Page 55 of Paternal Instincts
“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled, staring zombie-like at the screen.
“Fuel, Quaid. No arguing.”
“I need to call Edwards.”
“It’s after midnight.”
“Jordyn’s wrong about this.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong.” Quaid violently moved papers around, skimmed notes, and took out his frustration on the keyboard as he typed.
I sat across from him, resting my foot against his under the table. “Hear me out. If Nixon’s responsible, where is he keeping the kid,and who’s taking care of him? Nixon has been at the house since he reported this, right?”
Quaid paused, gaze shifting back and forth as he thought.
“See?”
His tongue danced along his upper lip. “Maybe he’s not directly involved. His actions could be the catalyst for the abduction, and Imogen knows it, too. Hence, she blames him. She knows Nixon has the power to get Crowley back.”
“You’re back on the Jude bandwagon.”
Quaid slouched in his seat. “I don’t know. It makes sense, doesn’t it? The man sets off alarm bells.” He picked up a slice of pizza and ate, brows knitted together. “Did Costa get a warrant to check Jude’s finances? Shit. I didn’t touch back with him. I said I would.” He dropped the food on the plate and snagged his cell.
I removed it from his hand, setting it out of reach and earning a sneer.
“Az.”
“It’s after midnight, hot stuff. You can’t hassle people at this hour.”
“I can when a kid is missing.”
“Ruiz got the warrant signed and was at the office until after seven looking into things. He texted that he was leaving because he promised Tia she could go out with friends tonight. He needed to be at home with his girls. It was supposed to be his weekend off. Cut him some slack.”
“He could work from home.”
I chuckled and pushed the plate closer to my surly husband. “We aren’t all you, now eat. Besides, Ruiz mentioned doing exactly that, but I told him to forget it. I know you think he’d move mountains for you, and maybe he would, but his kids and family need to come first sometimes. He’ll be back at it first thing in the morning.”
Quaid untwisted a garlic knot, tearing bite-size piece from the end and glaring at it like it offended him. “Do I abuse our bromance?”
“Sometimes, but Ruiz doesn’t seem to mind.”
Quaid ate robotically, staring at his notes. “I don’t understand Imogen’s silence. What kind of mother doesn’t do everything in their power to get their kid back?”
“Maybe you should be asking yourself what scary secret she has that makes her too afraid to talk.”
He nodded, setting his food aside again. Before he could dive back into work, I closed the laptop, moved the stack of files out of reach, and took Quaid’s hand. He tried to pull away, but I secured my grip.
“Enough for now.” I ran my thumb along his, gently stroking as I watched my tired husband process and think. He hadn’t objected to my closing the laptop. He’d also barely touched his food.
I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Fuel, hot stuff. The brain needs fuel to work properly, remember? Your gas tank is empty. Food and sleep.”
He scanned the mountain of paperwork I’d pushed aside before examining the plate of pizza and all that remained. Was the sneer present? Yes. Did he love the fact that I’d ordered takeout? No. Did he fight with me or lecture me about its nutritional content? No. Progress was beautiful.
Without arguing, Quaid ate the rest of his pizza with about as much enthusiasm as Nixon had done earlier. The garlic knots vanished without my help, but he pitched a face after two bites of a chicken wing.
“These are disgusting.”
