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Patrick quickly returned to his screen. “There’s a match on the DNA found in the blood that was in the cell with Lorna’s.”

  Lorna

  A feeling of warmth came over me as everyone from throughout our tower gathered for breakfast. The aroma of food filtered through the air, sautéed onions and peppers as well as bacon. Greetings came as each person entered. As coffee and juice were sought and the constant chatter came from around the large kitchen, I took a moment to take in what at one time had been routine—the beginning to another day.

  I turned as a gentle hand came to my shoulder. Araneae’s soft brown eyes glistened with unshed moisture, yet her expression was filled with happiness.

  “It feels good, doesn’t it?” she asked softly.

  “Being here?” I confirmed her meaning.

  She shrugged. “All of it.” She looked over the room. “I can’t help but think that we could have lost this.”

  Swallowing a lump growing in my throat, I nodded. The men had all entered, their discussion on the surprise ending to a football game as they all took turns refilling their coffee mugs.

  “Reid rarely watches football,” I whispered.

  “Neither does Sterling.”

  “I’ve never seen Patrick watch either,” Madeline added as she reached for a large platter of scrambled eggs cooked with chopped vegetables.

  Araneae shook her head. “They’re keeping things from us.”

  I had taken a quick look at the news on my phone before coming up to the penthouse. I spoke louder. “Oh my. Did you see the play where the Bears’ quarterback was injured?”

  All four sets of male eyes turned my way before murmurs arose as they exchanged glances amongst themselves. “I-I...”

  “You didn’t watch the game,” Araneae chastised the men as she carried a bowl of fruit and placed it on the large granite table.

  “The quarterback was injured?” Laurel asked. “I didn’t know that.”

  “He wasn’t,” I answered. “It was a ploy to call these poor actors out on their attempt to keep all of us shielded from the truth of what they were discussing ten seconds before they entered the kitchen.”

  “Hockey,” Mason volunteered. “The Black Hawks—”

  “Liar,” I replied, interrupting my brother. “You can’t lie to me. I know your tells.”

  Madeline smiled. “He tilts his head slightly to the left and his lips thin.”

  “I do not,” Mason replied, lifting his coffee mug to cover his lips.

  We all laughed.

  “You’re right,” I told Madeline.

  Her brows arched as her gaze widened. “That’s my thing.”

  “Mine too,” Patrick said. “Of course, I never used it to win poker tournaments.”

  “Except the one where you beat me,” Madeline said, feigning a frown.

  Patrick reached for her hand. “It was the best win of my life.”

  Her frown turned upside down as pink filled her cheeks. “I’m not complaining—now.”

  “Where’s your daughter?” Araneae asked as we all took our seats.

  Madeline sighed. “I’d assume Ruby is still asleep.”

  “She’s on a forced vacation,” Sparrow said. “Let her sleep.”

  “Are you going to be as accommodating to our child?” Araneae asked.

  Sparrow flashed a grin at his wife. “You know me. I’m always accommodating.”

  “Well, we’re not,” Madeline said.

  “The academy sent her schoolwork so she wouldn’t fall behind,” Patrick added. “Not really a vacation, forced or not.”

  The conversation stayed on the mundane, and as it did and I listened and participated, I realized that I was perfectly all right with the theme. I imagined scenes and players as Madeline told stories about the poker circuit and tournaments around the world. We shared our enthusiasm as Araneae shared news about a new line of merchandise her fashion company Sinful Threads was about to showcase for the holiday buying season.

  As we ate the food Madeline and I had prepared together, I sipped my coffee and relished the simplicity of this time together while simultaneously wondering how very close we had been to losing it.

  While we—the Sparrow women—lived in our bubble, we weren’t without knowledge. Despite the sparsity of information shared by our men, we were aware of the fires beyond our walls. We ladies knew that we were sequestered within for the foreseeable future, yet complaining or arguing was not on any of our agendas.

  After whatever Araneae and I had been through, we were home and safe. Despite my outward appearance, I was loved thoroughly by my husband and also by the family surrounding me—the sense of camaraderie felt special in a way I couldn’t describe. The recurring thought returned.

  I am somebody.

  A sudden chill replaced the warmth.

  “Are you all right?” Laurel asked.

  Pushing the odd thought away, I nodded. “I really am.”

  As plates and mugs emptied, the men began bidding their goodbyes. Sparrow was off to Michigan Avenue after first whisking Araneae off to the other room. I could imagine their discussion. The queen was reassuring the king she would survive for a few hours out of his sight. It wasn’t one he would appreciate having overheard, as in his facade, all decisions were his alone.

  When she returned alone and winked my direction, I knew without a doubt, she’d sent him away to do what he needed to do. Mason kissed Laurel as he mentioned doing some work around the city. That was a broad statement that never came with any further explanation. As Patrick and Reid stood to leave and the four of us began clearing the table, Ruby entered.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Patrick said.

  At eighteen, Ruby was beautiful beyond her years. With her father’s vibrant blue eyes and her mother’s delicate features and long dark hair, even in soft pants, an oversized shirt, and bare feet, she was truly stunning.

  “I was awake. I was checking email.”

  We all turned her direction.

  She lifted her hands. “Steady. I didn’t reply. I know I can’t.”

  “We’ll get that set up,” Reid volunteered. He was working on resetting the VPN and upgrading all of our security.

  “Thanks, Reid,” Ruby said with a grin as I handed her a mug of hot chocolate. Her gaze met mine. “Thanks, Lorna. You don’t need to wait on me. I can get it.”

  “I like making it. The chocolate smells heavenly.”

  She lowered her lips to the rim and sipped. “Tastes that way too.”

  “There’s still food on the table,” Madeline said as she gave her daughter a plate. “Then you can help us with dishes.”

  “Or I can do my schoolwork.” Her cheeks rose with a grin. “But if you don’t want me to do my schoolwork...”

  Patrick laughed. “Have you decided on a major yet for next year? I’m thinking law. You make convincing arguments.”

  Ruby smiled as she dished herself some fruit.

  “I’ll be in and out of the tower.” Patrick reached for Madeline. “Call me if you feel anything or you need anything.”

  “Five more weeks,” she said, laying her hand over her enlarged midsection.

  “Promise you’ll call.”

  “She will,” Ruby added as she settled with her hot chocolate, fruit, and toast and lost herself to whatever was on her iPad.

  Similar to her emails, Ruby was in full voyeur mode online until Reid had the security on all her devices updated. No chances were being taken online or in person.

  As I reached for empty plates, Reid reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You don’t need to do anything you’re not up to doing. Everyone wants to help. You can head back to our apartment.”

  Shrugging, I looked around the kitchen. “I think I want the company.”

  “We won’t let her overdo,” Madeline said with a grin.

  “You’re the one who should rest,” Laurel scolded.

  “Come with me,” Reid said, tugging me from the kitchen.

 
Reid

  Lorna followed, her hand in mine.

  The opulence of Sparrow’s penthouse or even the changes that Araneae had made over the last few years were lost on me. My mind was vying between the woman with me and the computers down on 2. While Lorna had been my top priority since before I asked her to marry me, the importance of what was waiting on 2 was magnified due to its connection to her.

  The DNA results would give us a name—the name of a dead man walking—because he wasn’t long for this world. Same as the other men had given their wives a nonspecific description of their daily whereabouts, I couldn’t say with certainty that I would remain in the tower. First, once it was scheduled, I would attend the meeting with Edison Walters in DC. Second, once I had a name to go with the blood found near Lorna’s, I would search heaven and hell; I wouldn’t spend my day sitting behind a screen in the tower.

  Dark crimson colored my thoughts as I contemplated the future. I’d killed before, in the war for our country and in the war for this city. Though Sparrow may claim that I was deadliest when behind a screen, with what had happened, I would no longer maintain that distance. This time, as Lorna and I came to a stop and I peered down at her healing face, I was determined to be the one who watched the asshole who hurt my wife take his last breath.

  I was assuming it was a man.

  Truly, it wouldn’t matter.

  When it came to enemies, women were hardly the weaker sex. No one, male or female, would get away with harming anyone in our world simply because they had two X chromosomes. Actions had consequences—for everyone.

  Images of destruction momentarily danced in my mind’s eye.

  A pull of a trigger and the echo of the blast could combine to give me the satisfaction of witnessing the shower of brain matter splattering over the walls. Or maybe a twelve-inch blade would be my weapon of choice. Once in Iraq, my platoon came across a man in an abandoned building, one who had been sliced through his gut. In the heat, his remains baked as insects feasted. The horrendous odor has stayed with me, petrified into my memory. I also recalled how his intestines and bodily fluids had spilled from his body. Terror still showed on his face as he died with his hands unsuccessfully holding back his protruding insides.

  A bullet would end his life with only seconds to contemplate his final moments.

  Slicing his gut would not be fast. That means of execution was deliberate and slow, allowing the victim to remain conscious. It definitely held a certain kind of appeal.

  I imagined looming over the faceless man who’d harmed my wife and watching as he died, his mind full of things he should or shouldn’t have done.

  Then again, maybe there wouldn’t be a weapon. I could use my hands, doing to him what he’d done to Lorna, beating him repeatedly with my fists as his bones cracked and splintered.

  Yes, I’d given these possibilities much thought.

  “I’ll be fine,” Lorna said, tugging on my hand and bringing me back to present. “As long as I know I have you.”

  Running my finger gently over Lorna’s cheek, the lightness that dwelled within her shone like sunshine streaming from her emerald stare. Though the consuming darkness that fueled my innate need to avenge her was near, reverberating through my circulation, in her presence I could keep it at bay.

  “I fucking hate leaving you.”

  “You’re not. You’re going to be on 2, doing what you do.”

  The potential inaccuracy of her response made me want to bristle. Instead of confessing my possible alternative whereabouts, I replied, “That’s where I’m going now.”

  Her gaze narrowed as if she heard my unvoiced dissent. “Now? Are you leaving? No, Reid” —her words came faster— “if you leave this tower” —her tone changed— “please tell me.”

  I placed my palm over her cheek as the warmth of her soft flesh radiated to my hand. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine the woman I married, her undamaged skin, her contusion-free appearance. But my eyes weren’t closed. They were wide open. “I don’t want you to worry about me or where I am. I can’t stand to cause you any more pain or worry.”

  She reached for my hand. “Reid, I have worried about you and what you do from the day we met. What happened to me hasn’t changed that. Now I’m afraid you’ll do something because of me that will put you or any of the others in danger. Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t create possibilities that don’t exist. This isn’t our first fight. Lorna, we’re fucking good at what we do. The four of us didn’t get to where we are today by taking stupid chances. Besides, we have Sparrows all over who will follow through on our orders. None of that is your concern. You concentrate on healing.” I feigned a smile. “I wish I could stay with you and make sure you followed my orders.”

  There was a second of question before her lips curled, her fist went to her hip, and her eyebrows arched. “Your orders?”

  I nodded.

  “And what would we do all day, Reid? Watch movies on television or binge a new series?”

  “Actually, I was thinking that we could spend the day as we had earlier this morning.”

  Her arms relaxed as pink filled her cheeks. Its hue clashed with her bright red hair, making her blush more noticeable as the soft crimson radiated upward from her neck.

  I lowered my volume. “I figured we could spend the day assessing all the possible positions I can take you in repeatedly, positions that have your tight cunt at my disposal and positions that make you scream in ecstasy, not pain.”

  As her stare held mine, she shifted her feet. The movement made me grin. Lorna and Madeline had mentioned Mason’s tells—his unconscious outward signs that gave away his inner thoughts. Lorna had them too. When I said or did something that turned her on, she would fidget.

  It was cute in a sexy way that went right to my cock.

  “Reid...” She turned toward the kitchen.

  Leaning down, I brought my lips to her ear, exaggerating each word as my warm breath tantalized her sensitive skin. “Like you did this morning.”

  Her breathing deepened and her nipples tented her blouse.

  My voice went even lower. “Mrs. Murray, are you wet for me?”

  Lorna brought her finger to my lips and took a step back. “Stop. Ruby is a room away.”

  “You didn’t answer.”

  “Yes, I am, and I will be tonight when you and I are home—alone. Now you need to go do what you do. You have a job. All of you have jobs that need to be done. Like I said before, I don’t need a bloody head on a platter at my feet.” Her nose scrunched. “I don’t want that. I want to know that whoever did this” —she passed her hand from her head downward— “won’t be doing it to anyone else.”

  My teeth came together as my jaw clenched.

  Lorna may not want a bloody head, but I fucking did. I wanted it—needed it—as much as I needed to fuck my wife. The latter would have to wait until I knew more about the first. Standing taller, I reached again for her hands. “Promise me you’ll rest if you get tired.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I promise.”

  “I don’t care if you’re sore, I’ll spank that cute ass if you don’t listen.”

  Lorna scoffed. “I think year nine of a marriage is a little late to add kink to our sex life.”

  The bloody head on a platter at Lorna’s feet was momentarily replaced by thoughts of my wife bound to our bed, her legs spread, her body exposed, and all her sensitive areas vulnerable to my every whim. “I can do kink.”

  “Well, Sir” —she emphasized the title in a way that erotically combined her response with the images of her straining against satin restraints, sending my circulation straight to my dick— “I will behave. After all, I can’t leave the tower, so if I need rest, there’s no reason I can’t get it.”

  “When this turmoil is settled, we need to investigate these roles more fully.” As the unknowns of the turmoil came to mind, my tone changed, reflecting the seriousness of our reality. “It doesn’t fucking matter where I am, if you n
eed anything, call or text. You’re not alone and you’re safe.”

  My wife nodded.

  “Follow my orders.”

  Lorna stood taller on her tiptoes, placing her hand on my chest and peering into my eyes. The intensity in her emerald stare made me want to shy away. The way my wife was looking at me was as if she could see my thoughts. Maybe after all these years she could. Currently, I didn’t want that. I didn’t want her to see the dark thoughts swirling through my mind. Reaching for the back of her neck, I brought my lips to hers.

  When we pulled apart, she said, “Reid, don’t do anything that you’ll regret.”

  I’d gladly kill for you without regret. My wife didn’t need to hear that; instead, I said, “My regret is not keeping you safe.”

  “You saved me. I may look like it, but I’m not broken.”

  My palms went back to her cheeks. “Fuck that, Lorna, you don’t look broken. You look like a fighter. And I’m so damn proud of you for fighting. You’re here, and as your husband, it’s my fucking right to worry about you. Just promise me you’ll never stop fighting.”

  Her eyelids fluttered and her lips turned upward into a sexy grin. “Even when you want me to role-play?”

  Yes, this fiery, beautiful, and sexual petite woman was definitely the light I needed.

  I returned her grin. “Especially then. Fight me so I have reason to punish you.”

  Lorna shook her head. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she whispered, “Go, because even though I’m uncertain how I feel about that idea, in another minute I’m going to need to change my panties.”

  Our lips brushed one another’s in a chaste kiss before she shooed me toward the elevators on the other end of the penthouse.

  “Do what you do with no regrets. I love you, too.”

  I didn’t have time to revisit the words she’d said about role play. I also didn’t have time for my dick to be thinking about them. With each step, the hardness faded as my circulation resumed its normal flow.

  It was difficult to maintain an erection while simultaneously contemplating a killing.

  Scanning my palm near the elevator, I waited for the doors to open and then stepped inside.