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Isaac’s jaw is tight as he goes and leans his back and head against the brick wall, staring up at nothing in particular. “My wife was raped by Calvin Dockery, one of my so-called brothers. It happened in our goddamn house while I was out drinking at the bar!”
“Jesus. I’m so sorry, Isaac,” I tell him softly, but I don’t think he even hears me. He just keeps looking up at the sky, lost in the memories of a traumatic past.
“After it happened, she wouldn’t tell anyone at first,” he says without losing the thousand-yard stare. “For weeks, I knew something was wrong, that Laura wasn’t herself, but I didn’t know what. Then she turned up pregnant again so soon. That’s when shefinally broke down and told me. We prayed the baby would be mine, pretended she was my daughter, even though we both knew she couldn’t possibly be…”
“You know that for a fact?”
He nods slowly. “I did a DNA test without telling Laura after Lyla was born. I just…I had to know for sure. Then when I did, I wished I could go back to pretending.”
“But Lyla looks so much like Laurel,” I remark.
Isaac blinks his eyes rapidly, his jaw clenched tight when he crosses his arms over his chest. “We were lucky that she took after her mama and not her father.”
“And you’ve never told Lyla that you’re not her father?”
“Have I ever told my daughter that she’s not mine, that she’s a rape baby? No, Fulton, I never wanted to have that conversation with her! I didn’t think I would ever have to tell her. The son of a bitch got arrested for kidnapping and raping three other women not long after he attacked my Laura, before I found out what he did to her. A forty-year sentence seemed like a long time back then. Laura didn’t want to come forward, so I didn’t force her to go to the police. She had been through enough.” He hangs his head. “Maybe if she had pressed charges, he would still be in prison and not out early, coming after Lyla.”
There’s so much to unpack here that I wish I had a gallon of beer. But I need my head clear for this shit.
“So, the man who Lyla was running from at the wedding reception and who shot Thane is her father?”
“Calvin was released a few weeks ago. I looked him up after you mentioned Lyla fell running from someone.”
“That’s why you had Thane keep an eye on her?”
“Yes. He got out two weeks before the wedding, so none of this is a coincidence. I can’t let that bastard anywhere near her! No telling what he would do or say…” He trails off, shaking his head. Pushing off the wall, he comes up to me until our boots are toe to toe. “Do you understand now why Lyla can never find out? It would destroy her, ruin her life! She wouldneverrecover from this. God knows I haven’t been able to, not when it’s the reason my Laura’s gone.”
“What do you mean? How did your wife…”
“That’s none of your fucking business,” he snaps, putting an end to that topic.
“So, what are you going to tell Lyla about the man who shot Thane and tried to kidnap her?”
“If she asks, we’ll say it was a rival club – some little shithole MC from Tennessee, that they’re after her to try and extort me.”
“And you think she’ll believe you?”
“She has to, and he has to die before he has a chance to take her from me and tell her the truth.”
“How did he even find out she’s his?” I ask.
“I don’t know, but it has to be him,” he says. “Are you going to help us keep her safe or not, Fulton?”
“What do you need me to do?”
He slaps the folder against my chest. “The army trained you to be a decent shot, right?”
“Ah, yeah. I mean, I’m better than decent.”
“Good, because I’ve already got one man down, and Lyla’s too stubborn to let me keep an eye on her. Are the Savage Kings worthless, or will they help keep her safe too?”
“My brothers will help,” I tell him. “But I don’t like having to lie to her.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t exactly enjoyed it myself these past twenty-one years. You get used to it when it means protecting someone you care about. You do care about Lyla, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then here’s your chance to prove it to me, Fulton. I want her to stay with you.”
