Taking It Slow - Reese Knightley Page 0,40

“let’s move it”.

Zane hurried toward him. Reaching his truck, Liam jumped in with Zane in the passenger seat and started the engine.

“What’s going on?” Zane stared at him.

“It’s Spencer’s little brother.” He eased the truck onto the street and took the freeway headed toward Torrance. “Call the local cops and tell them his location,” he ordered and Zane jumped on the phone.

“Wesley?” Liam continued keeping Wesley with him.

“Y-y-yes, I’m here,” Wesley whispered.

“Are you hidden?”

“Beneath my bed.”

“Hang on. We’re almost there.”

He tore down the I-405. What usually took forty-five minutes in heavy traffic took them thirty minutes with cars pulling out of his way from his crazy assed driving.

The truck’s tires spun as he took the corner and raced down Spencer’s street. Cop cars were lined up down the block. Sirens and shouting filled the air as they drew closer. Zane was still on the phone with the local sheriff so they’d know what the hell was going on and that two military personnel were en route.

Patrol cars sat in front of the house and the front door stood open. A few officers saluted him when he passed and he realized he was still in full uniform from his meeting with the general to hand off Fury this morning.

He jogged up the steps and headed inside, pushing past the crowd of uniforms to find a woman dead on the floor and an older man shot in the leg in a lounger. The inside reeked of cigarette smoke and rot. Filth covered the walls and door jambs.

“Where’s the boy?” he barked, his heart in his throat.

“Won’t come out of his room,” an officer responded and pointed to a door at the end of the hallway.

Not stopping, he walked down the hall and pushed open the partially closed door. It creaked and then swung wide on one hinge.

Fucking Christ.

Inside was a small twin bed with dirty sheets, a rickety, falling apart dresser, and scraped and stained wood floors. Old chipped paint covered the walls and the glass on the bedroom window was gone, a piece of plywood holding back the weather.

There was a female officer crouched near the bed. She glanced up at him with a worried expression.

“I’ve got him,” he murmured and she gratefully stepped away.

He walked to the bed and bent down, glancing beneath it. A pair of blue eyes so much like Spencer’s stared back at him and the fear in their depths broke his heart. Hands clutched the phone with a death grip. Wesley’s face was ravaged with tears and dirt.

Liam tucked his phone away and reached out his hand. Trembling fingers took it and Liam pulled the boy from beneath the bed and into his arms.

“Are you hurt?” Liam set Wesley at arm’s length, but kept a hold of him.

Wesley shook his head, but he was shaking. Liam looked him over, turned him around, and made sure no blood was on the teenager. Once satisfied, he curved his arm around Wesley’s shoulders. Wesley clung to him as he guided him from the room.

Thankfully, a sheet had been draped over the woman he suspected was the mother. The man in the chair had an oxygen mask attached to his face.

EMS brought in a gurney for the guy and Liam kept Wesley’s face tucked against his chest as he guided Wesley out the front door.

“Sir?” A man approached him holding out his badge.

Liam stopped and leveled hard green eyes on the detective.

“I need to get his statement.” The detective gulped.

“You can get it at my vehicle.” Liam guided Wesley to his truck.

“Sounds good. I’m Detective Stewart. You can just call me Stew.”

“Liam Cobalt,” he replied.

Liam jerked his head, indicating the detective could get into the back seat. After tucking Wesley into the front passenger seat, he went around to the driver’s side. Zane jumped in the back with the detective.

“What’s your name?” Stew asked Wesley.

“Wesley Turner.”

“Is that your mom and dad?” Stew pointed to the house.

“No, mom and her boyfriend.”

“Any siblings?”

“My older brother. Spencer.”

“How old is Spencer?”

“Um…Thirty-one?” Wesley looked unsure.

“Do you want to stay with him temporarily while we figure this out?”

“I can’t, he’s overseas.” Tears welled in Wesley’s eyes.

Spencer wasn’t overseas, but he didn’t take the time to clear that up.

“I’ll take responsibility for Wesley.” Liam used his don’t give me any shit commander’s tone.

“I can’t let you do that Mr. Cobalt,” Stew told him.

“It’s colonel,” Liam growled.

“Sorry, Colonel.” Stew threw him a hasty glance but continued. “Regardless, his mother had custody and I’m sorry Wesley, she’s passed away,”