BROCK WAS still buried in his paperwork when the doorbell rang. He grunted and told Eric to sit back down. He wasn’t letting Eric or Josie anywhere near that door until that little punk asshole was behind bars.
He went over and checked the peephole. Gordon and Max. Excellent. Brock opened the door, letting them in. “Hey, guys.”
“Boss. Eric. Josie.”
Josie looked at Gordon, eyes wide. “You’re pretty.”
Brock bit the side of his mouth to hold his grin back. He very much doubted anyone had ever called Gordon “pretty” before.
Josie stood up and went right to Gordon, who crouched down, grinned. “Hey, you. I’m pretty, am I?”
She nodded, fascinated.
Max hooted. “That’s my man—pretty.”
Brock had a feeling Gordon was never going to live that down.
She reached out to touch Gordon’s face, and Eric cleared his throat. “That’s not polite, Jo.”
“Oh, she’s good.” Gordon leaned into her touch, then blew a raspberry on her fingers.
Josie squealed and giggled, and Brock chuckled, glad to see he wasn’t the only one who’d been taken by this little slip of a girl.
Max looked at Gordon, a genuine warmth in his eyes.
“Okay, Josie, why don’t you draw a couple of pictures for Gordon and Max?” It was a great way to get her occupied with something else.
“Okay.” She nodded and zoomed off, singing at the top of her lungs.
“Sorry, Gordon.” Eric smiled. “She just has no filters.”
Max cackled again and patted his man on the butt. “She’s great.”
Brock snorted and they all moved to the dining room table.
“So, what’s the deal with the house? With Tim McCarthy?” Eric asked.
Brock nodded. “Give us the news—good and bad.”
“The kid hasn’t been back to the house, but the cops were there for hours yesterday, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he saw them and figured, once they were gone, the place would be under surveillance—it’s one of the few places we know he’s been.”
Max flipped open his book. “Our best bet for catching him is still to wait until he shows up here. Have there been any more calls from him?”
Brock shook his head. “No.”
“What about getting it cleaned up?” Eric asked. “Is that possible?”
“I’ll hire a service to take care of that,” Brock insisted.
Gordon and Max both looked relieved at his words.
“Yeah? You’re sure? I could go over and get to work….”
Gordon shook his head. “That’s a bad idea.”
“Just let me pay for the service, Eric. Once it’s clean, Gordon and Max will pick up anything you want to keep and we’ll get it listed for sale. You never have to go back there.”
Eric looked like he might argue, then just reached out, squeezed his fingers.
He squeezed back, holding Eric’s eyes for a moment. It’s going to be okay, baby. “We just need to talk. Together. Us.”
“We will. Tonight, when we can do it without little ears listening in.”
“Yeah.” Eric looked at Gordon, Max. “Sorry, guys.”
“Not your fault, man.”
“No,” growled Brock. “It’s that little asshole’s.”
“Do you really think he’ll come here?” Eric still sounded a little lost over the whole thing.
Gordon nodded. “I think he’ll have to, man. He needs some sort of end game.”
“You and Josie are safe here, baby. Gordon is on the case.”
“I know. I just…. This is ridiculous.”
“Josie was kidnapped, you were shot, as was Gordon. How is this ridiculous?”
Eric looked at him, head tilting. “How isn’t it?”
“Okay. You might have a point—it’s all ridiculous. But it’s also real and happening. So we deal with it.”
“Daddy?” Josie came walking out, paper in hand. “Is it pizza night?”
Eric chuckled. “I don’t know if it’s Friday or not, Jo.”
“Pizza is a good idea. Gordon, Max, you can join us,” Brock suggested.
Josie squealed, launching herself into his arms. “Pizza!”
His chair nearly went over, but he managed to grab the edge of the table with one hand while he wrapped the other around her. “Is that your favorite food?”
“Like pizza!” She settled in his lap like she belonged there.
Who knew, just maybe she did.