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“She loved the perceived power he has and the fact he could fuck with me and mine on a daily basis if I didn’t kowtow to her every demand, including the one where I had to have them home by seven,” he countered, then realized there was an issue he couldn’t counter and glanced down at her arm still gripped tight by his hand. He released, and she shook out her arm, causing a pain in his chest. “I bought a place. Only John came in and argued it wasn’t enough with only two bedrooms, and Misty agreed, so I rent it out to tourists and live in an Airstream by the clubhouse.”
“Airstream? One bed, hooked up to outside power?” she asked, her hand rubbing the outside of the arm he’d clutched.
“I’m sorry.” Reaching for her arm, he took over the comfort she was trying to provide. “When it comes to Aiden and Jane, I tend to be a bit protective and lose my head.”
“Heard that happens a lot.” She narrowed her eyes, and he could feel the strange itch of guilt rising along his spine.
“Not as often as it could,” he replied. The sheepish nature he took on was new to him. “Never to a woman, no matter what lie Misty told you.”
“She didn’t,” she said. “Heard about a man who slapped her ass once that walked away limping.”
“He didn’t walk away, but he did limp when he left the hospital.”
“But she wasn’t your woman,” she challenged. His body was doing its best to not react to her words. If he’d not been consoling her, he might have missed the tremble through her body.
“No,” he said firmly. “I have enough drama in my life. The last thing I need is that woman adding more.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Mrs. Parker was in the living room with the kids, taking on the task of breaking down sleepiness versus the death that had occurred. She was explaining the way of the world to children that shouldn’t have to know about such things, not at five. Misty’s mothering skills weren’t the best, but he’d been raised by his grandmother and understood the longing for a mother. Fathers, aunts, grandparents, none of them were the same. Perhaps for his own children it would be different. They hadn’t been abandoned; their mother was taken from them, pulled away through violence. Her murder had him questioning who would take her from them. Because no matter how full the hotels, the number of new-construction homes built or babies born, Vegas was small in many ways.
There was talk among those in the hotels, working together with those in the city, all trying to find a way to take every penny they could from those who wandered like unsuspecting prey into Sin City. The professionals, the ones who believed they were so skilled they could come out a winner, were worse than those coming for vacation. They knew they were going to lose. They were paying for an experience.
The few he knew that were capable of murder in the city knew him. They knew what would be considered his. Misty could change her address and last name and dress the part of a politician’s wife, but that alone didn’t change the fact she had his children and therefore was his for life.
* * *
“I’m sure there will be no issue with the twins missing a few days of school,” Mrs. Parker said as she came into the kitchen. “But the sooner we can get them back into their routine the better. Their age is making this situation harder, but I’ve got doctors we can get them in with on an emergency basis in the next few days.”
“School, right,” Ice said, his hand locking on the back of his neck. “Monday to Friday?”
“I’ll get you the schedule,” Bree offered. It would be easy enough to find online. “You know what school they go to, right?”
The smokey eyes snapped shut for a moment in a reflective pause around the fact he, in fact, did not know. Part of her wondered if Misty had been vindictive when it came to the man. What did she know about joint custody and bad exes? Neither were things she’d ever had to deal with over the years. Was it poor choices, family dynamics, or where you grew up that determined your life? For Bree there was an ever-present safety net allowing her to take chances, but that safety net was held up by a standard of behavior. She was allowed to try and fail in a new city because one phone call would bring her parents, a U-Haul, and a place to land until she once again ventured out into the world.
“They’re at the Learning Tree Elementary off of Clayton Street.”
“Until their stepfather stops paying tuition, I assume,” he ventured, and Bree didn’t want to acknowledge the fact she figured the same thing. “Where is John?”
“They are working to locate him. They’ve sent rangers out to where they think he’s camping.”
“Alone?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Mrs. Parker said. “But we haven’t heard back from the men’s group.”
“A group of men alone in the woods, I think I saw that movie,” Ice smirked.
“As opposed to a group of men rolling on bikes together.”
Ice leveled a glare toward her before refocusing on Mrs. Parker. “Are you sure he’s even alive? His wife was killed. Maybe he was taken? Or not. When did he conveniently disappear?”
“That’s for Detective Nunez, not me,” she said. “I’m here to make sure the kids are in a safe environment with a responsible adult.”
“I have a steady job and strong community connections.”
“This isn’t a bail hearing,” Mrs. Parker bit. “And your community connections aren’t exactly the Optimist Club.”
“You more of a Kiwanis fan?” he mocked. “I get it, but my social club—”
“Motorcycle gang.”
