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She squealed and I chuckled, avoiding looking at Haven, but I felt her glower. “I call front seat,” Dana said as she dashed out the door.

“Liar,” Haven muttered as she went for her purse.

“No gun, Haven.”

Her hand stilled on the black leather bag for a few seconds before she followed Dana out the door . . . without her purse, thank fuck. I didn’t know why she needed it. I was told about the scumbag Olaf being ‘looked after’ by Vic. But for Haven, that gun was her safety and if I had it my way, I was changing that. I was making myself her safety.

A horn honked and I pressed the alarm to ‘Away’ and followed Haven out the door.

Even though the farm had yet to be exposed to the media, we had issues when Logan’s past came back to bite him in the ass. So, we had the security system put in by Deck’s team. State-of-the-art, he’d told us.

The old guy, Hank, wouldn’t notice if anyone was lurking. He was responsible for the care of the horses, which Kat and Emily rescued from meat auctions.

I’d never really paid much attention to the beasts, but after seeing Emily work her horse whispering magic, it was majestic. I gained a huge respect for her ability. She could take a completely freaked-out, crazy stallion and within a half-hour, have him walk up to her and place his muzzle on her shoulder.

Respect, trust and love. That was what she always said. He couldn’t love you if he couldn’t respect you, and he couldn’t trust for the same reason. But you gained a horse’s respect, then gained his trust and you’d have a bond for life.

My step faltered as it hit me. I shoved the keys in my front jean pocket and stared at the cobblestone path. Did Haven respect me? How could I ask her to trust me if she didn’t?

I ran my hand through my hair . . . I wanted her respect. I never gave a crap with other chicks, but I didn’t want her seeing me as a man-whore with a guitar in his hand. Some rock star who could only stroke his guitar and a chick’s pussy. Didn’t help my case that I had this obsessed chick hanging over me.

The fucked-up part of it was . . . that playboy status had been in limbo for months. Fuckin’ months. Logan asked me a few weeks ago if I’d caught crabs and that was why I was laying off the chicks. But the truth was I was tired of chicks who didn’t even know my real name. Sure, it was easy pussy and got me off, but . . . I glanced over at Haven sliding into the back seat. I’d rather lie in bed and text Haven than fuck some random chick.

Seriously, fucked-up.

I walked to the car, yanked open the backdoor and slid in. “So, where we headed?”

Dana turned around, her elbow resting on the back of the seat. “Frat party. It’s going to be wicked.”

Kite groaned. “Crisis, you said a small party. We need to call in Luke.”

Dana fiddled with the radio and turned up the sound when Coldplay came on. “Don’t worry. The guys are pretty cool. It’s mostly the lacrosse team. There won’t be any trouble.”

“I wasn’t worried about the guys,” Kite said in a deep pissed-off tone. “How about we go to a movie?”

Dana laughed. “You sound like my dad.” Kite snorted. “If you really don’t want to go, I guess you could drop us off and then come back later to get us.”

“Oka—” Kite started to say, but I interrupted him. “No, we’re good. Besides, I’m not leaving my hot sister alone with a bunch of frat boys.”

Haven kicked my shin. “Don’t call me that.”

I raised my brows, attempting to pull off my most innocent expression. “What? Hot?”

“No. Sister. Well actually, both.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like it. Ream’s my brother. You’re not.”

“Well, legally maybe, but—”

“Stop.”

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.” And I was getting fast that I would give her whatever she wanted—for now. “What about wife? Can I call you that?”

I WAS STILL tense about Crisis and Kite coming with us since they were attention magnets. Being Ream’s twin sister had repercussions when my past was screwed-up. I may have been kept locked away for years, but I’d been surrounded by greed and I knew how it worked. A story about me would pay a large sum because it would lead to a story about Ream, and his past would be looked into.

“The dress is too short,” Crisis said as we got out of the car.

I raised my brows. “Are you really going to go there?” It wasn’t too short, not even close. It had long sleeves and there was no cleavage. The dress Kat had given me, not one of Dana’s which revealed more skin than material.

He scowled as he looked at my bare legs then scooted up to my eyes. His disapproving expression slipped away and he shrugged. “Just sayin,’ princess. Gives the wrong idea.” He chin-lifted to the three-story house that blared music and people spilled out onto the front lawn.

“And what idea is that?” I knew what idea, but I wanted to hear him say it. Compared to how I walked out on stage at the club, I was the one wearing the snowsuit tonight.

Kite and Dana were arguing because Kite was trying to convince her that bowling was a better way to spend the night than a drunken party filled with twenty-year-olds. But Dana was twenty-one and younger than us since I started college late.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Crisis asked.

“Yeah. Please.”

He moved in on me until my back was against the car. I raised my chin and straightened my spine. He leaned forward, arms straddling me as he rested his hands on the roof. “A guy sees a chick in a little black dress, sexy heels and a hot bod like yours, it’s pussy they’re going for. And a party . . . a frat party . . . is filled with guys who can no longer decipher the word ‘no’ because the alcohol has made their brain one big swimming pool of bad decisions. So, yeah . . . dressed like that . . . you’re pussy to take advantage of.”

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