Page 115 of Rastor

I might not look it, but I was good with kids. And I liked Chloe's brother. More to the point, I loved his sister, and I could tell she was worried about him. It would be nice to change that.

Loretta was still delivering platters. Across from me, Chloe's gaze kept drifting to the mashed potatoes. She was biting her lip again, and I knew why. With mashed potatoes, there was usually gravy. But today was Thanksgiving, and there was a turkey right there in front of us. That meant we'd be havingturkeygravy.

Not oyster gravy. Not shit-in-a bowl gravy. And no other weird-ass gravy that Loretta might dream up.

Next to me, Josh had grown still and quiet. I didn't want to look, because I didn't want to make the kid uncomfortable. But with every dish, the tension around the table was growing. I could feel it in the air in spite of all the compliments that were still flowing Loretta's way.

The only one who seemed oblivious was Lauren Jane who started blathering on about a recent trip to Cancun. I pretended to listen while I watched Loretta bring out the final platter, a small one with a tall silver lid. She lifted the lid, and there it was, a small gravy boat filled to the rim.

But what kind of gravy was it? I couldn’t tell. And from the look on Chloe's face, neither could she.

"And then," Lauren Jane said with a giggle, "we got totally drunk and stole his sombrero."

Screw the sombrero. I looked to Loretta, waiting to see what she'd say next. What kind of gravy was it?

For fuck's sake, just tell us already.

"And finally," Loretta said, "my very own holiday specialty." She gave Chloe a thin smile. "Oyster gravy."

Fuck.

And this is when Lauren Jane went for my cock.

Chapter 58

I froze. Her hand was pressed tight against my crotch, looking for an erection that wasn't there – and wasn'tgoingto be there, not for her.

Now normally, a hand on your privates is a hard thing to ignore. But that's exactly what I did, because something even more disturbing was going on.

I gave Chloe a quick glance. She looked pale as death as she stared at that fucking gravy. Next to me, Josh was silent, staring down at his empty plate – probably hoping it wouldstayempty, at least of fish barf.

As for Lauren Jane, she was surprisingly good at multi-tasking, because she was still yammering on about her trip to Cancun, even as her hand ground tighter against the crotch of my jeans.

Whatever. She could root around all she wanted, she wasn't going to find anything interesting. And soon, she'd be needing that hand to pass the dishes. Thank God.

I gave Chloe's stepmother a sideways glance. She'd returned to her seat and was giving Chloe a smug look, almost like, "Yeah. It's oyster gravy. What areyougonna do about it?"

Didn't she know? Chloe wasn't going to do anything, becauseIwould. Silently, I ran through my options. I recalled what Chloe had said about the last time, that she'd put up a fight, only to see Josh pay the price afterwards.

So, that ruled out beating someone's ass. Unfortunately.

We could take Josh and get the hell out of here. But then what? Some judge would make us return him, and he'd be eating oyster gravy every day until he was eighteen. That meant we had to stay, and we had to keep it friendly.

I studied Loretta from the corner of my eye. The way it looked, she was spoiling for a scene, maybe even a fight.

A fight – that didn't scare me. I'd welcome it. But there'd be collateral damage, and it wouldn’t fall on me. It would fall on the girl I loved and a kid who didn't deserve this kind of treatment.

As far as the gravy, that left only one option. I had to get rid of it the old-fashioned way. And then, I'd need to get the hell out of here fast, but not so fast that it would piss anyone off.

"So," Lauren Jane was saying, "we're wearing these matching bikinis, and some guy staggers up to us, and says, 'Hey, are there two of you? Or am I seeing double?'"

Her hand was still there, pressed up against my crotch. Nothing was happening, and it wasn'tgoingto happen. It especially wasn't going to happen while I eyeballed fish barf in a fancy bowl.

While Lauren Jane blathered on, I did the math in my head. Fifteen minutes to eat, ten minutes to visit afterward, fifteen minutes to get to the hospital, and then what? An hour for stomach-pumping or whatever?

Hey, I'd survived worse. In a few hours, I'd be as good as new, or at least that was the idea. I'd just need to hit the hospital in time. Not a problem. I was a fast driver with a fast car. Whatever it took, I'd make it happen.

I had to. Because I couldn't stand the idea of seeing Chloe – or her little brother – being abused like that.