Chapter 8
The Edge of Madness.
Back in California the sun glittered off of Rio’s private SUV as it purred down the Pacific Coast Highway. Today wasn’t just about fun, it was about spoiling them, giving them memories too good to be tainted by Jake’s shadow.
Their first stop was the Los Angeles Private Aquarium Experience .
It’s not open to the public, but to Rio, it was just a phone call away.
A marine biologist in a tailored navy blazer guided them through massive glass tunnels with no other visitors in sight.
Jake Jr. stood with his nose practically pressed to the glass as a shark glided overhead.
Macy squealed when a trainer let her feed a sea turtle, and Kayla clapped in delight as bioluminescent jellyfish pulsed in the dark.
Jake Jr. bounced ahead with his map, pointing out where the penguins were. Macy held Rio’s hand, chattering about the penguins.
Kayla sat on Kylee’s hip, clapping every time she spotted a fish. To anyone watching, they looked like the perfect little family. Someone was watching and they had no idea.
Their next stop was The Beverly Hills Children’s Couture Boutique, the kind of place with champagne for adults, macarons for kids, and a staff that spoke in soft tones as if every little shopper was royalty.
Within minutes, Macy was twirling in a unicorn-pink designer dress, Kayla was giggling in a tiny couture romper, and Jake Jr. was trying on a leather bomber jacket that made him look like a miniature rock star.
Rio leaned casually against a glass display, credit card already in hand.
“Anything they want,” he told the sales clerk, like it was nothing.
Kylee stood back, half in awe, half in disbelief.
It wasn’t just the money, it was how effortless he made the whole day feel, like giving her kids the world was the most natural thing to him.
Rio said he never wanted kids but the way he was acting said that wasn’t true.
His eyes had the most beautiful sparkle in them when he was around the kids.
By mid-afternoon, Rio took them to the Santa Monica Pier. The kids shrieked with joy on the Ferris wheel, their small hands gripping the safety bar while Rio kept an arm around each of them. Kylee stood across from them, her hair whipping in the wind, smiling for real for the first time in weeks.
Across the street, a man sat in a nondescript black sedan, sunglasses hiding his eyes. His phone camera clicked quietly every few minutes, capturing moments Rio lifting Macy onto his shoulders, Kylee laughing at something Jake Jr. said, Kayla with ice cream smeared across her cheeks.
He zoomed in on Kylee’s face, holding the shot longer this time. Then he sent the photo to a number saved only as D. The reply came fast: Got ‘em. Keep on ‘em. Don’t let them out of your sight.
The sun was sliding toward the horizon, drenching the Santa Monica Pier in gold and crimson. Street performers played guitars, couples strolled hand-in-hand, and the salty tang of the ocean wrapped around them.
Rio had insisted on taking the kids for an evening walk, cotton candy in Macy’s sticky little hands, Jake Jr. proudly holding his new souvenir football, Kayla babbling in her stroller. Kylee felt… almost normal. Almost safe. Until she noticed him.
He was just a shape at first, a man in a dark hoodie, hood up despite the warm breeze, leaning against the railing.
When they passed, he lifted his head just enough for the shadow of his hood to shift, and Kylee Caught the glint of his eyes.
They weren’t watching the ocean. They were locked on her. She brushed it off
At first, tourists stare sometimes, especially when Rio is with her. But a few steps later, she glanced over her shoulder.
The man was moving now. Slow. Purposeful. Her chest tightened. She kept walking, forcing herself to stay calm for the kids’ sake, but her grip on Kayla’s stroller tightened.
Rio must have felt the change in her body language because he glanced at her, then casually scanned the crowd. His jaw flexed almost instantly. “Don’t look,” he murmured under his breath. “But we’re being tailed.”
Kylee’s pulse pounded in her ears. “Huh?”
“That guy in the black hoodie.” His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a tone she’d heard before when someone crossed the line with him in public.
They stopped near a vendor selling churros. Rio knelt to fix Macy’s shoe, though his eyes never left their reflection in the polished steel counter of the food cart. The man had stopped too. Pretending to check his phone.
Rio straightened slowly, placing a steadying hand on Kylee’s back. “Stay close to me. We’re not making it obvious, but we’re going to lose him.”
They weaved toward the far end of the pier, where the crowd thinned.
Kylee kept the kids close, every step feeling heavier.
When they reached the edge, Rio spotted a side exit near the service ramp.
He leaned down to Jake Jr. and said, “Race me to the stairs, champ.” Jake Jr. took off laughing, Macy chasing after him, oblivious to the tension.
Kylee followed but before she could make it halfway down the ramp, she heard footsteps behind her. Rio spun, stepping between her and the sound. The man had followed them, now much closer, his hood slipping enough for Kylee to see the sharp angles of his face… and the faintest curl of a smirk.
“Problem?” Rio’s voice was low, lethal.
The man didn’t answer. He just looked past Rio, straight at Kylee, and that was enough for Rio to move forward, closing the space between them like a predator. The man backed up, palms up, that smug expression not fading. “Just enjoying the pier,” he said, voice dripping with insincerity.
Rio didn’t buy it for a second. “Yeah?” He stepped closer until the man had no choice but to retreat. “Enjoy it somewhere else. Before I make you.”
The guy smirked one last time… and melted into the crowd.
Rio didn’t relax until they were in the SUV, the doors locked, and his security detail falling in behind them. He slid into the driver’s seat, jaw tight, knuckles white around the steering wheel.
“That wasn’t some random tourist,” he muttered. “That was a message.”
Kylee’s stomach sank. “From Jake.” Rio didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
Jake sat in his living room in Idaho, empty beer bottles littering the coffee table, the TV blaring but ignored. His eyes were bloodshot, his fingers twitching with restless, manic energy. He’d been making calls all morning. Quiet calls. Shady calls. And finally, someone delivered.
A grainy cell phone picture lit up his screen Kylee, Rio, and the kids on the pier earlier that day.
Jake zoomed in, his jaw tightening at the sight of Rio’s hand on her back.
His vision blurred with rage. Beneath the photo was a short message from the same unknown number: “Told you I could find them.”
Jake grinned a slow, dangerous thing. “Good,” he muttered. “Real good.” He dialed a number he shouldn’t have memorized but did.
When the man on the other end answered, Jake’s voice was low, cold, and certain. “I want you to send her something. Something that’ll make her look over her shoulder every damn second of the day.”
Hours later, in LA, Kylee sat in Rio’s kitchen helping Macy and Kayla color at the island when the front gate buzzer went off. Rio’s head popped up from where he was unpacking takeout.
“I’m not expecting anyone,” he said, crossing to the security panel.
A delivery guy stood at the gate holding a small black box. No company logo. No name. Rio hesitated, then buzzed him in. The man walked up, silent, handed over the package, and left without a word.
Kylee frowned. “What is it?”
Rio didn’t answer right away, he just set it on the counter and slowly lifted the lid.
Inside was a single Polaroid photo. Kylee’s breath hitched.
It was of her on the pier earlier taken from an angle she didn’t notice her face turned slightly, her hand on Kayla’s stroller.
But in the background, blurred but unmistakable, was the hooded man from earlier.
Beneath the photo was a scrap of paper with five words written in thick black marker:
“You can’t hide from me.”
Her hands started to shake. Rio’s jaw locked so tight she thought his teeth might crack. He crumpled the note in his fist, eyes dark. Rio didn’t say another word as he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit speed dial.
“Vince. I want the entire team here. Now. Full perimeter lockdown, every camera monitored, nobody gets in without my permission. I don’t care if it’s the mailman turn them away. And Vince…” His voice dropped, dangerous. “…if you see this guy, you stop him. Hard.”
He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the counter. Kylee was still staring at the Polaroid, her stomach knotted, that awful prickling sensation crawling up her neck. “Rio… if he knows where we are?”
“Then he knows,” Rio cut in, stepping close, his hand cupping her cheek. His voice softened just enough for her, but his eyes stayed hard. “This is my house. My world. He’s not touching you here.”
Within twenty minutes, the quiet street outside began to change.
A convoy of black SUVs pulled up, men in tactical gear stepping out like shadows.
Two took positions at the front gate, others melted into the property lines, disappearing among the trees.
From the living room window, Jake Jr. pressed his face to the glass.
“Whoa. Mom… are we in trouble?”
Kylee forced a smile. “No, baby. Just… extra safety, that’s all.”
Macy tugged at her sleeve. “Like in a princess castle with guards?”
Rio, overhearing, smiled faintly. “Exactly like that.” But the moment the kids turned away, his expression dropped back to stone.
Upstairs, Vince installed a new keypad lock on the master suite door. “Nobody in or out without your code,” he told Rio quietly.