Page 27 of Lennox Lane

Lane swallowed, and he knew his heart was probably racing. He hated Jeanette Sanders with a purity that startled him, and he’d never met her, but the messages alone had made something in him turn black and hot. He had seen a lot of ugly in his life. Underworld ugly, Hollywood ugliness, and men with money and secrets. But a mother threatening to sell the survival of the daughter she abandoned? That was a special kind of disgusting.

“And then?” Lane asked.

“Then we confront her.”

Her brows lifted. “We?”

“Yes.”

“When did you become French? What’s this we shit?” She asked, making him laugh.

“You and me.”

Her laugh came back, but weaker this time. “I’m sorry, did I miss the part where I joined your little cyber Avengers team?”

“This isn’t a solo mission. I’m an expert at neutralizing threats, and your mother is a blaring one,” he let her know.

“My life is not a mission.”

“No,” he said, “It’s not, but she’s making moves against you, and now she’s in my wheelhouse.”

Something in Lane’s face flickered. He saw the fight she was putting up against feeling anything about that. She had a support system, and nobody was going to let her move alone to handle her opps or whatever the young folks are saying.

“Regardless of where we stand,” he said, voice lower now, “I’m not letting that woman hurt you again.”

Lane looked away fast to avoid her face showing any emotions but anger, but he caught the way her lips pressed together and the way her eyes threatened to water for half a second before pride came rushing back in with a fire extinguisher and a legal team.

“You’re still a criminal,” she said.

“I’m multifaceted.”

“We both should be wearing orange. Yours from the Spring 26 inmate collection for hacking my life,” she reminded him.

“You really think I look good?”

“Never mind orange; delusion seems to be your color,” she snickered.

“I beg to differ.”

She shook her head, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“On top of everything you’ve done tonight, you’re now trying to organize a confrontation with my abusive mother like this is a group project. My life is not a game, Lennox.”

Lennox smiled. “I know, which is why I’m willing to destroy anyone trying to destroy your peace.”

Lane’s head snapped toward him. “Even yourself? You destroyed my peace tonight.”

“I saved you from that boring ass date with that boring ass nigga,” he stated arrogantly.

She stared at him for three seconds, then looked toward the roof of the car. “Lord, if you can hear me, send him a hobby. Woodworking, birdwatching—hell, I accept a podcast. Anything to get him out of my business.”

“I have hobbies.”

“Stalking is not a hobby, asshole,” she glared at him.

“It is when done with consistency.”