When we got to his car, he held my car door open for me, then struggled through getting Hiro’s car seat attached to the base.
It was only as he was getting into the car, and got his seat belt buckled in, that he started to talk.
“I got this really weird phone call while I was in prison back in Montana. It was a man who asked me a bunch of questions. About you. About my life. Why I went into prison. Things like that. Then, when I got to Bear Bottom, a man met with me and five other men that were in the same position as me,” he said. “Basically, he told me that he was going to get me out of prison. That he had connections, and that he was having the president pardon me. He gave this big spiel about us living our lives, but also helping him fix a few things that he didn’t like happening in the community. According to him, he chose people that were willing to do bad things for the right reasons.”
“Meaning, someone that would nearly kill someone because they hurt his wife?” I asked softly.
He turned to look at me.
“I was going to have more answers for you when I came home,” he told me. “Basically, I know that this guy got me out of prison. I asked around about him. I know that he’s a good guy. At least, as good as a good guy that does bad things can get. I know that this guy is hell bent on cleaning up East Texas. He’s also not very forgiving about how he does it.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means that he’ll take down someone that’s bad, and not give a fuck how he does it, as long as that guy is gone,” he said. “Lynn’s a…” He paused. “I don’t know. When he came into that room, for the first time since I was young, I had a feeling that I wasn’t the baddest motherfucker in the room. That maybe I couldn’t handle what that man was trying to offer me.”
“And what was he offering you?” I asked, still confused.
“A lifeline,” he hesitated. “A way to spend my life with you, while also cleaning up messes that only a man like me would be able to handle.”
“I’m still confused,” I shook my head. “What exactly does he want you to be doing?”
“That was why I was going to go talk to him first,” he explained. “I was actually supposed to meet him almost immediately after getting out. I wanted to have some answers for all those questions before I came home.”
My breath hitched, and I looked over at him with my heart in my throat.
“You were going to come home?” I breathed, hoping that he would say what I wanted to hear all over again.
“I was going to come home,” he promised. “Even though I don’t know where you—we—live. I figured Lynn could help me out with that.”
I started to laugh.
“Do you think that it’ll be okay if I’m in on this meeting?” I asked.
He started up the car.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
CHAPTER 22
Don’t make me act like my daddy.
-Text from Beckham to Trouper
TROUPER
I pulled up to a fucking mansion in the middle of goddamn nowhere.
“This is it according to Google Maps,” my wife hummed from beside me.
Hiro gurgled, and I looked in my rearview mirror at the seat that contained a mirror that then reflected my son’s image back at me.
I’d glanced in the rearview mirror at him no less than thirty times during our trip.
Each time I’d see his smiling face, that band that was a constant pressure around my heart would loosen just a little bit more.
I was home.
Hopefully for good.
I got out of the car and walked around to Beckham’s side to open the door for her.
When she was up and out, I moved to the seat behind her and pulled the baby’s car seat out. Getting it out was much easier than putting it in, that was for sure.
The moment that I straightened up, I glanced toward the front door to see a very stoic looking man standing there with his arms crossed across his chest.
“Who’s that?” Beckham asked as she threaded her hand into mine.
The familiar feeling was enough to make me take another deep breath before starting to walk toward the door.
“No fuckin’ clue,” I admitted. “Come on. Let’s go.”
She followed behind me, her steps much more hesitant than mine.
I stopped and turned to survey her.
“Are you okay with doing this?” I asked. “That’s why I was going to come alone.”
Beckham still didn’t do well with men she didn’t know. Even worse was watching her get around the guards when she came around me in prison. I wished like hell she would’ve stayed away, just so I didn’t have to see her so scared. But then the other part of me was happy as fuck that she fought through her fear so that I could remember those moments with them—my wife and my son—over the course of my stay in prison.
“I’ll make it,” she murmured. “Just don’t… walk off. Or leave me. Okay?”
I squeezed her hand in acknowledgment and once again started to walk toward the door.
Damn, my girl was brave.
I knew that she’d been coping the best way she knew how. I also knew that she still suffered from nightmares and panic attacks despite not telling me about them.
I could see the fatigue and fear written all over her face when she came to visit me.
I was so fucking glad that I was out of there.
When I next looked up, the man that’d been at the door was no longer there, and I wondered if it was because he’d got tired of waiting, or if he’d understood that Beckham needed a few moments.
Whatever the reason, I was glad that he was gone, if not for just the fact that my girl could now save face.
“Let’s go,” I urged.
She walked with me up to the front door, and I used the big ass knocker on the door to knock.
The same man that’d been standing at the front door opened it.
Then, he was elbowed out of the way by a little goth girl.
Well, girl was a relative term.
Woman was more like it.
She had bright blonde hair, platinum if my wording was correct, with purple highlights starting at her roots and fanning down.
She had on enough makeup that you could tell she was wearing it, but not enough that it was overwhelming.
And her eyes were purple.
Like really fuckin’ purple.
They had to be fake. There was no way that there were irises that color.
“Hello.” The goth chick smiled, displaying a row of straight white teeth. “I’m Six. You’re Beckham and Trouper?”
Beckham blew out a relieved breath. “I am.” She paused and looked up at me. “We are.”
I squeezed her hand that I’d never let go of and then pulled her more fully into the curve of my arm. The movement jostled the car seat and caused Hiro to squeak in annoyance, then settle back down.
Beckham’s boob juice was intoxicating, apparently.
I’d seen it quite a few times now, and it was still just as entertaining when he was four months old as when he was a day old.
“Ohhh,” Six breathed. “I can’t fuckin’…” She paused. “Shit, I should really watch my mouth around the baby. He’s adorable. That hair.”