Page 167 of Hidden Ties

When she touched the doorknob, he put a hand over hers. “How were you hurt?”

“I was nearly hit by a car when I was on a crosswalk. I had to jump out of the way.”

“Did you go to the hospital to have yourself checked out? Did they stop and check to make sure you were okay?”

“No to both questions. The car took off. It probably scared them as much as me that they nearly hit me. I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m sore. I’m going to take Tylenol before I go to bed. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to finish dinner.” Shaking his hand off, she tried again to open the door.

He braced his hand on the doorjamb to prevent her from going inside. “Why didn’t you tell me Glory and the girls live with you?”

Grief lines etched her face. “Because the time I spent with you was special. It was the only time I could pretend my sister isn’t dying, and when I lose her, I’ll lose the girls, too.”

“Why would you lose the girls?” He frowned. “You don’t get along with their father?”

“Their father is dead.”

“Then …”

“Their father’s … their grandparents want custody of them. Glory has had two court hearings with them. When she’s … gone, they’ll win custody. I don’t have the money they do. I’ll lose.”

“That’s why you have to work so much? To pay the lawyer fees?”

“Among other bills.”

“I can help you …”

“You want to help me?” she burst out angrily. “Go away and never, ever, ever talk or try to see me again. Go live with Livvy and enjoy Garrett’s money. You two deserve each other.”

He let his hand fall away from the doorjamb, and he didn’t try to stop her from going inside this time. Hearing the lock click in place, he left.

In his car, he took out his cell and went to contacts. Pressing Ice’s number, he put the phone to his ear.

“I’m having dinner; what do you want?”

Kent didn’t bother to keep the fury out of his voice. “You were supposed to give me the information I needed in exchange for Mica’s deal to go through without him getting his ass killed. I fulfilled my end of the bargain,” he snarled into the phone. “The information Jackal sent me wasn’t complete. By the time I get up in the morning, I fucking better have everything on Sage Douglas from birth, including her sister Glory’s information, or so help me God, don’t call me when any of the Predators get their asses in trouble or need me to supervise one of your transactions!”

“You need to check yourself,” Ice replied grimly. “Jackal doesn’t make mistakes. What makes you think Jackal’s information wasn’t complete?”

“Oh … I don’t know …” Furiously, he slammed his hand on the dashboard, wishing it were Jackal’s face, not giving a fuck if Ice got angry at him for the way he was speaking to him. “Maybe it would have been helpful to know her sister and nieces live with her, or the fact”—Kent’s voice rose until he was yelling—“that someone is trying to fucking kill her!”

THIRTY-SIX

Turning off the water, Kent stepped out the shower, then wound a towel around his waist and used another on his hair.

Avoiding looking in the mirror, he went into his bedroom to get dressed. He wanted to be at Hollingsworth before nine.

He dressed in a dark blue suit and was sliding his money clip into his slacks when there was a sharp knock on his door. Sliding his gun out of his shoulder holster, he quietly moved to the other room.

He cocked and loaded his Wilson Supergrade 1911 handgun before he pulled up his apps to check who was outside his door. Closing the app, he thumbed the safety back on before placing the gun back into his shoulder holster, then straightened his suit jacket as he went to unlock the door to let Jackal and Ice inside.

“Took you long enough.” Eyeing his suit, Jackal sidestepped him to go to the mini fridge. “What you packing these days?” he asked conversationally, taking a bottle of OJ.

Kent locked the door after them before moving to the counter as Ice took a seat at one of his stools. “My Tactical Supergrade 1911.”

“Nice.” Complimenting him, Jackal unscrewed the bottle of juice. “What ammo you using?”

“230 grained round ball,” Kent answered easily.

“Why not a 200 hollow point?”

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