Did I really want to think like her again? After how many orgasms Cross gave me to push the dark Bren down…did I really want to awaken her? Oh, man. She’d call. She wouldn’t give a fuck. Then she’d probably go off and skewer someone who looked at her wrong. Then she’d end up in jail, so yeah, I was kinda in the same place as last night since any minute now I was expecting the cops to roll up.

I pushed down the nerves, ignored how my arms were shaking, and dialed his number.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Then he picked up. “Bren?”

My mouth was suddenly dry, and my throat cracked. “Dad?”

Chapter Seventeen

BREN

There was a raid on a Red Demons’ warehouse.

That’s what my dad explained. He wasn’t involved, but a lot of the Red Demons were, and there were thirty warrants out for their arrest. Thirty. Only four had been captured in the raid, and two were big wigs in their entire network. One was my dad’s friend, the President of the Red Demons, Maxwell Raith, and their Vice President, Ghost. I was assuming that wasn’t his real name, but it’s what my dad said. Max and Ghost. They were the important ones and the ones who every cop and every bounty hunter in the tri-state area were all gunning for.

“Dad, I thought they were by Roussou? In Frisco.”

“Nah, honey. They’re growing fast. They’re all over. Was just in Texas, last I heard, but now I’m guessing they’re back.” He paused, then saying, almost shy, “Your brother tells me that he got a job for you at a bounty hunting business in Cain. That’s real good. I think you’ll fit right in there.”

I had stopped breathing when he said that to me.

My dad.

I never saw him when he was in prison. I didn’t talk to him during the trial, not that there was much of a trial. He fought against one of the charges, but plead guilty to the majority of them. The trial had been on his time served.

He thought I’d fit in at a bounty hunting office.

That meant, well, I didn’t know what that meant to me, but I was feeling something. I must’ve because I had a big ball of emotion in my throat and I couldn’t talk for a full thirty seconds

“Honey? Bren?”

A call was coming in from Shetland.

I coughed, clearing my throat. “I gotta go, Dad. Bye.”

“Bye, honey. I lo—”

I ended the call, switching over to the other one. “Shet—” I couldn’t talk. Dammit.

“Where are you?”

“Lunch,” I said. I was still in my truck.

“That better be code for you’re getting our lunch? Right? Because it’s one-thirty and we’re all hungry.”