Page 104 of Peaches & Pistols

“She brought the girls to Delilah a half hour ago,” Reid explains.

“A half hour ago?” I shout into the phone. “Why didn’t Delilah call me?”

“She did, you must’ve had your phone set to Do Not Disturb or something.”

Goddamn it. He’s right. I was on my fucking bingo mission and set my phone to only let through texts and calls from Mia and the school.

“Does she know where Mia went?” I’m furious, but not at my family.

“No, but Delilah said Mia looked haunted, man. Now it makes sense knowing her fucking ex is in town,” Reid says.

“Thank Delilah for me.” And I hang up.

I’ve driven home on autopilot during that shitshow of a phone call and am taking the stairs to the apartment two at a time.

I nearly kick the front door open from my impatience with the lock.

“MIA! MIA!” She has to be here. I skid to a stop at Everly’s door where their suitcases are haphazardly packed.

No fucking way. Ain’t happening.

I skid to a stop when I reach our bathroom.

“Oh thank god.” My heart starts again. “Mia, goddamn it, why aren’t you answering your fucking phone?”

Mia’s near departure took years off my life. What matters right now is she’s safe, the kids are safe, and she’s agreed to stay.

Her skin’s ashen like she’s seen a ghost, and it took a lot of convincing to get her to sit on the couch with a blanket and a glass of water.

A part of me wants to glue myself to her like a human shield. Another, darker part of me is murderous. No one deserves to fill Mia with such terror, and it’ll never happen again.

I refuse to let this go on. This needs to be settled today. I won’t allow him to breathe the same air as Mia another sunrise.

Once I’m confident Mia will stay put, I head to the bedroom closet and open my gun safe. Dead center is the pistol that was handed down to me from my dad in his Will. The same pistol every Clark patriarch has used to protect our legacy for generations.

Concealing it in my waistband, I hope I don’t have to use it, but I’ll protect Mia at all costs. It’s not the deadly force that bothers me. It’s the fucking aftermath. Way too messy, and way too many favors to call in to get it cleaned up and erase Carter like he never existed.

I’m locking the safe when my phone rings—since I took it off fucking Do Not Disturb. Fuck that shit, that won’t ever happen again.

“Yea?” It’s nicer than my usual greeting.

“If I wasn’t already your best friend, I’m solidly cemented as your best friend now, my man,” James gloats.

“If this doesn’t have to do with Mia or her ex, I’m hanging up.”

“Oh, but it does,” James says, smug as ever.

“Spit it out,” I bite.

“Imagine my surprise when my assistant told me I had a walk-in appointment with a Carter Whitaker. Once he failed at kidnapping his own fucking kid from school, he came to me, seeing as my name’s listed as co-counsel on the divorce paperwork,” James explains.

“When was this? Where is he now?” I need eyes on this fucker immediately.

“Oh, he’s with me in my office. Say hi, Carter baby!” James shouts away from the phone. “He got here maybe fifteen minutes ago. Needed time to restrain and silence him, send the rest of the staff home, lock up, and call your ass,” James details as if he’s reading me the weather.

“What do you want to do, Grey? Reid and Connor are on stand-by waiting for marching orders.” That’s why these men are my brothers.

“Get him to the ranch and secure him at the most remote guest cabin.”