Page 97 of This Reckless Home

“Think, Blossom.”

But my mind swirls, giving me no answers apart from the look in Ant’s eyes as they forced him into the car. The blood on the side of Steele’s head. The way Nox’s jaw was so tightly clenched it looked painful.

Needing to speak to them, I reach for the county jail’s number, which is where that awful man Grady said they’d be processed.

“Augusta County Regional Jail, how can I help you?” My heart gives a thud.

“I’m calling to find out if three men have been booked in tonight — Anatole Reed, Steele Vaughn and Nox Kane.”

Clicking of keys. A pause that goes on too long and makes my palms sweat.

“I can confirm those individuals are being processed. Do you have a relationship to any of them?”

“I— yes.” I lick my dry lips. “They live with me. Can I speak to them?”

“Ma'am, they won't be available until processing is complete. You can call back in the morning for visiting information.” My heart sinks, nausea swirling in my stomach.

“What about bail? Can I sort that out?”

“I’m afraid they haven’t been set a bail hearing date yet,” the woman replies, sounding almost bored and I have to loosen the tension in my jaw.

“When is the bail hearing? Can you tell me that at least?” I really try to sound polite, it’s not her fault. But it’s hard.

“That'll be set by the magistrate. Typically within 24 hours.”

That's it. That's all I bloody get. The woman on the other end of the line doesn't care that I’ve been sitting on my kitchen floor for two hours now. It's just procedure to her.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Um, no than⁠—”

The line goes dead.

My head drops as my hand falls into my lap, the phone open and utterly bloody useless.

I don’t know how long I’ve been there when I hear steps, then see two sock covered feet stop in front of me. I look up, Justin’s red rimmed, blue eyes staring back at me.

“You said they were safe here.” His voice is that of a kid who’s had every single promise made to him broken, every single trusted adult gone. It hurts, and there’s not a damn thing I can say.

“I’m so sorry, Jus.” My voice is that of a broken woman barely holding it together, not knowing which way to turn when faced with the might of the rich and privileged.

He stands above me for a moment, then shifts to the side, sliding down the cabinet to sit on the floor next to me.

His stare is empty, his gaze flat, eyes dull. “He promised he’d stay. That we would all stay.”

“Oh, Jus.” Tears fill my eyes. “He meant it, poppet. He still means it. This wasn’t his choice.”

Tina comes in not long afterwards, ushering Justin up to bed, making me get up. My bum is numb, my legs cramping, but I hardly notice as I drift into the sitting room, seeing the sofa that Steel made love to me on, only last night.

I sink down onto it, a cloud of their combined scent wafting up to encircle me and my cheeks grow damp. Without thought, I call Henry. He’s been with me my whole life. Helps me with getting the kids away from their parents.

“Miss. Blossom? What is it?”

I break down, telling him everything in between sobs so raw they leave my throat aching.

“Oh miss,” he sighs. “I can’t get them out, your father has too much sway there. And I ain’t no miracle worker.” He pauses. “But I do have the number of your mother’s old lawyer. She used him for things she didn’t want your father to know about. He’s discreet. And he’s very good.”

My phone buzzes, a contact for Esquire Ralph Symes.