Page 69 of Savage Daddies

“Don’t you know how to climb?” Zoe gestures us inside.

Bullwhip and Poet pocket their very feeble weapons and scurry up the wall.

Last to climb, I grip the sandstone brick and launch myself up. Soon I’m rolling onto the library carpet, muscles already done for the day.

Zoe watches us all stand. A nightgown drapes from her shoulders, falling all the way down to her ankles. In our presence, she belts the garment around her and folds her arms over her chest. She tenses her face. Even her pert little nose somehow looks sharper than normal.

“You can’t be here.”

“We want to save you, Zoe.”

“No.” She shakes her head, a few pieces of hair falling from her clip. “You don’t understand.” She turns away from us to shut the library door, and then rests her back against it. “He knows what we did in the bathroom.”

“Impossible,” says Bullwhip.

I death-glare the guy.Give her a chance to explain, man.

“Somehow, he got his hands on my panties. You know—the red ones I totally forgot about?”

“Shit.”

“You couldn’t tell that you weren’t wearing any…?”

“Other things took center stage, like you guys hiding your true identities. By that point we were outside, and it was too late to go back.” She blows out a sigh. “Anyway. Felix isn’t happy.”

“And by ‘not happy,’ you mean…?”

“If we’re caught again, he’s gonna kill my sister.”

Murder? That’s how Felix operates?

Despite the exhausted face, somehow Zoe looks more beautiful than ever. It’s the bare face, I think. Makeup complements her features, but they stand out all on their own without chemical enhancement. She looks teary, and the nightgown look suggests she doesn’t even have energy to dress herself today.

“I’m not allowed to leave.”

And she’s probably glad about that. Leaving the house requires effort. A two-hour makeover. It means she has to smile and pretend everything’s fine. Here, at least, there’s no pressure to be the best version of herself.

Even though she already is. It comes without effort. Her lashes brush softly over her emerald eyes as she blinks, and her slender hands wrap around herself.

Pushing off the wall, I step forward and fling my arms over her. Tuberose wraps around my senses, and her soft skin melts into mine. Some of us have been blessed with the best upbringings, but others haven’t, and I don’t think she knows how it feels to receive a hug from a man who actually understands.

The only person who she seems close to is her little sister, but Poet—after digging his nose into her school records back when he taught—revealed that apparently, Fiona had a bad case of depression. Nothing about her home life was stable. The man who had Paul in a headlock yesterday, threatening him with cruelty, is no father. He doesn’t know the first thing about parenting, and neither does Felix.

Paul was right. The loners in society are the rich ones, and it’s because no other source of happiness exists in their lives. Felix and Warren both have family. Neglecting those families for money makes them psychos.

Zoe pulls away. “Thanks.”

I wipe a tear from her cheek. “You’re welcome.”

“You need to go,” she says.

Bullwhip draws closer. “Is Felix here?”

“No.”

“What time will he be home?”

“Late. He’s on the strip.”

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