Law Man

by Kristen Ashley

  Personally, I thought Detective Mitch Lawson was far superior to a tiny pink teddy bear but I wasn’t six years old.

  “We’ll find him for you,” I promised.

  Mitch moved and I watched him hook Billie under her armpit and slide her up his chest so she was face to face with him and, incidentally, me.

  His arm wrapped around her back and he asked, “You eat oatmeal, gorgeous?”

  Billie scrunched her face and answered, “Donuts.”

  I watched up close as Mitch grinned into her face and that whoosh flowed through my belly. It was far more dangerous when I was lying in bed with him, pressed close to him (and Billie) at the same time witnessing him being so sweet to my cousin.

  “Donuts are a Sunday breakfast when you got nothin’ to do but watch cartoons. Oatmeal is a before school breakfast when you gotta activate your brain,” Mitch explained.

  Billie’s head tipped to the side and she smiled a mini-confused, wonky smile. “Oatmeal activakes my brain?” she asked and Mitch’s grin turned to a smile.

  “Yep, it goes into your belly and gives your whole body energy, wakes it up, even your brain, so you can be super smart,” Mitch answered.

  Billie lifted a hand and placed it on his neck, her eyes had grown wondrous. “Oo, I wanna be super smart so I can grow up and be a hairdresser!” she declared. I smiled, Mitch chuckled and both his arms got tight, the one around Billie and the one around me.

  “Then how ‘bout, while Mara wakes your brother up, you help me make you and him some oatmeal?” Mitch suggested.

  “’Kay,” Billie agreed.

  Then, before I knew what was happening, Mitch’s hand between my shoulder blades pushed me in, his head came up, his lips brushed mine and I felt another belly whoosh as well as some tingles. Then Mitch let me go and curled up, taking Billie with him. Then they were out of bed, leaving me in it, luckily lying down so that I didn’t fall down because I was treated to a view of Mitch’s beautifully muscled back and equally beautiful ass in a pair of navy blue, drawstring pajama bottoms. I watched him move out of the bedroom, Billie’s arms and legs curled around him, her eyes on me over his shoulder and she was waving at me as if Mitch was taking her on a vacation and not into the kitchen.

  I didn’t have time to marvel that only weeks ago Detective Mitch Lawson was my unobtainable dream man next door and last night I’d slept in his bed with him. I didn’t have time to commit what just happened that morning to my memory banks. And I didn’t have time to remind myself where I fit and where Mitch fit in Mara World.

  I had kids to take care of.

  I slid to Mitch’s side of the bed, got up and went to the second bedroom. I saw both the kids had their book bags in that room as well as a small pile of clothes and other necessities. I grabbed some clothes for him and Billie, took them to the hall bathroom then went back, woke Billy and guided my sleepy cousin to the bathroom.

  I had exited the hall and was moving into Mitch’s living room-kitchen-dining area when I realized I was wearing nothing but my nightie at the same time I realized that LaTanya and Bray didn’t bring over my robe.

  I was about to turn on my heel and escape back into the bedroom to find something to put on when Mitch turned from hitting the buttons on the microwave and his eyes caught me. Then they instantly dropped to my nightie. This meant I instantly felt heat hit my face. It also meant my body instantly froze. And I also instantly froze because I was staring at Mitch, bare-chested in his kitchen. Once the vision of Mitch penetrated, part of my body unfroze and that was my knees which wobbled.

  Crap!

  “Cranberry juice tastes funny,” Billie noted, oblivious to Mitch and I staring at each other like we were in trances. She had taken her glass from her lips, leaving a cranberry juice mustache and wrinkling her nose at Mitch. She was sitting on the counter next to the stove over which was the microwave.

  Mitch tore his eyes from my nightie and turned to Billie. “Maybe, gorgeous, but it’s good for you.”

  “Why does everything that’s good for you taste funny?” She tipped her head and went on, “Or just tastes bad?”

  “It doesn’t,” Mitch answered.

  “Broccoli tastes bad,” Billie parried.

  “Broccoli tastes good,” Mitch returned and Billie wrinkled her nose again.

  “No it doesn’t,” she replied.

  “It’s delicious,” Mitch stated.

  Billie studied Mitch soberly then proclaimed, “You’re weird.”

  Mitch smiled at my cousin. My knees wobbled again.

  Shit! How was I going to stay with him if I could barely stay standing in his presence?

  “Do you have a robe I can borrow?” I called into their conversation and both Mitch and Billie looked at me where I was still standing and hadn’t moved a muscle.

  “No,” Mitch answered, his lips twitching.

  “Um…” My mind whirled then I came up with, “Can I borrow one of your shirts?”

  “Why do you need a shirt?” Billie queried then observed, “You don’t need a shirt at your house.”

  “I’m chilly,” I lied which was the wrong thing to say for it caused Mitch’s eyes to drop to my chest likely in order to check the veracity of this statement.

  “I’m not,” Billie noted.

  “Well I am, sweetie,” I told her and then called, “Mitch?” whereupon his eyes shot from my chest to mine.

  “Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” he muttered then started to turn back to the counter to do what, I did not know because I took that opportunity to make my escape.

  I went to his closet, grabbed an old, plaid flannel, shrugged it on and buttoned some buttons on the front, just enough to cover me, not all the way up to my throat which was what I wanted to do but would make me look like an idiot.

  Then I headed out to the kitchen, deep breathing in preparation for seeing Mitch’s chest again. This didn’t work for when I hit the kitchen, Mitch’s eyes hit me then slid down from head to thighs and back again. They warmed and he smiled huge which was a vision that was arguably better than his chest.

  I ignored this and headed straight to caffeine.

  Mitch didn’t ignore me. “Prefer you in just the nightie, baby. That nightie’s sweet.”

  “I do too, Auntie Mara,” Billie chimed in. “It has little flowers on it and that shirt is for boys.”

  I got a mug down, set it by the coffeemaker and then moved into Billie.

  Putting both my hands on either side of her, I dipped my face to hers and said, “How about we stop talking about what I’m wearing and start talking about you. Are you okay?”

  She nodded, grinning. “Mitch’s makin’ me oatmeal to activake my brain.”

  “Activate, baby,” I said softly.

  “Activake,” she repeated.

  I smiled at her, slid my fingers in her hair, pulling it off her shoulder and down her back before I continued in a soft voice, “You had a bad night, sweetie.”

  Her grin faded and she twisted her mouth as she looked around me to Mitch then back to me.

  “I’m sorry, Billie,” I said quietly, “but I’ve got to ask you to do me a really big favor. The biggest. I wouldn’t ask but it’s very important.”

  She untwisted her mouth and whispered, “What?”

  I lifted both my hands and framed her face. “When Billy gets out here, I need you and him to talk to Mitch about the bad man that scares you. Can you do that for me?”

  She twisted her mouth again but I saw her little body get tight right along with the rest of her face. That was also when I felt Mitch’s heat close to my back then he leaned into me, putting his hands where mine had been on the counter.

  “It’ll be okay, Billie,” he said gently over my shoulder and I twisted my neck to look at him to see his eyes were on Billie. “You’re safe, gorgeous. But Mara and I need to know so we can make you and Billy even more safe.”

  I looked back to Billie to see her twist her mouth the other way before she asked, “W
ill you make Daddy safe?”

  I felt Mitch’s body tense against mine. This meant he couldn’t and it also meant he didn’t want to tell Billie that or lie to her and say he could.

  Therefore, I stepped in. “Let’s worry about you and your brother now and we’ll worry about your Daddy later. Does that sound like a plan?”

  Her big blue eyes looked into mine and she whispered, “Where is Daddy?”

  Oh crap. I knew this was going to happen just as I knew I wouldn’t be prepared for it. And I was right, it was happening and I wasn’t prepared for it.

  “Uh…” I started and then Mitch butted right in and answered and when he did this, for some reason he did it truthfully.

  “Jail, Billie,” Mitch said carefully and Billie’s eyes got big and not in an “isn’t life wondrous” way.

  Incidentally, so did mine.

  “Dad’s in jail?” We heard from behind us, I let Billie’s head go and both Mitch and I twisted to see Billy, hair wet, clothes on, standing in Mitch’s cool-as-hell living room.

  Oh boy. I’d been avoiding this and life being crazy and the kids adjusting to their new routine had allowed me to do it. They hadn’t asked and I hadn’t offered up the information.

  Now what did I do?

  I stood uncertain but Mitch didn’t.

  I knew this because instantly he called, “Bud, come here.”

  Billy looked at Mitch for several long seconds, his face hard and blank then he walked into the kitchen. When he made it close enough, Mitch put a hand in my belly and pushed me back a couple of feet. Then he bent over, linked his hands and twisted his neck to look at Billy.

  “Foot in my hands, Bud, I’ll give you a leg up,” he ordered quietly.

  Billy again hesitated for several seconds then he put his foot in Mitch’s hand, his hands on Mitch’s shoulders and Mitch hefted him up to sit on the counter by his sister. Then Mitch reached out a hand to me, he tagged my shirt and pulled, necessitating me moving toward him. When I got close enough, he slid his arm along my waist, curling his hand around my hip and he pulled me tight to his side.

  Then he spoke.

  “You remember a while ago we all went over to your Dad’s and he wasn’t feelin’ too good?” he asked.

  Billie bit her lip.

  Billy stated in a tight, angry voice, “No. I remember he was feelin’ just fine seein’ as he was drunk, as usual, and shootin’ up, as usual.”

  I sucked in breath. Billie quit biting her lip and it started trembling.

  “Buddy –” I started on a whisper.

  “Yeah,” Mitch said over me and I tipped my head back to look at him as he carried on. “It isn’t illegal to drink alcohol but it is illegal to take drugs. That’s bad enough but what makes it worse is doin’ either of those in front of kids.”

  “Mitch,” I whispered my warning but it went unheeded and Mitch kept talking.

  “You do bad things, doesn’t matter if you’re a kid or a grown up, you get punished. Your Dad has done bad and he’s gettin’ punished.”

  “Mitch,” I repeated, this time in a little above a whisper and my hand automatically went to his abs to give him a warning “shut up!” press which, by the way, he totally ignored.

  “So he’s in jail because he does drugs?” Billy asked in a tone that sounded vaguely curious and not much else.

  “That and other stuff that isn’t too good,” Mitch answered. “And you both should know, it’s likely he’ll be there awhile.”

  Oh my God! What was he doing?

  I watched tears fill Billie’s eyes and therefore snapped, “Mitch!”

  Mitch looked down at me and stated, “They should know.”

  “We need to discuss this elsewhere,” I informed him.

  “No you don’t, Auntie Mara,” Billy put in and I looked at him. “Mitch’s right. We should know.”

  My eyes moved to Billie and I opened my mouth to speak. Then I saw the tears that were threatening were now trailing down her cheeks so I closed my mouth but Mitch moved. He let me go, plucked Billy off the counter and attached the six year old girl to his hip with one arm like she was a toddler and weighed no more than a large doll.

  Then he tucked her hair behind her ear and dipped his face close to hers before he said gently, “I know that makes you sad, gorgeous. It makes you sad because it is sad. But maybe your Daddy will take this time to sort himself out so, if he gets out, he can take better care of you because the bottom line is you deserve someone who’ll take good care of you.”

  Billie looked into Mitch’s eyes and the tears kept falling.

  At the same time, Billy muttered, “Yeah, like that’ll happen.”

  I put my hand on my cousin’s knee to give a warning squeeze and Billie hiccupped as her tears flowed faster.

  “Bud, I get you’re ticked and I get why and you’ve got a right to be ticked but you’re not helping,” Mitch said softly and Billy pressed his lips together. Mitch went back to Billie. “But right now, honey, you’re in a good place. You’re where you need to be with people who care about you and you can help Mara, me and your Daddy by telling us about the bad man that scared you last night.”

  “What bad man that scared her last night?” Billy asked and I looked at him.

  “Billie had a rough night, buddy,” I explained. “She woke up scared and she told Mitch and me she’s worried about a bad man hurting you, your Dad and her.”

  “She should be, seein’ as we can’t go to your place because Dad’s a dick,” Billy returned stating, as usual with Billy, that he knew exactly what was going on.

  I started to call Billy on his language and again Mitch got there before me.

  “Bud, mouth,” he said on a gentle growl and Billy glared at him mutinously for a second before he looked down at the floor. Mitch then turned his attention back to Billie who now had her head resting on his shoulder and her fist pressed against her lips.

  “You okay, baby?” I asked Billie.

  “No,” she muttered against her fist.

  Before I could say more, Billy spoke again. “How can we help you and Auntie Mara?”

  Mitch lifted a hand to start stroking Billie’s hair but his eyes went to Billy.

  “You know the bad man your sister’s talkin’ about?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Billy answered.

  “You see him?” Mitch went on.

  “Yeah, all the time,” Billy replied.

  “Could you describe him?” Mitch asked.

  Uh-oh. I wasn’t sure how I felt about where this was heading.

  “Sure,” Billy responded.

  “Pick him out in a picture?” Mitch continued.

  Uh-oh!

  “Yeah, you got one of him,” Billy stated.

  “Good, then when I pick you up from school today, you both will come with me to the Station, talk to some of my friends, look at some pictures. You find him then we’ll know who’s scarin’ your sister and we might be able to do somethin’ about it.”

  I stood there, my blood pressure accelerating and I didn’t know how to feel about this. Who was guardian to these kids anyway, Mitch or me? I didn’t like the honest way he went about telling them all of this. Though they had to be told, I would have liked to have a discussion about what we intended to do about it. What I didn’t like was Mitch charging in, giving the kids bad news, making Billie cry and then deciding the kids were going to the Station with him without conferring with me.

  I was about to suggest we retire to the breezeway and I didn’t care if Brent, Bradon, Derek and LaTanya saw us out there in our sleepwear while I gave Mitch what for when the day’s plans were sealed without me able to utter a word.

  “The Station?” Billy breathed, his tone not mildly curious or angry and hard but awe-struck. Clearly a visit to a police station was a treat for a nine year old boy.

  At the same time Billie whispered, “Po-lice station?” Then, her little girl brain catapulted her out of unhappy, criminal, drug-addled Dad in jail world in
to another world entirely. Her torso shot straight in Mitch’s arms, her fists went up into the air and she cried, “Yippee! I can’t wait to tell my friends at school I get to go to the po-lice station!”

  And equally clearly, a visit to a police station was a treat for a six year old girl.

  I clenched my teeth at the same time I put my hands on my hips.

  Then I asked Mitch in a tone that could not be mistaken, “Is the kids’ oatmeal done?”

  Mitch and Billy’s eyes came to me, both of them not mistaking my tone.

  Billie’s eyes went to her brother who she informed, “Guess what, Billy? Mitch is activaking our brain with oatmeal so we can be super smart!”

  “Cool,” Billy muttered quietly, treading cautiously as I continued to glare at Mitch.

  “Yeah, it’s done,” Mitch answered me, his eyes alert and amused at the same time.

  “Excellent,” I decreed, stepped back and turned to Billy. “Jump down, buddy, and take a stool.” My eyes went to Mitch and I ordered, “Put Billie on a stool. She needs to eat so I can get her in the shower. Then we’re chatting in the breezeway.”

  Mitch stared at me a brief second then started to round the counter to put Billie on a stool, saying, “Baby, maybe you haven’t got this so I’ll say it straight. We gotta talk, we’ll talk but we’re never doin’ it in the breezeway.”

  “Fine,” I snapped, yanking open the microwave door to find steaming bowls of oatmeal in there. I pulled them out and continued, “Your bedroom.”

  “Now that definitely works for me,” Mitch muttered.

  I slashed him a look as I dropped the bowls in front of the kids who were both now at stools. I yanked a couple of drawers open until I found spoons and when I did, I grabbed two and dumped them into the kids’ bowls.

  Then I stomped around the counter, through the living area and right to his room. I stood with my hand on the door until he cleared it then pushed it to. I turned around, my mouth opening to give him what for and then closing when I suddenly found myself in his arms, my body plastered to his bare-chested one.

  On a normal day, this would have made me paralytic. At that present moment, it made me apoplectic.

  I put my hands to his shoulders and pressed, hissing, “Let me go.”