She sighed as she walked toward the door. What to do? Mede wanted the old Sparkle back, but the Big Boss had used the old Sparkle against Mede. And the Big Boss was in charge of them all. She couldn’t give the Big Boss an excuse to interfere in their lives again.

She brightened a little. Maybe she’d do some compromising. Why couldn’t she build character at the same time she did a little meddling? God knew that both Cinn and Dacian needed an upgrade in their quality of life. She could do that.

With renewed purpose, she strode from the dungeon. And if sex happened during her meddling, well, was it her fault? Of course not.

She hummed “Wicked Game” as she made her plans.

Chapter Three

Murder was an option. She‘d claim justifiable homicide. No jury in the country would convict her. Cinn took a deep breath before once again rattling the greenhouse door. Yep, locked. The witch. No wonder she‘d been so calm when Cinn had left the dungeon. See, now Sparkle had overplayed her hand. She‘d had Cinn scared witless, but fury had pushed the fear aside for the moment. No one kept her from her plants.

She‘d backed her truck up to the greenhouse, ready to load her plants, so now she climbed into the cab, looking for something she could use to break a window. She came up with a hammer. Good. She‘d free her plants and then maybe she‘d use the hammer on Sparkle‘s head.

Returning to the greenhouse, she flung back her arm, ready to crunch some glass.

“This is all very entertaining, and I certainly don‘t want to interfere with your breaking-and-entering plans, but I would like to point out that Sparkle will prosecute. And since there are security cameras everywhere, Holgarth will have all the proof he needs. Even he couldn‘t lose this case.”

The voice in Cinn‘s head swung her around. Not Ganymede‘s voice. This voice was light and feminine with a built-in snootiness. This woman—she looked down—this cat sounded just as superior as the other cat.

Cinn was too angry to feel intimidated. “Let me guess. You‘re Ganymede‘s sister.”

The Siamese cat widened her almond-shaped eyes in horror. “What a dreadful thing to say to someone you just met.” She sniffed a delicate cat sniff. “And here I was, trying to help you.”

Cinn didn‘t care about the cat‘s bruised feelings. “Look, the plants inside this place are mine. I‘m reclaiming my property.”

“I don‘t think the judge will see it that way. And if he does, Ganymede will change his mind. Literally.”