Wayward Son (25 page)

“Maybe we should just—”

Before Mikey could finish, he realized it was too late. Ms. Cartwright had seen them. He saw her open her mouth and point her finger, and while he couldn’t hear what she yelled, he knew she wasn’t wishing him a good morning.

He glanced at Mrs. Donaldson, who stood next to the car on the passenger side, her eyes wide and face pale as she stared at her lawyer. Her gaze drifted toward where the press had set up camp at the edge of the property, and she seemed to fold in on herself.

She doesn’t want to be here
, Mikey realized, but Jimmy broke into his thoughts.

“All right, here’s what we’re gonna do.” Mikey could tell by his tone of voice that Jimmy had switched to “in control” mode. “I’m gonna pull up as close as I can behind her car, and I want you two to get out and book it inside as fast as you can. Mikey, get to your dad’s office if you can.” Jimmy maneuvered the car closer. “I’ll take care of the drama queens out here.”

“I should….” Mikey didn’t know what to say. He should do something more than run and hide, but he had no idea what.

“You should get inside,” Cory replied. Mikey could see the tension in his shoulders. “The last thing we need is your cute little face all over the news with a couple of crazy women going ballistic all over you.”

Just because he was right didn’t mean Mikey had to be happy about it. “Okay,” he murmured. Ms. Cartwright continued to gesture and yell, then took a few steps toward where the press was camped out, waving her arms, obviously trying to get some of them to come document whatever hell she had planned for him.

Mikey slumped down in his seat.
Can this just be over now?

Jimmy slowed and stopped just feet from the back bumper of the other car. “Okay, go!” he ordered. Cory was out in a flash, but Mikey fumbled the handle, and by the time he got to his feet, Naomi Cartwright was right in front him.

“You monster!” she screamed. “You are a sick pervert. Touching a three-year-old girl. I can’t believe they let you walk around like a normal person. You should be locked up, and they should throw away the key!”

Cory had his arm around Mikey by then and was shouldering his way past the woman, who never let up on her tirade. From the corner of his eye, Mikey saw a reporter and cameraman running toward them, and he curled in closer to Cory’s side, wishing desperately he could be anywhere but right there at that moment.

“Mikey?”

The soft voice undercut Ms. Cartwright’s rant and stopped everyone in their tracks. Mikey turned his head and saw the young girl he knew was Regan climbing from the backseat of the car. She was tall and slim, with long, dark hair that streamed out behind her when she ran toward him. Mikey still didn’t remember her—though of course she’d been much younger—but she clearly remembered him.

“I didn’t know!” she cried out. She pulled to a stop just a foot away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. “I didn’t know Mama and Miss Naomi were gonna do all this! I told her it happened at the water park because I remembered playing there, but I didn’t know she was gonna do all this. I couldn’t tell her, Mikey. I just couldn’t do it. Please don’t hate me!”

She covered her face with both hands, and Mikey reached out to touch her shoulder but stopped himself at the last second.
“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” he soothed, the words coming out
automatically. “What couldn’t you tell her?” She shook her head sharply. “It’ll be all right,” he repeated. “We’ll make sure it’s okay, Regan. You can tell us.”

A breath shuddered through Regan, and she muttered something Mikey couldn’t hear.

“What’d you say, sweetie?”

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It was Daddy,” she said. Her voice cracked. “It was Daddy who did it, but I couldn’t tell on him. He told me he’d hurt Mommy if I told.”

Jimmy was there suddenly. “We won’t let him hurt anybody else, Regan.” He put a hand on her shoulder, touching her in a way Mikey didn’t dare, and leaned down to catch her eye. “All you have to do is tell the truth, and we’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you or your mom.”

Regan nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Jimmy turned his head to the side. “Did you get all that?”

Mikey glanced over to see the reporter and cameraman he’d spotted a couple of minutes earlier standing just a few feet away. The blonde woman looked at the man with the camera, and he nodded.

Jimmy slid his hand away from Regan’s shoulder and spun on his heel to face Rhonda Donaldson and her lawyer. “Then I think we can all agree we’re done here.” He’d turned on his high-powered attorney voice again, and if Mikey hadn’t felt like he’d just survived a tightrope walk across the Grand Canyon, he might’ve been fighting a hard-on at the sound.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Jimmy continued. He directed his words to Rhonda Donaldson. “We’re gonna go inside and talk to Rev. O’Malley. You’re gonna get in your car, go to Ms. Cartwright’s office, and put together the paperwork to withdraw your lawsuit against Mikey. What you do about Regan’s father is up to you, but I would strongly suggest that you file for a protection order against him at the very minimum. For both of you.”

Mrs. Donaldson stood, shell-shocked, staring at him until Jimmy softened his stance. “Rhonda,” he said in a gentler voice. “Your daughter has been through some serious trauma, and I understand how that can be difficult to deal with. I understand it makes you want to hurt the person who did that to her. I feel the same way. But you know who that person really is now, and you need to help your daughter and be sure you do what she needs you to. Not just what you think she needs.”

Regan shifted next to him, and Mikey turned his attention back to her. “Are you all right?” he murmured, and she nodded quickly, swiping her hands over her face to wipe away the tears.

“God. I hate crying.” She sniffled, and Mikey wished he had a handkerchief or something to offer her. She gave him an uncertain, watery smile. “Is everything really gonna be okay now?”

“Yeah.” He gave her the best smile he could manage. “I think we’re gonna be just fine.”

“Y
OU
GOT
that agenda worked up, babe?”

“Right here.” Mikey picked up a folder that held a stack of neatly stapled papers. “Fifteen copies, collated and stapled.”

“Thanks.” Cory bent to press a soft kiss on his lips. He smiled. “I gotta say I like this way of saying thanks a lot more than the usual.”

Mikey giggled at the thought of Marianne’s reaction if Cory tried that with her. “Benefits of sleeping with your underlings.”

Cory laughed. “Honey, the only underling going on here is when you’re under me in bed.”

“Oh, don’t start.” Mikey smacked the back of his hand lightly against Cory’s arm. “Go get your meeting done. I’ve got a test to study for.”

“Later, tater!” Cory shoved the folder into his briefcase and headed for the door, and Mikey watched him go. Cory in a suit was a sight to behold, almost as much as when he was in his full Coco regalia.
Or nothing at all
, Mikey’s libido reminded him, but Mikey shook it off. He had work to do.

After the lawsuit had been withdrawn, Mikey’s employer had been willing to take him back, but Jimmy had a better idea. Mikey should work for Cory, he suggested, taking care of some of the grunt work but also learning more about the design end of the business. “That’ll give you more free time, babe,” he’d told Cory. “Plus it’ll give Mikey some office-work experience, and you can work everything around his school schedule.”

So far things had worked out beautifully. Mikey made calls, set up meetings, and did some copying and filing, but Cory also asked his opinion on design ideas and had him sit in on brainstorming sessions. Mikey didn’t want a career in advertising, but animation was big business, and learning about the marketing side of things would give him a leg up.

Mikey had heard from his father only once since they returned from Florida the day after the Lifetime movie scene at the church. A letter had arrived a week later, hand written on church letterhead, in which Rev. O’Malley told his son he was glad things had been cleared up and that “we will be praying for you.” Nothing from or about his mother, and no suggestions that Mikey visit again.

Thankfully Warren Vickery had been more forthcoming, keeping Mikey informed through Charles Day about the progression of the case against Regan’s father. A restraining order had been granted quickly, and prosecutors were gathering evidence in the hopes of bringing charges against him. They weren’t hopeful, Mr. Vickery said, but with his custody rights revoked, it seemed Regan would no longer have to spend visitation time with her abuser.

Mikey shook off his thoughts, his art history homework calling his name. He sighed and opened his book to find the last chapters he needed to review before class the next night. It would be the last class and final exam, and while the professor had promised multiple choice for most of it, Mikey didn’t feel at all ready.

His phone rang just as he bent to start reading, and he jumped at the chance to procrastinate a little. When he saw Jimmy’s name on the display, he smiled and answered.

“Hey there.”

“Hey, honey.” Jimmy’s voice had the extra drawl it always did when he’d been out at the resort for a few days. “How’s the studying going?”

Mikey blew out a breath. “Just getting started for today. Cory left for his staff meeting a few minutes ago.”

“Mmm-hmm. And how do you think that’s gonna go?”

“I have no idea.” Cory had told Mikey everything would be fine, but the owner coming in to tell his staff he’d be scaling back his time in the office could start rumblings of trouble. Nothing could be further from the truth; despite the challenges in the business world the past few years, Cory’s agency remained safely in the black.

“He’ll be fine.” Jimmy sounded happy—well, he always did, but happier than his usual sunny self.

Mikey knew why. As soon as Mikey’s class ended tomorrow night, he and Cory would be heading out for a long weekend at the resort. A good part of what Cory would be talking to his staff about today entailed him taking more time off and teleworking more often. He had the resources—not just the technology to allow that flexibility but also a group of loyal, well-trained employees who would have no trouble keeping things humming without him hovering over their shoulders.

Having Mikey as his assistant wouldn’t hurt either.

“One of my friends is coming in this weekend,” Jimmy was saying. “Well, an old friend.” Jimmy laughed. “An old porn friend, is what I’m tryin’ to say. He’s a nice guy, but I figured I might give you some advance warning. He’s big and dark and glowery, and he can come across as mean on first meeting. Don’t let it fool you. Conrad Brooks is just a big ol’ softie. Well,” he amended, “as long as you call him Con and not Conrad.”

Mikey chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind, but just in case, you can stand in front of me.”

Jimmy crowed out a laugh. “You have nothing to fear, but I’ll stand just as close as you like anytime you like.”

Warmth filled Mikey’s chest, accompanied by heat down below. “I miss you,” he confessed before he realized he was going to say it.

“Awwww.” Jimmy’s voice flowed sweetly into Mikey’s ear. “I miss you too. But you’ll be here soon, and we’ll have a whole lot of fun.”

The last few words ended up as a low growl, and the heat in Mikey’s groin intensified, his cock firming up behind the zipper of his jeans. He bit back a moan and tried to get his body under control. He had work to finish, and he’d get his fill—and get filled—as much as he wanted. But starting tomorrow, not now.

Jimmy laughed again. “I can almost hear your mind whirlin’ over there. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

Mikey cleared his throat, though it didn’t do much to clear his mind. “We’ll see you soon,” he promised.

“You sure will. Take care, and get that studyin’ done.” Jimmy blew him a kiss before he ended the call, and Mikey turned back to his book with a smile on his face and a low level of arousal humming through his body.

The first chapter he was reviewing today wasn’t quite as dry as the previous sections, making Mikey wonder if someone else had written this part. Or maybe the author just really liked first-century Roman art. Mikey liked some of the paintings, but all the sculpture and marble and carved stuff just came across as pretentious. He slogged on, trying to pick up on things that would help him with his own work.

He thought about the drawing he’d been working on while the lawsuit was going on, how he couldn’t get the depth and life he was looking for. The inspiration he’d needed came late one night, when he’d crawled from his warm space between his lovers and pulled out his sketchpad. An hour later he had the bones of what would become his semester project: an abstract done in strong, simple lines, showing three bodies curved around and against each other, entwined so closely that only the hints of shading at the edges teased them apart. His professor’s eyes had lit up when he’d shown her the first sketch, and for the first time, he knew without a doubt he was where he belonged.