Chapter 4 Roderick #3
Zander lets out a groan when Spencer spins around and slams him into the car. His arm braced at his throat to keep him pinned.
Spencer might be the most outwardly relaxed of the group, but he likes nothing more than being in the know and having all the information. Being in the dark about something drives him nuts, and knowing that has helped me a lot over the years.
“You cheated,” Zander chokes out, utterly unfazed that Spencer has him.
With a lazy shrug, I walk back to the driver's door.
“A wins a win, no matter how you get there,” I tell him, hopping in and starting the car.
Spencer throws Zander in the back, slamming the door, and happily takes his spot up front.
Zander and his bullshit took just long enough that the last of the cops are pulling out of the lot as we all settle in, so we don’t have to wait around to see them go.
I shoot off a text to Kratos, letting him know we need a clean-up team for the guy I took out earlier.
He doesn’t respond, but I know it will be handled as it always is.
We pull out of the lot, and I jump on the highway. I'm not sure if I can remember the last time I was so excited to go home. I could probably sleep for a few days at this point.
“Explain,” Spencer says after we’ve been driving for a while.
Zander’s been quiet for the most part, probably sulking.
I look back at him in the rearview mirror and see that he’s passed out, his fucking shirt pulled up over his nose.
I let out a huff before returning my focus to the road and explaining to Spencer what he missed.
“Why the fuck do you think I would care?” Spencer grumbles at me after I finish my explanation, but the look on his face says it all. He does, in fact, care.
“Let’s not pretend we don’t know each other, brother.
I saw the way you looked at her.” I give him a pointed look as we finally pull into the long, winding drive to my parents' house. I’d have much rather gone back to our house tonight, but that’s another forty minutes minimum, and that’s only if I go at least ten over the whole way.
No, we can stay here tonight. It’s not as if my mother ever got rid of our rooms. Even with them, she has about seven spares, so why would she bother?
“I didn’t look at her in any special way, jackass,” he says under his breath, his words lacking bite.
“Sure. And Zander didn’t fall asleep sniffing his shirt because of her,” I say as we pull into the garage, the door closing behind us. Spencer whips around in his seat, throwing an evil look at Zander before hopping out of the car and heading inside without a word.
Yeah, he doesn’t care at all.
I whack Zander’s leg to wake him. He grumbles incoherently but sits up, and that’s enough for me. He can either get out of the car or sleep here for the rest of the day. It makes no difference to me.
We make our way through the garage and into the side door that leads directly to the house.
I didn’t look at the time before we came in, but I know it has to be early morning.
My mother is very particular about no shoes in the house, so we kick them off by the door.
We move through the house as quietly as possible so as not to wake her and my father.
I know they won’t mind us being here, but I’d rather not wake them and play twenty questions with them right now.
I’m hit with the smell of fresh coffee on our way through the kitchen.
After such a long night, it smells delicious, and I’m half tempted to go and have a cup.
However, I decide against it in favor of just going to my room to sleep.
It’s not until my father comes around the corner a second after we enter that I realize something’s going on.
“There you three are. I wondered where you had gotten off to for so long. Just assumed you were out partying again.” My father greets us with a chuckle as he walks to the coffee machine and fills his thermos, dressed in full uniform.
I’m almost a carbon copy of my father, and I look even more like him if you look at his pictures from when he was my age.
We have the same dark brown hair, stiff jaw, and overall build.
I’ve bulked up a bit in the last few years, making me larger than him, but it's not surprising as he’s getting older.
One thing that sets us apart is our eyes.
Whereas his are green, and my mother's are blue, I have one of each. The best of them both, as my mother always says. I’m also completely covered in tattoos from the neck down, while my father has always despised them.
His hair is cut short, almost in a military-type cut, and while my hair isn’t long, I make sure to keep it longer than his.
I don’t dislike my father; I just don’t want to be him. No matter how much he wishes I would follow in his footsteps, I can't. Life as a cop was never something I wanted, let alone the chief of police.
I should have realized something was off when I smelled the coffee. Nobody would usually be up drinking coffee at this time. Clearly, I’m beyond exhausted if I’m missing simple shit.
“What’s going on?” I ask because something must be happening if he’s up and headed to work at this hour.
Ignoring his comment about us being out at a party, I’m far past the age where I feel the need to explain myself to him.
Of course, the less he knows, the better, so if he wants to believe we were out partying, it just makes explaining our absence easier.
“The boys down at the station just called and said they brought in a group of girls. It appears they were all victims of sex trafficking.” He tells us without looking away from his coffee as he mixes in his sugar and puts the lid on.
“They got the guy in charge, and I need to go in for his questioning.”
He turns to face us after he’s finished with his coffee, and we all just kind of nod along with what he says, giving off an air of indifference.
The boys at the station know better than to mention we were there and our involvement with it.
Thankfully, they also seem to have enough brain cells, not to mention the man who tried to run either.
Our parents are all under the impression we’re spoiled college students, so that’s what we let them believe. Not that it’s hard, gang involvement or not, we are college students with lots of money. That’s just not all we are.
My mother comes flying around the corner a moment later, dressed to the nines in one of her lawyer skirt suits, a warm smile breaking out over her face when she sees us.
My mother is a beauty who doesn’t look a day over thirty, even though she’s pushing fifty.
She's tall and curvy with lean muscle from years of yoga and pilates. The perfect suburban housewife with a brain, unlike so many of her annoying friends. Her dark auburn hair is pulled up into a bun that helps her look more sophisticated, and her face has minimal makeup, just enough to highlight her blue eyes. The smile she gives us takes her right out of lawyer mode and back to loving mother. It’s like she can’t help it.
She walks over to us, planting a kiss on each of our cheeks as she goes.
She’s always taken Zander and Spencer in without question and treated them like her own.
I think she wanted more kids, but when she chased her dream of being the best lawyer in the city, she put having kids on hold and instead just took over taking care of them.
“Good to see you boys, though I do wish you wouldn’t be out so late.” She gives us all a stern look. The smile on her face lets me know she’s just giving us a hard time, though, and isn’t actually upset.
“Sorry, Mrs. Spade, time just got away from us tonight. You must know how it is, a beauty like you. I’m sure you were the life of the party in college.
” I cut a glare at Zander as he gives my mom his most flirtatious smile.
As if he can feel my gaze, he turns toward me long enough to shoot me a wink before turning back to her, and I huff, rolling my eyes.
He knows he’s safe right now, but I can always kick his ass later, and I intend to.
Zander has always been the king of buttering her up, and while it has gotten us out of a few sticky situations over the years, I don’t have to like it. In fact, I fucking hate it; despite knowing my mother looks good for her age, she’s still my mother.
Gross.
“Are you going with Dad?” I ask her to pull her attention away from him.
“Of course I am, sweetheart. Those poor girls will need all the help they can get. Starting with finding them all homes or, at the very least, a place to stay for now.” The slight pink of her cheeks lets me know Zander’s teasing hit home, but other than that, she's back to business.
Mother reached her dreams of being the city's best lawyer a few years ago, and now she’s the district attorney. Since then, she has been able to do much more pro bono work, which she’s always loved. She helps mainly with younger kids, so the fact that she will be helping with this isn't surprising.
“Are you ready, dear?” My father asks her as he moves to the back door, grabbing his gun belt from the hook.
“Yes, just give me a moment with the boys. I'll meet you in the car,” she tells him before turning back to us.
“I’ll have Elizabeth skip her breakfast call as I can see you boys will be asleep well into the afternoon.
I’ll have her stop by around lunch for something, or you can fend for yourselves.
There are some leftovers from the week in the fridge.
I’ll have her here for dinner, though?” Elizabeth is my parent's chef, and while her food is excellent, I don’t like having her here any more than needed when we are.
You never know what someone in this house could overhear.
It keeps both her and us safe to have her hear as little as possible.
The guys say I’m paranoid, but I would rather be safe than sorry. Froggie’s not somebody I ever want to make an enemy of, and you never know when he may call for us.
“We can handle lunch, mom. We're adults. We know how to survive, even if it is off microwave meals and ramen.” She wrinkles her nose at my mention of such low-quality food, but doesn't push.
She knows how stubborn I can be, and she doesn't have enough time to go to bat over this.
Besides, she might not realize it, but we cook for ourselves all the time; we have been for years now.
We often sent Elizabeth home and pretended she was the one who made us meals.
We still pay Elizabeth, of course, but I try to keep her away as much as possible.
She's an older lady, and she doesn’t need us to add problems to her life or put it in danger.
“Fine, fine,” she says with a sigh, throwing her hands up in a gesture of surrender as she steps into her overly high heels. I’ll never understand how women don’t break their ankles or necks in those things.
“I’ll have her come for dinner only, but I expect you boys to stick around and eat whatever she makes.
I’m not sure how long things will take at the station, but I’m hoping we’ll be back by then.
We can sit down and have a nice family dinner before you all disappear again?
” It comes out like a question, even though I’m pretty sure she was trying to tell me that's what will happen.
“Sounds good, Mom,” I tell her with a nod. I don't need to look to know Zander and Spencer nod as well. Nobody can guilt us quite like my mother, and she doesn’t even have to try.
Her smile lights up her face once again, and I know that, like it or not, we will be here for dinner. If something so simple can make her so happy, then it’s the least we can do after years of her putting up with our shit.
She quickly pecks each of our cheeks as a goodbye and heads for the door to follow after my father.
“Behave, boys,” she shouts just before the door shuts behind her, not needing to hear our reply.
“Fuck my life. I’m going to bed,” Zander says as he heads out of the kitchen and down the hall toward his room.
“Don’t wake me until dinner. If the house catches on fire, just let me burn.
” His voice echoes back to us through the otherwise empty house, followed by the sound of his door slamming closed.
Spencer gives me a two-finger salute and heads down the hall as well. He doesn't say a word, but I hear his door click closed a few minutes later.
I turn around and head to the basement door right next to the garage door. Most people overlook it as a closet, and that's fine by me; it just means more privacy.
As I walk down the steps, the temperature drops, and I can’t help but relax. I've always loved having my room in the basement. Something about the cool air and the isolation is refreshing, like a weight off my chest.
I don't even bother changing. Simply loosening my tie as I walk into my room without turning on a light and flop down on my stomach, face in the pillow. I swear this bed isn't usually this comfortable, but right now, I won't complain.
For a few minutes, I run back over what happened tonight in my mind, trying to make sure we didn't miss or overlook anything.
Knowing Froggie specifically asked for perfection on this job.
Nothing sticks out, and my mind drifts to Jade.
I see how small she was in that pit alone and how bright her smile was just from seeing us.
I pass out thinking of her and all the horrors she could have endured while trapped in that hell, knowing I probably can’t imagine the half of it.