Nova’s black SUV rolled up the long winding driveway just as the sun dipped behind the snow-capped mountains. The mansion looked like something out of a movie — all dark glass and stone, completely isolated. She thought it was just another safe house her father had arranged while he handled his “business problems.” She grabbed her small designer bag and stepped out, heels clicking on the stone.
Three men were waiting on the wide front steps.
All of them huge. All of them dressed in tight black shirts that stretched across thick chests and bulging arms. The leader, Kane, stood in the middle — forty-one, silver threading through his short black hair, jaw like granite. Rafe leaned against the railing, thirty-seven, quiet and scarred, tattoos peeking from his sleeves. Drake, thirty-four, had
