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“Absolutely. Have a good day, Laurel.”
She hung up, and I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at it in wonder. No way. Could I really be that lucky? I looked up Azura Brady on Google and nearly fell off the bench in shock. She was one of the top attorneys in Denver. She’d won high profile cases with apparent ease, and her latest accomplishment had been in a celebrity divorce dispute where she had, apparently, wiped the floor clean for her client. The media was obsessed with her.
I couldn’t believe my luck.
It’s Cade, a sneaky voice in my brain whispered.You know it’s Cade, somehow.
Squinting one eye suspiciously, I texted him again even though he hadn’t responded to my text about his Mercedes.
Laurel: Did you hire a lawyer for me or something?
Lachlan: Keep the car. Nope, didn’t hire a lawyer. Do you want me to? I will if you need one.
Laurel: No. To both. But thank you anyway.
Lachlan: OK. Let me know if you need anything.
I blew out a disgusted breath. Not at him, but at my traitorous heart that sang happy songs with every word he texted me. I had rejected him thoroughly and unkindly, and he still wanted to help. Ridiculous.
And wonderful.
Suddenly, the sun on my shoulders shadowed, and I looked up to find a large man looming over me, already too close for comfort. I gasped, sliding back a few inches, and Jason plunked himself onto the metal picnic table bench next to me.
Children screamed happily. The wind rustled through budding maples. The smell of freshly cut grass and spring blossoms tickled my nose. But none of those things really registered as my vision zeroed in on the familiar, slightly mocking features of my nightmares.
Jason wore a pair of high-end sunglasses, which he tipped up onto his prematurely graying hair. He’d grown a goatee, which was blacker than his eyes, and leaning casually against the picnic table, his wide body too close to mine, he looked over with a smug uptilt of his lips. “Hey, Laur.”
I grappled for calm. Mostly, I lost. With my voice shaky, I asked, “What are you doing here?”
Jason gestured with a hand toward the playground. “It’s spring break? I get every other one with Calla. This is my year.”
Panic bubbled around the edges of my forced calm like an overboiling pot of pasta sneaking out around its lid. “I—you didn’t say you were taking her this year.”
“I don’t have to,” he reminded me. He was wearing a slick, gunmetal gray, button-down shirt, and black slacks, with black and white sneakers like some kind of Elon Musk acolyte. “I had business in New York, and I figured, what the hell. Why not swing by.”
“That’s on the other side of the country,” I glowered. He shrugged. My mind did a clumsy tumbling act trying to right itself. “So… where are you taking her?”
“She doesn’t have a passport, obviously.” He said this accusatorily. It was my only saving grace—both parents had to agree to that, and I hadn’t budged on it until absolutely necessary for her summer visitations. “So, I thought maybe a trip to Yellowstone.” He turned, giving me a slow perusal that made me fidget uncomfortably. “And you don’t seem inclined to answer my texts lately, so I figured I’d just come grab her.”
“She’s not packed,” I said with a ghost of a breath.
“I have bags for her. Wanda has been shopping for her since we got married. She’s been begging me to bring her home.”
Too fucking bad, I thought caustically.
“Before Calla spots me, I figured we should chat.” He leaned forward on his knees, cracking his knuckles and then adjusting the gold wristwatch on his broad wrists. Jason was a big guy. Huge hands, enormous feet, wide shoulders. He only seemed to get bigger with age. “I’m concerned, Laur.”
I bunched my hands into tight fists on my lap. “I don’t care, honestly. If you’re taking Calla, then take her. She needs to be back on Sunday.”
“Ah,” he made a clicking sound with the side of his mouth and leaned back again, this time stretching his arm out behind me. “See, no. That doesn’t work for me. You hold all the power here, Laur,” he said, his hand raising off the table behind me and brushing against my spine. “You have our daughter, and you call the shots day to day. And now you’re flat out ignoring me? For some guy?”
I swallowed hard, hating that his presence caused my stomach to lurch with nausea. I didn’t want him to affect me, but he did. Badly. “My personal life doesn’t jeopardize Calla’s safety,” I said simply.
“I say it does,” he responded with a hard edge. “And you’re either going to play nice, or you’re going to force my hand.” Jason brought his hand up to grip the back of my neck. “You tell me.”
I gritted my teeth so hard I tasted one of my fillings. “Get off me.”
He leaned closer. “You send me proof—real proof—that this guy and hislaw-breaking, sleezy family are out of Calla’s life, and I’ll back off. If you don’t, then I’m going to fucking destroy everything about what you’ve built here.” He squeezed my neck so tightly, I was sure he would leave bruises. “Understood?”
