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Red stares at me for a full minute and I don’t rush him to answer. He needs to figure out what he wants to do and if he can trust me. I don’t want him afraid of me, but I won’t try to convince him not to be. He’s been through enough in the past six hours. I want him to feel safe to make his own decisions about where he wants to go from here.
After a while, he shakes his head and pulls his legs to his chest. “No, I’m not afraid of you, Malcolm.” I keep the wince to myself. He didn’t call me Daddy and he doesn’t know that’s not my real name.
No time like the present to tell him. “My real name is Quin. Quin Harris.” Red’s mouth drops open and he stares at me some more. “What’s yours?” There’s no way Red is his real name.
Again, it takes a full minute for him to find his words. “Anything else you need to tell me? You’re American, you have guns, used to work for dangerous people, you’re supposed to be dead and your real name is Quin. I got all that right?” He ignores my question, but I don’t push. Not yet anyway.
My jaw flexes with the need to tell this boy to temper his attitude when he’s talking to me, but I know he’s been through some shit, so I allow it. Just this once. “That about covers the basics. If you want me to tell you everything, I will. I won’t lie to you about anything, Red.”
That seems to deflate him. “I know. At least I think I know. But after tonight, I’m a little on edge.”
“I get it, baby boy, I do.” I watch Red lean towards me when I call him that, but I won’t look too much into it. He’s still unsure on how he feels. I know he trusts me with his life, but our relationship dynamic will take a different kind of trust.
Looking shakily at the gun, he inclines his head towards it. “Show me how to use it?”
Keeping my smile to myself, I slide over and scoop up the Sig from the table. Before I let him hold the gun, I show him where the safety is, telling him how much pressure he needs to put on the trigger to fire, and telling him to aim center mass for the largest target. When I put it in his hand, he jerks and looks at me with wary eyes. “Red, you don’t have to take it. But I want you to feel safe and if anyone comes into this room that’s not me, I want you to protect yourself. Understand?”
He nods and watches me flick the safety off, then back on. He repeats the motion and looks at me quickly. “Good boy,” I murmur and watch his eyes get soft and a small smile twitch on his lips. “I’ll be quick. I saw a store a few miles back that will have some sweatpants and a few t-shirts. Something for you to throw on until we get you settled. Okay?”
Pulling in a deep breath, Red looks to be steeling himself. He blows it out and nods. “I’ll wait until you get back to shower, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. Give me half an hour. Charge your phone and keep it close. Call me if you need me and I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
I leave Red in the room, looking small and vulnerable sitting on the couch in the room. Rushing to the car, I drive the few miles down the road to a shopping center. Quickly, I grab what I need for him, also adding a new cell phone, a duffle bag for him to put these clothes in and something things he might need, like body wash, deodorant, lotion and what I hope is the right product he can use for his hair.
It takes much effort not to call Savage and Michael so we can go and take this Andler fuck out. Not only for what he tried to do to my boy, but for abducting anyone against their will. That’s laughable coming from me, since we kidnapped Abel’s brother, but that was different. He was breaking into Savage’s home and it was my job as his bodyguard to keep him safe. Besides, we let him go, although we shouldn’t have with what happened.
That being said, traffickers take people so they can get assaulted day in and day out for money. That’s not something I’m okay with. While Savage was involved in gun running and selling drugs, he never agreed with trafficking. He would never allow anyone to talk him into it to get more money and wouldn’t associate with any bosses that did.
So, yeah, I want to fucking off this guy, for Red and anyone else he pulled this shit with, but I need to keep my boy safe first, get him somewhere secure, find out what else he knows, then I can put a bullet through Andler’s brain.
Twenty-seven minutes later, I’m sliding my keycard back into the door and pushing my way in. I’m met with Red aiming my gun at me, hand steady and his eyes hard. I drop the bags and raise my hands, stepping into the room and shutting the door with my foot. “It’s me, baby boy. You’re safe.”
Red drops the gun with a groan and wraps his arms around himself. I move slowly towards him, making sure not to make any sudden moves. When I get to the couch, I move the gun to the table and put a hand on Red’s arm. Sliding over to me, he puts his head on my shoulder and lets out a hard breath. “How do you keep ahold of that thing? It’s heavy.”
Giving him a smirk he can’t see, I rub his shoulder and say, “It’s not that bad. You had good form.”
We sit in silence for a few beats, then Red says in a quiet voice, “You know, the other day, I was thinking you didn’t look like a Malcolm. Quin fits.”
“Malcolm is a good name, but you’re right, it doesn’t fit. You ready for a bath now? I have some body wash that I saw you use when you were at the hotel in Ontario. I’ll sit out here and make sure you’re safe.”
Red nods, then makes his way to the bags. He grabs all of them and shuts himself up in the bathroom. When I hear the lock click, I peel off my jacket and reach for the landline, ordering us some room service. Even if he’s sleepy, Red needs to eat. He’s been through a lot and I’m not sure when he ate last. I order a bit of everything, not knowing what he likes. I even get the kitchen to make a cheeseburger, just in case he doesn’t want any of the breakfast foods I ordered.
Just as the food arrives, Red comes out of the bathroom—hair wet, eyes red, and looking smaller than his muscular frame should. He looks over at the cart I’m wheeling inside and he gives me a soft grin. “Did you order the whole kitchen?”
“Almost. Come on, we can eat and talk.”
Chapter Five
Red
Ialmostcan’tbelieveeverything Malcolm—I meanQuin—is telling me. He’s American—which explains his comfort around guns—and he used to work for a major crime family. He gives off the energy that he doesn’t take shit. He has that calm air about him that you can tell can be flipped on a dime if need be. Oh God … has he ever killed anyone? He probably has. Shouldn’t that scare me?
After we finish eating and Quin puts the cart outside the door, he ushers me over to the bed. Tucking me under the blankets, he sits down beside me and brushes my now wavy hair out of my face. “You okay, mouse?”
Smirking a little at his nickname for me, I nod. “Thanks for helping me, Daddy. It means a lot. I don’t have a lot of people. Just Cara and my grandfather.”
“You’re welcome,” he responds, brushing my hair from my forehead again. “And you don’t have to call me that anymore.”
