Page 67 of Hostile Saint

Setting down my spoon, I put out my hand. “Agreed.”

Lynx smirked but shook my hand. “Done.”

I filled my spoon with cereal. Almost to my mouth, a burner phone vibrated on the kitchen counter. Motionless, we all stared at it, knowing every time Justice called, she brought more bad news. Would this time be any different?

Leaving the cell on the counter, Lynx tapped the screen. “Talk ta’ me.”

Justice sounded as if yawning. “Sorry. Been up all night.” She heavily exhaled. “Alrighty, boys and girls,” The bikers jokingly peered about looking for any females, “have you tightened your seatbelts again?”

Staring at the last bite of my cereal, sitting in the suspended spoon, I felt my stomach twist once more. Slowly, I set the full spoon back into the bowl and pushed it toward Dagger. “Thank you. That was very good.”

As if having pity for me, he nodded and placed it in the sink.

My eyes found the phone, and I sat there, wishing I could run and hide—or run to my Lacey. Anywhere but here, where more bad news was to be told…

“Lacey’s brothers do not exist either.”

“Jesus. H. Christ!” Lynx began to pace next to the kitchen. “How are all these babies being born with no records?”

Sounding as dumbfounded, she answered, “I don’t have those answers yet, but I do have some good news.” My chest filled with hopeful air. “Lacey’s parents existed. Both on record of having Lacey on her actual birthdate.”

My head fell forward and hung there. There was definitely a relief in knowing an iota of detail in our lives was true—made sense—or at least were what we believed them to be.

“But,” added Justice until I shook my head, begging for no more fucking ‘buts’. She asked, “You with me, kid?”

I couldn’t answer as the orange juice and cereal in my gut violently rolled.

“Hey,” growled the voice I needed to hear.

I dared to glance up at Lynx.

“You’re mine. You belong somewhere. With me.” He hit his chest.

Sad, tired, and fearful, I nodded, glad to have him. “Thank you.”

Justice was a woman, and she was kind, but she lacked the softness that Elle effortlessly exuded. Justice had empathy, but she was very straightforward, quickly continuing, as if time wasted was time lost. Neither was acceptable in her world. “According to my findings, Lacey’s father passed when she was six.”

Sensing what was coming, I looked back to the phone. I could feel an expression of horror splash across my face. “No.”

“I’m sorry, Tate.” In Justice style, she took a hold of that band-aid and ripped it off. “Her mama ‘reared’ off the road and hit a telephone pole. According to the police report, and suspicious tire tracks, she was murdered. A week ago.”

Vertigo? Forgetting how to breathe? I don’t know which one had my body screaming for release, but I was suddenly running to my bathroom. I vomited up the orange juice I treasured, and the cereal Elle sent me.

Had I been wrong? Had Lacey’s mom actually cared? Had she been punished for trying to find her daughter? Who killed her? After everything we had learned, I knew Justice was right. There was no doubt in my mind it wasn’t an accident.

Whoever we were up against, they clearly had no issues with taking lives. Lacey…

After rinsing out my mouth and wetting my clammy face, I stared in the mirror. “Breathe. She’s hidden away, being watched by killers in leather.”

Heading back into the living room, I heard Lynx ask Justice, “That was smart, girl. Who owned the home before Lacey’s mom?”

“Edward Scoal.”

“Who?” I asked, never having heard the name before.

Hearing me, Justice reluctantly answered, “Well, I would say he was a made-up name, but that is not the case.”

Lynx regarded me. “You don’t recognize that name at all?”