Page 88 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
“Not saying we’ll do it today, but one day? Maybe. If the law doesn’t handle it, if defense doesn’t hold, if your intel game doesn’t stick?” I shrug. “We’ll cut out the rot. Once and for all.”
Sean doesn’t argue. Wesley doesn’t either. We just sit there a little longer, letting the laughter fade, knowing damn well the idea’s not going anywhere.
Sean sighs. “For now, we’ll play ball. We’ll cover Bailey, shield the kids, run the perimeter and watch every shadow. We’ll letDavid think he’s still winning. But one day soon, if the balance tips…?”
Wesley nods once. “Killing him won’t be off the table.”
Relief washes through me. I’m glad to know my boys are on board, because I’ve got nothing else. But then I remember the horrified look on Bailey’s face the first time I brought it up. Not good.
I shrug. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?”
29
BAILEY
I don’t meanto hear it.
The nap wasn’t going to work. I lay down. I tried. But I couldn’t sit still, so I decided that I needed coffee.
I’m walking down the hall, barefoot, coffee mug in hand, still trying to shake the morning haze, when Wes’s voice cuts through the door. “Killing him won’t be off the table.”
Killing who?
Then Huck, steady, too casual. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?”
I freeze.
The mug nearly slips out of my fingers, my heart slamming so hard I can’t think straight. I ease closer, pressing my shoulder against the frame, listening.
“He deserves worse, to be honest,” Sean says. “That’s why I like him for prison. Killing the bastard is too easy. Too clean.”
“Not the way I’ll do it.” Huck laughs. “Davy’s got a world of hurt coming to him.”
My stomach lurches, bile burning the back of my throat. I shove the door open so fast it cracks against the wall. The three of them look up, caught like boys who’ve been plotting mischief, except this isn’t mischief.
This is murder.
“No.” My voice is louder than I mean it to be, sharp enough to make even Huck blink. “Absolutely not. You do not kill David. Do you understand me?”
Sean straightens, expression tightening but calm, as always. Wesley’s mouth opens like he wants to argue, his brows already drawn in. Huck just sits back in his chair, arms crossed, watching me like he expects a storm.
I step into the room, setting the mug down hard on the table so it rattles. “He is their father. My kids deserve to have their father. I don’t care what he’s done to me—you don’t get to take him away from them. Period.”
The silence that follows is sharp enough to cut diamonds.
Wesley speaks first, his voice tight. “Bailey, hurting their mother qualifies as being a bad father.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not the same thing?—”
“Yes, it is.” His words snap out. “On top of that, Maeve thinks he shoved Eli down the stairs. That cast on Eli’s arm? That wasn’t an accident. He broke his own son’s arm.”
The words slam into me. I stumble back a step, gripping the edge of a table. My lungs lock, the air thick and hot, like I can’t pull any of it in.
“No.” My voice cracks. “No, he wouldn’t—he never?—”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Wesley presses, sharp, relentless. “If he’s capable of hurting you?—”
“That’s different!” The shout rips out of me before I can stop it. My hands tremble, fists clenched at my sides. “That was between him and me. He was always a good father to them. Always. He never even spanked them when they were little. He used to say spanking was for bedrooms, not children. He would never do something violent to them. He’s an asshole, sure, but he’s still their father.”
