His brow furrows and his mouth moves, but no sound comes out yet, like he wants to say something but can’t quite figure out how to say it.
Unfortunately—or possibly fortunately—we’re interrupted again when yet another person lets themselves into my apartment.
“Tristan!”
The woman who walks in immediately snaps at him, without bothering to introduce herself. She’s attractive and well-dressed, maybe late thirties, but with a harsh quality to her face that sets off some of my internal alarms.
Is this who Tristan’s been dating? He’s kept things close to the chest, but she isn’t even close to who I had guessed.
Tristan lets out a bone-deep sigh and looks at me.
“Speaking of the she-witch. See, I made the mistake of mentioning Satan’s mistress, and now she’s manifested from the ether. Micah, this is my mother. Please don’t make eye contact or she’ll steal your soul. Kaitlyn, this is Micah. Please don’t infect him with your toxic personality. Also, I thought I told you to wait in the fucking car.”
Kaitlyn rolls her eyes, like the barrage of insults that just slipped out of his mouth is nothing unusual for them. She puts one hand on her slender hip and throws long, chestnut, wavy hair over her shoulder with a dramatic huff before she speaks.
Now that he’s said it, I see the resemblance. She has the same coloring as Tristan, as well as similar features. How the fuck is this woman old enough to be his mother? I wouldn’t have guessed her as a day over forty, but I guess I was wrong.
“Are you done playing doctor? It’s been over an hour, and we have pickups to do. Eamon’s waiting on us.”
Tristan snorts. “Youhave pickups to do. I am not a fucking gangster anymore and want nothing to do with it. I’ve fulfilled my obligation by patching up this one. The deal I made with Eamon was for illegal medical care only, so you can drop me home and do your fucking drug runs yourself. Use my car, I don’t give a fuck. Just leave me out of it.”
She sighs as deeply as he did when she walked in, but doesn’t put up a fight. All she does is open the door and make another impatient face at him.
“I’ll never understand how I raised a child with such delicate sensibilities. Fine, have your way. Leave your mother unprotected. But let’s go, we’re losing daylight.”
Tristan shakes his head and turns to me with an apologetic grimace.
“Sorry. I’ll leave my supplies, call me if he takes a turn for the worse or you need me to source something specific and I’ll do what I can.” He takes a long glance at all the men still loitering in my kitchen, surrounding Patrick like a flock of sheep. “Are you sure you’re okay here with them?”
“Yeah, unfortunately, this is not my first rodeo dealing with Patrick. He’s always been obsessed with my mom. He won’t let them hurt me without reason, for her sake. At least as long as he stays sober. The homophobic snark I can handle.”
Tristan looks sad, but I brush it off. I don’t need his pity. I can deal.
“Oh, can you do me one favor?” I add. “Can you find out your mom’s skincare routine for me? I’m dying to know how a woman who looks like that has a thirty-two-year-old son.”
Tristan glares at me, but he doesn’t say anything. He grabs a couple bits and pieces from his supplies, thrusting them into his pockets, but leaves the majority of it for me as he heads to the door. Right before he leaves, he turns to Patrick and the others with a cold smile.
“Gentlemen, always a pleasure. I’d love to stay, but my boyfriend is waiting for me. Let me know whenever you need my services again. In the meantime, I’ll be at his place. It’s the auto shop on Rt. 19 and he’s the big burly mechanic you’ll see flipping tires out back. We look forward to your next summons.”
With that announcement, he grabs his mother roughly and heads out the door, closing it behind him. All the guys, who were previously looking some combination of bored and irritated, now have naked shock on their face.
Nothing upsets small-minded homophobes like queer men who don’t fit into their teeny-tiny stereotype bubbles. I don’t think it’ll make a difference in how they treat me to know that some of their tough, manly local employees are also smoking pole, but I appreciate the gesture on Tristan’s part.
Also, it means I totally called it on who he’s been secretly dating.
Fuck yeah.
With one smug smile at the guys, I return to my seat on the floor next to the couch. I hold Tadhg’s wrist in my hand, taking a manual heart rate to compare to the reading on the pulse ox and make sure nothing’s changed, and when I realize I have nothing else to do right now but wait, I decide to keep holding on. If Tadhg has no one else to watch out for him right now, the least I can do is make sure he has my full attention.
He deserves that much, at least.
Chapter Five
Savage
It’s too dark. I can tell my eyes are open because they’re dry as hell, but the world isn’t coming into focus. Forcing myself to blink is unnaturally difficult, but I do it repeatedly until the blurry outlines form themselves into shapes.
I’m inside, and wherever it is doesn’t look like a safe house. It looks like somewhere normal people live.
