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“Really? He hasn’t wanted anything to do with Micah and Michelle.” I’m confused because when he was at my house, he was yelling about how he wanted his children and then he didn’t want them except for small bits.
“He left me a message stating that he wants to spend some time with them now. I’m just as confused. He doesn’t even call them, and Micah has started acting up. He just craves time with a man.”
“That’s pretty messed up. Maybe Tucker will spend some time with him. I can ask if you want me to.” We stop by her car, and I look over to mine. Something doesn’t look right. “What the heck?” I move closer to my car and notice all four of my tires are flat.
“How did that happen?” Lydia asks from behind me, but my eyes are focused on the machete lying on the ground. “Oh my God! Is that…”
I move away from her and call my mom. I want to call Tucker but I have to make this call first. The memories flash behind my closed lids as I hold back the tears threatening to come out.
“Mom, all my tires have been slashed and there’s a machete next to my car. A bloody machete,” I croak out as soon as she picks up.
“Call the police and Tucker. I’m on my way to Mari.” I knew she would know what to do first. My baby is vulnerable and needs to be protected.
I dial Tucker after asking Lydia to call the police.
“Hey, spitfire, I’ll be heading to the house in a bit.”
He started staying most nights after we made love that first time last week. I can’t stop the sob from coming out.
“T-Tucker, my tires have been slashed.”
“I’m on my way, baby. Get security and call the police.” He hangs up and I turn to see security approaching.
“I called Sergeant Whitlock with the Tennessee State Troopers,” Lydia says. I shake my head in confusion. “What? If I have to help him, I’m going to get perks out of it, such as immediate help.” She shakes her head back at me.
Moments later the parking lot is flooded with red and blue lights. Sergeant Whitlock is out of his truck and moving toward Lydia right away.
“Are you okay?” He demands as his long legs eat up the distance between them.
“I’m fine, but Sydney’s car has been vandalized.” She points to me as she turns away from him. His eyes move up and down her body, checking her over.
“You called me for that?” he asks in shock and looks at me confused.
“Well, yeah. I wanted someone to come help us right away. What if the perpetrator is in the area watching us? Look at the knife they left behind.” She points at the machete. Her words must work because he’s beside her immediately, grabbing her hand and pulling her to his truck.
“Come on, Sydney,” he hollers at me, and I move away from my car toward where they are standing by the open passenger door of his truck. He lifts Lydia up into the seat and stands there guarding her with his body held tight and his hand near his holstered gun.
“Do you have any enemies?” he asks me, then turns to Lydia. “Or is this the ex?”
“Not my ex, although he could be mad at Sydney for helping me and the kids hide from him.” She must realize that’s a possibility because she calls her nanny, Krystal, to check on the kids.
The sergeant looks back at me and I just stand there looking at the machete. I’ve seen some like this one numerous times. I know who uses them. But we thought they wouldn’t come here because I’m so far away. No one over there would have seen the news report, my attorneys double-checked.
“Well, are you going to answer me?”
“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer.
“You don’t know if you have enemies?” He looks at me confused. I take him in again. He’s almost as tall if not the same height as Tucker. He has green eyes that look like sea foam, dark hair closely cut to his head, and a dark five o’clock shadow across his chin. He’s built wide and he keeps checking out my friend, even as he questions me. His body covering her from a possible attack.
“I don’t know if it’s them.” This time it’s the God’s honest truth. I don’t know.
“Who are your enemies?” he asks as Lydia tries to move around his body to get to me too.
“I can’t tell you.” I move toward the blade, trying to prove to myself that it isn’t them. That I’m not in danger again.
“Don’t touch that,” he says as he stands next to me. “I don’t understand why they’d use a machete. It’s a bit overkill.”
“It’s—” I stop as more red and blue lights show up along with a tow truck. I can’t explain to them. I’m not even sure who I can tell about my past anymore.
