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Paxton Slade had changed, though not by a lot. Instead of a gangly little kid, he was now a gangly preteen—and he was pinned against the brick wall by one of the three boys fencing him in. A fourth rifled through Pax’s backpack, pocketing the spare change he found inside.
Fuck, did kids really steal each other’s lunch money still?
None of those boys, not even Paxton, had noticed him yet.
A sharp whistle cut between Darien’s lips.
The kids turned, the thieving one rising out of his crouch. The one pinning Paxton to the wall, however, did not let go.
Darien acknowledged his cousin with a dip of his chin. “Hey, Pax.” Molten anger rolled through him, spiking his body temperature. Too bad these kids were just that: kids.
Paxton stared at him like he’d seen a ghost. “Hi.” With that mop of dark hair and the splash of freckles on his nose, he was looking more like Roman the older he got.
“These boys giving you trouble?”
The leader pinning him to the wall said, “This is between us and him, so mind your own goddamn business.”
“Three things,” Darien snapped. His tone made the kid pale. “One—watch your tongue, kid. Two—he’s my cousin so he is my business. Three—this is between you and me now. You get two choices: let him go…or see what happens if you don’t.”
It took three seconds. Only three, and then the leader let go of Paxton with a shove that knocked his head into the wall.
Darien’s temper sparked, but he leashed it as they hastily picked up their backpacks and stomped out of the alley.
Darien stopped the thief as he passed. He pulled on his backpack, dragging him back this way. “Empty your pockets.”
Quickly, he turned them inside out. Change clattered to the cobbles and rolled.
Darien stared the kid in the eye. “He take anything else?” His question was for Paxton.
When Paxton replied, his voice wavered. “Don’t think so.”
Darien pushed the kid toward the mouth of the alley. “Scram.”
He did.
Darien faced his cousin, who still stood by the wall, his scraped hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. “Remember me?” Darien said.
The kid smiled, bullies instantly forgotten. “You kidding? I still want to be you when I grow up!”
“Get your things, we gotta go.”
He picked up his backpack and threw the discarded contents—books, apple, pens—back inside. “Where are we going?”
“We’ll talk in private.”
He went for the spare change next.
“Leave it,” Darien said. “I’ll get you more.”
“It better be more than five gold mynet.” He slid his arms through the straps of his backpack and hurried to Darien’s side. “It’s pizza day at school tomorrow.”
“How about a hundred and a cinnamon bun?” He gestured to the bakery across the street with a jerk of his chin.
“Sold!”
The rain was really coming down as they crossed the street and ducked into the bakery. Fuck, that smell was orgasmic. Darien’s mouth was watering.
“So, what are you doing here?” Paxton asked cheerily as he followed Darien to the counter, backpack thwacking against empty chairs. The place was warm and quiet, only a handful of people snacking at barstools and a table by the counter. Darien kept his hood up to avoid anyone seeing his tattoo, though he could feel several sets of probing eyes tracking his movements.
