Page 24 of Pieces of You

That was precisely what Greer was doing, checking the contents of his sandwich. While wearing only a towel wrapped around his hips.

Greer cocked a brow. “Boy, you gave me banana and ham last time. The trust I had in you is obliterated.”

“I was going through something! And it’s not an uncommon combo in some cultures,” Macklin argued.

“Well, this is fucking America,” Greer told him. “We don’t do weird shit.”

Macklin rolled his eyes, and I snorted.

They spotted me.

“I’m gonna share that one with Mr. West, for his updates in Shay’s notebook,” I stated.

Greer knitted his brows. “I thought he only wrote down funny stuff.”

“And you’re freaking hilarious, Sir.” I went over to the fridge to see if they needed me to go on a grocery run.

Lucas Carter

As relieved as I was to see Kit and his closest brat friends find some joy in life again, my favorite part of the day was when they were all played out. It happened in the afternoon; reality set back in, they wanted to check the news, their worries came out in bursts, and they became cuddly as hell. Not that I wanted them worried, but it was natural, given the circumstances, and they communicated so well. I’d rather get bombarded by their questions than watch them close themselves in and pretend everything was fine.

After their pool day, a few Littles had gone home with their partners, and Kit and Noa had disappeared upstairs to shower and change into jammies. With that out of the way, my boy had plastered himself to me on the sofa, much like Noa had with KC. The questions followed. Anything new? Had more bad guys been killed in California? Any messages from River and Reese? Had Greer been contacted? Was his nephew okay?

Crew Finlay was supposedly all right. He’d been MIA in Europe for a few days, but Greer had let us know yesterday that Crew had resurfaced. Apparently with an FBI agent.

And no, no one had reached out to Greer yet, but he appeared to be expecting a message in the next couple of days. Corey clung to him like a Band-Aid, Archie fussed over him more than usual, and Sloan was working the logistics of having Greer gone for a while. They were discussing possibly canceling their upcoming vacation to Denmark.

“Where’s Daddy?” Kit asked, scrolling down a bit on my tablet. He was a fast reader, that one.

“He’ll be back any minute,” I replied. “He and Ty finished their prototype, so they’re gonna give it to Greer.”

That made Noa perk up two sofas over. “Is that the thingamabob that detects movement?”

Ask me anything but that. Ask me about editing software, human behavior, and PR. Ask me how one could create a successful marketing campaign to launch a new product. Don’t ask me about shit happening in the defense industry.

“It’s a scope of some sort,” I answered. “It goes on a rifle.” I racked my brain for the words I’d heard Colt and Ty use. Infrared something, improved night vision, something about measuring vibrations in the damn ground. I…didn’t fucking know.

Ty had been working on this thing for over two years, but it was being developed for home security systems, surveillance or whatever, and then Colt had come up with the brilliant idea of rushing the work and adapting it to Greer’s needs in what might become a combat scenario.

These last few days, they had essentially taken apart an existing scope, and they’d upgraded it with Ty’s invention. I was very impressed—we all were—but I didn’t understand what I was impressed by. As long as they knew what they were doing, I was happy.

Admittedly, I was also turned on when Colt—and Ty—got going. They were so talented and tech-savvy.

There was something about watching people concentrating hard, getting things done, and creating solutions.

Lane had, for very good reasons, given Ty a T-shirt that read, “Of course I’m sexy. I’m an engineer, for fuck’s sake.”

Kit planned on ordering a similar tee for Colt, but he would replace engineer with fighter pilot.

Colt was gonna eat that shit up.

I combed my fingers through Kit’s hair and kissed his temple as he leaned in and clicked on another article on the tablet.

“You need a haircut soon, little one,” I murmured.

“Um-hum… Did we read this one already?” He pointed to the screen.

I opened my mouth to respond, but commotion coming from outside stole my attention. I didn’t see anyone yet, but I heard it based on the number of feet making it across the deck. We’d pulled all the drapes shut to prevent glares from the sun when we were doomscrolling news.