He shook off his thoughts, pulled on clothes, crowded Rocky as he brushed his teeth and then walked to his desk. He was sitting down and transferring the images from the memory card to the hard drive when Rocky walked out of his room wearing her turtleneck, her hair still in a bunch at the top of her head, her arms full of dirty towels.
Layne looked at the towels then at her.
“You seriously need to do laundry,” she announced and didn’t wait for his reply, she walked down the stairs.
Layne turned and grinned at his computer.
Playing this real meant, for Rocky, having free reign to do his laundry.
Bonus. Big time.
He was printing images on photo paper and saving them to a data stick he would put in his safe at the office when he heard her come back. He was busy and didn’t turn to her until he saw a mug of coffee slide onto his desktop, scrunched next to it was a Hilligoss cinnamon roll wrapped in a paper napkin, his favorite. He bent his neck back to look up at her and saw her hands wrapped around a mug, her eyes were on the computer screen and her face was perfectly blank.
He looked to the screen and it displayed a picture of Stew landing a kick on his mark and seeing it, and knowing Rocky saw it, Layne had to make a decision. Protect her from his work or let her in and help her to understand and cope.
So he made his decision.
He wrapped an arm around her hips, swiveling his chair toward her, and guided her carefully into his lap. She didn’t resist and settled in as he bent forward and grabbed his mug.
“Wasn’t pretty, baby,” he muttered against the rim before taking a sip.
She slid her mug on the desk and reached out to grab the photos from the printer tray. He watched her bend her neck to look down at them and fought the urge to take them from her hands and protect her from what she’d see as she shuffled through them.
“Stew’s an ass**le,” she whispered, her eyes scanning the photos.
“Yep,” Layne agreed, watching her face and, unfortunately, not paying attention to the photos so when she sucked in breath and her body got tight, he wasn’t sure why.
He assumed it was a shot of Stew drilling a round into the man’s thigh.
It wasn’t. It was a shot of Stew drilling something else.
Layne put his mug down and tugged the photos out of her hands. He turned them face down, dropped them to his desk and looked up at Rocky to see her eyes wide, her face pale and her lips parted.
Then she whispered a hilariously disgusted, “Gross.”
She was okay. Thank God.
Layne smiled and remarked, “That about sums it up, sweetcheeks.”
Her eyes caught his. “That wasn’t Gabrielle,” she informed him of something he already knew.
“Nope,” he agreed.
“Women put up with a lot of shit,” she noted.
“Yep,” Layne agreed again.
“Not many would put up with that,” she went on.
“You’re gettin’ it, baby.”
Her eyes slid to the pictures and then back to him.
Then she said, “I bet that wasn’t fun.”
“You’d win that bet.”
She held his gaze for a moment then her hand came to his jaw and she dipped her head and touched her mouth to his.
She moved away an inch and said softly, “She won’t agree but she’s lucky you’re looking out for her Layne. This isn’t fun but it’s the right thing to do.”
Yes, she was all right. More than all right. Thank f**k.
“Thanks, baby,” he said softly back, giving her waist a squeeze.
“I’ll leave you to it,” she muttered, turning away to nab her coffee mug and then moving out of his lap.
He didn’t want her to leave him but if she did, he could get this done and then it’d be over so he could concentrate on the other thousand things happening in his life so he had to let her leave him to it.
He felt Rocky’s presence glide away as she moved down the stairs. He pulled out the data stick and slipped in another one. One was for his safe, insurance. One was for Colt, retribution. He’d make another one and give it to Devin, more insurance.
He did his work, ate his cinnamon roll, called good-bye to his sons when they went swimming and hoped to God Devin could play peacemaker downstairs between Rocky and his mother.
Then he shut down his computer, locked two of the data sticks in his cupboard, put the photos in a folder, went to his room and pulled on socks and boots, went back to his chair and tagged his leather jacket and walked down the stairs.
He gave the data stick to Devin.
He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek.
He gave Rocky a touch of the lips.
Then he went out the door, swung into his truck and drove to his ex-wife’s house.
Chapter Sixteen
Real
Stew handed Layne the envelope and, just by the feel of it, Layne knew it wasn’t light.
Even so, he counted every bill and took his time doing it. Ten thousand dollars. He’d come up with the cash in less than an hour, which was the amount of time Layne had given him to do it.
Their earlier conversation hadn’t gone well, mostly because Stew was an ass**le. But even if he was an ass**le, apparently Stew wasn’t as stupid as Layne thought because after he treated Layne to a f**kload of bullshit bluster, he agreed to meet Layne in the alley behind J&J’s Saloon which also happened to be behind his office.
Layne tucked the flap in the envelope, shoved it into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and looked at Stew.
“Good,” Layne muttered. “Now get to Gabby’s and get your shit. You’re out before she gets home from work.”
Stew glared at him then grunted, “No skin off my nose. Bitch is a pain in the ass.”
“Excellent, then I won’t have to worry about you cryin’ while eatin’ chocolate and watchin’ soap operas.”
Stew’s eyes narrowed right before he got stupid and he hissed, “Fuck you, motherfucker.” Then he got more stupid, leaned in and threatened, “You’ll regret this.”
Layne moved instantly and he moved fast. He pulled up a forearm and caught Stew under the chin with it, knocking his teeth together and jerking his head back. Then Layne went for Stew’s exposed throat, wrapping his fingers around it tight, he shoved Stew hard into his Suburban, pushed him back and bent over him to get in his face.
“You even f**kin’ breathe in my direction, Jasper’s, Tripp’s, Gabby’s or Rocky’s, I swear to God, you’re dead. Swear to God.” He squeezed tighter and Stew’s feet scuffled against the pavement as his hand pushed against Layne’s wrist and he forced his arm between their bodies and shoved up but Layne didn’t move, using only his hand on Stew’s throat to bend him further backward until a gurgling noise came from Stew’s throat. “You think to get smart, your ass is in jail and those photos are all over the internet so, when you get out, everyone in the ‘burg will know why you’re such an ass**le considering you like it so much.”