“Perfect.”
Heather appears on the porch, wrapped in one of my hoodies. Her hair is still messy from sleep, and she looks a little concerned.
“Grant? What’s going on?”
“Security upgrades.” I walk over to her and pull her close. “I want to make sure the house and grounds are as safe as possible.”
“All of this?” She looks at the van full of equipment. “I appreciate it, but this is probably overkill. Not to mention the expense.”
“It’s not overkill, and I don’t care how much it costs if it means I can help keep you safe. As far as I’m concerned, every piece of equipment in that van is one hundred percent necessary.” I keep my voice gentle but firm. “Steven knows where we are, and I’m not taking any chances.”
She opens her mouth like she wants to argue, then closes it again. I can see the war playing out on her face. She’s used to dealing with all of this alone, and she has a stubborn streak that’s about half a mile wide.
Thankfully, she doesn’t fight me on this decision.
“Okay,” she says instead. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. This is what it means to work together.” I lean in for a quick kiss. “I’ve got you, Hurricane. Both of you.”
The installation takes most of the day. While the technicians work, I stay on the phone making other arrangements.
My first call is to a private security firm that specializes in personal protection.
“I need someone to escort Ms. Lucas to and from work,” I tell the woman on the other end. “Not a driver, but someone who can follow at a distance and ensure her safety to and from the parking lot. And I need someone watching her daughter’s school. Discreetly, of course.”
“We can have people in place by tomorrow morning.”
“Good. I want regular reports, and I obviously want to know if anyone suspicious comes near either of them.”
My second call is to a lawyer who specializes in family law and restraining orders. The lawyer asks a series of questions, and I relay everything Heather told me about the incident. By the end of the call, he assures me he can have the paperwork for a restraining order filed by the end of the week.
The third call is to the Aces’ head of security.
“I need a favor,” I start, and then explain the situation. Within an hour, he’s sent over additional information about Steven that includes previous addresses, employment history, and known associates. It’s more than I expected, and I’m more than happy to forward all of it to the lawyer and the security firm.
By evening, the house looks like a fortress. There are cameras everywhere, new locks on every door, and a control panel that lets us monitor everything from our phones.
“This is wild,” April says, watching as Mike shows us how to arm and disarm the system. “It’s like we live in a spy movie!”
I know I’m being overprotective. I know Heather thinks this is all too much. But I don’t care.
The thought of Steven getting anywhere near them makes my blood fucking boil. The memory of that bruise on Heather’s arm and the fear in her eyes when she was packing to leave—I can’t get it out of my head.
So I do what I do best. I prepare, I plan, and I control every variable I can.
I get updates throughout the day, with text messages confirming arrivals, departures, and status reports. Each one is a small relief, but practice that afternoon is torture.
I’m distracted, checking my phone between drills. Scanning my texts. Waiting for any sign of trouble.
“Parker!” Dunaway yells after I let in an easy goal. “Where the hell is your head?”
“Sorry, Coach.”
“Sorry doesn’t win games.” He skates over. “You’ve been off all week. What’s going on?”
“Personal stuff. I’m handling it.”
“Handle it faster. We’ve got a game in two days, and I need you sharp.”
