Page 59 of The Beat of My Heart
“Yeah? Any hot surfers out today?” like I give a fuck about hot surfers.
“Nah, just one hot piece. I will be getting on that soon,” he tells me. It’s code, he means he has information he’ll be making a play for soon, I think. I’m not cut out for this cloak and dagger bullshit.
Loki told me in no uncertain terms about six months ago that my part of the mission was over. Now I have to sit and wait. I’ve been waiting for almost eighteen fucking months, and we’ve gotten nowhere. Romero is still walking free, as are the entire Black family up in Boston. My patience is running thin.
I’m not a violent man, but my entire adult life has been in limbo. I’m done being patient, and I think Loki can tell. He has been checking up on me a lot more lately.
“I’m almost at Dexter’s, you headed there now?” Loki asks.
“Yeah, I’m getting in my car now, I’ll see you in about twenty minutes,” I tell him. We had all gotten a text from Dex about an hour ago asking us to come over for beers, but I know better. Something’s up with him; this is as close to asking for help as we get with him, so even though my mind is in the darkest of places, I drop everything to be there for my friend.
Walking into Dexter’s new home, I’m regretting that I didn’t add unpacking to Dexter’s moving company order. There is still crap everywhere. Following the sounds of voices, I find Dexter, Preston, and Loki in the den.
“What the hell, Trev?” Preston says, “You’re the richest son of a bitch, and you look homeless.”
Fucking Preston.
“Fuck off, Pres. I’m not in the mood. What’s up, Dex? It’s been a long time since you’ve sent an S.O.S., you ok?” I ask my friend while glancing around at the piles and piles of moving boxes everywhere.
“What S.O.S.? I just got a text saying beers at his house! If you called us here to unpack for you, I’m going to be pissed,” Preston says, annoyed.
Loki shoves him, “Fuck off, Preston. He didn’t call us here to help unpack, but since we are here, the least we can do is help.”
“He has three small kids, so stop being a prick and get off your ass to help,” I insist.
Preston may be the first in line to help, but he prefers it to be a supervisory role. I only half listen as the guys continue to give each other shit. When they start talking about Dexter’s ex-wife, I tune out. She is the biggest bitch I’ve ever encountered. Grabbing a box, I take a big swig of the beer Loki handed me and begin to unpack.
A while later, I look over and notice Dexter lost in thought, so I give him a nudge. The guy looks exhausted.
“You okay?” I ask.
Sighing, Dexter says, “Nanny number three bit the dust two-and-a-half weeks ago,” I watch as he cringes and his shoulders sag.
Why the hell didn’t he call me?
Before I can go off, Preston speaks up, “What? Why didn’t you call us, man? We know what you have going on with your company.We would have been here in shifts to help. We love those kids more than we love you.”
Pacing the room, pissed at myself because I didn’t know my best friend was struggling so much, I listen as he explains an interview he just had with a potential nanny. I’m finding it increasingly difficult not to laugh right in his face. It sounds like this woman is a firecracker that’s woken something inside Dex.
Unable to contain my smile, I finally sit next to him and say, “You like her.”
“What? I don’t know her,” he protests. “The interview was the biggest clusterfuck of my life. She swooped in here, took Harper from my arms, and got her to stop crying immediately, might I add. Then, she essentially told me to shut up while she got my kids settled. Then and only then would she let me know when we could carry on with the interview.”
Looking around the room, we all burst out laughing. You have to know Dexter to know what a real nightmare this must have been for him. He is always controlled, always calm under pressure. This fucking girl got to him in a big way, and it has me grinning like a fool even as my heart cries for Angel.
“She got Tate to speak,” Dexter tells us somberly.
“What?” I yell, shocked more than anything. My little pal, Tate, stopped talking when his twat of a mother up and left him.
“What do you mean what?” asks Preston. “She got him to speak!”
“Yeah, it wasn’t like he opened up or anything. It was just a couple of words here and there. He liked helping her find stuff to get the girls settled. When she gave me shit, he burst out laughing,” Dexter says, not even trying to stop the grin that appears on his face.
“So, where is she, why haven’t you hired her?” Loki demands more harshly than necessary.
I try to give Loki a “What the fuck?” look, but he ignores me, looking pissed.
“She has some issues,” Dexter starts, “this is just between us because I found out through Ryan,” he pauses, looking at each of us. We all know Ryan is the owner of Enguard Security—a company he has hired to keep track of his ex-wife. If Dex went to him for information, it has to be something serious. “She was severely attacked about a year and a half ago.”
