Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2019 by Ayden K. Morgen
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Editing and Formatting by: Serapis Publishing Services
Cover Photos by: fxquadro and sborisov
Cover Designed by: FNG Designs
Dedication
To anyone who carries guilt that doesn't belong to them: It wasn't your fault.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Desire Me Excerpt
Acknowledgements
Also Available
About the Author
Warning
This book contains sensitive subject matter that may not be suitable for all readers.
Prologue
Michael
Age Seven
Loud sounds rip through the air, making my head throb. I blink my eyes open and then frown. I'm not in my bed. Gravel and rocks dig into my back, poking and prodding at me where I'm lying on the ground.
The night sky extends overhead, dark and cloudy. Except it's not actual clouds. It's smog…the bad stuff Mr. Hensley next door always complains about. He says it's choking the life out of Los Angeles, but everyone in the city seems fine to me.
People shout all around me, but I don't know what they're saying.
Where's my mom?
"Mom?"
She doesn't answer me.
Where is she? What happened?
I try to remember. Little flashes tap against the inside of my skull, making my head hurt even worse. My brain feels like it's bumping around in there, making everything fuzzy and weird. I think me and my mom were going somewhere, but I can't remember where or what happened.
Is my mom hurt?
"Mom?" I try to get up from the ground to check on her, but moving makes my head swim around. I squeeze my eyes closed so the world stops spinning.
"Sweetheart, don't move," a lady says from beside me, her voice soft.
I pop my eyes open and try to look at her, but something stops me before I can turn my head. Hands, I think. She's holding me down.
Did I get hurt somehow?
"Where's my mom?" I ask the lady, trying not to be scared. Mom always says I'm her little man and that I'm not afraid of anything. I try to be brave for her, but I'm afraid right now. Something is wrong and I don't know where she's at. She'll be worried about me. She always worries about me.
"I'm not sure, sweetie," the lady says, but her voice sounds like my mom's voice used to when I would catch her crying and she didn't want me to know. She hasn't cried in a long time. I don't think she's sad about my dad leaving us anymore.
This lady is sad though.
"I think something happened to my mom," I say. "I need to find her." I try to move again, but the lady won't let me. "She'll be worried about me."
"Sweetheart, you can't move. You were in a car accident," the lady says. Her voice still sounds funny. "You have to stay still for me until the paramedics get here."
"But my mom–"
"Oh my god!" a man shouts, his voice really loud. It makes my head hurt worse. The shrill sound makes my heart feel funny too. Scared again. "She's dead, isn't she? Oh my god! I kilt her! Oh lawd. I've done kilt that poor woman."
No.
Oh no.
The lady holding me down gasps, her hands loosening for a minute before they tighten on me.
"Shut the fuck up!" someone else yells, shushing the man who's still screaming.
"He's talking about my mom, isn't he?" I ask, even though I already know he is. I guess that's why the sad lady keeps holding me down. We were in an accident, and now my mom is dead. I'm hurt too, I guess, but I don't feel hurt. Just my head. And now my heart.
"I'm so sorry, honey," the lady whispers. She's crying for sure this time.
I want to tell her that it's okay, like I do for my mom when she's sad. I always hug her and tell her that it's okay. That always makes her smile. But I don't have a mom anymore. I'm that one word. What's it called?
An orphan?
Yeah, that's the word that means I'm all alone now.
I don't want to cry. I want to be strong and brave like mom says I am…but I cry anyway.
"Michael?"
I glance up from the toy car I've been pushing through the dirt to see a lady in a dress and a fancy coat smiling at me from the back porch of the group home. Mrs. Bayonne, I think her name is. I can't remember, but she's always smiling even though her eyes are sad when she looks at me.
There's another lady with her. She's really round, with pretty chocolate-colored skin and her hair all done up big and poofy. She has on a long coat with lots of flowers on it, and big jewelry. Her dark eyes are kind and crinkled at the corners as she smiles at me. Even from here, she smells like cookies. She reminds me of a grandma, except I've never had one of those before. I've never seen this lady before either, but I like her already.
"Michael, this is Ms. Rose," Mrs. Bayonne says when I stand up and dust off my hands, leaving the little car in the dirt where I found it.
"Hello," I say, being polite like my mom taught me. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."
Ms. Rose's brown eyes light up. She shuffles toward me and wraps me up in her beefy arms. "Hi, sweet boy. Don't give me any of that ma'am nonsense. You call me Ma Rose like your mama did, you hear?" Her voice is stern, but I think she's like my mom—one of those nice ladies who only pretend to be tough sometimes so kids like me listen to them.
"You knew my mom?" I tip my head back to look up at her, but I don't have to look very far since I come up to her chest. I'm only seven, but I'm always the tallest and fastest in my class. Marcus doesn't like it 'cause he can't beat me, but I haven't been back to my school since the accident. I don't think I'm ever going back there.
"Sure did," Ms. Rose—I mean Ma Rose—says. "Helped raise her from the time she was a little bitty thing."
"How come I never met you?" I ask, not sure if I believe her or not. I think I do, but I'm not sure. My mom never said anything about her that I can remember.
Sadness filters across her face. "I'll tell you all about it one day," she promises and brushes my hair back from my forehead. Her hands are rough, but soft too. I don't have a bruise on my head from the accident anymore and I like the way it feels when she does that. It makes my eyes lazy and makes me feel like I'm at home. I haven't been there since the accident either.
"You'll come see me?" I ask, hopeful. No one's come to visit me sinc
e Mrs. Bayonne brought me here after I got to leave the hospital a couple weeks ago. It makes me sad, but I don't cry. I try to be brave like mom always said. Even though she's not here anymore, I want to make her happy. "I think I'd like it if you came to visit me sometimes."
"Oh, sweet boy," Ma Rose says with a little laugh. It makes her belly jiggle. "You're coming home with me. You're going to live with me."
"I am?" I frown because I don't think she knows I live here now. "Mrs. Bayonne said I live here with the other kids." I'd rather go with Ma Rose. I don't like it here very much. The other kids aren't very nice. They're all older than me and try to pick on me. I don't let them, but they try anyway.
"It's okay, Michael," Mrs. Bayonne says, still smiling. "Everything is all taken care of. You can go with Ma Rose, if you'd like."
"I can?" I ask, just to make sure.
Mrs. Bayonne nods.
I think about it for a minute and then turn my frown on Ma Rose. "You really knew my mom?"
"I did, sweet boy. Libby looked just like you when she was your age." Ma Rose pulls a picture out of her purse and holds it out for me.
When I take it, I see that it's a picture of my mom when she was a little girl. I've never seen one of her as a little kid before, but Ma Rose was right. She does look like me. She has dark blonde hair and dimples like me. Her eyes are blue-gray like mine too. She seems happy. I want to ask Ma Rose if I can keep the picture 'cause I don't have any, but it's worn and faded, like she looks at it a lot. I think maybe she'd miss it if I kept it, so I reluctantly try to give it back to her.
"You keep that one," she says in that stern voice. "I've got more at home."
"You do?" I think I'd like to see them. I miss my mom.
Ma Rose nods.
I stare at her for a minute. She's old. I bet she could use help around her house. I can help her like I did my mom and make sure she has nothing to worry about. If I'm good and I do stuff for her, maybe then she'll keep me so I don't have to live here with the older kids. People bring them back a lot. I don't want to come back.
"I'll go with you," I decide. It's what my mom would want. I want her to be proud of me. Even if she isn't here to see it, I know she'll like it if I take care of Ma Rose for a while.
"Excellent!" Mrs. Bayonne says and claps her hands.
Ma Rose smiles at me.
"Who are you?"
I lift my eyes from the tire swing to see a boy my age standing in Ma Rose's backyard. He has his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted to the side as he studies me, frowning. He's almost the same height as me, but he's bigger. He looks like a football player, but he's probably too young for that like I am.
"I'm Michael Kincaid," I tell him, dragging my foot through the dirt until the swing stops. "Who are you?"
"Titan James," he says, moving closer to me. He has a cool name and cool hair. It's shaved on the sides and spiked on top. His skin is lighter than Ma Rose's but darker than mine. It reminds me of cocoa. "Why are you on Ma Rose's swing?"
"I live here now," I mutter and cross my arms, matching his stance.
He purses his lips and stares at me, his dark green eyes narrowed like he doesn't believe me. "You do? Since when?"
"Since the other day."
"You don't have a family?"
I shake my head.
"Oh." He's quiet for a minute. "What happened to them?"
"My dad left when I was littler. My mom died in a car wreck."
"Oh. I don't have a dad either. He died when I was a baby. I used to have a stepdad, but he left a long time ago." Titan studies me for another minute and then offers me a smile. "You're going to be my best friend," he says then. "I live right next door."
"Cool," I say, still watching him. Marcus used to be my best friend even though he didn't like to race with me, but I guess I won't see him anymore. He doesn't live where Ma Rose lives.
Ma Rose's neighborhood isn't very good. The houses are all old and kind of sad. Ma Rose keeps hers nice though. The paint is fresh and she has flowers all over the place. She says she's been here for longer than anyone else.
I like it here with her even though her neighborhood is kind of scary. Being here isn't the same as being with my mom, but Ma Rose is nice to me. She even promised to tell me stories about my mom. Her house smells like cookies. Plus, she has all my stuff from my bedroom and some of my mom's stuff too.
I've never had a grandma before, but I think she's kind of like a grandma, and that's pretty cool. She says I used to have one, and a grandpa too, and that she worked for them until my mom left home. I guess they're dead now, but I'm not sure. She says they made my mom sad and she ran away. I think they were mean to her, so I don't feel sad that I didn't know about them. I don't feel so alone with Ma Rose. She's going to be my family now.
"Titan!" a little girl yells.
I glance over at his house to see a tiny little girl running toward us. She's really short, with blonde hair that bounces as she runs. She's wearing a blue dress and those shoes that have the straps and shiny buttons on them. Even though it's cold outside, she doesn't have on a coat. Her little legs are moving too fast for her body and she keeps stumbling.
I take a step in her direction, worried she's going to fall. Before I can tell her to slow down, her feet tangle on a tree root and she loses her balance. A scared cry leaves her lips and then she hits the ground hard, landing on her knees.
"That's my baby sister, January," Titan says as the little girl throws her head back and starts to cry. He starts walking toward her. "She's four and she follows me everywhere."
She's really little and her knee is bleeding.
I jog toward her and crouch down beside her before Titan gets there. She looks up at me. Her eyes are a brighter green than Titan's, but they're filled with tears. She's pale, like those pretty dolls with the big eyes. Her and Titan have different skin colors, but they still look a lot alike.
There's a smudge of dirt on her nose and another on her dress, but she's still adorable. She really does look like a doll. I bet my mom would like her.
"It hurts," January whimpers, two big tears running down her cheeks.
The sight makes my heart feel funny again, only I'm not scared this time. I don't like that she's crying. It makes me feel like I should watch out for her and make sure she doesn't get hurt anymore. I decide that I'll take care of her too, like I do with Ma Rose. I'll keep her safe 'cause she's too little to do it by herself.
"It's okay, baby girl," I tell her. I'm not sure why I call her that, but it fits her. Once I stand up, I pick her up off the ground. She's a lot littler than me, but it's still hard to carry her. I'm not very strong yet, but I will be one day. Then I can carry her all over the place so she won't fall anymore.
She wraps her arms around me and lays her head on my shoulder.
"I want my mommy," she cries, her voice muffled.
"I'll take care of you," I promise, carrying her toward her house with her brother following behind us.
"Okay," she whispers and buries her little face in my shirt, but she doesn't cry anymore.
Chapter One
Michael
Present Day
I pull up in front of Ma Rose's house and park on the curb. It's been ten years since I last set eyes on the small bungalow I grew up in, but it hasn't changed a bit. The company I hired to take care of the place has kept it as well maintained as Ma Rose always did. The flowerbeds are in full bloom despite the late August heat. The white paint appears to be as fresh as it was the first time I laid eyes on this place.
My gaze drifts to the bungalow next door as if drawn there. The yellow paint has started to chip and fade, but like Ma Rose's, the yard is neat and tidy. The rest of the street is in an appalling state of disrepair. Frankly, the entire neighborhood is a shithole that should have been demolished long ago.
"Why the hell is January fighting so fucking hard to keep the block?" I mutter to myself, staring out the windshield at her house.
&
nbsp; As soon as her name leaves my lips, my heart aches. I place my hand over my chest, trying to rub away the pain, but it doesn't do any good. It hasn't in ten damn years, but I still keep trying. The thought of seeing her after all these years has me rattled. Hell, just being in Los Angeles again has me so amped up, I'm ready to explode.
After spending the last several days helping my boy, Tristan Riley, rescue his girl from a psycho, my entire body aches. I desperately need a shower and about fifteen hours of sleep, but I'm not holding my breath on getting that last. I barely sleep as it is, managing to catch a few hours here and there. Since touching down in this city, I've slept even less than that.
Every memory I have of this place is so tied up in her, I can't think straight. I've been in love with January James since before I even knew what the fuck love was…and she hates me. Not that I blame her or anything. Sometimes, I'm pretty sure I hate myself enough for the both of us, but she's earned the right to hate me too, so I'm not taking it from her. I'm the one who destroyed her life. Me and my goddamn need to control everything.
"Fuck," I groan, dropping my head back against the headrest to stare up at the ceiling of the rental car. Hopefully, I won't even have to set eyes on her while I'm here. I'll find Curtis Kaleo, set him straight on who owns this block, and then dip the hell out before she even knows I'm here.
Knowing I need to get my ass in the shower and then bed before I even attempt to hunt Kaleo down, I grab my bag out of the back and climb from the car. Halfway up the sidewalk, I notice movement in my peripheral. I slide into the shadows, reaching for the gun in my waistband.
My gaze travels along the side of January's house before landing on some motherfucker creeping through the bushes. He's dressed in all black and keeps looking around like he's trying not to get caught. Classic sign that he's up to some bullshit that's going to get his stupid ass killed.
As if on cue, he goes for a bedroom window, trying to pry the screen off.
Fight for You: A Second Chance Romance (A Warrior for Her Book 1) Page 1
