Page 82 of Clean Slade
So much for the concerned father act he’d tried to sell me.
“Yes. Of course he did. He always lies.”
I shushed Grams, but she shook her head.
“Don’t worry. He can’t hear us. Nino is making sure of that.”
“Then how the hell did he know I’ve been sitting on the drugs?”
She took a step back and squeezed my hands.
“Your phone. He put a tracker on it. Nino says it’s an invisible app that pings him your location. He had one of his boys do it when he found you. Someone brought Lucky for a trim, and while you were busy doing it, installed this damned thing.”
Of course.
Why hadn’t I thought of that?
Of course he’d have a tracker on my phone. That was how they’d found us all the way in Chatham.
“Fuck!” I huffed.
“Language!” Grams rushed to say, but when I gave her myare you seriouslook, she smirked.
“What am I gonna do?”
Grams brushed my hair away and caressed my face with tender hands.
“For the moment, you do what he wants, and when the time is right, we’ll deal with him.”
“Promise?” I asked her.
I didn’t know why. She wasn’t a goddess or a genie. She couldn’t make things come true, especially when it came to my father.
“I promise you, bambino. You only have to put up with him for a little longer.”
I knew her words were empty because no one had any control over my father, no matter how foolish they were to think that, but her saying so put me at ease.
As if sharing this with someone I knew with all my heart I could trust made this nightmare more livable.
“Now go home and kiss my little girl goodnight for me,” she said, planting a kiss on my cheek and leaving me alone in a burned-down building that perfectly reflected my current life.
Everything I knew was crumbling before my very eyes.
I just hoped I’d have something more than ash to show for it when all this was over.
TWENTY
SLADE
“How’s it going with the kid?” Wyatt served me a cup of coffee at the bar.
It was only nine in the morning, so it was still closed, but that didn’t mean his work day hadn’t already started.
I hugged the cup with both hands and sighed.
“Still no word from her teacher, and she won’t really tell me what’s wrong,” I told him.
Wesley still hadn’t contacted me, even after I’d asked King to add me to the list of people who could discuss Mac’s performance and issues at school. Maybe it was all in my head and Mac simply didn’t enjoy school like any other kid her age.
