by Wolfe, H. M.
"So you are the Brentano-something guy! Your face seemed extremely familiar, but I couldn't remember when I'd met you." Christine quickly reacted to the man's obvious interest in Elliott. "As my friend told you then, he is none of your business."
"The little, fierce defender strikes again!" There was no irony in Eugene's voice, only a tinge of sadness. "If I were you, I wouldn't drive away those who are concerned about your friend's well-being."
"Stay away from Elliott. You don't know anything about him. You are one of those bastards who only pretend to care, and then..." The girl fought hard to control the anger rising inside her.
"You are wrong on that one, Christine. I do care a lot. Right now, I can see how uncomfortable the two of us fighting over him makes Elliott feel. I am going to take him home and cook him a warm meal. He needs good, tasty food, plenty of sleep and a lot of love and support. I am going to offer him all of that and more. But before that, I need your blessing."
Christine looked at the guy like he had lost his mind, but all she could see in those ice-blue eyes was a sincere concern, affection and a strong will to help. The girl knew she needed all the help she could get to save Elliott from the desperate situation he had landed into. The man seemed a valuable ally Christine couldn't afford to lose, so she nodded in approval.
”Elliott?” Eugene gave him a questioning look. ”Do you want to stay a little more or would you rather go home and get some rest? Meantime, I could watch over you while cooking dinner. What do you say?”
"I think I'd rather go home. How about the kids?" The blond's voice was filled with regret, as he looked down to the little boys who were leaning on his chest, relaxed and comfortable.
"We could take them with us if you don't mind them keeping you company, or we could leave them here, and Liam or Martin Cornelius could drop by and bring them later. Whatever works best for you."
"I would prefer to take them with us if the others agree as well." As he spoke, Elliott cast a pretty please, look in the three cousins' direction.
"Of course you can take them with you, I'll pick up them later, when I accompany Christine and Mallory back to your place," Elizabeth offered, smiling warmly. "Have fun boys," she added.
"Mickey will pick us up!" the little warrior Lochlin suddenly declared, a wide grin starting to spread on his cute, little face.
"So you could help manipulate him into doing whatever your plotting minds are set on doing? I don't think so, young man! Besides, it's only Saturday, so you are still in my custody until tomorrow afternoon," Eugene replied amused, winking at the young boy.
The older, raven-haired child left his seat, joining his uncle, while Elliott picked up the blond twins, holding them safely in his arms. The little group sitting around the table swooned at the sight, making both men smile gently. The young Brentano waved once again to the others. Then he hurried to catch up with Elliott, who was already patiently waiting near the large car.
"Here we are!" Eugene opened the vehicle's doors, helping the younger man with the twins, while Gabriel took his usual spot between his brothers' car seats. The blond made sure their safety belts were properly secured, before stepping into the car.
”Are the children all right there in the back, all by themselves?” Elliott asked Eugene, casting a worried glance over his shoulder.
”Yes, they are,” the man smirked. ”Those three are as independent as can be and they also value their privacy a lot. Especially the twins, who are constantly plotting, finding new ways of wrapping us adults around their little fingers.”
The blond smiled weakly. "You love them very much, don't you?"
"Is it that obvious?" Eugene feigned innocence and surprise. Then, his look became hard as steel as he spoke in an ice-cold voice. "If anyone ever thinks about harming those kids... I will put the bastard into a grave with my bare hands."
Hearing the man's words, Elliott felt chills down his spine, but not in a wrong way, not like Carter had made him feel. Eugene's voice might sound threatening, but the blond also felt the protectiveness radiating from the man behind the wheel, the fierce determination in his eyes and voice. Elliott was sure of one thing; someone, someday, will be fortunate to have Eugene by his side.
"I realized one thing," the Detroit mobster broke the silence. "I forgot to ask where your house is," he smiled apologetically. I guess Tarquin's right, slowly but surely I'm starting to become senile."
"Don't blame yourself, it's entirely my fault, I should have provided it sooner. It's because I'm stupid. I try hard to make it better, but apparently, I'm limited like that." Elliott lowered his head in shame, anticipating the vicious verbal attack he was sure Eugene would unleash on him.
"What kind of twisted-minded, sick bastard put these ideas into your head?" The older man's voice was calm, but the blond could see how furious he was by the way his knuckles turned white from him squeezing the steering wheel.
"No…no one," Elliott stuttered, "it's just the way things are. Everybody around me knows that working is all I am good for, doing the boring part of the job. I am a less than average lawyer. I graduated only because my family's lawyer pulled some strings." The blond automatically repeated the phrases he assimilated as reality, the harsh sentences Carter forcefully made him memorize.
"If you say so..." Eugene's voice and expression were neutral. "You mentioned that you graduated law school. When was that?"
”Four years ago,” the answer came in a shaky voice.
"And how old were you at that time?" Again, the question was asked in a calm voice, as if the man was engaged in a casual conversation.
"Eighteen, why?" Elliott started to feel a little uneasy, mainly because he couldn't figure out the reason behind Eugene's sudden curiosity.
"Oh, nothing. You are right, eighteen-year-old Harvard law school graduates roam all around New York City. On the other hand, I must have lived in a cave, because you are the first one I have come across in almost two years."
Eugene's phone beeped, signaling an incoming message. The man slowed down the vehicle, checking the text, then smiled. Next to him, in the passenger seat, Elliott was confused, torn in half between his need for protection and the urge to get as far away as he could from the car's driver. He was in the middle of an internal debate when Eugene pulled the vehicle into his house's driveway.
"OK, everyone, we've safely reached our destination, it's time to get out," the young Brentano smiled, turning to the three children, who were surprisingly quiet during the ride.
"Here you are, Sir Chat-a-lot," Elliott smiled to Lochlin, freeing him from the seat belt. Then, he took the boy in his arms, making him giggle.
"Why did you call my brother that?" Emery whispered when the blond helped him out of the car seat.
”Because he chats a lot, obviously. How about Silent Knight being your warrior name? Do you like it?”
"It's cool!" the little boy raised his fist in the air, in a gesture of enthusiasm and victory.
Gabriel got out the last, quickly catching up with his younger brothers. ”Wait for me, you fearless warriors!” he called, smiling widely and brightly.
But the two young boys didn't listen, following Elliott into the house. The young man lured them into the kitchen, asking for their help. The three of them started to gather all the ingredients and utensils Eugene may need, arranging them on the counter. When the other man and the black-haired boy finally got inside, everything was ready.
Young Brentano examined with a critical eye the items on the counter, a satisfying look appearing on his face. From the corner of his eye, he noticed how relaxed Elliott was in the presence of Emery and Lochlin, how well he interacted with the children. Most likely, Eugene thought, feeling a pang in his chest, the blond had been deprived, one way or another, of the most beautiful stage of life, childhood.
”Do you need help here, uncle? I could wash the vegetables, peel them or do anything else except cutting meat or cooking it,” Gabriel offered with a shy smile.
"Well, this old man could use a helping hand once in a while," Eugene smiled back, "especially from a fine young gentleman like you. On the other hand, if I were to think better, you could supervise your brothers so Elliott could lay down until the meal is ready."
"Are you OK in there, everything under control?" Christine asked, peeking into the kitchen. "We are back too, so tell me what do you need us to do."
"For starters, stay away from the kitchen. You and Mallory could check on the little ones so Elliott could rest a little," Eugene suggested.
"Aye-aye, captain," Christine mocked a military salute, disappearing into the living room. "Get your nice self to bed, darling, I'll take it from here," she ushered the blond upstairs.
The young man didn't protest, exhausted as he was. Once in his room, he didn't lock the door behind him, as usual. Instead, he climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over him. The pleasant conversation and happy laughter reached Elliott's ears, but the noise, instead of bothering the blond, made him relax even more.
For the first time since his parents' death, the young man was safe, the feeling wrapping around him like a warm, comfortable blanket. The buzz from downstairs lulled him into what he desperately wanted to be a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 8
The doctor caressed the blond, curly-haired boy on his belly. He was stroking the small bump that had started to become more and more noticeable. The child, no more than thirteen years old, began to shiver from the coldness of the metallic table he laid on, naked like the day he was born.
The doctor's hand started to go up on the fragile, exposed body, his moves becoming slightly rougher, making the boy let out a small whimper of discomfort. However, he didn't move a single inch, looking straight into the man's eyes with his sky blue orbs. Encouraged by the child's passive attitude and the trust the child showed him, the doctor continued to touch him on the chest, neck, and face.
"My little genius, you make me so very proud," the repulsive creature spoke, taking one of the boy's golden locks between his fingers. "You are so intelligent, so compliant, so perfect, exactly what I wanted, how I wished you to be."
"Doctor, what's wrong with me? What's that thing growing inside of me? Am I going to be all right or am I going to die?" The boy's voice was shaky, barely above a whisper, fear and despair written all over his face.
"Hush, little one," the wretched man replied, pressing a finger on the child's pink lips so hard, that he flinched for the first time in over an hour since he was laid out naked on the cold table. "I will rid you of the tumors in due time. Until then, be the good boy you always are."
"I'll be a very good boy, just get them out of me, they make me feel sick and tired all the time," the child started to whine.
"Don't cry. You don't have to get upset over all kind of petty, unnecessary things." The doctor lifted the boy from the table, pulling him into a hug. "You are very special to me, my brilliant, curly-haired scientist! Am I not good to you?"
"Oh, yes, you are very kind to me, doctor. You’re the one who keeps me safe. You always let me study, to read whatever I am interested in." As he spoke, the child raised his head, looking into the man's evil, beady eyes with his innocent, sky-blue ones.
"Of course I let you read, to enrich your knowledge. I will be good for you, my boy, so good that you won't let anyone else into your life. And because one day, my revenge will strike them down...through you."
Elliott woke up, heart thumping frantically in his chest. Not aware of his surroundings, he cast a panicked look around the room, letting out a sigh of relief when realizing where he was. The blond tried to remember what the dream that woke him up was about, but his brain was foggy. One thing he was sure of, though, it featured the doctor at the lab.
Gradually, the blond's muscles started to relax, his breath became less labored, and the rhythm of the heart beats slowed down. Laying on his back, Elliott began to wonder, why did he have these extreme reactions every time the lab and the doctor running it appeared in his dreams?
The man treated the then-boy with kindness. He was sweet to him. Encouraged him to expand his horizon by reading, studying and expressing his opinions on what he found out from the books he read. The blond furrowed his brows, trying hard to figure out why, in spite of all the good memories, evoking the time he spent in the doctor's care was always an emotional-draining experience for him.
Maybe he associated the lab with the tumors that grew inside him for nine months before the doctor could finally remove them. During that period, Elliott felt permanently sick to his stomach, some days barely eating, while other days, stuffing himself with food like there was no tomorrow.
Checking the watch on the nightstand, the blond could see that only an hour had passed since he got into bed. Instead of going downstairs and joining his friends and their guests, Elliott decided to lay in bed for several more minutes. He knew that they would have been worried if he had appeared before them looking lost and agitated.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Christine and Eugene started a conversation with the blond as the central subject. Christine was intrigued, by the sudden, unexplainable interest the man showed for her friend. So she decided to play along. Eugene wished to know so many things about her best friend that she wanted to discover the real reason.
"So, how long have you and Elliott been friends? How did you end up living with him?" Eugene asked, hoping for an honest answer.
"It was two years ago, the dean called me in his office, telling me that it was about an ad I had posted earlier on the university's site."
”What ad?” Eugene frowned imperceptibly.
"I was looking for a room to share. My family situation was, and still is, pretty shitty. Living in the dorms, with the parties that seemed to never end, was the same thing, so... Anyway, the dean told me that someone had answered my ad, but they wanted to interview me first, so I went to the address."
”What was your first impression of Elliott? Did you sensed something was wrong with him, did he act strange or anything?” Eugene hardly contained the curiosity in his voice.
”Nothing like that, I liked him instantly. During the interview, I found out he was only recently living in New York, was working for a well-known law office, graduated Harvard law school two years earlier and was an orphan.”
"And he told you all those things in one go?" Eugene had a thoughtful look. "That's strange, especially for someone like him."
"Yes, he did, but then he added that what he had told me is all I needed to know about his past. Not bugging him with questions about his past was the only condition Elliott had. He offered me everything; a roof over my head, food in my belly, brotherly affection and support." Christine fell silent, tears of gratitude brimming in her eyes.
Eugene nodded in understanding, and he could find nothing wrong with her story. Her answers seemed truthful. On the one hand, the man felt terrible about twisting her arm into giving up information about her best friend, scarce as they were. On the other hand, however, he needed to know more so he could give Elliott the help he desperately needed.
"Wait a minute!" Christine suddenly said in a somehow excited voice, getting Eugene's attention instantly. "I just remembered, there were a lot of other things he said during the interview. I don't know how relevant they are, though..."
”Every bit of information you could share is of great importance,” the man gave her an encouraging smile.
"Elliott was adopted, his parents told him when he was ten. He started to wonder why all the Spellmanns and the Brauns he knew had brown eyes and black hair, while he was blond with blue eyes."
"Where did they take him from? Orphanage? Foster care?"
"Nothing like that. Mrs. Spellmann was working as a nurse in a high profile private clinic. One of the patients suffered complications during childbirth, and she didn't make it. No one claimed the newborn, so the Spellmanns, who were childless, took him home, raising him as their own."
Eugene frowned again. "Something
is off here. Why didn't his mother's family take Elliott as well, when they came after her body? His adoptive parents must have hidden something from him. Unless..."
"Why would he lie to me? Isn't that what you were about to say?" Christine cut the man short, her voice defensive.
"Look, I am trying to understand here, and I won't exclude any possibility, at least for now," Eugene explained.
He started to stir the pot, adding ingredients and tasting once in a while. The delicious smell of soup reached Christine's nostrils, making them flare. Seeing how the man focused on the cooking, with Elliott's well-being in mind, warmed her heart. Without realizing it, she started daydreaming about a pair of intense, dark blue eyes and the calm voice of their possessor.
"Liam or Martin Cornelius?" Eugene asked her, apparently amused.