Page 58 of Wicked Heat

She already had all of that. She knew as well as Ash did that Nikki and Damien would always be there for her. And Damien probably had three mil sitting in his dresser drawer.

Slight exaggeration, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility. So why hadn’t Bree asked Damien for the money?

Unless she had?

But no. Ash was positive Damien wouldn’t turn Bree away if she was in trouble, and he had the very distinct feeling that the three million she needed was to ward off something bad.

And yet she hadn’t asked his father…

Sure, she’d called his bluff and headed into the house to do that, but he knew she wasn’t calling. If she was really willing to ask Damien, that would have been the first call she made.

He let the thought hang there as he paced, trying to make sense of it. And he kept circling around to the same conclusion—the only reason to keep Damien out was if Damien was already at the center of it. If the money she needed protected Damien in some way.

But how?

The thought made him feel vaguely nauseous and he felt his pulse increase in tempo. Ash hadn’t been a Damien fan when he’d first met his father, that was for damn sure. But things changed, mostly because Ash realized that the picture he’d had in his head of his father had been painted by Abigail, a woman who hated Damien Stark.

Ash didn’t count himself in that group. Not anymore. Now, he loved the man as if he’d been there Ash’s whole life. He didn’t completely feel like Damien was a dad—though to be honest, Ash wasn’t sure he knew what having a dad actually felt like—but he respected the hell out of the man. And that went double for Nikki. That woman had been through hell and back. Good lord, the whole family had.

With a wry grin, Ash thought of all the crap he’d been through in his life. If that was the defining characteristic, then he was definitely a Stark. And as far as he could tell, Bree was practically an adopted child in the family, too.

So why would she need that much money so quickly, but not immediately go to Damien for help?

Was someone threatening to expose something about Damien? And if so, why wouldn’t she tell Ash? Or maybe she had already asked Damien, and he said no. But that seemed very out of character.

He got up and started to pace, then decided that the only way to know the truth was to go to the source.

“Well, fuck it,” he muttered as he crossed the room to grab his phone and send a text:

I know you’re incommunicado with the world, but just wanted to check in. All OK?

A moment later, three dots appeared, followed by a reply: Wonderful. Relaxing at the beach.

Where exactly is this island?

Top Secret. Only Gregory knows.

My own father and he doesn’t trust me ...

It felt good typing that. Hard to believe that not that long ago he would have happily seen Damien Stark dead.

What’s up?

Not much. Has Bree been in touch?

Ash didn’t think Bree had the satellite phone number, but Gregory could always patch her through. For a moment, there was no response. Then the text box popped back up.

No. Is something wrong?

Shit. Now he couldn’t tell if she really hadn’t reached out or if the delay in response meant that she had, but Damien wasn’t telling.

Nothing wrong. We were talking about some plans for when you get back. House party or something. We’ll fill you in when you’re back in California.

Tell her we all say hi.

Ash turned as he heard a tap at the door. As it opened, he typed out one last text: Got to run. Give N and the kids my love.

He closed the app then turned to see Bree standing in the doorway. Her long, dark hair was tucked behind her ears, and the afternoon’s bright light silhouetted her in a way that made her glow like the ethereal creature she was.