Chapter 16
Something was wrong.
I’d left Brooklyn in the house smiling. Now she was sitting on a plastic deck chair, an oversized sweater-thing wrapped around her shoulders, watching me and Remy toss a ball and she hadn’t said a word in the five minutes she’d been watching.
“What’s the biggest fish you’ve ever caught?” Remy asked.
“Thirty-pound rainbow. You?”
“Twenty-pound lake trout.”
I tamped down the pang of jealousy and asked, “On Lake Coeur d’Alene?”
“No, Priest. Pop mostly likes to fish there. He says they’ve got the best trout in Idaho. Why is your name Rhode?”
Remy’s question came so far out of left field I jerked in surprise and fumbled the ball.
I bent to retrieve it and asked, “Why’s your name Remington?”
“Mom named me Remington because she thought it was a cool name. Remington Steel.” Remy proudly finished.
Cool as shit name.
“My mom named me Preston Rhodes. The story goes that my dad snuck to the nurses’ station and asked for my birth certificate and changed my name without my mom knowing. He didn’t want his son being named Preston.”
“Preston’s not a cool name,” Remy interjected.
“No bud, it’s not. Lucky for me my dad changed my name to Rhode. He dropped the S on Rhodes because he said a man only needs one road to travel when it’s righteous.”
“Your dad sounds smart.”
“He is.”
“Do you look like him?”
As casually as I could with my heart slamming in my chest, I lobbed the ball to Remy.
“I look more like my mom,” I told him the truth. “She’s got dark hair and dark eyes. But I’m tall like my dad.”
“Where are they?”
“Right now they’re in Peru. Before that, they were in India and before that Paris.”
“Is that in Idaho?”
“No, buddy. Peru’s in South America and…” I didn’t get to finish my answer before my phone started ringing. “Hang on, Remy. I wouldn’t answer the phone while we’re playing but I’m expecting an important call.”
I pulled my phone out and sure enough, it was Wilson. I glanced at Brooklyn, lifted my chin and she read my gesture.
“Remy, go grab an ice pop while Rhode takes his call.”
“Yes!” The kid dropped the football and ran toward the door.
“Hey.”
“You still at Brooklyn’s?”
My body tensed and my gaze went around Brooklyn’s fenced-in backyard.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Desi ran.”
Fuck. That didn’t say good things.
“Was she tipped off?”
“Doubtful. But there’s something else. Davis had a run-in with Lawrence and two of his crew. Davis made it clear Remy and Brooklyn were off-limits. Lawrence didn’t agree. He said he’s got a problem with the way you spoke to his old lady.”
Fury rushed to the surface fast.
“Wilson, I’m telling you that motherfucker breathes in my woman’s direction I’m taking that as a declaration of war. He looks at my son I’m putting him down.”
“That’s been communicated. Unfortunately, Lawrence isn’t the brightest bulb, as in he’s fucking dim. It’s gonna take some time to convince him to stand down. I’m not sure what Kiki told him exactly but my guess is she made up whatever she could think of to get him riled up and in her corner.”
Stupid woman.
“Not a safe place for her to put herself.”
“I requested a meet,” Wilson said in my ear but my attention had gone to the beauty standing next to me.
When her hand grabbed mine and she laced her fingers between mine I was so fully engrossed in how good she felt—all of it, her coming to my side, her reaching out, her holding my hand—I forgot how angry I was.
“You there?” Wilson called.
“Yeah, sorry. When’s your meet? I wanna be there.”
“Lawrence declined.”
Stupid fucker, playing stupid games.
“I’ll track him down.”
“Think it’s a better idea you takin’ your family up to your cabin and letting us handle this.
Jack and Asher are on their way back. No sense them continuing to Seattle when Desi’s taken off.
Reese and Cole are breaking the news to the Welshes now.
Shep’s doing his thing and Davis and I will sit down with Lawrence. ”
Goddamn, I wish Wilson would’ve called to warn me before Reese and Cole told the Welshes about Kiki.
“And Letty?”
Brooklyn’s fingers flexed and I squeezed back just as automatic gunfire rang out.
“Was that—”
“Need backup,” I barked.
“Rem—” Brooklyn started.
“Get down on your belly, crawl to the far corner. Do not get up until I’m back.” I shoved my phone in her hand, reached around and pulled my Sig out of the holster, and without checking to make sure Brooklyn complied I ran to the sliding glass door and threw it open.
“Remy!” I shouted then thought better of calling a four year old’s name and having him run out in the open. “Stay where you are and get down on the floor. I’ll come to you.”
Methodically but quickly I made my way through the dining room, stopping only for a moment to check the living room. The huge picture window was shattered, glass everywhere. The couch was shredded, the coffee table riddled with bullets, and the puzzle that Remy was putting together scattered.
If we’d been in the living room, we would’ve been hit. My son would’ve been filled with bullets. My woman the same.
Red-hot fear slithered up my spine.
A fear I’d never felt.
One that was bigger than anything I’d felt on the battlefield.
A fear that started in my soul and burned as I exhaled it out.
Shuffling in the kitchen caught my attention but the whimper was what had my ass moving.
There, crawling on the floor, was Remy. Eyes wide, tears falling, terror easy to read.
Oh, yeah, someone was going to die for putting that look on my son’s face. The gunshots had been loud; inside the house, with glass shattering and wood splintering, they were ear-piercing. And for a four-year-old alone while bullets ripped through the house—downright terrifying.
With my free hand, I plucked Remy off the floor then lifted him to my chest.
“I got you. Keep your head down.”
His head barely nodded before his arms circled my neck, his long legs wrapped around my waist, and he shoved his face into my neck. Every single part of his little body was shaking. Someone was paying for that shit, too.
My son scared and traumatized in his own home. That shit wasn’t going to fly.
With no good options and Brooklyn still in the backyard, I took off in a sprint.
All was quiet, no more gunshots, no sound of motorcycle pipes, no car’s squealing tires.
An eerie silence filled the yard as I scanned for targets.
The perimeter of Brooklyn’s yard was fenced, but the white vinyl planks wouldn’t stop a bullet or someone from jumping over it.
I found Brooklyn in the corner of her yard partially hidden behind a cluster of trees.
As soon as she saw me she was up out of her squat.
I was shifting Remington, prepared to hand him off to his mother when Brooklyn shocked the fuck out of me.
She wrapped her arms around me, covering Remy’s back, plastering herself to us.
As good as that felt—and it felt fucking phenomenal, another reason I was going to inflict bodily harm—I couldn’t enjoy the moment our family locked in its first embrace.
“Sugar, I need you to take Remy so I can check the front.”
Brooklyn jolted and her arms went tight.
“Don’t go.”
“Baby, I’ll make sure you and Remy are safe, but I have to check the front.”
The screeching of tires had me unlocking Remington’s death-grip around my neck and transferring him to Brooklyn.
“On the ground,” I barked.
My phone rang just as Brooklyn grabbed Remington. She immediately got to her knees, tucked Remy close, and lowered herself to her stomach, covering Remy’s body with hers.
Covering his body with hers.
Protecting him.
Fury and fear mingled when I bent to pick up my phone, which Brooklyn had dropped in the grass.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t shoot, that’s us in the front.”
Wilson. Thank fuck.
“We’re in the east corner of the backyard.”
“Copy that. Stay there, we’re surrounding the house now. Neighbor called in the gunshots. Police ETA two minutes. Hang tight.”
Wilson disconnected and I shoved my phone in my back pocket and relayed the message.
“My team’s securing the house. It’s all good, Sugar.”
“Mommy!” Remy sobbed and my heart seized.
“It’s okay, buddy, Rhode’s here.”
Jesus Christ.
“Clear!” Davis called as he entered the backyard. “Grab ‘em and go out the side gate, Wilson’s waiting.”
“Come on, Sugar.”
Brooklyn rolled and struggled to sit.
“Take him.”
Fuck, that felt good, too, yet once again the situation being what it was, I didn’t have time to process the feeling or the trust she was literally handing me.
I scooped up Remy and Brooklyn scrambled to her feet.
I was at war with what to do. I didn’t want to be unarmed, but with my left arm around Remy and my Sig still in my right, I couldn’t hold onto Brooklyn like I wanted.
Ultimately Brooklyn made the decision by tucking herself next to Remy and sliding an arm around my back.
Tactically, this was the worst position for her to be in. She should’ve been holding Remington and both of them should’ve been behind me. But fuck if I could let go of Remy. Putting all of my trust in Wilson and Davis I moved along the fence to the side gate. Brooklyn kept in step beside me.
“You’re doing good, Sugar.”
She didn’t answer. Remy didn’t make a peep. Both of them held onto me like I was their lifeline.
Fuck, yeah, that felt good even if the reason they were doing it pissed me off.
Wilson was at the gate waiting. His expression set to granite, he did a quick sweep of Brooklyn then Remy. Then his cold, hard gaze came to mine.
“Take the SUV. Head north. Stay alert.”
“Copy.”
I took one step but my progress was halted when Brooklyn didn’t move.
“Wait.”
“Babe—”
“I need my purse and my phone. And if someone could spare a minute, my laptop. It’s in my room.”
Wait. What?
Her purse, phone, and laptop?
She hadn’t asked where I was taking them. Not how long we’d be gone. If they’d be safe or any of the hundred other questions she could’ve asked.
Another boon. More trust.
Christ.
“Take them to the Tahoe. I’ll grab her stuff,” Wilson instructed.
Remy lifted his face out of my neck to demand, “My football.”
“Bud, we’ll get a new one.”
“My football!” Remy shouted in my face.
“Okay, Remington. Wilson will get your ball. Anything else?”
“No.”
He lowered his head back to my shoulder and nuzzled in.
Brooklyn’s startled blue eyes met mine and instead of looking freaked the fuck out we’d been involved in a drive-by shooting her face gentled.
“If you can, his blanket’s folded on his bed. It has trains on it.”
“Got it. Get to the car.”
As a unit, we moved to the black Tahoe parked on the street.
Brooklyn climbed into the back seat and I handed Remy off.
As I was rounding the back of the SUV I took in the front of her house—riddled with bullets.
Bullets that could’ve easily taken out my family.
My gaze landed on my Jeep and my jaw clenched.
All of the windows were blown out, holes punched through the side panel and the door, two tires flat.
Total loss. Not that I gave two shits about the Jeep but the more damage I came across the harder it was to keep my anger in check.
I didn’t enter the vehicle until Wilson opened the back hatch and deposited the only personal effects Remy and Brooklyn were taking. He slammed the liftgate closed and jerked his head.
“Go.”
“You know with this shit, we’ve moved past a declaration of war.”
“I know,” Wilson sighed.
“Lawrence just bought himself hell.”
“Get your family out of here.”
“Wilson—”
“I get this is new for you. But starting now, your priorities have shifted. Those two,” he jabbed his finger at the car, “are all you worry about. Get them the fuck out of here and let me handle the rest.”
Something moved over my friend’s features, but before I could gauge whether it was pain or anger, his expression blanked.
There was a story there, something Wilson had kept hidden. Or more like buried if the fierce assertion was anything to go by.
With our eyes locked I gave him the only thing I could.
My gratitude.
“Appreciate it.”
“Just keep your family safe.”
That was a given, therefore it didn’t require a response so I didn’t bother giving one as I got into the SUV.