Page 9 of The Devil’s Lair

“And here was me thinking we had a future together.” I press my hand to my chest, careful to avoid my stitches. “I was about to swear my undying love.”

She almost laughs. Almost.

“I’m expecting a visitor at some point today. Name’s Frank. Can you make sure he isn’t stopped by the security I know my father will have put in place?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

True to her word, she appears with Frank an hour later. After she delivers her “Ten minutes, and don’t wear him out,” warning and sends a hard stare at both of us, she leaves us alone.

“She’s… strict,” Frank says, grinning.

“You don’t know the half of it. Phone?”

He passes it to me.

“Fucking lifesaver. I feel as though I’m in prison. What have you discovered?” He knows I mean Rebecca without spelling it out.

“I managed to locate which station she was taken to, but when I called, the duty sergeant told me she wasn’t there any longer.”

“Released?”

“I presume so.”

“I need her address.”

“On it. I’ll text you with the info.”

I nodded. “I guess we’ll have to stay closed for a while.”

“Death on the premises? Yeah, I’d say so. By the way, I found out whose guest pass the dead man came in on. Membership’s been terminated.”

“Good.” I don’t even bother asking who it was. Could’ve been the king and I’d have done the same thing. “I’ll message Bea and have her contact all the members with a reassuring email to keep them in the loop.”

Bea, my assistant, is definitely the woman for this job. She’ll calm any ruffled feathers and reassure the clients that this is a temporary blip. I’ve worked too damn hard to build this brand to have it destroyed by one violent arsehole.

Besides, I need it. The Lair is the only place I can be myself. The rest of the time, I’m playing a part—one I’ve mastered over the years.

Without my club, I’m fucked.

Chapter Three

REBECCA

The van transporting me to the magistrate’s court smells of urine and desperation. I’m terrified, exhausted, and so desperate to see Isla, hold her tiny body in my arms, kiss her soft cheek, and smell her hair. I’ve already decided to plead guilty to possessing an illegal weapon. After all, I am guilty, so there’s little point in dragging this out and taking my case to crown court. I just want this over with, then get home to my baby, take my punishment, and move on with my life.

It’s sinking in now that I’m finally free of Marcus. Free of his abuse, his violence, his control. Every morning, I’d wake and automatically assess his mood, then adjust my behavior accordingly. I can’t believe the nightmare is over. If a criminal record is the price of protecting my daughter and myself, then it’s a price worth paying.

I suppose there should be a part of me that’s sad he’s gone. After all, I loved him once. But his fists and whips and cruelty killed whatever love I once felt long ago. So, no, I’m not sad. Not even a little bit.

Marcus’s parents are going to cause trouble; I feel it in my bones. What lies ahead scares me, but if I can survive Marcus, then I’m strong enough to deal with whatever Felicity and Preston throw at me.

I hope.

I still don’t know what happened to the man who saved my life. If he hadn’t jumped in front of me, it would be my body lying in the morgue. The thought of Marcus having sole custody of Isla makes me feel sick. He never hit her, but it’s his fault she hasn’t spoken in over a year. That night should have been my breaking point. The problem is when you’ve been socially and financially isolated, and with a child to care for, a way out seems impossible.

It’s what men like Marcus do. I realize that now. They close off every exit until there is no option other than to stay.

The van stops suddenly, and I’m thrown forward in my seat. The man sitting across from me snickers. I stare at the floor, avoiding his gaze.