Free Wayward Son by Shae Connor Page A

said. “We’ll wait until you get inside.”
    Mikey turned and climbed the stairs to the front door in a daze. It took him three tries to get the door open, and by the time he made it upstairs to the apartment and then into his bedroom—Riley and Evan were nowhere in sight, but the door to Riley’s room was closed—he felt like maybe he could sleep.
    He was wrong. As soon as he undressed and crawled under the covers, the memories of his phone sex with Cory came flooding back, intermingled with flashes of their threesome date. He eventually gave in and jacked off to the X-rated slideshow his mind provided, but while he was able to fall asleep after that, he woke up an hour later with his body on fire again, unable to remember much from his dream other than that he was in bed with Cory and Jimmy.
    He jacked off again, and only then could he fall asleep for good.

Chapter 6

     
    T WO DAYS later Mikey had his head buried in another dull chapter on art he didn’t care about and nearly jumped out of his skin when the intercom next to the door buzzed.
    Oh thank God—an excuse for a break. He climbed up from where he’d ensconced himself on the end of the sofa and padded in bare feet toward the door. He couldn’t remember where Riley said he’d be today, but he and Evan were going to some gallery opening or something that night, so Mikey didn’t think their visitor would be Evan. And Cory or Jimmy would call or text first.
    He pushed the button. “Yes?”
    “Package for a Michael Joseph O’Malley.”
    Something in the way the deep voice said his name sent up alarm signals. Package? He doubted it. More like papers.
    He was about to be served.
    His finger only shook a little as he pushed the intercom button again. “Be right there.”
    He slid his feet into a pair of Riley’s flip-flops that sat by the door and grabbed the extra set of keys from the hook on the wall. He was in the hall and headed for the elevator before he let himself think. Had he taken long enough to get his own shoes and keys, he might have chickened out. Hell, he probably should’ve let the guy come upstairs. Now the person working the front desk would witness the service.
    Come to think of it, though, having a witness might not be a bad thing.
    Downstairs, he crossed the lobby to the front door, sparing a quick nod at the woman behind the desk. He couldn’t remember her name, but then he’d seen her maybe three times since he moved in, about the same as the other two people who rotated through the job.
    He paused at the door to catch his breath before pulling it open to let the process server in. The man didn’t step inside, though. He just looked at Mikey and repeated his full name: “Michael Joseph O’Malley?”
    Remembering his instructions from both Jimmy and Mr. Day, Mikey just answered with, “Yes.”
    The man shoved the folded papers he held against Mikey’s stomach. “You’ve been served.”
    Mikey barely got a hand on the papers before the man had turned and walked away. Resisting the urge to call out a thanks—damn those Southern manners—Mikey turned back inside, letting the door fall shut behind him. He could feel the woman at reception watching him, but he ignored her, and he resisted the urge to open the papers immediately and start reading.
    He headed back toward the elevators, wishing he’d thought to grab his phone so he didn’t have to wait until he got back to the apartment to call his lawyer.
     
     
    “A LL RIGHT .” Mr. Day’s voice sounded a hell of a lot steadier than Mikey felt, but he did this shit for a living. “Here’s what I want you to do. I have a client consult in fifteen, but that should take less than an hour. Can you be here with the paperwork in an hour and a half? Quinn will be here to meet you if I’m not free by then.”
    Mikey nodded before he realized that was stupid when he was on the phone. “Yeah, I can do that. Do I need to bring anything else with me?”
    “No, just what the