Free Numb (Senses Series Book 3) by Xavier Neal

out of hand. Agreed?
    ***
    After a good hot shower and quick change of clothes, I hop in my car and head straight for the Kid’s house a few miles away from the gym. Pulling into the neighborhood I take a couple of turns until I’m on his street where I see him perched on the curb waiting for me.
    At the sight of me he perks up and stands, dusting his body free of dirt. The moment I stop, I unlock the door, and he slides in, a very apparent welt on his cheek right under his eye.
    Promptly I point to the mark. “Talk.” His face lowers in shame.
    Fuck. I didn’t want him to feel like that.
    I do my best to dial back the rage pumping through me. “Kid?” He rolls his face at me. “The old man do that?”
    Dean nods.
    “When?”
    “Last night.” He leans against the door, fear doing its best not to be found in his eyes.
    “With?”
    “End of a can opener.”
    My eyes cut away while my hands white knuckle the steering wheel.
    The old man preferred to beat the shit out of me with his fists but occasionally I got the end of a bottle. Mom was the one he used whatever he could find on. I could’ve died if I’d stayed under his roof, and you better fucking believe I’m not about to let this kid suffer the same fate.
    “You’re not going back,” I state strongly.
    “But—”
    “Ever.” Pulling out into the street I head off down the road with our original plans still in my mind.
    We end up at a local pizza buffet place that has one of the best all you can eat opportunities.
    I was a teenage boy once. Damn near ate the Hart’s out of house and home. It got to a point, right before they died, where Mrs. Hart was hitting the grocery store twice a week and the bigger stocking stores like Costco twice a month. She never once complained.
    Once Dean has his food piled as high as the plate allows him, he sits down in the booth beside me, across from C.J. who’s got a folder in front of him instead of a plate.
    “Not gonna eat?” Dean asks shoving damn near an entire piece of cheese pizza in his mouth.
    C.J. hides his disgust, but not very well.
    Kid needs a few table manner lessons. Luke can teach him those.
    “Nah.” He clears his throat and changes his attention toward me. “He always eat like that?”
    “Been a rough night for him.” I tilt my head towards the obvious bruise.
    “Tell me he got in a fight at a party,” C.J. sighs reclining back in the booth seat and undoing his black business jacket. Looking at Dean he says, “Tell me you got socked by a football player for snaking his girlfriend.”
    Been there. To be fair he only got one punch in because I didn’t see it coming. Yeah, you can laugh. I got sucker punched like a bitch.
    Dean simply shakes his head and devours another slice.
    Not even sure he’s chewing at this point. Let’s unhinge his jaw to make it easier for him, shall we? His eating reminds me of the way a snake swallows a rat whole.
    “He’s not going back, C.J.” I pull the cup of water to my mouth to rinse away the revulsion of this situation.
    “I know.” He taps the folder in front him. “Look. I’ve pulled some strings, got a couple contacts, and once I get your signature I can proceed, Kellar. At this rate, between the photographs, the kid’s written testimony, the fact there are still marks appearing on him, his father won’t stand a chance.” When I go to respond he holds up a finger. “I know. No foster care. Straight to you and the Harts. It’s a little more difficult, but give me some time today. I’ll get it settled.”
    “Wait.” Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
    Fucking really? There’s a napkin dude.
    “How do you know how to do all that? How do you have strings to pull?”
    C.J. shrugs and adjusts his tie. “It’s kinda what I do, Kid.”
    “You’re a bartender.” He points out.
    “I’m a lawyer.”
    “But you work at a bar…”
    Clearly uncomfortable, C.J. replies, “It’s complicated.”
    “Does everyone in your life say