Protecting His Own (Masters of the Shadowlands Book 11)

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Dream on, buttwipe.” Jermaine shoved the stack of bills in his back pocket. His brown eyes had turned mostly black. As he kept moving from side-to-side, unable to stand still, Grant knew he was in the crazy place, just like Mama.

  Connor scowled. “I’m gonna tell Nolan you stoled from us.”

  “And the cops,” Grant added. “We’ll tell Max. And Dan.”

  Jermaine’s face changed—got hard and ugly—and Grant edged away. “You little fucker. I talked my ass off last month to keep from getting busted, and now you’re gonna call the pigs down on me? Again? Know what I think? I think the gators’d love to eat two shit-headed brats who—oops—fell into the ditch.”

  Grant’s insides started to shake, and he grabbed Connor and backed away. The front door wasn’t closed completely. If they could…

  Jermaine grabbed Connor’s shirt and Grant’s hair.

  As Connor screamed in fear, Grant kicked at Jermaine’s legs. “Let go! Let us go!”

  “You bastard!” Like Wonder Woman, Beth charged into the room and punched Jermaine right in the mouth. “Let them go!” She tried to pry his hand from Connor.

  “Fuck!” Jermaine threw Connor to one side and slapped Beth across the face.

  She staggered back, hand to her cheek, and her other hand up as if she knew he’d hit her again. Tears were in her eyes, and she was scared. Awful scared.

  Beth should never be scared.

  Grant screamed at him—“Leave her alone!”—and kicked harder and harder.

  The douche shook him by his hair. “Stop it, brat.”

  “Ow!” It hurt. Grant couldn’t keep from crying.

  Through his tears, he saw Beth’s eyes get angry, her mouth tightened—and she lunged forward. She knocked Jermaine’s fist away, kicked his knee, and punched him in the nose.

  Roaring in pain, he dropped Grant. His hands covered his bleeding nose. “Bitch.”

  Beth shoved Grant toward the door. “Go!” She turned toward Connor in the corner. “Con—”

  Jermaine hit her in the face really, really hard.

  She fell.

  Grant froze. She was just lying there. Like Mama. His heart pounded like Nolan’s nail gun, and his whole body shook, needing to run away. To hide.

  Protect Beth. Nolanman said. Daddy said.

  Standing over her, Jermaine laughed and drew his foot back.

  “Noooooo.” Screaming in fear and fury, Grant dove at Jermaine, butting him directly in the crotch.

  A fist slammed into his head. Pain exploded in his cheek. He crashed into the floor so hard he bounced. Tears blinded him. His hip. His shoulder. His face. Hurt, hurt, hurt. Shaking his head, he put his arm up, expecting a blow.

  But Jermaine hadn’t moved. Making choking sounds, he was bent over, holding himself. “Fuck. Fucking brat.”

  Crying hard, Connor ran to Beth and yanked on her arm to pull her up.

  Run. Grant yelled at him, and no sound came out. He tried to move. Get up. Get up.

  Only a few feet away, Beth shook her head weakly and, with Connor’s help, rocked onto her hands and knees.

  Grant struggled. Get up. But the floor kept moving and swaying, making him fall down again.

  “You gonna die. Cut you, bitch.” Eyes crazy mad, Jermaine straightened and pulled a switchblade from his pocket. He flicked it open. “Gonna slice you up, slice up the brats, feed you to the gators.”

  Connor scrambled in front of Beth. “Leave her alone!”

  “No, Connor,” Grant screamed.

  “Fucking little shit.” Jermaine raised his knife and swung at Connor.

  On her knees, Beth yanked Connor back, and the blade missed. She shoved Connor behind her.

  Grant tried again to stand up. Made it. He staggered a foot sideways and—

  Thunderous pounding on the door was followed by a shout. “This is the Tampa Police. Let—”

  “Fuck the legal shit,” snapped a raspy voice. Grant caught his breath. It was Nolanman. The door burst open, slammed into the wall behind it, and Nolan stalked in.

  Max and another man followed.

  “Shit.” Jermaine stumbled backward, away from Beth.

  Nolan’s black gaze burned, as he looked Grant up and down. When he turned to Beth and Connor, his face got even darker. Grant shivered. Mad. He was really mad.

  Turning toward Jermaine, Nolan moved forward, and Max tried to grab him. “King, don’t—”

  Nolanman hit Jermaine so hard the douche went into the air and flew backward. The floor shook when he hit, and he slid down the wall, mouth bleeding.

  “Dammit, Nolan,” the other man said.

  Grant recognized Dan. Swearing under his breath, he walked over to Jermaine, pulling handcuffs off his belt.

  As Nolan knelt beside Beth and Connor, Max headed toward him. “Dammit, King, you have any idea—”

  Grant lurched forward, managing to get in front of the cop. “Leave Nolanman alone. You can’t put him in jail. I won’t let you.”

  Max half smiled. “Easy, tough guy.” Then his brows pulled together, and he cupped Grant’s chin and looked as mad as Nolan. “Who hit you, Grant?”

  “J-Jermaine. He hurt Connor, and he hit Beth.”

  “Just racking them up, was he?” Max muttered. He raised his voice. “Start with three counts of assault and battery, Dan.”

  “Got it.” Rolling Jermaine around like he was a little kid, Dan handcuffed the douche’s hands behind his back. Jermaine was swearing, but his lips were kinda smashed, and his words came out all funny.

  Shaking so violently he felt off-balance, Grant turned and saw Nolan was on one knee.

  He hugged Connor and set him on Beth’s lap. With one finger, he raised Beth’s chin and frowned. “Sugar, you’re supposed to dodge better.”

  Connor twisted in her arms to glare. “She hitted him so he wouldn’t cut us up and feed us to the gators.”

  “Is that right?” Max’s voice got quieter and…colder.

  A little worried, Grant backed away from the cop to stand beside Nolanman.

  With a long arm, Nolan pulled him closer. “Damn, tiger, you scared the shit out of me.” He hugged Grant so tightly he couldn’t breathe. And nothing had ever felt so safe and right.

  * * * * *

  The little body in Nolan’s arms was trembling fit to break—and Nolan had a feeling he himself was shaking like a fucking leaf as well. Jesus, he’d never been so scared in all his born days.

  But his woman and his boys were all right—bruised up, but all right. Hell of a strong crew.

  With a protesting creak, the front door swung open farther, and Price and Mrs. Molina entered.

  Grant twisted to see them and froze.

  In a shrill, terrified voice, Connor shouted at Price. “No! I won’t go back to the mean lady.”

  Pulling in a breath, Nolan tried to rein in his temper and a growl escaped. “You won’t go back.” His hand fisted, and he started to rise.

  Beth closed her fingers over his forearm, keeping her other arm wrapped around Connor. “Easy, Sir,” she whispered.

  Smothering a curse, he stayed on one knee and held Grant. The brave little man was shaking so hard his teeth chattered.

  Price glared at Connor. “That woman is your grandmother, and you will—”

  “They won’t do shit,” Nolan growled. He caught the asshole’s gaze.

  Price paled and edged a step toward the police.

  Mrs. Molina moved forward. “Mr. King, if I might handle this?” Her level gaze promised she had it, so he settled himself to wait.

  Before she could speak, Grant squirmed free. He planted himself in front of Max, hands on his hips. “I want our money.” Tears had streaked his face, but he stood strong. Hell of a kid. “Jermaine took our money, and we need it. Right now.”

  Max’s lips twitched as he studied the little soldier. “Okay, I’ll bite. Where did he put your money?”

  “In his pants.” Grant slapped his own rear to show where.

>   One side of his mouth tilting up, Dan rolled the bastard, pulled out a huge wad of bills, and frowned. “Where’d you kids get money like this?”

  “It was Mama’s.” Connor joined his brother. “She hided it, and we came to get it so we wouldn’t have to go back to the mean lady.”

  Nolan glanced at Beth. “You know what he’s talking about?”

  “Uh-uh. Grant, why do you need money to keep from going back to your grandmother?”

  Grant turned, his gaze puzzled, as if surprised they were so slow-witted. “To give you.”

  “Us? Why would we want money?” Beth asked.

  “He”—Connor pointed at Price—“said nobody but the mean lady wants us. Fosters don’t want big, clumsy boys ’less they get money. So we needs money to give you to keep us.”

  As anger found new fuel, Nolan’s temperature rose. “You called the boys big and clumsy—and told them we didn’t want them?”

  Price flinched and backed up another step.

  “Easy, King.” Max set a cautionary hand on Nolan’s shoulder.

  Beth said gently, “Connor, if—”

  “Mrs. King,” Mrs. Molina interrupted. “Might I ask some questions?”

  At Beth’s nod, Mrs. Molina squatted down in front of the boys. “I think I understand, but let’s be sure. Did you come here to get money so you could live with Beth and Nolan?”

  Connor nodded.

  “What about your grandmother?” She tilted her head. “Didn’t you tell Mr. Price you had a wonderful time with her?”

  A telling shiver ran through Connor, and he took a step away from Mrs. Molina.

  Scared. That fucking asshole. Nolan asked, “Did Mr. Price tell you to say you had a wonderful time?”

  Connor shook his head and glanced at Grant.

  “Ah. Did your grandmother tell you what to say?” Mrs. Molina asked Grant.

  Both boys nodded.

  Mrs. Molina looked as if she’d bitten into something sour. “What would happen if you told the truth?”

  Grant whispered. “She said we’d be sorry.”

  “She was mean. She hitted me ’cause I…” When Connor stopped and turned red, Nolan figured he must’ve wet the bed. He saw Beth mouth an explanation to Mrs. Molina.

  Connor backed up so Beth could pull him against her. When she wrapped her arms around his stomach, his little fingers clamped onto her wrists. His own personal security blanket. “She pushed soap in Grant’s mouth ’cause he called her a bad word, and he frewed up, and she hitted him.” His eyes turned wet with tears.

  “She’s mean,” Grant agreed, trying for defiance and only sounding frightened. “She doesn’t like us. She says we’re bad. And evil. And rotten to the…something.” When Nolan curled an arm around him, he turned his face into Nolan’s shoulder, finishing in a whisper, “She hit Connor and made him cry, and I hate her.”

  Nolan heard the rumble of anger coming from his own throat, and all he could do was hold the boy. His furious gaze met Beth’s. Still sitting, she leaned over to rub her shoulder against his in unspoken agreement. If things went sour, they’d take the kids and disappear before that woman could get them again.

  Connor turned in Beth’s arms and took her face between his hands. “Beff, please keep us. We gots money.”

  Grant rubbed his face against Nolan’s shoulder, and the tiniest whisper drifted up. “Please, Nolanman. We’re your home crew.”

  Nolan looked over Grant’s head to Mrs. Molina whose expression was appalled and angry, but she met his regard honestly. And understood his unspoken question. “I take it you would rather have two boys than a newborn daughter?”

  “Didn’t Price tell you?” Beth’s eyes lit with furious sparks. “We made the request last week.”

  Mrs. Molina turned. Her glare probably shriveled Price’s balls to the size of marbles before she smiled at Nolan and Beth. “In light of Mrs. Brun’s age as well as her…inflexible…behavior and disregard for basic safety, I don’t consider her a suitable guardian. I do believe you two and the boys are an excellent match. I see no reason not to let them know they can relax.”

  Beth squealed in delight. “Ours!” She pulled Connor down into her lap, raining kisses on his face until he was giggling uncontrollably. “You’re ours.”

  Grinning, Nolan looked down and saw Grant’s confusion. Cupping his cheek carefully, Nolan met his gaze. “We don’t need any money from you, tiger. You’re our boys, and we’re keeping you. Forever.”

  Grant’s eyes went wet.

  Nolan tucked him back against his chest and slid Beth closer, so he could wrap his arms around all three. Around his family.

  Connor squirmed, and his forehead furrowed. “But what about the baby girl. You wants a girl.”

  Hell, how could he answer that?

  Beth managed. “Remember at the shelter when Lamar stole your coloring book because he thought it would make him happy?”

  “It didn’t,” Connor stated decisively.

  “No. Because he loves playing soccer, not coloring. But he didn’t know that, at first.”

  Nolan got where she was going. “Beth and I thought we’d like having a baby girl, but we didn’t actually know. However, we do know we love you two and want you for our own.”

  “You love us?” Grant whispered.

  Beth’s tears spilled down her face as she touched his cheek gently. “Yes, baby. We love you very, very much.”

  Snuggling down in Beth’s lap like a well-fed puppy, Connor gave them a happy smile. “Okay, you can keep us.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Carrying a tray of finger-foods, Beth walked out onto the patio filled with their friends and was struck by a surge of happiness. Could life get any sweeter?

  Once Grant and Connor had fully accepted they were loved and wanted, the last couple of weeks had been wonderful. Even starting a new school hadn’t bothered the boys, and each day, they’d returned with hilarious adventures to relate.

  She’d never heard Nolan laugh so often.

  Today, as a way of celebrating their new family, Nolan had invited everyone who’d helped with the Brun investigation.

  Beth shook her head, seeing how the gathering had split along gender lines. Nolan was at the grill—and with him were Master Z, Dan, Vance and Galen, Marcus, and Ben.

  Seated in the more kid-friendly area were her girlfriends.

  “Have you got your business receipts ready for me?” Jessica called. “It’s time to pay estimated taxes, you know.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Madam Accountant.” Beth rolled her eyes. “Didn’t Z teach you not to nag people?”

  “He taught me not to nag him.” Jessica grinned. “If you ever gain Z’s expertise with”—she glanced at Grant who was sitting beside her—“um, with implements, you will escape being badgered.”

  Beth sighed. The nagging would continue. But she couldn’t grumble at her friend, not when Jessica had given Grant such a lovely treat—letting the boy hold five-month-old Sophia in his lap. His grin couldn’t get any wider.

  Next to Grant’s chair, Connor and Kari’s son, Zane, were playing with a ball. Behind the boys sprawled Kari’s big German shepherd, Prince.

  Uzuri, Gabi, and Sally had commandeered their own table and had their heads together. The three “brats” of the club were undoubtedly hatching some mischief.

  Good luck with that, girls. Really, they should pay more attention to their surroundings. Anne was seated close enough to overhear them, and her expression was filled with amusement. The good Mistress might be female, but when it came to BDSM, her loyalties were firmly on the Dominant side of the equation. The brats were doomed.

  Beth crossed to the grill and set the tray down on a nearby table.

  Curling his arm around her waist, Nolan kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, sugar.”

  “You’re welcome, Sir.”

  After nodding to the rest of the guys, she started to head toward her girl gang, when Master Z blocked her way. “Elizabeth.”
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br />   “Sir?”

  Effortlessly, he held her gaze for a long moment before smiling slightly. “Motherhood agrees with you, little one. I’m pleased for all of you.”

  She smiled back, feeling tears prickle behind her eyes. “You know, three years ago, you gave me an amazing gift, Master Z.” Taking a step back, she leaned against Nolan’s side. “When you gave me my Master, you changed my life.” Saved her life. “Thank you.”

  “Hold on, sugar.” Nolan gave her hair a mild yank. “Seems like you were a gift for me, not the other way around.”

  “Did you just compliment Z on his matchmaking?” Galen tilted his beer at her. “Don’t encourage him, pet. Every unattached Dom in the club lives in fear of falling victim to his schemes.”

  Z simply gave the ex-Fed an amused look. Everyone knew Galen and Vance were blissfully happy with their little brat, Sally.

  “I do believe we’re running short on single Masters anyway,” Marcus pointed out.

  “Holt could be a good target.” Ben popped a deviled egg in his mouth and hummed in pleasure before taking another. “And Anne says Saxon will probably make Master.”

  When the doorbell rang, Nolan said, “That should be Alastair and Max.” He smiled slowly. “Why don’t you pick on them, Z? It’d be a treat to see Alastair lose his composure.”

  Master Z’s expression turned thoughtful. “It would indeed.”

  Uh-oh. The Drago cousins were done for. Beth headed into the house. Should she warn them? Tell them they might as well start picking out engagement rings and wedding colors?

  Nah.

  As she led the two Doms out onto the patio, Connor spotted them and let out a squeal. “Max! Doctor.” He ran up and skidded to a stop. “You came to the pawty.”

  “Connor, it’s good to see you.” When Alastair held out his hand, Connor shook it, beaming at being greeted like a man.

  “Hey, buddy. I brought you something for your collection.” Max went down on one knee, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a long-necked dinosaur. “This one is called brachiosaurus.”

  “For me?” Connor examined it with awe and started at a run to show Grant. But when Beth cleared her throat, he remembered and spun around, dancing on his tiptoes. “Thank you, Max.” And sped right off again.