Chapter One
Simon
The ringing of the phone woke me from my dream, and I groaned. It was the same dream I’d been having for years. The quiet, brooding biker had his hand wrapped around my cock as he whispered filthy things in my ear. I’d been so close to the finale.
Now I lay in my bed, my dick tenting the sheet, debating whether I should throw the phone across the room when it stopped. Just as I rolled over to go back to sleep, it started ringing again.
I turned on the light and looked at the clock. It was three AM. I didn’t need to be at the salon until ten, and whoever was calling at this ungodly hour was in for an ass-chewing, and not the good kind.
Grabbing the phone, I saw my sister’s name flash across the screen. Now I was up and awake, my dick completely deflated as I answered.
“What happened?”
“Simon,” she sobbed into the phone.
I put it on speaker and started grabbing my clothes to get dressed. “Tell me what happened, Sadie.”
“I-I think he’s... I think he’s dead.”
I froze with my pants midway up my thighs and stared at the phone on my bed.
“Simon?”
“I’m here. Don’t do anything. I’ll be there in two minutes.”
“I’m scared, Simon.”
“Baby sister, listen to me. Don’t touch anything. I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me.”
I quickly got dressed as Sadie told me what happened. How her boyfriend had come home drunk, smelling like perfume. She’d asked him about it, and he’d lost his shit.
Again.
Sadie met Alan Sanders eighteen months ago and fell head over heels for him. He’d said he felt the same way. But it didn’t take long before he started beating the crap out of her.
It started with words. When she did something he didn’t like, he called her names. Told her she was worthless and stupid. That went on for months. But she wouldn’t leave him.
Then it escalated.
She started showing up at the salon we owned with bruises. Nothing blatant. The son of a bitch knew what he was doing. The only reason I’d noticed was... well, the truth was, I hadn’t noticed; a client had.
Sadie was washing Beatrice Allen’s hair when her sleeve rode up, and the old bat gasped. Sadie tried to laugh it away, but Beatrice, never one to stay out of anyone’s business, refused to accept Sadie’s excuses.
And neither did I.
Alan had swept my sister off her feet. Only to hold her hostage in a toxic relationship she thought she deserved. Sadie was beautiful, but she wasn’t thin. She had light brown hair, which she referred to as mousy, and her thighs were a little thicker than most of the women in town.
But men flirted with her everywhere she went. I never understood why her self-esteem was so low. She’d been ripe for the picking when she met Alan, and he love-bombed her until she believed he was in love with her.
You didn’t hurt people you loved. Not intentionally, anyway. It was unrealistic to think you would never hurt the person you love. Tony hurt me all the time by ignoring me. The man was so far into the closet he was living in fucking Narnia.
This is not about you, Simon!
No, this was about Sadie. I pulled up in front of Alan’s house. The neighborhood was quiet as I parked on the street. I wantedmy car to be seen. I wanted people to knowIwas here.
I walked up to the front door and tried the doorknob. It twisted easily in my hand, and when I stepped into the house, my breath caught in my throat.
My dear sweet, lovable sister Sadie was sitting on the floor, a knife in her hands. Her boyfriend, Alan, was on the floor in the kitchen, blood pooling around him.
