“Maybe,” Jenny said. She just hoped Brandon hadn’t thrown a tantrum, or destroyed anything. She kept almost texting Xander, only she didn’t want him to feel like she didn’t trust him.
But she was getting more and more nervous. It was so important that things didn’t go wrong—not until Flynn had officially accepted them into the crew.
When they got back to the compound, she thanked Lissa and Caitlyn, and then took her shopping bags to the trailer. “Xander?” she called. “Brandon?”
No one was there. They were probably up at the main cabin.
She dropped her bags in the bedroom and headed up there, still trying to tell herself not to be nervous. It was just one afternoon. Everything was probably fine.
When she got to the cabin, she could hear hysterical laughter coming from the main room. She walked in just in time to hear Sloan saying, “Yup. Brandon was smack in the middle of the biggest pile of bear shit you ever saw, rubbing it all over himself. The kid looked like that emoji—just a pile of poop with eyes looking out.”
They all went into fits of laughter again. Jenny felt cold inside. Oh, no. Xander was probably furious.
Sloan was laughing too hard to continue, so Tank took up the story. “I thought Xander was going to bust a gut. He picks up Brandon and lugs him back here, with Brandon rubbing shit into his hair the whole way…”
That set them off again. “Oh my God, I wish I had pictures,” Lissa said.
Sloan whipped out his phone. “You think I passed up a photo op like that?” He started passing the phone around, then looked up and saw her. “Oh, hey, Jenny,” he said casually. “You looking for the poop twins?”
She nodded, too mortified to answer.
“They’re in the big bathroom in the back. They needed the mondo shower. I think they’re at the follow-up bath stage by now.”
“Thanks,” she managed. She headed down the hall to the huge, luxurious bathroom that served the two bedrooms at the back of the cabin.
She hoped Xander wasn’t too angry that his afternoon had been spoiled. She’d have to apologize, and…
She pushed open the bathroom door. Xander knelt on the floor by the huge bathtub, which was filled with bubbles. He was washing Brandon’s hair and making the suds into duck tails, while Brandon pushed his fleet of rubber duckies through the bathwater.
Xander was singing with him, “And the duckies go quack, quack, quack and the gooses go honk, honk, honk…”
Brandon looked up and saw her first. “Mommy!” he called out, bouncing in the tub and sending up little wavelets that splashed Xander. Luckily, he was wearing nothing but his cabana boy shorts, so he didn’t seem to mind.
“We hava showa!” Brandon said, pointing to the huge glassed-in shower. “Me an’ Daddy bofe! And I has a baff! An’ I found bib, bib poop!”
“I heard,” she said. She knelt down and picked up the sponge to rinse Brandon’s hair. “What did I tell you about being a good boy?”
“I be a dood boy,” Brandon said.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured to Xander. She hoped he wouldn’t get angry in front of Brandon. “I can’t believe you had to wash all that poop off him. That must have been awful.”
He got a small frown in the middle of his forehead.
“I be dood!” Brandon insisted.
Xander smiled down at him. “Yep, you are, buddy. The best.”
He took the sponge gently out of Jenny’s hand, turned on a trickle of water from the faucet, and soaked the sponge. Shielding Brandon’s eyes with his hand, he squeezed it, rinsing the soap out of Brandon’s hair.
“You know,” he said quietly, “when we were in Alexander Grant’s prison, sometimes he had us crowded six or eight shifters to a ten-by-twelve cell. There was one shower, one sink and one toilet for everyone, and half the time the toilets were backed up.”
Jenny didn’t say anything. Why was he telling her this?
“They used to take us out, a few at a time, and send us to the Professor for ‘training,’” he went on. “They were trying to teach us to shift only on command, to be guard dogs and cats, bodyguards. Sex slaves, for the females.”
Jenny gripped the side of the tub, the horror of it washing through her. Brandon was making quack, quack noises, still playing with the ducks.
“They’d beat us into submission, or use stun guns and cattle prods. They loooved their fucking electric weapons. They’d bring us back to the cells all torn up, covered in blood and burns and our own shit and piss.”
Xander squeezed another sponge full of water over Brandon’s hair, letting his hand rest on his son’s head for a moment.
“We’d clean each other up, if we had the strength. Or sometimes we’d be too fucking exhausted and messed-up, and we’d just lie there until we healed enough to move.” One of the duckies capsized, and Xander righted it gently and pushed it toward Brandon with a ‘quack.’
He said, “After a while you got used to the smell.”
Brandon slapped the water, splashing Xander’s face with bubbles, and he just smiled faintly and wiped them off. Then his face went sober again.
“So no, a little kid covered in bear shit wasn’t that big a deal. In fact, it was pretty fucking funny.”
“Daddy?” Brandon said.
“Just a second, buddy.” He turned and faced Jenny. “I know we haven’t been a family for very long,” he said, his voice low but intense. “And I know you think I’m a fuckup, and yeah, I guess maybe I am. I know Flynn and this crew have been carrying me for too long. I know I haven’t learned how to do all the mom shit you’ve been doing.”
“Daddy?”
“Xander, it’s not about that,” Jenny said. “It’s just—”
“But shit, Jenny, give me a fucking chance.” He held out the sponge she’d tried to take from him. “How the hell can I ever step up if you keep treating me like I can’t even give our kid a bath without—”
Brandon, having lost his patience, stood up with a growl. “Nobody listen!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
Flynn appeared in the doorway. “Everything okay in here?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Xander said, looking away from her, his mouth tight. “Jenny and I can finish this conversation later.”
Flynn looked from Brandon to them and back again. “I’ll take the kid,” he said. “You can finish it now.”
Before Jenny could protest, Xander picked up Brandon, wrapped him in a big towel and handed him to Flynn.
Jenny said, “No, really, I couldn’t ask you to—”
Xander put a hand on her arm. “He’s fine.” To her surprise, she got a little jolt of alpha energy from Xander. She was so taken aback she let Flynn carry Brandon out, his fists buried in Flynn’s dreadlocks.
She heard Flynn talking as he walked down the hall. “Rule #1. No pulling the alpha’s hair. Rule #2. Don’t laugh when the alpha tickles you.” Hysterical laughter from Brandon followed. “I said don’t laugh,” Flynn said. More laughter, fading away as they walked into the great room.
Jenny still felt uncomfortable. “I should go after him,” she said, biting her lips. “He’s the alpha. He shouldn’t have to—”
“Jenny.” Xander put his hand on her arm again. “You’re not at Broken Hill anymore, okay? Our alpha isn’t a fucked-up megalomaniac who punishes people for every little screw-up. And God knows, Flynn doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
She nodded. “I’m just not used to it,” she said. “And it’s not that I don’t trust you, or that I think you’re a bad father. I just want everything to be perfect. I want you to want us here. I want everybody to want us here.”
“Dammit, Jenny, of course we want you.”
He hugged her tight, then tilted her face up to his. “Here, we all have scars.” He traced the scar on her cheek with gentle fingers. “We all have problems. We all fuck up. Like, daily.” He kissed her forehead. “Nobody’s going to kick you out if you’re not perfect all the time.”
; She wanted to believe that. Because it would be so amazing, not to always have to try so hard. “I always felt like…” Like no one would love me if I wasn’t perfect.
“Like you had to try twice as hard to be half as good as everybody else?”
“Maybe,” she admitted.
“Mmm,” Xander said. “But if you were perfect all the time, you’d be too good for me.” He kissed her lips. “You probably already are.”
She shook her head. “You’re a very, very good man, Xander Fierro.”
He snorted. “How much did those girls give you to drink?” After a moment, though, he got serious again. “You really don’t have to try so hard, babe. Go ahead and make mistakes. Let your kid be a monument to poop. Spend all my money on crotchless underwear. Embrace the disaster that is us.”
Jenny laughed, tears welling in her eyes. “I love you, you know that? More even than I love your wangerdoodle.”
He kissed her nose. “Back atcha, babe. Although my wangerdoodle is pretty damn awesome.” He enfolded her in his arms again and held her tight.
From the kitchen came a lion roar, and more laughter from Brandon.
“Dammit!” Flynn bellowed.
Jenny and Xander sprang apart and stared at each other, eyes wide.
“Oh, God,” Jenny said. “What’s he done now?”
From down the hall, they heard Flynn’s annoyed voice. “Rule #3. Don’t pee on the alpha.”
Jenny closed her eyes. Xander was biting his lips and snorting with laughter. “What?” he said, as she glared at him. “That’s fucking funny.”
“He peed on Flynn!” she whispered. “Can I pretend he isn’t mine?”
Xander shrugged. “Flynn’s fault. Rule #4. Always carry a diaper.”
He grabbed a diaper out of a box on the counter and sauntered off, with Jenny following a few feet behind.
Xander strolled into the kitchen. “Flynn. Think fast.” He lobbed the folded-up diaper at him. Flynn snagged it out of the air, spread it on the counter, plunked Brandon’s butt in the middle of it and did up the tapes with shifter speed.
Xander got out a rag and spray cleaner and started cleaning up the pee that hadn’t landed on Flynn.
He said to Flynn, “Isn’t it going to be fun when everybody starts having cubs?”
“Jesus fuck,” Flynn said. “I’m moving to Tahiti.”
But Jenny saw him tousle Brandon’s hair affectionately after he set him back on the floor.
She leaned against the back of the living-room couch and watched them—Xander finishing up the cleaning, Flynn popping goldfish crackers into his mouth and giving every third or fourth one to Brandon. Trying to wrap her head around the fact that she didn’t have to do everything herself anymore.
Brandon ran over and flung himself against her leg.
“I pee on Alfacat!”
Jenny bit her lips to keep from smiling. “That’s against the rules, sweetheart.”
“Rule numba fee.”
“That’s right.”
Her phone rang, but it was a strange number. Was Anthea somewhere that she couldn’t use her cell? No one else would be calling her.
She hit the green button. “Hello?”
It was the last person she’d expected it to be—and the last person she wanted to hear from.
Alton.
“Jenny, Jenny, Jenny,” he said, his voice slithering into her stomach like snakes. “You took my son and hid him from me. Did you really think I’d let you get away with that?”
Chapter 22
“How did you get this number?”
It infuriated Jenny that her voice shook. Hearing Alton’s voice sent her right back to being a scared little bunny, on the lowest rung of the Broken Hill ladder. Xander went still, his cleaning rag in mid-air, his attention totally focused on her.
Flynn put down the goldfish bag, poised for a threat.
“You thought you could hide from me? You thought I wouldn’t find you?” Alton laughed, that soft, crazy laugh that made her stomach twist. Nothing good ever happened after that laugh.
“Stay away from me,” she said. “Stay away from my son.”
“I’ll always find you, Jenny,” was all he said. “Bring my son back to Broken Hill, or I’m coming for you myself.”
Xander lunged for the phone, but Alton was already gone.
He looked at Jenny’s face. “That was him, wasn’t it.”
She nodded. Xander clenched the rag in his fists. “Fuck,” he said. “Did he threaten you?”
She nodded again.
“Dammit, Flynn,” Xander said. “Can I go out there and kill him?”
Brandon looked up. “Kill it?” he asked, sounding interested.
“Not unless you want to end up alpha of his fucking clan,” Flynn said. “If he comes here, though, be my guest.”
“He knows where I am,” Jenny said. “At least, he says he does.”
“Cindi must have told him.” Xander snarled.
“Or he got it out of her,” Jenny said. She knew what Alton could do when he wanted to know something. He was relentless, and he didn’t care how much pain he caused.
“Shit,” Flynn said, watching her face. “What did he do to you?”
Xander stepped back, his eyes dark with concern. “Jenny?”
She bit her lips, shame washing over her. “He’d punish me, if I did something he didn’t like, or he asked me something and I didn’t answer, or he thought I was lying.”
Xander’s voice deepened to a growl. “Punish you how?”
She hunched in on herself. “Hit me, mostly, or pull my hair, or twist my arm up behind my back.” Xander’s cat was growling now, and his claws sprang out of his fingertips. “Or sometimes lock me in the closet.”
Her cat hated that. The dark and the closed-in feeling. The stuffy air, not knowing when they’d get out…but if she broke out it made it worse. She’d only done that once.
Xander paced back and forth, his claws extending and retracting. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t believe he did that shit to you.”
“It’s okay.” She just wanted him not to be so upset.
Xander put his hands on her shoulders. “It is not okay. You did not deserve that, not even if you fucked up all the time, which you did not. If I ever get my claws on him…”
Flynn spoke up. “As satisfying as it would be to rip that fucker apart,” he said, “and as much as paperwork pisses me off, I think we need to go through official channels on this.”
Xander turned to him. “Like you did with Brody? Get Broken Hill to release Jenny and Brandon and register them with the Bad Bloods?”
“He won’t let us go,” Jenny said.
“Yeah,” Flynn replied. “But we need to start there. We’ll get blood samples and have Mina Reston do a DNA match in her lab. We’ll take that to Broken Hill. If Raines won’t acknowledge it, we can take it to the Shifter Council.”
He gave Jenny one of his feral grins. “And if that’s the way it goes down, I know a kickass Negotiator—and he fucking thinks he owes me one. But we’ll start with Broken Hill.”
Chapter 23
It took almost two weeks to set everything up. They ordered the tests and put together paperwork, and Flynn set up a meeting with the Broken Hill Clan.
Alton refused to attend, despite his threats. He was sending two lieutenants. Jenny figured that he didn’t want to be forced to confront the results of the DNA test in front of his top advisors—or at all. Losing was not something Alton did gracefully.
Neither was admitting that he was wrong.
The meeting had been set for a neutral location in Nashville—a rented conference room in a downtown hotel. Flynn had tried to get it to take place on Bad Blood territory, within the protection of his magical boundaries, but the Broken Hill representatives refused.
Each side could only have two representatives—that was also a Broken Hill stipulation. Flynn figured going to war so often had made them paranoid about ambushes. Or maybe they ju
st didn’t have many men to spare.
“I’m going,” Xander said immediately. “This is my family we’re talking about.”
Flynn nodded. “The rest of the crew can stay here with Jenny and Brandon,” he said. “Just in case that fucker tries anything.”
Xander didn’t know either of the Broken Hill panthers that came for the meeting. Bledsoe and Carruthers. They made him uneasy; they talked like corporate types, but they looked like brawlers.
They launched into a bunch of long-winded shit about all the reasons why Broken Hill couldn’t let go of Jenny and Brandon.
Jenny was supposedly so valuable as a breeder. (Like they’d ever treated her as valuable. And…breeder. Fuck.)
She was a treasured consort of the alpha. (Who kept her in rags, and locked her in closets when she didn’t agree with him, for fuck’s sake.)
And Brandon was the alpha’s son (fucking bullshit), marked by prophecy as the one to lead the clan into the future (more fucking bullshit).
They could maybe see their way clear to releasing Jenny to the Bad Bloods—for a price—but certainly not Brandon (non-fucking-negotiable).
The argument raged on until one of the Broken Hill reps got a text message. He glanced at his phone, gave a nod to his partner, and sat back in his chair, rolling his shoulders like he was getting ready for a fight.
He shut his file and tore it in half. “At least we can forget about this bullshit now.”
Fear stabbed through Xander. “What the hell are you talking about?”
At that moment, Flynn’s phone rang. Sloan.
He snatched it up. “What the fuck?” he barked.
Xander could hear Sloan, faintly, but he was breaking up. “…under attack… fifteen minutes ago… Jenny…” The call went dead.
Xander was across the table in a second, papers scattering everywhere. He grabbed Corporate Douche Bledsoe around his neck and put his favorite knife to the fucker’s throat. “Whatever you’re doing to my family and my crew, stop it. Now,” he said to Carruthers. “Or I’ll cut his throat right here, and worry about hotel security later.”
Bad Blood Panther (Bad Blood Shifters Book 4) Page 13
