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Ryanne folds over, covering her face with her hands. Dad’s arm goes around my shoulder, pulling me to him.
“Son, you can’t know that last part.”
“You’re right, I can’t know it. And when I tell Poppy, I have to remain strong and convince her it was a fluke, the tests were inconclusive, and she wasn’t pregnant. But, here in this room, you all know where I truly stand. Natasha Bindel has reigned hell on Poppy for the last time.”
Dante whistles low, a wicked grin spreading wide. “I’m in.”
“Me too.” Ryanne leaps up, pouring herself a drink with a new sense of resolve.
“Good, because I need you both.”
“If I’m keeping you all out of jail, better fill me in on the plan.” Dad snatches my glass and guzzles the rest of the contents.
I explain what I need, Ryanne and Dante kicking into action and heading downstairs. Dad helps me get packed, and while I shower, he does a check-in at the hospital, handling Mom.
An hour later, Ryanne and Dante are back, and there’s a knock at the door. No one gives a shit about his notoriety when I open the door and Isaac Blake strolls into my room. He looks at their faces and spins my way.
“Got your cryptic message from the concierge. What’s this about?”
“Eight years out of her life, and in five minutes, Tasha Bendel fucked Poppy over again.”
“What the hell happened?”
He gets the condensed version, and with each of my words, his face goes harsher. “Fucking bitch.”
“Where are the Bindels?”
“No fucking idea. I wasn’t lying Friday night. Natasha Bindel became a pain in my ass quick. She’s been out of my personal life since the draft. The relationship with Marco and Karen was mutually beneficial for both our gains. I told Marco it was over, and honestly, he didn’t seem too surprised.”
“Good for you, but are those motherfuckers here?”
“My guess is yes.”
“Find out where they are.”
He pulls out his phone and types a text. While he does this, I take him in. He doesn’t look like a man that was on the football field a few hours ago. Then again, he was in for less than a quarter. His willingness to help only slightly lessens my hatred for the man.
“They’re at the steakhouse downstairs.”
“I’m paying them a visit.”
“We’re all paying them a visit,” Dante speaks for the first time.
“Who are you?”
“They’re family. Let’s roll.”
I brush past him, leading the charge out of the room. Dante and Ryanne type furiously on their phones, and when we get to the entrance of the steakhouse, a hotel security guard is waiting.
Isaac swings his head my way and grins his approval. “Nice.”
“Not feeling very nice right now.”
“They’re in that corner.” He guides us through the restaurant, on-lookers staring and whispering as his presence spreads.
Marco, Karen, Tasha, and another couple are oblivious to our approach until we’re at the table. Tasha turns our way first, and there’s a millisecond flash of panic before her expression is a mask of indifference. A man in a suit steps from around the corner and Marco waves him off.
“Isaac, this is a surprise.”
“This isn’t a social visit, Marco, and nothing has changed on my end. Our relationship is over.”
“If that’s your position, why are you interrupting us with a mob?”
“Marco.” Karen grasps his forearm, her eyes wide and face pale. “Look.”
His gaze passes over all of us, then lands on my chest. He stands so fast, the table tips and glasses fall. “Why the hell is my daughter’s ring around your neck?”
The other couple looks strangely at Tasha and back to me.
“Because it had to be removed before her surgery today.”
“Surgery?” Karen whispers in horror. “Is she okay?”
“No, she’s not fucking okay, but Poppy isn’t your concern.”
Marco glances at Karen and then back to me. Karen’s lips tremble as she drops her chin, guilt written all over her. I note immediately neither of them shows any confusion or surprise.
“You wanna tell him or give me the honors?” My question is pointed at Tasha.
She barely shakes her head before Marco roars, “How do you know about this?”
“Caitlyn took on the name Poppy, and she works here.” Her whisper is faint, and it’s easy to understand why when he bends into her space, fists on the table, leveling her with a hateful glare.
“Why do you know this?”
“Deal with your family drama on your own time. Right now, you’re talking to me, and I have somewhere a lot better to be.”
Dante steps up with his phone and plays the video from security on Friday night. Marco’s face remains hard, but when Poppy hits the ground, the enraged flare in his eyes gives him away. Karen isn’t pale; she’s translucent watching Poppy.
“You haven’t seen or spoken to your sister in almost eight years and you trip her?” he seethes. “Then you get escorted out of a bar by security?”
