Page 23 of Bender

“Something wrong with the bathroom in there?” He gestures to the bedroom I’m obviously sneaking out of, and I pull the door shut behind me, so he can’t see Konrad and Blu still asleep in the bed. I don’t want to share the perfect picture they make with anyone. Especially not this loud boy who makes Konrad smile the soft fond smile he uses with Blu and me.

I know the people who live here are family. Not the blood sort, but the kind of chosen family that forms through hard knocks and rough times. Konrad says they’re all safe and no one will hurt me, but sharing Konrad with so many people makes my stomach curdle.

“Why do you care?” The words are out before I can bite them back, and though the boy’s not much bigger than me, I brace myself in case I’ve pissed him off.

“Dude, I don’t ‘care’ care, but this is literally the first time you’ve left the room without the two of them glued to your side. I’m just surprised, is all. Don’t get all weird about it.” Red tinges his cheeks, making the green of his hair even more glowy.

“Sorry, I just…I mean…they’re sleeping,” I finally choke out, a helpless shrug accompanying my explanation.

“Okay, you know where the hall bathroom is?” Ace gestures behind him toward where I think his bedroom is.

“Yeah, it’s, um, back there.” I point over his shoulder.

“Yup. But hey, don’t mess with my makeup on the counter, yeah? I’m practicing the perfect cat eye in there cuz the lighting’s better than in my room. So my stuff’s kind of all over. Sorry not sorry.” He rolls his eyes and takes off past me to the stairs, long legs clearing two steps at a time as if there’s a fire and he’s suddenly rushing to get away.

I have no idea what all of that means, but my bladder is definitely the more important thing to worry about. I hurry into the large guest bath and ignore Ace’s makeup as I hustle to the toilet in time to pull myself out of my sweats and aim for the porcelain.

Having a clean toilet in a fresh-smelling bathroom is such a luxury I can’t help but stare at the shining fixtures and spotless mirror. Even with Ace’s explosion of fancy paints and potions everywhere, it’s still one of the nicest bathrooms I’ve ever been in. I’m careful to wash my hands without dripping any water on the countless tubes and colorful pots.

I might not like having to share Konrad with Ace and the other guys around here, but I’m smart enough not to make him choose between us. Pissing off Ace would be a quick way to make life around here awful. He has a bigger sass mouth than Blu’s ever had. Every night, when we’ve had dinner at the big table downstairs, Ace cuts up enough to have Shaw, Cameron, Arlo and Konrad growling at him. Pretty much, Jax and Blakely are the only ones who don’t get pissy with him, at least once every meal. And that’s probably because the two of them are so wrapped up in their sex stuff they hardly notice the rest of the world.

At first, I’d been terrified at seeing the bruises and cuts that cover Jax’s woman, Blakely. They remind me too much of the marks Blu and I got from master. Blakely promised Blu she likes them, though, and I guess she wouldn’t show them off as proudly as she does if she didn’t.

Loud voices carry from downstairs when I come out of the bathroom. Loud, but not angry.

“Nothing to be afraid of,” I whisper to myself.

I creep down the stairs to listen, the accents of some of the men so unfamiliar but familiar. I’ve heard men talking like that before. Back at master’s mansion. Huber’s mansion, I correct myself. Konrad’s been pushing us not to let Eric Huber’s hold on us live on, and thinking of the monster as some sort of master definitely gives him more power than he deserves.

Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, an arm wraps around my shoulder and pulls me back into a warm embrace, and I immediately recognize it’s Konrad.

“What are we spying on, peanut?” he whispers into my ear. Is it inappropriate to get a boner on the stairs when the foyer is crowded with people? It seems as if it would be. My hands drop to cover the way my body reacts to being held and whispered to, because there’s no stopping the blood that’s rushing down there.

I think I must whimper or make some sort of noise because it suddenly goes quiet and all eyes turn to me. And that’s when it all goes to shit.

Chapter

Twenty-One

BENDER

One second, Grey’s a warm bundle of sexy, sleep-mussed boy in my arms. The next, he’s damn near kneeing me in the junk, trying to wrap himself around my body and get behind me. I have no idea what’s got him so terrified, but there’s no mistaking the tremors of fear wracking his slender form.

“The fuck’s this?” I growl. All eyes are on us, and it’s then I realize Amaliya, the girl Jax rescued when he and Blakely saw her drugged and bound in the back of a busted up sedan, is standing behind Shaw and glaring at her father. Her father the fucking Pakhan of the entire West Coast’s Russian Bratva network. His squad of no-neck goons is arrowed out in an inverted V behind him, each one more stereotypical than the next. Idly, I wonder if that’s a job requirement to be in Anatoly’s personal detail, even as my hand wedges between my back and Grey’s front where he’s plastered against me.

I’ll never know what prompted me to strap up before I left the bedroom, but waking up to find Grey missing and Blu still sleeping soundly had me on edge. Enough so, I didn’t discount the second nature urge to slide my Glock 17 into its clip on holster at the back of my jeans. I’ve taken to leaving the firearm in its drawer next to the bed because I know it scares Grey to see it. I’ll worry about his flashbacks once I figure out what spooked him about the group of strangers in the front hall of our home.

“The Pakhan’s just paying his daughter a visit, Bender. No need for the piece,” Shaw soothes, guessing what I’m reaching for. His palms are out in front of him as if he can will the situation into calm. Amaliya’s hands wrap around one of his biceps from behind, and there’s no missing the tic her move causes in her father’s jaw.

“This is so. I am not here on business. At least, I won’t be if my daughter removes her hands from your compatriot. Right. Now.” Anatoly Balakin has the deliberate accent of a man comfortable with giving orders in multiple languages, but it hardens as he takes in the way Amaliya clings to Shaw. His words are addressed to me, but there’s no mistaking the command is directed at his daughter.

She pouts. “You’re not the boss here, father. I don’t have to obey you. Shaw’s in charge. I only listen to him.”

Proving he’s not as smart as the prez patch on his cut makes it seem, her little tantrum has FAME chuckling right in Anatoly’s face. His fingers go to where hers are wrapped around his arm, patting her gently before tugging them away and setting her back from him.

“Now, don’t go lying to the man, Duchess. You don’t listen to me, either.” Amusement laces his tone, and anyone who doesn’t know him like I do would think he’s as relaxed as a sunny afternoon in a hammock could make a man. It would be amusing, if I couldn’t feel Grey’s terror rattling his bones together behind me.

“I’ll repeat myself. Just once. The fuck is going on? My boy’s terrified, and I want to know why.” I bite out the demand through gritted teeth.

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