The first thing I heard was crying - no, not crying – sobbing. Big, heart wrenching, bone deep sobs…the kind that made it hard to breathe. I didn’t see Tate as I pushed the door further open, but I saw that Matty was asleep under the covers. I had to open the door all the way to find Tate. He was sitting on the floor near his son’s bed, his back against the wall. His legs were drawn up and he was resting his elbows on his knees as he wept into his hands. I hated that I wanted to go to him, to sit down next to him and pull him against me and tell him it would be okay…whatever it was. At that exact moment, Tate looked up at me and even in the dim light I saw it. His naked need for me to do exactly just that. But then his eyes shuttered and he leaned his head back against the wall and turned his face away from me.
My chest felt tight as I closed the door and I actually found myself rubbing my fingers over the middle of it as if that would somehow stem the discomfort. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there for, but it wasn’t until I heard a sharp rap on the front door that I remembered where I was and why I was there. As I went to the door, I kept glancing over my shoulder as if half expecting Tate to come running out of the room seeking help from whoever was at the door. I had already pulled my gun from the back of my pants when I remembered the pizza I’d ordered. After giving the pimply faced delivery guy a generous tip, I took the pizza into the kitchen and put it on the small table. But my appetite was gone and when I didn’t hear Matty’s door open, I pushed the pizza away and leaned back in the kitchen chair and studied my surroundings.
Everything about this job was going to shit. I was no closer to finding the men who’d killed my wife despite having more information than I ever had before - information that should have been enough to lead me to them and take them out. Yet all I had was a guy who was clearly struggling to be a good father to a kid that wasn’t his. And the kid - a fucking cute little kid who was sick…very sick if the look on Tate’s face at the hospital had been anything to go by.
And none of it mattered.
Because I was still left with one undisputable fact – Tate Travers was my only hope of getting justice for the woman who’d changed my entire life…who’d been my entire life. I steeled myself not to care as I started making plans for how I would get out of Tate what I wanted. Because after all this was over, the young man would still have the kid he’d chosen to raise as his own and I would have nothing.
Nothing except knowing I’d finally kept my promise.
* * *
It was almost an hour before I heard footsteps heading towards the kitchen. I was still sitting in the same chair, but as Tate entered the kitchen, I looked up and held his gaze as he stood in the wide doorway.
“How did you find us?” he finally asked.
“Tracking device in Matty’s backpack,” I said. “I put a bug in there too.”
“You were listening to us?”
I nodded. I’d tracked Tate to the hospital, but I hadn’t planned to go in until I’d heard Tate talking to the woman about his account. The desperation in his voice as he’d talked about his kid needing the tests…
“You knew I’d run,” Tate murmured.
“You knew I’d be back,” I countered. I nodded to the chair across from me. Tate shifted nervously before finally sitting down.
“You only find Buck when he wants to be found,” Tate responded quietly. Although his tears had dried up, his eyes were swollen and red. He looked like hell so I got up and grabbed a few slices of pizza from the box on the stove and tossed them into the microwave. I searched out a cup and filled it with tap water and placed it in front of him. He didn’t respond, but he did reach for the cup to take several long drinks. But when I slid the pizza in front of him, he didn’t touch it.
“When was the last time you ate?” I asked as I sat back down across from him. Tate merely shook his head. “Eat, Tate,” I said. “There will be plenty left for Matty.”
Tate’s eyes lifted to meet mine but he didn’t answer. He looked over his shoulder at the large pizza box sitting on the stove. I hadn’t missed the fact that most of the spoiled food in the fridge was geared towards a child’s taste. It explained a lot about the man across from me…his lean frame, his lack of funds, Matty’s nicely decorated room.
A strange sense of satisfaction went through me when Tate finally took a bite of the pizza, but I tried not to examine too closely why it mattered so much that he’d done as I’d asked. And I definitely tried not to focus on his intriguing, mismatched eyes. Sharp, bright blue and warm, soft hazel…I couldn’t help but think they matched the two sides of his personality I’d seen so far. I wondered what they would look like when he smiled, laughed, felt pleasure…
Fuck, what the hell was wrong with me?
I forced myself to remain silent until Tate finished the food and pushed the plate away. He took a couple more drinks of water and then sat stiffly in his chair, his eyes settling on me. His gaze briefly skimmed my entire body and a shot of lust flashed through me.
Jesus Christ, there was no way this was happening to me. There was no fucking way I was attracted to this man…any man. It just wasn’t possible. Only my dick was telling me it definitely was possible and I had to lean forward so I could use the table to hide my unexpected reaction to Tate’s perusal. It had to be the fucking stress, the anticipation of what was to come.
“What’s wrong with Matty?” I asked.
My question had a profound reaction. The pain shooting through Tate was clear and tears instantly pooled in his eyes as he hunched in on himself. He angrily wiped at his face with his shirt sleeve – he had taken his jacket off at some point – and sucked in several deep breaths as he covered his eyes with his hand.
“Leukemia,” he whispered so low that I barely heard him.
A chill went through my entire body and I couldn’t help but cover my mouth with my hand as I tried to stem the lump of emotion that threatened to close off my throat. I’d expected some kind of serious condition but nothing like that.
“Jesus,” I muttered as I sat back in my chair. “Is it…is it treatable?” I heard myself ask, my voice sounding shaky.
Tate nodded. “The doctor said we caught it early. He needs multiple chemo treatments over the next six months. They did a bone marrow test today to see if he’ll need a stem cell transplant…that’s assuming they would be able to find a match.”
“What about you?” I managed to ask.
“They’ll test me if he needs one, but usually a full sibling has the best chance of being a match.”
“And you’re only his half-brother,” I said quietly.
Tate lifted his eyes to meet mine. “He’s Buck’s?” he asked in a rush.
“You didn’t know?” I asked. “The DNA test-”
Tate shook his head. “I asked the lab to confirm he was related to me, but I couldn’t afford the tests that would have shown if he was my brother or my nephew.”
“You didn’t know if he was related to you?”
“No,” he murmured as he wiped at his face and reached for the glass of water with a trembling hand. “I…I came home one day and he was just there. I asked Denny whose kid he was, but Denny told me to mind my own business. After I took him, I started to wonder if maybe they’d kidnapped him or something…I kept thinking about how worried his parents would be.” Tate took a long drink.
“Why did you take him?” I asked.
But Tate just shook his head slightly and dropped his eyes. I got the message.
“Buck and Denny, they…they liked to share women so I knew it was possible that either one of them could be the father.”
My gut clenched at Tate’s words as an image of Revay’s battered body went through my head. The hospital staff had only found one usable DNA sample when they’d done the rape kit, but I had no doubt she’d been brutalized by both men. Tate’s statement was confirmation of that fact.
“So you don’t know who his mother is?” I managed to ask.
“No, Buck had a lot
of girlfriends…so did Denny.”
“How old would Denny have been when Matty was born?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” Tate admitted. “I don’t know Matty’s exact age...if he really is five, Denny would have been around twenty-five when Matty was born.
“Was there a specific girl in his life at that time? Or Buck’s?” I asked, making sure not to refer to the man as Tate’s father.
Another shake of Tate’s head. “No,” was all he said. His lack of a response told me there was more to it than just that, but I didn’t press him. In reality, it didn’t matter.
“Look, if I knew more, I’d tell you,” Tate said as he finally lifted his eyes. “Just…just leave us alone, please? I can’t help you.”
I steeled myself to ignore the pleading in his voice as well as the pity I felt for him for Matty’s condition. It changed nothing. I held Tate’s gaze as I said, “Yeah, you can. And you will.”
Chapter Four
Tate
My whole body seized up at Hawke’s words and I knew I was fucked. I’d been foolish enough to forget for a few minutes that this man was not my friend. My desperation to have someone to share my burdens with had blinded me to who he was and why he was here. And as his hard blue eyes held mine, I felt the knot of tension in my gut build. I willed myself not to escape into my head like I wanted to because I couldn’t risk not being completely aware if he went after Matty to get to me.
But focusing was harder than I thought as I kept hearing the doctor’s mechanical voice repeating that same word over and over again.
Leukemia.
Cancer. Matty had cancer. My sweet, funny, kind-hearted little boy had cancer.
And he was just that – my little boy. He’d become that the moment I’d stolen him in the dead of night from the doublewide trailer I’d shared with Denny and Buck. I was his father and there was absolutely nothing I could do for him. I’d spent two years trying to protect him from the worst kind of evil, but I couldn’t protect him from the disease that coursed through his blood. And I couldn’t protect him from the man across from me either. I could try, but Hawke could best me physically and, based on the certainty of his voice a moment ago, he had already bested me mentally by taking away my choices. Despair rushed through me as I realized I was back exactly where I’d been two years earlier…only now I had a new jailer.
“What do you want?” I managed to ask, though my voice sounded like a hoarse croak.
“A couple of days of your time, that’s it,” Hawke said easily…too easily.
“For what?” I stammered. I hated that the man sat so comfortably in the chair across from me…like we were old buddies just shooting the breeze. I wondered if the son of a bitch liked playing with me because he had to know how scared I was.
“You come with me to Lulling…help me find Buck and Denny-”
“No,” I said before the last syllable even left his mouth. “Absolutely not.”
I finally saw a reaction in the man – an almost imperceptible hardening of his jaw – and I felt my heart lurch in my chest. “Matty needs to be admitted to the hospital within the next couple of days,” I added, hoping that would somehow make this man see that what he was asking was impossible. Even if Matty hadn’t been sick, my answer would have been the same, but I didn’t tell him that.
“I have some friends who can watch Matty while he’s getting treated.”
“Friends?” I asked stupidly.
“In Seattle.”
I laughed before I could stop myself and stood up. “You’re insane,” I snapped, my anger replacing my fear.
His irritation was no longer subtle as he got to his feet. I half expected to see him pull out the gun, but he didn’t. He just strode towards me and didn’t stop until he was just inches away. The kitchen counter was at my back so I had no way to escape him.
“Here’s my offer, Tate,” he bit out. I hated the way my name sounded on his lips – like a curse. “We leave for Seattle tomorrow. I’ll make sure Matty gets the finest care possible and I’ll pay for it…all of it, no matter how long it takes. In return, you give me a week in Lulling.”
I shook my head emphatically. “I am not leaving my son!”
I expected Hawke to point out that Matty wasn’t mine, but he didn’t. He just stepped even closer to me, his body almost brushing mine. I could feel the heat from his body drifting over me and I had the overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around him and try to soak some of it up because every part of me felt bitterly cold.
“One of my friends is a doctor-”
“I don’t care,” I snapped. Since he was taller than me, I was forced to look up at him and the move made me feel small and insignificant. Powerless.
I knew Hawke was done with me when his big hand came up to wrap around my throat. He didn’t exert any pressure, he just held me there. It was a warning, a message. But I held my ground and whispered, “I am not leaving my son.”
“Very noble,” Hawke murmured as he glared at me. “Is that nobility gonna pay for the treatment your kid needs?”
I swallowed hard and didn’t miss when Hawke’s eyes dropped to where he was holding me. His gaze returned to mine just as quickly and I swore I saw a flash of something in his eyes that seemed out of place. Understanding? Compassion? Respect?
I nearly laughed at the prospect. This man had none of those things.
“Fine, we’ll play it your way,” Hawke murmured and he released me. But he didn’t step away from me. “What do you think will happen to little Matty when the cops show up questioning you about a murder that happened ten years ago? A murder where a partial match to your DNA was discovered?”
Disbelief flooded my nerve endings, then white hot fear as I understood what he was saying. “The…the lab would never give the cops my DNA.”
“You really think they gave it to me?” Hawke asked calmly.
And I knew in that instant that he had me. It didn’t matter how he’d managed to find my DNA. It didn’t matter that he knew I hadn’t been involved in whatever murder he was talking about. Even if the cops couldn’t use my DNA, that wouldn’t stop them from investigating me and that meant Matty would go into foster care. And if he went into the system, I’d never get him back.
I leaned back against the counter for support as my knees threatened to give way. This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t have come this far, given up so much, only to have this man take it away from me. To have cancer take it from me. I struggled to draw in air as a dull roaring began in my head. I tried to focus on a spot on one of the cabinets on the other side of the small kitchen, but my vision began to dim.
“Tate.”
The soft, gentle murmuring of my name was so different from the angry way it had been said before. I wanted to hear it again. And then I did, but it got better because the warmth I had been craving seeped into a spot just above my elbows.
“Open your eyes, Tate.”
I shook my head because I knew what was waiting for me if I did. And then sparks of electricity flared to life on my cheek and I sucked in a soft breath at the sensation. I forced my eyes open and saw Hawke watching me intently, his wide, firm lips slightly parted, his flinty blue eyes focused on me…no, not me, my lips.
I didn’t move as I made sense of the flash of heat on my cheek. He was caressing me there, the rough pad of his thumb dragging over my skin. When his finger stilled, I brought my hand up to close around his wrist. But not to stop him, not to push him away. To prevent his escape. To urge him on. To beg him to keep the pain and fear at bay for just another few seconds.
Hawke’s eyes drifted from my face to my hand where I was holding him and I saw his eyes shutter and then go dark as he released his hold on me. I cursed my foolishness and quickly dropped my hand.
“We’re leaving in the morning,” he finally said as he stepped back.
I didn’t say anything as he went back to the chair and sat down. It took me a long time to find the strength and the will t
o move. And when I finally did, I went to Matty’s room to start packing his things. Because like so many times in my life, my choice to do anything else had been taken away from me.
* * *
Since Matty’s room didn’t have a clock in it, I had no idea what time it was when I finally woke up the next morning. What I did know was that my son’s warm little body wasn’t lying next to me anymore and I jerked upright and stumbled out of the bed. I ripped the closed door open and scanned the small space and then felt my breath come out in a whoosh when I heard my son’s voice. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it took only seconds to find him. He was sitting with Hawke at the kitchen table and he was talking excitedly about the Spiderman doll in his hands.
“It was Daddy’s when he was little,” Matty was explaining as he moved the doll’s arms and legs into different positions.
I was shaking when I reached the pair and while Hawke looked at me with an unreadable expression, Matty smiled and said, “Hawke says we’re going on a trip.”
Several things occurred to me as I took in my son and the hard man across from him. One, I probably shouldn’t be letting my son call the man by his first name. But I realized just as quickly that I didn’t know the man’s last name and I wasn’t about to ask. I didn’t want to know what it was…I didn’t want to know any more about him than was absolutely necessary. The other thing I noticed was the half eaten bowl of Cheerios on the table. Since we’d been out of the cereal the day Hawke burst into our lives, I knew what the box and the container of milk next to it meant.
“Where did these come from?” I asked Hawke.
Retribution (The Protectors, Book 3) Page 4
