Chapter 8 #2
“Well—I’m told I can’t say that,” she added, rolling her eyes like she’d been scolded for saying that many times.
“But yes. Just about. Anyhoo—I’d had enough, so when Gill called me this morning, I said no.
I can’t. I’m busy—made up a lie about a bridge convention out of town.
Just to teach him a lesson, you know? Anyway, I planned on getting here earlier, but then my car broke down and I had to call my emergency road service folks.
Got back on the road as soon as I could and finally made it into town.
Figured Suzie, their usual overnight babysitter, would be here.
She usually sleeps in the spare bedroom, and I text her when I’m coming over, so she’s not startled when I show up.
Didn’t think I’d get—mauled for using my key!
” she scoffed, and then took another big sip of tea.
She hummed in appreciation, clearly pleased with Hayes’ skills in steeping tea properly.
“Why didn’t you use the front door?” Hayes asked, out of curiosity.
“That goddamned alarm beeps, and sometimes it wakes the kids—guess they’re so used to their father coming home at ungodly hours that they usually wake up when they hear it,” she said, clearly dissing Gill again.
“The things that man puts his children through sometimes!” She gave a disapproving shake of her head.
It was more than a little—uncomfortable, to sit there and listen to a stranger bash a man Beckett had a lot of respect for. But then again—what else could he do? He’d already threatened to kill her once. It was probably best to bite his tongue and let her criticisms roll right off his back.
“Well—I’ll admit it’s a relief to have you here. We managed to get them to bed on time, but I’m sure they’ll be much happier seeing you in the morning instead of us,” Hayes said, with a relieved laugh.
“Oh, no!” Donna exclaimed, shaking her head. Her hairstyle was quite formidable. It hardly moved at all despite the vigorous movement. “I want you both here when my son comes home tomorrow morning. No doubt he has no idea who’s babysitting his children right now. No offense, but—”
“None taken,” Hayes responded automatically with a polite smile.
But Beckett wasn’t so sure he agreed with Hayes on letting her off the hook. They’d done a fine job so far. Everyone was alive and well.
“Still, I don’t think it’s necessary that we stay—” Hayes tried again to get them excused from this babysitting gig.
She shot him a look that would have killed a lesser man.
“You were put in charge of these children. Are you saying you’ll walk out on them?” She stuck out her chin, giving Hayes a challenging look. With a heavy sigh, Hayes shook his head.
“No, ma’am,” Hayes replied dutifully.
“Good!” She finished her tea, looking satisfied with his polite response. “Well, gentlemen, I suggest we all get some rest before the hellions awake—morning isn’t far off, you know!” She stood up and pushed her chair under the table, standing almost eye level with them since she was so tall.
“You really don’t look like plumbers,” she mused for the second time.
“The back view is even better,” Beckett assured her with a wink.
She suppressed her smile and asked, “Shall I assume you’ll take the couch? I’m all set up in the guest room downstairs.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hayes confirmed for both of them.
With a pleased smile, she patted his arm as she walked by. “Good boy.”
With that settled, Donna departed, heading towards the basement. Beckett sighed and leaned forward to bang his head on the tabletop.
“Shoot me now,” he begged his partner, words partially muffled by the tabletop. “Please just—”
“You didn’t kill her,” Hayes pointed out, as if that made everything alright in the end.
“I held her at knifepoint,” he argued.
“Yes, but you thought she was—” he paused. “Who did you think she was?”
Beckett whined and then looked up at Hayes. “It was dark—really dark, and she’s—” he paused to find the right words. “Built like Riley. I thought she was breaking in! I didn’t really question it further than that!”
Hayes didn’t bother holding back his laughter. Gently, he ran a hand over Beckett’s head, carding his fingers through his hair.
“You were protecting the children,” Hayes replied sympathetically.
Beckett wasn’t convinced his actions were justified—not even a little—as he thumped his forehead against the table again.
“Come on,” Hayes said with a snort. “Time for bed.”
“You’re still wearing make-up,” Beckett reminded him cheerfully.
Hayes shot him the finger over his shoulder as he detoured to the hall bathroom in search of soap and water.
At times, Beckett could be a fucking moron.
He’d actually believed that there was a simple plan of action in place.
Meet grandma—threaten her at knifepoint—go back to bed, wake up, fix pancakes, the end.
Done and dusted. But of course, life, when Beckett Thérault was involved, was never quite that simple.
He’d been sleeping—somewhat—deeply, when something nudged him to consciousness.
Beckett, who’d been stateside nearly ten years now, was getting better about controlling his war zone lethal reactions when startled awake by something other than his fucking alarm.
So, fortunately, he successfully restrained the urge to deck the owner of the finger poking him in the cheek, but it was a close fucking call as he looked up to see Lilac hovering next to the couch.
“There’s a monster under my bed,” she said quietly.
Beckett took a few seconds to process this, struggling to calm his heartrate while still dealing with the instinctive and powerful urge to punch whoever had gotten the drop on him, as he sat up and rubbed his cheeks briskly.
“What?” he whispered, since Hayes still sleeping a few feet away.
“Under my bed,” she repeated, quite seriously. “There’s something under my bed.”
Maybe it was the fact that she didn’t say monster, or the fact that she looked like a politician taking a solemn oath of office, that made Beckett believe her. Reaching over, he nudged his partner. He might have been able to handle this situation on his own, but he preferred to have some backup.
“Going upstairs to do a monster check,” he told a still half-asleep Hayes. His boyfriend blinked slowly and stared blankly at him, then closed his eyes to go back to sleep, clearly unconcerned. Beckett didn’t blame him; he would have done the same thing.
Holding Lilac’s hand firmly in his, he lead her silently up the stairs. When he got to her bedroom door, he was startled to full wakefulness by the sounds of industrious scratching on the floorboards of her room.
“Do you hear that?” Lilac whispered as she hid behind his leg.
“Yes—” he said, scanning the room as he tried to identify the source of the noise. Scratching. Loud and frantic. Like a mouse on steroids. Across the room, Lilac’s curtains moved gently from the wind coming in through an open window, but he saw nothing to explain the noises.
“Can you wait for me in the hallway?” he asked her, reaching for the brass knuckle switchblade in his side pocket for the second time that night.
Lilac gave a firm nod as she stepped away and pressed herself against the wall outside her door.
“If I scream or yell, run straight to Hayes, alright?” he told her, as the scratching noises got louder.
She gave a sharp nod, but her bottom lip quivered. “What about Nathan and Jameson?” she asked, clearly worried.
“He’ll look after them,” Beckett assured her with a wink.
She looked doubtful but nodded anyway.
“Ready?” he asked, and she nodded again, holding her breath like she was about to dive into the family pool.
Beckett spun around and charged into the room. Rushing towards the bed, he grabbed the bedframe and flipped it onto its side in one quick move.
The metal frame gave a protesting screech, and in the dim light coming from the hallway, Beckett counted three pairs of eyes glowing in the dark before something clawed its way up his leg.
“No!!!!” he screamed, and he instinctively grabbed the thing on his leg with both hands and pulled hard.
His fingers dug into something soft covered with several inches of fur.
But as he struggled to get it off him, the creature dug its claws into his jeans.
Tiny sharp needles digging into the flesh of his thigh and calf elicited an unhinged scream as he kept trying to get the creature to let go.
Finally, he pulled it loose, only for it to slash one of his arms as he tossed the creature across the room.
Its startled cry was quickly followed by several other cries of distress.
He stumbled back towards the bedroom door, searching desperately for the light switch.
At the same time, Hayes rushed into the room—alarmed by the screams he’d heard.
Suddenly, bright light flooded the room.
Beckett grimaced from the burning pain in his arm as Hayes reached for him.
“What is it?” Hayes asked, holding his Glock in his right hand while he wrapped his left arm around Beckett.
“I don’t—” Beckett said, then came to an abrupt halt as his eyes landed on the monster that Lilac had in her room.
“Is that a raccoon?” Hayes asked, looking just as shocked as Beckett.
And yep—yes, that’s exactly what it was.
Beckett put out a quick leg to stop Teacup—who’d followed Hayes up the stairs—before the poodle could attack the animal. It didn’t stop the dog from growling menacingly.
Cleverly hidden, and well protected, Momma Raccoon had built a nice little nest under a pile of stuffed animals.
Her little ones nestled inside the warm hole she’d created for them under Lilac’s bed.
Her babies looked about two months old, so they were more than ready for the next stage of their lives.
Their small, black, beady eyes studied Beckett and Hayes intently, as if expecting them to provide a free meal and a ride out of there.