Page 7 of Friends to WHAT?!

“You both need to be committed,” I say. “Top tier committed. Padded rooms, straight jackets, the full shebang.”

“What did I do?” Almond protests, hand to her heart.

I hit my head against the table.

“Wolfe is contemplating the merits of kidnapping,” Sterne informs her, ever the help. “And the cons, too, few though there are.”

Alight, Almond gasps. “You’re going to kidnap Leora?” she squeals. “Oh my gosh, she’s going tolovethat!”

“Not just insane,” I groan, rolling my head on the tabletop. “Criminally insane. Paddedjailcells. Straightjackets with your ankles cuffed to the floor.”

“You’re awfully judgy for a man who came to me with the ‘criminally insane’ idea,” Sterne comments.

I sit up to wag my finger at him. “For you to refute! Not encourage!”

He sips his drink and shrugs. “I’d refute it if it were a bad idea. As it stands, I think it’s a brilliant idea, and experts concur.” He gestures to Almond, who nods her concurrence. “Case closed, abduction is happening. I have some availability tomorrow, if you’re free.”

ThisAlmond protests. “You can’t help him kidnap her,” she says. “That ruins the whole alpha male big guy hotness thing.”

My nose wrinkles. “Don’t talk about me like that,” I order. “Gross. Ew. Don’t talk like that in front of me at all. No. Bad.”

Sterne’s brows furrow. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but if I don’t help him, it’s not happening.” He lops a hand my way. “Look at him. Does that look like a man who won’t chicken out the minute a level one felony is staring him in the face?”

“Excuse you!” Should I be offended? Probably not. Really, truly, probably not. And yet.

“Yeah, excuse you!” Almond echoes. “Wolfe is just as capable of kidnapping as any other man. How dare you.”

“Excuse you.” I reel. I do not want that perception of my character either, thank you very much.

“He’s shaking like a leaf just thinking about it,” Sterne replies.

Almond waves that away. “He’s just got the before-abduction jitters. Happens to everyone. Perfectly normal.”

Sterne hums, unconvinced.

I pick up my beer and chug. Once empty, I stand, check on Amia via the video monitor, and approach the bar, leaving Sterne and Almond to argue about my ability to be a Horrible Person™.

“Another beer?” Fox asks, cheeks flushed from Poem-related activities better left unknown.

“Whiskey,” I reply. “Whatever’s strongest, please.”

He frowns, but complies, and I shove a twenty in his tip jar in gratitude. His frown deepens. “Anything you want to talk about?” he asks.

“No,” I answer. “No talking for me. Never again. When I talk, wild things come out, and I say them to even wilder people, and then my sister and my best friend end up debating how much of a villain I have the potential to be in a corner booth at your bar.”

He blinks. “Well,” he says. “If you change your mind.”

I raise my glass in acknowledgment, then trudge back to the cracked peanut gallery. As I slide into my seat, I send up a prayer to the starry skies above. Not for me, but for Leora.

Because as white as my hair is, I’m not so sure my armor is shiny enough to resist the brigade that I face.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, if my loved ones are to be believed—my prayers are not answered.

My wishes, though…

Well, they do say wishes come true, don’t they?

Chapter Four