Needed to free her from his grasp.
But before I could do either of those things, I had to earn her trust, a task that sure as hell wouldn't be easy, but one the Crazy Old Biddy assured me was possible.
I just had to pull it off.
That's if I could find her.
Ever since the night in which I'd watched her care for Little One with so much tenderness and care that my heart had nearly exploded, I'd searched high and low for her.
But once again, she'd disappeared. Little One and Faye too. None of them had been on the streets or gone back to the mill. Just like Carmen had done after she lifted my wallet, they'd all vanished without a trace.
It set my teeth on edge.
If I didn't find one of them soon, I was liable to seek out every pimp I could find. Then, when I had the sick and twisted bastards in my clutches, I'd kill each of them with my bare fucking hands.
For their sins, they deserved death.
Just like me…
"Fuck off, Cap." Tuck's pissed-off voice cut through the night air, ripping me from the chaotic whirlpool of thoughts consuming me.
Flipping me off for what had to be the millionth time, he stormed off, his booted feet slamming against the asphalt-covered drive.
My jaw ticked. "One day, that boy's temper is going to get him in a boatload more trouble," I mumbled, watching him go. "And when it does, he's going to end up in jail. Most likely for killing somebody."
Hendrix shrugged. "He's had a rough life."
It was a point I wouldn't argue because it was the truth. Though Tuck's childhood had been filled with a different kind of pain than Hendrix’s and mine, his had been a nightmare in its own right.
If I'd gone through what he had, I'd be a whole lot more than temperamental.
That was a fact.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, my son turned to face me, giving me his undivided attention. "I heard what you were saying, Pop," he whispered, shoulders tensing. "About your mom." Like he'd done a moment before, I froze. "What happened to her? I know she died a long time ago, but how?"
Losing the ability to breathe, much less speak, my tired eyes slid closed. As much as I wanted to hide the horrid events that were responsible for sending me spiraling headfirst into the mess of an adult I'd become, I needed to confess. I'd kept enough secrets from my son—I still am—and it had to end.
First this, then Shelby.
Head spinning, I opened my eyes, meeting his stare head-on, and quickly gave him the answer he sought. And that answer? It gutted me, eviscerating my insides on the spot.
"She was murdered."
It pained me, literally, to say those words aloud, but Hendrix was twenty-five years old. He needed to hear my truths, one at a time, no matter how ugly or twisted they were.
"Oh, what the fuck!" he hollered, in both disbelief and rage. "By who?"
Hands clenching of their own volition, I swallowed around the tightness lining my throat. "Your grandfather."
Stumbling back two steps as if he'd been punched, my kid shook his head. Eyes wide, he tried to make sense of the horrendous facts I'd just told him. "What the hell happened?"
"He took her from me." The demons inhabiting my head once again rose from their slumber. Ready to wreak havoc on my entire being, they quickly stirred back to life, their vicious taunts beginning to echo through my mind. "That's what happened."
Hendrix's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you're gonna need to explain that one, 'cause I don't—"
"At fourteen, I was still just a kid," I interrupted, needing to spit out the words before I lost the ability to. "But I was old enough to save her. Only I didn't. Instead, I fucked up, and because of my weakness, she died."
Like everything else, it's all my fault.
"Jesus Christ." Face pale, my son stared at me, his lips parted the slightest bit. "I don't know what happened, Pop, but I know it couldn't have been your fault. There's no way. Like you said, you were just a kid."
He was wrong.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he continued, hands fisting like mine. "We could've talked about it. Damn, old man, I know I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I would've listened and tried to help you get whatever bullshit is brewing in your head out, especially if it would've made things at home easier."
My chest heaved.
I'd done more damage than I cared to admit to my oldest kid, yet his heart had remained good. How that happened, I'll never know, but I was grateful for it all the same.
"I've put you through enough hell, son, which is something I'll regret for eternity. I didn't need to add more by telling you about your grandmother's wrongful death. You knew that she was gone, and that was enough."
It was a lie.
It hadn't been enough.
My boy deserved the truth.
About everything.
Just as his sister did.
Though I knew he wanted to argue, a look of understanding spread across his face. "Tell me about her," he whispered, widening his stance. "About Grandma."
Grandma.
I prayed that wherever my mother was, she heard him call her that. Heaven knows if she'd still been alive, she would've loved him with every beat of her enormous heart.
The kid would've been spoiled rotten.
"She was beautiful," I replied, her smiling face and sparkling chocolate-colored eyes flashing at the forefront of my mind. "But more than that, she had a big heart. Just like you."
My kid smiled. "What was her name?"
"Sofia."
"Sofia," he repeated, testing the feel of her name as it rolled off his tongue. "She was Dominican, wasn't she?" A ghost of a smile curved his lips. "That how you know Spanish?"
I nodded. "She was, and yeah, it is."
Knowing he wanted to hear more, I pulled in a steadying breath and glanced back at the inky sky. "She was seven when she immigrated to Miami with my great aunt and uncle after her parents died. Ended up
