Page 1 of Fatal Temptation

CHAPTER ONE

Akio

THE GROUND was cold underneath him. It was hard, too, but it was the cold that seeped into him. Into his skin and bones. It was the cold that made him shake, eyes barely opening to see the bars in front of him, around him. The cage felt smaller each time he woke up in it. The air felt colder.

The footsteps were loud, the slight heel on the shiny black dress shoes making a click-clack as his father crossed the basement. He closed his eyes, swallowing back a sob. He knew it would only make things worse for him.

“Pathetic.”

He looked up and flinched. It wasn’t his father standing before him. It was a mirror image of himself. Who he might have become had his father been successful in breaking him. In molding him into the son he so desperately wanted. The son who’d gotten away.

But it wasn’t his brother who stared down at him with dead eyes. It wasn’t his brother in that expensive suit, a dark red splotch spreading on the left side of that white shirt. He was looking at his worst nightmare; the man he could have become. Darkness tainted the very air around him. That bullet wound in the exact place he’d shot his father.

He hadn’t done it to be heroic. To save the others.

He’d done it for himself.

To survive. To escape the darkness he might become himself.

The other him stepped closer, the red now dripping onto the floor. He crouched down, an ugly grin on his face as their eyes met.

“Pathetic,” he spat again.

He raised his right hand, a gun in it, and then he smiled. The wickedness burned through him when that gun fired and the only good part of him died.

∞ ∞ ∞

Akio woke with a startled breath, body shaking as his heart hammered in his chest. He gasped for air, squeezing his eyes closed as he clutched the sheets. A nightmare. It was only a nightmare.

He blinked, slowly orienting himself. He was in his bed. His room. His door was slightly ajar, which was not how he’d left it. His brother had probably left it like that when he’d checked on him after he’d fallen asleep.

There were no lights on, no footsteps on the hardwood. He was relieved to know that he hadn’t screamed this time. If he had, his sister would be crawling into his bed to hold him while his brother would be pacing the room looking guilty, his husband trying to calm everyone.

They’d done that particular song and dance many times since he’d been saved from his father. He and Diesel’s father. Diesel hadn’t been good at hiding his guilt. Especially in the beginning. That guilt wasn’t his to bear, though. They both knew it was their father’s. Diesel had escaped because his mother had taken him with her. Akio hadn’t even been born when they’d run. Diesel couldn’t have saved him then, and when he found out that they were brothers, he had already saved him.

Diesel and Chris had given him a home. A family. Love. Things he’d never truly had before. He was good. He was happy. He shouldn’t be having nightmares about the past and those dreaded what-ifs. In fact, he hadn’t had that nightmare for months. He wasn’t sure why it was back now. Stress from the last finals approaching? Or perhaps the uncertainty that came with graduating because he didn’t know what came next?

He’d lie awake for hours, trying to find a reason, knowing he wouldn’t find one.

CHAPTER TWO

Lucas

HE HATED waiting. They all had their own way of coping with it, but it was one of those things about the job that just made it that much harder. Sitting on your ass because you needed to wait for confirmation or a warrant? The inactivity was almost the worst part of being in law enforcement.

He leaned back in his chair, gazing across the bullpen he called home for most days of the week. There were eight desks, one at the opposite end from him occupied by Special Agent Ezra Moses from his task force. Mo was a big bald man who always looked like he was about to burst the seams of his suits. Most criminals ran the other way when encountering the man and rightfully so. He could put someone down in less than ten seconds.

His boss’ office was to his left along with the hallway to the kitchen, bathrooms, and elevators. Straight ahead was the computer room. He hated that damned room. You spent enough time in there prowling the dark web for depraved people and you ended up with visceral reactions to stepping through that door.

Special Agent Gemma Sutton was seated at the desk next to his, tapping her pink nails against the top of her desk. They were chipped, the nail polish coming off. She was usually on top of it but lately, she didn’t seem to care too much. She never got long nails done but since day one, she’d had colorful nail polish. It was her little spark of joy in their rough job. She didn’t care what anyone thought of it because if all they could complain about was her nail polish, then she was doing pretty damned well. She was a fantastic agent and even their sourpuss of a boss didn’t dare say anything about it to her. He couldn’t afford to lose her.

They all had that small thing to brighten their usually very dark days. Tahir had his superhero socks he wore every day, Mo had an endless supply of mugs with dirty quotes on them, Evan had the little notes his wife wrote him each morning, and even Sanchez had something. Sanchez, being their grouchy boss, of course, kept his hidden away, but what kind of a federal agent would he be if he hadn’t figured it out?

Sanchez had two daughters, both grown and living on their own, but Sanchez had an old drawing in his desk drawer from when the twins were little. Whenever things got to Sanchez, he would go to his office and pull out that drawing, staring at it for as long as it took for him to calm down.

Sanchez had been doing the job for longer than any of them, so they didn’t begrudge him taking that time. They all knew what the others needed and when they could sense someone falling, they reached out to support them.

Evan would drop a new pair of Spider-Man socks on Tahir’s desk, Gemma had the Sanchez twins’ numbers and texted them when their dad needed to hear their voices but wouldn’t call himself, he and Gemma would buy anything with a dirty quote on it when they saw it to give to Mo, and Mo would write outrageous notes pretending they were from Evan’s wife and slip them into the man’s bag to make him laugh. He would buy the most colorful press-on nails he could find for Gemma, so she’d always sparkle. He was going to buy her some once they got off work because, clearly, she was in need of some support.

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