“I’m not in a mood.”
“Okay.”
“Locke?” Ivy tugged on my jeans. “Can you pick me up so I can see my other dad?”
Cos I was the tallest. I sent Folk a silent request to watch the door and scooped Ivy onto my shoulder like I used to with Willow a thousand years ago. Ivy was already getting a little big for it. Time passed so fast, man.Take the good shit as fate and roll with it.
The queen had spoken.
One of them, at least. The other was squirming on my shoulder.
“Can you see him?” I angled myself better for Ivy to catch a glimpse of Decoy. “He was by the big saw thing a minute ago.”
“I can see him!” She bounced in my hold, heels digging into my chest.
Folk reached out to stop her, but I waved him off. If I could wrestle Nash back to bed, I could handle Ivy’s little feet.
Besides, I wanted his laser gazeon the door.
Decoy heard Ivy’s call and came out. I put her down so she could run to him and hop over the desk.
Folk stayed with me.
I gave him a fraternal one-armed hug. “Other dad, eh?”
Folk shrugged like it was nothing when I happened to know it was everything to him. “It makes sense to her. Liliana has two dads. So does the kid at the farm.”
“If you think it’s about logistics, you’re an idiot.”
“And he says he’s not in a mood.”
A yawn was my only counterargument, and safe in the knowledge Folk had my back, I let my gaze drift to the roof where Nash remained with Saint and Alexei. “Do you get minutes if you miss a dark side meeting?”
Folk glanced at the roof, taking it all in and probably a bunch of shit I’d missed. “That’s not a meeting. That’s Nash herding cats.”
“It’s not church?”
The barest hint of a frown creased Folk’s mellow brow. “I have no idea.”
I couldn’t tell if that bothered him. Folk was the most lethal individual I’d ever met. I’d seen him shoot a man between the eyes without missing a step. But he was the ultimate reluctant renegade. Gangster life didn’t suit him, and I had to believe that if he wasn’t on that roof, it was because he didn’t want to be.
Movement at my feet caught my attention.
Lida pawed at my leg.
A second later, the deep rumble of a fast-approaching bike pierced the air.
Round these parts, it wasn’t an unusual sound, but the last few weeks had put me on edge. I moved to block the door and escort Orla away from the sales desk, but a V-Rod louder than Nash’s appeared before I got there, a six-foot-three drink of water hunched over the handlebars.
Ranger.
Damn. I’d forgotten about that. Blowjobs and sleepwalking, then waking up on the wrong side of the bed—literally—had messed with my head. Still wasn’t over opening my eyes to Orla laughing at the snake pit of arms and legs me and Nash had turned ourselves into overnight. I’d been wrapped around him like an overgrown limpet, arm clamped to his abdomen, chin on his shoulder, my chest moulded to his back.
He’d been dead to the world.
Until I’d moved.
Ranger motored to a stop in the yard and killed the engine. The sudden quiet gave me a moment to glance at Folk and take in his raised brow.
