Dark Guardian (Black Hoods MC #3) - Avelyn Paige Page 0,29

I don’t answer.

“Aaron, let me talk to him.”

Fuckface’s jaw hardens, but he doesn’t look her way. Instead, he attempts to stare holes into my head with his eyeballs. But, since that’s not possible, he basically just sits there, looking like an asshole.

“Where’s my lawyer?”

“On his way,” Grace answers, having to lean around Aaron for me to see her face. “Your buddy… what’s his name? Mom? He said to let you know he called the lawyer, and he’s on his way.”

I watch her, surprised she told me that at all, considering the situation at the moment.

“I want to talk to Miss Halfpenny, alone,” I tell Officer Douchebag.

“Over my dead body, Grant. This is an investigation.”

“Into what?” I growl. “I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about. You showed up on club property, threatening to shoot us all, and not once did you explain yourself. So, tell me, Nipple Dick, what the fuck are you investigating?”

His nostrils flare. “We have a report of a missing person, and we believe you know something about that.”

“Are you charging me with something?”

He’s got nothing, and he fucking knows it.

“I want to talk to Miss Halfpenny,” I repeat.

Officer Cockstroker leans in real close, his nose nearly touching mine. “Not happening.”

I roll my eyes. I could snap this asshole like a twig if I weren’t in handcuffs. “Nice little pet ya got here, Halfpenny. Do you get him to arrest all loving parents that care for the kids you’re looking into?”

Grace blinks, her pouty lips parting in surprise.

“I don’t,” she says after a moment, and then pushes a paper toward me to read. “I’ve been in contact with a man who claims to be Natalie and Kevin’s biological father. A paternity test needs to be done to confirm, but if he is who he says he is, those children cannot stay with you, Mr. Grant.”

She may as well have sucker punched me right in the heart. “Father? But they don’t have a father.”

She shrugs, looking almost apologetic. “I’m looking into it, but you aren’t making it easy for me to do my job.”

“Fuck your job,” I snap. “Your job is to take those kids out of a happy home and stuff ’em in with some stranger they don’t even know.”

“Not a stranger,” she clarifies. “Their father.”

“He’s a fucking stranger to them. They don’t even know his damn name.”

Grace purses her lips, and for the first time, I think I see her waver. She does everything so by the book, always carrying herself with an air of professionalism rarely seen nowadays, but her demeanor is slipping. She looks unsure.

There’s a knock at the door before it cracks open. “Mr. Grant’s lawyer is here,” the officer announces.

Fuckface sighs, but my eyes remain locked with Grace’s. “Let him in.”

Walking into the room, Earl Jenkins informs Grace and Fuckface, “I’ll need thirty minutes with my client.” God love Earl. He’s been the lawyer for this club for years now, always running to our rescue when one of us finds ourselves on the wrong side of the law. And he’s got Fuckface stuck between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go.

Fuckboy glares at me before finally shoving away from the table and moving toward the door. Grace bows her head in disappointment, but also gets up and follows him out of the room.

I look up at Earl. “Please tell me the guys found my kids.”

Earl claps a hand on my shoulder. “They’re good,” he assures me. “Hashtag found them at his place with his kid.”

Of course he did. Kevin wouldn’t go anywhere without Hashtag’s daughter, Hayden. The anxiety that had been brimming over the surface disappears almost entirely at this news.

“Good,” I reply. “Now, how the fuck are you gonna get me outta here?”

Grace

After the last few days, a quiet evening at home in my favorite yoga pants is just the thing I need to clear my head. And a glass of wine. A big one. Maybe the entire bottle.

I have never been this conflicted about a case at any point in my professional career. I’ve been forced to sit back and watch as the justice system pulls families apart, one right after another. But in this case, I just don’t know what to do with it. It’s all piling on top of me, pulling me in opposite directions. Now with the kids missing, it’s all imploding.

Tyson Jackson.

Eugene Grant.

The Tucker kids.

My boss.

Aaron.

Well, for the latter, that’s done. But Eugene Grant? I don’t even know how to unpack