Eight
Hale
“No, I wasn’t in foster care, but I might as well have been.” That response, spoken so softly and hesitantly, was the reason I had made the call to Wilder Jones to pull a thorough background check on Bay Fox.
Wilder worked in Ocala, directly with Blaise Hughes—the boss of the Southern Mafia. Wilder was the computer genius who could break into anything and track a son of a bitch better than the fucking government.
I heard the lock slide in the door of my daughter’s apartment before it opened. She was home early. Smiling, I folded the report I had pulled on Bay last night and tucked it into my pocket. Opal was observant, and she’d ask about what I had immediately.
I’d spent most of the day dealing with the reason I was here. Not Bay. But once I returned to Opal’s, I had let my thoughts go back to the woman.
Time to shut that down. Tonight, I wanted to spend some time with my daughter. We’d had very little of that since I’d arrived here.
“Hey, Dad,” she said, slipping out of her heels and walking across the white ceramic floor and onto one of the many blue rugs that she had around the area.
“Thought I’d take you to dinner. What are you feeling? Please don’t say sushi,” I told her.
She laughed, already knowing I wasn’t a fan of that shit. “I was going to make you dinner tonight.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You’re gonna cook?”
She rolled her eyes and sank down onto the white leather sofa beside me, moving one of her colorful throw pillows out of the way. “I was going to order some things from a market down the street that prepares the meal and I stick it in the oven.”
That sounded more like it.
“Ah, well, don’t and let me take you to dinner. No mess to clean up.”
She rolled her head as she stretched out her long legs in front of her. “Okay, you twisted my arm.”
She reminded me of her mother at this age. I might not have loved my wife the way a husband should love the woman he married, but she’d been a beauty. Which was why I’d knocked her up and we’d gotten hitched.
“I saw Vilmer today,” she said, swinging her gaze over at me. “We were in the same meeting. I snuck an extra bug into his briefcase. Maybe you can get something off it since he’s not talking at his apartment or office.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You bugged Vilmer’s briefcase?”
She nodded, then yawned, letting her head fall back. “Yep. You can tell Bane I said you’re welcome,” she drawled with a smirk.
“Linc is still the head of the branch,” I reminded her.
“I know, but Bane will step in soon. I can feel it.”
I wasn’t so sure. He seemed content to let Linc handle things. We all knew that legacy-wise, Bane Cash was the next in line to lead the Mississippi branch. Linc was there until that time came. But Bane didn’t seem to be in a hurry.
“I’m thinking ribs,” Opal said.
“That’s my girl,” I replied.
She grinned and stood back up. “Let me go change out of this and into something I can wear my Sambas with. I am over heels for the day.”
“What the fuck is a Samba?” I asked, frowning as she headed toward her bedroom.
“Adidas, Dad,” she called over her shoulder.
Oh. Well, I knew what those were. Why the hell were they calling them something else? Shrugging, I picked up my phone to see if Wilder had sent me anything yet.