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“What the hell are you laughing about?” Dante asks me as he texts someone, likely Trevor, telling him they have me.

“I didn’t notice it until now,” I say, my sights on Sherry, in particular. I can’t reach for my phone without setting her off, so I need to get her mind and her eyes off me. “You still carry a torch for Lucas, don’t you?”

“What?” she croaks.

Nailed it. Even Dante thinks so, judging by the subtle scowl on his face.

“I see the way you still look at him. You hate my guts and it bothers you that he chose me. That they all chose me, while you were left to man their phone lines and make their copies. It’s got to sting. I get it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I love Dante.”

“You sounded a bit relieved earlier when I mentioned that Lucas survived the assault,” I continue. “Face it, Sherry, you’re nothing but a kid throwing a tantrum because daddy didn’t buy you a toy.”

“You need to shut up!” She raises the gun higher, pointing it at my head. Dante stiffens beside her. He’s clearly under strict orders to keep me alive.

“Sherry,” he murmurs, trying to talk her off the ledge.

“No, she’s lying!” Sherry insists.

“Like I said, I get it,” I casually reply. “It probably bothers the hell out of you. Trevor wants me alive and he’s paying good money for this, I assume. Then there’s Lucas. You couldn’t lock him down, so you had to settle for Dante.”

“Is that true?” Dante asks.

“Sherry had quite the passionate affair with the sheriff before she got relegated to her PA desk,” I say. “The whole station knows about it.”

Dante is befuddled and growing increasingly worried. “Sherry? Is it true?”

“Shush, baby. She’s just trying to get between us. You know I love you. That’s why I’m here, breaking the law. For you!”

I take a delicate step back. They don’t notice. Time for another poke.

“Lucas is going to be so disappointed, you know,” I tell Sherry. “He thought he could trust you as his PA. He put his faith in you, and this is what you do? If you couldn’t have him, then no one would.”

“Shut up!”

“Oh, that’s right,” I keep pushing. “You’re going scorched earth here, likely getting me killed while settling for Dante because Lucas wouldn’t bed you anymore. It’s written all over your face, Sherry. No point in trying to hide it.”

“Tassia, I swear to God, if you don’t shut up?—”

“Hold on,” Lucas cuts in. “Sherry, you never told me you and the sheriff had a thing. Why?”

“Because it didn’t mean anything, baby. I’m with you,” she tries to placate him, but he’s not buying it.

“Tassia’s got a point, though. You asked me if Lucas was going to get hurt when I told you the plan.”

“It’s in the past!” she snaps.

I take another step back. But Sherry sees it. “Don’t you fucking dare!” she snarls, too close to pulling the trigger for me to risk it.

“Easy, babe. Trevor wants her alive. Don’t forget that,” Dante reminds her.

The front door swings open, my last sliver of hope fading into the purest, coldest dread as Trevor Callaghan walks into Tim’s burned down cabin with a deeply satisfied smile dancing across his face.

“There she is, my lovely wife,” he quips.

“Alive and well, just like we promised,” Sherry grumbles. Dante snatches the gun from her trembling hands and shoves it in the back of his pants.

Trevor looks out of place in his tailored dark blue suit and perfectly starched tie, his red hair slicked back, beard combed and oiled with great care. By contrast, Sherry and Dante look like hood rats. The kind of people he’d never associate with, even though I know they’re precisely the kind of people he grew up with in this twisted world.