Protecting His Own (Masters of the Shadowlands Book 11) Page 9

  When the social worker reached the door, he drew the children to one side. “Ladies go through doors first.” His pa had been quite firm about how men should treat women and started his sons’ lessons right about birth. Nolan agreed.

  “Come on in,” Beth called from the kitchen. “Would anyone like some water or lemonade or milk?”

  As they walked through the great room, the boys stared around with wide eyes.

  Nolan considered the Spanish-influenced decor from a child’s viewpoint. Boring creamy stucco walls, tan-colored leather furniture, and hardwood flooring. Minus five points. He added two points for the colorful hand-painted tiles over the arched windows, doorways, and stone fireplace. Removed another couple of points since the room was spotless. No toys. No pets.

  He frowned at the dark red vases in the recessed niches. Two active boys. Might be time to redecorate for indestructibility. Besides, he had a sudden craving to play catch in the great room.

  His lips twitched. Beth would kill him. “I have a hankering for something to drink. How about y’all?”

  Grant managed a nod, but Connor’s hand was cold and trembling. The mite was scared shitless and no wonder. “C’mere, little man.” Nolan picked him up and settled him on one hip as they entered the kitchen. The boy should weigh more, dammit. “Got any good snacks in there, Beth?”

  “Sure.” She saw the boy on his hip and gave Connor a tender smile. But the sweet look in her eyes was all for Nolan. Fuck, he loved her.

  “Let’s see.” She pulled the cookie jar closer. The big ceramic jar had been a wedding gift from his mother—along with all his favorite cookie recipes. The container had never been empty. “Since Nolan likes sweet snacks, we have cookies in here. Me, I like crunchy snacks, so there are also potato chips. Connor, what would you like?”

  Connor buried his head in Nolan’s shoulder. Grant was silent.

  Mrs. Molina spoke into the silence. “I’d like a cookie, please.”

  “You got it.” As Nolan and the boys took seats at the kitchen island, Beth gave Mrs. Molina a cookie and handed one to each boy. “Start with these, and there are more if you’re still hungry.” She set out cookies on a plate and dumped chips into a bowl as well, setting everything within reach.

  The boys got milk. Mrs. Molina chose iced tea.

  When Nolan lifted an eyebrow, his underweight, little rabbit dutifully took a cookie and milk for herself.

  While the children enjoyed their snacks, the adults worked through a stack of paperwork and another quick evaluation. The children’s bedroom was approved. The locked gate in the screened cage enclosing the huge pool got a pleased nod. Nolan had thought the foster care regulations overly strict, but when he remembered his youthful adventures, he realized he’d been wrong. Pools and lakes attracted kids like bees to honey.

  Good thing the lake had been fenced off. After an intruder had gained access to a friend’s lakeside home by boat, Nolan had installed a perimeter fence and security alarm for his entire property. He wasn’t gone often, but his woman should feel safe, no matter what. Now the boys—and eventually their baby girl—would be safe, as well.

  “I’m finished here.” Mrs. Molina sorted her paperwork. “Depending on how quickly Mrs. McCormick recovers, you might need to make plans for the children to enter school. It starts near the end of August. I think you’ll be in kindergarten, Connor?”

  The boy returned a silent nod. Pissed Nolan off some. Today, the words had been scared right out of the talkative kid. From what Dan had said, Drusilla had gone into a tweaker tantrum in front of the kids.

  Fuck, what a world.

  The boys were making inroads on the food—checking for Beth’s approval before each new cookie. She’d quietly kept their glasses of milk filled.

  Finally, Mrs. Molina tucked the paperwork into her hefty briefcase and rose. “Beth, Nolan, I’m pleased to have had a chance to meet you both as well as the children.”

  “What happens next?” Beth asked.

  “Mr. Price will call and arrange follow-up visits.”

  Price, huh? Seeing Beth grimace, Nolan chuckled. Good thing the supervisor had already turned away and didn’t notice.

  After Mrs. Molina was gone, Beth held out her hands to the boys. “Guys, I put your backpacks in your bedroom. Let’s go see about getting your stuff stowed away.”

  Beth and the cops had filled trash bags and backpacks with the children’s possessions. Two garbage bags and two knapsacks sat in the center of the bedroom. Nolan remembered all the shit he’d had as a kid. Ample clothing as well as bats and balls, skates, a bike, footballs, toy soldiers, rockets, planes and trucks, Legos and building toys, coloring books, weird puzzles, picture books. His childhood belongings would have filled a hell of a lot more than a couple of garbage bags.

  They should be comfortable in here though. Since his siblings had taken to heart the “be fruitful” command, the big room was already set up for kids. The two queen beds had slept up to six exhausted, small-sized munchkins.

  The matching armchairs were upholstered in a sturdy, dark red to match the red-and-white floral bedspreads. A long table and chairs were stationed under the south window. Beneath the other window, white shelves held picture books, puzzles, and a batch of toys left by his nieces and nephews.

  Connor and Grant should do well in here. And they’d be together. Dan had mentioned their fear that the cops would separate them and force them into homes filled with knife-wielding, mean boys.

  A snarl rose in Nolan’s throat. Probably Jermaine or even Drusilla had used the threat to keep the kids isolated and prevent any chance of the police hearing about drugs in the home.

  “This is our room?” Grant touched the quilt on the bed as if someone would take it away.

  Nolan had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Yeah. You can share a bed or not. Up to you.” He pointed to the lidless wooden boxes of toys. “Toys to play with, books to read. Go ahead and put your toys on the shelves, if you want.”

  After another tentative glance at Nolan, Connor took a stuffed animal and a truck out of one pack and set it on the shelf.

  Grant had an airplane. And a ball.

  That was the totality of their toys.

  Seeing Beth’s eyes swimming in tears, Nolan motioned her out of the room. “I’m going to take a shower while Beth cooks supper. Can y’all play for a bit in here?”

  Two more nods.

  He closed the door partway behind him.

  When he got into the kitchen, Beth was crying. “It’s not fair. They’re the sweetest children. They should have everything. Not n-n-nothing.” Her voice broke as he pulled her into his arms.

  If the lack of toys sent his softhearted submissive into tears, what’d happen when the boys went back to their mother?

  There hadn’t been any choice of not bringing them home—not for him or Beth—but it would be fucking difficult to see his Beth hurting when the time came to let them go.

  * * * * *

  “Wait, Connor.” Grant squirmed all the way under the bed, finding plenty of room, although it’d be better if there were boxes and suitcases to hide behind. When he emerged, Connor stood, waiting. Grant checked out the closet next. “This is cool, too.” Big enough they could both hide in it if they needed to—although he didn’t like dark rooms much. He came out and saw Connor hadn’t moved. “What’s wrong?”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Me, too.” The funny feeling in his stomach made Grant’s eyes burn, and his voice come out all shaky-weird. “We can’t. Mama is sick.” He rubbed his wet cheeks. “Jermaine is there. I don’t want to be there with him. Not without Mama. Do you?”

  Connor shook his head hard. “He’s mean.”

  “He’s a douche.”

  Hearing the bad word they’d learned at the shelter, Connor giggled.

  Relieved, Grant opened the last door. “C’mon.”

  It was a bathroom…a really cool bathroom. It had two sinks so white they were s
hiny. The shower curtain had bright fish swimming on it. They looked…happy.

  “Hey, Grant.” Connor pointed to the walls. “We’s at the beach.”

  Grant stared. A big wave split the wall into a sky and ocean. The bottom showed yellow and blue fish in the sea, and the top had clouds in a blue sky. The towels and fuzzy rugs on the floor were the same blue as one of the fish. “It’s pretty.”

  Back in the bedroom, Grant paused to stand at the door and listen to the low voices of Nolanman and Beth. They didn’t sound upset or anything. He stood for a minute, letting the sounds of the house wash over him. Quiet…the house was even quieter than home in the early morning before anyone got up.

  He could feel Connor right behind him; he’d learned not to back up suddenly. “Let’s see what kind of toys are here.”

  Connor stood for another second, listening. “ ’Kay.”

  Bending over, Grant scoped out the top shelf. “Got lots of books.” And puzzles. The wooden boxes on the bottom shelf were even more interesting.

  Connor let out a sound, dropped to his knees, and pulled out a dinosaur. And then another one.

  Eyes wide, Grant checked out the next box. A train set. Holding his breath, he pulled the box off the shelf. No one yelled at him. He glanced at the door.

  “Nolanman said we could,” Connor whispered.

  A train. Grant’s fingers shook as he chose pieces of the track and snapped them together. Beside him, Connor was making growling noises for the dinosaur.

  More pieces. A whole curve.

  Big feet appeared beside the tracks.

  Grant froze. The thumping in his chest hurt as he tensed, waiting for the yelling, the blows.

  “You got quite a bit done there. Nice work.” Nolan squatted down between him and Connor. His black hair was loose and swung forward as he picked up a weird-shaped piece. “This part makes a bridge. Want to put it together?”

  Grant stared, unable to talk.

  Nolan didn’t move. Just waited.

  “Say yes, Grant. I want a bridge.” Connor waggled the dinosaur.

  “Yes,” Grant whispered.

  “Figured. I always liked the bridges, too.” Nolan selected another arched piece and handed both to Grant. “Put those together while I find the braces. Bridges need support so they don’t fall down.”

  After some consideration, Grant got the two pieces snapped together to show when the man looked over.

  “Good work. Here’s another to add to it.”

  Connor crawled closer and set a shiny black train engine on the track. “Choo-choo. Choo-choo.”

  Grant’s chest felt all warm as he took the next piece—and his lips curved up in a smile.

  Chapter Seven

  In the morning, Beth woke to the lovely scent of coffee. Yawning, she turned over to snuggle against Nolan. But he wasn’t in bed, which she should have known if she smelled coffee. She must have slept late. Not a surprise since her sleep had been rather broken up last night.

  At bedtime, snuggled down in the same bed, the children had seemed so young, so lost. Exhausted from playing in the pool, they’d fallen asleep before she finished reading the second story. But, walking out of the room, she’d felt as if she’d left her heart behind with them.

  All night, she’d worried they might wake up and be afraid and had kept checking on them. Somewhere around four a.m., when she’d started to slide out of bed again, Nolan had growled at her—half-laughing—and gone himself. Returning, he told her if she got up again, he’d spank her. And as long as she was awake, he might as well take advantage of it. He’d fucked her senseless.

  Afterward, she’d slept like a log.

  Sitting up, she stretched long and hard and smiled at the sounds of giggles from the kitchen.

  All her worries seemed to have dissipated—for the moment—like fog on the water. The low rumble of Nolan’s laughter joined the children’s. Could anything sound lovelier? Obviously, everything was under control. Of course, with her Master in charge, what wasn’t?

  As she slid her legs out of bed, she realized the coffee scent was so strong because a steaming cup sat on her bedside table…along with two donuts.

  Picking up the coffee, she took a sip and sighed happily. “I love you, too, Master.”

  * * * * *

  After Beth had eaten breakfast, Nolan spent a few hours at work. He was stuck doing paperwork rather than visiting job sites since he’d promised his worried little submissive that he’d take it easy for another day or so.

  He scowled at the piles of paper on his desk. Invoices, orders, and new hires. Jesus, had his office staff saved up this shit for him all summer?

  By midafternoon, he’d convinced himself Beth would need backup. When he told his secretary he was leaving, she’d laughed and announced it on the intercom. From the happy screams from down the hall, the front receptionist had won an office pool on how long the boss would last.

  Jesus. He pointed a finger at his silver-haired secretary who’d been with him since he started the company. “You are fired.”

  She only grinned. “Yes, sir. I’ll make a note of that.”

  Shaking his head, he grinned back and headed home.

  At home, the house was quiet. While munching a peanut butter cookie, he listened to a message on the blinking answering machine, then headed in search of his young crew.

  High shrieks led him to the pool, and he paused to enjoy the sight. Yeah, this was what he’d envisioned when he’d built the pool and patio. The screams of excitement, the trills of laugher, the water fountaining high in the air from a scooped hand.

  In short cut-offs and a blue halter-top, Beth was teaching the boys to dog paddle. Excellent.

  “Nolanman!” Welcoming cheers and his submissive’s happy smile greeted his arrival.

  He sat on the edge, laughing when Connor came over to hug his leg. “Beth, did you go over the safety instructions again?” They’d been too tired last night to listen.

  “Yes, Sir.” She pointed to the children. “Can you tell him what we covered?”

  Grant started. “Never go by ourselves to the swimming pool.”

  “Or lake,” Connor chimed in. “Gotta have a grownup.”

  “Good.” Nolan motioned to the concrete around the pool. “Great place to play tag, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Connor told him, eyes wide. “It’s slick and too hard. It’s a no-no.”

  Beth had made a good start. “Good job, men. You learned well.”

  “Come ‘n’ play wiff us,” Connor invited.

  Fucking tempting, but he’d get sucked into playing toss-the-munchkin-in-the-air, which was how he ended up overusing his shoulder yesterday. But, damn, when they giggled uncontrollably, it was a fucking kick. “Not this time, but tell you what, when you’re done playing, we’ll make a run to pick up some fried chicken. Save Beth from having to cook.”

  She gave him the stare a million mothers had undoubtedly perfected. One that said she knew he was using her as an excuse to indulge in junk food.

  He grinned at her. “I’ll even fetch someone some extra biscuits.”

  “Oh, well then.” Her gorgeous blue-green eyes lit with humor.

  She was something, his woman was. Despite all she’d been through, no matter how many times she was knocked down, she struggled back to her feet. The way she savored life’s essentials showed she’d learned what was important. Maybe her gardening career—a life spent tending to beauty and immersed in nature—had given her that resilience. “I almost forgot. You have a message on the machine. Andrea hopes you’ll come back to the self-defense class on Monday.”

  She looked away, pretending to watch the children.

  Ah-huh. She’d told him the lessons made her feel more capable and stronger. Why had she quit? When the boys started tussling for the floating ball, he held his hand out. “Come here, pet.”

  She put her hand in his, but still didn’t meet his gaze.

  “You enjoyed the lessons. Said they helped
,” he prompted.

  Her sigh was resigned. “I stopped when I was feeling…off…because of the medicines I was taking for the treatment.”

  His teeth gritted together. She’d gone through hell without him. Yet…since when had Beth let physical weakness slow her down? “And?”

  The next answer came slower. “I was having some nightmares, and the class made them worse.”

  “Because I wasn’t home.”

  Her steady gaze met his. “You can’t babysit me all the time.”

  He could damned well try. “I don’t consider being with my wife babysitting.” He considered her for a moment. “Since I’m home now, what about returning?”

  She glanced at the children. “I think I’m going to be kind of busy.”

  “I can take a long lunch on Monday.”

  “Well…” Finally, her nod came, firm and heartening. “Okay. Yes, I’d like to go back.”

  “Go where?” Grant stopped playing, and worry drew his brows together.

  “Fighting class,” Nolan said.

  Grant’s eyes lit. “I can fight.” The boy threw a sloppy punch and almost nailed his brother. “I can kick ass.”

  “I see,” Nolan said solemnly. From Beth’s concerned frown, he had a feeling the kids would eventually have to curtail their more colorful language. Hell. He should, too. “Shall we have our own fighting class while Beth is at hers?”

  “What?” His sweet little submissive stared at him in alarm. “You can’t teach them to fight. Connor isn’t even in school yet.”

  “Best time to learn. My pa started us off right about his age.”

  “Beff, we’re going to kick Cass.” Connor beamed at her before asking Grant, “Who is Cass?”

  “Oh my God, I’m outnumbered,” she muttered and shot Nolan a glare. “There’s way too much testosterone in this house.”

  Yep. Hell of a deal.

  As the kids lunged after a foam noodle, he heard “The Yellow Rose of Texas” wafting from the house. The doorbell. Last month when visiting, his brother had programmed in the tune as a joke, and Nolan hadn’t gotten around to changing it. Besides…he’d always liked the song.