“We’ll talk soon,” Ware said evenly, and turned away.
Casey memorized the digits on Ware’s plate while the guy climbed into his truck, and waited until he had disappeared completely down the road before he walked back to his bike, abandoning his plans to check on the bar. His body was humming, right down in his guts and bones; his nails had bitten red marks in his palms. He’d deal with Dancer later. That shit could wait, as could the DNA tests and everything else. Right now all he wanted was to see Abilene and the baby, to confirm they were safe and sound, maybe never leave their sides again.
And one thing seemed goddamn certain, he thought as he stomped on his starter.
That cocksucker isn’t getting anywhere near them. Not while there’s still blood pumping through this body.
Chapter 10
Abilene woke slowly, unsure at first where she was.
That happened a lot at Three C. That had happened a lot during a rather dark period of her short life, as well, though now as she blinked blearily at the walls and windows, the room that came into focus was pleasant and familiar. The same couldn’t be said for some of the holes she’d come to in.
The guest room was dim—its two windows were west facing, and when she’d nodded off it had been from the heat of the dipping sun. Now it was dark, the sky nearly black, and just the one soft bulb in the reading lamp by the bed was on, casting the room in its weak glow. She sat up and eyed the clock on the dresser. Not even seven, thankfully. Dinner wasn’t usually until eight, and she liked to help when she could, setting the table at the very least—
A soft knock sounded at the door. She smoothed her hair, rose, and tiptoed over, expecting Christine or Miah. She was surprised to find Casey there instead. He was in his socks, his shoes and jacket presumably abandoned in the Churches’ front hall.
“Hey,” she whispered, letting him know Mercy was asleep. “Thought you were out until after supper.”
“Something came up, so I rushed back.”
She went cold in a beat, right down to her bare toes. “What?”
He came inside and shut the door quietly. “Your ex came after me.”
Her eyes made a frantic inventory of him, searching for scrapes or cuts or rips in his clothes. “Came after you?”
“Nothing violent. Here, sit down.” He nodded to the bed.
She sat cross-legged, facing him squarely, expecting him to sit as well. Instead he strode to the crib, bracing his hands on the rail and staring down at the baby.
“Casey, you’re scaring me.”
He straightened, turned. “Sorry.”
She patted the covers. “Sit.”
He took a seat at the bed’s edge, rubbing his thighs.
“Tell me.”
“He was waiting in the lot when I stopped by the bar, barely a half hour ago. He knew who I was—Vince’s brother, and your boss. He wanted to know where you and the baby were.”
She hugged herself, the room feeling cold and too dark.
“I didn’t tell him, of course. I said to call me when he cooled down and could talk like a reasonable person.”
“He was angry, then.”
“Very. He took the number and climbed in his truck and rode off, after we traded some words. I think he’ll call. I hope he will, at least. Though I won’t lie. Before, I thought getting the two of you together to hash shit out was the only sensible course of action. Now that I’ve met him . . .”
“He’s intimidating,” she offered. A trait she’d found both terrifying and reassuring, depending on who had most recently pissed James off.
“He’s more than that,” Casey said. “He’s intense in a way I don’t like one fucking bit.”
She nodded to the baby, admonishing the swear. What a losing battle that was turning out to be.
“Sorry.”