Page 63 of Hostile Saint

Lynx tapped the screen.

Sure enough, there was a snapshot of a marriage certificate. After studying it, I proclaimed, “Those signatures aren’t ours.”

“Tate,” said Justice, “those signatures were possibly forged because you have, or had, some guardian angels working behind the scenes—”

Not sounding pleased, Vice grumbled, “Scared ones.”

Lynx sat back, clasping his hands behind his head to stare at the ceiling. “Yes, but afraid of what or whom?”

Justice said, “He was a lawyer. He knew how to have the law protect him and his kin.”

Dagger rubbed the back of his neck. “Lynx, that fucking snout of yours gives me chills.”

“What?” I asked.

Dagger asked me, “Well, if you’re afraid, who do you call?”

I shrugged. “No one. Just survive.”

He winced. “Jesus, kid.” Then he shook his head to clear it of dark thoughts. “Okay, most people call the cops.”

“Oh, yeah, them. Sorry—”

Without moving, Lynx eyed me.

I quickly corrected, “Not sorry.”

Dagger chuckled. “Damn straight, Stallion Prospect. You are only sorry if we tell you you’re sorry.”

It was odd, but I actually smiled, appreciating them reconfirming their claim on me—making sure I knew I belonged somewhere. That was needed. My world was shifting so fast it felt like I was constantly experiencing earthquakes, not sure of where to step or who to run to.

Lynx sat forward again. “So, maybe this lawyer knew police couldn’t help him, so he finagled this house into his nephew’s name. But why?... Any more info on this house explaining its importance?”

“So far? No. Not even the dollar amount makes all the hassle worth it. From what I can tell, Tate can only get about a hundred and forty Gs for it. But hey, a little money in this young couple’s pocket is better than none, I suppose.”

A hundred and forty grand being ‘a little money’ was a telltale sign of what they considered ‘big’ money.

Lynx tapped his forehead, mumbling, “Think, motherfucker. Think—” He went still. “Justice, if Tate were to die before his eighteenth birthday, where would the house go?”

“Probably in a mess of probate and then to… Ah, shit. Next of kin.”

Lynx slammed his hand to the table. “His uncle was trying to keep Tate alive.”

Dagger’s mouth fell open. “And if Tate were to die, the house goes to his wife.”

“My uncle knew of Lace?” I was so confused by all that everyone was comprehending. I didn’t even have a chance to adjust to Lacey being my lawful wife.

Vice nodded. “Somethin’s in that house, boys.”

“Yep,” agreed Justice. “But what and where is it hidden?”

“Holes.”

Everyone looked at me.

I shrugged. “As a little boy, I remember there were a bunch of holes in the backyard, all around the pool.”

Lynx delivered that evil grin that always gave me chills. “I got a suspicion it’s in plain sight. Feel me?”