Alex yawned and went over to the crib wedged underneath his window. Pauline’s daughter, whose name turned out to be Maya, giggled happily and reached up for him. Alex wasn’t a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, but he couldn’t stay grumpy when Maya grinned up at him with those two teeth and laughed.

“Good morning, baby girl.” He took her into his arms and put her up on the attached changing table. “You’re looking pretty as ever. And look at that spark in your eyes. That means trouble, doesn’t it?”

Maya chortled happily as he changed her from her pajamas and got rid of her dirty diaper and put her in a cute onesie. She liked the idea of trouble. Considering her father, and her grandfather, that wasn’t exactly surprising.

He carried her over to his tiny kitchen table, where a high chair had been fastened to the table itself. It still amazed him that everything looked so normal in here, so natural. Maya had only been staying with him for two weeks and already it looked like she’d been with him forever.

He tried not to get too attached. Maya wasn’t his. She wasn’t going to be his. Pauline would recover from her horrific injuries, and she and her kids would relocate someplace safer. Jimmy Senior had people upstate. Sure Utica got snowy, and it was nowhere near as exciting as New York, but no one would hurt her there.

It was right and proper that Maya would go there and be with her family. Alex would miss her, that was all.

He packed up her diaper bag with some cute clothes, some snacks, and some of her favorite toys and blankets and walked over to Buddy’s. Buddy would keep an eye on little Maya during the day. All it had taken was a little bit of juggling in terms of schedules at the bar. Buddy would still be there, but Jimmy Senior had put a couple of younger guys there as help. “It’ll teach them a trade, anyway. They can’t just break legs all the time, right?” He laughed at his own joke.

Jimmy Senior, just as Alex had expected, had pulled out all of the stops when it came to his son. He hadn’t known his son was getting violent with Pauline, and to be honest neither had Alex. Considering that Alex spent his free time volunteering with domestic violence groups, he figured he had some expertise in the subject. Senior put family ahead of everything, but his son had done the unthinkable. He’d hurt his own kid, Jimmy Senior’s grandkid.

It turned out that it had been Senior that had encouraged Pauline to leave Jimmy. He just hadn’t expected this. No one had.

Alex was nothing but a peripheral player in the family drama as it played out. All he had to do was keep Maya healthy and safe while the rest of her family recuperated. He was more than happy to do that.

He still had a day job, though, so he dropped the sweet baby off with his father figure and headed back to the Vesuvius. He tried not to rush through the day, because he did take his job just as seriously even with a baby at home. He just wanted to get back to the little girl he was already thinking of as his as fast as he could.

For a moment, he felt a pang. He shouldn’t be thinking of Maya as his, but she was as close as he was ever going to get, and he knew it. He’d always wanted kids, but having kids had been one of the dreams that had died with his engagement to Sol. Sure, he could probably go out and find some alpha somewhere, but he couldn’t trust them. He couldn’t trust any of them, not if Sol had turned out to be such a jerk. And he couldn’t afford to raise a kid on his own in New York.

As it was, he was getting help with Maya’s things. Her grandfather was chipping in for her food, her clothes, and all the other necessities a baby brought with her. He’d initially wanted Alex to just move in, but Staten Island was just too much of a commute.

So Maya was the only baby he would have, and he’d better enjoy his fake parenthood while it lasted. He knocked out his dishes for his first two clients as quickly as he could, and then he moved up to Sol’s place. His stomach twisted as he headed up to the giant penthouse in the ugly glass hat part of the building. Hopefully he’d get out of here before he had to be around his ex.

Carsten got home from school a little bit after three, Inge in tow. The poor kid looked like such a twerp in his school uniform. Maybe if Sol would let him eat some actual fat he’d grow a little. Alex might be able to sneak him a lasagna or something, but no. It would be wrong. Maybe Carsten had a health condition or something, what did Alex know? It wasn’t up to him.

Carsten ran up to Alex and hugged him, tackling him around his legs the same way he had Sol. Here was another reminder of everything Alex had lost, damn it. Rather, everything Alex could never have had, never have been.

“Mr. Alex! Mr. Alex! Mr. Alex! I’ve been waiting to see you all week! I’m so happy you’re here! Can we cook our dishes now?” Carsten grinned up at him, proudly showing off a gap in his smile.

“I’ve still got a couple of no-kids-allowed dishes to finish up—hey, Carsten, did anyone tell you why we can’t have kids in the kitchen sometimes?”

Carsten pouted. “No. No one tells me anything.”

“It’s tough to be young. I remember being your age, and no one told me much either.” Alex squatted down so he was on Carsten’s level. “The reason we don’t let kids be in the kitchen for those dishes is because they take a lot of my concentration to cook, and they need me to move around a lot and cook with a lot of hot, boiling water and hot, cooking grease, okay? It’s not because I don’t want you around, because you’re a pretty awesome person. It’s not because you’re in the way. It’s because we’re worried about hurting kids. And if I let you stay in the kitchen while I cook these dishes, then my buddy Phil has to let those nasty kids in Brooklyn who’ve never listened a day in their life stay in the kitchen, because it’s only fair.”

Carsten nodded. “We have to be fair.”

Most six year olds put a lot of stock in “fair.” Alex had, when he’d been six.

Alex ruffled Carsten’s hair. “I knew I could count on you to understand. I’ll just finish these up, and then I’ll call you in to work on the dishes we make together, okay buddy?”

Carsten grinned and hugged him again. “I love you, Mr. Alex. You’re the best.” Then he skipped off to his bedroom.

Alex watched him go, blinking back tears. He didn’t realize Inge was watching him until she spoke. “You really are good with him. Do you have children of your own?”

“No.” Alex straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “I’m taking care of a friend’s kid while she’s in the hospital, but I don’t have any of my own.”

“That’s a shame. You’re a natural. It usually takes Carsten a little while to warm up to new people.” She grimaced, like she was remembering something, but Alex figured he was probably just reading into it. She might have just had heartburn or something.

“Well, you know. I always figured I’d have kids someday, but it never worked out. Carsten’s a good kid, though. I like him. Does he take after his other dad?”

Inge shuddered. “No, not at all. And let’s hope it stays that way.” She hurried after Carsten.

Alex shrugged and got back to work. Sure, he was curious, but at the end of the day he had no business getting into Sol’s business. It wasn’t his problem. He didn’t care about his replacement, so long as he didn’t have to deal with the guy. He did want to get to the point where he could cook with his little buddy, preferably before Sol got home, so he picked up the pace on his other dishes.

He got about half an hour in with his sauce for a shrimp dish when he heard a scream. He didn’t think about it. Whatever was wrong, that scream meant Inge needed help with Carsten. Alex wasn’t going to let anything happen to that amazing kid, regardless of who his parents were. He turned off the stove, put down his knife, and ran toward the sound of the scream.

He barely noticed the rest of the condo as he ran. He hadn’t checked it out the entire time he’d been here, because he didn’t want to know. Now, he regretted that, because he had no idea where he was going. He needed Inge to scream again, which she obligingly did seconds later. He turned toward the sound and jumped into an adorable boys’ room.

Carsten was huddled in the corner of the room, Central Park spread out behind him like a mural. Inge stood in front of him, blonde hair disheveled. She bled from cuts on her arm and on her chest, but she didn’t look like she was going to fall anytime soon. “You’ll take this baby over my dead body!” she snarled.

She wasn’t shouting at Alex. Her target was an older woman, slender to the point where Alex had concerns about her health, who stood near the doorway. She was impeccably dressed, but her makeup had been smeared and one of her false eyelashes had been ripped off. Her dyed-blonde hair had been sprayed into submission, so even in the struggle that had obviously taken place with Inge it hadn’t moved. She waved a bloody knife in her hand.

“He’s my grandson!” the woman snapped. “I have the right to take him!”

Alex slipped in between the women. Only now did the grandmother seem to notice him. Well, why would she have noticed him before? He’d been in the kitchen. “Maybe we can put the knife down now,” he suggested, holding his hands out in a pacifying gesture. “That’s not exactly sanitary, and it’s not in Carsten’s best interest to go around stabbing people in front of him.”

The grandmother scoffed. “I’m his family. I’ll decide what’s in his best interests, thank you very much. You’re just the help. Now get out of the way before I have you fired.”

Alex snorted, but didn’t move. He locked eyes with Sol’s mother-in-law. “Lady, I’d pay. But this isn’t 1850. I’m not letting you hurt Inge, and I don’t think I can let you near Carsten, not like this. Not without a court order. Now look, why don’t we all go into the living room—without the knife—and talk about this like civilized adults, okay?”

He took a step toward the grandmother, and she lunged at him with a wild shriek.

Alex sidestepped and grabbed her wrist. He wasn’t a fighter or brawler, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he could hold his own. He could more than hold his own against a deranged, old bat with a knife she didn’t know how to use. He twisted her wrist, pressing in with his thumb in just the right spot, and she gave an eardrum-piercing scream.

She also dropped the knife.

He forced her wrist behind her back and frog-marched her into the living room. Inge staggered after him, along with Carsten. “Go get the police!” he hissed to Inge.

“They’re on their way,” she told him, as he forced the old lady into a chair. He used his own belt to secure her wrists behind her.

“Carsten, can you be an awesome sport and go find me a first aid kit, please?” He gave the pale, shell-shocked Carsten his most winning smile.

Carsten didn’t say anything, but just nodded and ran. Alex looked up at Inge. “What do you mean they’re on their way?”

The grandmother struggled feebly against her bonds. “You’ve already broken my wrist, you oaf. Must you make them amputate it as well?”

Alex glared down at her. “Don’t make me gag you too, lady. I don’t give a crap about Sol Delaney’s personal drama, but once you start getting the kid involved I gotta take it harshly.” He turned back to Inge. “Could you maybe sit down or something? You’re bleeding an awful lot. I don’t want you to pass out.”

Inge obeyed. “I hit the panic button. There’s one in every room in the house.” She put a hand to her injury and pulled it back with a wince. “She stabbed me!”

Alex dropped his jaw. “You’re just figuring this out now?”

“I was busy,” Inge snapped back, “defending Carsten!”

Carsten ran back in with a first aid kit. Alex made a mental note to find out where it was stored. If he was going to be sticking around, he should know these things. Burns and cuts happened in the kitchen, after all. “Is Inge going to be okay?” Carsten whispered.

Alex ripped Inge’s shirt and looked at the wound. “I think she’s probably going to need some stitches, but we’ll let the EMTs decide that.” He grabbed a massive wad of gauze from the kit and put it over Inge’s injury. “I’m so sorry, Inge. This shouldn’t have happened to you.”

“You! Boy! Aren’t you going to set my wrist? The one you broke?” The grandmother stamped her foot on the hardwood floor.

Alex flipped her off, eliciting shocked gasps from both women. Carsten just giggled. “Lady, if I hear one more word out of you, I’m going to use my chef’s jacket as a gag, and I will not be gentle.”

Alex bandaged both of Inge’s injuries, and then he went to wash his hands. When he got back, Alex pulled out his phone and called Buddy. “Hey, do you mind hanging onto Maya a little bit longer than usual? I’ve run into a bit of a situation here.”

Buddy sighed. “If you’re canoodling with that bastard—“

“I’m not canoodling with anyone, Buddy.” Alex blushed bright red. “I promise. The kid and the nanny were attacked in the house. The police are on their way, and I’m going to have to talk to them, that’s all. I figured you’d probably rather I not do police interviews in the bar. Bad for business, right?”

“Oh, my God, Alex. Yeah, of course. I’ll tell Jimmy Senior.”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “This doesn’t have to be a thing, Buddy.”

“Of course it does. First of all, he should know about this stuff, just in case. Second, he’s not going to want to see you getting hurt. You’re taking care of his granddaughter. You’re family.”

Alex sighed. “Okay. But once I’ve wrapped up here I’ll come and pick up Maya, okay?”

“Of course. No problem. Jimmy’s not going to get upset about you helping out another kid, you know?”

Alex couldn’t argue with him there. He just hoped Jimmy didn’t feel the need to get more involved than that.

* * *

Sol got the call from the panic button dispatch center at four fifteen, when he was in the middle of a meeting with his boss. Jerry didn’t complain when Sol picked up his phone. Jerry knew full well there was one number that always got through to his line, and he knew why too. “Go take care of it, Delaney,” he said, face drawn. “Good luck, and Godspeed.”

Sol spared a moment for gratitude as he hailed an Uber on his way out the front door. He probably could run back to his building, but it wouldn’t be as fast and right now, time was of the essence. The Uber driver got him back to the house in record time, earning himself a massive tip, and Sol jumped into the elevator.

The police hadn’t arrived yet when Sol got out, but Sol could more or less figure out what had happened by the scene that greeted him in his living room. His former mother-in-law, Lena Fletcher, sat in the middle of the room. She’d been bound to a chair with zip ties and gagged with a white chef’s jacket. Her blue eyes blazed with hate and fury.

Inge was nowhere to be seen, but a moderately sized blood stain told Sol she hadn’t left without a fight. Alex sat on a big chair in the corner with Carsten on his lap and a strange, olive-skinned baby in his arms, reading a book to both of them. Two men in dark suits, with dark skin and hair that was just a little too long to be cops, stood near him.

Sol cleared his throat loudly, and pretended he didn’t see the two strange men reach for something under their jackets. He pretended he didn’t see Alex shake his head at them, too. This was his house, damn it, and Alex didn’t get to bring a bunch of people in—

“Where’s Inge?” he asked, remembering what was important here.

Carsten huddled in closer to Alex, who held him tenderly. “She’s at Mount Sinai West. Stab wounds to her abdomen and her arm. She should be okay, I’m thinking, but I’m not a doctor so two of my buddies brought the baby over.”

“Your buddies.” Sol let himself look at the men in suits again. “Who are these guys again? And the baby?”

“We’re Mr. Cary’s drinking buddies,” said one of the men. His accent was thick and probably from one of the outer boroughs. Sol had been away too long to be sure, but he thought it might be Staten Island. “We all go to the same bar. He was supposed to pick up my cousin here, after work, but seeing as how he was going to be late we brought her to him.”

The baby—who was adorable, Sol had to admit—squealed and giggled.

“Is she yours?” he asked Alex.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Does it really matter right now? No. She’s not mine. Look, Carsten’s just been through a serious trauma. Can we just maybe put him first for a minute?” He stroked Carsten’s hair with his free hand, and suddenly Sol felt like he was three inches tall.

It shouldn’t be up to Alex to think of Carsten’s best interests.

Just then, cops exited the elevator. Sol needed to make a mental note to talk to the panic button company about response times. At least they brought the cavalry with them. He saw uniformed cops, detectives, crime scene men, and EMTs.

The men in suits chuckled when they saw the EMTs. “They’re a little late, don’t you think?”

“They could take the old lady down to the hospital, too. I think her wrist is kind of messed up.”

“Meh. That’s not something that needs an EMT or nothing. Besides, the cops will probably want to talk to her.”

One of the detectives, a middle aged man in a tan suit, looked at them a little oddly. “And who are you guys?”

“We’re friends of his.” The shorter of the two jerked a thumb at him. “We brought the kid to him, and when we heard why he was supposed to stick around we figured we’d keep an eye on him and the kids. We like him. We don’t want anything to happen to him.”

The detective looked distinctly unimpressed. “Is that you or your boss who doesn’t want anything to happen to him?”

Sol’s blood ran cold. That kind of language only got used in organized crime. Had Alex brought mobsters around his son?

“Both,” the taller one told him in a cool tone. “We like Alex. He’s a good egg. Clean, you know? Come on, Staley. You know how Senior is about kids. He ain’t going to let anything happen to his granddaughter, and he ain’t going to let anything happen to another kid Alex is watching either.”

Staley, if that was indeed the detective’s name, sighed. “Yeah, I know. Just go on. You can come back and be gargoyles or whatever later.” He waved his hand, shooing them away.

Sol opened his mouth to object. Did he not get a say in who lurked around his house? Then he caught Alex’s eye. Alex just set his jaw and shook his head a little. Sol shut his mouth again. He didn’t know what was going on, and he’d find out, but right now was not the time.

He sat in and listened to Alex and Carsten recount their story for the cops. Apparently, Lena had somehow gotten a key card for the elevator and let herself into the condo. She’d tried to abduct Carsten at knifepoint, Inge had defended him, and her screams had alerted Alex to the situation. Alex had jumped in, tried to defuse the situation, and when she tried to stab him too, Alex disarmed her and tied her to the chair.

“Then he gagged her because she wouldn’t stop talking.” Carsten’s eyes shone as he looked up at the man who, by all rights, should have been his father. “Mr. Alex is a superhero. He’s better than Superman because he doesn’t have to hide in a stupid phone booth to change.”

Alex ducked his head and blushed. “Carsten, sweetheart, remember what I said before? About how everyone wants to protect you and make sure you don’t get hurt?”

Carsten nodded, eyes on the ground.

“Well, that still applies, okay? Anyone who saw what was happening would have stepped in. Inge was willing to get hurt to keep you safe. I’ll bet the doorman downstairs would have stopped Lena if he’d known. My buddies who were here before, Vinnie and Frank, they’d do anything to keep you safe. And your dad put you in a place here in New York, with all these buttons to call police, just so you’d be safe too. We all love you, buddy. You’re important to all of us.”

Carsten snuggled in closer. “So, you do love me?”

Alex chuckled softly. “Of course I do, Carsten. Of course I do.”

“But what if she comes back? What if she comes back and tries to hurt me again?”

Staley shook his head. “She won’t. She’ll have a restraining order against her, and of course we’re going to put her in jail.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed when he looked back up at the cop, but he smiled back down at Carsten. “Look. I’m going to give you my personal cell phone number, okay? You can call me any time, day or night, and I will pick up. And if you’re scared, if you’re in trouble, I’ll come find you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Carsten clung on to Alex and cried, and Alex let him. He still balanced the strange baby in his other arm, and it all looked so perfectly normal and natural for him to be here with all of these children that Sol had to turn away.

Carsten hadn’t cried during any of Stuart’s episodes. He hadn’t cried when Sol finally took him away from Stuart. It took Alex to get him to cry, to really let it out and let go. Why was that? What did Alex have that Sol didn’t?

Carsten cried himself to sleep as the uniformed officers carried Lena off to the waiting cars downstairs. They removed Alex’s chef jacket from her mouth, which only led to a stream of rage pouring from her mouth. She didn’t curse, because that would be vulgar, but she raged against the “jumped up little servant” who’d dared to defy her and raise his hand against her. She even demanded Alex be arrested for interfering with her rights as a grandparent and for assault.

“Can we have that jacket back again, Alex?” Staley muttered.

“I’m not going to say no.” Alex shrugged. He shifted position, and Sol swooped in to pick Carsten up. Maybe he couldn’t provide comfort to Carsten while he was awake, but he could at least tuck him in and put him to bed. Right?

“Be here when I get back.” He turned to Alex and remembered himself. “Please,” he added.

Alex smirked, but he waited.

Carsten’s room was a wreck. The fight between Inge and Lena had really done a number on it. Sol couldn’t let himself feel guilty about that. He’d done everything he could to keep them safe. He had the panic buttons put in, he’d gotten special passes so no one could get out of the elevator who wasn’t supposed to be there. He was going to have to do some work to find out who’d done it.

A crime scene tech chased him away from Carsten’s room, so Sol put his son to sleep in the guest room. It infuriated him to have to change things around for some crime scene tech, but it wasn’t the tech who’d caused it. It was Lena, and behind it all was Stuart.

He tucked Carsten in and returned to the living room. Alex was speaking quietly to Staley, but as Sol got closer he found they weren’t speaking about Lena and Inge. “I still haven’t heard anything about Jimmy,” Alex was saying in a quiet tone. “I don’t really expect to either way. He’d know better than to ask me for help after what he did to Pauline.”

“Is the poor girl’s prognosis looking any better yet?” Staley asked, with a wince.

“No. I mean there’s always hope and all that, but let’s be real. That kind of head injury tends to leave permanent brain damage. I see plenty of it.” Alex scowled and looked at the ground, but the baby in his arms squealed and pulled at his hair. “But we’re hopeful about the older kid. He’s got some movement back in his arms, at least.”

“I heard about that.” Staley shook his head. “You know, I know I’m supposed to be on the opposite side and everything, and I am. But I hope Jimmy Senior catches up with his son before we do.”

Alex rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. “It ain’t my place to say. I’m just helping out with Maya. But I won’t cry if he’s not seen again.”

Sol cleared his throat, and Staley jumped. “So. I think that’s about enough for one night. We’ll probably have more questions for you later, but I think the issues you had with your former in-laws are pretty well documented in the restraining order.” Staley smiled. “We’ll want to look into how she got in, but it’s a good thing you had Chef Rambo here.”

Sol made a polite smile and escorted Staley toward the door. “He is a man of many talents, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

“I wasn’t previously informed that he’d be bringing mafiosi to my door.”

Staley held the door opened. “Chances are, he probably didn’t. Jimmy Senior wants him taking care of the baby for now, and so that means a little added protection. That’s not a bad thing. Like I said, we’re not on the same side, but if he’s feeling generous and wants to give you an added measure of security, right now, I’d take it. We can’t be everywhere, even though we try.” He shook Sol’s hand.

Sol headed back into the living room when the elevator door closed. Alex was still on his feet, but his arms were bare. He’d only had a t-shirt on under his white chef’s jacket, and now Sol could see a number of tattoos on his tan arms. He’d never been into tattoos before, but these were an exception. These were on Alex.

He made himself look away. “I should be angry about the random mafiosi in my house.”

Alex snorted. “If I had the slightest bit of control over those guys, do you honestly think I’d still be working as a private chef?”

Sol had to smirk at that. “My guess is no. Why do they even know you?”

“They weren’t kidding. Drinking buddies. We go to the same bar.” Alex’s grin was self-assured as he shifted the baby to his other hip. “Look, I promised I’d put my number into Carsten’s phone. It’s just for reassurance, but I don’t want to be that guy who lies to little kids, you know? He’s a good kid, an absolute sweetheart. He deserves to be treated with respect.”

Sol sighed. “Of course.” He looked up and tilted his head to the side. “He’s quite taken with you.”

“The novelty will wear off. It usually does.”

Sol bit his lip. “Thank you for saving them. If you hadn’t been here, it would have been so much worse.”

Alex blushed. He’d always blushed so prettily. “It wasn’t anything. It’s like I told Carsten, anyone would have done the same thing. He’s such a good kid. He’s so sweet, you know? It would be hard for anyone to turn away from him.”

Sol huffed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, you’d think that.”

Alex looked away for a second. Then he sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sol closed his eyes. He wanted to talk about it. He knew Alex didn’t. At the same time, Alex had offered, hadn’t he? “My father was close with the Fletchers,” he admitted, after a moment’s reflection. None of this mattered anymore. “He wanted the marriage for business reasons, and he was able to bring a lot of pressure to bear on me.”

“Don’t care.” Alex’s face froze over.

Sol put a hand on Alex’s arm. “Please. Just wait. Anyway, you already know I gave him what he wanted. The thing is, Stuart wasn’t…he was one of those guys. The kind who gets into drugs in private school because they can, and they never bother getting off of them. I’m still not sure how Carsten turned out as well as he has, honestly.

“He went through three stints in rehab. Every time he flunked out. He’d do drugs with Carsten in the room, he’d OD right there with Carsten in his lap, it was awful. And every time, all of the other people in our lives would try to paper over it.”

“Finally, after the third time—he hid cocaine in Carsten’s school bag and wrapped his car around a tree, with Carsten in the car—I’d had it. I filed for divorce, showed why, and won sole custody. But Alex, they weren’t going to stop coming. So—security.” Sol took a deep, shuddering breath. “Stuart was never what I’d call stable. I did try to make it work, I truly did, but he was all over the place and I had to do what was right for Carsten.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Sol.” Alex’s voice was softer than Sol had heard it in a long time. “Parents are supposed to take care of their children. You do what you have to. And from what I’ve seen, you’ve done that here. You have the panic buttons, and you’ve got the key cards and crap for the ugly hat penthouse.”

“Huh?” Sol scratched his head.

“Just go with it. You’re a good dad. You’re doing what you have to, to take care of your little boy. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Sol looked into Alex’s eyes. It had been so long since he’d been able to do that. “You really think so?”

“I know it. Trust me, if there’s one thing I know, it’s bad fathers.” He smirked. “Anyway, I should be getting her home.” He headed for the elevator.