Page 24 of Tortured Tones

I had to. Charlotte had to fit into my life, not the other way around. I wasn’t going to change my ways for her.

I glanced down at Charlotte. “You ready to see your new home?”

She held up her tiny arms. Holding Barney by the leg, she flapped her little fingers on her other hand at me. “Up.”

Confusion rippled through my head. What?

“She wants you to carry her,” Paul said.

“Oh. Right.” I’m such an idiot.

I picked up Charlotte and cradled her on my hip. So weird. I’d never held a kid before. None of my friends had children, and nor did my relatives. I was the first.

Charlotte rested her head against my shoulder and sucked on her thumb. Barney dangled from her tiny fist.

Something warm and strange swelled inside my chest. I hated to admit it, but my daughter was fucking cute.

Tia fluttered her eyelashes at me, pouted and teased. “Oh, Daddy. You’re so sweet.”

I glared at her and mouthed, “Fuck off.”

I had no idea what I was doing or how to be a dad.

I was used to winging my way through life.

I prayed that would work with a kid.

But right then . . . it was time to take my daughter home.

How fucking surreal was that?

Chapter 6

AVA

Friday morning, at five-thirty a.m., I headed to Cole’s house, which was just under thirty minutes from my dad’s house in Los Feliz. Joining Cole on his occasional morning runs was one thing I wouldn’t mind doing. I loved exercising just as the sun was coming up. The fresh air helped clear my head and me to face the day. Running five miles was nothing, I normally ran ten.

The band had a big day ahead, attending a photoshoot, then rehearsal. It’d be a long shift, but I was set.

I had warmed to Cole a fraction. As private security, we were supposed to avoid any form of emotional attachment with our clients. Say nothing. Keep our opinions and thoughts to ourselves. Stay diligent. Be on constant lookout for any sign of a threat. We were there to keep them safe—that was it. But watching him meet his daughter two days ago had woven a thread of warmth into my heart. I wished Luther had been that attentive with our son. Cole, taking his time with Charlotte, making sure she wasn’t scared, had been a surprise. The guy wasn’t pure asshole.

Ahead of schedule, I drove up the bendy road toward his home, high in Laurel Canyon. As I hit his street, I gaped. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. Half a dozen paparazzi stood on the sidewalk with long telescopic lenses posed toward his house. What the fuck? It was too early for this crap.

I inched past them, continued around the bend and parked my Range Rover just past the house. A flash of headlights in my rearview mirror caught my eye. A white Camry pulled up on the curbside fifty yards behind me. Was that another photographer? Just one of the neighbors? No one got out of the car. I sat, waiting. Two minutes later, a young woman in a grey hoodie and jeans hopped out of the vehicle and disappeared up the steps into a nearby home. Good. No issue there. Time to go.

In stealth mode, I entered my access code into Cole’s side gate and slipped into the garden unnoticed.

Once I reached the glass back door, I dropped my bag at my feet and draped my uniform over the nearby outdoor sofa.

I peered through the huge glass windows. The TV was on, showing some cartoons, but I couldn’t see anyone. I knocked on the sliding glass door. Nothing. I tried the handle. Locked. But then movement caught my eye. Charlotte sat on the floor in the living room playing in front of the TV, sucking on a colored marker. Her mouth was covered in ink that trickled from her lips in dark purple streams down onto her pink pajamas. My heart skipped ten beats. She raised her other hand holding a yellow felt-tipped pen toward her mouth.

I slapped the glass. “Charlotte. No.”

Cole’s daughter stopped and looked at me but then sucked on the marker.

“NO!” Oh my God! “Put the marker down. Put it down.”

She didn’t.

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