Page 132 of The Silencer

“I am.”

Really, who am I to deny him anything? So a minute later, I’m seated near the edge of the mattress, Tatum resting his head against Teddy’s chest as he lounges in bed next to us.

I don’t share him. I won’t. But it seems I have to, in a way.

Later that evening, we finally get up and moving. Teddy leaves us after a while and wanders off to do whatever he’s been doing while healing. Probably sitting with the guards in the front and watching for any break-ins. He blames himself for not being present with Tatum that night. I don’t think he will ever forgive himself.

Not that he’s said it. But I can see it in the way he moves, in the way he watches over Tatum.

He adores him, in his own way.

I bring Tatum to the front porch and settle him against me, and when that’s not close enough, I pull him into my lap and press my hands to the warm skin of his stomach.

“Have you heard from Angel?” he asks after a moment of silence.

“Yes. He’s messaged me, and Casey has assured me he’s fine.”

Tatum wiggles on my lap, leaning his head back against my shoulder. “I’m going to try calling him again.”

“Go ahead.”

He pulls his phone out and hits the call button, our faces appearing on the screen as we wait for him to answer.

“I don’t think he’s going to—” he begins, only to be cut off when my son’s face appears before us.

There’s a wobbly smile and then a sniffle. “Hi, you two,” Angelo says, his eyes glittering. He swipes at them quickly, and Tatum frowns.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Oh yes, just a bit homesick, but I’m fine. Really.”

Tatum leans forward and purses his lips. “You can tell us, Angel.”

“I really am fine. It’s so beautiful here. The kinds of flowers that can grow in this environment is wonderful. And Mikhail has a large greenhouse that’s just for me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. It’s lovely here.”

“We can come visit, right?” Tatum says, and then glances back at me.

“Once you’re recovered,” I reply.

Angelo’s brow furrows. “Recovered from what?”

Tatum sighs and then waves his hand at the camera. Angelo audibly gasps.

“What is that? What happened?”

“I was kidnapped and they…well, they stole a piece of me.”

Angelo’s eyes are wide and his cheeks flushed. “I hope my dad found them. And has ripped them to pieces.”

“Currently in the process,” I say, and Angelo nods. He’s never been one for blood, unlike Diablo. But he is my son in many other ways, especially when it comes to justice for those who have wronged us.

“Good,” he says and then sighs. “I really do miss you all.”

“We will plan a trip. I promise. I want to see how you’re doing,” Tatum says.