“Let me guess, Keswick foots the bills while Grunsberg finds the next victim to feed their sick sexual proclivity. Both reap the so-called rewards.”
“Bingo. We may never know how many victims they’ve left out there, but apparently the law had come a little too close when he was questioned about the boy that went missing from the school trip to the park. Grunsberg was the school bus driver. Keswick got nervous and thought his stepson should get married. Less likely to stand out as a potential suspect when you’ve got a wife and kids.”
“His daughter’s college friend.”
“He remembered her family was from Grand Junction.”
“Right in his wheelhouse. She clearly didn’t have a clue what she was getting into.”
“From the way he tells it, she didn’t even know he was connected to the Keswick family. She and Sylvia lost touch.
A long entangled history but all the pieces are starting to connect.
“Did he talk about what happened to Seth?”
“According to Grunsberg, Keswick killed him when the poor kid came to just while he was being assaulted. When asked why his DNA was all over the boy, he confessed he’d been so worked up he masturbated on his body. Frustrated, he’d abducted Thomas shortly after, but Keswick kept postponing their plans, and Grunsberg finally decided to keep the boy for himself and find a ‘fresh’ one for his stepfather.”
“Liam,” I conclude.
“Yes.”
“Christ, I’ve seen the worst of the worst in this job and I can usually distance myself, but this one will leave a shadow I’ll never be able to shake.”
“I hear you, brother. One last thing; this morning Luna saw Sylvia at the Arrow’s Edge compound and asked her about Alba, the nanny. Turns out it was Keswick who told her about the family emergency. She never spoke with Alba directly.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking? The nanny knew something or saw something?”
“Another thing we won’t know for sure unless and until a body turns up.”
MARYA
I’m in the kitchen when Dylan lets himself and Max in the front door. His eyes immediately zoom in on me, and the heat they radiate has my nipples tighten and a charge shoot straight down between my legs.
It’s going to be a long night.
“Are the boys downstairs?” Max asks, yanking me back to reality.
“Try saying hello first, Kiddo,” Dylan rumbles.
“Sorry.” Max detours from the top of the basement stairs to the kitchen, where he wraps his arms around my waist. “Hey, Marya.”
I hug him close for a minute and press a kiss to his head. “I’ve missed you, Max. Head on downstairs, the boys have been anxiously awaiting your arrival. Oh,” I call after him. “And tell them dinner in five minutes.”
“Make that fifteen, kid!” Dylan yells downstairs before stalking over to me.
I don’t even get a chance to say hi before his mouth slams down on mine, his tongue claiming. Large hands lift me up under my arms and plant my ass on the counter, right next to the plates I’d already pulled down. All I’ve been able to do is curl my fingers in his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. His hips wedge between my legs, pressing the wide ridge of his hard shaft against my heat.
Fuck. How are we ever going to manage to stay dressed until the boys go to bed?
“God, I missed you,” he mumbles against my lips, when he finally lets me up for air.
Any uncertainties about where we stand after only talking a few times this past week fly right out the window. There is no doubt this man wants to be here—with me.
“I love you, Dylan,” I whisper back. “A week is too long.”
He suddenly takes a step back, looking at me intently. “For real? Because Max and I want to move in.”
It takes my mind a moment to process, but my body is already on board, judging by the butterflies bouncing around my stomach.
“Max?” I finally ask.
“Kid told me it didn’t make sense to move back and forth all the time. I happen to agree with that.”
I tilt my head to the side and look at him from under my lashes. “So moving in here would be a convenience?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Dylan says, as he smirks. “I even brought our laundry.” He grins even wider when my mouth falls open.
“You’re serious?” I snap. I’m all for combining our households, but not so I can be a convenient housekeeper.
I’m pissed and slide off the counter, trying to push him out of the way, but he cages me in with his solid arms. All I can do is turn my head away when he leans close enough I feel his breath against my ear.
“Serious as a heart attack, Sweetheart. I love you, love your boys—and Max fucking loves everyone—and I want to come home to you every day.” I feel myself melting as his lips kiss that soft spot behind my ear. “And for the record, I’m happy to take on everyone’s laundry, just don’t ask me to fold shit.”
“Tease,” I grumble, ineffectively punching his shoulder. When I turn my head, his face is inches from mine, a warm smile in his eyes.
“What do you say, Marya?”
“We need to work out logistics. I want the boys all to have their own space.”
“Agreed.”
“We have to consolidate rules, chores, that kind of stuff. It should be the same for all of them.”
“Of course.”
“If there’s anything we disagree on, we talk to each other first.”
“Always.”
He brushes hair from my face and leaves his hand against my cheek, bending in for a kiss.
I take in a deep breath before I lay out my last condition.
“And my boys have to be on board.”
I know this might be the one thing holding us back from making such a big move, but it’s important to me. They’ve been through a lot of stuff they had no control over, they deserve to have a voice in this.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I should’ve known that would be his response. He’s a fantastic father, not only great with his son, but with my boys as well. Of course he would have their best interests at heart.
“In that case—yes. I say yes.”
He lets out a loud, “All right,” lifting me off my feet and swinging me around.
“Can we eat already?” Harry’s voice interrupts, just as our lips touch for a celebratory kiss.
With a groan Dylan sets me down on my feet and I turn to my youngest. “Yes, call up your brothers.”
Brothers.
The word slips out without thinking, but I guess that’s what the four of them will be. I look at Dylan and he winks.
“WHY DON’T YOU EVER make pot roast, Dad?”
He turns to Max. “Because I wouldn’t know where to start. But your dad grills a good steak and pretty damn juicy hamburgers.”
“Mom’s burns our burgers,” Theo volunteers, and I shoot him a dirty glare.
“I do not. I just like them a little crispy.”
The guys collectively snort. I groan when I realize I’ll be dramatically outnumbered in a house with five men.
Dylan just grins. “Your mom can do the fancy cooking, I’ll man the grill.”
“Sweet,” Liam says, shoving back his chair.
“Scrape plates before you put them in the dishwasher,” I remind him, like I have to remind the boys every night. “Liam has dish duty tonight. You’re on tomorrow, Max.”
I’m testing the waters, but he simply says, “Sure.”
“Can we watch Aquaman now?”
I quickly look at Dylan before I answer Harry, and receive a slight nod. “Actually, guys, we’re having a family meeting first.”
Theo groans and is echoed by Liam in the kitchen. Harry looks curious and Max grins at his dad.
“About what?” my firstborn demands to know.
“Something we all need to be present for, so let’s give your brother a minute to finish up so he can join us, okay?”
�
��Hurry up, Liam,” Harry eggs him on.
He’s done in record time, and I’m pretty sure I’ll need to check the dishwasher filter for the remnants of dinner before it gets clogged up again.
“Here’s the scoop,” I start, feeling a little nervous. “Dylan and I are together.”
“Duh,” Theo shares, earning him a scolding look from yours truly.
“We’d like to be together all the time,” I forge on. “In fact, we’d like for all of us to be together all the time.”
“You want us to move?” This from Harry who looks a little worried.
“No,” Dylan answers for me. “You’d stay right here, but Max and I, we’d like to move in with you guys.”
“I’m taking the basement,” Theo announces matter-of-factly. “Max can have my room.”
“Wait, but—” I’m interrupted by Harry.
“Cool, but we’ll need an extra beanbag downstairs.”
“I’m sure something can be—” This time it’s Max who cuts me off.
“I have a gaming chair in my room.”
“Sweet,” Liam says, pushing away from the table again and starting an exodus.
“Hey, guys, hold up,” I call out before they all disburse. “So what do you think?”
“Sounds good to me,” Theo says, shrugging his shoulders before he saunters into the living room, grabs the remote, and drops down on the couch.
“I think it’s awesome,” Harry shares, following his older brother and sitting down beside him.
“It was my idea, so...” is Max’s contribution as he too disappears into the living room.
Liam is the last one and my biggest concern.
“Liam?” I prompt him gently. “We want you to be honest, honey, if this is—”
“I’m okay with it,” he finally says.
“You sure?” Dylan asks. “Your mom is right, we want you to be straight. That’s why we’re asking you.”
“Of course I’m sure,” he answers, moving away to join his brothers when he looks back over his shoulder and grins at Dylan. “You’re our 10-CODE.”
I feel arms surround me from behind as blink against my emotions and try to swallow down the basketball-sized lump in my throat. Before I can turn and burrow my face in his chest, Harry calls out.
“Mom?”
“Yeah, Bub.”
“We’re gonna need a much bigger couch.”
EPILOGUE
Dylan
“Oh my God, Dylan. I’m so close.”
Marya squirms under me, working hard for the maximum contact I’m holding back.
We woke up this morning to an empty house. A rare treat.
All four boys are having a sleepover at my folks. It was Clint’s idea, claiming it would be the last chance to sleep in the tree house before the snow predicted for Christmas this coming weekend hits. We made sure the kids were outfitted with long johns and down sleeping bags, and Clint had a small space heater he hooked up to keep the worst of the chill off. Overnight temperatures were expected to be slightly below freezing, but the kids had all been excited at the prospect.
It was Marya who was up at the crack of dawn calling Ma to see if they’d all survived. They had and were waiting for the pancakes she’d been in the middle of cooking. Then this afternoon, they’re taking the boys on the Polar Express, a Christmas-themed ride aboard the Durango & Silverton train. By the time they get home tonight, I expect they’ll be well and worn out.
I found her in the kitchen, prepping a pot of coffee. It didn’t take me long to coax her onto our new massive sectional sofa that can comfortably hold all six of us.
What started as some relatively innocent making out, quickly turned into a passionate tangle of naked limbs without her brace hampering our movements. She just got rid of it last week.
It’s still uncomfortable for her to be on her knees, so I have her standing bent forward over the side of the couch. I keep her down with my hand between her shoulder blades, but she pushes her fucking amazing round ass back on my cock.
“Stop torturing me,” she moans when I pull almost all the way out.
“Prolonging the pleasure, baby,” I mumble when I bend over her and gently bite her shoulder, making her wiggle even more.
“You’re mean.”
“Not mean, Sweetheart, selfish—maybe. So far I’ve only been able to enjoy this side of you from a distance, I’ve looked forward to taking my time getting familiar with it.”
Without losing our minimal connection, I use my hands, teeth, and tongue to do just that; get very intimately acquainted, until I can’t hold back myself.
“Yessss!”
Marya’s head whips back when I grab onto her hips and pull her back on me as I power inside her. I try to pace myself, but I soon lose myself to a frantic rhythm. Nothing but the sound of skin slapping, her moans, and my unintelligible grunts as I feel the first ripple of her orgasm massage my cock. I follow seconds after.
There’s nothing like the feel of her wet heat clamping down on me skin to skin.
“THIS ONE’S FROM GRAMMY and Grampa for you.”
Max hands a similar box to the one he just opened, to a slightly awkward Liam.
As expected, Harry was already calling them by those monikers the first family dinner we had at my folks’ house. By the time Clint was done putting up a wall and updating the little bathroom in the basement for Theo, he was calling them Grammy and Grampa.
The only holdout so far has been Liam. Already a little unsure of himself—plus having had his trust betrayed by two important people in his life; his father and his coach—it’s not easy for him to let new people in.
The child psychologist he’s been seeing after his ordeal has made communication easier for Liam. Having Max around seems to have helped as well, maybe because he’s no longer alone in the middle of the pack.
He still seems to feel a little unsure around my folks, though.
Throwing a hesitant smile in their general direction, he starts ripping the paper from the box, only to stop when he sees the Nike logo.
“Cool!” Max cries out, enthusiastically waving his own red Cristiano Ronaldo CR7 Nike soccer cleats in the air. “You got the same ones I did!”
Marya and my eyes meet across the room. We both noticed the blush creeping up Liam’s neck. I shake my head slightly when she makes a move to get up. I think we should let him react however he’s going to, and then deal with it. I send Marya an encouraging smile and see her settle back in beside Theo.
“Well, open it up,” Harry urges his brother.
Liam’s jaw is working, but he continues to open his present, pulling out the lime green pair of the same cleats. His head is bent.
“Liam?” Marya’s worried voice is gentle.
His head comes up, his eyes welling with tears as he looks at Ma and Clint. “You gave me the same ones as Max.”
“Well...” Clint drawls. “Seein’ as two of our grandsons are soccer stars, I reckon they both oughta have the same cleats the great Ronaldo wears.”
“But I’m not really—”
“Bull hickey,” Clint cuts in, making Theo snort. “Never had kids, but Dylan here is the best son a man could want. Met Max when he was just a wee tyke, about yay high—” He holds his hand about ten inches off the floor, causing a round of giggles from the peanut gallery. “All he did was flush remote controls down the toilet and decorate the house with his Grammy’s underwear, but he’s my grandboy nonetheless. Already love your mom like a daughter, so how can you be anything else but grandkids too?”
I hear Ma sniffle, and by the looks of it, Marya is barely holding it together as well. To be honest, I’m pretty moved too, and I realize Liam is not the only one who’s been hesitant letting someone in. Heck, I’ve known Clint almost nine years, and although the man looks after my mom like it’s his reason for being, and has been the only father I’ve known, I’ve never called him anything but by his name.
Before I can do anything to rectify that, Liam g
ets up and walks over to him, throwing his arms around the burly man’s neck.
“Thanks, Grampa.”
I see he’s moved by the kid’s gesture, and slaps him awkwardly on the back, mumbling, “Shucks.”
“You too, Grammy.” Liam does the same thing with my mother who just nods, hugging him back.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Lydia, who’s been unnaturally quiet so far, blurts out. “Would you knock it off? Y’all are ruining my makeup.” She dabs furiously at her eyes, only making the damage worse from what I can see.
“Grab another tissue, Lydia, ‘cause I’ve got more,” I say, turning to Clint.
“Ahh, Son, don’t make me lose my street cred with these youngsters now.”
“You’ll earn it back. Almost nine years and I haven’t given you the respect a real father deserves. That changes today. How’s Pop sound?”
“Good,” he forces out, nodding his head furiously. “Sounds real good.”
MARYA
I know it’s just a civil service, but I couldn’t resist wearing a pretty dress. I don’t often get that chance.
The soft pastel print boho dress was the ‘something new’ Kerry found and bought for me. The dress leaves my shoulders bare and the short poofy sleeves just cover part of my upper arms. The blousy bodice is cinched in at the waist with a wide corset-like belt in the same powder blue from the print, which takes care of the ‘something blue.’ The skirt hits just below the knee and is full and roomy.
Mom and Kerry are fussing with my hair, even though I told them I wanted it down. I ended up compromising and let them pin up the front with a few loose curls framing my face.
I put my foot down on the deep plum lipstick, though. Knowing Dylan, we’ll both be wearing it the first chance he gets at my mouth. Clear lip gloss is as far as I’m willing to go.
Luckily, Kerry has a light hand with makeup, because I prefer a natural look.
My only concession to my surroundings is the ‘something borrowed’ biker boots on my feet. They’re actually Luna’s and as it turns out we have the same size feet.
The ‘something old’ my mom took care of when she wrapped the pearl necklace her grandmother had left her around my wrist.
10-Code (Rock Point, #4) Page 27