1. Hayden

I sat in my car a block from her apartment for nearly twenty minutes, waiting for her to emerge. When she finally did, I sank lower in my seat to remain undetected, though I had no idea why I bothered. She was utterly clueless to my presence, paying no attention to her surroundings as she swept down the street and headed in the opposite direction from where I watched, her head down as she dug for something in her purse. She was probably singing or whistling as she strolled merrily along, too.

That sounded like her.

She walked right past a stranger who paused to gaze after her as if she were a tasty morsel. My stomach clenched. I wasn’t sure if he was contemplating mugging or raping her, or maybe he just wanted to check out her ass, but I wasn’t a fan of his crude attention.

“Dammit, Kaitlynn,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head in aggravation as she finally tugged her keys from her purse and then paused at her car to unlock the door, still unaware of any possible danger lurking about. “Please don’t tell me you’re this fucking oblivious every morning.”

It was a miracle she’d survived past childhood.

I watched the guy on the street, who was still rubbernecking, prepared to move if he did. But he didn’t go after her, and once she climbed behind the wheel of her ancient ride and it chugged to life before she pulled away from the curb, he finally turned away and left.

“Creep,” I called him.

Openly ogling a woman like that on the street was just wrong, especially when that woman was my stepsister. The bastard made me feel protective and want to intercede and warn him not to mess with her.

And nothing made me more irritable than having any type of damn feelings.

Grumbling, I started my engine and pulled out into traffic too, only to steer right back to the curb a block later and park in the very spot Kaitlynn had just vacated. Now that she was gone and out of the way, I could go about my business.

Her gawker had moved on as well, but I easily forgot about him as I took in the crumbling brick siding of her building. With a heavy sigh, I ground my molars and exited the car. Why she’d chosen to live in this dump, I’d never understand.

I’m sure she thought it was the best she could afford, but still. The neighborhood left a lot to be desired.

Wincing when my shoes crunched over broken glass on the sidewalk, I flicked my ankle in an effort to shake the debris free from the soles of my freshly shined Italian Ferragamos and then dodged around a rusted nail.

Nice. I hoped my tetanus shot was up-to-date.

When I reached the entrance to Kaitlynn’s building, I had to tug hard on the handle to unstick the jamb, yanking twice before it finally flew open.

“Jesus.” How many repairs did one place need?

Drawing in a breath through my nose to remain calm, I stepped inside. And all pretenses of calm fled when my nose twitched, and I gagged on the stench of old garbage.

I had a feeling I knew exactly what this summons would entail, and it was already pissing me off. The fucker was going to beg for more money again.

And idiot me, I’d probably give him some.

The super’s office sat on the first floor, about halfway down the south hall. With no windows—just dim lights that flickered overhead—it felt like traveling down a tunnel. At least the hallway on Kaitlynn’s floor, up on the fourth level, was wider and brighter, but still, she probably had to walk this disturbing corridor whenever she needed to see the owner or pay her rent. Which meant he and I needed to have a serious chat about fixing the lighting in this place.

When I reached a door that said Manager in crumbling, grayed letters with the G scratched off, I lifted my hand to knock, causing the cloth of my new suit jacket to pull taut across the back of my shoulders. Wincing over the constricting sensation, I readjusted my tie and decided to use a different tailor the next time, someone willing to give me a little more breathing room.

“Just a sec,” a muffled voice from inside grumbled. Scuffling sounds followed before the door was jerked open to reveal the unshaven owner of the building, his thinning salt-and-pepper hair greased back and wrinkled shirt stained down the center of the front and around his armpits. Bloodshot eyes scowled at me before recognition set in.

“Oh, it’s you.” Nodding, Darmon opened the door wider and stepped back to let me in. “You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“I’m on my way to work,” I answered, entering the dingy, cramped space that smelled of sweat and stale alcohol. Ignoring pleasantries, I cut to the heart of the discussion, adding, “What did you want?”

I ignored the tattered vinyl chair to remain standing. Why sit and get comfortable when I wanted him to remain as unnerved and uneasy as possible?

“Uh, yeah. About that.” Darmon shifted his feet awkwardly and eyed his chair behind his desk, probably realizing he couldn’t sit since I hadn’t. Hmm, too bad.

Scratching the back of his neck, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to the door behind me. “I, uh, I’m going to need to raise the rent around here.”

I took a moment to study the nervous dart of his gaze and the agitated twitch in his hand as he ruffled his oily hair. Then I answered, “No. You’re not.”

His gaze shot to me, instantly morphing from nervous fretting to incredulous and righteous indignation. “What do you mean, no?” he cried. “It’s my goddamn building. You can’t tell me no.”

“Really?” I lifted a single eyebrow. “Then why did you call me here to ask for my permission?”

Huffing out an outraged snort, he muttered, “I wasn’t asking for your permission. I just…” His gaze shifted away apprehensively. “I just thought you should know.”

Remaining calm and unmoved, I simply said, “And why is that?”

With a moody scowl, he flailed out a hand. “Y-you know why.”

“Because you really do need my permission?” I guessed, canting my chin to the side. “Because I have you by the short and curlies, and I’ll destroy you if you do anything that pisses me off? And you knew raising her rent would piss me off?”

He narrowed his eyes without responding.

With a bitter smile, I said, “That’s what I thought.”

“It’s my goddamn building,” he repeated, mumbling the words as the last of his annoyance drained away and defeat took its place. He knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on, not when talking to me.

When I’d first met him, it had been to confront him for his bait-and-switch activities. He showed potential residents the nicest apartment in the building and quoted a decent price for it, only to retract his words just as leasing contracts were signed so they’d end up with a shitty room half the size as they were expecting but at the same price.

He’d been about to pull that stunt on Kaitlynn when she’d chosen this building to live in. After a little research into Richard Darmon’s background, however, I’d been able to catch on to his tactics and stop him before he screwed her over as well. Blackmailing him into giving her the single decent apartment in the entire building in order to keep my silence from the authorities, I had managed to hold Kaitlynn’s landlord right where I wanted him.

And now, he knew better than to fuck with her.

“It wasn’t just her rent I was going to raise,” Darmon muttered moodily. “I need to raise everyone’s.”

“Why?” I repeated, slipping my hands into my pockets as I watched him sweat and squirm under my persistent stare.

“Because…” He waved a hand as if that should explain everything. “This place ain’t cheap to maintain, you know. We just got that new elevator installed and—”

“Except I funded all the expenses for the elevator,” I cut in, narrowing my eyes, unable to believe he would even mention the elevator. He’d paid exactly nothing to get the damn thing restored; I’d been the one to dish out twenty-eight grand for it. All because this was the crappy place where Kaitlynn had chosen to live.

“Yeah, well.” He sniffed and watched me warily. “There’s more that needs fixed.”

I glanced at the stains on the wall dryly. “Yes. I’m quite aware. And I must say, I’m a little disappointed at how poorly you manage your money. Can you not even get lights installed that don’t flicker?”

He blustered a moment before exploding, “Do you know how much new ballasts and bulbs would cost for this entire building?”

“I really don’t care,” I answered, glancing down at the watch on my wrist. “Just get it done and send me the invoice. I’ll cover the cost of repairs. But you won’t raise a single person’s rent in this building.” Especially hers. Leaning forward, I lowered my voice. “Is that understood?”

One would think that would appease the jackass. I was pretty much giving him thousands of dollars.

But sadly, no. He moaned and complained as if I was standing in the way of his entire source of happiness, because we both knew he’d had no plans of using the extra money from raising rent for actual building maintenance.

“Why can’t you just front me the money beforehand?” he whined.

I blinked at him, wondering if I really came across as that stupid and naive. Damn, I probably did. “Just get the repairs done. When I’m satisfied with how well you do them, then I’ll pay.”

Snickering, he turned away as if to dismiss me. “Yeah, whatever you say, ya pretentious prick. We’ll do it your way this time. I won’t raise your sister’s precious rent.”

“Good.” I set my hand over my heart. “And I hope this means we can still be friends, Dick.”

He shot me a glare. “It’s Rick. And I’d sooner befriend Satan himself.”

I shrugged, indifferent. “As long as you fix the lighting, I don’t give a fuck what kind of company you keep.” Dusting lint off the sleeve of my jacket, I turned away. “And see what you can do about the ventilation and trash situation around here. Your foyer smells like ass.”

I left him grumbling to himself and started back down the cave-like hall toward the entrance of the building.

It would’ve been easier to just buy the entire place out from under Darmon, but he was being a douche and wouldn’t shoot me a decent offer. Besides, becoming Kaitlynn’s landlord would probably give away the whole “stealth” part of my mission.

You see, I didn’t want her to actually know I kept tabs on her, and it would be impossible to remain discreet if I openly bought the building of the girl I was secretly trying to watch over.

Letting her realize I was so involved in her life was completely out of the question, too. I’d known Kaitlynn since she was seven. The stubborn little shit liked to make her own way. If she caught on to the fact that I was around to break her fall, she might get all out of joint or completely take things the wrong way. Hell, she might even start to believe I cared or something.

Which I didn’t.

Not purposely, anyway.

The fact of the matter was her dad had been more of a father to me than my own. Honestly, he’d been the only true parent figure in my life.

After Lana had married him when I was seventeen, he’d taken me under his wing and actually taught me shit, bringing me to the office with him and showing me how to run a business when I was just a teen. He’d taught me that truth, honor, hard work, and tenacity were what mattered most.

I had admired the hell out of Arthur Judge, and Kaitlynn had been his only child, his beloved baby girl. I refused to disrespect his memory by letting Lana destroy her. And hurting Kaitlynn sometimes seemed to be Lana’s sole purpose in life.

I already felt shitty enough about everything Lana had already inflicted on my stepsister. But as soon as Arthur had died, Lana had moved faster than I could anticipate.

I’d still been mourning him and trying to deal with a world where he no longer existed, while Lana had been kicking Kaitlynn out of the only home she’d ever known, disowning her, and leaving her destitute. By the time I’d been able to see beyond my own grief, most of the damage had already been done. I still wasn’t sure how Lana had gotten Arthur’s will to state that practically nothing be left to his only child, but I had never believed it—it had to be a lie—and someday I was going to prove I was right.

Until then, I kept trying to watch over Kaitlynn and prevent her from falling on even worse times. And if that meant dipping into my savings to fix an elevator in her stupid apartment building, then so be it. It was probably rightly her inheritance money—not mine—anyway.

I owed it to Arthur to look after her.

I just wished sometimes—or rather all the time—that she’d picked a different, better place to live. Because this building sucked, and it was run by a dirty crook.

Pushing open the front door, I started to exit, only to be jostled backward against the portal when a kid between eight and twelve years old with floppy black hair came racing inside at a dead run, laughing and shouting, “Watch out!” as he went.

He dashed off, not even pausing to check whether I was okay or not.

I blinked after him as he sped down the north hall of the first floor until a voice from outside shouted, “Miguel! Dammit. Slow down. You’re supposed to make sure I can always see you, remember?”

Since I was still standing in the open doorway with my back pressed against the exit, all I had to do was turn my head to see her.

And just like that, time switched into slow motion.

Juggling three heaping paper sacks full of groceries in her arms, the woman hustled toward the entrance in hot pursuit of the boy.

“Sorry about that,” she told me, out of breath as she reached the entrance. “Are you okay? He can be such a brat sometimes.”

But she didn’t pause to wait for an answer, too busy hurrying inside so she could get a visual on the boy again. Brushing past where I was inadvertently holding the door open for her, she had her arms so full that her elbow barely glanced across the plane of my stomach, causing all my abdominal muscles to tense dramatically.

I sucked in a harsh breath.

She passed by so damn closely, in fact, that I got a vivid picture of her in side-profile, and I knew for certain I’d never forget that face.

She was quite simply stunning.

Her hair was dark and shoulder length, cut in varying lengths so a few tendrils spiked out in a fashionable mess. Her eyes were a chocolate brown fringed with the curliest lashes I’d ever seen. And her pink painted lips were equally as full on the bottom as they were on the top.

Her hair that was tucked behind one ear revealed two earrings, one a black stud just above a green emerald. And three droplets of sweat coasted down her jawline, making me imagine licking the salty flavor away with my tongue.

The neckline of her gray sweater was large enough that it threatened to slip off her shoulder completely. It revealed the black strap of her bra, leaving me filled with the temptation to drift my fingers over that strap, barely grazing smooth flesh as I went.

Then there was her scent. God, she smelled comfortable and cozy, like wood smoke and cinnamon apple pie on a cold day, just after you’d come inside to warm your hands in front of an open fireplace. Everything about her seemed like a haven of heat and security and passion.

Instant craving unfurled inside me. I honestly couldn’t recall ever wanting a complete stranger as much as I wanted to just lean into this one and soak in all the things that felt so strong and tranquil yet exciting about her.

Not once in that brief moment she brushed past me, however, did she even look up into my eyes.

“Miguel!” she shouted, as soon as she was inside, making me blink past the awareness and yearning I’d just experienced. “Get back here now. I’m going to skin your hide for taking off on me like that.”

But the kid who had raced on ahead of her was long gone. Only his laugher floated back to taunt, “Hurry up, Gabby. Last one home’s a rotten egg.”

Gabby.

So, her name was Gabby, huh?

I liked that. It fit her.

“Oh, you are so dead,” Gabby muttered, shuffling after him as fast as she could with her arms full of groceries. “You’ll think rotten egg for scaring me like that.”

Having completely forgotten about me, she hurried after him, disappearing as quickly as Miguel had.

She’d been somewhere between ten to twenty years older than the kid, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that she’d been his mother, but he’d called her Gabby, which made me think not-the-mom, even though I referred to my own mother by her given name. I had the sense those two didn’t have the same kind of cold, distant relationship Lana and I did.

Sister was my first guess, then maybe aunt. Probably not a babysitter, as their connection had felt more familial.

Not that it mattered what their relationship was. I doubted I would ever see them again. Which made me realize I’d been standing there in the open entrance, my back still pressed against the door, gazing at the spot I’d last seen her like a lovestruck idiot.

Annoyed by my own reaction, I shook my head and stepped outside, grasping the lapels of my jacket before jerking it to rights again, straight and wrinkle-free. Then I strode toward my car.

I didn’t have time to daydream about pretty girls. I had a job to get to. And a mystery to solve.