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I can’t help but laugh when Devyn fans at her face with her hand, trying to clear the redness from her cheeks. She glares at her husband, but there’s more than just irritation in her eyes. I have no doubt they’re going to end up excusing themselves for a second time if Legacy keeps teasing her.
I smile at the two of them, knowing just how easily this day could’ve never happened. A couple of months ago, several of us, including the happy couple, attended another wedding in Texas. Jinx’s younger brother got married, and a handful of us tagged along because the small town of Lindell, Texas had seen some recent criminal activity from a group of traffickers, and they just wanted to make sure everyone was going to be safe.
We failed that town. Four gunmen showed up to the wedding that took place in the town’s square. Several people were shot and two of the town’s citizens were killed. We were able to take out two of the gunmen and wound a third, but the fourth gunman dragged Devyn away from the event. We spent hours searching for her, and if the gunman who was taken to the hospital didn’t give up his rendezvous location, there would’ve been more devastation where Devyn was concerned.
I take a deep breath, feeling like even more of a failure with recent events. The logical side of me knows that what happened to Janet and Carlen isn’t my fault. I know how easy it is to slip into that part of your head that turns over and over a litany of questions and what-ifs, but I still can’t seem to stop it from bouncing around in my head.
A knock at the front door is like a record scratch, echoing through the room and pulling every ounce of attention in that direction.
Kincaid heads in that direction, every man in the room repositioning themselves to protect the ones they love if it comes to that. Kincaid doesn’t seem nervous when he pulls his head back after checking the peephole, but he also isn’t relaxed either.
Cold chills race up my arms when I see who it is that enters the clubhouse.
Edward Dobbs, the attorney who called me about Carlen’s death, is standing in the Cerberus clubhouse. I met with him briefly last week when I was in town. The fact that the man is so far from home tells me something is incredibly wrong.
“This is about Janet and Carlen,” I mutter, but before I can walk in their direction, Kincaid escorts the man toward me.
The palms of my hands grow slick as they approach.
“Fuck. What now?” I mumble, praying I’m not going to get another dose of horrific news.
“Mr. Chilton,” he says as he steps in front of me.
“Mr. Dobbs.” I can’t begin to control the irritation in my voice. I’m beginning to get upset, and I don’t even know why he’s here yet.
“You missed the reading of the will.”
My jaw clenches. Carlen wasn’t a wealthy man. He managed to take care of his family, but the fact that he was always trying to find new ways to make money made me believe he hustled so much because he had to in order to make ends meet.
“They didn’t have much to their name. I’m surprised they had a will.”
“They did have one. It was older. It was done seven years ago, right after their oldest son was born. It’s the only one they had, so it’s valid.”
“Okay,” I say, unsure how that has anything to do with me.
“They named you the godfather, making you responsible for both kids.”
I can literally feel the blood drain from my face. My heart feels like it skips several beats before starting back up with a jolt.
“I’m no one’s father,” I say, the only thing I can think of in the moment.
I don’t have an issue with children, but taking on that role in this lifetime was never my plan.
Mr. Dobbs doesn’t react, telling me he expected this response from me. “There’s someone else willing to take the children, Mr. Chilton, but the kids will have to go into care long enough for the courts to make sure the relative is safe and can provide for them.”
“They only have two relatives,” I say, knowing Carlen’s father’s death three years ago left my friend with no other family than his boys.
“Correct,” he quickly agrees. “But Ms. Taylor is more than willing to assume the responsibility.”
I narrow my eyes at the man. “The grandmother or the aunt?”
The second he swallows before responding lets me know exactly who he’s going to name. “The aunt.”
I shake my head, recalling how she lost her shit on me in Carlen’s driveway three days ago. Unprovoked, she ran into me and then shoved me in the chest. I know she’s grieving. I know she has probably more than she can handle on her plate. If she could act that way with me, how would she respond to overstimulation with the boys? I’m not saying I think the woman is capable of hurting a child, but I don’t know her well enough to say with absolute certainty that she wouldn’t.
“Like hell,” I growl, considering the danger the kids may be in. “That woman is clinically insane.”
Okay, she’s probably not insane, but am I willing to take the chance? Don’t I owe it to Carlen and Janet to make sure their boys are safe?
