Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(75)

“I did, but I was a little busy.” He held up a hand and dropped his voice to a whisper. “And before you ask, the package you left with me is fine. Carl is right where we left him.” Steven grimaced. “Or at least that one part of him anyway. I checked as soon as I got home last night. What the hell’s going on? You sounded worried.”

Obviously, I hadn’t sounded worried enough for him to bother calling me back. “Nothing. I’m handling it.”

“Where are the kids?”

“Vero’s bringing them.”

His eyes grew wide. “She’s here?” He looked over my shoulder toward the knot of cops across the room. “We need to talk about your babysitter,” he said urgently. “That girl is a criminal.”

“She’s a criminal? What the hell were you doing breaking into my house?” The low hum of the cops’ conversation quieted. They all turned toward my raised voice. Steven put an arm around my shoulder and ushered me down the hallway. As soon as we were out of earshot, I shook him off.

“I went to the house to handle those repairs we talked about. Since when do you keep a vibrator in your nightstand?”

“You were snooping in my room!” I whispered.

“I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for a flashlight. Does that thing really need so many goddamn batteries? There were enough Duracells in that drawer to power a Tesla.”

“You have exactly ten seconds to explain to me what you were doing in my house.”

“I know you said the repairs could wait until I got home, but I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh,” I said through my teeth, “you definitely surprised me.”

“While I was there, I found something suspicious in Vero’s room. She’s been lying to you, Finlay. Ruiz isn’t her real name. Her last name is actually Ramirez. I saw it on her college acceptance letter. Did you know she dropped out of the University of Maryland last—”

“That’s why you broke into my house? So you could spy on her?”

“I own that house, Finlay! I have every right to know who’s living under my roof. That cash I saw in your freezer last fall was definitely stolen, and whatever she spent it on is probably illegal.”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“I’m protecting our children!”

“They don’t need your protection, Steven. They need a father!”

His mouth twisted into a snide grin as he gestured toward the cops in the lobby. “Is that what you’re doing here? Looking for one?” I drew a slow, steadying breath through my nose as Steven paced away from me with his hands on his hips. “Fine,” he said once he had calmed, “if you won’t listen to me, then ask Nick to look into Vero.” An incredulous laugh burst out of me. “There’s a warrant for her arrest in the state of Maryland, Finn! Didn’t you do a goddamn background check before you hired her?”

My laughter died. I stared at him, gobsmacked, my jaw practically touching the floor.

“Of course, I did!” I did not. “And I know all about what happened in Maryland.” Though apparently not all of it. Vero had neglected to mention anything about a warrant, which was arguably the most important part. I glanced past him as the vestibule door opened. Vero came in, carrying Zach on her hip and holding Delia’s hand. Roddy toted their luggage behind her. “You don’t have all the facts, Steven. Vero lost that money. She didn’t steal it. It was all just a big misunderstanding.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a big deal if I tell Nick and Georgia about it.” He turned away from me and started walking toward the lobby.

“If you do this, the children will never forgive you,” I called after him. “I will never forgive you, Steven.” He stopped, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he slowly turned to face me. “I will handle this with Vero when we get home,” I promised. “But right now, Nick and Georgia have more important things to worry about.”

“More important than the safety of our kids?”

“Feliks Zhirov escaped from jail this morning, so yes, Steven, they are worried about the safety of our kids. Are you taking them home with you or not?”

The anger drained from his face. “I’m taking them.”

“Thank you.”

“But when you get done with your little training camp,” he said, closing the distance between us as he stirred the air with a finger, “we’re going to discuss this as a family.” He reached in his pocket and thrust a business card at me. “This guy’s a therapist. My attorney gave him my number a few months ago. I think he can help.”

I crumpled the card in front of him, looking around me for a trash can. “I don’t need a therapist, Steven!”

“He’s a family therapist, Finlay, and we’re both going! Guy agrees it’s a good idea.” I threw the crumpled card at him. Steven shoved it in the pocket of my coat. “When you come to your senses, the children and I will be at my house,” he growled.

I followed him back to the lobby, pasting on the practiced smile I wore for my children as they scrambled into his legs, nearly knocking him down.

“Wow, Steven,” Vero said over their heads. “You finally made it. Nice of you to show up.” A vein bulged in Steven’s temple. I drew a line across my throat to get Vero’s attention, silently begging her to stop, but she was too busy goading Steven to notice. “Delia was telling me all about your little B and E lesson at Finlay’s house the other day. You’re quite the role model.”