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"Why?" I plop back down on Max's lap, finding him more tense than before I bounced up. "Why torment me?"
"It's our bit." He shrugs, nonchalant. "Looks like I pissed off Maxipad though.Ohhow I've missed that."
Twisting to face my husband. . .my husband.
He's here.
I let out a peaceful sigh and cuddle his neck tightly, nuzzling in deep. Then I straighten to smooth the knotted brows above his uncertain gaze. "Max.She'sfine.She loves the maid. They hunt fairies together. Lisa makes a trail with flowers and they follow them. . . She doesn't likehimthough," I admit, smirking playfully as I point at Clay.
"What?" Relaxing in his chair, he crosses his ankle over the top of his knee. "That's not true. We played hide and seek just yesterday."
Giggling, I say, "Yeah.And she left youhidden."
"I can't compete with Bronson," he states, folding his arms across his chest. "He has an unfair advantage; they have the same maturity level."
"What about Butch?" Xander says straightaway. "Such a soft cock."
Butch lifts his head, pride plastered across his strong features. "I'm her favourite."
Xander shakes his head through a chuckle, staring at Max. "When Cassidy called us from the hospital to tell us that she had a girl, Butch hung up, opened The Balvenie forty-year-old single barrel, and drank the entire thing."
They all laugh, but I feel Max's heart suddenly rampant against my body. He grips me as though I am his lifeline, like I am the one now groundinghim. As to not twist around and alert his brothers to how unsettled he is, I just lean back into him, breathing in the scent of perfect masculinity. When my head rolls against him to let him know he's not alone, that I feel his trepidation and it's alright, his arms encircle me tighter in response. He's transitioning and I am right here for him. The light to his dark. My stomach knots up just thinking about what it would feel like to learn all about your own daughter from second-hand information. I wriggle against him, drawing his mind to me and away from the thoughts plaguing him.
"We can move out tomorrow," I whisper sweetly. "Just me, you, and Kelly. You’re her hero, Max. Don't worry."
His rough exhale fans my hair. "I'll be earning that title, little one."
The boys are still chuckling and teasing each other when Max clears his throat. "I spoke with Knight." He's obviously over talking about his daughter and having no anecdote of his own to share.
Everyone quiets down.
"I couldn't tell you any earlier. Couldn't trust the guards not to read the letters. Couldn't trust anyone. . . except a Butcher, with this information, and they're all in this room."
Butch clasps his fingers together. "Straight to business then?"
Max nods. "You need to know now."
Clay swings in his chair, eyeing Max, unreadable as always. "I hear he died in prison."
"Prison justice. No one saw what happened," Max confirms, flexing his arms around my middle. Turning his head towards Konnor, he says, "He told me that Dustin paid him to kill you."
Konnor blinks, not at all surprised. That's what we expected to hear. "Okay."
Max sighs for a minute."Killyou."
Butch's eyes narrow on Max. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that Dustin paid to have Konnor taken from his bed andkilled.But he was approached by another man. This man offered him twice the amount to keep him alive. Keep him in a basement. For as long as it took. Just in case one day, this man had a use for him."
I strain for breath.
Konnor sinks down into a nearby seat, thrusting a hand through his hair and dragging it back down his face. All of the Butchers are fixed on Max, awaiting further information. The energy crackling around us is like the beginning of a current that has no end. Clay tightens, suspicious and analytical. Xander rubs his hands down his jeans, perhaps a nervous reaction to the impending news. Bronson just stares, shadowed by a palpable darkness that has little restraint.
Max levels them with his eyes. "Jimmy fucking Storm."
My mouth drops open and I exhale the words, "Oh my God."
Rolling his fingers into his palms, Butch squeezes until his knuckles turn bone-white. He beats his fist onto the desk. "Pocca miseria!"
