Sure, he was taking a chance in presenting the idea of coming forward to her father, but the reality was that Childe’s interests and his were aligned: They both wanted him the fuck away from Grier.

Staring into her eyes, he willed her to find the strength to stay connected to her blood, and he was very aware of why it was so important to him: As usual, he was being selfish. If he did come clean to some judge or congressional hearing, he was going to stay breathing for a while, but he’d be essentially dead to her as he got swept up into a witness protection program of some sort. Therefore, her father was the best shot she had at being protected.

The only shot.

Isaac shook his head. “The bad guy in this is the one you saw in the kitchen back at my apartment. He’s the true evil. Not your father.”

“The only way . . .” Grier wiped her eyes again. “The only way I can be anywhere around him is if he helps you.”

“So tell him that when he gets here.”

A moment later she straightened her shoulders and took the phone. “Okay. I will.”

As a burst of emotion hit him, he had to stop himself from leaning in for a quick kiss—God, she was strong. So very strong. “Good,” he said hoarsely. “That’s good. And I’m going to go find my buddy Jim now.”

Turning away, he went down the back stairwell, and rounded the landings with speed. He was praying that either Jim had returned or those two hard-asses out in the backyard could bring him in from wherever he was at.

Bursting through the kitchen, he hit the door out into the garden, opening it wide—

Over in the far corner, Jim’s buddies were bookending a glowing cell phone, looking like they’d been kneed in the balls.

“What’s wrong?” Isaac asked.

The pair glanced up and he immediately knew by those tight expressions that Jim was in the shit: When you worked on a team, there was absolutely nothing more gut-wrenching than if one of you got captured by the enemy. It was worse than a mortal wound in yourself or a teammate.

Because the enemy didn’t always kill first.

“Matthias,” Isaac hissed.

As the one with the thick braid shook his head, Isaac jogged down to them. Pierced was looking green, positively green. “Who then? Who has Jim? How can I help?”

Grier appeared in the open doorway. “My father will be here in five minutes.” She frowned. “Is everything okay?”

Isaac just stared at the two guys. “I can help.”

The one with the braid shut that right down: “No, I’m afraid you can’t.”

“Isaac? Who are you talking to?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Friends of Jim’s.” He looked back—