School and Rock (Raptors Book 5)

by RJ Scott

  “Now?” I checked the time again; it was definitely five in the morning and not five at night.

  “Now, Joseph. A car will be outside in forty-five minutes. The client has been assured of our discretion but they will require you to sign non-disclosure, and all the relevant paperwork will be in the car.”

  “Hang on, I haven’t said yes, yet,” I began.

  “One thousand for two nights’ work, I’d assumed you’d take it.” How did she make it sound as if I was wrong to even hesitate? She knew me better than I knew myself, one thousand would cover next month and part of the one after. Which was why I scrambled to pack, fitted in a shower, kissed a sleeping Emma goodbye, and woke Natalie to tell her I’d text her as soon as I got there. She muttered in her sleep and turned over, but I left a note on the table as well. A car pulled up outside, a blacked-out SUV being driven by a guy in a suit who opened the door for me, looked me up and down, snarled and then slammed his own door when he got in.

  “Hi,” I tried for conversation, but the hulk in the front clearly had no intention of talking to me, and after rolling my eyes in the mirror at him I slunk into the seat and watched Tucson pass by. We drove into one of the more exclusive neighborhoods, full of huge mansions and sprawling houses, very close to where the garage fondling guy lived.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” I asked the big, burly chauffeur again as we entered the Catalina Foothills community, and again when we turned off the quiet road and stopped by gates that were wide open. I was talking to myself, because the driver wasn’t answering. Although he suddenly cursed like a sailor when he idled next to a security camera on the wall.

  “Colorado, you asshole, for fuck’s sake,” he snapped and slammed a hand on the wheel. He half-turned to the window, and lowered it to stare at a camera, and I tried not to listen to him curse a storm before laying on the horn with extreme prejudice.

  I didn’t know what his problem was as he could have just driven in, so I guessed that the huge wrought iron gates and the security system were more ornamental than functional. I sent a quick update to Natalie, nothing more than an address, something we did out of habit, then the car began to move. There was a small fountain in the courtyard in front of the huge house, which formed a convenient place to circle, and when the car stopped I got out before the angry chauffeur could come around and open my door.

  I heard his huff of annoyance as he found me outside his precious freaking car, and then watched as he folded his arms over his chest and stared at me with steel in his expression. He was older than me by at least ten years, and half my weight heavier, but he didn’t look like a chauffeur. Up this close he was more like some military guy forced into a suit—maybe a bodyguard—some guy who had muscles and no brains. I ignored the glare, straightened my best shirt, hoisted my backpack over my shoulder, then pocketed my cell, taking the time to settle my breathing and clear the concern from my thoughts. If this driver was security then was I walking into a Mafia place, or some situation that was going to get me in a mess of crap?

  No. This place belongs to a business couple, off somewhere vitally important to strike a deal and make millions. The kids will be called something like Lotus-Bunny and East-West, and I’ll spend all weekend on my own in the kitchen while they’re on their phones.

  “Now what?” I asked, unsure whether to take the steps to the door, or if that was another part of the carefully choreographed driver/bodyguard thing.

  “Who the hell knows,” Bodyguard muttered, then gestured to the front door. I went up the steps and leaned on the bell, tilting my chin and pasting a smile on my face.

  The door opened and a wild-eyed man stood there, tall, hair sticking up in all directions, tattoos, and real fear in his expression, holding a squalling baby. I stepped closer, extended a hand, but before the tall man could take it, our resident driver/bodyguard stepped between us.

  “I told you,” he snapped at the wild-eyed man. “The gates are open, I just drove in, Colorado, and do we even know who this is that I picked up?”

  Was there confusion as to who I was?

  “I’m the nanny—”

  “He’s the manny—"

  Tall dude and I spoke at the same time, and he sent me a look that screamed desperation before turning back to Mr. Dangerous.

  Talking of whom, Bodyguard took my rucksack from me, then pushed me against a wall and patted me down. I was too shocked to even think of protesting, but when he began pulling things out of my bag, including my books for college, I drew the line.

  “Leave my stuff alone!”

  “ID,” Mr. Dangerous said, and held out a hand. “What if he had a gun?” he added, but he wasn’t talking to me as I finally handed over my ID. Still, he was implying I had a gun? What the hell?

  “I don’t have a gun—”

  “What in hell—what do you want me to do?” Tall tattooed guy holding baby interrupted me.

  “For god’s sake, Colorado, take this seriously!” Bodyguard guy and this tall dude, evidently called Colorado, faced off, and I stepped back from them to get a handle on what the hell was happening. So, the driver was security, and this Colorado person holding the baby was what? A previous nanny? Dad to the baby? He looked as if he’d been dragged through a hedge backward, through a muddy yard, then forced into a night of not sleeping. He wore baggy shorts full of holes, and a worn T-shirt with a black gothic design, some kind of name that had long since faded from age or use. Tattoos covered his arms, and I could see them on his legs as well, graphics, letters, and wait, was that a drawing of a bird wearing a hat?

  Whoever he was, he was royally pissed. “I am taking it seriously, Vlad was just here and—”

  “It’s not difficult, Colorado. Gate opens, visitor arrives, gate closes—”

  “Simon—”

  Mr. Dangerous, AKA Simon, ignored him and carried on berating Colorado who was growing tenser by the minute. “Gate opens, visitor leaves, gate closes. Set the freaking alarm, you idiot, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Fuc—I set the alarm.”

  Simon glanced pointedly at the panel by the door and raised an eyebrow. At least I knew their names, but being this close to such a testosterone-filled standoff had me nervous, and my first instinct was to grab the baby and run, particularly as the soft burbled cry had become something more. Poor thing was picking up on the temper and the fighting and I wasn’t having it.

  “What if someone had walked in off the street, or a drug lord handing a supply to one of your guests, or another freaking emu, or some delivery of whatever the hell you’re eating times twenty because your house is home to a shit ton of strangers?”

  “Simon—”

  “You need to take this seriously.”

  “There’s nothing more serious that finding out you’re a dad, and your daughter is dumped on your front step!”

  Colorado shouted, Simon snapped back, and in the middle of it the baby was squalling at the top of her lungs. Instinctively, stupidly maybe, I stood between the two big men, and held out my hands for her.

  “Both of you stop it, you’re scaring her. Give her to me,” I demanded, and Colorado snapped out of the face-off and blinked at me, lifting the baby and holding her protectively.

  Colorado made no move to let me have what he held, but I gestured with my hands to emphasize the firm request and he stared at me, so much pain and worry in his hazel eyes. I nodded a little to indicate it was okay, and I don’t know what he saw in me at that moment but he finally passed her over as if she was made of delicate glass and he was worried she would shatter. I could smell she needed a diaper change, and she was red in the face from crying, fat tears running down her face. Me holding her didn’t stop any of those things, and I waited to be shown where the supplies were in this house.

  “This way,” Colorado staggered back and turned all at the same time, strangely elegant as he tripped over a discarded box, Simon catching him as he nearly face-planted, steadying himself. He stared down at the
offending box, looking as if he’d gone into a fugue, and I put a hand on his elbow to encourage him to move, but Simon was instantly there, and I rounded on him.

  “This baby needs to be helped,” I stated. “Show me where the supplies are.”

  “This way,” Colorado said, and stumble-tripped his way through black sacks in the grand hallway, and down a corridor to a door, pushing it open and standing aside. If I’d thought that the house was chaos, it was nothing like this room. Filled to the ceiling, it held every single baby supply possible, from nipple cream to boxes of diapers for toddlers. First off, didn’t anyone realize toddler diapers would be too big, and also where was the mom who needed the nipple cream?

  “Is the baby breastfed?” I demanded, and all the while I was cradling the screaming infant and searching for wipes and newborn diapers, plus a clean onesie and somewhere to work.

  “No, her mother left her and fu—she isn’t here.”

  I spotted a changing mat pushed down between six round containers of baby formula and I yanked it out, one-handed.

  “Careful of her!” Colorado shouted, right in my ear.

  I turned to face him. “Stop shouting. Back off. Let me do my job.”

  I wasn’t sure my job was dealing with one drugged-up tall guy and a glowering bodyguard. Who the hell was this Colorado person? A dealer? He looked as if he’d been on a ten-day bender, the entire right side of his face bruised, and long tangled hair pulled back in a random pony tail, secured with a bright pink scrunchie.

  Something in my tone must have gotten through to him, and ignoring the fact the two big men were tousling by the door, I concentrated on the little one.

  “What’s her name?” I asked, as I pulled over wipes, the diapers, and undid the snaps revealing the over warm baby beneath. Quickly and efficiently, I wiped away all traces of anything nasty, at least she didn’t have diaper rash, and her belly was soft and round, her eyes still wet with tears, and her tiny fist in her mouth as she sucked.

  “Madeline Celeste,” Colorado blurted.

  I glanced up to see him pinning Simon to the wall, only to see the hold switch just as fast. I finally got her into a clean diaper, but a onesie in this heat was probably overkill. She was hungry, and I pulled a cardboard box toward me, throwing in a box of bottles, a microwave sterilizer, formula, and then found the motherlode, cartons of premixed formula. I cradled Madeline and nudged the full box toward Simon as he was in the middle of shoving Colorado. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but I wasn’t interested in being in the middle of this crap.

  “Get that to the kitchen,” I ordered, then slipped past the two men and headed god knows where to locate the kitchen. It wasn’t difficult to find, huge vaulted ceilings, stainless steel and glass everywhere, and a view out over the foothills of the Catalina Mountains that reminded me we lived in a desert. Someone was at the counter, head down, asleep, and there wasn’t much counter space left to work on. There were mountains of takeout containers, three frying pans and several more saucepans piled in the sink, eggshells everywhere, sports drinks, plates, cups, you name it and it was out. I found the microwave, a huge monstrosity of a thing with enough buttons to land a space shuttle, but in quick moves, entirely one-handed, Madeleine hiccupping her sobs, I unboxed the sterilizer. It was the same brand that Natalie had used when she’d had Emma, and one sterilized bottle filled with pre-prepared formula later, I sat in the nearest place I could find, a small sofa in a corner of the huge kitchen space, and tried to get her to take the bottle.

  Colorado followed me, Simon on his tail, and then sat on the sofa opposite, barely fitting into the space. Simon was wide, Colorado tall and broad, and both had delineated muscles, although Simon was brawn and Colorado was corded strength. Madeline wouldn’t take the bottle at first, but it wasn’t quiet. Simon had an issue with a death wish that Colorado appeared to have, and Colorado had an issue with someone called Mark who in his words, was a fucking asshole. They both talked under their breath, but there was so much feeling that I worried for this Mark guy’s life.

  Finally Madeline took the bottle, one hand batting at mine, the other curled into a fist. She closed her eyes briefly, and then opened them and I got the full force of the biggest blue eyes I’d ever seen in a baby. Along with that, she had an adorable head of fine dark hair, and I thought she couldn’t have been more than a month old. As soon as I felt I could look up I did.

  “Start from the beginning,” I said in my softest tone, then placed a finger over my lips to encourage whispers.

  Colorado glanced at Simon and they had a silent chat about god knows what, until Simon stood and with a huff, he left me with crazy-eyed drug-fueled Colorado.

  I can handle this.

  “Madeline was left on my doorstep two weeks ago.”

  “Where are the parents?”

  Colorado went pale, and pointed at himself, and I followed the finger to see it land in the T of the word ‘chaotic,’ I couldn’t make out the second word at all, lost to too many washes, and the way the material stretched across his muscled chest. “I’m her dad. It’s official, the blood tests said so.”

  He sounded so in awe that part of my initial hatred and distrust for whoever this man was and what he’d probably done to get this mansion, was chipped away. Only a tiny bit, not enough for me to want to leave Madeline with him.

  “And her mom?”

  Colorado collapsed in on himself; I’d never seen something so utterly wretched as this big man slumping over his lap, his head in his hands. “Gone. I don’t even know who… I have no idea…”

  “Okay, I don’t need details, what I actually need to do is call Child Services.” I tilted my chin then, waiting for him to argue. Just because Colorado was Madeline’s dad that didn’t mean he could look after a baby. “This house is chaos, and you—”

  “It wasn’t. My boss organized cleaners to come in, but then I was away and when I came back it was to all of this—the Furballs had a session and there was beer and…” He waved a hand around him. The man at the counter woke with a snort and nearly fell off the stool, then yawned, and glanced around before padding toward us in boxers and a T-shirt. I cradled Madeline protectively, because if I thought Colorado was a drug dealer then this guy was one for sure because he came complete with white powder on his shirt.

  “Col, dude, you’re home!”

  “Go away, Buick.”

  “Hey, sorry ’bout the crap.”

  “Fu—go away, ass—idiot.”

  Colorado glanced up at the other man, stared at him for the longest time, and then drug-dude gave a shrug and wandered back to the counter in the kitchen, cursing up a storm about something, before Simon got him in a headlock. They disappeared, and I heard some distant shouting before the slam of the front door. Simon strode back into the kitchen, and over to us, slapping a key to the small table next to me.

  “He doesn’t come back in,” Simon snarled.

  I was missing something here, a dynamic between Colorado and Simon, almost as if despite the arguing, that these two had a connection of some sort.

  “You can’t call Child Services,” Colorado said after a short while.

  “It’s my duty as a responsible adult to report—”

  “Child Services already visited me.”

  “I’m not surprised with the drug use—”

  “What drug use—?”

  “Your friend at the counter was covered in white powder, you’re clearly taking something,” I waved a hand between him and Simon, “and whatever your relationship there is something seriously messed up in this house, and I will report it.”

  “Relationship?” Colorado glanced up at Simon. “With him?”

  “In your dreams,” Simon said on a sigh. “Look, kid, I’m the court-appointed Colorado-whisperer-stroke-security the Craptors arranged for this situation.” Colorado shoved him away, and made this face that was all ha-fucking-ha.

  God knows what I’d landed in but this Craptors gang sounded li
ke the kind of shit I’d spent my entire life avoiding. I could leave now, and not cause a fuss, and there was a real fear inside me that I might not see Natalie and Emma again. I didn’t know much about rival gangs in Tucson, but they must be big if Colorado had a house this size.

  I could leave Madeline and go. Call the cops, social services, get her away like that, after time. Or I could do what my heart told me, and grow a backbone because this tiny scrap of humanity depended on me. I stood, adjusted the bottle, and grabbed the cloth I’d picked up in case she was sick.

  “I’m leaving, and I’m taking the baby,” I announced, and took a step toward the counter.

  Colorado and Simon both scrambled to stand.

  “What the hell?”

  “Give me my baby!”

  I held Madeline closer, smooshing her tiny face into my neck where she would be safe. If there were guns then I’d cover her and hope she at least made it out alive. Hysteria grabbed at me but I managed to form words.

  “I don’t care about the Craptors, but a gang dealing drugs, guns, prostitution or whatever, is no life for a child. Let me take her somewhere safe, I’ll look after her, help find her good foster parents.”

  “What?” Colorado sounded confused, and next to him Simon smirked. Why the hell was the muscle smirking?

  I forged ahead. “You chose gang life with drugs and guns and god knows what, but your daughter could be free of the Craptors, and live a long happy life.” I took another step away, and this time Simon’s smirk was a full-on grin and he even stepped aside to let me pass while gripping Colorado’s arm and keeping him still.

  “Simon, what the he—stop him from leaving.”

  “He’s right, Col,” Simon deadpanned. “The gang life isn’t for a sweet, innocent baby.”

  I walked backward away from the two men, and then in a move that I wouldn’t forget for the rest of my life, Colorado escaped Simon’s grip, vaulted the sofa, did this spin thing in midair, and landed between me and the door like a goddamn superhero, complete with fist on the floor.

  I squeaked, or yelped, and at my throat Madeline let out a mewl of dissatisfaction as I tightened my hold.