“I was about to call them. Hang on, I’ll put it on speaker,” he says. Pulling his feet off the table, he leans forward and sets his phone between us. He punches his finger against the screen a few times and it starts ringing.
Isaak leans back again.
“Isaak,” a deep voice growls into the speaker.
“It’s Josiah. Isaak is here with me. We wanted to find out what the latest news is,” I say.
“Sir, we have unquestionable proof that the kidnapping attempt and the operation attack are linked.”
My chest tightens. “So, it’s one group?”
“Yes, sir. One group is causing all the shit lately. But like you said before, they are just puppets. There is no fucking way that a group that small could plan something like this—or have the balls, or sheer stupidity, to pull it off.”
“I don’t fucking get it. They are literally begging me to tear them apart. How could someone be so naive to think that they would get away with attacking someone like me in my own city?”
“Someone is testing you, sir,” comes the reply through the phone. Isaak nods in agreement.
“Well, I want to get to the bottom of this and make sure they fail at whatever their ultimate plan is. Keep looking. Find out who is pulling the strings,” I demand.
“Yes, sir.”
Isaak leans forward and hangs up the phone, picking it up again and slipping it into his pocket. “So, what’s next?”
“I think we should take a drive around town and show our faces in some of those darker shitholes that might have forgotten who we are or let their egos get out of hand. I want to talk to the managers and find out why their people aren’t being kept under control and why people are disregarding the law around here,” I mutter.
“Fuck yeah. I’m up for that. Let me grab another gun from my trunk, then meet me out front with your car.”
“Better tuck an extra one at your ankle. It’s going to be one of those days. I’ll meet you downstairs,” I say, standing up.
Isaak hurries out of the office, eager to get going. I sigh, pushing my hand through my hair. The stress of this situation is not exciting or exhilarating in any way. I want my family safe. I don’t want to deal with this kind of shit.
But it’s part of being who I am.
And I am the one who chooses to be so hands-on. I could send a team of thugs out to do this for me, but what respect would I earn then? People would watch me hiding behind my ivory gates, safe and sound, while other men enforced my words. Words are nothing. Only actions speak.
***
It’s late afternoon when I finally get home.
My body and mind are both exhausted, and all I really care about at this point is spending time with my kids and my wife. It’s the thing that’s pushing me forward.
The front door swings open as I walk up the steps towards it.
Kelsey is there, hanging on to the handle, standing on her tiptoes because she can only just reach it. Kira comes bursting through the open space and jumps, without hesitation, fully trusting that I will catch her.
I laugh as I wrap my hands around her tiny body and lift her higher in the air, using her own momentum to spin her around. She squeals in delight.
Kelsey doesn’t run to me in the same way, but I can see she wants to be spun too, so as I walk past her, I scoop her up, enjoying her giggles as I throw her over my shoulder and spin both of them together. The moment they appear in my day, the rest of the drama and shit just fades. It disappears. It’s gone. The stress and exhaustion are gone. My worry is gone. All that matters are their smiling faces as they beam up at me.
“Where is your mother?” I ask, kicking the door closed behind us with the twins still slung over my shoulder. Kira wiggles to point.
I follow her directions. Left, left, down the hall, into the kitchen.
Which is where I find Kayla wearing a cute little pink chef’s apron and a red-hot glow on her cheeks.
She huffs, blowing air upwards to try to move her hair out of her face. I laugh and help her by brushing it away and tucking it behind her ear.
I let my hand linger on her cheek for a moment.
