But it is my business. This is the guy who sent two men around to my house and tried to kidnap Lacey, who tried to run me off the road and nearly got me killed, who murdered an innocent girl, poisoned her, for no other purpose than to get Zeth's attention, with the lovely added bonus of ruining my fucking life. Even if I did have a guarantee he wouldn't hurt either Pip or me, which I'm pretty sure he will, I would never let Lacey go with him. Something's obviously happened here that I'm unaware of to make Lacey think it's safe to be with Charlie, but there's no doubt about it—she's not going anywhere. Not if I have anything to say about it. I head to the open plan kitchen, pull open a drawer and take out the largest knife I can find. I give it straight to Pip.

“If they come through, use this. Don't hesitate.”

Pippa's eyes are as big as saucers. “You can't be serious. There's no way I'm stabbing anybody.”

“How about if they're trying to kill you? How would you feel about stabbing them then?”

“Well, I suppose—”

“Then get ready.” I walk away, hurrying through the apartment. I head straight for the room opposite Lacey's—the one I know belongs to Michael. Inside everything is immaculate, just as I would expect it to be with a man like him. I'd hoped to find some sort of weapons stash under the bed or something, but all I find are a pair of Armani slippers. No guns. No flamethrowers. No ninja stars. What kind of right-hand man is this guy?

I do spot a baseball bat on the wall, though. It's mounted on a stand and looks like a player has signed it. It probably isn't something Michael would appreciate being used to cave someone's head in but it's going to have to do. I snatch it off the stand and head back out into the hallway. I cross straight over to the room where Lacey is still going crazy, hammering on the door, demanding to be let out.

“I don't get it, Lace. You're gonna have to help me out here. Why do you suddenly want to go with Charlie? What's he told you?”

She goes quiet, although I can hear her stuttering breaths; she's crying. “He's told me the truth,” she whispers. “All this time, all these years I thought Zeth was the only one I had. The only one who cared about me, even if he didn’t know I was his sister. But I was wrong. I had Charlie. I had…I had my dad.”

My dad.

There have been no words ever spoken in the English language that have shocked me more than these. I almost drop the baseball bat. “Lace, I don't think—I think you're mistaken. I don't think —”

“He is! He's my father. It's the truth, I know it is.”

“When did he tell you this?”

“About an hour ago. The cell phone Zeth gave me…Charlie messaged it yesterday morning. He thought I was Zeth. He said he knew where I was. As soon as he found out who I was, he told me the truth. He told me that was why he tried to take me from your place. Those men, they weren't going to hurt me, Sloane. Charlie just wanted me to be safe. He wants me to be with him.”

Lacey's been glued to that phone for the past two days. Two fucking days that Charlie Holsan has been filling Lacey’s head with lies. He must have a good read on people, or at least he must have studied Lacey in some way to know how important family is to her. He's taken the one thing that can flip her switches and turn her crazy and he’s used them against her.

“He's lying to you, babe. I promise you he is. He’d say anything to get to Zeth. He almost killed me, remember? He tried to drive me off the road.”

There’s silence at that. A thick silence, punctuated only by the sounds of one of the most dangerous criminals in Seattle trying to force his way inside the apartment. Lacey doesn’t say a word. She knows I’m right; she knows it deep down, and yet I know she’s not hearing me. I know her. She’s lost in this wonderful idea that she has a father. A real, biological father, who can take care of her and make everything right in her world again.

“Lacey, your father was killed in a car accident. He’s been dead for twenty-six years.”

“That man wasn’t my father. He was one of Charlie’s men. He stole me.”

Oh, boy. There’s no way I can argue this out with her now. With a mind as sensitive to suggestion as Lacey’s, I’ll never be able to convince her she’s been fooled. Especially since she wants to believe this fallacy.

“Sloane? Sloane! Get through here,” Pippa shouts. Her voice is three octaves higher than usual and shaky. I’ll have to deal with Lacey later. I run down the hallway, baseball bat gripped in two hands, only to find—

“Oh, shit!”

The door is off its hinges at the top left of the frame, and the paneled wood is splintering apart under the force of the kicks smashing into it. “You’re gonna be sorry you didn’t save my boys the time and energy, here,” Charlie tells us, and this time his voice is worryingly clear. We have seconds before they’re through.

My cell phone starts ringing.

My heart is hammering.

Pippa looks like she’s about to throw up. I feel as though I’m about to throw up.

“Stand there. Stay there. Don’t move,” I whisper, pointing at the spot on the ground right in front of the door where she’s already standing. She gives me a single, terrified nod of her head. I slip around the side of the door, twisting the bat over and over in my hands, waiting.

This is so clichéd; I almost want to laugh. I would laugh, except for the fact that I’m shitting myself. I’m hiding behind a door, getting ready to smash a baseball bat into an intruder’s face. They’re bound to see this coming, surely?