Dean sat back, his smile fading. “So, what did we come home to?”
“How’d you figure out I didn’t fix everything?” Gideon placed his drink on the table.
Dean cocked his head. “We were greeted by an insane amount of security at the port.”
“Just tell them.” I released a breath.
The next twenty minutes were spent with Gideon and me telling Rita and Dean everything that had happened while they were gone—from the explosion to Nathanial’s murder, to Benito’s visits, all of it. Rita swore a lot in Spanish while Dean stared at us wide-eyed.
“Shit, we should have stayed on the boat,” Dean said once we were done with the information dump.
“So, this asshole knew where we and the kids were this whole time?” Rita was raging.
“Vaguely.”
Rita glared at Gideon. “Bullshit. You told us he knew where we were sailing, and I’m sure he knew our location at all times.”
“I get that you’re angry, but right now we need to concentrate on staying safe while I bury this motherfucker.”
“Gid.” Dean leaned forward. “What’s your plan?”
“I’m figuring it out. What I need both of you to do is not give my people a hard time. You need to be guarded, and so do thekids. I’d have honestly kept you all away longer, but it wasn’t feasible.”
“I wasn’t going to roam the sea forever, Gideon.” Rita cocked a brow. “We won’t give anyone trouble for protecting us, but you gotta have a solid plan. This guy sounds smart, well connected, and extremely dangerous.”
“I’m not someone who hasn’t had their fair share of enemies, Rita, and I’ve taken down each and every one of them.”
Her eyes softened. “I know, and I believe in you, Gid. You’ll fix this.”
The three of them stayed the night since their house had no food and they were too exhausted to leave. The night was quiet and normally I liked that, but something in the back of my mind knew things were going to get so much worse. I could only hope that in the end, we were the ones left standing.
August wasin full swing with the twins going to day camp and Olivia getting tolerable as her piano lessons progressed.
“She’s getting better,” I said to Jennifer as I walked her to the front door.
“Yes, well, that’s how lessons work. You practice and you improve.” She was a little snippy.
“You seem upset.”
“Mr. Garrand?—”
“Penn is fine.”
“Penn, truth is, she’s not where I’d like her to be. I was told she’d practice when she was on vacation. It took me two weeks to get her where she was and this last week to show improvement.”
“But you did so, way to go.” I lightly punched her upper arm, which she did not find amusing.
Her eyes narrowed. “Should I be expecting any more trips away that will hinder her lessons?”
I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”
“Good. It’ll be hard enough to make a schedule with them returning to school in two weeks. I’d hate to have to work out more vacation time.”
I just smiled and held the door open. “It’ll be fine, Jennifer. It’s not like she wants to be a world class pianist; she just wants to learn to play.”
She huffed. “I treat all of my students as if they will be the next Yo-Yo Ma.”
I scrunched my brow. “Isn’t he a cellist?”
