Truth Be Told (Blackbridge Security Book 4)

by Marie James

  She won’t even look at it.

  “Take it, Tin. The ball is in your court.”

  I walk around her and place it on top of the book she slammed on the table and walk out of the house.

  I never thought this is how things would turn out. I was certain she loved me. I knew she was cautious. What woman wouldn’t be after the history we shared? She has more than just her own heart to consider in this situation. But how does she seem to hate me more now than ever before?

  Chapter 28

  Tinley

  I glance at the bedside table one last time before leaving the room. The envelope, a bomb big enough to devastate my life shouldn’t be able to fit into such a small package.

  I didn’t open it. My fingers burned just from picking it up and carrying it out of the living room. I didn’t want Alex to find it, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it either. I’m doing the most irresponsible thing ever, pretending like it doesn’t exist. Well, doing my best because I’ve looked in the direction of the drawer it’s hidden in over a million times since Ignacio left it hours ago.

  I’m certain it’s paperwork for a court hearing, so I know I can’t ignore it forever, but I need just a little more time.

  A few more hours to wrap my head around losing custody of my son. I asked—yelled—at him about it, but didn’t give him the chance to respond. I didn’t want his answer then any more than I do now. I don’t have a leg to stand on. I could argue that I’m a good mom, but we’re going to be homeless in four weeks. I don’t anticipate Cooper ever showing his face again until he blows through the money from the sale.

  On top of that, my boss, pissed that I needed extra time, hired a new girl. Technically, I still have a job, but the hours assigned to me aren’t really enough to even waste the money on gas to get to work.

  Gas. Work.

  How long will it be before he comes back and claims the car he swears is a rental? I know better. Too nosy for my own good, I looked in the glove box. There’s a signed contract in there for purchase. He’s making payments on that damn thing, not renting it for a few weeks.

  Another manipulation, just like I accused him of. Would he go so far as to have it towed, probably the day before court so I miss the hearing or show up late?

  As much as I want to, I can’t picture Ignacio doing that, but I let myself believe he’d never hand me court papers for custody either.

  I leave my bedroom, hearing Alex come through the front door.

  “How was practice?” I ask.

  “How did things go with that guy this morning? Did he turn his nose up in disgust and walk right back out?”

  “Our house isn’t disgusting. It just needs a little tender love and care.” And about thirty thousand dollars in repairs. Where are the Flip This House people when you really need them? “He was fine. How was practice?”

  I refuse to discuss with him the man’s plan for the house. I just pray we can avoid this area long enough that he doesn’t have to know that it’s been torn down.

  “Fine.” He shrugs.

  “Are you hungry?” Did you eat with him already?

  “I could eat.”

  That doesn’t answer my unspoken question because honestly the boy is twelve going on thirteen and eats more than a grown man.

  “So, you didn’t get anything after practice?”

  “I grabbed tacos with Dad, but they put pico on them.” He makes a disgusted sound.

  Dad? When did that happen or is this the first time I’ve heard him refer to him that way? I’ve used your dad in conversation, but…

  “I hate when that happens,” I mutter. “Did you guys talk about anything?”

  “He helped me with my English homework. Did you know he speaks like a ton of different languages? He’s really important with his job. Sometimes they can’t even work if he’s not there to help.”

  I can see the excitement swimming in his eyes as he relays the information. He’s no longer the angry boy that hates both of us for my lies, and it makes me understand that Ignacio should’ve been around the entire time. I wonder how he’d feel if he found out his dad wants to take him from me?

  “He has a bird. Well, he doesn’t have a bird but his friend at work, Wren, does, and I love it. His name is Puff Daddy.”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake.

  “You probably wouldn’t like the bird because he cusses a lot, but he can also sing. Not very well, but enough you can understand the beat and the words. And he dances.” He picks up his arms waving them wildly to impersonate this bird he’s talking about. “Like this, and he pounces all around, and I can’t wait to meet him in person.”

  “Did he say when that was going to happen?”

  Ignacio swore to me today that he didn’t have this conversation with him yet, but I may have forced his hand after yelling at him earlier. No matter the choice I make, it always backfires in my damn face.

  “Meeting Puff Daddy?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Why? Do you want to meet him, too?”

  He’s so animated it reminds me that he’s supposed to be like this at his age. He isn’t supposed to walk around sad with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’ve put too much on him, expecting him to handle things like an adult when in fact, he’s still a child.

  “I don’t know how I feel about talking birds,” I say, trying not to let on that I’m beginning to feel like I’ve already lost him. I walk past him into the kitchen. “What do you want to eat?”

  I bend down to look in the fridge and find it scarily empty. The pantry isn’t much better.

  It’s just one more thing Ignacio can point out in court. I’m so absentminded that I haven’t gone grocery shopping. We’ve been surviving on the deliveries that Ignacio had arranged for the house, but I stupidly told the kid last week not to come back. In the middle of everything else, I didn’t realize we’d gotten so low.

  “Maybe we can order out.”

  “My treat,” Alex says, pulling money from his pocket.

  “Where the hell did you get that?” I snap, knowing full well what kids around here can do to get money. Things haven’t changed much since I was a teen.

  “Calm down, Mom. Dad gave it to me.”

  Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and for a split second I’m sad that he got money from his father rather than dealing drugs or stealing. How fucked up is that? I just know it would be easier to solve the criminal problem than it will be to deal with Ignacio and the way he’s buying his son.

  “That’s nice of him.”

  “So, pizza or burgers?” His grin is wide as he continues to wave the money.

  We decide on burgers, but I pay. I’m to the point of my stubborn standoff that I won’t even take his money indirectly.

  I poke and prod, talking with Alex all through our meal and while watching repeats on television all evening, but nothing comes out of his mouth that tells me directly that his father has asked him to move to St. Louis or is trying to encourage him to talk to me about it.

  What I do know from firsthand experience is that Ignacio Torres is an expert at manipulation. It didn’t take much for him to convince me he cared for me. It didn’t take much to make me believe his world started and ended with me and only me.

  It would be so easy for that man to convince Alex to want all the things he has to offer without even opening his mouth to say the words directly.

  Alex may think he’s street smart, but his daddy practically created the game, a con artist to the extreme because most people like that are after money. Ignacio deals in hearts.

  I know it’s just a matter of time before he breaks our son the same way he broke me.

  Chapter 29

  Ignacio

  “Looking good, kid!” I yell, my hands cupped around my mouth as Alex practices hitting before the game.

  More people fill the stands. Many are here to support our local team, but there’s also an abundance of out-of-town people. With this week’s tournament, there’s nowhere else to sit o
ther than the one set of bleachers the school has. Disgust for being in this part of town is clear on many faces, and it gets my hackles up.

  Our school’s fans have kept to one end, but when I notice Tinley climbing the stairs, she takes one look at me and sits right in the middle of the group wearing purple and silver rather than mingling with our team’s blue and gold.

  Clearly, she’s still pissed, and I don’t know if it’s because of what she found in the envelope or if she’s just destined to always despise me.

  I made her an offer, telling her that I want her and Alex with me in St. Louis and also gave her the envelope as a different choice. It’s clear from her keeping her distance and not calling me since the last time I was inside her house that she’s made her decision.

  It hits so hard in the gut that I’m delayed in standing up and crossing my hand over my heart for the national anthem.

  “You look a little zoned out, man,” a guy beside me says, nudging my shoulder to get me to stand.

  “Sorry,” I mutter as I stand, all the people around me now preventing me from seeing where Tinley is. I hate being so close and unable to touch her, convince her, persuade her to go to St. Louis.

  I’m out of ideas. A grand gesture was supposed to bring arms around my neck, lips on mine, not a cold shoulder and the silent treatment. I’m close to calling and asking for advice, knowing my only options are Deacon, Flynn, or Wren.

  All three of them have stable relationships, but all of them are also so damn new. I had my years with Tinley, that relationship lasting longer than any of the guys back home have reached yet, so they may not be much help.

  I don’t think she’d appreciate me slinging her over my shoulder and choking her on my dick until she agrees, and I know that would be Wren’s advice.

  Flynn would tell me to just wait, she’ll come around, and if she doesn’t, sitting where she could see me and staring at her would be his next suggestion.

  I started with doing what Deacon did, a grand gesture, a way to give her what she wants. Hell, I gave her two ways.

  Maybe I’m just not part of the what she wants equation.

  When the song ends, my eyes immediately go to Tinley, and my heart races to see her looking in my direction. She turns her head, snapping it forward to cheer the guys on as they hit the field, but it’s something. I caught her looking, and that’s something that I can work with.

  Does she know how hard it’s been for me to not go to her and demand an answer? Nearly fucking impossible is the answer.

  Every evening Alex asks me to come in. He wants to hang out, watch the game, but I tell him I’m busy. I lie to my son because facing her and not knowing where she stands is a brutality I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Well, maybe Cedric Ramirez, but I haven’t seen that lowlife fucker since he came up to me while I was with Alex that day at the store.

  Jesus.

  I scrub my hands over my face, doing my best to focus on the game. I’m near my breaking point. Last night, I nearly asked Alex to put in a good word for me. I literally opened my mouth to use my son to convince his mother that she loves me. The manipulative bastard I was way back when wouldn’t have thought twice, but I don’t want a relationship that’s been forged in lies and tricks. She’s already accused me of doing it more than once, so sure that I’ve been putting bugs in Alex’s ear, planting seeds to get him to choose me over her.

  I confessed my fucking love for that woman. Told her I never stopped loving her. I laid all of my truths at her feet, and she called me a liar and told me to get out of her house.

  I stand abruptly, the guy next to me snapping his head in my direction as if he’s assessing me for threats.

  “Need a drink,” I mutter.

  “Don’t we all,” he replies to my back as I walk down the bleachers.

  I tell myself I’m not going to look in her direction, but I’m incapable. The quick glance isn’t enough, but this also isn’t the time or place to make her stubborn ass see reason.

  I’m going over the pros and cons of taking what I figure would be Wren’s advice as I pace back and forth along the fence line between third and home. I cheer the team on, the little bit of distance helps even though not having her in my line of sight makes my skin itch.

  The first game turns into another and then another as the guys keep winning. By the time they finish, our team losing by two in the final inning, everyone involved is exhausted and near dehydration, players and fans alike. The stands get thinner with every game, the losing teams’ fans packing up and heading home.

  With each game, it was easier and easier to see Tinley and harder and harder to keep my distance, but like I told her, the ball is in her court. I just never suspected that she would let what we had, what we could have go so easily.

  Despite losing the final game, Alex runs up to his mom with a huge smile on his face, and I approach them then. She may not want me around when she’s alone, and I’ll do my best to respect that, but I won’t shy away when my son is around.

  “Dad!” Alex yells when I approach. “Did you see that play in the fourth?”

  “I did.” He’s an amazing player, and I hope I have the chance to be around and foster his love of the game.

  “Where are we going for lunch?” His eyes dart between Tinley and me. “I’m starving.”

  “We have food at home.” Alex’s face falls. “We have more packing to do.”

  I look over at her, brows scrunched in confusion. “Did you find another house?”

  That would be ridiculous, unless she’s finally made up her mind to get Alex out of that neighborhood. This could be a good thing, but also bad at the same time because she hasn’t consulted with me about where she’s going. The chances of it being St. Louis are now slimmer than ever.

  She frowns in my direction, but immediately pulls her eyes away and looks over at Alex.

  “Ready?”

  “Can Dad come, too?”

  “He’s got—”

  “I have some stuff I need to take care of,” I tell him, preventing her from having to lie to our son. There’s no reason both of us should need forgiveness later.

  Alex gives me a quick hug before I watch the two people I love most in the world walk away.

  Chapter 30

  Tinley

  “You’ll be fine,” I tell Alex when he refuses to get out of the car. “Go inside and lock the door. This won’t take long.”

  “But if you’re going to Dad’s, I don’t understand why I can’t go, too.”

  His eyes plead with me, but there’s no way I want him to witness the anger that’s been bubbling up inside of me. I’ve had sad eyes on me all day, but as much as I’d like to say I’m immune to my kid looking at me like this now, I’m not.

  “Go,” I urge. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I can get back. There’s pizza in the freezer. Preheat the oven to four hundred degrees. Wait for the beep this time or it’s not going to turn out right.”

  “Is this a sex thing?”

  I sputter at his question. “What? No, it’s not a sex thing!”

  Jesus, what has my kid learned at school.

  Reluctantly, he eventually climbs out of the car, and I wait to pull away until I watch him safely enter the house.

  It’s hard to keep my eyes off my purse. I put the envelope Ignacio left in there because I didn’t want Alex finding it, and I’ve ignored the damn thing way too long. Letting him drop it on me then walking away was a cowardly thing to do. If the man wants to give me bad news, he can face me while he does it.

  The drive is short, but I take my time anyway. Nerves have my shoulders tense and my fingers tapping on the steering wheel as I pull up in front of his house. I can’t focus on the other car parked on the street because there’s a huge ratty dumpster taking up most of the driveway.

  I keep my eyes on it as I climb out of the car, running into someone I didn’t notice. Chills race up my spine when warm hands land on my bare arms. Getting lost in thought is so very dangerous
around here, and I don’t calm at all when I snap my head around and find a smiling, familiar face looking down at me.

  “Ms. Holland,” the man says, his hands giving me a little squeeze before he releases me and takes a step back.

  “M-Mr. Morgan,” I say, my voice unsure as I speak to the man who bought my mother’s house. “Are you buying this house, too?”

  The dumpster makes sense if Ignacio is planning to remodel his grandfather’s house to prepare it for sale. It also means he’s going to be living in a better house, one that will present much better than the one I’ll have to scrape enough money together to rent. His one-up is a slap to the face.

  I consider asking the man in front of me for more time in the house, maybe until Alex is done with the school year and baseball season is over, but I don’t. He’s a businessman and owes me nothing. Plus, if he’s buying houses for gentrification plans, I doubt he has any concern for the people who will be either displaced or have to move because rent prices go through the roof.

  “This house?” He looks over at Ig’s house with such disdain in his eyes. “Possibly, but the guy who owns it is a real asshole.”

  I snort my agreement.

  “You’re not going to go in there are you?” Movement on the porch catches my eye, but I don’t have to look over to know that Ignacio is standing there with a scowl on his face. “You’re way too pretty to be around a jerk like that.”

  I roll my lips between my teeth, growing uncomfortable with his compliment. I didn’t take him for a slimeball when he came to my house, but I was in a bad mood that day, and there’s a real chance I didn’t catch his leering. Not that he’s leering now.

  His smile grows larger when Ignacio grunts from the porch like an untrained animal issuing a warning shot before he attacks. The sound of ownership, even the hint of I don’t want her but you can’t have her either makes my hackles go up further, which is saying something because I climbed out of my car livid with that man.

  I turn my head, narrowing my eyes at my ex to find his gaze locked on the man in front of me. I’d be a fool to think if I piss him off enough by flirting with Mr. Morgan that he’ll refuse to work with him. There’s always another realtor that’s willing to step in, especially with the rumor of a better up-and-coming neighborhood on the horizon.