He sharply pulled over to the side of the road and threw the car in park before turning on her. He grabbed the back of her head, drawing her face close to his. “Stop this at once. I want your forgiveness, you ungrateful brat.”
She did laugh then. How very Trevor-like. Demand forgiveness and insult her in the same breath. “Tough. I don’t want to forgive you. You don’t deserve it.”
He leaned down and kissed her hard—and all too briefly. “I know I don’t deserve it.” He let her go and gripped the steering wheel, rotating his shoulders. “Now, put your seat belt back on.”
She sighed and snapped her belt in place. Just when she thought she had a handle on him, he did something surprising and thoughtful. It was irritating.
“Besides, I’ve never bailed anyone out of jail before. I can cross it off my bucket list.”
She slanted him a look. “Glad you think this is funny.”
He reached out and picked up her hand, bringing it to his mouth. “My lawyer assures me he can get the charges dropped if she enters a drug rehab program.” He lightly kissed her fingers. “And I heard from the detective today.”
“What?” She jerked her hand from his grasp. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? What’s Brad’s last name? Who is he?” She twisted in her seat and glared at him. The passing headlights cast shadows onto his profile.
“I didn’t tell you because I was angry. The longer you kept that hideous smile in place, the more I wanted to throttle you.”
He was unbelievable. Yeah, this was the Trevor she was used to dealing with, the selfish jerk who did whatever he wanted and couldn’t care less about anyone but himself. “What’s. His. Name.”
“Bradley. Thomas,” he said, mocking her cadence. “There, does that tell you everything you want to know?”
She took a deep, steady breath. “Here’s a wacky thought. Why don’t you just tell me what the detective said, so I won’t have to beat it out of you?”
“Well, we do have a safe word—Uruguay.”
“Trevor—”
He sighed. “Fine. He’s twenty-four, has three prior arrests, two for drugs, one for a DUI. He’s lives in a house in North Las Vegas, and he’s three months behind on rent.”
Sounded like even more of a loser than she thought. “What does he do for a living?”
“No job on the books. The detective thinks he sells drugs. Pot mostly. He’s living with four other people, two men, two women, not including your sister.”
“Perfect. How much are the detective and your lawyer going to cost me?”
There was a long pause. “You know, darling, you’re beginning to piss me off.” His pleasant voice belied his words.
She knew from experience, the more polite and cheerful he got, the angrier he was. Well too bad, she was angry as well—angry at him, Monica, her father, her dead mother. Oh God, no, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t mad at her mom. How the hell could she be mad at her mom for dying? Allie missed her every day.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She was a bitch for even thinking such a thing. Her mother had been warm and big-hearted and cared about people. She’d depended on Allie, had asked her to do one thing—take care of her family.
It shouldn’t be so goddamned hard. Why couldn’t her dad and sisters just do what they were supposed to do? She had. She’d quit school and come home. Allie hadn’t complained, run off the rails, or started dating someone inappropriate.
She needed to fix this. And she’d start by accepting Trevor’s help. She couldn’t get Monica out of jail by herself, even though she’d argued otherwise. She’d get Monica home and talk some sense into her. True, that hadn’t worked the thousands of other times she’d done it, but she had to keep trying. It’s what her mom would want.
***
Trevor looked around the detention center with distaste. There was an odious mixture of alcohol and unwashed bodies—never a pleasant combination. The uniformed man behind the glass took their money, Allie signed a couple of forms, and then they waited for over an hour in uncomfortable molded-plastic chairs.
Allie remained silent, but glared at him every once in a while. Usually after he said something he thought was rather witty. But at least she was looking at him again.
He’d been serious before. He would stop at nothing until she forgave him. Bailing her sister out of jail was a start. And the irony wasn’t wasted on him. Allie had asked him to forgive his parents three days ago, and he’d been angry at her interference. Now she wouldn’t forgive him, and it was tearing him apart. She was right—he didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it just the same.
Clutching her release papers, Monica stepped through the door, clothed in jeans and a dirty pink T-shirt. Her hair was a snarl of tangles and her cheeks were blotchy from crying. Dark makeup circled her eyes.
Monica ran toward them, flinging herself into Allie’s arms. “Thank you. Thank you for getting me out.”
Allie hugged her back. “Are you okay?”
The younger girl nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” She glanced at Trevor with puffy eyes. “What’s he doing here?”
Trevor stepped forward. “Let’s get out of here.”
Allie kept her arm around Monica’s shoulders. “He’s the one who bailed you out.”
Trevor held the door, and Allie threw him a look as she passed through it. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
He didn’t want her gratitude. Not really. He wanted things to be the way they were before his mouth got in the way—comfortable in each other’s presence, the sexual awareness bubbling beneath the surface of every touch, every glance. He wanted her to want him.
Once they reached the parking lot, Allie rubbed Monica’s back. “So, why didn’t Brad bail you out?”
Monica stiffened, stepped away from Allie. “Don’t start, okay? He’s on probation.”
“So? What does that have to do with it?”
Monica said nothing but looked away.
“Was he with you when you got arrested?” Allie came to a stop in the middle of the lot.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Monica said.
“So he just left you there, by yourself?”
“He didn’t want to leave me, but if he gets into trouble again, he’ll go back to jail.”
“Maybe that’s where he belongs.”
“Shut up, Allie.” Monica clenched her hands at her sides. “You don’t know him, so why are you even talking about it?”
“I met him. He’s an asshole.”
“And he’s not?” Monica pointed at Trevor.
Allie took a step toward her sister. “He’s the asshole who bailed you out. You should be on your knees, thanking him.”
Monica sneered. “Isn’t that your job?”
“You little—”
Trevor smoothly stepped in between them. “I think we should go back to my house and get a good night’s sleep.” He took Allie’s arm in one hand and Monica’s in the other and all but hauled them toward the car.
“I want to go home,” Monica said.
“Finally, you’re talking sense.” Allie peeked around Trevor’s chest to look at her sister. “Have you called Dad yet?”
Monica tried to pull out of Trevor’s hold, but he tightened his grip. “No, why should I? And I’m not talking about that home. I mean where I’m staying with Brad.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re going back to the loser who left you to get arrested?”
“Shut up—”
Trevor gave both of them a shake. “Both of you shut up. Now, who’s hungry?”
***
“I’m calling Dad,” Allie said when they walked through the front door of the mansion.
“Yeah, you do that,” Monica said in a snotty tone.
When Trevor led Monica to the drawing room, Allie remained in the foyer and tried calling her dad. It went to voice mail and she left a message, feeling angrier by the minute. Where the hell was he, and why couldn’t he just pick up the damn phone?
She turned to find Trevor leaning against a display case of bird eggs. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion overwhelmed her, leaving her drained. “Why are you doing this anyway?”