Page 75 of Twisted Control

But his precious daughter screwing the bodyguard? That’s a different story.

Fuck.

Just when Grace was finally starting to open up Finn shows up and everything feels fragile again. One wrong move and she might slam those walls right back up. Go back to pretending we’re nothing.

I drag a hand through my still-damp hair and exhale slowly.

This just got a whole lot more complicated.

As expected, Grace has been a ghost all day. Locked in her room, completely radio silent. I’ve been stuck out here doing jack shit. Watching the camera feeds and slowly losing my mind.

My phone vibrates just after ten that night.

Levi.

He wouldn’t call this late while I’m on a job unless it was important.

“What?” I answer, keeping my voice flat even though my stomach tightens.

“Got a problem,” he says. The low, pissed-off rumble of his ancient Mustang growls in the background.

“Who’d you piss off this time?” I ask.

“Sitter cancelled tomorrow. Got a job.”

“And this is my problem how?”

“He’s ten. I’m not handing the kid off to just anyone. There’s a vetting process and I don’t have time to vet.”

I frown, slow to catch up. “You want me to watch him?”

“Well done. Gold star.”

“No,” I say flat. “I’m already babysitting one brat twenty-four seven. I’m not running a fucking daycare.”

“You owe me.”

I scoff. “For what, exactly?”

“For fucking my gun. I can’t get it right now.”

I shake my head. There’s no point arguing. Levi’s useless at pretty much everything in life—conversation, manners, not being a miserable prick—but when it comes to putting holes in people, the man is gifted. I’ll give him that.

Maybe I did fuck up his gun.

“Doesn’t the kid go to school?” I ask, fishing for an escape route.

“He does. Congratulations on basic observation skills. But tomorrow’s Sunday.” Levi’s voice is flat, leaving zero room for argument. “Pick him up at nine, drop him back by noon. I don’t want him sitting around the apartment all day.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What the hell am I supposed to do with a ten-year-old for three hours?”

“Figure it out,” Levi says, completely unbothered.

He hangs up before I can tell him exactly where he can shove his three-hour favor.

I stare at the phone for a beat, then mutter into the empty room, “Fucking fantastic.”

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