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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  EXCHANGE: Saints and Sinners 2

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2019 © Katherine Rhodes

  Cover: JRA Stevens for Down Write Nuts

  Formatting: Down Write Nuts

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  The author acknowledges the following brands, companies, organizations, and copyrights: The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP), St. Christopher’s Hospital for Children, Penn Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania, Thomas Jefferson Hospitals, Amy’s Omelet House, PATCO, Wawa, Best Buy, Microsoft, Apple, Samsung, Android, Ferragamo, Rolex, Cristal, Shank’s, Tony Luke’s.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Welcome to Philadelphia.

  Exchange

  Greed

  Dear readers

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Katherine Rhodes

  Untitled

  Welcome to Philadelphia.

  The Birthplace of a Nation, rife with history and conflict, another stop on the Northeast Corridor. Home of the Phillies, cheese steak and the Rocky Statue. There’s a dozen world-class museums, a haunted prison, Rodin’s Le Penseur, and his famous Gates to Hell–

  And a lesser-known actual gate to Hell.

  For some reason, the After has found a comfortable home in Philadelphia–and with it, come all the scum and villainy one would expect.

  Except it’s not Hell that’s responsible for evil.

  It’s mostly humanity’s fault…

  And in the end... there is no line between good and evil.

  Demons aren’t always evil, but sometimes,

  they have no choice…

  Lincoln Foster plays by the rules.

  He likes to beat the cheaters at their game by not playing along. There’s nothing more satisfying than to make a legal million.

  Dr. Wren Warner is in a desperate position. She and Fischer need to find their adopted daughter’s brother–a young innocent boy they want to call their son. But, neither her nor Fischer or their friends have access to the wealthy classes who know where Ben is.

  Lincoln does.

  He agrees to play a dangerous game, breaking his own rules about not breaking the rules. The reality the Lincoln faces is like nothing he could ever have imagined.

  Wren and Fischer are there for him, as much as they can be. Wren doesn’t want to like Lincoln, as arrogant and greedy as he is, but she can’t deny there’s something about him– and Fischer is strangely calm about this man who clearly has designs on his woman.

  All of them are uncovering truths that scare them. Truths that are bigger than they could have possibly imagined. Truths that, once uncovered, could change the very fabric of their world.

  Greed

  He that loveth silver shall not be

  satisfied with silver; nor he

  that loveth abundance with increase:

  this is also vanity.

  —Ecclesiastes 5:10

  Dear readers

  This is a warning

  There are dark themes in this book. In any story that deals with sex trafficking, the trafficking of children, and sex workers, there are bound to be scenes that are uncomfortable to read.

  And, there are some uncomfortable scenes in this book. They were torturous to write; I did my best to keep them tame while conveying the horrors of the reality of sex trafficking and work. However, for Lincoln to come to life, we have to see what he sees. What he sees is only a slice of the hell that some people live in.

  If you have trouble reading these scenes, I do apologize.

  If you are moved by them and want to help stop modern human slavery, please visit www.state.gov/15-ways-you-can-help-fight-human-trafficking/, and if you suspect someone may be in the midst of being stolen for trafficking, please call 888-373-7888 in the US or your local emergency services (911 in the US, 999 in the UK and Canada and 000 in Australia).

  Katherine Rhodes

  Lincoln

  “I don’t give a shit how hot you are, or how rich you are.” Wren slashed her hand through the air. “Not everything has a dollar amount attached to it. Not my womb, not my friends, not my patients’ lives. So thank you for your time and your insults. Please, don’t let us detain you from finding some other dick to suck or cunt to humiliate.”

  She stepped around me and was heading to the door again.

  I spun around and called after her, “Doctor. I am sorry.”

  She paused and looked back at me. “No, you’re not.”

  My God, I wanted her. I watched her delicious ass sway in the perfect dress she was wearing and my cock sat up and took notice.

  “Sir?”

  I turned, ready to rip someone’s head off for interrupting my leering, but it was my assistant, Vance, standing there with the tablet out for me to look at. “You said you were cutting the funding to—”

  Swiping the screen to the left, I removed the forms that would kill the funding to the unit this girl they were so concerned about was residing in. “Changed my mind. Leave it.”

  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that ass, would it?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. Vance was probably the only person I employed who could get away with a comment like that. I wound up smirking. “No, actually. That was just a perk. It was that impassioned speech about finding a cunt to humiliate. She has style…”

  Vance fell in next to me. “It’s not her style, it’s that she stood up to you.”

  Flipping the card out between my fingers, I offered it to Vance. “She doesn’t have to even remotely give a shit about what I think.”

  He took the card from me and was about to put it in his portfolio when he saw the name and stopped walking. “Holy shit. Linc, holy shit.”

  I cocked my head at him, then nodded discreetly. “Yeah, exactly. She doesn’t need to respect me at all. She doesn’t need me, she doesn’t need my money and she’s more than happy to walk away.”

  There was a pause and I saw Vance was still studying the card. “That’s why you tried to apologize.”

  “What?” I snapped.

  He grabbed my elbow and pulled me off the dance floor, out into the hallway. He looked around, and held up the card. “That’s why you tried to apologize when you realized who she was. Doctor Wren Warner owns you. Does she know?”

  “She doesn’t own me,” I snapped.

  He snorted. “That’s bullshit. She does. But she doesn’t know, does she?” He waited for me to answer, but I wasn’t going to. “She’s a doctor of social work, she lets everyone else run the empire.”

  Pinching my lips, I glanced back at the ballroom, and th
e bar there.

  “She has no idea that you’re her supreme chancellor in her little Empire.” He leaned in. “She has no idea that you’re rich because she’s rich.”

  I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “If you don’t shut up right now, I am going to need to find a new assistant, and you’re going to have to take my boot out of your ass.”

  “You never wear boots,” he gasped. “Just Ferragamos.”

  I threw him away from me. “Fuck you, Vance Rikers.”

  But, I didn’t fire him. Instead, I turned on my heel and marched straight up to the bar, tapping my fingers just once. A moment later, the double scotch neat appeared there, and I downed it in a single mouthful.

  There was another just seconds later.

  “Linc.” Vance’s hand wrapped around my wrist. “You promised.”

  “Fuck promises.”

  “I don’t want to plan your funeral.”

  That froze my hand. I curled my fingers around the low ball and stared at the golden liquid. The drink could have killed me.

  Scrubbing my hands down my face, I turned to face Vance. “Thank you. You were being an asshole, but thank you.”

  “You pay well, I don’t want to find a new job.”

  “And you’re back to being an asshole.”

  He slapped me on the shoulder. “No more scotch. Soda, water, fuck it, birch beer. But no more hard liquor. The wine was already pushing it. I don’t want to tell your boss you’re dead.”

  I started laughing. “You really are an asshole.”

  He started walking away, clearly having something to do. “Your life would be nothing but stocks, bonds, and boobs if it weren’t for me.”

  I flipped him the bird and didn’t care if he saw or not.

  He wasn’t even wrong. About anything this evening.

  Yes, I wanted Wren Warner.

  Yes, she was—technically—my boss.

  Yes, she had no idea who I was.

  Yes, I could have killed myself with the scotch.

  Yes, I would have drowned myself in poontang if it weren’t for him.

  I twisted the Rolex on my arm. I didn’t know if it was good or bad. Or even what it was anymore. Being sober was a whole new way of being for me, and it took a lot of getting used to.

  The one thing I was grateful for was that my financial savvy was real. It hadn’t depended on the liquor. It hadn’t depended on anything but me. I hadn’t realized being rich was much more fun when you were sober.

  I was one of the oddballs—I could still have a drink and not fall back into my old patterns. I had to be really careful about it, and that had been something Vance was dead on about. Everything worked, there was some liver damage, but too much, too fast, too hard could kill me.

  It was honestly the first time since I’d been back from rehab that I’d let the old pattern in.

  Of course it was right after the woman who had basically made my fortune possible elegantly told me to go suck a dick.

  God, I wanted her.

  I pulled out my phone and sent a text message to Vance.

  Linc: I need to know who that man was she was with tonight.

  Vance: *Snicker* She being the esteemed Doctor Temperance Dear Warner?

  Linc: Up your ass, Rikers.

  There was no answer probably because the man was laughing his ass off somewhere. Bastard knew me too well.

  Bastard knew me really too well.

  “Here you go.” The folder hit my desk.

  I looked at the top of it, and narrowed my eyes at him. “I didn’t ask for that.”

  “Sure you did, when you asked me last night to find out who the guy was.” Vance grinned and leaned against the desk. “I’m not stupid, Linc. I know you’re into her and you’re thinking about stepping between them.”

  “No I’m not.” I totally had been until that moment.

  He dropped the other folder down on top of the first. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  This folder had no name. That meant it came from his sources. I never asked about them. He never offered. But he was very helpful in that regard—because even when I hadn’t been sober, I never, ever wanted anything to do with laundering or dark money. I took much pleasure from winning in plain view to ever consider it.

  More than once, Vance had found questionable things.

  This file, though…

  I pulled it across my massive desk so I could really see what was in it. Flipping it open, there were surveillance shots of Wren Warner with the same man from the other night. They were holding hands and clearly flirting in other shots.

  Turning through a few of the images, I landed on a printout that had no identifying markings on it to tell me where it had come from, but what was on it was important.

  The man was Doctor Fischer Skillman. One of the best neurologists in the country, and the preeminent specialist on sleep. They’d been dating for five weeks and they were the talk of social circles. He was also wealthy, but not the way she was.

  I turned the page.

  Wren was friends with Miriam Crownin. Best friends. They owned a house in New Jersey together and had been roommates for years.

  That was a complication.

  I ran my hand down my face, and looked up at Vance.

  He raised an eyebrow. “They’d been on and off lovers for years. But she’s got Skillman now and Miriam is dating Doctor Laxmi Rana.

  “You missed out on this one, Lincoln.” He folded his arms.

  Flipping back to the picture of the two of them holding hands, I studied Fischer Skillman. Tall, not overly broad. Classically handsome. Well groomed, tailored suit, clean and polished shoes.

  A worthy adversary for the affections of Dr. Warner.

  Also, fucking sexy in his own right.

  Vance’s hand slapped the photo to the desk, jerking it out of my hands. “You missed on this one, Linc. Let. It. Go.”

  This was new from him. He usually just laughed and let me play, or cautiously warned me off from someone I didn’t want to be involved with. But this? The anger and the absolute statement of ‘no’ from him was out of line for him.

  “Why?”

  “Well, first, you’re rich because she’s rich.” He held up a single finger. “Next, she’s technically your boss.” He lifted the second finger. “And third, she’s got friends you don’t want to fuck with.”

  “Who?”

  He flipped the folder to the back. A glamor shot of a cop sat there, and I recognized her face. “Lily Haden.”

  “Detective Lily Haden, who is up for a captaincy in the next few months.” He turned another page. “Paige Domingues, whether she likes the woman or not.” Another page. “Dr. Pablo Gutierrez, Chief of Emergency Medicine at CHOP.” Another page. “And this is her Concealed Carry for Pennsylvania and,” the next page, “her CCW for New Jersey.”

  My eyebrows went up. “She got a concealed carry in New Jersey?”

  He slowly turned the last page. My eyes landed there, and I actually sucked in a shocked breath. “You’re serious?”

  “Her uncle.” He paused. “Look, Linc. I know you think of this as a game of who can buy more toys, but I suspect that if you try to take this woman away from her boyfriend, you’re going to end up with several bullets in your nuts. I just recommend you stay away from her.”

  “I want her, Vance.”

  “You can’t have her. Jesus, Linc. She told you she’s not for sale.”

  I sat back. “What if I wasn’t clandestine about it?”

  “You…what?”

  “What if I didn’t play the game? What if I just out and out tried to lure her away?”

  “So what? You can leave her on the curb in six or eight months, crushed and broken and completely unable to continue her amazing job at the hospitals?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s a game, Vance.”

  He stabbed his finger at the desk. “Not to her. She’s not meant to be a part of your hoard. If you really need a place
to stick your dick, there were a hundred willing and able women the other night.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  He leaned in close to my desk. “Lincoln. Listen to me. If you do this, you will be sucked into a game you don’t understand, and you won’t be the same person when you get out the other end. That woman is someone who will fundamentally change everything about you.”

  “It’s a game, Vance.”

  He stood up. “It’s a game that you can’t win. Even if you get her in your bed. You’ll lose.”

  Wren

  …Two months later.

  “Please, Wren?”

  I stared at the phone and wanted to laugh. Ellie sounded exactly like me at her age, begging to go to the mall. That’s what we used to do in the nineties. We were the Mallrats.

  Ellie wasn’t asking to go to the mall. She was asking to go to the Hamptons for a weekend with her new bestie’s family. She’d only been in the school for six weeks and she was already a hit.

  “Whose house is this again?” Fischer asked, leaning over the desk.