Page 9 of The Devil's Daughter

I fish into my pocket and hand him my phone, which I know is secure. “Use this. Give me your phone so we can verify it hasn’t been compromised. Elle, go pack.”

I take his phone, and he sits in the armchair by the window, already barking orders on a call. It sounds like he’s talking to Leland Duffy, his driver, one ofthemost tolerant, patient human beings on Earth, considering what he puts up with.

Elle hasn’t moved. She just stands staring at each of us with wide eyes, arms crossed over her middle.

Baz glances at her and smirks. “So you thought Ben and I were the ones watching you?”

His bold question seems to kick her into gear. Her cheeks redden and she turns, striding into her closet as she says, “I don’t know. Yeah, I guess? I assumed you were taking advantage of the opportunity. Thought I’d fuck with you a little…”

I look at Baz, who stares back with both eyebrows lifted. I know what my twin is thinking, and this puts an entirely new spin on our friendship with Elle. This isn’t some benign selfie taken from above, giving us theperfectview down her shirt to those luscious breasts that suddenly appeared sometime in eighth grade. I doubt she even realized how fucking sexy all those pics she used to share with us in high school were. But I haven’t seen the actual show she put on today, so I don’t know what she means by “fuck with” us. Whatever it was must’ve been hot enough to bring Drake to her door like some randy dog.

“Wait a sec, you need to be straight with us now. Youwantedus to watch whatever you were doing in front of that camera?” I move to lean against the wall right outside her closet. She comes out buttoning a pair of jeans. She’s also put on a bra under her T-shirt, so her hard nipples no longer poke out from beneath the thin fabric. All the softness of her breasts is bound into firm mounds, which is for the best.

She glances at Drake, who lifts one eyebrow, waiting for her answer. She narrows her eyes and points at him. “You…”

He holds up a hand. “I don’t need to make a single goddamn excuse for what I was doing. It’s my company. What happens on my equipment is my business. You agreed to the fine print simply by logging into that machine.”

She clenches her jaw and glares at each of us as ifwe’vesomehow done her wrong.

“What were you doing in here?” Baz asks, his tone gentle.

“Getting even,” she snaps. “Watch the goddamn video, if you’re so curious.”

She turns and stomps back into the closet, slamming the door behind her this time. There’s the Ellie I know and love.

“Fine,” Baz mutters, focusing on the laptop again.

I turn to Drake. “You saw, didn’t you? Want to tell us why you were so hot and bothered when you got to her door?” I almost regret asking, because in that split-second when I caught sight of his hard-on just before Elle opened her door, we shared a look that seemed to last an eternity. The way he narrows his eyes now, I wonder if he sees right through me.

“I want to give her a chance to explain herself. Elle?” he calls.

She emerges with a duffle bag stuffed to the gills and sneakers on her feet. “Nothing to explain. I thought you guys were spying on me, so I thought I’d have some fun. I’dreallylike to get the fuck away from this place, now that I know some perverted stranger has been watching all this time.”

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” I say.

“I don’t really care.” Her voice is brittle steel, the faintest quaver warning me that she’s on the verge of losing her shit. And after everything she’s been through, would I blame her? She went from believing one abusive asshole was her dad to discovering an even bigger, anddangerousasshole was her real father. I suppose I should be grateful that my parents were great people, even if they were linked closely to Arturo Flores.

“What’s the verdict?” I ask Drake, impatient to keep her steady. I’ve seen Elle break down twice in my life, once shortly after her older brother J.J. died and again when her mother had a stroke. Both events were heartbreaking to witness. Thankfully her brother turned out to be alive, and her mom has mostly recovered. I haven’t seen a hint of an emotional crack in her armor in ages, but I can sense another break coming over these daddy issues.

I don’t count the stubborn tantrums she throws when she’s feeling cooped up—that just goes with the territory, and it’s kind of hot.

“My yacht is anchored in Cat Harbor off Catalina Island. We’ll have Duffy fly us out. It’s well staffed with people I trust, and more secure than this place. It would be impossible for anyone to sneak onto without a boat or helicopter.”

Of course this rich fuck has ayacht. Why am I even surprised? I manage to school my features into indifference. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll throw some shit together and meet you on the roof. Baz?”

My brother’s nose is still buried in Elle’s laptop and he’s deep in concentration. The bundle of wires that was once Elle’s thermostat rests on the duvet beside him. What doesn’t track is the fact that the camera lens is covered in tape. So was she deliberately performing for it, or wasn’t she?

I stretch out a hand and nudge him. He shakes his head and picks up the camera, waving it at me.

“I’m going to stay put until I can trace this fucker. I’ll have Duff fly me up tomorrow morning. You guys go ahead.”

Elle gives me a sullen, almost fearful look. “Are you sure we should split up? I’d feel safer if you were both with me.”

The hitch in her voice drives home how deeply this whole arrangement has affected her. So far she’s treated it like an inconvenient vacation, but now it’s clear she’s aware of the danger she could be in.

“I’ve got your back, babe,” I say. “It’s only for a night.” I reach out and take her duffle bag, then grab her hand. “Come help me pack.”

She relinquishes her bag, but pulls away, climbs onto the bed, and wraps her arms around Baz from behind. “Be careful Bazzy,” she says, voice muffled by his shoulder.

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