Page 26 of Missing Pieces (Brantley Walker: Off the Books #12)

“Slade,” Atticus said without hesitation.

Slade looked up, his face red from his giggling spell. “Nuh-uh. Someone else can help with that.”

“Sorry, man,” Brantley told him. “He’s the lead. He picks his team.”

That earned more laughter, this time from Evan and Luca.

Slade was still smiling, but he didn’t sound amused. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” Brantley grabbed a Post-it note and a pen, then scribbled down the principal’s name before passing it to Atticus. “Talk to her. She can give you details. I suggest you get over there sooner rather than later.”

Atticus sputtered, but Brantley didn’t wait around for him to say anything more. The kid could handle this. Brantley was sure of it.

“Okay, chuckles. You wanna grab lunch?” Atticus asked Slade, frustrated that he’d been tricked into taking a case that made everyone else laugh their asses off.

Slade glanced over, dark eyebrows angled down. “Sure. Now?”

It was already well after Atticus’s lunchtime, but due to the chaos of the morning, he’d forgotten all about eating. Now his stomach was rumbling, and the hunger mixed with the anxiety of taking on a case by himself was making him nauseous.

Okay, so maybe the interruptions weren’t the only reason he’d been procrastinating for the past hour.

Most of it had to do with Slade’s attitude.

Ever since their introduction to Archer Halligan on Monday, Slade had been …

well, for lack of a better word, he’d go with pissy.

And that was saying something since Slade wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine on a good day.

And since Atticus was all about keeping the peace—at least when it came to Slade—he’d ensured they hadn’t gotten on the topic of his potential new partner.

It was a self-preservation instinct. Avoid, and give the man some time.

Since Slade had been laughing for the better part of ten minutes, he figured now was as good a time as any.

“If you think you can stop laughing long enough to eat.”

A nod was the man’s only response. Maybe a smirk. Yeah. There was a smirk lurking there.

Asshole.

“We’re gonna grab lunch,” Atticus told Becs, who was skimming her finger over a file in front of her. “Then we’re gonna swing by the high school. You want us to grab you anything? We can drop it back by on our way.”

She looked up, smiled. “No, thank you. I brought some egg salad.”

Atticus’s nose scrunched. “If you change your mind…”

Becs’s smile warmed, and he appreciated that she wasn’t going to make fun of him.

Atticus headed straight for sunshine and humidity, both of which he got in spades when he walked out into the sticky September day. Officially, it was fall, but someone evidently forgot to tell Mother Nature because the afternoon temps were hovering in the nineties still.

Once they were in the truck, Atticus considered picking Slade’s brain about Coyote Ridge High School.

Mainly, where it was located and how he would get there.

Since Coyote Ridge now provided him with a permanent address to put on his driver’s license, he felt a little stupid that he hadn’t already known.

Then again, why should he? It wasn’t like he had kids.

Or knew any, for that matter. Well, unless you counted Carly Richter.

He knew her. Becs’s nine-year-old daughter was cool AF.

He’d only been around her a few times, but she had this way of making him laugh whenever he was.

Atticus stared out the window, shaking his head.

Since Slade didn’t bother to make small talk, Atticus didn’t either.

He wanted to. Sort of. He wanted to ask Slade if he’d heard from Carson today.

He hadn’t. Not yet. But that wasn’t unusual.

Even if they hadn’t spent most of the night at the hospital, Carson was keeping his distance during the day, and Slade was being standoffish at night.

Unless they were having sex. Then Slade was fully engaged.

And since that seemed to be the only time Slade was in a relatively decent mood, Atticus was finding more time to get naked than he normally would have.

Okay, that was a lie. Given the choice, Atticus would have sex morning, noon, and night.

Double that on weekends and holidays. Especially if he was given the choice between Slade and Carson.

Or both. He’d never been turned on as much as he was when he was near them.

He could only imagine how hot he would be once the three of them finally succumbed to some real threesome action.

Which they hadn’t done yet. Not really. There’d been some alternating action once.

Plus, he’d watched the two of them that one time.

And he’d suspected Carson had snuck a peek a time or two.

But not the real deal. Not the way Atticus wanted.

Fuck.

Now he was thinking about both of them fucking him. At the same time.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Slade asked.

“What?” Yeah, that was him sounding all guilty and shit.

Is something wrong with the air conditioner?

“Lemme guess.” Slade cut his gaze toward him. “You’re thinkin’ about how hot your new partner is.”

“Of course he’s hot,” Atticus said. “Although I’m not sure he wants to be my partner.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t he?” Slade snapped, his tone irrationally defensive. “He’d be fuckin’ lucky to be your partner.”

Wait. What?

Feeling as though he was missing something, Atticus asked, “Who’re we talkin’ about again?”

“Archer.”

Atticus snorted a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I thought we were talkin’ about you.”

“I’m not your partner.”

“On this case you are,” Atticus corrected. Which was why he’d thought it was witty banter they were engaging in. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have said anything about anyone being hot.

Slade’s eyes narrowed. “So you don’t think he’s hot?”

“Who?”

“Archer,” Slade bit out.

“Jesus Christ. Why the fuck would I think he’s hot?”

“Because he’s hot.”

Atticus couldn’t help it; he laughed. Partly at the absurdity of this conversation. And partly because Slade just admitted to finding Archer Halligan hot.

“Well, it’s good to know where you stand on the matter.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Slade said.

No, he probably didn’t. However, the topic of this conversation explained why Slade’s good mood had disappeared.

Although Atticus wondered how it was possible, the man was nothing if not insecure.

So, yeah, the presence of a new guy who happened to swing the same way they did would undoubtedly send him into a tizzy.

“Perhaps we could talk about somethin’ else,” Atticus suggested.

“Or maybe we shouldn’t talk at all,” Slade grumbled.

“Fuck.” Atticus was ready to pull his hair out. Slade’s mood swings were powerful enough to take out a town, and Atticus always seemed to be on the receiving end.

Slade shook his head, his fingers tightly wrapped around the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.”

Atticus didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to tell Slade he had nothing to be insecure about, but he’d tried that, and it didn’t stick. It would. One day. He hoped. Maybe after he’d had time to prove to Slade that he was the man he wanted.

Well, him and Carson.

Okay, so maybe Atticus understood part of why Slade was insecure. The three of them were caught in this vicious cycle of want and need, and no one seemed to know how to get what they wanted without pissing someone else off.

To be honest, Atticus was ready to give up wanting anything for himself.

He’d gladly resign himself to watching Slade and Carson together because holy fuck .

He’d seen the chemistry between those two men firsthand the night Carson came over and apologized to Slade.

Yeah, maybe he’d come over because Atticus set it up, but still.

They’d worked it out. Naked. And Atticus had watched. He wasn’t insecure about it.

And he knew Carson liked watching him with Slade. The man was a self-proclaimed voyeur.

Despite what Slade might say, Atticus knew Slade enjoyed watching, too. There hadn’t been too much of that happening, but the one time it had, he’d seen the gleam in Slade’s eyes.

So maybe he needed to push for more of that. Odd man out watching for a little while. Perhaps then Slade would see that they wanted him as much as they wanted each other.

And if that didn’t work, Atticus would give some thought to how he could show Slade once and for all that this thing between the three of them was real.

Maybe if he could do that, they could settle into something that didn’t result in uncomfortable situations like this. Otherwise, Atticus wasn’t sure this type of relationship was sustainable.