Scarred E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Moriona Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

How do you make evil men suffer for their disgusting acts when you have no experience in the art of torture?

Trouble is, life gets in the way of Nya's big plans. Archer's dragging his feet. Tag's crossed a line. And Nya Yorke is spending too much time playing referee between the men in her life.

Help comes to her in the most unlikely form… Hexam. Making an alliance with the man who once wanted to murder her best friend, could give her what she needs, but selling her soul to the devil comes with a price, and the deal is done before she realizes that price is too high.

Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.

**Book 2 of 3, HEA, no cheating, series complete**

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2017, 2024 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2017, 2024

2nd Edition 2024

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2017

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. It may not be used to train AI software or for the creation of AI works.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Original cover by Najla Qamber Designs

www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

www.scarlettfinn.com

BRANDED SERIES

Branded

Scarred

Marked

Read them in order for maximized reading pleasure.

For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.

Click here if you’d like to leave a message for Scarlett.

Enjoy!

for loyalty

CONTENTS

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

fourteen

fifteen

sixteen

seventeen

eighteen

nineteen

twenty

twenty-one

twenty-two

twenty-three

twenty-four

twenty-five

twenty-six

twenty-seven

one

“THERE’S A TERRIFYING GUY at the end of the bar glaring at you. Should I call security?”

Nya Yorke smiled at her new server’s words and finished pouring the draught beer for her customer. She hadn’t seen the “terrifying guy” arrive at Sizzle, the club she managed, didn’t mean she didn’t know him.

“He vetted security,” Nya explained. “Don’t think they’d toss him out on his ass.”

Even if they tried, they’d find themselves knocked down flat in a pool of their own blood.

“You know him?” Jada hissed in her ear.

She handed the customer his drink and accepted payment with a smile. “Unfortunately, I do.” Nya put the money in the register. Only when it was closed did she twist toward her new waitress to fixate on the man. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Leaving Jada to gape, she strutted up the bar and came to a stop opposite Archer. The music was loud so she didn’t bother with a traditional hello. Slapping her forearm on the bar, she leaped up and grabbed his jacket to pull him down for a kiss.

When he gifted her his tongue, she smiled at her body’s the instant carnal reaction.

“When I said call me if you need anything,” he shouted over the bass of the music. “This isn’t what I meant.”

“I know,” she said. “There’s a guy standing two-thirds of the way down the bar.”

Tracing her finger down Archer’s sternum, she batted her eyes like they were flirting.

“Did he touch you?”

Shaking her head, she nuzzled her cheek on his hand when he caressed her face. “No.”

“You called me to cut a guy who flirted with you?” he asked but didn’t hesitate. “I’m on it.”

Without further question, Archer intended to hurt the guy. Except she couldn’t let him. Catching his arm to press his hand to her face, she twisted her wrist, silently asking him to kiss her brand, which he did.

“Fella,” she mouthed, drugged by the cloud of their attraction.

Archer wasn’t as distracted. “I’m curious, what the fuck did he say? I say all kinds of nasty shit to you and you never get offended. He must be a real pro.”

His almost impressed gaze wandered toward the guy.

She boosted up to steal his mouth before it could get far. “He’s wearing your mark and he’s asking questions.”

Zeroing in on her, he snatched her chin. “You’ve got skills, Squirm.” His interest grew more acute. “What’s he asking?”

“If you’ll be in. He heard you’d been seen here.”

“Does he know who you are?”

“To you?” she asked. “If he saw us kissing, he does now.”

His gaze fell to her mouth. “That’s why you should learn to keep those lips to yourself until you clue me in. Still so much to teach you.”

“You mean you wouldn’t have kissed me if I’d talked first?” she asked, pushing out her breasts.

His brief moment of admiration cooled, he reached over to fasten a button on her shirt.

“Those are for private viewing only.”

“These babies pay Mama’s bills,” she said, unbuttoning it again.

He lunged over the bar and seized a handful of her shirt to yank her against the bar. “That’s what Daddy is for, baby, and those belong to him.”

A mean-looking security guard, Robbo, stepped into a pool of light at the corner of the bar. Once he registered the identity of the guy holding her, and exchanged a nod with him, he melted away.

Archer did up two of her shirt buttons this time.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she didn’t fight him. “Letting you handle Sizzle security gave you ownership of the place,” she said, but wasn’t really complaining. The club had never been safer. Because Archer hired all her new security guys, they were more loyal to her boyfriend than her. “I have more résumés in the office for you to filter.”

Running his hands over her breasts, he checked out the patron who’d been asking about him. “Let me deal with him first.”

Taking his hand, she held him back. “Don’t get hurt… I might need your body later.”

Kissing her brand once more, he wandered off without reassuring her or pandering. Taking a deep breath, she tried to be subtle about observing first contact. No punches were thrown, no knives bared, so she relaxed and went about serving her customers.

It was almost closing time. Archer wouldn’t start a fight with so many drunk idiots ready to brawl in the vicinity. As often as their schedules allowed, her man took her home at the end of a shift. Given he was there anyway, she imagined he’d hang around and give her a ride. She’d get the skinny then… if he was forthcoming. With Archer, that was hit and miss.

Though he could be secretive, he was thorough. Especially when it came to her safety. A new security system had been installed. They were recruiting security guards with the aim of hiring three times as many as before.

Archer handled all of it. She’d known he would from the moment he’d sat in her office chair and picked up the first stack of résumés. One by one, he scoffed and discarded anyone unsuitable in a heartbeat. Her man knew something about almost everyone. Those not on his radar weren’t immune from his scrutiny. He quickly gathered whole life histories on those he didn’t know.

They hadn’t planned for Sizzle to become his base, he’d never had a regular one before. Except word was seeping out about their relationship. He’d been spotted there so much, people often asked for him.

Most of the time, she played dumb, but this guy wore Archer’s mark, revealing the two men had history. Good or bad, Archer needed to know he was there. If the stranger wanted help, her guy could decide whether or not to give it. If the visitor wanted to hurt her lover, Archer would handle that in his usual swift, final way.

two

IT USED TO BE at the end of a Sizzle shift, all she could think about was sleep. Bed was still on her mind, but slumber was far from it. The customers had been ushered out while she completed the usual task of cashing-out the registers.

Archer’s hands landed on her shoulders just as she finished bagging up the last of the takings. “Are we far from take-off?” he asked, burying his lips in the hair at her crown.

“No,” she said, putting a rubber band around the bag. “I just have to take this to the office.”

“Nya!” The voice of her newest server attracted her attention left. “Can I head out?” Jada asked, side-eyeing the unfamiliar man behind the bar with them. “We’ve finished cleaning up.”

Without knowing Archer, he probably intimidated the crap out of the twenty-two-year-old. He was there so regularly that Jada would get used to him.

“Jada, this is Archer,” Nya said. “He’s part of the furniture… not that you should sit on him… that’s my job.”

Some of the server’s wariness waned, but it didn’t dwindle altogether. “Your boyfriend?” Jada asked. “He doesn’t work here?”

“No,” Nya said. “Not officially.” Since they’d got together, he’d spent so much time watching over her that she’d considered giving him a paycheck more than once. Packing the money bags into a cloth pouch, she closed over the register. “You can’t leave on your own, we all leave together.”

Jada wasn’t happy but didn’t complain. Instead, she wandered off to join the other employees gathered around one of the tables opposite the bar.

Security had tasks and continued to do sweeps, but they kept doors locked after the last customers left. The staff did the cleaning up and sometimes griped when bored and wanted to go home. Nya did her work fast and they were paid for every minute they spent there. Maybe it wasn’t fair, she just couldn’t take the risk of letting anyone go out into the street alone and vulnerable. Losing one member of staff was enough; Jamie’s death hadn’t been for nothing.

The only exception to her rule was Archer. When Archer was at the club and the staff finished their work, they were allowed to leave together as a group. With her guy watching over her, she could finish her work with only him for company and he’d take her home after.

That night he’d been ensconced in his conversation with the stranger, even after closing. The now-absent-stranger.

“Where’s your friend?” she asked him, moving down the bar toward the office with the takings.

Her man followed. “Gone. I kicked him out, don’t worry. There won’t be any trouble.”

Only when they were both in the office, with the door closed behind them, did she ask another question. “Who was he?”

With an absent gaze, Archer scanned the room he’d been in dozens of times, a sure sign she was about to be dismissed.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Grumbling to herself, she went to the safe and input the combination to open it. “He came to my club, I have a right to know,” she said, dumping the takings inside.

“You did the right thing, you called me,” he said. “I’m taking care of it.”

He wasn’t going to tell her who the guy was or what he wanted. Fine. If it became a regular thing that this same stranger showed up, she’d push harder. For now, she moved on.

“And the job?” she asked, locking the safe. “The one you left to come here tonight, how’s that going?”

For the last three days, someone had been resident in his apartment. Some might use the word “imprisoned,” others maybe, “captive.” Potato, potatho. She could handle what he did and understood he hurt people to get information. And that he did it for money. His motives weren’t altruistic or benevolent, but he didn’t hurt anyone innocent. Those he stole into his custody deserved whatever fate befell them. In another room, those “victims” often handed out unjust punishments themselves.

“Getting there,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets.

His eyes roamed over the documents in her in-tray and those scattered on her desk.

Always looking for an angle, always seeking secrets, even in her boring office where he had permission to look at everything, her guy wouldn’t switch off.

Telling him she was capable of handling what he did seemed straightforward at the time. What she hadn’t factored in, and what ended up being more difficult, was not the pain he inflicted on others, no, but the sexual deprivation he inflicted on her.

“Can you come over?” she asked, sauntering toward him, sliding her arms under his to loop them around him.

Tucking her thumbs into his waistband at the back of his jeans, she curled her fingers around the horizontal sheath containing his always-present knife and squashed herself into him. He was the only guy allowed to carry a weapon in Sizzle.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll come over tomorrow.”

Nearing the end of her rope, she exhaled and stuck out her bottom lip, stopping just short of stamping her foot.

“This is crazy, Fella, I never see you. I want you to come over. I want to be with you.”

“It’s been three days, Squirm. You knew the script when we hooked up.”

“But we’re not hooking up!”

Having gorged herself on his body at any time of her choosing for weeks, she’d been spoiled with his attention. That over-indulgence had switched to an extreme famine that pinched from the very first night.

That her sulk entertained him only frustrated her further. Still, she didn’t pull away when his fingers scooped under her chin.

“It’s temporary, Squirm.”

Unsatisfied, she enjoyed his touch despite her remaining disappointment. “Until the next job,” she muttered.

His amusement reached its limit and his temper soured. “Yeah, until the next one. What do you want me to do? Stop working?”

His job wasn’t what bothered her, it was their separation.

“No,” she said. “But you could let me come over.”

“No.” His firm voice startled her. Once his mind was made up, his decisions were final. “Not while I have a source in my place. No way. Not a chance.”

To an extent, his need to protect her was flattering. But, boy, was he taking it too far.

“What harm can an hour do?” she asked. “I’m not talking about moving in.”

Another sore point. After a casual comment about what it would be like living with him, during one of their lazy days, he’d shut her down on the prospect of them ever staying together full-time.

All she’d said was it would be a breeze to room with him because he was always tidying up after her. The implication being she’d never have to lift a finger again; except to do about seventy percent of the cooking. The other thirty percent, he sought flesh, and she hadn’t succeeded in cooking that for him yet.

He strung together some patience. “I’ve left him alone too long already. If I come to your place, you know I’ll end up spending the night. We suck at leaving each other once we’re lying together.”

With no persuasive argument in her arsenal, she stayed silent, and he turned as if to go.

She wasn’t ready to lose him yet so grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t want to fight.”

Their time alone these last few days had been scarce, she didn’t want to waste their precious seconds on negativity.

“Squirm—”

“I know,” she murmured, stroking his rough jaw. “I’m sorry.”

Continuing her caress as she whispered her apology, she pulled him down and pushed up until, eventually, she got what she wanted: his kiss. While he had other responsibilities demanding his attention, he avoided kissing her for the same reason he couldn’t lie with her—he’d never want to leave her.

Right then, she wanted to distract him.

Without shame, she’d admit to not being as adept at the self-control thing. She had no desire to be. Her desire was focused on this pillar of a man. When he snatched his arms around her waist, the power in them squeezed the air from her lungs, increasing the pace of their battling tongues.

Fervor came out in a moan. She was already off her feet with her toes dangling. In full control, he stormed forward and pushed her down. Whatever his plan, she didn’t care, she trusted him. When his hard, heavy body settled down on hers, details ceased to matter. Nothing mattered but him.

Buttons flew left and right when he ripped open her shirt, her bra was next to go, and then his mouth was on her breasts. Driving her fingers into her hair, she whimpered his name on a gasp, delighting in the sensations she’d missed. That buzz, that breeze, only he could make her shiver in a heatwave.

Screwing in the club, with so many employees right on the other side of the door, was a terrible idea. But, hey, good sense never stopped her making bad decisions.

Clawing her way up under his tee shirt, she scratched his chest, delivering him a pain he returned by sucking hard on the nipple between his teeth. Her yelp got him up, not to his feet, just enough to clamp his mouth over hers, pinning her head, and the rest of her, to the unyielding wood of the desk.

She didn’t hear him unbuckling his belt but the mass of his hand tugging up her skirt had clear motive. Yes, motive, she wanted motive. His fingers scooped her underwear aside to allow two to drive into her. Pumping his digits hard and fast, they scouted and prepared the path his cock planned to travel. In a practiced move, he pressed his thumb against her clit and circled hard, massaging it against the bone behind.

All the while his mouth stayed on hers, she increased the movement of her hips against his hand. His possessive lips parted and closed in a persistent rhythm. Her guy’s tongue demanded submission in the speed and insistence of his kiss. He had it. Had anything he wanted. All of her.

As one of his hands stirred her juices, the other grasped her breast to flick and pinch her nipple, rubbing the tender peak with his rough fingertips.

Withdrawing from their kiss until they barely made contact, he knew exactly how to torment her.

Her tongue searched for his when it slipped from its mate. “Archer,” she said his name into his mouth.

Protest fled when the hot, hard head of his entitled cock kissed the opening his fingers departed. This was a bad idea.

Their eyes collided.

“This is wrong,” she mumbled.

Instead of cooling their desire, the words inflamed it. Mm, he wasn’t the only one with tricks.

Pushing deeper, unrelenting in his pursuit, nothing dissuaded him. “I know,” he breathed in a gruff exhale. “I fucking love it.”

That was all it took for her hips to rise, and her pussy to swallow more of him.

“You’re so bad.”

“You’re so wet,” he said, fucking her fast.

She met every advance. “Because of you.”

“I like it. I missed it. I need this right here.” Each of his sentences came after a long, fast plunge into her. “Your hot fucking body’s all I think about. You should be in my bed. You think I don’t fucking want that? You spending the night alone, that’s fucking wrong.”

“This is wrong,” she said. Clutching at his shoulders, tiring as orgasm approached, she ran her hands up his neck, into his hair, down his back, consumed by their union. “Oh, this is wrong. This is bad. We’re in charge. We shouldn’t be doing this. We should stop. It’s so wrong!”

After his hoarse laugh warmed her, he dropped his head beneath her chin and sucked hard on the front of her neck by her pulse point.

“You are bad,” he said, his breath moistening her ear. “You want it bad, horny one. You’ve wanted to ride my cock from the minute I walked in here.”

Pathetic, maybe, but completely true. Yelling out, she froze in the grip of climax. His pelvis still worked; his cock drove in and slid out as he galloped toward his own reward. She shouldn’t have shouted; she shouldn’t have screamed. The staff would know for sure what was going on.

Oh, hell.

Grabbing his head, she forced him to kiss her. If his tongue was in her mouth, she shouldn’t be able to call out again. Except at that crucial moment when their bodies reached bliss once more, he whipped his mouth away and growled at her.

“Scream,” he demanded, ordering her to surrender. “Scream, damn it!”

His need fueled the pressure in her body. Her head snapped back as she bucked and relented, unable to stop herself screaming out his name.

Still shaking, her body damp, her abdomen quaked when his dick slid out of her. She didn’t even try to move, just blinked through the stars he’d put in her eyes and listened to him buckling his belt.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” she panted, eventually finding the strength to lift her head. “Did you come here just to do that?”

He didn’t answer her, not with words, his sly half-smile spoke for him. “I had business,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with mixing in a little pleasure.”

Pulling his tee-shirt from his jeans, he grabbed his jacket from the chair. She hadn’t even noticed he’d discarded it. Tossing it over his shoulder, he turned to swagger from the room, leaving her on the desk, legs still akimbo, breasts bared, and mind in complete chaos.

Her head hit the desk with a thud. The office was trashed, she’d have to tidy up and face her staff.

They shouldn’t have screwed on the desk at this hour when everyone was desperate to get home to their loved ones. All that waited for her in her studio apartment was a cold shower and an empty bed. Covering her face with her hands, she laughed. Being bad with Archer was the best “bad” she’d ever known.

three

RUNNING UP THE STAIRS of Tag’s apartment building, she let herself in through the front door, then locked it behind her. Once again, he was living alone in a place far more suited to his personality.

Forcing herself to have at least one full day off from Sizzle per week, she usually spent her down time with Archer. But, grr, he was still occupied by his guest.

It was fine. She wanted to update Tag on how things were going with the new security measures and staff. Sizzle was technically owned by him after all; it was only right he be kept in the loop.

The small entry hallway opened into a vast living space with high ceilings, sash windows, and hardwood floors. The place was flashy, just like the Tag she knew. Except this time, when she went inside, with her purse hung over her body and a grocery bag under her arm, she came up short.

Standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing more than a bedsheet, was a ravishing brunette; one she recognized.

“Oh,” the brunette said, wearing contrite shame, clutching the sheet tighter to her chest. “Oh my God, he’s married. I knew it. Why wouldn’t he be? A guy like him, of course he’s married. I’m sorry—”

“No, I—he—no—I…” Nya hurried to calm the woman on her way to a meltdown. Except she was too surprised to do it well. Shock prevented her from putting together a coherent sentence for another five beats. “I’m not his wife.”

The brunette glanced toward the glass shelving unit near the kitchen, then strode over with an outstretched arm. “This is you. The, the picture, this is you.”

The one photograph Tag had in his whole apartment was of her. It was sort of an inside joke, a tease, because she hated having her picture taken. She hated it being displayed even more. Funny that this woman should think she was a girlfriend because of that mocking picture, ha, served Tag right.

Her actual boyfriend would balk at the idea of putting up her picture. He didn’t bother with superfluous items, he used the barest minimum of furniture. Not because he was trying to save the world or going for a particular style of décor, oh, no, but because knick-knacks gathered dust and dust was Archer’s natural prey.

“Yes, that’s me,” Nya said before the brunette could pick up the picture to examine it too closely. “But I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not his wife. I’m… I’m just a friend.”

The brunette relaxed, she stopped walking, and her stuttering ceased too. “Oh, thank God.”

Okay, quick reminder, it wasn’t her place to sling accusations. Polite questions weren’t accusations, right? Had she been with Archer too long?

“And who are you?”

“Oh, I’m…” The brunette averted a smile as a sort of coquettish glimpse at the floor. Oh, this beauty was smitten with her oldest friend. “Farrah Hexam.”

Not news. No. IDing the woman was easy because she’d seen her before. Someone might then wonder at her shock. That didn’t come at the who, no, it came from how she knew the woman.

To get himself out of a mess with Farrah’s villainous brother, Brett Hexam, Tag had been tasked with meeting the beauty. To shoot the breeze? No, it was a con. Their meeting was supposed to be by accident, everyone but Farrah was in on it. Tag’s goal? To flirt and tempt her away from a boyfriend her brother deemed unsuitable. Guaranteed Brett Hexam wasn’t declaring open season on the young woman’s vagina.

Hexam was a scary guy, a gangster many levels above Tag on the street. The clash over the original mess almost ended her life, and Tag’s. Solving Hexam’s personal problem was supposed to zero the clock.

And until that moment, right there in Tag’s living room, she’d believed that was exactly what happened.

The play finished weeks ago. In the diary according to everyone except Tag, apparently.

Farrah dumped the boyfriend, so Hexam cleared Tag’s debt and her friend was freed from his self-exile. Life was supposed to return to normal with all that in their rearview. The last thing she’d expected to find was this woman naked in Tag’s apartment.

Just to be clear, naked was never part of the original deal.

“Have you been seeing him long?” Nya asked, moving into the kitchen with her brown paper grocery bag.

Archer had to have rubbed off on her. These questions should be aimed at Tag. She shouldn’t be probing this random, apparently naïve woman, while her guard was down. Still, getting information from Farrah’s side, since serendipity gave her access anyway, would be a good benchmark to ultimately decipher Tag’s honesty when asked the same questions.

This relationship was such a bad idea, Tag would have to lie and make excuses. He couldn’t possibly tell the truth. There was no justifiable reason for him to be screwing around with the sister of the man who’d wanted to hurt him not that long ago. His excuse would be—though he wouldn’t phrase it in this way—that his cock was making decisions likely to get him killed.

“We met about six weeks ago,” Farrah said, coming over to lean on the counter between the kitchen and living room. “I was seeing someone at the time, we couldn’t… you know…”

There was that girlish smile again. Nya was crazy in love with Archer. When she thought about him, molten carnal awareness infused her. Had she ever giggled when someone mentioned his name or asked a question about him? Giggling, okay. She’d try harder to nail that.

“You’re not seeing that guy anymore?” Nya asked, unpacking Tag’s treats from the bag and the pastries she’d bought for them to share with coffee from his swanky machine.

Except he wasn’t here, so she’d share them with Farrah instead. Maybe the bribe would succeed in persuading the beauty to share details.

“No, that ended,” Farrah said. “I finished it and… I should’ve been sad, I really cared about him, but… I couldn’t stop thinking about Tag.”

“So you contacted him?”

Tag should’ve let Farrah down gently. The point was never to get into a relationship with her, never to sleep with her. The point was to separate the Hexam sister from her ex. And that had happened, she’d pestered Archer until he allowed her to watch the final confrontation, when the boyfriend caught Tag and Farrah kissing on the street. She’d seen it with her own eyes.

Gio, Tag’s right-hand guy, had set it up to ensure the boyfriend witnessed that first kiss. Everyone involved, except Farrah and the ex, knew when it was going to happen. Hence her opportunity to convince Archer to let her sit in his car with him and watch from afar. The altercation was loud and emotional, but no blows were exchanged. That was the first and last time she’d laid eyes on Farrah. It was supposed to be the last time Tag saw her as well.

The end. Credits roll. Over.

How the hell had her friend walked himself into another mess?

Archer would blow a gasket. He’d cashed in favors and pulled strings to get Tag out of the last mess. This time wouldn’t be so easy.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Farrah said. “But, yes, I did. I was upset. I called Tag and he was so nice to me. He invited me over for a drink.”

“Last night?”

If this was a short-lived affair, it wouldn’t be public, and there shouldn’t be deep feelings involved. Maybe it could be nipped in the bud before there was any permanent damage.

“No,” Farrah said, displaying her glowing white teeth. “I’m not quite that easy. This was two weeks ago. We’ve been keeping it quiet.”

Yes, well one would have to be wary of publicizing a boyfriend when your brother was a torture-loving maniac gangster. Was Tag looking for trouble these days? In the past, he’d been the sensible one, but this was off the charts stupid. What was wrong with him? Maybe this was some kind of premature mid-life crisis. At only thirty-four, that was wishful thinking.

Oh, or maybe he’d been given news of a terminal disease! If he was too scared to be decisive in ending his life, could be he wanted Hexam to do it for him. Something had to be going on for him to be inviting bodily harm like this.

“Why?” Nya played it cool while making the absent Archer proud. “Why would you keep it quiet?”

“It was Tag’s idea,” Farrah said, tapping a manicured fingernail on the marble kitchen counter. “I don’t know, I guess it makes sense. I’m not long out of a relationship, it wasn’t long-term, but maybe it’s a respect thing.”

Respect for others wasn’t Tag’s primary motivation in life. Keeping his head was, or it should be. That wouldn’t be much of a problem if he followed the one on his shoulders as opposed to the one dangling between his legs.

“Is he around?”

“He went to take a call in the bedroom.”

She retrieved two plates and put a pastry on each one before carrying them over to the table. “Share with me,” she said, pushing a plate toward Farrah.

“Oh no, I couldn’t, I…” She glanced at the door, at the plate, and back at the door as if Tag might be horrified to catch her eating. Although the sheet covered her figure now, on that street corner, there was no denying Farrah’s svelte form. Yes, she had noticed when watching the woman crying on the street, standing between two men hell-bent on screaming bloody murder.

“Tag likes a girl who can eat,” Nya said. “Trust me. I won’t steer you wrong with him.”

Except she probably should.

Tag had a habit of disliking her boyfriends and doing everything he could to drive a wedge into her relationships. Her approach had always been the opposite, maybe because she enjoyed being contrary. She encouraged his girlfriends, nurtured them, tutored them on Tag, and listened to them cry when he eventually broke their hearts.

Bonding with his women was habit. Usually. This relationship was a terrible idea; Hexam would go ballistic. Nya should be doing everything she could to discourage it if she wanted to save Tag’s skin. Again.

Farrah came over, balanced on her dainty little tiptoes and perched on the corner of the perpendicular seat. “You sure you’re not the crazy ex-girlfriend trying to kill me?”

“No, not ex either,” Nya said, tearing off a piece of her pastry and popping it onto her tongue.

Peering closer, Farrah tilted. “You’re not the potential girlfriend with designs on him who wants to claw out my eyes because I’ve been with him?” she asked, touching a fingertip to the pastry before licking the invisible taste with her delicate pink tongue.

Wow, Hexam hadn’t only sheltered his sister, he’d made her paranoid about every potential threat.

“Not potential, no. You don’t have to worry about me. Tag and I are just friends, have been for years. I have my own man to worry about, I don’t need another taking up my time.”

“You’re seeing someone?” Farrah asked like this was the best news she’d ever heard.

“Yes.” Nya elongated the word and pulled off another piece of pastry to gobble it up as she brushed her hands together to rid them of crumbs. “Enough about me, I want to hear about you and Tag. You’ve been seeing each other for two weeks?” Farrah nodded. “Has he been treating you right? Taking you to dinner and movies…?”

Farrah was already shaking her head. Good. If they hadn’t been seen out in public, there was a chance Hexam didn’t know this was going on. Archer had said Hexam was planning to leave the country, she’d never followed up to find out if he actually went.

There had been no need to ask questions when, as far as she was concerned, Tag’s debt was settled and Hexam was in their past.

“Do you live around here?” she asked. “Have a place of your own?”

With a fingertip, Farrah pressed a tiny flake of pastry from her plate and forced herself to slip it past her lips. “I live with my brother.”

Damn, she lived with her brother, which meant every time Farrah went out, Hexam knew it. Every time she came back, he knew it. Every time she didn’t bother to shower after having sex with Tag, her brother would smell the stench of it when she got back to his pad. Hexam had gotten rid of one boyfriend and would want to get rid of another, especially one he had such a fraught history with.

She didn’t know much about the previous boyfriend, just what she’d managed to finagle from Archer. Hexam’s greatest worry was that the man wanted to wheedle his way into the Hexam operation. Tag was one of Hexam’s competitors; he would have to suspect the same, or industrial espionage, when he found out what was going on.

“Your brother, is he a nice guy? Have he and Tag met?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, scooting even closer to the edge of the chair.

Impressive, there couldn’t be much keeping the tall, slight woman balanced. What prevented Farrah from using the chair as others did? Maybe her brother didn’t let her sit at the grown-ups’ table.

“No?”

“No, they haven’t met,” Farrah said with more confidence. “Brett isn’t kind to my boyfriends. I think he’d prefer to keep me locked up all the time. He doesn’t understand I’m a woman, I’m not thirteen anymore.”

A woman of twenty-three if she wasn’t mistaken. Young, even by Tag’s standards. Her interrogation wasn’t even close to over, but a door at the opposite end of the room opened and Tag came marching in.

“I’m sorry, I—” Halting, he took in the scene and dropped his hand to his side, still holding the phone he’d been scrolling through. “Yorkie,” he said with an uncomfortable shift.

Raising her brows, she wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He didn’t deserve easy when he was making such a dumb decision.

“Taggy,” she drawled, leaning back in her chair, taking one heel to the crossbar. “I’m just getting acquainted with the new woman in your life.”

“I thought she was your girlfriend,” Farrah said on a giggle.

“Isn’t that funny?” Nya asked, pinning her unimpressed glare on him.

She expected him to give her an explanation, one that he could give in front of Farrah. In fact, she wouldn’t have put it past him to flat out deny there was anything going on. No doubt later, he’d concoct some ridiculous excuse that he’d backpedal with Farrah when they were alone again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Tag said to Farrah while narrowing his eyes on Nya. “She’s a nuisance, butting in where she doesn’t belong.”

So he was going with anger?

She bobbed her head in acceptance of the interesting tack. “At least you’re not denying it. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about her,” she said, lightening her tone. “Usually you let me know when you hook up with someone new.”

He didn’t take out a full-page ad, but he’d never gone out of his way to conceal his relationships from her before. His keeping this a secret proved he knew exactly how stupid he was being.

Instead of shame, he got infuriated. “You shouldn’t be here. Sailing in without invitation is rude.”

She scoffed. “I have a key! You can’t give someone a key, then expect them not to use it.”

“For emergencies,” Tag said, coming toward them. “You have a key for emergencies, and so you can get in if I’m not here when you fight with your lug-head of a boyfriend.”

“Is that why you’re not denying this?” she asked. “Because you know you can tell me it isn’t what it looks like now, but the minute I walk out of here and tell Archer what I saw, he’d find out the truth in a minute.”

“Archer?” Farrah asked. “You know Archer?”

“Yes, she does,” Tag said, folding his arms. “He’s the lug-head.”

Nya spread her hands on the table edge. “When did this become a game of tear down Archer? He’s keeping it in his pants, he’s not doing anything wrong.”

“Last I heard you were at it like rabbits,” Tag said, holding onto his anger. “Or is that why you’re here? To tell me he’s lost interest in screwing you?”

For a moment, she considered taking a leaf from Farrah’s book and doing the silly smile thing when thinking about what they’d done at Sizzle the previous night, but she didn’t. She got to her feet and rounded the table.

“I meant he’s screwing only who he’s allowed to screw. He makes sensible decisions about who he sleeps with.”

“Sensible?” Tag said, puffing himself up as she came to a stop in front of him. He was already much larger than her, he didn’t need more bulk to intimidate; it had to be habit. “I don’t think you’re a sensible choice for any guy to screw.”

It was like fighting with a brother, at least that was her guess.

“Why?” Nya waded in with full-on sarcasm. “Because I’m so easy to fall in love with and will only break their hearts when I realize they’re not good enough for me?”

She almost wished Archer was there to witness her triumph because he’d enjoy it. All that spunk he’d been pumping into her had to be seeping into her blood. She was managing a beginner’s level of condescension he’d be proud of.

“Because you root around, root around with that little nose of yours until you find dirt. You roll around covering yourself in muck, then wonder how everybody knows you were the one digging in a place you shouldn’t have been.”

“That’s rich,” she said and understood why he was being snide.

He’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He’d been caught screwing his enemy’s sister and it was clear the sister had no idea.

“Why shouldn’t he be with me?” Farrah asked.

Nya didn’t answer her. “You haven’t been out of trouble for two months and you’re already in it again.” Her focus stayed on Tag, it was her place to judge him. Farrah was a stranger, Nya didn’t give a crap about her safety, Hexam would take care of that. “What is this, some kind of attention seeking? Are we not giving you enough?”

When she patted his chest, he snatched her hand. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said.

So he wanted to appease her but couldn’t do it in front of Farrah. That made sense.

“Okay,” she said, pulling her arm free from his grip. “I’ll leave you to your sordid, secret affair.” Going to grab her purse, she slung it across her body. “It was very nice to meet you, Farrah.” Striding across the room, she acknowledged the practical stranger, but only set a glare on Tag. “Try taking a cold shower and thinking this through before you get us all tossed into a woodchipper.”

Sailing from the room, she slammed out of the apartment, something she was getting used to doing. The only way Archer knew to close a door was to throw them back into their frames with great force. Under his influence, she’d started doing the same.

So much for a pastry and a catch up with her best buddy. The rest of the day was her own and she didn’t know what to do with it. No, actually, she did. It wasn’t like she could sit on this news now she had it.

Okay, so she wasn’t supposed to be casually visiting his off-limits apartment, but her guy just loved to be in the know. With valuable information like this, she might just be forgiven for breaking his rules.