Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
RED
“Your boy makes a habit of this,” Padraig said.
“What?” Red was confused.
“Sleeping.”
Red regarded Kit, who’d passed out at the table the moment he laid his head on his arms.
“It’s been a long day. He’s exhausted.” Red yawned just at the thought of it. “I’ll feed him, then he can sleep.”
“If you leave him there, he won’t wake up until morning,” Mo said.
“Thanks for all the suggestions, but I think it’s time I dealt with my…the boy.”
Red sucked in a breath. In reality, he was the one needing a break, not Kit. He wanted them all out of there so he could feed his boy and put him to bed.
“Let’s go,” Jace suggested. “We’ve got to do the handover and get back to the city.”
“Do you need me?” Red asked.
Mo shook his head. “Ronan and I will be your protection detail overnight. You and I can discuss future arrangements in the morning. Don’t leave this cabin until we talk.”
“Understood.”
The problem he was going to have was convincing Kit to stay inside. How did he entertain a chaos demon?
“Is there a playroom here?” he asked.
Mo shook his head. “Not enough room. We needed the space for the panic room. After my boy’s crazy uncle turned up, I built panic rooms in both cabins. But if you need toys you can borrow from me.” He grimaced. “Just don’t tell my boy. He’s still learning to share.”
“I don’t know what I’ll need,” Red admitted. “I haven’t discussed what kind of boy Kit is. But we’ll talk tomorrow.”
He was going to have to ask about the crazy uncle another day. Now he wanted to be alone with Kit.
“I can cover most age groups and genders,” Mo said. “Griff and his boy taught me that. Just ask.”
“I will,” he said gratefully.
Mo ran through accessing the panic room. Kit didn’t stir through the whole thing. Finally, the men left him alone. Red shooed them out, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against the door.
Today had been overwhelming. Was this what it was like for all the Biker Daddy Bodyguards? Red wasn’t sure he was up for the constant stress.
He turned to look at Kit. The boy hadn’t stirred. Red was tempted just to pick him up and put him into bed. But he’d clearly been hungry. Red’s belly took that moment to rumble loudly and point out that it too needed filling.
There was another reason. The kid’s impulsive break for freedom had unsettled him and he didn’t want to let Kit out of his sight.
Red went to investigate the kitchen cabinets, his eyes lighting up when he spotted a can of tomato soup. A glance into the fridge confirmed the menu. Grilled cheese and tomato soup would be perfect.
The aroma must have penetrated Kit’s sleep because the food was almost ready when he raised his head, blinking sleepily at Red who was grilling the cheese in a pan at the stove. “Smells good,” Kit murmured.
“Almost done,” Red said, turning to look for the bowls.
He found plain white crockery behind one door and plastic plates and bowls behind another. He hummed, contemplating using those, but decided that was a statement too far for tonight.
“Need bathroom,” Kit said.
“That door.” Red pointed to a door in the far corner of the room. He’d already checked the window was locked in the bathroom. And this time he couldn’t unlock it. Red would still have that discussion with Kit on how he managed it back at the club house.
As Kit stumbled across the room, Red focused on serving up the food. His belly growled again, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten for most of the day. Kit took more than a few minutes, and Red was about to go find him when he heard water running, then Kit emerged from the bathroom.
Kit sat, giving Red a tentative smile. “Sorry to take so long. I nearly fell asleep again. He made a small moan of pleasure as he took the first mouthful of soup. “My mom used to make me this when I was sick. I didn’t like chicken noodle soup which is what she gave Tony and Dad.”
“You don’t like chicken noodle soup?”
Kit grimaced. “Not the way Mom made it. She wasn’t a great cook and it turned out like rubber. Dad was a much better cook, but none of us would tell her that.” He gave Red an apologetic smile as if Red would take offense on his mother’s behalf. “She could heat up a mean can of tomato soup though.”
Red smiled at him. “My dad was a great cook too, but my mom could use power tools and bake cookies.”
Kit leaned one elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm. “I miss my parents.”
Red’s heart ached for the boy, losing his mom and dad at such a young age. He had always been a distant member of the club and hadn’t gotten close to Tony until after they died. “What happened to you and Tony after your parents passed away?”
“Tony took care of me. He was over eighteen and had been Dad’s second, so as far as child protective services were concerned, they washed their hands of me.
” He gave a slightly wicked grin. “I think the fact that a member of the club who had known us both since I was a baby worked in CPS had a lot to do with their decision.”
At least Kit hadn’t ended up in the foster system. Even if Tony walked on the dark side, he’d always loved and protected his brother.
Kit bit into the grilled cheese and let out an obscene moan. “This tastes so good.”
“I like cooking,” Red admitted, trying to ignore the way his pants were suddenly tight. “I spend so much time on the road; I like chilling at home.”
Kit eyed him for a moment. “You never seemed like a homebody.”
Red shrugged. “It’s not like you knew me that well.”
He saw Kit flinch and cursed under his breath.
“Kit—”
“No, you’re right.” Kit waved away the apology. “I was always the annoying baby brother. Nothing’s changed.”
“Somethings have changed,” Red murmured.
“I’m a big boy now. I’m all growed up.”
Red rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it, kid.”
Kit shot him a mischievous grin. “Aw, you’re no fun.”
“I’m plenty fun,” Red said dryly. “Look at me being fun.” He waved at the food.
Kit tapped his chin. “Well, you have thrown yourself on top of me, protected me from a rampaging boyfriend, hunted for me when I ran away, and kidnapped me and taken me into the middle of nowhere.”
“I didn’t kidnap you.”
“You gave me no choice, and you still haven’t told me where I am,” Kit pointed out. “What would you call it?”
The boy had a point. Red just shrugged. “You’ll have a bed for the night and good food. You’ll be fine.”
“In other words, you’re not going to tell me anything.”
Kit looked resigned and disgusted, but to Red’s relief, he didn’t push it. Red had clients who’d pushed for more information than was safe but then he’d just referred it upward, claiming it was above his paygrade. Now he seemed to be the top of the tree and Kit was right to look to him for answers.
It didn’t matter what Red signed up for. Everyone, from Kit to Quinn, was expecting him to take care of Kit. Just like Quinn had to face up to his responsibilities, so did Red.
He set his plate aside before he said something stupid. Or did something worse. The way Kit had moaned over a damn grilled cheese like it was an invitation should’ve been funny. Instead, it had gone straight to Red’s gut—and lower.
Focus.
He leaned back in his chair, studying Kit the way he’d learned to study threats: steady, patient, taking everything in.
The bravado. The restless energy. The way the boy filled silence because he didn’t know what to do with it.
He was going to have to fill that space for him, or Kit would run again.
“Eat,” Red said, keeping his voice even. “We skipped lunch.”
Kit blinked, clearly phasing out. “The day’s gone on forever. What about our clothes? I didn’t see any bags.”
“We didn’t have time to pack,” Red pointed out. “We were too busy searching for you. We picked up some basics on the way up here.”
Kit grimaced. “I’m sorry. I screwed up, didn’t I?”
Red let the silence stretch out between them, then he said, “I’m here to take care of you.”
Always will, if you’ll let me. His heart be damned.
“That’s my job.”
Something shifted. Kit hesitated, then took another bite, slower this time, eyes dropping to his plate. The obscene little noise didn’t repeat. Red counted that as a small win.
He let the silence stretch. Silence made people uncomfortable. People talked when they were uncomfortable.
Kit finally looked up. “So,” he said lightly, too lightly. “You gonna tell me the scary stuff now? Or do I earn dessert first?”
Red exhaled through his nose. “I’m not keeping things from you to be an ass.”
Kit snorted. “Debatable.”
“I’m keeping things from you because knowing too much makes you vulnerable. And you’re reckless.”
“I am not reckless.”
Red raised an eyebrow.
Kit sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m… selectively reckless.”
Despite himself, Red felt the corner of his mouth twitch. He shut that down fast.
“You’re scared,” he said.
The word hit. Red saw it in the way Kit stiffened, the way his shoulders drew back like armor snapping into place.
“No,” Kit said too quickly.
“You ran,” Red replied, softer now. “You poke. You mouth off. You test people until they react. That’s not confidence.”
Kit’s fingers curled against the edge of the table. “You don’t know me. I was a kid before.”
Red leaned forward, forearms braced, voice low. “You’re not my first client.”
He saw something. A flinch. Maybe disappointment in Kit’s stormy eyes. Did he want to be special?
He held Kit’s gaze, made damn sure the boy was listening.
“And I know this—until this is over, you stay close and listen. You don’t test me.”
Kit swallowed. Red saw everything. Saw the fight, the need, and relief tangle together in a way that made Red’s chest ache.
“And if I do?” Kit asked, defiant but unsure.
Red didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
“If you do,” he said, “I’ll remind you why your brother hired me.”
The air went tight. Charged. Red felt it hum under his skin, the dangerous awareness of how close they were to crossing a line neither of them could uncross.
Kit looked away first.
“You’re bossy,” he muttered.
“Yes.”
“Grumpy.”
“Also yes.”
“And kind of terrifying.”
Red stood, chair scraping softly against the floor. “Good.”