Page 25 of A Little Bit More

Meanwhile, all Claire wanted was to have as many kids as possible. Unfortunately, she also had a husband who gave her whatever she wanted. And, yeah, the kids behaved when they were at home because, well, they had Grunt for a father, and Matt suspected he’d just juggle with them if they got out of hand.

But once they were out from under their parents’ noses, the little buggers were a nightmare. It would be easier to corral a roomful of butterflies. It was like dealing with a pack of feral kittens who got into everything, ate everything, and destroyed everything—all the while smiling and looking cute. Their only saving grace was that they weren’t his cousin Flynn’s kids. If Matt had his way, he’d just lock up Flynn’s kids right now and be done with it, because they had jail time written all over their future.

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry, Caroline, but I just can’t do it. I’m sure you and Josh will be fine. Your kids get on well with Claire’s, and if you keep them out of the house, nothing should get broken.”

“Oh well.” She sighed. “I’m sure you’re right. It is a pity, though, because that was the weekend the town council planned to meet and talk about extra funding for new police vehicles. Never mind, though, we have another free weekend in a few months where we can bring up the topic again.”

Matt gritted his teeth. For a second there, he’d forgotten who he was dealing with. Caroline could run the country single-handedly if she wanted to, and she’d do it by organizing the life out of everyone while outthinking them every step of the way.

“Are you blackmailing a police officer?” he asked evenly.

“Not at all. I would never dream of doing such a thing.”

And the hell of it was, she was so straitlaced that she probably wouldn’t even think of it. Which meant she was telling the truth about the meetings. Either he watched his sister’s kids, or he waited months for a new police car. He debated that for a minute or so. The government would eventually fund a new car, but that could take years. What was a few months compared to years? He could wait it out. Right?

Then he remembered the vomit smell in the back-seat floor space that he couldn’t get rid of—no matter what he did. It’d been there for months. Ever since he’d arrested a disorderly drunken tourist who’d eaten handmade soap because he thought it was candy. Soap and alcohol don’t mix. As Matt found out firsthand after the guy had spent five minutes in his car.

Could he drive around breathing in that smell for months?

Damn. His heart sank.

“Okay.” The word struggled to make it past his teeth. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Caroline sounded like she was smiling. “I’m sure you’ll have fun. Thank you, Matt.” And with that, the evil woman hung up.

Leaving Matt to wonder whohecould con into taking over babysitting duty.

* * *

So,maybe going to a Glasgow nightclub hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Jasper was used to going out in London, where he was protected by the exclusiveness of the clubs he attended.

This was different.

Glaswegians were nuts.

The club was on the first floor, over a pub, in an old tenement building on Sauchiehall Street, and it was already packed by the time they arrived. It made Jasper feel a little exposed. Despite having a mountainous shadow, some of his security team, and the rest of the band and entourage at his back. He should have felt secure and confident. And he might have done if the DJ hadn’t broken into his set to call out: “Looks like we have a fox in the henhouse tonight, ladies!”

At his words, the whole room turned electric, and Jasper could feel the hairs on his arms stand on end. That’s when he noticed that every woman in the place had turned toward him. And these weren’t his usual fan base—the Vixens—who, when he really thought about it, were all in their teens. No, these women were older. And seriouslyscary.

As a group, they were almost uniformly alike. As though they’d walked straight off an assembly line and into Glasgow’s nightlife. Their clothes looked like they’d been spray-painted on for minimum coverage, which Jasper would have to admit, he definitely appreciated. They all wore those mile-high shoes he’d only ever seen on pole dancers and strippers before. Their hair, long and shiny, only varied in color. And their faces…yeah, he wasn’t sure what had happened there, but Glasgow girls seemed toreallylike makeup. There was thick glittering colored eyeshadow, long false lashes, and swollen pouty mouths everywhere he looked.

And there were alotof women.

As the music soared around them and the floor vibrated with the beat and rhythm of the dancers, the women moved toward him. They came out of the darkness, like a group of barracudas emerging from the blackness of the deep. Flashing lights illuminated the purpose and determination in their eyes. Without any visible organization, the women broke into groups, weaving through the gaps between Jasper and his friends, separating them from each other.

Isolating their prey.

Cameras flashed. Bodies pressed up against him. Surrounding him. Touching him. Hands reached under his shirt as propositions were whispered in his ear. The crowd was getting thicker, and there was a roar as more people pushed into the room, swarming past the bouncers.

Word had reached social media that The Fox was in the club.

One of the women in front of him shoved another away. She fell, and Jasper lunged for her, ready to pull her up in case she was trampled. Her friends made it to her first, but not before angry shouts rose above the steady thump of the music.

A group of furious men elbowed their way toward them. Jasper couldn’t hear what they shouted as they pointed at him, but he could read their lips: “My girlfriend…”

The guys were coming for their women. And they had murder in their eyes.

Jasper wriggled away from the hands petting him and backed up a step. Only to hit a wall.