Page 87 of Allegiant

“Sure.” Images of murders from Larry’s generation as a Windsor flash through my mind. “Harmless.”

I tie a towel around my waist and gesture for Rowan to go first. He does, and I walk by his side down the long hallway and the winding staircase, and into the foyer where Larry is sitting, Dotty in the corner, a mop and spray bottle aimed at him.

When we approach, Rowan gasps, seeing Larry’s red and watering eyes blinking at us. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

He rushes up to Larry, putting a protective arm around him.

Larry tsks, batting him off and putting a few paces between them. “I’m fine. Even if this wench tried to kill me.”

I don’t miss how he doesn’t so much as look in Dotty’s direction.

I glance at our housekeeper. She’s still holding out her spray bottle, her hands trembling slightly. Is it just my imagination, or do her eyes look…misty?

“She’s not a wench. That’s not nice to say,” Rowan chastises. He tries to take a step closer to Larry, but my hand goes around his waist, keeping him at my side.

“Don’t care,” Larry grumbles, shifting from one foot to the other. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay, kid. I know these Buckinghams…”

“We know who you are, too,” I warn. “Don’t make me break his heart.”

Larry’s lips thin, but he gets the message.

Rowan’s gaze moves between the two of us, and he sighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we need to find him a seat. He doesn’t have his cane. Why are you walking around without that? You could fall and break a hip.”

Dotty lets out an angry laugh. “Good. Maybe it’ll kill him this time. Better than him showing up here out of nowhere, disrupting all our lives.”

My mouth gapes as she squirts her bottle once more in his direction before sauntering off, Nugget waggling his tail as he trots along at her heels. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her string so many words together at once.

Rowan wiggles out of my hold and slips his arm through Larry’s. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I actually know where that is after getting lost trying to find it. We’ll get your eyes rinsed out and get you some water.”

I follow behind the two of them, watching as Rowan leads Larry toward the kitchen. As he does, I see Wylder move from one of the corridors, watching as Larry fucking Windsor makes his way through our house. Our eyes meet, and I see one of his twitch. He’s not happy about this, but his pinched lips tell me he’ll stay quiet for the sake of Rowan.

But he won’t let Larry move around our house without being watched, so we follow them, Dalton and Harley appearing several moments later. Cade and Matthias join us too, just as grim-faced as Wylder.

“Oh, the whole family is here,” Rowan says. “Well, almost all. We’re missing the significant others…but this is my friend and neighbor, Larry.”

“We know who he is,” Dalton says, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

“Oh, did Samson tell you about him?” Rowan asks, moving to the fridge, pulling out a jug of lemonade Jules made, and pouring a glass for him. “I’ve been helping him out.”

“He seems helpless.” Harley’s voice is full of sarcasm that Rowan seems to miss. Larry uses the opportunity of Rowan’s back being turned to flip the bird at my brother.

“I’m glad you’re here, Larry,” Wylder says smoothly, slipping into his role as the head of the family with ease. “There are matters we’d like to discuss with you.”

“I’m sure there are.” Larry’s tone is just as sarcastic as Harley’s. Rowan’s now humming while filling a plate with breakfast food. I know without asking that it’s not for him. I’m just thankful he’s oblivious to all the tension playing out around him. “But I’m just here for the kid.”

“Kid.” Rowan snorts as he slides the plate in front of Larry. “I’m not a kid.”

“Just like Larry’s not a helpless old man.” I eye the bulge under his jacket. He’s armed with at least one gun, but I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t got other weapons hidden away.

“This is good,” Larry grunts, tucking into the food. “Bet you’ve got some fancy-ass chef kicking around.”

Harley growls. “He’s got more talent in his pinkie than you do in your whole body.”

Larry doesn’t rise to the bait. “Judging by this, I don’t doubt it.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have your own personal chef,” Cade says idly, leaning back against the sink with his arms folded over his chest. “What with all your generational wealth.”

Rowan gives a tinkling laugh. “Larry? Rich? Hilarious. If you could see his apartment, you’d know why that’s so funny. No offense, Larry.”