Page 70 of Savage Daddies

“Great,” says Poet. “You won’t mind if we search the place for evidence, then.”

Zoe frowns. “What evidence are you looking for?”

“Something,” I say, “that will sell off all shelves. Something scandalous.”

Poet strokes a hand down her arm. “Listen, sweetheart. Felix is going nowhere near your sister.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“We’ll look after her,” he assures her.

“Besides,” I add. “If we find something worthwhile and release it to the media, he’ll have too much on his plate to be dealing with her.”

Zoe drops her gaze to my chest and smooths my silver necklace through her fingertips. Fiddling with my horse pendant seems to bring up memories for her—the masquerade. She took a good look at it that night.

“What if there’s nothing?” she says, extending her gaze to all three of us. “What if he’s done no wrong and is actually a good guy?”

“Doyouthink he’s a good guy?” asks Bullwhip.

Zoe’s pink lips screw into a ball. “No,” she utters. “I don’t.”

“Neither do I,” says Bullwhip.

“Him threatening to kill your sister shows just what kind of person he is,” I say. “All we need is some evidence. What about the marriage contract between Felix and Warren?”

“There’s no written evidence of Felix threatening to shutdown Father’s entire business if I refused—that conversation took place in person.”

“He didwhat?” Poet shakes his head. Swipes an angry hand through his gray hair.

“Thereisa contract, though,” says Zoe. “Which could work.” Hope lifts her brows, and the ends of her upturned lips start to curl. “Yes! Nobody knows that our marriage is contractual. Just our team. Releasing that to the public would stimulate further questions.”

“We just gotta find it,” says Bullwhip. “Where could it be, princess?”

“His office?” Zoe lifts a finger into the air and tilts it horizontal. “Across the arch. He works over there.” Excitement deflates from her cheeks as soon as she says the words. “Just…be careful. Please. This affects you too.”

Maybe it does—Felix could set fire to the clubhouse and finish us for good with his social media presence…but that isn’t as pressing as Zoe’s safety.

“I can come with you. Just give me a moment. I need to put Sammy to bed.” She opens the library door and pads out barefoot down the corridor. We all follow behind as she slips into the room and picks up the three-year-old.

The door ajar, we all peer in. For somebody who grew up with only one emotionally distant parent, Zoe mothers well.

“She died in childbirth,” whispers Poet. “Her mother.”

Bullwhip and I snap around.

“It was on the school system records. She passed during a C-section with Fiona. Baby survived but mom didn’t.”

“And it sounds like she’s still surviving now,” I say.

Bullwhip frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They’re hanging on by threads, the two of them. They need to live. Think about when you were teaching, Poet, but times it by a thousand. Life just seems to pass them by. Our job is to put destiny back into their hands.”

Poet turns back to the room to watch Zoe as she sets Sammy back into the bed. On a chair close by, she leafs through a storybook, licking the pad of her finger before turning the page. Her soft voice could put evenmeto sleep.

“Do you think Sammy is Felix’s?” asks Poet.

“You mean, her biological father?” I really don’t want to think about them having sex.

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