Chapter 4 Phantom
PHANTOM
“So, what do you girls drink? Juice?” Stella is behind the bar, sounding confused and looking nervous. She bites her lip and motions behind her. “We have milk back in the kitchen.”
I head back behind the bar and pour myself a cup of coffee because I can’t start my day without it. “They’re teenagers, Stel, not aliens.” I lift a brow at her, and she shrugs but doesn’t look any less terrified.
Letting the kids have a sleepover at the compound on a Saturday night threw a wrench in the usual drinking, drugging, and fucking that takes place here. But one look from me silenced anybody who might have had any complaints.
After catching up with Savage about the rest of the job, I spent the entire night in my room, watching movies and eating pizza and popcorn, listening to my girls laugh, gossip, and complain.
I’ve never been happier.
God, I love my kids. Other than a few tense calls to my lawyer, the night couldn’t have gone better. And thanks to a very successful deal, I’ve got the funds to make sure, this time, everything goes to plan.
“I don’t know for sure, but I heard from Sarah that Tyler and Kiernan are both in my homeroom.” Holly’s voice is low as she looks down at her phone. The girls are sitting on barstools pulled close together, so Daisy barely has to lean over to peer at Holly’s phone.
“Tyler’s in your homeroom?” Daisy asks. “Isn’t he a senior?”
“I love boy talk.” Stella leans forward on the bar with a grin. “Do you have a picture? Are you friends? Or is Tyler something more?”
Holly shoots a look at Stella, then very obviously nods her chin toward me. I hold my coffee in one shaking fist and point a finger first at Stella and then at Holly.
“No boys. Ever. Not until you’re twenty-one. Make that thirty-one.”
“Dad!” Holly rolls her eyes. “I’m talking about him. Not to him. I don’t even think he knows I exist.”
“Oh, he knows.” My nostrils flare as I practice my anti-boyfriend snarl.
Daisy shakes her head. “Dad, you’d like him. He has a job. He works at the mall, and he’s, like, really nice.”
“You’re still in junior high.” I raise a brow so high I can practically feel it hit my scalp. “How the hell do you know a high school senior, Daisy?”
Stella’s eyes go wide. “I think that’s my cue to excuse myself.”
“Daisy.” I poke my finger even harder against the top of the bar. “Answer me. How do you know this boy?”
She rolls her eyes even more dramatically than her sister did. “I don’t know him, Dad. He’s Holly’s friend. All I know is what Holly told me. And what she’s shown me.”
“Shown you?” I practically squeal the words. I don’t think I’ve hit an octave that high since I took a billy club to the nuts during a fight my first run inside. “Give me your phone.” I hold out my hand. “You’re grounded for eternity.” I turn to Stella. “What do you know about homeschooling?”
Both girls are laughing, and Holly clutches her phone to her chest like I’m joking.
I’m one hundred percent fucking serious.
The last time I went to prison, I was away for over a year. If you don’t think you miss out on a lot in a year with kids, let me be the one to tell you you’re wrong.
A year is a fucking eternity when it comes to little ones.
While I was away, Holly developed some minor food allergies. Daisy went through a phase where she refused to take baths. They had nightmares, growth spurts, friends, and talents. And I missed it all.
I worked hard to make up for lost time—not that it felt like work. These girls are the only thing I’ve done right in my life. That and building this club.
I have brothers who would kill and die for me, and I’d do the same for them. I have a home and plans. Money in the bank and more stability than an asshole like me ever thought possible.
Ever since that last stint inside, I haven’t gone more than a couple of days without seeing the girls, without knowing their friends, their schedules, what they like to eat, and what they listen to.
The only thing I don’t know anything about is this pissant Tyler.
Before I lay into the kids about the nunnery as an alternative to public school, Savage approaches the bar, his expression deadly serious.
“We got a problem,” he says cryptically.
I have a feeling I know what the problem is.
“Keep it contained. I’ll be right there.”
Holly and Daisy don’t seem to be paying attention, but Stella is.
She puts a hand on my arm. “Do they like pancakes?” she asks.
I nod. “Girls, I’m starving. You feel like going into the kitchen and making pancakes with Stella? I’m in the mood for chocolate chips.”
Daisy is off her stool in two seconds. “Yes,” she squeals, her excitement so adorable, I almost forget the Tyler problem.
There’s an even bigger problem outside, and this is one I will protect my kids from.
“Holly.” I nod at my eldest. “Go on into the kitchen for a bit. You can even have a cup of coffee if you want it, but just one cup.” I’m bribing her, but I could give a shit if she goes on in.
She nibbles on her lower lip like she’s aware of what’s about to go down, but she doesn’t argue. She climbs off her stool and starts to follow Daisy and Stella into the kitchen, but then she stops and turns back.
“I love you, Dad,” she says quietly, throwing herself into my arms. “I’m glad you brought us here. We’ll be okay if we have to go.”
Rage and relief pour through me like hot lava. I hold Holly tightly and rest my chin on top of her head. She smells expensive, like fancy-salon shampoo.
For a moment, I see the image of the hot salon owner in my head, but I drive it away and hold my daughter close. “I love you too. Now, go block this Tyler kid’s number in your phone. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Holly giggles but throws a worried look back at me.
“Go on,” I assure her, my heart bursting and breaking all over again.
She knows what’s about to go down. She’s probably been on the receiving end of a thousand shitty texts from her mom since she woke up. I know I have, and I’ve ignored every single one.
This moment was always going to come eventually. I’ve never been fool enough to think Shayla would make anything easy.
“She’s raising hell on the front drive,” Savage says in a tight voice. “Threatening to bash in your brains. Typical Shayla stuff.”
I draw in a shaking breath and clench my hands into fists. “She got a weapon? Who’s out there with her?”
“Shadow and Viper.” Savage chuckles. “Her only weapon is her big-ass mouth.”
“You need me to do something?”
I turn to the voice behind me, ready to take out my rage on whoever thinks it’s a good idea to interrupt me. One of our prospects, Dylan—also known as Jizz, thanks to a stupid mistake he made while giving a piss sample at the doctor’s once—is hovering close.
“Back the fuck up,” I tell him. “You’ll know if I want you anywhere near me.” Stupid fucking prospects, desperate to prove their worth and pissing me off eight ways to Sunday. I instantly feel shitty because he’s only trying to help, and I’m really only pissed at Shayla.
I turn to shove open the front door and immediately hear the hollering and cursing that my ex is famous for. “Make sure the cameras are rolling,” I tell him as I step outside.
“You motherfucking ugly-ass nobodies!”
Shayla may have had an expensive haircut and color yesterday, but she looks like straight-up trash right now.
Her face is red and sweating, and she’s wearing dirty clothes.
Her too-tight tank top is stained, and her cutoff shorts expose way more of her body than I ever need to see again.
She probably was out partying all night and came right here from whatever club let her in.
Shadow has his hands in the air, and he’s clearly trying to reason with her. It would be funny seeing her slip around the gravel in flip-flops with heels on them if I weren’t damn sure she’d sue the club if she fell.
Viper’s got his arms crossed over his chest, looking like he’s having a hell of a time keeping a lid on his temper. Viper doesn’t have kids, doesn’t have an old lady, and doesn’t have two shits to spare.
His nickname is apt because he’s probably the most lethal of all of us—one hit from that guy would knock Shayla into her next lifetime. Viper knows I need the cameras recording this shitshow, or I have no doubt he’d have already shown her ass the way back to her car or the inside of a coffin.
“Shayla,” I say, choking back what I really want to say. “What’s your problem? This is private property, and you know you’re not welcome here.”
She surges at me, rushing across the gravel drive to shove me backward with both hands. “You’re my fucking problem, you filthy son of a bitch. Where are my kids?”
The blood literally boils inside my veins.
For a minute, the world goes dark, and I see red.
I have never laid a hand on Shayla, but at times like this, the desire to choke the fucking air from her lungs is so strong, I have to jam my hands into my pockets to stop my fingers from betraying my self-control.
“Shayla, you need to calm the fuck down.” My voice is steady, but I know I’m pushing her buttons.
“Fuck you!” She explodes forward, shoving me again, and I have to take a step back to regain my footing.
“And fuck you!” She goes wild, turning on Viper—a man she knows will not hesitate to put her ass in place.
And yet, like a Florida hurricane touching down, she can’t stop herself, whirling, her expensive hair flying, as she grabs the front of his shirt and yanks.
“I know my fucking kids are in there. I’m going to call the cops if you don’t send them out right now. ”
Viper makes a move to restrain her, but I tear a hand from my pocket and hold it up to stop him.
I don’t even need to bait this woman into her worst behavior. She’s doing fine all on her own.
“The kids aren’t coming out, Shayla,” I say calmly.