“You should’ve listened to me, Cally. He could’ve killed you,” Dad repeated for the umpteenth time. He didn’t look like an angry mob boss anymore. He was just my dad. My scared dad, who thought he’d almost lost me.

“I told you, Dad, it was all my stupid idea in the first place. It was a huge mistake. I think we should go to the station and explain to them—”

“That bastard deserves everything that’s coming to him,” Dad grunted. “You will stay out of this. Are we clear?”

I folded my arms across my chest and chose to remain silent. After all, nothing I said now would get through that thick skull of his. Dad had always been a stubborn and defensive man, and he wouldn’t be quick to forgive even me, let alone Ryder. Did those two fake FBI agents take Ryder to the station? Was Ryder going back to prison for this? Despite everything the man had done to me, I still felt a twisted desire to help him. He was guilty of many things, but he wasn’t guilty of kidnapping me.

A little over an hour later, Dad dropped me off in front of my apartment. Then, the driver got out too and stood beside me. Dad left the backseat and crawled up front into the driver’s seat.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Frank will stay with you, for now. For your own protection,” Dad instructed, nodding to Frank.

Disgust boiled through me. “Protection from what? Ryder and Anthony are both behind bars. I don’t have—”

“For my peace of mind,” Dad said. “No more ifs, ands, or buts. Go upstairs and get some rest, sweetheart. Don’t leave until I make sure it’s safe for you. I’ll call you tonight.”

After Dad pulled away, I sprang for the lobby door, hoping to ditch Frank, but he was 6’4”, twice my size, and easily caught up to me. “Ms. Rayner—”

“Stay in the lobby,” I said. “I don’t want you following me around like some kind of creep.”

“Sorry, I’ve got orders, Ms. Rayner.”

“I am not letting you inside my apartment, no matter who gave you ‘orders,’” I snapped.

“I’ll wait outside your door, then.”

“Why don’t you go grab me some dinner? I’m starving.”

“Sorry, my orders are to stay with you at all times. I can order you take-out, if you like.”

“Pfft.” I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes and pressed the button for the elevator. “How long have you been working for my dad?”

“About three weeks, Miss.”

“He must pay you a lot, huh?”

Frank shrugged, keeping his gaze focused at some point behind me.

“I’ll pay you triple what Dad pays you.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“It’s always about the money,” I countered. “How much do you want?”

“I just want to keep you safe, Miss Rayner. Please let me do my job.”

As promised, Frank remained outside my door instead of coming in. It was a small concession, but one that afforded me some space to breathe and collect my thoughts. I contemplated calling the cops and telling them I was under house arrest against my will, but my old suspicions about the police crept back in, and I stopped myself. I needed to check up on Ryder, maybe even vouch for him. After all, he didn’t deserve to go back to jail for following my stupid plan. But there was no way I could go down to the station with Frank following me around. My dad would know about my intentions and thwart them before I even reached the station. Dad told me to stay put, and Frank was put there to make sure I followed orders. What if Dad had a point? Why was I risking everything to help a stranger? Especially since that stranger was a manipulative asshole who’d lied and betrayed me since day one? Why was I fighting my own father just to save Ryder? My actions and feelings defied all logic, which made me feel even more anxious. Regardless, I wasn’t about to be held prisoner by my dad’s bodyguard. Ten minutes of pacing and fretting later, I peered through the peephole and found Frank standing in the same position. I opened the door a little and said, “Why don’t you come in and sit down? I’m pretty hungry. Maybe you can order me some pizza or something?”

“Okay, Miss.” Frank slipped through the door and pulled out his cellphone. “Which toppings would you like?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure.” Frank finished tapping on his phone, then slid it back into his pocket. “Pizza should be here in half an hour.”

“Thanks, Frank.” I handed Frank a Pepsi and popped one open myself. “It’s a hot day out,” I said. “You must be thirsty.”

Frank graciously accepted the cold drink and gulped it down. I asked him about his background and made light conversation, until as planned, he asked to use my bathroom twenty minutes later. This was my chance. Probably my one and only chance.

“Can you please promise me you’ll stay put?” Frank asked, shuffling off his shoes. “I’ll only be a few seconds. If…if anything happens to you, I could lose my job. Maybe even my family. I don’t want to anger Mr. Rayner.”

“Just go pee already,” I insisted. “Bathroom’s on your right.”

“Don’t tell your dad.”

“Tell him what? That you had to take a leak?”

“Yeah.” Frank’s round green eyes looked so worried I felt guilty that I had to get him in trouble for this.

“Okay, I won’t tell.”

“Do you mind if I just keep the door open?”

I made a face. “That’s disgusting, Frank.”

“It’s just—”

“Close the damn door.”

Once Frank shut the door, I reached for my front door, swung it wide open, and then darted back inside and hid under my bed. Three or four seconds later, Frank emerged from the bathroom, and just as I planned, he saw the open front door and panicked. I heard the thump of his footsteps as he bolted down the hall. Then the fire exit door swung and shut, and I knew he was on his way down to the lobby. I wriggled out from under the bed, called the lobby, and asked them to call me back as soon as they saw a super tall, frantic-looking man disappear out the front doors. Miguel, the friendly and extremely discreet concierge, probably thought Frank was my boyfriend and agreed to help me.

The next couple of minutes seemed to stretch on forever. I’d locked my door in case Frank saw through my ruse and turned back. When Miguel’s voice finally hissed through my phone, letting me know that Frank was gone, I grabbed some extra cash, slipped down the fire exit, and out into the back alley. I double checked that Frank wasn’t waiting to jump out at me, and when the coast was clear, I hailed a taxi and headed straight to the police station.

Twelve minutes and a twenty-dollar fare later, I burst through the nearest NBPD station and demanded to know whether or not Ryder Ainsworth had been brought in.

When the receptionist checked her log and shook her head, I asked, “What about Ryder Williams?” She clicked a few things on her computer, then shook her head again.

I didn’t want to believe it then, but deep inside, I knew that my dad had played me. Ryder was still back in that warehouse, and he was probably in danger. Problem was, I had no idea where that warehouse was or how to find him. Going back home was out of the question, and I didn’t want to burden any of my friends with this bullshit. If I checked into a hotel, they could trace my credit card. I didn’t have enough cash to do anything. My car and purse had been dumped in the middle of nowhere. It was unlikely that Dad would be able to track me down right away, but given how quickly he’d tracked down Ryder and I at that McDonald’s…I wasn’t about to take any chances.

Ryder had that burner phone, the one he was planning to use to talk to my dad. But I didn’t know his number. I could hide out somewhere and wait for him to call me, but what if he couldn’t because he was in trouble and needed my help? If I filed a police report, I had a strong suspicion someone at the station would notify my dad before they could even assign an officer to take the case. Dad had the magical ability to make any and all problems go away, and I just knew that as soon as he got involved, he’d make sure Ryder was gone for good.

Kieran would probably help, but I didn’t want to involve him in something potentially criminal. He had a baby on the way and Rachelle would probably kill me if I landed her husband in prison again. Likewise, I didn’t want to involve my other girlfriends, because this matter was delicate and I wasn’t even sure what was going on myself.

I could wait a few more hours and see if Ryder would call me. If he didn’t, I’d call the cops from a payphone and pray for the best. That would be my last resort though, because if Dad was telling the truth and Ryder was really wanted for parole violation, then I’d be sending him back to prison, and I didn’t want that. At least not until I figured out all the facts. I wanted to hear him explain them to me himself. When we’d been inside that warehouse, he hadn’t said a thing. I went along with his plan, hoping to find answers. I came out of it with more questions instead. No, I needed to find him. ASAP. My instincts told me Ryder needed me.

The longer I stayed in Northbridge, the likelier it’d be that Dad would find me. Before I did anything else, though, I needed to get my car back. To get to Glen County, unnoticed, I’d need to take public transportation, something I rarely ever did. The buses were notoriously unreliable, and it might possibly take two hours to get there, whereas driving would take about forty-five minutes.

In the end, I decided to take the #44 bus. It was slow and unbearably hot, but it got me where I needed to go while affording maximum privacy. No one sat next to me or even tried to talk to me. I was so sleep-deprived, I would’ve done anything for a nap. But I couldn’t afford to sleep in case I missed my stop.

Once I reached Glen County, I found Peach Street with ease, and there my baby was, parked in a nice residential neighborhood. In the shade too, thank God. At least Ryder had had the decency to tell me where he’d parked before we got dragged to that warehouse.

Thankfully, I’d grabbed my spare car keys before leaving home, and even better, I found that my purse, which had been shoved into the trunk, was still there, its contents all accounted for. I had my wallet, some cash, and my ID. Now all I had to do was find Ryder. I hoped I wasn’t too late. I felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing my insides; the nausea was so overpowering that for a moment, I was too scared to drive. Immobilized, I took several deep breaths and reminded myself that Ryder was in trouble. My dad’s people probably had him tied up in that warehouse, doing God knows what to him.

I opened the glove box, took out a small tin of mints, and popped a couple in my mouth. I sucked on them so hard they hurt my tongue.

I could do this. I could find him. I just had to focus.

I booted up my GPS and began following it back to the McDonald’s where the two fake FBI agents had tracked us down a few hours ago. From there, I could start retracing steps and narrowing down the warehouse’s position.

I just hoped I wouldn’t be too late.