Burn It Up(30)

“John Dancer told me that.”

Anger flashed, hijacked his mouth. “Goddamn.” All the more reason to pay that motherf*cker a visit real soon.

“So you know?”

“I’m her boss, but I don’t just go giving out my employees’ addresses to whoever asks for ’em. What the f*ck do you want with her?”

Ware’s eyes narrowed. “I need to talk to her. About some business we have.”

That how you think of your daughter? Some business? Casey rankled, something dangerous crackling through him as he pictured the baby. He’d been feeding and changing and rocking and bathing that so-called business, and all at once he could understand Abilene’s fear and stubbornness. To imagine letting this guy near Mercy made his blood go cold and hot at once.

“I know who you are,” Casey said.

“I know you, too. You’re Vince’s little brother. I’m sure you know all about me, including the fact that Abilene’s been keeping my kid a secret from me.”

“That girl’s my employee, and my friend, and her safety means way more to me than your hurt feelings, so don’t hold your f*cking breath. You give me a compelling reason to trust that you won’t hurt her, and she agrees to it, and sure, I’ll get you two in the same room. But just now I can’t say I’m too sure of your intentions.”

“My intentions are my own goddamn business. Same as that kid’s welfare.”

“And your other business involves illegal guns, I hear. I can tell you that I got no problem being a narc if it means Abilene stays safe. So you ever pull something out and threaten me or anybody I know for information, I got precisely f*ck-all qualms about reporting it to the Sheriff’s Department and getting you shipped straight back downstate.”

“I’m not here to start trouble,” Ware said, though his tone and posture hadn’t softened a jot. “I’m here to talk to my ex. Now, you might think you know Abilene, but you don’t. Not like I do. She’s f*cking helpless at the best of times, and I need to see with my own eyes that my kid is in good hands.”

“I can tell you they’re both fine.”

“I have no desire to turn this into some legal proceeding, Grossier. Or any other ugly scene. I just want to see my kid, like any father would. Though if I don’t like what I see, I’m prepared to make this nasty, I promise you that.”

Casey’s temper flared at that, skin going hot, brows drawing tight. It was the threat that had him seething, but there was more to it. And what do you know about being a father, precisely? Unless this guy had other children out there in the world, Casey was the one who’d put in the hours, lost the sleep, surrendered little scraps of his heart, one tiny connection after the other.

“You want to see her, you propose a time and place, and you tell me what it is you plan to talk about, and I’ll see if she’s willing. And there will be witnesses.”

“Who the f*ck are you to tell me my rights, exactly?”

I don’t know what she and I are to each other, apart from a whole f*cking tangled lot of something intense. “I’m someone who cares about her safety.”

“You f*cking her? That what this is about?”

Casey’s neck flushed hot, and he was glad it was too dark for Ware to see. Last thing he needed was this * knowing he’d struck a nerve.

“That all you know about men and women?” Casey asked. “That they f*ck each other sometimes?”

“I’m that kid’s father. Not you. It’s my job to make sure she’s in good hands, and I will f*ck you up if you try to stop me.”

“Talk all the shit you want, but I’m the one who’s been there for them since your daughter was born, and I’ve got a sneaking suspicion I care more about both those girls’ welfare than you do. So here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna give you my number, and when you’re ready to talk like a civilized person, we’ll talk.”

“I’ll take your number,” Ware said, “but don’t believe for one second that I think what’s going on here is right.” He pulled out a phone, and Casey gave him his unlisted, pay-as-you-go number. So much for the wood chipper. And one more reason to dread that thing’s chiming.

“And get this straight,” Casey said slowly, precisely. “You want to see her, you go through me. Nobody else. Not my brother, not my business partner. I don’t want to hear about you bullying my customers for information, and definitely not my motherf*cking family, you got that?”

Ware smiled, the gesture all nails and rust. “Yeah. I got it, big man. I cool off. I call you. We work this shit out.”

“Good.” Inside, he was shaking, but on the outside his body felt hard and coiled and ready to snap. He’d never known what protectiveness could do to a man. He’d always made it a point not to get attached to anything—or anyone.

“We’ll talk soon,” Ware said evenly, and turned away.

Casey memorized the digits on Ware’s plate while the guy climbed into his truck, and waited until he had disappeared completely down the road before he walked back to his bike, abandoning his plans to check on the bar. His body was humming, right down in his guts and bones; his nails had bitten red marks in his palms. He’d deal with Dancer later. That shit could wait, as could the DNA tests and everything else. Right now all he wanted was to see Abilene and the baby, to confirm they were safe and sound, maybe never leave their sides again.