Zeda called Torvin when she arrived at his imposing door. He didn't answer. Instead, the door swung open immediately, and he stepped out as if he’d been waiting on the other side.

He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower—his hair was damp, and a fitted gray T-shirt stretched across his delectable, solid muscles.

“Debtor, good to see you,” he flashed her his annoying, triumphant grin and executed an over-the-top, theatrical bow. “You’re a couple of minutes late, ...