Cross’ head lifted up, his chin jutting out, and he clenched his jaw. “What’s the solid you’re doing us?”

“Ahh. Of course. Lover-fucking-boy has to be in on this conversation. Isn’t it enough you stole her from me, Cross? Huh? I can’t even have this call asking to find out about my own kid—”

Cross crossed the room in two strides, plucking the phone out of my hands. “Listen to me, dipshit. Fucking tell us what ‘solid’ you’re doing for us, or I’m hanging up and we’ll not say a goddamn word to Sunday about you. Zellman’s with her, did you know that?”

“Shut up,” Drake clipped out from his end.

“Yeah. He’s there. Heard she had the baby and he didn’t feel right not being there. He’s been there. With her. Helping her. With your kid. He’s probably held your kid, changed her diapers. She’ll know he’s more her dad than you are if he sticks with her—”

“Shut up!”

A hard and feral glint shone from Cross. His lip curled up, but he quieted. “That’s what I thought. Stop dicking around and get to the point. What do you have that you think we’d want?”

“There’s word out that a certain motorcycle club that Bren’s dad belongs to is looking for someone.”

Cross met my gaze.

He was talking about the witness, the lone witness holding together an entire case for thirty warrants. Of course, Drake would find out who that was.

“And?”

Drake laughed, now sounding cocky. “And I’m wondering if you want a name?”

“Why don’t you call them yourself?” “Uh, because I think them reaching out to Sunday on my behalf would do more damage than be helpful.”

The sarcasm was heavy.

“Stop with the attitude,” I called from the bed.

“Ah. And there’s my ex speaking again. So, what’s it going to be? I’ll give you something to help out your daddy, and you help me out. An even exchange.”

“My dad’s supposed to be clean of everything, so this actually doesn’t help my dad.”

As soon as the words were out, I grimaced. I had learned. Right? This was Drake. You don’t trust Drake Ryerson. It was a cardinal rule in my world, and I just broke it. Why had I told him that?

“Doesn’t matter. One and the same. If Raith and the club keep looking for the witness, time will tell, but I’m guessing they’ll get more desperate. Even the ‘clean’ members will get pulled in to get dirty, and that’s your pops, Bren.”

Pops. Even he was calling him that name.

Cross frowned. “Why’d you call him that?”

“What?”

“Pops. Why’d you call him that?”

“That’s what he went by in here. They talk about him still.”