Ezra woke up the next morning feeling rested. Truly rested. He hadn't woken up like this for years. He looked over to see Aubrey still asleep with her back facing him. He rolled over and wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her closer to him, causing her to moan slightly. She pushed her ass into him, and he worked hard to control his morning urges.

"Someone's excited to see me in the morning," Aubrey's sweet voice teased him.

He chuckled and leaned over her to plant a kiss on her temple. "I'm always excited to see you, Princess. Now, get up, we need to get something to eat." He sat on the edge of the bed and tried not to think of Aubrey laying on the bed behind him. Once his body was calm, he got dressed. He watched Aubrey get out of bed and open up her duffle bag. She pulled out a new set of clothes and started to take off the ones that she was already wearing.

She looked over her shoulder at Ezra and saw him watching her. She chuckled and shook her head. "Watching me get dressed isn't going to help you." She pulled the hoody over her head.

He bit his lips as he nodded, agreeing with her. "No, you're right." He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist and began to place light kisses on her neck. "Excuse me for wanting to worship every inch of your body."

"Ezra," Aubrey sighed as she smiled up at him. She held up a shirt to cover her breasts as she turned around to face him. "I'm hungry."

Ezra chuckled as he got the hint and leaned down to plant a quick peck on her lips. "All right, Princess." He slapped her ass and turned to walk towards the door. "Get dressed and we'll get something to eat."

"Eggs and bacon?" she asked after him.

Ezra nodded. "If Asher has groceries, I'll fix whatever you want." He opened the door and walked out, closing the door behind him. He walked down the hallway searching for the kitchen. He finally found it in the back of the house. He met Asher leaning against the counter by the coffee maker. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and an iPad in his other.

Ezra walked up to the coffee maker and fixed himself a cup of coffee.

"There's the creamer in the fridge," Asher told him without looking up at him. His eyes were glued on whatever was on that iPad.

"No thanks," Ezra answered him. He held up the cup to his lips. "I like it black."

Now Asher looked up at him. He shook his head as he laughed. "I don't know how you are able to drink it black. No sugar?"

Ezra shook his head. "No sugar." He smiled proudly at himself. He knew that people thought that he was weird for drinking black coffee, but he didn't care. It was good for him. He never minded it.

Asher looked back down at the iPad. "You're a strange fellow, Ezra."

"What are you looking at?" Ezra turned and walked over to the fridge, opening it. He stuck his head inside and was glad to find food in the fridge. I wonder how old this food was, he thought to himself.

"I went out this morning to the small grocery store down the road," Asher answered his thoughts. "They're fresh. Also," he held up his iPad. "Just reading."

Ezra stood up and smirked at him. "What are you reading?"

"None of your business," he answered too quickly.

Ezra chuckled and shrugged. He bent down and grabbed a carton of eggs and bacon out of the fridge. He closed the fridge door as he started to cook. "Are you wanting any breakfast? Aubrey's wanting eggs and bacon."

As if on cue, Aubrey walked into the kitchen. She was wearing straight blue jeans and another one of his hoodies. He raised his eyebrow at her. "Did you go through my duffle bag?"

Aubrey beamed at him and nodded. "Of course, I did."

"You brought your own clothes."

She shrugged. "I wanted to wear yours."

Asher chuckled as he moved to the kitchen table and sat down. "I would like some breakfast." He raised his mug up at Ezra. "Cook away."

Ezra rolled his eyes as he started to cook breakfast. Aubrey came up over to him and jumped up on the counter next to the stove. Her legs swung back and forth as she looked at him.

"What's wrong, Princess?" He cracked a couple of eggs into the pan.

Aubrey shook her head. "Nothing."

He looked over at her and pulled her in for a long, passionate kiss. When he pulled back, he smirked at the redness coming up over her cheeks. "Everything will be over soon, Princess."

----

Mr. Hallquist sat in the kitchen, hammered. He had already finished his sixth cup of scotch before he stumbled up to get himself another glassful. He hated himself. He hated what had happened. He hated that he couldn't figure out another way to fix his family situation.

He couldn't think of any other way besides going to Jearon and asking to be a part of his operation.

"We need the money," he slurred as he stumbled up to the counter and grabbed the bottle of scotch. He sloppily poured the rest of the scotch into his glass, filling it up to the brim. He raised the glass to his lips and took a long sip. He barely felt the burning sensation from the alcohol go down his throat.

"Fuck, Ezra," he growled out. "That stupid boy doesn't understand what an op-" he hiccupped. "What an opportunity it is for me to partner with Jearon." He stumbled back against the counter and cursed as he spilled some of the scotch on his shirt. "He brainwashed my daughter." He took another long sip.

"My beautiful daughter," he sighed as tears started to fill his eyes. "It's that motherfucker's fault that she turned against me." He hiccupped. "He brainwashed her into believing that he's the good guy. He's not shit." He slammed the glass down on the counter causing scotch to splash out of the glass.

He left the glass and stumbled over to the front door. He had thought he heard a knock on it. He was praying that it was his daughter telling him that she was wrong, and he was right. That she was going to leave Ezra and let Jearon kill him.

Mr. Hallquist rolled his eyes and huffed as he saw who was at the door. Jearon. "What do you want now?" he slurred out. Two large, tattooed men stood behind him.

Jearon chuckled. His shoulder was still wrapped up and his arm was strapped against his chest. He looked down at Mr. Hallquist. "Are you drunk?"

Mr. Hallquist threw his arms out to either side and stumbled backward. "Doesn't fucking matter whether I am or not." He continued to stumble until he lost his footing and fell hard on his ass. "Nothing fucking matters anymore."

"Help him up," he heard Jearon order.

Mr. Hallquist felt two pairs of hands grab him and pull him to his feet. They followed Jearon further into the house and back into the kitchen. They pushed him into one of the chairs at the table. His head was spinning, and he was having trouble concentrating on the room and Jearon. He could make out Jearon sitting across from him with his glass of scotch in his free hand. He watched as Jearon swirled it around.

"I'm here to collect my payment, Mr. Hallquist," Jearon's voice sounded far away.

"She's not here," he answered him.

There was silence for a moment or two before he heard an angry voice. "What do you mean she's not here?"

Mr. Hallquist shrugged. "That fucker took her again. I don't know where. She found out that we had a deal and got mad. I don't know why. I was just trying to protect and provide for my family."

Jearon was silent. Deadly silent. If Mr. Hallquist was sober, he would have been scared at his silence and sudden change of demeanor. "Where did they go, Mr. Hallquist," Jearon asked him slowly.

"I already told you," Mr. Hallquist answered him in a sharp, annoyed tone. "I don't know where he took her this time." He sighed loudly and rubbed his hands over his face. "He fucking brainwashed my daughter into thinking that I'm the bad guy and he's the good guy." He looked at Jearon – at least what he thought was Jearon in front of him. "I want my daughter back and him dead."

"I want the same thing," Jearon told him slowly. "I don't think I could trust you anymore, Mr. Hallquist."

"What are you talking about?" his question was slurred. "I was able to get her here and was able to convince that motherfucker to stay here. How could you not trust me anymore?" He threw his arms out and stumbled out of the chair, hitting the floor hard. "What else do you want from me?"

Jearon knelt in front of him. He shook his head sadly. "What do you think I want from you, Mr. Hallquist. I want your daughter. I want her badly. That was my payment that you promised me so you could be my business partner." He sighed and leaned back on his heels. "Yes, you were able to bring them here, but where are they? Gone. Again."

Mr. Hallquist watched as he stood up slowly and reached for one of his men. They handed him a gun and pulled back on the gun, to see if it was loaded or not. Mr. Hallquist's eyes widened, and he tried to stand up to get away from Jearon but kept stumbling back down on the floor.

"Jearon," Mr. Hallquist whimpered as he fought with his feet to keep steady under him as he stood up. "P-please, let me make it up to you." He held his arms out in front of him as Jearon lowered the gun to him. "I can bring her back, I promise."

Jearon ticked and shook his head. "I wish I could believe you, Mr. Hallquist. Trust me I wish I could. You see, I've already given you two, no three, chances to bring your payment of your daughter to me. Each time, you failed." He shrugged his shoulders. "I can't have another failure, Mr. Hallquist. How would this look for business? If I can't trust that you'll bring me whatever I want, I can't trust you with my shipments."

"P-please." Tears flowed down his cheeks as he begged Jearon on his knees. "Let me live. I want to see my daughter."

"If you had done what I said, Mr. Hallquist," Jearon darkly told him. "You would be able to see your daughter every day." He shook his head. "I thought this was going to be a great partnership, Mr. Hallquist. I was wrong."

"No," Mr. Hallquist begged, tears falling down his face. "Please –" A shot rang out and cut Mr. Hallquist off, causing his world to go dark.