“Basement,” she whispers.
“Sorry?”
“Set him up in the basement. He can use one of the boys’ game systems there.”
I’m surprised at the sweet setup her kids have in the basement, each with their own gaming cubicle. Max clearly agrees, flinging himself into one of the massive beanbags. “This is awesome.”
“No going online, okay, Kiddo?”
“I know, Dad.”
By the time I leave him to it and head back upstairs, Max has all but forgotten the scene at the table. I haven’t.
Marya’s at the sink, hand-washing the dishes, her shoulders drawn up almost to her ears. The moment I put a hand on her back, she lets the plate in her hand slide in the soapy water, spins around, and does a faceplant in my chest.
“Hey...” I slip an arm around her waist, anchoring her to me, and slide my other hand up under her hair, curving my fingers around the back of her neck.
“I hate him so much.” She sniffs in my shirt.
“Your ex,” I clarify.
“Of course,” she snaps, lifting her head back to throw me a glare. “Who else?”
I press her face back against my chest, deciding it’s probably safer just to keep my mouth shut.
MARYA
“Hey, Bub.”
The room is gloomy with the last of the day’s light disappearing outside. Liam is facedown on his bed, his pillow pulled over his head, not moving. I’m wondering if he’s asleep.
I spent the past half hour sitting next to a very quiet Dylan on the couch, unloading everything from the demise of my marriage to the change in my middle child these past few months. It was Dylan who finally urged me to go up and talk to my son, while he checked on Max.
I sit down beside him on the bed, placing a hand on his back.
“I didn’t send Dad away when he left us, Liam. He did that on his own. But I did send him away this morning.” The fact it had been Dylan who said the words was beside the point, since I wanted the same thing. I can feel the muscles in his back tighten so I know he’s awake, but he isn’t talking. “Your father...” I’m not quite sure where to go from there without hurting my child. There isn’t anything to say that would make the truth easier for him to hear, so I decide to give him the story straight. “He never contacted us, Liam. Not once. In fact, the few times I tried to get in touch with him in the first few months, he told me not to contact him again.” I don’t mention Jeremy telling me to leave him the fuck alone, since he had a new family now. There’s no need to rub salt in the wound. “So I didn’t. Instead I focused on building a good life for us without his help.”
The pillow lifts away, and Liam’s red-rimmed eyes peer up at me. “So if he didn’t want us, why did he come to my game?”
My heart breaks at the dejection on his face, but I stop myself from making excuses for his father. No more. I’ve done that for years and probably would’ve continued if the asshole hadn’t forced my hand by blindsiding us.
“I don’t know why, Bub. He called out of the blue a few weeks ago, and said he wanted to see you boys. I told him no. He chose not to be involved in your lives at all for the past five years, he doesn’t get to waltz back in and disrupt our lives. I don’t even know how he found out about your game, but showing up there was totally out of line, which is why I wanted him to leave.”
Liam seems to be thinking on that for a bit, before he pushes himself into a sitting position. “What if we want to see him?”
I try not to wince visibly, but it hurts. I busted my ass for years so my boys were looked after, and I’m the first in line to get shit on when they’re in a mood, and all that bastard needs to do is show his face once.
I take in a deep breath and try to sound reasonable. “If that is the case, there are proper ways to go about seeing if we can make that happen.”
For a minute, it looks like he might have something to say, but then he just nods and looks away, his face once again sullen. A thought occurs to me, sending chills down my spine.
“Liam? Has your dad tried to contact you before? Is that why you’ve been so angry the past months? Has he approached you at school? Talked to you?”
The puzzled look on my son’s face fills me with relief. “Dad? No.”
I reach out and brush the hair that’s getting to be too long again from his face. “Then what happened to make you so unhappy you’re fighting with your brothers—angry with me? What’s going on?”
It’s like throwing a switch, how fast he shuts down. I can tell just by looking at him, whatever few moments of honesty he gave me are over. “Nothing.”
In a last ditch effort to win back a little goodwill—I am not above bribing when it suits me—I tell him, “Max is downstairs playing on your brother’s system. If you want, you can get yours from my closet and hook it back up. No more fighting, Liam.”
He shoots up off the bed, and I hear him rummaging in my bedroom before his feet thunder on the stairs. I let out a deep sigh, get up off the bed, and close his bedroom door behind me on my way down.
Stubborn damn kid. Not even a thank you.
“JUDGING FROM THE WAY he just tore down the stairs, clutching his game system, I’m guessing your talk went okay?”
Dylan is sitting in the corner of my couch, his eyes on me as I walk into the living room and lean on the armrest opposite him. “It did, until I pushed my luck, and then it didn’t. Can I get you a drink? I may have a beer.”
“Beer would be good.”
I can feel him following my movements, as I unearth a beer from the bottom of the fridge and pour myself a healthy helping of pinot grigio. Both left from a barbecue with Kerry and Damian this summer. I only really drink when I have company.
Handing him the bottle, I sit down on the other side of the couch, pull my legs under me, and take a gulp of wine.
“So what happened?”
“I told him as much of the truth about his father as I feel he needs to know. Guess I’ll have to do the same with Theo and Harry when they get home tomorrow. I don’t want to run the chance he’ll pull another stunt like today without them being prepared.”
“They have no idea what happened?”
“Harry doesn’t have a clue. He can barely remember Jeremy. Theo probably has a better sense of what went on, being the oldest. I suspect it’s the reason he’s always been protective of me. Liam’s the one who’s always missed him most, would ask about him regularly at first. I thought I was protecting them by skirting the truth when it came to answering questions. Why make life harder for them? Guess that didn’t pan out so well. Anyway,” I continue, after taking another healthy swig of my wine, “as it turns out, it wasn’t his father that set off his sour attitude the past few months.”
“What was?”
“Don’t have a clue. He totally clammed up on me.” I set my glass down and fall back in the couch pillows. “Total mom fail.”
Dylan snorts and I watch from the corner of my eye as he scoots closer, settling beside me. He twists toward me, cocks his knee on the seat and proceeds to pull my feet from under me. He drops one on his lap and his thumbs rub firm circles on the sole of the other.
I almost groan out loud. Bliss.
A small satisfied grin on his lips tells me he’s well aware of his effect on me. “Don’t beat yourself up,” he suggests softly. “I discovered that’s something that seems to come natural to parents, when we all just try to do the best we can in the circumstances we’ve been dealt. I could blame myself ’til the cows come home for the ways I fucked up as a person, and a parent, in the past, but that’s not gonna do my boy any good. So I try to do better—be better—and hope that’s the lesson Max will walk away with.”
My mind gets stuck on the ways he may have fucked up. Somehow it doesn’t compute. I’ve tried hard to find fault with him, determined not to let my attraction run away with me, but I haven’t been able to uncover a single thing.
“You mean you’re not perfect?” I tease him, smili
ng.
The wine, confession, and foot massage have me feeling playful, and a giggle escapes me when he tugs on my feet, pulling me flat on my back. The next moment his weight pins me in place, his eyes almost black with heat.
“I’m not,” he admits, “but you are.”
Any thought of kids evaporates the moment his tongue spears between my lips, tasting me deep. I slide a hand into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, as I wrap one leg around his, grinding my hips into the hard to ignore bulge behind his fly. Quickly losing control, I drop my other hand, shoving it down the back of his jeans, encountering sleek hard muscle.
From zero to sixty.
His kiss is relentless, nipping, tasting, and teasing as I writhe against him. I whimper my complaint in his mouth when he rolls us slightly—missing his weight and that solid steel pressing between my legs—but it quickly turns into a deep moan when his free hand dives under my shirt, zeroing in on my sensitive breast.
I could probably come just from the hunger of his kiss and the raspy rub of his thumb over my nipple, but I’ll never find out.
If I wasn’t teetering on the edge of what promises to be a deep and delicious orgasm, I probably would’ve been thrilled hearing my son’s familiar footsteps clomping up the basement stairs as his voice calls out for me.
“Mom! We’re starving, can we have some chips?”
CHAPTER 11
Dylan
“Morning.” Jasper walks into the office and tosses his jacket over the back of his chair. “You’re early.”
“Was hoping to catch you before the office gets busy,” I confess.
“Oh?”
Since leaving Marya’s place Saturday night, after almost getting caught with my hand up her shirt, I’ve been thinking. A lot actually. I don’t like how vulnerable she is. That scene at the soccer field could’ve had a different outcome that might not have ended well for her.
But what really bugs me is how he found out about the game at all. The possibility he’s been watching her scares me. She’s often alone in the bookstore, and in addition works occasional nights cleaning offices. Wouldn’t be that hard for her douchebag ex to catch her alone.
Hopefully she’ll get a temporary protection order today, but that may just piss him off even more. We don’t even know what his motivation is for barging back into her life. I spent all day yesterday digging online, but other than he married one Sylvia Keswick before the ink was dry on his divorce from Marya, and had a child with her just three months after that, I can’t find a whole lot. The guy doesn’t seem to keep a job very long; he’s gone through seven in the past five years, as far as I can tell. All that tells me he’s an asshole and a loser, but it doesn’t give me a reason for his sudden resurfacing. Besides, I need to know where he is right now, so I can keep an eye on him.
That’s one of the things I need to talk to Jasper about and I want to do it before Toni shows up.
“It’s about Marya and her boys. I think she might be in some trouble.”
“Marya, Kerry’s friend?” He raises an eyebrow and scrutinizes me. “You’ve got something going on with her?”
I ignore the question and proceed to lay out the situation and the little I was able to discover about Jeremy Berger. I also voice my concern about the impact of a protective order and hand over my printouts and copies of the paperwork Luna prepared.
“So that’s a yes?” Jasper grins as he pokes fun at me, but he immediately turns serious and turns to his computer screen. “Any reason she’s kept her married name after the divorce?” he asks without looking at me, his fingers flying over the keyboard.
“Probably easier with the kids.”
“Also easier for him to con his way into getting access to her information,” he comments. “All he’d need is an old marriage certificate and a good story. You’d be surprised how many take one look at an official document and take it for granted.” He digs through the papers I handed him and pulls out Luna’s notes. “Let’s see if we can find him.”
Within five minutes he has Jeremy’s phone records, his address in Montrose, and his credit card information up on the screen.
“That’s the school,” I point out, indicating a phone number I recognize.
“He’s been in touch a few times. First call was in July.”
“He wouldn’t have gotten far, school would’ve been closed for the summer.”
“When she spoke with him, it was on her cell phone, right?” Jasper asks and I confirm, but Jas taps the screen. “Then why is there a four and a half minute conversation to her home phone on July twelfth?”
Shit.
One of the kids. Marya mentioned Liam had given her trouble for a few months. She didn’t think it had anything to do with the kids’ father, but now I wonder.
I’m about to say something when Damian walks in, Toni right behind him. We exchange the perfunctory good mornings when Damian’s eyes land on Jasper’s screen.
“Why are you looking into Marya’s ex?” He pins me with a look and I shoot a glance over at Toni, who is observing us closely.
“Happy to explain,” I tell him before adding, “in private.” No way I want to discuss Marya’s personal business in front of Toni.
His jaw set, he leads the way into his office.
“How the fuck did he happen to show up at the soccer field?” Damian’s anger is evident when I catch him up.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. According to the phone records Jasper pulled, he lives in Montrose. Seems like a long way to come for a soccer game, even if it was his kid playing.”
“That man doesn’t give a flying fuck about his kids. He wants something,” Damian confirms my thoughts.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Right. Keep digging and from here on in, keep me in the loop,” he says sternly.
“Will do.”
I start to get up when he leans across his desk, eyeing me sharply. “Before you go...mind telling me in on what the fuck your issue is with Agent Linden?”
His hot glare follows me out of his office five minutes later. He’s not happy with me. All I was willing to share with him is the fact she and I knew each other in Denver, had a brief thing, and it didn’t end amicably. I then sat through a brief lecture about mixing work and pleasure—which is ironic, since I know how he and Kerry hooked up—before he warned me not to let whatever happened between Toni and I bleed into the job.
Easier said than done.
MARYA
“Guys, get on that homework, please. Grandma will be here in twenty minutes, and I want it done by then.”
Loud giggling sounds from upstairs, where I’m pretty sure the boys are engaged in something other than homework. They’re not fighting though, which I guess is a bonus. Still, I have three places to clean tonight, and I don’t want to leave Mom to chasing after the boys.
What a crazy day. First waiting for forty-five minutes for my turn with the judge in an almost full courtroom, Luna sitting beside me showing more patience than I felt. Then the embarrassment of airing my dirty laundry in front of about fifteen strangers. I had to catch myself several times not to minimize the circumstances. After another twenty-minute wait, we walked out of the courthouse, a temporary protection order in hand.
Luna suggested I come back to the office with her to figure out how to find Jeremy to serve him with the judge’s paperwork, which apparently is my responsibility. Since I had to hurry to relieve one of our part-timers at the store, who’d agreed to cover for me last minute, I told her I’d call her later. I barely had time to shoot off a quick message to give Dylan a heads-up, when another new shipment was delivered, taking almost all afternoon to unpack, price, and process.
I almost didn’t make it home in time before the boys got off the bus at the corner, and I never had a chance to call Luna as promised.
Thank God Mom said she’d bring over a lasagna she’d made this morning, it means I don’t have to figure out what to feed them before I g
o.
I quickly make myself a sandwich before I have to leave, when Mom comes in the front door.
“Why are you eating when I told you I’d bring food?” She walks in carrying a large aluminum tray covered in tinfoil and slides it onto the counter.
“I’ll eat some when I get home tonight, Mom. I don’t have time now.”
“You work too hard,” she says, wagging a finger in my face. “You won’t last burning the candle at both ends, girlie. Take it from me.”
She would know. After my father left when I was little, she worked several jobs at once to keep a roof over our heads. Never took the time to look after herself and still is more concerned about having the kids and me taken care of.
“I know, Mom.” I give her arm a squeeze. “I promise I’ll do better once this thing with Jeremy is behind us.”
“I’m not saying it’s not wrong to work hard for your family, honey. What I’m saying is not to spend so much of yourself, there’s no room left for your own needs.”
I hear her loud and clear. She met Dylan, she’s not blind, but still it’s uncanny sometimes how well she knows me.
“I gotta go, Mom.” I pull her into a quick hug before yelling up the stairs. “Boys! I have to go. You’d better have that homework done before you show your face down here! Be good to Grandma!”
I smile when my oldest and my youngest call out, “Later, Mom,” and “Love you,” but it slides off my face when there’s silence from Liam.
I’m about to back out of the driveway when I hear a text come in on my phone. A quick glance at the screen shows a message from Dylan.
Dylan: We need to talk
Me: Working late tonight
Dylan: Where are you?
I don’t have time for this, if I don’t get a move on, I won’t be home before midnight. I tuck my phone back in my purse and head for my first address. Dylan will have to wait.
My first stop is an easy one, a large local real estate office. Darla, a woman I’ve only worked with a few times before, is waiting for me in the parking lot. With two of us, we can each take a floor and the job won’t take more than an hour and a half, tops. Not much in-depth cleaning to be done here. Unlike the next two places, they require substantially larger amounts of elbow grease to keep clean.
10-Code (Rock Point, #4) Page 9
