Page 73 of Smith

And there you had it. I was right again—my father had saved Zane’s life.

“Who’s gonna save you when I start shooting?” I snapped. “You didn’t have to tell him.”

“Fuck yeah I did. If someone was fucking my Rose and I wasn’t kept up-to-date on every detail, I’d burn that person’s world down.”

Ivy grinned at me with a clear, I-told-you-so smile.

“I didn’t want him worrying more than he already is,” I defended.

“That’s not your call, Aria. It’s a father’s job to worry. Five or thirty-five, it makes no difference, you’re still his baby girl.”

Well fuck me.Who could argue with a guy when he was being all hot dad?

Still, I was me, which meant I wasn’t gracious when I gave in.

“Fine, I’ll call him. But you’re still a rat bastard snitch.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

I was positive he had.

I snatched my phone off the table and prepared for my father’s ass-chewing. But I did it with my heart full, firm in the knowledge his anger would come from a place of love. I might’ve been thirty-five but Zane was right, I was still my dad’s baby girl.

And I couldn’t be mad at that.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Are we waiting for Aria and Zane to get here?” Jonas asked.

Like me, he was staring at the attic door in the ceiling.

The police were lingering downstairs waiting for Aria to arrive, seeing as she was the homeowner. They’d taken their pictures of the damage to the door. They were also curious as to why someone would break in, bypass all of the expensive tools she had in the house, and instead spend their time trying to get into the attic. The police weren’t alone in their curiosity. Today’s plan had been for Jonas and me to find a way to get into the attic while minimizing damage that Aria would have to repair.

Whoever broke in didn’t share in our concern. They’d yanked on the door hard enough to break the molding around the frame and crack the drywall. The fuck of it was they could’ve damaged the rafter boards as well and if that damage was structural, Aria was facing another inspection.

“How’d he know to run?” I wondered out loud.

“Police scanner?” Jonas suggested.

“Motherfucker.”

“Bet your woman’s gonna be saying the same thing when she sees this ceiling.”

No doubt.

“Grab the ladder, we’re not waiting.”

Twenty minutes later the sheetrock surrounding the attic door had been neatly cut away. The insulation wouldn’t be reusable but nonetheless that too had been taken down with the least amount of damage as possible. Now we were faced with remnants of lap board that hadn’t been fully removed when the plaster was replaced.

The good news was the door hinges were accessible.

“Motherfucker did us a favor,” Jonas muttered as he used a crowbar to pry the hinge apart.

“How’s that?” I asked opposite of him, holding my side of the door in place so the ladder folded up inside wouldn’t fall open when Jonas forced the hinge to open.

“Your woman can’t get mad?—”

“Oh yes she can,” Aria said from the two steps from the top of the stairs, staring up at the ceiling.

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