Dane
His father was trying to frame him for Tish.
And Lila was right there in the Penthouse.
He might already have his hands on her.
Dane's long legs ate up the office floor—straight to the stairwell, ignoring John's shout behind him. He punched the emergency call for the car and prayed they were where they were supposed to be. He'd be at the parking lot in thirty seconds.
He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Everything was autopilot.
Call the Police, or Lila? Would the Police simply find whatever his father had done and blame it on him again? But if he had Lila…
A sound tore out of Dane's throat as he rounded another stairway landing. He was calling Lila. He had to know.
But just as he brought up the phone, her name flashed on the screen.
