Custody Battles Read online

  CUSTODY BATTLES

  HAZARD AND SOMERSET: ARROWS IN THE HAND

  BOOK 2

  GREGORY ASHE

  H&B

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Custody Battles

  Copyright © 2021 Gregory Ashe

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests and all other inquiries, contact: [email protected]

  Published by Hodgkin & Blount

  https://www.hodgkinandblount.com/

  [email protected]

  Published 2021

  Printed in the United States of America

  Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-63621-029-2

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-63621-028-5

  CHAPTER ONE

  NOVEMBER 22

  FRIDAY

  5:59 PM

  EMERY HAZARD STOOD IN the kitchen, checking the preparations. The prime rib was tented and resting, filling the air with the smell of roast beef. The scalloped potatoes were tender, and their cheesy crust had browned and crisped to perfection. The asparagus was firm without being crunchy. He opened the fridge, pulled out the box from the Wahredua Family Bakery, and considered whether or not he needed to taste the double fudge cake just to make sure it was good enough for guests.

  “John,” he called. “Is the table set?”

  His husband, John-Henry Somerset, who most often went by Somers, shouted something unintelligible from the other end of the house.

  Steps from the opening that connected to the dining room drew Hazard’s attention. Colt clutched a tray of silverware in his arms. He was fifteen, tall for his age, and lanky, with dark hair shorn almost to the scalp and amber eyes that were eerily like Hazard’s own. He was wearing a navy button-up with a tiny white geometric print, stretchy gray chinos that rode up above his ankles—Somers insisted they were supposed to look like that—and tan oxfords that, Hazard now realized, were almost identical to the pair he himself wore. Currently, their foster son’s face was frozen into a furious mask that Hazard was beginning to realize covered a variety of other emotions.

  “He said I had to do it.” Colt shifted the tray, and the silverware clinked. “He said he was busy getting Evie ready.”

  “So do it,” Hazard said.

  Colt shifted the tray in his arms. “Why can’t I just stay in my room?”

  “Because,” Hazard said, checking the potatoes again—were they getting too crispy?—“you’re a part of this family now, and that means you have to deal with the same bull as the rest of us.”

  “I look stupid.”

  “You look fine.”

  “I hate these clothes. Ash never wears anything like this.”

  “This is a nice dinner. We’re dressing up in nice clothes.” Hazard waved at his own button-down and chinos. “If John says you look nice, you look nice. End of story. Go set the table.”

  Colt set his jaw. He stayed in the opening.

  Hazard moved the potatoes to the top of the stove; when he looked up again, he detected the faint hint of a blush in Colt’s face.

  “Oh,” Hazard said. “Well, why the fuck—” He swallowed the words and started over. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  Hand on Colt’s shoulder, he steered the teen into the dining room. The placemats and plates were out. The glasses were on the table. Napkins and napkin rings made a pile in the center.

  “Forks on the left,” Hazard said, taking one from the tray. “Smallest on the outside. Fork has the same number of letters as left; that’s one way you can remember it.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Colt mumbled.

  “It’s how I remember it,” Hazard said.

  Colt rolled his eyes.

  “Knife on the right. If there’s more than one, it’s the same thing: small to big. Then spoons. The napkin, I know there are fancier ways, but you can just pull it through the ring like this, see? Tonight we’ll put them on the center of the plate. The glasses always go on the right.”

  The teen studied the place Hazard had set. “It’s not hard.”

  “No, it’s not hard. You just have to know the rules.”

  “Why can’t we just do it the way we normally do, and if you want a fork, you get a fork? Or we have all the forks in a pile on the counter and everyone just grabs one?”

  “First of all, if you ever tell my mother that we do that, she’s going to die from shame at having raised a barbarian, so keep your mouth shut. Second, people have rules for a reason.”

  “Why?”

  Hazard blinked. “Well, several reasons, I guess. Part of it is showing that you’ve mastered social intricacies; it’s a way of establishing your place and, to an extent, showing off. Part of it, though, is what civilization has always been about: creating order out of chaos, agreeing to a shared set of standards, doing things a certain way because it makes the experience better for everyone.”

  Colt’s amber eyes glittered as he studied the place setting. “Fine.”

  “I’m so glad you’ve decided to approve of Western civilization.”

  With a smirk, Colt said, “I’m going to tell Aileen that you let J-H drink milk straight out of the jug.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Hazard growled. “And I don’t let him. I just don’t catch him all the time.”

  The doorbell rang, and as Hazard made his way to the entry hall, his husband called out, “I’ll get it.”

  Somers was beautiful, even barefoot and stuffing his shirttail into his waistband. He wore a charcoal blazer, a white button-down, and blue trousers that hugged his ass. He’d even chosen to wear a tie, although God only knew why—it currently looked like he’d gotten it caught in the wringer while putting it on.

  Hazard made a sharp warning noise, and Somers stopped and turned. Hazard crooked a finger. With a tiny grin, Somers changed course and padded toward him. Hazard straightened the tie—the knot was beyond saving, but he managed to make it at least look like a knot—and then he finished tucking Somers’s shirt into his trousers. He smoothed the golden blond hair. Tropically blue eyes crinkled back at him.

  “Socks and shoes,” Hazard told him. “I’ll get the door.”

  Somers kissed his cheek and sprinted back toward their bedroom. In the living room, Evie asked something, and Somers must have given the answer she wanted because she let out an excited shriek.

  Another knock came at the door. Harder.

  Hazard answered.

  Glennworth Somerset was the mayor of Wahredua and Somers’s father. The only feature he shared with his son were the same blue eyes; otherwise, his face and build and complexion were rather ordinary, and he looked like what he was—a man who had eaten himself into a comfortable middle age. His wife, Grace Elaine Somerset, was where Somers had gotten his beauty from. She was the same age as her husband, but she looked twenty years younger, with surgically smooth skin and perfectly ashen hair—tonight, in a French braid. Glenn smiled, although the expression had a certain sourness to it. Grace Elaine did not.

  “I’m freezing my balls off.”

  Those words came from behind Glenn and Grace Elaine, and Hazard tried not to groan when he saw Gray Dulac and his boyfriend, Darnell Kirby. Dulac was a detective with the Wahredua police; he had dark hair, dark eyes, and boyish freckles that made it difficult to remember that the man was intermittently—and surprisingly—competent. His boyfriend, Darnell, was a big man with a big beard. Tonight, Darnell had traded his usual flannel and overalls for a blue button-down with a collar that looked too tight.

  “Yes,” Grace Elaine said, drawing her coat around her. She didn’t exactly look over her shoulder at Dulac, but then, she didn’t exactly spit in his face or flip him off, either. “It’s terribly cold out here, Emery.” She stepped inside and turned, a slight pause indicating that he was supposed to help her out of her coat. “John-Henry must be too busy to welcome his parents, of course. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have had to stand on the porch half the night. In the cold. I really did raise him not to keep people waiting.”

  “Hello, Emery,” Glenn said as he followed his wife into the house. He waited until Hazard had removed her coat and then seized Hazard’s free hand and pumped it. The mayoral spirit had really taken hold, it seemed. “Good of you to have us over. I didn’t realize it was a dinner party.”

  “No,” Grace Elaine said. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder sweater dress in a creamy wool, and she turned in place as she spoke. “I was told it was going to be a family dinner. To meet this…boy.” She stopped and stared into the dining room, which sat just off of the entry hall. “Is that him?”

  Colt stared back at her, clutching the empty silverware tray to his chest.

  “Poor thing,” Grace Elaine murmured. “He does look like you, doesn’t he?”

  Fire flashed in Colt’s face, and he beat a retreat through the dining room and into the kitchen.

  Hazard folded her coat over his arm. His fingers dug into the wool.

  “Dear,” Glenn said quietly—but, Hazard noticed through his rage, firmly. “We talke
d about this.”

  She laughed, a silvery sound, and shook her head. “Oh, Emery, your face. I can hear how that sounded—I’m so sorry. I meant poor thing, he’s been through so much. I really am sorry.”

  Glenn’s face had a strained civility that looked about as strong as a wet paper sack.

  “Mother,” Somers said as he came into the room. “Father.”

  Kisses. Hugs.

  “We just met Colt,” Glenn said.

  “They didn’t meet him,” Hazard said. “They saw him.”

  “He’s very thin,” Grace Elaine said. “I don’t remember you being that thin when you were his age, John-Henry.”

  “That’s because I ate two frozen pizzas every day after school,” Somers said. “Come into the living room. Evie wants to show you something she learned at dance, and I’ll make you drinks so you’ll survive tonight.”

  “What an awful thing to say,” Grace Elaine said with more peals of laughter.

  “A double,” Glenn muttered as he followed his wife and son down the hall.

  As their voices faded, Dulac and Darnell stepped into the house. Darnell’s face was red, and after shaking Hazard’s hand and mumbling a greeting, he seemed to be trying to look everywhere except at Hazard himself. Dulac, on the other hand, wrapped Hazard in a hug and pounded him on the back, which Hazard endured as long as he could and then used his forearm against Dulac’s throat to push the detective away.

  “Dude,” Dulac said with a whisper-laugh. “Those are some seriously old bitches.”

  “Gray,” Darnell said.

  “What? They are. Was John-Henry adopted or something? Because those are some next-level Cruella-de-Vil vibes.” He glanced around. “Where’d the little dude go?”

  “He’s taller than you,” Hazard said. Then, over his shoulder, he shouted, “Colt, get in here.”

  Ten seconds. Then twenty. Colt slunk through the dining room and into the entry hall.

  “Little bro,” Dulac shouted, throwing himself at Colt. The poor kid tried to squirm away, but Dulac was—in an opinion that Hazard had dialed in over the last year—the human equivalent of a nymphomaniac octopus who had pledged a fraternity freshman year. In other words, lots of hugs, lots of pounding on the back, and when you tried to get away, it felt like the detective had a million arms.

  Colt held himself perfectly stiff, his face a silent plea to Hazard.

  “Ok, sweetheart,” Darnell said, his hand settling on Dulac’s shoulder. “Let him go.”

  Colt flashed him a look of gratitude and took a few steps back. Then he put a chair between them. Apparently, that was just in case Dulac got any fresh ideas.

  “Little dude,” Dulac said. “What’s up?”

  “Um. Nothing.”

  “But, like, how’s it going?”

  “Fine.”

  “How’s school? Are you crushing it at school? Emery, bro, is he crushing it at school?”

  “I don’t know, Colt,” Hazard said. “Are you crushing it at school?”

  Colt shot him a glare. “It’s fine.”

  “How are your classes?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “He got an A on his first quiz,” Hazard said.

  “It was just a vocab quiz,” Colt said, kicking the corner of the rug. “It was stupid.”

  Dulac grinned. “Bro, that’s fucking—”

  “Language,” Hazard snapped.

  Dulac gave Hazard an exaggerated okay sign. “That’s freaking awesome, dude!”

  “Thanks,” Colt said, “dude.”

  Dulac beamed at him. “What about, you know, like girls? Or boys? Or both? What are you tapping these days?”

  “He’s not tapping anything,” Hazard growled. “And if he even thinks about doing anything like that, he’s going to find himself chemically castrated for the next five years. And watch your mouth around my son.”

  “Bro,” Dulac said, his expression injured. “He’s a stud. Like a little stud. An Emery Hazard junior stud muffin. He should be tapping anything that moves, right?”

  “Excuse him,” Darnell said. “He misses John-Henry; he doesn’t have a good outlet anymore.”

  “There’s Nico,” Colt said, pointing out the window, and slipped out the front door.

  Dulac watched him go. “Aw, Emery, he’s a hell of a kid.”

  “Thank you, Gray. Thank you so much. I was waiting for your seal of approval, and I’m so glad I have it.”

  “No problem, bro. I just love you so much. You and my boy John-Henry. Like, I love you guys so much it’s like this boner in my heart, and sometimes I want to put it all into words, like, really tell you guys how I feel, but—”

  “Gray,” Darnell said, “let’s get a drink.”

  “He’s not drunk already?” Hazard asked.

  “I meant for me,” Darnell said as he nudged Gray down the hall.

  A moment later, the door swung open, and Nico and Colt stepped inside. Nico looked even better than usual, and that was saying something for Hazard’s ex. He had on an overcoat and a dark suit that accented his long, lean frame while managing to look casual and stylish. His shaggy hair was still shaggy, but he’d done something to it that made it look surprisingly mature. Even in winter, his coppery skin seemed to glow. Colt had stopped very close to him, and Nico, with what must have taken a great deal of practice, managed to put some extra space between them without drawing attention to it.

  “—such a douche, right?” Colt was asking. He seemed to remember Hazard at the last moment, flushed, and muttered, “I mean, jerk.”

  “Uh huh,” Nico answered neutrally. “Hi, Emery.”

  “You look like an adult.”

  Nico burst out laughing. “It’s nice to see you too.”

  “What did you do to your hair?”

  “I got a haircut,” Nico said.

  “It looks tough,” Colt said. He took a step closer. “And that suit is dope.”

  “Thank you,” Nico said quietly, his gaze sliding away from Colt’s. “You both look very handsome.”

  “Why did you cut your hair?” Hazard asked. “It was perfectly fine before.”

  “Perfectly fine,” Nico muttered.

  “I think your hair looks so good,” Colt said. He scrubbed at his own buzz cut. “I hate my hair. Um, do you, like, want to give me some ideas for my hair?”

  “I just don’t understand why you had to cut it,” Hazard said.

  “Thanks for, um, coming, Nico,” Colt said. “I bet you have all sorts of stuff to do this weekend, like, cool stuff, and everybody else here is lame, and it’s just, uh, really cool that you came.”

  “Happy to be here,” Nico said in what Hazard had come to recognize—since Nico had begun working as his assistant at the agency—as his professional voice. “I’m going to get out of this coat—”

  “I can take it,” Colt said.

  “No,” Nico said a little too quickly. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Let him do it,” Hazard said. “He needs the practice. Maybe he’ll remember to pick up his own coat next time so that I don’t have to stand at the bottom of the stairs yelling his name for fifteen minutes.”

  Colt’s face turned bright red, and he threw a furious glare at Hazard before he shot off into the living room. Nico sighed and shook his head as he shrugged out of the overcoat.

  “What?” Hazard asked. “He’s been moody all week because his friend is at deer camp.”

  “Oh, Emery,” Nico said, and then he passed him his coat and headed deeper into the house.

  “Why am I the only one in this house who knows how to hang up a coat?” Hazard called after him.

  Since—apparently—he was the only one in the house who knew how to hang up a coat, Hazard hung Grace Elaine’s and Nico’s in the hall closet. He had just finished when the front door swung open again, and the Mongol horde rushed in. He knew, in his head, that there were only six children. Noah and Rebeca—Hazard and Somers’s neighbors and friends—had assured him, on separate occasions, that there really were only six kids. But when all six of them arrived at once, the number felt drastically higher, and the shrieking throng hurtled past Hazard like a meteor. Noah and Rebeca stepped inside a moment later—Noah, tall and goofy, Rebeca, short and beautiful.