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That takes most of the teasing out of the conversation, and things turn serious. I keep swirling the ice in my cup, swallowing around the sudden lump in my throat.

In a way, I feel almost ashamed to admit I don’t know. I’m his daughter, all he has left, and there’s nothing I can do to help him beyond trying to dig up some kind of dirt on the men holding me as collateral. I don’t even know where he is or if he’s safe.

I glance up at Scarlett, and I know she can read all of that on my face.

“I just… I hope this works,” I tell her, my voice strained. “This bargain. Because they were going to kill him, Scarlett. They were ready to kill him that night, and they won’t give him another chance.”

She nods, looking solemn. “It’s a bad place to be. But he’s strong. He can do whatever it is they want him to do, right?”

“Probably? I mean, I have no idea what they want from him. And even if he does it, how do I know it’s not just delaying the inevitable, you know? How do I know this will be the end of it? It might go badly no matter what.”

Scarlett reaches over and pats my hand, and we finish our drinks and head back out. The ride back to the house is quiet, and I’m lost in thought when we pull up out front.

“Hey,” Scarlett says, reaching over to poke me in the shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I believe that. One way or another.”

I muster a smile for her. “Thanks, Scar. What would I do without you?”

“Oh, probably suffer and die horribly,” she shoots back, grinning and getting out of the car when I do. She pulls me into a big hug, and I bury my face in the crook of her neck for a second, taking comfort in her warmth and her smell. No matter what changes or goes to hell around me, Scarlett has always been there. Always been steady and constant. I hope to god she always will be.

I let go and wave when she gets back in her car to drive off, and then head inside the house. I can hear the guys talking loudly in the living room, and I walk through, intending to head up to my room and maybe take a nap or a bath or something. Something to get my mind off of the conversation about my dad and my worries.

“Hey, Hurricane!” Rory calls before I can get very far, his head popping up over the back of the couch. “Come here.”

I frown at him for being bossy, but I turn and make my way over. There’s some action movie on the screen, a car chase playing out with the music thumping through the surround sound speakers. There are beers and liquor bottles on the coffee table, and it’s clear the guys have had more than a couple of drinks already.

“Come hang out with us,” Rory says, giving me big puppy eyes.

I laugh and shake my head. “Nah, I’m just going to head upstairs. I’m tired.”

“Mercy,” Levi chimes in. “Come on. You spend so

much time upstairs already.”

I bite back the comment about how maybe that’s their fault and glance at Sloan. He’s looking back at me, and for once, he’s not scowling.

Before I can make a decision either way, Rory grabs my arm and pulls me down onto the couch between him and Sloan. I should tell him off for not listening to me, but the couch is comfortable, and watching a movie with them is probably better than spending the night in my room alone.

Probably.

Rory leans forward and snags a beer from the table and holds it out to me, wiggling it teasingly. I roll my eyes and snatch it up, making a show of using the edge of the coffee table to pop the cap off in a practiced gesture.

Levi laughs and Rory pretends to swoon. There’s even a little smile on Sloan’s face as we settle in to watch.

It’s a terrible movie, with bad effects and even worse acting. The car chase goes on for another twenty minutes, and Levi throws his bottle cap at the screen. “Catch this asshole already!” He snorts. “So we don’t have to watch you pretend to drive anymore.” He jerks an invisible steering wheel wildly to the left and right, imitating the main hero of the movie.

“It’s not about the driving,” Sloan says. “It’s about the car.”

“It’s not even that nice of a car,” I put in. “And it would be way more banged up if it was jumping over medians and shit like that.”

“She’s right,” Levi agrees, pointing at me. “She’s so right.”

“You’re so drunk,” Rory accuses with a laugh.

Levi flips him off and takes a pointed swig of his beer at the same time. I sip mine, keeping my eyes on the screen and not the way Levi’s mouth looks against the bottle.

The car chase finally ends, and the hero ends up crashing into a pond in the middle of a public park, which sparks more jeering from the guys and laughter from me.

The next scene has him walking up the stairs to an apartment building, and the music goes low and sultry. “Enter… the love interest,” Rory drawls, making his voice all breathy and soft.

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