Page 4 of Operation Daddy

He knew he should have chosen better words when Banks turned even darker. “Neither you nor my father gets to choose who is welcome in my private establishment. After the wedding, you will go pick him up and bring him to The PlayPen. Everyone will see him accompanied by you, so they'll know they can still be friends with him. I really don’t give a shit what you think about him or if you ever speak to him again afterward. However, you will fix this. I’ll not have a Little out there, suffering alone and with nowhere to go.”

No way in hell was that happening. “I don’t work for you.”

Banks raised one eyebrow.

A flutter of fear rose in Fletch. While Beau was vicious, Banks was unpredictable and full-on insane. Fletch had lived on the streets long enough to know that the craziest person in every fight won, and he had seen Banks in action.

“I’ll do what I can, but he might refuse to go anywhere with me.”

Banks dipped his chin, acknowledging the truth in his statement. “If that happens, shoot me a text. I’ll see what I can do to convince him.” Banks moved as if he intended to stand. He hesitated. Banks set his hand on Fletch’s forearm and lightly squeezed. He never broke eye contact. “I understand why you’re upset, and you deserve to feel that shit. But please trust I know more about July’s situation than you do. He was allowed sanctuary for a reason. You of all people should know what it’s like to get stuck in survival mode. Some people don’t have anyone to turn to. They just do the best with what life’s handed them. Maybe keep that in mind when you talk to him. I’m not asking you to be his friend. I’m just asking you to maybe show him a little grace. If I know nothing else, I know desperate people do desperate things, and he hurt himself way more than he did you by his actions.”

With that cryptic message, Banks stood and walked away. His adorable husband waited for him, looking concerned. Banks put his arm around him and squeezed. Fletch didn’t see much beyond the images running through his head. July’s eyes had been dead while also filled with pain when Fletch had confronted him earlier. He still had no forgiveness in him. However, Fletch would consider Banks’ advice. Beau had shown him grace once and saved his entire life. Fletch could do the same. Maybe.

Chapter Two

Tears streamed down July’s face. He jumped when he found himself pulled backward against a solid chest.

Fletch wiped his face with the cuff of his sleeve. “What’s wrong, Princess? Why are you sitting here crying? There’re a ton of play areas. Did someone hurt your feelings?”

When July took a breath to speak, his breath stuttered. He held up his arm, showing his ace bandage. “I fell, and it really hurts.”

Fletch gently held his wrist. “Is it okay if I take a look?”

July debated saying no. After a moment of thought, he nodded.

Fletch moved slowly as he unwrapped July’s arms. July nearly gasped at the sight of it. The injury looked a lot worse than when he had wrapped it. On the plus side, the spreading bruising and swelling made it impossible to see the handprint that caused it.

“Holy shit. You need to get this looked at. I’m pretty sure this is broken.”

July cried harder, but he let Fletch pick him up and carry him to the door. The PlayPen was his sanctuary. Rex only allowed him to be here because the location fit his purposes. If he saw July’s car move to urgent care or the ER, July’s other wrist would be broken before morning. His mind raced for an excuse not to go. Then Fletch headed in the opposite direction from July’s car. He drew a steadying breath as they made their way toward Fletch’s truck. Still, July couldn’t stop crying. Everything hurt, all the way to his soul. He didn’t really fit in at The PlayPen, but he had no other place to go. July wasn’t safe anywhere. He was tired of being scared and feeling helpless. Every day, he woke up wanting to die. The tears just kept coming. Fletch stopped and tried to comfort him. “It’s okay, Princess. I’ve got you. We’ll get this taken care of. I’ll make sure they make the pain go away.”

July wished anyone or anything could do that. He couldn’t keep living this way.

The houses went from older homes to bigger ones as Fletch drove to July’s place. He had always known where July lived, but they didn’t go to each other’s houses. They had always met in The PlayPen’s parking garage or July’s favorite coffeehouse. Since Fletch had the very obvious reason of working for a crime lord keeping him from inviting July to his house, he didn’t pry as to why they never met at July’s place. Truth be told, he hadn’t even thought about that invitation eluding him. July was in a delicate position from the way he dressed and behaved. Giving anyone his address put him in danger. Being a man who prided himself on being a daddy, he automatically defaulted to keeping people safe.

Now that Fletch saw where July lived, he realized he maybe should have looked him up sooner. He for sure would have had some questions if he had seen where July lived. His house was a light-colored brick with large windows. A three-car garage sat disconnected from the house. When he pulled into the driveway and parked between the two buildings, he noticed a black ornamental fence showing a peek of a pool. Yeah, he definitely would have been a lot more curious about July’s job if he had known July lived here.

There was a door to the left that looked as if it was the entrance people used. Fletch took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. He headed for the door, trying to temper his emotions. A sense of betrayal coursed through his veins. He had been played big time. July hadn’t needed him. This fake, growing relationship had been all about worming his way into Fletch’s inner circle. By the time he rang the doorbell, Fletch was the opposite of calm. He was in a frothy rage. The outline of someone coming toward the door moved slowly, as if an elderly person shuffled to answer. Fletch calmed a hair. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that July lived with a wealthy family member. That made more sense and kind of made him feel a little guilty for his inner rantings.

The door opened, and every thought vanished, but the rage was back with a vengeance, except for a different reason.

“What happened to you?” Fletch didn’t know why he asked. The fingerprint bruises on his neck were the giveaway.

July looked at him through panic-filled eyes before they shot in every direction as if expecting danger around every corner. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here.” His voice was raspy, as if his vocal cords were damaged.

Fletch was ready to kill someone. To be fair, he was always ready, but this was different. This was personal. “To hell with that. Who did this to you?”

July focused on him. He took a shaky-sounding breath. “Please leave. You’re making things worse.” He took a step back as if he intended to shut the door in Fletch’s face.

Fletch’s hand shot out, catching the wooden frame of the door before it closed. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who did this to you. Then I’m only leaving to kill them.”

July’s eyes filled with tears before taking on a dead edge that punched Fletch in the throat. He pulled a gun from a pocket of the silk robe he wore. The barrel stared him in the face.

“Please don’t make me pull this trigger, because I will.” Despite his damaged voice, his intentions were clear. He was an animal trapped in a corner, fighting for his life. July would kill him.

Fletch took a step back. His mind scrambled for a way to talk July down. “Banks sent me to fetch you. He wants you at The PlayPen tonight.”

Something flashed in July’s eyes. His features softened. “Tell him he has no idea what the invitation means to me, but I can’t go.”