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As
much as he would have liked to take a tire iron and break both of Grover’s arms
and his old man’s for good measure, it wouldn’t help his boys any for him to
wind up in jail. That was more what he had in mind for Maitland. Calling in a
few favors had been easy, especially considering two of his former bodyguards
had formed a private investigative service, and to Devin’s way of thinking, the
best way to ensure that Grover couldn’t hurt anyone else was to see him locked
away somewhere. His threats to Moon and the fact that he’d slammed his hand in
a god damned door, coupled with the assault on Derrick couldn’t have been the
first time he’d done things of that nature. Devin doubted it would be the last
time he tried, either, which was exactly what Bruce and Jerimiah would be gathering
proof of.
Having eyes on Maitland also meant that
Grover and his minions wouldn’t be able to get the drop on any of his boys when
they were out of his sight, especially Mikal. Guys like Maitland wouldn’t be
able to swallow having their plans fall through and that included the loss of
their intended target. They’d look to rectify that, and when they did, Bruce
and Jerimiah would shut them down cold.
He could only hope it required a
great deal of force to accomplish it.
Right now, his focus was on lunch, homemade
lobster rolls, in particular, lightly toasted with a cucumber salad and cider vinaigrette.
In the four days they’d been feeling out
one another’s playing styles, he’d discovered several interesting and rather
quirky things about each of his boys.
Moon hated eating alone, preferring
to skip meals if he had no one to eat them with. That nothing processed crossed
his lips wasn’t shocking but finding out how little in the way of proper
organic foods the town grocery store carried, had been. Mikal had been the one
to explain that to him when he’d come in trying to shop, suggesting that
Devin’s best bet would be the farmer’s market, where people brought excess
fruits and vegetables from their gardens. It hadn’t surprised him one bit to
run into Mama Calypso and June manning a booth and of course, they refused to
let him pay one cent for the baskets of things they sent home with him.
Derrick was extremely devoted to the
cats he’d rescued over the years, so much so that Devin’s house now had three litter
boxes and four furry residents who liked chirpy early morning menaces even less
than he did.
They’d also evicted three mice Devin
hadn’t even known were in the house and for some inexplicable reason two of the
cats, the Russian gray and the snowy white one, found him interesting enough to
perch on whenever and wherever he sat down.
The hardest to get a read on was
Mikal. As far as Devin could tell, work and music were the only things he had
going on in his life, outside of the things he did with Moon, but Moon had
confided in Devin that they weren’t things Mikal was truly interested in.
Perhaps developing some independent hobbies was something Devin could help him
with.
“Hey!” Devin called out as he set the
pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade on the table. He’d missed that in his years
on the road. “Food’s ready.”
They came to the table empty-handed, something
he’d insisted upon from day one. No notebooks, no pens, no trying to write on
the napkins or in Moon’s case, the back of his hand. Ideas were good, but
they’d keep. Mealtimes were about togetherness, at least that’s what his old
man had always stressed.
“Yes!” Derrick declared, doing a
little fist pump as he sat down. Turning to Moon he grinned and stuck out his
tongue. “Pay up.”
Giggling, Moon straddled his lap and kissed
him until Devin was forced to clear his throat to get their attention.
“If that was the payoff what was the
bet?” Devin asked as he ran his fingers through Derrick’s hair.
“I said lobster rolls, he said you
were just going to boil them and put one on each plate,” Derrick explained.
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