She nibbles on her lower lip like she’s aware of what’s about to go down, but she doesn’t argue. She climbs off her stool and starts to follow Daisy andStella into the kitchen, but then she stops and turns back.
“I love you, Dad,” she says quietly, throwing herself into my arms. “I’m glad you brought us here. We’ll be okay if we have to go.”
Rage and relief pour through me like hot lava. I hold Holly tightly and rest my chin on top of her head. She smells expensive, like fancy-salon shampoo.
For a moment, I see the image of the hot salon owner in my head, but I drive it away and hold my daughter close. “I love you too. Now, go block this Tyler kid’s number in your phone. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Holly giggles but throws a worried look back at me.
“Go on,” I assure her, my heart bursting and breaking all over again.
She knows what’s about to go down. She’s probably been on the receiving end of a thousand shitty texts from her mom since she woke up. I know I have, and I’ve ignored every single one.
This moment was always going to come eventually. I’ve never been fool enough to think Shayla would make anything easy.
“She’s raising hell on the front drive,” Savage says in a tight voice. “Threatening to bash in your brains. Typical Shayla stuff.”
I draw in a shaking breath and clench my hands into fists. “She got a weapon? Who’s out there with her?”
“Shadow and Viper.” Savage chuckles. “Her only weapon is her big-ass mouth.”
“You need me to do something?”
I turn to the voice behind me, ready to take out myrage on whoever thinks it’s a good idea to interrupt me. One of our prospects, Dylan—also known as Jizz, thanks to a stupid mistake he made while giving a piss sample at the doctor’s once—is hovering close.
“Back the fuck up,” I tell him. “You’ll know if I want you anywhere near me.” Stupid fucking prospects, desperate to prove their worth and pissing me off eight ways to Sunday. I instantly feel shitty because he’s only trying to help, and I’m really only pissed at Shayla.
I turn to shove open the front door and immediately hear the hollering and cursing that my ex is famous for. “Make sure the cameras are rolling,” I tell him as I step outside.
“You motherfucking ugly-ass nobodies!”
Shayla may have had an expensive haircut and color yesterday, but she looks like straight-up trash right now. Her face is red and sweating, and she’s wearing dirty clothes. Her too-tight tank top is stained, and her cutoff shorts expose way more of her body than I ever need to see again. She probably was out partying all night and came right here from whatever club let her in.
Shadow has his hands in the air, and he’s clearly trying to reason with her. It would be funny seeing her slip around the gravel in flip-flops with heels on them if I weren’t damn sure she’d sue the club if she fell.
Viper’s got his arms crossed over his chest, looking like he’s having a hell of a time keeping a lid on his temper. Viper doesn’t have kids, doesn’t have an old lady, and doesn’t have two shits to spare.
His nickname is apt because he’s probably the most lethal of all of us—one hit from that guy would knockShayla into her next lifetime. Viper knows I need the cameras recording this shitshow, or I have no doubt he’d have already shown her ass the way back to her car or the inside of a coffin.
“Shayla,” I say, choking back what I really want to say. “What’s your problem? This is private property, and you know you’re not welcome here.”
She surges at me, rushing across the gravel drive to shove me backward with both hands. “You’re my fucking problem, you filthy son of a bitch. Where are my kids?”
The blood literally boils inside my veins. For a minute, the world goes dark, and I see red. I have never laid a hand on Shayla, but at times like this, the desire to choke the fucking air from her lungs is so strong, I have to jam my hands into my pockets to stop my fingers from betraying my self-control.
“Shayla, you need to calm the fuck down.” My voice is steady, but I know I’m pushing her buttons.
“Fuck you!” She explodes forward, shoving me again, and I have to take a step back to regain my footing. “And fuck you!” She goes wild, turning on Viper—a man she knows will not hesitate to put her ass in place. And yet, like a Florida hurricane touching down, she can’t stop herself, whirling, her expensive hair flying, as she grabs the front of his shirt and yanks. “I know my fucking kids are in there. I’m going to call the cops if you don’t send them out right now.”
Viper makes a move to restrain her, but I tear a hand from my pocket and hold it up to stop him.
I don’t even need to bait this woman into her worst behavior. She’s doing fine all on her own.
“The kids aren’t coming out, Shayla,” I say calmly.
I’m thanking my divorce lawyer in my head right now. Shayla and I filed when I got convicted the first time, but we still loved each other back then. Our custody agreement was mutual and flexible, so I’m not violating any law by keeping the kids with me. I can have them any time I want them, no restrictions.
“The hell they aren’t!” She makes a big show of pulling out her phone and punching in 9-1-1. “Let’s see what the cops have to say about that.”
