Page 12 of Property of Spike

Removing my cut so the boy’s tiny body isn’t harmed against the rough fabric, I cradle him against my chest, patting his back a little harder than I probably should. He’s tiny, sure, but he can take it.

“Come on, kid. Just let it out.”

Nothing happens. I keep patting my hand like a steady drumbeat. Tank’s still leaning in the doorway, looking way too amused.

“Maybe you’re doing it wrong?” he says.

“I don’t see you volunteering.”

Finally, the kid lets out a burp that sounds like it came from a full-grown man. “There we go.”

And then it happens.

Warm, sticky spit-up slides down my shoulder, soaking into the sleeves of my shirt. I freeze, staring at Tank in disbelief.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I say.

Tank’s laughter echoes through the room. “Oh, man, that’s gold. You’re a natural, Prez.”

“Natural, my ass.” I grab another wipe, trying to clean the mess while the kid gurgles, apparently pleased with himself. “Next time, you’re on diaper and burp duty, Tank.”

He shakes his head, smirking. “Nah, looks like you’ve got it handled.”

By the time I’ve got the baby cleaned up and my dignity in tatters, Riley blinks groggily, looking at me with a mix of confusion and surprise. The loud fucking laughter must have woken her.

“You... changed him?”

“Yeah,” I grunt, holding the baby like he’s a ticking time bomb. “Don’t get used to it.”

But as I hand him back to her, a tiny part of me wonders why it wasn’t all that bad.

“Here,” Bones, our Enforcer, says, entering the room. “It’s not much, but your baby can rest on this while you sleep.”

“Oh. Uhm, thank you, scary-looking dude.”

Bones hands me the cot, nods, and leaves the room.

She has no idea how scary that man actually can be.

Laying down the sleeping cot, I reach out for the baby. She has a slight hesitation but hands him over. She already has him wrapped up like a burrito, so I lay him down and slide the cot close to the couch.

“Lay down and sleep, babe,” I order. “You’ve slept less than an hour so far, and you need far more.”

“He’ll wake back up in three to four hours to feed again,” she yawns.

“So soon?” I ask.

“Every three to four hours,” she answers. “It’s exhausting, but I love him, so it’s worth it.

Every three to four hours? I glance back at Tank, shocked. But his eyes are dancing with joy.

Fucker.

“Sleep, Riley,” I grunt. “I’ll check back in soon.”

With that, I turn and walk away. But not before making sure she did as I said.

Chapter Six

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