Page 12

Chapter Twelve

Ford

Ford froze when he realized his car was in the police impound yard. He immediately called to investigate, giving them his information. “Yes, Mr. Thomas. Your car was used in a burglary earlier this evening. Could you come down to the station to identify your vehicle and answer some questions?” It was a cop.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Who should I ask for?”

“The case has been assigned to Detective Del Torro. Officer Dearborn was the arresting officer but ask for Del Torro. I’ll notify them that you’re on your way.”

Ford hung up the phone and looked at the faces in front of him. “Apparently, my car was stolen and used in a burglary. I have to go to the station and talk to the cops. You guys take care of Jax. Settle him on the sectional so he can keep his leg propped up. Get the pillows from our bed and make him comfortable. I don’t know if that lasagna is edible.”

“It’ll be fine. We just didn’t want to eat without you guys.” Ashton seemed to be the spokesperson for the group.

“Thanks, Ash. Go ahead and eat. Please make sure Jackson eats. He needs to take two more of these in an hour.” Ford handed over the bottle with the extra-strength Tylenol.

“Got it. You’ll call us when you know anything, right?” Ash’s question made him sound far older than his thirteen years.

Ford leaned forward and kissed the boy on the head. “As soon as I know anything.”

He quickly hurried out to the mudroom and pulled on his shoes and coat, grabbing Jax’s keys before he rushed to the garage for the Hummer. He started the massive vehicle and backed out, noticing snow had started falling harder.

Gingerly making his way around the circle drive and down to the street, Ford plugged in the address to the precinct. It was in Boystown, and his stomach was roiled. Parts of the neighborhood weren’t good, and that precinct was right in the middle of a bad part. That made him worry all the more.

After showing his driver’s license and filling out paperwork, Ford was sent to a waiting area in the lobby. He looked at the shitty holiday decorations and thought about how depressed he’d be working in that place. Based on the number of people sitting with him, he could tell the cops were operating on a holiday schedule, much like the train system. He supposed they didn’t have any sympathy for the people waiting in the lobby because they weren’t home with their families either.

“Branford Thomas.” He glanced over to see a handsome Hispanic man standing with a file in his hands.

Ford stood and raised his hand as though he was in the principal’s office as the man approached. “Ah, Mr. Thomas, I’m Detective Antonio Del Torro. I’m sorry to have to bring you out on a night like this, much less Christmas Eve, but we have the suspect in holding, and we need to transport him to the county jail for the weekend.”

“Where’s my boyfriend? He was using my car. Was he carjacked?” Ford dreaded the answer.

“Your boyfriend? Uh, what’s your boyfriend’s name, Mr. Thomas?”

“Kincade Hayes. He’s twenty-three, five-nine or so, dark brown hair, amber eyes.”

The detective flipped a photo to him. “Is this him?”

Ford scanned the photo feeling a sense of relief. There was his handsome boyfriend with swollen eyes holding a numbered plaque under his chin. He appeared so forlorn, Ford’s heart broke. “That’s him. Why do you have him locked up? He has permission to use my car anytime he wants. He didn’t steal the fucking thing.”

“Sir, calm down. That’s good news. The bad news is Mr. Hayes broke into the Clark Street Shelter. He was caught red-handed hauling out contents from the building and loading them into your car. Officer Dearborn came upon him as he checked the property. Your boyfriend committed a common burglary.”

“No, no. You don’t understand. Cade works at Clark Street as a day counselor. Last night the police raided the place and closed it down, saying it was a brothel. They threw out all the boys living there. I’m sure Cade just went back… What did he take?” Ford was getting a much clearer picture of what his sweet boyfriend was doing.

“Um, contents were listed as clothing, blankets, food. He also broke a window to let himself inside.” The detective was holding up his fingers as he enumerated Cade’s transgressions.

“Of course, he did. We have the five young men who were living at the shelter at our home on North Wayne Avenue. They weren’t allowed to get their clothing when the police busted in last night. They didn’t even question anyone. They just threw them all out.

“The food is what Bev, the shelter cook, left for them while she was on vacation. I’m sure Cade was trying to keep it from going to waste, Detective Del Torro. Cade wasn’t stealing anything; he was just collecting the boys’ clothes and not wasting the food. Can I take him home, please?”

The cop looked contrite, but Ford could tell he wasn’t going to budge. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Thomas. Mr. Hayes isn’t the listed owner of the property, and as far as we’re concerned, he broke in and entered the property without the permission of the owner.

“Another possible charge is interfering in a police investigation or even tampering with evidence. The owner is Kenneth Shaw, doing business as Chicago Outreach Shelters. We’ve reached out to Mr. Shaw, but we’ve been unable to speak with him. The receptionist at his gallery told us he’s out of the country. Until we can find someone to corroborate Mr. Hayes’ story regarding his employment at the shelter and authority to enter the premises, he’s a suspect in a burglary. His bond won’t be set until court is back in session on Tuesday.”

“Can I see him, please?” Ford was working hard to control his temper.

The detective sighed. “Are you his lawyer?”

At that moment, Ford wished to fuck he’d gone to law school. “No, but I’ll have him here in an hour.” If he couldn’t get Liam, he’d get someone else.

“I’m sorry, but he won’t get out tonight with or without his lawyer. I can get him a message before they move him.” The detective reached for a piece of paper and a pen, handing both to Ford before spinning in his chair to look at other files.

Ford wiped tears from his eyes and handed the note to the detective, who was kind enough to put it in an envelope without opening it.

“Thank you, Detective Del Torro. This is an unusual situation, but I know my boyfriend is innocent in this whole thing. May I have your card so I can pass it along to Cade’s lawyer?” Ford tried his best not to anger the man because perhaps he could be an ally. The man handed him a business card and offered a tender smile. It provided little comfort.

Ford went to the impound lot and arranged to pick up his car on Tuesday morning, as they were closing and wouldn’t reopen until after the holiday. He’d have to bring one of the kids with him to drive it because Jax certainly couldn’t, but really, the car was the least of his worries.

Kincade was in jail, and it was their first Christmas together. He was so frustrated he couldn’t breathe properly.

Ford pulled into an empty parking lot and rolled down a window, trying to abate the panic before it swallowed him whole. He had to be strong, even though his heart was breaking. He had seven people waiting for him at home… seven who he’d be disappointing when he got there.

When he pulled into the garage, Ford noticed the gifts were still in the third parking space. He thought about bringing them in so the boys could open them and have more clothes to wear, but he wasn’t sure what was appropriate under the circumstances. He let himself inside after he shut the garage door.

Slowly removing his coat and shoes, Ford walked into the kitchen to see the two pans of lasagna on top of the stove with foil over them. Neither had been touched.

Ford walked into the living room to see Jax on the couch with the other boys sitting on the floor, blankly staring at the television screen which was showing a fireplace crackling with carols playing in the background. The tree wasn’t even illuminated.

“Okay, now, come on, guys. This is pathetic. Turn on the tree, Ashton. I’ll build a real fire. You guys are going to eat because Cade would be pissed if he knew you let that food go to waste.”

Kevin the Ant stood from the floor. “Where is Cade?” The other boys rose in solidarity.

Ford had no idea how to explain it other than telling the truth. After a deep exhale, he looked at all of them. “Cade’s in jail, and I can’t get him out before Tuesday. They’re moving him to the Cook County lock-up tonight. They wouldn’t let me see him, but I got a note to him telling him we’d get him out as soon as possible.”

The shock on their faces reminded Ford of how he felt upon hearing Cade was locked up. Jax sat up and turned to the boys. “Which one’s Josh?”

The bulkier, taller boy walked over to him. Jax held out his arm and the boy hauled him up. Ashton ran to get his crutches.

After Jax had them secured under his arms, he crutched over to the kitchen where he went for the house phone. Ford could see the big man was pissed, and he dreaded anyone telling him no , but the fucking situation was out of their hands.

“Jackson, there’s nobody you can call. Kenneth Shaw is out of the country. Lawyers can’t get him out until his bail has been set on Tuesday.”

Jax wheeled around, that famous rage evident on his face. It was because of that rage he’d been given the nickname of “Ragin’ Cajun” back in his college football days. “What’s he accused of doing?”

The boys had filtered into the kitchen, and Ford hated for them to hear the truth. He was worried they’d think it was their fault because Cade had been trying to make things easier for them, not himself.

It was a selfless act, really, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault it went down the way it had. Well, the person who called the cops to report the place as a brothel was at fault, but they had no idea who that person could be.

Taking a deep breath, Ford explained the situation. “Cade thought he was doing the right thing. He broke into the shelter to get your clothes, along with the food Bev left in the fridge and freezer so it didn’t go to waste. A cop came by to check the house and caught him hauling shit out of the back door.

“Until Kenneth Shaw or someone with Chicago Outreach Shelters, which is likely a shell company for something else, can vouch Cade had every right to break into the property, we can’t do anything about it. I know it’s frustrating, but please, guys, sit and eat. Jackson, love, sit and eat, please?” Ford wasn’t above begging.

Getting them to eat was the only thing in his control now, so Ford was going to do his damnedest to do just that… get them to eat.

After dinner, Ashton coaxed the other guys upstairs to the media room to leave Jax and Ford alone to talk. “We need to do something about Ashton, Jackson. He’s a minor, and he’s not related to either of us. We could go to jail for unlawful imprisonment of a child or kidnapping.” Ford hated to remind him, especially with everything they already had to worry about.

“Let me think about it, okay? I’m not for sending the kid back into bullshit if his father’s as much of a dick as it sounds, okay? I don’t wanna go to jail either, Branford, but if we send that kid back to his parents and the old man’s nuts about having a queer son? I wouldn’t feel good if something bad happened.” Jax’s gaze was steady, telling Ford he meant what he said.

Ford agreed, of course. Things were dire enough without the boy being harmed. “Come on, love, let’s get you settled on the couch. Are those things comfortable enough for sleeping or do you want some sweats?”

Jax crutched over to the couch and sat down with a thud. “I’d rather have our bed, but I’m too tired to go up all those fucking steps. These stupid pants are fine, but I gotta get this jock off. It’s fucking killin’ me, babe.”

Ford looked at the situation and without a comment, he walked into the kitchen and came back with poultry shears. “Stand up and drop ’em.”

“ Maaannn , this is my game jock.” Jax groaned.

Ford laughed. “Babe, you won’t be playing again until next summer. I promise we’ll get you a new one. You wanna try to sleep in it?”

It came out like a threat even though it wasn’t. Jax stood with the aid of the crutches and dropped the scrub pants. Ford cut the gear off him and once it was freed from his body, he could see the indentation of the garment in Jax’s skin. “That musta hurt. Why didn’t they take it off you at the hospital?”

“Either that nurse was leaving me with a bit of dignity, or she knew how much it would hurt, so she left it on me. Anyway, put it in a bag and stick it somewhere. I’m not ready to part with it yet.” Jax was sexy when he ordered Ford around—not that Ford followed his orders.

He laughed. “How about we just keep the cup. It can fit in another jock, and you can call it your lucky cup.”

“Fine, but don’t wash it. My funk on that thing is what makes it lucky… like Cade calls me. Fuck, this is awful.” Jax pulled his pants up and collapsed on the couch.

Ford threw the cloth jock away and wrapped the cup in a dish towel before putting it in a plastic bag and stashing it in a cabinet in the mudroom. He was too tired to go upstairs to put it in their room. The day had been too fucking long.

He pulled off his jeans when he hit the living room and tossed them over the chair to his right, sinking down on the chaise part of the couch. “You want to swing around and put your pillow next to me so I can at least be near you? This isn’t how I thought we’d be spending our first Christmas with Cade.” Ford assisted Jax in repositioning himself.

A blanket was across the back, so Ford grabbed it, covering his legs and offering half to Jax to cover his bare chest after he pulled off the scrub top. The big man settled his pillow next to Ford’s hip, taking his hand and pulling it onto his chest.

“Touch me, please.” Jax’s voice was quiet, and Ford knew how he felt. Half of their hearts were missing.

The bonging of the doorbell woke Ford from his slumber. He saw it was just after eight in the morning, and while part of him prayed it was Kincade, he knew in his heart it wasn’t. He gently extricated his hand from Jax’s steel grip and stood, pulling on his jeans. He went to the door and looked out the side curtain, shocked to see Katrina Hayes on their front porch.

Ford opened the door before she rang the bell again. “Rina? I didn’t know—”

She giggled. “Kincade made the arrangements yesterday. After everything that happened with Jackson, I’m not surprised he forgot to mention it. Anyway, I took a charter flight with my friend, Bellamy Radcliffe. Kincade was kind enough to send a car to pick me up. Is he still asleep? Is Hudson’s son still here?”

Katrina Seiler-Hayes stepped into the house, glancing around and taking off her full-length, red-leather gloves. She was a stunning sight to behold, much like her beautiful son.

“Well, um, no, Kincade’s not here at the moment. Ashton, however, is upstairs asleep. We’re going to have to do something about him before we get arrested for kidnapping or some other bullshit charge,” Ford said as the house phone rang.

“Please, make yourself at home.” He hurried to answer it, hoping and praying it was Cade.

“Hello?” he answered.

“I’m calling for Kincade Hayes, please?” he heard a woman’s frantic voice.

“He’s not here at the moment. May I take a message?” he asked, not sure who the fuck was calling Cade at eight in the morning on Christmas. Never mind it wasn’t Cade’s house—yet.

“This is Cheryl Hayes, Ashton’s mother. I’m trying to find my son. He’s left boarding school, you see, and I was hoping perhaps he might have contacted Kincade. I spoke to Kincade a few days ago when he called the house asking for Ashton.”

Cade’s mother stared at him. She wore a lovely jacket and skirt which were definitely designer, as were the brown leather boots. It was like a fucking flashback for a moment to his own mother.

“Ms. Hayes—”

“It’s Mrs. Hayes, dear. Kincade’s father and I married after his parents divorced.”

Ford hit the speaker button but kept the receiver to his ear. “Oh? I wasn’t aware Kincade’s parents had divorced.”

He watched Rina pull her cell phone out of the patch pocket of her Chanel suit jacket and quickly push some buttons, placing it next to the base unit. “Hello?” the woman over the phone asked.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hayes.”

“It’s Mrs. Hayes, young man. Hudson and I married nearly eight years ago after he divorced the ice queen.”

Ford was in dangerous territory to be certain. No way did he want to get in the middle of whatever storm was brewing.

When Katrina Hayes took the phone, it didn’t look like he had to get in the middle of it after all.