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What the fuck had Alice gotten herself into?
What kind of fallout were we standing in now?
Why did her sudden loyalty to Greyson suddenly make perfect sense?
With a shaking hand, I grabbed my phone, dialed Ollie on muscle memory, and stepped away from the kids just far enough to breathe. I collapsed into the teak furniture on the back patio, unwilling to let them out of my sight—even from behind glass.
Hart family security didn’t lurk. They didn’t sit in parked sedans like creeps in a low-budget thriller. They stood at inconspicuous distances, dressed like off-duty dads, hovering close enough to act but far enough that Ollie didn’t feel suffocated.
This? This wasn’t that.
“Hey, beautiful,” Ollie answered, his voice warm and easy. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better.”
“Leigh?” His tone snapped from afternoon delight to panicked in a heartbeat.
“Ollie, what happened on the bridge?”
“What do you mean, baby?”
“The bridge. Royce. That wasn’t a fucking coincidence, was it?”
“Leighton, I?—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Oliver.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Kind of. No.”
“What’s going on?” he demanded, voice shifting, breath heavier now. Walking. Moving fast.
“I’m scrapbooking with the kids,” I managed, watching them—so perfectly unaware, surrounded by glitter glue and construction paper and sunshine.
“Okay…”
“And the photos, Ollie. There’s a car. A black sedan. I think a Toyota. I’ve seen it before.”
“Okay? There are a lot of black Toyotas, Leigh.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I’m telling you—it’s in at least three photos. And I saw a guy. A bearded guy. He smiled at me that day at the Indian place, and I thought it was nothing. But a while back…” I sucked in a breath, trying to steady the quake in my voice. “A while back, Beau and I were at the park. He said the kid he was playing with didn’t like ‘the funny guy.’ When I asked about it, he told me it was a big guy. Fuzzy face. And he asked questions about his uncle.”
“What?” Ollie snapped, temper flashing in his tone. It wasn’t aimed at me, but it still sent my walls flying up. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
“I—” I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. “It felt paranoid. I didn’t think my unsubstantiated anxiety was worth mentioning.”
“Anybody talking to our kids that we don’t know is important. Anything that ever makesyouuncomfortable is important, Leigh. Where the hell was security?”
“Giving me distance,” I bit out. “I thought it was a coincidence. Maybe they recognized him. But the guy downtown matched Beau’s description, Ollie. And now I’m sitting here looking at these photosand…” My voice cracked, a sob clawing its way up my throat. “Someone is watching the kids. Somebody’s been following us. And I can’t shake this sinking feeling that it’s all?—”
“Go to Greyson’s,” he cut in. “Now, baby. I’m on my way home, but get to Hart House. They’ll keep you safe.”
“Ollie—”
“Now, Leighton. Grab Viper at the gate and have him walk you over. I’ll meet you there.”
“Ollie, just—tell me what’s going on.”