Delta Team Two Box Set 2: Books #5-8

Chapter 1

“So, you’re ten?” Porter “Oz” Reed asked his nephew, wracking his brain to try to come up with something to talk about with the little boy currently standing in his living room.

Logan nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

The kid had just been dropped off at his apartment by Texas Child Protective Services. Oz had discovered his sister was dead…and she’d apparently had a child. A kid he’d never known about. Oz was an uncle.

The problem was, he knew next to nothing about kids.

How the hell could he be a parent to a ten-year-old?

Inwardly, he was freaking out but trying not to let this kid see he was floundering.

Logan had to be traumatized after abruptly losing his mother then getting dropped off at a stranger’s house and being told it was his new home.

Doing the math in his head, Oz realized that his sister had to have been pregnant the last time he’d talked to her, probably at their dad’s funeral, but she hadn’t mentioned it to him. It was crazy that he hadn’t even known about his nephew, but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.

After he’d learned Becky was spending the money he’d sent her on drugs—and was using while at their dad’s funeral—he’d kind of lost it. Yelled at her. Told her she was throwing her life away. That she needed to get her head out of her ass. It was no wonder she hadn’t told him she was pregnant.

And his nephew looked exactly like his sister, except for his eyes.

They were gray like his own. Becky’s eyes had been hazel.

But the little boy had his mother’s hair, brown and wavy—short to Becky’s long—and it was obvious he’d also inherited the Reed height.

At six-five, Oz towered over most people.

His sister hadn’t been a slouch at five-eleven.

He didn’t know how tall a ten-year-old boy should be, but he had a feeling Logan was taller than most other kids his age.

“Are you hungry?” Oz asked, trying again to communicate with the boy.

Logan shook his head and refused to meet his gaze.

Mentally sighing, Oz tried to think of something else to say. At the best of times, he wasn’t exactly great with kids. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, he just hadn’t been around them often. He’d never felt like much of a kid himself. With his childhood, Oz had grown up fast.

His eyes drifted down to the plastic bag in his nephew’s hand. He frowned. “What’s that?” he asked.

Logan’s eyes met his for a second before dropping to the floor again. “My stuff,” he said with a shrug.

“Your stuff?” Oz echoed, confused.

“Yeah. I don’t have a suitcase and this was all I had to hold my stuff.”

Oz stared at his nephew. Then it hit him—all Logan had in the world was in that bag. A damn garbage bag.

Anger welled up inside him. Anger at his sister. Anger at the people from Child Protective Services. Anger at the entire situation. He was the last person who was qualified to raise a kid. But he was all Logan had left in the world, he needed to get his shit together and figure this out.

“Right,” he said, doing his best to control the anger in his tone. He strode over and sat on the couch near Logan, not missing that the kid sidled away from him, putting plenty of room between them.

“When’s your birthday?”

“October twenty-second.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Do you like sports?”

“Yeah.”

“Favorite food?”

“Don’t have one.”

Oz sighed. “I know this is weird. And…I’m very sorry about your mom.”

“Why? You didn’t even know her. Didn’t even know I existed. Why would you care?”

As much as Oz didn’t like the kid’s attitude, he couldn’t blame him. And he had a point. “I care,” he said.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Logan muttered.

“The relationship between me and your mom was strained, I won’t lie.

I hadn’t had any contact with her since before you were born.

She was doing some stuff back then that wasn’t good.

I’d just joined the Army and wasn’t living in Texas anymore.

I wanted to help her, but she had to want to help herself. ”

“Drugs,” Logan said sadly.

Oz hated that his nephew knew that. “Yeah. I guess she didn’t kick the habit,” Oz said regretfully.

“She was trying to stop,” Logan said.

Oz stared at his nephew, not sure he could believe him. It wasn’t that he thought the kid was lying, but adults hid a lot of shit from their kids, and if Becky wanted her son to think she was trying to quit, she probably could’ve hidden the worst of her habit from him.

“I know you don’t believe me, but she was. She went to a program and everything. We were doin’ good,” Logan said.

“What happened?” Oz asked, hating himself for asking. He should be asking Child Protective Services, not a ten-year-old kid. But the question had popped out.

“Someone broke into our apartment. Killed her. Stole anything they could sell. I was at school.”

“Shit! I mean…shoot, I’m sorry,” Oz said, making a mental note to try to curb his swearing.

Logan made a sound in the back of his throat.

Looking at his watch, Oz saw that it was after nine. It seemed odd that CPS would drop a kid off so late in the evening, but it was what it was.

Then something else occurred to him. He had a two-bedroom apartment, but the second bedroom was currently a catchall room for his shit. He had a set of weights in there and a ton of boxes. He definitely didn’t have a bed for a ten-year-old kid.

“I have no idea what your schedule’s been, when you go to bed and that kind of thing,” Oz said. “But it’s getting late and you’ve got to be tired.”

Logan didn’t respond.

“Since I didn’t know about you, I don’t have your room set up, so you can sleep in my room tonight and tomorrow we’ll see about setting up your bedroom.”

“I don’t want your bed,” Logan said, sounding fiercer than he had since Oz had known him…which admittedly was only about forty-five minutes.

“It’s a good thing,” Oz said, refusing to rise to the kid’s bait. “Because I’m not giving it to you. I’m a big guy and that California-king bed fits me perfectly.”

“I’m not sleeping in it with you!”

This time, Oz heard fear in his nephew’s tone.

He tamped down his dismay at what that fear meant. “And I wouldn’t ask you to. You’re not a baby, and you need your own bed, just like I do. I’ll sleep out here on the couch. You’ll be safe in my room.”

Logan frowned, and Oz saw his eyes go from the couch to Oz’s large frame and back to the couch. “You won’t fit,” he said finally.

Oz shrugged. “Trust me, this isn’t the worst place I’ve slept in. Not even close. I’ll be fine.”

“Is it comfortable?” Logan asked, not dropping it.

“Not particularly.”

“Is your bed comfortable?”

“Yup. Extremely.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan said in a tone that nearly broke Oz’s heart.

“What don’t you understand?” Oz asked gently.

“Why you’re giving me your comfortable bed when you’ll have to sleep out here on the uncomfortable, too-short sofa.”

“Because you’re in a new place and are probably overwhelmed.

You’re missing your mom, and are probably very sad about what happened to her.

Because I’m your uncle, and it’s my job to look after you now, and because I care about you.

I know that might be hard to believe, considering we just met tonight, but you’re my flesh and blood.

I regret not knowing about you until tonight, but now that I do, I guarantee that I’ll do whatever I can to make your life easier, not harder.

And that starts with tonight, giving you a nice bed to sleep in and a space of your own until I can get your room set up. ”

Logan’s head came up and he stared at Oz for a long moment. Then he asked, “Aren’t you afraid I’m gonna look through your stuff? Steal something?”

Oz shrugged. “If you want something in my room or bathroom, help yourself. There’s nothing in there that I’d be pissed about you taking.

Although I have to say, you’ve got some growing to do before you’ll fit into my clothes or shoes.

I don’t have any nudie magazines, and I’ll make sure I remove my pistol before you go to sleep. ”

Logan’s eyes got big. “You have a gun?”

“I’m in the military, so yeah, I have a gun.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

Oz shifted uncomfortably. But he didn’t want to lie to his nephew. “Yes. But if it helps, they tried to kill me first.” He couldn’t tell what his nephew was thinking. For just a second, Oz thought he saw interest in Logan’s eyes, but then his expression blanked and he shrugged.

“How about we get you ready for bed. You have pajamas in your bag?” Oz asked.

Logan nodded.

“Okay. Come on. I’ll show you where everything is.”

Almost thirty uncomfortable minutes later, Oz was back in his living room, feeling more emotions than he’d felt in a very long time.

He was worried, heartbroken, and pissed at his sister.

He couldn’t believe Becky had a son and hadn’t tried to reach out.

She’d been living in Austin for years, according to Logan, so close to Fort Hood.

Oz wasn’t sure she’d even known where he was, but he still couldn’t shake the anger.

Logan hadn’t said much as Oz changed the sheets on his bed so the kid would have a clean place to sleep. He hadn’t unpacked his fucking garbage bag of clothes in front of him, and it was obvious he was waiting until Oz left to get settled.

He wanted to hug the kid, tell him that he was safe, but they were strangers. He didn’t think his nephew would find his embrace comforting. And asking if he was expected to sleep in the same bed as him? God…had someone abused him?

Oz had so many questions, and no answers.

He supposed they would come in time, but he needed his nephew to feel safe and loved now. Not a week, month, or year from now.