“And who is Kane Quinn’s boy?”
“Quinn Ryder,” Red corrected. “And his boy is Cade Connolly.”
Kit stared at him, his mouth open. “Cade Connolly. The Daysance lead singer? You’re joking.”
He’d drooled over Cade since he was a teenager. The guy was one of the most well-known pop stars in the country and a talented street artist. Kit longed to own a ConC painting, but that was out of Kit’s league.
“Look them up,” Red said. “He’s scary rich, got a temper to match, and could order a hitman like that.” He snapped his fingers. “The window is locked. I’ve got the key so don’t bother trying to get out that way. I’ll be outside the door all night.”
“What makes you think I’m going to run away?”
Red gave him a flat look. “I know you, remember?”
He had a point. Kit had been the master of escaping from the club when he’d first lived with Tony. His brother used to send the guys after him, Red among them, but Kit always went to the same place, his mom’s grave, and he always returned. Tony calmed down after a while, insisted he had his phone on, and left him to it.
As Kit had gotten older, the places he’d visited had been less about visiting with his mom and more about getting his rocks off, but by that time, Tony had lost interest in his whereabouts. Until now.
“Go to sleep,” Red insisted. “It’s been a long night.”
Kit wanted to protest, but it was as if Red was the sleep whisperer or something. He relaxed into his pillows and yawned. “What happened to Ti and his Daddy?”
“We took them home. They’re safe.”
Kit gave a jaw cracking yawn and closed his eyes. “Ti is so lucky to have a Daddy who cares about him.”
He was almost asleep before he felt a hand smooth back his hair. “Go to sleep.”
And he did.
There wasno sign of Red when Kit finally rolled out of bed and flung on a robe. He opened his bedroom door, expecting to find Red and found a man he didn’t know, standing outside. He was an old dude, forties at least, dressed in black bike leathers, and drinking out of a cup bearing the words, ‘never underestimate an old guy on a Hog.’
“Who are you?” Kit demanded, suddenly aware his robe hung loose, and he had nothing on underneath it. He wrapped it around himself and fastened the tie.
The man didn’t seem to notice as he gave Kit a nod. “Morning. I’m Padraig.”
“You’re on rides,” Kit remembered. “What are you doing outside my bedroom?”
“Yeah, me and Jace. He’s my partner. He’ll be here soon. Red asked me to cover you while he’s in the kitchen making breakfast.”
“He didn’t leave me alone?”
Padraig gave a wry smile. “No, kid, he didn’t leave you alone. You’ll be lucky to take a piss in peace from now on.”
Unsure whether he was excited or worried by the prospect, Kit wandered downstairs, following the scent of coffee. He found Red alone in the kitchen at the stove, shoulders under a plain black T-shirt so broad they should have been in different zip codes, and a gun holstered at his hip like it belonged there.
“Morning,” Kit said brightly, hopping onto the counter instead of a chair. He spread his legs, hoping to entice Red to glance his way.
But Red didn’t move away from the stovetop. “Counters are for plates.”
“Then I’m decorative.”
No answer, just that slow turn of the head and one raised eyebrow.
Kit stayed where he was, he was comfortable, and it wasn’t like he had to obey Red, was it? This was his home after all.
“Ugh, get your naked ass off the countertop,” Tony grumbled as he wandered into the kitchen. “At least close your legs. No one needs to see your junk. At least pretend you weren’t raised by wolves.”
He laughed at his own joke. The Evergreen Wolves had raised Kit who’d heard the quip too many times to give anything but a lip curl.
