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“This pertains to you too, dickhead.” Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow it down. “Your father waited for me in the parking lot after the suspension hearing.”
“Great.” He frowns and plops down on the other side of our girl. “What the fuck did he have to say?”
Aurora clutches the towel, and I reach for her hand, laying it on my lap.
“He said some shit?—”
“What kind of shit?” he demands, his body tense, shoulders squared.
I should’ve talked to him first, without Aurora, but it’s too late now, and I need her to trust us. I can keep Kyle’s threats to myself for now. That way, I’m not setting Jax off and worrying her.
“He’s been doing his research,” I say, steering the conversation. “Has he contacted you?”
“Just his usual fuckery. He wants to negotiate, which means he wants money, but the law firm I hired doesn’t think that’s necessary. It’s my fucking inheritance.”
I nod in understanding. “The sale of the Santa Monica house is finalized. My lawyer is waiting on confirmation of whose name the property is in—yours or the trust’s—or if it even matters.”
“I signed the papers. I’ll text Kyle letting him know I’m moving in, see how he reacts.”
One thing I can say about Jackson is he’s not afraid of confrontation, though that’s typically how he gets himself into trouble.
If his father ever showed up while Aurora was home alone… Just the thought has my stomach churning.
“We need to be certain he has no control over the property. I don’t want him anywhere near there.”
Aurora shrugs. “Let’s live here.”
“No.” Jax’s knee bounces. “You adore that house—the nursery, the backyard, the beach, the pool. It belongs toyou.” He clenches his jaw, the muscle pulsing. “I have a team handling it, but knowing Kyle, he’ll drag his feet. I’ll talk to him. Whatever he was planning, it failed. We’re together. I’m returning to hockey. I’m clean.” His gaze connects with mine, unsure and hesitant. “I have people to vouch for me if he tries to prove me incompetent.” He takes a steadying breath. “He’ll negotiate.”
“Jax…” I don’t know how to tell him the only thing Kyle wants is for Aurora and the baby to disappear—and that ain’t fucking happening. So, I move on, deciding to protect them myself. For them, I’ll do anything. “There’s something I’ve been keeping from you, from everyone. Something your father discovered.”
Aurora slumps and groans. “Please don’t say you have another wife or kid.”
“Or husband,” Jax adds.
I shoot him an icy glare. “No, I do not have another wife, kid, or husband, idiot.”
He arches a brow. “Boyfriend?”
“Fuck off. I’m being serious.” Before he can intrude further, I gather my nuts and face Aurora. “My father is a turned FBI informant serving life in prison. I’ve never met him, few people know, and we don’t share a last name.”
They exchange a wide-eyed glance before staring at me with mirroring shocked expressions.
“He made a deal to keep my mother out of his trial.” My heart races, and I feel a ramble coming on. “She was his mistress and pregnant, and his wife’s family would’ve killed her. Only my father’s brothers and the FBI knew. She waitressed at the diner I took you to,” I say to Aurora. “That’s how they met. Shorty, the owner, was my uncle, unbeknownst to me then. After my mother died, he told me about my father and how they’d hidden assets in my mother’s name in a shell company. Somehow, Kyle found out.” I scrub my fingers through my hair. “I was somewhat close to Shorty. He’s deceased now, and my lawyer is one of the other brothers, but other than that, I don’t communicate with them.”
Though that’s about to change.
“Holy shit, dude.” Jax roars with laughter. “This is the best day ever. I can’t even put into words how ecstatic I am that you have flaws.” He shakes his head and smiles. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
Aurora furrows her brows and asks the obvious: “What did he go to prison for?”
I glance at Jackson, who understands better than anyone how grating it is to answer for the sins of your father. It’s much worse for him. I never knew the man whose shadow I’m running from—Jax can’t escape his.
His gaze shifts uncomfortably. Lying hasn’t worked out well for him, and I find it within myself to shake off the unwarranted shame.
“Racketeering, arson, money laundering, and six counts of murder. The media dubbed himIron Eyes.”
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