I get back to the house with Murph and Tanner at seven in the evening, and we’re all a little on-edge from the car ride. I had a private investigator do a little digging and he found out the guy Murph thought he killed was named Marcus Palmer. Yeah, the guy Murph thought he killed.

Turns out Marcus Palmer didn’t die, he was just paralyzed from the waist down. The force of the impact knocked him out cold, and my idiot brothers couldn’t tell the difference between a corpse and someone who was unconscious.

Seems when Marcus woke up, he pulled himself out of the dumpster, fell a couple feet, and then yelled for help until someone got him an ambulance.

“I checked his pulse,” says Murph for about the thirtieth time. “I didn’t feel anything, man.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” I say. “The plan is the same. I doubled the security detail around the house, got a team of personal bodyguards to go with Camille or Jen any time they leave the house, and we’re going to keep an eye out for Sean and any bullshit he might try to pull to get back at us.”

Tanner steps inside, kicking a rock off the porch on his way in despondently. “Sorry we brought you into this, bro.”

“Don’t be,” I say. “I’ll take care of you. Okay? He wants to fuck with us, he’s going to be sorry. It’s that simple.”

Murph squeezes my shoulder and Tanner nods appreciatively.

“Who wants to fuck with you?” asks Selene, who I didn’t see lying on the couch until she sat up just now.

“Just some guy from the club,” says Tanner. “It’s nothing.”

Selene stands, advancing toward Tanner and doing a comically good job of looking intimidating, despite the few feet of height he has on her. “If it was nothing, you guys wouldn’t look so serious.”

“What?” asks Murph, pointing to his face. “This? This is how we always look.”

“Mhm,” says Selene, fists still on her hips as she waits, not looking away from Tanner.

Tanner sighs. “Come on,” he says in a defeated tone, motioning for her to follow him toward his room. “I’ll explain.”

Murph’s head snaps toward me and he makes a what the fuck kind of gesture.

“We’re all in this together anyway,” I say, feeling a slight stab of guilt about how I’ve lied to my brothers regarding Camille and I. “Something tells me Sean isn’t going to go to the police over this. He’s going to want to find his own kind of justice. Even if Selene knows, it doesn’t matter.”

“You gonna tell Camille?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. She deserves to know what’s going on. We all need to be on the lookout, private security or not.”

“What about Jen?”

“I’ll tell her what she needs to know and no more.”

As if on cue, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Jen and Camille pause briefly when they see us, narrowing their eyes.

“What’s going on?” asks Camille. “You guys look like your favorite TV show just got canceled.”

“Yeah,” agrees Jen, “or maybe like you’re constipated.”

“I just hired some extra security. It’s nothing to worry about,” I say. “They had a two for one special going.”

Camille raises an eyebrow. “Really? Do they do B.O.G.O. too?”

“No,” I say. “That’d be ridiculous. This was just a good deal, that’s all.”

Murph gives me a meaningful look and I try to discreetly shake my head at him. I will tell them, but I have to give Camille and Jen two different versions of what’s going on, and there’s no good way for me to do that when they’re together.

“We want to go out,” says Camille suddenly. “Jen is going to teach me the guitar since I’m teaching her vocals, and we want to pick one out.”

“By the way,” says Jen. “We need to borrow your card.”

Camille gives me an adorably nervous look, and as I watch the two of them I realize Jen must have had to talk her into this. Camille probably was afraid to ask for money, and I like that about her. I’ve been with women in the past who know my bank account is inexhaustible for all intents and purposes, so they treat it that way. But giving to people who expect it has never brought me happiness. Giving to people who don’t think they deserve it or who need it and are reluctant to ask--that has always brought me satisfaction.

I fish out my card and toss it to Camille, who catches it with a look of surprise. “You sure? I’ll pick something reasonable out, I promise.”

“Get whichever one you like best. Hell, get two incase it breaks or something,” I say. “Want me to come with you two?” I ask, thinking of Sean.

“Girls only, Dad. Besides, I have to pick something up for you too. It’s a surprise.”

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m sending some security with you. There was a story about some creep harassing people in the area,” I say, making up the story as I go. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

I give Camille a meaningful look that she returns knowingly. Thankfully, Jen is too preoccupied with the excitement of their shopping trip to put much thought into my flimsy story, and five minutes later I’ve set them up with Brian and Vince, who have been working security for me since I first found a need to hire a private firm a few years back.

I realize I’ve never really made a point to get to know the guys, which hasn’t seemed like a problem until now. Watching them drive my girls out for the shopping trip and knowing I don’t even know if the two men have families gives me a bad feeling, but I push it away. I’m being paranoid. Real paranoid.

There’s practical and then there’s over-the-top worrying like a grandma. I can’t live my life or make Camille live her life normally if I’m seeing liars and betrayal around every corner.

Still, thinking about it has me on edge, so I double check that my phone is on and go to the fitness room downstairs to work off some stress.