“Baby, I hurt you and I’m sorry. I know what I have with you is worth so much more. Please, just give me a second chance.”

I felt like I was being pulled in too many different directions, and it was going to tear my soul to shreds before I found my way.

“Just stop. Both of you. Let me have some peace!” My tears flowed again, and this time Aunt Jackie rescued me.

“You boys back off. Asa, I need your help finalizing funeral arrangements. We didn’t want to make decisions without you here.”

I didn’t wait to hear any more. I ran upstairs to Cricket’s room, where I’d been staying.

My phone showed a missed call. Lincoln.

I stared at his name. What could he possibly have to say to me?

Nothing I wanted to hear.

Seven

Whitney

Present day

Commodore’s questions become more pointed as Martin guides the Escalade up the mountain roads. I shouldn’t be surprised that the old man waited until we’re out in the middle of nowhere to really begin the inquisition.

“Did he ever say anything about his father?”

“Ricky never wanted to talk about his dad. Ever,” I say with complete honesty.

“Did he say if his parents were married?”

I shake my head, wishing Commodore would quit with the questions. “He didn’t talk about any of it.”

“Where is his mother now?”

At least that’s one question I can answer easily. “San Diego. She left Gable and moved down there after Ricky bought her a condo.”

“But why wait so long to push for a paternity test?” The old man seems lost in thought, and I have no idea how to answer his question. His attention snaps to my face. “How old was Rango when he died?”

“Thirty-seven.”

The old man’s tanned face loses a few shades of color. “Which means he was born before Roosevelt married Sylvia.” Commodore curses under his breath. “If my son married and divorced that woman without me knowing, her son could’ve been a legitimate Riscoff heir.”

My stomach twists as he says the words. Oh Jesus. This can’t be—

Commodore’s heavy hand wraps around my arm, his fingers gripping tightly.

“What?” I jerk my chin toward him.

“Are you pregnant?”

My head flies back at the unexpected question. “No.”

His gaze drills into me with enough intensity to frighten a hardened killer. “If you lie about this, I’ll make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?”

I keep my voice as even as possible. “I’m not pregnant. I’ll go pee on a stick right now and prove it if you really want.” I yank my arm out of his grip. “But don’t ever touch me again, old man.”

He gives me a curt nod and looks out the window on his side of the Escalade.

The wheels in my brain spin out of control. Commodore’s right. The only reason for Ricky’s mother to try to have him legally declared a Riscoff after he died would be to get a cut of their fortune for a child. Ricky’s child. Her grandchild.