Page 41 of Hold Back
Mo ran through accessing the panic room. Kit didn’t stir through the whole thing. Finally, the men left him alone. Red shooed them out, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against the door.
Today had been overwhelming. Was this what it was like for all the Biker Daddy Bodyguards? Red wasn’t sure he was up for the constant stress.
He turned to look at Kit. The boy hadn’t stirred. Red was tempted just to pick him up and put him into bed. But he’d clearly been hungry. Red’s belly took that moment to rumble loudly and point out that it too needed filling.
There was another reason. The kid’s impulsive break for freedom had unsettled him and he didn’t want to let Kit out of his sight.
Red went to investigate the kitchen cabinets, his eyes lighting up when he spotted a can of tomato soup. A glance into the fridge confirmed the menu. Grilled cheese and tomato soup would be perfect.
The aroma must have penetrated Kit’s sleep because the food was almost ready when he raised his head, blinking sleepily at Red who was grilling the cheese in a pan at the stove. “Smells good,” Kit murmured.
“Almost done,” Red said, turning to look for the bowls.
He found plain white crockery behind one door and plastic plates and bowls behind another. He hummed, contemplating using those, but decided that was a statement too far for tonight.
“Need bathroom,” Kit said.
“That door.” Red pointed to a door in the far corner of the room. He’d already checked the window was locked in the bathroom. And this time he couldn’t unlock it. Red would still have that discussion with Kit on how he managed it back at the club house.
As Kit stumbled across the room, Red focused on serving up the food. His belly growled again, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten for most of the day. Kit took more than a few minutes, and Red was about to go find him when he heard water running, then Kit emerged from the bathroom.
Kit sat, giving Red a tentative smile. “Sorry to take so long. I nearly fell asleep again. He made a small moan of pleasure as he took the first mouthful of soup. “My mom used to make me this when I was sick. I didn’t like chicken noodle soup which is what she gave Tony and Dad.”
“You don’t like chicken noodle soup?”
Kit grimaced. “Not the way Mom made it. She wasn’t a great cook and it turned out like rubber. Dad was a much better cook, but none of us would tell her that.” He gave Red an apologeticsmile as if Red would take offense on his mother’s behalf. “She could heat up a mean can of tomato soup though.”
Red smiled at him. “My dad was a great cook too, but my mom could use power tools and bake cookies.”
Kit leaned one elbow on the table, resting his chin on his palm. “I miss my parents.”
Red’s heart ached for the boy, losing his mom and dad at such a young age. He had always been a distant member of the club and hadn’t gotten close to Tony until after they died. “What happened to you and Tony after your parents passed away?”
“Tony took care of me. He was over eighteen and had been Dad’s second, so as far as child protective services were concerned, they washed their hands of me.” He gave a slightly wicked grin. “I think the fact that a member of the club who had known us both since I was a baby worked in CPS had a lot to do with their decision.”
At least Kit hadn’t ended up in the foster system. Even if Tony walked on the dark side, he’d always loved and protected his brother.
Kit bit into the grilled cheese and let out an obscene moan. “This tastes so good.”
“I like cooking,” Red admitted, trying to ignore the way his pants were suddenly tight. “I spend so much time on the road; I like chilling at home.”
Kit eyed him for a moment. “You never seemed like a homebody.”
Red shrugged. “It’s not like you knew me that well.”
He saw Kit flinch and cursed under his breath.
“Kit—”
“No, you’re right.” Kit waved away the apology. “I was always the annoying baby brother. Nothing’s changed.”
“Somethings have changed,” Red murmured.
“I’m a big boy now. I’m all growed up.”
Red rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it, kid.”
Kit shot him a mischievous grin. “Aw, you’re no fun.”
