“No,” she says quietly. “Maybe. I don’t know. It just broke my heart for your girls. Having the court decide when and how they can see their mom. I know it’s what’s best for them, but it’s hard not to wonder what would have happened if Michael hadn’t passed away.”
She stares straight ahead through the windshield as she talks. “I don’t want to disrespect his memory. He was a good guy. My high school sweetheart. But you talked about people changing. Michael was changing. He changed, I guess. I mean, after Jax was born.”
I listen until we pull into the driveway outside her house. There’s a bike parked halfway down the block that I recognize as one of the prospect’s.
Good. I told them surveillance.
I kill the engine and turn to face Poppy. “What do you mean changed?”
She shakes her head, those long brown waves moving around her face. “I don’t know. I think my mom knows something about it, but to be honest, I don’t want to know. If he was cheating, what does it matter now? All it would do is change the memories I have. Can you imagine not being able to confront him? Knowing a secret and having to live with it like that? Sometimes I wonder if I’m so damned tired all the time because all I ever do is work on keeping all the questions and all the suspicions buried.” She licks her lips. “But they are fighting to get out. I need to know the truth, don’t I? What kind of person would I be if I said I really don’t want to know?”
“The kind of person who’s protecting her peace.Fuck, Poppy. Your dad died after he built your salon. You were a widow with a two-year-old. Do you really think knowing any more about how your husband died or what he was up to before he passed would change your life for the better?”
She turns in the seat and faces me. “I locked up my heart when he died. I don’t know if I know how to let anyone else in.”
What she’s saying hits me as hard as what she’s not saying. She wants to let me in. And she might never be able to.
“After you’ve been locked up,” I tell her, “it’s like the only thing that matters is freedom. But you get out of a cell, and you’re right back in another kind of prison. The kind of prison people put you in. Bills and bosses. People’s opinions of you. Prejudice.” I shake my head. “Any door I’ve ever opened, I had to break my way through. A little lock ain’t going to keep me out of where I want to go. You just got to let me know it’s okay, and I’ll break down the fucking door if I have to.”
I jerk a thumb toward her house. “Not like that. I don’t fucking go where I’m not wanted. But if I am…”
Her lips part and her breathing goes shallow.
There’s a sudden rap at the window, and I turn a murderous gaze to the prospect who should be watching the house, not me.
I throw open the door and slam it behind me, leaving Poppy in the truck. “What?”
The kid holds up his phone and shakes it wildly. “I’m sorry, Phantom. I’m sorry. Savage and Viper havebeen blowing up my phone. They said they can’t reach you and it’s urgent.”
I curse under my breath and grab my phone. Fuck. Fuck! I turned it off while we were in court and didn’t even think to turn it back on. Once I power it up, I see fifteen messages.
Savage: Problem. Call me.
Viper: We definitely have a problem.
Savage: Call me the second you get this.
Viper: Phantom, fuck. Where TF are you?
I don’t bother reading the rest of them since they all say the same things. I punch in Savage’s number and dial it.
“What the fuck is going on?” I bark. Poppy is still in my truck, and I want her where I can see her. Even more important, I want her safe.
Savage gets right to it. “Dylan,” he says. “He was jumped. Beat bad. He’s here, but you’re going to want to see this. How soon can you get here.”
“I need two hours, tops. He need a doctor?”
Savage grunts. “He won’t go. He’s conscious, but he’s fucked up. He won’t say what happened.”
I’ll get Dylan to talk. The only reason he’s not talking now is he either can’t because too many teeth are broken, or he fucked up and he’s stalling to figure out how to spin it. I’m banking on that last thing.
“Don’t let him out of your sight. Two hours.” I hang up, then clap the prospect on the shoulder. “Good work. I’m going to bring her inside. Eyes on the house while we’re in there.”
He nods, looking relieved that I complimented him instead of tore him a new asshole for pounding on my window. I go around to the passenger side and try to remember what the fuck we were talking about.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Work shit. I’m going to have to go in.”
She nods. “Do you need to go now? You can leave me here, and?—”
