A damn brave woman.

Her kid had inherited her courage. The stubborn little guy hadn’t wanted to leave Kit, not until Frankie sat on the floor with him and explained how the doctors were going to fix his mom.

Hawk’s playing faltered for a moment. The woman had taken a fucking lot of damage. What would the kid do if his mother didn’t make it?

Guilt swept over him because that mother had told him to take care of her son. And Hawk had agreed.

I did take care of him, dammit. He’d brought the kid home and fed him a peanut butter sandwich and everything. But when Caz came back with Gryff, Hawk had taken Aric over there. The doc knew kids, hell, he had one himself, and everyone knew JJ was great with rugrats. The two would take care of Aric far better than Hawk ever could.

But Jesus, when he’d turned to leave, the kid looked like Hawk had tossed him into the lake instead of leaving him with someone who liked children.

Fuck, he kept listening, worrying that he’d hear the boy crying. With a sigh, Hawk turned to go into the house and stopped dead.

A little body sat huddled in front of his sliding glass door. Aric’s big blue eyes watched Hawk’s every move.

“How the fuck did you get out of Caz’s house?” Hawk growled. And winced. The sound of his fucked-up voice would scare any—

The kid wasn’t scared. He didn’t move or speak. Just watched Hawk.

Amusement trickled in. “Snuck out, did you?” That’d teach the doc. Caz’d always figured he was best at sneaking around. “You know, the doc’s better with kids than I am.”

“Mama said.” Aric’s mouth set in a stubborn line. And his expression conveyed that Aric’s mama had given Hawk orders, too.

“Yeah, she did. Fine.” Hawk slid open the door and let the boy in. He’d have to call Caz and let him know about his crappy kid-watching.

After Aric was asleep, it’d be time to call Zachary Grayson. Maybe the psychologist could figure out what should be done with a stray boy and a mother’s insane notion to hand her son over to a fucked-up asshole like Hawk.

A light drizzle blotted out the morning sun as Bull opened his garage door and drove in. “We’re here, sweetheart.”

Frankie’d been dozing on the way home. She was exhausted—and he was damn proud of how she’d held it together until the FBI agents were done.

As she struggled awake, he helped her out, half holding her up as they walked inside.

When they reached the living room, he heard a whuff. Gryff was pressing his nose against the sliding glass door, tail wagging ferociously.

Frankie chuckled as Bull opened the door and Gryff barreled in, spinning in excited circles between his two humans. It took a fair bit of petting to calm him down.