Houston: Robinson Destruction – Paranormal Tiger Shifter Romance

by Kathi S. Barton

  “Are you all right?” She told Houston she was fit as a fiddle. “I’m assuming this guy is only alive because he had information for you?”

  “Pretty much. He has been talking his head off.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “I would very much like it if you were let my dog out of the basement before he has to break the door down, then go upstairs and make sure my family is all right. And introduce yourself to them. It’s been rough on them, I think.”

  He kissed her on the forehead and handed the gun over to Thatcher, who grinned at Tru as he told her to get out of his seat. Getting up, she stretched. It had been too much just sitting in one place for so long and holding onto the gun. Charlie leaped at her, and she got down on her knees to love on him before he made his way up the stairs alongside of Houston. Thatcher asked her if she could answer a question for him.

  “Sure. But you have to know I’m not one to sugar coat anything.” Colby laughed and said she didn’t sugar coat shit. “See? I’ve even got the bad guy knowing my shit. What do you want to ask me?”

  “I’ve only been thinking about this for the last couple of hours. It’s about a patient I had who died suddenly after surgery. Not only did he die unexpectedly, but he also disappeared from the morgue. I was told, in no uncertain terms, to let it go. His name was—” Cutting him off, she asked him why it was important to know the answer. “He was a good man. He didn’t have anything wrong with him other than a couple of broken ribs.”

  “I remember him. I don’t do names either, by the way. However, I did know this man. But more, his family. Allan Landdish, correct? Thatcher, he wasn’t a good guy. He broke his ribs when a man he ended up killing found out he was having his oldest son pose in the nude for him. The kid was only eight at the time.” Thatcher asked her if that was the sort of thing she took care of in her line of work. “Nope. That one was a freebie. I knew the little boy’s mother, you see. And when her husband ended up dead by Landdish’s hand, she knew that he, as a minster, was going to get off. Sort of her word against the word of a man of God. You can understand where this is going, I’m sure.”

  “I do. I didn’t know.” She nodded at him, and Thatcher looked at Colby before continuing. “I don’t want you to tell me if you have to do that again. I don’t mean just child molesters, but anyone in the hospital I have had something to do with healing.”

  “Deal. I have a favor to ask of you too. Tit for tat, I guess you can call it.” Thatcher nodded. “My nephews need a good role model when it comes to adult men. Houston is one of those men I want them to be around, as are you and all of your family. However, I don’t want any of them, you included, to ever treat them with kid gloves when it comes to dealing with shit they might see being around Rogen, Anna, and I. Would you ask your family to do that for me?”

  “You don’t think you could ask them to do that?” She said she didn’t want to fuck it up, so they were pissed off at her. “I doubt very much any one of them would be pissed off at you for making sure those boys are aware of what kind of father they had.”

  “Oh, they know their dad is a prick. I just didn’t know how much they knew about him. From now on, I want them to know just what sort of person he is, so later down the line, if he is ever released or wants to see them, it will be a decision they can and will be able to make on their own. I’m not one to sugar coat, as we’ve discussed before. In this, I want them to be able to make a sound decision about what they want or don’t want to do with him.”

  “You’d allow them to see him if they asked?” Tru wondered why that was important to him, but told him she would. It was, after all, their father. “What if he tells them a lot of lies? Or tells them what a horrible person he thinks you are? Doesn’t that bother you in the least?”

  “No. I mean, it might if I was insecure with how I treat the boys. I’m not. We have a really good, trusting relationship. I’ve not seen them as much as I would like to, but I’m hoping to remedy that. Why does it bother you?” He said it didn’t bother him, not really. “Then what is it?”

  “I think he’s asking you what to do so he’s not in the same boat as some parents might be. And for as much as I don’t like this woman, she’s right. If you lie to them about shit that isn’t all that bad or something they can look up to see that you were lying to them, they won’t ever trust you when it’s really important.” She asked Colby who had lied to him. “Your brother-in-law. Not just about you being more than likely dead, but the fact that you were a pussy. That you’d never killed anyone, and we’d be able to beat you down if it came to you showing up. The fucker lied to us all the time. I should have remembered that.”

  “Yes, you should have. Now you’re going to prison for the rest of your life. Since this was a crime against an agent—me, in this incident—I wouldn’t be surprised if you stand before a firing squad.” She made her way up the stairs and stopped before she could no longer see them. “Colby, you really should believe I know how to and have skinned a person. While he was still alive.”

  Tru hadn’t ever done that. Not that she wouldn’t if she had to, but she hadn’t had to kill anyone that way. Laughing when she found her dad and mom hugging Houston, along with Charlie, she hugged them all too. Even Sam and Jacob seemed to like their new uncle. She did too.

  They were packed up and ready to go by the time the clean-up crew got there, along with the Feds that were taking Colby in to be questioned. She didn’t mention he’d already told her everything she thought he knew by way of recording it on the camera in the room. That would be her copy so she could go over it and make sure things went well at Mike and Shasta’s trials. Because for as much as Shasta didn’t have anything to do with her being shot, she was still aware of a great many things about her that would get Tru killed. She just wasn’t ready for death right now.

  Chapter 6

  Picking up the boys from school today was something he really didn’t want to do. He’d been working on his newest project and hadn’t wanted to stop working. But since everyone was busy getting things gathered up for the new house the Justices had bought, he’d been volunteered.

  Houston thought it was funny that not only had Trudy and Blake bought their home via phone while in the car, but they’d financed it the same way. He wondered what they’d say if the house wasn’t what they were told it looked like on the pictures. Whatever it looked like, Houston was glad they so readily decided to live closer to Tru and himself.

  Houston arrived at the school, Sammy, as everyone was calling him now, was holding hands with his brother, who was only in preschool a couple of days a week, when a kid he knew came up behind him and slapped him on the back. Bookbags went flying and papers too. Getting out of the car, Houston paused when Sammy looked at him and shook his head.

  “You’re a murderer’s son. My mom said your daddy killed someone, and then he ate them.” Sammy told the Watcher boy he didn’t eat him. And that his dad had killed three people. “Huh?”

  Apparently, he expected some other answer from Sammy and looked at him. Houston just leaned against his truck and shrugged. Clark looked at Sammy again and asked him what he meant.

  “Our dad is a murderer. But he killed three people my aunt knows of so far. He also robbed a lot of people of stuff. But he didn’t eat them. You made that up.” Clark said he did. “It’s all right. Jacob and I don’t care for him either. So if you tell your mom that she might be fine with you coming to our house for a little while to play. Aunt Tru got me a game system, and Uncle Houston is showing me how to play games on it.”

  “You want me to come to your house? To play with you and your little brother?” Sammy said his aunt had a pool she might let them swim in. “You’re weird. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  “Yes. All the time. But I don’t think I’m weird. I’m just not lied to about things that are important. Do your parents lie to you?” Clark nodded and said his dad did all the time. “I’m sorry ab
out that, Clark. My parents did to us too. That’s why we’re living with my grandparents. They talk to us straight up. That’s what Grandpa Robinson calls it.”

  Houston had forgotten the boys had started calling his parents Grandma and Grandpa Robinson. It had only been about an hour after they were shown around their new home, and his parents had shown up that Jacob had started calling them that. Houston thought his mom was going to cry for a week after that. She’d been so touched by it.

  “My dad tells me all the time he’s going to come and get me to take me someplace. Mostly it’s the zoo or someplace like that. But he never shows up when he’s supposed to, and he doesn’t even call to wish me a happy birthday until he remembers it again. He and my mom are divorced.” Sammy told him he was sorry. “I’m not. My dad, he’s a real bastard.” Clark said the word really low, but Houston had no trouble hearing him.

  “So is my dad.” Sammy looked at him and winked. “I have to get going, Clark. You have your mom call my grandma, and we’ll see if you can come over. Maybe you could stay the night.”

  When Clark bumped fists with Sammy, then Jacob, Houston just stood there wondering at the resilience of children. He knew Clark was a bully. Thatcher had put stitches in a couple of the kids he’d beaten up a few weeks ago. But today, not only was he telling things to a near stranger, but he also seemed to have enjoyed the comradery they’d formed.

  Helping Jacob into his car seat, Houston was tapped on the back and turned to see Clark there. He was holding all the papers that had blown away when he’d hit the two boys. Taking them from him, Houston told Clark thanks.

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Robinson.” When he didn’t move on after handing them over, Houston turned to look at him after closing the door to the back seat. “Do you think he was serious? That he really wanted me to come over and play with him?”

  “I do. I should give you his grandma’s phone number so your mom can call.” Houston wrote it on a notebook page that Clark handed him. He also saw the art that Clark had done there. “Those are really good, Clark. And your colors are great. You should come over to my studio sometime, and we can work on some of the things that need a little tweaking here. But overall, this is really good.”

  “Really?” His face was red with embarrassment, but he seemed really pleased. “I want you to know, Mr. Robinson, that nobody has ever invited me to their house before. I know it’s because I’m a bad kid, but I want you to know I’ll never hurt them. They were nice to me.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Clark nodded but didn’t seem inclined to leave. “Do you need a ride home, son? I go right by your home on the way to Sammy’s home.”

  “Nah.” He grinned at him again. “I just never had an adult talk to me before. I mean, they yell at me plenty, but they never just talk to me like I’m a real person.”

  “You’re being nice to us, and we’re returning it to you.” Clark nodded and looked at the boys in the back seat. “Come on. Get in, and this way I can assure your mom you’re in good hands at the house. Perhaps she won’t mind since it’s Friday if you spend the night with them.”

  In the end, not only did Clark get into the truck with him and the boys, but he was given permission to spend the night by Clark’s step-grandma. Houston disliked her on sight. He thought she was drunk—she smelled highly of it when she staggered to the door. But she was polite if not a little too stern, and told Clark to behave himself. Sammy waited on the front porch for Clark to get his stuff gathered up. Houston contacted the Justices to let them know what had happened.

  “Oh my, that’s wonderful.” He laughed when Blake did. “I suppose Sammy really did need to know the truth. I’ll have to pass it on to Tru. She’ll love that she was right. She won’t like it pointed out to her, but she’ll love it. I don’t suppose you can pick up something for them to eat on the way here, could you, Houston? I’ll pay you back. Things are such a mess here.”

  “There is no need for that, Blake. I’ll take them to dinner for you. I missed my lunch too.” He hadn’t, but Blake wouldn’t know that. “I think I might enjoy this more than them.”

  They wanted pizza, which Houston could always eat. As they were sitting there, waiting for their waitress to take their order, he half listened to what the kids were saying. It wasn’t until he heard Sammy ask Clark if it hurt really bad that he starting paying attention.

  “It’s really painful. He did it the other day when we were having lunch.” In a conspirator’s whisper, he told them his stepfather was over there in the corner watching them. “Mom is here working. He comes in here every day she’s here and sits there watching her, so she don’t run. He hurts her.”

  Houston looked at Clark’s hand. It was then he noticed he had some ligature marks on his throat. Houston asked Clark if he hurt him too.

  “Just nod or shake your head, Clark. You don’t have to say it out loud. Not that he can hear you from over there, but you just tell me.” Clark nodded, then put his head down. “Do you have anyone else at the house? A brother or sister? What about your grandma? Tell me the truth, Clark.”

  “No. Just my step-grandma. She isn’t nice at all. Today she was on account of her thinking you might tell on her. That’s what she does when people come around about me, she acts all nice and stuff. And when she watches me while Mom works, she locks me in the basement with the lights off.” It was only the word of a kid. A bully kid. But Houston had used enough compulsion on Clark to make him tell him the truth. “Here he comes now.”

  The man wasn’t all that tall, perhaps only about five foot five. He was bulky, however. Not muscular, though there were some on his body. But Houston knew the smell of steroids as well as anyone would have, thanks in part to his brother Dawson, who used to be an ER doctor.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Clark looked like he was going to crawl into the seat. When the man drew back his hand to apparently hit the little boy, Houston grabbed his hand and told him to go back to his seat and to leave them alone. He did so without another word.

  “How did you do that? He never listens when people tell him to go away.” Houston told him he’d tell him later. Then their waitress showed up. It was Lacy, Clark’s mother, and she too was sporting some nasty bruises. Clark told his mom what he was doing. She looked at Houston with desperation on her face.

  “What would you all like for dinner? We have a special today on when you buy a pizza, you can take one home with you too. If you need a minute to look over the menu, I can bring you all something to drink.” She wrote down that they were all having waters. Houston told her his family was going to come and join them. He knew they’d come when they heard what he’d found out. “I can put you at a bigger table, Mr. Robinson. That’ll be no problem. I’ve not seen your momma in a long time.”

  “She and my dad are having a blast with the new grandbabies.” He took the paper placemat and wrote on it with one of the crayons she’d brought for the boys. It said only, Do you need help. “I just got engaged myself. She’ll be in with my family too.”

  At her nod, he knew he had to do something. Reaching out to all the family, including the Justices—whose blood he’d tasted so he could contact them as well—he told them everything he had going on here. Morgan was the first to say he was on his way with Anna.

  I’m doing a little research on them as we speak. In fact, I started it before, when you told the Justices that Clark was spending the night. He thanked Rogen. The kid has been in the hospital more times than usual. And there were a lot of times the mother was with him when she too needed care. This is a bad situation—you know that, don’t you, Houston?

  For whom? The man who needs his ass kicked, or the kid and his mom? Rogen said it was dangerous. I’m willing to take that chance if we can get them away from this abuse. You plan it, and then I’ll help. I know I’m not in the best situation here to do this on my own.

  Hous
ton ordered for all of them—ten large pizzas, five with all meat, three with everything, and the last two just cheese. Apparently, Clark had something else in common with his new nephews—they all loved cheesy pizza.

  As he and the boys were getting salads from the salad bar, he listened in on what the plan was. It was a solid plan, and Tru suggested they have the police on standby just in case things got out of hand. They would too, Tru told them. Domestics were the worst kind of police calls. After that was settled, they started showing up at the restaurant by the carload. Even the Justices looked happy to be a part of this.

  For his part, all he had to do was to pay the bill. He didn’t mind, of course, and he was warned to make sure the tip wasn’t left on the table. It had taken him a few seconds to realize why. Lacy would never see it. Brian, he thought his name was, would take it so fast it would never lay flat on the table before he was spending it.

  The pizzas arrived as everyone was getting themselves salads. His brothers didn’t get much—they were, like him, meat eaters. But Houston was trying to set a good example and teased all his brothers about it as he ate his second helping. They were having a good time, despite what was going on.

  The notes passed to Lacy were very telling. She came back to their table with a stack of napkins once and had written out that she wanted to get away but was terrified of being killed. Also, she was afraid for her son.

  Houston could tell Tru had done this before, being clandestine about getting information about Lacy and her needs. When Brian got up and made his way to the salad bar, just taking what he wanted, none of them could believe what he said to the manager when she came out to ask him what he was doing.

  “Lacy there gets a meal, and I’m going to eat it. I’ll have a meat pie with a soda pop.” The manager, Margaret Cunningham, told him it wasn’t his to eat. “She’ll want me to have it. You just go and ask her. And don’t forget the meat pie.”