Stone walls rose before me, crowned with weathered gargoyles that seemed to keep watch over our secrets. The sprawling estate on Chicago’s outskirts had become our sanctuary. Our Sinners and Saints Club, as we’d dubbed it with dark humor. Beyond the iron gates, the distant silhouette of the penitentiary loomed. A perpetual reminder of the night that brought us together and why we chose this particular haven.
A place where five men—bonded not by blood, but by the kind of tragedy that reshaped souls—could speak freely about the nightmare that had shattered our college years. What should have been a time of late-night parties and cramming for finals had instead become a nightmare that changed our entire lives.
I caught my reflection in the window. Exhausted eyes, tension in my jaw. Beneath that, something else lurked: the weight of falling for my best friend’s sister.
Ever since I’d driven to Eric Voss’s home, intending to break his bones for breaking Tessa, an unwelcome realization hadinfected me faster than a staff bacterium. My feelings for Tessa were not brotherly at all.
I knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was falling for Tessa.
Hell, beneath my cloud of denial, I’d been falling for her for years.
Tonight, I needed to hide these feelings from the one person who knew me better than anyone: Tessa’s brother. Ryker had warned me multiple times through the years that if he found me with his sister, he’d dig me a shallow grave. The problem was, Ryker could read me easier than Tessa read romance novels, and the last thing I wanted to do was cause even more problems for Tessa right now.
I’d thought about skipping our weekly poker night. But after promising Tessa to keep quiet about her illness—and, yeah, the guilt of telling Ryker about Voss was still eating at me—I knew I had to show. Especially given our text exchange before Tessa landed in my ER, where they’d practically strong-armed me into committing to game night. If I bailed now, Ryker and the others might know something was up.
Ergo, here I stood. Ready to put on the performance of a lifetime.
Inside, firelight flickered across mahogany walls. Three of my four brothers hunched over the poker table in the corner, their faces illuminated by the overhead lamp.
“Just in time to see me wipe Jace’s ass,” Axel said, tossing chips into the growing pile with the casual confidence of someone about to lose spectacularly.
“Like hell.” Jace’s eyes glinted with the same focus he usually reserved for saving failing companies. He methodically arranged his chips, each stack precisely aligned. “You know, Axel, poker’s a lot like business. The guy making the most noise usually has the weakest hand.”
“Is that the wisdom that made you a billionaire?” Axel rolled his eyes. “Because I’m pretty sure it was your trust fund.”
“The trust fund got me in the game,” Jace countered, his voice taking on that quiet intensity that made boardroom executives squirm in their seats. “Everything since then? That’s all about knowing when other people are full of shit.” He glanced at Axel’s chip stack. “Like right now.”
“Pretty rich, coming from a guy who wears cuff links to poker night,” Axel said, but I noticed him subtly rechecking his cards.
Jace’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Presentation matters. Another lesson from the business world: people underestimate the well dressed.” He pushed a neat stack of chips forward. “Raise.”
“Christ,” Ryker muttered. “And this is why we should’ve capped the buy-in.”
The problem with playing poker against a billionaire CEO like Jace was that yourall inwas his pocket change.
Despite his witty remarks, Jace’s posture seemed a little more withdrawn than usual tonight, perhaps still haunted by that family business he’d acquired last month. The one where he’d promised all hundred fifty employees they’d keep their jobs, even though the board demanded cuts. It had been quite a battle, but Jace had saved every single one of them.
Jace caught my eye across the table, his expression unreadable, save for the slight tightening at the corners of his mouth. His tell, if you knew to look for it. Unlike Axel’s brash confidence or Ryker’s calculated plays, Jace approached poker like he did business takeovers: patient, methodical, waiting for others to reveal their weaknesses before striking.
“You seem distracted tonight, Blake,” Jace said, voice calm enough that the others paid no attention to it beneath Axel’s trash talk.
The observation wasn’t accusatory, just Jace’s typical perception. He’d built his fortune reading people’s vulnerabilities after all. I shrugged it off, but there was something in his knowing gaze that made me wonder if he saw more than I wanted him to. If anyone in our group understood keeping secrets the most, it was Jace.
Ryker looked up, and our eyes met.
An unspoken question passed between us.Any luck finding Voss?
I gave a subtle shake of my head.
“Scotch?” He stood, already reaching for the crystal decanter.
“Can’t. Have to head back to work after this.”
“Another marathon shift?” Axel whistled. “Man, this chief of emergency medicine thing has you working like a resident again.”
Sitting down, I shuffled the second deck of cards. The familiar motion helped steady my hands, giving me something to focus on besides Ryker’s concerned glances. If he kept looking at me, he might realize Eric Voss wasn’t the primary cause of my turmoil tonight.
“Speaking of your questionable life choices …” Axel smirked. “Whatever happened with that nurse that asked you out?”
