“Okay, let’s get jammies on,” Tate murmured as he searched through the drawers of a faded yellow dresser. I wasn’t surprised to see that the pajamas had Captain America all over them. As Tate put Matty down so he was standing on the bed and began to undress him, the little boy kept glancing my way.
“Is he gonna shoot us, Daddy?” Matty asked as he braced his hands on his father’s shoulders to steady himself as Tate worked his pants off and replaced them with the pajama bottoms.
“No, he’s not,” Tate said firmly as he got his son’s attention. “He…he just got us confused with some other people, okay?”
Undaunted, Matty shifted his attention back to me. “Why does he have a gun?”
I could see Tate didn’t have an answer for his son and when he cast a desperate glance over my shoulder, I actually felt a thread of shame go through me. I found myself tucking the gun in the waistband of my pants at my back before I could think too much on it.
“Are you looking for bad guys?” Matty suddenly asked after Tate pulled his shirt off.
“Sort of,” I answered before Tate could.
“Are you a policeman?”
Tate’s moves in getting his son dressed were quick and efficient and I wondered how much of that was related to practice and how much had to do with wanting to get his son away from me.
“No, buddy, he’s not,” Tate said. “Come on, climb into bed.”
Tate pulled back the covers and Matty took a big leap from where he was standing and landed on one of the pillows. He let out a little giggle and then began positioning all of the stuffed animals underneath the covers on his left side.
“Daddy, I forgot to brush my teeth,” Matty said as he tucked a ratty looking stuffed teddy bear next to his body.
“It’s okay, we’ll skip tonight…but just this once,” Tate admonished as he leaned down to kiss his son’s forehead. “Sleep tight-”
“No,” Matty interrupted. “Story.”
“Not tonight, buddy-”
Matty began shaking his head in earnest and I heard Tate let out a rough breath. He gave me a glance and then finally said, “Just one.”
Something deep in my belly twisted when I saw the smile that lit up the kid’s face as he wrapped his arms around his father’s neck. It was quickly replaced with anger and I had no doubt it was written all over my face as Tate glanced at me before going to search for a book. A look of trepidation passed over his features as he kept one hand on the edge of his son’s bed as he searched the milk crate for a book – he probably wanted to make sure he was close enough to throw his body over his kid’s if I decided to reach for my gun again. Admiration went through me because despite the young man’s obvious and well-founded terror, he was holding it together pretty well and I had no doubt it was all for his son.
“Are you an Avenger? Is that how you got hurt?”
Matty’s question caught me off guard and I reflexively reached up to run my fingers over the burn scars on my face.
“Matty-” Tate said.
“I bet he’s like Captain America, Daddy. He’s a secret hero.”
“Maybe,” Tate managed to get out as he snatched up a book and sat down next to his son on the bed. It took only minutes for Matty’s attention to turn from me to the story his father was telling him, and I had no doubt it was because of the way his father made all the different voices for the characters in the book. The kid was out within ten minutes, a slight smile on his small mouth and his teddy bear tucked against his chest. I expected Tate to shift his focus back on me, but to my surprise, he seemed to forget my presence as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
A mix of longing and rage went through me at the same time and I turned away from the doorway. Sixty minutes…sixty minutes ten years ago was the only reason I was here and not at home with my own kid reading him a bedtime story.
Sixty minutes was all it had taken to wipe out an entire future.
I heard the bed shift and I automatically pulled my gun back out and waited. I didn’t really need the weapon, but I always felt better when it was in my hands.
Tate turned off the light as he pulled the door almost all the way shut. I could see a dim blue light coming from the room and I suspected it was a night light of some kind. Tate’s whole body drew up tight as he turned his attention on me.
“Kitchen,” I said as I waited for him to move past me.
Tate did as I said and I followed him to the kitchen and motioned to one of the two vinyl chairs. The décor of the apartment left no doubt that the dump had either come furnished that way or the man was a thrift store shopper. The only light that was on in the kitchen was the one above the stove so I flipped on the overhead light and went to sit down across from Tate. He had his hands fisted on his thighs but his eyes were darting around the kitchen.
“Don’t bother,” I muttered as I laid my gun down on the table in front of me and leaned back in the squeaky chair.
“What?” Tate asked cautiously.
“Looking for a weapon,” I said. The flash of guilt in Tate’s eyes was brief, but then he stiffened. Gone was the man who was terrified for his kid. The man in front of me was…determined. It was the only word I could come up with for the way he pinned me with his gaze. A strange fluttering sparked in my gut.
“Where are they?” I asked, ignoring the unexpected sensation.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. His eyes were on my fingers which were resting near the butt of my gun. “I haven’t seen them in a couple of years.”
“You really want to make that kid in there an orphan?” I threatened as I motioned towards Matty’s room.
Tate paled and swallowed hard but as scared as he was, he didn’t take his eyes off me. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Then tell me more of it.”
“The last time I spoke to my father and Denny was right before I left home with Matty.”
“Where’s home?”
“Lulling, Texas.”
“Never heard of it,” I said.
“You wouldn’t,” Tate quipped. “It’s barely even a dot on the map…unless you’re looking for Crystal Meth…then it’s Mecca.”
“Your family deals meth?”
“Don’t call them that,” Tate ordered softly. “Those men were never my family.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, but the hatred in Tate’s voice was clear. And it was a good sign for me. “They’re dealers?”
Tate nodded.
“They use too?”
“Denny does…at least he did the last time I saw him.”
“And your father?”
Tate stiffened but didn’t contradict me. “No,” was all he said.
“What’s his name?”
“Dennis Buckley,” Tate responded. “Everyone calls him Buck.”
“That lady called you Travers,” I said as I thought back to the woman who had been watching Tate’s son. Tate remained stubbornly silent. Since my question had been asked out of curiosity rather than necessity, I let it go.
“How did you find me?” Tate asked suddenly.
I studied him for a long moment. “Your DNA was a partial match to the DNA left at a crime scene.”
“A murder, you mean,” Tate murmured. “How did you get my DNA?”
I ignored the question and studied Tate. He was sitting calmly in the chair, but I could see a slight shudder roll through his frame every now and then and he kept shifting his eyes nervously towards his son’s room before moving them back to me as subtly as he could, as if he was somehow hoping I’d forgotten about his son’s presence. I felt a shimmer of pity for him at the fear he must be feeling, not for himself but for his kid.
It wasn’t until Tate again glanced at Matty’s room that I finally noticed what had been bothering me from the moment we’d sat down at the table. Tate’s eyes – they didn’t match. One was a startling bright blue while the other was a
soft, subtle golden brown color. The contrast was intriguing…so intriguing that I caught myself staring at him as warmth settled in my belly.
What the fuck?
“I don’t know what else to tell you.”
It took me a moment to process Tate’s words because as soon as I’d managed to tear my eyes from his, I was dropping them to his mouth. His lips were fuller than I would have expected to see on a man.
“You don’t seem surprised to learn your father and brother are wanted for murder,” I managed to say as I forced my eyes away from his mouth.
“Sir-”
“It’s Hawke,” I interrupted, though I wasn’t sure why I’d told him that since my name was of no importance in the situation. In fact, it was downright stupid to give the man any clue to my identity.
But Tate’s words surprised me. “I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t care who you are or why you’re looking for them. I don’t care what you’re going to do when you find them. Tonight never happened.” His eyes held mine as he repeated, “Tonight. Never. Happened.”
The guy had balls, I had to give him that. He had absolutely no power, but he was still trying to stare me down. The show of strength should have pissed me off, or in the least, irritated me. But I found myself actually admiring him. Even if his demeanor was begging for trouble, I couldn’t help but think that I preferred it to the blank look he’d had when I’d first threatened him before his kid had arrived.
“Daddy?”
Tate jumped to his feet at the sound of his son’s voice and he immediately put himself between me and the little boy. “What are you doing up?” Tate asked as he quickly lifted Matty into his arms.
“I forgot Spidey,” he mumbled.
I grabbed the gun off the table and followed Tate to the front door where Matty’s discarded backpack lay. He rifled through the bag and pulled out what looked to be an eighties era version of a Spiderman doll. Matty smiled sleepily as he clutched the doll to his chest. Tate watched me over his shoulder as he began to head towards Matty’s room.
“G’night Captain,” Matty called before dropping his head on Tate’s shoulder. I watched them disappear into the darkened room and then glanced down at Matty’s backpack. I had what I needed.
For now…
Chapter Two
Tate
Matty felt like a dead weight against my shoulder as I lowered myself into the chair across from the stern looking older woman. Although she’d been the one to call me up to her tiny, partitioned desk that didn’t actually offer any privacy from the people sitting on either side of us, the woman didn’t acknowledge me as she continued to punch away on her keyboard. I tried to shift Matty to ease some of the numbness in my arm but when he stirred, I changed my mind and stilled until I felt him settle again. After all, he’d have to be fully awake soon enough.
I let my own eyes drift shut as I felt Matty’s warm breath against my neck. I wouldn’t have thought my life could get any worse after the night the dark, forbidding stranger had knocked me on my ass and pointed his gun at my head.
I’d been very wrong…again.
That day had been like any of the other endless days that I couldn’t seem to escape from. The morning had started off the same with trying to get Matty ready for pre-school. He’d been half-asleep as usual as he’d sat over his bowl of Cheerios and we’d barely caught the 7:35 bus. I’d been fortunate enough to find a small, friendly daycare just a few miles from our apartment that offered pre-school classes to Pre-K kids and then watched the children for the rest of the day. The place was surprisingly clean and well run and I’d considered myself lucky to have found it since many of the other programs I’d looked at cost considerably more than I made bussing tables at a 24-hour diner in a less than perfect neighborhood.
Work had been as grueling and non-eventful as always and I’d only been twenty minutes late in picking Matty up which was significantly better than my normal hour or sometimes even two-hour delay since the prick I worked for had no issue with making me stay well past my regular hours. And I wasn’t in any position to complain since I desperately needed the job. My plan had been to spend the night helping Matty with an art project he’d been working on for school, but the sight of the sleek, red sports car sitting in front of my building had blown that plan to hell. Matty had been upset with me at first when I’d told him that I had to work, but then he’d given me a look that was entirely too understanding for someone so young and I’d been the one fighting back my guilt as I’d handed Matty off to my neighbor, Ms. Parks, to watch for several hours.
My second job wasn’t a steady one, but it did pay well so I never said no when Roger Banks called me with an offer to unload the delivery truck that stocked his upscale night club. I’d suspected the man’s interest in me went beyond cheap labor, but I hadn’t been sure until that day because I doubted any other potential employer would have bothered to drive to my shitty neighborhood to offer me the work when he couldn’t get a hold of me via my defunct cell phone.
I’d met Roger through a co-worker at the diner who’d known about my situation, but I’d been too preoccupied with the never-ending demands of my new life to realize the good looking man was flirting with me at first. I should have been interested in him. He was stunningly gorgeous, successful and clearly had enough money to throw around. And he hadn’t hesitated to drop hints that I too could benefit from his wealth. But it hadn’t been until that same day that he’d shown up that I’d finally figured out what kind of a guy he really was, because as I’d walked hand and hand with Matty towards the red car and watched the man unfold his long, trim body from the obscenely expensive vehicle, Roger hadn’t even spared Matty a passing glance. Not once as he’d spoken to me had his eyes shifted to Matty and even after I had introduced the little boy to him, Roger had refused to acknowledge his presence.
I’d spent the rest of the evening avoiding Roger’s leering glances as I’d unloaded endless crates of alcohol and it was only the stack of cash Roger had placed in my hand afterwards that’d had me agreeing to his offer of a ride home. He’d followed me up without asking and clearly hadn’t cared that I had no interest in his unwelcome advances…advances I’d allowed only because I’d needed the cash more than I’d needed to escape the touch of a man who made me physically ill.
But all of that had been pre-Hawke. Because I’d given up everything the second Hawke had walked out my front door. The moment I’d heard the door click into place, I’d rushed out of Matty’s room and flipped the flimsy lock that I’d known wouldn’t really keep the man out if he were inclined to return. I’d then grabbed Matty’s backpack along with the packed duffle bag I kept stashed under my bed before going back to Matty’s room and throwing some of his clothes into my duffle. I’d jammed the two toys I’d known he couldn’t live without into his backpack along with a couple of books and then I’d wrapped a small blanket around Matty’s sleeping body and had carried him out of the apartment. He’d woken up briefly, but his unfailing trust in me had had him looking around only for a second before he’d snuggled up against my neck.
After all, it wasn’t the first time we’d been in the exact same situation.
I hadn’t liked ditching the apartment, especially since I’d just paid the entire month’s rent a few days earlier. But I’d had no doubt the dangerous looking Hawke would be back at some point. I’d seen the hatred in his eyes when he’d knocked me to the floor after pushing his way into my apartment. And the way he’d grabbed Matty…no, I wasn’t going to risk another encounter with the man. Especially since I knew he probably wouldn’t find what he was looking for just because he now had names to go with the men he was hunting.
I’d ended up finding a cheap motel on the other side of town and Matty and I had spent most of the weekend hiding out there. I’d moved us to another motel two nights later and then another one a few nights after that. I hadn’t returned to work at the diner and I hadn’t risked taking Matty back to daycare despite his insistence t
hat he had to turn in his art project. The project - which I’d ended up leaving behind in the apartment – was a family self-portrait that had only taken Matty a few minutes to re-create after I’d told him I would hang it on the wall of our motel. Ironically, seeing the two stick figures hand in hand outside a colorful little house surrounded by what I could only assume was a dog, had given me the strength I’d needed when all I’d really wanted to do was let my body fold in on itself in a desperate attempt to escape the reality that was slowly drowning me.
I’d finally started to feel more at ease about a week after Hawke had left, though I still hadn’t been brave enough to return to the apartment to try to get the rest of our belongings. I had no doubt that my job at the diner had already been given away and I’d briefly considered going to Roger’s club to see if he had any work for me because the little money I had stashed away was dwindling at a rapid rate. I’d even floated the idea of asking Roger for a loan, but then I’d remembered the feel of his clammy lips on my neck and the look in his eyes that said he knew that, in that moment, he owned me. I’d seen that look every day of my life for longer than I could remember and as hard as the last two years had been, knowing that no one had the right to look at me that way again – that Matty would never know that look himself – made every struggle I’d endured worth it.
But all that had changed two days ago when I’d been getting Matty dressed and I’d noticed the bruises. The same bruises I’d seen a few weeks earlier that I’d attributed to him roughhousing with other kids at daycare.
They’d had nothing to do with roughhousing.
And they had changed everything.
Everything.
“Mr. Travers, I’m afraid we’re still having some issues with getting the Medicaid paperwork submitted for Matthew. Would you mind confirming this is the correct social security number?” the woman finally said to me as she glanced at me over her glasses and then turned her computer screen my way so I could see the number.
Retribution (The Protectors, Book 3) Page 2
