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I went inside, grabbing a gun and some ammo, then came back out.
“Just like that?” she asked.
“Just like that,” I agreed. “Our typical clients want more than just one,” I added, shrugging, as she reached for the gun, testing the weight in her hand, then tucking it into her bag.
“So what now?” she asked, her gaze lifting to mine.
“Now, I know. And now I can protect you guys if it comes to that. Which means I want you guys to stay in the house with me.”
“You’re not… running screaming?” she asked.
“Do I look scared?”
“It’s a lot of trauma,” she said.
“Did you really think I was the kind of man to shrink away just because your past wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I guess not.”
“Do the kids know?” he asked. “That their father was getting close?”
“No. I… I honestly couldn’t bring myself to tell them. But I think Isaac has suspicions.”
“He’s a smart kid.”
“Yeah, he is. I mean, if it seems like a confrontation is likely, especially if it comes to anything involving the court or something like that, I will of course tell them. I just don’t want to re-traumatize them if I don’t have to. They are just finally starting to relax and be kids again.”
“I get that. And let me be crystal-fucking-clear about one thing,” I started, watching her brows go up.
“Okay…”
“This is not going to end up in court,” I said. “Those kids aren’t going to be anywhere near that man again.”
“That’s really ideal, yeah, but we have to be rational about this.”
“Sure. And the rational thing is never allowing a man who abuses children to get to be near them just because some fucking judge could be bought or didn’t see the whole situation.”
“So, what are you…” she started.
“You know what I’m saying,” I cut her off. “And that is all we are going to say about it. Plausible deniability and all that,” I said, reaching to pull the purse off her shoulder, tossing it on one of the beds, then grabbing her shoulders, and pulling her close. “You okay? This is a lot of shit to be dealing with at once.”
“What shit? The Simon shit?” she asked.
“That, yeah. And us. And me. And this shit,” I said, gesturing toward the clubhouse.
“Oh, that,” she said, exhaling hard.
“Yeah, that. It’s something that needs to be discussed,” I said. “I need to know where you stand on it.”
“I… I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about the danger involved.”
“I would never let it touch you or the kids.”
“I mean, yes, I’m worried about us. But I’m also worried about you.”
“My main goal every day is getting home alive, babe. You and the kids will just give me even more reason to do that. But, hey, I’m not saying you have to decide today. Spend some time with us, get a feel for what is going on around here.”
“I can do that.”
“But let me be clear, though, regardless of what you decide, I’ll be protecting you and those kids.”
“You’re a good man, huh?” she asked, giving me a soft smile.
“I try,” I agreed as she leaned into me.
My arms wrapped her up, and hers held on tight, likely needing some comfort after telling that story. I wasn’t sure she’d told it to anyone before.
I’d been seeing red while she talked about it. I couldn’t imagine what it was like living through that shit. And how much strength it had taken to leave. To try to keep your mood up after pushing out a baby, while living in your damned car with two small, restless kids, with no end in sight.
I made a mental note, when this shit was more settled, to send some cash to that car salesman as a thank you for seeing a woman in need, and actually doing something to try to make the situation better.
“Hey, Seth?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I see the glass room?” she asked.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I agreed, leading her with me toward the ladder that went from the basement to the roof.
“Oh, wow,” she said when we were up there. “So, you have it to kinda watch the whole town?”
“Yeah, but this is military-grade glass that can withstand… fucking anything,” I said, knocking into it, then reaching for her, grabbing her, pushing her up against it, and claiming her lips.
“Whoa whoa whoa,” she said when my hands started to roam. “We’re very exposed up here.”
To that, my lips curved up.
And suddenly I was very, very thankful to Sully for launching a campaign to get mirrored film added to the glass walls because he was “sweating like a whore in church” when he had to do the rounds during the daytime.
We could see out.
No one could see in.
We’d even tested it.
“Mirrored glass,” I said, slowly lowering myself down to my knees in front of her.
