Page 209 of Bossy Hero

But he isn’t there anymore. He’s gone.

Vanished into thin air.

Her face falls, sadness overtaking her features. My heart aches for the little girl. The pain pierces my chest, the sensation strong enough to yank me abruptly from the vision.

Jonesy shifts the vehicle into park. My gaze sweeps around in slow arcs as I steady my breathing.

Junior jumps out before I have a chance to get my bearings. “I’ll do the first perimeter sweep.”

“You okay, Boss?” Jonesy claps me on the shoulder softly. “You got pretty quiet there for a minute.”

I shake off the haze. “All good. Why don’t you help Junior? Go around the other side of the house to meet him in the back.”

Although Jonesy might want to hover or ask again about my state of mind, he doesn’t, which I appreciate immensely.

Once he’s out of the SUV, he takes the opposite path Junior took. In the quiet and stillness of the night, I empty my mind by sheer force of will.

If I go in there with that vision lingering in my head, I might end up in jail. And that’ll piss off Maddie, which in turn will piss off everyone else.

Kidding.

Not only would I never harm a woman, I don’t want to hurt the person who raised my daughter. I just want some fucking answers.

And it’s now or never.

Done pussyfooting around, I exit the vehicle and scan the yard, preparing to march to the front door.

Junior and Jonesy finish circling the perimeter, meeting about ten feet from the SUV.

Jonesy nods. “All clear.”

I didn’t need to bring two guards with me, but Maddie insisted. And since I’ll be distracted, it seemed wise. As a bonus, this is a chance for me to see them in action and ensure they’re as attentive as needed when on a detail. Even a lower-risk one like this.

“Hey, Boss. They have chickens,” Junior announces gleefully, his thumb pointed toward the backyard.

Idiot.

Actually, that’s an unfair assessment. He’s just young and easily impressed. By shiny things and clouds. And, apparently, chickens.

Jonesy shakes his head and tuts. “No shit, you oxygen thief. Haven’t you heard Lettie’s stories about Colonel Sanders?”

I chuckle at the reminder of one of Lettie’s colorful tales from her childhood, grateful for the moment of levity.

Junior stops a few feet between me and the house. “Do you want us to come inside with you?”

With a flick of my hand, I wave him off. “Nah. Just watch the exterior.”

Jonesy’s expression remains stoic as he tips his chin at me and says, “Good luck, Boss.”

“I don’t think this is a situation where luck comes into play.”

“You might need it anyway,” he tosses back, his expression still draped in concern for me.

It looks odd on him. I don’t like it.

“Fuck off,” I jest as I turn on my heel and stride toward the porch.

As soon as the front door is within reach, I knock with a bit too much gusto. While waiting, I tuck my hands behind my back and focus on slowing my racing pulse.

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