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“No!” I gasp indignantly and use the sofa arm to haul myself up. If I weren’t five months pregnant, I would tackle her and try to unsend. But then I hear the ding of a response and know it’s too late.
“Captain Smith’s in Rockland tomorrow at seven thirty. Perfect,” Brooke says as she no doubt types that exact word. Finally, she holds my phone out to me.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I mutter when I take it back to reread everything she sent.
“You’re welcome. Don’t you dare cancel, or I will send her a photo of your bump!”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I whisper. But from the glint in her eye, yep, she would do it. “Oh, this is going to suck so much.”
Gripping both of my shoulders, Brooke says, “It’s not going to suck. She’ll be happy to see you, excited for you, and all you have to do is fudge the daddy issue.”
“I’m a horrible liar.”
“Then let’s practice. Who’s your baby daddy?” she asks.
“An old man who broke my heart.”
Brooke makes the buzzer sound with her mouth. “Nope. Wrong answer. Try again.”
Shoulders sagging, I tell her, “It feels so wrong to lie to Lyla and wrong not to tell Isaac.”
“But…”
“But Isaac doesn’t want a relationship or to be a father again.”
“Right. This is your decision. I know it’s a tough one, but you have to do what you think is best. That’s all you can do.”
“Yeah. I know. Thanks,” I tell her. “Not for being a meddling bitch but for being here.”
“You’re welcome. For both,” she says with a smile.
* * *
Isaac
“Pres,” Everett says when he bursts into my office without knocking, panting like he ran a mile. It’s almost like déjà vu, except Thane is no longer a member of the club. I’m guessing Ev’s news won’t be any better. “We’ve got trouble downstairs.”
“Goddammit. What now?” I ask.
“Two Savage Kings just walked into the bar.”
“Fulton brothers?” I guess, knowing they’re harmless. At least, they are for now.
Everett shakes his head. “Not Fulton brothers but theFurybrothers.”
Son of a bitch.
“And they don’t appear to want to leave,” the kid adds as I start for the door.
Out in the hall, I look down over the second-story railing and find the two men just inside the front door lifting their gaze to me. Neither looks concerned about the room full of guns pointed at them. That’s not an exaggeration either. I can’t even count how many guns are aimed their way.
“Isaac Perry?” the taller one asks.
“What do you want?”
“A meeting,” he says.
“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not welcome here.”
