The new steel front door left something to be desired looks-wise, but wouldn’t easily break.
“I still think a Smith and Wesson works better,” Charlotte grumbled.
“Yes, but we’re trying to ensure they don’t get within firing range.” Bo bit into a bread stick.
“I think I should have my own gun,” Ty added. “For protection.”
“You have us as bodyguards. How much safer can you get?” His mother snapped, “You’re not getting a gun until you’re older and pass a safety course.”
Which, of course, led to Bo bringing out his computer and enrolling Ty in a local program. “It never hurts to know gun safety.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to be short with you. I’m tired, and miserable, and pregnant, and worried for Moose. Poor baby. All alone and hurting in a strange place.” Charlotte hugged her son.
Ty let out an “Ack!” of protest, but didn’t pull away.
Now wasn’t the time for Lucky to question his sister about her association with Salters. He didn’t like the man going behind his back, but… not the time.
Bo had reminded him, promising nights spent alone on the couch if Lucky didn’t act civilized. A couch now sporting a layer of duct tape over the rip up the back.
Civilized. Bah. Overrated.
They cleaned the kitchen and, one by one, drifted away, Ty to his room, Charlotte to her apartment in what used to be the garage, and Bo to give Andro a bath and put him to bed.
Lucky reviewed the pamphlets on the security system, and sat on the living room couch with his gun. The bastards had the nerve to break into his house and try to take his sister. His eyes kept straying to the places where rugs and tables used to take up space.
He and Bo had thrown them all away. They’d picked those rugs out together, when they’d first moved in. Stained now with Moose’s blood. Sure, he could’ve had them cleaned, but he didn’t want anyone in the family having a reminder of today.
All because he’d pissed someone off. Would the situation repeat if Charlotte was involved with Salters, and he made enemies?
Are you afraid yet? You should be.
Life had been safer as a drug trafficker.
“Lucky?”
Lucky startled awake. When had he fallen asleep? He peeled his face away from the fake leather of the couch. Ow! That’d leave a mark.
Bo stood before him wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, slung low on his hips. He still had his runner’s build, though he didn’t run nearly as much these days as when they’d first met. Neither did Lucky.
Fewer demons to run from.
Bo held out his hand. “Lucky, it’s one in the morning. Come to bed. The system’s set. We’re safe.” He wriggled his fingers. “Give me the gun. With kids around, you can’t fall asleep with one on your lap.”
What a stupid thing to do. Lucky handed Bo his .38 and groaned while rising to his feet. He’d better keep on Bo’s good side. He’d hate to have to sleep on the couch long-term.
“I’ll lock this in the safe. You get ready for bed.”
“But what if…”
Bo held up the remote for the security system, which he’d demonstrated earlier. “Then we hit the panic button, and open the safe in the bedside table. It’s a four-digit code. Won’t take but a second.”
“But…”
“But nothing.” Bo grabbed a handful of Lucky’s T-Shirt and yanked him forward into a slow kiss.
Hello. Who needed sleep?
“Now, go get clean and come to bed.”
