Page 15 of Wild Reckoning

Frustrated at his ping-ponging emotions, Stewart got up and followed. He hesitated at the top of the stairs and prayed Ethan didn’t wake anytime soon then trotted down the steps. Entering the living room, Stewart saw the men talking by the front door, shocked at the amount of stuff Kalen had with him.

He hadn’t just brought a baby gate over, but tucked under one large arm, he had blankets and towels. A big tote bag dangled from the hand that held the gate on the guy’s shoulder.

Killian started unloading the items from Kalen, setting everything aside.

“Thought you might need a few things.” Kalen’s voice was gruff but kind. “Got some toys, bath stuff, and an extra baby monitor I had lying around.”

“Wow. I—thank you, Kalen. Really. This means a lot.” Stewart felt a mix of gratitude and surprise at the man’s generosity.

Kalen just waved a hand dismissively, as if it were nothing. “Not a problem. Figured you’d need it more than I would, son.” He reached into the bag he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out a stuffed bear, handing it to Killian with a strange grin.

Killian chuckled, shaking his head as he took it. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”

“Hey, every kid needs a bear.” Kalen’s blue eyes twinkled. It was clear there was some inside joke there, and Stewart watched the exchange with mild amusement.

With a nod toward the blankets and sheets, Kalen said, “For the beds upstairs. Hopefully, they’ll make things a bit more comfortable.”

Stewart noticed how close Killian stood behind him. So close he could feel the guy’s body heat and hear his slight breathing. Killian had done the same thing at the grocery store checkout and when they’d stood at the register at the diner to pay their separate bills.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Stewart took the bedding, feeling a sense of relief. They were only sheets and blankets, but it was surprising how much it meant to Stewart to sleep on a made bed instead of a bare mattress.

Kalen nodded once more before turning to Killian. “You two got this?”

Killian glanced at Stewart before answering. “We’ve got it. Thanks for bringing all this over.”

“Just call if you need anything else.” Kalen gave a quick wave before heading out, Killian closing and locking the door behind his friend. A moment later, Stewart heard a car starting and pulling away before the sound faded.

There had been something about the way Killian had stayed close while Kalen was present, like a silent guardian, hovering just enough to be there but not crowding him. Now that Kalen was gone, Killian stepped back, giving Stewart his space.

Maybe it was just the exhaustion talking or their almost-kiss, but Stewart found he missed the closeness. There was something oddly calming about having someone so large at his back, like a shield he sometimes needed. He quickly shoved that thought aside, shaking his head.

You need to stop already. Jeez.

“Let’s get these beds made up,” Killian said, breaking the silence. He picked up the pile of blankets and nodded toward the stairs. “You look like you’re barely standing. I’ll head out once everything is squared away.”

Stewart let out a jaw-popping yawn. “Sleep sounds good.”

They headed back upstairs, the house settling into a kind of quiet that felt less empty now, as if it were slowly filling with something new—something that might, one day, feel like home.

* * * *

When Alonso cut through the woods and saw smoke billowing from the chimney of his uncle’s house, he stared disbelieving then let out a string of curses.

Nobody had lived in that house for years. Years. What were the odds Frank would move back in? Zilch. And why? His uncle owned a much nicer, more comfortable home closer to town. It didn’t make any sense.

This definitely complicated things. Frank had no idea Alonso had been using the home as a stash house for damn near a full year. The floorboards in one of the upstairs bedrooms had been meticulously cut and turned into a trapdoor, his work so flawless no one would be able to tell it was even there.

Alonso had stashed enough drugs—triple wrapped to prevent bugs and possibly sniffing law enforcement dogs, thank you very much—under the hatch to get him killed if he didn’t deliver. He could go inside and chat up his uncle, but Frank would want to know how Alonso even knew he was there. The home was on the outskirts of town and set far back from the road, so he couldn’t tell his uncle he’d just happened by.

Alonso needed to think, but panic began to press in on him from all sides, and so had the cold. He shivered when the wind gusted, causing branches to creak and his balls to freeze.

Fuck, he hated late fall but not as much as he hated winter.

With half-frozen fingers, he whipped out his phone and called Tetlow to try and figure this out and come up with a plan.

“Yeah?” Tetlow answered in a calm but distracted tone.

“We have a slight hiccup. Frank’s here.” Alonso leaned his shoulder against a thick tree to shield himself from the biting wind.

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