After I’d texted Merry last night, he hadn’t texted back. With the games we were playing, that could mean anything.

But he seemed entrenched.

As for me, I needed to protect myself, and part of doing that was getting him out of my business, any business I had. To accomplish that, I had to sort out the Trent and Peggy thing, and considering I had a job and a kid, limited money, and no investigative skills, I had to call in help.

If I was going to be facing lawyer fees to keep Ethan, I also had to hoard my cake.

All this led me to one conclusion: I had to find someone who’d do the legwork for me and do it for a price I could afford to pay.

I dug out my phone, scrolled down to that name in my Contacts, and hit call.

Ryker answered on the third ring.

“What’s goin’ on with you and Merrick?” he asked as greeting.

I set my teeth, not surprised Ryker knew something was going on with Merry and me because Merry had dragged me into the office at J&J’s. Morrie saw that, probably fifty other people saw that, and no doubt at least forty-eight (if not all fifty-one) of those people were talking about it.

I shared the minimum. “Something happened. One-time thing. We’re movin’ on.”

“One-time thing?”

“One-time thing,” I confirmed.

“You stupid?” he asked.

I decided not to answer that or react to it all, but I only decided that because I needed him.

I changed the subject. “I got a situation.”

“No shit?” he told me.

Thinking he still was referring to what he didn’t really know was going on between Merry and me, something I was done talking about, not to mention I had to get out and help Feb, I kept our conversation firm where I wanted it to be.

“Listen, I need a favor,” I said.

“I play, you pay,” he replied.

This was not a surprise. Ryker did nothing for nothing. You always paid. But I was speaking to him because he had three options he accepted for compensation: you owed him a marker, you gave him information, or you gave him money.

There was no marker he’d be willing to hold from me. And I didn’t want to spend the money on an investigator, not one as good (or expensive) as Tanner Layne, not one who was probably shit but less expensive, and not Ryker.

But I worked at a bar and Ryker dealt in a lot of currencies, information being one that for him was most lucrative.

“My ex and his wife are making rumblings they might wanna take my boy from me,” I shared.

“Sucks, sister,” he muttered but didn’t jump in to offer services for free.

“They may be happy just to negotiate more time with him. Before I sit down and do that, I wanna know, they get that time, he’s goin’ to good people. I need you to help me on that. And as a down payment to that shit, I’ll tell you the renters two doors down from my place had a short but loud conversation I overheard and the name Carlito was mentioned.”