“Where is this house?”

“Bea loved Crecia so he compromised and had the house built on the secluded land.”

Where the buses didn’t run, and I couldn’t walk to…

Great.

“I need the address.” He recited the address without hesitation, and I committed it to memory. “How much?”

“Sorry?”

“How much were you going after?”

He hesitated, and I could see his mind working. “What makes you think any money would still be there?”

“There may not be any, but there’s got to be something valuable.”

He must have sensed my desperation. His head tilted and his eyes narrowed. “When are you going to make the hit?”

“Tomorrow.”

He bent low and hissed, “Are you out of your mind? It’s too risky. You have no skill and no plan to pull off a job this soon. You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Art isdead.”

“But his son isnot.”

I sucked in air and slammed back against the chair. This wasn’t news to me. It wasn’t what sent me reeling. It was the sudden return of emotions and memories that washed away denial and the carefully sealed compartments in which I had locked away everything Angel Knight. I had not allowed myself to think about him or even speak his name in almost three years.

With five words, my father pressed the button that released the past. Maybe even permanently. The last time had nearly destroyed me.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to do this?”

I held my stomach to calm the flutters. “Positive.”

“If something happens to you—”

“I can do this,” I reassured. “I’m my father’s kid, you know.”

He had searched my gaze before he answered. “Yeah, I know, baby girl. That’s what scares me.”* * *I left thebuilding feeling lighter than I had going in. When visiting hours were close to ending, and I still hadn’t managed to assuage my father’s worry, I did the unthinkable and appealed to his guilt.

“I thought going to prison and leaving me alone was the worst you could ever do to me but it’s not… Letting your grandson and I starve is far more fucked up.”

My stomach turned because, even though I was sorry I spoke then, I was even sorrier they were true.

I got what I wanted.

The combination and location of the safe.

The money my father had been after would be long gone after three years, but maybe it’s been replaced with more. I have no idea the condition Art left his only son when he died. Did he take over the business? Did he leave him an inheritance?

The estate my father described might not even be owned by the Knights. What if Bea or Angel sold?

I had no choice but to risk it all to gain in return, so I shook off what ifs and plotted my next step.

“Hey, how did it go?” Joey stood next to his car and pocketed his phone he was just thumbing through.

“Better than expected.”

He grinned and bounced on his toes. “So, did you ask him?”

“No, sorry. Must have forgot.” Joey wanted me to ask my father if he ever caught two buff dudes getting it on. There was no way in hell I would ask my father that. Not that he would discuss it with me anyway, but I agreed for the sake of getting a ride.

“But you were in there for over an hour!”

“We had a lot of catching up to do since it’s been two and a half years.”

“Right. Forgot.” We hopped in, and he cranked up the car. “So where to, Miss?” He tipped his cap and made a goofy face.

“Actually, I need a favor that doesn’t involve you driving me, but does involve your car…”

“Name it.”Chapter FourSome ghosts are just memories.

ANGEL“When are youcoming home? I need to get my dick wet.”

I laughed into the phone, not at all surprised at the topic my right hand chose after two weeks of no contact. Lucas Devlin was the male equivalent of a nympho. If it was hot, tight, and wet, he fucked it.

“Why do I need to be home for that? You need me to hold your hand or some shit?”

He snorted and said, “It was a separate question and statement. I just thought I’d save time by getting it all out at once.”

“I’m flying in tonight. I had to tie up some loose ends and knock a few heads together.” That was putting it mildly, actually. The blood I spilled on this job wouldn’t be easily washed away.

“We should do something tonight. Z misses you.”

“It’s true, sunshine!” His shout came from the background rather than another phone line, telling me they were together.

A groan escaped me. If the two of them spent the last week together, I knew I was walking into more bullshit than I cared to handle. Lucas Devlin and Zachariah Ellis were runaways who escaped the system together at the age of fifteen and thirteen. They managed to evade getting caught for six months when my father found them robbing a married couple for their money with stolen guns and no bullets. He admired their brass balls, as he put it, so he hired them. Despite my father’s reservations involving me in the business so soon, the minute the three of us were put in one room, we became inseparable. We stole together, killed together, and even fucked together. The first time someone called us The Three Musketeers, Z literally tried to stick his foot down their throat.