BROCK PICKED up the phone after the second ring. “Hello?” There was silence for a long moment, and Brock repeated his greeting.
“I know where you live.”
“Who is this?” The dial tone was his only answer.
Growling, he dialed Gordon’s number. It rang three or four times, and then he heard Gordon’s growly, “Yeah, Boss?”
“That son of a bitch has my phone number. I want this kid caught, Gordon. Caught and locked the fuck up.”
“You and me both, Boss. Max just got his walking papers. Excessive force.”
“What? No way! No damn way. People were being shot—dying! Max is a damn hero.” Brock started pacing, shoes clicking on the marble floor.
“Tell that to the chief.” Gordon sounded furious. “The kid who died? His folks are suing for sixty-five million dollars.”
“Then we’re going to countersue. Those kids took Eric’s baby girl and one of them had a gun. They’re the bad guys here, not Max. Not any of us.”
“No shit.” Gordon’s voice trailed off. “You say he has your phone number, Boss? How?”
“I don’t know. It was the apartment number, not my cell or work. You have any ideas on how he could get that? I’m not listed.”
“Well, did Mr. Wilson have it at his house?”
Oh, fuck.
“Yeah, he would have. Didn’t the cops lock that place down tight?” Ellora’d given him his key back.
“How the fuck would I know? I’ve been in the hospital and home. I’d think so, but… they’re looking for McCarthy.”
“Well, they can find him at the other end of my fucking phone.”
“Okay. Give me a few hours, I’ll be there to trace. I’m bringing Max. We’ll check your security, beef it up.”
“Thanks, Gordon. I couldn’t think of any two people I’d rather have on this.”
“Anytime, Boss. You know that.” The line went dead.
He hung up and paced in front of the long living room windows. Did he tell Eric, or not? It already felt like they were under siege, between the full-time security and the paparazzi who seemed to find them anytime they left the apartment. Hell, Eric hadn’t been able to meet his new goddaughter, or do more than assure his father that things were being taken care of and that he didn’t need help.
Eric came in from the kitchen, three plates in hand. “Sandwich? It’s lunchtime.”
“Um. Yeah, okay. Sure.” He tried to shake it off; Josie would be looking for a smile and a hug.
“You okay?” Eric put the plates on the fancy dining room table, then moved back toward the kitchen.
He nodded. “Yeah. Gordon and Max are coming over later.”
“Are they? Is Gordon feeling better?” This time a little sippy cup and two glasses were put on the table.
“Gordon’s fine.” He figured Eric was going to hear it in a few hours anyway, better to let him know now while Josie was still in her room. “Max got fired.”
Eric looked up at him, winced. “Oh God. Oh, Brock. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too. He saved our lives and it’s a shitty payback.”
“I…. How can I make this right?”
“This isn’t your fault, Eric. I just thought you should know. Ergo, he’s coming with Gordon later this afternoon.”
“Cool. I’d like to say thank you. Jo, come eat your lunch.”
The phone rang again. Brock growled softly and picked it up, looking at the incoming call number. Unknown. Again.
He clicked answer and growled out, “What?”
“I’m going to blow his fucking head off.” Then the line went dead again.
Josie came in, face and hands soaking wet.
Brock had to work to keep from swearing out loud. He gave Josie a tight smile. “I just need to check on something.”
He headed for the front door, checking the peephole before going out. “Jeff. Have there been any problems?”
“Not a thing, sir.” Jeff frowned, one eyebrow arching. “Is everything all right inside?”
“Yes, everything is fine. But I’ve been getting calls on the apartment phone. Threats. Keep your eyes open. I’ve called Gordon—he’s on his way.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll call in reinforcements as well.” He thought for a second that Jeff would salute him, the military service still so recent it squeaked.
“Good. We should have someone downstairs at the front door. I’ll be keeping the dead bolt on the door locked, too.” Brock clapped Jeff on the shoulder.
“Yes, sir. I’ll get on it.”
Eric was standing at the table, wiping Josie’s face. “Is everything okay?”
“Let’s have lunch.” He gave Eric a look and then glanced at Josie before smiling at Eric again. “What kind of sandwiches are these?”
“You and I have turkey. Jo has peanut butter and banana.”
“How come Josie gets the good stuff?” he demanded, giving her a wink.
“’Cause I’s the girl.”
Brock’s mouth dropped open for a moment, and then he started to laugh. Josie and Eric laughed with him, all of them settling in to eat like a normal family. He tried to ignore what had been going on, the phone calls and the press and all the crap.
Josie finished eating quickly and headed back to her room to occupy herself, probably with coloring. Eric had told Lacy to go on part-time status as soon as he was barely functional.
“She seems pretty happy.” That was important. He didn’t want it to change, and certainly not because of some punk asshole who wanted a higher grade and then had turned that into some vendetta against anyone he thought had wronged him.
“She does. It worries me a little bit, that she never asks about going home, never asks about her day care. Never talks about being taken.”
“You think it’s festering?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had this happen before.”
“You think we should have someone come talk to her?” He had the money to hire the best; Stephanie had already found out for him who that was. All it would take was a phone call.
Eric shrugged, then braced himself against the table. “Maybe? God, I don’t know. I don’t know about any of this. Hell, what about you, Brock? Don’t you want your life back? Your home?”
“Do I?” It was a question he’d deliberately not examined.
“What?” Eric looked completely confused.
Of course, that was when his phone rang again. He growled at it. Number unknown. He debated whether or not to answer it or just wait until Gordon was there to deal with it.
“Is everything okay, Brock?”
“Not exactly.”
He turned the phone on and back off again without saying anything. He didn’t need to hear any more of Tim McCarthy’s crap.
“Is it Tim?” Jesus, Eric was still able to read him.
He didn’t bother trying to lie, he just nodded. “Gordon and Max are coming. Jeff’s called in to double up on security.” He looked Eric in the eye. “That punk is not going to hurt you or Josie again. You have my word on that.”
“I never did anything to that kid, Bee. I swear to you. I never did anything awful to him.”
He snorted. “I never for one second believed you did.” Eric didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
“Yeah, but… I didn’t do anything but expect him to be his best.”
He grabbed Eric’s hand. “Baby, this isn’t your fault. You are not responsible for what he’s doing.”
“I just.” Eric started shaking, vibrating violently. Maybe Josie wasn’t the one who needed to talk.
“Hey. Hey.” He pulled Eric into his lap and held on, burying his face in those blond, sweet-smelling curls. Eric wrapped around him and held on, chest hitching. He petted Eric’s back. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. She’s okay.”
“I…. He took my baby.”
“I know. I know. But she’s okay. And you’re okay.”
Eric sniffled a little. “I know. I just. Damn.”
Just damn.
He tilted Eric’s face and pressed their mouths together, moving on instinct. Eric’s lips tasted just like he remembered.
A little voice in his head said this was a bad idea. He locked it in a closet. A tiny closet. With a huge fucking locked door.
Eric reached up, fingers cupping his face. He looked into the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen and slid his tongue between Eric’s lips, tasting the bright tartness of the apple juice from lunch. He felt Eric’s moan as well as heard it. He slid a hand down along his lover’s back to cup that great ass.
“Daddy?” Josie’s voice rang out and Eric pulled back, groaning.
“Yeah, Jo?”
“Why you kissing Daddy Bee?”
“Because he kissed me first.”
“Traitor,” Brock mouthed.
“All’s fair,” Eric whispered back.
He patted Eric’s ass. “Maybe, but you should probably go back to your chair.”
He could feel Josie’s eyes on them, Josie watching them like a hawk. Eric moved back into his chair, reached for his sandwich like nothing had happened. Brock tried to do the same. He tried to just eat his sandwich and pretend there wasn’t some maniac kid out there trying to hurt Eric. That the cutest little girl in the world hadn’t just caught him kissing her daddy.
He wasn’t sure he was that good of an actor.
When he looked over, though, Josie was back in her room, and he could hear her playing with her dolls. He turned his attention back to Eric, still eating his sandwich.
Still looking good.
“I’m not sorry,” Eric said.
“Are you sure? I mean, you already left me once.” It hadn’t been easy for either of them, and now there was a little girl involved. One who loved Eric with all her heart and who somehow loved him, too.
“I know. And I know you don’t want my life, but I’m still not sorry.”
“I don’t want to live in a little house in the suburbs, no. Especially not a puke green one. But maybe there’s a middle ground. Maybe we might want to consider that.” Was he saying that he wanted to get back together with Eric? He certainly wasn’t saying no to that.
“You think so?”
Like Eric could ever really go back to that school, knowing that one of his students had died and one of them had tried to kill him.
“I know the word compromise is in my vocabulary, and I’d be shocked if it wasn’t in yours.” He shrugged, trying to make like this—what they were talking about, them getting back together—wasn’t a huge deal. “Hell, we haven’t done more than kiss. Maybe we’re not good together anymore.” Like he believed that.
“Right. And maybe we weren’t ever good together in the first place. Don’t be a dipshit, Brock.”
“You calling me a dipshit isn’t exactly conducive to getting me back.” Except that it fucking was. It was cute and funny and damn it, and he was falling in love all over again.
That was a lie, though. He’d never really fallen out of love.
“Dipshit.” Eric winked.
“Butthead,” he shot back.
“Turkey.” Eric was beginning to chuckle.
“Gobble, gobble, gobble.” Brock didn’t laugh, but it was a close thing.
Eric’s laugh filled the air, full and happy and perfect. Yeah, Brock was still stuck on this man; there was no doubt about that. The intercom buzzed, and they both stopped laughing, like someone had turned off a switch.
He got up and pushed his chair back in. “Why don’t you go see how Josie’s doing?”
“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.