by Amanda Perry
“It’s silver platter, genius,” Marak corrects, shaking his head at Syn.
“What the fuck ever, she knew what I meant.”
“You still need to say it right, or it makes you sound like a dipshit.”
“I’d rather sound like one than look like one.”
“If ya boys keep on with yer bitchin’, I’ll give ya both somethin’ ta bitch ‘bout.” Grumpy’s threat from the other side of the door stops Marak and Syn’s bickering.
Allistar quickly opens the door for Grumpy, who scowls at the four men. Grumpy has a shockingly powerful way of making grown men and women feel twelve years old again. His magical powers show themselves in the form of Syn and Marak’s contrite expressions this time.
Grumpy comes farther into the apartment, hugging me tightly as he walks by. He takes a seat on the couch Allistar and I vacated moments ago. “One a y’all best be tellin’ me what in the good goddamn I’m doin’ o’er here, ‘stead a loadin’ ma shotgun ta get huntin’ this prick.” His drawl is thicker than usual. He may be hiding his anxiety, but I know him too well. “Ya can’t go callin’ a poor ol’ man, sayin’ there’s a crazy bastard callin’ his little girl. Then expect ‘em ta go ‘n do nothin’ ‘bout it.”
“We have no idea where he is,” Syn reminds him. “He could be in fucking Egypt for all we know.”
Something the guy said on the phone flashes in my memory. “He said he could see me.”
All eyes turn to me.
“What’re ya mumblin’ ‘bout Tayter-Tot?”
“When the guy called—we really need to give him a name by the way, like Douchy McCreeperson. Anyway, he said it was good to see me. Not hear but see.” The memory of his voice sends a nasty chill through my body.
Marak puts his right arm across the back of the couch behind me, his hand rubbing small, comforting circles on my back. "He could have been bluffing. We don't know for sure he's even in the country. Also, we have an alias for him, Paul Pearson. Though, Taylor’s nickname is way better."
"Should we even take the risk?" Allistar speaks out, his brow furrowed with worry.
"You guys can't lock me up in my apartment or some crap. I'm not going to let Pearson, or McCreepearson as he should be named, dictate my life."
The four of them share a loaded look, and my stomach drops. "What? Why are you looking at each other like that? Knock it off. Use your words."
Maverick speaks up first. "Maybe you shouldn't be alone for a while, Taylor."
At first, No way in hell am I going to agree to a babysitter, comes to mind. But before I can start bitching at everyone for even thinking about such a dumb idea, Grumpy speaks up. "Maybe it ain’t such a bad idea fer ya ta have a bit more protection, Tayter-Tot."
A quick scan of the guys shows worry to some degree on all of them. Even Grumpy seems concerned. His kick ass, take names, then ask questions attitude has always been something I admire about him. He doesn't like to worry about crap; he finds ways to take care of it. If he's worried, you know the situation is serious.
It isn't like I'm burying my head in the sand. Clearly, I'm in danger, and I need to be careful. But I've gotten used to living on my own, and I don't want to move back in with Grumpy no matter how much I love him. He’ll smother me metaphorically, and in turn, I’ll smother him literally.
"Maybe she can stay with us," Syn offers. His suggestion shocks the hell out of me.
“Us?” I squeak.
Syn nods. “We’re roommates. We have a spare room, and it would make sense.”
"Actually, that may not be a bad idea." Maverick scratches his jaw as he contemplates Syn’s suggestion. "We would be able to keep a better eye on her if she's with us all the time, and between the four of us, someone would always be watching."
"Okay, first of all," I shout, then jump to my feet and plant my hands on my hips, "I’m standing right in front of you, so quit talking about me like I don't have a say in what happens in my life. Second, I don't need to go anywhere. I can look after myself or maybe even stay a few days with Grumpy. Third... Well, I don't have a third thing, except you're irritating me."
By the time I finish my rant, my feet have taken me from in front of the couch to less than a foot from Maverick. His lips twitch with amusement, an action I think is probably rare for him. If he wasn't so damn big, I'd probably hit him, but the odds of me hurting my hand in the process are greater than causing him any pain. A good crotch shot might be an option if he keeps up the crap, though.
"Okay, Rambo, let's calm down a little bit," Syn steps next to his friend. His soft eyes shine with mirth. "We should probably talk about this calmly and come to an agreement. We don't want to tie you to a bed and make you stay there until the bad guys are caught."
Maverick chokes, his hazel green eyes wide as he elbows Syn in the ribs. Maybe he does want to lock me up instead of having me stay with them. The debate as to which one is better rages in my mind. Would I rather go spend an undetermined amount of time living with four incredibly annoying and sexy men or just have them lock me up in a holding cell for a few weeks? Such a tough decision.
"I'm not leaving Grumpy with no protection," I remind them. "If I stay with him, maybe I can protect him and myself."
"Taylor." Allistar sighs and comes to me. He puts his hands on my shoulders, ducking his head to reach my height. His sexy as hell dark blond hair falls a bit into his eyes, and my hand twitches with the urge to reach up and brush it away. He has amazingly soft hair and to run my fingers through it would probably feel so good.
"We need you to understand something." Allistar brings me back to the conversation instead of ogling him like a freak. "This guy won’t stop until he finds you and takes what he believes is his. Until he takes you. There is no way for you to protect yourself or Grumpy on your own. If you want to be safe, if you want him safe, you'll listen to us."
If a plea could be made to sound hot, Allistar would be the one to do it. His eyes never leave mine as I think things over in silence. His hands remain on my shoulders, an odd comfort rather than an annoyance.
In reality, I know my choices are limited. Option one would be to stay in my apartment and serve myself up to McCreepearson on a silver platter. Option two, I can move in with Grumpy for a while and hopefully keep him safe, though it isn’t likely. Finally, option three, move in with Allistar, Marak, Syn, and Maverick.
No one knows how long the arrangement would be for. It could be two days or two months. Is there really any other smart way to handle the completely fucked up situation, though? Nothing comes to mind, and I groan loudly at the realization of what I need to do.
"Okay, I have some conditions though," I say, then step away from Allistar. Being close to any of them turns me into a drooling preteen at a boy band concert. Maybe if I got laid, I'd stop undressing them with my eyes and calm the hell down.
"We're listening." Marak gestures for me to sit back on the couch next to him.
I comply with a heavy plop onto the couch then roll my head back. "Honestly, I cannot believe I'm agreeing to this crap. But if I stay with you guys, Grumpy needs to come, too."
"Ain’t gonna happen, Tayter-Tot," Grumpy growls, crossing his arms in defiance. "I ain't gonna go livin’ with a buncha boys ‘n their loud music ‘n shitty video games ‘n fast food crap."
"You're not staying at your place alone. If you won't go someplace safe, then neither will I."
Grumpy frowns momentarily before his eyes light up. "I'll give yer cousin down in Oklahoma a holler. I ain't seen that shithead in ‘bout two years. He's always gripin’ at me ta come’n see ‘im. Now’s as good a time as any, I'd say."
"Isn't Howard my second cousin?"
"Ya really fixin’ ta get into the details of our damned family tree right this minute, Tayter-Tot?"
"I'm just saying, I think he'd be considered a second cousin to me. Maybe a third cousin? I don't know, I need to look that up again. I mean, he's more like an uncle, and you guys used to call him my uncle Howa
rd, but then suddenly he was my cousin." The couch behind me vibrates with Marak's silent laughter. "Do you know how confusing that is to a kid? Hey, this is your cousin, but he's like an uncle, but he isn't an uncle, he's a cousin, but you can call him uncle."
Grumpy rolls his eyes. "Oh, for pity sake, Tayter-Tot. Shut yer trap ‘n let the boys finish hearin' ‘bout yer half-assed demands. I'm gonna step into yer room ‘n give yer uncle cousin Howard a ring."
"Now, we just sound like a crazy hick family," I call to him as he hurries away from my banter. "I think I'll call you Uncle Grandpa from now on."
"Only if ya wanna pick a switch, girl!" he shouts back with humor in his tone.
With a giggle, I turn back to the guys spread around my living room. "My only other demand is that I will be going to work, the store, and any other places when I want to. I'm not going to wait for a chaperone or bodyguard. If you guys want to tag along, that's fine, but if you're busy and I need to get to work or something, I'm doing it."
"How?" Syn asks, raising a curious brow.
"How what?"
"How do you plan to go places on your own?" He smirks.
I frown, not understanding his question. "I have a driver’s license, Syn. I know how to operate a motor vehicle."
"Smart ass," he mumbles. "I meant, what car would you take? That beetle in your driveway is dead as a doornail. Unless you want to spend a lot of money on the sucker, there's no bringing it back from the grave."
Shit. I'd forgotten about my ladybug going belly up on me. Still, I refuse to give in and agree to be toted around all over. "I'll take a bus or call for an Uber."
"The hell you will." Maverick's voice rises, and his anger turns his cheeks an adorable shade of red. He probably wouldn't appreciate the compliment if I said it out loud, though, so I keep my mouth shut and let him flip his lid. "You've got a sex ring operator, potential murderer threatening you and promising to take you and use you as a damn toy. You're not going to take a fucking public bus alone or whatever other crazy half-assed ideas you have. One of us will always be with you, problem solved."
Finally, I can't hold it in anymore. A Cheshire cat grin takes over my face, and Maverick frowns, probably confused by the reaction. "You're really adorable when you get all mad, and your cheeks turn bright red like that."
He freezes, completely caught off guard. Syn and Marak dissolve into fits of laughter, and even Allistar chuckles a bit. Maybe they took it as a joke, but I was being genuine. He's really cute when he's mad. His normal frown and crossed arms are rough and sexy. The bulk of his arms and the way his lips press into a hard line all the time make me want to kiss the tension out of him. But when he gets all upset like he is now, he lets loose and gets some of his pent-up frustration out. As strange as it sounds, I like angry Maverick.
Grumpy interrupts Maverick’s fish-like gaping when he stomps into the room. The man cannot walk quietly. He’d make a terrible spy.
“God Almighty, the kid never shuts his yapper. Anyhow, it’s all fixed up. Howard bought a plane ticket quicker’n yer cousin Jimmy atta pie eatin’ contest. Said he’d be scoopin’ me up tonight when I land. Now, I gotta get ta gettin’. My plane leaves in three hours n’ I gotta pack my crap.”
He shoves his phone back into his pocket and pulls me in for a big hug. He whispers quietly so only I can hear him, “Don’t ya go gettin’ hurt’r nothin’ while I’m gone, Tayter-Tot. I don’t wanna have ta tan yer hide.”
Tears sting the back of my eyes. Being far away from Grumpy is never easy for me, but if it means he’s safe, I’ll suck it up.
With my arms wrapped around him, I give him a hard squeeze. “You be safe too, old man.”
“I love the hell outta you, Tayter-Tot.”
“I love the hell outta you, Grumpy.”
He pulls back and spins around to face the men who remained silent during our quick goodbyes. Grumpy and I can’t handle long, sappy goodbyes. We get it out, then we get gone. It’s how we work.
The suddenness of Grumpy’s action startles them, and their eyes widen simultaneously. “Which one a ya boys is takin’ me home ‘n ta the airport?”
They exchange glances, probably waiting for someone to bite the bullet and volunteer. No one speaks up, and Grumpy huffs loudly. “Well don’t everyone go ‘n volunteer at once, now.”
“I’ll take you,” Syn offers finally. “I have my car here. The others will need Maverick’s truck to get everyone back to the house with Taylor’s stuff.”
“I’m not going to your house tonight.” Syn spins and pins me with a glare. He doesn’t scare me; he has too much humor in his eyes to truly pull off a glare, anyway. “I need to pack my stuff and sort things out before I just up and leave. I can come over tomorrow morning. One night isn’t gonna kill me.”
“It fucking might!” he shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. “That’s the whole damned point of you coming to stay with us, Taylor. So, no one gets killed.”
Crossing my arms over my chest in defiance, I turn my nose up to him. “I’m spending the night here. I need time to prepare, and I’m not going to deal with packing right now.”
Grumpy growls, clearly annoyed. “I gotta get home ‘n pack up all ma shit tonight, why the hell can’t you?”
My eyes roll upward. Men can be so clueless. “Because you only need to pack your clothes and hopefully, remember a change of socks and a toothbrush. I have my makeup, my hair crap, my shoes, and everything else that makes me a girl that I need to get together and pack.”
While Grumpy shakes his head, Syn appears to consider my logic before nodding. “Okay, yeah, I can see that. Girls have a lot of crap. At least, I know my sisters and my mom always did.”
My interest piques at the chance to know more about Syn. “How many sisters do you have?”
“Four. Two older, two younger. They’re up for grabs if you want some siblings. Just don’t tell my mom, she yelled at me last time I tried to trade them for baseball cards.”
The idea of having siblings always appealed to me, though I’d never want my mother to procreate again. Grammy and Grumpy laughed when I put a little sister on my birthday list two years in a row. Grammy said she was done having little ones, and they only had enough love and energy for me.
“I’ll stick with being an only child, it’s probably for the best. The world can only handle one person like me.”
Realistically, having more young kids to raise wouldn’t have been a good idea for Grumpy and Grammy. It was a miracle they managed to raise me without going completely insane. The amount of trouble my best friends and I would get into was enough to make a grown man cry. With broken bones, cuts, scrapes, falls, adventures that got us lost, and the tendency to piss off our teachers, it’s lucky the three of us survived into adulthood.
“A’righty, Smurf boy, let’s git ta gettin’.” Grumpy points at Syn then to the door.
The two of them leave Allistar, Marak, and me in hysterics. Even Maverick cracks a smile. Grumpy obviously came up with the name because of Syn’s silvery blue hair, but I happen to like it. The color brings out his eyes and suits his playful personality well, though he’ll never live down the nickname.
Maverick regains his composure before the rest of us. “Alright, if you insist on staying the rest of the night here, one of us will need to stay with you.” He must sense the impending argument because he holds up a hand, stopping me before I can open my mouth. “Taylor, just let one of us stay here with you. It’s not babysitting, it’s taking the appropriate measures to ensure your safety.”
The hard look of determination from Maverick gives me little hope of winning a war over staying home alone tonight. To have one of them with me would bring a bit of security anyway.
“Fine, I’ll go track down my extra blankets. Let me know who draws the short straw.” With that, I turn and leave the room.
My excuse for leaving the room is bullshit. The extra blankets live on the top shelf of my bedroom closet, no searching necessary. But m
y mind might explode if I don’t get a second to sort through my thoughts.
My life used to be boring. Going out on Friday nights with Evelyn and Michelle was as crazy as things got for me. The occasional date with a loser, flirting with our favorite bartender, Greg, and needing to call an Uber because we drank one too many were the highlights of my life. My job is great, but it’s not exactly the most exciting career. School was never like those college books and movies I’ve seen. I went to class, did my work, came home, and studied. On occasion, I find time to get really wild and paint or draw for fun. The walls of my apartment are decorated with my work, and Michelle, Evelyn, and Grumpy have several of my creations in their places, too.
Now, I’ve got some crazy bastard after me, hoping to train me to be his kinky trick pony. My two best friends left town, and now, they need to stay away for who knows how long so they don’t die because of me. Grumpy is off to visit my uncle cousin Howard. And then there’s the small detail of the four hot men I’ll be living with for god knows how long.
At first, I figured my attraction to them was some warped hero worship type thing. I’ve been free and away from them for a while now, yet the jerks won’t leave my damn mind. There must be a dozen or more times I’ve thought about each of them and more than half of those times included images of them naked. In my imagination, all four of them look damn good naked.
When Syn showed up, scaring me to death and getting himself shot in the ass, I thought maybe he was the one I really have feelings for. He’s too fun and hilarious. With his dark tan contrasting against his soft blue eyes and matching hair, he would draw the attention of any girl, and even a few guys, in a room. The confident way he carries himself turns me on more than I’d ever admit. At the same time, he makes it easy to be around him. He can take it as good as he gives it, and he doesn’t hold back because I’m a girl. Seeing him in only his boxers, lying on my bed, was the highlight of my week. Syn has a really nice ass. It will have a small pellet shaped scar on it once he finishes healing, but that doesn’t make it any less round or firm. It took a lot of effort not to pinch it while I attempted to patch him up.