"My daughter doesn't come with me. She stays here with Reese. And you never have anything to do with either of them, nor do you let them have any contact with me."
I bit the inside of my lip hard to keep my chin from quivering and my eyes from tearing. But that had been the hardest thing to let go of. My Skylar. It went against every instinct inside me to leave my baby behind. But no way would I let her grow up anywhere near him. And the only way to get her out of his life for good was to sacrifice myself. This would be best for both of my babies. Reese and Pick, and even Mason, would take care of them, and love them exactly how I wanted them to be loved. And none of them would ever have to worry about Bradshaw or Garrison again. They'd be free to live the rest of their lives in peace.
"Hmm," he murmured, stapling his fingers as he studied me. "I wasn't expecting that one. I thought you'd grown rather fond of your brat, but fine, I'll gladly allow that condition." His lips quirked smugly. "Next?"
"Fire that bitch you hired to torment Mason. And keep her away from him."
Bradshaw shot an amused glance toward Mrs. Garrison. "She won't go willingly, but I'll enjoy pulling her away. Anything else?"
"Yes. Make sure Pick keeps his son."
My father lifted his eyebrows. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
I snorted. "Bullshit. You know everything there is to know about him. And you know what Julian means to him."
"Oh, you're referring to the little crack whore's baby. That son. Yes, I'm fully aware he could lose the child if I made one small phone call to Social Services. It's a shame, really. I doubt any foster parent would care for the kid as much as your young man has. Though I'd never allow such a character to remain associated with my daughter, he does seem to be a good father."
He was the best father ever.
God, I was going to miss Pick, Skylar, Julian, Reese, damn, even Mason. But I'd do this. For a chance to keep them safe, I'd do this in a heartbeat.
"Then help him remain a good father."
Bradshaw chuckled and rocked back in his chair. "Really, darling. I don't see how I could do that."
"I don't care how you do it. Falsify a birth certificate with his name on it. Create adoption records. Don't tell me you can't do it. I know better."
"Okay, fine. You're right. I can do such a thing." His chest bowed out, showing me how proud he was of his illegal powers.
I rolled my eyes. "Then do it."
"And you'll come back?"
When I nodded, Quinn made a sound from his perch on the wall. I glanced at him, but he seemed preoccupied with whatever he was doing on his phone.
Mrs. Garrison laughed out a harsh sound. "Oh, please. Tell me you're not serious about meeting all her silly little conditions."
My father glanced at her. "I'm dead serious, Patricia. This is exactly why I came here."
Garrison sniffed, only to have her face leach of color when she seemed to realize just how serious he was. "No," she whispered. "Bradshaw, please don't do this." Hurrying to him, she fell to her knees in front of his chair and ran her hands up his thighs toward his lap.
He caught her wrists and pulled her claws away from him, clucking his tongue. "Really, Patricia. Don't be so unseemly. Besides, you're not that good of a fuck to sway me on this."
After he pushed her aside, openly dismissing her, he unfolded what I guessed was the deed to the club. Waving his pen, he grinned. "You know, I assumed you'd ask to have the club put into your own name. But I guess your heart is softer than I ever took it for. That's . . . disappointing. Nevertheless, it doesn't matter to me who it goes to. Getting you back under my roof is all that matters."
As he signed away the nightclub to Pick, Mrs. Garrison clutched her hair and screamed. "No! You can't do this. You made me a promise. I let you do all that shit to me. What about Mason?"
Bradshaw sighed and rolled his eyes as if extremely tired of her theatrics. "You were a means to an end, Patricia. And I don't give a shit about your little prostitute. My daughter wants you to stay away from him, so you're going to stay away from him."
"But—"
"You're dismissed," he cut in, glaring at her. "Get out."
Screeching out an inhuman shriek, Garrison tore across the room toward her purse.
I had no idea what she was after until she opened the top clasp and yanked out a gun.
I opened my mouth to scream. Bradshaw opened his mouth to yell. Quinn pushed away from the wall, his eyes wide with horror. And Mrs. Garrison lifted the barrel, pointing it at my father's head.
"No one tells me what to do, you son of a bitch."
"No," he bellowed just before she pulled the trigger.
Watching his head explode imprinted itself in my retinas. It was something I'd never be able to un-see. Mrs. Garrison whirled to me, her eyes crazed and livid. She raised the gun in my direction, and my life flashed before my eyes. Pick, Skylar, Julian, Reese. They were finally free.