Page 53 of The Devil's Dilemma

I carried on walking, bracing myself for a hand on my shoulder accosting me, but the farther I got away from the casino, the easier I breathed.

My heart finally stopped racing until it slowed to a normal pace. The casino was a couple of miles from my house, but with no phone or wallet, I had no other option than to walk.

It didn’t take long, maybe half an hour. An unfamiliar car sat outside the house. Nothing fancy, about ten years old and black.

New carers, maybe?

Only one way to find out.

“Grandpa.” I let myself in and walked into the lounge. My heart stood still. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Language, Austin,” Grandpa chided.

I tightened my fists and drew myself up, ready to defend myself and Grandpa.

“Austin,” Dante said. “So nice to see you again.”

“Get away from him.”

“We were just having tea. Would you like to join us?” He smiled sweetly.

“What do you want?”

“Austin, I brought you up better than that. Don’t be rude to our guests.”

Guests? I only saw Dante, but Conrad strolled out of the kitchen, a mug in his hand.

“Tea.”

Too shocked to protest, I took it from him and sat on the sofa.

“Dante here said he was a friend of yours. He came to see if I needed anything. I got your message that you’d be away for a couple of days.”

“I didn’t send a message.”

“No, Joel did. Said you and the boys had gone away for a few days. I must admit I thought you would have called yourself, but he said you’d lost your phone.”

“Yeah, I have.” I glared at Dante. He’d obviously sent the message from Joel’s phone.

“These kind gentlemen have brought some food.”

Not convinced this was their only reason for visiting, I sat quietly and waited.

“It’s just me and Austin these days. His mother passed away a good few years ago now.” Grandpa gave me a sympathetic look, knowing how much it still affected me after twenty-three years. “His dad left a year later.”

“What happened to him?”

“You don’t have to tell him anything.” I leant forward and touched Grandpa’s hand. This was as painful for him as talking about Momma was for me.

“It’s okay, son. I don’t mind.” He turned to Dante. “Calista’s death hit us all hard, especially him.”

“How did they meet?”

“You know, I don’t rightly remember. One minute he was out partying every night. The next he was settling down and having a child.”

I sat up straight, my tea forgotten. Grandpa rarely spoke about them, and this was news to me. When my father had left, we stopped talking about them.

“Do you know where he met her?”