Rattle His Cage: The Baxter Boys #4 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)

by Charles, Jane

  I’ve got to stop thinking about Dylan. About naked Dylan. About naked Dylan’s fingers. About naked Dylan’s beard and tongue. About naked Dylan’s beard between my naked thighs.

  Blowing out a sigh I roll onto my back. A photo on the dresser catches my eye and I sit up. It’s old, a bit faded, but it’s of four kids in swimsuits standing in front of a wading pool. Two boys and two girls.

  Getting out of bed I pad across the floor and pick it up. The tallest boy has to be Dylan. It looks too much like him. Are the others his siblings? There is so much I don’t know about him, but I’d be happy to learn.

  Turning, I glance around the room. The place is sparse, as if he doesn’t own much. Nothing is on the dresser, except this one picture. On the nightstand, by the side of the bed is only a lamp and a clock.

  Unable to help myself, though I could if I tried, I go to his closet and open the door.

  Is he a professional organizer or something? His long-sleeved shirts are in a row from light to dark, as are his slacks. There are some jeans and at the end, it looks like three suits under the plastic covering from a dry cleaner. Even his shoes are all arranged neatly and side by side. Hell, half the time I can’t find a match to one shoe. Sometimes they end up in the closet, sometimes under the bed, and sometimes I swear a gremlin just up and takes off with them.

  This has got to be the cleanest room I’ve ever been in. It’s almost like staying in a hotel. Is he always this neat or is it just easy to keep neat because he has so few things?

  Oh, so many things to ponder about Dylan.

  9

  “Let me guess,” Mrs. Kragen says as she comes up to the counter. “You want to know where Nina is.”

  “She is my sister.”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Anger shoots through me. “Come on!” I pound my fist on the counter startling the caseworkers closer to us. “Nina and I are both adults.”

  She wags a finger at me. “Hold up and calm down,” she orders in a stern voice as her dark eyes narrow on me over her wire glasses.

  Instinctively I gulp, like I’m twelve again.

  “Those are the rules.”

  I’m so fucking tired of rules.

  “Look, I never approved of the way Mrs. Hood handled things,” she says in a soft voice, her brown eyes warming.

  This takes me aback.

  “You kids had it tough enough. All the kids in the system do. You should have known where you could find each other.”

  This takes me completely by surprise.

  “Listen, Mrs. Hood and I had a falling out after you came looking for your brother. I didn’t think there was any harm in letting your brother know where to find you. She disagreed.”

  “Why?”

  “She was afraid you’d give up college to take care of Noah.” Then she snorts. “As if any judge would have allowed an eighteen-year-old kid, with no income, job, or home, to take responsibility of a fifteen-year-old.”

  I would have wanted to take care of Noah, but I knew nobody would have allowed me to, but at least we could have seen one another. Then, maybe he wouldn’t have run away when he was sixteen. I could have helped him. Hell, I still don’t know why he ran away, but it makes me sick to think of the many reasons. That’s the problem with being a writer, watching too much television, and knowing the stories of a lot of the kids I went to school with—I jump to the worst case scenario of what could have happened to my brother.

  “So, why can’t you tell me where to find Nina?”

  “Let me tell you about your sister.” Then she smiles. The kind that is a success of the system. “She’s a senior in high school and carries a 3.62 GPA.”

  “Good for her.” I grin.

  “She’s worked at least two part-time jobs since she turned sixteen and is determined to go to college.”

  My heart swells with pride. Nina has got to be okay if this is what her life is.

  “She turned 18 yesterday, but since it was a holiday, she didn’t move until today.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m getting to that,” she says impatiently. “As you know, eighteen and you are out, except we have homes through the city, halfway houses that take girls like Nina.”

  Some of the tension I’ve been holding lets go.

  “Mrs. Perkins, her new case manager, made arrangements for Nina to live in one of these houses until she finishes high school, and hopefully, until she goes off to college.”

  “Where is it?”

  “That, I cannot tell you,” Mrs. Kragen chastises. “It’s for the protection of everyone in the house. Some of them are hiding from unpleasant things or very unpleasant people.”

  I get that, but it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone or hurt any of those girls.

  “I’ll get a message to her later today.”

  “Why not now?” I demand.

  Mrs. Kragen lifts a stack of files. “Because I’m due in court.” Then she puts her hand on mine. “Nina is fine. I assure you. I’ll call. Just leave me all of your contact information and we’ll see what we can do about the two of you seeing each other again, and soon.”

  For the first time in years I have real hope, and realize that Mrs. Kragen isn’t so scary. Well, unless she’s giving that “don’t fuck with me” look, which she’s not giving me, thank God.

  “I have a house, and a place for her.”

  Mrs. Kragen narrows her eyes. “She’s got to stay in school.”

  “Of course,” I quickly assure her. “I have a good job so I can help her with anything she needs.” I look into Mrs. Kragen’s eyes. “I just want my sister back. I want my family.”

  She smiles, her eyes full of sympathy. “We’ll see what we can do. But I need to get to court. If it runs late because of the holidays, which it always does, I’ll get on this first thing tomorrow.”

  I really want to insist that she make the call now, but I get that she does have a full case load, and at least now I know that one of my siblings is okay and by this time tomorrow, I might just be moving her into the house.

  “What about Jade? Can you tell me anything?”

  “Not off the top of my head. I’ll take a look at her file tomorrow.”

  That’s something at least. Finally a caseworker who wants to be helpful, and I’ll be getting Nina back. There is no reason for her to stay in a half-way house when she can live with me.

  All I need to do is convince one of the guys to move to the basement, move Mia to that room, and then I can settle Nina in Alex’s old room, where she’ll be close.

  We will make this work. If the guys don’t like it, then Nina and I will just find our own place.

  “Good news?” Christian asks as we head out.

  I tell him everything that Mrs. Kragen told me.

  “Then we better make room.” He grins.

  “Are you sure the guys won’t mind? I mean, that will be three more people living there who weren’t before Thanksgiving.”

  Christian stops and turns. “She’s family. Blood. Your family is our family.”

  Once we get home I head up to my room to change into grubbier clothes so I can work on the basement. By tomorrow night, I might have Nina back with me and she’s going to need a place to sleep.

  I quietly open the door to my room so I don’t wake Mary and stop. Just inside the door is a bag and there are clothes on my floor. First a pair of shoes, then socks, jeans, sweater, bra, and ending at panties. It was as if Mary stripped on the way to my bed.

  She’s sound asleep on her stomach and the blankets are nearly to her hips.

  A very naked Mary in my bed. My cock hardens as I start thinking about all the things I’d like to do right now. One being, stripping down myself and crawling in with her.

  Closing the door, I step back out into the hall and take a deep breath, then blow it out. At least once Nina is here, I’ll be more focused on getting to know my sister again, and maybe not so fixated on Mary, or the scar across her lower back.

/>   How did she get that? It must have hurt like hell.

  “See something you like?” Mia asks. She’s standing in the doorway of Alex’s room, leaning against the doorjamb.

  “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  “I think you should be in bed with Mary.”

  “You’re medicated, now get back in bed.”

  “I need to pee.” With that she heads off to the bathroom. She’s a bit wobbly and using the wall for balance so I follow and wait outside after she closes the door.

  A few minutes later she opens it back up. “Help me back, okay.”

  I let her lean on me because I don’t know where I can touch her that won’t hurt. It takes some time but we are finally back to Alex’s room and I’m tucking her in. “Need anything else?”

  She smiles weakly. “Nope. Thanks.” Mia scrunches the pillow beneath her head. “Now, go sleep with Mary. You’re tired too.”

  “And you’re on drugs.” I kiss her cheek and leave the room.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?” I ask Mia after peeking into her room.

  “Okay,” she says. The television is on and she’s half-way reclined watching it. There’s an empty bowl on the night stand. I pick it up and look inside at the green milky substance at the bottom. “Ice cream?”

  “Yeah. I can’t really chew and that’s all the guys had.”

  “You need to eat better than that. No soup?”

  “Dylan won’t allow canned soup in the house for eating, only for recipes, but he’s asleep and nobody else knows how to cook.”

  “Really. Nobody but Dylan?”

  “They try, but trust me, you risk food poisoning with the rest of them.”

  I laugh. “Did you get your meds?”

  “Yep, Zach’s seen to that.”

  “Good!” I head for the door. “Luckily for you, I can cook. How does creamy potato soup sound?”

  She groans. “Wonderful.”

  “Great!” I grin. “It will take about 30 to 45. Anything I can get you in the meantime?”

  “No. I’m good. Thanks.”

  The house is completely quiet as I head downstairs. Where is everyone?

  Dylan is the first person I see. He’s sound asleep on the couch under a blanket. Somebody built a fire and it’s burning in the fireplace.

  I don’t hear anything else until I step into the kitchen. Voices are coming from the basement. Christian and Ryan are standing there gesturing around the room.

  “Hey, I’m going to fix some soup for Mia. Do you want any?”

  Their eyes widen. “You cook?” Ryan asks.

  “Um, yeah. At least I can in a real kitchen like you guys have.”

  “Can you make grilled ham and cheese too?” Christian asks. “That’s what goes with soup.”

  “Haven’t you guys eaten today?”

  “I had cereal, but it’s not like real food.”

  “Sure, I can grill some sandwiches with the soup.”

  “But we have to be very, very quiet,” Ryan whispers in an Elmer Fudd voice as he holds a finger to his lips. “Dylan is getting the first real sleep that he’s got in months.”

  “Why?”

  “Got some good news today,” Christian says. “He’s finally able to relax I think.”

  I guess if they wanted me to know what the good news is they’d tell me, but what could have been making him worry so much he wasn’t sleeping?

  10

  My kitchen has been destroyed! The garbage is out from the closet and there are potato peels on the floor around it. The large soup pot is on a burner and a white creaming substance is dripped all over the stove and the counter and two skillets are on back burners. The soup ladle is resting on a saucer and not the spoon rest by the stove. It had rested there at one time though, since the same thick milky substance that’s on the stove and counter is covering the spoon rest too. On the island is a plate with grease-soaked paper towels but no food on it, along with a cutting board, dirty knife, onion skins, tops of celery, and open bag of bread. There’s a small bowl of cut up scallion and another with shredded cheddar cheese.

  At least they put their dirty dishes in the sink since it’s full of bowls, plates, and spoons. Nothing is rinsed though, so the bowls will need to be soaked because that soup is going to harden in them and be a bitch to clean. It’s going to take me an hour or more to get this place back in order.

  Zach sitting at the end of the counter sipping soup off a spoon. Half of a grilled cheese is on his plate.

  “What the hell happened in here?”

  “Mary.” He grins. “The soup is awesome. You should try it.”

  “Why did she make soup?” I still can’t believe I fell asleep on the couch and slept for five hours without someone or something waking me up. I was in the fucking living room. How did I not hear someone cooking in the kitchen?

  “Mia can’t really chew because of her sore jaw, and the ice cream didn’t fill her up.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” I scoop up the onion skins and celery and toss them in the garbage before I pick up the potato peelings that missed their mark.

  “Dude, you haven’t slept that long in weeks. Nobody was waking you.”

  I do appreciate that, and the sleep was great, even if completely unexpected, but my kitchen is destroyed.

  “Have some soup. Relax.”

  I lift the lid and sniff. It smells rich and creamy, smoky from the bacon. The onions and celery are diced really small, but the aroma is there. When was the last time I ate something in the house I didn’t prepare? Grabbing the ladle, I stir the soup. The flame is low enough that it’s not sticking on the bottom.

  The only time someone else cooks for me is when I go to a restaurant. This is kind of nice for a change, even if the kitchen has been destroyed.

  “You’re awake,” Mary says brightly as she comes into the kitchen and puts a bowl in the sink, without rinsing it. “Let me make you a grilled ham and cheese.” She grabs the bread, turns on the burner under one of the skillets, and then starts buttering one side of each piece.

  “I can do that.” It’s really weird standing in here while someone else does the cooking.

  “Sit!” Zach orders.

  I grab a stool and sink down on it, at a loss what to do with myself.

  “You really need to learn to relax,” Zach says as if reading my mind.

  “I relax.” Hell, I just slept longer than I have in a long time, and on a couch in the living room.

  He just snorts and takes a bite of his sandwich.

  Mary tests the heat of the skillet by flicking a drop of water into it. It sizzles. Then lays one piece of bread in, butter side down, then adds a slice of cheese, ham, another slice of cheese and then the other piece of bread. Then she lifts the lid and stirs the soup.

  “How is Mia doing?”

  “Sore, but in good spirits.”

  “Really?” I find that hard to believe. Especially since she was so terrified and in pain this morning.

  “She doesn’t want to go to her place,” Mary adds. “Even when Stone is caught, she doesn’t want to be where he can find her. He’s rich and will make any bail.”

  “She has a place here for as long as she needs it,” Zach says.

  Mary flips the grilled cheese then grabs a bowl and ladles soup into it before she garnishes the center with scallion and cheddar cheese before putting them in front of me with a spoon. Then she grabs two more pieces of bread.

  “Who hasn’t eaten?”

  “Me.” She laughs. “You can only grill so many ham and cheese at a time.”

  I take a sip of the soup. Creamy, rich, buttery, and I love the fresh celery. The flavors pop. I’ve never been a fan of potato soup. Usually it’s bland, but this is delicious. It could also be because I didn’t cook it.

  Damn, I was hungry too, and I take another bite.

  She removes my sandwich and puts it on a plate before cutting it diagonally and hands it to me before she starts buttering her own bre
ad and puts a slice in the skillet before laying the ham and cheese and second piece of bread.

  After wiping her hands on her jeans, Mary turns around then lifts an eyebrow.

  “Something wrong with your sandwich?”

  I haven’t even touched it. I was too buys eating the soup and watching her.

  Before I can answer, she grabs a half, takes a bite and puts it back down on my plate.

  What the hell?

  She chews and swallows. “Tastes fine to me.”

  “Really? You just took a bite of my sandwich.”

  Mary shrugs. “You weren’t eating it.”

  Zach snorts. “You might have met your match.”

  Which is fine, if my match cleans up after herself.

  “Mia doesn’t want to press charges,” she says quietly after turning back to the stove.

  Zach and I look at each other. This doesn’t sit well, and it sure as hell isn’t going to go over with the other guys.

  “If she lets it go, he won’t get punished,” Zach reminders her.

  “Mia doesn’t have the energy to fight this,” Mary sighs. “Really, look at the news lately. Things haven’t changed, and even in rape cases, somehow it still turns out to be the girl’s fault.”

  “You said he didn’t rape her,” Dylan says.

  “He didn’t,” I rush to assure him. “She doesn’t want to face a trial. Face him. Be questioned about her relationship with him. Their sex life. Things she let him do…She’s afraid a judge will decide that she put herself in the position for what happened.” Mary presses the spatula against the bread and the bottom sizzles in the skillet. She may have been explaining Mia’s decision calmly, but she’s pissed.

  “He beat her,” Zach bites out.

  “He’s also powerful, rich, and can fight this. Even though he’ll lose, she doesn’t want to put herself through it all.”

  “What do you think?” I ask slowly.

  “She’s right.” Mary shrugs. “It pisses me off that she’d have to testify at all when pictures should be enough. Or that the other side has a right to pick her apart on the stand when she did nothing wrong. She and I both know that if she presses charges, she’ll be treated as if she’s the guilty party somehow.” She turns, waving the spatula as she talks. “Further, I hate that we live in an age where No means No actually needs to be explained or that guys have to be told not to have sex with unconscious girls or that consent needs to be clarified.”