Page 4 of A Daddy for Christmas 2: Kitt

He was going to make me get involved, damn it, and the last thing I needed was drama that would attract undue attention. I sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you sit your ass down?” I said softly, my voice low and stern as I held the salesman’s gaze. You could have heard a pin drop in that bar anyway, though, as everyone suddenly got very interested. In the background, somebody was playing Brenda Lee “rockin’ around the Christmas tree,” singing her heart out about, “everyone dancin' merrily, in the new, old-fashioned way.”

Looking a little surprised that he suddenly had a new opponent in this fight, the drunk guy glanced up at me and my disapproving face, and then he stumbled back a few steps as he got a good look at me. He fell back down on his bar stool, still looking like he wanted to fight. Now that I was closer to him, I could see how really drunk he was. He could barely sit up straight.

“Stay there and sober up, pal. As my mama used to say, don’t let anybody steal your joy. Those memories of yours sound nice. Don’t pay any attention to little assholes like this one.”

“Hey!” the little asshole yelled from beside me and started to get up. I pushed him back down again.

“Are you the bouncer?” the drunk asked.

Before I could answer, Kitt stood up beside me, trying his best to get in the middle of it again. “Maybe he is. Or maybe he’s just sick of hearing about your shitty frozen pancakes or your stupid Christmas toys, and your stupid daddy, just like everybody else.”

I turned to stare down at him. “Shut up, sit back down and let me handle this. And you don’t need any more of these,” I said, plucking the drink the bartender had just brought him out of his hand. I pushed it back across the bar. “He’s had enough. Bring him his check, please.”

“Wait—I wanted that! And I don’t need my check! I’m not ready to go yet,” Kitt said in a loud and petulant voice, trying his best to give me an intimidating look—all one hundred fifty pounds of him, soaking wet. “Who the hell are you anyway and why are you all up in my business?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Get out your wallet so you can pay the nice man. Then get back on your feet, because you’re coming with me.”

“What?” he yelled and shoved me when I wouldn’t turn to look at him.

I turned back around, looming over him and suddenly he changed his mind.

“Okay, okay, don’t get excited.” His gaze roamed me up and down again as a blush stained his cheeks and a slow, seductive smile lit his face. “If you insist. Why not?”

I plucked his wallet from his back pocket to pay his tab since he still hadn’t made any move to do it yet. He had very few bills inside, yet here he was, drinking up what little money he had left. I took his arm in a strong grip, and he didn’t resist—mainly because he’d had quite a night for himself. And it wasn’t over yet.

From beside me, the salesman slapped me on the back. “Thank you for those kind words, sir.”

“You bet,” I said and turned to take Kitt by the elbow and get him out of there.

“Hey, wait. Where are you taking me?”

“To my hotel room.”

“Oh,” he said, seeming to think it over. “Okay then. I guess that’ll work. Why didn’t you say so to start with?”

We went out into the cold night air—the temperature had dropped a lot since I’d been out there—and as I pulled him along, he leaned into me for warmth. That thin denim wasn’t doing much for him. It was only a short walk, but I let him stay as close as he seemed to want to all the way. We went in the wide glass doors leading to the lobby, which was decorated for the season with strings of white lights and a pretty, though very artificial looking, Christmas tree towering up in a corner of the room. I walked us past it on the way to the desk.

I’d arranged for a room while I’d been sitting at the bar so all I had to do was check in and get my key. Kitt stood patiently beside me, leaning slightly into me, and my arm went around his waist, like it had a mind of its own. Luckily for both of us, I came to my senses and gently eased away from him, letting him stand on his own two feet instead. Thankfully, the clerk was fast and handed over the key a few minutes later.

I’d had an idea of what I thought this boy would be like when I was first given this assignment. I’d seen his photos, of course, though they didn’t do him justice. In them, he’d looked like an actor or maybe a model, too good looking to be anything else, with a straight little nose, sad eyes and always a pout on his pretty lips.

Tonight, he also looked young and more than a little messy, like he was tired and hadn’t showered lately. I knew he was staying with whatever friend he could talk into allowing it, sohe was having a hard time. His oversized denim jacket was buttoned up the wrong way. He looked bad tempered too, but that was more than likely because he was.

I wasn’t looking forward to explaining to him why I was here. Or the fact that when I left, he was coming with me. Like I said, I didn’t need to be distracted, so the idea of spending time with him over the next couple of days was not pleasant. The last thing I needed in my life was complications. He had a history of running away and of throwing temper tantrums, too, so I’d have to be vigilant and stern with him.

My agency been hired by his brother, Jazz Devlin, a wealthy Atlanta businessman. (I had no idea what their parents had been thinking with those names, by the way. One of them must have a fascination with double consonants. Not to mention silly names) Anyway, Jazz Devlin had chosen the private agency I worked for at random, from what my boss told me, and I’d happened to be the one to get this assignment.

When I talked to Jazz Devlin, he had been worried about finding his kid brother, Kitt, who had witnessed the gang-related murder in Five Points a couple of weeks earlier. The feds wanted his brother to testify, which he’d agreed to do. Yet when they warned him that the bad guys would be after him before the trial to shut him up, did he then do the right thing and let them put him into witness protection and agree to testify? Hell no, of course, he didn’t. He’d decided to run away, like a kid, and he’d been on the run ever since.

His older brother Jazz had tried to reason with him, until Kitt stopped talking to him. They had a troubled history, going back years, Jazz had told me when I spoke to him over the phone. He’d said this wouldn’t be easy, and I was beginning to think he’d been more right than he’d known.

I kept my hand locked tightly on Kitt’s arm as I walked him down the corridor to my room. We reached the door, andI ushered him inside. This was a suite, paid for by my expense account, and it was dim and quiet at this time of night. The maids had already been in to turn down the bed and put mints on the pillows.

Kitt had been quiet all the way up in the elevator, and I wondered what he must be thinking. It didn’t take me long to find out. He turned to me a little belligerently.

“Are you a cop?”

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