by KB Winters
“Wait. Why did someone go after Mo?”
Terry sighed and grunted. “Mo is knocked up, and the baby is Jasper’s.”
“No shit?” Cal’s lips pulled into a smile that turned into a wince. “Wow.”
“Not now. We need to pin this shooting on someone, and then we can deal with my personal life.”
“What personal life?” Virgil asked with a snort.
Terry laughed.
“Not fucking funny.”
Those words only made these men, my brothers, laugh more.
“Whatever,” I growled. “Terry, keep an eye on the women. Mo is up in my suite. Cal, go sleep off the booze and stay put.” I nodded to Virgil. “Let’s go do this.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mo
As soon as I heard Jasper leave his suite of rooms early in the morning, I got up. First to puke and then to figure out how I was going to get home.
Not that it wasn’t nice to be here, safe inside Jasper’s part of the mansion. It was exactly where I’d always hoped to end up. From Emerald Isle to Ashby Manor was my next logical stop. Except, it wasn’t.
I’d give anything for Jasper Ashby to fall in love with me. To live my happily-ever-after. But that was just a dream. I was only here so Jasper could control me, not fall in love. There’d be no rings or a declaration of undying love.
Not after what I’d overheard last night. Assholes.
Ashby Manor was a fortress with two layers of security just to get off the property. But if I could make it past the guards and the gate, I could call an Uber to get me home. First, well after I flirted my way past the guards, I would need the gate code to get out. I wasn’t sure I should scale the wrought iron fences in my pregnant condition.
I packed up my clothes and toiletries, grabbed my phone charger, and shoved it in my Louis Vuitton handbag before I crept down the stairs as quietly as I could, my sneakers silent on the marble floor. The house was quiet as I landed on the bottom step with a relieved sigh. Halfway to freedom. Seeing a path to the front door, I hurried across the expansive living room down to the foyer and wrapped my hand around the doorknob.
My heart raced, knowing I was close to getting home so I could clear my head and start planning for my future. I twisted the knob and pulled the heavy door, taking one step outside before I froze at the sight of shit-kicker boots, and looked up. And up.
Terry.
He flashed a smile. “Going somewhere, Mo?”
I took a step back and lifted my chin defiantly. “Yeah, I am, actually. Home.”
Terry’s deep, booming laugh rang out loud in the early morning quiet. He actually laughed at me, shaking his head as he shoved his hands in his pockets, a clear indication I was no threat to him.
“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
“I am,” I growled. “Home.” I took a step forward, determined to get out of the Manor, but Terry just blocked my path. He never removed his hands from his jeans, just stepped in front of me, matching me step for step.
“Terry,” I sighed.
“Mo, this is on Jasper’s orders. Kat and Maisie are staying home today, too, so it’s not just you. It’s all the women.”
All the women. Another phrase that should have made me feel better but didn’t.
“The difference is that I’m not one of the women. I’m an employee.”
He laughed. “And a potential baby mama, from what I hear.”
“That has yet to be determined,” I told him and attempted to sidestep his big body once again.
“And until it is,” he said with a jovial smile that I wanted to smack off his friendly but stubborn face, “here is where you will stay.”
I wanted to argue, to push past him, and make a run for it, but I couldn’t. It had nothing to do with my baby or my concern for my safety; it was the words and the laughter echoing in my mind. From guys I thought were my friends, not just those who thought of me as some hooker.
“Whatever.” Just because I couldn’t leave now didn’t mean I wouldn’t look for another chance to get away.
“Sorry.” Terry’s apology didn’t mean shit to me, and I closed the door in his laughing face and went back inside Ashby Manor.
“Maureen, right?”
I turned at the sound of the soft-spoken voice and blinked.
“Molly, right? Madison’s sister. What are you doing here? I didn’t even hear you come in.” She held Ava Rose in her arms, a gentle smile on her face that made me wonder if she was Cal’s woman or Jasper’s.
“Madison just had her baby, and she and Jamie are home with him. So I’m keeping an eye on this little stinker until Calvin finds a nanny he can trust.”
“You seem pretty good to me. She seems to like you. Why don’t you take the job?”
Molly shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, she’s an angel, but there’s a lot of chaos in this house, and I’m not sure I’d be up for it full-time.”
The wistful gaze she wore as she looked at Ava Rose made me wonder if it was something else keeping her from taking the job.
“I agree. Lots of chaos here. How’s Maddie and the baby?”
Molly’s face lit up. “Jameson Bailey Ellison is the most adorable baby boy who ever lived. He has his mom’s blonde hair and his dad’s gray eyes. Definitely going to be a heartbreaker one day.”
“Just what the women of the world need, another heartbreaker.” I shook my head, and Molly laughed, a soft melodic sound.
“Hopefully, he’ll be like his father in that regard too.”
Ava was sound asleep, and Molly took a seat on the sofa, blinking against the sunlight that filtered inside the room. She looked so at peace, despite the hell she’d been through, and I wondered how she managed to keep her demons away.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m a hostage,” I answered in a flat, sincere tone. “Jasper says he’s keeping me here for my safety, but the truth is he just wants to keep an eye on me until he has confirmation the baby isn’t his.”
“Baby? You’re having a baby?” She sighed with a tinge of envy. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Molly. I don’t know anything about being a parent, but I’m kind of looking forward to it.”
“No one ever knows,” she offered with a shy smile. “Maddie was terrified, but she seems to be doing okay.”
“Yeah, well, Maddie is the motherly type. Me? Not so much.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s what all the best mothers think. You’ll be all right, Maureen.” Molly let out a sigh. “And I’m sure Jasper is trying to keep you safe.”
At my quizzical look, she pointed to my face.
“These bruises? Some jackoff attacked me outside my place, and Jasper used it as a pretext to get me here.”
I shrugged off the words like they were meaningless. If I did a good enough job convincing others, maybe I could convince myself too.
“It sounds to me like he cares about you, I mean if you’re having his baby and all.”
“That’s still to be decided.” I said. “Jasper doesn’t believe me. Even though I know it’s his.”
Molly smiled. “I bet he does believe you and that’s why you’re here.”
“I’d like to think that about him. But I overheard him talking with his brothers. They were all having a big laugh about Mo the ho being pregnant and trying to trap him with a baby. He didn’t disagree.”
That part hurt like hell, more than listening to the rest of them talk about me. I shouldn’t let it hurt me, though. I knew what I was, who I was, and they did too. I just foolishly thought they saw more to me than my job. I mean, Sadie did, why didn’t they?
Molly said nothing, but the sympathy swimming in her big eyes was more than I could bear.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Molly. It’s fine, and more importantly, I’m fine. Some people deserve a happy ending, and they get it. Others, like me, well I’m not the type of chick who gets a happy ending, and I’ve made my peace with it.”
I consoled myself with retail therapy—courtesy of Sadie Ashby—and knowing that the men who allowed me to have the finer things in life wanted me, at least for a little while.
The sympathy was still there, in Molly’s eyes, and I tried not to let it piss me off. She’d been through what I’d been through, though at a much older age, and she would learn the truth sooner or later.
“Madison used to think the same thing. That a damaged girl from the trailer park who always wore dirty hand-me-down clothes would never get those dreams, and now she’s smack in the middle of her very own happily ever after. It’s great,” she said with a laugh, “and a little bit sickening to watch, but it gives me hope that I’m not so fucked up, that maybe one day I’ll find what she has. Someday.”
I smiled at the uncertainty in Molly’s voice. She was pretty and sweet and cute, the typical girl next door. I nodded and flashed a smile at Molly, who so obviously had wife and mother written all over her.
“Women like you always find nice guys who want nothing more than to love and protect you, Molly. I have no doubt you’ll find just that.”
She blushed and looked away. “Not after…everything.”
I nodded in understanding. “Yes, even after everything, Molly.” Her wounds were too fresh, but I couldn’t let the cruelty of men ruin another life, not of such a sweet girl.
“Look, I’ve been through what you have, except I was a kid, little more than a baby when it started. It fucked me up completely. You were, according to Maddie, a nice and sweet girl who was on track to have all the good things in life. Remember that girl, and don’t let her go. Do that, and you’ll get your happy ever after.”
“You sound so sure about me, but you’ve written it off for yourself. Why?”
“Because I am who I am, Molly. I don’t trust easily, and I’m not even sure I know how to love another person the way I already love my baby. No man can look at me and see past what I do, not even Jasper or the Ashby men. So what hope do I have that a normal everyday man can handle it?”
I shook off the hurt that snaked through me again and sighed. “What about Calvin? He’d love and protect you and give you everything your heart desires. And he’s rich as fuck. Only negative is that he’s still an Ashby.”
She blushed and looked away, shaking her head. “He is a fine-looking man for sure. Well, hot as fuck as they say. But, even if I knew how to start going after all that, I’m not ready to settle down with anyone. Not yet.”
I laughed out loud at that. “According to romance novels, that’s when the good guys are most likely to come around.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “I’m not so sure about that, but if you need anything, to talk, someone to do birthing classes with you, give me a call.”
I pointed at her and smiled. “See? There’s that nice and sweet thing I was talking about. Good men? They eat that shit up.”
And when she was ready, they would line up around the block for a chance with Molly.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jasper
“Are you sure this is how you want to play this, Jas? It could backfire big time, and with Agent Beck running around with a hard-on for us, she could complicate things.” Virgil stood beside me just outside a brown and blue ranch house that sat nestled in a suburban neighborhood in Henderson, Nevada.
I scanned the house with blue shutters and a brown door. It looked like every other house on the block, except where the neighbors seemed to take care of the property with freshly mowed, manicured lawns, and nicer cars parked in the driveways, this house was mostly dark, all the blinds drawn in the middle of the day, the loud bump of rock music concealing whatever else might be happening inside.
“Yeah, I’m sure. The fucker who attacked Mo lived here.”
Virgil nodded. “Is this his family home?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Cal said he wasn’t married and no children. The house is owned by Owen Cardiff, who doesn’t have a job. His criminal record is just a list of petty crimes. Four known associates, Richard Johnson, Mark Rizzo, and Butch Foles. The one who attacked Mo was Jack Mitchum.”
“Any connection to anyone we know?”
I shook my head and stamped out the cigarette, sliding the filter into my pocket. “Not that Cal was able to figure out. Not that it matters.”
Virgil turned to face me, his arms crossed, brows knitted into a frown.
“So we’re doing this?”
“Yeah, we are.” I stared back at Virgil, trying to figure out what the fuck he was thinking but refused to say. His blue eyes matched our father’s in color and impenetrability. “What, goddammit?”
Virgil sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to figure out if this is about Mo, Cal. or Ma.”
“Probably a little bit of all three. Problem?”
Virgil smiled. “Hell, no, I just wanted you to admit this was a little bit about Mo.”
“Asshole,” I growled. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll go to the back door,” Virgil offered with a smile. “I like to be a surprise.”
I nodded and stepped off the curb, looking left and then right even though no cars had come down the block since we arrived ten minutes ago.
“Two minutes,” I called out as Virgil jumped the six-foot fence with the ease of a panther.
Then I made my way to the door.
The music stopped after the second round of knocking, but I didn’t reach for my piece, not yet. The blinds flickered to my right, but I kept my focus on the door. Heavy footfalls sounded, and I guessed that Cardiff’s associates were likely inside, which played right into my plans.
The door flew open, and a man with black hair stood there, a cigarette hanging out one side of his mouth. “What the fuck do you want?”
A tough guy. They were always the most fun to take down.
“You Cardiff?”
“Who’s askin’?”
“I am.” I folded my arms and stood there, waiting for an answer. I could play this fucking game all day. I wouldn’t, but I could.
“Well?”
“He ain’t Cardiff, I am.” The man who spoke was taller than his black-haired friend by at least five inches and about fifty pounds, mostly in his gut. “The fuck you want with me?”
I took a step inside, and both men reached for their guns. Fucking revolvers. Amateurs.
“The name’s Ashby, and I heard from a friend you have a message for me.”
Cardiff’s eyes went wide, and his friend’s nearly bugged out of his head. “Look, man, that was a misunderstanding.”
“Yeah? Then help me understand it.”
I kicked the door shut behind me and locked the doorknob. The deadbolt. The chain. Then, I smiled.
“Go on, I’m all ears.”
For every step I advanced forward, they backed up, giving up ground and letting me take charge.
“Look, man, I mean…Mr. Ashby, one of your men got a little rough with Butch.” He looked over his shoulder at the man with a fading black eye. “Tell ’em, Butch.”
The man with a buzzcut nodded. “Fucking bitch said she was into rough stuff, and I paid for it. She lied,” he grunted and shook his head, totally unaware of Virgil creeping up behind him.
I nodded, a look of understanding on my face. “You call taking pliers to a woman’s lady bits ‘rough stuff’?”
In the sex business, you came across all types. But the fucking serial killers in training were a special breed, and they had to be dealt with.
“Damn right I do. Didn’t leave any permanent damage, did I?”
The fact that he could be so indignant only fueled my anger, hell, doubled it. After what they did to Mo, they deser
ved a hell of a lot more.
“Did you get off?”
His blond brows dipped in confusion, his face paled. “What?”
“What you did, tugging on Lisanne’s pussy lips with a pair of pliers, did you get off? Nut? Come?”
“What the fuck, man?”
I took another step forward.
“I’ll make it easy for you. Did your dick get hard inflicting torture on her?”
His confused eased into disgust. “Fuck no. I ain’t no fucking pervert.”
“Wrong answer.”
I sent my fist flying, so it crashed down on his jaw and brought him to his knees before I turned back to Cardiff.
“So he tortured a woman, not because that’s his kink but just to do it.”
“He paid his money,” Cardiff insisted.
“For sex. He paid to get his dick wet, to bust a nut, not to just fucking torture someone.” Despite the anger flooding my veins until it was thick like lava, I was calm.
“He got his ass beat, as he should have, and you sent someone to beat up a woman? Am I understanding that right?”
Cardiff was silent and unmoving as if he could feel the energy change in the air.
His black-haired friend had moved toward the window, fear turning his face a dark shade of red. “This ain’t got shit to do with me, man.”
“Who are you?”
Jack was dead, and I knew Cardiff and Butch, which meant one man was missing.
“The name is Rizzo. Mark Rizzo, but everyone calls me Rizz.”
“And Richard, where is he?” He had to be here somewhere.
“Behind you, asshole.” His words came first, followed by the press of cold metal to the nape of my neck. “You want to die, or you wanna get the fuck out of here?”
I smiled. “That’s your first mistake. Dick.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Amusement colored his voice.
“You talk too fucking much.” Wannabe tough guys always did.
He pressed the gun into my neck, trying to push me forward, but I didn’t budge. “Tough talk from the guy with a gun to his head.”
