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“You’re good enough,” I say with a frown. “We’ve all done some bad things, but yours were thrust upon you. Jack didn’t give you a choice. He saw a kid in need of help, and instead of helping, he fucking groomed you to be his enforcer. You didn’t choose that shit; you were pushed. But he won’t be able to push you around much longer — I promise.” I study his hairy profile under the streetlights. “You didn’t answer my question about what you’re going to do with all your spare time, once you’re free.”
Lucius continues to stare straight ahead, out the windshield. “I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I’ve been trying to grow plants. Like Thaddy. His garden makes me feel happy. But I only kill things.” He looks down at his hands. “The therapist thinks I should get a cat, but they have feelings, and I don’t want to… I wouldn’t want it to turnout like the plants.”
“Maybe you’ll feel more ready soon. How is your toy collection? Growing? Are you spending some time playing each day, the way he said?”
Loosh nods and glances out the window, at Kira’s place. “It’s nice that it comes so easy to the little ones. Cy hustled good, to do right by them all. I worry about Atty, though.”
“Atticus is more well-rounded than most of us,” I assure him.
“But he’s softer,” Loosh says, programed by Jack to believe softness equals weakness. “His mom was so nice.”
I nod, remembering Carol’s kind smile and generous hugs. “Yeah. She was sweet.”
“Kira’s sweet too.” His tone is unusually warm.
“I know,” I reply, looking him over. Is he crushing on my girl? “We’ll always be brothers, but if you catch hard-dick-feelings for Kira, I can’t be your friend anymore, because I’ll want to hurt you. So let’s just leave it there,” I say firmly.
He nods. “I don’t like her like that. Don’t worry. But I do like her.” He meets my gaze. “I’ll help you keep her safe.”
“Thank you.”
22
KIRA
Ilie on my hotel bed in the darkness, looking at the empty bed next to me. Curty should be sleeping in it, but I’m trying really hard to allow him reasonable freedoms within the sphere of safety Quin’s brothers assure me they’ll provide.
The older Montgomery’s have kindly organized a crazy-carnage, creativity session and game-night-slash-multi-screened-Fortnite-marathon sleepover with some of Jack’s other younger sons, while Aldus, Atticus, Darius, Daisy, and Cyrus supervise. Essentially, that means Curty will have a great time and be well taken care of but returned to me exhausted, crashing from a sugar high, and smelling like nobody thought to open a window at any point, to let out the corn-chip-smell of boy stench.
I close my eyes, hoping to turn off my brain for a minute, but snap them right back open when I hear loud thumping and dragging noises through the walls, from the room next door.
That room belongs to Aldus, orDustyas he prefers, but he’s down in Darius’ and Atty’s adjoining rooms, for game night. Someone else is in there. Or are the sounds from the room beyond that?
My blood thunders in my ears, and I jump out of bed, hating Jack’s stupid adjoining-door system more than ever, because I know he has a key, and I know that the room beyond Dusty’s belongs to Quin.
Is something happening in there?
I’ve been aching to see Quin, but he’s been hiding like a recluse in his room, as promised, so I can move freely without worry. Is this my chance to lay eyes on him? With Dusty gone, can we talk across his room?
It suddenly makes sense to me that Quin would orchestrate a game night elsewhere, which he’d get Dusty to partake in, to remove the barrier between us being able to seeing each other. Does he suspect I’m pregnant? I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to tell him — is this it?
“Kira.”
I rush to the door. “Quin?”
He moans loudly, his rough tone rumbling at me through the door. “I’m going to suck those fucking tits, until you come.”
My nipples perk up at the threat, and I reach for the handle, but then hurry to find the key I need to unlock it.
It takes me longer than it should. I’m too excited by the prospect of celebrating the happy news with a mutual masturbation orgasm or three. My clit is tingling, and my hands are jittery and non-compliant.
But when I swing open the door, I immediately lose my c-literal hard-on to the entirely unexpected and heart-arresting scenario that awaits me.
Quin is on the floor, clawing his way forward through the internal access door on the other side of Dusty’s room — while dragging his entire bed behind him. It appears to be attached to one of his ankles by some sort of cuff-and-rope system, and the fact that the king-size bed can’t fit through the door is the only thing keeping him from coming any closer.
He reaches for me, but the second I see his watch, I rush backward.
“Quin, what are you doing?” I ask.
