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“Idon’t believe it!”
Travis let his father haul him in a hard hug and he closed his eyes as he gripped the older man tight to him, fighting the rush of emotion that had his chest going squeezing on him. The air in the room didn’t seem adequate, but Travis knew it was just him, just in his head and that it was a mix of relief and trepidation, all over the talk they were about to have.
Just as his father released him to step back, he heard a soft, feminine cry of surprise and he stepped away, caught sight of his mother.
Denise Barnes was five ten, all curves and softness, and she rushed toward him with her arms outstretched while tears flooded the blue-green eyes she’d passed down to three of her boys.
Travis bent over her as he hugged her, aware of his father greeting Sebastien and Trey, because, of course, Sebastien had decided he needed to be on hand for this discussion.
Ressa and the boys had stayed back in Malibu with Marin, the drive to Santa Monica a short one. Ron Barnes was laughing and asking Trey about the kids, checking in on Marin via Sebastian.
But Travis wasn’t surprised when his mother drew away from him and cupped his face in her hands.
He closed his own hands around her wrists and held her eyes.
“What’s the matter, son?” she asked softly.
“We need to talk, Mom.”
She nodded and looked over her shoulder at her husband.
Ron, sensing her focus, lapsed into silence and met her gaze.
“Ron, our boys need to talk to us. Why don’t you pour us all some drinks?”
It was early in the day for whiskey but Travis didn’t turn it down when his father tipped the bottle in his direction after they’d settled in the family room. Some conversations just went down a little easier with booze. And, if he was completely honest, he might admit he needed a little liquid courage when it came to telling his mother the truth about everything.
He’d introduced the bodyguards asassociatesfor the time being, but he’d seen the appraising looks both of his parents had given them and knew they weren’t fooled. A couple of times, Zach and Sebastien had both dealt with crazy stalker types, so this wasn’t the first time Ron and Denise had needed bodyguard detail.
One of the men who would be staying with his parents had stepped into the family room already and was finished going over it with a scanner just as Travis had entered, giving a brief nod to let him know the room was safe.
That done, he decided to rewind things farther back with them, because maybe then, they’d understand better, especially his mom.
“Do you remember that girl you thought I liked back in Cape Cod?”
Ron looked a little confused, but Travis wasn’t surprised when Denise inclined her head. “Isabel Steele.”
He didn’t ask how his mom knew her name. Isabel had mentioned that she felt like Denise Barnes had seen straight through to the inside of her skull and sometimes, Travis felt like she could as well.
“Yes.”
Denise’s hands clenched around the glass of whiskey Ron had just poured her. “This can’t be about her father ... he died in prison several years ago.”
“I need one of you to bring me up to speed,” Ron said quietly. “I don’t remember every last detail like you do, baby.”
Denise reached over and took his hand. “You’ll remember her. It’s the pretty girl we ran into outside the Lobster Shack in Cape Dennis, dear. Her father was the one you followed to his car.”
“Oh, that dickhead.” He lifted his drink, then lowered it and looked at Denise. “What do you mean he died in prison?” His eyes flew to Travis. “Please tell me he didn’t hurt that girl of his.”
“He did, although that’s not why he ended up in prison.”
Denise’s eyes narrowed slightly, speculation beginning to glimmer there.
Travis swallowed and took a sip of his whiskey, letting it burn a path down his throat. “Her father, Wilson Steele, was a US district attorney, Dad. And he was involved in human trafficking rings.”
Both Trey and Sebastien were watching him now, completely silent. He hadn’t told them this much detail. He’d texted Miles on the drive over, told him he had to give his parents a bit more detail because once his mother and father saw Isabel, they’d know ... and if he had his way about, theywouldsee her, because he wasn’t letting her go again.
Miles had told him to use his best judgment.
