But she smiled and leaned her head in to kiss me. “I’d say you dirtied me up, Mr. Trent.” She laughed against my mouth, and I nibbled her lip.
“Happy now?” she asked.
“Not nearly.”
Her face lit up, and she shook her head, climbing off me. “You had a phone call,” she reminded me. “When you’re done, come back to bed.”
She walked off to the bathroom, and I got up, grabbing some tissues from the box and cleaning myself up before heading back to the bedroom.
My body felt loose again. The release helped. I might actually be able to get some work down now as long as she didn’t mind me waking her up in another two hours for round six.
Snatching my pants from earlier off the bedroom floor, I dug my phone out of my pocket and looked through the missed calls.
Three. All from a number I recognized.
Dialing back, I waited for him to answer.
“Jax?” Corvin, my police officer contact at the prison, answered.
“What do you got?” I asked.
“Sorry, man. I called as soon as I heard. Judge approved your father’s release. Tomorrow. Noon.”
I crossed the room, slamming the door shut. “Tomorrow!” I seethed, gritting my teeth. “That’s not the notice I paid for.”
“I called as soon as I heard,” he maintained. “This is your last chance. Ciaran already said it’s taken care of if you want to—”
“Fuck you.” And I hung up, slamming my hands down on the dresser and bowing my head into my arm.
I closed my eyes. Shit.
I was supposed to have more notice. That was what I paid him for, for Christ’s sake!
Corvin was Ciaran’s man on the inside, and when I’d started working for Fallon’s father a year ago, I made him my contact as well. Through him, I knew my father had been speaking to lawyers, turning on old contacts, and working out a deal. This had been happening for a while, and even though I expected the inevitable, I also expected more than twelve hours to prepare myself.
“Noon,” I whispered, sweat already coating my forehead.
He was going to be free. Three years early when he should’ve been put down, not let go.
For six years I’d known exactly where he slept and ate. Somewhere where he wasn’t a threat to me. And now, in a matter of hours, I would have no idea if he was a hundred miles away or right outside the window.
I heard the soft spray of the shower running, and my head filled with dread.
Juliet.
My Juliet.
I dialed Jared.
“It’s late. What’s up?” he answered.
I stood up straight, clearing my throat. “Meet me in the backyard. We have to talk.”
“Wh—”
And I hung up.
“Stop fucking hanging up on me!” Jared whisper-yelled, walking out the back door of Tate’s house and zipping up his jeans. “You’re always doing that, and it pisses me off.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’ll pencil in time to cry about that later, Princess.”
I walked through the garden door, meeting him before he’d even stepped off her back porch.
“Yeah.” He barked out a laugh. “I’m not the pretty one who now shops at the mall. Nice haircut,” he jabbed.
“Nice buzz cut,” I shot back, teasing. “You trading in the Boss for a minivan next?”
He dropped his head back, sighing. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep the smile off my face.
My brother and I had always gotten along before we lived in the same house. Since then, you could mistake us for five-year-old girls.
We argued, constantly challenged each other, and neither backed down in a difference of opinion. The shit was getting thicker, too, and it was going to get worse before it got better.
There can’t be two alphas in the pack, after all.
He looked at me, annoyance written all over his face as he put his hands on his hips. “So, what do you want?”
I tipped my chin up, getting serious again. “I have a contact at the prison. Just got a call from them,” I said. “He’s being released tomorrow at noon.”
His eyebrows nose-dived. “No, we would’ve been notified.”
I nodded. Yeah, you would think.
“Sounds like it happened pretty quickly,” I offered as he stepped down the stairs, coming closer.
His brown eyes searched the ground and then eyed me with obvious concern. “Are you sure?”
“Sure enough.”
Corvin might’ve given me shit notice, but he was giving me accurate info. I trusted him, and I knew that if I called right now and gave him the go-ahead, my father would never wake up in the morning.
When I began working for Ciaran, he’d found out about my father. Even offered to “take care” of him for me, but I’d shot him down.
I didn’t know if Jared and I were still scared of our father or just worried, but neither of us wanted to wonder where he was or what he was doing.
Jared shook his head, in denial. “He won’t come here.”
“He’ll definitely come here,” I countered in a calm voice.
“How do you know?”
“He calls,” I admitted without hesitation.
He cocked his head, peering at me. “You’re talking to him?”
I breathed out a laugh. “Yeah, for hours,” I taunted. “We share gluten-free recipes and gossip about Pretty Little Liars.”
Jared cocked an eyebrow.
“He calls,” I said flatly, “I issue a few nicely placed threats, and we do it all over again the next week, Jared. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
He ran a hand through his short hair, shaking his head at me. “You should’ve told me.”
“Why?” I shrugged. “So you can lose your mind over shit you can’t control?”
I knew my brother loved me. I knew he’d do anything to protect me. And that was the problem. Jared could be sloppy, and he always advanced without thinking first. He worried too much, and while I knew he did everything in my best interest, I didn’t want to have to clean up whatever mess he made as well as deal with the problem he’d still failed to solve.
“We need that restraining order,” I pointed out.
He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you didn’t want it.”
“Yeah, well”—I ran my hand over the top of my head, glancing up to my bedroom window—“I’ll take every measure possible to protect her.”
He nodded, looking at me knowingly. “Now you see.”
I didn’t nod or say anything. He knew he was right. A restraining order might not do any good, but every precaution that could be taken needed to be taken.
“It’s the weekend,” he pointed out, thinking. “Jason might not be able to do shit until Monday.”
His mother’s new husband—and Madoc’s father, Jason Caruthers—should be able to get us a restraining order quickly. But it being Friday night, he might not be able to reach a judge.
“All right,” he blurted out, looking as though he’d just come to a decision. “Let’s just go. Tate and Fallon were planning a camping trip for next week. Let’s just go now until we can get the restraining order in place.”
He dug his phone out of his jeans, continuing. “Let the girls sleep. I’ll call Madoc to warn him to start getting the gear together first thing in the morning, and you and I will go for provisions. We’ll head to the falls and stay off the radar for a few days.”
I thought about it, knowing a long weekend was doable. I could get caught up on e-mails and other business tonight, and Ciaran hadn’t sent me any new work, so it should be fine.
“It’s a plan,” I agreed. “We’ll hit the store at eight.”
I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm.
“You should’ve told me,” he repeated, worry clear in his eyes.
I knew he wasn’t trying to get on my case. Despite our bickering, my brother wanted to be there for me, and I knew he didn’t appreciate me keeping him in the dark.
I gave him a thoughtful nod, understanding his concern.
I cleared my throat. “And you should tell Tate,” I advised.