Protecting His Own (Masters of the Shadowlands Book 11) Read online

  He studied the way the moonlight streaming in the windows brought out the lighter strands of red-blonde in her hair. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

  Tears filled her eyes.

  It was both delightful and frustrating she never saw herself that way. “Someday, hopefully before we end up in a nursing home, you’ll accept a compliment without being surprised. You’re beautiful, Beth.”

  “So are you, Master.”

  Beautiful? “Now, that’s purely an insult.”

  She giggled. A noise came from the monitor, and they listened as one of the children stirred, muttered, and fell back asleep. “I’m going to really miss them if they leave.”

  “Yeah.” Nolan stroked her hair. Losing them would hurt like hell. “What do you know about their grandmother?”

  “Just what I told you Drusilla said. Her mom was such a fanatic that Drusilla ran away.” She made an unhappy sound as his cock slipped out of her.

  “And Price told you to consider the source. He does have a point. Addicts aren’t always honest.”

  “True.” Curling up at his side, Beth laid her head on his shoulder. His snuggly submissive. “But what if she told me the truth? After all, the kids were badly shaken after meeting their grandmother.”

  Connor had gone back to wetting the bed; Grant’s moods had deteriorated again. “Or they simply don’t do well with change.”

  Her mouth set stubbornly. “But Price totally blew off any idea the grandmother might not be perfect. Since she’s near kin, he won’t do more than a basic background check—and I doubt she’s been in jail.”

  Price was an asshole. No question there. Nolan stuck a hand behind his head and studied the ceiling. “If the grandma is all right, the boys will get to grow up with a blood relation. That’d be a good thing, even though we’d miss them.”

  “Yes.” Beth’s low answer held a foreshadowing of grief.

  He rubbed his knuckles over her smooth cheek. “Remember religious doesn’t mean crazy. You attend services off and on. Kari and Andrea are pretty involved with their churches.”

  “This is true. But Drusilla called her mother a fanatic. Said her mom whipped her when she was disobedient. I don’t want our boys there.”

  A fanatic. If true, not good. In pursuit of their unreasoning beliefs, a fanatic would flatten anything in his or her way—including children. How truthful had Drusilla been? “We owe it to the boys to make sure they’ll go somewhere nurturing. If Price isn’t going to check out Grandma, perhaps we should.”

  “Yes. I’d feel so much better if we knew what kind of a person she is.” With a bounce, Beth shot up and planted her hands on his chest. “Hey, tomorrow, Anne is meeting us for lunch after our self-defense class. She’d help.”

  Anne had been a private investigator and bounty hunter before joining Galen’s firm. “Good choice. I’ll tag Galen and Vance and get Dan onboard, too.” Vance still worked at the FBI; Galen had left the Feds to start a company specializing in finding the lost. As a cop, Dan could access local records.

  “Okay.” Beth lay back down beside him, and her slender body relaxed. “We’ve got a plan.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The air was fragrant with the scent of pizza, and Beth pulled in an appreciative breath as she led the way into the Italian restaurant. She took a seat at their favorite corner table. “I love this ‘reward’ for going to the martial arts class, even if most of us couldn’t stay afterward this time.”

  Anne pulled her chair out, grimaced, and pulled it out farther before sitting. At five months, she finally looked pregnant. “Well, I don’t deserve a reward, but I’m going to pig out on pizza anyway. Now the nausea is gone, I’m starving all the time.”

  “You know, you’ve got an I’m-pregnant glow,” Beth noted. “And Ben’s got a Daddy glow.”

  “I swear, he gloats over every fraction of an inch I gain,” Anne said. “And when he saw the baby on the ultrasound? He teared up.”

  “Aww.” Sliding into a seat, Sally laughed…but she had tears in her eyes, too. “You’ve made him so happy, Anne.”

  Eyes reddening, Anne pointed her finger at the brunette. “Don’t make me cry, or I’ll sic your Masters on you.”

  With a flash of dimples, Gabi dropped a pile of menus in the center of the table and took a chair. “At one time, you’d have flogged her sassy ass yourself, Mistress.”

  Anne sniffed. “That happy day will come again. In the meantime—as Ben constantly tells me—I have to delegate.”

  Uzuri took a chair and set a market-sized, red-striped tote bag on the floor. Since her visit three weeks ago, the last remaining Shadowlands “trainee” had dutifully attended self-defense classes.

  Beth planned to talk with Holt and see when Uzuri would finish the bet requiring her to take self-defense. Another bet might be in order to keep her coming.

  Sally noticed the brightly colored tote, and her eyebrows lifted. “Interesting combination of styles, girlfriend.”

  “This is true.” Uzuri glanced down at her impeccably fitted, pale blue suit, bone heels, and matching clutch. The department store executive could have been a model for business clothing. “I brought the bag for Beth’s little demons.”

  “Demons? What say you? My babies are angels.” Beth’s lips tipped up. Last week, the boys had wheedled Uzuri and Sally into playing with them in the pool. She’d never heard Uzuri laugh so hard. “But…what’s the occasion?”

  “I know Connor and Grant might not stay with you, but there was a back-to-school sale in the children’s department—and I get an employee discount. I’m merely human; how could I resist?” Uzuri handed over the bag. “It’s a good thing you don’t have girls. Their clothes are even cuter.”

  Beth pulled out sturdy shorts, two adorable T-shirts with stripes, others with cartoon character graphics for Connor and superhero figures for Grant. How perfect. “You’re the only person I know who can figure out sizes at a glance.”

  “I started in retail in the children’s department.” Uzuri patted the shirts. “There’s nothing too flashy, and I checked the county dress code to make sure the graphics were okay—nothing immoral, offensive, or unlawful.”

  “Oh my God, I hadn’t even thought about dress codes.” More things to study up on. “These are awesome. Thank you so much!” Beth jumped up to give her friend a hug.

  “So, how is it going with Connor and Grant?” Gabi asked. “And with you?”

  “You’re such a social worker.” And she’d given Beth the perfect lead-in to what she had to ask. “But I’m glad you asked, because I need a favor from you guys.”

  Every single woman at the table immediately nodded.

  “I haven’t even told you what I need.” Don’t cry, don’t cry. The thickness in her throat was making it difficult to speak. “Nolan and I want to keep the kids.”

  “Yes!” Sally shouted. Gabi and Uzuri cheered more quietly. Anne said, “Excellent.”

  My girl gang. When she’d married Kyler, he’d driven away her friends. Beth had a feeling these women wouldn’t have given her up so easily.

  “No crying,” Anne warned. “You make me cry, and I’ll whip your ass. Fucking hormones.” Her disgruntled tone made Beth giggle instead.

  “So, what’s the favor?” Gabi asked. “Who do you need killed?”

  “Oh, girl, you’re hitting too close to the truth.” Beth scowled. “You know that jerk of a social worker, Price? He wants to hand the children over to their grandmother.”

  Beth laid out the facts, piece by piece, and saw nods of understanding. She finished by telling them, “Price called this morning. The boys will have an overnight with the grandmother on Thursday.”

  “Who knew old lard-belly could move so fast?” Sally said. “So…you want to know if grandma is a sweet, cookie-baking cuddler or a rabid bitch.”

  Interesting summary. “Um, yes. Trouble is, I don’t know her complete name.”

  P.I. Anne and hacker Sally exchanged smug g
lances. They were both employees of Galen’s I-can-find-anything company. “Not a problem,” Anne said. “I’ll research her past. Sally, you comb through her finances.”

  Sally gave her a mock salute. “Aye, Ma’am.”

  “Digital background checks are good, but for this, we also need personal information. What she’s actually like.” Anne frowned. “Conducting interviews with her friends and neighbors might be tricky, since you don’t want the woman—or Price—to know we’re investigating her.”

  “Considering how much hiring we’ve done this year, I’m excellent at interviewing,” Uzuri offered. “But I don’t know how to be sneaky about it.”

  Gabi smiled. “Actually, this is excellent timing. Some of Marcus’ boys are selling cookie dough to get money for their boy’s club.” The Sensei and Gabi’s Dom spent a lot of time with teens needing a helping hand. Gabi continued, “Once Anne gives an address, Uzuri and I and the boys will sell cookies all over Granny’s neighborhood and get all the gossip.”

  “Perfect.” Anne looked around the table in approval before her gaze turned to Beth. “We’ve got your back.”

  Threats from the Mistress or not, Beth couldn’t help herself. She burst into tears.

  * * * * *

  Grant tried not to scowl as he listened to Grandmother’s boring voice. He hadn’t wanted to visit her today. He’d wanted to stay with Beth; they’d been having fun.

  Although Nolan had gone to work, Grant and Connor had talked Beth into playing soccer with them. She was really fun and fast, and she’d showed him cool kicks and said he had a talent. But, then, they’d had to stop and get ready for the Price guy to bring them here to Grandmother’s house. They had to sleep here tonight, too.

  He checked through his eyelashes, wishing she’d stop reading from that book. His knees hurt. Why wouldn’t she let them sit on the couch to listen to the Bible stuff?

  She kept talking, on and on. Her house smelled funny, too, kind of like the stuff Beth used to get the white towels whiter.

  Connor curled his cold fingers around Grant’s hand. “I want to go back to Beff’s,” he whispered.

  Grandmother heard him, and when she stared at them, her gray eyebrows came together, and her eyes were like a gator’s. She didn’t like him or Connor—or Mama, either. She said Mama was bad and had run away. She said they were probably bad, too. And they hadn’t even done anything.

  Squeezing Connor’s hand, he looked down at the floor. She’d told them to keep their heads “bowed.”

  Connor had started squirming a while ago and would start crying soon.

  Grant wanted to cry, too.

  * * * * *

  That evening, Beth sat with Nolan at the kitchen island. A stack of paper sat in front of them. Outside, a gull cried shrilly, and low voices came from the lake where the neighbors were twilight fishing. Inside, the only noise was the hum of the refrigerator. The house was too quiet with no childish giggles. No silly bickering. No funny Connor imitations of baaing sheep or mooing cows.

  The farm animal toys had been a hit…as were the zoo animals, the racecars, the noisy spin-the-wheel games, and everything else. She shook her head ruefully. The kids’ bedroom had already contained toys for Nolan’s nieces and nephews. That number had exploded. She and Nolan had, perhaps…okay, definitely…overindulged in buying things.

  But so had their friends. Linda had swung by with a miniature corral and horses set, saying, “Sam and I saw this and thought of the kids.” Or Rainie who’d bought stuffed poodles for their veterinary clinic promotion and wanted the boys to have some.

  Kari had delivered a grocery sack of children’s books from her school’s used book sale. “I thought it’d be an easy way for you to find out what they like.” Andrea had appeared with a humungous box of Legos her younger relatives had outgrown.

  If the strict grandmother kept the boys, would she let them have all their new toys? The thought dragged Beth right down into the morass she’d been avoiding. Were they truly going to lose Connor and Grant?

  “Hey.” Nolan pulled her against his solid frame and kissed her temple. “Easy, li’l rabbit. Don’t surrender before the war is over.”

  His gaze held as much sadness as hers and—for him—she managed a smile. “You soldier-boys are sure full of battle analogies.”

  “On the contrary, sugar, my entire vocabulary comes from X-box games.”

  Doubtful, since although he loved playing silly video games with Grant, he’d said no war games for kids. After a sip of lemonade to wash away the blockage in her throat, she pulled the papers forward. So many reports. So much time and effort. “We have awesome friends.”

  “Yep.” He scanned the first page. “Sally says there’s nothing of interest in the financial area. Mrs. Ada Brun retired a couple of years ago from a secretarial position. She lives on a tiny pension and social security. Has a small savings account. Makes heavy donations to a fundamentalist church and their missionary fund.”

  “A good church-going woman with time to devote to the children.” Beth’s heart sank. “We’re screwed.”

  “If she’ll be good to the kids, we’ll have to be content.”

  “I know.” But, oh, she missed them so much already. Nonetheless, they had to hope the woman was a good one.

  She checked over Galen and Vance’s report. No criminal record, no arrests, not even any parking tickets. Had borne one child. Husband had died when Drusilla was in the mid-teens, which might be one reason the girl had run away. “Nothing interesting in the Feds’ information.”

  “Gabi and Andrea report the woman goes to church and missionary meetings and prayer groups. She has had some minor squabbles with the neighbors over the years. Has no boyfriend or lover and keeps her house clean.”

  “She’s a saint.” Beth’s heart sank. They were going to lose the children. She knew it.

  * * * * *

  “Get up now.” The bare overhead light came on.

  At the sound of his grandmother’s voice, Grant sat up in bed and blinked. The window didn’t show any sunshine through the curtain. “Is it morning?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Grandmother walked into the room. “We will have a Bible reading before breakfast.”

  Grant rubbed his knees, still sore from the long bedtime prayers.

  “What is that?” Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed the room to pick up a roll Connor had pocketed from dinner. “Food is served at meals, no other time, and it certainly isn’t kept in bedrooms.” Taking the roll, she walked out of the room.

  Hoping Connor wouldn’t get upset, Grant glanced over at his brother.

  Still sound asleep. Last night, Connor had cried for Nolan and Beth for a long time. Grandmother had given them no bath, no story, no lullaby. Just on-the-knees prayers and lights flipped off as she left the room.

  Grant was a big boy…but he’d missed having Beth tuck the blankets around him and kiss his cheek. And sing her lullabies. Listening to her felt like floating in the pool. But now, the thought of her and Nolanman was a painful ache under his ribs. He slid out of his side of the bed. “We gotta get out of bed, Connor.”

  While Connor was still yawning and rubbing his eyes, Grandmother returned. “I said, wake up.” She yanked the bedding down and let out an angry scream. “You wet the bed! My good mattress is destroyed. You horrible boy.” With a grip on Connor’s arm, she dragged him out of the bed, slapping his wet bottom over and over.

  Screaming in pain, Connor struggled frantically.

  “Stop!” Grant shoved her. “Leave him alone, you-you bitch.”

  She released Connor and spun toward Grant. “What did you call me?”

  Grant took a step back—but she grabbed his hair.

  Leaning down, she yelled in his face, “My daughter was a tramp with no morals and no decency. Led astray by the world. She ruined you. But I will see you brought back to the straight and narrow. God has given this awful duty to me.”

  Tears filled Grant’s e
yes from pain…and from her words. “I’m not ruined.”

  Her grip hurt as she hauled him down the hall to the single bathroom. “Bad words must be washed away. Open your mouth.”

  Jaw closed tight, he stared at her until she yanked hard on his hair, and he couldn’t stop from crying…and crying harder as she shoved soap in his mouth. Gagging and crying, hurting and spitting, he fought her.

  When he threw up, she finally let him go and drove him into their bedroom with stinging slaps.

  Crying, he curled in a corner. I want Nolanman. Want Beth.

  After stripping the sheets from the bed, she shut them both in the bedroom. “Bad boys don’t eat. Pray that you learn to be good.”

  Connor had crawled under the low bed, and Grant could hear his sobs.

  Their grandmother was mean. Awful mean. Grant scowled, wishing he’d kicked her. Or bit her. “No wonder Mama ran away from her.” His words were a whisper, in case she was still in the house.

  Connor snuffled. “I want to run away, too.”

  Could they? He didn’t know where they’d go, but at least they wouldn’t be around her.

  A little while later, the front door slammed, and the house was silent.

  They could leave.

  Grant tried to open the door. Locked. He kicked the stupid thing. At the window, he pulled the curtains back. No screen. And her backyard didn’t have a fence. Yeah, they could run away.

  Hopes rising, he shoved at the window.

  It didn’t move.

  She would have locked it; she liked locking things up. But when he dragged a chair over and stood on it, he saw the latch was busted off. Why couldn’t he raise the window? On closer examination, he saw small holes around the inside of the frame.

  The window was nailed shut.

  * * * * *

  In his home office upstairs beside Beth’s, Nolan finished an estimate for a real estate building, stretched, and glanced at the clock. Beth was downstairs, indulging in what she called “comfort” reading, and the boys should be back any time now. Before shutting the computer down, he checked his emails. Ah, one from Anne. He had wondered why they’d received no report from her.