He spun toward Pick. “What the hell is going on?” Then he whirled to me, glaring. “What did you tell him?”
I lifted my hands, glad I was free from guilt in this regard. “Nothing. I didn’t say shit to anyone. I would never betray a confidence like that.” Especially now that I knew what he’d told me really was confidential.
Pick cleared his throat, letting me know he’d take over.
When I shut up, Asher darted leery glances between the two of us before demanding, “What?”
“Miller Hart was just in the club,” Pick announced.
Color leeched from Asher’s face. Then he shook his head. “Excuse me?”
“Knox recognized him from when they were in Statesburg together.”
“Wait.” Asher lifted both hands, only to burrow them into his hair and clutch his head. His frantic gaze shot to Pick. “How do you even know anything about...him?”
With a small exhalation, Pick sat on the corner of his desk and folded his hands down at his knees. “Come on, Asher, how do you think? I went online and found out everything I could about you the night you left that message on my phone, before I even sent for the DNA test results. It led me to articles about Polly Ruddick...and her death, and her killer, Miller Hart.”
Oh, Jesus. This was more than I could take. Pick k
new. He knew everything.
“So...all this time...you already knew?”
He nodded.
I gasped a second for air, scared shitless, and then it dawned on me. He knew...had known a while, and he hadn’t fired me or kicked me out of his life yet.
“And you’re still okay with...” I waved a finger between us. “Us?”
Pick arched surprised eyebrows. “Were you really worried I wouldn’t want to be your...?” He paused and glanced uneasily toward Sticks.
My drummer hunched deeper into himself, totally caught eavesdropping on our very personal conversation.
But I snorted and waved a hand his way. “He already knows.”
That seemed to take Pick by surprise. “Really?”
I nodded, not concerned about Sticks. “Why is my dad here? Is he still in the building? Did he—”
“No, he’s gone. Knox and I—mostly Knox—escorted him to the door and let him know he was never welcome under this roof again.”
Relief swamped me. “You kicked him out?” Good. But then renewed worry rose. What the hell had Miller Hart being doing inside Forbidden? Wiping a hand over my face, I eased myself down to sit on Pick’s couch. “I wonder when he got out. I thought he still had a couple years left.”
“I can answer that one,” Remy spoke up. When I glanced his way, he explained the closing of Statesburg. And I could only shake my head.
“Well...fuck.”
Sticks huffed out a sound of surprise. “Is that all you have to say?”
With a confused shrug, I asked, “What else am I supposed to say?”
“Oh, no sé. How about...where’s the nearest place we can get you a restraining order?”
I huffed out a laugh. “Excuse me? Why the hell would I need one of those?”
“Think about it, Asher. He just got out of prison after spending how many years there?”
“Uh...” I did a quick calculation in my head. “About sixteen.”