The deep menacing voice comes from behind her, a tall man, blond, and fit as fuck, steps around the partition.

Abbey’s eyes widen as she leaps up from the loveseat and squeaks.

“Mr Foster.”

Mr fucking Foster?

“And who the fuck are you?” I snarl.

The tall fucker just smirks, stepping forward to press his palm to Rhys’ still outstretched hand, pushing it down.

Rolling her eyes, Rhys waves him off.

“Shoosh Ty. Let me work my charm.”

Ty smirks, before sliding his hand to her back, tugging her into his side.

Okay… so he’s not her dad, not that I thought he was since he looks closer in age to me, but he’s obviously her fella.

I wanted alone time with my Angel, but maybe a buffer will help.

After all, Rhys was kind of on my side, right? Maybe she can convince Abbey to come with me.

“I’m Ringo,” I offer, turning down my fucking psycho for a moment.

“Tyler.” The guy nods and when I glance at Abbey, I find her gaping at him.

“Miss Delany. Nice to see you again.”

Miss Delany?

Now I’m fucking confused all over again.

Why the formalities?

Why not just call her Abbey?

Rhys giggles. “I’ll fill in the blanks for you so you don’t have an aneurysm.” She flashes me a grin, her black lips stretching in a smile as she juts her thumb at Tyler. “Ty is Mr Foster. Our old sports teacher, and now he’s my daddy.”

“Jesus, Rhys. Really?” Tyler sighs like he’s used to dealing with this kind of shit from her, daily.

Rhys shrugs, unbothered.

“Anyway, back to you.” She winks at me before turning at Abbey. “He’s a badass criminal. He’s not scared of the law, Abbey, and with the way he looks at you, well,” she waggles her brows. “There isn’t anyone on this Earth that’ll fight harder for you than someone in love with you.”

“He’s not—”

“I’m not—”

Abbey and I say in unison and Ty and Rhys laugh.

“Uh-huh. Okay sure,” Rhys snickers. “Let me know when you realise I’m right.”

Right?

Is she fucking right?

I’ve known Abbey for, what? A week before she ran off, so no, this chick is not fucking right.