The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men 7)

“Sixteen years behind bars, and where is the first place he goes when he’s released? Here! The very place where the son—who testified against him and ultimately put him in jail—works.”

My brain whirled at his words. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way. But I had been the only person to testify in that trial with an eyewitness account, hadn’t I? The old man probably was a bit pissed at me over that.

Huh.

“We need to get you some protection,” Sticks stated adamantly, surprising me with how seriously he was taking this whole thing.

I snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s really necessary.”

“¡Dios mío!” He threw up his hands in outrage. “How can you just blow this off as no big deal? He came here...because of you. Maybe I’m the only one, but I find that pretty damn alarming.”

“No, you’re not the only one,” Pick murmured.

I glanced at my brother who had his arms crossed over his chest and was brushing his thumb knuckle over his bottom lip ring in thoughtful consternation.

Jesus, both of them were truly, honestly worried about me.

Yes, my father had been the big bad monster in my life when I’d been young. He’d scared the shit out of me back then, and I’d dreaded every moment I’d been forced to enter the same room as him. But a couple years ago, I’d visited the prison where he’d been held, determined to face my demons.

He hadn’t recognized me. After asking me who I was, he wanted to know if I was his new legal representation and he started going on about how he was sure he could still get out if we played the murder off as self-defense. I never corrected him and ended up playing along before I left him with a lie, saying I’d be in contact.

The entire visit had left me...empty inside. No love lost for the man who’d terrorized me, and no fright retained either. He’d aged badly behind bars. He’d just been a weak, pathetic old man who hadn’t stirred an ounce of fear in me.

So it was hard for me to summon any now.

“Or maybe he doesn’t have a nefarious thought in his head,” I told Pick and Remy. “Maybe the guy just wants to reconnect with his son.”

“Yeah,” Remy agreed with a sarcastic roll of his eyes, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Because he was just the soul of fatherly love and devotion before, raising his precious little boy in a drug house and beating on him and his mother whenever the whim struck. Right.”

I scowled at him, deciding I’d definitely told him too much about myself. But, damn it, he did have a point. “Okay, fine, then. I’m his only living relative left. Who else is he going to go to for money or a place to crash? Honestly, if you’d just gotten out of jail after sixteen years, where would you go? He needs shit, and I’m sure he thinks I owe him.”

“Well, he’s not getting shit from you.”

Remy’s resolute proclamation made me laugh. “Really? And here I was planning on giving him everything I owned.”

He didn’t seem to appreciate my sarcasm. Spinning toward Pick, he pointed to me. “Talk some damn sense into him.”

Pick sighed and scrubbed his face. “Look,” he told me as he dropped his hands. “No matter what his motive is, I don’t want him near you either. And just to be on the safe side, I think a couple extra measures of protection would be wise.”

“Okay, fine.” I held up my hands as if surrendering to their will, but then I gripped my hair. “I will take everything both of you said into consideration, and I thank you for your concern, but honestly, this isn’t your problem.” When they opened their mouths, looking ready to argue with me, I quickly kept talking. “And if he ever returns, looking for me, just let me deal with him. I’ll shoo him off myself. He’s a weak old man now. He no longer scares me, and I’ll be damned before I ever let him spook me again.”

With that, I swung toward the door.

Pick leapt forward, panic in his eyes. “Where’re you going?”

I sighed. It was kind of nice to know he cared enough to worry about me, but over this particular topic, it annoyed me. “Back to work. If you haven’t noticed, we’re still open, it’s as busy as hell as out there, and I’m on the clock.”

Almost daring him to react with the look I sent him, I pulled the door open.

A resigned breath eased from his lungs. “Just...watch your six, will you?”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” I sent him a salute, sent Sticks a glance only to see him worriedly chewing on his fingernails, and I stepped into the hall. And what do you know, no Miller Hart leapt at me, intent to kill.

Both Pick and Remy found their way out to the bar a couple minutes later. They stuck around, chatting together over a beer, making me irritable with every minute they lingered.

I avoided both of them, not ready to talk any more about my father, or even think about him.

Except I couldn’t get him out of my head. Learning he was free had rattled me. All bound up inside, I wasn’t really sure exactly how the news affected me, I just knew it did. I wasn’t scared, like some people thought I should be, but I was shocked and...unsettled. I really didn’t want to face the old man. After my one and only visit to him behind bars, I’d put that part of my life behind me and moved on. I just wanted it to stay behind me.