Page 101 of Quiet Protector
“He got ninety-nine years,” I laugh down the line, my words choked by a sob.
“About fucking time,” Grayson replies, breathing out in relief. “You did it, punk. You brought the bad guy to justice. How does it feel?”
“It feels good.” It takes me a little longer to reply than I care to admit. I’m glad justice has been finally served, but I also understand the judge’s stern ruling. Madden pled guilty, but he’s yet to express an ounce of remorse for what he has done. He truly doesn’t understand what his victims went through because he’s never been victimized.
“Hey, Grayson, can I call you back? There’s someone I need to talk to.”
He makes kissy noises. “Give your girl a kiss for me.”
I hang up before his laughter hackles half my nerves. I wasn’t referencing Melody when I said there was someone I needed to speak with. It’s the man seated in the back of an almost tank-like SUV. It’s the same SUV I approached weeks ago when I realized the only way I could get Madden to take blame for what he had done was by scaring him as he had scared his victims.
The Mob has arrived in Saugerties.
As I gallop down the stairs of the courthouse, Henry slides down the heavily-tinted window of his bulletproof ride. He doesn’t ask what the verdict was. His face shows he already knows. “Are you happy?”
I shrug, truly unsure how I feel.
I do know one thing, though. I have more power than Madden has ever had, and that is thanks to both Liam and his daughter.
Henry’s gleaming smile competes with the midday sun when I ask, “You wouldn’t happen to have any influence on who inmates are housed with, would you?”
“Perhaps. Why? Do you have a request?”
As Mr. Gregg’s words ring in my head on repeat, I mutter, “Big Papa seemed a little lonely last month. Perhaps Madden could keep him entertained during his transition from citizen to inmate. It may be the only way he’ll truly learn from his mistakes.”
Henry’s smile is as evil as the man he wants you to believe he is. “I’ll have Kwan collect earbuds on the way home from his shift this evening. He’ll need them by tomorrow afternoon.” When the quickest flare of hesitation darts through my eyes, he adds, “It’s okay to tiptoe onto the wrong side of the law as long—”
“As I find my way back,” I interrupt. Feeling lighter and freer than I’ve ever felt, I get cheeky. “Have you ever considered taking your brother’s advice, Henry?”
His chuckles are as dark as his hair coloring. “Are you sure I haven’t already, Brandon James McGee?” After nudging his head behind my shoulder, he commences winding up his window. “Look after her. I don’t want to be forced to tie up more loose ends.”
I discover who Henry is referencing when Melody’s reflection beams off the tinted window of his SUV. She’s racing down the stairs as quickly as I did earlier, her face glowing with excitement.
I assume her eagerness to reach me stems from Madden’s sentencing, so you can imagine my surprise when she asks, “Why don’t you ever answer your phone? Bobby is on his way. He’s coming here tonight.”
I take a step back, shocked. “Tonight?”
“Yes! Tonight. He’s at the airport with Phillipa. She’s been calling you nonstop.” With my mind shut down, Melody slips her hand around mine before stepping onto the curb to hail a taxi. Our cars are both here, but her eagerness to get to Bobby is too high to contain.
We’ve been waiting for this day for weeks. Although Ophelia played nice with authorities, she wasn’t as amicable with me. She knew Bobby was her only bargaining chip, so she extorted him for all his worth. I doubt any of the child support I’ve paid the past year has gone toward Bobby’s well-being, but when nothing but the care for your child is on your mind, you hand over any amount requested.
“What changed between now and last week?”
Melody shrugs. “I don’t know. I was so eager to find you, I hung up on Phillipa.” Her grimace is cute as hell. She and Phillipa are friends, but they’ll never be best friends. Melody thinks they’re too alike for that ever to happen. I kind of agree with her. “Should I call her back?”
When I nod, Melody slides her cell phone out of her pocket and hits the last call on her recently called list, then activates the speaker mode.
Phillipa answers two seconds later. “Did you find him?”
“I’m here. How did you achieve this? I thought custody was months away?”
We have a bad line, but nothing can take away from what Phillipa says next, “Ophelia is being extradited to Italy on undisclosed charges. Bobby is a US citizen. She can’t take him with her. We made an agreement that she’d award full custody of Bobby to you on the condition she conducts the handover. She doesn’t want Bobby to know she’s being arrested.”
My gut gurgles more in unease than happiness. “That doesn’t sound right, Phillipa. She’s being too reasonable. You can’t trust her.”
“I know, BJ.” Her tone isn’t as harsh as mine, somewhat understanding. “But I also know what I’m doing. Bobby willneverleave my sight, and he’llneverbe in any danger. I promise you that.”
Her response all but confirms my worries.
