“I’ll give you three. Mia and her kids.”
Her words pierced me all the way through.
“What about them?” Tried to make it come off strong, but my voice fucking cracked.
“Listen to me, Leif, we don’t have much time. I have reason to believe they’re in danger.”
“And how the fuck do you know anything about them?” Aggression pulsed with the appeal.
She huffed out a rugged sound. “You think I haven’t been watching you all these years? Following you? You’re my son.”
She said it like it meant something.
But I didn’t have fucking time to argue with her about the virtue of good parenting right then, did I?
“Listen to me, Leif.” Her tone didn’t help things. “Braxton came to me last night. He told me you called him distraught because you found out Nixon is the father of your girlfriend’s children.”
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Couldn’t stop it from infiltrating my mind.
Anxiety spreading wide, I slipped from the bed and started pulling on my clothes that I’d dumped on the floor while I had the phone pressed between my ear and shoulder.
“Tell me why you think they’re in danger.” The words were gravel.
“Nixon had invested in this Mia girl’s gallery. He was moving product through it. Some stolen art and guns. I don’t know if she knew or not, but from what Braxton said about her, I’m guessing she didn’t. Nixon was already in deep with Krane, but because they’re blood, he kept letting him slide. Giving him the benefit of the doubt. But Krane isn’t a fool. His suspicions deepened when shipments coming from the gallery started coming up missing. A woman at that gallery was killed as a warning.”
Apprehension flooded my system.
Blood thudding hard when I realized it was all tied.
Lana.
Nixon was responsible for Lana.
Sweat slicked my skin.
Awareness riding free.
Terror taking over.
I shoved my feet into my shoes while she continued talking.
“Apparently, they’ve had the girl followed, too. A warning that they were watching. Keeton went to Krane two days ago, Leif. Gave him the evidence he had that Nixon is the one who’s been guilty all along. When I found out what Braxton knew about your connection, I put a tail on Nixon. Nixon left for Georgia last night, Leif, coming after her, and one of Krane’s men flew there after him.”
Horror slicked beneath my skin.
“What?” I forced through the clotted disorder.
“I know you don’t believe me or trust me. I get it. I was a horrible mother. I know that I was. Since the day you were born. Selfish and stupid. And when I met Keeton . . . I thought I’d finally found a solution for who I was. For all the ways I’d failed you. Someone to take care of us. And he did in his own way.”
My teeth clenched, unable to process all of this.
She continued without stopping. “I know you think Keeton blamed you for skimming off that deal. Think he believed it was you. Thought we didn’t care.”
I ground my teeth in spite. Barely able to keep it together.
“He didn’t, Leif. He never condoned what happened, and he never would have gone after you. But once you were gone, he had to act like he was in line with Krane . . . for the sake of Petrus. For the sake of the family. For the sake of Braxton. He had to protect everyone who was involved. If we went after Nixon? You know there would have been more bloodshed. He had to make the choice.”
I could hear the weight of her swallow. “We decided it was best to let you think we were against you. Safer for you to stay far away from L.A. Until we had enough to take out Nixon without it putting the rest of the crew in danger. Believe me or not. It’s up to you. But it is the truth.”
A jagged breath ripped from my lungs.
This was what I’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? To see Nixon go down?
Burn at the motherfucking stake?
An end to the scourge that he was.
But the only thing I cared about right then was Mia.
Mia and Penny and Greyson.
Possession rushed. A protectiveness that blotted out everything but them.
“I sent Braxton to take up your side. His flight landed an hour ago. Go. Protect her.”
She ended the call without saying anything else.
Instantly, I dialed Mia.
My soul chanted it. Mia. Mia. Mia.
It went to voicemail.
I tried again with the same result.
Dread curled, blood drenched in violence, mind spiraling that direction.
I dialed Lyrik while I grabbed the gun I’d shoved into the nightstand drawer. Checking that it was loaded.
He answered on the first ring.
Like maybe he’d been waiting on me to call.
“Lyrik.”
Worry silently shouted back before he grunted out the words, “Where the fuck are you?”
“Mia’s not answering,” I said instead.
“Yeah, that’s because her prick of an ex-boyfriend showed here a couple hours ago and the guy who was supposed to be sticking by her side took off like a pussy.”