Текст книги "Wanted"

Автор книги: J. Kenner

Соавторы: J. Kenner
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four

I spent the next hour circulating through the condo, chatting with the guests, and reminiscing about Jahn. I caught sight of Cole twice and Tyler once. I didn’t see Evan at all, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, I’d liked the way he’d looked at me. I’d liked the frisson of awareness that tingled through me simply from his proximity.

On the other hand, our conversation in the kitchen had been so surreal that I wanted to avoid him until I could wrap my head around what had happened. And I sure as hell didn’t want another lecture about Kevin. Especially since everything Evan had said was so damn right.

As for Kevin, he’d been my almost constant companion since the moment I’d left the kitchen. He played the role of the supportive boyfriend with such gusto that I barely had a moment to myself. I finally escaped, claiming that I was going to the bathroom when all I really wanted was a moment when I could stand by myself and simply breathe.

Rather than slip away to one of the restrooms, I hurried up to Jahn’s rooftop patio. It’s my favorite place in the condo, accessed by a stunning spiral staircase on the north side of the living room. Jahn decorated it with as much detail as the interior of the condo, so the covered and uncovered areas were full of comfortable chairs and lounges, conversation areas, and beautiful plants that made this oasis in the sky feel like a park. Or at the very least, like the best rooftop lounge of a five-star European hotel.

While most of the guests were lounging on the couches and sipping drinks by the outdoor kitchen, I moved away from the crowd. I stood alone between the tiny potted firs that lined the perimeter, my hands pressed to the glass that provided that extra bit of protection against the urge to spread your arms and leap, proving once and for all that though you might appear human, you really weren’t. You were just air and breath and the thrill of motion, and nothing bad could happen to you in the night sky because the wind would always catch you.

“I hope you’re not thinking about jumping.”

Ironically, I did exactly that, practically leaping out of my skin as my hand rose to my throat. My heart beat double-time, but whether that was because of the surprise or because of the man who’d so stealthily approached, I didn’t know.

I drew in what I hoped was a calming breath, gathered myself, and then turned to face Evan.

“I was,” I admitted. “But don’t worry. I’m not suicidal.”

“No,” he said simply, his eyes flat as they assessed me. “You’re too strong for that.”

“That is such bullshit.” I bit out the retort automatically, irritated that he’d so easily pushed my buttons. People had said the same thing after Gracie died, every word like fingernails on a chalkboard. You’re so strong, you’re handling it all so well. And it was all crap, because I wasn’t handling it at all.

I’d moved like a zombie through the days, barely managing to function. The days were bad enough. The nights pretty much fucking killed me.

I sucked in a shaky breath. “There’s nothing strong about surviving,” I said. “All it means is that one more time, death passed you up.”

I winced, because the second the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d said too much. Shit.

I turned back to the glass and looked out over the world. I didn’t turn when I heard him move up beside me, taking his own position at the barrier. For the first time I could remember, in fact, I wanted Evan Black to just go away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was low and level, and I liked the way it felt inside my head. I didn’t turn, though. I wasn’t sure if he was sorry for my loss or apologizing for his words, and if it was the former, I really didn’t want to know.

“So why are you here?” I finally asked, my back still toward him. “Did you track me down to give me more grief about the guy I’m dating?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t spend that much time thinking about Kevin Warner.”

I turned, my brow raised in question. “No? Because in the kitchen earlier he sure seemed to be on your mind.”

“Not Kevin,” he said simply. “You.”

“Oh.” I swallowed, liking the sound of that word on his lips. You.

For a moment, silence hung between us. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what he wanted. I didn’t know what he was doing there or what was going on between us, or if anything even was going on between us. I waited for him to speak, but he seemed content to let the silence continue. He was doing nothing more than standing there, and yet I felt suddenly trapped, as if he’d captured me in that firm and unwavering gaze.

In desperation, I finally managed to form a sentence. “You’re wrong,” I finally said, looking down at my fingernails so that I wouldn’t have to see his face. “I’m not strong at all.” I thought of how much I wanted to escape this day. Of how much I wanted my uncle back. Of how desperately I wanted to cry, and of how hard I was having to work to keep all that grief bottled up inside.

Mostly, I thought of how certain I was that I wouldn’t make it through the night. That no matter how hard I tried, in the end the explosion would come and somehow, someway, everything I’d wrapped up tight would come completely unraveled.

“You are. I’ve watched you,” he said firmly. “Over the years, I mean. You keep yourself under tight control, Angie. That takes a lot of strength.”

I fervently wished that what he saw was true. It wasn’t, of course. I’d been trying for years to keep myself under control, but the tighter I grasped, the more pieces of me seem to break free.

Stifling a sigh, I turned away again to look out at Lake Michigan and the boats that were now nothing more than tiny points of lights in the distance. “You must not have been watching too closely,” I said.

“On the contrary,” he said, his voice low and even and so intense it seemed to erase all my protests even before I could voice them. “I paid a great deal of attention. I always do when something matters to me.”

“Oh.” My voice felt small and breathy.

From his position beside me, he hooked a finger under my chin and turned my head to meet his eyes. Heat from the contact shot through me, and I half-wondered if I’d see a burn mark there the next time I looked in the mirror.

He moved his hand away, and I wanted to cry out in protest. “Trust me on this, Lina. I know all about control.”

I swallowed. I wasn’t entirely sure I knew what we were talking about. And I sure as hell didn’t know why he called me by my old nickname, but to my surprise, I found myself liking it. I liked even more the way that he was looking at me. I think I could have stood there forever, the city and lake below and the night sky above and this enigmatic man only inches from me.

His lips began to move, and I thought that he had a beautiful mouth. “It’s not a weakness to want to let go,” he said. “To want the thrill of taking a risk. The pleasure of feeling the rush.”

I blinked. “How did you—”

“Shhhh.” His smile was slow and easy, revealing a rarely seen dimple in his cheek. “You need it. You’ve been pent up all night, going crazy. Locked inside your grief. Go ahead, now. Close your eyes and turn around.”

“But, I—”

That finger rose and pressed gently to my lips. “Don’t argue. Just do.”

Unquestioning obedience isn’t usually my modus operandi, but to my surprise, I complied. I closed my eyes, letting the dark take me, and then I shifted, so that I was facing the glass again. If I had opened my eyes, I would have seen the night sky spread wide in front of me. Instead I saw only Evan, larger than life inside my head.

“That’s a good girl.”

I’d worn my shoulder-length hair loose, and I held my breath as he gently pushed the thick waves aside, then pressed his hand to the back of my neck. I shivered from the contact, then cringed with embarrassment because I know he must have noticed. His thumb moved ever so slightly, lightly stroking my skin. I had no way of telling if he was doing it on purpose or if it was simply a reflex. Either way, it was driving me crazy, and I bit my lower lip, thankful that he was behind me and couldn’t see that additional break in my composure.

When he spoke again, his voice was husky. “Now put your hands on the glass.”

I was confused and nervous. But, damn me, I was also turned on, and I hoped he couldn’t tell that my nipples had peaked beneath my bra, and that he couldn’t see the flush of my skin in the dark.

Before I could do what he asked, he moved behind me, taking my hands in his and guiding them to the pane. The connection was shocking, powerful, and a raging heat stormed through me as I let myself go, reveling in the incredible sensation of submitting to this man.

“Do you feel it, Angie? The pressure of the glass? It’s pushing back on you. It’s holding you up. It’s keeping you here, safe beside me.”

His words barely registered. All I knew was the way his voice caressed me, like a trail of kisses down my body. All I could feel was the pressure of his hands over mine, and the whisper of his breath on my skin, as tantalizing as a ray of summer sun.

“What if the glass were to tumble away?” His voice was soft and gentle, as if that was the most natural thing in the world to think about. “You wouldn’t fall, Angie. You’d soar.”

I squeezed my eyes tighter. He’d already captured the attention of my body, but now he’d captured my imagination, too.

“Maybe you wouldn’t purposefully push the glass out of the way, but if that barrier disappeared, you’d experience it to the fullest. You’d spread your arms, you’d embrace the tumble. You’d breathe in the air and feel the wind rushing around you, gathering you up. Lifting you up. Because that’s what you were thinking about, wasn’t it? Not jumping. Not falling—”

I drew in a breath, gasping as I leaned back against him, my ass against his crotch. He was hard, and so help me, I was wet.

“You want to fly, Angie,” he whispered, and then brushed his lips over the top of my ear. I trembled, and oh, dear god, if he touched me again I knew I’d come, my body exploding out to greet the stars.

And all I could do was stand there, the heat of our connection burning through me, and silently beg for him to never leave. For this moment to never end.

He moved his hands to my shoulders, then eased them around to place his palms against my ribs. His thumbs rested on my back and his fingertips brushed the swell of my breasts. I bit my lower lip, determined not to cry out, not to move. Not to do anything that might make him stop. That might end this wondrous fantasy.

His hands eased lower, encircling my waist. I’m not particularly small, but I felt petite and fragile right then, because I knew in that moment that he had the power to break me. To utterly and sweetly destroy me.

“Angie,” he said and began to turn me in his arms. I closed my eyes, savoring the moment. But before I could shift—before I could even absorb the possibility that he was going to kiss me—the moment shattered, torn apart by the high-pitched chirp of my cell phone.

He drew his hands away, and as he did, I heard another sound. A whimper.

I’m pretty sure it came from me.

I opened my eyes just in time to see Evan’s face shift into a stony, unreadable expression. I didn’t know what it looked like before, but I imagined there’d been lust in his eyes.

I felt something tight squeeze at my heart, because we’d just lost this moment. And I knew damn well that we could never, ever get it back.

“You should answer it,” he said.

“What?”

He glanced down to the tiny purse that I’d decided to carry tonight only because I had no pocket for my phone.

“Oh.” I’d already forgotten. “It’s a text.” I fumbled to retrieve it, then glanced at the display.

“Kevin?”

“Flynn,” I said quickly, not wanting to bring Kevin anywhere near this conversation. “Remember? The boy who lived down the street from Uncle Jahn in Kenilworth.”

“Probably not so much a boy anymore,” Evan said, in a tone that made the gooey feminine side of me shimmy with joy.

“No,” I said casually. “Not so much.”

I kept my focus on his face, and for a moment I thought that he was going to reach out for me. That he was going to pull me to him and press his lips to mine, and send us both soaring past that damn glass partition.

But the moment passed, and he turned away to look out over the darkened lake.

For a moment, we stood in silence. Then he spoke, low and steady. “I think about jumping, too.”

“Suicidal?” I quipped.

“No.” He turned back to me, and what I saw on his face wasn’t heat or lust but bald determination. “Arrogant.”

My brows puckered with confusion.

“I’m arrogant enough to think I can control my own fall,” he clarified.

“But you can’t,” I said, thinking of my sister. Of my life. Of my uncle. “Nobody can.”

His grin was wide, achingly sexy, and desperately sad. He reached out, then lightly stroked my cheek. “Watch me.”

I did, but only in the sense that I watched him leave. I stayed there, alone on the patio. Just me and my confusion and mortification. Not to mention two dozen people I barely knew. All of us on this Chicago rooftop, hurtling through space and time and the universe.

I stared after him, not moving. Not really even thinking. Behind me, the fireworks over the Navy Pier began to explode and suddenly the night sky was alive with color. I barely noticed. The only color I saw was Evan, his hue standing out against the backdrop of gray that had consumed me.

It took a full five minutes before I realized that I was still holding my phone.

I pulled up the message and, despite my confusion, I smiled.

Just landed. You okay?

I typed my answer—Surviving, I think—then hesitated. I wanted to edit it before hitting send. To tell Flynn about what just happened with Evan, whom he’s heard about ad nauseam since we were both sixteen. About how I was seeing Jahn’s ghost around every corner. About how much I hated death and funerals and I wished that I were a runner because then I could shove my feet into some Nikes and just go.

I didn’t type any of that, though. Instead, I just hit send.

I’ll be there in 10.

I couldn’t help but smile. He really did know me well.

It’s okay. People leaving.

Don’t want you alone.

Kevin’s taking me home w/ him.

There was a pause before the next text came through, and I understood why. I’ve spent far too many nights boring him with my rants about how Kevin is empirically perfect and I’m an idiot to even contemplate blowing him off.

Is that what you want?

It wasn’t, of course. What I wanted was Evan. His voice in my ear. His hand on my back. I wanted to return to that place in the sky, and I was suddenly terribly afraid that he was the only one who could get me there.

Violently, I jabbed my finger on the keypad. I really wasn’t going to do self-analysis by text. Just not happening.

Gotta go. TTYL

I set the phone on Do Not Disturb and shoved it back in my purse. If he texted me back, I didn’t want to know about it. I looked up in time to see that Kevin had entered the patio and was looking right at me, his expression quizzical. I wasn’t terribly surprised. I was feeling ripped to pieces, not to mention confused and unsatisfied and more than a little bit guilty about my pleasant, odd, and totally unexpected encounter with Evan. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the chance to adjust my expression before he zeroed in on me.

“You’re looking tired,” he said, smiling gently as he took my hand. “Let’s go.”

“Tired being a euphemism for destroyed?”

“What can I say? I minored in English.”

My laugh was completely genuine. “You’re a good man, Agent Warner,” I said. “You deserve more than a wreck like me.”

“Maybe I like a fixer-upper.” He lifted our joined hands and kissed my fingertips. “You need distance. Come on. I already told Peterson I was whisking you away,” he added, referring to Jahn’s ever-present but usually invisible butler. “He’ll make sure the rest of the guests get on their way.”

I let him tug me toward the door. The guests were already leaving, and a few pulled me aside, giving me a hug and an encouraging word. Kat hurried over as we neared the entrance hall. “You’re heading out?”

“She needs to get away for the night,” Kevin said. “I’m taking her to my place.”

“Great,” Kat said, her voice bland, but a question in her eyes. I wished I could answer it. Cliché, maybe, but I could have used a night of nail polish and ice cream and talking about men.

“It’s gonna get easier,” Kat said, then pulled me into a tight hug.

“So they tell me.”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll meet for cupcakes, okay?”

“Definitely,” I said, because who turns down cupcakes or sympathy from her best friend?

I didn’t see Tyler or Cole, and since I agreed that I needed to get out of there sooner rather than later, I continued willingly toward the door, figuring I’d see them in a couple of days at the attorney’s office. I still had the trauma of the will to look forward to. Maybe after that, I could start to heal.

I heard Evan before I saw him, that low, whiskey-smooth voice unmistakable. I was overcome by the desire to take a detour. Unfortunately, he was right by the front door.

“I understand,” he was saying. “But this isn’t the place.”

“It’s just without the damn liquor license, I can’t get enough traffic to turn the profit we need, and I can’t get the license without—”

I could see him now, and I watched as he cut off a stout, weasel-faced man with a hand to the shoulder. “Now’s not the time. But I promise you I’ll take care of it.”

“Seriously?”

I saw a muscle twitch in Evan’s cheek. “Are you doubting my word?”

The weasel looked a little bit terrified that he might have offended Evan. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean that you—”

“It’s not a problem.” Evan’s voice was a blanket of calm against the hyper backpedaling. “I’ve got a few favors I can call in. We’ll get it worked out.”

The weasel nodded. “I’ll owe you. I know I’ll owe you.”

I saw the moment Evan noticed me. Just the slightest shift of his gaze from the weasel to my face, and then back again. “Tomorrow,” Evan said. “We’ll talk.” Then he turned to me, effectively dismissing the weasel, who slipped through the door, shoulders sagging in what looked like relief.

“Angie.” His voice stroked me like a strong, firm hand, and I felt my body heat in memory of his touch. His eyes flicked to Kevin. “Agent Warner.”

“Nice speech,” Kevin said. He held his hand out to shake. “You’re an articulate man.”

“It pays to be able to persuade people in my line of work,” Evan said.

For a moment, I thought he was going to ignore Kevin’s outstretched hand. Then he reached out—and as he did, I saw the raw, red knuckles. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed them before, and I had to blame my lack of attention on the dark. And on the fact that I’d been somewhat preoccupied by his general proximity, his touch, and my raging hormones.

“Evan! What happened?”

“Street fighting, Mr. Black?” Kevin said, in what must have been a joke but just sounded rude to me.

“If I was,” Evan said smoothly, “the other guy must be pretty fucked up.” He held the hand up for inspection. “I’d say I got off easy.”

For a moment, the two just stared at each other, a sticky, uncomfortable tension filling the space between them. Forget the War of the Roses, that historic battle was nothing compared to this War of the Alphas, and I had a sick feeling that I was the root of the trouble.

“It’s hardly a joke,” I snapped. “Seriously, Evan, you should clean that up. And for Christ’s sake, Kevin. Could you be any more of a jerk?”

He angled a glance at me. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Evan said. “Really. I was helping a friend with her car. My hand slipped, and the engine was still pretty hot. It wasn’t pleasant, but I’ll survive.”

“You should be more careful,” Kevin said.

“I’m always careful,” Evan countered smoothly. “But sometimes shit happens.”

He was right. Jahn’s death was about as shitty as it got.

For a moment, the silence hung awkwardly between the three of us. Then Kevin hooked his arm around my shoulder. “She’s had a hell of a day. We’re going to get out of here.”

I waited for Evan to say goodbye, some tiny part of me hoping that he’d step in and insist I stay in the condo, because how could he just let me leave with Kevin? But he only stood there. There was no sign—no hint—of the man who’d evoked such sensuality on the patio. The man whose voice had told me to fly and whose touch had burst through me with at least as much color and flare as tonight’s fireworks.

I was too tired and too slashed to try to understand it or even to think about it. All I felt was sad.

“Will you tell Tyler and Cole goodbye for me?”

“Sure,” he said, and though his voice was more gentle than I’d expected, I noticed that he didn’t say that he’d talk to me soon or that I’d be seeing the guys in a day or so. Once again I was struck by the awful reality: Everything had changed. Jahn had been our intersection point, and now that he was gone, I felt adrift.

I grabbed Kevin’s hand and hurried out of the condo before the tears I’d been fighting all night began to flow.

As soon as we were on the elevator, Kevin repeatedly jabbed his finger on the lobby button as if he couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. “At least that’s one good thing that will come of your uncle’s death,” he said darkly.

“Excuse me?”

“I just mean that you won’t be seeing those three anymore.”

“What the hell?” My voice lashed out like a whip, but I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing—nothing—good that could come out of Jahn’s death, and that most especially included losing three men I counted as friends.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

“Good. You should be. Now tell me why you’d say something like that.”

“Dammit, Angie, I can’t. I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But you did. And now you’re going to explain.”

“Angie …” He trailed off, his voice firm.

I crossed my arms over my chest. No way was he getting off the hook that easily. “Is this about that bullshit investigation a few years ago? I mean, honestly, Kevin, you were a shit to them earlier tonight.”

“Bullshit investigation? Do you even know what we were talking about?”

“Do you?” I countered. He’d only been in the Bureau for four years. That whole fiasco that Jahn had told me about with his knights was a full year before Kevin’s time.

“Burnett was, and he’s told me enough. I know you grew up around them, but that doesn’t make them good guys. They were fencing stolen merchandise, Angie.”

I gaped at him. “That’s insane. They’re businessmen, just like my uncle.”

“They have their fingers in a lot of businesses, I won’t argue that.”

I narrowed my eyes, irritated by the smirky tone of his voice. “If what you’re saying is true, they’d be behind bars instead of being the toast of Chicago. I mean, come on, Kevin. They’re three of the most prominent—not to mention public—men in this city. They aren’t holed up in some lame-ass pawn shop buying stolen stereos.” I mean, seriously, what the hell kind of game was Kevin playing?

“You say they’re businessmen?” Kevin said. “I’m not disagreeing. But not all businesses are legit, and you damn well know it.”

I started to reply, but held my tongue, because as much as I didn’t want to concede any point to Kevin, I had to silently admit that on the surface what he said was true. My father had helped draft dozens of crime prevention bills and oversaw at least as many task forces at the state level over the years. And since he wasn’t a man to leave his work at the office, I couldn’t help but pick up some salient points here and there. And one thing I knew was that legitimate businesses often stood as fronts for criminal enterprises. But Evan’s businesses? Tyler’s and Cole’s?

I wanted to stamp my foot and tell Kevin he was being absurd. That there was nothing about their businesses that would make the government even look twice. But my foot stayed firmly on the ground. Because now that he’d shined a spotlight, I couldn’t help but notice one or two red flags.

The biggest one was Destiny, of course, the high-end gentleman’s club they owned together, and which had been a bone of contention between them and my uncle, who thought they were wasting their money and tarnishing their reputations. The guys, apparently, either hadn’t agreed or cared.

Other than the anomaly of the club, the guys were in the business of businesses. They’d founded Knight Enterprises, which bought and sold companies, and its exceptional performance had rocketed the guys into multimillionaire status. I’d asked Jahn to explain to me what they did, and he’d run me through the basics. Essentially, they acquired all sorts of businesses, everything from car washes to liquor stores to temp agencies to I don’t know what else. Some, like the burrito place, they kept, hiring managers for the day-to-day stuff, and folding the business in under the umbrella of their holding company. Others they sold, making money off the various assets and real estate.

In other words, they were gambling, making their fortune by betting on the acquisitions doing well. Apparently, they made a lot of really good bets.

Ten minutes before, all of that seemed perfectly legit. Now Kevin’s suspicions had me hearing words like fencing and smuggling and money laundering. Had I been blind? Or was Kevin being an ass?

Both possibilities pissed me off, and my words came out sharper than I’d intended. “If there was any evidence then the case wouldn’t have been dropped. Five years, Kevin. You’re all ruffled about some blip on the radar from five years ago.”

“It wasn’t a blip,” he said. “And I never said that was the only reason I wanted you to stay away from them. Dammit, Angie, I care about you. I don’t want you around men like them.”

The elevator slid to a stop, the doors opened, and we stepped out. He headed toward the exit, but I wasn’t even close to being done with this conversation. I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him into a small alcove near the wall of mailboxes. “No way are you leaving me hanging,” I said. “You say they’re bad news, you tell me why.”

“You know I can’t talk specifics, Angie.”

“Shit.” I snapped out the curse, because I understood the unspoken message. The allegations from five years ago may have disappeared, but Jahn’s knights were still in the FBI’s sights. “If they’re such badasses why hasn’t the FBI or the cops or whoever swooped down and carted them away?”

Kevin just looked at me, his expression suggesting I was being naive. For that matter, I probably was. “There’s evidence,” he said. “There’s strategy. And I’m not talking about this anymore. I’ve already said more than is prudent, but you’re important to me, Angie.”

“What is this about, really? You don’t like that I have male friends? That I was talking to Evan?”

“Talking to him? You cried on his shoulder, Angie.”

I tried to protest that Evan was just a friend, but the words felt bitter on my tongue, and I couldn’t seem to get them out.

Kevin took a step closer, closing the distance between us, and for the first time I realized that despite his lanky physique, there was an innate power to Kevin. “And no, I didn’t like it. I don’t like the way he looks at you, either. I don’t trust him. And I don’t want you getting mixed up with him or his friends. And honestly, Angie, I don’t think your uncle would like it, either.”

His last words ripped a sharp breath from me. He was right, of course. Jahn didn’t want me to be with Evan. Was this why? Was Evan—were all three of the guys—dangerous? Were they really criminals?

Holy shit, the possibility that the allegations five years ago had been true had never even occurred to me. And assuming it was true, had Jahn known? Had he simply discounted the possibility that men he loved like sons ran a criminal enterprise?

Or had my uncle, in some small way, admired the ingenuity that must go along with staying one step ahead of the law? Had he been just a little bit jealous of the rush those three must have experienced every time they crossed a line and got away with it?

Dangerous, yes. Edgy, absolutely.

But pretty damned exhilarating, too.

I shivered, and saw that Kevin was looking at me with a kind of fierce protectiveness. “I know,” he said. “Those guys are scary. Stay away from them. From all of them.”

I nodded mutely, but only because I knew I had to.

My shiver wasn’t from fear, but from excitement. From the possibility of finding that rush that I craved embodied in a man I wanted in my bed. A man that I already knew fired my senses.

I didn’t know what that said about me and, honestly, I wasn’t inclined to dive into a pool of introspection. After all, the bottom line remained the same. I wanted Evan Black. Wanted his touch, his kiss. I wanted to be swallowed up whole, swept away.

Hell, I wanted to fly.

It would never happen, though. Maybe I didn’t know all of Evan’s secrets, but I knew damn well that he was loyal. He’d made a promise to Uncle Jahn, and nothing could make him break it. I may not understand what kind of game he’d been playing with me on the balcony, but I was absolutely certain that it wouldn’t end with me in Evan Black’s bed.

And as much as I hated to admit it, that was probably a good thing. I might crave the thrill, but I knew better than anyone that my wild urges had teeth—and I’d been bitten too many times already.