Chapter 3: Hideaway: Chapter 3

Present

I grabbed a couple water bottles from the ice bowl next to the towels and walked toward the steam room, the wet heat snaking up my nostrils as I opened the frosted glass door and walked in.

Hunter-Bailey Men’s Club was quiet this time of the day. And no matter how busy my friends and I were—or how hungover—we usually found ourselves here most mornings.

I looked up, instantly spotting Michael sitting two steps up on the marble seating that snaked around the room, while Will sat hunched over to my right one step down. He lifted his head, and I could see last night’s indiscretions written all over his pale and weary face. Dark circles sat under his eyes, and he dropped his head again, grumbling, “Motherfucker.”

I shook my head, holding out a bottle of water. “You need new vices.”

The asshole was drunk every day. And to add insult to injury, he was blowing through every cent his asinine, indulgent parents gave him, paying for any one of three things to which he’d dedicated his life: drinking, women, and, as I was starting to suspect, pills and powder.

He pulled the water out of my hand and held the chilled bottle to his brow, his shallow breathing growing shaky.

Taking my bottle, I climbed the step and sat down next to Michael. His back and head rested against the wall, and his eyes were closed as steam billowed in the air around us. Dim lighting cast a soft, blue glow throughout the room, and I felt a trickle of sweat already sliding down my chest toward my towel.

“How are the renovations going on at St. Killian’s?” I asked him.

But he shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t talk to me about fucking renovations right now.”

I narrowed my gaze, seeing his eyes open and his jaw flex as he stared ahead. He was angry? With me?

And then suspicion hit me. The night before last and what happened at the dojo with Rika.

Great. Not that I was in the right by any means, but I trusted her to not tell Michael every damn thing.

I let out a breath. “Man, I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to hurt her. I—”

“You know who I’ve been thinking about lately?” he interrupted me, asking but not waiting for a response. “Your mother, Vittoria.”

I kept my eyes on him.

“She was a prized piece back in the day, huh?” he mused, a slight smirk on his face. “Still is, if you ask me. Great ass. Long legs.”

I stilled, clenching my jaw. I knew what he was doing, but anger was rising anyway.

He continued, “I don’t think I ever told you how hot she always got me, did I? Back in high school, coming over to your house and seeing her in her skin-tight workout clothes. That woman still doesn’t look a day over thirty.” He smiled, savoring the insults he grinded in my fucking face.

“You know what I think I’ll do?” he taunted. “I think I’ll go to your parents’ house tonight. Wait until your father is asleep and see if she wants to climb on top of me. Yeah.” He nodded. “She’ll love the feel of me, and if she doesn’t, who cares? Who cares how much she fights and cries? I’m gonna put fear in her, so every time I’m around she’s gonna know I can take whatever I want from her no matter what.”

I tightened my fists at my sides and stared ahead, fury burning its way through my gut. Too fucking far.

I stood up and walked down the steps, turning to Michael who still sat relaxing against the wall. But his eyes were locked on mine, all too ready for this confrontation.

“I would never have hurt her,” I said again.

“Hurt who—”

But Michael cut off Will’s question and glared at me, leaning forward. “When I wake up in the middle of the night, I expect to find Rika there,” he gritted out. “Not crying as she pounds the shit out of a punching bag downstairs at three o’clock in the morning because you made her feel ashamed of herself.”

He followed me down the step, crowding my space and trying to intimidate me. “And when I ask her what’s wrong,” he went on, “I don’t expect her to lie to me to protect you. What the hell is the matter with you? Why would you go so far?”

“She needs to be able to protect herself,” I told him. “She needs to be ready. She’s not your doll.”

“Don’t tell me what she is!”

“You said she was one of us!” I retorted. “She’s no different, right? You don’t coddle Will or me. ‘She’s an equal.’ That’s what you said. We’re her friends, too, and we have a stake in seeing her be able to protect herself. I’m not holding her fucking hand like she’s five years old.”

Michael darted forward, getting in my face. “You don’t get to make decisions about my woman.”

“Are you sure you do?” I shot back.

The dents between his eyebrows deepened. He was still pissed.

But I was the one who was right.

Michael fucking groomed Rika for years. Since they were kids, he played with her and mind-fucked her. He never handled her gently and always expected her to take care of herself and her own shit.

But now that she was his, he’d changed. We all fought our own battles, including Rika’s. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t doing her any good.

I heard the bones in his body crack as something tightened. If I were anyone else, he’d have hit me already.

If I were anyone else, he wouldn’t be scared to.

“Just try it,” I taunted him. “I dare you.”

He took a step closer, and so did I, neck to neck and eye to eye as we both stood our ground. I never stepped on Michael’s toes, and he never treaded too far on mine. He knew he wouldn’t win, so to save his pride I was always the first one to back off. On the few occasions we were angry with each other, anyway.

But I found myself not willing to relent this time. I didn’t mean to make Rika feel bad, but she shouldn’t feel comfortable, either. Not with Damon running around. I was right.

Sweat ran down my back, and we stared at each other, neither one of us blinking.

“Are you guys gonna get it on right now?” Will asked.

I hooded my eyes. For Christ’s sake.

Leave it to Will to crack a joke right now.

Heaving a sigh, I walked around Michael and looked between the two of them. “We have enemies. And the list grows every day. Rika should be just as alert as we are.”

The four of us had formed a corporation—Graymor Cristane—a combination of our last names—and Rika insisted on being an equal partner in the business. And in the group. She needed to know how to handle any threat.

But Michael turned toward me, shaking his head. “Damon’s gone.”

“No, Damon’s hiding,” I corrected him. “Have you stopped to ask yourself why?” I tossed a glance to Will before going back to Michael. “Why aren’t there any pictures of him online? Why aren’t the detectives able to find him to keep track of him like we asked them to? They’re not finding any hits on his credit cards, and his passport hasn’t shown any activity for the last year.”

I mean, assuming he’s not dead, why isn’t he showing up on anyone’s radar?

“Damon doesn’t hide,” I told them. “Why is he hiding now? He knows we’re not coming after him. Why isn’t he hitting clubs in Moscow or buying shit in Tokyo or being spotted in Hawaii or Fiji or L.A.?” My tone grew louder, more demanding. “Why is he invisible?”

Michael and Will were silent for a moment, their expressions pensive before Will finally answered. “Because he doesn’t want people to know where he is?”

“Exactly.” And then I met Michael’s eyes. “And why wouldn’t he want people to know where he is?”

Michael’s gaze fell, and his voice was subdued. “Because he’s somewhere he’s not supposed to be.”

I nodded. Damon’s ego was a hundred times the size of a ship. He wouldn’t hide from us. Not unless he had a good reason not to be found.

“What if the passport we tracked to Russia last year was a cover?” I asked them, not expecting an answer. “What if he’s closer than we thought?” And then I approached Michael, dropping my voice to a whisper. “What if he never left?”

Michael’s hazel eyes narrowed again, and his jaw flexed as the wheels in his head started turning. After all this time and all the failed efforts to locate Damon, it finally hit me. He was deliberately staying under the radar. And it wasn’t out of guilt or shame for what he’d done. He was hiding, because he was right under our noses. I’d bet my life on it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Will chimed in, and I saw him rise out of the corner of my eye. “There’s no fucking way! He couldn’t have been here a whole year and we not know it. And if he is, what the hell’s he waiting for?”

I turned my head toward him. “Devil’s Night.” And then I looked back at Michael. “We need to go. Now.”

It took less than an hour to get to Thunder Bay, our coastal hometown where we’d all grown up. Rika was still in class, a junior at Trinity College in Meridian City, so Michael shot her a text, letting her know we’d be back in a few hours. I’m sure she would’ve liked making the short commute home to see her mother, but Michael didn’t even give her the option. Probably because he had no intention of ever bringing her anywhere near Damon’s home or his father.

And as much as I talked a good talk in the steam room earlier, I couldn’t say I blamed him. Gabriel Torrance was a piece of shit.

We sat in a parking space off to the side of his circular driveway, idling in Michael’s new SUV.

“Let me go,” I said, sitting up in the passenger seat, staring at the stone mansion. “I want to talk to him alone.”

“We’ll all go,” Will spoke up from the back seat.

“No.” I turned my head toward him, narrowing my eyes. “You stay here.”

I turned forward again, briefly meeting Michael’s eyes. Will had been misbehaving like it was his fucking job ever since Damon left, and I wasn’t sure it was the best idea to bring him here, let alone subject him to this house. For all I knew, Damon could be hiding out somewhere inside.

Clearing my throat, I pushed the door open and hopped out of the car, looking back through the open windows as I shut the door. “Tell my mother I died well,” I said sarcastically to both of them and then shot a look to Will. “No, actually, you tell her. Michael’s not allowed around my mom anymore.”

I turned away, hearing Michael’s chuckle behind me. None of that shit better be true, either.

Heading up to the front door, I briefly glanced up to the tower built into the front house. The Torrance home was a chateau-style structure of light stone, but there were three watchtowers giving it a castle-like quality. One of the towers adjoined Damon’s bedroom where a spiral staircase across from his bed led up to a small alcove at the top with a single, small window. I’d only been up in his room once, and he didn’t let me stay long. That was one place where he coveted his privacy.

I reached out to press the doorbell, but the door suddenly opened, and I dropped my hand.

“Mr. Mori,” Hanson, a blond man in a plain, black suit greeted me. “Please, come in.”

I hesitated only a moment before stepping forward. Since we had to announce ourselves at the gate, they knew I was coming, but I felt a knot tighten in my stomach anyway at the quick response. A few more moments of delay at having to deal with Gabriel would’ve been appreciated.

He closed the door, and without a word, I followed him through the house. Damon’s father could almost always be found at home. It’s where he was safest.

Although he put up the front of dealing in media, investing in networks, news, and entertainment, I knew that was merely a drop in the ocean of how he made his money. Men of honest means didn’t change their Russian surnames to English ones to hide their past. And only men of dirty deeds employed a team of muscle to protect them around the clock.

The servant led me through the vast house and out to the terrace where the entire area was paved in a mosaic of gray stone with sporadic rows of Italian Cypresses. Several people loitered around, many young women dressed chicly and holding glasses of champagne. It didn’t seem to matter that it was barely noon.

A buffet of food sat to my right, while a table full of well-dressed men talked and laughed nearby. Gabriel, dressed in black slacks and a black shirt, stood over a rottweiler, grasping its collar.

I stopped, watching him. He rotated his fist into the back of the dog’s head, the lion-headed, gold ring on his middle finger digging into its skull. The dog whined, inching down but still tried to keep its legs under it. The fight was still there.

I locked my jaw and raised a hard look to Gabriel. Son of a bitch. A sickening smile curled his thin lips as he pushed farther down and twisted the chain around the dog’s neck, choking it.

I took a step but stopped, seeing the two huskies, the beagle with bloody gashes in its side, and the pit bull whose ribs I could see through its skin.

Given all my resentment of Damon Torrance—how he’d tried to kill me last year, how he betrayed Will and Michael, and how he’d tried to hurt Rika—I’d never failed to remember what a true monster looked like.

The dog finally broke and fell to its stomach, shaking as it laid down.

Gabriel grabbed a small chunk of meat from the plate on the garden table and tossed it down to the dog. He then stood up straight and grabbed some more meat, tossing the larger chunks to the trained shepherd and huskie standing behind him as the other dogs looked on hungrily.

“So, they sent me the Nip, huh?” he said, not looking at me as he stroked the huskie’s fur. “Isn’t Michael the alpha dog anymore?”

I tipped my chin up, keeping my tone level despite his slur. “Moscow Rules, Mr. Torrance.” I reminded him. “Number eight. ‘Never harass the opposition.’”

“Number nine,” he shot back, flashing me his dark eyes under a gray brow. “Pick the time and place for action.”

And he held out his hands, gesturing to his men and their guns, which were never far away, and his house, meaning I was on his turf. He had the advantage.

“So, what’s this about?” He wiped his hands off on a linen napkin, digging between his fingers and under his ring. “Are we coming to terms? Will you leave my son alone if he comes home?”

“That depends. Are you open for business?”

All of a sudden, the German shepherd snapped, both he and the pit bull barking at each other as the latter tried to snatch meat. Gabriel took a step, shouting, “No. Heel!” He whipped the cloth, snapping it at the pit bull’s face.

One of his men rushed to grab the dog as Gabriel scowled at the fighting animal.

“That spotted one is pissing me off,” he told the man and then barked at the dog again. “Down. Down!”

The poor animal was dragged away and Gabriel came back to the table, tossing the napkin down. He glanced at me, coming back to our conversation. “Don’t play with me, boy,” he gritted out. “You’re only still alive because Damon will want to do the honors himself.”

“No,” I replied, my tone dead calm. “Your son has made enough of a mess for you, and you don’t need another one right now. If we can do this amicably, I know we’d both prefer it, so don’t try to intimidate me.”

He laughed softly, taking a drink from his rocks glass. Michael, Will, and Rika had agreed that they would move on with their lives and let Damon move on with his if he stayed out of town and away from us.

But not me. I needed to find him, and I couldn’t tell my friends why.

And I needed to find him now, before he returned home and to the protection of his family.

“Your hotel in the city,” I continued. “The Pope. It’s on my side of the river, and I’m interested in it. Quid pro quo. You give me something. I give you something. Is it for sale?”

“Everything’s for sale.” He set his glass down and took a seat, gesturing for me to do the same. “But I’ll want my son back.”

Of course, you do. I took a seat in the black, wrought iron garden chair, trying to look relaxed despite the ache in my knotted stomach. I hated him and this house.

“And even if that is on the table,” he went on, “it still won’t be enough to make a deal. I don’t like you.”

“I do.” A young blonde approached, and I turned my gaze on her. She wore a white silk robe just long enough to cover her ass as she leaned over to set another drink in front of Gabriel. “And I’m for sale,” she teased.

I cast my gaze back at Gabriel, trying to ignore the interruption. It was neither unusual to see women dressed like that in this house, nor was her flirtation out of the ordinary. Entertainment was always within reach here. Even when Damon’s mother had lived here.

I dropped my eyes, feeling adrenaline flood my veins at the memory of her. I didn’t like her any more than her husband.

The young woman moved to walk away, but Gabriel pulled her back and into his lap.

“You know what your problem is?” he asked me as he snaked a hand around her and squeezed her breast through her robe. “Why, out of the three of you, you were the one I hated hanging around my son in high school?”

I remained silent.

“Your loyalty has a limit,” Gabriel said, answering his own question. “I could always see that. Grayson and Crist, they would protect you even if they found a dead hooker in your bed and blood on your hands. No questions. No hesitation. And so would Damon.” He nodded at me. “But I don’t think you’d do the same for them.”

His arrogant eyes held mine as he slipped a hand inside her robe, absently fondling her breast.

I curled my hands into fists. But then I relaxed, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He would never know how much I’d done for his son.

“Even your love for your friends,” he continued, “could never overshadow your sense of right and wrong, right?”

“I went to prison for assaulting a police officer. For a friend,” I reminded him.

“No. For assaulting a man you believed deserved it for abusing his sister,” he argued. “Even as a criminal, you’re noble.”

He then turned his eyes on the girl. “You see, honey,” he told her, pulling his hand out of her robe and brushing her hair behind her ear. “Kai Mori is a self-righteous little fucker, and I want you to go over there and suck him dry right now.”

Anger instantly heated my body. The girl locked eyes with me, cocking her head playfully, and then she walked around the table toward me.

That motherfucker. He knew how to work people, didn’t he? If I left now, the conversation was over. No deal. Which is probably exactly what he had in mind. He might want Damon back, but he didn’t want to deal with me. He expected me to jump ship and run.

Now if I let the girl blow me, that would surprise him, wouldn’t it?

She stopped in front of me, and I held her eyes as she knelt down, her merlot-colored finger nails slowly scaling up my thighs. She grasped my belt, and I grabbed her hands, shoving her off.

No.

Gabriel wasn’t pushing me down the gutter with him.

I rose, straightening my belt and smoothing my hand down my jacket.

“Always predictable.” Gabriel laughed.

The girl looked to him, probably scared she’d done something wrong, and he jerked his chin at her, speaking Russian. She immediately stood and headed back into the house.

“You should try her, though,” he told me, picking up his drink. “A throat a mile deep on that one.”

“Everything okay?”

I jerked my head, seeing Michael and Will standing in the doorway to the house, watching us. I let out a breath, not realizing I’d been holding it. I wasn’t sure if they’d seen what had just happened, but I didn’t really care.

“Hanson,” Gabriel called his man over, setting his drink back down and putting his arm around the waist of a brunette who had come up. “Take these gentlemen into the dining room.” He glanced at the three of us. “My assistant will meet you in there to discuss terms and The Pope. I’ll be in touch.”

And off he went, taking the young woman with him into the house.

The flat expression that I’d been forcing faltered, and I glared at his back as he left.

Damon’s father was nearly identical to Michael’s in personality. I hated them both. And I completely understood why my father rarely spoke to either of them at parties or sporting events growing up. It was the one area where Katsu Mori and I agreed.

“Gentlemen.” Hanson stepped forward, holding out his arm and gesturing for us to follow him into the house.

Michael pinched his eyebrows together, questioning me with his eyes, but I shook my head, following the servant.

The dogs. The girl. The crowd of people he didn’t give a shit about seeing his filthy deeds. He wanted me to know he was stronger.

But I was going to be smarter.

Hanson led us back through the house, hands locked behind his back until we came to a set of double doors, and he opened them, inviting us into a dining room. He stopped and turned, letting us enter.

“Please, sit wherever you like,” he instructed. “Refreshments will be served shortly.”

He backed out of the room, closing the black double doors, and as soon as I heard the gold knobs click shut, I released a breath and closed my eyes.

“What happened?” Michael asked, sounding concerned.

I just shook my head, turning away and staring off out the windows to the terrace we’d just left. “I almost forgot,” I mumbled to myself. “I almost forgot there was a reason Damon was so fucked up.”

I kicked the leg of a chair, seething. Goddamn him. He called me a fucking criminal. “Even as a criminal, you’re noble,” Gabriel had said. He could go fuck himself. His cruelty, his diabolical nature, his pleasure in others’ pain…every inch of that guy was filth. I wasn’t the criminal. I was nothing like him.

Michael stepped up. “What’s going on?”

I gripped the back of a chair, seeing Will standing on the other side of the table. “I don’t know yet,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Why did he mention The Pope?”

“It’s—” But I stopped as Hanson opened the door again.

A young woman, this one fully clothed with her hair stuffed up into a newsboy cap, wheeled in a cart with water glasses and a tray of some kind of pastry.

I pulled out a chair, and Michael and Will followed my lead as she got to work getting the refreshments ready. Hanson said something in Russian to her and backed out of the room, drawing the doors closed again.

“It’s across from the dojo,” I told Michael. “I thought we’d check it out for Graymor Cristane.”

“We didn’t talk about that,” he griped. “Where the hell is this coming from? I thought we came here to see if Gabriel knew where Damon was.”

I shot him a leveled look across the table, trying to tell him with my eyes that this wasn’t the best place to talk. Michael knew me well enough by now to know I didn’t make fast decisions. I had a plan.

“I don’t think he knows where he is,” I told Michael as I relaxed into the chair. “Why not put the past behind us and make a deal? The hotel is still in great condition. We could make something out of it.”

“What?” Michael looked at me like I had three heads.

I almost laughed.

I made a show of glancing to my right where the girl was working, and then said with a smile in my eyes, caging, “Did you know The Pope is a Torrance property?” I rounded my eyes on Michael, hoping the knucklehead knew how to pick up a hint. “It’s been abandoned all this time. But it must be pretty nice inside, because all the entrances are fortified with an alarm system, cameras cover every door and corner surrounding the hotel, and there’s even a security guard that still cruises past the hotel at the top of every hour and does a walk around the perimeter every four hours. I noticed that from the dojo.”

Michael studied me, the wheels in his head turning, while Will still looked confused.

Come on, Michael. Figure it out.

And finally I saw the light go on in his eyes, realization hitting. “Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “Right.”

I smiled to myself, glad he finally understood.

Why all the security for a place not being used? Why not just lock and board up the doors? Or tear it down and sell it off? Why was it sealed up and guarded like a prison?

Damon was there.

I had no intention of buying the hotel, but I wanted inside of it. And if the rumors about a mysterious, hidden twelfth floor were true, I needed full access to the place and privacy to explore.

Damon had tried to kill us. He wasn’t going to be allowed to come home ever. But there was a reason I needed to find him. We had a loose end to take care of.

A cloth napkin and water glasses were set in front of us, and I heard a shuffle of dishes behind me. Where was this assistant we’re supposed to meet?

“Just trust me,” I mumbled to Michael, still speaking in code. “It’ll be a great hotel. And if it’s not clean, we’ll clean it up nice and quick.”

He laughed under his breath and then opened his mouth to speak, but the servant came around and placed a plate in front of him.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, swiping his hands in front of him to stop the kid. “Ny-et.”

She quietly picked up the plate again and set the one in her other hand down in front of Will, before circling the table to come over to me.

“Do I know you?” Will spoke up, staring over my head to the young woman who was filling my water glass.

But before the girl had a chance to answer, Michael turned to him. “Come on, dickhead. Now now,” he grumbled. “You don’t need to get laid every time we stop the car. Damn.”

Will’s eyes turned angry, every muscle in his body looking tight. Jesus. He shoved his chair back and stood up, walking out one of the glass doors leading to the patio.

I sat up straight and let out a breath. I knew Michael meant it as a joke, but not really, either. And Will knew it. He knew his extracurricular activities were becoming a problem, but he didn’t want his friends pointing it out.

Michael stared at the table, his hazel eyes hooded and a little regretful. I watched Will through the doors as he lit a cigarette, a habit he’d picked up last year.

“So, anyway,” Michael continued, “we get inside the hotel, do an ‘assessment’, and see if everything is…copacetic before we try to buy it, right?”

I nodded, taking a drink of my water.

“And if it’s not?”

Meaning ‘And if Damon is there?’

Then we handle it. But before I had a chance to answer him, I saw Michael jerk back as water and ice cubes spilled onto the sleeve of his jacket. “Jesus Christ…”

The girl hurriedly lifted the pitcher back up, bowing her head in apology.

“Iz-vee-nee-tye,” she gasped out in a small, scared voice. I glanced up at her, unable to see her face hidden under the hat. She pulled the container away and set it down, grabbing a napkin and trying to wipe off his sleeve.

“Just…” He snatched the towel away from her. “Leave it alone. And take this away.” He handed her his glass and the wet linen, immediately turning away and dismissing her.

She bowed her head again, hurrying off to hide herself somewhere behind me where the serving table and her cart sat.

I stood up, walking toward the doors to the patio and looking out. “If everything isn’t how it should be,” I said, “then I’ll handle it.”

“Just you?” Michael stood up and made his way toward me.

“You take care of Rika,” I told him. “And Will.”

The business I had with Damon was private.

Michael leaned in, speaking low. “We all need to face him, especially Will. He’s floundering without Damon.”

“Damon tried to kill him,” I bit out. He’d tied a cinderblock to his ankle and threw him in the fucking ocean.

“Yeah.” Michael nodded, meeting my eyes. “His best friend tried to kill him.”

“We’re his best friends.”

“Damon and Will were always closer,” he said. “Just like the two of us are closer. Will needs Damon. You know he’s spiraling. He needs to face him. So, let us all find the son of a bitch and give him a warning he’ll never forget.”

“You want him in the same room as Rika, too?”

Michael ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. That was a no.

“You take care of everyone else, and I’ll take care of The Pope,” I instructed. “He’s no less of a threat to Rika than Trevor was.”

And we both knew how Michael had handled his brother. The idea of doing the same to Damon—someone who had been a friend—made my stomach roll, but I would do what I had to do. To keep my friends safe.

And to keep Damon’s goddamn mouth shut.

I turned and walked back to the table, remaining standing. I spotted Will outside the doors making his way toward us again, hopefully having calmed down.

“Enough of the fucking waiting,” I told Michael, picking up my glass and taking another drink. “Let’s take care of loose ends.”

“Yeah, speaking of waiting,” Will chimed in, stepping through the door. “Where is this guy? This assistant we’re supposed to meet?”

I watched as he opened the doors to the hallway and called out to someone. “Hey?” He backed up, letting the man, Hanson, come into the room.

“Yes, sir.” He looked to Will in question.

“Where is this assistant we’re supposed to be meeting?” Will asked. “We don’t have all day.”

Will probably just wanted this over with so he could get away from Michael.

The man stared at Will hesitantly, and I suddenly felt like a shoe was about to drop. I narrowed my gaze on him. What was going on?

Hanson then turned his head, speaking to the young woman. “Banks?” he asked. “Did you need anything more from the gentlemen?”

Banks? What? My heart pounded in my chest.

I slowly moved my gaze to the servant girl he was speaking to, the one who had stood so demurely next to the wall, quiet this whole time.

I watched as she raised her head, the timid and submissive demeanor now gone. Her gaze met mine, dark brows framing green eyes with a blue rim around the iris. Her chin lifted, a subtle defiance in the gesture.

Oh, my God. Her?

“No, I think I have all I need,” she told him.

She then untied the white apron around her waist and tossed it on the cart of food.

I forced down the lump in my throat. Fuck.

That dark hair hidden under a cap, the slender shoulders and narrow jaw, the men’s clothes she still wore… Only instead of the dirty jeans, broken shoes, and oversized sweatshirt I remembered, it was now a pair of black suit pants, a black shirt, and a striped neck tie.

I dropped my eyes. Her fingernails were still dirty, though, visible in her fingerless leather gloves.

She turned on her heel and left the room, grabbing a suit jacket off the chair in the hall and donning it as she disappeared from sight. I followed her with my eyes, my breathing gone shallow.

“Gentlemen,” Hanson said. “Mr. Torrance’s assistant will update him, and one of them will be in touch. If you’re finished, I’ll see you out.”

“What a minute,” Michael barked. “That was his assistant?”

I let out a breath, turning my eyes on him. “That was Banks.”

He pinched his eyebrows together, not remembering, but then the light dawned, and he looked back down the hall to where she’d disappeared and then back to me. And his jaw dropped open.

“What did she hear that she’s going to update him on?” Will spoke up, looking worried. “Did we say anything bad?”

I laughed to myself, my blood suddenly running hot as memories of that night came flooding back.

“Do you think she remembers us?” Michael asked.

I took a step, all of us following Hanson out of the dining room and toward the front door as I mumbled under my breath, “Does she realize he’s not around to get in my way this time?”