My whole body goes still. I’m standing up, watching the feed on my laptop so intently I don’t even blink. My hands are on either side of my head, fingers pressed against my temples. The outline of a shadowy figure fills the space in front of Amelia’s door. My heart slams against my chest. If the goddamn police don’t hurry, I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Dad warned me to find a closer place for this very reason. My hotel is a good fifteen-minute drive, not enough time to get there before this creep deactivates the alarm and breaks inside. The house has a wireless alarm system; I checked it out myself when I installed the outside cameras. The guy lurking on her front porch can’t dig up and cut wires, but with the right technology, he can jam the system.

I would’ve found some place closer if I could’ve. The girl lives in a fifty-five and up retirement community—part of Renzo’s well-laid plans to keep his youngest daughter untouchable. This crappy motel was the closest, most affordable one I could find on short notice.

And Dad made this sound easy. “Should last a couple weeks, tops.”

It’s been two months.

“Her grandmother recently passed away. Everything looks normal, but you never know with the Serra family. Go down there and check it out. Watch Amelia for a while, and make sure she’s safe. Easy peasy.”

So far, Dad has been wrong about absolutely fucking everything. And this so-called favor wasn’t supposed to include a potential murder.

The shadow figure looks up. The dark ensemble gives me nothing to go on. I can’t see his face. The height and broad shape is obviously male, but other than that, I’ve got nothing.

Except it’s obvious something’s spooked him. He races out of the camera’s view, disappearing.

Red and blue lights flash from the road. Aha. That’s what spooked him.

With a sigh, I collapse back into my sofa. Good fucking grief. The past few minutes have been the longest minutes of my life.

I’m no good at this kind of thing, watching people on the brink of death. I’m pretty good at putting myself there, but not seeing it happen to others, not like this. This girl has given me more stress than my entire stint in law school. Even when she’s not almost getting killed, she still manages to regularly induce mini heart attacks. I’ve never seen someone so accident prone, so oblivious to everything going on around her, so…so…

My cell rings, Dad’s face lighting up the screen. “Hey, Dad.”

“You get the situation squared away?”

“Yeah. Cops just showed up.”

“Good.”

I wait for him to say more. I know it’s coming. Any second now.

“You could’ve used this opportunity to identify the perp, you know.”

“Keep her safe. That’s what you said, Dad. Her safety is top priority, son.” I mimic his gravelly voice.

“That’s not what I sound like, dumbass. All I was saying was maybe you should’ve gone after the perp. You’re capable. You could have caught him.”

Capable.

There’s that word he likes to use all the time.

You’re capable of going to law school, son.

You’re capable of passing the bar.

You’re capable of getting through this.

“It wouldn’t have mattered, Dad. The guy was most likely a paid accessory.”

“With potential leads.”

“We don’t know that.”

He sighs. “You know how grateful I am you’re handling this, Casper. But sometimes—”

“You can stop there. You’re welcome, Dad. Anything for you.”

“Sometimes I think you have the attention span of a potato chip.”

I rub the back of my neck. Wonder how long he plans to lecture me this time.

“I’ve been in security all my life, taught you everything I know, and still you’re terrible at it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s your generation, with your smart phones and your social media and your rompers and—”

“Rompers?” How did I end up with this guy as my father?

“You know what I mean. You just don’t have any patience for this kind of thing.”

He’s right. I am terrible at this. Because I would rather be doing a million other things than sitting around watching this ignorant, sad-eyed girl stumble through life while trying to make sure she doesn’t get killed every other fucking second.

“Agreed,” I say, no arguments. “You should’ve sent someone else.”

“Renzo specifically asked for you. There’s not many people he trusts these days to look after his daughter.”

A pang of guilt hits the intended spot. Renzo and Dad have been best friends since they were kids; he’s like a favorite uncle. The guy has given me things no one can give to him: revenge. Peace of mind. My fucking sanity.

Renzo asks for a favor, I make myself available. It’s that simple. He’s doing his best to keep his daughter safe, which makes me feel even worse.

Nicely done using the guilt trip, Dad. Nicely done.

“Sometimes I forget what they’ve been through.” I switch the phone to the other ear. “How did you handle working for the Serras all those years?”

Dad used to work security for Renzo’s company. In the beginning, he loved it. He worked the hours he wanted, and he was getting paid a hell of a lot more than your typical security manager. Perks of having his best friend as his boss. Then, once the murders began, everything went to hell. He’d come home looking ragged, his eyes hollowed out by the weight of the day. Those deaths marked the end of life as he knew it.

“I don’t know.” He lets out a ragged breath. “All that time, all those murders, and to come up short on answers—I’m not going to lie. It felt like goddamn torture. Still does, occasionally. So you can only imagine what it’s like for Renzo.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. The murders, the mysteries surrounding them, took their toll. Dad ended up quitting, and he once told me it was the hardest decision he’d ever made; he loved the Serra family almost as much as his own.

“You want my honest opinion?” I ask him.

“Let’s hear it.”

“Amelia needs to get out of Florida for a while. Renzo should consider finding her somewhere to lay low until the danger passes.”

“I agree.”

“Then why is he holding off?”

“Learning the truth will turn her world upside down. Her life and everything she knows is there in Tampa.”

I know a thing or two about worlds being turned upside down. Nothing compared to what the Serras have been through, but I understand what it feels like to lose everything.

The police approach Amelia’s door. She steps out in her pajamas, looking shaken and pale. Her shoulders are squared, her arms crossed stiffly over her chest. Did she know about the guy outside her house? Judging from her body language alone, it’s possible she heard something.

It gets me thinking. “Hey, Dad—how did you say the grandmother died?”

For years the two of them were fine, living peacefully, away from the rest of the family. Someone wanting her dead now seems strange.

“Natural causes. We checked it out. There was no foul play.”

“You sure about that?”

He snorts. “Why? Do you suspect something?”

“It just doesn’t add up. Why is this is happening again? The last death was what, seven years ago?”

“I don’t know, son. They went off the radar, changed their names, started a new life. Shit—for a while even Renzo didn’t know where his own daughter was.” He goes silent for a second. “Judy’s death could’ve triggered something.”

Judy, the unassuming grandmother. The only Serra in the last twenty years to die of natural causes. None of it makes any sense.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Dad and I talk for a while longer. He promises to speak to Renzo about relocating Amelia; I promise to work on my attention span, and then we hang up.

Amelia unknowingly looks in the camera’s direction. The officer asks her a question, and she nods, her brows pinched together in thought. I wish I knew what she was thinking.

She doesn’t look anything like her father, other than their olive complexions. Good thing too, because Renzo is one ugly bastard, on the short side with a crooked nose and permanent scowl. Despite his rough exterior, the guy has a heart of gold. You wouldn’t think someone who has been through so much could be that way. Sometimes I see the pain behind his crinkled eyes, but he usually keeps it tucked away.

Lucky for her, Amelia takes after her mother. Not that I remember her mother that well. Carly Serra died when I was a kid—but there are pictures of her everywhere inside the Serra mansion. They have the same angled bone structure, the same pert nose and silky brown hair.

Sometimes I catch myself staring at Amelia longer than I should—my eyes lingering on parts of her body they shouldn’t. It wasn’t like that at first. Camera lenses and distance kept me from seeing her that way. That day on the beach changed everything though, making this job ten times harder. Now that I’ve seen her up close and wearing nothing but that blue bikini—God, I wish I could erase that image from my mind. The girl has the body of a goddess. Perfect curves, legs that go on for days, and smooth, supple skin that has me dreaming up ways to get her in my bed. And when she stared at me with those big brown eyes, like she was appreciating what she saw, it only made things worse.

Renzo’s daughter. Renzo’s daughter. Renzo’s fucking daughter.

I keep repeating those words inside my head, hoping they’ll sink in. The guy is middle-aged and short, but he’s jacked and well connected. If he knew the kind of thoughts I’ve been having about Amelia, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.

My phone rings again. I look away from the laptop, half expecting it to be my dad ready to get on my case about something else. At least once a day he asks if I’ve been studying for my bar exam. The old man knows I put aside my plans to practice law over three years ago, but he thinks he’ll be able to change my mind with the constant badgering—ahem, parenting, as he likes to call it.

It’s not my dad though. It’s Sykes.

I consider ignoring the call, but since Baby Serra is in no longer in immediate danger, I go ahead and answer.

“Where the hell are you, Cas? You’ve been mia for months now. Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

No one thinks I’m dead. He’s being dramatic.

“I’m tied down at the moment. Job,” I say, without going into detail.

“What about Cali? It’s next month.” Sykes is a professional surfer. The biggest competition of his career takes place next month in Huntington Beach, California, and I’d forgotten the date was coming up. “You are planning on going, right?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?” he says, his tone clipped. “You know how much this means.”

“Of course, I do—” I start to say my going depends on how quickly the job finishes up, but he’s not going to settle for any answer other than the one he wants. “I’ll be there, Sy.”

“Great to hear.” He’s silent for a long moment. “Everything okay, buddy? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. How is everyone?”

By everyone, I’m referring to our small circle of friends. Like Sykes and me, none of them stay in one place for very long.

“As far as I know, everyone’s good. Rashi is home, staying low key. Zara is doing some rock climbing thing in Greece. And I haven’t seen Davey in a while—figured the two of you were in Vegas playing poker.”

“Nope. I’m on a side job.”

Davey and I met in a poker tournament. We’d both been playing for over five hours; he was the chip leader, and I knocked him out with one really amazing hand. His temper being the stuff of legends led him to kick the table in his momentary lapse of sanity, quickly getting his ass booted out of the casino. He hated me. I hated him. We’ve been playing together ever since.

“Have you heard from him?”

“Yep, he met a girl up in Vancouver.” Cue eye roll.

“Let me guess—he’s in love and wants to settle down?”

We both chuckle. Davey is too predictable. “Same song and dance every time.”

The guy is incapable of settling down. The problem is Davey can’t figure it out for himself. We’ve all tried telling him he’s not cut out for a life of monogamy, but he refuses to listen. He ends up falling in love with some poor girl, moves in with her, then disappears on her—usually in the middle of the night during one of his episodic panic attacks.

“How long did he hold out for the last one?”

“About two months. The Colorado girl, remember?”

“Makes sense. All the legal weed probably kept him there longer. Well if you hear from the guy, let me know. He owes me five grand, and he’s missed my last two competitions. His ass better come to this one. You better be there too.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” I mock salute even though he can’t see me.

“Very funny. Namaste,” he says, using his favorite word to end a conversation.

He hangs up the phone, and I look over at my laptop again. The police are wrapping things up. Amelia retreats back inside her house, closing the door. It doesn’t look like they found the perp, at least not from my vantage point. I wonder if they’ll keep an officer parked outside for her safety. Either way, I’ll stay up all night and keep watch. I’m not taking any chances until I hear back from Renzo or my dad.

I put on a pot of coffee in my hotel room’s kitchenette, which is basically a small counter with a coffee pot, microwave, and minifridge. The entire room is empty and drab with blank white walls, no furniture other than a sofa bed and a small circular table. At least I thought to bring my PlayStation. A few minutes later, I find myself settling in for the night with a steaming cup of black joe and my controller.

I glance at the laptop, noticing Amelia peeking through the curtains of the bay window. She’s nervous. Maybe she’s finally starting to get it. Maybe she’s finally starting to realize there’s an invisible X marked on her forehead, making her the next target in a long line of sadistic murders. Poor naïve girl.

I hope she can be saved.