I’m moving. My hips meet hers over and over
again, the feel of her pussy wrapped around me bringing me closer to the
edge than I’d like to be at this point. It’s too fucking good.
The pain fades away from Isla’s face, and in its place is a look of pure
admiration that I don’t deserve. She stares up at me, her lips slightly parted,
her nails digging into my shoulders, and if I hadn’t already realized she was
it for me, this is the moment that would have done it.
No one has ever looked at me like this, and I hope she’s the only person
who ever does.
Her moans fill the room and if it’s not the most beautiful fucking sound
I’ve ever heard, which doesn’t bode well for how close I am to blowing my
load.
“Fuck, spitfire,” I groan, burying my face in her neck and nipping at the
delicate flesh. She’s going to be covered in my marks tomorrow, and if I
have it my way, she always will be.
I push her knees higher, giving myself a better angle to hit her sweet
spot.
 Her eyes roll back in her head for a moment before they quickly snap
back to me, remembering her instructions. Such a good girl for me.
“Are you going to come for me, spitfire?”
She nods. “Please, Doc. I need it.”
Fuck. My balls draw up and it takes every bit of concentration not to fill
her full of my cum right this second.
I lean forward and wrap my tattooed hand around her throat, dragging a
groan from both of us. Her delicate neck looks even more so with my huge
hand wrapped around it, and I apply just enough pressure that her cunt
tightens around me.
“You look so pretty with my hand around your throat, spitfire.” I up the
pace of my thrusts, desperate for Isla to come around me, even if I know
she’s going to drag me over the edge with her.
She lets out a choked moan at my words and her pussy flutters, giving
me the first sign she’s almost there.
Fuck yes.
I can’t wait to fill her up. I can’t wait to bury my cum so deep inside her
she’ll still smell like me in the days to come.
I tighten my hand around her throat until her cheeks turn pink and her
eyes flare with a mixture of fear and unabashed lust. It’s that look that
almost makes me lose control. But I refuse to come before she does.
I use my free hand to grip her hip, holding her in place so I can fuck her
relentlessly. Chasing after a release I know will be the best of my fucking
life.
“Better come, Isla,” I taunt.
And she does. Her cunt tightens to the point it’s choking my cock, and I
can barely keep moving over her. Her eyes roll back into her head as she
lets out a cry that will be the star of every wet dream I have from here on
out.
Her release runs down both our thighs as her body trembles beneath me.
My balls draw up, unable to hold off any longer, and I fuck her with
wild abandon. My thrusts are hard and fast, and her pussy milks me to the
point of no return.
I slam into her and hold myself as deep as I can, shooting hot cum into
her and hoping it takes root. But it won’t be long before that’s a reality.
I should feel guilty about swapping out her birth control pills out. But I
don’t.
The sooner she’s pregnant with my baby, the better.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

ISLA

M
y heart beats heavily in my chest, and all I can hear is my own
panting.
Holy shit.
I knew sex with Doc was going to be intense, but I never could have
prepared myself for that. The way he used my body for his own pleasure
while always making sure he was giving me what I needed will be
ingrained in me for the rest of my life.
I stare up at him, his muscles starting to relax while his cock is still
lodged inside me.
His eyes flick from where we’re still connected up to mine, the darkness
swarming with emotions I never thought I’d see staring back at me.
Emotions I never dared to hope for from anyone, let alone him.
He drops down onto his elbows and presses his lips to mine in a gentle
caress I lean into. He’s not a man I would ever expect to have a soft bone in
his body, but the way he treats me, the moments of the man I didn’t think
existed beneath his rough exterior I see when no one else is watching, is
only making me fall harder for him.
We stay like that for long moments, his lips moving over mine, his cock
softening inside my sore pussy, and for the first time since my dad told me I
would be marrying a man I was taught to despise, it feels like I’m exactly
where I’m meant to be.
 I’m not so naive to think there won’t be bumps in the road ahead,
because Doc and I are both too stubborn for there not to be, but I don’t want
to run anymore. I don’t want to find a way out of Chicago and away from
my husband.
I want to be here with him. I want to find our way together. And that
thought makes me feel more vulnerable than I’ve ever felt in my life.
What if Doc doesn’t feel the same?
What if this is just him making the most out of a bad situation?
What if everything I’m feeling is one-sided?
I break the kiss and gently push against his shoulders, needing to put
some distance between us to get my head straight.
If there’s anything I’ve learned since Aunt Clarissa died, it’s that I can’t
allow myself to be vulnerable, and I certainly can’t let anyone else see my
weakness.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Doc stares down at me through
dark eyes that I could lose myself in over and over again.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I whisper. I don’t trust my voice not to
break, and I need to regroup.
“Not yet.”
“Doc, please.”
“No. I’m not ready for you to wash my scent off you.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re being so unreasonable.”
“Did I ever strike you as a reasonable man?”
I huff. “I’m sore and I need to clean up so I don’t bleed all over the
sheets.”
“Do you think I care about a bit of blood, spitfire? Do you think I give a
fuck about these sheets if my cock is still buried inside your perfect pussy?”
I press my eyes closed and breathe deeply, trying desperately to warn
away the tears threatening to fall. Why does he have to argue with me at
every turn?
Calloused fingers touch my cheek, and my eyes fly open to meet his
worried gaze. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I snap. “I just need to pee, and you’re being unnecessarily
difficult about it.”
He considers me for another few seconds before he finally relents. He
carefully lifts his body from mine, and I wince as his cock slips from my
sore pussy. I’m going to be feeling this for days.
 I move to roll away from him, desperate to put some space between us,
but he quickly pins me to the mattress again.
“Doc,” I snap.
“Just a second, spitfire.” His eyes are glued to my pussy, and when I
look down at what he’s looking at, I’m horrified.
Dripping down my thighs are our collective releases, with streaks of red
through it. My cheeks heat to the point I tug at my arms still held down by
Doc, desperate to cover my embarrassment. This is fucking mortifying.
But then he does something totally unexpected. He runs his fingers
through his cum and buries them back inside me, pushing his release in as
deep as he can. He brushes my overstimulated G-spot a few times, tearing a
strangled moan from my throat before he pulls them out.
I open my mouth to ask if he’s done, but as if he’s expecting it, he
reaches up and shoves his fingers between my lips.
“Suck,” he demands.
I stare at him for another second, but ultimately, I don’t have a choice
but to do exactly as I’m told. As usual, he holds all the cards, and I’m
powerless.
I close my lips around his fingers and swirl my tongue around them,
lapping up all of what he’s feeding me while I hold his darkened gaze. He
looks like he wants to devour me whole, and despite how much my heart
aches for the man I wish he could be and how sore my core is, I wouldn’t be
opposed to it.
“Good girl,” he praises. “Do you like the taste of us?”
I nod around his digits, still sucking them even though I’ve swallowed
what he was feeding me.
“You’re perfect,” he groans, pulling his fingers from my mouth and
quickly dipping his head to press a kiss to my lips. “I’m going to fuck you
for so long and so often that you’ll permanently be able to feel my cock
inside you.”
“Doc,” I admonish.
He chuckles and lifts his body from mine. “Go pee before I change my
mind.”
Before he can do just that, I roll from the bed and quickly move into the
bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
I flick the lock into place, even though I know if he really wants to get
in here, he’ll be able to. But at least I have the illusion of privacy.
 I turn and lean against the door, letting the cold wood at my back cool
my heated skin.
Now, more than ever, I need a plan. I can’t allow myself to fall for Doc
any more than I already have, because when he inevitably grows tired of
me, I won’t survive the fall.
I make quick work of doing my business and cleaning up. Every time I
move, my pussy hurts, but it also reminds me of what Doc and I just did,
and how right every second of it felt. How can something that feels so right
be wrong?
A knock at the door startles me, and I lean against the basin to steady
myself. “Isla?” Doc’s concerned voice comes through the door, and I close
my eyes to warn off the tears threatening to fall.
Realistically there’s nothing I can do right now. He’ll see through
whatever bullshit reason I make up to leave the apartment this afternoon, so
I have to find a way to mask my emotions until I have some space to make
a plan.
“I’ll be out in a second.”
“I’m going to make us some dinner. Meet me in the kitchen.”
Doc can cook?
“Okay.”
I splash water on my face, washing the heat from my cheeks before I
slowly open the door and peek out into the bedroom. Once I’ve confirmed
he’s not in there, I move toward my drawers and pull out one of Doc’s
Henleys that he insists I sleep in.
Not that I’ll admit it to him, but wearing his clothes brings me a sense
of peace that I spent my life searching for. If I’m really honest with myself,
it’s him who’s responsible for that feeling.
Once I’m dressed, I pad into the lounge room and spot Doc in the
kitchen, his bare back to me as he stirs something on the stove. There’s a
tattoo that spans his entire back, and until now I haven’t had the chance to
study it. It’s a phoenix in full color, the red and orange winding together
into an intricate piece of art that seems polar opposite to the man Doc
shows the rest of the world. He allows everyone to believe he’s someone
who feels nothing for anyone, but maybe that’s not the case.
Maybe he just needed the right thing to allow him to rise from the ashes.
And my hopeful heart tries to tell me that I’m that thing, even if my
rational mind knows that can’t be true.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

DOC

I
saw her retreating the moment we came down from our orgasms.
What I did afterward probably didn’t help matters, but I couldn’t
help myself. All restraint goes out the fucking window when it comes to
Isla. It’s not something I’ve ever had to deal with, but I find I don’t hate the
version of me I am when she’s around.
She’s watching me from the bedroom doorway and has been for the last
five minutes. It’s taken almost too much effort not to look in her direction
as I move around the kitchen, preparing one of the only things I can cook,
fettuccini carbonara, which I also happen to know is Isla’s favorite food.
There’s not much Everett can’t find on a person, right down to their
favorite color and food.
I have no idea what I’m going to do to stop her from running, but it
might come down to tying her to the bed until I’ve given her so much
pleasure she can’t think without me.
A viable option.
Unable to stop myself a moment longer, I turn to her and catch the
vulnerability she was trying and failing to hide from me in the bedroom.
She doesn’t know how to let me in. She doesn’t want to rely on me because
then I might let her down.
But I won’t.
I couldn’t if I wanted to.
 Because she’s a piece of me. The good piece. The piece that isn’t full of
sin and darkness. She’s the light that allows my heart to beat, and even if
she ran to the end of the earth to get away from me, I’d drag her right back.
“You gonna stand there all night?” I smirk.
Her cheeks turn pink, obviously unaware I knew she was there at least
some of the time. She doesn’t need to know I felt her eyes on me the second
the door opened.
Isla moves toward the table, wincing with each step she takes. I should
have been gentler with her considering it was her first time, but I couldn’t
help myself. I needed to fuck her. I needed to take her and make her mine. I
needed to claim her in every way possible.
She sits down tentatively, letting out a low hiss.
“You sore, spitfire?”
Isla nods, the blush on her cheeks deepening.
“I wish I could tell you I’d let you rest before fucking you again.”
“Doc,” she warns. “There’s no way I can do that again tonight…or
tomorrow for that matter.” She pauses. “You know what, let’s just write off
the next week.”
I throw my head back, a booming laugh filling the apartment that had
never seen any kind of happiness until she walked through the door.
I prowl toward her, the food on the stove forgotten about as I make
quick work of closing the distance between us. She doesn’t have a chance to
react before I scoop her up from her chair and deposit her in the middle of
the dining table.
Without stopping, I drop to my knees between her legs and bite down
on the inside of her thigh, tearing a strangled scream from her throat. “Yeah,
that’s not happening, spitfire. Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I’m going to
be fucking you on every surface of this apartment, in every position I can
think of, until we’re both so spent we sleep for a week.”
Before she can argue, I cover her sex with my mouth, lapping up her
wetness. She lets out a hiss of pain and pleasure, the line I love to hold her
on until the two are blurred and she can’t tell up from down.
“Such a bad girl not wearing panties,” I murmur against her cunt.
I suck her clit between my teeth, biting down on the sensitive bundle of
nerves until she’s writhing beneath me. Keeping her in a blissed-out state
might be the only way to stop her from running, and I’m more than happy
to oblige.
 Isla slams her hands down on the table, desperately searching for
something to hold on to, but when she finds nothing, she digs them into my
hair, using it as leverage to grind on my face.
“Does my dirty little whore want to fuck my face?” I growl against her
heated pussy.
She nods against the hardwood of the table, and I quickly stand. She lets
out a whine when she sees me move toward the kitchen, but watches as I
turn the stove off and prowl toward her once more.
I sweep her up into my arms and throw her over my shoulder, chuckling
when she squeals. I slap my hand down on her bare ass as I move back
toward the bedroom.
Once we make it into the bedroom, I throw her in the middle of the bed.
“On your knees facing the headboard, Isla,” I demand, and she rushes to
obey.
Once she’s situated, I round the other side of the bed and pull a pair of
handcuffs from my bedside drawer as she watches curiously.
I crawl onto the bed beside her, and before she can ask what I’m doing,
I’ve secured one of her wrists with the cuffs, wind them around the
headboard, and I reach for her other hand.
“Doc…” Isla says hesitantly.
“Give me your hand, spitfire,” I reply patiently. I know she’s not as
experienced in the bedroom, which is good because otherwise I might need
to kill some motherfuckers, but she needs to learn that I’m never going to
do anything to harm her. Not in a way she won’t enjoy anyway.
Reluctantly, she allows me to wrap the cuff around her wrist before I
check both to make sure they’re not too tight.
Once I’m satisfied, I strip out of my sweatpants and lay in the middle of
the bed, using my elbows to drag myself up until her cunt is hovering over
my face.
“Sit your ass down, Isla. I want your cum dripping from my chin before
I’ll uncuff you.”
She stares down at me with wide, unsure eyes, but I don’t give her the
chance to overthink it before I pull her hips down and press my tongue
against her pussy.
Fuck, she tastes good. So fucking good I’d eat her for breakfast, lunch
and dinner if she’d let me. Or maybe I’ll just keep her where she is right
now, and I could make that happen. At least that way there’s no way she
could run from me.
I suck and lick her cunt like a starved man while she writhes above me.
Her hips grind back and forth as she chases her pleasure, but I never
release her hips, keeping her flesh beneath my fingers until I’m sure she’s
going to bruise.
“Doc,” Isla pants. “Fuck. Oh god.”
I slap my palm down on her ass, tearing a squeak from her throat.
“Keep the name of other men off those pretty lips when you’re riding my
face, spitfire.”
She stares down at me in surprise, but she’s so wet I know she liked it.
She better. I have a feeling she’s going to earn herself a whole lot of
punishments with her smart mouth and constant disobeying.
I drag her hips down again and they start moving of their own accord,
dripping her juices all over my face. Fuck, she’s incredible. Her dark hair
hangs around her face, her eyes heavy-lidded as she stares down at me,
enjoying every fucking thing I’m doing to her.
“Are you going to come for me, Isla?”
She nods, speeding up her thrusts.
I gather some of her juices onto my fingers, intent on pushing her out of
her comfort zone for what feels like the tenth time today.
I use one hand to spread her cheeks, and by the time she realizes what
I’m doing, I’m already pressing my wet fingers against her back hole.
“Doc,” she warns.
“I’m going to fuck this tight ass one day, spitfire,” I tell her, probing her
with the tip of my index finger.
She stares down at me with wide eyes, but her hips still move against
my lips and tongue, and when I continue rubbing her back hole, she doesn’t
bother trying to pull away from me.
Slowly, I push a finger inside her and she lets out something between a
cry and a moan at the sensation. “Good girl,” I mumble against her. “That’s
it. Be a good slut for me and come all over my face.”
Her pussy gushes at my words, and I groan against her. So fucking
perfect.
My cock is so hard it’s painful, but I refuse to take my hands off her to
squeeze it. Once she comes, I’ll be back inside her before she can take her
next breath.
 “Does your needy pussy like it when I finger your ass, spitfire?”
She seems hesitant to respond, so I nip at her clit, and her squeal is
followed by a nod.
“I bet your ass is going to look so pretty filled with my cock, Isla. I
can’t wait to take your ass. I’ll toy with you for so long you’ll be begging
for relief.” I push my finger deeper and she writhes against me, her cheeks
flushed, her body pulled tight, and her cunt dripping on my lips faster than I
can lap up her juices. It’s so fucking sexy I can barely stop myself from
fucking her right here and now.
But I need to make her come first. She’s sore. I shouldn’t be fucking her
at all after the way I took her earlier. But nothing is going to keep me out of
my pussy, even if that means I need to prepare her to take me again.
“Doc, I’m close,” she cries. “I’m so close.”
“Come for me, Isla. I want you to coat my face,” I growl before
doubling my efforts.
I press a second finger against her back hole and press it inside her at
the same time I push my tongue into her entrance, and she detonates. Her
body tenses, and she convulses against my face, riding it like she’ll stop
breathing if she can’t see out her orgasm.
Her cum gushes from her, and I lap up every drop.
I drag out her orgasm, making sure she enjoys every second of her
release before I fuck her so hard she’ll see stars for a week.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

ISLA

H
oly Mother of God.
This man plays my body like it’s his own personal fiddle, and
every time he makes me come, it’s harder than the last.
I always thought my ass would be an immediate no. I had no interest in
ever trying any kind of butt play, but of course Doc smashed through that
and showed me things I never knew about myself.
Something else I never knew was how much I would enjoy dirty talk.
And yet every filthy thing that comes out of his mouth drags me closer to
whatever orgasm he’s about to force from my body.
I’m still coming down from the most recent release he’s pulled from me
when he disappears from under me and I assume he’s going to find the key
to the handcuffs holding me in place, but then I feel his body pressed
against my back.
“Doc, I’m sore,” I whisper.
He presses a kiss to my shoulder before carefully bending me forward
until my hands are gripping the headboard. “I know, spitfire. But I need to
fuck you.”
The next thing I know, the head of his cock is pressing against my
entrance, and he pushes forward with more restraint than I thought he was
capable of.
I whine, the mingling pleasure and pain making it hard to decipher what
I should be feeling. I thought for sure I was too sore to have sex again
tonight, but now that he’s inside me, I can’t imagine losing this feeling.
He grips my hips in a punishing hold that I’m sure will leave marks, but
I don’t care. Hell, I like the idea of wearing his marks, and I don’t even care
if that makes me fucked up. “Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock inside
you, Isla.”
I moan, his dirty words mixed with how he’s moving inside me,
bringing me close to another orgasm. I don’t even know how that’s possible
after how many he’s given me today, but I’m not mad about it.
“I can still taste you, and fuck if you haven’t become my favorite meal.”
“Doc,” I cry out when he hits the spot inside me I know can send me
spiraling if history is anything to go by.
“It’s okay, spitfire. I’ve got you.”
I tug at the cuffs around my wrists, desperate to get free, but being
bound only adds another level of pleasure. Doc has taught me more about
myself in the last week than I’ve learned in the first twenty years of my life.
It’s like he can read my body and my mind better than I can.
“I like you like this, Isla. Bound for me so I can use you any time I
want. Should I leave you here? Tied up and waiting for me?” he whispers
against the shell of my ear. “Maybe I could leave a vibrator inside your
pretty pussy. Only on a low speed though. All your orgasms belong to me
and me alone.”
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“Yeah, I like that idea. I think when I go to work at night I’ll leave you
here, and when I come back, you’ll be so fucking desperate for me that you
can barely breathe. Isn’t that right?”
His hips meet mine in a maddening rhythm. It isn’t quite enough to get
me to the edge, and despite all the orgasms I’ve already had, I need another
one almost as badly as I need to keep breathing.
“Yes,” I cry. “Doc, please. I need more.”
“I know, Isla.” He strokes his hand down my spine. “I’ll always give
you everything you need.”
His thrusts pick up in speed, and I hold onto the headboard to keep
myself steady.
Doc snakes a hand around me, quickly finding my sensitive bundle of
nerves.
I jolt at the sudden increase in pressure, letting out something between a
cry and a scream. “Doc,” I plead, but I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.
For him to stop? To keep going? To make me come? I’m just desperate for
him, and I can’t allow myself to read into that right now, not when I’m on
the brink of another earth-shattering orgasm.
“I’ve got you, spitfire. You’re going to be a good slut for me and you’re
going to choke my cock. Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I cry.
He slaps his palm down on my ass so hard I feel it through my entire
body, and it brings me that much closer to the release I crave.
“Mm, my girl likes being spanked.” He chuckles as he lands three more
slaps in rapid succession, each one causing me to pulse around his hard
length. “Come for me, spitfire. I need to see you dripping with my cum
again.”
It’s those words that drag me over the edge, and I tumble so hard that
the only thing that keeps me upright is Doc’s tight grip on me, holding me
steady as my entire body tenses and then trembles through pleasure that
makes it hard to breathe.
“Fuck, you’re choking my cock, baby. That’s it. Come for me.” Doc
coaches me through, and each word seems to drag it on longer and longer
until stars dance in my vision.
Holy shit. I didn’t know it could feel like this. So all-consuming. So
fucking good.
“That’s it, Isla. Take my cum like a good girl,” he grunts, his thrusts
losing their rhythm until he lets out a roar that tears through the otherwise
quiet apartment. I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors could hear us, and
right now, I can’t bring myself to care.
My release starts to ebb, and I allow my body to relax in Doc’s arms. I
can’t hold myself up any longer, and if he lets go, I’m definitely going to
faceplant the pillows. Not a bad problem to have I suppose.
He remains inside me for long moments, one arm wrapped around my
waist holding me against him while the other moves over my body, his
gentle touch at odds with the way he just fucked me. Being with Doc only
seems to get more confusing by the second.
Wait a minute.
Wasn’t I making a plan to leave before he brought me in here? Didn’t I
want to get as far away from this man as I could manage?
How the hell did he do that?
How did he distract me without me even realizing he was doing it?
 And how did he manage to soften my resolve with nothing more than a
couple of orgasms and a bunch of dirty words?
“You’re magnificent, Isla,” Doc murmurs against the shell of my ear. “I
never thought I’d feel like this. I didn’t think I was capable. But with you,
everything is different. I’m different with you.”
His admission has tears gathering in my eyes, and knowing he can’t see
my face, I allow them to fall against my cheeks. But not because I’m sad.
No. These are happy tears, because it’s like he’s just reached into my head
and said the exact thing I’ve been feeling.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but snap it shut again.
There aren’t words to describe how I’m feeling right now, and for some
reason the last thing I want to do is ruin the moment.
When Doc finally pulls out of me, our releases drip down the inside of
my thighs. My pussy is so sore I’m pretty sure a strong breeze would make
me wince, but I’m too blissed out to care.
Doc moves around behind me, and I rest my head against my shoulder,
struggling to keep my eyes from drooping closed. I’m so tired.
He unlocks the cuffs and takes care to massage each of my wrists even
though they’re not sore, and then he scoops me into his arms and carries me
back into the kitchen.
He props me up on the bench as he turns the stove back on to finish
cooking dinner.
“This is unsanitary,” I point out as I stare down at the bench my bare ass
is sitting on as his cum continues to drip from my pussy.
“I don’t care,” he says without bothering to turn back to me.
I shake my head and allow the laughter that claws up my throat to
escape. The sound is unnatural even to me, but when Doc finally turns to
face me, still naked, the smile on his face is worth a thousand laughs.
For the first time since I got here, running is the last thing on my mind.
This is where I’m supposed to be. Even if it’s only for a little while.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

DOC

T
aking care of Isla has become an obsession.
I cook for her, make sure she’s relaxed after a long day of
studying, and most days I’ll go as far as washing her hair for her. A
few months ago, I would have rolled my eyes at any man who would do
something so ridiculous for their woman, and yet now I’m one of those
suckers.
I shake my head, a smile tipping up the corners of my lips as I watch her
bop her head to whatever music is playing in her headphones.
That’s my other obsession.
Watching her.
Every minute of every day I have eyes on her. Not that she knows that.
Probably for the best if I’m honest.
She’d be freaked the hell out if she knew I was following her to school,
watching her and Bella eat lunch on a bench by the library. Hell, I barely
even sleep these days, choosing to watch her instead.
It’s a compulsion. And one I’m choosing not to fight.
I’ve spent so many years fighting against feeling, and I should have
known the minute Isla walked into my life that it was all over.
“Are you planning on staring at me all night?” she asks without looking
up from her textbook.
I smile. Okay, maybe she does know I’m watching her sometimes.
“Yep.”
 “You’re a creep,” she teases, her eyes finally flicking up to meet mine.
There’s a lightness to her that wasn’t there before. I’m not sure when it
happened, but making her smile has become my favorite pastime.
Oh god, if I’m not careful, I’m going to be as bad as the Saint James
clan.
“Only when it comes to you,” I retort, and she shakes her head like it’s a
ridiculous notion.
Her eyes move to her phone, and sadness moves into the amber for just
a moment before they flicker back to the textbook in her lap with a soft
sigh. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed her looking at her phone longingly,
and if I hadn’t been basically stalking her every move for the last week, I
would wonder if she’s waiting for another man to message her.
“You okay, spitfire?”
She nods but she doesn’t meet my eye.
I stand from where I’ve been pretending to work on my laptop for the
last hour and move toward her, dropping down into a crouch in front of her.
I pinch her chin between my thumb and forefinger before bringing her face
up to meet my eye. “What’s going on?”
She sighs and closes the book, placing it beside her. “It’s just that I
haven’t heard from anyone in Boston since I moved. It’s been almost three
weeks and not a single message from Bree, or my dad, or even Bryant.”
My body tenses at the sound of another man’s name on her lips, but she
quickly leans forward and presses a kiss to my lips, appeasing me for the
moment.
“It’s not like that, Doc. It’s just that we were friends, and he hasn’t
reached out once. I’ve messaged all of them so many times, and I never
receive a response,” she winces. “I guess it’s hard accepting that you’re just
not as important to people as they are to you.”
I don’t tell her the reason she hasn’t heard from Hayes is because I
blocked his phone number, because I don’t think it’s him that she’s most
upset about. It’s her best friend and her father, and although I am an asshole,
I would never cut contact between her and the people she loves most in the
world. Even if I find myself wanting to occupy that category right alongside
them.
“Have you heard from my dad?” she asks hopefully.
“Not since we’ve been back in Chicago.” My brows pull together. It’s
not as if I expected us to be best friends again the moment we walked back
into each other’s lives, but I would have expected at least a text to see how
his daughter is settling into her new life that she never wanted for herself.
She sighs and allows her eyes to fall closed to warn off the tears that
gather in the corners. I hate when she’s upset, especially when there’s
nothing I can do to fix it.
“Do you want me to call him? Just to check in?”
Isla shakes her head, a defeated sigh falling from her pouty lips. “No,
I’m sure he’s just busy. It’s not like all their lives stopped when I got
hitched and moved states.” She lets out a forced laugh and leans back on the
couch. “Aren’t you meant to be heading out tonight?”
“I can stay home if you want. I don’t have to go.” I do. But Storm will
understand if I sit this one out. Ever since Ayvah, his fiancée, walked into
his life, he’s a lot more lenient when it comes to these kinds of things.
“You haven’t been to work in a week, Doc. You’re going to go stir
crazy.”
Not when I spend all my time watching you, I think to myself.
“What about if Bella comes over and you two watch a movie or
something?” I offer.
A small smile tips up the corners of her lips at the suggestion and she
reaches for her phone. She taps out a quick text before dropping it back to
the cushion. “Maybe a girls’ night will do me some good.”
“I’m sure it will.” I press a kiss to her forehead, and I don’t miss how
she leans into my touch.
“Thanks, Doc.”
“You don’t have to thank me for something so minor.” I chuckle.
“Not just for that.” She rolls her eyes. “Thank you for everything.”
I smile, something I did so rarely before she walked into my life, and
stand, looking over at the time on the clock in the kitchen. “I should get
going. Call me if you need anything, and please for the love of God, do not
leave this apartment. I don’t think I’m ready to track you around the city
again.”
She giggles. “I’ll stay in the apartment.”
“Good girl.”

I
’m a few minutes out from the Saint James estate when I press Edward’s
contact in my phone. It’s strange for him to not have reached out to not
only Isla, but to me either.
 I pull off the main road, the sound of the phone ringing and the tires on
the gravel fill the otherwise quiet car.
I should have called as soon as I left the apartment, but I spent too long
watching the cameras to make sure Isla didn’t get it in her head she was
going to leave the apartment.
Once Bella arrived dressed in a pair of baggy sweats and a sweater that
looked like it’s been washed five too many times, I decided it was safe to
turn the feed off.
“Hi, you’ve reached Edward. Leave your name and number and I’ll get
back to you when I can.”
My brows pinch together as my eyes flick to the time. He should be
home from work by now, but maybe he’s doing overtime or eating dinner?
“Hey. Isla’s worried about you. Call her,” I bark out the order and end the
call. I never took him to be a shit father, but the way he’s treating his
daughter right now makes me want to fly back to Boston just to punch him
in the face.
Or maybe that’s just my protective instincts that know no bounds when
it comes to her.
The gate opens for me before I can reach it, and I wave at the security
staff as I cross onto the property. This place is ostentatious as hell, but now
the younger generation is in charge, it’s becoming a little more modern as
time goes on.
Rayne and Storm are standing at the top of the steps when I stop the car,
and I waste no time getting out, slipping my phone into my pocket so I can
check the cameras again in a little while.
“What’s with the welcoming party?”
“We need to talk.” Storm nods his head toward the house, and I climb
the steps without hesitation.
I follow after him, wondering what the hell I’ve missed in the week I’ve
been away from the business.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ISLA

“A nd then I shit you not, he called me mommy.”

I howl with laughter, tears falling against my cheeks as Bella
recalls the horror date she went on last night. It’s the most recent in
an endless number of them, and each one only seems to make me laugh
harder.
This girl has no luck with dating.
“It’s not funny,” she whines, taking a long swig of Doc’s expensive
whiskey.
He said we couldn’t go out tonight, but he didn’t say anything about no
drinking.
“It’s a little funny.” I smirk.
“I just don’t understand guys our age,” she groans and falls against the
plush lounge. “You had the right idea, marrying a guy twice your age and
skipping all this bullshit.”
I laugh. If only she knew this wasn’t really a choice I made, but more of
a happy accident.
“Does Doc have any brothers? I wouldn’t mind a hot brooding giant of
my own.”
I throw back the rest of my drink, giggles pouring from me for the first
time in so long. Being with Bella is effortless. We never had that awkward
start to our friendship where we didn’t know what to talk about. Every day
has come naturally, and we never seem to run out of things to talk about.
“Sadly no. He’s an only child.” Or at least I’m pretty sure he is. Admittedly
we haven’t spoken much about his family, or mine for that matter. For the
last week, we’ve been exploring each other, and I’ve been enjoying every
single second. Lord does that man know how to use his dick, and he does,
every chance I give him.
“Damn.” She sighs.
I refill our drinks and take a sip of mine. “I’m sure there will be an end
to all this bad luck soon.”
“Girl, I hope so, because I can’t keep doing this shit. At some point I’m
going to get a BOB and call it a day with six cats.”
“A BOB?” I raise a brow.
“Battery-operated boyfriend. I mean, not like I don’t have one now, but
I might have to expand my collection if I give up on real men.”
Another giggle escapes my throat. Having Bella around is almost
enough to soothe the sting of Bree’s rejection. But I can’t swap one best
friend for another because they’re different people. I can love them both
and still be a good friend. If only my oldest friend would return my
messages.
“I mean, at least you’d always finish.”
“You have a point there.” She taps her lip with her pointer finger as if
she’s seriously considering the idea. “Hey! I’m certain Doc isn’t leaving
you wanting for orgasms.” She waggles her eyebrows.
Heat spreads across my cheeks as I take another sip of whiskey. It’s not
as if I’ve never gossiped with friends about men, but this is different. He’s
my husband. My much older husband who also took my virginity and gives
me no less than five orgasms a day. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”
“You’re a lucky girl, Isla. The things I’d do to have a man like him
manhandling me.” She bites her lip suggestively, and we fall into a pile of
giggles.
This is exactly what I needed.

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 CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

DOC

N
o matter how fast I drive, it takes too fucking long to get home to my
girl.
I knew she was already asleep when I left the estate, because I’d
spent most of the night watching her and Bella drinking my whiskey and
giggling on the couch like they had no worries in the world.
I wish that were the case.
There are whispers in the city, a new player in town, a ghost.
Storm wouldn’t normally bring me in about this kind of thing seeing as
I’m just the doctor. I patch up their men when they get themselves shot and
do house calls when they’re being overprotective cavemen.
But seeing as Storm knows bits and pieces about Isla and how she came
to be my wife, he wanted me to know the small pieces of the puzzle they’ve
been able to collect are connected to Spade.
There’s only one reason that asshole would be expanding his network
into Chicago, and that’s to keep an eye on the woman he thinks should
belong to him.
But she’s mine, and if I have it my way, he’ll never touch a hair on her
perfect head.
I stand over the bed and watch her sleep. The gentle rise and fall of her
shoulder, the small smile playing on her lips, the small moans she lets out
every so often.
 She better be dreaming about me, because the alternative might get
someone very dead.
When I can finally bring myself to be more than a few feet from her, I
move into the bathroom and shower, washing the night from my skin as if it
will remove the new problems that have found themselves on our doorstep.
But there’s not a soap on earth that can wash away a stain of the earth
like Mason Spade.
Once I’m satisfied I’m clean, I dry myself and slip back into the
bedroom.
Isla is still curled up in the middle of the bed, wearing the Henley I’ve
officially given her to sleep in because every time she puts on any other
kind of pajamas, I strip her and replace them with my own clothing.
I crawl in behind her and pull her body into mine, desperate to feel her
warmth against me.
The faint scent of whiskey touches my nose, and I know she’s in a deep
sleep from the liquor she consumed.
An idea has my lips tipping up in a smile that has no place on my face
right now. But she always seems to be able to bring me happiness, even
when she’s asleep.
I run my hands over her body, relishing in the feel of her softness
beneath my palms. She’s so fucking perfect. Every inch of her was made to
be mine, and I’ll be damned before I let anyone take her from me.
Carefully, I slip one hand up the front of her shirt, finding her hardened
nipples and tweaking them softly. The other hand moves south until I find
her bare cunt.
Fuck.
I demanded she stop wearing panties to bed, but she usually forgets, and
I get great joy from punishing her.
Slowly, I move my fingers through her wet folds and swallow the groan
that climbs up the back of my throat. Yeah, my girl is dreaming about me.
Her pussy is soaking, as if she knew I was going to come home and fuck
her.
I slip a finger inside her and her hips gently move in her sleep, giving
me better access to her pretty pussy. Jesus, this girl is perfection.
Her ass presses back against my hard cock, and a whimper fills the
room. Even in her dreams she needs me buried inside her, and what kind of
husband would I be if I denied her?
 I push a second finger inside her, scissoring them to make sure I won’t
hurt her when I push my cock inside her.
When I can’t stand another second of not being buried in her, I pull my
fingers free and slip them into my mouth, sucking her juices from them. She
tastes so fucking sweet. If I could bear to hold off fucking her, I’d wake her
up with my tongue, but that would have to wait for another day.
I press my head against her entrance and slowly thrust forward, feeding
her a few inches at a time until I’m fully seated inside her. The feeling of
her cunt wrapped around me is almost enough to snap my control, but I
refuse to ruin this moment. I need her too fucking badly.
I tug her back into me, nestling her back to my front while holding
myself deep. I could sleep like this. Buried inside her, as close as two
people can possibly be, and maybe I would if it weren’t for the pent-up
need that built in me in the hours I was away from her.
I have no idea how I used to breathe before she came into my life,
because now every time she’s in another room my skin feels like it’s
crawling.
Slowly, I begin thrusting in and out of her, holding her close all the
while. It takes all my strength to keep it gentle, trying to keep her from
waking until she’s ready to fall over into her release.
Am I fucked up for doing this while she sleeps? Absolutely.
But is that going to stop me? No. Not in a million years.
I’m desperate for her, but then again, I always am.
Once I’ve set a steady pace, I use one hand to hold her in place, and the
other moves between her perky nipples and the bundle of nerves just above
where my cock is moving in and out of her.
A soft moan fills the room, and her head drops back against my
shoulder. She’s beginning to stir, and my control is beginning to wither.
The need to pin her onto the mattress and use her body like I’ve been
craving since I stepped out of the apartment. But I hold off the urge. There
will be plenty of time for that once she wakes.
“Doc,” she moans, but she’s not awake yet. Her body is still limp in
mine and she hasn’t moved other than to push her hips back against mine.
Even in her unconscious state, she’s chasing the pleasure only I can give
her.
“I’ve got you, spitfire,” I whisper against the shell of her ear. “You’re
such a good girl. Such a perfect girl for me.”
 She finally stirs, her body startling for a second before she realizes
what’s happening and she immediately relaxes against me. “Were you
fucking me while I was sleeping?” she asks sleepily.
“I’ll fuck you whenever I want to, spitfire.” I bite down on her shoulder
and drag a strangled scream from her throat. “And your pussy was begging
for it. Always so wet and needy for me.”
Isla meets me thrust for thrust, immediately falling into the rhythm I’ve
set for us.
I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing just enough that her moans
come out a little choked and her cunt pulses around my cock. “Mm, you
love my hand around your throat, don’t you spitfire?”
“You know I do.”
I chuckle. “I do.”
Unable to hold myself back for another moment, I push Isla flat into the
mattress but keep my hand around her throat because she loves it so fucking
much.
I hold myself up on one elbow but allow some of my weight to keep her
pinned to the bed at my mercy as I slam my hips into hers over and over
again, using her body the way I’ve been craving all night.
It doesn’t seem to matter that I fucked her this afternoon, because when
it comes to Isla, I’ll never get enough.
“Doc,” she cries into the pillow.
“That’s it, spitfire. You’re so fucking good for me, taking my cock like a
good girl,” I praise. “Are you going to come for me? Are you going to let
me fill your pretty pussy full of my cum?”
“Yes, fuck yes.” She grips the pillow beneath her face, desperate to hold
onto something as I fuck her without mercy.
“Beg for it, baby. Beg for my cum,” I demand.
She swallows beneath my palm, but she doesn’t hesitate. It seems I’m
not the only one who enjoys her being full of my cum, but then again, she
also thinks she’s still protected. She’s getting low on pills now, and I’ll have
to make sure I intercept the new packet when she gets it from the pharmacy.
Although, with the number of times per day I fill her up, I wouldn’t be
surprised if she’s already carrying my baby.
The thought has my hips slamming into her ass harder and my cock
pulsing with the need to come.
 “Come for me, spitfire. Right. Fucking. Now,” I growl, tightening my
grip on her throat, and I’m immediately rewarded with her pussy milking
me, her orgasm tearing through her.
She lets out a strangled scream and I follow her over the edge, shooting
hot streams of cum as deep as I can manage.
We’re both panting when I finally stop, but I make no attempt to roll to
my side of the bed, preferring to remain seated deep inside her.
“You’re kinda messed up, you know that right?” she quips as I snake
my arm out from under her.
“I don’t exactly make any secret of it.” I chuckle.
She shakes her head and I watch as her eyes fall closed, her lashes
fluttering against her cheeks. “I’ll admit, it was a nice way to wake up.”
I press a kiss to her shoulder and then another to her neck, not ready for
this moment to end and for her to slip back into sleep. “I’ll have to
remember you like being fucked in your sleep.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she murmurs.
“Oh, I would. Your cunt was gushing for me long before you opened
your eyes.”
Isla’s smile tells me she’s not mad at how I woke her, and it just proves
she loves everything I do to her, even if it is kind of fucked up.
I finally withdraw from her pussy, and as always, I gather my cum onto
my fingers and push it back inside her, holding them deep to give it the best
chance to take root.
“I need to go clean up,” she yawns.
“Just a little longer and then I’ll get a warm washcloth and do it for
you,” I offer.
“Okay.” She nods, and another yawn escapes her throat.
I lean over her once more and press a kiss to her cheek. “Sleep,
spitfire.”

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 CHAPTER FORTY

ISLA

I
rush across campus for my next class, suddenly regretting the coffee I
insisted I needed in the fifteen-minute break I had to get clear across the
campus.
Stupid need for caffeine.
I didn’t even get to enjoy it because some asshole slammed into me a
few minutes ago, and I lost the entire contents of the cup to the grass in the
square.
Today has not been my day, that’s for sure.
Everything that could have gone wrong, has, since the moment I opened
my eyes.
Well, maybe that’s being a little dramatic, but I’m not used to waking up
without Doc beside me, and this morning there was nothing but a cold
pillow and a note on his side of the bed.

Spitfire,
I got called into work, but I’ll be here
when you get home tonight.
Have a good day and be a good girl.
 I’m not ashamed to admit that last part made me ache just a little for
him.
Then there was no hot water in the shower, the coffee machine at home
decided it wasn’t going to work, and the train was late, which made me late
to my first class.
And that’s not even to mention the lost assignment I was meant to hand
in this morning. I swear I completed it. Hell, I stayed up all night the night
before last to do it, and yet when I went to upload it this morning, it was
missing.
Goosebumps erupt over my skin as I reach the building my next class is
in, the feeling of being watched forcing me to look around at my
surroundings.
I’ve had this feeling on and off over the last couple of weeks, but I
didn’t think much of it. Why would I? I’m safe here.
When I can’t see anyone looking in my direction, I shake my head and
move through the building toward the class I’m already five minutes late to.
I sneak into the back of the auditorium, thankful when I spot Bella in
the back row with a seat spare beside her.
As carefully as I can manage, I sneak past the people between us, and
when I collapse into the seat beside her, I let out a heavy sigh.
It’s been a day.
“You okay, girl?”
I nod as I pull my laptop from my bag, along with a pen and notebook.
“It’s just been one of those mornings.”
“What, did Doc not give you seventeen orgasms before you left the
bed?” she says so loud that everyone turns to look at us.
My cheeks heat, and I turn on her. “Could you have said that any
louder?” I snap.
“Actually—” She looks ready to do exactly that, and I slap my hand
over her mouth before she can get the words out.
“No, that’s okay. I believe you.” I laugh and pull my hand back once the
rest of the class has turned their attention back to the middle-aged man at
the front of the room, talking about how international relations can be the
difference between a war starting and not. That seems pretty fucking
obvious to me, but I guess he has to pad the semester somehow.
“So if it wasn’t Doc not waking you up with his mouth on you, what’s
so bad about today?”
 I shake my head but can’t help the smile that’s found its way onto my
lips. Bella always seems to make me laugh, and it’s one of the reasons I’ve
come to value her friendship so much. It’s like when I was lost, she was the
light I needed to find, and I’m grateful I’ve had her friendship as I try to
navigate my new life.
I tell her all about my morning, right down to the dick that spilled my
coffee and she nods along, both of us completely oblivious to the lecture
going on around us. I’ve already read ahead to the end of the semester, and
if I really wanted to, I’m pretty sure I could take the final right now and
pass. It’s just the attendance I need to get my grades signed off.
“Maybe you should just head home and call it a day.” Bella shrugs.
“Some days are just shit.”
I roll my eyes and finally turn my attention to the lecturer, losing myself
in what he’s saying as a way of distracting myself from the return of the
prickling sensation that washes over me. This time I don’t bother looking
around because I’m almost certain my mind is playing tricks on me and I
don’t need to feed into my overactive imagination’s bullshit.

T he rest of the day passes without the same level of shit going wrong,
but by the time I get off the train, I’m in a bad mood. I just want to go
to bed and forget this whole day ever happened.
The busy bustle of the city around me allows me to ignore the never-
ending feeling of being watched, because in a city this big, you’re always
bound to have someone looking at you.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself to settle my racing heart.
I turn onto our street, and once the building is in view, I allow myself to
slow down. I’ve been almost jogging since I left campus, and for someone
who hasn’t stepped foot in a gym in her life, my heart feels like it’s ready to
leap clear from my chest.
Heavy footsteps behind me drag my attention from the building, and I
look over my shoulder, expecting to see no one there like I have every other
time I’ve looked around today.
Except now there is someone.
Someone I recognize.
One of the men Spade brought into my house when he confronted my
father.
His eyes lock with mine, and his pace picks up, but so does mine.
 I have no idea why he’s here, but I need to get into the apartment as
quickly as I can so I can call Doc.
The footsteps are getting louder, but I refuse to look over my shoulder
again because it will only slow me down.
I jog up the steps of our apartment building and once I pass the
doorman, I manage to get up the courage to look over my shoulder again.
The man is standing at the entrance, a wicked smirk pulling up the
corners of his lips. His dark hair is slicked back like in one of those mob
movies, but it’s his lifeless eyes that make my stomach bottom out.
“Spade sends his regards,” he says before turning on his heel and
walking in the direction we came.
I stand in the same position, too shocked to move for long moments.
What the hell was that about? Why would Spade have someone in Chicago
following me? Unless he’s here to check the validity of my marriage…
But Doc and I are married.
We spend every night he’s not working together. We go out for dinner
and he takes me for ice cream on cold spring nights just so he can pull me
against him to keep me warm.
We may not have started conventionally, but now that we’re here, we’re
happy. Or at least I think we are.
“Miss?”
I startle at the voice that pulls me out of my thoughts, only to be met
with Fred’s kind eyes. The doorman is one of the first people I befriended
when I moved in here, and I always stop to have a chat with him about his
grandchildren’s antics.
“Sorry, Fred. I just got a little spooked.”
His brows pull together. “Did someone scare you?”
I shake my head. “No, of course not. I’m just getting used to the city I
guess.” I force a laugh from my throat but don’t miss how false it sounds.
“Anyway, I should head upstairs. I have a mountain of reading to do for
school.”
“Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
I smile at him as I scurry to the elevators and hit the button three more
times than necessary. Once I get into the apartment, I’ll be able to make a
plan. Once I’m in my safe places I’ll be able to think clearly.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

DOC

I
’ve been in a foul mood all day.
I fucking hate not starting my day balls deep inside my wife, but
when I got the urgent call from Storm, I knew I didn’t have time to
wake her before I had to leave.
There have been more sightings of Spade and his men, which is doing
nothing to calm my possessive need to protect Isla, and each day I get
closer and closer to handcuffing her to the bed where I know nothing and no
one can hurt her.
I’ve been pacing the apartment for the last twenty minutes, knowing
she’ll be home any minute. She reached the building more than ten minutes
ago, so I have no idea what the hell is taking her so long to make it up here.
She’s probably talking with Fred. I don’t know what it is about my
spitfire, but she seems to befriend people no matter where she goes.
Considering I’m an antisocial asshole, I don’t really get it, but I like that
she has other people looking out for her.
The door swings open and Isla hurries inside, slamming it behind her
and checking the lock three times before she turns and rests her back
against it.
Her eyes flash with something I haven’t seen since the day we met
when she meets my gaze, and I rush to her before I’ve made the decision to
move.
“What happened?” I demand.
 She shakes her head, tears falling down her cheeks. “One of Spade’s
men was following me,” she whispers. “I felt like I was being watched all
day, but until I got onto the street, I didn’t see anyone. And then he chased
me and said something about Spade sending me his regards.” Her words
come out rushed and shaky, but she doesn’t pull away when I drag her into
my arms.
I shove the anger burning through my veins down to deal with after I’ve
made sure Isla’s okay. Before she came along, there’s nothing that would
have stopped my rage, but now that she’s in my arms, I refuse to show her
that side of me. She doesn’t need to know there’s a beast lurking beneath
the surface, begging to be unleashed.
“Did he touch you?” I growl through clenched teeth, holding her tight
against my body.
She shakes her head. “No. He didn’t get close enough.” She chokes on a
sob. “I’m scared, Doc. Why is he here?”
I hesitate for a moment, trying to decide if I should tell her this isn’t the
first time one of his men has been sighted in the city over the last month.
But I decide it’s better to keep her in the dark for the moment. She’s already
freaked out enough without me adding fuel to the fire. “I don’t know, Isla.
But I’ll look into it, okay? You’re safe here. I will always keep you safe.”
She nods. “I know.”
I need to tell Storm that they’ve made contact, but Isla needs me right
now, and she’s always my priority.
I lift her into my arms and carry her to the couch, carefully sitting her
on the edge. Once I’m satisfied, I pull her boots from her feet and sit beside
her, immediately dragging her into my lap.
Maybe it’s time I hire some security for her. Rayne offered a few days
ago, but I knew Isla would hate the idea, and there was no reason yet.
But there is now.
I need to make sure she’s safe and although I’d like to be, there’s no
way I can be with her all the time.
“It’s going to be okay,” I murmur against her cheek. “I’ll take care of
this.”
“I just don’t understand,” she sobs. “We really are together now. Why
was he here? How long have they been following me?”
That’s a good question, and one I’ll spend more time thinking about
once she’s taken care of. I’ve been back at work for two weeks, although I
have cut my hours down significantly to allow for more time at home with
Isla. But before that, I spent a good amount of time following her around to
settle my obsessive need to keep her safe.
I’ve been doing this for a long time. Hell I was a fucking SEAL for
God’s sake. I’m always aware of my surroundings, but I never noticed
anyone following Isla.
“I don’t know, spitfire. But you’re safe and that’s all that matters. I will
kill anyone that even thinks of hurting you.”
She shakes her head against my chest. “Don’t say things like that?”
“Why not?” I challenge. “It’s true. I’d kill every motherfucker that looks
in your direction if I thought it wouldn’t upset you.”
Her bloodshot eyes dart up to meet mine, searching them for signs I’m
exaggerating, but I’m not. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe.
“Get some rest, spitfire,” I say softly, repositioning her in my arms so I
can wrap a blanket around us both.
Taking care of people doesn’t come naturally to me, but taking care of
Isla? It’s become my favorite thing to do.
I watch her sleep, her tears drying against her cheeks, and her body
finally relaxes into my arms as unconsciousness takes her under.
More than anything, I need to figure out which of Spade’s assholes are
following my woman and take him out. But I can’t leave Isla alone right
now, and there’s no one I trust with her safety apart from the Saint James
family.
But am I really ready for Isla to know about that side of my life? The
side that’s highly illegal and surrounded with death and destruction?
I may not have a choice.
I reach for my phone, being careful not to wake her before typing out a
text to Storm.
Doc: Someone followed Isla home today. She said she
recognized him as one of Spade’s men.
Storm: Is she okay?
Doc: She’s freaked out, but she’s okay.
Storm: I’ll have Everett pull the tapes around your building and
see what we can find. Should I have Rayne organize security
for her?
Doc: I think it would be for the best.
 Storm: I’ll sort it. Take care of your girl.

It’s still crazy to me how much the great Storm Saint James has changed
since his fiancée came into his life. But then again, I’m not the man I was
before Isla either.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

ISLA

I
f I thought Doc was overbearing before, I had no idea how bad it could
get.
Ever since Spade’s goon followed me home earlier in the week, he’s
been watching me like a hawk. Even going as far as driving me to and from
school every day. Which is ridiculous because I know for a fact it’s out of
his way.
And don’t even get me started on the six-foot-three wall of muscle that
now follows me around anytime I’m outside the house. Antonio is almost as
huge as Doc and even more intimidating. He doesn’t speak much, in fact, I
think he’s said all of three words to me in the last few days, all of them a
warning about my own safety.
I sigh and fall against the back of the couch. I took today off because
I’m too overwhelmed. I can’t take another day of being followed around
and told where I can and can’t go. But even then, I know Antonio is outside
the door, waiting for me if I choose to leave the apartment.
Doc’s only trying to protect me, and I’m grateful for it, but he doesn’t
seem to understand that the longer I’m here, the more freedom I seem to be
losing.
The door swings open, and my husband strolls through with his brows
pulled together and his phone pressed to his ear.
“I’m not coming in tonight. You’ll just have to let them die if they beat
each other to death,” he snaps.
 Whoever is on the other end of the phone must argue with him because
his frustration only seems to grow with each word they say.
“Rayne, I don’t give a fuck. Those assholes go to The Circle knowing
full well there’s a possibility of death. They sign a damn waiver, for God’s
sake. It won’t hurt for me to not be there tonight.”
I give him a small wave but stay on the couch with my Kindle. I haven’t
been able to read as much as I would have liked today. I was really hoping a
few hours curled up with a work of fiction could distract me from the
disaster my life seems to have descended into, but not even an unhinged
morally gray fictional character can distract me at this point.
He hangs up the phone and prowls toward me. He never walks into the
apartment without finding me straight away, but there’s something
terrifying about him right now that almost makes me retreat. I probably
would do just that if I weren’t tangled with throw rugs with a cup of
peppermint tea in my hand.
My stomach has been a little unsettled today because it’s the first day of
my period. I’m pretty lucky compared to a lot of women, but I wouldn’t say
my time of the month is a walk in the park. This one is worse than the ones
I’ve had over the last few years since I went on the pill to regulate them, but
I put it down to stress.
Doc plucks me off the couch, dropping the cup onto the side table with
a thud as he carries me into the bedroom without a word.
“What are you doing?” I ask cautiously. He’s usually so gentle with me,
so I’m not used to this side of him, and I’m not exactly sure how to
approach him.
He throws me into the center of the bed and immediately reaches for my
sweater, which he rips over my head without bothering to answer my
question.
I wrap my arms around my bare chest as soon as he uncovers it, feeling
more self-conscious than I normally do with him, but then again, I’m not
normally as bloated and disgusting as I am right now.
He growls and pulls my hands away, his eyes feasting on the bare skin.
“Don’t hide from me, spitfire.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“No,” he snaps, gripping my sweatpants around the waist and he makes
quick work of tossing them across the room.
“Doc,” I warn. “I can’t do this right now.”
 His eyes darken, and if I hadn’t spent every night for almost a month in
his arms, the look that comes over his face might scare me. “I need you,” he
grows.
I open my mouth to argue as he reaches for my panties, and I quickly
scramble to the other side of the bed. Realistically I know he’s a doctor and
that talking to him about something like my period shouldn’t be such a big
deal, but I’ve never spoken to a man about it before, and since he’s the man
who wakes me up more mornings than not with his tongue buried inside
me, he’s not exactly the one I want to start with.
“Doc,” I pant as he rounds the bed. He’s like a wild animal stalking his
prey, and I’m afraid the more I run from him, the more it’ll make him want
to chase me. “I have my period,” I blurt out. “We have to put a hold on all
extracurricular activities for a few days.” There. That wasn’t so hard.
A dark smile tips up the corners of his lips, but he doesn’t stop his
pursuit. If anything, he becomes more relentless in his movements.
I spring from the bed, moving as quickly as I can toward the bathroom,
hoping the door will be enough to protect me from whatever has possessed
him. But he’s quicker than I am and wraps both arms around me before my
feet even hit the tiles.
“The more you run, spitfire, the more I want to chase you,” he murmurs
against the shell of my ear, immediately before he bites down on the lobe.
“Doc, please,” I plead.
“No,” he snaps. “You will not keep yourself from me. I don’t give a
fuck about your period. I need to be inside you.”
My lips part, but no words come out. Is he being for real? Again, I
understand he’s a doctor, but surely the blood should be an immediate no.
“The next words out of your mouth better be, ‘yes, Doc,’ followed by
you allowing me to finish undressing you, or I’ll have to punish you.”
“You can’t punish me for that!” I cry out, pushing at his hold on me as if
it’s going to make any difference. It won’t. Not when he’s so much bigger
than I am and about a million times stronger, but it’s worth a shot. “I’m not
comfortable with this. Please.”
He huffs out a sigh and carries my flailing body into the bathroom. With
ease, he props me up in one arm and locks the door before stepping into the
shower and starting it with him fully dressed and me still in my underwear.
The freezing cold water tears a startled scream from my throat, but Doc
seems totally unaffected by the icy droplets that hit us both.
 “What the hell?”
“You’re not comfortable with me fucking you while you’re bleeding,
and I’m not willing to not fuck you, so this is the compromise.” He shrugs
as he shucks his wet jeans and kicks them outside the shower along with his
soggy shoes.
What the fuck has gotten into him?
I sigh and drop my head into my hands, the frustration bringing tears to
my eyes. I fucking hate being an angry crier, but right now I can’t help the
tears that fall down my cheeks.
The sight of them makes him pause. Maybe I should have started crying
in the first place. It would have been easier than whatever the hell we’ve
just done.
“Why are you crying?” He softens his voice slightly.
“Because you’re so frustrating,” I snap but I can’t stop the tears now
that they’ve started. Stupid hormones are making me extra emotional.
His eyes narrow, but rather than snapping back at me, he pulls me into
his warm embrace, holding me tight against his chest for long minutes as
the water beats down on us. At least it’s warm now, otherwise I’d be well on
my way to hypothermia.
“Talk to me,” I whisper.
I try not to ask Doc about his work, both because I don’t particularly
want to know what illegal shit he gets up to while he’s outside this
apartment, but also because I don’t want to force him to tell me other
people’s secrets and put him in an awkward situation.
But something happened today. I can tell by the tension bunched in his
shoulders and how he holds me so tightly against him that I can barely drag
in a breath.
“Please, Isla,” he whispers, and I don’t need him to ask again to know
what he wants.
I sigh and pull out of his embrace for long enough to step out of the
shower and dispose of my tampon awkwardly, praying he doesn’t watch me
as I do so.
But when I return to the shower, his head is bowed beneath the water,
looking like the entire world is beating down on him.
Whatever happened today has rocked him, and if it’s my body he needs
to find solace, I’m going to give it to him.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

DOC

I
should have taken Isla away the second we found out Spade had men in
the city. I’m so fucking pissed at myself that I didn’t do just that. But it’s
too late now.
They’d follow us wherever I took her, and she’s safest here with me and
the people I work for to protect her.
But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to hunt every fucking one of
them down and kill them slowly and painfully.
I can’t fucking stand the idea of any of them getting their grimy hands
on her, which is why the second I walked into the apartment, I wanted to
bend her over the closest surface and fuck her until she was so full of my
cum that my scent would be leaking from her pores for weeks.
And then came the next blow.
Her period.
I’m a fucking doctor. I know the body can take some time to level out
after coming off the pill. But when it comes to Isla, I’m anything but
rational. And the fact she’s not carrying my baby only seemed to fuel the
fire beating through my veins.
She steps out of the shower, and I can’t bring myself to watch her leave.
I know rationally she’s not going farther than the bedroom, but any distance
feels like too much right now.
The water beats down on me, the warmth washing over my already
overheated skin. Fuck. I hate that she’s in danger. I hate that these assholes
keep getting closer. And I fucking hate that Spade is in the city right now.
Which is also why I refuse to leave this apartment. She’s safest here
with me.
Soft arms wrap around my waist, and when I look over my shoulder, I
find her plastered against my back with her eyes closed.
“Spitfire?”
“Take what you need from me,” she whispers, and I swear my fucking
heart explodes. I didn’t even think the fucking thing worked before she
walked into my life, and yet moments like this make the battered organ beat
again, bringing life back to it.
I round on her so quickly she gasps before I back her into the wall,
trapping her between me and the cool tiles.
“It won’t be gentle,” I tell her.
“Is it ever?” she challenges with a smirk.
I chuckle as I bend slightly and hook my arms beneath her knees. The
moment I lift her from the ground, she wraps her legs around me. Her arms
move to circle my neck, but I quickly capture them in one of mine and press
them above her head.
“Beg.”
Isla’s lips part as she stares down at me, lust replacing the frustration
that was there just a few moments ago. If there’s anything I’ve learned
about my wife in the last month, it’s that she can’t stay mad. Holding a
grudge goes against her very being, and that usually works in my favor.
“Please, Doc,” she whispers. “Please fuck me.”
“Are you going to be my dirty little whore?” I growl. I dip my head and
trail a line of kisses along her jaw before biting down on the soft flesh of
her neck. I need to mark her. Remind myself that she’s mine and no one can
take her from me.
She cries out at the sudden bite of pain, but by the way she grinds her
soaking wet cunt along my aching length, I know she’s into it.
Isla loves a side of pain with her pleasure, and I use that to my
advantage every chance I get.
“Yes,” she pants. “I’ll be your dirty whore.”
“Fuck,” I growl. The sound of the filthy words on her lips always drags
me closer to losing control, but tonight I’m not sure I had any to begin with.
I reposition my hips and surge forward, entering her in one brutal thrust
that tears a scream from my little spitfire. I almost never fuck her without
giving her at least one orgasm beforehand, but I’m too wired right now.
Some of the tension in my body begins to diminish as soon as I’m
seated inside her, but there’s still restless energy I need to exert. Without
giving her time to breathe, I begin a punishing pace, holding her hands in
one of mine and balancing her with the other.
I nip, suck, and bite every piece of skin I can reach as I fuck her with
wild abandon, slamming my cock into her over and over again until she’s
sobbing.
“Your cunt is fucking perfect, Isla,” I grunt. “You have no idea what you
fucking do to me.”
Her eyes flare with lust, and she leans forward to capture my lips. Her
kisses are as feral as my thrusts, all teeth and tongue as we both search for
the answer in one another.
She’s so fucking perfect for me it hurts.
I drag my lips away from hers. “You gonna come for me, spitfire?”
“I’m not there yet,” she whines, struggling against my hold on her
wrists.
Dropping her hands, I carefully lower her to the ground, but I don’t give
her a chance to question what I’m doing before I spin her to face the wall.
I push her lower back until she’s arched for me, and then I’m shoving
my cock back inside her, desperate to be sheathed in her cunt again.
This position allows me to fuck her deeper, and right now I need to be
as deep as I can get. If I could crawl inside her skin, I would. I’m that
fucking desperate for her.
“Rub your pussy for me, baby,” I demand, and she immediately drops
one of her hands to her clit.
“I’m so sensitive,” she whines.
“I know, spitfire. I promise I’ll take care of you once we both come.”
Once I’ve fucked her so hard, she’ll be feeling me for days, and I’m
reminded that she’s here with me and no one can take her from me. I won’t
let them.
She rests her head against the tiles, handing her body over to me and
trusting me not to break it.
I fuck her so hard and so fast her cries have turned silent, and my grunts
constantly bounce off the walls, echoing endlessly until I can’t take it
anymore. I need to fill her. I need to spill myself so deep that I can finally
rest easy.
 “Fuck, Isla. Now. Come for me right now,” I roar, my orgasm barreling
toward me so quickly I can barely hold off long enough for her to come.
Her cunt pulses around me, and she lets out a long moan that sounds
somewhere between pleasure and pain, and I fall over the edge right behind
her, pumping her full of thick ropes of cum.
I rest my forehead on her shoulder as we both come down from our
highs, relishing in the feeling of her pussy fluttering around my softening
cock.
Sex with Isla is everything. Hard. Soft. Fast. Slow. It’s all fucking
perfection. But these moments are my favorite. When her breathing is
choppy and my body is relaxed. When she allows herself to lean into me
and I allow her to see the parts of me I’ve only ever shown her. Nothing
compares.
Once I can finally breathe, I withdraw from her, watching as my cum
mingles with her blood and slips down her inner thigh and down the drain.
And for once, I fight the urge to shove my seed back inside her. It’s unlikely
she would get pregnant during her period, and I’ve already fucked her when
I shouldn’t have.
I move her into the center of the shower beneath the rainforest head,
while I pluck the handheld head from its cradle and carefully wash away the
mess from between her thighs.
I squeeze too much body wash into the sponge and make quick work of
washing Isla thoroughly. Her eyes drift closed, and she lets out a soft moan
the more she relaxes into my movements.
Once I’m sure she’s clean, I shut off the shower and lift her into my
arms, carrying her into the bedroom and depositing her on the bed where I
dry her.
All the while, a small smile tips up the corners of her lips and the part of
me that always feels adrift when I’m away from her settles. Taking care of
her has quickly become my favorite pastime.
Once she’s dry, she sits up and moves to push up from the bed, but I
quickly stop her. “Now where do you think you’re going, spitfire?”
A blush creeps across her cheeks, and she diverts her gaze. “I need a
tampon,” she whispers.
Despite my need to take care of her in every way, I nod once, knowing
she isn’t comfortable with me helping with those things, and that’s just
something I need to accept.
 I press a kiss to her forehead right before she scurries back into the
bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.
A chuckle escapes me, and I pull on a pair of sweatpants before moving
into the living room to set the couch up for her. I promised I would take
care of her after the way I took her, and I meant every word.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

ISLA

L
ife with Doc has fallen into a weird kind of normal.
He’s home for dinner with me most nights, and he never stays out
later than he has to.
He watches crappy reality television with me when he’s home and
commentates over it until tears of laughter fall down my cheeks.
And he fucks me to sleep almost every night.
It took me a while to realize that the feeling that’s taken root in my chest
is happiness, because it’s been so long since I’ve felt it. Doc makes me
happy, and I’m not going to fight against it any longer.
It’s been a little over a month since I was dragged to Chicago kicking
and screaming, but honestly? It feels like it’s been years. My life in Boston
feels like a lifetime ago, and if you gave me the choice to go back to exactly
as things were or stay here with a husband who pretty much worships the
ground I walk on, I would choose this life every single time.
I’m on my way out of the apartment when Doc drags me into a hug that
consumes me. He never really struck me as the kind of guy who could
appreciate a good hug, but that’s just another way he’s proven my
misconceptions of him wrong.
“Be safe,” he murmurs against the top of my head.
“I always am,” I tell him. “Plus, Antonio is watching me like a hawk. I
can’t see anyone being stupid enough to go against him.”
“You’d think.”
 I wrap my arms around his waist, my hands not quite touching around
his back, and stare up into his dark eyes. “Thank you for caring so much
about my safety.”
His brows pull together right before he cups my face in his huge hands.
“Your safety is the only thing that matters to me, Isla. I will do everything
in my power for the rest of my life to make sure you’re safe and happy.”
Tears gather in my eyes, and for once I do nothing to warn them away. I
take a steadying breath and lean into his touch. “I love you,” I whisper.
His eyes flash with surprise, but a moment later they’re replaced with
pure, unadulterated heat. “Say it again,” he demands, backing me up until
I’m pinned between his body and the door.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
I shake my head but can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corners of my
lips. “I love you, Doc. Endlessly.”
He crushes his lips down on mine, the kiss saying more than words ever
could. His hands drop from my cheeks, and then they’re everywhere. My
throat, my tits, my waist, my ass. The possessive slide of his palms over my
body only makes me melt further into him.
“I need to go,” I murmur between kisses.
“No.”
“Doc,” I argue. “I have a class in an hour. I’m already late.”
He nips at the sensitive flesh of my throat. “Should have chosen a better
time to tell me you love me.”
A laugh escapes my throat as I bring my arms up around the back of his
neck. “You can fuck me as long and as hard as you want once I get home.”
His dark eyes meet mine, a small smile on his swollen lips. “You drive a
hard bargain.” He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Okay, go to class
before I change my mind.”
I reach for my handbag, but before I can pick it up, he’s handing it to
me. “I’ll see you later.”
I’m about to turn around and tug the door open when he wraps his arms
back around me, dragging me into a tight hug. “I love you too, Isla. With
every beat of my heart I thought was long dead.”
I close my eyes and allow myself to breathe in his vanilla and leather
scent, the one I’ve found myself intoxicated by over and over again. This
moment with him, the way he holds me like I’m the difference between life
and death, it’s everything, and there’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do to
keep this feeling for the rest of our lives.

I
’m still on a high as I walk from the train to campus. It’s a short walk,
and I’m more than aware of the fact that Antonio is on the other side of
the street watching every person that comes within a few feet of me.
I’ve gotten used to him now, but the people around me still find him
unnerving. Kinda the point.
I round the corner and start through the parking lot, weaving my way
through cars as I move toward the building my first workshop of the day is
in.
Suddenly, someone grips my arm and tugs me behind a large SUV,
shoving me backward and plastering their hand over my mouth before I can
scream.
“Shh, it’s me,” a familiar voice soothes, and my panicked eyes meet
those of Bryant Hayes. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I had to do it
quickly so that huge asshole wouldn’t see me.”
His hand slips from my mouth, and I shove him backward. Irrational
anger flows through me, and the moment he recovers, I push him again.
“What the fuck?” I snap. “You scared the fucking life out of me.”
His gaze darts around, obviously looking for Antonio. “We don’t have
time for me to explain right now. Can you get rid of the guard and meet me
somewhere?”
Hesitation rolls over me. Why can’t whatever he has to say be said in
front of my guard? Is he working for Spade? I know their families are
mortal enemies, but that doesn’t mean the brothers wouldn’t be willing to
feed me to the sharks to settle the beef.
“Isla, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you. I just need time to
explain, and your asshole husband has cut off all communication
pathways.”
My mouth drops open in surprise. Doc did what now?
“Meet me in the women’s bathrooms near your Human Rights class this
afternoon.”
Before I can ask how the hell he knows my schedule by heart, he’s
gone.
“You okay, Isla?” Antonio asks, his gaze darting around the parking lot
looking for a threat.
 I nod and look down at the tennis shoes I’m wearing. “I was just tying
my laces,” I tell him quietly, not trusting my voice not to break.
Is Bryant the only person Doc’s cut me off from? Or is that the real
reason I haven’t heard from my father or Bree since he brought me here?
The day passes in a blur of lectures, and I can’t hide how shaken I am
from my interaction with Bryant this morning.
Bella has asked me what’s wrong so many times I’ve lost count, but I
can’t tell her without having to explain the whole sordid story of how I
came to live in Chicago in the first place.
By the time I take a seat in my Human Rights lecture, a nervous ball of
energy is lodged in my stomach, and anxiety is pounding down on me
ruthlessly.
It occurs to me that maybe I shouldn’t meet Bryant. There are so many
reasons I shouldn’t, including but certainly not limited to the fact I would
have to slip my security detail to do so while there are men following me.
But halfway through the lecture, I tell Bella I’ll be back in a minute, and
I slip from the lecture hall without a sound.
“Where are you going?” Antonio asks the second the door closes.
“Bathroom,” I tell him, not bothering to turn back to him as I scurry
toward the closest restroom.
His footsteps echo on the tiles behind me, but I don’t turn back, afraid
he’ll see right through my lies if he sees my face. I may have been a party
girl in my past life, but I’ve never been very good at lying to the people in
my life.
I shove into the bathroom, only looking back for long enough to make
sure Antonio isn’t following me in, and then I lean against the door with a
heavy sigh of relief.
For someone who used to sneak out most nights, I’m not very good at it
anymore.
“Finally,” Kai complains, and I shoot my gaze up to meet the eyes of all
four Hayes brothers.
Oh boy. If Bryant brought them all along for the ride, this is bound to be
bad.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

DOC

I
curse the day Storm Saint James was born as I drive across the city,
anger radiating from me.
Isla will be home any minute now, and I won’t be there to greet her
as I had planned. After her admission this morning, I wanted to fuck my
wife within an inch of her life, and then maybe fuck her some more after
that.
I wanted to fill her with cum over and over again. I wanted to tear so
much pleasure from her pretty body that she wouldn’t be able to walk for
days.
But no. Storm called, and I’m on my way to the fucking estate.
Some days I wonder if it would have been easier to get a real job instead
of working for the underbelly of the city. Then I remember I don’t like
dealing with people at the best of times, so being nice to real patients
probably wouldn’t be that easy for me.
I glance at a text from Antonio, my brows tugging together.
Antonio: Isla’s been acting strangely today.

I sigh and rub my hand over my face before tapping out a reply as I pull
off the highway.
Doc: I got called away. Stay with her inside the apartment until I
get home.
 It’s probably nothing. She’s a woman and their moods can change so
quickly depending on their cycle. But when it comes to Isla, I will always
be safe rather than sorry.
It’s only a short drive the rest of the way to the estate, and I park in my
usual spot in front of the steps.
Storm opens the door, his brows pulled together as he listens to
someone on the other end of the phone, nodding every so often before he
finally says, “Keep me updated. They make one step out of line, I want to
know about it.”
He shoves the phone into his pocket and opens the door for me to pass.
“Thanks for coming.”
I grunt out a response and follow him into his office, only stopping to
say a brief “hello” to Ayvah, who is curled up on the couch with a book.
I close the door behind me, and by the time I turn around, Storm’s
seated on the other side of his desk, pouring two glasses of whiskey. I eat up
the distance between us and collapse into the chair across from him before
taking the glass he offers me.
“What’s this for?” I ask, taking a sip of the amber liquid. It slips down
my throat, warming me from the inside out.
“I thought you might need it,” he sighs. “The Hayes brothers are in
town.”
My eyes widen. There’s only one reason they would be in Chicago, and
that reason also happens to be my reason for life.
“They were spotted at a hotel downtown late this afternoon.”
“All of them?” I ask.
He nods, draining his glass. “I have Everett keeping an eye on them, but
I wondered if you may know why they’re here?”
I shake my head. “I cut off all communication between them and Isla
before we even landed in Chicago.”
“And there’s no way they could have contacted her?”
“No. Absolutely not. I blocked all their numbers, email addresses and
social media, and I screen all her calls and texts. There’s been nothing
between them.”
A smirk tugs up the corners of Storm’s lips, and he looks like the cat
that ate the fucking cream. “Never thought you’d be the type.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snap.
 “To stop at nothing to keep your woman safe. But I suppose even the
mightiest of us have fallen.” He chuckles.
There’s a part of me that wants to throw the tumbler of whiskey in his
smug fucking face, but he’s right. There’s nothing I won’t do to keep Isla
safe, and if that means always knowing where she is and who she’s talking
to, that’s how it’s going to be. She doesn’t ever need to know the lengths
I’ve gone to in order to ensure her safety.
“Why couldn’t you tell me this shit over the phone?” I ask, draining my
glass so I can get back to the apartment as soon as he’s said whatever the
fuck he has to say.
Storm hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking to his phone on the desk
before coming back to me. “Have you heard from Isla’s father since you
returned to Chicago?”
“No. What does he have to do with anything?”
“Everett took it upon himself when we were advised of the Hayes
brothers being in the city to check on the other people in Isla’s life. Both
Edward and her friend Bree, are missing. Have been for a few weeks if the
intel we have is anything to go off.”
I rub a hand down my face.
Fuck.
I should have followed up with Edward when he didn’t call me back,
but I thought he was just ignoring me. We weren’t friends anymore after all.
We’re nothing to one another. Or I guess technically he’s my father-in-law,
but if I ever dared to say that to him, I have a feeling I’d be leaving with a
black eye.
“Is there any reason you can think of that they would both disappear
without a word?” He asks.
“No. I called Edward last week, but I didn’t think much of him not
responding. Isla has been trying to get in touch with both him and Bree for
weeks, but she thought they were just moving on with their lives and I’ve
been trying to distract her from it.”
Storm sighs and reaches for the whiskey, refilling both glasses. “Do you
think this could be Spade’s way of drawing Isla out? Admitting the
marriage is bullshit in exchange for her friend and father back?”
A growl tears its way up my throat, and before I realize what I’m doing,
I pick up the tumbler and hurl it toward the wall, watching as the glass
shatters across the carpet and whiskey coats the ivory walls. “My marriage
is not bullshit,” I force through clenched teeth.
Storm places his glass down in front of him, completely unbothered by
the mess I’ve just made in his office. But then it’s hardly the first time
someone has broken something in here. It’s probably a weekly occurrence
considering the tempers of the men in the family. “Not now. But it was to
begin with, was it not?”
I give him a short nod, hating the idea that there was a time when I
didn’t worship the ground Isla walks on, when I didn’t appreciate the angel
that walked into my life with a light so bright she lit up my darkness.
“Exactly. As far as Spade is concerned, your marriage is a farce, and he
has no reason to believe otherwise.”
The urge to throw the chair I’m sitting in and tear apart the entire office
beats down on me, but I swallow it down.
I reach for my phone in my pocket and pull it out, hoping Isla may have
replied to the text I sent her when I left the apartment. But there’s nothing.
It’s unlike her not to reply to me.
I tap out a quick text to Antonio asking for an update and then place my
phone on the desk. “Do the Hayes brothers have any ties in the city?
Anyone we can lean on for information?”
Storm shakes his head. “They are aligned with the Russos but when I
called Elijah earlier, he said he hadn’t heard from them in a while.”
I drop my elbows to my knees and bury my head in my hands. I don’t
like this. Not being in control at the best of times is enough to drive me
insane, but when it comes to my spitfire, it makes me damn near homicidal.
Both phones vibrate across the table at the same time, and my gaze
shoots up to meet Storm’s.
“They’ve been spotted near your apartment building.”
I look down at my own phone, and the words of Antonio’s message will
feature in my nightmares for the rest of my life.
Antonio: She’s gone.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

ISLA

E
very move I make is shaky as I shove things into a backpack I found in
the closet.
I’m not sure at what point I decided I was going along with
Bryant’s ridiculous plan, but here I am, packing clothes for the next few
days and trying to make sense of all the lies I’ve been fed.
Thinking back to my conversation with the Hayes brothers in the
women’s bathroom is almost as comical as it was heartbreaking. Of all the
places I could have had the rug pulled out from under me, it was certainly
unique.
“What the hell are you all doing here?” I ask, dropping my bag to my
feet. The three textbooks I packed in a hurry this morning are making the
damn thing a hazard.
“We need to talk.” Bryant approaches me slowly. “And I need you not
to freak out.”
“So you brought the brother that hates me and the one who has barely
spoken a full sentence to me in the years I’ve known him?” I challenge. I
have no idea what would make him think Kai and Kayden would help me
from freaking out, but maybe he just never knew me as well as I thought he
did.
He sighs and glances over his shoulder at his brothers leaning against
the far wall. Surely we could have met somewhere a little less disgusting.
“Bree and your father are missing.”
 I stare at him for long moments, processing the words he’s said to me
like they’ll do anything to make them less insane. “What do you mean,
missing?” I ask slowly.
“We noticed Bree stopped coming out after you left town, but we
thought it was just because she didn’t have you there. But then when her
brother and his girlfriend came in one night, they mentioned she hadn’t
been home in a few days.
“As you know, it’s not the first time she’s disappeared off the face of the
earth, and we assumed she was with some guy for a week of fun. But then
the following weekend she still hadn’t turned up and they were starting to
get worried.”
“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” I snap. “She hasn’t been replying to
my texts, I thought she was just out living her life. I didn’t think she was
missing.”
Bryant’s eyes narrow, and he lets out a frustrated breath. “I fucking
tried. For weeks. Every time I didn’t get a response, I started to worry about
you too, until I told Jaxon and he looked into it. Turns out your husband
blocked us in every way possible, from everything. That’s why we’re here. It
was the only way we could contact you.”
My mouth falls open in surprise. I can admit that’s something he would
do. He’s possessive as hell when it comes to me, but to block all four
brothers? That goes further than I expected of him.
“What about my father?” I ask. “I’ve been texting him too, but I
thought…” I choke on the thought I haven’t been brave enough to speak out
loud. “I thought he didn’t want anything to do with me now that I’m
married to the man he blames for his sister’s death.”
Bryant shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I spoke to him the day after the
wedding and he was hopeful for you. He wouldn’t just cut off contact. We
only realized he was missing because my father tried to get in touch with
him to see if he’d seen or heard anything else from Spade. We went to your
house, and it’s been cleared out. Your mom is gone too, but we tracked her
to Florida. Seems once you were out of the house, she had no reason to
remain in Boston.”
Every word out of his mouth seems more insane than the last, but that
does sound like her. She never much cared for being a wife or a mother
after Aunt Clarissa died, so bailing the moment I was married off kind of
tracks.
 The reality of the situation washes over me, and bile climbs up the back
of my throat. This can’t be happening. How could they just disappear?
I’m pulled back to reality by the sound of Antonio banging around in
the kitchen. This is the first time he’s really been in the apartment while
I’ve been here on my own, but I suspect my erratic behavior after my
bathroom break hasn’t done me any favors.
The burner phone Bryant gave me rests heavily in the pocket of my
jeans. This feels wrong. Even as I go along with it, it feels like I’m making
a huge mistake.
I should call Doc. I should tell him Bree and my dad are missing and
ask him to help find them. There’s no way I should allow Bryant and his
brothers to use me as bait to get them back. But that’s what I’ve agreed to.
Stupidly.
There’s still time to back out, but the idea that my best friend could be
hurt because of me, that my father may die because I wasn’t brave enough
to take a chance, it’s too painful to think about.
This is something I need to do, and hopefully when it’s all said and
done, I can return to Chicago, and Doc and I can find our way back to
where we are now.
I’m mad that, on top of putting a tracker on my phone, he also
controlled who could and couldn’t contact me. But I kind of understand it.
If he had random women messaging him, I wouldn’t be happy about it.
I move into the bathroom and throw my deodorant and hairbrush into
the bag. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone for, but I’m only packing the
bare minimum.
I glance at my phone on the dresser and move toward it, reading the
message Doc sent me this afternoon that I haven’t been able to bring myself
to respond to.
Doc: I won’t be here when you get home, but when I get home
let’s order in so I can spend the rest of the night making love to
you.

I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips at the same time the
first tear falls against my cheek. I can hear him saying it, because that’s
pretty much his solution for dinner every night. But it’s the swap from
“fuck? to “make love” that has my stomach fluttering. Perhaps to most, the
distinction between the two wouldn’t seem like much, but with Doc, it’s
everything.
 With shaky hands, I type a reply before deleting it and starting again. I
do this three more times before dropping the phone on the dresser and
walking away with a heavy sigh.
There’s no good way to say I’m leaving to put myself in harm’s way,
and if I don’t die, I’ll be back as soon as I can.
I finish packing at the same time the burner in my pocket vibrates. I
quickly fish it out and read the simple message three times before I shove it
into the backpack.
Unknown: Downstairs.

Antonio is on the couch watching some action movie when I stick my

head out of the bedroom. He has a bowl of popcorn in his lap as he watches
some guy shoot another man on the television.
With a deep breath, I creep toward the door, looking over my shoulder
every now and then to make sure he hasn’t turned around.
When I reach the door, I hold the handle for longer than I need to, trying
to will myself to go through with this, but eventually I decide the lives of
two of the people I love more than anything is more important than my fear,
and I quietly slip from the apartment.
There’s no part of me that doesn’t know this is a mistake. So why the
hell am I going through with it?

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 CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

ISLA

I
hold my breath the entire elevator ride thinking Antonio is going to
notice I’m gone and stop my escape. But when the doors open in the
garage and I see a blacked-out SUV with Bryant leaning against it, I
realize I’m actually going to pull this off.
I hurry to the car and allow him to help me in before he climbs in
behind me. I’m trapped between him and Kai while Kayden drives and
Jaxon rides shotgun.
“Gang’s all here,” Kai quips, and I glare at him.
“We don’t have the time for you two to start bickering,” Kayden snaps,
and my eyes widen as I meet the gaze of the oldest Hayes brothers. He’s
normally the quiet one, but he’s also the one I’ve spent the least time with.
“We need to get out of Chicago before anyone at Frost Industries realizes
you’re missing. They’ll shut down the city before we can blink if we’re not
careful.”
I’m about to ask why they would care about my disappearance when the
car takes off, taking a corner too sharp and sending me flying into Bryant.
After that, I quickly wrap my seat belt around myself and lean back
against the seat. Obviously I know Doc works for Frost Industries, and I’m
well aware that a lot of what they do isn’t entirely legal, but that doesn’t
mean they would care if I disappeared, right?
The drive to the airfield is short, but it feels like an eternity. Every horn,
every screech of brakes, and every stop all the way here had my heart
jumping clear from my chest because the reality is, if I can’t get out of the
city, I might lose not only my father, but my best friend as well. And I’m
not so naïve as to think Doc would go along with this plan. No, he’d never
put my life in danger like this.
I fiddle with the ring on my finger, the one I used to slip off the moment
I left the apartment because I didn’t want anyone to know I had been forced
to marry a man twice my age. Now it feels like a tether. Like even from a
distance, our souls are connected through the rings we wear to signify our
love.
It sounds cheesy as hell, especially because this is Doc we’re talking
about. But it just feels right.
I’m ushered onto the private plane, and I take the first seat I see. I’ve
never been on a private jet before, but this isn’t exactly the introduction I
thought it would be.
The way the Hayes men are looking around, constantly checking our
surroundings, is really fucking unnerving, and by the time we take off, I’m
a nervous wreck.
The farther I get from Doc, who has quickly become my safe place, the
more unsettled I am.
“You okay?” Bryant asks from his seat across from me.
I nod. “Yeah. This is all just a lot, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” His gaze flicks over his brothers. “I know you must be
scared, but we’ll do everything we can to make sure you’re not in any
danger while we get Bree and Edward back.”
“Why are you doing all this? It feels like a lot of effort to go to for
people you don’t really care for.”
He shakes his head. “Our fathers have been friends for many years, Isla.
Before your aunt died, they used to see each other all the time. You
probably don’t remember, but when you were little, you used to follow Kai
around like a lost puppy.”
“I did not,” I snap.
He chuckles. “You definitely did. He found it so annoying, but anytime
your mom would take you away so you weren’t annoying us, he was the
first to say you could stay.”
I glance at the man in question, and my lips quirk up into a smile. “And
Bree?”
 “As much as she’s a pain in all of our asses, we wouldn’t want to see
anything bad happen to her.”
I roll my eyes but can’t swallow the giggle that climbs up my throat.
She is a bit of a menace at times.
“Are you happy, Isla?” he asks.
The smile that creeps across my cheeks feels like the most natural one
that’s ever graced my face. “Stupidly.”
“I’m glad. We’ll get you back to Chicago once all this is over.”
I allow my eyes to drift closed and think of the man I have waiting for
me when I get home. I’m pretty sure he’s going to tie me to the bed and not
let me leave, but I’ll just be happy to be back with him.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

DOC

P
anic flares through every inch of my body as I tear our bedroom apart,
looking for some kind of clue. But there are none.
She’s just gone.
I have no fucking clue how she slipped out of here without Antonio
noticing, and after I beat him within an inch of his life without him giving
me anything useful, I don’t think he knows either.
Storm has been barking orders over the phone since we left the estate
together. Everett and Rayne weren’t far behind. And then when Elijah
fucking Russo walked through the door, I thought I might actually kill them
all. All four fucking musketeers are here, and none of them are being very
useful.
Snow hands me a glass of water, which I stare at with disgust. What the
hell am I meant to do with water right now?
“Please drink it,” she says softly, her blonde hair pulled into a messy
knot on the top of her head. “You’ll be no good to her if you don’t take care
of yourself.”
I snatch the glass from her hand and swallow down the contents in three
gulps. Taking care of myself is the furthest thing from my mind right now,
but she’s right. And hell, this is none of our first rodeos. The number of
times the women in this family have disappeared over the last two years
should make us all fucking professionals at this point.
 “Okay, I know where she is,” Everett says from the dining table where
he has two computers set up in front of him. “They’ve just landed in
Boston. They took the Hayes’ private jet.”
“Which is what we assumed,” I snap. Couldn’t he tell me something I
didn’t know?
He glares across the room at me but doesn’t argue. “Ace and I have both
been through all the footage between here and the airfield it appears they
flew out of, and we’re both coming up empty-handed.”
“Which means someone either diverted the cameras or deleted the
footage immediately after they passed,” Rayne says.
“Correct.” Everett nods. “Ace is running a program he’s got in beta
testing, but he didn’t sound hopeful when I was speaking to him.”
Ace is Tommy’s foster brother, but this is the first time they’ve worked
so openly together. At this point, I don’t give a fuck who we have to call in
to help as long as we get Isla back.
“How are we going to track Edward and Bree? Any luck figuring out
how long they’ve each been missing for and where they were last seen?”
Storm asks.
“Not yet. Spade’s men are pretty good at covering their tracks, but if
they’ve left a breadcrumb, I will uncover it,” he replies.
I drag my hands over my face. More than anything, I just don’t
understand why Isla would do this. If she was worried about something she
should have come to me, and the fact she didn’t just tells me we’re not
where I thought we were in our marriage.
“I’ve called the airfield. They’re fueling the jet and we’ll be in the air in
an hour,” Storm tells me as he looks around the room. “Everett, go home.
Wynter and Summer need you, and you can run point from there.”
He grumbles because this is the second time he’s been sidelined since
his daughter was born, and it’s obvious he’s not happy about it. But at least
his woman is safe in their home.
“Elijah, take Snow home and keep an eye on things here. Although I
doubt it, Spade has a lot of men in the city right now, and I don’t want to
leave it unprotected if this is a ploy to get us all out of Chicago.”
Snow looks like she’s about to argue when her husband takes her hand
and guides her toward the front door.
The couch dips and when I look up, Rayne has taken a seat beside me.
“We’ll get her back, Doc.” But that’s not a promise he has any right
making. Not when we don’t even know why she left.

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 CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

ISLA

I
wake with a thud, and when my eyes fly open, I see we’ve landed in
Boston, but I don’t get any of the relief I thought I would the first time I
came back.
It never occurred to me that with time, the place I’d lived my entire life
would cease feeling like home.
There’s an SUV waiting for us on the tarmac, and Bryant quickly ushers
me into it before I can change my mind about this plan. I can’t believe I’ve
agreed to it, but people do stupid things for the people they love. Including
using themselves as bait.
Kayden takes the driver’s seat, and we sit in silence as he navigates the
streets of Boston. It takes me too long to realize we’re heading toward the
club, and I look down at my black leggings and sweater, paired with a pair
of slip-on sandals. I’m not exactly dressed to go clubbing.
“We have a dress for you in my office,” Bryant tells me.
“Who does it belong to?”
“One of the waitresses,” Kai says. “I messaged her before we left
Chicago to go home and get it.”
I nod, my eyes drifting over the wet streets as they fly past. It seems
fitting that we’d enact this plan while it’s raining, like an omen of what’s to
come.
“How do we know they’ll release my dad and Bree once they have
me?” I whisper. It’s a risk. A big fucking risk. And one I have no right to
take. But I have to. I can’t allow them to be hurt because of me.
“We don’t.” Jaxon shrugs.
I stare at the back of his head for long seconds, my mouth dropping
open in surprise at his blunt admission. But I guess I should just be glad
they’re being honest with me.
I let out a stuttering breath and turn the ring on my finger around and
around, the only tether I have to the life I just walked away from. Regret
beats down on me until I can barely breathe through it. I need to speak to
Doc. I need to tell him I love him. I need him to know I didn’t leave him
because I wanted to, but because I refuse to be the reason those I love are in
danger.
The car comes to an abrupt halt in front of the busy club, and I’m
quickly ushered from the SUV. The hordes of people in the line waiting to
be let into the most popular party place in the city stare at me, surrounded
by Boston’s most infamous bachelors, a mix of interest and jealousy on
their faces. If only they knew.
Bryant guides me around to the entrance in the alley that runs down the
side of the club, and then I’m in the office I was in six weeks ago being told
I was about to get married. How has it only been six weeks? It feels like a
lifetime, like I’ve been living a different life entirely.
A simple black mini dress with cutouts down the sides and a low
neckline is thrust into my hands, and I stare at it for a few seconds before
meeting Kai’s cold eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Hurry up. Spade is already on his way.”
I nod, tears gathering in my eyes. “Could I borrow your phone
quickly?”
He sighs, annoyance flashing across his face before he fishes it out of
his pocket and hands it to me. “Quickly.”
He disappears from the room, slamming the door behind him before I
can ask him why he’s always such an asshole, even during one of the worst
days of my life.
I stare down at the dress and the phone sitting in either hand, trying to
decide which to do first, but I need to let Doc know I’m okay. I can only
imagine he’s going out of his mind with worry because if the roles were
reversed, I know that’s what I’d be doing.
I take a few deep breaths before typing in the number I had the good
sense to memorize a few weeks ago.
 “Isla?” Doc’s worried voice fills the line, and I almost choke on the
relief that washes over me.
“Doc,” I whisper, unable to trust my voice not to break under the weight
of the emotions beating down on me.
“Where are you? Are you okay?” He doesn’t sound angry. Just worried,
and that only makes me love him more. He’s everything I ever could have
wanted in a husband, and at least if things go south here tonight, I’ll have
known what love feels like.
“I’m in Boston, at The Vault. My dad and Bree are missing. I had to
come and help get them back.” I choke on the words.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he demands. “We could have done this
together.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I admit. “I was scared.”
A pained sigh fills the line and I allow tears to fall against my cheeks.
“I don’t have much time,” I whisper. “I just wanted you to know I love
you. More than I ever thought I was capable of loving anyone.”
“Isla,” he warns. “You better not be saying goodbye to me.”
“I’m not. I just want you to know, just in case.”
“There is no ‘just in case,’ spitfire, because you’re going to stay right
where you are until I get there, and then we’ll make a plan. We’ll do this
together.”
But I’m already shaking my head. “There’s no time.”
“Isla—”
“I have to go. I love you.”
I end the call before I can talk myself out of it and allow the sob caught
in my throat to escape. What if that’s the last time I ever speak to him?
A knock at the door startles me, tearing a squeak from my throat.
“Hurry up!” Kai shouts.
I take a deep breath to steady myself and drop his phone on the couch
cushion before making quick work of changing into the dress with my
broken heart heavy in my chest.

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 CHAPTER FIFTY

DOC

T
he phone shatters the moment it hits the wall, pieces of plastic and
metal falling to the ground a few feet from where we’re standing.
Storm’s brows are almost comically high, but he doesn’t say a
word as he waits for me to update him. It wasn’t too long ago that Ayvah
was stolen from him, so he understands the motions I’m going through
better than most.
The only difference here is that Isla walked away herself. She wasn’t
kidnapped or talked into leaving. No. She went because she thought it
would be best for the people she loves.
But doesn’t she understand I would have gone to the end of the fucking
earth to make her happy? That I would have gone with her to Boston to get
them back?
“You okay?” he asks carefully, his gaze flicking to the plane we’re
about to board, where Rayne is talking to the pilot.
“No,” I growl.
“Is Isla okay?”
“For now.”
He nods but doesn’t keep pressing me for answers as he leads me out
onto the tarmac. I’ve been on the Saint James private jet more than a few
times, but this is the only time I’ve felt like my life depended on the flight.
What if something happens to her before I can get to Boston? What if
Spade takes her? I should have installed the fucking tracker in her neck
when I had the chance. But after the night at the club, we were so good. We
found our new normal in one another.
Or at least I thought we did.
At the very least, I should have taken Everett’s advice and put trackers
in all her shoes. It might sound stupid, but she’s never going to leave the
apartment without footwear, is she?
I trudge up the stairs of the plane, not bothering to greet the staff on
board before I collapse into the closest chair. I’m not usually one for
niceties, but it’s never been more the case than right now.
Storm takes the seat across from me, and Rayne on the other side of the
aisle, but no one speaks until after we’ve taken off.
“What did she say?” Storm finally asks.
I turn my glare from the window to him, but he’s one of the very few
men who doesn’t shy away. “She just confirmed what we already know.
She’s in Boston to try to get her dad and best friend back.”
He nods, running his fingers over the five o’clock shadow on his jaw.
“Anything else?”
“They’re at The Vault, which we also pretty much assumed.”
He sighs and turns to Rayne, whose attention is on his phone. “When
was the last time we saw Spade on the cameras?”
His dark eyes flick up to meet his brothers before dropping back to his
phone. “Being in a group chat with Everett and Ace is fucking infuriating. I
don’t understand half of what they’re saying, and the half I do understand is
just them bickering.”
Storm groans and allows his head to hit the headrest. “I swear, running
this family is going to be the death of me with the amount you all complain
about each other.”
Normally the familial arguments would be the most amusing part of this
flight, but all I can think is that we’re going to be too late. We’re still hours
away from Boston, and once we land, we have to get into the city.
What if it’s too late?
What if we can’t save Isla?
What if Spade takes her and I never see her again?
The last words I said to her should have been ‘I love you.’ Will that
forever be my greatest regret?

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

ISLA

“I can’tThedo dress
this,” I say the moment Bryant opens the door.
hugs my body in a way I used to love, but now I long for
my sweatpants. I wish I was on the couch at home with Doc, with him
on his laptop and me with my head in a book.
Or in bed, with his front plastered to my back and his arms wrapped
around me, protecting me from the rest of the world.
I’d rather be anywhere but here, in this dress, going ahead with a plan I
know could be my own demise.
His eyes flash with regret, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. “I
know you’re afraid. But this is the only way we can draw Spade out.”
“What if he doesn’t take me wherever Bree and my dad are?” I snap, all
the unknowns suddenly raining down on me.
Not one part of this plan is good, and yet here I am, hours away from
home, ready to walk into the lion’s den in the hope it will save the people I
love. How could I be so fucking stupid?
Bryant sighs and moves farther into the room. He’s changed since we
arrived too, into a pair of charcoal slacks and a crisp white button-up. It
may as well be his uniform for the club, because I’ve seen him in some
variation of this outfit more times than I can count.
“I know you’re scared, Isla. Of course you are. But we’ve done
everything possible to make sure this goes off without a hitch. You’ll have a
tracker on you at all times, and we’ll be right behind you. We believe he’s
keeping your dad and Bree at his home an hour south of the city, and once
you’re inside you’ll be able to find them, so when it’s time for us to get you
out, you can go to them.”
Even as the words come out of his mouth, I’m shaking my head. This is
ridiculous. There’s no way this is going to work, and I have no idea in what
universe I thought it would.
But most of all, it was so fucking stupid of me to do this without Doc.
He used to be a SEAL for God’s sake. He works for one of the most
infamous crime families in the fucking country. If there is one person I
know I should have gone to, it was my husband, and for some idiotic
reason, I fled instead.
I ran from the man who has loved me like I never thought I deserved to
be loved.
“You don’t think they’re going to check me for a tracker?” I snap.
“Anything could happen to me in the time he has me. Anything.” The
thought has a cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck. The reason I
married Doc in the first place was to avoid something like this happening.
And here I am running headfirst toward it? “I’m not doing this. We’ll have
to find another way.”
Bryant approaches me slowly, as if he’s afraid I’ll bolt if he comes at me
too quickly. “We’ve put every contingency in place to prevent any of that
happening. You have to remember that we do this sort of thing all the time.
This ain’t our first rodeo.”
“I don’t care.” I shake my head and back away, trying to put some
distance between us. “Doc is on his way, I’ll work something out once he’s
here.”
“We don’t have the time for that.”
“They’ve been missing for weeks,” I growl. “What difference is a few
hours going to make?”
“Spade’s already here.”
I stare at him for long moments, trying to process the words that have
just come out of his mouth. We were meant to have more time than this.
Panic rages through my veins, and I’m frozen in place. Unable to run.
Unable to speak. Unable to breathe through the blinding panic.
“This is a mistake,” I murmur.
Bryant grips my shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring. “Isla, I need
you to hold it together. We have all our men on this. My father is already at
the Spade estate, ready to infiltrate with his most trusted men. The plan is
already in motion. There is no backing out now.”
I let out an unsteady breath but nod, knowing he’s right. I could have
said no to begin with. But I didn’t, and now this entire plan rests solely on
my shoulders.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me toward the door. “I
will be close by at all times. You are not alone in this. I promise.”
But the closer we come to the thumping bass of the club, the more it
feels like I’m being marched to my death.

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

ISLA

I
t may be three in the morning, but there’s no shortage of bodies on the
dance floor.
Couples grind on one another, their hands and bodies so close you
can’t see any space between them. Friends dance together, laughing and
drinking, completely unaware of what’s about to happen.
They have no idea that two rival crime families are about to come face-
to-face, and an innocent woman is about to be handed over to the enemy in
the hope of infiltrating their home.
I’ve never wished I was someone else more than I do right now.
There’s a tracker embedded in the lining of my dress, right under my
breast, where the underwire of my bra sits.
According to Kai, that will throw off any scan they do, because they’ll
expect there to be metal there. When I asked what happens if they take my
clothes, he just shrugged.
Super helpful.
The dress is too tight across my chest, and it’s making it hard to breathe.
Or maybe that’s just the panic. Could be either at this point.
Bryant’s hand against the small of my back feels heavy and
uncomfortable, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. It’s the last familiar
touch I’ll have until all this is over.
If I ever have a familiar touch again.
 The thought has dread washing over me, and my heart beats so hard
against my ribs I’m worried it might break one.
“You need to relax,” Bryant whispers against the shell of my ear.
I narrow my eyes up at him. “When you’re the one being used as bait
and taken to a foreign place, I’ll take your advice. Until then, you can shove
it.”
He chuckles, the corners of his lips tipping up and reminding me why I
was drawn to him to begin with. I used to find his charm so alluring, to the
point I wondered how long I’d be able to stop myself from falling for him,
but now I can’t see it. He’s not Doc.
The thought of the man I’ve fallen desperately in love with only makes
the regret coursing through my veins more prominent.
By the time we reach the VIP area, my stomach rolls uncomfortably and
I’m certain I’m about to lose the contents of my stomach, but it’s too late to
back out now. No matter what happens, I have to go through with this, and I
just have to hope I live to tell the tale.
I take a seat between Bryant and Jaxon on the plush leather couch and
immediately take the glass of vodka Kayden offers me. I’ve never needed
liquid courage more than I do right now.
I knock back the clear liquid and enjoy the way it burns on the way
down, distracting me from the reality of my situation just for a moment.
The brothers look at one another before they quickly refill my glass. I
guess once Spade has me, there’s no harm in whatever I have to say. He’s a
smart man, he’s bound to know this is some kind of trap. I just hope he
doesn’t see the ambush coming until it’s too late.
I take my time with the second glass. I need to at least have some
sensibilities if I’m going to find my father and Bree in time. Although the
timeline is pretty hazy, which does nothing to calm my nerves.
“How are you feeling?” Jaxon asks.
“Like I’m about to be thrown to the wolves.”
He chuckles, taking a sip of his own vodka. “Spade is on the other side
of the dance floor. In a minute, you’re going to excuse yourself to the
bathroom. Walk slowly. Do not look over your shoulder. Do not alert him to
the fact you know he’s there. And when they grab you, fight tooth and nail.
This has to look real.”
I stare at him for a moment. “This is real,” I snap. “They are actually
going to abduct me.”
 “You know what I mean.”
“Yep.” I roll my eyes and drain the second glass. “Let’s get this show on
the road I suppose.”
Before any of them can say anything, I stand and move around the table,
careful to keep my dress down over my ass. Whichever bartender this dress
belongs to, she has more confidence than I ever will.
I reach the dance floor and hands grip my waist, forcing me to sway to
the beat. The touch is innocent enough, telling me it’s just a drunk idiot
looking for someone to spend the night with, but I quickly push his hands
off me and continue toward the bathrooms.
There are so many bodies on the dance floor that it’s hard to breathe, or
maybe that’s the hysterical panic rising in my chest.
I glance toward the entrance and then to the hallway before making a
rash decision I have no right making.
I duck down slightly, making sure even someone as tall as Doc wouldn’t
be able to see me among the people dancing, and I carefully move toward
the exit, my heart in my throat with every step I take. This is so fucking
risky I can’t believe I’m going through with it, but is it any riskier than
handing myself to the man who has openly admitted he murdered my aunt
and wants me to see the same fate?
No. Nothing is that stupid.
I need a distraction. I need something that will draw the attention away
from me so I can make an escape. Once I’m out of the club, I’ll make a
plan. I only need to stay out of sight until Doc makes it to Boston, and then
we can come up with a new plan. Together.
A girl I vaguely recognize from my nights out catches my eye, and she
gives me a little wave before she continues dancing with her friends,
throwing her dark blonde hair back and falling into the music the way I
would have just a few months ago.
I close the distance between us, my heart beating erratically in my chest
to the point of pain. If she won’t help me, I’m fucked, and I’ll be forced to
go through with the original plan. As it is, I’ve taken too long to wade
through the throes of people, and the Hayes brothers will be getting
suspicious.
“Are you okay?” she shouts over the music.
I shake my head, my bottom lip wobbling as I allow the emotions that
are coursing through me to rise to the surface. “No, I’m in danger. I need
help.”
She flashes a glance around the dance floor, looking for whatever threat
may be lurking among the drunk idiots. “What can I do?”
I breathe a sigh of relief. This is what I would have done if the roles
were reversed. I wouldn’t have bothered asking questions because that’s a
waste of time. If a woman asks you for help, you help them. It’s part of girl
code or some shit. “I need a distraction so I can sneak out.”
She grips my shoulders and gives me a comforting smile. “I’ve got you,
girl.”
And then she’s moving toward the other side of the floor, shoving her
way through until there’s enough distance between us.
A loud scream fills the club, somehow louder than the thumping bass,
and I take my chance to get the fuck out of there.
I don’t hesitate as I move toward the exit, praying the distraction the
stranger has caused will be enough for me to slip out the entrance without
anyone noticing until it’s too late.
My heels click across the tiled floor, and I don’t dare look over my
shoulder. Between the black dress and my raven hair, I’m hoping I’ll blend
in as I make my escape.
The cold Boston air hits my face as I approach the exit, and the second I
hit the street, I let out a sigh of relief.
It worked.
I’m out.
I turn around and start walking away from the club, ignoring the stares
of drunk people smoking against the walls of the buildings on either side of
the nightclub.
Each step I take away from them, it’s a little easier to breathe, until I
finally turn the corner and I’m out of sight.
I slip my heels from my feet and break out into a sprint, ignoring the
pain of my bare feet hitting the rough pavement. Nothing matters but
getting away.
I run and I run, taking the streets I know like the back of my hand, but I
don’t really have any place to go. Anywhere I would normally run to will be
the first place they’ll look for me, and I can’t risk that.
Do I make my way back to the airfield assuming that’s where Doc will
fly into?
 It’s the middle of the night, so my options are pretty limited, but there
has to be somewhere I’ll be safe, even for a little while.
All I can hear is the sound of my own heart beating so hard I start to
wonder if it’s possible for it to leap right from my chest, and my feet
slapping against the quiet street.
I chance my first glance over my shoulder and allow myself to slow
down when I see no one following me.
But when I turn back the way I’m walking, I all but slam into a hard
body, and before I have the chance to look up, a sharp prick in my neck tells
me everything I need to know.
Running was pointless.
My fate was sealed before I ever stepped back into Boston.

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

DOC

“W hen did you start driving like a fucking grandmother?” I snap at

Rayne from the back seat of the SUV that met us at the airfield.
“Since my wife is pregnant and I don’t want her to raise our kid
alone,” he retorts, not bothering to glance back at me.
I’ve been snapping their heads off since the moment we left Chicago
and they’ve long stopped bothering to go easy on me.
It’s taken way too fucking long to get into the city, and the longer it
takes, the more I worry we’re going to be too late.
I’ve called the number Isla called from at least fifty times, but each time
it goes to voicemail, my rage seems to beat harder through my veins.
I don’t know if I’m more angry at her for leaving or at me for not seeing
this coming. The moment I realized Edward wasn’t answering my calls or
contacting his daughter, I should have known something was wrong. When
Isla came to me because she was upset her best friend wasn’t replying to her
messages, I should have looked into it.
There were so many things I could have done, so many times I could
have stopped it from getting to this point, and yet here we are.
Storm’s phone rings in the front seat and he answers it before the first
ring is even finished. “Saint James,” he barks before going silent as he
listens to whatever the other person has to say.
He looks over his shoulder, regret pouring into his icy gaze before he
hands me the phone without a word.
 “Isla?” I say hopefully, even though in my heart I know it won’t be her
sweet voice on the other end of the phone.
“Doc, it’s Bryant.”
“Where the fuck is she?” I growl.
He’s silent for a beat, and the longer it lasts, the more my stomach
drops. Something’s wrong. “I don’t know.”
I run my hand through my hair, fisting the strands until the bite of pain
is enough to stop me from losing my ever-loving mind. “What do you mean
you don’t know?”
“We had a plan, and if she’d followed it, she never would have been out
of our sight. We didn’t tell her we had a guy on the inside because we
needed her to sell it for Spade without feeling completely secure. But she
made a run for it instead. After she spoke to you, she started getting cold
feet and then she ran.”
“Ran where?”
“We’re not sure. She had a tracker on her, but it disappeared a few
blocks from the club. We’ve been trying to hack into the cameras in the
area, but we think Spade has someone blocking us.”
I close my eyes and take a breath, desperate to not lose my fucking
mind in an enclosed space with two of the only people I consider friends in
such close proximity. “You’re telling me that you took my wife from me,
flew her to another state, intending to hand her over to a man who has
threatened to brutally kill her, and somehow you lost her?” The calm in my
voice is startling, even to my own ears.
He’s quiet for a beat before he sighs. “It’s not as simple as that, but
yes.”
“Is it possible she dropped the tracker?”
“No, it was sewn into her dress.”
I rub my hand over my face because that can only mean one thing. They
found the tracker and they stripped her. Out of all the places they could
have planted it, they chose her fucking dress? “Where are you?”
He rattles off the address and I relay it to Rayne who immediately
changes direction toward the Spade estate.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. The plan was solid, we just needed her
to play her part and everyone would have walked away.”
“You and your brothers will be lucky if you walk away with your hearts
beating,” I growl and end the call.
 I’ve never craved blood more than I do right now, and anyone who
touches my wife will bleed for their sins.

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

ISLA

T
he steady thump of my own heart wakes me from a fitful sleep, but I
can’t pry my eyes open no matter how hard I try.
Pain radiates behind them to the point my stomach revolts at the
feeling, and I’m barely able to breathe without it adding to the agony in my
head.
What the hell happened?
The last thing I remember was running away from the club. I just
needed to buy myself enough time until Doc made it to the city.
It’s then I realize it wasn’t my heart that woke me up. My body slams
into a hard metal wall, and a yelp escapes my throat before I can swallow it.
The hum of an engine and another sharp corner are all it takes for me to
figure out I’m in the back of a van.
“She’s awake,” a man says, his voice devoid of emotion.
The man on the street. The one who shoved a needle in my throat and
carried my barely conscious body toward a vehicle I never got the chance to
identify before I passed out.
Before I have the chance to pry my eyes open, a hand grabs ahold of my
hair and tugs me against a hard body. Pain radiates through my scalp until
I’m sure I’m going to throw up from the mix of agony and whatever the hell
they drugged me with.
“Don’t rough her up too bad,” another man pipes up, and for one
blissful second, I think maybe they’re not going to hurt me. Maybe they’re
just going to take me to Spade and it’ll buy me a bit of time. “Boss wants
her pristine for what he has planned tonight.”
Tonight?
No.
Bryant assured me whatever Spade wanted me for would take longer to
execute. That he wouldn’t just kill me and have it over and done with.
Because men like him like to taunt their prey. They like to tease and
torment until they lose their sanity long before their life ends.
“She’s a pretty little thing.” One of them touches the inside of my thigh,
and suddenly I realize I’m no longer wearing the dress I slipped on at the
club. The cool air moves over my heated skin, and the only fabric I can feel
against me is my bra and panties.
They stripped me.
Another wave of nausea rolls over me and I pinch my eyes closed to
stop myself from crying. These assholes will not see me cry, even if
everything feels more hopeless than it ever has before.
“If we had a bit more time, we could have had our own fun with her.”
“But we don’t have the time, and I’m sure you don’t feel like having
your hands cut off by the boss for touching what doesn’t belong to you,”
another man snaps from farther away. The front seat maybe? “Get her ready
to get out and put some fucking clothes on her. She’s not much use to the
boss if she has hyperthermia.”
I can’t fault his logic there, and being mostly naked will definitely make
escaping more difficult. And at least if I have clothes on, I won’t feel quite
as vulnerable as I do right now.
A thought washes over me, and dread pools in my belly. The tracker.
The tracker was in the dress. If they stripped me, no one knows where I am,
which means no one is coming for me.
If they’ve taken me anywhere other than Spade’s estate, no one is going
to be able to find me.
My breath catches in my throat as panic grips me, stealing the air right
from my lungs.
Was all this for nothing?
Marrying Doc? Falling in love with him? Trying to save my dad and
Bree?
Am I about to die the same horrific death my aunt did after all we did to
avoid it?
 That’s the last thought that goes through my mind before another needle
slides into my neck, and I don’t bother fighting whatever they’ve injected
me with.
What would be the point?

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

DOC

I
fly out of the car the second it comes to a stop, gathering Bryant by the
collar and slamming him against the closest car.
“You’re fucking dead,” I force through clenched teeth. “This is all
your fucking fault.”
He shoves at me, trying to free himself from my grip, but I have half a
foot on the guy and while he is well built, he’s got nothing on my size. Most
people don’t. “If you hadn’t made it impossible to reach Isla, we never
would have come to Chicago,” he spits.
“What difference would that have made?” I snap.
“Then we wouldn’t have had to come get her without your knowledge.”
I glare at him and shove myself away from him, knowing if I allow
myself the chance, I will strangle the fucker to death for what he’s done.
He took my wife away from me.
He put her in danger.
And he’s the reason she’s been taken.
“Do we know anything?” Storm asks, inserting himself slightly in front
of me in case they say something else I don’t like.
One of the other brothers, Jaxon, I think, steps forward. “We assumed
this is where they would bring her, but as of now, it doesn’t seem like that’s
the case. We had someone tailing the town car Spade normally uses, but
when it stopped, it was only the driver inside.”
 Arms grip me around the chest before I can advance on the
motherfucker delivering the bad news. They lost her. Their plan hinged on
Isla, and they lost her immediately. I want to kill every single one of them,
bring them back from the dead, and then kill them all over again. How
could they be so fucking reckless?
“So you’re telling me that not only do you have no idea where my wife
is, but you also have no idea where Spade is?” I growl.
Bryant nods, his eyes flicking between me and Rayne as if he’s trying to
work out if my best friend will be able to hold me if I really want to kill the
fucker. What he doesn’t know is that Rayne has a wife at home that he’d do
anything to protect, so he knows exactly how I feel and almost definitely
would not drag me off him.
“Is there anything you do know?” Storm asks without looking up from
his phone.
“We have a list of his properties and we have men at each of them. If he
shows at any of those, we’ll know about it,” Bryant says.
“Okay. In the meantime, I’ll have Everett see if he can override their
hacker. I’m sure Spade thinks he has the best, but his own cockiness will be
his downfall,” Storm tells us.
I drag my hands down my face, hoping it will wipe away some of the
fatigue that’s beginning to seep into my bones. I’m so fucking tired, and yet
I know I won’t be able to rest until Isla is back in my arms.

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

ISLA

T
hey pulled a black bag over my eyes ten minutes ago, and the darkness
is doing nothing to settle my racing heart.
From what I could see out the front window before they covered
my eyes, I think we’re heading in the right direction, but I can’t be certain.
Although I’ve lived in Boston my whole life, I wouldn’t necessarily say I
know the city well.
Sure, I know the places I used to frequent, the area around my school
and the University of Boston, my neighborhood, and even the ones around
the club, but as soon as we get into the suburbs, I’m lost.
The men speak quietly to one another, but I stopped trying to eavesdrop
a while ago. They weren’t giving me any information I didn’t already know,
and I’m afraid of what they might do if they catch me listening.
The van comes to an abrupt halt, and despite thinking I had worked out
my center of gravity, I still tumble over, landing on my shoulder with a
quiet cry. I don’t want to do anything to draw attention to myself
unnecessarily or face any of their vile words again.
A couple of threats to break me in were quite enough for one night.
Fatigue weighs me down after the two doses of whatever they’ve
drugged me with moves through my veins. I think I only lost consciousness
for a short amount of time this time, but it’s also made it almost impossible
to move my body, which makes me wonder if it’s another drug altogether.
 But why the hell would they need to drug me with two different
substances?
The door flies open, and before I can think to try to get away, rough
hands tug me from the floor and drag me from the van. I’m thrown over
someone’s shoulder and I can’t swallow the grunt of pain when my ribs
make contact with them.
“Boss is waiting for us inside,” a man says, but it’s not one of the voices
I heard before. How many people does Spade have involved in my
kidnapping?
Each time the guy carrying me takes a step, his shoulder drives farther
into my stomach, to the point I’m starting to worry I’m going to throw up
down his back.
Somehow, I don’t think that would win me any favors.
A door opens, and warmth rushes over my cool flesh. It’s approaching
sunrise, which means the night has a bite to it, and although they’ve put
what I think may be one of their shirts on me, I’m no warmer than I was in
the stupid dress Kai gave me to wear.
The thought of the Hayes brothers only irritates me. I can’t believe I let
them talk me into leaving Chicago, leaving the man who would take his
final breath before he allowed anything to happen to me. I can’t believe I
allowed them to feed me to the fucking wolves with nothing more than a
hope Spade would be as predictable as he had been in the past.
I’m so fucking stupid.
The door slams shut behind us, and the cold fingers of dread wrap
around my throat. This doesn’t feel like the mansion Bryant told me he
would take me to, even without my vision it feels too warm.
The floors don’t echo as the men march me toward whatever fate is
waiting for me when I reach Spade.
I don’t need to be able to see to know I’m not in the right place, which
means no one knows where I am.
We come to a stop, and a moment later, I’m hoisted off his shoulder and
dropped to the ground. The wood beneath me is too hard to break my fall,
and I let out a startled cry as I land awkwardly on my hip.
The bag is torn from my head, and it takes long seconds to blink
through the sudden light after being shrouded in darkness for so long.
“Ah, Isla, I knew it was only a matter of time before you would find
your way to me.” Spade’s deep voice sends cold waves of anxiety through
my body as I search the room for him. I shouldn’t be surprised to find him
on the other side of a grand oak desk, far too ostentatious and large to be for
work alone, but I doubt he’d appreciate it if I started commenting on the
styling of his office.
Bookcases line the walls with volumes of books I would normally die to
brush my fingertips over and flip through the ones that have outlived me
time and time again.
“I wasn’t given much choice,” I say quietly. I know better than to speak
to a man at his station like this, but I hardly think it’s possible to make
things worse for myself at this point.
He chuckles, but he makes no attempt to move closer, which I’m
grateful for. The other men in the room are by the door, which means right
now I have the most space I’ve had since they took me off the street. “I
usually find women with smart mouths annoying, but on you, it’s amusing.”
I bite back the need to retort because I don’t want to push him too far.
“I’m sure you know why you’re here.”
I shake my head. “No, I really don’t. I’m married. I’m under Saint
James protection. You have to know this isn’t going to end well for you.”
He looks down at me thoughtfully, as if he’s pretending to think through
what I’ve just said to him, but we both know nothing that comes out of my
mouth is going to sway him away from whatever reasoning he’s come up
with. “You and I both know your marriage was less than genuine.”
I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t. Doc and I love each other.”
His gaze darkens, and I tug my bottom lip between my teeth to stop
myself from arguing any further. It’s not going to do me any good. “You
wouldn’t be here if your marriage was anything but a sham. But when you
got on that private jet with the Hayes brothers, you confirmed what I knew
from the start.”
I press my eyes closed to blink back the tears that gather there. “You
have my father and best friend. I came to Boston to try to get them back.”
“And yet your husband didn’t come with you,” he muses. “Seems like
something Doc should have wanted to be by your side for.”
He has me there, and he knows it. Leaving him behind was my first
mistake, but definitely not my only one.
“See, what I think happened is that the day I came to your home was the
first time you’d heard of the marriage your dad cooked up. It was obvious
you didn’t want to marry him then, but never more so than when you
walked down the aisle. I’ve never seen a bride look so reluctant, and I come
from a family who still believes in arranged marriage.”
I open my mouth to argue, but quickly snap it shut again. What am I
meant to say? That we may not have loved one another that day, but each
day since we’ve fallen a little more for one another. There’s nothing that can
possibly come out of my mouth that will help me right now.
“It seems as if the two of you have found your new normal, perhaps
even grew fond of one another, but that doesn’t mean your marriage is not a
sham, and therefore it’s time for you to pay your father’s debt.”
I swallow down the sob that catches in my throat. All I want is to go
home. Go back to my apartment in Chicago. Go for coffee with Doc and
allow him to fuss over the temperature of my drink. To have another girls’
night with Bella. To fall asleep in the arms of the man I love one last time.
Oh god, what I would do for that.
I miss him so much my heart aches for him, and there’s a void in my
chest that only he can fill. I didn’t think it was possible to physically hurt
because you missed another human so much, but I was wrong. So fucking
wrong.
“Where are my dad and Bree?” I whisper.
The longer I’m in the presence of the devil, the more I believe I’m never
getting out of here. But the least I can do is make sure the people I came to
save are safe.

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

DOC

“I think“Are
it’s safe to say they’re not bringing her here,” I growl.
your guys any closer to working out where they picked her
up?” Bryant asks Storm.
He nods, typing something out on his phone before he turns his
attention to us. “That was Everett. From the traffic cameras, it looked like
they were heading in this direction but we lost them a few minutes from
here.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and release a strangled breath. The longer
I spend without knowing where Isla is, the less in control I am of my own
emotions, something I’ve always prided myself on.
“So either he’s taken her somewhere else around here, or—” Bryant
starts.
“Or they could have taken her fucking anywhere,” I snap. It’s obvious
the Hayes brothers haven’t taken over their father’s business yet, because
unlike Storm, they make plans as the last one fails. When it comes to Frost
Industries, Storm has an unlimited number of plans at any one time,
because when you’re in the Mafia business, plan A almost never works.
Rayne rests a comforting hand on my shoulder but doesn’t say anything.
I think he knows there aren’t words to settle me right now.
That’s the thing about men who have found their hearts in the body of
another, when that heart is in danger, there’s nothing we won’t stop at to
keep them safe.
 The shrill ring of a phone drags our attention off one another, and Kai’s
answering before we realize it belongs to him. “Yeah?”
I hold my breath as his face remains neutral, and I can only assume
whatever is happening on the other end of the phone is inconsequential to
Isla. But when he hangs up, he turns to us. “We know where they took her.
It’s a cabin at the back of the property, it has a separate entrance.”
A relieved breath whooshes from my chest. Even if I have no idea if
she’s safe, at least we have something to go off because another minute
sitting here staring at these assholes almost definitely would have ended
with me killing one of them for putting my wife in this situation at all.
Storm’s on the phone to Everett, but I don’t hear a word he says as I
make my way back to the SUV with a lump in my throat that won’t be
dislodged until she’s back in my arms where she belongs.

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

ISLA

“T hey’re safe,” Spade tells me, his dark eyes holding mine and refusing
to free me. Whatever the fuck moves through my veins has rendered
me immobile, which means I’m at his mercy. He could do anything to
me right now and I would be powerless to stop him. For right now, I’m just
glad there’s a desk that separates us and that his men have remained on the
outskirts of the room.
I let out a breath, the knowledge that my dad and Bree are at the very
least alive allowing me an inkling of relief.
“And they’ll remain that way so long as you follow my every order.” He
smiles wickedly, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. A man like him doesn’t know
how to be happy, or at least not in the way the rest of the world does.
Happiness to him is winning. It’s besting his opponent even when that
means others are hurt.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
“Isn’t that obvious, Isla?” He raises a brow before he pushes himself up
from the obscene leather chair perched behind his desk.
I hold my breath as he rounds the solid oak and when he crouches in
front of me, I swear my lungs forget how to work. It’s almost as if the pure
evil that approaches me is enough to suck the air right from my lungs,
making it impossible to draw in a breath.
His fingers wrap around my chin, forcing my eyes up to meet the abyss
of gaze. “I want you.”
 “Why?” I choke out the word, surprised I can even force a thought to
the front of my mind, let alone speak.
He chuckles, his eyes darting up to meet those of the men behind us.
“Get out.”
Dread wraps its way around my heart because there’s nothing worse
than being alone with the devil. Especially when you’re without the ability
to fight against him.
I listen as footsteps retreat and the door closes quietly behind them, but
I force myself to remain still, to hold his gaze while we wait. I need to
understand why he’s so interested in having me. Why he would go to such
lengths to obtain a twenty-year-old girl, let alone one who is married and
lives in another city? He’s not an unattractive man, although his lack of
humanity detracts from his objectively handsome features.
His thumb brushes over my lips while his eyes track the movement, but
even if I could move, I wouldn’t. I refuse to look weak to this man, I refuse
to allow him to see me cower. If I’m going to die, I’m sure as hell not going
to do it lying down and accepting it. I’ll kick and scream until my lungs
give out if that’s what it takes.
“You’re much prettier than your aunt was,” he muses. “Of course she
was a beautiful woman, and I had a lot of fun with her, but you’re
something else.”
I glare up at him. “Is that meant to be a compliment?”
He laughs, the sound making him sound almost normal, but the monster
is there, lurking right beneath the surface. “Depends how you look at it I
suppose. I mean it as a compliment, however, I suspect you won’t accept it
as one.”
“You’d suspect correctly.”
“Your aunt was spirited. Far too much so to be stuck in a marriage with
a man who did not love her or allow her any of his time. Even when he was
in Boston, he wasn’t really here. But I was. Your aunt used me to escape her
loveless marriage even though she refused to leave him. I told her to leave
many times, but she refused, saying it felt like she was failing to admit
defeat.” He shakes his head as if the memory still frustrates him.
“But you killed her,” I snap. “You can’t have cared for her too deeply.”
He nods slowly, his gaze flashing with something akin to regret, but I’m
not naive enough to think a man like Spade would ever regret a kill. “I did.
She became a liability, and men like me cannot afford to have someone in
their lives who are unpredictable.”
I stare at him for long seconds because the words coming out of his
mouth are at odds with every action he’s made. He brutally slaughtered my
aunt. It wasn’t a clean death. She was found mutilated in a shallow grave on
the outskirts of the city. Those are not the actions of someone who cares.
“You may not believe me, Isla. But I can assure you that, for a time, I
cared for your aunt a great deal. But not even I could get her off the drugs,
and there’s not much an addict won’t do for their fix, including spilling
secrets they shouldn’t have known in the first place. I was too liberal with
what I told her and with what I allowed to happen in front of her. It was my
responsibility to remove the threat to my family and my organization, no
matter what means led to that end.”
Does he think this explanation is going to win him any favors? Does he
think that I’m suddenly going to understand why he had to kill the woman
who was like a second mother to me, starting a never-ending domino effect
that almost ruined my life? That tore my family apart?
“None of this answers why I’m here. I’m not Clarissa. I don’t even look
like her,” I argue.
“No, you don’t,” he agrees. “But I find myself much more intrigued by
you than I was her. And I learned from my mistakes the first time around. I
can make your life very comfortable and allow your father and best friend
to walk free, without any threat from me looming over their heads, so long
as you agree to stay here with me. You would be kept separate from my
business, for both our sakes, and once I’m certain you’re not a flight risk,
perhaps you could get back to some of the things you enjoy.”
“I’m married!”
He chuckles. “If you think a little thing like a ring and a piece of paper
is enough to stop me from getting what I want, you have no idea what I’m
capable of.”

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 CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

ISLA

B
efore I have a chance to respond, he slips one arm behind my knees
and the other behind my back, easily lifting me from the ground.
Panic flares in my chest, but whatever they’ve given me stops me
from fighting against him. The worst part is, I have no idea how long it’s
going to last. Whatever they gave me the first time didn’t seem to keep me
knocked out for long, but I’ve been almost immobile for much longer than I
would like.
He lays me down on the leather couch in the corner, his gaze moving
over me hungrily. The oversized shirt I’m wearing is doing little to cover
me, and he doesn’t miss how it’s ridden up my thighs.
“Such a pretty little thing,” Spade murmurs, brushing his fingers up the
inside of my thigh. “I can see why Doc made the best out of a bad situation.
But he didn’t do a very good job of protecting what belongs to him. Men
who cannot covet what they do not deserve to have will always lose it.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him he has no concept of my relationship
with Doc or how it’s grown over the last two months, but I’m too lost in the
terror of my reality. The knowledge that he could do anything to me right
now and I would feel every second of it is more than enough to render me
speechless.
His fingers move over my black thong, pressing them to my clit and
drawing gentle circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. But I feel
nothing.
 “I’m going to have so much fun with this body. It’s a good thing you let
that asshole break you in. I’m not really into virgins.”
I stare up at him with horror. How the hell does he know I was a virgin
before Doc? No one knows that, except for Bree…
He chuckles, watching as I put the pieces together with keen interest.
“Your best friend is quite the chatter when she thinks her life is at stake.
She’s a pretty girl, could fetch me a pretty penny at auction, but sadly, while
I don’t particularly enjoy an untouched woman, virgins are a hot
commodity, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that Bree is far from
virginal.”
Ordinarily that comment would make me snort, because he’s got that
right. My best friend believes that sexual expression is the most freeing of
them all, and she likes to find a new person to express with every second
night. I’ve never judged her for it, because I take my hat off to anyone who
can flaunt it the way she can, but there has always been an on-running joke
about how different we are sexually. But something about this situation
makes it impossible for me to find the funny side of his words, especially
because he is openly talking about selling my best friend into the skin trade.
“I want to see my dad and Bree,” I force the words through clenched
teeth. “I need to know they’re safe.”
“Unfortunately, that can’t happen just yet, but in time if you’re good, we
may be able to arrange something.”
“How do I know they’re alive? How do I know you haven’t already
killed them?” I snap.
I hold my breath, expecting him to be angry at how I’ve dared to speak
to him, but instead his deep laugh fills the room. “You don’t get my
reputation by not being able to admit who you have and haven’t killed,
Isla.”
“You make it sound like a good thing.”
“It is.” He smirks as he pushes the shirt higher, uncovering my lower
belly. “Your father and Bree will be released in the morning when it’s safe.
Until then, they are not hurt, they are not being mistreated, and none of my
men are planning to harm them unless you choose not to cooperate.”
His touch leaves goosebumps in its wake, the promise of what’s to come
the longer we’re alone together is clear in every brush of his fingers.
“Where are we?” I ask, trying to distract him from where his hand is
climbing higher toward my breasts.
 “My cabin,” he tells me. “I’ll take you home to the mansion in a few
days once it’s safe. It seems there are some people who disagree with my
claim on you.”
“Like my husband?” I ask.
He nods solemnly. “Yes. Doc isn’t taking your disappearance well. But
he and the Saint James family will soon learn what happens when they
come into my territory without an invitation.”
I feel the moment the blood drains from my face, the promise in his
words not lost on me. Is he going to kill Doc? I’ll never be able to live with
myself if something happens to him because of me.
“Please don’t hurt him,” I whisper the plea, not trusting my voice under
the weight of emotion on my chest.
Spade’s eyes flash with something I can’t read before he stands abruptly
and starts pacing back and forth, his head dropping down as he stares at the
floor. “He wants to take you away from me. I don’t have a choice.”
I stare at him, shock rendering me completely speechless. What the hell
is going on?
“I don’t want to cause you unnecessary pain, Isla, but you have to
understand that I will eliminate any threat before it can reach you, even if
that means hurting you.”
Tears fall against my cheeks as I watch him, the realization that nothing
has ever felt this hopeless washes over me. He may have always been intent
on stealing my life away, but I don’t think he realizes that if he kills Doc,
I’ll cease to exist as well.

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 CHAPTER SIXTY

DOC

T
he sun peaks out over the horizon, the first light signifying a new day.
I’ve never been one for sunrise, always choosing to sleep as late as I
can, holding Isla for as long as possible before we both have to get up
and face the day.
There’s something beautiful about the way the sky mottles with pink
and yellow, the colors melding together into one that reminds me of my
wife’s smile. Of her laugh. Of the heart she handed me and trusted me not
to break.
I make a mental note to myself to watch the sunrise with Isla when we
get home because life is too short and I refuse to waste another day of our
lives together. From now on, I won’t take a second of our time together for
granted, even if that means I have to get out of bed at five in the morning to
do shit like watch the sunrise.
The woods around Spade’s cabin are far too quiet. At this time of the
morning, there should be birds chirping, squirrels foraging, and people
hiking on the nearby trails. But there’s nothing. The wooden building
through the trees masquerading as a cabin is surrounded by men, which tells
me we’re in the right place, but that does nothing to settle the rage burning
through my veins.
There are four SUVs in front of the house, and so far, we’ve counted
seven men patrolling the perimeter, but we suspect there are more in the
woods, hunting us as we hunt them. Perhaps that thought would be poetic
were it not for the fact they stand between me and my woman, something
that’s unacceptable in my eyes.
“What are we waiting for?” I ask Storm.
“Nathan Hayes is on his way,” he tells me. “He was called away before
we got to the estate but wants to oversee the extraction and be the one to
kill Spade. It looks cleaner for the city if one crime boss kills another.”
I nod my understanding, even though I would like nothing more than to
be the one to end Spade’s miserable existence for killing Clarissa and
stealing Isla away from me. You don’t live in this lifestyle for as long as I
have and not know how these things go.
“Are we even sure Isla is here?” Rayne asks.
Jaxon shakes his head. “Not entirely. Every sign points to her being
here, right down to this excessive show of security, but it wouldn’t surprise
me if this is another way to throw us off.”
I drag my hands over my face. Fatigue is starting to weigh me down,
but even if I wanted to sleep, there’s no way I would be able to knowing
that Isla is with a man who intends to harm her. I’ll never know a moment
of peace if something happens to her.
“What are we going to do about Edward and Bree?” Bryant asks from
where he’s perched on a fallen tree. We shouldn’t all be in one place like
this, it makes it too easy for them to spot us, but they’d be dead long before
they could call for help, and that’s the only reason I haven’t insisted on
spreading out. Also, because if I were to be stuck with one of the Hayes
brothers, I’d probably murder them for the part they’ve played in all this.
“I have Everett overriding the security system at Spade’s mansion. From
what we can tell, they’ve left bare-bone security there in favor of the cabin,
which should make it easy for a few of us to go in and get them out.
Provided they’re not injured, it should be an in-and-out mission,” Storm
tells us. I don’t like the idea of splitting the group because, although there
will be at least eight of us, that’s still nothing compared to the number of
men Spade has at both locations. But we’ll have to make it work.
“Is your father bringing any more men with him?” I ask, meeting
Bryant’s eyes for the first time since I almost strangled him.
He nods. “He always travels with a security team, and I’ve asked him to
bring another two teams to assist.”
I guess all that’s left is to wait for our time to strike and hope it’s not too
late.
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 CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

ISLA

S
pade moved back behind his desk and hasn’t said another word since
he had his mild freak-out. It’s pretty fucking obvious he’s unstable, that
much should have been clear when he went to such great lengths to
kidnap me, but I need to tread carefully.
I sigh quietly and look around, trying to find something I can use as a
weapon once I get my ability to move back, but apart from books, I’m
coming up empty-handed.
Now more than ever, I wish I wasn’t blindfolded when they brought me
in here. At least if I’d gotten a look at the layout, I would have a better
chance of escaping when the time came, but I guess that was probably the
point.
The telltale buzzing of a mosquito makes me pause my thoughts,
tracking the little asshole as it circles me, knowing I’m a sitting duck and
therefore its latest victim. Out of instinct, I swat at it when it comes near my
face and then immediately pause.
As slowly as I can, I turn my head to make sure Spade is still too caught
up in his phone to notice that I’m starting to get my ability to move back.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just because you can move doesn’t mean
you’re any closer to getting out of here, I remind myself. It’s a harsh reality,
but one I need to accept if I’m going to survive whatever Spade’s planning
to throw at me in my time here.
 I have little doubt that he’ll force my compliance with threats to my
loved ones, but at least I’ll have a choice in those decisions. Not a real one
because I’ll always do everything in my power to protect the people I love,
but the illusion of one nonetheless.
If only I could get out of this room. There has to be a way.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I blurt out without thinking, as if being
any more naked around this man is a good idea when he insists on coming
with me.
His eyes flash up to meet mine before they move over my body again.
“You’ll have to wait.”
“Unless you want me to pee on this rather expensive-looking couch, I
don’t think I can wait.” I feed as much desperation into my plea as I can,
hoping the acting classes I took when I was a kid are enough to pull off my
hardest performance yet.
He glares at me from across the room before letting out an annoyed
sigh. He clearly hasn’t thought through this idea of his that I’m going to
become “his,” because relationships, forced or otherwise, are really fucking
hard. There’s nothing convenient about caring about another person, but it’s
so fucking worth it. It’s worth the anger and the tears. It’s worth the
frustration and the fights. It’s worth everything to have someone who will
always be in your corner.
What Spade wants is a toy. Someone who will wait at home for him to
come back from committing whatever sins were required during that day
and then lay down and spread her legs when she’s told to. I’m not that girl.
If I love someone, I want to be right there by their side, fighting their
demons with them. I don’t want to be a bystander in my own life.
The pain in my chest from being away from Doc only seems to deepen
as the hours tick by, and the need to be in his arms grows more desperate.
He huffs out a sigh and pushes himself to his feet as he approaches me.
It’s not exactly smart of me to bring him closer when he finally allowed me
some distance, but if it’s a means to an end, it’s worth it.
He scoops me up without a word, and I force my body to remain limp as
he trudges me out of the room with little regard for the fact I can see
everything we pass, including the five guys sitting around the table in the
kitchen playing cards. At least someone around here is having fun, because
it sure as hell isn’t me.
 The bathroom is only a few doors down from his office, and when he
kicks open the door and I see a small window above the tub, my stomach
bottoms out with a mix of terror and relief. Am I really going to try to
escape? What if he catches me? What if he hurts the people I love as
punishment? But what other choice do I have? I can’t stay here. I can’t sit
here waiting for the moment he decides he’s going to rape me. I need to
escape, and then I need to make a plan with Doc about how we can get my
dad and Bree back.
He lowers me to the cool tiles, the pain in my bare feet almost too much
for me to handle. I don’t think anyone has disinfected them from my run
through the streets of Boston, and the longer that goes by, the more worried
I am about getting an infection.
Without a word, he yanks my panties down my legs and sits me on the
toilet before taking a step back and leaning against the basin, his eyes never
leaving me.
My mouth drops open in surprise. “I’m not going to be able to pee while
you’re watching!”
His eyebrows rise as he stares me down. “So you were able to pee on
the couch with me sitting in the room, but not on the toilet?” he challenges.
Fuck.
I’m not sure how, but I didn’t consider the possibility that he would call
my bluff. And somehow all I’ve managed is to put myself in an even more
compromising position than I was in before.
Tears gather in my eyes, and I’m powerless to stop them from falling.
I’ve never felt as hopeless as I do right now, and all I want is to curl up in
Doc’s lap and watch a movie. Oh, what I would do for his commentary on
The Bachelor right now. To hear his gruff laugh and see the way his dark
eyes light up when they see me.
Spade watches me with wide eyes, as if the idea of a woman crying is
more terrifying than anything he’s faced in his life.
“Please,” I beg through my sobs. “I’m scared and my bladder is hurting
because it’s been so long since I’ve used the restroom, and I know I can’t do
it with you sitting there watching me like this. I can’t move, and my body is
aching because I’ve been still for so long.” The sobs quickly turn into
hysterical breathing as I force myself to allow all the hurt and pain to rise to
the surface to make him as uncomfortable as I can. “Please.”
 His eyes dart from me to the door before he nods and reaches for the
handle. “You have sixty seconds, and then I’m coming straight back in.”
“Thank you.” I choke on the words.
Spade watches me for another second before he disappears through the
door, clicking it closed behind him with a decisive click.
This might be my only chance to escape, so I need make it count.

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 CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

DOC

I
’m not sure what I was expecting when I was preparing myself to meet
Nathan Hayes, but it’s not this.
He stands with his four sons, and if you weren’t looking closely, I
doubt you’d be able to tell which one is the father of the group. He looks
around at the men in the clearing a mile from the cabin we’re almost certain
Isla is being kept in. But we can’t be sure, and that’s making it hard for us
all to agree on a way forward.
Basically, the only thing we can all actually agree on is that we need to
get her out sooner rather than later, but the more time we spend bickering
over whose plan is better, the more tempted I am to just go it alone and save
my wife myself.
But Storm would kill me himself if I put myself in that kind of danger. I
may not normally be in the field with them, but he takes his job as the
leader of Frost Industries very seriously, taking it upon himself to know
everything about everyone in his employ.
“This is taking too long,” I grunt, taking a seat beside Rayne on a log.
“These things normally do. Add the fact we have way too many cooks
in the kitchen, and this was bound to be a shit show.”
I glare at him, but there’s no amusement in his eyes. He’s itching to get
this done, more than likely just ready to get back to his wife and unborn
baby.
 I can’t imagine leaving Isla when she’s pregnant. Hell, I’m not sure I’ll
ever be able to leave the city without her even when she’s not carrying my
baby. But she will be soon enough. It’s only a matter of time.
Storm answers a call and moves away from the rest of the group as he
speaks to someone on the other end. He’s only received calls from Everett
and Ayvah, or at least they’re the only ones he’s taken, so I’m almost certain
it’s one of them.
He nods along with whatever they’re saying before his eyes flash up to
meet mine, a small smile tipping up the corner of his lips. He’s not a man
who smiles much, at least when he’s in work mode, but right now all I can
hope is that whatever news he’s been given is good enough to turn this
shitshow of a day around.
He hangs up and strides toward us, his suit still perfect despite how
many hours he’s been wearing it. “Everett has hacked into the estate’s
security system and we have confirmation that Isla is not in the house and
that Bree and Edward are both safe. It does not appear either of them have
even mistreated in any way.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that at the very least we have confirmation that
two of the three people we’re here to save are safe. If only I could say the
same for the woman who has become my very reason for breathing.
“Should we send a team in now?” Bryant asks as he joins us. “It might
draw some of the men from the cabin and allow us a better chance of
getting to Isla before they notice us.”
Storm nods and meets the eyes of Nathan, the two powerful men
communicating with nothing more than a gaze. The other man returns his
nod, and we jump into action.
Thankfully, we’ve already agreed on the teams that will head to the
mansion and the ones that will remain here. Nathan climbs into the front
seat of an SUV with Kayden and Kai in the back seat, along with a few of
their other men I haven’t bothered to introduce myself to. I really don’t give
a fuck about any of these assholes, so I’m hardly going to retain their name
even if they told me it.
We watch as the cars take off, leaving Rayne, Storm, and I here to
prepare to infiltrate the cabin with the rest of the Hayes men. We secure
bulletproof vests to our chests, and I check my handgun three times to make
sure it’s loaded, before securing an assault rifle to my chest. It’s been a
while since I’ve had this many guns on my person, but it’s like riding a
bike. This was my every day for so many years in the SEALs, and it comes
as naturally as breathing.
“Ready?” Rayne asks.
I nod, and we start moving toward the cabin, splitting up so as not to
draw attention to ourselves. There are men patrolling the woods, but from
our earlier surveillance, it seems as if their rounds are not very frequent, nor
are they thorough. Clearly, they think they’ve hidden Isla well enough that
there’s no way we’d find them.
The cabin comes into sight, and the closer we come to Isla, the easier I
find it to breathe. I won’t feel better until she’s in my arms and protected
from anything and everyone that may hurt her. But this is good for now, it
allows me to think more clearly.
“This is good,” Storm says into our earpieces, and I stop behind a tree,
watching the wooden building from a distance.
Minutes feel like hours as they bleed into one another, my hands fisting
over and over again with the need to kill every single asshole who has dared
to touch my wife.
There’s movement at the front of the house as three men file out toward
one of the SUVs, and I meet Rayne’s eyes a few yards away. He gives me a
short nod, telling me the other team has made it to the mansion.
I would have expected them to send more than a few guys as backup,
but the fact they haven’t is all the proof I need that Isla and Spade are here.
“Hold for a few more minutes,” Storm says. “They’ll still be on edge if
they’ve just had some men leave. Give them a bit to settle.”
I sigh and lean on the tree, willing myself to have patience when it’s
never been my strong suit.
A deafening scream fills the early morning air, and I don’t need to see
them to know it’s Isla. My legs are carrying me toward the sound before
I’ve made the conscious decision to run.
“Doc, no!” Rayne yells after me.
Another scream has me sprinting harder than I ever have before,
desperate to get to my wife. I round the corner of the cabin just in time to
see Isla hanging out a window. Her desperate eyes meet mine at the same
time she’s yanked back inside with another bloodcurdling scream.
I’m so distracted that I don’t notice a man emerging from the trees until
it’s too late. A gunshot sounds, and a moment later, agony spreads through
my shoulder and down my arm.
 I look down and see nothing but the blood dripping down my arm, and
by the time I look back up, Isla is gone.

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 CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

ISLA

T
he window slides open almost too easily, but I don’t allow myself to
ponder on it too long. Something had to go my way eventually, right?
Whatever they drugged me with still weighs heavy in my limbs,
but I fight through it, desperate to escape whatever reality I may be faced
with on the other side of the door.
My fingers are slippery on the ledge, and I lose my grip three times
before I finally manage to drag myself up the wall and get my first glimpse
of the outside of the house.
The sight of pine trees isn’t a surprise, but the fact that it doesn’t seem
like there’s an end to them does nothing to settle the dread pooling in my
belly.
The idea of running through the forest in bare feet after being drugged
multiple times in the last twelve hours really doesn’t do much for me, but I
don’t have a choice. This is my only chance to get back to Doc, and there’s
no way I’m going to waste it.
The cool air brushes over my cheeks, and I welcome it as I shove
myself further out the window. Right now the only thing I can be grateful
for is that we’re on the first floor. As much as I want to get out of this
house, I don’t know that I’d survive a fall from the second story under the
circumstances.
I push my upper body across the windowsill, shuffling through the tight
opening, cursing the ass I’ve always thought was my best feature.
 My breathing becomes more labored by the second as panic starts to
overwhelm me. I’m being too slow. I need to get out faster, but I’m at risk
of getting stuck.
“What the fuck?” a voice behind me thunders, and a startled scream
tears from my throat.
I shove myself as hard as I can against the window frame, tears falling
against my cheeks. The thundering of my heart fills my ears as pure panic
takes over. If I don’t get out now, I’ll never get the chance. I’ll never see
Doc again, or finish college, or have kids. I don’t even know if I want kids,
but I don’t want the option stolen from me along with the rest of my life.
Strong hands grip my hips and tug me backward, but I hold on as hard
as I can, clawing at the frame until my nails split and agony rushes up my
hands.
“Get back in here, you little bitch,” Spade growls.
I kick back without looking back, hoping I can gain some traction if I
can push off his body, but his grip is too tight.
I slam my foot back into his stomach, and when he lets out a grunt of
pain, I shove forward as hard as I can, ignoring the agony in my hips and
stomach as I slide over the splintered wood.
Movement in the distance draws my attention away from Spade, and
when I meet eyes so dark it’s like staring into the abyss, I almost forget how
to breathe.
Doc stands at the edge of the trees, the same panic I feel in my chest
clear on his features as he stares back at me.
Someone shouts his name from around the corner, and it’s only then I
notice the figure behind him with a gun drawn and a dark smile across his
lips.
“No!” I scream at the same time a gunshot fills the quiet morning air,
but it’s too late.
Blood stains Doc’s arm, his face turning as pain washes over him, but
there’s nothing I can do.
I’m so distracted by him being hurt that I forget to fight, forget to kick
and shove, and force myself through the window, and the grip on my legs is
stronger than ever.
“I was being nice to you, you little whore, but that ends now,” Spade
snaps as he pulls me through the window, breaking my view of Doc, but it’s
too late to fight. I grip on to the edge of the window, my fingers burning
beneath my hold as splintered wood digs into my hands, but I can’t hold on
any longer.
Another scream tears from my throat as my body falls to the hard tiles,
my head cracking painfully against them.
Crimson is the last thing I see as my own blood surrounds me and my
stomach bottoms out. It never really mattered how hard I fought, I stopped
being in control of my life a long time ago.

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 CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

ISLA

T
he agony in my head feels never-ending, like for the rest of my days,
the pain will walk side by side with me. But then again, I may not
have that many days left.
I force my eyes open, fighting through my murky vision to assess just
how much worse my situation has become.
My hands and legs are heavy, and it only takes me a few seconds to
realize I’m tied down, the hard floorboards at my back and rough ropes
wrapped too tightly around my wrists and ankles. I’m back in Spade’s
office, that much I can tell from the walls of books surrounding us, but I
don’t understand why he brought me back in here.
I tug at the ropes a few times but let out a hiss of pain as they slice into
my wrists.
“Isla?” someone whispers, but they’re behind me. I can’t force my neck
to strain that far back, no matter how much I want to.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing away the tears that threaten. This isn’t
the time to fall apart. I don’t even know if that time will ever come again,
but right now I have to stay strong. It’s my best chance at survival right
now, and that’s all I can ask for.
“Spitfire.” The voice comes again, and the second I realize it’s Doc, all
my attempts at holding the tears at bay become redundant because the man I
love is just feet away, and no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to get to
him.
 “Doc,” I choke.
“I’m here, spitfire,” he grunts, but there’s an edge to it. He’s not
someone who outwardly shows his pain, but I can hear it. Perhaps it’s how
well I’ve gotten to know him in the months we’ve been married, or maybe
it’s because I love him that I can feel his pain almost as strongly as I can
feel my own. “Are you hurt?”
I try to look up over my shoulder and wince, the pain in my head and
neck firing through my entire body. I consider lying to him, but he’ll see
right through it. He knows me just as well as I know him, and if this is the
last we ever see of each other, I don’t want there to be any lies between us.
“Yeah. You?”
“Gunshot wound to the shoulder. It was in and out, so I don’t think it’s
hit anything major, but it hurts like a motherfucker.”
I wince, hating the idea that he’s hurt because of me, even if there’s
nothing I could have done to prevent it. “I hit my head pretty hard,” I admit.
“I’ll get you out of here as quick as I can, Isla. Just hold on for me.”
I nod against the floorboards, but I don’t get the chance to respond
before the door swings open and Spade prowls toward me, his eyes never
leaving me as he crosses his office to where I’m tied down.
“You’re awake at last.” His dark smile tugs at the corners of his lips,
and my stomach sinks at the sight. His words from before I passed out bring
a cold shiver of dread across my skin.
“I was being nice to you, you little whore, but that ends now.”
I hate to think what being mean looks like in his head after he
kidnapped me, had his men drug and strip me, and then touched me without
any remorse.
“No thanks to you,” I snap, not bothering to mask the venom in my
words.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have tried to run from me.” Spade prowls
toward me, his eyes moving over my body as if trying to decide where to
start. He flicks his gaze up to where Doc is somewhere behind me, and an
evil smile crosses his face. “But at least now we have an audience for all the
fun we’re going to have.”
“Let her go,” Doc growls.
“Or what?” he challenges. “You’re not really in a position to make
demands, now are you?”
 Spade drops into a crouch beside me, dragging a single finger up my
bare thigh and pushing the oversized t-shirt up my body, leaving me bare to
his putrid gaze.
But I refuse to cower away from him, refuse to look away as he stares
down at me with greedy eyes.
“I think I’m going to enjoy defiling your wife as you watch. And then
once I’m done and your whore is sufficiently broken, I’ll make her watch as
I slit your throat.”
I finally look away from him, squeezing my eyes shut at the graphic
visual he’s painted. A man like Spade knows how to hurt everyone involved
with one strike. An action that can tear apart lives while he sits on his
throne like a king.
“I’ll fucking kill you,” Doc roars. The sound of the restraints struggling
to hold him fills my ears, but they’re not stupid enough to underestimate a
man like him. He was trained for this, it’s only a matter of time before he
gets free, and they know that. Sadly, assholes like Spade don’t rise to power
without knowing how to manipulate their opponents.
He chuckles, and my eyes shoot open when I feel a blade against my
bare stomach. Panic flares to life in my chest, but I remain perfectly still. I
may want to get out of this, but I’d much prefer I do that alive.
“You know, Isla, I had planned to be gentle with you. I don’t like
inexperienced whores, but normally I like to spend some time training
them, beating them into submission until they’re the perfect mold.” He
drags the knife higher, pushing the shirt up along with it. “But with you, I
was going to do things differently. I didn’t want to break you immediately.
What would be the fun in that when I didn’t intend to throw you away as
quickly as I have the others?”
I wince when the knife slices through the fabric of the shirt, baring me
to not just his eyes but those of the men I hear behind me, preparing
themselves to stop Doc from ever reaching their boss if he breaks free of
whatever binds they have him in.
“But now we have an audience, and you need to learn your place. You
need to learn that there is nowhere you can hide that I won’t find you, and I
promise the next time you try to escape me, you’ll get more than a knock to
the head. I’ll break your fucking legs.”
A strangled sob breaks free from my throat as he parts the fabric,
leaving me completely bare apart from a pair of flimsy panties. I hate their
eyes on me, but more than that, I hate that Doc has to see this.
The knife moves across my chest, the tip of the blade digging in just
deep enough to nick my skin, and I watch as pools of blood gather across
my chest. “Usually I’m not into scars on women, but on you, I think I could
make an exception knowing they’re my scars. My marks.”
A strangled scream escapes my throat as he pushes the knife into my
stomach, agony washing over me in excruciating waves that steal my breath
right from my lungs.
Stars dance in my vision as the pain threatens to take over. It’s too
much. It’s all too fucking much.
Spade brings his face down until it’s just an inch from mine, and his
perfectly minty breath surrounds me. “Are you ready to play, Isla?”
I shake my head, my sobs coming in so hard and fast that I choke on
them.
He chuckles. “I hoped you would say that.” His lips drop lower until
they’re pressed to my ear. “I have a feeling I’m going to love every second
you fight me.”
Spade sits back on his heels, the evil smirk on his lips turned toward
Doc because he knows full well everyone in the room has heard every word
he’s said.
I tug at the ropes around my wrists again, desperate to get free no matter
how much it hurts, but unlike Doc, I wouldn’t have a clue how to escape the
knots.
“I can see why you call her Spitfire.”
I still, my eyes widening as I look up at him staring at Doc, the sound of
my nickname on his lips causing nausea to wash over me.
“I’ll give you one more chance to get your hands off my wife, and if
you don’t, I will kill you so slowly and so painfully you’ll be praying to a
god you don’t believe in for death.” Every word out of Doc’s mouth is more
strained than the last, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he means every
single one.

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 CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

DOC

T
he fist that lands in the middle of my stomach only fuels the rage
pumping through my veins. Everyone in this room is going to die for
the part they’ve played in hurting my wife, but the longer this is drawn
out, the more painful their demise is going to be.
“Shut your mouth,” the asshole beside me grunts, his gaze finding its
way back to Isla’s naked body tied up in the middle of the room.
I want to gauge their eyes out for looking at her, tear them from their
sockets, and set them alight for seeing what belongs to me.
Blood seeps over Isla’s silky skin, and the sight does nothing to calm
the anger flowing through me. I’m too far away to check if he pressed the
knife into any vital organs, but the more blood that covers her, the less I’m
able to hold onto my composure.
Spade smirks at me over Isla’s shoulder as he covers her with his body,
his lips moving over the delicate flesh of her neck.
Her quiet sobs break what’s left of my heart, and I long to hold her in
my arms, to protect her from everything they’re doing to her.
Rayne and Storm better fucking get here soon. The assholes saw me get
taken, but Storm’s last words before I dropped my earpiece move through
my mind.
“Something’s happened at the mansion. The rest of the Hayes brothers
have gone to them, so we’re on our own. We’ll get you and Isla out as soon
as we can.”
 I don’t give a fuck what’s happening at the mansion. We each had our
own job to do. Ours was to get Isla out and capture Spade. And yet, so far
the only person that’s been captured is me, and Isla is currently tied down
naked in the middle of a room of piranhas.
Isla whimpers, and my gaze traces her body, looking for what’s causing
her discomfort apart from the obvious.
Spade grinds into her like a horny fucking teenager, his body moving
slowly, dragging himself over her as he stares down at her with something
between lust and pure hatred. I fucking hate it. I fucking hate the fact I’m
allowing this to happen. I fucking hate that for the first time in my
miserable fucking life, I’m truly powerless. And I fucking hate that no
matter how much pain I cause him, it will never be enough. It will never be
enough to make up for what he’s doing to her.
“I can see why you like this one.” His eyes dart up at me, but he doesn’t
miss a beat, never stopping his hips from moving. “Maybe we can show
your husband how hard you come for me,” he muses.
She stills beneath him, the tears falling against her cheeks the only
movement as she stares up at him in horror. “I will never come for you,”
she snaps.
He chuckles, his fingers gripping around her chin in a punishing hold
that makes her wince. “Your body won’t give you much choice. I’ll force
the pleasure onto you for so long you’ll be powerless to stop it.” He drops
his lips down until they’re hovering almost close enough for them to touch
hers. “And then I’m going to prop you on your hands and knees and fuck
you while you look your husband in the eye.”
“You’re sick,” she spits, but it’s the tremble in her voice that tells
everyone in the room that he’s getting to her. She’s approaching her
breaking point, the point where she’ll never be the same again if I don’t get
her out of here.
“I’ve been called worse things.” He skates a hand up the outside of her
thigh until he meets the scrap of lace she’s wearing, so similar to all the
pairs I’ve stolen from her in the hope she’ll get to the point where she’ll
wear nothing. Without a word, he tears the fabric away from her body and
brings them to his nose, breathing in her intoxicating scent. “You smell so
sweet, Isla.”
She turns her head, craning her neck to try to see me, but they’ve
positioned her in just the right way to make it impossible, to make sure she
can’t draw any strength from me, but I can see every single thing he does to
her.
I long to tell her it’s going to be okay, that I’m here and I won’t let them
hurt her. But I’ve already let her down on all fronts, and now I’m forced to
watch the consequences of my own actions unfold in front of me.

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 CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

ISLA

S
pade’s hands are everywhere.
They’re groping my bare breasts and shoving between my thighs.
They’re forcing me to stare him in the eye as he circles my clit,
expecting to drag something from my unwilling body. Of course I know it’s
possible to reach orgasm when you’re not into it, and that rapists use that
against their victims, but Spade isn’t going to find it that easy with me.
Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t force my mind to drift anywhere but
right here. Although my upbringing was far from perfect, I’ve never needed
to escape reality like this.
I’ve long stopped trying to stop the tears from falling. There’s no point,
and I don’t feel the need to portray myself as strong right now. I’ve
surrendered myself to being weak in this moment, and if I survive, if I walk
away from this, I’ll just have to find a way to build myself back up again.
I’ve also stopped trying to look over my shoulder at Doc.
They positioned us like this for a reason, and it’s working exactly as
they wanted it to.
Spade shoves himself back and glares down at me with his brows
furrowed in frustration. He’s not used to having to work this hard, and
although I would like to think that he’ll just give up, this stopped being
about getting his dick wet a long time ago, and now he’s trying to prove a
point. A point to me. A point to Doc. And a point to the men he has
watching us.
He shoves himself back, allowing me a moment to breathe without his
body pressing me into the floorboards. The sight of my own blood makes
my stomach revolt, but I squeeze my eyes closed to stop myself from
throwing up. I’ve never been great with blood, especially my own.
The sound of his shoes on the hardwood allows me a few moments of
relief as I try desperately to collect my thoughts. There’s no way for me to
escape this on my own. I’d like to think I’m a strong, independent woman,
and to an extent that is true even if my escape attempt was so easily foiled,
but the way they have me tied up makes it near impossible to move, let
alone escape.
Spade paces restlessly across the room as he fists his hair, tugging at the
ends in frustration, but I keep my eyes on the door across from me.
Doc didn’t come here alone, and that’s all I have to hold onto right now.
There’s still hope if he brought others to help get me out, but why is it
taking so long?
Someone clears their throat behind me, and Spade pauses to look at
them expectantly.
“The mansion has been infiltrated. They have extracted both hostages.”
Spade’s eyes flare with anger, and my stomach drops when his gaze
lands on me. He closes the distance between us as he pulls the knife from
its holder and drops over me again.
The blade rests at the side of my throat, and I’m not game to breathe as
Spade looks up at Doc with barely contained anger bleeding from his
features. “It seems your friends have rescued your father and Bree.” He
presses it into my flesh, and I hiss out a breath at the sudden rush of pain.
I try to hide the relief from my features, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t
feel just that.
“It’s a good thing we have your husband here to make sure you
behave,” he muses.
“Don’t hurt him,” I whisper, my eyes pleading with him to spare the
man I love.
“That will depend entirely on you, Isla. You’ll do everything I say, and
perhaps I’ll see fit to keep him alive a little longer.”
“You son of a bitch,” Doc growls. “Get that fucking knife away from
her throat.”
 He sighs and flicks his gaze between us. “Shut him up,” he snaps at his
lackeys.
The sound of his jaw cracking under the weight of a fist makes my
stomach roll uncomfortably, but it’s been so long since I’ve eaten that we’re
well past the threat of vomit.
“I think it’s time we have a little fun, don’t you?” Spade smiles
sardonically down at me, and I’m forced to meet his evil gaze.
He leans back on his heels and slowly drops his hands to his belt, the
knife all but forgotten beside my face. I suspect it’s not the last time he’ll
use it to keep me in line, but for now, it’s a relief.
I’m torn between watching his every move because surprises are the last
thing I need right now and not wanting to watch as he readies himself to
violate me more than he already has.
His hard length pops out the top of his pants the second he unbuttons
them, and I turn my face away from the sight.
This is really happening.
He’s really going to do this.
And Doc is going to be forced to watch.
What if we get out of here by some miracle? Is he ever going to be able
to look at me the same way? To touch me?
Tears cloud my vision as rough sobs force their way from my chest. My
breathing is harsh and erratic, but I keep my eyes on the bookcases that
surround us, a first edition of Romeo and Juliet the only thing holding me
back from a complete spiral.
He reaches for the knife and quickly slices through the rope at one of
my ankles so he can force my knee to my chest, opening me up for him.
I choke on a sob and force my eyes closed. I didn’t wait twenty years to
lose my virginity just for this to happen a month after I finally gave it to the
man I love. That’s not how my story was meant to go. I was only ever
meant to be with one man. I had all these grand gestures about how they
would be my one and only, and now they’re being tainted by the devil.
His body covers mine, and the moment the head of his cock presses
against my entrance, my lungs stutter in my chest, and I squeeze my eyes
shut so tight they hurt, willing my mind to find a place far away from here
to go to protect itself as my body is violated.
Rough sobs escape me with a force that makes my ribs ache, but at least
I can cling to the pain. At least I can cling to anything but the feeling of a
vile man taking what I never offered him.
A loud bang sounds from somewhere in the house, and the ground
beneath me vibrates from the force, but I’m too far lost somewhere far, far
away.
The whole house could burn to the ground for all I care, so long as
Spade goes up in flames with it.

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 CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

DOC

H
elpless is not an emotion I’m familiar with.
And yet I can’t tear my eyes off the scene playing out in front of
me.
The man who killed my ex-wife is about to violate the woman I love.
It’s probably some fucked-up poetic justice for the sins of my past, but all I
can think about is how she doesn’t deserve this, and there’s nothing I can do
to stop it from happening.
I’ve spent a lot of years hating my own existence, but I have a feeling
that will be tenfold from here on out, and that’s if we survive. There’s every
possibility these assholes will kill me when I stop being useful for keeping
Isla in line.
Isla’s cries are soft, but her entire body trembles with the power of her
sobs. Spade doesn’t care though. He grips his tiny cock in his hand, fisting
it a couple of times as his eyes feast on my wife, and then he lowers himself
over her.
Part of me wants to look away for my own benefit, but if she has to live
through this, then so do I. I won’t allow her to go through it alone.
I open my mouth to offer her comfort, but I’m quickly cut off when one
of the meatheads beside me blindsides me with another fist to the jaw. The
taste of copper fills my mouth, and I hold his gaze as I spit blood onto the
rug beside me.
 Rayne and Storm should have been here by now. There’s no reason I
can think of that it should be taking them this long, so I’m beginning to
suspect the worst. Perhaps they’ve been captured too. Or maybe they had to
go to the mansion to lend a hand, but that doesn’t seem as likely. We have
no allegiance to the Hayes family other than to save Isla, her father, and her
best friend. If what these assholes have said is true and Edward and Bree
have been freed, there would be no reason for us to go there and help.
Spade covers Isla’s body with his much larger one. He stares down at
the tears tracking down her cheeks as he notches himself in place. The
thought of him violating my wife makes me equally sick as it does
homicidal, but the idea of watching him do it? It makes me sick to my
fucking stomach.
I fight against the binds at my wrists, ignoring the searing pain in my
shoulder as I tug at the rope. The need to get to Isla is strong enough for me
to ignore the way my body protests. The knots are too tight for me to slip,
even if I were to break my thumbs to do so. These assholes knew what they
were doing when they tied me up.
Her head rolls to the side, and her body goes lax beneath his. She’s
accepting her fate. All the fight has bled from her, and all that’s left is
acceptance.
I’m about to launch forward, consequences be damned when the floor
beneath me vibrates. My brows tug together in confusion before the telltale
sound of an explosion fills the cabin, throwing the room into chaos.
Smoke billows beneath the door as Spade bolts to his feet, dragging his
pants up as he reaches for the gun he haphazardly left sitting on his desk.
He’s a cocky son of a bitch, I’ll give him that. The two guards on either side
of me glance at one another before moving toward the door, placing
themselves between Spade and whatever may come bursting into the office.
Isla remains perfectly still as if she’s not aware of what’s going on
around her, and maybe that’s a good thing. She doesn’t need to see what’s
about to happen, even if Spade’s death would probably bring her a great
deal of peace right now.
The sound of gunfire throughout the house is deafening, but I’m too
focused on freeing myself from the ropes around my wrists to give a fuck.
Chances are it’s either Storm and Rayne or the Hayes brothers, but either
way, they’re not here to hurt me or Isla.
 The ropes dig into my flesh, leaving searing pain in their wake as I try
to give myself a bit of room to work, but that doesn’t stop me. All that
matters is getting to my wife and getting her the fuck out of here. I need to
know she’s safe, and I need her in my arms where I know nothing can ever
hurt her again.
I wince as a bone in my thumb breaks beneath the pressure, but I keep
moving despite the pain that radiates up my arm. I keep my eyes on Spade
and his men as I slip my hand from the binds, keeping my movements small
and slow so as not to draw attention to myself.
The door bursts open, and I immediately stop what I’m doing, preparing
myself to protect Isla if need be. But when Rayne appears in the doorway,
his dark eyes locked on Spade as smoke surrounds him, like he’s the
goddamn grim reaper himself.
I make quick work of ridding myself of the ropes and moving toward
my reason for breathing. I snag a throw rug from the back of the couch and
cover her as quickly as I can. Although I’ll never admit it to their faces, I’ve
grown fond of the Saint James brothers, and I’d rather not have to kill them
for seeing my wife naked.
I cup her cheek in one hand while I use the knife Spade discarded to cut
through the ropes and free her, but she remains perfectly still, her gaze
never breaking from the bookcase on the other side of the room. She may
physically be here with me, but her mind is far away, protecting itself from
what was only moments away from happening to her.
“Isla,” I murmur, brushing my thumb across her cheek, desperate to
have her eyes on me, but she still doesn’t move.
“Get on the fucking ground, Spade, or I swear to god I will blow your
brains out,” Rayne growls, his gun trained on the three of them.
“You’re going to kill me anyway, why would I do myself the injustice
of getting on the ground for you?”
Rayne’s dark eyes flash with annoyance as he steps further into the
room. “Because I’m not going to be the one to end your poor excuse of an
existence.” He steps up until their faces are just a few inches from one
another before he lifts the handgun in his hand so quickly I almost miss the
movement before slamming it into Spade’s head.
At the same time, two loud gunshots fill the room, and I immediately
move my body over Isla’s, shielding her as best I can. Bodies fall to the
ground and I chance a look up to see the two assholes who were guarding
me are now on the ground, blood surrounding them as they gasp for air.
Storm steps into the room, his icy eyes surveying the room before they
fall on me and Isla. “Let’s get her out of here before the whole house goes
up.”
I make quick work of cutting through the rope around her ankle before
lifting her into my arms. Has she always felt this tiny? It’s only been a little
over a day since I’ve seen her, since I’ve held her in my arms, and yet it
feels like a fucking lifetime.
I wrap the throw rug tighter around her as I watch Rayne grip Spade
around the collar and drag him toward the exit.
“You know that would have been easier if you didn’t knock him out
first,” Storm snarks.
Rayne glares at his brother. “I was sick of listening to his voice.”
Ordinarily I would find their bickering amusing, but right now all I can
think about is getting Isla to safety.

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 CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

ISLA

T
here’s something so peaceful about your own mind when you escape
trauma.
I’ve spent years in my own head, never wanting to burden the
people around me with my thoughts and feelings, but never have I felt so at
home.
The outside world no longer exists as I drift through a dreamlike state
where nothing hurts and no one can harm me. Where I’m alone with my
thoughts and at peace with the decisions that led me here. Or at least I think
I am.
I’m vaguely aware of the feeling of weightlessness, but I refuse to allow
my mind to drift back to that place, to be aware of whatever is happening to
my body while my mind runs free.
“Isla.” A voice penetrates the blissful quiet, but I push it back. It’s not
time yet. I’m not ready to return to whatever reality is waiting for me.
“Spitfire, I need you to look at me.” There’s an edge of desperation to
the familiar voice, and my heart aches for them.
“Just give her time,” another voice says, one that I don’t recognize, and
that makes me retreat farther into my own mind.
“I need to know if she’s hurt anywhere else. What if she has a
concussion?” the familiar voice snaps, his voice strained with stress and
worry.
 “She’s not asleep, Doc. You’ve dealt with enough women who have
been through significant trauma to know she’s hiding in her own mind.”
Is that what I’m doing? It makes sense I suppose. It’s what I hoped I’d
be able to do as Spade covered me with his weight, readying himself to
violate me, but perhaps I was actually successful.
Doc sighs, and I’m vaguely aware of pressure on my lower stomach, but
the pain is in the distance. Not quite close enough for me to feel it, but just
near enough that I know it’s there. “I think the knife missed all her organs,
but I’d feel better if I had my kit with me.”
“Bryant said they have a doctor that works for them, he’s going to meet
us at the penthouse the brothers share.”
I allow my mind to drift back to its safe place, trusting that my body is
in safe hands for the moment.

A
warm hand envelops mine, the feel of the calluses on my palm so
familiar it brings me to the brink of consciousness. My eyes drift
open, the heaviness of my lids almost forcing them closed, but I
manage to hold them open long enough to meet Doc’s dark, intense gaze.
“Spitfire,” he breathes, the tension in his shoulders melting away.
“Doc,” I whisper, looking around at our surroundings. I’m in one of the
most comfortable beds I can ever remember laying in, the soft sheets a
world away from the ones I’ve lived with most of my life. The dark timber
furniture ties in with the deep gray walls and floorboards. Where the hell
are we?
“We’re at the Hayes brothers’ apartment, in their spare room.”
“Oh.”
“How are you feeling?” He reaches for a glass of water beside the bed
and carefully brings it to my lips, allowing me to take a few sips before he
draws it away.
“I’m okay. I think.” I look down at the shirt I’m wearing, a black
Henley that smells like leather and vanilla, the scent I’ve grown so used to
that it feels like home. “Are my dad and Bree okay?”
He cups my cheek in his hand, and I immediately lean into the touch,
drawing in the comfort he offers. “Yes. They’re both fine. They’re just in
the next room.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Is everyone else okay?”
 He sighs and brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes searching
my face as if reminding himself that I’m here with him. “Nathan Hayes is
dead. He was shot by one of Spade’s men, and by the time they got him out
it was too late, he’d lost too much blood.”
I gasp, tears filling my eyes. I don’t remember much of him, but there
are snippets from my childhood when he and my dad would get together.
“Bryant and the others?”
“They’re all fine. Just shaken. Their world is being tipped on its head.
The underworld in the city is scrambling with the fall of two of its leaders
and they’re grappling with getting control of their own organization while
grieving their father.”
I don’t know that they were ever particularly close, but my heart aches
for each of the brothers and for what they’re going to be faced with in the
coming months. I don’t need to have ever worked for a criminal
organization to know that it’s unlikely the loss of their father will be the
hardest thing they’re faced with.
I’m startled by a knock at the door, and Doc instinctively places his
body between me and whoever is on the other side. I wonder how long it
will be before he stops assuming every bump is a threat to me, but after all
I’ve put him through, I’ll let him be as overbearing as he needs until he gets
it out of his system.
I glance around Doc to see my dad and Bree standing in the doorway,
their eyes glassy as they stare at the two of us, but they waste no time
rushing toward my bedside.
“Oh honey.” My dad is the first to wrap me in his arms, but they feel
foreign now.
Although marrying Doc quickly became the best thing to ever happen to
me, all of this was set into motion because of his actions. I can see that now.
I can see that all Doc did to contribute to the fall of our family was be a
shitty husband. He didn’t love Clarissa in the same way she loved him, but
it was her actions that led to her death, and it was my father’s that led us to
where we are today. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, Dad.” I glance between the two of them, assessing them both
for any obvious injuries. “I’m sorry it took us so long to realize you were
missing. Are you okay?” I reach for Bree’s hand and squeeze it.
“They didn’t hurt us,” she tells me. “We were only there as bargaining
chips and we played our part. Honestly, it was kinda just a holiday in a
really nice house with every television channel you can think of.”
I choke on a laugh before hissing out a breath, my hand falling to where
Spade stabbed me. “Only you could see being kidnapped as a vacation.”
Doc hovers at the end of the bed, his eyes flicking between the three of
us with uncertainty. It’s not exactly an emotion I ever expected to see on his
face. He’s always been so sure of himself that he’s rarely faltered during our
relationship. But something has changed and it fills me with anxiety.
Does he not want me anymore?
“Did you hear? The Hayes boys are going to take care of Spade.” Bree
beams, like her time within the criminal underbelly of the city has
desensitized her to the fact someone is going to be murdered, probably
painfully considering their father just died.
I smile. “That’s great news! I hope they’re doing okay. I can’t imagine
it’s easy losing their dad and then having the weight of the organization on
their shoulders.”
“They’ll be okay. Nathan was training them for a long time to take over
for him,” Dad tells me. “But at least now it will be safe for you to come
home.”
I stare at him for a moment, my brows tugging together in confusion.
This isn’t my home anymore. My home is wherever Doc is, and that
realization brings a smile to my face.
I look up to the end of the bed, my breath stuttering in my throat as I
watch Doc retreat, the tension in his shoulders so tight I can’t help but
worry about his wound.
Where is he going?
Is that what he wants? For me to leave Chicago and return to my life
before him? Because I don’t know if I’m capable of losing him.

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 CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

DOC

I
slam the balcony door closed behind me as emotions I’ve never felt
before rocket through me.
She’s going to leave me.
She’s going to walk away and go back to the life she had before I came
back into it.
There’s no reason for her to stay in Chicago with me when she can
return to her life, to her friends, to her family.
I’m going to lose her.
I pace restlessly, unable to hold myself still as the reality of the situation
settles over me.
I fell in love with her. Mind, body, and fucking soul. She became my
reason for breathing, and I don’t know how to live without her.
Maybe I could move to Boston. Keep an eye on her. Stay in her life in
any way she allows me to. There’s a chance if she still sees me that she’ll
give us another shot. Or perhaps that’s wishful thinking.
I drop into one of the outdoor armchairs and stare out at the city below.
How am I meant to live without my heart?
A door opens, but I can’t drag my eyes away from the small park below.
Children play, their parents watching them as they explore the playground.
If only I’d succeeded in getting her pregnant. Then she couldn’t leave me.
She would be forced to stay by my side for the sake of our child, and I
could live with that. Eventually, she would come to love me like I love her.
We could be a family.
“Doc?” Isla’s uncertain voice drags my attention away from the park
and I find her with her arms wrapped around herself, my shirt hitting her
mid-thigh and her bare legs trembling under the cold.
“What are you doing out here?” I snap. “You’re going to catch a cold.”
She rolls her eyes and closes the distance between us. “I was kidnapped,
stabbed, and almost raped. I don’t think a cold is my biggest problem right
now.”
Carefully, she lowers herself into the chair across from me, but she can’t
mask the pain in her eyes as she sits.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“Why’d you leave?” she asks, ignoring my concern.
“It was getting a little crowded in there.”
“Liar.”
I sigh and drop my head into my hands. This isn’t a conversation I’m
ready to have, not when I’ve only just realized that I’m about to lose her,
but she’s not going to give me a choice. Isla is relentless when she wants to
know something, and she’s not going to allow me to sidestep her questions
for long.
“You’re going to leave.” The words come out in a whisper.
“What?”
“There’s no reason for you to stay in Chicago with me. You’re safe here
now. This is where your friends and your family are.”
Silence follows, and for long seconds I wonder if she’s going back
inside, but then a toned thigh appears in my vision as she presses it to the
couch on one side of my legs. She lifts the other until she’s straddling me,
forcing me to look up and meet her eyes.
“You think there’s nothing for me in Chicago?”
Vulnerable is not a feeling I’ve felt often in my life, but that’s the only
thing I can put down to the discomfort in my chest as I stare up into her
amber eyes.
Her tiny hands come up to rest on my chest, and I can’t help myself. I
wrap my arms around her, drawing her in until there’s no space between us.
It’s probably not a good idea because it will only hurt more when she
leaves, but I’ll hold her for as long as I can.
 “It’s okay, spitfire. I understand. This is your home, this is where your
life is. The only reason you ever came to Chicago was so you could be safe,
and now that’s not a problem anymore.”
She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “My home is
wherever you are, Doc. If that’s in Chicago, that’s where I’m going to be.”
I stare at her for long seconds, processing the words that she’s just
spoken like they’ll start making sense the longer I look at her.
“I love you, Doc. I love you with every single beat of my heart. I love
you when you’re overbearing and when you’re grumpy. I love you when
you do crazy shit like come on me in my sleep, and I love you when you
show me the sweet side of you I know is only for me.”
I crush my lips against hers, suddenly desperate to taste her, and tug her
tighter against me. She’s hurt and I need to be mindful of that, but I need
her.
Isla shifts in my lap, her hand slipping between us to the band of my
sweatpants as she tugs them down enough for my aching cock to pop out.
“Spitfire, you’re hurt,” I murmur between kisses. I nip at the soft
pillows, desperate for the little gasps she gives me with the bite of pain.
“I don’t care.”
Isla grinds her hips over mine as she shoves her panties to the side and
notches me at her entrance. I should stop this, or at the very least warm her
up, but I couldn’t stop this even if I wanted to. I’m just as desperate for her
as she is for me.
Slowly, she lowers herself onto me, my cock stretching her walls,
tearing a hiss from her throat. “Fuck, spitfire,” I groan, dropping my hands
to her hips and dragging her deeper. I need to be buried inside her, to feel
her clamp down around me.
She rests her hands on my shoulders, using the leverage to rise and fall,
grinding on me as she chases her pleasure.
I slide one of my hands up her body, careful to keep her covered with
my shirt. All the blinds are down inside the apartment, but I won’t ever risk
anyone seeing my girl. I wrap my hand around her throat and pull her down
until our lips are just a breath apart. “I love you, Isla.” I drive up, tearing a
strangled moan from her throat. “You’re mine. If you stay with me now,
you’re mine forever. There’s nothing on this earth that could tear me away
from you, not even the devil himself.”
“I’m yours,” she pants. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you.”
 I catch her lips with mine, branding her with my kiss.
She rolls her hips slowly, and I allow her to set the pace. For now. The
gentle mewls that tumble from her between kisses are addictive, and I
imagine fucking her like this every day. Slow. Hard. Fast. Gentle. In every
single way I can think of until she can’t move without feeling me between
her pretty thighs.
“Doc,” she whines.
“You need me to fuck you, spitfire?”
She nods, and I waste no time doing exactly as my wife has asked.
I keep one hand wrapped around her throat, the contrast of my tattooed
hand around her delicate neck only makes me more desperate to fuck her
within an inch of her life. The other holds her hip in a punishing hold that
I’m sure will leave marks. I need to see her covered in my bruises to remind
us both that she’s mine, and no one can steal her away from me.
I rut into her from below, my eyes rolling back into my head as I take
her the way I’ve been craving. Her punishment will come, but for now, this
is enough. Once she’s feeling better and her stitches have come out, I’ll
make sure she never even thinks of leaving me again.
“Fuck,” she cries out.
“Beg me to fill you with my cum, spitfire,” I grunt. I’m not going to last
long. Not when I’m fucking her like our lives depend on it.
Isla drags her bottom lip between her teeth, her fingernails clawing my
shoulders as I pull her closer to the edge. “Please, Doc. I need more. I need
your cum. Please.”
I groan and double my efforts, squeezing her throat a little tighter. Her
cunt tightens around me, and I flash her a knowing look. She fucking loves
it when I choke her, and the sight of my hand around her throat has quickly
become one of my favorites.
“Such a good little whore for me, spitfire,” I groan. “Touch yourself.”
She doesn’t hesitate to drop a hand between us, her fingers brushing
over the place where I’m rutting into her and dragging a moan from us both.
She settles into a steady rhythm and her eyes grow heavy-lidded the
closer she comes to the edge. I’m tempted to ruin it like I did the first night
I touched her, but that would be a punishment for us both if I couldn’t feel
her pussy clamp down on me as she falls apart.
“You better come for me, Isla.”
 Her eyes lock with mine, and if I believed in it, I would think I’m
staring right into my own soul. She cries out and then she’s falling, her
body trembling above mine as her cunt flutters around my cock, pulling me
down right alongside her.
My orgasm rushes over me and I lose all rhythm, fucking her so hard
and fast stars dance at the edge of my vision.
Isla drops her head to my shoulder as she comes down and I wrap both
arms around her, holding her like I’m afraid she’ll slip away if I don’t.
“I’m putting a tracker in you,” I murmur.
Her head whips up and she glares at me. “You will be doing no such
thing,” she snaps.
A smirk pulls at the corners of my lips. There’s my spitfire.

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 CHAPTER SEVENTY

ISLA

F
lying into Chicago feels different this time around, and not just
because we’re on a private jet with some of the most notorious
criminals in the country.
No. It feels different because it feels like coming home.
This is where my relationship with Doc bloomed. Where we found our
way together even when it was hard, even when I thought for sure I was
going to kill him because he was so frustrating.
Another reason it’s different is because, where last time Doc could
barely even look at me during the flight, this time around he didn’t take his
eyes off me for the entire journey. I’m not sure if he thinks I’m going to run
from him or if he’s still trying to remind himself that I’m okay, but either
way, I don’t hate it. I enjoy the promise in his eyes more than I should,
especially because he’s repeatedly reminded me of the punishment I’m
owed for the last week.
We stayed in Boston for Nathan’s funeral, and Storm helped the Hayes
brothers find their feet to prevent the city from descending into chaos after
the deaths of two of its leaders.
I never asked what happened to Spade, and I’m comfortable assuming
he’s very much dead.
I’m glad I could be around for Bryant and his brothers when they
needed it, but I’m glad I won’t have to deal with Doc glaring at them like
they’re about to lose a hand every time they touch me.
 Doc unlocks the apartment door and carries our bags through into the
living room. We had to buy new stuff, seeing as I only took a backpack with
me and he didn’t bother packing at all in his hurry to get to me.
My heart aches at what I’ve put him through. I hate that he was worried
about me, that I caused him pain. If I could go back and do it differently, I
would. But I wasn’t thinking. I was too focused on getting Bree and my dad
back that I didn’t stop to think it through.
He drops the bags by our bedroom door and turns back to me, his brows
pulled together when he finds me still standing by the front door. “You
okay, spitfire?”
“Punish me,” I whisper, hoping my voice doesn’t break under the
pressure of the words.
Doc’s brows rise, and a smirk appears across his face. “Did you just ask
me to punish you, spitfire?”
I nod. “I think…I think it will help with the guilt.”
He prowls toward me, his pupils blown wide as he approaches me. He
grasps my hips and deposits me on his shoulder, tearing a scream from my
throat. “Already screaming for me, and I haven’t even touched you.” He
chuckles. “By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to have long lost
your voice.”
“Promises, promises,” I taunt.
Doc deposits me in the middle of the bed and immediately reaches for
the hem of my dress, dragging it up and over my head so I’m sitting in front
of him in nothing but the matching bra and panties he threatened to tear off
me when I was getting dressed this morning. The emerald green is the
perfect match to my skin tone, and I bought it knowing full well he was
going to lose his mind when he saw me in it.
His eyes peruse my body hungrily for long moments before he crosses
the room to the closet. He drops to his knees and riffles around in the corner
before returning with two sets of cuffs and a spreader bar.
My mouth drops open at the sight. How the hell didn’t I know those
were in there? And what else has he got in there?
An amused smirk plays on his lips as he makes quick work of attaching
my wrists to the headboard and my ankles to the bar, extending it almost to
the point of pain. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, making sure the cuffs
aren’t too tight before releasing my hands.
 I give him a small smile and nod, my heart exploding in my chest. This
is why I fell in love with him. Because even though I’ll always feel safe in
Doc’s hands, he still makes sure I know he’ll never do anything to hurt me.
Doc stands at the end of the bed as he surveys his handy work before he
drops a hand to the bulge in the front of his pants, giving it a hard squeeze.
The whimper that escapes from my throat is desperate and needy, but
I’m past caring. Doc knows I want him. He knows I’m always aching for
him, and it’s hardly going to come as a surprise that I’m craving him now.
“You’re a long way from getting this, spitfire.” He reaches behind
himself and tugs his shirt over his head, revealing his lean muscles and the
artwork I’ve spent way too many hours staring at. The intricate lines are
almost as addictive to look at as the man they belong to.
His pants are next as he shoves them down and kicks them across the
room, leaving him in just a pair of boxer briefs.
I shift on the bed, wishing I could rub my thighs together to give myself
even a second of relief, but he’s got me like this for a reason, and he’s not
going to give in until I’m panting for him.
“Is your cunt aching for me, Isla?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Mm, I can’t wait to hear how pretty you beg for my cock.” He places a
knee on the bed and then the other as he prowls toward me. “Or maybe you
won’t get it at all. Maybe I’ll fuck that pretty mouth and leave you
desperate.”
“Doc,” I whine.
“Or perhaps it’s time I take your perfect ass,” he muses as he settles his
weight over me, his hard length pressing into my belly through his boxers.
“Do you think you could come while I fuck your ass, spitfire? If you’re
good and come for me from just that, maybe then I’ll play with your pretty
pussy.”
“Oh god,” I murmur, knowing his threats are rarely just that, they’re
almost always a promise.
“What have I told you about saying the names of other men in the
bedroom, Isla?” he growls and grips my face in one of his huge hands,
tightening his hold until my mouth pops open from the pressure. He presses
two fingers against my tongue and pushes them deeper. “Suck.”
I close my lips around his fingers and hold his eyes as I do just that. I
suck them like they’re his cock and I’m desperate for his cum, and his eyes
flare with need.
“Fuck, spitfire, you’re such a desperate whore for me, aren’t you?”
I nod around his fingers, lapping at them with my tongue the same way
I would his cock.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “You really are desperate for me,
aren’t you?”
This time I don’t bother responding because we both know I am. We
both know my pussy is dripping with need, and he’s barely even touched
me.
He pulls his fingers free with a pop and he drags them down my chest.
He shoves the cup of my bra down and circles my nipple with my saliva,
dragging a moan from my throat.
“It’s a shame I have to punish you, spitfire, because I’d like nothing
more than to bury myself in your pretty pussy and lose myself in your heat.
But alas, you need to be punished.”
My bottom lip pops out into a pout that only makes him laugh.
“None of that, Isla. Don’t forget who asked for this.” He chuckles. “I
think I’ll fuck your face while I decide how to proceed.”
He straddles my shoulders and lifts his heavy cock from his boxers
before placing the head on my lips. “Open wide, spitfire.”
I do as I’m told, and he wastes no time slipping himself between my
lips. I moan around him, his salty taste exploding over my taste buds and I
lift my head to take more of him.
“Mm, my girl is desperate for me, isn’t she?” He grips my hair in one
hand and his cock in the other. “Better hold on, spitfire.”

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 CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

DOC

F
uck me.
Isla’s mouth is a goddamn paradise. I should have known this
punishment was going to be just as hard on me as it was her, because
right now there’s nothing I want more than to bury myself inside her and
fuck her until neither of us can breathe.
I rut into her mouth, nudging at the back of her throat and pushing past
her gag reflex until her eyes water. “Good girl,” I praise. “Open up your
throat for me, baby. I know you can do it.”
The lust that stares back at me is intoxicating. My girl fucking loves
being praised, and I’m not going to deprive her of that, even if this is
technically a punishment.
Isla’s tongue laps at the underside of my length as I shove my cock
deeper. The moment I push into her throat, we let out a mutual moan and I
snap my hips back and forth in short thrusts, staring down into her eyes as I
push her to the edge of her limits before pulling back.
She sucks in desperate breaths, but when I inch forward again, she
drops her lips open and accepts me immediately.
I’m already too fucking close. I need to get this punishment over with or
I’m not going to last. I drop back onto my heels, staring down at her as I
stroke my cock in slow passes. My own hand doesn’t feel anywhere near as
good as her mouth, but too much longer and I’ll be blowing my load down
her throat.
 “Tell me why you’re being punished,” I demand.
“Because I left the city without telling you.”
“And?”
“I put myself in danger intentionally.”
“And?”
“I worried you. I made you think I was running from you when that’s
the last thing I would ever want to do.”
I move down her body until my face is level with hers, and her breaths
whisper across my cheeks. “Are you ever going to do something so fucking
stupid and reckless again?”
“No.”
I grip her chin between my fingers and hold her gaze. “I’m not going to
deny you or spank you, spitfire. You’ve suffered enough through this
ordeal, and I don’t feel as if me punishing you is going to achieve
anything.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I shake my head slowly, cutting her
off before she can make a sound.
“I’m not finished,” I growl. “If you ever do something so fucking stupid
again. If you disappear and I can’t find you. If you decide to leave the city
without telling me. If you even think about doing any of those things, I will
not hesitate to cuff you to this bed and leave you here until I’m sure you’re
not going to do it again. I will deny every single orgasm except for the ones
I ruin. I will spank you every night before you go to sleep and every
morning when you wake up. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Good.” I push myself up onto my heels and carefully lift her legs
forward, pressing them to her chest, enjoying the view the spreader bar
allows me as I reach into the bedside table.
The second her eyes lock on the bottle of lube in my hand, her breath
stutters in her chest, and fear creeps into her gaze.
Without a word, I tear her panties from her body, getting a little bit too
much enjoyment out of the way the delicate fabric falls from her body.
“Doc,” she snaps. “It’s a matching set.”
I smirk and reach back into the bedside table and produce a pocketknife.
Isla opens her mouth to warn me off, but I quickly cut the front of the bra,
watching as her tits spill out as the lace parts. “Problem solved.”
 She stares at me in surprise, her mouth agape, but there’s a smile
playing on her lips. She should hardly be surprised by it at this point given
how many pairs of her underwear I’ve ruined in the last two months.
I notch my cock at her entrance, her pussy a siren’s call I can’t deny,
even if I have greater plans for her tonight.
“Doc,” she whines.
“I’ve got you, spitfire.” I press forward slowly. The groan that escapes
my throat is barely human, and her walls clench around me, pulling me in
deeper. “Fuck, Isla. Your pussy is fucking perfection.”
She tugs at the cuffs around her wrists, but they hold her in place right
where I want her.
I reach up beside her head and flick the cap off the lube, never slowing
my thrusts as I pump in and out of her. I’m too fucking tempted to come
right now, to fill her pussy with thick ropes of cum over and over again
until there’s no way it won’t take root. It’s only a matter of time before she’s
pregnant, but I’m impatient.
I need to see her swell with my child.
Before I can change my mind, I squirt some of the lube onto my fingers
and drop my hand beneath us. The moment I touch her puckered hole, her
hips shift, trying to escape the intrusion.
“Stay still, Isla. You and I both know you’re going to love this.”
I slip a single finger past her tight ring, and we let out a mutual moan as
her pussy clamps down around me.
Oh yeah, she’s going to fucking love having my cock in her ass.
“Fuck,” she moans.
“Your pussy is milking me so hard, baby,” I groan as I pull my finger
free and press a second in beside it, stretching her further.
“Doc, please.”
“Please, what, Isla? Do you want me to fuck you harder? Do you want
another finger? Or do you want my cock in your ass?”
“Yes, oh fuck. Yes. Just don’t stop.” Her eyes squeeze shut, and I slap a
hand down on her thigh, making her pop them open again.
“Keep those pretty eyes on me, spitfire.”
I drop my free hand to her pussy and start circling her clit, dragging her
closer to the edge. I need her pliant when it’s time to fuck her ass, and an
orgasm is the best way to loosen her up.
 She tugs at the cuffs at her wrists again and I’m tempted to free her, but
there’s something about having my spitfire at my mercy that makes fucking
her that much better.
Her cunt clamps down on my cock, her walls fluttering as she careens
toward her release. Part of me wants to drag this out, to make her wait for
her pleasure as penance for what she put me through, but I’m too far gone. I
need to fuck her pretty little ass too badly to think about dragging this out
longer than I need to, and if I’m honest, if I stay in her pussy too much
longer, I’m going to blow my load and ruin the whole plan.
“Are you going to come for me, Isla?” I grunt, applying more pressure
to her clit and watching as her body trembles beneath my touch.
“Yes, please, Doc. Please make me come.”
“You beg so pretty for me, spitfire.”
I slam my hips into hers, my fingers moving in and out of her ass at the
same pace, and I see the exact moment she tips over the edge.
Her body stills for a second, and then it jolts and shivers under the
pleasure that rolls through her. Her pussy milks my cock so hard it takes
every fucking thing not to fill her right here and now, but I manage to hold
onto my composure.
She rides out her orgasm with my fingers and cock, drawing it out as
long as I can before I slide from the paradise between her legs and pull my
fingers from her ass.
Isla lays boneless beneath me, a small smile tugging up the corners of
her lips as she stares up at me with love. I never thought anyone would look
at me like this again, and I certainly never thought I would deserve it. But
everything with Isla is different. It has been from the very start.
I squirt a generous amount of lube into my hand and work my cock with
it in long strokes, making sure I’m ready to take her with as little pain as
possible.
I lift her hips higher and shuffle forward until she’s propped up on my
knees, giving me the perfect view of both holes. “Maybe I will keep you
tied to the bed, spitfire. Then I’ll always have access to all three of your
holes.”
She scoffs and shakes her head. “You and I both know you have access
to whatever you want, whenever you want, husband.”
That word on her lips makes my cock ache. I’ve claimed her over and
over again. I’ve told her and everyone else that will listen that she’s mine,
but this is the first time she’s ever done the same.
“I’m going to fuck your tight ass now, wife, and you’re going to love
every second.” I notch my cock at the puckered hole, and her eyes flash
with uncertainty. She knows I would never hurt her, but that doesn’t make
this any less intimidating. “Breathe in for me, spitfire.”
She does as she’s told, taking a deep breath, and I push forward ever so
slowly.
“And out.”
She releases the breath, and my head slips through the ring of muscles,
making her cry out.
“Good girl,” I praise. “You’re being such a good girl for me.”
As slowly as I can manage, I press deeper and use my free hand to start
circling her clit again, hoping the pleasure can cut through the pain as I
slide further into her ass.
“Doc,” she whines. “It’s too much. It hurts.”
“I know, spitfire. But I promise I’ll make it feel good.”
Isla nods, but the crease between her brows tells me she’s barely
holding on and I double my efforts on the sensitive bundle of nerves at the
crest of her swollen pussy.
I look down at where we’re joined and groan. Fuck. Watching her
stretch around me will never get old. She’s so fucking perfect.
I bottom out inside her, and we both let out a moan as I wait for her to
get used to the foreign feeling.
“How are you doing, Isla?”
“It’s so much,” she pants. “I need you to move. Please Doc.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I start a steady pace and watch her
face for any sign of discomfort. Her pussy drips with need, and I keep my
fingers firm on her clit, relishing in the way her ass clenches around me.
“I want you to come for me,” I demand.
Her mouth falls open. “I don’t know if I can like this.”
I reach up and wrap my hand around her throat, dragging a moan from
both of us. “You’re going to do as you’re told, spitfire. Don’t make me ask
again,” I growl as I tighten my grip until her pupils are blown wide.
I fuck her harder, taking everything she gives me and more, and
dragging her closer to the edge. I need her to come because I’m barely
holding on, my balls are tight, the tingling in the base of my spine almost at
the point of no return.
 I’m about to demand for her to come again when a strangled scream
tears from her throat and her entire body trembles beneath me. Her ass
clenches down on me, making it almost impossible to keep fucking her
through her orgasm.
I follow her over the edge, fucking her so hard I’m worried it may hurt
her, but I’m too far gone to slow down.
Pleasure explodes behind my eyes as I fill her with hot streams of my
cum, a roar of pleasure tearing from my chest. Idly, I wonder if sex with
Isla will ever not be mind-blowing, but I know this is what the rest of our
lives will look like together.
Once I can see straight and my breath has evened out, I withdraw from
her ass, watching as my cum slips from her. There’s something so fucking
satisfying about marking my wife, and I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it.
I reach for the cuffs and quickly untie her wrists and ankles, tossing the
spreader bar off the side of the bed before pulling her into my arms and
pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You did good, spitfire.”
She nods, her eyes drooping closed as the fatigue drags her closer to
unconsciousness.
“I love you,” she murmurs.
“I love you too.” I hold her closer, cradling her tighter against my chest.
“Marry me.”
Her amber eyes pop open, and she looks up at me through long lashes.
“I hate to break this to you, Doc, but we’re already married.”
I chuckle and push the stray hair from her face. “I know that. But I want
to give you a real wedding, one where we actually like each other and you
pick your own dress and flowers and whatever else you want.”
The smile that tugs at her lips and the tears that gather in her eyes
remind me exactly why I fell in love with the woman I’ll hold close for the
rest of my life.
“I’ll marry you a million times over.”

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 EPILOGUE
ISLA

I hear their laughs before I’m even out of the car, and I can’t help but smile.
This isn’t where I thought my life would lead. I thought I had years of
partying ahead of me, maybe some travel. If I’m honest, I wasn’t even sure
I would ever finish college.
And yet here I am.
I throw my handbag over my shoulder and walk up the front steps of
our home. The day Doc drove me out into the suburbs and pulled up out the
front of a house with a white picket fence, I laughed so hard tears fell
against my cheeks, and then I realized he was serious.
It’s a world away from the apartment we shared at the beginning of our
marriage, but we’re not those people anymore. Well, he still works for the
Saint James family, and I still go out for lunch with Bella once a week and
need him to pick me up after I’ve had one too many mimosas, but we’re
happier. We found our feet together, and then we added some more fingers
and toes to the mix.
I unlock the front door and dump my bag and coat on the side table.
Doc’s always snapping at me for leaving all my shit here, but every time I
walk through the door, I’m too desperate to see them to care. Plus, if it
means I get a spanking later, I’m more than happy to risk it.
I step into the front room and cover my mouth to stop the laugh from
falling from my lips. All six foot seven of my husband is crammed into a
tiny kid’s chair, how the thing isn’t crumpling beneath him is a wonder. He
has a tiara sitting on the top of his head and is holding a teacup in one hand
and one of Indigo’s soft toys in the other.
 He looks fucking ridiculous, but it only makes me love him more. I
didn’t think it was possible, and yet every day I live this life with him, my
heart seems to grow in size to fit him and our two babies in it.
I peek into the cot in the corner and find Noah fast asleep despite the
ruckus his sister and father are making just a few feet away from him.
“Mommy!” Indigo squeals as she hurdles over the plushies spread
across the room. Every time I leave the house for the day, I come back to a
war zone, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when I see my
daughter’s face after a day with her dad.
I crouch down just in time for her to leap into my arms, and I squeeze
her tight as I look over her shoulder at Doc who is watching us closely.
Indigo came into our lives not long after our second wedding, a product of
the birth control pills my husband was regularly fucking with without my
knowledge.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t mad as hell when I first found out I was
pregnant, but if I’m honest with myself, it was the obvious next step for us,
and the first time I saw our little girl on the monitor at the doctor’s office,
any anger melted away. How could I be mad when Doc had given me such
a beautiful gift? Even if he was sneaky about it.
And two years later, we welcomed Noah.
Seeing a man the size of Doc with tiny babies will always make my
ovaries burst, and I almost cave into him wanting more kids, but our family
of four is perfect.
Doc rises slowly from the tiny chair and deposits Waldo the Walrus and
the cup on the table before prowling toward me.
He gathers me in his arms and pulls me close, burying his face in my
neck and inhaling sharply. “I missed you today.”
I laugh, wrapping my arms around him and holding on tight. “I was
only out for a few hours.”
He presses a kiss to my lips, and I groan. One thing that hasn’t suffered
after having kids? Our sex life. The man is insatiable, and so am I. I’ll never
get enough of him.
“Yuck!” Indigo yells. “Mommy and Daddy are gross!”
A laugh slips from my mouth, and the smile that pulls at my lips makes
my cheeks ache. I look up at Doc and cup his face in my hands, his stubble
rough against my palms.
“Thank you for giving me such a beautiful life,” I whisper.
 He shakes his head slowly, lowering his face until it’s just an inch from
mine. “You’re the one that gave me everything I never dared to wish for,
spitfire.”
The sound of Noah’s babbling in the corner drags our attention off one
another and Doc quickly crosses the room, gathering our one-year-old into
his arms before scooping Indigo up in the other. He returns to me, and I
wrap my arms around the three of them.
If only the twenty-year-old party girl who thought her life was over
could see me now.

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 THANK YOU

Thank you for reading Fractured Vows. Your constant support means
everything to me, and I’m eternally grateful to every single one of you that
reads one of my books!

I’m so excited to tell you that Ace and Mia’s book is coming next!
Shattered Promises will be released in April 2024 and it is a heart
wrenching story that will having you laughing and crying.
If you enjoyed Fractured Vows, it would mean the world to me if you could
review it on Amazon, Goodreads, Social Media, carrier pigeon, I’m not
fussy.
You can follow me on socials, or join my reader group, for sneak peaks of
future projects, including release dates and secret snippets!

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 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

From the moment Doc stepped onto the page in When it Raynes, part of me
know he would eventually get his own book, but I thought it would be years
down the track. And then everyone met our resident grumpy doctor, and I
started getting asked at minimum when he was going to get his book.
The issue? I didn’t have a story for him, and I had a million books I did
have stories for. But then one day when I was struggling to write Ace and
Mia’s book, it came to me. It was like a train slamming into me and I got
started straight away, something I never do. I always need to think on my
books for months if not years, but I guess because Doc had been living rent
free in my mind for so long, I could jump headfirst in.
So thank you to all those people who begged for Doc’s book, because it
turned out better than I ever could have hoped. I love Doc and Isla so much,
and if I’m really honest with myself, I think I knew this book was going to
hold a special place in my heart from the first words I wrote in Isla’s POV.
So onto who I have to thank for this book. As always, my wonderful
husband Sam, who loves and supports me, pushes me when I need to be
pushed, and makes me have breaks when I’m at the end of my tether. If
anyone ever asks how I do it, I always point them in Sam’s direction
because he’s always the MVP of Team Fyre.

I couldn’t do this without my friends and family cheering me on at the

sidelines. From the people who always ask how my books are going, to my
besties who hype up my crazy ideas. I love you all.
To my wonderful editor, Ellie, who changes the exact same Australianisms
in every book because apparently I’ll never learn.
And to my incredible readers who have made my dreams come true. If you
told me five years ago that I would be a full time author releasing my 11th
book, I probably would have laughed hysterically, and I sure as hell
wouldn’t have got here without all of you. So for that I am forever grateful.
I hope you loved Doc and Isla’s story as much as I loved writing them.

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ALSO BY MONTANA FYRE

FROST INDUSTRIES (DARK MAFIA ROMANCE)

When it Raynes
Dead of Wynter
Fall of Snow
Before the Storm

TAINTED LOVE (DARK ROMANCE)

Severed Ties
Fractured Vows
Shattered Promises (Coming April 2024)

FORBIDDEN PLEASURES (DARK ROMANCE)

Trust in the Fallen

Pray for the Damned (Coming Late 2024)

FOREST FALLS (COLLEGE HOCKEY ROMANCE)

Wager
Flight
Fight
Betray

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