Addicted After All (Addicted #3)(103)

Ryke shoots to his feet, and Connor is by my side in seconds. My brother won’t admit it aloud, but half the reason he’s working out until exhaustion is because Daisy’s sleeping outside. Without him. The first time in a while. He’s worried about her.

I put the phone to my ear.

“Lo,” Lily whispers, so softly that I can barely hear. “Lo, are you there?” Her voice edges on alarm.

My muscles constrict. “Why are you whispering?” Maybe there’s a bobcat outside or some kind of animal. I scratch the back of my neck and take a deep breath, forcing myself not to jump to conclusions.

“We’re on a mission…” she trails off. “We need backup. STAT. Over and out.”

What. The. Fuck.

I hear Rose’s voice. “Not out,” she hisses. “You didn’t even give him our location.”

“Lo, you still there?”

“Yeah—”

Ryke tries to grab the phone, to put it on speaker. I shove him back and press the button, just in time for Lily’s reply.

“We need a getaway ride. We’re at the neighbor’s house. The big stone one. You can’t miss it. There’s…um…”

“Toilet paper,” Daisy finishes in a whisper.

“Okay. Bye,” Lily says and hangs up.

Ryke sets his hands on his head. “You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me. All of them?”

I walk past my brother to grab the baby monitor. “She was whispering. They must be hiding behind a tree or a bush.” I hand the monitor to Ryke. “You stay here.”

“No f*cking way,” he curses, his muscles just as tight as mine. “If they get caught—”

“They’re not getting caught,” Connor says calmly, trying to ease the tension in the room. But if these people press charges, the girls could be booked for vandalism.

“You f*cking stay here then,” Ryke retorts.

“I’m not staying back,” Connor says firmly. “Rose will be the first one arrested—”

“You just f*cking said they weren’t going to get caught.”

Yeah, Connor was trying to convince Ryke to stay behind with our kids. None of us wants to wait here.

“We’ll bring the babies,” I say.

Ryke’s face darkens. “No, I’ll f*cking meet you two—”

“Hey!” I shout at him. He is pacing. “She’s fine. It’s not Paris.”

Ryke is physically shaking.

“It’s not Paris,” I repeat, my eyes burning. I taste that night. The screaming. The paranoia. The uncertainty. The riot flares up in my mind. We just have to forget about it. Not imagine anything like it happening again. I place my hand on his shoulder. “Come help me get Maximoff into the car seat.”

Stiffly, he nods, his nose flaring as he tries to expel his emotions

Connor is already headed upstairs. It takes us five minutes to situate Jane and Moffy into Rose’s Escalade, and that’s at our quickest pace. The babies only stir when we buckle them in, falling back asleep when Connor pulls out of the driveway.

“By the time we f*cking get there, they’ll either be caught or on their way home,” Ryke complains from the passenger side.

“Can you shut up?” I snap. “You’re going to wake the babies.” I sit beside Moffy’s car seat.

Ryke pinches his eyes. I get it. The last time Daisy came into contact with these guys, they scared her pretty badly.

Lily can’t even run. She just had our kid, so I’m worried she’s in pain or really anxious.

I don’t even blame them for hitting up the house tonight. I’ve had to convince myself more than once not to do anything in retribution. I’m honestly just surprised they snapped before Ryke, Connor, or me.

It takes one minute before we spot the house. Toilet paper drapes from nearly every tree limb, even the mail box and bushes hidden beneath layers. If I wasn’t worried, I think I might be proud.

“Fucking A.” Ryke’s voice freezes me over. I have to strain my neck to see past his headrest. The girls aren’t hiding anymore.

In the center lawn, illuminated by floodlights, stand Rose, Daisy and Lily in their pajamas, each holding their feather headbands like they’re ski-masks or something. A middle-aged woman in a white bathrobe jabs her finger in Rose’s volatile face, a volcano about to erupt.

I just hope they haven’t called the cops yet.

Connor parks the car, and he jumps out quickly with Ryke. I open my door, shoving it wide so I can have a clear view and hear the fight. But I hang back with the babies.

“You’re a grown adult,” the mother says coldly. “Act like it.”

“It’s toilet paper. We didn’t set your lawn on fire,” Rose combats. “And you’re so lucky I didn’t. I was this close.” She pinches her fingers together.

“Are you making a threat against me?” the mother sneers. Her husband walks down the porch steps with his cellphone to his ear. Jesus Christ.

“I used the past tense,” Rose snaps. “So no, I wasn’t threatening you.”

“We’re really sorry,” Daisy pipes in.

“No we aren’t,” Rose retorts. “Do you even know what your child has been doing to us?”