I squeeze closed my eyes. Please don't ask, please don't ask- "Still dancing . . ." Blastoff! "I a.s.sume?" There's no judgment in his voice, but there's the unmistakable tw.a.n.g of disappointment, which is worse.

I don't answer and keep my eyes forward. I can't tell him the reasons why I'm there. He'll tell me that I'm wasting my time, that Svetlana's killers can't run forever and eventually they'll have to face the ultimate judgment and that alone will be enough.

I disagree.

I want whoever tortured and mutilated my sister to spend the rest of their breathing days in prison before they get to spend an eternity in h.e.l.l.

But that's me. I'm not nearly as forgiving as my dad.

"Beatriks . . . no one can worship both G.o.d and money." He quotes the Bible in such an everyday way that proves he really lives by the word.

"I don't do it for the money." I do it for Svetlana.

He groans and squeezes me tighter in a way that feels like rea.s.surance or possibly worry. "The Bible says our body is a temple for The Holy Spirit-"

"I know that, Dad." The words come out harsher than I intend, but the fact that he insists on repeating things we've been over a hundred times is infuriating. Not to mention, he's absolutely right. I focus on steady breathing and hope my voice doesn't shake. "It's just a job."

"To you, it's just a job. But there are men you dance for who are struggling in their marriages, dipping into p.o.r.nography. You have to consider the stumbling block that your dancing is to-"

"That's not my problem. Grown men are capable of making decisions for themselves." I turn and look at him. "Free will, right? They want to screw their lives up, destroy their marriages; they have the right to do that. Don't blame me for it."

He nods and takes my hand in a gentle hold. "I don't blame you. I just don't want you to look back and wish you'd spent time doing something more with your life. Something that involves serving and helping others. That's where true joy lives."

Bitterness wells up in my gut and turns my stomach. Serving others. That's what my parents have always preached to us. The joy in giving. The blessing in selflessness. But it doesn't always work out for everyone, now does it?

"True joy?" I sit up and put down a foot to stop the swing. "Dad, it was Lana's selflessness that got her killed."

He blanches but recovers quickly. "No, it was the sin and the brokenness of man that killed your sister. It-"

"She pulled her car over to help. It was dark, and she knew if she drove by a person in need without stopping she'd be letting you down, letting G.o.d down. She'd never be able to look at herself in the mirror. That was Lana, Dad."

"Honey-"

"She never should've stopped. If she never stopped, she'd be here." And I wouldn't be stripping! "She'd be sitting right here with us, but she's not." I push up from the swing.

"No, but she's with our Father in heaven, and that's better than-"

"Don't." I hold up my hand. "Please, don't tell me that her being in heaven is better than her being here with us."

He stands and studies me with a compa.s.sion that wrecks me. "I love you, Beatriks. You and Svetlana were the first children that G.o.d brought to us. You two were a package deal. Your sister refused to leave you even at a young age. I can only imagine how her death-"

"Murder."

"Murder . . . must've affected you. Still affects you." He steps forward and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You've got to let her go, Bea."

"I can't." Not until whoever killed her pays for what he's taken from me. "She refused to let me go, Dad. I'm doing the same."

"She held onto you to keep you safe. Your holding onto her is poisoning the life you could have. The life you were fated to have." He squints up at the sky and then back down at me. "Don't you see, Bea? Her life's purpose was your safety. Your happiness. Everything she did revolved around her protection of you. Honor her life and all she sacrificed by becoming all you can be. Don't settle for simply being an"-he clears his throat-"exotic dancer."

I swallow past the lump in my throat. "You don't understand."

"That's probably true, but know this. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, you could do that would change my love for you. I don't think any father dreams that his daughter becomes a dancer in Vegas, but if this is truly what makes you happy, that's all I want for you." As painful as the words must've been to say, I truly believe he means it.

The truth is it doesn't make me happy. It hasn't made me happy in a long time. Ever since my best lead took off to Mexico, everything else has led me to a dead end. Sure, I like to dance, but I get plenty of that at the Youth Club.

He pulls me in and wraps his arms around my shoulders. "I love you, sweetheart."

I bury my face into his shoulder, fighting tears. "I love you too, Daddy."

"Now, we better get these kids ready for bed." He yells into the yard for the kids to come in. "Shouldn't take longer than just a few minutes."

Two hours and thirty-seven minutes later I'm lying on the top bunk bed in my little sisters' room, my nose about a foot from the ceiling and the sound of two little girl snores coming from the bed below mine.

I can't stop thinking about what my dad said earlier tonight. I've given up almost four years of my life to stripping, all in the hope of finding something that even the police were unable to find. What seemed so possible at one time now seems as impossible as la.s.soing the fog. How many more years of my life will I give up for my dead sister? One? Ten? Would I give up my life? If Svetlana were here right now, she'd tell me I'd already wasted too much time. Her interests were always me first, everything else second, and all I ever wanted was to give that back to her.

But she's gone.

Dead.

I'm fighting for nothing more than a memory.

The last few years have been filled with sacrifice, and it never bothered me. At least, it never bothered me until Mason.

He's the only person who has ever made me wonder what it would be like to leave all this behind. To hang up my search for revenge and go after a life worth living. A life of honor and respect. One my parents could be proud of.

One Svetlana would be proud of.

On a heavy sigh, I power up my phone. I scroll to Mason's number and punch out a quick text.

In bed. Missing you. Can't wait for tomorrow.

I stare at my phone, waiting. Nothing.

I scroll through my social media sites, watch a few funny cat videos without sound, and then check my text messages again.

Huh, still nothing.

Maybe he's out with his mom?

I type out one more text.

We'll be at Cowell bright and early. G'night.

Rather than turn my phone off, I tuck it under my pillow so I'll feel it vibrate when he texts me back.

Twenty.

Mason "Have you lost your f.u.c.king mind?" I spit through clenched teeth and an aching jaw at the back of Drake's head.

I'd rather be in his face, but it's impossible to do when he's nose first in a pile of white powder.

"Dude, calm down, Mase." Birdman's eyes are practically slits as he pulls a heavy lungful of smoke from the bong wedged between his ankles. He holds the s.h.i.t in until it makes him cough and then exhales. "It's a f.u.c.king party, man."

A party? Just last week my brother was hiding out, and now he's snorting the s.h.i.t that got him in trouble in the first place.

After dropping Trix off with her family, Drake took me to my mom's place, where I unloaded my stuff. She wasn't home, and according to Drake, she rarely is. A new boyfriend with a yacht is her latest diversion. We'll see how long that lasts.

I avoided calling Trix all night, knowing she was catching up with her family, and finally accepted Drake's invitation to go hang out with The Brotherhood to avoid staring at my phone like a love-sick pansy.

It took all of ten minutes to realize I would've been better off at my mom's in front of the TV.

"Give me your keys." I hold out my hand, and Drake glares at it like it's dipped in dog s.h.i.t.

"No way. Besides, I told Jessica I'd meet her here." He gives the room a once over with glazed eyes.

I do the same, although I'm completely sober. The small beach-style bungalow is no more than a thousand square feet, and it's filled with local surfers. I can spot them from a mile away. Trucker hat, surf brand tee, long shorts held to their hips by a belt, and flip-flops or skate shoes.

"Mase, man"-Jayden slaps me on the shoulder, his big grin showing off his gold tooth-"welcome home."

Home. Yeah right. This is not home.

"As soon as Jessica gets here, we're leaving."

"Jessica's here, man." Harrison has a big grin on his face too. All of them are as high as airliners. "Saw her with J.P. when I came in."

That a.s.shole's here? He graduated ten years before us, and even now that he's in his thirties, he still hangs with Drake and his crew. From what I understand, he's weaseled his way in with Drake's dad, pushing my brother out of the way to get close to the criminals they run with. f.u.c.king loser.

Drake's jaw gets hard and he scowls. "With J.P.? Where?"

Harrison cackles with unrestrained laughter, sending Drake to his feet.

I hook my brother's bicep. "Whoa . . . what's going on?"

Drake jerks his arm out of my grip, his eyes bloodshot and crazed. "Nothin'. I'll be right back." He turns his trucker hat forward and storms from the room.

s.h.i.t. This isn't good.

I follow behind Drake as he heads to the short hallway and starts pushing open doors. "Jessica, where the f.u.c.k are you?" He throws open another door and finally gets to one that's locked. He bangs with a closed fist. "Jess, you in there? Jess!" He kicks the door, making it splinter.

I stand back, close enough to jump in if something happens, but far enough away so that I'm not breathing down my brother's neck, only further p.i.s.sing him off.

The lock clicks and the door opens.

J.P., over six feet of a.s.shole and looking like he's jacked up on 'roids, comes out of the bathroom, making a show of zipping up his fly. "Drake, you piece of s.h.i.t. Way you were banging on this door I thought the cops were busting in."

Drake pushes past him into the bathroom then comes out with a staggering Jess in his arms. Her hair is tangled around her face, and if it weren't for my brother's arms bracing her weight, she wouldn't be standing. Her head lulls on her shoulders, and she mumbles something incoherent.

"What the f.u.c.k happened in there?" Drake's question isn't directed at anyone in particular, but the way he's asking demands someone answer.

Jessica's legs give out, and he hefts her up to his chest.

"We were just having a little fun. Don't sweat it." J.P. reaches to Jessica, but Drake knocks his hand away.

"Don't f.u.c.king touch her, man."

My mind spins with sick irony. Drake's not ideal, but he's better than this piece of s.h.i.t.

Jessica was my girlfriend, but I knew Drake always had a thing for her. The second I wasn't looking, he made his move. It sucked at first. I really thought we'd end up together, but I was wrong. Drake has never been faithful to Jess, and now that this J.P. guy is moving in on his girl, he's decided to stake his claim? f.u.c.king ridiculous.

What's most disturbing about all this is the fact that Jess is clearly out of her mind either on booze or drugs or a combo of the two and neither of these guys has the right to lay a finger on her body when she's this f.u.c.ked up.

I step closer. "Drake. Give me your keys. I'm taking Jessica home."

"No way. I've got her-"

"Now."

J.P. steps up, his jaw hard. "Well look who we have here? College boy."

"Always knew you were a f.u.c.kup, J.P. Never took you for a rapist."

He shrugs, his lips curling back over his teeth. "I was just takin' a p.i.s.s. Not my fault she followed me in, beggin' for my d.i.c.k."

Drake tries to lunge. "You motherfu-"

I hold my hand up to keep Drake back, noticing briefly that Jessica is completely slumped over in his arms. "Take her to the car, Drake. I'll be right there. Don't drive, understand?"

My brother's eyes are buggin' out of his head, clearly the high from all the c.o.ke he snorted in full force and intensified by adrenaline.

"Drake!" His eyes come to mine. "Now. Get her to the car."

He shifts his gaze between J.P. and me, not moving.

Jessica sucks in a breath and coughs then vomits all over Drake's leg.

He blinks down. "s.h.i.t."

Her back arches with a dry heave.

"Take her outside, D."

This time he doesn't stall and guides her down the hallway to the front door. "Hang in there, baby. You're okay."