Lady Luck (Colorado Mountain #3)(150)

“Not sure you’re answering my question, brother,” Ty told him.

“Okay, then I will,” Julius returned. “See, got a brother who’s got a brother who had a brother and when I say that I mean they shared blood. He didn’t get a cap busted in his ass. He got two to the face, five to the chest. A signature. He was not feelin’ the love for Momma and the Hit Man so he laid them out.”

There it was.

Julius wasn’t done.

“Got another brother who’s got a brother who was lookin’ into expandin’. Business is boomin’, my man, and he wanted more turf. Now he’s got it.”

There was more.

Julius continued.

“Got another brother who’s got a brother who sells gash. Always recruitin’. Didn’t mind he got himself some more when girls lost their Daddy. They got a new Daddy now.”

And that was the rest of it.

So Julius finished, “What I’m sayin’ is, you don’t owe dick. A man goes down, other men move in to stake their claim. Shift was not liked. My chats pointed out the benefits of workin’ for the cops, get that ass**le outta the way, divvy up the leftovers. No one’s hurtin’ in this scenario, everyone got what they wanted. You’re good.”

Ty couldn’t say he felt peace deep inside his soul that the loss of Shift to the underbelly of Dallas meant Peña didn’t clean the streets but instead bought himself different headaches with new names and faces. But, even so, it meant Ty lost himself a headache and he had enough of them, he could use losing some pain.

“You know it without me sayin’ it,” Ty said softly.

“I know it,” Julius returned then asked, “Been two days since I been updated on the Life and Times of Ty Walker, ‘spect there’s news.”

Ty had kept him briefed and he didn’t delay in relaying his update.

When he was done, with a smile in his voice, Julius noted, “Soon, your free will be free. Means you and Lexie can haul your asses out to LA.”

“Just as long as one, the other or all of your women take Lex to a beach.”

“That we can do.”

Ty grinned at his phone.

Then they said words of good-bye.

Then he flipped it shut, folded out of the chair, shoved the phone in his back pocket and walked back down to his wife and father.

Chapter Nineteen

That Felt Good

Ty sucked back the last of his beer and I watched as his long arm reached out to put the empty on the coffee table.

I was tucked into the back of the couch, my front tight to my husband, my cheek to his chest, my nearly finished beer in my hand resting on his abs and we were watching a movie.

His Dad was gone. The visit had not been great, it had not been shit. I’d invited him back, Ty had not protested, Irv had said he’d be delighted to come but no plans were made. There was something going down with Irv and Ty and I suspected, when plans were made, they’d be done through Ty.

I didn’t pry. Ty needed to work this out without me in his face about it and he knew I was there when he needed me.

After Irv left, I made dinner and Ty told me the rest of what Angel had to say. To say I was stunned was an understatement. Then again, Chace Keaton had given it away that day in the closet; I just didn’t get all of it.

We ate dinner and we hit the couch.

And I didn’t like the dregs of beer, warm beer at the bottom of the bottle was not my favorite thing so I wanted another one and I knew my husband did too.

So I pushed up on my elbow that was between the couch and Ty and looked down at him.

“I’m getting us more beer,” I said when his eyes moved from TV to me.

His answer was to stretch a long arm out to tag the remote and hit pause. Then he looked back at me. I grinned, put a hand in his chest but pushed up on my hand in the couch.

Then something caught at the corner of my eye, I turned, looked over the back of the couch for a scant second and at what I saw, instinct drove me to drop instantly down, all my weight hitting Ty. It came as a surprise to him and he grunted, his hands going to my hips, his lips beginning to curve up because he thought I was messing around then he saw my face and they stopped.

“Someone’s doing something at the backdoor,” I breathed, my lungs constricted, my breath sticking in my throat.

Ty went solid under me for a nanosecond then he bucked his h*ps to pull out his phone as he whispered, “Stay here. Do not move. I’m not back in five minutes, you dial 911 then you call Tate.”

I opened my mouth to protest but didn’t get a sound out before his phone was pressed into my hand, he was out from under me and he was gone.

I lay there hyperventilating, listening and clutching Ty’s phone in my hand. Ty didn’t have shoes on and I’d taken mine off when we hit wind down mode on a Sunday night which was to say, approximately five seconds after we waved his father away. I couldn’t hear him move, I couldn’t hear anything.

Then I heard the backdoor open.

Then nothing.

I kept hyperventilating, counting to thirty then counting to thirty again trying not to think about my husband having enemies, no weapon and no shoes.

I counted to thirty again.

I got to my seventh set of thirty when I heard the backdoor close then I heard the lock flip then I heard the vertical blinds slapping against each other as Ty pulled them over the door then another slap as he shut them. Then this happened again and I knew he was at the window over the sink.