Page 91 of Eight Second Hearts

“Yeah?” she asks, looking up at me.

“One of these days, it would be pretty cool if you added your accomplishments to the Fairview Wall of Fame.” When her eyes crinkle, I hold her tighter. “If you want to.”

“That sounds. . . really nice,” she says.

“We may not have enough wall for your accomplishments,” Tripp teases. “Might have to start peppering the ceiling.”

Her laugher, their laughter, it’s what I’ve always wanted. This is what happiness feels like, and though we have a long way to go until we’re all in a better place, I think we’re gonna make it. Together, we can do anything.

Beau perks up. “You hear that?”

I frown and tilt my head. “Is that a car?”

“Sounds like a few of ‘em,” Beau murmurs, frowning. “We ain’t expecting company.”

Indie frowns. “Then who could it be?”

I grab Indie’s hand and tug her toward the doors at the end, throwing it open just in time to see the three black sedans pulling into our freshly cleared driveaway. Strange. They must have finally gotten the highways cleared.

“Someone you know?” I ask Tripp.

He shakes his head. “Not me, no.”

So we stand, staring at them, waiting, until the front passenger door of the first sedan opens and a man I don’t recognize steps out. He’s dressed in a black button down and black slacks, and his shoes look like they cost more than any pair of boots I’ve ever bought. Tattoos peek out of the edges of his shirt sleeves and around the neck. His hair is perfectly styled. But he’s not the one that catches my attention the most. It’s the man who opens the back door and steps out, his eyes on Indie and Indie alone.

I see the recognition cross her face, see the confusion there. But when she speaks, it still shocks me so much I nearly rock back on my heels.

“Dad?” she asks.

Qué mierda.

Chapter 50

Indie

The first man that steps out of the car is a stranger, but the second one is not. It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen my dad, not since I had to sit in a courtroom and look him in the eyes while testifying that I did not know anything about the gang activities he’d participated in. It was brutal then, and it brings all of those feelings rushing back to me now.

He doesn’t respond to me, not right away. Instead, he looks to the first man, the one clearly in charge.

Dad looks more haggard, but better in shape, as if prison was both good and rough for him. I don’t understand how he’s here, how he got out, when he’d been sentenced to fifteen years. He shouldn’t have gotten out so early.

“What the fuck is happening here?” I ask, staring from my dad to the man in charge to the other three goons who step out of the other two cars.

The leader rolls his shoulders and glances from me to Tripp where he stands beside me. The big house is only a hundred feet away, so I can see when Darla steps out on the porch of it with round eyes, fear there. Clearly, even if I don’t recognize theseother men, she does. She slowly walks across the yard toward us, her gait stiff.

“You don’t know me, Tripp Savage, but I very much know you,” the man begins, his eyes hard. This is a man who can murder without any hesitation. I’ve seen his like before. I’ve interviewed them.

“Yeah?” Tripp replies. “And who exactly are you?”

The man grins. “You can call me Lennox.” He gestures to the other men and my dad. “And these are my crows.”

Tripp, Ram, and Beau tense at the same time. Hell, even I tense. I know enough about The Crows now that I’d learned my dad had gotten involved with them, but to be face-to-face with them here, with the man in charge, makes me uneasy.

“And what business have you got with me?” Tripp asks, his voice hard despite the men we’re looking at.

Lennox grins, but it doesn’t put me at ease. If anything, it makes me more on guard. “I hear you rejected my offer.”

Tripp tips up his chin and glances over at Darla where she comes to a stop beside him with wide eyes. “Fairview Acres was never for sale. It was a misunderstanding.”

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