“Crush?” I called, retracing the way he and Sergei had ran as they’d chased one another around the side of the house. At first I had thought to wait for him to come back, but fuck that. He could be in serious danger. With Lonnie on the floor and no one else threatening my father, I untied his wrists and told him to stay put before I rushed after the two heavily armed men.

I had no idea what I was going to find once I did catch up to them, but my gut told me that Crush would need me, and for my adrenaline-fueled brain, that was enough reason to go rushing straight into whatever danger was waiting for me, gun in hand.

But as I turned the corner I came to a stop, a wall of muscle impeding my way. Crush was standing there, his shirt sprayed with blood that I hoped wasn’t his, a wet, red knife in his hand. It fell to the ground as he turned his gaze toward me.

At his feet was the limp, lifeless body of the man who’d spent these last few days trying to kill me—the man who had haunted my dreams at night. His face was buried in the dirt, a gaping wound in the side of his neck spilling a tide of crimson onto the grass as Crush and I stood before one another.

“Is he—?”

“Yeah,” Crush replied, glancing down at Sergei’s corpse. “I didn’t have any other choice.”

“I think it was either him or us from the beginning,” I said after a moment’s pause. “He wouldn’t have stopped, no matter what.”

“I think you’re right,” he sighed, shaking his head. Before he could say another word I threw my arms around him. He stumbled, then found his footing and with a vengeance returned my embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I whispered against his chest, closing my eyes as I breathed him in. “I was so afraid that you’d just left me behind…”

“No, baby,” he whispered against the top of my head, “I would never do that. Not to you… I just thought I was keeping you safe.”

“I don’t need to be safe,” I said, shaking my head. “I need to be with you. I can protect myself just fine.”

“I think you’ve more than proven that,” he said, pulling me in tighter. “You handled yourself better than I ever thought you would. I’m proud of you.”

We stood there, holding onto one another in the silence behind my father’s house, disrupted only by the continuous rumbling from around front. But I couldn’t have cared less about any of that—the two men who’d been trying to kill us were dead, and for the first time in days, I finally felt like everything would be just fine.

“Remind me,” my father’s began from behind me, “what hand did I say I’d cut off if you touched my daughter?”

“Daddy!” I said, turning on him, my eyes narrowed in a frigid glare. But as I looked at him, I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t seem angry.

“I think it was the right one,” he said, taking a few steps closer. “But I also think maybe we can amend that little deal of ours.”

“What did you have in mind?” Crush asked, his hand gently resting on my shoulder. It felt so good to feel his touch, my shoulders releasing the tension that had all been trapped there.

“How about, if you ever hurt my little girl, then we’ll decide which hand I cut off to keep on my wall?”

I rolled my eyes, leaning back against Crush as my father came closer, turning his attention to me now. It was strange to see him smile. In fact, the last time I’d honestly seem him happy was back when I was still a kid and my mom was still around.

“My little girl’s not so little, is she?” he asked, sighing ruefully. “After watching what you did in there, Chrissy… I don’t think I’d ever imagine you’d turn out so damn strong. I was afraid that if I ever let go of you, you’d run off like your mother. But the more I held on, I just ended up losing you just as fast.”

“I didn’t need a jailer, or for you to be Don Falcone,” I said, wrapping my around his tightly. “I needed a father. Someone who supported me and picked me back up when I fell.”

“I don’t know if I’ll even be okay with seeing my little girl in trouble or struggling, but after how brave you were in there, I know I can let you handle whatever life throws at you.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t need you, though, Dad,” I said, looking up at him. “You’re still my dad, and I would never want you to get hurt. I still love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie,” he said as he pulled me into another hug, and I could tell even without seeing his face that there were tears in his eyes.

After a few moments the two of us pulled away, my dad’s gaze turning back toward Crush, suddenly becoming much more stern. At first I was afraid that he was going to start in on him again, my body tensing as I prepared for an argument.

“I don’t think I trust you with my money,” my father said. “Not by yourself, and not in a whole other damn state.”

“So you’re not going to give it to us?” Crush asked, frowning. “After all of that, you won’t even—”

“If I’m going to invest in this little dispensary of yours, then I’m sure as hell going to make sure that there’s someone there to make sure my money is being well-spent.”

“I don’t understand,” Crush said, sea-flecked eyes darkening in confusion. And truth be told, I didn’t understand at first what my father was getting at, either.

“Well, given that my second-in-command just tried to have me killed, I think I’ll have to send the only other person I can really trust.” He turned to look at me, his expression stern once again. “That is, if she has time when she’s not attending Juilliard.”