by Sean Michael
“Yeah? Okay. I…. If you want me to say hi, just holler.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll holler.” He didn’t want Eric anywhere in range, though, if it wasn’t Gordon and Max at the door.
“Boss, it’s me.” Gordon sounded frustrated as hell.
“Come on up, man.” Jeff knew it was okay, and soon the two most protective, grim, sure men he’d ever met were right there. He locked the door back up once they were in and led them into the living room. “Can I get either of you anything?”
Gordon shook his head. “So he’s calling you?”
“Yep. I didn’t answer the last one, but the one before that, he threatened to shoot Eric. After that there was no way I was going to answer the last one.”
As if on cue, the phone began to ring.
He handed it to Gordon, who grunted out a greeting. The big man listened, then nodded once, eyes flashing. “I’d like to see you try, you pointless little fuck.” Gordon jabbed at the off button.
Brock chuckled. “Yeah, that’s the stuff, Gordon, but is it going to work?”
Gordon shrugged, the crisp white shirt bunching up around the man’s huge shoulders. “I hope he tries something. The boys here’ll have him in no time. I want permission to go to Eric’s house, Boss. See if it’s been breached.”
He nodded; that was reasonable enough. “Eric, can you come here, please?”
“Sure.” Eric came out, a broken blue crayon in one hand. “Gordon. Thank you, so much. You did so much for us.”
“You remember Max, I’m sure. He’s Gordon’s partner.” Now in business as well as in personal life, he assumed.
“I do. I’m so sorry. I don’t… I didn’t think they were bad kids. I didn’t know or I would have….”
Gordon snorted, one eyebrow arching. “Done what?”
Brock put his arm around Eric’s shoulders. “Gordon’s right. You treated those kids the way you treat all your kids. This isn’t your fault.”
Eric leaned into him. “I want to think so.”
“Gordon wants permission to check out your house. I guess the keys would be a good idea, too.”
“Check out my house? Why?”
“Because in all likelihood, if Tim knows you’re here, then he’s been to your house.” Brock kept hold of Eric, rubbing his arm along Eric’s back.
Eric went gray. “My house. Oh, God. All of Josie’s medical records are there. My papers. I, I should go.”
“No.”
Wow. Gordon, Max, and he were loud together.
Brock expanded on the word. “You can’t go, baby. It’s too dangerous. Gordon and Max are going to check it out, see if the place has been broken into, stuff like that.”
“I should…. Josie’s things. Her toys.”
“You make a list for Gordon of the things you want them to grab. But, baby, it’s all replaceable, unlike you and Josie.”
“Just. Some of her things, hmm? Her toy box? Do you have the keys?” Eric asked.
“I do. They’re in the bowl there by the door.” Brock pulled Eric to him. “We’re going to get through this.”
“I’m not going to be able to go back there, am I?’
“I don’t think so, baby. Certainly not before Tim’s caught, and even then.” He hugged Eric tight. “Whatever happens between us, I won’t be able to sleep at night if you aren’t living somewhere safe.”
“I need to go be with Josie right now, you know? Prove to myself that she’s safe.”
“Go ahead.” Brock gave Eric another tight hug, kissed his cheek, and sent him on his way.
Gordon shook his head, square hand rubbing the back of his thick neck. “I’ll call you. Keep them safe, huh?”
“I will.” He shook Gordon’s hand and then Max’s, the movements turning into quick, tight hugs. “I appreciate your help in this.”
“Oh, we’ll bill you.” Max looked utterly unrepentant. “Did you see Gordie’s scars? They’re not too shabby.”
Gordon turned and socked Max hard enough to make the man grunt. Max was solid, but he had nothing on Gordon’s bulk. “Asshole.”
“Have you seen Eric’s? He looks like Frankenstein’s monster.”
“Damn, that is more impressive than two through-and-throughs.” Gordon stuck out his tongue. “Show-off.”
Brock chuckled. “I’d be happier if neither of you were hurt.” He favored Max with a direct stare. “And I expect to be billed. I pay my people well.”
“Yeah? How do you pay former-cop kid-killers?” Jesus, there was a wealth of pain in that single question.
“You saved all our lives doing that, Max. I can’t ever repay you for that.”
“I wouldn’t have shot him if he hadn’t fired first.”
“I know, man. I still can’t believe they fired you. If you want to fight it, I know a good lawyer.” Hell, he owned a good team of lawyers.
“We’ll work together.” Gordon’s hand was on Max’s shoulder, solid, protective. “I need a partner to keep up with my clients.”
“Hell, I’m giving you enough work for two all on my own.” Brock grinned, thinking Gordon wasn’t too upset about having Max working with him.
“I’ll call, Boss. Once I’m there and have assessed the situation.”
“Thanks, Gordon. I appreciate it.” He felt so much better knowing Gordon was on the job.
Gordon took the keys and headed out, stopping only to speak with Jeff on the way out the door.
Brock made sure the door was locked and then headed to Josie’s room. He needed a bit of Josie and Eric time.
He needed his family.
Chapter Eleven
BROCK STARTED the bath and added too much bubble bath, on purpose, while Eric wasn’t looking.
“No carrying her,” he called out.
“Huh?”
“Daddy Bee says no carrying the Josie!” Josie’s laugh rang out, and she came barreling in to see him.
“Hey, sweet girl.” He grabbed her and picked her up into a hug. “You’re all ready for your bath.”
“Uh-huh. Ooh! Bubbles!” She kissed him happily, then plop, went into the tub. The marble tile was covered in colored soap drawings, the ledge where decorative soaps and bottles belonged was now covered with soaking-wet Barbies, plastic boats, and rubber duckies.
It was never going to recover. It was good that the housekeeper had grandchildren and patience.
He laughed and added a few more bubbles for her, watching them rise up over the edge of the tub.
“Daddy Bee!” She clapped, hooting happily.
“You’re making a mess.” Eric smiled over from the doorway.
Brock grinned back at him. “It’ll clean up.”
“It will. Do you want any toys, Jo?”
She pointed imperiously. “Daddy Bee pick.”
“Me?” He grinned. “You know what I’m going to pick.” He reached over and got the little boat with the three Weeble people, or whatever they were called.
“Boats! Daddy! Boats!”
Eric nodded. “Your daddy Bee and me, we used to go on trips on a boat.”
Now there were some good memories. He hadn’t been out on a long cruise since they broke up. Funny, he’d been headed to the yacht before all this had started. “Have you ever been on a boat, honey?”
“No. I like to go in a boat.”
“Yeah, we’ll have to see when would be a good time for that.”
Eric chuckled. “I’d love that. I love how free it is.”
“We get that thing taken care of and we’ll go, okay? Just the three of us.”
“Okay.” Eric looked at him like… like he was the center of the world.
He held Eric’s gaze, smiled. He liked the way that look made him feel. Eric’s gaze warmed, the smile getting wider and wider. He found himself leaning toward Eric, holding his breath.
“Daddy Bee! Duck!” He looked over and a rubber duck was flying toward him.
It hit him on the cheek with an explosion of drops and bubble
s, making him gasp. Eric blinked, then the heavy, hearty laughter started. Brock rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep from laughing, too, Josie’s little squeals of happiness joining in and echoing around the tiles.
Leaning into the tub, Brock dipped his fingers into the water and splashed, the water and bubbles sweeping toward Josie.
Josie screeched happily, wet little arms and legs flailing. “Daddy! Daddy, save me!”
Eric chuckled. “Oh, no. Bee’s got you.”
Brock splashed her a few more times, managing to become nearly as wet as she was between her flailing and his own playing.
He stopped and looked over at Eric, who was perfectly dry. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear. “We should get Daddy.”
Those huge dark eyes twinkled. “’Kay, Daddy Bee.”
“Okay, let’s do it!” He shifted and slipped his hand into the water again, this time scooping the water and bubbles in Eric’s general direction.
“Oh, no!” The words were playful and Eric ducked right into the mess, assuring they got him. That made Josie wild with joy.
Brock couldn’t help snorting with laughter and even fell into the tub fully dressed. Accidentally. Mostly.
“Oh lord.” Eric helped him up, his soaking-wet back pressing into Eric’s chest.
“No picking up Daddy Bee!”
That had Brock laughing even harder. “He isn’t, honey. He can’t.”
“Nope. Daddy Bee is gigantic.” Eric’s hands wrapped around his hips, solid and warm.
Brock laughed. “Was that a compliment or a criticism?”
Those warm lips were right by his ear. “A compliment, Bee. Always.”
Oh fuck. He bit back his groan, but couldn’t keep from leaning back into Eric a little. This could be yours, a little voice in the back of his head told him. He thought, maybe, Eric was getting hard against him. He thought, maybe, he didn’t want to move away. Except he was definitely starting to get hard and he didn’t want Josie to see.
Fortunately for him, his cell started ringing, so he didn’t have to worry about it.
“I should take this.” If his voice was a little huskier than usual, he certainly wasn’t going to point it out.
He grabbed the cell out of his pocket and slipped away. “Hello?”
“Boss, you in a place to talk?” That didn’t sound good.
“Just a second.” He got Eric’s attention. “I’m taking this in the other room.” He went to the formal dining room, his home office temporarily shunted in there until they could remake the guest room into something more permanent. “Okay. Talk to me.”
“Boss… I’ve got the cops in here. This place has been trashed. There is some serious fucking rage. What happened between those two?”
“Jesus. Eric says he didn’t treat Tim any different than anyone else—expected the kid to do the work, do his best, but he does that with all his kids.” Brock couldn’t believe Eric would have done anything to any of his kids to result in this. That just wasn’t how his lover worked. “Maybe blaming Eric is easier than blaming the person he’s really mad at.”
“Maybe. I don’t know, man, but you can’t let that little girl come over here. It’s… obscene.”
“I’m not letting anyone go over there.” He growled and started pacing, nudging boxes full of paperwork as he walked. “Is anything of hers okay? Just tell me if it’s not and we’ll go buy her a new fucking toy box.”
“Forensics is over here. Things that were put away look safe—there are boxes of old baby things, paperwork. The computer’s been smashed, everything in the kitchen. I don’t think any of Eric’s clothes are salvageable. They….” Gordon sighed. “They’re taking both mattresses for DNA.”
Brock felt his blood go cold. “He didn’t.”
“It’s foul, man. This kid’s one sick fuck. I’ll deal with the cops, the cleaning crew, but if he’s got some insurance, he’ll need to get them in. This place… I wouldn’t let anyone live here, not after what we’ve seen.”
“You let me know when the cops are finished with it, and I’ll get it sandblasted from top to bottom and put it on the market.” He wasn’t going to argue with Eric about this. “Should we expect the cops here later with questions?”
“Yeah. Max says we’ll come with his old partner, quiet and easy. I don’t want the little one to be all drama-drama.”
“We’re getting her ready for bed—do we need her at all for this or can we get her down first?” He didn’t want Josie anywhere near this.
“No. No, she won’t know anything about it.”
“Okay. I’ll make sure she’s down by eight. Come after that.”
He was pissed off. He wanted to punch someone. No, not someone, that little pissant who was taking his shit out on Eric and Josie.
“Okay, Boss. You’ll… you’ll warn him, huh? This is going to be hard.”
Yeah, not as hard as if they’d gone home themselves.
“Yeah, I’ll talk to him after we get Josie down.” He could hear them giggling and laughing.
“Okay. I’m going to make Jeff double security, just in case,” Gordon added.
“Are you sure doubling it is enough?” This guy was a freak.
“Yeah. You three aren’t going out on the town a lot. He’s not a hardened criminal, just a psycho.”
Well, yay.
“We’re good here.”
“Cool. What about the family? The sister from the hospital is outside.”
He shook his head. No. No, Eric had talked to his father, but hadn’t made a single move to speak with his twin. “Eric’s estranged from them.”
“Okay, that’s all I needed to know. See you around nine.”
“Thanks, Gordon. I’ll prepare Eric for you and the cops.”
He closed his cell phone and sighed. Shit. Fuck.
“Daddy Bee!” Josie came out of the bathroom in Eric’s arms, all wrapped in a towel.
“Put her down, Eric. No carrying.” He swatted Eric gently and found a smile for Josie. “Hey, honey.”
She reached for him, and Eric frowned. “Brock?”
He shook his head and grabbed her. “I’ve got you, honey. You all ready for your bedtime story?”
“Juice and cartoons?”
“You want cartoons or do you want Daddy and me to each read you a story?”
She stopped, chewed her bottom lip. “Two stories?”
Eric nodded. “That’s what Bee said.”
“’Kay. Two stories.”
He chuckled and put her on his shoulders, bending so they could get through the doorway. Eric followed soon after with a sippy cup of juice. They settled in together on her little bed and Brock read The Bunny Said Goodnight. Then Eric read Goodnight Moon, and by the end, Josie was beginning to nod off, little fingers wrapped around his ring finger.
Brock looked at that little hand next to his. She was so tiny and yet such a big presence.
He gently uncurled her fingers and put her hand on one of her stuffed animals. “Night, honey.”
Eric kissed her, lips barely brushing her skin. “Love you, Jo.”
Brock pulled the covers up, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead before heading out.
Eric let them get out of Josie’s room before trying to take his hand and asking, “Well? Who called?”
“Gordon. He’s coming after eight with Max’s old partner. The cops have questions.” He put his hand on Eric’s arm, led him to the living room. “It was bad at the house, baby.”
“Bad? Bad how? What happened? Do they need me over there?”
Brock was getting sick and tired of that panicky, sick look, was getting tired of being the one who put it there.
“No, they most certainly don’t. I think when the cops are done with it, I’m going to have them burn it down.” He sat on the sofa and pulled Eric down next to him. “Tim really did a number on the place.”
Eric stared at him, simply stared. “But. I, I should go. I have to. I can’t.”
“No,
you should not go. Gordon is there. They’ve called in the cops. They’re going to deal with the house. The cops are coming here to ask their questions. Trust me, baby. You don’t want to see the place like it is.”
He watched as Eric stood and started pacing, avoiding the toys strewn over his living room floor, hands wrapped around his waist. “What the fuck is going on? What is wrong with this kid?”
“I don’t know, but he’s one sick fuck. I don’t want you or Josie anywhere near the place.”
“I have to…. There are things there. I have to try to salvage what I can.”
He shook his head. “Gordon will arrange all that.”
“No. No, I can’t just sit here!” Eric’s stomach clenched visibly, and then he groaned, curling in on himself a little.
Brock grabbed hold of Eric and tugged the man down into his lap. “You’re not just sitting here. You’re taking care of your little girl and you’re healing.”
“What is all this about?” Eric looked at him, eyes more hurt than anything.
“I don’t know, baby. Something’s seriously fucked-up with that kid, and somehow he’s put it all on you.”
“He just seemed like a kid—a little sullen, a little isolated, maybe, but he had friends.”
He wracked his brain, searching for reasons. “Did you ever single him out for anything?”
“No. Not once. I swear to you, Brock. I never fucked with my kids.”
“I never believed for a second you did, baby. The cops are going to ask you that, though. You have to be ready for that.” He stroked his hand up and down along Eric’s back, fingers counting the bumps on Eric’s spine. “I’ll be right here, love. In your corner.”
Eric leaned into him, breath hitching a little.
“You’re a good man, baby. A good teacher. This kid is fucked-up—not you.”
“I just. Damn it. I fought hard—to get my job, to adopt Jo, now this shit.”
Brock nodded. “It’s not fair. But look, as long as you and Josie are okay, everything else is replaceable.”
“I know, but I’m mad, Brock.”
“Good. You should be. This isn’t right.” Mad made sense, and he liked it better than Eric feeling guilty.
“I don’t know what to do next.”
