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I look at the photograph still displayed on her phone. His face is hidden, but I can picture the grin he was wearing when he pointed at me through the open door. The same little shit who spent weeks pushing every boundary I gave him managed to tie my ankles together and disappear through downtown Philadelphia using streets without cameras.

“He’s interesting.”

Alessia closes her eyes while Kieran drops into the chair across from my desk.

“That’s it. You’re fucked.”

I look at him. “Explain.”

“You’ve picked one,” Alessia says. “Your person. Your Xavier, Colton, and Jaxon.”

I’ve watched Declan, Ronan, and Conor become completely fucking unreasonable over the men they chose, and apparently my family thinks I’ve joined them. The problem is, I can’t exactly argue when I spent half the night searching Philadelphia for Nash after he tied me up and ran.

Kieran’s amusement fades when I look back at Nash’s file. There’s no point denying the part they’ve already figured out.

“I want him.”

Alessia looks from me to the photograph on her phone. “Then we have two problems. Nash disappeared last night, and someone was in exactly the right place to photograph the two of you.”

Finally, something useful. I lean back in my chair. “Then we figure out who took the pictures and why.”

Chapter 17 Nash

I should feel bad about last night. Not only did I leave Duncan tied up in the back of his own limousine, but I’m fairly certain I gifted the man the most frustrating night of his life, along with a serious case of blue balls. Every time I try to summon a little guilt, though, I picture his face when he realized what I’d done, and the grin comes right back.

Some kind of cosmic rule has to exist against tying up a billionaire CEO with his own belt and leaving him stranded in a parking lot. If there isn’t, there probably should be. My conscience clearly doesn’t give a shit.

I stretch on the lumpy futon and wince when a spring digs into my lower back. This place is nothing like my apartment. Thin curtains barely block the morning sun, the futon is trying to cripple me, and the water stain spreading across the ceiling looks a little like Florida. Or maybe a dinosaur. Hard to tell.

The apartment is rented under Joey’s name, which felt fitting when I set it up since this is where I do most of my planning. The neighborhood falls somewhere between decent and dangerous. People don’t have to constantly look over their shoulders, but nobody pays much attention to who comes and goes either. Mrs. Rodriguez downstairs pretends not to notice the different cars parked outside, the guy across the hall ignores the packages arriving at odd hours, and I return the favor by ignoring the weed he smokes on the fire escape every night. It works for all of us.

More importantly, there are very few City Camera Coalition cameras around here. When I need to disappear without leaving a digital trail, I come here. Last night definitely qualified.

My amusement over Duncan and his belt fades as I stare at the questionable Florida-dinosaur on the ceiling. The man has money, connections, and an army of people willing to help him, and apparently some of those people have been following me for weeks. He found me at Obsidian when I was disguised and had no intention of being found. Tying him up and running probably won’t discourage him.

I can usually figure people out. Give me enough time and information, and eventually everyone shows me what they want. Duncan should be easy. We hooked up, he enjoyed it, and he wants more. Except he also called me his and spent half the night chasing me through Philadelphia after I ran from him, which makes absolutely no fucking sense for a man who supposedly only figured out he wanted me a few days ago.

“Fuck it.”

I push myself off the futon and head for the tiny kitchenette. I have more important things to worry about than Duncan Murphy, starting with Justin Mills and the files I still need to go through. There’s a growing list of men who deserve my attention, and none of them are billionaire CEOs with Irish accents and serious boundary issues.

Besides, Duncan might reconsider this whole relationship idea once he’s had time to think about the fact that I seduced him, tied him up with his own belt, and ran. Daddies like brats. Naughty brats who leave them half-naked and stranded in a parking lot might be pushing it.

A laugh slips out as I crack an egg into the pan, but the possibility that Duncan really could decide I’m more trouble than I’m worth kills it pretty fucking fast. I scrape the eggs across the pan with the spatula and try to focus on breakfast instead of his hands, his mouth, or the way he said mine. By the time I sit down to eat, I’m still thinking about him.

“Shit.”

I drag Justin’s file closer and open it beside my plate. Last night was supposed to be simple: observe Justin, figure out what he’s into, and become that person. I’ve done it before. Instead, I let a six-foot-five Irish billionaire with an overdeveloped possessive streak derail the entire night.

I stab my fork into the eggs harder than necessary. Justin is still out there finding new victims while I’m sitting here thinking about Duncan. The file beside my plate is filled with photographs, witness statements, and sealed court records from men whose stories never made it past expensive lawyers and family money. Men who tried to tell someone what Justin did to them and watched his family make it disappear.

That’s where my attention belongs.

I drag my laptop closer and spend the next few hours going back through everything I have on Justin. By early afternoon, pages of notes cover the coffee table, empty coffee cups are mixed in with them, and I’ve memorized his schedule for the next week.

Sunday is usually dinner with his parents at the country club, which gives me nothing. I can become almost anyone for a few hours, but old money recognizes its own, and walking into their country club would draw exactly the kind of attention I avoid. I’ll have to wait until Justin goes somewhere I can get close to him without half the room wondering who invited me.

Before giving up on tonight, I check his social media one more time to make sure he hasn’t changed his plans.