Surprisingly, there was a moving van outside, but it was pulled up to the back of the bar. With curiosity piqued, I hurried to my bedroom window for a better view. Yep, someone was moving in. I looked at the second-floor windows and gasped. Aloud. A man was opening the blinds and dusting off the sills as though readying the place for a new tenant.

In my offices.

My father was renting out my offices right out from under me. I was appalled. Offended. And more than a little ticked. After a quick wardrobe check—surely plaid boxers, a T-shirt that proclaimed that I was cooler than refrigerated air, and pink bunny slippers would do for a quick trip across the alley—I put my coffee cup down and headed to my dad’s bar. The more I thought about it, the faster I walked. And the faster I walked, the angrier I became.

A crisp wind whipped around me when I exited my building, but I ignored it. My father was renting out my offices. Of all the gall.

I strode past two men struggling to offload a desk and ducked into the bar through the back door.

“Dad!” I yelled, stalking past my startled stepmother, who’d just come in from the front. She’d apparently brought the traitor breakfast. I could only hope he’d choke on it. And past Sienna, the gorgeous new bartender who’d hit on Pari. She wore an appreciative grin when she noticed my boxers.

Gemma stepped out of Dad’s office just as I got there, her face a picture of surprise. “Charley, you’re not dressed.”

“Where is he?” I asked, stepping past her.

“Dad? He’s upstairs, I think.”

If I’d been in my right mind, I might have paid heed when the tiniest hint of a smirk flitted across her face, I might have caught on to the fact that all was not as it seemed, but I was on a mission. I turned and took the stairs two at a time. Not the easiest thing to do in bunny slippers. And the long leaps caused my boxers to wedge into unmentionable places, but a quick readjustment once I reached the landing set things right.

I stormed into the first office, the one that had been mine for over two years, and found Dad looking out the window with the raised blinds. His tall lean form had been draped in a plaid button-down and wrinkled khakis that looked two sizes too big, and his normally tan, healthy skin had the pale matte texture of blanched flour that just matched his dark blond hair.

No one else was inside. Everything I’d left was exactly where I’d left it. Not a file cabinet or bookshelf out of place.

I stopped behind him and jammed my hands on my hips. “Really?” I asked.

He bowed his head, and I blocked his emotions the minute the sorrow that had consumed him hit me. I breathed deep and shook it off. He’d had me arrested as I lay in a hospital bed. He didn’t deserve my sympathy. But he did deserve the brunt of my anger.

“You’re renting out my offices? Just like that?” I snapped my fingers to emphasize the hastiness of his actions. I’d been out of them two months, but for some reason, that didn’t seem to be the point.

He turned to me at last, looking more haggard than usual. His Popsicle-stick frame seemed bent with fatigue. His clothes sat askew.

I didn’t care. I did. Not. Care.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not.”

I pointed a finger toward the window. “Then what is that?”

“A ploy,” he said, his voice so matter-of-fact, it took a moment for his words to sink in. “A ruse,” he continued.

I looked out the window and realized the moving van was completely empty except for the desk. The men below gave my dad an official salute before reloading the desk and sliding the door closed.

Turning back to him, I asked, “What are you talking about? A ploy for what?”

“For you,” he said, stepping closer.

I stepped back, suddenly wary.

He took another step but stopped when I offered him my infamous death stare. “You won’t take my calls,” he said, raising his palms in surrender. “You won’t answer your door when I go over.”

“Gosh, I wonder why.” I turned to leave, but his next statement stopped me dead in my tracks.

“I didn’t know how much time I had.”

“What?” I asked, suspicion evident in the sharp tone of my voice.

“When I had you arrested, I didn’t know how much time I had. I just wanted you out, and I had to do it quick.”

With annoyance and zero patience guiding me, I opened my arms in helplessness then dropped them again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I just wanted to do right by you. I just wanted to make up for what I’d done. I got you into this life. I wanted to get you out of it before it was too late.”

“So you had me arrested? That was your solution?”

“You can’t be a private investigator with a record. Your license would have been revoked.” He shrugged. “Mission accomplished.”

The smile that slid across my face held anything but humor. “Thanks for having my back, Dad. Appreciate it.”

“You left me no choice.”

“What?” My voice rose to just below screaming level. “I left you no choice? Are you psychotic?”

“I tried to get you to open up to me, but you don’t trust me. You never have. And I didn’t know what else to do. I was trying to right a wrong. It’s my fault you do what you do. I got you into this, and I just wanted you out of it. Out of danger. When bad guys come after you because of me … I’d been pretending up to that point. But I couldn’t pretend any longer.”