Page 37 of Laken's longing

“Worse how?”

Isley’s sigh was as dramatic as it could get. “He came by last night after not coming to work all day and things got…” A fiery blush made him sweat as he struggled to explain aloud what they’d done.

“Out of hand?” Wilder finished, the grin returning, and he wiggled his butt on the seat. “Give me all the juicy details. I need to live vicariously through you.”

“You asked for it.” Isley leaned closer, once more checking around, and went for it, spilling his guts to a wide eyed Wilder about his sexy antics, Paris and then about Laken having bolted after the epic frotting session with his brother just down the hallway. He ended his tale with the events of the day and Jupiter’s visit to the office.

“Fuck me, Isley, you sure know how to switch it up. I need to write this shit down.”

“Yeah, I’m totally slaying it over here… not,” Isley groaned. He met Wilder’s gaze, and they fell about laughing.

“At least you can laugh about it.”

Isley held on to that, because he wasn’t sure he’d be laughing the following night after Laken came to ‘talk’ to him.

Chapter Sixteen

Laken

He’d told Isley the truth, there was something he had to do this evening. The moment his secretary had brought in the post and he’d seen the envelope marked like the others, he’d decided he was going to have to talk to Dad and Popi. He couldn’t continue shouldering the burden alone. Dad and Popi had taught him how essential it was to ask for help when he needed it. It might have taken him long enough to get to this point, but he’d gotten there in the end, and that was before he’d seen the fourth picture.

Fuck, it was the worst yet.

The camera caught his glazed eyes, bruises he seen with something dark, while he was spit roasted between two big dudes who Laken had no recollection of. He’d spent the whole twenty-four hours they’d used him in a drug haze that still left gaps in his memory. Most of the two years he lived on the streets he wished for no memories, but they were a hazy mess. They’d abandoned him in a dirty alleyway and he’d come to, starving,covered in more bruises, and his ass too painful to even walk. He’d ended up begging on the streets and that was when Lester from Craigend House had found him.

He’d offered him a bed, but Laken trusted no one at that point. When Lester came back with Lane, there had been something about him that screamed ‘trust me’ and eventually he had given in to Popi’s overwhelming charm and genuine niceness. No one could fight it. They had offered a new life. A life that gave him family to trust and love him no matter what. The contents of that brown envelope today were the reminder he needed: they loved him no matter what the circumstances.

Whoever it was, they were going for the kill shot. A million for their silence. He gave a harsh laugh. He could easily liquidate assets to free up enough cash to add to his deposit account to give them what they wanted in the two-day time frame. He could ask any one of his brothers, or his parents for the money. It was easy, too easy. The assholes knew their target. He recognized that they’d fucking worked to induce fear and make him pliable. What they’d actually done was fuck him off.

After what had happened between him and Isley, it was tempting to give in and pay the money. Pretend that life was all roses, take what he wanted with Isley, when it would never be real. When he would be looking back over his shoulder forever—waiting. The threat would remain, and if he paid, he’d have to continue for the rest of his life. It would never be the end of it.

When Isley had left this evening, he’d considered what his actions were going to be while packing up his things to leave and go home. Trust. It was time he acted like the man they’d raised. Popi and Dad built everything on it in their home. His home. His family. Love was part of the foundation, but trust it was what wove it all together.

Trusting to have each other’s back when the shit hit. Taylin, Booker, Silas and Kari of late had needed support, and hadtrusted him and his brothers to have their backs. As much as he’d like to deal with this issue on his own and keep his family out of it, it would hurt Dad and Popi, and his brothers, when confronted with the fallout because he hadn’t been honest. He was no different to his brothers, he reminded himself, it was just his turn to ask for help. If it felt hard, then that was part of life, and he had to suck that fucker up.

He kept that at the forefront of his mind as he drove home. He parked up, took a deep breath and reached for the envelope he’d stashed all the pictures in. Giving it one last look, he tucked it into his laptop bag and exited the car. Locking it, he strode into the house, closed the door, and placed his laptop bag on the side table.

“Dad,” he called out before he could find a distraction to delay the inevitable.

“Shush, I’ve just got Emmy to sleep,” Booker hissed over the top of the flight of stairs, running down towards him, hair flying, his top covered in what looked like baby vomit.

Yuck.

“Sorry,” Laken muttered, irked that he hadn’t thought about the lateness of the hour and Emmy’s nightly routine. “Is Dad about?”

Booker gave him an assessing look, his eyes narrowing. “What gives?”

“I just need to talk to Dad and Popi,” he said, exasperated at the guilty feeling that his past could hurt Booker and touch his daughter in some way.

“They’re in the kitchen. Popi is making pizza.”

“Thanks.” Laken rooted out the envelope and strode off towards the kitchen. He paused after two steps when Booker followed in his wake.

“Where are you going?” Christ, he wanted to do this with just Dad and Popi first.

“To the kitchen, to find out what gives.”

Why did he think this was going to go his way with his current luck?