Prescott scowled.
“Allegra deserves the full facts. Girl’s an adult,” Gramps chided, and Prescott’s frown deepened.
“And then I spent the next two years moping on a yacht and staying well away from home,” I replied.
“Child, I wouldn’t say sulking. You were deeply hurt, Shotgun let you down,” Gramps said.
“So, I packed up and did a bunk with the kids, and Shotgun and Rain have never seen them? That seems cruel and brattish.”
“You were hurting, and Shotgun had stated you were lying about being pregnant.”
“Remains a nasty thing to do, if I acted out of spite.” I leaned back in the garden chair and studied my family. “And I slept with both men?”
As they laughed, I was stuck on that. I’d been in a steady, committed relationship with two men. None of the family seemed bothered, but I was. A triad wasn’t a standard relationship. So why had I agreed to one?
“Don’t underestimate how devastated you were, Allegra. When Shotgun denied the baby’s existence, it rocked you to your core. The situation was made worse because he believed you would be so underhanded,” Thatch said.
Everyone changed the subject. I knew nothing but what the family told me. I didn’t think they were lying, but they only had one side of the story. Mine.
“What’s wrong, dear girl?” Nana asked softly. We were sitting side by side, and I shook my head. Nana was still recovering, and I wouldn’t worry her with petty concerns. She was recuperating from what had luckily been a minor stroke and a broken hip.
“Answer me, Allegra,” Nana ordered, keeping her voice down.
“I just sense there’s more than what I’m being told.”
“There probably is. Shotgun and Rain loved you; that was obvious, and you blossomed under their care. Never sat right with me that you believed Shotgun picked Hellfire over you. He appeared the type of man who’d blow the world up for you.”
Then why hadn’t he?
“Do you have their address?”
“There’s my brave girl. Yes, I do.”
???
I thanked the Uber driver and gave him a hefty tip.
Taking in their home, it wasn’t what I had expected. Either Shotgun or Rain definitely had money. It sat at the end of a street, with a little lane leading up to the house, set on about an acre of land backing onto fields. It screamed privacy, but was well-maintained.
Since it was a Saturday, Nana had assured me that somebody would be in. Plus, I had no way of contacting them. As I walked up the lane, I searched for anything familiar; there was nothing. Even when the house came into view, it rang no bells. I hated this sense of emptiness. Would I ever feel full again, or was I condemned to continuously wondering if I should recognise a stranger?
Determined, I strode up to the front door and knocked. Surprisingly, it opened, and I stepped back. Had someone left it open? Gingerly, I pushed it and peered in.
“Hello?”
Nobody answered. I bit my lip in hesitation. It could be that the door had been left ajar, or they’d rushed out and it hadn’t shut properly. But somebody could also be injured inside, and that worried me.
“Is anyone home?” I called again and received the same silence. There’d not been a car or motorbike outside. I assumed Shotgun rode because he was in an MC. Uncertain, I shuffled from foot to foot until I heard a rustling. Shit, someone might be in there and hurt.
Oh well, I could always apologise afterwards. I stepped inside and looked around. The hall was quite large, with several doors leading off it. I moved to the nearest and discovered a lounge, and the opposite door led to a TV room. The next door revealeda dining room, then a kitchen. There was one left, and I opened it and wished I hadn’t. Holy crap.
The office had been destroyed. There were three filing cabinets that had been forced open, spilling the files everywhere. Books were ripped from shelves and tossed onto the floor. The drawers in the heavy wooden chest had been yanked out, and the contents were poured out. Pictures had been torn from the walls, and several baskets had been emptied, too.
A break-in had occurred here. I immediately stepped back and hit a hard body. I screamed and moved away quickly as someone clutched at me.
“Allegra! It’s me, honey!” a guy cried, and I shot across the other side of the office and grabbed a lamp.
“Don’t smash that, it was one of your favourites,” the stranger said, and I glanced down. It was rather pretty, but even so.
