The door swished open and Frey walked in wearing spotted pyjama bottoms and a white T-shirt, hair wet from a recent shower, looking sweet and innocent. Living in the house with him, and being traumatized by his heats, they all knew sweet and innocent were two things he wasn’t.
“Plan of action for what?” he directed at Booker, a glint of warning in his eyes. Frey might be small and cute, but he had more than a handle on his mate.
Laken cursed under his breath at recognizing he wasn’t going to be able to keep this from going beyond this room. If Frey knew then Isley would find out, it was only a matter of time.
One thing at a time.
Booker met Laken’s stare and shrugged, giving him a look to indicate it was his show. “On how to deal with a problem I’ve got. One I don’t want discussing with anyone outside of the family unless I say differently,” he said pointedly to Frey.
Popi sniffed and rubbed the back of his floury hand over his nose, turning the rosiness white with powder. “Your Dad will sort this good-for-nothing blackmailer for trying to mess with our family.”
Frey squeaked in alarm, and Booker placed his beer down and hustled to him before Laken could blink twice. Next, he was lifting Frey so he could slide his legs around his waist and cling on. Booker whispered something in his ear only Frey could hear. Laken figured it had something to do with the situation when his eyes glistened with unshed tears and he glanced at Laken, giving him a wobbly smile. “I won’t say anything, I swear on Emmy’s life.”
Laken sucked his top lip between his teeth to hold back the urge to cry. Booker was a lucky man.
Popi came over and wrapped his dirty hands around Laken’s shoulders to kiss the top of Laken’s head. “Have you eaten? Let’s make you a pizza.”
As Laken shook his head to the question he hadn’t been given a chance to answer, Popi sniffed again, wiping at the flour on the suit jacket, making it worse by smearing it all over the place.
Laken reached up to take hold of the trembling hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine Popi, I’ll get it laundered.”
“My love, it’s all going to be fine,” Dad assured Popi, encouraging him back to the counter. “We’ll have a family meeting. I’ll ring—”
“Dad, please—”
“Family, Laken. You stood with your brothers when they needed you, the same goes for this. There’ll be no surprises then. We deal with this together,” he stated firmly.
He didn’t argue.
“These pictures, when were they taken?” Kodi questioned, waving one at Laken, wearing a wary expression.
Laken took a swig of his beer, thinking of that night, his eyes focused on the past. “When I was fourteen, I was hustling the streets for a trick. I hadn’t eaten in days and I was desperate. The guy set me up, and while I was blowing him, I was attacked from behind and injected with drugs…” his voice was flat, emotionless as he talked about what he had been through to survive. Would Isley understand?
He fucking hoped so.
Chapter Seventeen
Delicious & Vicious
Hollis:I’ve got everyone’s availability and it seems a week on Friday looks like it will work for our cocktail and catch-up.
Wilder:All the peen talk. I can’t wait!
Hollis:If we could keep the peen talk to a minimum, as in none, I’d be much happier.
Frey:Don’t be a spoil sport. We want to know what Monty has been getting UP TWO while he’s been away.
Bowie:Did you mean to write that like that, Frey? I think you’ve got sticky keys.
Monty:There’s some stickiness required for two…
Wilder:I just bet there is!
Frey:No stickiness here, unless you count baby spit-up on my shirt!
Bowie:I’m not sure what we’re talking about.
Isley:Sometimes I think that’s for the best so as not to corrupt your innocence.