PROLOGUE
Slayer
When the administratorcalled and told me I needed to get to my brother, Boston, at the long-term facility I pay a fuck ton of money for, without giving me any facts, I moved fast. I didn’t ask for details, those weren’t important, the only thing I gave a single shit about is that my brother needed me. I shot Riptide a text to let him know I’d be out of pocket for an undetermined amount of time, grabbed my go-bag, and hit the road, not abiding by my own order of no man riding alone.
It took me six hours of riding full throttle to get there, and when I arrived, I walked straight into chaos. The place was a motherfucking madhouse. As I scanned the room, I spotted Boston in the middle of it all with a woman clutched tight in his arms. Her face was buried in his neck, and the shaking of her shoulders told me she was crying. But what really threw me was the look on Boston’s face.
He was livid, his face molten red with fury, and that alone was enough to stop me dead in my tracks. He’s the most even-tempered person I’ve ever met, partly because he was born premature and deprived of oxygen during the trauma of his birth. It damaged the part of his brain that processes emotion, for lack of a better way to put it. There are technical terms for it, but they’ve got more twists and turns than a roller coaster.
Nearby, an elderly woman with hair so blue it stands out like a sore thumb taps her foot as she spits venom at my brother and his girl. I know the young woman belongs to Boston by the way he holds her, locked around her like a boa constrictor, daring anyone to try to get close. I’ve seen my taken brothers do the same with their women more times than I can count which tells me more than words could that she’s his. His to protect and his to take care of.
I broke that shit up by stepping between the ballbuster and my brother. I didn’t get a chance to check in with my brother, wanting him removed from the confrontation. I had a nurse take him and his girl to another room so they could decompress from the foul shit this bitch said to them.
Now, the old battle axe and I are sitting in the administrator’s office, my eyes narrowed on the harpy as she starts to squawk out more of her poisonous garbage, but a lethal look from me has her shutting her trap so others can get a word in edgewise.
Mrs. Barton sighs, lacing her fingers together and laying her hands on her desk, giving me a sympathetic look. Her eyes volley back and forth between me and the crazy lady before saying, “Mr. Slayer, as you can surmise for yourself, we have a situation.”
I snort before replying, “No shit. Care to tell me what that is?”
She looks down at her clasped hands and clears her throat. “It seems Boston and Carolina have gotten close,” Mrs. Barton explains, her voice as soothing as she can make it considering the circumstances. “Mrs. Jackman, Carolina’s grandmother, took her to her doctor appointment where it was discovered that Carolina is… expecting.”
I lean back in my seat and look up at the ceiling, trying to control my temper. No matter how many times I count to ten, no matter how much I try to maintain my composure, I snap. “You’re telling me that I pay your facility three-hundred thousand dollars per year and none of your staff noticed they were sneaking off and having sex?”
“We can’t watch them twenty-four hours a day, Mr. Slayer,” she excuses.
“You most certainly can!” Mrs. Jackman screams. I don’t stop her this time because she plucked the words out of my mouth before I got the chance to voice them. “We entrusted you with our family, and pay an exorbitant amount of money for you to watch over them. That’s one of the perks for them staying here, you are supposed to monitor them day and night! Carolina’s poor parents are probably rolling over in their graves because of your lack of attentiveness. Those kids cannot raise a child. They don’t have the mental capacity to understand what comes with doing it! They have no money, no home, no resources, and I’m too old to raise another baby. So tell me, Mrs. Barton, what are you going to do about fixing this grave mistake?”
“That’s why I’ve called Mr. Slayer here so we can figure this out by putting our heads together,” Mrs. Barton states.
“Shouldn’t their caseworkers be here?” I ask, thinking since they are my brother and Carolina’s advocates, they should have anopinion on how to help us out of this mess. Makes sense to me, so why aren’t they in attendance?
“They are under review and were sent home until a full investigation can be made,” Mrs. Barton advises.
The grandmother tosses her hands up in the air and snarls, “That makes me feel so much better, doesn’t it for you, Mr. Slayer?”
“Makes me delighted,” I bark through clenched teeth which has my jaw popping from the intense pressure. Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my thighs and cup my hands together. It’s either that, or cold cock the bitch and I’m not into hitting women,thatwould cause my mother to roll over inhergrave, so I keep my hands contained so they don’t get any ideas of their own and go off script. “How did they manage to have a romance underneath all of your noses and none of you suspected it?”
“That’s something we’re looking into, Mr. Slayer,” the administrator promises.
“While you do that, what about my granddaughter?” Mrs. Jackman asks. “She’s too far along for termination. Not that I’d ask her to do that, it’d be traumatic for her, but so will giving birth. She doesn’t even understand how she got pregnant in the first place, she thought it was because she kissed her young man too much!”
While the women go toe-to-toe, I pull my phone from my pocket and text Booker, asking him to get me the number for adult protective services. There needs to be an inquiry on more than the caseworkers, in my opinion, the entire staff needs to be combed through. Within minutes, I have the link in my text to place the call and lift the phone to my ear. I also know I’m gonnaneed some legal advice so I call the club’s attorney while they bicker, speaking low so they don’t hear me but loud enough that Mr. Xavier does. I tell him everything I know and he promises to have a colleague of his who has an office in the area head this way to give me guidance. I was told not to engage until his associate arrived, so I lounge back in the chair and wait. He’s going to make the report for me to the right agency so no wires get crossed while relaying information, which is a relief because I’m not much of a people person and don’t like narcing on anybody, but this is my brother’s future we’re talking about, and I have to put him first.
By the time the door swings open and the attorney arrives, I have a pounding headache from the high levels the women’s argument got to.
Mrs. Barton gasps, angrily spitting out, “This is a closed meeting. You can’t be here.”
The lawyer ignores her and comes over to me, sticking his hand out and introducing himself. “My name is Grady Hawkins. Mr. Xavier sent me over to help you, Mr. Slayer.”
I grip his hand in mine and tell him, “I’m thankful you dropped everything and got here as quickly as you could. This is a clusterfuck and I’m not sure what the next step should be.”
“I’m assuming you’re his legal guardian, Mr. Slayer,” Grady asks.
“I am, but I gave them medical power of attorney over Boston since they’d be here with him,” I admit.
“Only medical power of attorney? Do you have that paperwork?” Grady asks me.
“Not on me, but I could get you a copy if Mrs. Barton isn’t willing to let you look at the copy she has in Boston’s file,” I state.
