"Almost four. You slept for six hours."
"Jesus. Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you needed the rest." He pulls me close. "Plus, you're cute when you're sleeping. Didn't want to disturb the view."
"Flirt."
"Only for you." His hand slides under my shirt, palm warm against my skin. "You hungry?"
"Starving. But not for food."
His eyes darken. "Yeah? What are you hungry for?"
"You. Always you." I straddle him, feeling him already hard beneath me. "Think you can handle that?"
"Think I can handle you? Sweetheart, I'm the only one who can handle you." He grips my hips, grinding me against him. "Question is whether you can handle what I'm about to do to you."
"Try me."
He does, flipping us so I'm beneath him, and proceeds to prove exactly how well he can handle me. By the time we're done, I'm satisfied and boneless and completely certain that whatever comes next, we'll figure it out together.
Because this, us, it's worth fighting for.
Worth everything.
Chapter 13
Ice Pick
Three weeks after Ava's interview, things have settled into something resembling normalcy. Castellano's awaiting trial with no chance of bail, the media's moved on to the next scandal, and Ava's found an apartment twenty minutes from the compound where she can work without brothers constantly interrupting.
I'm helping her move boxes when my phone rings. Vulture’s name on the screen.
"Yeah?" I answer, balancing a box of books on my hip.
"We've got a situation. We need you back at the compound. Now." His voice is tight, controlled, the tone he uses when shit's about to hit the fan.
"What kind of situation?"
"The kind that requires the Sergeant-at-Arms. Bring Ava if she's with you, this involves her too."
My stomach drops. "Be there in twenty."
I hang up and find Ava unpacking kitchen supplies, her hair pulled back and wearing one of my old shirts. She looks domestic and beautiful and completely unprepared for whatever's waiting at the compound.
"That was Vulture. We need to go back. He says it's urgent and it involves you."
Her expression shifts immediately, the journalist replacing the woman settling into her new space. "What happened?"
"Don't know, but Vulture doesn't call emergency meetings unless it's serious." I grab my keys. "Come on."
The ride back is tense, both of us running through possibilities. Another threat from Castellano's associates. Retaliation from the Reapers. Some new development in the case that requires testimony. By the time we pull through the gates, my nerves are wound tight.
The common room's packed with brothers, all wearing expressions that range from concerned to outright pissed. Vulture’s at the center with Falcon and Robert Samson, and there's a woman I don't recognize standing beside them. She’s in her mid-thirties, wearing professional clothes, and carrying herself with the kind of authority that says law enforcement.
"Ice Pick, Ava, good. You're here." Vulture gestures to the stranger. "This is Special Agent Lisa Monroe, FBI. She's got some information we need to hear."
Agent Monroe steps forward, her expression sympathetic but firm. "Ms. Langley, Mr. Vaughan, I'm afraid I have some difficult news. Victor Castellano was found dead in his cell this morning."
