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6

Ronan

T he anticipation of getting this damn phone turned on is maddening. Not that I’m one for communicating with anyone. Ken will likely be my only contact, along with the boys. But I have another reason for wanting this thing on and connected—I’ve got something special waiting for me.

It took a few days to get a bank card delivered to the cabin and another couple to have money deposited. Now, I’m using my niece’s work computer to set up my line.

It’s three in the morning and she’s passed out in the guest room. Even if she weren’t sleeping like a rock, I’m quiet enough to have slipped in without disturbing her.

The laptop is propped up against the bedside table, plugged in. She’s oddly trusting, but I suppose for a girl like her—who seems quite privileged—being overly cautious doesn’t seem necessary. She quite literally begged to stay with me here. Living with her parents couldn’t be that bad if she’s willing to take this risk. I could be a serial rapist for all she knows, or even a convicted murderer…

My aim is to scare her, not do any sort of permanent damage. I may loathe my brother, but I’m not here to hurt him. I’m a monster stitched from pure evil, and the threads that bind me can never be severed or burned. That doesn’t make me incapable of control.

She’s predictable: Calista. Does she not know that facial recognition technology, especially when the device is shoved close enough to your face, is extremely dangerous. And don't even get me started on fingerprint identification. Do people not realize how easy it is to sever a finger? I suppose they don't, at least not those who are considered normal.

After flashing my light in her face and letting the laptop unlock with her very pretty features, I settle onto the couch to set up my phone. The reason for my eagerness is waiting in my email—two separate messages. I don’t even bother opening the first one. I immediately download the second.

“Please, Daddy…”

Fucking hell.

Just as it was the moment her knees hit the floor and those words spilled from her pouty lips, my cock is tenting my boxers. This one is for me and only me. I might even threaten to use it against her if she keeps trying to touch me. Within the span of barely a week, she’s attempted to do so nearly a dozen times.

All acts of innocence or frustration, but still: no one touches me. Not even her. When my brother grabbed my shoulder the day I was released, I had to dig deep to find a thread of restraint strong enough to avoid breaking his wrist. He doesn’t understand, and neither does this… slice of peach pie. But she will.

I take a moment to snoop on her laptop, focusing mainly on her social media. Facebook is clearly her least-used platform, while Instagram shows she has a couple thousand followers, and TikTok has even more. Her inbox is flooded with messages, mostly from boys. They’re read but rarely answered. I’m not about to sift through all hundred to see who catches her interest.

Moving to her photos, I’m hoping she’s a dirty little slut and has nudes stored. Unfortunately, there are no revealing photos. Instead, I find a few snapshots of her with what I assume is a friend, along with some of my brother posing with a woman sporting bleach-blonde hair. Given her green eyes and the similar button nose, it’s clear that this woman is Calista’s mother.

Before closing the lid to the laptop, I lock it, then grab my phone. I don’t hit play, but just stare at her face looking up at me. She is definitely beautiful, but quite the conundrum. Take the piercings from her nipples, I’d guess virgin.

That, however, definitely is not the case. I don’t need to be told she’s spread her legs wide for some, or a dozen, boys. Those lips have seen a cock or two—maybe even pussy—no doubt.

I tap the phone and let the video play for a few seconds. Her hands glide to her thighs, sliding down to wipe away the sweat that’s probably collected there.

“I need to stay here. Please, Daddy, let me stay with you.”

A low, frustrated growl rolls straight from my chest. She’s so fucked.

The lake stretches out before me, quiet and calm, which surprises me given that summer is here. It’s private and I’d expect the other families with properties nearby to have boats, parties, or some kind of gatherings. The water is expansive enough that I can’t see any houses, but lush greenery hugs the shoreline all around.

I let out a sigh, tucking my hands into my pockets and leaning to the side, savoring the warmth of the sun on my bare chest.

“I had imagined you’d be far, far away from this damn state when you finally got out.” His voice resonates, accompanied by the sound of footsteps on the wooden dock as he approaches. “I didn’t think it possible for you to build out further, Ronan, damn.”

I don’t turn right away to acknowledge him as he comes to stand beside me, but when our shoulders brush, I shift my gaze. He has grown his hair out and has it pulled back in a slight ponytail. I warned him of doing that in prison. Men like handles.

Ken is freshly thirty-two, and while I think his crime didn’t warrant being locked up with someone like me, I’m grateful for it. He was released two years ago and has been in my life since. He visited me as often as he could after his release, bringing along the boys and Mia.

“Good to see you.” I lift my fist to him, and he meets it with his own in a quick, solid punch.

His big grin follows his laugh. “Is it now?”

Before responding, I roll my eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t change your phone number, I’d have been pissed if I had to track you down.”

He laughs through a snort before tucking his hands into his cargo shorts. “I’d have let you know. Sorry for not being there when you got out, man. I got the days fucked.”

I shrug my shoulders. “All good. Honestly hadn’t expected anyone, so when my big bro picked me up, needless to say I was shocked.” Almost simultaneously we square our shoulders to one another.

Ken is more compact than I am, his physique honed from years of dealing drugs. That discipline hasn’t faded; he still looks fucking good. Considering he has the connections to deposit the money he did into my account, I’d wager he’s slipped right back into that world.

“The offer still stands.” He winks one of his hooded eyes at me. “Got a free room, you’ll just have to deal with the rascals. You understand.”

I nod. “I’m good for now. Going to get some shit done here before I move south, maybe Texas.”

“Don’t do that.” He laughs nervously and takes a step toward me. “You’ll kill someone there without a second thought.” He juts his shoulder toward me and wiggles his brows. “Tell me about the family reunion.”

With a heavy sigh, I rest my head back and close my eyes. “He bought me a burger, three actually.”

“Brotherly love.”

“ Pfft . Bullshit.”

A loud bang echoes from the cabin, but neither Ken nor I flinch. Instead, we turn to see a large van backing into the driveway. That’s when Calista steps out of the front door, wearing nothing but her booty shorts and a sports bra.

Flirting with danger.

Her body is soft and slim without a lot of muscle. She has what I like to call gentle curves, very feminine and warm. It flows like the river beside the cabin. A naturally attractive, tender, look.

“Now I see.”

“No, she’s just eye candy,” I say dryly, my gaze fixed on her as she approaches the driver of the van just as he swings open the large back door. She greets him with a beaming smile, prompting me to turn my attention back to Ken. “She’s my brother’s stepdaughter.”

“Ouch, that’s unfortunate.” He runs his tongue across his top lip. “Or maybe not.”

“Not for you, either.”

When he scoffs, I’m tempted to push him into the lake to cool him off.

My gaze returns to her as she laughs at something the driver says as he writes something down on a clipboard.

“Hope she gets me a new mattress.”

As though she can sense me staring at her, she turns her head and looks down at me.

“She doesn’t seem like your type anyway.”

Without looking away from her, I ask, “And what is my type, Ken?”

“ Not a barbie doll. I never imagined you with a blonde-haired prom queen. She’s the definition of your opposite.”

I tilt my head as she continues to stare me down.

Oh, baby girl, you are in so much trouble.

I’ll show her that staring at a killer is the dumbest thing she could do. She might not realize what I am, but she has to suspect I’m trouble.

When she finally breaks eye contact, I begin walking across the dock, Ken’s footsteps close behind.

“Got the bike you requested. Changing out the plates and I’ll have it delivered.”

“I can come pick it up,” I say while watching Calista turn and lead the driver into the cabin. “I’ll have the little doll drop me off in town tomorrow.”

“Next week,” he says after we take the wooden steps to the gravel driveway. “Ain’t ready just yet, need to get the tags .”

“Ah, got it.”

Calista hurries outside just as Ken and I reach the back of the truck. He’s the more talkative one between us, so it doesn’t surprise me when he leans against the moving van, flashing a grin as he says, “And what’s your name, gorgeous?”

She puts her hands onto her hips, pressing her fingers into her exposed skin. The action draws my attention down to her pierced belly button.

Her name should be temptress .

“Calista, and you?”

“Ken. It’s a pleasure.” He extends his hand, and she offers hers without hesitation. His lips brush over her knuckles in a quick, smooth gesture before letting go and glancing back up at her. “You got a boyfriend?”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Don’t answer that. Ken, time to go.”

“Oh, come on.” He swings his fist in my direction, just missing my upper arm by a few inches. It’s no accident; he learned early on that no matter how natural his gestures might seem, I don’t tolerate touch unless I allow for it, which is basically never. Fist bumps—that’s as far as it goes.

“I’m just messin’.”

“Let’s go, Romeo.”

“As long as you are my Juliet.” Only after he winks at me, does he turn to Calista, who’s laughing.

If only she knew this flirt’s best friend is connected to the Cartel. It’s crazy to see the other side, the ignorant one. Where she sees a fresh, likely innocent face, when he is anything but.

Ken’s appearance is deceptively clean-cut: no visible tattoos, no piercings. He looks almost respectable, but I know better. Unlike me, he conceals his danger. I wear mine openly. I don’t want people seeing anything but what I am—a monster. Ken, though, hides his darkness with precision.

“See ya, Ken. Nice meeting you” is all she says, before climbing into the open hatch of the van.

As we walk away, he whispers, “I’ll text you the location. I’ll put some good shit in the seat for you, maybe even some condoms.”

“I don’t need them, but the other shit, yes please.” Could use a mind blast to get out of my own head at night, not that I imagine I’ll ever get good sleep, something to knock me dead would be great.

Calista

Why does he have to be so damn hot? Why couldn’t he be ugly? Missing teeth, a swollen belly from all the alcohol he’s downed these past few days—and not those piercing blue eyes that make my knees weak and panties wet with the thought of them staring at my pussy.

I need to pull out Big Bertha and fuck myself dry or I’ll be climbing into his bed just for release.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

What’s his deal with that? Even his friend—who I’m watching Ronan talk to as I hop out of the moving van holding a lamp—keeps his hands off him. No playful punch, no shoulder pat while he joked about my relationship status.

Nosy bitch that I am, I need to know him: Ronan Byrne.

After lingering too long, staring at the ink covering his bare back, I rush inside and nearly crash into Johnny.

“Wow, watch it, Cal.”

“Sorry, do you need my help or do you got it?”

“All good, I measured the wall in the guest room. Give me a few days, I’ll have a desk set up for you.” He looks over my shoulder and I roll my lips together, nervously playing with the lamp. “Anyway… the contractors should be out here tomorrow for the kitchen. It won’t be usable for six weeks once they get started.”

I grin. “Sounds good. I can get a coffee machine hooked up in the garage. Let’s put the old fridge there as well, I’ll stock up drinks and eat out.”

He laughs, then his gaze drifts over my shoulder again. Curiosity wins out and I turn to see what’s pulling his focus. That’s when I spot Ronan, his eyes locked—not on me, but on Johnny.

“Is he part of the contracting crew you’ve requested on this job?”

He doesn’t know my parents. He’s just a guy from one of the contracting firms my employer hires, mostly here for deliveries. There’s really no harm in telling him no…

“He’s family,” I say while shaking my head.

Shrugging my shoulders I turn away from Ronan, my eyes meeting Johnny’s. “Thanks again, you can put everything into the garage that you think I can carry myself, everything else can be left in the living room.”

“You got it, Cal.” He gives me a toothy grin. “Josh has asked about you.”

Laughing, I rub my upper arm nervously. “Right… Well, I need to do something” —I deflect swiftly— “but if you need me, I’ll be in the guest room.”

After a quick goodbye, I turn into the cabin and head straight to my room. Time to dig deeper into this enigma. Honestly, I'm not sure why I hadn’t done this sooner. It probably would have been smarter to check into him before stepping into this forced arrangement.

Grabbing my laptop, I toss myself onto the bed and open it, immediately typing “Ronan Byrne” into Google. Unsurprisingly, the first result is a Wikipedia page. I skip over it—anyone can edit that, and the last thing I need is unreliable information filling my head.

The next result catches my eye: a criminal records site. My pulse quickens as I spot the words in the description. “Ronan Byrne, charged with second-degree murder, sentenced to fifteen years…”

It trails off there and I can’t find the stomach to open the link.

I swallow hard. Maybe I should've listened when he told me to leave. That would’ve been the smart, safe move. But true to every “dumb blonde” label I've ever been given, I stay; I don’t run. I’m not even sure why I’m trying to convince myself that I have a choice in this. I can’t just run to my stepdad, or especially my mother, and ask them for help.

But I’m hooked on the danger, addicted to the thrill of it all. I should be terrified, should be running a thousand miles in the opposite direction. A guy who doesn’t hesitate to choke me, slam me against a wall, push me to my knees, and make me beg—who makes me call him daddy —I should be terrified.

And yet here I am, wanting more. He should make me feel unsafe, except I don’t.

“You are truly sick, Calista. Just like your mother.”

He’s a killer, and I’m sleeping less than twenty feet from him. All it would take is a single spark of motivation and he could end my life under that sexy grip of his. Dear god, am I thinking about him—

A sharp knock snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts, jolting me away from the mental image of him fucking me while choking me until I’m right on the edge of death. Quickly, I shut my laptop, feeling irrationally exposed, as if my thoughts are splashed across the screen, easy for anyone to read.

And there he is, Ronan, leaning in the doorway with one arm braced against the frame, watching me. The look in his eyes sends a wave of something close to panic through me, as if he can see the guilt smudged across my face—or maybe that’s just my paranoia talking. Either way, my nerves tingle, my pulse racing with that electric thrill that only hits me when I’m startled or caught off guard.

“Next week I need a ride into town.” His eyes flick down to my laptop, and a wave of nausea hits me as if he might stride over, snatch it up, and uncover my dirty little secret. I quickly slide it to the side, tucking it beneath the covers, hoping to hide it from his view.

“S-Sure. I can do that. What day?”

“Not sure.” He sighs, popping that eyebrow of his. “Any days that are off limits?” The question carries an edge of frustration, and I swallow nervously.

“No. Wait, yes. I will be going to Denver for work on Thursday. Other than that, I don’t have any constraints.”

“I’ll try to coordinate for you to drop me off on your way to the city.” He taps the wall with his hand, glancing around the room before turning to leave without another word.

No “thank you”?

I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Why am I even worried about him saying thank you? He’s a convicted murderer, after all. Manners to him are about as meaningful as an ant’s shit.

Hold the fuck up, did I just agree to take him somewhere? What is wrong with me? Do I have a death wish?!

I need to reevaluate this deal.

“Calista?” His deep voice startles me.

“Shit!” I jerk my gaze up and he looks at me incredulously. “I thought we were done, sorry…”

“Your ass was hanging out of your shorts.” I don’t think I’ve had embarrassment flood over me so quickly before. “Be careful.”

That’s all he says before he stalks away down the hall.

I’m so fucked. I’m so, so fucked.