“I was actually hoping for the big man, but you’ll do,” a man says, and I recognize the voice immediately. “Drive, Lucas.” I start the car and push on the gas.
“Father,” I say while shaking my head.
“Seems Keir wants me dead.” My father’s voice floats up and into my ears from the back seat. “Heard he has men looking for me.”
That makes sense now about why Keir wanted to talk to me about him.
“What did you do?” I ask.
He pulls the gun away, and I look in the rearview mirror to see him relaxing on the back seat, one knee over the other with a smirk on his face. “I may have stolen from him.”
“Fuck,” I growl, hitting the steering wheel. “You don’t steal from Kier. Fuck.” I hit the wheel again. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I fucking wasn’t, obviously. I was low on cash, and I knew where they kept it.”
“You knew where they kept it because of me. Do you want me dead as well?” I yell.
“Have you done what I asked?”
I shake my head. “Things have been complicated.”
“They always are when women are involved.” My father taps my seat, and I pull over. He gets out and looks down at me, the same eyes as mine staring back at me. “I’ll get the money,” he says. “Keep him off my tail.” He pats my shoulder, and I want to lean out and clock him one right in the face. The bastard’s a sneaky asshole. Gets away with too much, and I’m always left cleaning up after him. I’m fucking sick of it. “How’s your mother?”
I take off, leaving him standing there on the street.
No.
I will not discuss my mother with him.
Never.
Under any circumstances.
That’s one topic he is not allowed to ask me about. No matter what I do for him—protect him and help him—that topic is off-limits.
I grew up in what I thought was a good household until I hit my teens and realized how fucked-up my father really was.
My mother was fine, she still is—God only knows how.
But my father? I hate that I take after him and that I resemble him.
Especially the bad parts
The addictive parts.
It would have been good if I didn’t get those predilections.
But I guess not all of us are that lucky.
20
Chanel
We’re having dinner with everyone for Sailor’s birthday. I bring a large arrangement of flowers because I can’t afford those flashy shoes with the red heels she likes. When I arrive, Keir lets me in with a simple head nod, and I find Piper and Sailor at the table with two older ladies.
“Chanel, perfect timing. This is Keir’s mother, Bianca, and this is Judy, Lucas’ mother.” Both sets of eyes land on me. I offer them a soft smile and a hello before I walk over to Sailor and hand her the flowers. And try to not think that I am meeting Lucas’s mother, who by the way seems normal, and Lucas, is far from normal.
“Oh, gosh, they’re beautiful. Thank you so much, but you know you didn’t have to spend money on me.”
“I wanted to, to thank you again for everything.”
She waves me off. “It’s Keir and Lucas you should be thanking.”
“Oh? What did Lucas do?” Judy asks. She’s a short older woman, her silver hair tied back in a bun on top of her head. She has a little round tummy, but she is dressed immaculately in a pant suit and heels, and the clothes she’s wearing cover any other bulges she has. Her eyes are similar to Lucas’ and are the color of the forest staring back at me.
“Lucas found her, of course. It’s how Keir was able to hire her.”
Judy, studies me a moment, then offers me a small smile. “Oh, that’s nice. Haven’t heard of my son doing anything nice for a long, long time, unless it’s for his mother, of course,” she comments. “Come, you must sit near me.”
I glance over to Sailor to see her giving me a soft smile.
Wren runs into my arms, and I pick her up before walking over to where I’m to be seated, as all the boys file in with Piper. Piper heads my way and takes the seat next to me.
I spot Lucas straight away.
He’s hard to miss.
Where Keir owns a room, Lucas intimidates it.
“Missed you.” Wren’s little arms hug me around my neck. She’s usually not allowed to sit on our laps when we eat, but no one has made a move to take her, so I let her stay.
“Thank you all, so much,” Sailor gushes.
Keir leans in and kisses her passionately in front of everyone—tongue and all with absolutely no shame or care for who’s at the table.
“Okay, well, that’s not awkward. I think it’s time we eat,” Piper comments, reaching for the food in the middle of the table. A drink is placed in front of me and Wren reaches for it, spilling it all down my legs and soaking my jeans.