Page 29 of Lost Boy

“Oh, well I’m fine.”

“Maybe I should call someone for you,” Mac stated.

“No.” Mitch needed to get away from this guy. He couldn’t show weakness. Isn’t that what his father had spent most of his life beating into Mitch? Not to show weakness.

“Look I’m a good guy, I promise. I just want to help.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“True but I can be helpful. I ran into a friend of yours about a month ago. I was able to help him.”

Mitch frowned. “Who?”

“The detective. Grant. I helped him clean up the city he spends so much time protecting.”

Something niggled in the back of his mind but Mitch couldn’t think clearly. He was such a waste of space. There wasn’t anything that Mitch did that helped anyone else. He was just nothing.

But that wasn’t entirely true.

He had Byron. Byron thought Mitch was enough. He encouraged and cared for him.

Mitch stuck his hand in his suit pants where he’d put his paci earlier that morning. His paci. That was what he should concentrate on. He would call Byron and his Daddy would fix everything. He had to fix this day. “I need Byron. I can’t do this any longer,” Mitch whispered to himself.

He jumped when Mac spoke. How could he forget about the threat in front of him?

Mac nodded. “Good. I like you. You and your friends. You seem like a good group. I’d hate for you to get tangled up in what’s going to happen to your father and the others.”

God damn it. “Who do you work for? Attorney general? FBI?”

Mac laughed. He laughed for far too long. It sounded unhinged and a chill went down Mitch’s spine.

Mac just continued to laugh.

Mitch started to get annoyed.

“I really do like you,” Mac said slapping his shoulder. “The FBI?” Mac laughed again.

“I don’t understand,” Mitch admitted.

Mac wiped his eyes then met his gaze. “I don’t work for anyone. Not anymore. Let’s just say that I’m a private contractor.”

“Private contractor,” Mitch repeated. He’d heard that term before. And never in a good situation.

Mac lifted a brow.

Was he really standing in an ally all alone with a hit-man? Byron was going to beat his ass red. But Mac seemed to be interested in his father, not Mitch.

“What do you want with my father?”

Mac smiled. It was scary. “He thought he could play me. He’ll learn that I don’t play games.”

Mitch shivered at the threat in Mac’s tone.

“Are you going to kill him?” Mitch didn’t want his father dead. He hated the man, but he was still his father.

“That is entirely up to him,” Mac responded. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve been watching for the past year.”

“Watching? Watching me?” Mitch questioned. Jesus Christ, what had they gotten into?

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