“Chigh. I’ve got this.” I coached myself and hin up, tits out, back straight, head held

inhaled a hard and fast breath while staring at my image in the entryway mirror of my childhood home.

Kerrighan House.

A home for orphaned girls. Well, it used to be. Now it’s just home. The place each of us “sisters” visited on a regular basis just like any normal siblings would to see their parents. In our case, it was parent, singular. But the love Mama Kerri gave to each and every one of her girls was a thousand times that of any family I’d ever seen or stayed with before arriving here almost two decades ago. I was eight then, a frightened and scared little girl. At twenty—six now, I was back in my old bedroom and once again frightened and scared out of my mind.

“He’s dead,” I told my image while staring in the mirror. “He can’t get you.” I watched my reflection and forced myself to unlock my jaw, soften my appearance, and gaze into the mirror as though it were a camera. This was the same way I prepared for my photo shoots. As a model, I had to be a master at masking my feelings. And I used to be the best at it. But now, when I look in the mirror, I not only see the mass of scars running up and down the insides of my forearms, but also the fear I have yet to shake even after three months.

Parents I didn’t know and would never meet blessed me with medium brown hair with incredible natural auburn highlights that I grew to the middle of my back. Emerald green eyes with a hint of a blue sheen stared back at me. Plump lips on a heart—shaped face that women and men around the world adored. I ran my hands over my large breasts and down the sides of my waist to hips that were once very rounded. The hourglass shape I normally rocked was looking a little thin. I’d lost weight after the ordeal, but then I put some back on. My clientele preferred me to model their clothing, bathing suits, and especially lingerie when my body was between a size fourteen and sixteen. After three months of physical healing and mental hell, my size fourteens were a little loose. But I knew my body looked smokin’ hot, soft, and sensual at that size and larger. That didn’t mean I hated on women who were smaller than me. Every single one of my seven foster sisters weighed less than me, and all of them looked amazing in their own skin. Which is how I used to feel, until a portion of my skin was blistered and burned beyond recognition.

“Addy! Baby girl, you ready or what?” my foster sister and best friend Blessing asked while clomping down the stairs in her sky—high stilettos.

I glanced at my sad self in the mirror one last time hoping I could fulfill this new contract. It was going to set me up for a huge payday, not that I needed it. Still, I liked knowing I had a ridiculous amount of money saved in the event that me or one of my sisters needed to be bailed out. I’d lived my adolescent years prior to Kerrighan House uncertain where my next meal would come from, worrying whether or not I’d have to fight other hungry kids in one of the many foster homes I stayed. Until the day I walked into the open, loving arms of Mama Kerri and my new sisters. Once I was settled at Kerrighan House, I promised myself I’d become something amazing one day. Make enough money to take care of myself and everyone I loved. Which meant basically Mama Kerri, the world’s greatest foster mother of all time, and my seven foster sisters: Blessing, Sonia, Simone, Liliana, Genesis, Charlie, and the recently deceased Tabitha.

Tabby.

My eyes started to tear, and my heart pounded a loud bass drum beat against my chest as flashes of Tabby teasing me, of taking my picture, of her laughing sprinted across my mind.

“Girl, I said are you ready to hit it or what? These are huge clients of mine and now yours. They’d understand if it were too soon, but Boo, they’d have to hire another model. Now you know I prefer when you rock my clothing and lingerie, but this client has the power to get my designs into the regular box stores. We’re talking Macy’s, Nordstrom, Dillard’s and more. Right now, everything I sell is boutique and upscale, but I want to rake in the real cash. You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed as I nodded. “I do, Blessing. I understand and I’m ready. I swear I am. It’s just scary this first time out.”

Blessing wrapped a long arm around my shoulders and stared at the two of us in the mirror. Blessing was an inch shorter than me, but in heels, she towered over my five—foot, eleven—inch form. Her corkscrew ebony curls were bouncing all around her head in a perfectly stylized ’fro. Her black skin shone like silky smooth river rocks and felt just as soft. She smelled of her customary coconut oil mixed liberally with a light, breezy perfume that reminded me of Spring on the stony shores of Cannes, France. A place we’d visited many times together on different photoshoots.

“I’ll be right there. Every second, every minute. You’ll never be alone, okay?” Her reflection spoke and her onyx—colored eyes seared straight into mine with a seriousness that couldn’t be denied. My girl was in “Big Sister Mode” and had been since Simone and I had survived a madman. Blessing on a good day was protective of the family she chose in all of us and Mama Kerri. After our lives were threatened and we lost Tabby, that protection gene of hers became extreme. Knock down, drag out, she’d cut a bitch if they so much as looked at one of us cross. Unfortunately, this did not help the situation with the paparazzi.

Once word got around that Senator Sonia Wright’s biological sister Simone was involved in the Backseat Strangler case, and that two of her foster sisters were also involved, the press went insane. I had been kidnapped, but Tabitha ended up dying. When my identity was released—Addison Michaels—Kerrighan, international plus—sized model—and the world found out I was famous in my own corner of the market, things got intense. The paparazzi followed all of us incessantly. They camped outside Kerrighan House waiting for one of us to exit and go about our daily routines. By now, Blessing and I were the only ones still staying with Mama Kerri. The rest of our sisters had gone back to their homes and schedules, only coming back here to meet up for family dinner each week as usual.

I clenched my teeth and grabbed my giant sunglasses from the table underneath the mirror where I’d left my purse and plopped them on my nose. Blessing grabbed hers, a fashionable circular pair with gold trim that went perfectly with her stunning blue jumper and gold belt cinched around her tiny waist. Her booty, however, was high, rounded, and so hard you could bounce a quarter off it. Blessing worked out almost as much as Sonia did, but mostly to offset her insatiable appetite. Probably one of the things that we bonded over when I arrived and was put in the same room as her all those years ago.

“Lunch after?” I put my purse over my shoulder and my other hand on the doorknob.

Her lips pursed together in a small grin. “For sho,’ Boo. Now let’s give the vultures a good shot, eh? Good to show ’em we’re all just fine. Maybe they’ll move their smarmy asses back to whatever hole they crawled out of and leave us all alone.”

“One could only hope.” I chuckled and opened the door.

Instantly we were hit with what felt like a thousand camera flashes and a roaring blast of questions.

“Ms. Michaels, how does it feel to survive the Backseat

Stranger?”

“What does the Senator have to say about all of this?”

“Is there anything you can tell us about Wayne Gilbert Black?”

Blessing gripped my elbow tight and led me to the black Escalade and driver she’d hired to shuttle us to and from the job.

“What did he do to you?”

“Are you going back to work after such a trying experience?”

“Were you tortured?”

I was tugged from behind by an unknown hand and I cried out in sheer terror. Stars blinked in my peripheral vision as a cold sweat hit my temples and at my nape.

Blessing spun around and shoved the reporter back so hard he tripped on his cameraman and fell backward into a fellow paparazzi member who caught him. “Don’t you lay a finger on my sister!” She hollered at the top of her lungs. “All of you should be ashamed of yourselves. Following me and my family around. One of the members of our family died! Many women and a couple men lost their lives to that bastard. Leave us alone. Let us have some peace! We have enough to deal with.” She looped her arm around my shoulders and the driver pushed his way through the growing crowd and helped usher us into the car.

“Shit. Next time I’m hiring bodyguards,” she huffed and fluffed her ’fro. “You okay?”

I trembled for a moment but got my bearings the farther away we made it down the road and away from the crowd and their intrusive line of questioning. “Yeah, I’ll be all right.”

Blessing took my hand and interlaced our fingers, then set both of them on her thigh. “I’m going to take care of you, Addy. No one is gonna hurt my sister on my watch. That you can bank on.”

I smiled and chuckled, then squeezed her fingers. “My

Big Badass Sister has my back.”

“That’s right. And I always will.”

I leaned against her side and laid my head on her shoulder. “What would I do without you?”

“The good news is, we aren’t ever gonna find out,” Blessing touted as though it were fact. And to her, it was. Though I knew better.

Evil always found a way to taint the good in the world. That evil had already claimed the life of our foster sister Tabby. Anything could happen to any one of us and there was nothing we could do about it.

S

Click. The camera flashed and I was back there.

In that chair.

That dark, freezing cold basement, with rats and other vermin scurrying around my feet.

My chest was tied with thick, uncompromising ropes. My arms zip—tied, forearms facing up so he could continue with his torture against the inner flesh of my arms.

I glanced down at the blistered, ravaged tissue of my inner arms with a detached, vacant assessment. Seeing the torn, bleeding, black wounds on my arms in the only way I could—as if they weren’t mine. The scent of burnt flesh seared my nostrils. I desperately held back my need to vomit as my mouth watered around the cloth gag. It was tied so tight it dug into the edges of my mouth, abrading the sensitive tissue every time I attempted to free myself.

Another camera flash.

“Addison…” A somewhat familiar voice reverberated in the cavernous space around me. I blinked rapidly as my mind swirled while I tried to focus on that tone. It was kind. Compassionate. Connected to someone I loved.

Blessing.

Click.

I shuddered at the sound and shook where I stood, skyrocketing back into that dreaded chair.

The masked attacker was coming back.

He would continue hurting me.

He was going to kill me just like all those other women.

My only hope was they’d find him before they got to my sister Simone. If she were spared, my soul would be free. I could die knowing she was safe.

I had no idea when I got off that plane and met the driver in front of the airport holding a sign with my name on it that I was willingly walking straight into my own personal Hell. He looked the part. Wore all black. Had a Town Car. Knew my name, when I was to arrive. Everything.

Smart girls knew better.

And I was a smart girl. Mama Kerri made sure all of her foster daughters got the appropriate education and graduated high school with good grades. I had a dream and worked toward making that dream a reality. She told us there was no mountain too high when it came to our lives and career goals. I believed her. Took everything she said as gospel and worked my ass off…literally.

I was one of the most coveted plus—size models in the industry. I had millions in the bank. But there was no amount of money in the world that could save me from the Backseat Strangler.

“Addison, honey, you’re scaring me!” Blessing’s voice broke me out of a cold sweat and catapulted me back to the present. I shook like a leaf where I stood under the unnaturally hot lights of the backdrop for the photoshoot.

“Where am I?” I trembled in her arms.

Blessing put her hands to the sides of my neck. They were cool and steady. I shivered in her arms. She placed her face directly in front of mine, her dark eyes fixated on me.

I looked into those familiar, loving eyes like they were my talisman. The only connection I had to my safe place.

“Addy, you are in the middle of a photoshoot,” she said calmly.

I shook my head. “He’s here…” I choked out on a guttural whisper.

She shook her head, her black curls bouncing along with her. “Boo, he’s not. He’s dead. You’re in the middle of a shoot in downtown Chicago. Behind me are your clients and the photographer.”

I looked over her shoulder at the myriad of bodies standing around and staring at us. I clenched my jaw realizing I’d had another moment. That’s what we were calling them. “Moments.” Which was essentially a really kind way of describing my mini—freak—outs. I lost all time, space, or any sense of where I actually was and found myself stuck back in that basement with a serial killer. The place where both Simone and I watched our sister Tabitha sacrifice herself in order to save us.

Tears filled my eyes and started to fall.

“Okay, that’s a wrap. Bring me her robe.” Blessing snapped her fingers at the young fashion design student that she had mentoring under her.

The girl brought my robe and Blessing helped me put it on over the delicate pink bra and panty set I wore.

I wrapped my frozen form and allowed the soft chenille fabric to remind me there were soft and beautiful things I could count on to bring me back to the here and now. Something sizzled in the air, an electricity I could feel that forced me to look up.

Click.

The photographer on the job took a random, candid shot. He was positioned at the lens, his face hidden behind his equipment. I hadn’t been concerned with who was behind the camera, only that this was my first job back after the incident. Now I needed to see the individual or I might go back to when “he” was taking pictures and filming me.

All I was able to see was the man’s long, sandy brownish—blond hair falling around his shoulders. He moved his face and his brown—eyed gaze met mine.

It was as if in that second he saw right through my eyes to the empty, broken, frightened woman beneath the perfect hair and makeup.

Click.

I twitched as gooseflesh rose on my skin, but as long as I looked into those earthy, tranquil brown eyes, I felt grounded. No longer floating aimlessly across an endless expanse of deep, pitch—black waters with no hope for shore. In his eyes, I found my footing. I curled my toes against the cool floor, cementing where I was in that moment.

This man, the photographer with his soulful eyes, trimmed beard, and mustache, held me centered to the here and now with a single look. No longer was I wading back into the dark memory of that night when my entire life changed.

I removed the robe, stared into his gaze, and handed the robe to Blessing. “I’m okay. I’m going to finish.”

“You sure? You don’t have to. The clients understand what you’ve gone through. They’ve agreed to Photoshop the scars marring your arms, but I know them well. They’ll understand if you’re not ready,” she assured me.

I shook my head, my gaze set on the photographer.

I lifted my chin toward him. “I’ve never seen you before.”

One side of his lips twitched up into a small yet sexy smile. “I’m new to fashion photography. And if you’re okay to continue, I’d love to finish.” His gaze darted to the lens. “We’ve gotten some great shots. Most of them after you took a breather. You’re a wild beauty. The camera loves you.”

I smiled. “That’s what they all say when a half—naked woman is standing in front of them.”

He chuckled and the rich baritone sound warmed my body from the inside out.

“I’m Addison Michaels—Kerrighan. And you are?”

“Killian Fitzpatrick.”

Interesting name for an intriguing man.

“You ready to continue or do you want a break?” he asked, no hint of judgement in his tone.

I pursed my lips. “As long as you don’t hide behind the camera,” I stated shakily, then added a soft, “Please and thank you. Apparently, faceless men behind cameras are a new trigger for one of my moments.” As soon as I’d shared that, I balked at my own stupidity. I had no idea why I’d given up something so personal to someone I didn’t know, besides the fact that he had honest, kind eyes, great hair, and a sexy smile.

“I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

Surprisingly, I laughed. “Again, that’s what they all say,” I teased, taking a deep, cleansing breath and letting out all the fear and ugliness that had crept up. I shook my arms and legs as though I were flinging off water, but mostly was just trying to toss aside the negative tragedy that plagued my every waking minute. “Just get a good shot.”

“With you, Addison, I’m not sure there are any bad shots. Though I think with a little time and focus, we could find magic together.” His voice had a warm, comforting tone, laced with a hint of innuendo.

My cheeks heated and I quirked my head and smirked.

Click.

He took another candid shot, glanced at the viewing screen on his camera, and smiled. “Incredible,” he whispered.

For the next half hour, I focused on nothing but the man behind the lens. Flirting without really trying to flirt, but it was almost impossible not to with such a mysterious, hunky guy staring me down with his chocolatey gaze and perfect—looking, kissable lips.

Just as I bent over into a seductive blowing—a—kiss pose, there was a commotion by the entrance to the large open space. I glanced over to see a flurry of uniformed officers along with my sister Simone’s boyfriend, Jonah Fontaine, flashing his FBI badge and storming over to where I was.

He pulled me into his arms and locked them around me so tight, his face going straight into my hair. “Jesus, I’m so glad you’re okay,” he breathed, fear and now relief coating his tone.

I patted his back and looked over my shoulder at Blessing. Ryan Russell, Jonah’s partner in the FBI, was whispering to her. Her eyes widened to an unnaturally large size and she nodded.

“Excuse me. What’s going on here?” Killian approached us while Jonah continued holding me.

He pulled back, put his hands to my shoulders, and then his gaze scanned my barely dressed body. “Shit, Addy.

I’m sorry.” Jonah’s voice was rough, deep and sounded embarrassed.

Blessing found that moment to dash over to us with my robe in hand. “Here.” She thrust the item at me.

Killian took the robe. “Allow me.” He opened it, and I put my arms through it quickly and tied it at the waist.

“Thanks,” I murmured, but he hadn’t moved away. In fact, he stepped closer and put his hands onto my shoulders from behind in a rather affectionate gesture that was so far from acceptable I would normally have shrugged him off and nailed him for touching me. Something inside me however appreciated the warmth imprinting from his palms into my shoulders, soothing me in an uncertain situation. Instead of addressing his handsy approach, I focused my attention on Jonah.

“Is Simone okay? Mama Kerri?” I hurriedly asked.

“What’s going on? Why are the FBI and police at our photoshoot?” Killian interrupted, nothing but concern in his tone.

Jonah frowned and took in the possessive hold Killian had on my shoulders. “Who’s this guy?”

That’s when Killian moved around me and held out his hand. “Killian Fitzpatrick, but my friends call me ‘Fitz.’ I’m the photographer.”

Once more Jonah narrowed his gaze, as though trying to assess the hunky photographer’s motives. Regardless, he shook his head then circled the conversation back to me. “We need to put you into custody. Get the family back together. There’s been, uh, a development in the Backseat Strangler case, and I’m sorry to say, honey, it’s not good.”

I gasped and stepped back. My entire body went on autopilot, shaking uncontrollably. Killian watched me like a hawk with that assessing photographer’s eye and likely knew the very instant fear had taken over my ability to speak, or even function. I started to shake and my limbs turned to Jell—O. I was about to fall to my knees when Killian wrapped his arm around me and brought his face close to my own.

“You’re safe. Whatever happened, right now, you’re safe. Just breathe, yeah?” He stared into my eyes and I focused on watching the color in his pretty brown eyes darken while he audibly breathed. Naturally I aligned my breathing to match his until the woozy, loose—limbed feeling dissipated and the shakes stopped altogether. “Better?” he asked.

I nodded as Blessing came over to us, her gaze astute as she pulled me into her arms. “You okay, baby girl?”

I glanced at Killian, wishing I was still in his hold but still feeling safe surrounded by my sister. “What do you mean there’s been a development?” I asked Jonah.

“A woman was murdered. Not only did she resemble you, but she also had one of your magazine pictures crumpled up and clenched in her hand. There were burns up and down her inner forearms much like yours and she’d been strangled.”

“What? No!” Tears filled my eyes. “What does this mean? He’s dead. I watched him die with my own eyes by Tabby’s hand. He bled out in that basement. He can’t be alive!” I choked out through my tears.

Jonah reached out and ran a comforting hand down my bicep. “I know, Addy, but until we know more, we can’t take any risks. That’s why I was so relieved when we found you. Both of you had your phones off. I had to call your agency to find out where you were. Simone is beside herself, honey.

We need to take you home. Talk all this through and make a plan.”

I closed my eyes remembering the last time we were all brought together at Kerrighan House. We were told about Simone narrowly escaping the Backseat Strangler and how a body had been found dead in her apartment. Things got so much worse after that.

I nodded numbly. “I need to change. Blessing, can you, uh, talk to the clients. This is only the first of twelve shoots we were supposed to do for your new lingerie line. I’m so sorry.”

Blessing took a breath and shook her head. “Don’t you worry. I’ll handle them,” she said and then left to do just that.

“I can be available anytime, anywhere. I’m freelance, and I even have my own setup at home,” Killian offered as Jonah turned around and spoke to Ryan. Killian continued, “If you have the product, we can shoot anywhere depending on if you’re up to it.”

The weight on my shoulders felt too heavy to bear. I had no idea what I was about to be facing or what to do.

He pulled out a card. “My cell phone number is on the back. Call me. We can discuss making new plans… Or you can just call me to talk.”

I reached for the card, but he held on to it. “Talk?” I asked.

His lips lifted into a small smile. “Talk, text. Get to know one another by phone, until I can ask you out properly.”

“Wh—what? Ask me out? Like on a date?” I asked as though the request was so beyond foreign it was spoken in a different language.

My response had him grinning. “Yeah, Addison, a date. When you’re up to it and things cool down. For now though, sometimes it helps to talk out an intense situation with someone who’s not involved. Sounds like you’ve been through a lot and are about to go through more. I know how that feels. Drowning in the thoughts you’re too afraid to share with your loved ones.”

I nodded, feeling every word of what he said. Putting my fears and anxieties on my sisters and Mama Kerri had to stop. They’d been through enough.

“Call me,” he reiterated.

“Um…”

“Addison?”

I licked my lips and blinked, not sure what to say or do.

So many things were coming at me all at once.

“Just reach out. We can talk about everything or nothing, but I’d like to hear from you. I’ll worry if you don’t.”

“You’ll worry about having my foot shoved so far up your ass you won’t be able to eat. Ever.” Jonah growled, catching our conversation and clearly not liking what he was hearing. He tugged me to his side and away from Killian.

“Come on, Addy. Let’s get you home.”

“Okay. And Killian, I’ll call.” I fingered his business card.

“I’ll be waiting. Be safe.”

I barely had it in me to smile sadly.

Safety was an illusion. I didn’t think I’d ever feel safe again.