sure that handshake is honored. It’s the only way.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“I don’t think I’ve told you both that I love you.” My voice cracks. Jesse walks away, his back to me as his fist breaks the plaster of my wall. “But I do. With everything I have inside’a me. You’ve been my reason for eighteen years. The moments I’ve felt like giving up, the promise of you fed my will to live. I owe you my life.” I clear my throat, my voice thick with enough emotion I can barely hear myself speak. “And that’s what I’m gonna give you.”
Grabbing the sides of her head, Blake begins to cry, soft stuttered whimpers that force me to inhale to save the same sound breaking from my lips.
“I thought you were awful. That you were like him. Like Marcus, that you dying would mean nothing to me. To us.”
“Stop,” I tell her.
“You’re my dad,” she wails. “I love you. You’re everything we were missing. We need you.”
She looks to Jesse, searching for his agreement.
“You don’t.” I look between them both, ignoring the grief painted openly on their faces. “You’re a force, the both of you and I couldn’t be more fuckin’ proud. My kids are fighters.”
“I need more time with you,” Jesse whispers. “We need more time with you.”
“I know,” I concede. “I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I’m sorry you went your whole lives thinkin’ there wasn’t someone fightin’ for you. I was,” I assure them, hoping like hell they believe me. “I was fightin’ so fuckin’ hard to find you.”
A soft knock hits my front door and I take one last look at them before turning away.
A sullen green stare I’ll never forget greets me when I open the door. A pair of eyes that once upon a time held the same level of grief and defeat as mine.
“Roc,” he says, moving forward to drag me into a hug. “Good to see you, brother. Just wish it was under better circumstances.”
I glance over his shoulder at the hulk of a man behind him.
“Trey.” The flannel-cladded friend offers a hand and I take it firmly.
“Appreciate you helpin’ out.”
He shrugs, dismissing my thanks.
“They don’t have much shit, but here.” I hand him an envelope thick with cash. “This’ll cover you until the rest of my shit is sorted. Parker’s number is in there too. For when you’re ready.”
A dip of his chin to acknowledge my words, but nothing more.
A lot passes between us in that moment.
A friendship forged in self-induced cataclysm. We were nineteen when we met. Crazed and broken. In search of meaning, of purpose, hungry for destruction and appeased by our own demise. We beat the shit out of one another, neither of us coming up victorious. It was an illegal fight, one we each lost a shit-ton of cash on. But we walked from the ring bloodied, demoralized, but richer for the friendship we’d formed through our fists.
He’s since sorted his life, married the girl-next-door and had a kid. He’s settled and I feel like a piece of shit for dragging him into the shitstorm of my life.
Truth is, friendships aren’t high on my list of possessions. He’s one of the very few people I know I can trust.
I take one last look at him before turning to the two wide-eyed teenagers standing quietly together. “Blake, Jesse, this is Archer Dean. An old friend of mine.”
“What’s he supposed to be?” Blake bites out. “Our security? He looks like a retired military brat. And who is that?” She points to Trey. “His resident lumberjack?”
Archer grins. “I ain’t lookin’ forward to this. Sachi’s still a fuckin’ toddler and I can barely handle her sass.”
“They’re not security,” I tell the twins. “Archer is one of the few people I trust in this world. You’re gonna stay with him until he knows you’re safe.”
Blake shakes her head. “You know it’s a suicide mission?” she barks at Archer, trying to camouflage the knot in her throat. “He knows they’ll kill him, but he’s going anyway.”
Archer breaks his gaze from my daughter, eyeing my profile intensely.
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same.” I turn to him. “Tell me you wouldn’t go in for Annabelle, surrendering yourself to make sure Sachi was safe. Even if it meant adios to your life, maybe even Annabelle’s.”
Nostrils flaring in panic, he swallows down his anger.
“She wants me,” I mumble. “Sarah Rein. She wants me,” I tell him. “I need this to end. She can’t