“We’re triplets, douchebag,” I grumble. “Just wait until it’s your turn to dress just like us. It’s kindergarten all over again.”
Scout’s features darken and my stomach tightens. Mentioning the way Mom used to love dressing us alike was probably a bad move. Triggering for damn sure. Sully stiffens uncomfortably. Neither of us are in the mood to stop a Scout psycho meltdown.
“Speaking of our job,” Scout says, speaking coolly as he glosses over my comment, steering the conversation to this bullshit Bryant signed us up for. “I went to mine today. I’m a pee-on associate a floor below the execs.”
I plop down on the end of the sofa, shoving Scout’s feet out of the way and shoot him an expectant look. “And? Learn anything useful?”
“So far, nothing.” He absently strokes the cat. “But, don’t worry, I’ll get there.”
His dark eyes glint in an evil way that never fails to unsettle me. Based on Sully’s silence, I’d say he feels the same. I’m secretly thankful Scout’s not going to be dealing with Landry. For one, she’d know something was up right away. At least me and Sully can pass for one another, but Scout?
Fuck no.
Neither of us is that insane and cold.
Plus, if he had to interact with Landry, he’d probably snap the first time she gave him lip. While I find it hot as hell, Scout will lose his mind. Then…
It will be Ash all over again. Our stepsister was supposed to be a game. We were to toy with her. Scout’s obsession changed everything. It took us to levels in a game we had no business playing.
If he were to zero in on Landry the way he did with Ash, it could fuck everything up. Last time nearly cost us our lives.
I catch Sully’s stare. He must read what’s on my mind because he offers me a slight nod. We need to keep this gig the way it is—Scout away from Landry so we don’t find ourselves repeating the past.
“I ordered some shit for Heathen,” Sully says, tossing his phone aside. “Maybe she’ll remember who saved her and reassess her loyalties.”
Heathen hisses at him.
What a bitch.
A loud bang in the hallway outside our apartment sends Heathen jolting from the couch and under a bookcase. In the next second, Scout flies off the couch toward the sound. It takes me a second to realize Scout has a black Glock in his hand to answer the door.
Holy shit.
“What?” Scout snarls after opening the door and pointing the weapon at the guy’s chest. “Who the fuck are you and why are you trying to beat your way inside my apartment?”
The dude in the hall is wasted and obviously confused. Not someone trying to break in or whatever the hell Scout believes. Slowly, I rise to my feet and inch toward our unhinged brother.
“Thisss isn’t my place,” the guy slurs, a confused expression twisting his features as he looks past Scout at me. “Whoops.” He cracks up laughing. “Don’t shoot, bro.” More laughter.
For fuck’s sake, Scout might shoot him just to shut his annoying ass up.
Scout doesn’t lower the gun. His finger is curled around the trigger. One sudden sneeze and the drunk guy’s brains would paint the wall behind him.
“I’ll walk him to the elevator,” I tell Scout in the calmest voice I can muster. “Dumbass got lost.”
Scout doesn’t resist when I gently push his arm down. When the gun isn’t pointed at the guy’s head, I breathe a little sigh of relief. Not for the drunk’s sake, but for ours. I’m not about to let our lives get fucked over this piece of shit.
“Be right back,” I assure Scout. “Order Thai. I’m fucking starving.”
The trance Scout had been in seems to fade and he blinks before nodding. I glance back at Sully. The relief on his face is palpable. We dodged a bullet. Literally.
I drag the guy to the elevators, having to keep him from busting his face several times along the way. Knowing Scout won’t have to encounter Landry settles my erratically beating heart. Because if I didn’t know my brother owned a gun—that he clearly wasn’t afraid to use—there’s no telling what else I don’t know about him.
This job to fuck with Landry is fun.
I don’t need my crazy-ass brother spoiling my fun.
Chapter Nine
Landry
This evening is going to be a royal disaster.
Dinner with some guy my freaking dad is setting me up with. He could be a total nerd or a giant douchebag. Worse, he could be someone just like my father.
Controlling. Cruel. Cold.
Every nerve in my body is electric and alive in anxious anticipation.
Breathe, Landry.
I refocus my attention to the mirror. My blonde hair shimmers in the light, the ends bouncing at my bare collarbone with each movement I make. The Paco Rabanne floral print dress that Lucy recently brought me hugs my curves yet is still tasteful with a below the knee length. I’ve paired it with my favorite pair of patent leather Louboutin pumps. I might feel sick to my stomach with worry, but I at least look put together.
A long sigh rushes past my lips, exhaling the last of my unease. It’s time to put my game face on and play the part of perfect daughter. At least tonight I won’t have to worry about Della. I’d helped her get ready for bed and then I read her one of her favorite stories. She fell asleep without putting up a fuss.
I can do this.
“Something bothering you?”
The deep timbre of Dad’s familiar voice vibrates and can be felt in each bone in my body. Like an aftershock of an earthquake, my teeth chatter noisily and against my will. Gritting them together, I turn and face my father, a forced smile on my face.
I expect to see his adoring expression.
But that’s not at all what’s looking back at me. It’s the same cruel stare he uses on Della. I freeze mid-step toward him, at a loss for words.
“Landry, sweetheart,” Dad says, words sharp and biting, “I’ll tell you what’s bothering me instead.”
Swallowing, I barely manage a nod. He slowly steps into my room and then walks—no, stalks—my way. I fist my hands at my side to keep the trembling at bay.
“W-What’s bothering you?” I whisper, unable to lift my head and meet his stare now that he’s only inches from me.
Please don’t say Della…
“This.” He motions at my dress. “This is dinner you’re going to, not a hotel for paid sex.”
I flinch at his words, jerking my head up to gape at him. “But, Dad, this one was one of Lucy’s picks. You bought me this dress—”
His hand seizes my jaw, and spittle hits my face as he growls, “I bought you every goddamn dress in your closet. This one is all…wrong. I’m going to have a serious fucking talk with Lucy about what she thinks is acceptable.”
Struggling to keep the tears at bay, I blink furiously. Every day is a minefield in this home. You never know which misstep will obliterate you. Clearly, I’ve put my foot on the mine and the second I try to escape, it’s going to blow.
“I’m sorry,” I croak out. “Which dress should I wear instead?”
“The black Shoshanna puff sleeve dress will do.” He narrows his eyes which are slightly bloodshot. Based on the scent of liquor emanating from him, I know why, too.