Entrapped

by Tl Reeve

  Every morning without fail, they hit every red light in town. If wasn’t due to construction, it was people getting late starts or accidents. Today had been no different. Behind her, a car honked its horn, even though they were technically moving.

  “It was so much easier in Window Rock,” Liam said, when they came to a grinding halt on the main road.

  Charisma nodded. “Sure was. I don’t like the traffic either.”

  “When do you think we’ll go home?” Riley asked.

  It’d been the first time either of them had voiced wanting to leave or being curious about Window Rock since they arrived. “Not sure. I guess whenever your father and brother find Holly.” It was easier, Charisma learned, to call her Holly. It detached the fact Holly had been their mother all of their life and just left.

  “Are they getting any closer?” Liam leaned forward.

  She didn’t know. She’d spent so much time avoiding Royce she hadn’t even asked Royce, and by the time Mackenzie came home, he’d eaten dinner, showered, and went to bed. Unlike Window Rock, where they built one house at a time, Mackenzie worked on a six-story apartment building in the bitter cold.

  “Not sure. I’ll talk with Royce tonight and find out.” She edged into the turn lane and waited for the traffic to clear before turning left onto the road going to their school.

  After dropping off Liam and Riley, Charisma entered the office to sign in for her duties. Every time she wrote the name Norah Rough, it felt like she was losing part of herself, while also gaining some weird inner strength. As Norah, she didn’t have worry about what people thought about her or Royce and, in a way, it was freeing. Yet, she was the daughter of a senator and a damn good teacher back in Arizona. Her inner struggle for balance became a daily reminder of everything she lost and what she gained. Today she might like herself. Tomorrow, maybe not.

  As she started for the gym where all the decorations were being put together, a group of moms she’d begun to call friends approached her. Hannah, the tall, dark-haired woman whose husband owned the local BMW dealership hurried to her side. She had a plucky personality, with a thick Boston accent that Charisma loved. She was also fiercely loyal.

  “I know you know the Dryers. I’ve seen your friend with one of the owners.” Hannah said. Since Penelope had come with her a few times to help out, Charisma introduced her to everyone as a friend of the family. Though they didn’t talk about their familial connection, it didn’t matter. It gave them time together and a little normalcy when nothing about their time in Massachusetts was normal at all.

  “That’s her husband,” Charisma answered. “What can he do to help?”

  Hannah’s face lit up. Excitement burst in her hazel-blue eyes. “We could really use some help building a replica of the bow of the Mayflower.”

  “Uh...”

  “I know it’s early, and it’s a daunting task. But, it would be amazing to use it this year for our first Thanksgiving production.”

  Charisma didn’t want to commit to something without knowing for sure they’d still be there come November. However, they’d been there for three months and there’d been no change to the mission. What could it hurt? If anything, Saber could always leave the instructions with a team of builders.

  “Sure. You know, Penelope should be here soon too. If you want to go over the plans with her first, she can then talk to him tonight. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.” She grinned. “In the meantime, what are we doing today?”

  “Thank you.” Hannah linked her arm with Charisma’s. “Today we’re putting the stands together. Each class has one, and each class is decorating their own. All we have to do is attach it to the framework.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  * * * *

  Royce watched as the students in the lecture hall furiously copied his outline off the whiteboard. He’d much prefer if they’d listen first, focusing on what he was teaching rather than the written word. They were currently learning about organized crime from the twenties and thirties in a section titled “The History and Trends of Crime in the United States.”

  It was boring as hell.

  From his experience in the classroom, he’d learned he wasn’t a desk jockey. He preferred to have his office in the front seat of his Enforcer. Grading papers, dealing with the bullshit of young, future law enforcement agents and potential lawyers who thought they had a clue and knew more than he did, was enough to drive a man to drink.

  Royce leaned against the board while listening to two jocks argue over the political correctness of calling the Mob…the fucking Mob. It gave him a headache, and he’d been done with the discussion five minutes ago. He had students who genuinely wanted to learn, and those two douches only wanted to follow in daddy’s shoes as FBI agents.

  He snorted. They’d never make it.

  Royce cleared his throat, interrupting their conversation. Both students looked at him expectantly. “You think the Mob doesn’t know they’re called the Mob? Or give a shit how law enforcement refers to them?” He stared at the two blond-haired boy wonders. “News flash, they don’t. They recognize a person’s hesitation and their fear around those words, and they’re not afraid to use it.”

  “But—”

  “Are either of you for real? To sit here and waste my time and your classmates on if The Mob cares about political correctness. If you even think that, you might want to consider another profession.” Royce glanced to the large clock sitting dead center at the back of the medium-sized auditorium, while trying to tamp down his aggravation at not being able to finish what he needed to. “Class is over. Read the next chapter by Wednesday. For homework, answer the ten questions related to the war on crime at the end of the chapter. They will be graded as a quiz. If you don’t turn them in, you’ll be given a zero.”

  “Professor Rough?” Royce cringed. Lisa, one of his more persistent students, waved at him from her seat. “Can I get a second of your time?”

  “Yes.” He ignored the throbbing pain of a headache taking root behind his eyes. He had shit to do. Beers to drink, criminals to catch, and a relationship to fix. Standing there listening to Lisa ask twenty questions about the homework wasn’t a priority as far as he was concerned.

  She picked her way through the crowd of students who’d made a beeline for the door. She stopped in front of his desk, waiting for the last student to leave before saying anything. Once the door closed behind the last person, she continued to stare at him.

  “What’s up, Lisa?” Royce forced civility into his tone.

  “I...” Her brows furrowed. “Is everything okay?”

  He failed at hiding his agitation. “Sorry.” Sometimes separating Rexx from Royce didn’t work. He had a whole set of issues he was trying to work through since they arrived and being in this kind of setting didn’t bode well for Royce. “What can I do to help you?” He leaned back against the desk.

  “So, I thought, if you weren’t busy, we could do a mock procedure.”

  Royce tilted his head. Wait, perhaps he should have been paying attention. “A mock pro—”

  The big, heavy steel doors clicked open and vibrated before closing once more moments later. Royce glanced at the entrance and frowned.

  Even after seeing his dad every day for the last three months, the changes Mackenzie had made to go undercover were startling. His father had shaved his head and insisted on wearing a black wool beanie. Mackenzie had also grown a beard. Unlike Caden or Kalkin, there wasn’t a single grey hair in the coarse, black hair. It made his father’s bright blue eyes stand out even more. Mackenzie had also bulked up, gaining back muscles and strength he had lost while he’d been away from the pack all those years. His shoulders pushed at the seams of the ratty black jacket he wore while working. His dad’s face had filled out, and he looked like the twins now more than ever.

  The haunted appearance Mackenzie had over the summer disappeared. He actually liked his father now that he’d gotten to know him, and he never thought he’d utt
er the sentiment when it came to the other man.

  “Yo, Rexx.” His father bounded down the steps. He still recoiled at the name his uncle had assigned to him for this job. Royce hated it, just like he despised Charisma’s name. Every time he had to call his mate Norah, he swore the wolf who hid under his skin howled in distaste. “You about ready to go.”

  On days he taught later, Mackenzie would walk over from the construction site for them to go home together. Royce was getting to learn more about his father with each passing week.

  “Yeah,” he acknowledged. “Let me finish this up and we’ll head out.”

  Mackenzie dropped his big body in one of the seats in the front row to patiently wait. The bitter scent of fear coming from Lisa had his gaze darting back to the young girl standing in front of his desk, her wide eyes watching Mackenzie warily.

  “Is there a problem?” Royce realized his father also didn’t look his age. If anyone had to guess, they’d say forty at most. His father, in all actuality, was sixty-five years old.

  “Umm no.” Lisa’s gaze darted back and forth from his lounging dad to him. Royce could scent her lie as clear as day. Yeah, Mackenzie could be off-putting, but he was a Raferty. They weren’t known for having the best manners. “I mean…I’ve seen him around. I thought he was homeless.”

  Royce knew she did it in the hopes the other occupant of the room wouldn’t hear her. And Mackenzie wouldn’t have if he wasn’t a wolf shifter with superior hearing.

  Royce snorted. “Wow. No, he’s not homeless, Lisa. He’s actually my dad.”

  Lisa’s brown eyes widened as she gaped at him. “I didn’t... I mean, I—”

  “Don’t be so judgmental,” he admonished her.

  This was one of those teaching moments the department head went on endlessly about in those stupid weekly meetings he called. Really, Royce preferred to tell her to stop being a hypercritical bitch, but that could get him fired and then Kalkin would ride his ass for blowing this mission.

  “As a future lawyer, you’ll need to learn not to judge a book by its cover. It could mean the difference between saving your client and getting them life for a crime they didn’t commit.” Royce picked up his insulated coffee cup, satchel, and keys before turning back to finish. “We’re done here.”

  Mackenzie stood. When Royce passed him, he chuckled, lumbering up the steps beside him. “Kal would have ripped her a new asshole.” His father winked at him as he pushed open the heavy door.

  The cold air hit Royce in the chest, stealing his breath. His lungs burned as he drew in a deep breath of fresh, frigid air. Like every other time, it hurt for a second.

  “I’m not Kal,” Royce said, zipping his jacket up.

  The cold was for the fucking birds. Fuck…he couldn’t wait to go back to Window Rock.

  “Thank fuck for small favors,” Mackenzie muttered as he pulled a pair of gloves from the pockets of his jacket. Charisma had bought them all a pair on the first cold day. A group of students walked past them as they strode toward the parking lot. “Look at these stupid fuckers, walking around in shorts, no jackets or just a sweatshirt.”

  Royce snorted. “It helps that most of them are East Coasters. This is nothing to them.”

  Mackenzie growled and bitched. “I’m seriously done freezing my balls off.”

  Frozen balls had to be better than the gigantic pair of blue ones he was currently sporting. He hadn’t had the pleasure of sinking his dick into his mate’s sweet little pussy in three months, and he was sick and tired of using his hand in the morning while getting a shower.

  He missed her—a lot—and was running out of ideas of how to pull her out of the shell he found her burying herself in whenever he was around. Every night, when they got home, Liam and Riley’s homework was done, dinner was cooked, and the house had been spotless. The second they were done with dinner, the kids cleaned up and his mate scampered off to her bedroom.

  Alone.

  The beeping of a car alarm pulled him out of his thoughts. Mackenzie slid into the front seat of the red Dryer Construction pickup truck.

  “Still blows my mind Rapier took the company nationwide,” Royce stated after he situated himself in the passenger seat.

  “Like my brother, he is an asshole, but he’s a smart asshole,” Mackenzie said before starting the massive vehicle.

  Silence filled the cabin the first five minutes of the drive. Royce was content to lean back and rest his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping for shit. His brain just wouldn’t shut down, and he was constantly thinking about this mission and getting back in the good graces of his mate.

  Also, didn’t help that something was off and whatever it was…he couldn’t fucking put his finger on it.

  “How long you going to continue to allow your mate to keep you from her?” Mackenzie hedged while they were stopped at a red light.

  Jesus fuck. Not this conversation again. He opened his eyes, giving his dad the side eye. “I’m willing to take suggestions. Nothing I do works.”

  “She’s hiding.”

  “No shit, dad, really? I didn’t have a fucking clue,” he said, his tone caustic.

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “It’s between me and Charisma, Mac. Stay out of it. I don’t ask you questions about Holly.”

  It went dead silent, and Royce knew he’d hit a nerve with the other man. He also knew the other man was a Raferty and would never let sleeping dogs lie. Therefore, he wasn’t surprised when his dad began to speak again.

  “Question for you, boy.” Royce cringed, hating when any of his family called him by that fucking nickname. “Why am I sometimes dad and sometimes Mac?”

  Royce sat up. “What the fuck are you talking about, old man?” he sneered, wanting to lash out at his father for the remainder of his place in his family. Asshole.

  “You heard what I asked. Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t look good on you.”

  Royce ignored him. “If it wasn’t for the fact we didn’t have to swing by the abandoned part of the zoo every other goddamn day, I’d fucking walk, take a bus, or find alternative transportation rather than deal with this bullshit.”

  “Just trying to have a conversation.”

  “You wanna talk? How about we talk about how an intelligent man, like yourself, allowed a piece of pussy to take you away from your family…or more importantly, dad,” he snarled. “Let’s talk about how you were okay abandoning your son, for said pussy. The same pussy that also created a sister for me by raping Caden. No wonder the fucker hated me for so many fucking years.”

  If his Uncle Kalkin had been sitting beside him, Royce was almost positive he would have smacked him upside the head for spewing such hate at his father. “Jesus, Royce,” Mackenzie grumbled. “You really want to do this now?”

  “Fuck no. But, you wanted to talk. So, let’s talk, motherfucker.” All of the rage and anger—which at most times simpered right under the skin—finally burst through, spewed forth at the man who’d rather chase after tits and ass than care for his firstborn.

  “Royce—”

  “You know what, dad, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to sit here in peace and do what we all excel at, burying our fucking heads in the sand and hope whatever problems we’ve got disappear.”

  “This is obviously a conversation we should have,” his dad continued.

  “Fuck me, Mac. You’re really not this thick, are you? Explanations, apologies, and any other bullshit should’ve been done ten years ago when you first stepped back into Window Rock. Not now.”

  Undaunted by his outburst, Mackenzie continued. “Kal had a reason, Royce, other than the mission, for putting us here, together.”

  “Kalkin Raferty and his machinations can get fucked, for all I care. I’m done being a puppet, and him being my master.”

  Mackenzie pulled into the driveway of the house and before he could even get the pickup into park, Royce was out of the vehicle and heading toward the door.

  �
�Rexx!” Mackenzie hollered just as Royce had wrapped his hand around the cold metal of the brass doorknob. “You can’t continue to avoid this. At some point, we need to address it.”

  Royce didn’t take the bait. “Yeah, I can, Merrick. Avoidance was the only thing I ever learned from you.”

  Royce let him sit and spin on that. Pulling open the door, he stepped into the warm, homey house Charisma had built for them in the last three months. A quick whiff told him she had made tacos with all the fixings for dinner, and she’d made dessert. Something with pumpkin and cinnamon.

  His stomach rumbled with hunger. Lunch had been a single rushed hotdog from a nearby convenience store during a break between his classes.

  “Hey, Rexx,” Liam said from the chair situated in the corner. His gaze was on the electronic device in his hands.

  “Hey, kid. Where’s your sisters?”

  “Harper is in her room, and Norah said something about being whipped from school and went to lay down until you guys came home.”

  “Did you finish your homework?” he asked after he removed his heavy jacket then hung it up in the closet by the door.

  “Yeah. Norah already checked it.” Liam looked up. “Where’s dad?”

  “Outside. You know how he doesn’t like coming into the house in his overalls and work boots. Do me a favor, go get your sister and get ready for dinner.”

  “Okay,” Liam said before tossing his device on the ottoman and going off to get his sister.

  Royce made his way up the stairs and down the hall, only to stop when he saw the closed door to Charisma’s bedroom. He could be a dick and barge in, catching her unaware. If she woke up, she’d be half asleep, and he’d see the old familiar look of love in her pretty eyes instead of the mistrust he saw in her expression since everything went to hell.

  He debated for a second, rapping his knuckles on the door before he opened it. He expected to see her sitting up with sleepy eyes. However, she was still out, lying on the covers, and her soft snores filled the room.