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“Yeah, of course. Here.” He hands us our coats and my keys, then they leave us alone. Tentatively, I sit beside Red, who hasn’t looked away from the TV, even though it’s turned off. He hasn’t so much as moved a muscle since the report aired. Cursing, I put a hand on his shoulder, and he jumps, looking at me with wide eyes.
“Oh. Um … what … um. Quin, I …” Shoving to his feet, he looks around wildly and says, “I’m going to the car.” He leaves before I can say more or try to comfort him.
This is the most awful news he could hear. Knowing that two of the traffickers are still out there had to have rattled him. They’ll never get near my boy while I’m alive, but that won’t stop the fear. I know that Andler fucker is the one that tried to take my boy, the one who plotted to have him dosed and kidnapped, so he’s already a dead man if I have anything to say about it. The other one? Well, if they’re together, he’ll end up going the same way as his boss.
When I step outside, I see Red standing beside the car, head down and hands fisted on his thighs. Since I have the keys, he was stuck outside in the cold with no jacket. “Come here,” I tell him, pulling him away from the car and sliding his coat over his shoulders. He doesn’t slide his arms through, just pulls it tight around him, keeping his head down. Putting an arm around his shoulder, I pull him away from the car and lead him down the street.
“I’m okay, Quin. It’s too cold for a walk,” he murmurs, head still down.
“We won’t walk long.” I’m not kidding. Less than a minute later, I’m walking up the driveway and sliding my key through the lock.
Clicking the lights on, I grasp Red’s arm and lead him over to the sofa. After guiding him down, I slide his jacket from his shoulders and kneel in front of Red. He doesn’t make eye contact, just looks off into space. I let him sit like this for a while without speaking, letting him collect his thoughts and feel his feelings. I curse to myself that I didn’t think to have any of Red’s pills in my car. He could have an anxiety attack at any time, not just when he’s overwhelmed. I need to have some with me at all times, in case he forgets. If he has a panic attack right now, the only thing I can offer him is me.
I can’t read him and when the silence gets unbearable, I reach out and put my hands on his thighs. “Talk to me, Red. What are you thinking?”
Still, he says nothing. I fucking hate it. I can do anything Red needs me to. I can slay his demons, I can hold him while he cries, I can kill someone that’s putting his life in danger. But I can’t fix it if he doesn’t talk to me. He’s not doing anything. Unblinking, not letting me in. I feel useless, just kneeling in front of him staring into eyes that won’t meet mine. Red is stone, like he got stared down by Medusa.
What does he need? Quiet? A hug? Space? Reassurance? Since I’ve been his Daddy, Red has been pretty easy to read and I can meet his needs. This is a big one though. A warm blanket might not be enough. But it’s worth a try.
Getting to my feet, I turn to get him a blanket to wrap around him, to give him an ounce of comfort since it seems like he doesn’t want to talk right now, when I feel a hand on my wrist. When I look down, Red looks devastated. His face is tight and his eyes are wide and shiny. “Please, Daddy. Hold me.”
Not wasting time, I pull him into my arms, holding him close to me. When it’s still not enough, I pick him up off his feet and Red wraps his legs around my waist and I hold him this way. We stand for a while, Red breathing heavily and shaking. I keep a hold on him, making sure he knows I’m here and I’m willing to do anything to keep him safe. I’ve already made up my mind that these men are on borrowed time, but Red doesn’t need to know that right now.
I hate seeing my boy like this. He’s been so brave, so strong, that him breaking like this makes me imagine all the ways I can bury these sons of bitches.
Sniffling, Red pulls back and meets my eyes, his red and tinged with tears. Cradling him with one hand, I reach up to wipe his tear. “Can you take me to bed and hold me please?” he asks in a thick voice. “Wrap me in blankets like you did last week?”
“Of course, baby boy. Anything you need.” He wiggles to try to get down, but I take him to the room with his arms and legs still wrapped snugly around me. Only when I get upstairs to my room do I let him down so I can undress him. I leave him in his undershirt and briefs and then strip down myself, but I remove my shirt. Then I grab him again and lay him on my chest, letting him rest on me and hold me as tight as he needs to.
We lie in silence, with Red’s silent tears dripping down my neck, and I’ve never felt so helpless. I’ll have to get in touch with my Ontario contact to see what the fuck happened and why he didn’t call me to give me a heads up. Then I need to get started on finding Andler and Thomas. There’s no way they’ll live out the year while my boy is this frightened. They’ll be lucky to see next month. If I have my way, they’ll be dead in thirty days or less.
It’ll be easy enough to find them. While the government pretends they don’t have the technology, it’s easy enough to find people using the CCTV cameras in airports, bus stations, ATMs, and anywhere else they’re available. Disguises won’t matter with the software I’ll be using. They can go off the grid, but I have ways to find them. Hacking the government is easy when they’re the ones that taught you how to do it.
Quietly, Red says, “They’re somewhere out there. Not getting the justice they deserve. They killed people, Quin. They stole them and killed them. It’s not fair.”
“It’s not, baby boy,” I respond, holding him tighter. I’ve killed people before and haven’t lost any sleep because of it. I won’t lose an ounce of sleep killing these men for my boy.
As his Daddy, it’s my job to keep Red safe. If I have to go back to my old life for a moment for him, I’ll gladly do it. I’ll shed the two years I’ve been Malcolm Hayes and become Quin Harris again. I’m already Quin to him, but not the Benavelli Quin. Not “Sergeant Harris” Quin. Shedding my new identity for my old will be easy if it makes my boy happy.
He lifts his head and looks down at me. “You think they know it was me? You think they’ll be able to find me?”
I fuckinghatethe note of fear he has in his voice. No one will ever get to him. Ever. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll never have to worry, you understand? They won’t find you because I won’t let them.”
Red sits up, straddling my lap. He looks so broken, so sad, so terrified. I will cause pain to these two fucks if it’s the last thing I do. “You promise?”
“I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Trust me.”
“I do, Quin. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone. So I know you mean it.”
Sitting up, I keep him in my lap and put my hands on his waist. “You want to go back to the other house or stay here?”
“Stay here,” he responds quickly, then looks around. “Where are we?”
“The house I share with Michael. I can give you a tour if you want.”
He looks around my room, taking in the dark reds and black that make up my curtains, sheets, blanket and pillowcases. When he turns and looks at me, I see the exhaustion pulling his face down into a frown. “No. I wanna go to sleep. Hold me until I do?”
Kissing him lightly, I tug him to my chest and lie back. “Anything, baby.”
