Rougaroux Social Club 4: Bayou des Enfants

by LynnLorenz

Ginnie opened the door, greeting them with a huge smile, and Ted nearly snorted.

  I’ll bet she’s happy. She’s getting rid of those kids.

  “Hi, Scott. Ted. Right on time. Come on in.”

  Ted expected to see two suitcases waiting for them in the hall and the boys, but the welcoming foyer was empty.

  “The boys are in the backyard. We can come in here and chat first.” She led the way to the back of the house. An eat-in kitchen opened to a family room, pointing to the large, plush sectional sofa. Ted and Scott sat, and Ginnie sat in the chair across from them.

  “Thanks for keeping them, Ginnie. I know it was longer than you’d planned.”

  “Nonsense. I only wish I could do more.” She gave a little frown and shrug. “But I’m so happy they will be here, in the pack.”

  “At least for now.” Scott sighed. “What have you told them?” He cleared his throat. “About us?”

  “Just that you were going to pick them up and they would stay with you until things were settled. Was that okay? Too little?”

  “It’s just fine. We’ll handle the rest.” Scott exhaled and rubbed his hands on his thighs, a sure sign to Ted that Scott’s nerves were strung tight. He reached out and put his hand on Scott’s shoulder, giving him a soft squeeze to reassure him.

  Ginnie nodded and stood. “I’ll go get them.” She went to the back door and outside.

  Ted looked at Scott. “It’ll be fine. We get the boys, go to their house, pick up some stuff they need, and go home.” That was their plan. Easy. Unless it fell apart. And with these kids, who knew what could happen?

  The door opened, and Ginnie and three boys entered. She bent down and spoke to one of the younger boys, and he nodded and left the room. The other boys stared at Scott and Ted.

  “Charles. Timothy. Sheriff Dupree and Mr. Canedo are here to pick you up. You’ll go with them, like I told you. All right?”

  Timothy turned huge liquid eyes up at her as he clung to her hand. “’kay.”

  Charles glared at them. “If you say so.”

  A charged silence hung in the air.

  Scott stood to his full height. “No. I’m alpha, and I say so. From now on, you boys are my responsibility. Mine and Mr. Canedo’s.” He nodded at Ted, still sitting on the couch. Ted gave the kids a nod, trying not to look threatening. Scott was doing a fine job of that all by himself.

  “Now go upstairs, gather your stuff, and come back down. We’re going to go to your house, and you can pick up some of your things. Then we’ll go to our house.”

  “Things? Like toys?” Timothy’s little brow was furrowed as he looked from his brother to Ted.

  “Sure. Clothes and books. We don’t have a lot of room, but I’m sure we can select some of your favorites.” Ted smiled, trying to reassure.

  The little blond nodded. “Come on, Charlie.” He dropped Ginnie’s hand and took his brother’s hand, pulling hard. Charles didn’t move an inch.

  Merde. This wasn’t starting off well at all.

  Charles and Scott were in the middle of a staring match. Scott cocked an eyebrow, ramping up his alpha wolf vibe, and the boy backed down.

  “I’m coming.” He turned and walked away. Ginnie followed them with a worried look over her shoulder at Scott and Ted.

  “For a minute, I thought you two were going to come to blows.” Ted rolled his eyes at his lover. “The alpha thing was a bit much.”

  “He needs to know pack order and respect. His father should have taught him about it.” Scott grimaced.

  “He’s just a kid.” Ted sank back against the sofa.

  “He’s a werewolf. He can never forget who he is.”

  “Aren’t you being a little hard on him?” Ted had no idea what it was like to grow up as a werewolf, but he remembered being a kid. A kid with an attitude. But at least he hadn’t had an asshole for a father like Charles had.

  “Maybe. But he’s got a lot of learning ahead of him, and he’s running out of time. His father didn’t do him any favors—”

  “What did you say about my dad?” Charles stormed into the room, slung his overnight bag to the floor, and faced off with Scott. “Don’t you ever talk about my dad!” The kid looked like he might shift and attack. If he did, would there be a wolf puppy sitting there? Ted had never seen anything but a grown wolf.

  Timothy stood behind his brother, clutching his duffel bag, his worried gaze darting between all of them. He took a step back, sort of fading away until he bumped into Ginnie’s legs. She put her hands on his shoulders.

  Ted understood what Scott was saying about Charles’s lack of control and his attitude. If he could really shift, he’d be dangerous. Especially, if he was a large teen or a full-grown man.

  “Whoa!” Ted put his hands out in a calming motion as he stepped between them. He faced Scott. “Apologize,” he whispered under his breath.

  Scott growled low in his throat. Ted held his breath and his ground, unsure what his wolf would do, but Scott needed to calm down. Two riled wolves wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  Scott’s shoulders went down, and he exhaled. Ted stepped aside so Scott could see the kid.

  “I’m sorry, Charles. I shouldn’t have spoken about your father like that.”

  Charles’s jaw dropped, and his eyes went wide, then narrowed. “Okaaay.”

  Ted smiled. “Did you get everything?” He looked over at Timothy, who nodded. “You, Charles?”

  “Yeah.” Charles nodded.

  “Yes, Mr. Canedo.” Ted kept his voice soft and undemanding, as if he were coaxing a strung-out junkie with a gun not to shoot him. He jerked his thumb at Scott. “Just call him Sheriff.”

  “Mr. Canedo. Sheriff.” Charles just managed to keep attitude out of his voice, but the tension in his shoulders and his tight fists screamed rebellion.

  “Good. Let’s head ’em up and move ’em out.” Ted circled his hand in the air like he was swinging a lasso. The boys went to their bags and picked them up. He shepherded them to the front door as Scott and Ginnie brought up the rear.

  Ted got to the car and opened the back door. The boys climbed in. “Buckle up.” He watched as they fastened the seat belts and settled down. He closed the door, leaned against it, and turned to Scott, who had paused to say good-bye to Ginnie.

  “Look. Take it easy. You’re the alpha. He knows it. He’s just pushing his limits.” Ginnie grinned at them. “Restraint is the better part of valor…with kids.”

  “He’s going to push—”

  “Do I have to remind you that you are the adult?” Ted tilted his head at his mate.

  Scott put his hand on the top of the car as if bracing himself. “I know. I blew it.” He searched the sky as if looking for strength.

  “Go easy on yourself. This is new for all of us. You can do this, Scott, but not if you constantly confront that kid. You need to pick your battles, even I know that much.” Ted pointed to the car.

  “Got it.”

  “Let’s get this over with. I want to go home. I need a beer.” Scott sighed.

  “No beer, remember?” Ginnie reminded them.

  “Merde.”

  “No cursing either. Cajun or English.” She laughed. “Good luck!” She waved as she went back to the house.

  Ted groaned as he opened the door and got behind the wheel. Scott got in the passenger seat.

  “Boys, we’re going to your old house first.” Scott turned to look over the seat.

  “Okay.” Timothy nodded and clutched his bag to his chest. “I want my pillow.”

  “Sure, Timothy.” Scott turned to Charles. “What do you want?”

  “Not a stupid pillow.” He pursed his lips, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared out of the window. Attitude poured off the kid, and Scott’s hackles rose again. Merde. Wolves.

  “I’m sure Timothy doesn’t think his pillow is stupid, do you?”

  “Nope. My pillow is good. It helps me sleep.” Timothy nodded. “And I want some of my toys. Is that all rig
ht?”

  “Sure. Charles, what toys are you bringing?” Ted tried to include the older boy in hopes of earning his trust. Just like when you had a suspect. Establish a connection. Win their trust. God, this was so hard.

  “Nothing.” Charles kept staring at Scott. This was usually when suspects called for a lawyer.

  “Well, we’ll see once we get there.” Scott turned back around and gave Ted a sideways look that screamed help me. Hey, wasn’t Scott the one who was supposed to be into kids? He was the one who wanted this, so why the hell was he looking to Ted?

  Icy silence from the backseat.

  Ted sighed. Scott owed him, big time, for this fiasco.

  They rolled up to the house and parked in the driveway. Both boys sat in the backseat, staring out the window. Neither of them spoke. Charles scratched his nose.

  Scott glanced at Ted, who shrugged. He had no idea what to do other than get out of the car and start the boys moving. He just wanted this to be over with and go home.

  “Hey! That’s Mommy’s car.” Timothy pointed. “She’s home!” He struggled with the seat belt. “She’s not dead! See! Charlie, see!”

  From beside Scott, Ted groaned under his breath. This wasn’t good.

  “Let me out! She’s here!” He pulled and yanked on the belt, fumbling with the clasp in a near-desperate state. Giving up on the belt, he scrabbled at the handle of the door to get it open. “You lied! She’s here!”

  Ted’s gut spasmed like he’d been hit. Poor kid. This sucked.

  “Shut up, Timmy. She’s dead. Dad’s dead.” Charles growled. “She parked the car, dummy. They were in Dad’s car, right, Sheriff?”

  Timothy froze, his hands on the door handle. Scott turned to face him. “I’m afraid so, Timothy. She left the car here.”

  “Oh.” Timothy blew the word out, as if all the air in his lungs went with it, and he sank back against the seat.

  Ted got out of the car and opened the rear door. “Come on, boys. Let’s go inside.”

  Timothy looked up at him, eyes like huge blue questioning pools. “I can’t work the belt. It’s stuck.” The kid begged him for help, but Ted had no idea how to help him. His parents were dead. There was no getting past that fact.

  Ted leaned in and hit the button. It released, and the child eased himself out. On the other side, Scott had opened Charles’s door.

  The older boy got out and slammed it shut, then glared up at Scott as if daring him to say something. Scott just raised an eyebrow and clamped his lips shut. Thank goodness he had the sense to know this wasn’t the time, no matter what Charles did to provoke him.

  Scott opened the trunk, and he and Ted took out the empty luggage Ted had picked up at their place.

  “We need to go in through the back door, kids.” He led the way to the back, the kids behind him and Ted bringing up the rear.

  They went inside, Scott holding the door as the boys looked around.

  Charles stopped for a moment as if he’d hit a wall. Scott watched him, afraid he’d go off like a bomb. But he stiffened, then moved to his room.

  Ted jerked his head in the kid’s direction, and Scott followed, one bag over his shoulder and rolling a suitcase behind him.

  Ted waited for Timothy to make a move or say something. The little boy looked small and…alone. He turned in a circle, his brows together, and sniffed.

  “I can smell her.” He looked at Ted. “I smell my mom. Are you sure she’s not here?”

  Ted opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He should say something, but he was afraid to say the wrong thing. What could he possibly say to this child? He wasn’t ready for this shit, and it hit him that he might never be ready for it.

  Ted cleared his throat at last. “Yeah. She’s not here, honey. That happens sometimes. Guess it’s your werewolf sense of smell.” How did you explain this to a child? Where the hell was Scott? He should be dealing with this, not Ted.

  “Oh.” Timothy sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “Can I get my toys now?”

  “Sure.” Ted nodded. “Let’s go. I’ll help you.”

  “’kay.” Timothy moved down the hallway to his bedroom. Each boy had his own. They’d have to share at Scott’s place.

  Timothy stood in the middle of his room. He sniffled.

  “You said you want your pillow, remember?” Ted put the luggage down.

  “Yeah.” He went to the bed and pulled it off, then tossed it on the floor, the start of a pile. He gathered his things, favorite books, toys, a small box of building blocks, and placed them all on top of the pillow as Ted watched.

  “What about your clothes?”

  Timothy went to the dresser and pulled out socks and underwear, dumping them in a new group. He opened his closet and stood there.

  “All of it?” He turned and looked at Ted.

  “No. How about five pants or shorts and seven T-shirts? That should hold you for a while.”

  “’kay.” He jerked things off the hangers and tossed them. Once done, he nudged the clothes with his toe. “This is enough?”

  “Sure. We can come back in a week or so and get some more if you want.”

  Timothy nodded. Ted picked up the duffel bag and opened it. He went to the toys and put the bag next to them. “How about you fill this up, and I’ll pack your clothes? We’ll have a race to see who finishes first, okay?” Kids liked games, right?

  The boy nodded, went to the toys, got on his knees, and began to fill the bag, less than enthused. Ted scooped up the clothes in his arms, took them to the bed, and began folding them.

  “Uh, Mr. Ted?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are we orphans?” The little boy looked up at him, eyes damp and threatening. And Ted didn’t like the way his little button nose hinted at running. If the kid started crying, Ted didn’t know what the hell to do.

  Ted stopped and sat on the bed. He let out a huge sigh. “Technically, yes. An orphan doesn’t have a mom or dad, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a family. I’m new to this pack stuff, but it looks like the pack is your family, and there’s plenty of folks in the pack. And the sheriff and me? We’re going to take care of you both, just like parents.”

  “But only for a little while, right?” He tossed another toy in the bag.

  “Yes. But we’re going to find a…” Ted remembered something he’d heard once. “…a forever family for both of you. And they will be your new parents.”

  “Okay.” Timothy nodded, looking a little more relaxed.

  “How’s it going over there?” Ted glanced up.

  “Good.”

  Timothy had put most of the toys away, so Ted slowed down, giving the boy a chance to win. After their talk, Ted’s heart ached. This little boy needed to feel safe. Cared for. Loved.

  Ted wanted it for the kid. He just wasn’t sure if he could deliver, but he was sure Scott had it in him. If he could love Ted, he could love this child. Timothy’s brother was another matter. That was a child only a mother could love.

  Once Ted had the clothes folded, he got the suitcase, opened it, and transferred the pile to it.

  “Almost done. How about you?” Ted grinned at Timothy.

  The kid zipped up the bag. “Done!” He smiled at Ted.

  Ted closed the top and zipped it. “You beat me!” He frowned.

  Timothy smiled, shy and tentative.

  “Can you carry it? Or is it too heavy?”

  “I can do it!” Timothy picked it up and slung the strap over his small shoulder. It nearly took him to the ground. He staggered and dropped it.

  “Here. Mine’s too heavy for me. Let’s swap.” Ted made a big deal out of lifting the suitcase. “Look, this one rolls.” He extended the handle and rolled it over to Timothy.

  The boy took it from him, and Ted put the bag’s strap over his shoulder.

  Without looking back, Timothy led the way out of the room and down the hall.

  Ted wondered how Scott had made out with Charles. He hadn’t heard any shoutin
g or screaming, and Scott hadn’t discharged his weapon, so that was a good sign, right?

  Chapter Ten

  Scott was going to kill this brat if it was the last thing he did. Could he have more attitude? Or be more surly? Or more rude?

  He’d made a huge mistake taking these boys in. These boys were not what he had in mind when he’d dreamed of having children. He’d wanted his own kids before he’d met and claimed Ted, and since then, he’d thought about a surrogate, not adoption. He and Ted hadn’t discussed it in depth, just a few vague conversations, but Ted had agreed sometime in the future to raise a child together.

  But now?

  Ted was going to kick his ass over this. And he’d take it gladly. If he could kick himself, he would.

  “So what do you want?” Scot held out a duffel bag. Charles stomped over, snatched it out of his hand, and threw it on the floor. Scott held his breath and counted slowly to ten. Unclenched his hands. Exhaled.

  Reminded himself who this kid’s father had been—a bully and a jerk. The boy had a lot to relearn, including respect and controlling his anger.

  Charles stalked around the room, grabbing toys, books, and games from the shelves and dumping them into the bag until it was full. He finished and stood there, hands on his hips, as if daring Scott to say something.

  Scott was not going to be egged on by a brat. He smiled. “Good job.”

  Charles narrowed his eyes.

  “Clothes in the suitcase.” Scott pointed to the open bag on the bed. “Just pick some out, and we’ll make do for a week or so. Make sure you bring underwear and socks.”

  Charles glared. “I’m not an idiot. I know what to bring.” He jerked open the first drawer and flung his tighty-whities into the case. Socks followed. Charles moved to the closet, snapping clothes off hangers so hard they spun around the rod or flew off.

  The kid had anger issues, for damn sure. Not for the first time, Scott thought he was out of his depth.

  Best to just let him rage. After all, his mom and dad were dead.

  Scott remembered how angry he’d been after his father had died. He’d been a teenager, a bit rebellious, but to Scott his dad was everything, and he’d admired and respected him. He’d argued more with his mom than his dad.