“Are you willing to deal with Ryan?” My pulse pounded as I waited for his answer.
A pause, then, “Are you trying to negotiate with me?”
I crossed my fingers and swam in a little deeper, hoping I’d learned something since the last time I bargained with my father. “Yes.”“Why? I want to catch them too.”
“I have a plan. And I want to lead the hunt.” I held my breath, preparing to have my request denied. I wasn’t disappointed.
“No, Faythe.” Now he sounded weary. “It’s too dangerous, and you don’t have the experience.”
Pushing away from the dresser, I took a firm stance, even though he wasn’t there to see it. “I had the experience to fight off Miguel and save my own life. I had the experience to kill Eric and break out of my cell. I had the experience to lure Ryan downstairs and lock him up.” My father tried to interrupt but I cut him off, desperate to have my say. “I deserve a shot at Miguel, Daddy, and I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you. I’ll work with a partner and however many of the guys you want to send with me. Just give me a chance.”
My father sighed. “If we’re negotiating, I need to know what you’re bringing to the table. Tell me who they’re after and outline your plan. Quickly.”
“Promise not to decide anything until you’ve heard me out,” I said, kneeling by the nightstand to rifle through X-rated magazines and packs of chewing gum.
“Fine.”
“They’re going after Carissa, but they’re driving, and it’ll take them all day to get there.” I dumped the contents of the night-table drawer onto the bed, and went through it with one finger. More loose change, more candy and gum wrappers, a Spanish-language audiocassette, and a coil of nylon cord. Hmm, where have I seen that before?
“When did they leave?”
“Sometime this morning. Ryan could tell you exactly, if you’re willing to deal with him.” I plucked a small bottle of Tylenol from the junk on the bed and popped open the lid. My shoulder and cheek throbbed dully, but it was nothing a couple of gel tabs couldn’t fix.
A pause, a thump, and the rustle of pages turning. Daddy had opened his trusty atlas. “Crystal Springs, Mississippi, to Oak Hill, Missouri. That’s at least a nine-hour drive. What do you have in mind?”
With the phone wedged against my shoulder, I shook two pills onto my palm and blinked. They weren’t Tylenol. And they certainly weren’t over-the-counter. Evidently Miguel had discovered something stronger than alcohol to help him escape the demanding life of a modern-day pillager.
Taking a deep breath, I dumped the pills back into the bottle and closed the lid, then dropped the container on the bed. “If you just move Carissa somewhere safe, you’ll never see Miguel. He’ll have a plan. He’ll sit outside and wait for her to come out alone. If she doesn’t, he’ll move on, and you’ll never even know for sure that he was there. He’s smart, Daddy.”
“You’re stalling, Faythe. Get on with it.”
Another deep breath. “Carissa’s about my height, maybe an inch or two shorter, but Miguel won’t know that. And her hair’s dark enough to look black at night. Mine’s a little longer, but he won’t know that either.”
“No. Absolutely not.” The desk chair groaned, and I knew he was on his feet. “I’m not going to give him another chance at you.”
“Just hear me out.” I spoke over his next objection. “The guys will be right there. The best and the fastest. Marc, Parker, Ethan, if he wants. And anyone else you can get there in time. You know the Di Carlo brothers will want a shot at the man who killed Sara. And goodness knows, Uncle Rick will want justice for Abby.”
My father sighed as if I was testing his patience. “He’d only need one whiff of you to know he’s being set up.”
Okay, so far so good. He’d only said no once. I could work with one no. “He might,” I admitted. “But I’ll wear Carissa’s clothes and perfume. By the time he gets close enough to recognize my scent beneath hers, the guys will already be closing in on him.”
“No. It’s too much of a risk.”
Damn. A second no. I sank onto the unmade bed, gathering my resolve. It was time to play my trump card. I’d really hoped I wouldn’t have to use it, but my anger raged just thinking about what Miguel had done, what he was still trying to do. I would do anything to stop him. To punish him.
Unfortunately, the key to negotiating with my father was to hide my desperation. Easier said than done.
“You’ve been trying to make me take an active role in the Pride since I was a kid. Is that still what you want?” I took out my nerves and frustration on Miguel’s pillow, ripping open an end seam as I waited for my father to take the bait. Feathers fell from the breach, floating to the floor to tickle my bare feet.
“I’d like nothing better,” he said, his voice cautiously optimistic.
“Good. I’m ready to compromise.”
Daddy laughed, and under the circumstances it sounded pretty strange. His chair groaned again as he sat back down, comfortable enough with the turn of the conversation to relax physically. “Let me get this straight. If I let you set the trap, you’ll quit school and train to take over the Pride?”
“Well, that’s where the compromise part comes in.” A smile snuck up on me and I realized with more than a little alarm that—just like my father—I enjoyed negotiation. Damn. I hate it when my parents are right. “If you let me set the trap, my way, I’ll agree to take next year off from school and work for you, on a trial basis.”
“Not good enough,” he said without a second of hesitation, and I knew I was no longer talking to my father. The Alpha had arrived. “Five years. It will take at least that long to train you, and I gave you five years for school.”
“No way.” I shook my head, though he couldn’t see it. “That’s too long, especially if I don’t like it. Two years, max.”
Static crackled in my ear as he turned on the speakerphone. I could almost see him thinking, eyes closed, hands crossed over his stomach as he leaned back in his chair. “Three years. And you give Marc another chance.”
Indignant, I huffed air through my nose. “Nice try, but my private life is not part of the deal. I’ll give you two and a half years, and Marc can partner me on the hunt. Take it or leave it.” A tingle zinged through me. I’d always wanted to say that to my father.
“You’ll stay within sight at all times?”
“Of course. Is that a yes?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer.“Is that your final offer?”
“Yeah, and you’re damn lucky to get it.”
He chuckled, apparently amused by my attempt to hardball him. “Done.” He paused, and I heard what sounded like a pen tapping against the top of his desk. “That’s assuming I can get Umberto and Rick to go along, since this involves their Prides, too. And the Taylors. But I think I can convince them.”
Yes! A successful negotiation with my father was almost as good as another chance to kick Miguel’s ass. Both at once? Better than Christmas. I stood in front of the mirror doing Ethan’s victory dance, pointed fingers and all.
“Faythe?”
I glanced back at Eric’s phone, lying on Miguel’s bed where I’d dropped it when the urge to dance struck. Flushing from embarrassment, I grabbed it and held it back up to my ear. “Yeah. I’m here. Sorry, I dropped the phone.” I knelt on the floor and looked under the bed but found nothing more than a frighteningly thick accumulation of dust.
“I’ll have Michael make the arrangements.” More papers shuffled. “The guys should be there to get you in just over an hour. You’ll all be flying out of Jackson Municipal Airport on the first available flight. I’ll make the reservations. Do you need anything else from me?”
I hesitated, going over the plan in my head. “Yeah. I need one of Carissa’s brothers to stay behind and help, so everything looks normal. Or maybe one of the enforcers. Can you swing that?”
“I’m sure I can.”
“Great. Thanks, Daddy.” I left Miguel’s room and tried the next door. It was a bathroom, which I passed over in favor of the last remaining room. It had to be Eric’s, and my nose confirmed my guess.
“What about Abby?” I asked, tossing clothes from Eric’s dresser. We couldn’t bring her, even if she wanted to go. She’d been through so much already, and should never have to see Miguel again.
“One of the guys can drop the rest of you at the airport, then drive her back to the ranch. Her parents are pretty anxious to see her.”
I poked through Eric’s desk drawer, pushing aside pencils, stamps, paper clips, and several unlabeled CDs. “You can tell them it’s mutual. She’s something else. Very strong.”
“I’ll tell them you said so.” Coming from a cat, there was no bigger compliment than being told you are strong, whether physically or mentally. Speed and strength are our most valued assets.
“Daddy?” I paused in front of the bedside table, searching it with my eyes only, because the entire surface was coated in a sticky, sweet-smelling, brownish film. My best guess was that Eric had spilled soda and hadn’t bothered to clean it up. The key was not in the sticky scattering of junk.