Chapter Seventeen
Sledge
Rebel was still grinning like the smug, sometimes grumpy asshole he was when Eliana left the office. “She’s feisty,” he said, nudging my arm. “I like her.”
I shot him a glare. “You gave her shit and tried to scare her.”
“Yeah,” he admitted without an ounce of shame, “and she handled it fine.” His grin widened. “What’s with the tunnel story?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but the image of Zoya, older and battling scars of a past that was hers to share hit me like a kick to the nuts. “It’s not my story to tell,” I said instead. “I’ll just say that she’s the best person you all could’ve picked to take care of Zoya.”
Rebel nodded when he finally got my meaning. His expression turned from playful to serious. “Understood.”
The custody letter sat heavy as stone in my hand.
I was pissed off but I was also scared. What if there was some fucking way they could take my kid from me?
They couldn’t, I reminded myself because I wouldn’t let them.
In no world would I be giving Zoya up. Period.
There was another issue that wouldn’t leave me alone.
“How the fuck was she even allowed to file this shit?”
Rocky leaned back and crossed one leg over his knee, blowing out a heavy breath. “I hate to let that bitch off the hook, but Crow could’ve done this without her knowledge.”
“Possible but un-fucking-likely.” Trish might be a junkie, but she was also a schemer. “I’m not leaving shit to chance,” I muttered, wondering how the fuck to get ahead of this.
Diesel’s deep voice broke through the tension in the room. “Then let’s go pay Trish a visit. I have a guard who’ll let us in off-hours.” He started moving towards the door and I followed without a word.
It was time to get some goddamn answers.
***
The ride to the prison was short but I used the time to play out Crow’s plan.
He wanted Zoya—not Eliana and not the MC—but she couldn’t or was too scared to tell me why he wanted her.
If Trish didn’t know what this was about, I’d have to find another way.
I just hoped that the junkie bitch had enough decency to tell me why her asshole husband was after my kid.
“You ready for this?” Diesel asked as soon as I killed my bike engine. He stood beside me in the parking lot of the prison, one hand on my shoulder as we stared at the building. Concern was etched on his face, something he rarely showed.
“As ready as I’ll ever fucking be,” I answered. I never planned to visit Trish in prison or ever again, but she left me no choice.
Visiting hours were over but that didn’t matter. Diesel’s guy led us to the empty visiting room. “Thanks,” Diesel muttered before handing over a wad of cash.
“Just follow my lead,” I told Diesel. “I’m winging it.”
“You got it,” he said, his lips barely moving while we waited.
And waited.
Ten minutes later, Trish shuffled inside with shackles on her wrists. She looked worse than ever, so fucking thin a stiff breeze would knock her over. Stringy blonde hair, patchy skin, and red eyes. She looked like the dictionary picture of a junkie.
When her gaze settled on my face she lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. “Sledge, you came to see me!” Her excitement was palpable and out of place in the empty, drab, visiting room. She put a hand to her hair, trying to smooth it as if that would make a damn bit of difference.
I didn’t bother hiding my disgust. “You look like shit.”
Her smile faltered but she recovered quickly. “I still know what you like.”
I rolled my eyes. Same old Trish, delusional and manipulative, and still trying to flirt her way out of a life she destroyed on her own. She didn’t ask about Zoya. Not once. Not even to see a photo. That told me everything.
“Why are you here?” she asked, patting her hair nervously.
I folded my arms and leaned in close so she knew I meant business. “Do you know what happened to my daughter to make her stop talking?”
Her reaction came immediately. Her gaze darted away. Her jaw clenched. Her fingers twitched. Just as quickly, she shook her head. “I thought maybe she was autistic or some shit.”
“And you didn’t think to get her checked out?” My voice rose like a growl. “Too fucking high to notice?”
“I did the best I could,” she whispered, voice half-broken.
“Bullshit!” I spat at her, slamming my hands on the table between us. I decided to bluff. “She told me everything, Trish. Every disgusting fucking detail.”
This was the plan, giving her enough rope to hang herself.
“She saw that piece of shit boyfriend of yours murder someone.”
Genuine surprise flashed in her bloodshot eyes. Good. Either she didn’t know or she was a better actress than I ever gave her credit for.
“Yeah,” I said, leaning in close. “Did you know that?” I watched closely as tears formed in her eyes and she refused to let them fall.
Trish shook her head furiously. “I had no idea, Sledge. I swear.”
Goddammit I believed her and that pissed me off even more.
“Yeah? Well she’s been drawing the same shit over and over, that fucker killing someone and finally she told her speech therapist.” I fucking wished that was the truth.
“She saw it all but she’s a kid and she has no idea who he was.
” I paused for a bit to see her reaction.
She looked genuinely upset. “Someone’s after her.
We got shot at the other night. That your new husband’s doing?
He loves your little girl so much he’s trying to kill her. ”
“No! No, he wouldn’t!”
Trish kept shaking her head and finally the tears fell. “I really don’t know what this is about Sledge. I fuckin’ swear it.”
I stared at her, disgust curdling in my stomach. A fucking useless excuse for a mother. I pushed down any morsel of sympathy that tried to rise up. “So is this why you’re trying to get custody?” I asked sharply. “To shut her up permanently?”
Her face twisted. “What? No! She’s… she’s where she needs to be, Sledge. I trust you with her.”
Fuck! “You trust me?” I shook my head, disgust still pulsing through me. “Well your husband doesn’t,” I said, sliding the envelope across the table.
She flinched as if I punched her, and then she burst into tears. Ugly, body shaking sobs echoed in the empty room but there was no fucking sympathy, no comfort offered.
“I was high all the fuckin’ time,” she choked out. “All the time. I barely knew my name, and Davy, he always had something new to try. Pills, powders, drops. I didn’t know anything, Sledge. I barely remembered my own fucking name.”
“Or my daughter’s,” I growled, my anger swelling in my chest. “You’re lucky I believe you, Trish, but I promise you if anything happens to Zoya, the same will happen to you.” I pointed to the cameras in this room. “Not even these bars will save you.”
She cried harder at my words, gasping and coughing, just a fucking mess. She was more scared of me than prison, and that was exactly how I wanted it.
“You believe her,” Diesel stated, as we left the prison walls. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, but that don’t help us for shit, and I gotta be ready for this court shit even if it is bullshit.” I couldn’t even wrap my head around fighting some asshole who wasn’t her father for custody.
“I’ll call Kendall Salazar.”
I nodded absently. She defended the MC inside the courtroom and she was fierce, loyal, and a bulldog when she needed to be. She was exactly who I needed on my team.
While Kendall handled the legal side of things, I could turn my focus to protecting my kid. I knew who the smoke man was now and I knew what he wanted, which meant I knew all I needed to know to act.
All that was left was to find him. And when I did, there wouldn’t be enough of him left to fit inside a coffin.