Cochise stepped off the stool. “I’ll go retrieve our friend.”

“He could’ve gone out a back way,” Clint said.

“No. He’s still here.”

“How do you know?” Axel asked.

The Egyptian shrugged. “Hunch.” He walked along the bar, ignoring the patrons who cast him uneasy glances. Now that they knew the faggots were armed, no one had anything to say. Pussies.

Cochise shoved through the door to the men’s restroom. Two men were at the urinals and looked over their shoulders at him. Cochise stared back coldly. “Shake it off and get out.”

Apparently smart enough not to argue, the men hurriedly finished their business and left the restroom. Cochise walked to the end stall. The door was closed with no visible feet of the occupant. He rapped his knuckles on the door. “Get out here.” Silence from within the stall. “Boy, you don’t want me to come in after you. Get your ass out-”

The kid lunged up the side of the stall and, like a fucking monkey, scrambled across the tops of the stalls, heading back toward the door.

“Fuck!” Cochise ran for the door as the kid dropped off the last stall and hit the floor running. The boy jerked the restroom door open, about the scurry out, when Cochise collided with it, ripping the handle out of the kid’s grip and slamming the door shut, trapping the kid inside.

Chest heaving and eyes bulging, the young man backed away, though there was nowhere to go. Up close, he appeared to be maybe nineteen or twenty, his dirty blond hair slightly long in the front, short in the back. He watched Cochise with pale blues eyes, tense and ready to put up a fight.

“Who are you?” Cochise asked gruffly. “Why the fuck you tailing us?”

The kid didn’t reply and continued to back away toward the urinals on the far side of the restroom.

“Boy, you better start talking. You don’t want me to make you talk.” Cochise suspected the kid was trying to lure him away from the door so he could attempt another escape. He played along and walked toward the boy, leaving the door unguarded. As anticipated, the young man suddenly lunged to the far right and shot past Cochise. The little fucker was fast, Cochise had to give him that. But not fast enough.

The Egyptian caught him by the scruff of his shirt as he sped by and shoved him face first against the wall without harmful force. The kid didn’t have muscle mass but he was wiry as fuck and holding onto him was like trying to wrestle a greased pig.

“Boy!” Cochise clutched the back of his neck and pinned his head to the wall. “Stop your fucking struggling right fucking now, or I will break your legs.”

The kid tensed, mulling over his options, then reluctantly settled down. Breath surged out of him, chest heaving with the adrenaline rush as Cochise searched him for weapons and found none. Fucking odd. Who the hell tailed gangsters and didn’t carry a fucking weapon on them?

“I’m gonna let go of you,” Cochise growled. “And you’re not going to move from this fucking spot. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” the kid rasped, cheek flat against the wall.

Cochise slowly released his grip and stepped back a couple paces, staying between the boy and the door. “Turn around.”

The kid obeyed and pressed his back against the wall, eyes wary and fearful.

“What’s your name?”

“Callum.” The name was spoken with a slight tremor, and the kid was clearly frightened, but he wasn’t cowering; he still had fight in him if it came to it. Cochise was impressed; the little shit was no pussy.

“Who set you on us?”

The boy just stared at him anxiously.

Cochise released a hard breath and grabbed the kid by the scruff again and shoved him toward the door, keeping a tight grip on him. “You’ll talk.”

The bartender cast the Egyptian an uncertain look when he emerged from the restroom with the kid in tow. He walked the boy down the bar to Clint and Axel.

“Who’s your friend?” Clint asked, eyes narrowed, studying the boy.

“Callum.”

“Why are you following us?” Clint asked the kid.

Callum glanced anxiously at Axel then back to the cowboy. “I…I want to talk to Adrian.”

Cochise frowned. “How do you know Adrian?”

Shaking his head, Callum mumbled, “I’ll only talk to Adrian. I-I don’t care what you do to me. I’m not telling you anything until I see Adrian.”

Clint nodded. “Then we’ll go see Adrian.”

 

♦

 

“Cal!” Jules leaped off the chair, abandoning his lunch on the kitchen table, and raced over to the young man standing between Clint and Cochise. “You’re here!” He hopped up and down excitedly until Callum smiled and picked him up.

“Hey, Jules. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too!” Jules hugged his neck hard, then suddenly scrambled out of his arms. “I got a puppy! You wanna see him?” Jules ran out of the kitchen before the young man could reply, hollering for his pup.

“You know Jules?” Axel looked at Callum, then glanced uncertainly at Clint and Cochise.

The kid nodded but offered no more.

Clint ushered the boy to the table and motioned for him to sit. He seemed harmless enough, but looks could be deceiving; Clint left nothing to chance. He would let Adrian address the young man and in turn, determine if he was a threat.

“Go find Adrian and the others,” Clint told Axel. “Tell him he has a guest-”

Adrian appeared just then and paused in the doorway, startled eyes locking on the kid. “Callum?”

Jules burst back into the kitchen with his pup on his heels and ran over to Callum. “This is Cowboy,” he said excitedly. “Uncle Adrian, Papa Jo, and daddy Tony got him for me.”

“Wow,” Callum smiled. “He’s totally awesome.”

Hoisting the heavy pup in his arms, Jules set him on Callum’s lap while the men watched in silence. “He likes to be held,” Jules explained. He crawled onto Callum’s knee. “Are you gonna stay with us?”

“Jules.” Adrian entered the kitchen. “Why don’t you take Cowboy and go play. I need to talk to Callum.”

“Is he gonna stay?” Jules pressed.

“Just go play,” Adrian insisted.

“Listen to your uncle.” Anthony stepped through the doorway with Angelo.

Jules nodded and galloped out of the kitchen, his mini cowboy boots clicking against the tile as his pup scrambled after him.

Eyeing the newcomer, Anthony approached Adrian. “Who is our guest?”

“Callum,” Adrian answered with a murmur. “He was a member of Tazz’s motorcycle gang.” He stared at Callum with a look Clint couldn’t readily interpret; not distrust, but wary nonetheless. “What’re you doing here, Callum?”

The kid fidgeted beneath the heavy, cagey stares of the gangsters. “I…” he swallowed and took a deep breath, focusing on Adrian. “I left Tazz’s gang. I didn’t know where to go. I’d overheard Tazz and Blade talking about you being in New York City, mixed up with some mobsters…” he hesitated and glanced at the others. “I thought maybe if I could find you, that you’d let me stay with you until I could get a job or something.”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “Why were you following us? Why not just approach Adrian directly?”

“I might be young,” he said. “But I’m not stupid. I’m not gonna just walk up to the front gates of the home of a mob family. I was just trying to get a feel for you guys, see if it was safe to approach you.”

“Why did you run from me in the restroom?” Cochise muttered.

Callum stared at him incredulously. “Are you serious? You’re fucking scary. You practically threatened me.”

Clint caught the small smile that touched Axel’s lips; few would dispute that the Egyptian was fucking scary.

“Does Tazz know you left?” Adrian adopted an uneasy edge that put Clint on alert as well. “He isn’t known for just letting members walk away, especially ones who have been there as long as you.”

Callum shook his head. “I know. I left in the middle of the night. I knew he wouldn’t let me leave if I told him. And he’d probably beat the fuck out of me, too. So, I just took off.”

“Why now, after all this time?”

His eyes drifting between the men, Callum murmured, “Because he’s getting worse. Meaner. Him and Blade both. They…they almost killed a guy…just because he hit on Tazz’s woman. He was new to the gang, hadn’t yet understood all the rules. He was kind of a mouth and Tazz didn’t like that, either. He and Blade got drunk and…and almost beat him to death.” Callum rubbed his mouth. “It freaked me out. I just wanted to get away before they did the same to me. They’ve never liked me very much.”

Clint kept his focus on Adrian and took his cues by Adrian’s reaction as to the kid’s sincerity and truthfulness. Adrian wasn’t immediately jumping on board with Callum’s story but appeared to be weighing the facts and details. The man was neither impulsive nor stupid.

 

♦

 

On the one hand, Adrian empathized with the kid. As a young teen boy, Callum had strived to please Tazz, to no avail. Tazz had treated the kid like shit, said he looked like a fag and probably was one. Adrian knew different and hadn’t witnessed any “gayness” in Callum at all. But because he was quite lean, Tazz saw it as a feminine, queer appearance. Still, Callum had done his damnedest to win Tazz’s approval.

Had the young man finally come to his senses and realized that he didn’t need validation from someone like Tazz? That he was, indeed, better than Tazz and Blade?

Adrian wanted to believe so, because if Callum was lying and Tazz had sent him here…

Dismissing the unpleasant thought, for now, Adrian asked, “Tazz knows where I am?”

“Yes.”

Adrian wasn’t too surprised, but it put him on edge nonetheless. Tazz and Blade both were vindictive men. He was certain that Tazz never intended to let Jules go, intent on keeping him purely out of spite. Adrian felt sick at the thought of Jules in Tazz’s “care”, especially when he and Blade now knew that Jules was not Blade’s son. It wasn’t beneath them to abuse Jules for his mother’s sins.

“Have they spoken of Jules?” Adrian asked.

Callum fidgeted and mumbled, “They said his mother took him and ran away. That she had no right to take him away from his father.”

His heart thumping with pain and anger, Adrian forced his voice to remain calm. “She didn’t just run away,” he said with a rasp. “She was running for her life. Jules isn’t Blade’s son, and when they found out…” he swallowed thickly, eyes stinging. “…they beat her nearly to death.”

“What…” Callum stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

“She managed to take Jules and run, but…” Adrian shook his head, vision blurring. “She didn’t survive the beating.” He looked hard at the young man. “They killed my sister, Callum.” Adrian stepped closer, eyes burning. “So, you had better hope for your sake that you’re telling us the truth about why you’re here. Because if you’re still with Tazz…” He glanced at the five men standing with him. “You’re going to be in a world of fucking hurt.”