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 kil Eric and break out of my cel . 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’l do whatever it takes to convince you. I’l 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’l take them al 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 tel you exactly, if you’re wil ing to deal with him.” I plucked a smal 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 Hil , 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 pil s 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 pil ager.

Taking a deep breath, I dumped the pil s 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’l sit outside and wait for her to come out alone. If she doesn’t, he’l move on, and you’l never even know for sure that he was there. He’s smart, Daddy.”

“You’re stal ing, 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 wil want a shot at the man who kil ed Sara. And goodness knows, Uncle Rick wil 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’l 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 real y hoped I wouldn’t have to use it, but my anger raged just thinking about what Miguel had done, what he was stil 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 stil what you want?” I took out my nerves and frustration on Miguel’s pil ow, ripping open an end seam as I waited for my father to take the bait. Feathers fel 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 physical y. “Let me get this straight. If I let you set the trap, you’l quit school and train to take over the Pride?”

“Wel , 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’l 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 wil 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, especial y if I don’t like it. Two years, max.”