Page 133 of Daddies on Ice
“The computer system has been having issues with updates,” she explains after I ask about the discrepancy. “We’ve had several cases where the online database wasn’t reflecting recent releases. I apologize for any confusion.”
Confusion. As if this is just some minor inconvenience instead of my worst nightmare coming true.
“We need to get on the road,” Carl says once I hang up. His coach voice is in full effect, calm and authoritative. “Now.”
As we gather our things and head to the bus, I can’t stop looking over my shoulder. Every shadow could be hiding him. Every stranger could be working for him. The paranoia I lived with for years comes flooding back, and I hate how easily I slip back into that mindset.
The girls chatter excitedly about going home as we settle into our seats on the bus, completely oblivious to the danger they were in.
Krystal shows Becky a new coloring book she got, and Becky shares her leftover candy from New Year’s Eve. Their innocence is both heartbreaking and terrifying.
“He told us our parents knew he was watching us,” Becky repeats to Krystal, and my stomach lurches again. “He was really nice. He bought us hot chocolate and let us pet his dog.”
“What kind of dog?” Jake asks, his voice carefully casual as he leans forward in his seat across the aisle.
“A big black one with pointy ears,” Krystal answers. “Like a police dog, but friendlier.”
German Shepherd. Mica always loved those dogs, said they were loyal and fierce. Of course he’d use one to gain the girls’ trust.
I pull out my phone again and call Trent, my fingers shaking as I dial. He answers on the second ring.
“Tish.” The way he said my name was flat. “Have you made your decision yet?”
“Trent, I need you to listen carefully,” I interrupt, then put the phone on speaker so the guys can hear. “Mica is out of prison. He’s been out since December 15th, and he was with the girls last night.”
The string of curses that flows from my brother’s mouth would make a sailor blush. “How the hell is that possible? He had years left on his sentence.”
“I don’t know, but it gets worse. I think he’s been behind everything that’s happened on this tour. The bus breaking down,the missing equipment, the photos…” My voice trails off as the full scope of his manipulation becomes clear.
“Son of a bitch,” Ash growls, his knuckles white where he grips the armrest of his seat. “He’s been playing with us this whole time.”
“But how?” Jake asks, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “How could he orchestrate all of that from the outside?”
“Money,” Carl says grimly. “And connections. Prison doesn’t reform men like him, it just gives them time to plan and network.”
The bus rumbles to life beneath us, and I feel a small measure of relief as we pull away from the hotel. At least we’re moving, putting distance between us and wherever Mica might be lurking.
Then a memory hits me like a physical blow, and my breath catches in my throat.
“The roses,” I whisper, my hand flying to my mouth.
“What roses?” Ash asks immediately, his protective instincts on high alert.
“The first day of the tour, there was a bouquet of red roses on my doorstep. I thought…” I look between the three men who have become my world, my heart sinking as I see the confusion in their eyes. “I thought one of you had sent them.”
Carl shakes his head slowly. “I didn’t send any roses, Trisha.”
“Not me,” Jake says, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be found.
“I told you then that I didn’t send them,” Ash confirms, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.
The realization hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
If none of them sent the roses, then there’s only one person who could have.
The same person who used to bring me red roses when we first started dating, before I knew what he really was.
Mica knows where I live.
