He gently handed Aaron to Bruce so he could get the supplies. But even though the man took the baby quickly, Laddin was busy analyzing Bruce’s expression. Had he been reluctant? Had he seen a grimace of distaste when Bruce took the child? Was he having second thoughts?
His own thoughts made him crazy, so it was a relief to mix the formula while Bruce diapered and clothed the child with deft fingers. Apparently paramedics practiced for this sort of thing. But when Laddin was about to hand Bruce the bottle, Bruce shook his head.
“You do it. I want to be able to shift if I need to.”
“We’re not going to be in any danger from the director.”
Bruce arched a brow. “Are you sure?”
Laddin started to say, “Of course. He’s on our side.” But sides could change. And Laddin needed to be with Aaron in case things took a bad turn. “I hope I’m sure,” Laddin finally said as he adjusted the baby in his arms and started feeding him.
Aaron took to the bottle immediately, growing less fussy now that he was eating. Then Bruce grabbed a few protein bars from the van, and together they walked to the director’s limo, feeling as if they were heading for a firing squad.
Oh goody.
They climbed in without saying a word. The director was already seated where he could look straight at them. He spoke in a whisper—always—because he’d lost his voice in a battle with a vamp back when the bloodsuckers were the bad guys. Maybe that was why they were in a limo—for the quiet ride—because even though the guy whispered, Laddin heard every word.
“Start with what happened,” the director whispered. He pointed at Laddin. “Go.”
Laddin explained everything in detail—everything he remembered, felt, and believed. And most especially, he told the director that Aaron was a baby, not a demon, and anyone who had a problem with that could come talk to him.
The director listened with focused attention. He didn’t question, didn’t interrupt, and he sure as hell didn’t give anything away.
After Laddin was finished, the director pointed at Bruce. “Your turn. Go.”
Bruce pointed at Laddin. “What he said. One hundred percent.”
The director’s lips curved. “Nice try. Report.”
Bruce blew out a breath, but he started talking. It was gratifying to hear Bruce echo Laddin’s thoughts that Aaron had been created out of their love and fairy magic.
When Bruce was done, he fell silent. They all did. Then they watched as Aaron finished eating and Laddin had to adjust to burp him. Pat, pat, pat.
Nothing.
Shit. Wasn’t the kid supposed to burp?
Pat, pat, pat.
Nothing.
Maybe he didn’t need to burp. Laddin looked to Bruce, who shrugged in response.
Then the director sighed. “Give him here. You can’t just pat. You have to rub his back too.”
Come again?
The director huffed out a breath. “I’m going to show you two bachelors how to burp a baby. Come on. I’ve got three kids, and I always did the 2:00 a.m. feeding. I know how to do this.”
Neither Laddin nor Bruce knew what to say to that, so Laddin passed over the baby, and they were suddenly getting a lesson in burping. Pat twice then rub. Pat, pat, rub.
Aaron burped on the second rub.
“There you go,” the director whispered as he cuddled the child in his arms. “You’ll figure it out. He’ll probably let go into his diaper soon. That’s how it was with my kids. Input, burp, output. Then sleep.”
Bruce frowned. “So you believe us? You know—”
“That he’s a real boy?”
