Tanner drew a deep breath and headed to the dock. Thirty minutes later a car pulled into the lot and Tanner walked up to the warehouse to meet it.

Elisa didn’t stay to chat when Troy got out of her car with two duffel bags.

The teen eyed Tanner, not looking super thrilled. Then he eyed the sign hanging off the warehouse door that said: NINJAS & PIRATES & LASERS & SHIT—STAY OUT.

He blinked. “You’ve got lasers?”

“Sam doesn’t like company in there when he’s building a boat,” Tanner said. “The sign is supposed to scare people off. He changes it every week or so.”

Troy looked disappointed. “Mom said I’m going to stay with you for the rest of the week and that I had to give you an hour of work every day before school.” Eyes hooded, his ’tude dialed to Sullen Teen, his face was closed off.

Tanner knew it matched his own face, from the square jaw to the hard set of his mouth, to his dark hide-everything gaze. “Glad you showed,” Tanner said.

Troy hunched into his jacket. “I don’t think she wants me at the house right now.”

“That’s what happens when you’re a shithead.”

“Maybe it’s because of her boyfriend, Dale.”

It was Dan, and they both knew it. But if that was true, that they didn’t want Troy around, Tanner was going to be seriously pissed off at Elisa. The problem was that he had no real faith in either Troy’s or Elisa’s version of the truth. They were both acting Troy’s age.

“I want you here,” Tanner said, and when Troy looked up, vulnerability and uncertainty flashing across his face, Tanner’s heart squeezed as he nodded reaffirmation.

But the kid was good and he masked his emotions real fast—something else he’d gotten from dear old dad—giving a casual shrug like he didn’t give a damn, staring down at his shoes as if they held the secrets to life. “You gotta say that.”

“No, actually, I don’t,” Tanner told him. “I never say anything I don’t want to. I’ve always wanted you with me.”

Troy didn’t respond to that other than to make a noise that suggested Tanner might be full of shit.

Yeah. He got that. Hell, he’d been there, right there in Troy’s shoes, so he didn’t bother to try to convince the kid. Words couldn’t do that anyway, only actions could. “You lost your job at the arcade and you got in trouble at school again,” Tanner said. “Yeah?”

Troy shrugged.

“If nothing else, a Riggs always owns up to their own shit. Got me?”

Troy hesitated. “I get you.”

“And?”

Troy stared at him for a long beat and Tanner held his gaze, hoping Troy was going to step up.

Troy blew out a breath. “And I got fired,” he admitted. “And in trouble at school.”

Tanner nodded. “You’ve got a job here. You’ll make more money than you did at the arcade, but your responsibilities will be more important. You on board with that?”

Troy was showing some interest now. “You’re going to pay me?”

“Yeah, we’re going to pay you, though you’re going to work your ass off for it. Yes or no?”

Troy blinked. “I get a choice?”

“I’m not into slave labor, Troy.”

“Do I have a choice since I have to live with you for a week?”

Tanner blew out a breath. There was no gain in telling him that Elisa had dictated that decree. All it would do was hurt him, something Tanner was going to make sure didn’t happen on his watch. “I’m your dad,” he said. “That means this is more of a dictatorship than a democracy. So yeah, you’re with me this week. My rules include: respecting your mom, respecting your employer—whoever that may be—not getting in trouble at school, and in general being a decent human being. It does not include you being forced to work for me. That’s your choice. Now I’ve got a lot of shit to get to so I’m going to ask you one more time. Yes or no?”

Troy shoved his hands in his pockets. “I get grounded for saying the word ‘shit.’ Or ‘hell.’ Or ‘fuck.’” He said this last with great defiance, and Tanner decided to pick his battles.

Besides, he and Cole and Sam swore like it was their job, so he didn’t have a soapbox to stand on with this one. “Yeah, well, when you’re as old as I am no one’ll ground you for swearing,” he promised.

“That’s not fair.”

“Nope,” Tanner agreed. “But life isn’t fair. Yes or no, Troy.”

Another shrug. “I guess.”

Tanner studied him a moment. “I’ll take that as a ‘oh, thank you, Dad, yes,’” he finally said dryly. “You’ll be scrubbing the deck today.”

As if he’d just been asked to make molehills out of mountains, Troy blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. Which was just about the kid’s favorite thing to do, and if he persisted at it, Tanner was going to put those eyes in a jar and roll them for him. “The equipment’s in the hut.”

The hut was what they used for the front office of Lucky Harbor Charters. “Mark’s already in,” Tanner said. “He’ll get you what you need.”

“The old guy?” Troy asked. “He tells stupid stories and never stops talking.”

“Mark is Sam’s father,” Tanner said, “and you’ll need to give him the same amount of respect that you’d give me, Sam, or Cole.” Tanner held Troy’s gaze for a long beat, but apparently Troy was smarter than he looked because he didn’t quite dare roll his eyes again.