Bad Seed

“Fuck, man,” Seth said.

We were sitting in his car and I Jack in my arms. No car seat. Nothing. I was currently staying at Seth's place, sleeping on his couch. I couldn't take a kid back to that shitty apartment riddled with beer bottles, bongs, and trash all over the place. It was a bachelor pad, not a place for kids.

I had nothing for this kid but what Crystal had left me. I had nothing, except for the small diaper bag that had a couple of diapers and bottles, and just one container of formula. That was it. Nor did I have the first clue what I needed to get.

Neither Seth or I knew the first thing about babies, but I knew someone who did.

We were sitting outside of my brother's house. I couldn't recall the last time I'd spoken to either of my brothers. It had probably been at our dad's funeral. I wanted nothing to do with most of my family and what they were caught up in and intentionally kept my distance from them.

But, there I was, out of options.

“Did he ever respond?” Seth asked.

I nodded and looked at my phone. My older brother, Killian, had told me to come on over. I hadn't exactly explained that I had a child with me – my child, no less. I figured I'd leave that talk for when we were face-to-face. It seemed like a conversation better not had over text messaging. I put my phone away and opened the car door.

“Want me to come in?” Seth asked.

“Nah, I got this,” I muttered.

Seth would run through a wall for me, but he looked relieved to not have to come inside for that. He was a good friend, but this was incredibly far outside of his comfort zone. I knew that and didn't blame him. Neither of us had ever mentioned settling down and having kids. It just wasn't something on either of our radars. We enjoyed women – we enjoyed fucking random women a lot.

Fucking was one thing. The idea of having a family with someone one day? Nope. Neither my best friend or I had ever thought that far ahead. Now, suddenly, I had a kid and that changed everything.

Killian lived in a large house – practically a mansion – on the outskirts of Chicago, in the suburbs where the upper middle-class folk tend to live. The two-story house had the front porch light on, and there was light streaming from the front window. He was still up and waiting for me, but the rest of the house was dark and silent. His wife and kids must have been in bed, which was good. Killian's place was your typical upper-middle class home, and nothing about the house would have set off alarm bells for anyone or made them look askance at it. It was your typical McMansion – with faux Victorian accents like the front porch that wrapped around the house, to the grandiose turret on the front side, with the bay window and my brother's office tucked away inside.

I'd been to that house many, many times and was well familiar with all of it. After all, it used to be our father's house. Killian took over most of my father's business, along with help from our brother, Rory. The two of them ran what looked like your typical Irish pub in downtown Chicago. The pub was always booming and brought plenty of money the legal way, sure. It was a good business. But, that had never been enough for my family. They had always yearned for more. Dad had started the family's other business – selling guns and drugs out the back of the pub when we were just young troublemakers knocking around the neighborhood. Now that our father was dead, my brothers controlled the empire. Early on, they'd both tried to get me involved in the family's little criminal empire. They'd pressed me hard, but, I'd declined every single time. I had no desire to live that kind of life.

Killian was the only one who could help me now, though. The only person I knew with kids – who knew anything about kids. He and his wife, Meredith, had raised babies of their own, and he'd done well at it too. They had three little ones – all healthy and doing well in school. My two nephews and a niece. A beautiful little family, just not anything I ever expected to have for myself.

Letting out a long breath, I knocked lightly on the front door, and Killian answered instantly, as if he'd been waiting just on the other side of the door anticipating my knock. He was almost a mirror image of myself – we both had the reddish-brown hair, while Cody somehow ended up with our mother's honey blonde locks. Genetics never made much sense to me, truthfully.

Killian was about half an inch taller than me but had a thinner frame. I was built from all the fighting and working out I did, while Killian was lean. I knew I could take care of myself if it came down to it, but my brother relied on other means of protection.

He also lacked the tattoos that I did, instead choosing a clean-cut, business professional look. His hair was cut short to his head, his face freshly shaven, and even at that hour, was still in nice dress slacks and a button-up shirt, looking as if he'd just stepped out of a meeting with investors. He hardly looked like someone who would own a pub. But, then again, he didn't actually deal with the pub's business nor did he work there personally. He preferred to stay behind the scenes and handle the money.

My own scruffy hair and beard made me look like a vagrant as I stood there next to my brother. My arms were covered in full tattoo sleeves – some of the ink held meaning for me, while some of it was gotten while I'd been incredibly drunk with Seth.

“Long time, no see, brother,” Killian said.

His blue eyes fell on the bundle in my arms, and he cocked an eyebrow. Still, he waited for me to say something.

“Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about that,” I said. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said.

He stepped aside and held the door open for me to enter. His gaze never fell off the child in my arms, however, and the light of curiosity shone bright in his eyes.

“And who do we have here?” he asks. “Tell me you aren’t so hard up for cash that you kidnapped a kid for the ransom ?”

While it was meant to be a joke, I was sure, it was hard to take it that way knowing my brother's business sometimes actually did involve kidnapping. I grimaced and looked away.

“No, actually, it's – my kid,” I said, my voice soft.

I pulled the blanket back and showed off the head covered with red hair. Killian let out a deep whistle as he looked at the baby.

“My little brother, Declan O'Shea – a father,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I never thought I'd live to see the day.”

The two of us walked through the foyer and stepped into the living room. Family photos lined the wall and the mantle above the fireplace. A couch, a love seat and several oversized chairs filled the massive room. There was a flat-screen TV tucked away discretely into the wall ab