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They’re chatting over coffee and eggs.

“You carry that thing on you at all times?” Tasha asks. She leans against the sleek black kitchen counter and pointedly stares at the gun holstered against his hip. Her voice is softer than usual, the same inflection she uses while at the Dollhouse flirting with customers. “How often do you have to use it?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Louis answers, his grin borderline dopey. His gaze skims over her curvy form like he can’t help himself.

“Which means you’re trouble.”

“I can say the same for you, kitty cat. You scratched me up good yesterday.”

It should nauseate me to eavesdrop on my best friend and my best security guard flirting with each other. Instead, it provides a distraction for me at an anxious time. I plod into the kitchen as a spectator more than anything, stopping at the kitchen island.

“You handled me well,” Tasha says. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and leans closer, now within inches of him. She reaches out and touches his arm with a light graze of her fingertips. “I like ‘em big. With some brawn. Kind of like you.”

“They don’t call me Goliath for nothing.”

“But a man’s got to have a soft side too.”

“Don’t let the kill count fool you. I’m a very sweet guy once you get to know me.”

“A big scary enforcer type like you?”

“Uh-huh. A real romantic at heart,” Louis brags. He can’t take his eyes off her. I’ve never heard his voice drop so deep. “I’d take you out. Wine and dine you.”

“Mmm. I like the sound of that. Then what?”

“Then I’d take you back to my place, and—”

“Tash, can I speak to you for a second?”

I don’t wait for an answer. I loop my arm with hers and pull her out of the kitchen. We stop halfway down the hall.

“What?” Tasha hisses.

I let go of her and put my hands on my waist. “Stop milking Louis.”

Tasha fights a smile. “I’m not milking him.”

“You are so. Have you forgotten I’ve watched you do it a thousand times at the club?”

“He really is a big, brawny man. I really do like softies.”

“I know you do, but Louis…he’s a good guy. Don’t string him along. It’ll hurt him.”

Tasha playfully bumps her shoulder with mine. “I won’t. Promise. Just flirting to pass the time.”

“You were literally trying to scratch his eyes out just yesterday.”

“Change of heart. I figure if I’m going to be trapped at this compound, I might as well play it smart. Don’t worry. Your teddy bear security guard is safe.”

I’m still not convinced, but the door down the hall opens, and Gio emerges. He’s slipped on some jeans, though he remains shirtless.

As he approaches, my insides flutter. The moment our eyes connect I know something’s wrong.

“What is it?” I mutter, so quiet I’m barely audible.

Tasha and Louis forget about their banter and fall silent. The three of us wait, Gio holding our undivided attention.

When he speaks, there’s a tone to his voice I’ve never heard before. It takes me a second to place it—pain.

“My father,” he says, heaviness in each word. “He’s passed.”

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