CHAPTER 1 - DAMON
My knees crack as I crouch lower, hiding in the shadows cast by the home we’re surveilling.
The job is simple—I case the property and take photos of anyone coming and going, Jasper plays the invited guest, and Leon hangs back around the corner keeping tabs on cameras, ready at the wheel in case shit goes south.
Knowing Jasper like I do, shit is bound to go down that way.
The time-worn brick colonial stands before me, it’s weathered white trim and paint-flaked windows beckoning me to peek inside. If Leon hadn’t specifically asked me to stay at least twenty feet from the place, I’d be flush against the house, watching Jasper’s back through the windows.
“This is the worst,” Jasper gripes. He hasn’t stopped whining into my earpiece since we arrived thirty minutes ago.
He drones on about something or another, but my focus shifts abruptly as a dim light flicks on in a lower bedroom.
My breath catches in my throat and I’m momentarily stunned by a living, breathing angel.
Crimson lips, jet black hair, creamy skin, curves silhouetted against charcoal-gray lighting.
I sink deeper onto my knees, hiding further behind the half wall where I set up my gear, and study her.
A light breeze rattles branches nearby. They sway ominously, casting shadows across the perfectly preened lawn.
Moisture from this morning’s rain shower saturates the thick denim of my jeans, sending a chill through my bones.
I can barely feel it over the telltale signs beginning to manifest within my body.
I’ve worked on pushing those familiar urges down deep for years.
The thumping heartbeat. The quickening breath.
The trembling limbs. The primal need that pulls me to abandon everything and go after what I want.
Forget about the where or when. That never mattered, not when instinct takes over.
All thoughts converge into a singular focus—a burning desire that overtakes my ability to think rationally.
My angel bobs her head, swaying rhythmically around her bedroom. Her lips move and expression shifts in intensity. Whatever she’s singing along to isn’t a happy ballad. She looks ready to draw blood. I’m instantly intrigued. What’s wrong and how can I make it better?
I crane my neck to get a better look, knowing another few inches won’t help.
Even my slew of surveillance equipment can’t get me a clear enough view.
I hate that shit anyway. I prefer to use my own two eyes and sharp reflexes.
The equipment just gets in the way, despite Leon insisting I bring it.
The only thing I will use is my camera, now that I have a masterpiece to photograph.
“If I get offered another mini quiche, I’m going to hurl. Please tell me you got what you need, D,” Jasper gripes again.
I curse under my breath and break my gaze away from the window to check the entrance. “Not yet. No one has come in or out since I set up. Confirm, Leon?”
Leon rumbles a gruff, “Confirmed.” He hates being interrupted while he’s in tech mode.
We were lucky to get the intel about this party. All we could wring out of that waste of space guy in Palm Cove was a town, Willowbrook, and a nickname. Sweeper. I can’t forget about the fun time Jasper had toying with the guy before ending his pathetic life. Entertaining Jasper isn’t easy.
Once we left Florida, it took us over a month to piece any more information together.
We could thank Leon and his genius hacking skills for finally gleaning tonight’s nugget of data—the address of this party.
Our night could end up being a colossal waste of time.
Not for me. Not now. Either way, I don’t think Leon’s slept properly in weeks.
Not like we’re new to the waiting game. This has been our reality for the last twelve months.
We get a tip from some scumbag loser, follow it, and hope it’ll finally lead us to Bailey.
One lead after another, and we’ve still got nothing except a few less losers populating the world and a new found penchant for bloody vengeance.
“Someone’s gotta know something,” Jasper whispers. “Lemme grab the next prick who goes to take a piss.”
“Jasper,” I growl in warning. “Don’t do anything rash.”
Of the three of us, he has the biggest reason to be losing his shit. Bailey’s his younger sister. He won’t stop until we find her and bring her home safely.
Movement from the window catches my eye. Fuck. You’re making me lose focus. She lifts her black dress over her head slowly with her back to the glass. Tossing it aside, she shakes out her dark hair and pulls it into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. You love that you’re teasing me, don’t you?
I watch her every move, imagining my fist tugging that ponytail, exposing her delicate throat to my waiting lips.
Her pulse throbs as I skim my teeth along her neck, her soft moans, my favorite melody.
Then her mouth quirks up in a seductive grin while she finally feels what her teasing does to me.
Smile now, Angel, because soon you’ll be choking on my cock with tears running down your cheeks like my good little slut.
Her body rocks side to side with the beat of her music as she slips a T-shirt over her head, giving me the slightest peek of a rib tattoo stretching across her side. I strain my eyes to make out the details of her ink, then snap a photo.
My skin tingles, tight and hot as my palm brushes my erection.
“No,” I scold myself. Not here and not yet.
As I ready my camera to take another photo, she slips out of sight—likely into a bed—snuffing out my fantasy along with any remaining light.
Sighing at my misfortune, I slump lower and speak to the guys through my earpiece. “Anything?”
“Just the same handful of people. I think they’re starting to suspect me. A few of them asked how I know the host. Not a trusting bunch.”
“Nothing on my end.” The sound of Leon’s aggressive clicking muffles his voice.
“Dammit. I wish we had a picture of this guy.” I rub my eyes, exhaustion catching up with me.
“They all look like a bunch of rich assholes. No one I’d peg as a kidnapper,” Jasper says. Hushed voices filter through his earpiece along with faint classical music melodies.
“Well, it is a charity dinner,” Leon says with an air of smugness.
“Oh, I forgot we were in the presence of a British aristocrat. Forgive me, sir, or should I say, Your Royal Dickness.” Jasper attempts the worst British accent I’ve ever heard. So terrible, it’s laughable.
“Cunt,” Leon deadpans.
“Enough,” I say. “I’m packing up my shit. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Meet you in—” Jasper’s voice cuts out abruptly. I jump to my feet.
“Jas? You there?”
Leon pounds his keyboard, repeating my question. “He’s offline.”
It’s probably nothing. A dumb tech error. Happens all the time. My tightening chest doesn’t give a fuck about my excuses, though. I adjust the gun tucked into my waistband and draw in a quick breath.
“I’m going in.”
I turn my earpiece off before Leon tries to tell me all the reasons not to. Jasper and Leon are my brothers. Not by blood, but in every way that matters. If there’s even a slight chance that either of them are in trouble, nothing will keep me from them.
I’ll check on you too, Angel. With one last look in the dim window, I step into the shadows, toward the back entrance.