Page 82 of Brew
Brew
“What the fuck?” I bark. “When did this happen?”
“Today,” Erica says.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“It’s okay, for heaven’s sake, don’t drive like a maniac, we’re fine. My building is safe?—”
“You’re not fine if that asshole knows where you live, Erica.”
“I know that,” she goes on. “I’m fully aware that somehow he’s tracked us down.”
“I’ll get to the bottom of that. Sawyer will check the security footage around your apartment building, and we’ll install cameras to protect you,” I say. She won’t fight me on it because it’s what needs to happen. I don’t like the idea of her being there until this fucking hearing is over and done with. They need to lock him up and throw away the key.
Clearly, this asswipe has someone on the outside, and I don’t like it. With the hearing coming up, this has been plaguing her, and I don’t blame her for being worried. From what I’ve heard over the years, her husband was obsessed with her. Having her run away with Olive wouldn’t have sat well with him.
If that bastard gets off on some technicality, there will be hell to pay. I won’t stand for it. No woman or person anywhere has a right to feel unsafe, and especially not in their own home.
“I’m sure we’re all overreacting, but you’re right. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Olive safe.”
“And you.”
“And me.”
That’s my girl.
I wonder if she’ll show me the letter willingly. I clench my jaw at the very idea he sat down and penned those fucking words. Jealousy swirls through me that he got to have her for so many years and she lived in a prison with no escape. It boils my blood.
“I’ll be there soon.”
“Amber is coming over with Bronco,” she says.
“Fine, but don’t answer the door unless you know it’s her.”
“I’m not a child, Brew, I get how this works.”
“I just don’t trust anybody.” I mean every word. “I’ve seen some shit in my time. When people are desperate, they can do crazy things.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. It’s just a letter, but you’re right about taking things seriously. I don’t like him knowing my address.”
“Sit tight and let the doorman know I’m comin’.”
I hang up, mounting my motorcycle. I’ll call Sawyer and Haze when I get there. I roar my Harley through New Orleans, annoyed at myself even though I couldn’t have known dickface Steven would pull a stunt like this. It’s gotta leave an impression, as immune to him as she says she is, it’s unsettling.
The rumble of the engine beneath me usually settles my nerves, but not today. I try to keep my focus on getting to Erica, even when I want to head to Iowa jail just to rip Steven’s throat out with my bare hands.
When I arrive, the doorman lets me in, and that reminds me I’ll have to get myself a key for safety’s sake. If I needed to get to her in a hurry, I’d be fucked.
I head up the elevator to the right floor and find her number easily. It’s a nice building. Clean. The amenities are near new, and the security is tight. That’s a good thing, even though I’m nowhere near being okay with any of this.
When I ring the bell and call out to her, I hear movement behind the door. A few moments later, I hear the locks, and Erica opens the door. I cup her face as I step inside. “Are you okay?”
Her cheeks look a little pink, and she’s lost some of her sparkle, and that makes me mad.
“I’m fine, just a little shaken.”
“What did you tell Olive?”
