“I dunno,” I answered. “It’s beyond shitty, and if I were a judge, I’d never trust a moron who’d drag his kids into a custody battle by creeping on them. He’s using two teenagers who are doing normal teenage shit to get to you. It tells me everything I need to know about his character.”
“I agree,” Kennedy chimed in. “Especially since he’s dragging my boy into it too. I daren’t tell Kit. He’d break into Evan’s house when he was asleep and slit his throat.”
I pressed my lips together to stop myself from declaring that Evan getting his throat slit wouldn’t be any great loss to society, but on second thought, I decided it probably wasn’t the right time or place, though I suspected we were all thinking the same thing.
Rosie tossed the photographs on Kennedy’s desk. “I should be mad, and I am, but I’m also hurt. After everything he’s already done to me, why would he be so evil?”
“I’ll call Perry now. Tell him to step it up. Once I tell him what Evan’s done, I’m pretty sure he’ll push harder.”
I leaned forward. “Tell your guy I’ll pay overtime. I’ll remortgage the gym if it gets us what we need.”
“He’s on retainer, Donovan. It’s covered,” Kennedy assured me. “I already told Rosie that this one’s on me.”
I shot her a grateful smile. “You’ve got my marker, Ned. Thanks.”
She smiled back.
Rosie looked between us, her expression worried, yet still defiant. “So what happens next?”
Taking her hand, I rubbed my thumb across her fingers reassuringly. “Maybe we should ask Colt to deal directly with the PI?”
“Good idea. Those two together will be a force to be reckoned with.” Ned’s gaze slid to meet Rosie’s. “It’ll take at least a couple of months for the court date to come through. Just give Perry and Colt some time to work their magic.”
“Kennedy’s right, baby,” I told her. “You should tell the kids what’s going on. You need to prepare them because the family court will want their input.”
“Yeah,” Rosie concurred. “And I need to warn them that someone could be out there watching them and taking pictures. They’re going to have to stay vigilant, though telling them it’s because of their own father won’t be easy.”
A sharp pang hit my chest.
I knew this was killing her. The kids were already disillusioned by their dad’s actions. All this shit was going to push them to dislike him even more, but what else could we do? Keeping them in the dark wouldn’t be fair, and it was like I said, the courts would want to talk to them anyway. Evan had forced his agenda and pulled the kids into the whole damned mess.
I squeezed her fingers gently. “You don’t have a choice, Ro.”
Rosie chewed her lip. “I know.”
In that moment, I knew for as long as I lived there was no way I’d give up. Seeing Rosie so confused and worried was like a dagger to the heart.
Her ex-asshole had a fight on his hands if he thought I’d ever let him win.
CHAPTER 19
ROSIE
As much as a part of me was in turmoil about Evan, I was strangely chill. This surprised me because the prospect of telling my kids that their dad was a piece of shit who was determined to uproot them from their lives should have freaked me out.
Maybe I’d resigned myself to the prospect that I had to burst their bubble. DJ already got it because he’d always been much more perceptive than Gabby, but my girl loved her dad and still needed to believe he was some kind of hero. Although he’d let her down, Gabby saw it as a blip rather than a character flaw, and unfortunately, I was the one who had to shatter her illusions, even though it was Evan who had made the situation such a mess.
For years, I’d tried to avoid what was about to happen, and by doing so, I’d tied myself in knots. But Donovan was right; the kids were older now and had to learn how to deal with their father. I couldn’t keep protecting him, and honestly, after his latest stunt, I didn’t want to.
A bang reverberated from the front door, and I heard Gabby’s laughter filter into the kitchen where I was waiting for them. “Mommy!” she yelled.
“In the kitchen, honey,” I called back. “I’ve made cookies.”
Seconds later, DJ strolled into the room with Gabby close on his heels. “How was your sleepover?” I asked.
Deej shrugged. “It was the shit. We played video games most of the night. I beat my high score on Counter-Strike 2.”
“That’s great,” I praised. “But can you please stop saying shit?”
