I only wanted them to feel safe.
For once.
My kid, hardheaded ass that he’s always had a tendency to be, stared at me like I’d grown two heads. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked, moving in my direction. “I’m not staying here while you go searchin’ for your future wife. Whose real name I still don’t know, I might add.”
My lips remained sealed.
Carmen could tell him her name when we rescued them if she wanted, but it was something that would have to come from her. It was important to respect her desire for privacy, no matter how ridiculous it seemed, given the situation.
“Fuck it.” Hendrix shook his head. “I’ll just ask her and Shorty at the same time.” Reaching the passenger side of the vehicle, he yanked on the door with more force than necessary.
The problem was, it didn’t budge.
“Pop,” he growled. “Unlock the door. We don’t have time to—”
Slipping my key into my door, I disengaged the lock manually. “You’re not going.”
Anger flashed in his eyes, and I knew I was moments away from having one hell of a fight on my hands. It didn’t matter, though. When it came to his safety, he would listen to what I said. I had put him in danger more than once, thanks to an addiction I’d barely escaped.
History would not repeat itself.
I would make sure of that.
“Pop!” he hollered, cheeks tinged with anger. “Unlock it!”
Refusing to do as he demanded, I climbed in the truck, then shut and locked my door. After starting the ignition, I buckled my seatbelt and looked through the tinted window to where my irate son stood, his eyes full of something that looked like betrayal. Though I knew I was doing the right thing by leaving him behind, his expression still gutted me.
Chest tightening, I cracked his window a whole three inches. “Go inside, Hendrix,” I said, stern tone leaving no room for argument. “Talk to Maddie, tell her what’s going on, and then help her get stuff ready.”
His heavy fist slammed into the truck just like mine had done, striking a spot between the door and windshield. “I’m not stayin’ here!” Hand finding the handle once more, he yanked on it—hard. “You go lookin’ for Robina Hood, you may find trouble, and I’ve gotta be there in case you need help gettin’ out of it.”
Tears threatened to fill my eyes.
“I won’t put you in harm’s way, son,” I said, fingers tightening around the steering wheel, causing the leather to squeak in protest. “Not ever again.” Lifting my right hand from where it sat clenched atop my thigh, I pointed toward the shelter. “Now do as I said and go inside with your fiancée and baby. They need you safe, Hendrix, not out taking risks you don’t have any business taking.” I shifted the truck into drive. “And watch the security cameras in case Carmen makes it here before I find her, yeah? Call me if she does.”
Like always, his stubborn ass didn’t listen. “Listen to me, you old bastard,” he started. “Open the damn—”
I’d heard enough. “I love you, Buddy,” I interrupted. “Never forget that.”
I gave him no chance to argue further. Lifting my foot from the brake, I stomped on the gas. Tires squealed. Smoke billowed.
And like a bat out of hell, I took off.
Beads of sweat dotted my brow as I skidded into the parking lot next to where Faye lived, gut twisted in a million goddamned knots.
After spending the better part of an hour searching the streets of West Toluca for any sign of Carmen or the girls, along with placing numerous calls to the burner phone I’d gifted my woman, I was teetering on the edge of losing my mind.
It was why I found myself at Faye’s.
Even if Carmen wasn’t with her, she could tell me where to look—or better yet, where to find the pimp that I had every intention of murdering with my bare hands the moment we came face to face.
Bottom line.
After killing the ignition and removing my seatbelt, I popped open my door and jumped out of the truck. Booted feet hitting the cracked pavement with a thud, I slammed the door shut and headed for the rundown building sitting fifty feet away.
I didn’t know which one belonged to the woman I sought, but thanks to the pizza I’d had delivered to her home, I knew the number that would be affixed to her door.
I’d taken less than ten steps when the roar of an engine met my ears, followed by the squeal of tires. I turned, catching sight of a black pickup, one I recognized right away, skidding to a noisy stop next to my truck.
“Goddammit,” I mumbled, when Hendrix jumped out of the passenger’s side of the vehicle, face distorted with pure anger.
“You motherfucker!” he growled, stomping my way. “I told you to let me in the truck!”
“And I told you to stay,” I fired back, hands going to my hips in frustration. I needed him to stay at the shelter where he’d be safe because whether my boy wanted to admit it or not, he wasn’t invincible. “But like always, your hardheaded ass didn’t listen.”
Tuck, of all damned people, chose that moment to chuckle from the place where he’d come to a standstill next to his truck. Focusing on his troublemaking self, I clenched my jaw. “Where did you come from?” I swung my gaze back to my son. “And how did y’all find me?”
“I was on the way to get food when I saw you peel off from in front of the shelter, leaving my favorite dipshit”—he nodded to Hendrix—“behind. He flagged me down and told me to follow you.” He threw his arms up in the air, all dramatic-like. “And here we fucking are.”
My eyes narrowed. “You’ve been following me for almost an hour?”
“Yeah, asshole, we have,” Hendrix answered, temper flaring. “May want
