Chapter Seventeen

“You did good tonight, kid,” Spencer said, driving Matt back to the shelter. “Really good.” A hell of a lot better than Spencer had expected. Maybe Spencer had been wrong about the kid.

Matt grunted. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

Spencer smiled. “Ditto. What happened Tuesday?”

“I was gonna meet my friends.”

“You mean those douchebags who stopped by tonight?”

Matt nodded.

“And did you?” He’d never shown at the Triad.

“Nah.”

“What’d you do instead?” Instead of meeting Starr.

Matt shrugged. “Walked around.” Matt looked at Spencer, eyes almost squinting. “So, what’s your story? I know you said Starr was sick and all, but you could’ve canceled.”

“I’m just trying to help.” Weak. Matt’s raised brow said the kid agreed. More interesting was that the kid had asked in the first place—and that he seemed to care about the answer. “How about this,” Spencer said. “You tell me what those two goons wanted earlier, and I’ll tell you why I’m here tonight.”

“I dunno.” He shifted his gaze to Spencer to see his reaction, and it was Spencer’s turn to raise a brow, waiting for a better response.

Matt shrugged. “They’re just gonna go mess with some guy’s store tonight.”

“Why?”

Matt squirmed in his seat. “I dunno. Little Joe always has a reason.”

There was nothing little about either kid, except maybe their brains. “The one losing his pants, was that Little Joe?”

Matt cracked a smile. “Yeah.”

Spencer pulled Starr’s Jetta up to the Family Shelter. “You can’t go with them.”

“They’re the only friends I got. They say I’m out if I don’t show.”

Spencer put the car in park and stared at the boy, seeing himself in the kid’s words. Doing something for his so-called friends that he knew was wrong, that he knew was illegal, and that he knew would get him in a crapload of trouble, maybe even ruin his life, if—when—it went wrong.

“You know what it’s like, don’t you?” Matt whispered.

Damn, it was like Starr’s open-book-face syndrome was infectious.

“You know what it’s like,” Matt repeated with more confidence. “That, and you like Starr.” Matt’s eyes were wide, almost hopeful.

Fine. “You’re right about the first one. I do know what it’s like. I got into a whole shi—I mean, a lot of trouble when I was your age.”

“I thought you were a big-ass New York lawyer.”

Spencer’s lips twitched. So much for the language. “Yeah, I am. Now. But back then, I was just a little jerk looking for trouble.”

“What happened? What’d you do?”

“I stole something, just like you. And it wasn’t my first time, just like you.”

Matt started to protest but then thought better and closed it.

“The first time I got caught, it was a baseball glove.”

“Why a glove?”

Spencer shrugged. “It was a dare. Why my wallet?”

“It was a dare.”

Spencer raised his brows in a non-verbal “see?” look. “I only got probation, just like you probably will. But the second time, I wasn’t even involved. I was there, but I didn’t do anything. I didn’t smash the guy’s car windows or slash his tires. I just watched—and ran like hell when the police came.”

“What happened?”

“I didn’t run fast enough. It was my second offense in under a year, and this time the value of the destroyed property was a lot more than the cost of a baseball glove.” Spencer drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I spent two months in juvenile detention—an entire summer in hell, defending myself from a building full of Little Joes.”

Matt’s eyes widened. Good, he should be afraid.

“After that,” Spencer continued, “I still had to complete a diversion program. Seventy-five hours of community service.”

“All that for a few smashed windows?”

“The car’s body was trashed; the sledgehammer saw to that.” Not to mention the owner’s brother-in-law was a DA. Talk about irony.

“How’d you do it? How’d you get out?”

Spencer looked directly into Matt’s eyes. “Luck. I graduated that year and got out of town as soon as I could.”

“Alone? What about your parents?”

Parents, ha. The only parenting he got came in the form of a monthly allowance check sent to the boarding school’s headmaster—his parents couldn’t even manage a letter to Spencer, just like they couldn’t manage to show up for his court dates, or for that matter, his graduation. They’d been too busy jet-setting across Europe to raise a child. Which was why the only thing Spencer was interested in once he graduated was building his own life. Alone.

“You’re lucky there, kid,” Spencer said. “You’ve got your mom; you’ve got people like Starr who care about you. I had no one.”

Matt shrank back in his seat.

“Weren’t you scared, all alone?”

Spencer looked out into the dark street. “Sometimes I’m still scared.” Especially at night. Although his women friends certainly helped with that. “But I knew I was better than most of those kids in juvie.” He looked at Matt. “I was smarter. Just like you are.” It sounded so simple, though it was anything but. It would’ve been a lot easier if he’d had some help. Help like Starr offered, help like Spencer could.

Spencer checked his watch. Eight thirty. Destiny would be telling JJ to get ready for bed soon, since it was a school night. If he hurried, he could get back and say good night before JJ fell asleep.

“Nice watch,” Matt said, clearly impressed.

Spencer looked at his G-Shock, a gag birthday gift from Jase last month. The only reason he’d dug it out of his sock drawer was because his Rolex was getting repaired and Spencer had felt naked without the feel of a watch around his wrist. But it was bulky and had too many buttons. The thing did everything but make coffee. The Rolex was more his style.

He unclasped it. “Here. You take it.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, on one condition: you don’t go meet your friends tonight.”

Fear flashed across Matt’s face. Spencer recognized the look and never wanted to see it again—and he shouldn’t have to. Spencer was a fixer; he could fix this.

“You don’t meet your friends tonight or tomorrow or the next night,” Spencer repeated. “And I promise I’ll help you and your mom get out of this place.” He nodded toward the shelter. Warnings whispered rather than blared in the back of Spencer’s brain. They were easy to ignore. “I promise.”

Matt held the watch gingerly in his fingers. “Deal.” He clasped it around his wrist and smiled, pride and trust in his eyes. The boy trusted him. Both cool and scary. Spencer’s gut twisted, and his thoughts inadvertently slid to Starr. What would it feel like to see that same look of pride and trust in her eyes?

“What about the other thing?” Matt wiggled his eyebrows, the look saying Spencer’s face was, once again, totally readable.

“What other thing?” Spencer punted.

Matt’s eyebrows kept wiggling. “You like her, don’t you?”

Spencer had already told the kid revealing stuff. Why stop now? “Yeah, I like her.”

“But you live in New York. How’s that gonna work?”

“I have no frickin’ clue.”

…

Hours later, Spencer moved down the hall in boxers and no shirt, his typical sleepwear. It was past midnight, and though he was past the time zone jet lag thing, he still couldn’t sleep, not with Starr and Matt and the ski hill and MogulMania running through his brain. Who was he kidding? It was mostly Starr.

He cracked open her bedroom door, just to check on her and make sure she was okay. God, she was beautiful, curled on her side as she was. An urge to wrap himself around her, spoon her, rumbled in Spencer’s chest.

She turned, moaning softly. Then she moaned again, this time her cry a bit louder. Her eyes solidly shut, her fists clenched the edges of her covers and twisted and twisted. Again, she cried out, this time loud enough that, not wanting to wake JJ, Spencer stepped inside the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Her body continued to fight the sheets. “No…please…help…”

Instantly, Spencer was beside her, cocooning her. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his cheek resting on her head as he hugged. “You’re safe; I promise.”

After a moment, her body stilled against his, and she fell back into a quiet sleep. Spencer kissed her hair, his fingers stroking her arm. Safe. Promise. He’d been doing a lot of promising tonight. Spencer waited for a gutful of nails to poke his insides and that what-the-hell-are-you-doing anxiety to pour through the holes. Instead, all he felt was the warmth of Starr’s backside pressed against his stomach, her rhythmic breaths calming him, lulling him to sleep.

If this was karma, he certainly could get used to it.