Page 136 of The Right Wrong Promise

14

THE LONG WAY HOME (KANE)

As the kids peck away at their history papers, Margot and I head outside to check the cameras one more time.

I bought the best stuff money could buy, Enguard grade units shipped in from a world-class security firm out of California. They’re damn near bombproof and impeccable with their AI-backed night vision, but the bells and whistles still don’t stop my gut churning.

If the Babins were behind all this, they’re persistent.

They also planned their break-in, watching the house so they knew when we left.

Also, let’s face it, people gab in this little town, so they easily might’ve known where we were, how far away.

And I left us wide fucking open.

I download the app on Margot’s phone and set it up for her. She frowns as she searches for the signal, waiting impatiently for it to connect.

“There!”

“Is it working now?” I eyeball the last camera discreetly mounted above the front door.

Having them peppered across the property makes me feel a smidge better.

No, they aren’t armed. They won’t magically stop anyone hell-bent on breaking in, but if they do detect movement, at least I’ll catch them in the act.

I chose the subscription plan that saves all footage uploaded to the cloud for two weeks before deletion.

That’s enough to hand rock-solid proof to the police if this prick makes a third visit. And if they come, I will nail their asses to the wall with charges, assuming Margot doesn’t beat me to it.

No one threatens my kids or my woman.

No, I don’t care if I’m talking her up into something she isn’t.

The way she frowns, her bottom lip twisted in a pout as she focuses, just makes this too real. Headstrong or not, she’s a rich girl with zero experience dealing with nasty fucks willing to break the law and get physical.

She’s lucky I’m here, and I’m going to make sure her luck translates into action.

If anyone wants to get to her, they’ll go through me, and they will need a hell of a lot more than mere fortune. They’d better come fucking dripping four-leaf clovers.

“One more sec. Looks like I can flip the first few streams. We put up eight cameras, right?”

“Yeah, eight.”

“Okay.” She swipes through her livefeeds, then turns her screen to face me. “Number eight. Looks clear. I think we’ve got it.”

Once I’ve confirmed all eight feeds work on her phone, I go through and help her label them the same way I did so we’ll know where they are.

“Thanks for your patience,” I say, glancing up.

“No, thank you. I should’ve been the one buying these cameras.” She teases her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t what you guys came here for.”

“Duchess, stop. You shouldn’t be apologizing.”

“But being here puts you guys at risk. You can’t just kick back and enjoy yourselves, and it’s because of me. I just know it. The bad blood here…”

“Shut it,” I say gently. “The Babins made their choice, or whoever the fuck. Nobody twisted their arm. You can’t blame yourself over something your grandfather never let you in on.”

“Well… maybe.” She clears her throat.