“You said you’d be here just after five,” Nikki said. She already had her keys in her hands and was heading out the door Jericho had come through. “It’s almost six o’clock!”
She was in too much of a hurry to give him a full yelling at, though, and she jogged down the walkway from the house with only a few more muttered obscenities, and then Jericho turned to peek into the living room. Nicolette was sitting on the couch with the TV remote in her hand, ignoring him completely; Elijah was in the kitchen doorway looking mildly interested.
“Can I shoot your gun?” the boy asked.
Jericho had come right over from the station after dealing with hours of questions and speculation about his brief interactions with Mike DeMonte, and hadn’t had time to change out of his uniform or lock up his weapon. So now, in addition to scratchy polyester hell and job tension, he also had to deal with a gun-obsessed six-year-old. “Guns aren’t toys,” he tried. “When you’re older, I can teach you to shoot—or somebody can, at least. But you’re too young.”
“No, I’m not,” Elijah said with quiet confidence. “We can shoot it in the backyard.”
“You live in town, now. Nobody can shoot guns in the yard, andyoucan’t shoot guns anywhere, not when you’re so little. Give it a few years.”
“Poppa let me shoothisguns,” Elijah said.
The name was actually more surprising than the idea of Eli letting a little kid use his guns. Jericho couldn’t remember a time when he’d been considered too young to shoot, and he’d been bringing home game, in or out of season, since he was ten or so. For a family without a lot of money, the forest had been better than the grocery store. But that had been a couple of decades earlier, and he hadn’t had an older brother, or even an older half brother, who could have taken care of him. Elijah didn’t need to be handling guns anytime soon. So maybe it was time for a redirect.
“Did you have fun with your poppa?” Jericho asked. It was the first time he’d heard the kids mention their father, and wasn’t sure if it was significant. “I’m sorry he’s gone. You must miss him.”
Elijah’s face shuttered instantly, and he headed back toward the kitchen.
“What are you making us for dinner?” Nicolette asked from her spot on the couch.
“Your mom said we should order pizza.”
“We had pizza last night, and leftovers for lunch.”
Thanks, Nikki.“We could get different toppings.”
“We only like it with cheese and meat cookies.”
“Meat cookies?”
Nicolette scowled at him like he was stupid. “Yeah. But we don’t want that tonight. You can make us something.”
Jericho wasn’t sure he was quite ready to abandon his inquiries into the “meat cookie” idea, but supposed he had bigger worries. “We could get something else delivered. Burgers, or chicken, or whatever.” The pizza place was the only restaurant that delivered, technically, but most of the others would figure out a plan if he asked nicely enough.
If he had to, he’d call the station and get one of the deputies to pick an order up for them; Kayla was still pissed at him, but she seemed to have backed down from wanting him unemployed, so he had a bit of weight to throw around. And if there was ever an occasion that justified some extra support, getting these kids fed would be it.
“You can’t cook at all?” Nicolette asked.
“You want to turn off the TV and cook with me?”
She frowned. “Mom saidyouwere going to make dinner.”
“Yeah, well, your mom’s not the boss of me.”
“I’m going to tell her you said that.”
Jericho had to laugh at the chill of apprehension that shivered down his spine. He’d spent the afternoon getting yelled at by one woman, and now he was worrying about getting yelled at by another one? It was a damn good thing he was gay, because apparently he had absolutely no ability to maintain an equal relationship with the females in his life.
Not that Kayla had been as out of line as Nikki was almost guaranteed to be, of course. Kayla was his boss, and in front of the feds she’d given him instructions to clear any future actions with her and avoid cowboy bullshit. He’d only made it a couple of hours before he explicitly ignored her orders. Yeah, she had the right to be pissed. Nikki, on the other hand?
“Elijah, what do you want for dinner?” he called. “We’ll order in.”
A blond head poked around the kitchen door. “If I eat broccoli, can I shoot your gun?”
“What? No. I don’t care if you eat broccoli. I was thinking burgers or something. No shooting.”
“If I tidy my room, can I shoot it?”
