“And seconds away from my calling Tanner!” my mom threatens. “What happened?!”

My glare swings to the right as Beretta steps up.

“Nothing.” I push his face away with my palm when he sticks his head inside the vehicle. “I thought I hit a dog.”

I thought I hit a dog?

What the hell?

“What the hell?” my mom drawls.

“Yeah.” I force a laugh. “False alarm. I... ran over a ball.”

“Two big balls,” Beretta whispers, and I flip him off.

“Okay well, next time save us the heart attack and run over anything that places itself in your way, rather than jumping out into the road.”

Beretta’s brows jump. “Savage.”

I frown, yeah, she’s dead inside.

“Get home and be quick about it. Do not make the man wait on you. I’m sure you have yet to shower. After all, it is only ten.” My mother’s voice is slightly teasing, but she can never hide the disapproval completely, not that she has ever tried.

“Ah, yes. Sleep, my one and only.” My finger hovers over the ‘end call’ button. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Remember all of your training and do as you must.”

“Yes, Mother. Any means necessary, got it.”

“And Jameson?” I can picture her standing at the edge of her desk right now, her fingers running over her pearl necklace laying perfectly over her collar.

Kill them with Prada and pearls, she loves to remind me.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be late,” my parents say in unison and then the call drops from their end.

I straighten, my hands finding the framing of the door, and look from Arsen, watching me from in front of my hood, to Beretta, who still stands in my way. “I have to go. Stay out of the road.”

“I was simply getting a ball overthrown by an eight-year-old. You should work on not getting distracted while driving.”

“You should fuck off.” I widen my eyes like an asshole.

“Every other day, Trouble, at the very least.” He flashes me his naturally perfect teeth. “So, who’s Tanner?”

“A bodyguard who tails my sister when the parentals are feeling extra dickish.”

“Nice.”

“Not really, now move.”

He grins but stays planted in the same spot.

I shake my head, sitting back in the seat, and I cut a quick glance around again, realizing they’re missing a piece. “Where’s your third wheel?”

“His... parental is feeling extra dickish.”

My head snaps toward him and I can’t help the small chuckles that escape. This pleases him.

“So, this ‘man’ you’re meeting, who is he?” He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing me with a coy gleam in his hazel eyes. “Better question, does he know you’re attracted to three assholes with respectable taste in clubwear?”

“Ha! Goodbye, Beretta.” I close the door.