I'm stabbing furiously at my screen again.

It's been twenty five and a half minutes. Hell yes, I'm counting.

“Damn it, Trent. Why aren't you answering?” I'm grateful for the privacy visor, but only a little.

His driver isn't paid to judge or ask probing questions. He's a chauffeur. Tonight, maybe one part glorified babysitter. I haven't even jumped on Trent's command to stall dad.

Like it's so freaking easy.

Like I even know how.

Like there isn't something seriously messed up happening inside the only home I've ever truly known, and it's driving me insane.

Face twisted in disgust, I reach for the door, and pull for the second time. Locked.

I tap the button on the intercom and start talking. “Hello, sir? I need to get out. If you could please flip the switch for my door, that'd be stellar.”

There's a long pause on the other end. Too long.

“I'm sorry, Ms. Chenocott, I'm afraid I can't. Client's orders. He says you're to remain in the car while there's a situation.” His voice sounds deep, robotic, not even a shred of fear or doubt in it. Strictly professional.

Totally infuriating.

“What situation?” I run my finger over the plastic beneath the intercom, holding the driver's name and credentials. “Listen – Jason – I don't want to get between you and your job, or your pay, but damn it, you're not making it easy. If you don't let me out this instant, the first thing I'll do is scream bloody murder and find out how many kicks it takes to break one of these fancy shaded windows. Then I'll be calling up your boss and finding out exactly how much your company would enjoy a big, fat lawsuit for holding a woman hostage. We clear?”

I'm not used to being this big a bitch. My knee shakes.

“Perfectly, miss. I sincerely hope you'll choose not to damage my private property. I'm a small time operator with one car – this one. My not-so-little-boy, Robbie, he's a straight A student in his first semester. Trying for architectural engineering at Purdue. It's a very expensive program and I'm the only parent he has, I'm afraid. Tuition's due next week and I'm counting like hell on this job from Mr. Usher. He's paying me a mighty fine premium to watch over you just for a little bit. So, obviously, I'd really appreciate it if you'd calm down, find some patience, and –”

The sound of my fist impacting the seat cuts him off. It's a blow of frustration more than anything. I couldn't do much damage punching leather if I tried, and after his SOB story, what kind of demon would I be if I robbed his kid?

Not everyone lives in the luxury I've known for most of my life.

“Thanks, miss. You've made the right choice. Now, I'd be happy to play music, put on a show, take you anywhere, let you roam wherever you'd like. Just not here. Not until Mr. Usher gives the okay. Thanks for your patience. I mean it.”

“And I mean someone's getting it tonight,” I snarl to myself, slumping backward in my seat.

I run through my options. None are very appealing.

I could go ahead, ignore my conscience, and beat my way out of this fancy car. I'd probably be restrained real fast by Mr. Driver.

I could have him take me across town, let me off at a gas station, and sneak a block away to call another ride to bring me right back here. But then I wouldn't know what I'm walking into. And that could take an hour or more.

I could just listen to Trent – as bad as it scalds my blood – and save all this ugly energy for later, when I'll throw a well deserved slap across his face.

Maybe him and Jace both.

If they both leave the place alive.

It disturbs me to no end that I don't know what I'm dealing with. I stare through the tinted window, trying to see signs of...well, anything.

It's brutally quiet. Just a sea of hazy orange light shifting in the rain, which hammers the car plenty loudly, drowning out any sound.

Fifteen minutes. That's all I'll give him. In the meantime, I have to call dad.

* * *

A quick phone call later, and I know dad hasn't left the hospital. Not yet.

Mom had a terrible nightmare and woke up screaming. She wouldn't stop until they let him see her. They've agreed to let him spend the night in her room and he's asked me to check on things at home – but in the morning, after he's spoken to Jace.

I tell him I'll find somewhere else to stay for the night. I lie through my teeth.

Pretend I'm his ever trustworthy peanut, who'd do anything for her family. Okay, so the second half is true, but the fact that I'm stuck in this car, instead of at the hospital with him, consoling mom...

This can't be happening again. I close my eyes, fighting back the bitter tears.

No.

Hell no.

I can't just sit on my hands while the people I love are in crisis. Nothing and nobody – not even this damn determined driver – will stop me.

There's too much at stake to have a nervous breakdown now. I shove my phone in my pocket, staring at my weary reflection in the limo's privacy visor.

What did Trent mean? Those two words in his message?

Not good? NOT GOOD.

He'd said it twice. Without elaborating. Making me wonder if he found Jace disemboweled in the dining room.

My mind runs rampant, a thousand hellish scenarios exploding in my psyche. I see them both up close and bloodied, throwing punches, kicking, biting, dragging each other to death's doorstep. I see my sadistic brother cornering the man I love, pulling a gun. He turns it on Trent once and fires. Then he turns it on himself.

I gnaw my lip, more anxious than ever. Glance at my phone.

Another fifteen minutes. Seventeen, to be precise. Jesus Christ.

I can't wait any longer.

Stabbing at the button for the visor, I angrily lower it, waiting for the driver's dark eyes to look back in the mirror. “Tell me how much Robbie's program costs. I bet I can cough up all four years and tell my bank to wire it over right now if you'll just let me out of here.”

I hear a sharp intake of breath. Jason's eyes go wide. If I could see his hands, I'm sure they'd have a steely grip on the wheel. “Miss, that's incredibly gracious, but –”

“No buts. How much is he paying you? I'll double it. Triple it. You see that place out there? It belongs to my parents. They left me pretty well off, I'm happy to say, and your boy deserves a fighting chance. Let's get ourselves a deal.”

His eyes turn over a few times in the mirror, staring at the house, then back at me. He's considering my crazy offer.

Come the hell on, Jason, I think to myself. Let me give you money.

Figure it out.

If you don't, two men I love are as good as dead.