“Who the fuck was sending this?” Louie asks, looking at the screenshot of the text messages. “And what do they think they have?”
“No idea. The number was blocked. I’ve given our tech guy Antonia’s phone and he’s going to try to track down the user.”
“We should text it back. Make it look like she’s changed her mind and wants to meet them,” Sammie says.
“I’m not using my wife as fucking bait,” I growl.
“I’m not suggesting that. Just text and get a meetup location,” he says.
“Not the worst idea. Could be a quick way to draw them out,” Louie agrees.
“None of this can get back to her.” I point at them. “I don’t want her doing anything stupid to try to help.” I know Antonia. She will go and meet them just to find out who they are and report back. She’ll put herself in harm’s way if she thinks it’s for the greater good.
“Okay. Keep me updated when you find out who sent those messages. We might not even need to bother with organizing a meetup,” Louie says.
“Sure thing, boss.” I stand and go over to the sofa. “Also, stop buying my daughter shit. There isn’t a house big enough in this state to stock it all,” I tell them before I pull the headphones off Jazzy’s head. “You ready to go?” I ask her.
“Uh-huh.” She nods and hands me her iPad. I pop it into her bag, before throwing the pink strap over a shoulder, and take her hand in mine. “Bye, Uncle Louie and Uncle Sammie.”
“Catch you later, princess,” Louie says.
“I’ll walk out with you. Boss, don’t work too hard.” Sammie pushes to his feet and follows Jazzy and me out the door. “You know we’ve got that charity gala next week,” he says.
“What’s the charity?” I ask him.
“Some animal shelter thing. I don’t know.” He shrugs.
“You taking Lailani?”
“No.” He shakes his head.
I’m about to ask himwhy notwhen I hear the sound of tires screeching. I turn and come eye-to-eye with the barrel of a semi-automatic hanging out of the passenger-side window of a beat-up sedan. I grab Jazzy, throwing her to the ground, and cover her body with mine. I hear shots being fired from above us. When I look up, I see Sammie is shooting back at a car as it’s speeding away.
“Get the plate?” I ask him.
“Yep.”
I stand and pull Jazzy to her feet with me. I scan her body. She appears okay. Except she’s silent, hasn’t said a word or made a peep. “Jazzy? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head. “I’m okay, Daddy,” she says.
My heart stops. That’s the first time she’s called me that. She always says Carlo or refers to me as her daddy when talking about me, but never has she called meDaddydirectly.
Shit.I pull her against my chest. “I’m sorry that happened.”
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m okay. Let’s get you home.” I pick her up and set her down in the back of our car before climbing in after her.
Sammie jumps into the front passenger seat. “I’m coming,” he says, and then the driver pulls into traffic.
Chapter Eighteen
Looking at my two best friends and listening to their stories, I realize just how much my life has changed over the past few weeks. I’m now married, with a stepchild. And I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would.
I still haven’t really processed everything Carlo confided to me. My mother, who I believed to be dead my whole life, is very much alive. I don’t know what to do with that information. It’snot like I have any memories of her. The only things I know about her are from the stories my father has shared, and they have been few and far between.
Can you miss something you’ve never had? Maybe the concept. When I was younger, I wished for a mother. I thought maybe if I had had one, my father wouldn’t have been as cruel. There was always that little bit of guilt I felt for her death as well. Not that my father ever blamed me. Not once did he tell me it’s my fault she died.
