Cuffed & Claimed

by Lori King

  He liked the kid’s sense of humor. “Good thing you stepped in.” Truly.

  Mercy jammed her hands on her hips. “Maybe I should just leave you guys to your sporting pursuits and not infect you with my nerdiness.”

  Make that mock outrage, judging by the tremor of laughter in her voice.

  “Smart idea, slick.” Aidan winked at Mercy before nodding to Isaac. “I saw a court at the back as I drove in. Feel like shooting some hoops?”

  “Sure.” Isaac shrugged, maintaining the required level of teenage indifference when invited to do something by an adult. He headed toward the doorway at the end of the corridor.

  “I’m leaving early; the bride needs help with her outfit.” Mercy moved to touch his arm, but remembered they weren’t alone and pulled her hand back. “If I don’t see you, I’ll be in touch.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon. Give you enough time recuperate from this evening’s shenanigans,” he smirked, “or post bail—whichever applies.”

  The sound of her laughter stayed with him until the door leading to the back of the center closed behind him.

  Isaac was already under one of the hoops, but he didn’t shoot. In fact, he didn’t move at all as he stood there staring back at Aidan, the ball held loose in his hands in front of him.

  Seemed like the kid had something to say.

  “What’s on your mind, Isaac?” Aidan stood a few feet away, his feet apart, arms at his side, ready to catch the ball anytime.

  “Why are you doing this?” He raised his chin, as if daring Aidan to answer with anything but the truth.

  So there would be no easing into the getting-to-know-you stage.

  “Meeting you?” Aidan shrugged. “Miss Jones asked me to. You know that.”

  “Yeah, but what do you hope to get out of it?” Isaac threw the ball—hard—at Aidan.

  He caught the missile, aimed, and shot the ball directly into the basket. Aiden turned back to Isaac. The boy blinked, and the hard set of his features slackened at the proof Aidan wasn’t fazed by his tough-guy act.

  The ball bounced four times before Aidan strolled over to pick it up. “I get to see what it is about you Miss Jones thinks is worth not only her time, but mine too.” He stepped closer. “I get to see if you can live up to the faith she has in you.” He threw the ball to Isaac, who stared at him a few seconds before aiming his shot.

  But Aidan wasn’t finished yet. Just as Isaac was about to shoot, he said, “It’s life-changing, having someone believe you matter.”

  Isaac’s throw hit the backboard and bounced near Aidan, who snatched the ball up and then spun it in his hands.

  The teenager shuffled his feet, his gaze skirting over the court, anywhere but Aidan’s face.

  Ice broken.

  Aidan had achieved his aim of putting the kid off guard enough to be heard and not dismissed out of hand. Now he needed to capitalize on that with more honesty and directness. “Here it is, Isaac. Miss Jones and I have an agreement. She tutors one of my players, and I hang out with you and shoot some hoops or talk over a soda or whatever you want.” He shrugged and walked a few feet to the left, lining up his shot. “You can walk away now, and I would have fulfilled my end of the bargain. Or you can respect the fact she went to this trouble to get us together and see what happens.” He glanced at Isaac. “Either way, my plan isn’t to spoil your day.” Facing back toward the basket, he went to shoot.

  “Best of five.” Isaac said just as Aidan threw the ball, which bounced—dammit—off the basket.

  Aidan huffed a laugh. Kudos to the kid.

  He grinned as Isaac caught the ball and dribbled on the three-point line. The kid was handing him an opening, and Aidan wasn’t going to pass up the chance.

  “Make it seven.”

  He didn’t miss the flicker of…curiosity, maybe, in Isaac’s gaze. He waved for the teenager to go first. It was time to shoot some hoops.

  Thirty minutes later, Aidan’s ass had been well and truly kicked. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead. The kid could shoot—and hustle—on the court.

  So why wasn’t someone with such talent more involved with sports at school?

  Aidan held up his hands in defeat. “You win. Let’s get a couple of drinks and sit for a moment.”

  Isaac nodded, his mouth kicking up at one end in what seemed—for him—to equal a smile.

  They headed back into the center, where Aidan purchased two bottles of water from the drink machine. He glanced around as a group of martial arts students started to file into the main auditorium. “Want to sit here or outside?”

  “Outside.” Isaac turned, headed out, and sat on top of a picnic table next to the basketball court.

  Aidan joined him, his feet on the bench seat. He sucked back a long swallow of the icy-cold water. “You’ve got a great game, Isaac. Ran me all over the court.”

  “Thanks.” The teenager sipped his water and kept his gaze toward the court. “You’re pretty fit for a teacher.” He grinned, a real show of joy that creased his cheeks.

  “Thanks, I think.” Aidan chuckled. “Do you play for Macarthur High? I’ve haven’t seen you around the gym.” Basketball tryouts weren’t until November, but the players used the gym in the off-season.

  Isaac made a disgusted sound in his throat. “You’re kidding?”

  Aidan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  Isaac stared at Aidan, first in what looked like shock and then defiance as the boy’s gaze hardened. “I’m not the kind of kid the school wants on their team.”

  “What kind of kid do you think you are?” Was that the problem here? Isaac didn’t think he was good enough? If so, he was way off the mark. And who was putting those ideas in his head?

  “I’m trouble,” Isaac blew out a harsh breath. “My record says as much. Coach Parker keeps kids like me off of the teams to make sure their players stay sweet.” He shook his head at Aidan’s confused stare. “I want to play football, not basketball. I shoot hoops to stay fit.”

  Problem is, those kids with the drugs, they come from broken homes, tough neighborhoods. That’s the life they lead.

  Aidan gritted his teeth as Coach Parker’s words echoed in his head. “Isaac—”

  “No, don’t say anything,” Isaac broke in. “That’s how people see me. How they see my friend Michael.” The plastic bottle of water crackled under the force of Isaac’s grip. “And look where he ended up.”

  Aidan’s body stilled at the mention of the boy charged with supplying drugs to Heather Raynard. “Michael’s your friend?” If Isaac hadn’t been so angry, Aidan guessed he’d have kept Michael out of the conversation, let alone assumed that Aidan knew who Michael was in the first place.

  Aidan needed to tread softly, but no way could he pass up an opportunity to seek information.

  “He’s not a bad guy, just stupid. He wouldn’t hurt Heather. If they hadn’t—” Isaac broke off, his gaze flicking at Aidan before skirting away.

  Careful, Shaw.

  Aidan kept his tone casual, not forgetting Isaac might have information that could place him in danger. “Isaac, if you know something that could help your friend, you should tell the police or maybe one of the counselors here, If you’re scared or worried about what you know, you could tell me, and I could go with you to the cops.”

  The boy glanced to the heavens before turning his incredulous gaze on Aidan. “Oh, sure, and then everything will turn out okay. Heather will wake up, and Michael will get out of juvie.”

  Isaac hadn’t admitted knowing anything. Only that whatever he said wouldn’t make any difference.

  Aidan deepened his voice. “I didn’t say that.” Isaac’s gaze lowered under Aidan’s commanding stare. “Michael needs to answer for his actions, but if he was forced by others in some way, then the authorities need to know. That could definitely affect the outcome for your friend.”

  A muscle in Isaac’s jaw flexed. “I don’t know anything.” He twisted off the cap on the water bottle and
took a long gulp.

  “Then there’s nothing you can do to help your friend since trying to fix something on your own would be too dangerous.” Aidan didn’t miss the tightening of Isaac’s jaw. That hit home. Good. He needed to push Isaac into confiding in him. “But you can influence how others see you.”

  The student narrowed his gaze. “How’s that?”

  “Have a bit more faith in yourself. You’ve kept your record clean and raised your grades at school since you were released. I’m betting not everyone thought that was possible.”

  Isaac shrugged and dropped his gaze to the bottle in his hands. “Some kids were assholes. A few teachers too.”

  “I bet.” Teenagers could be cruel little shits. And some adults were close-minded, branding a kid with a past as damaged goods, no matter what changes the kid made. “But you proved them wrong. Plus, Miss Jones is in your corner. She tells me your mom loves you, wants the best for you. Having that support is great. You’ve just got to remember one thing.”

  Isaac glanced across at Aidan. “What’s that?”

  “Each of us is responsible for our actions, including the fact we can’t blame anyone but ourselves when we screw up.” Aidan stepped off the picnic table. “Or when we don’t try to right a wrong.”

  Isaac stared at him a few beats before dropping his gaze to his feet.

  Enough heavy talk. Aidan needed to finish their first meeting on a lighter note and give the boy an opportunity to think over what they’d discussed. “Come on, finish your water so I can retrieve some pride and beat you in a best of fifteen.”

  Isaac smirked. “Yeah, right.” He slugged down another mouthful of water before reaching for the ball next to him.

  He seemed like a good kid. Confused, angry, definitely troubled, and while he and Aidan hadn’t swapped childhood stories or sung campfire songs, Isaac sharing his anger was better than sullen indifference.

  And the student knew more about the drugs than he had shared.

  Was Isaac’s reticence because he was scared to provide details? Aidan’s gut tensed at another possibility. God forbid, was the student part of the network himself?

  The boy’s worry for his friend hinted to Aidan that—for now—it was the first option. Either way, Aidan had a target to focus on. Whether Isaac became an informant or a suspect remained to be seen.

  He hoped for Mercy’s sake he didn’t have to take the kid down in the process.

  6

  “You know, Cole, some girlfriends think it’s pretty awesome when their boyfriends quote Shakespeare to them.” Mercy sat next to the hulking teenager as he slouched in one of the chairs at the back of her classroom on a Thursday afternoon. “Three weeks now I’ve been tutoring you. Think of all you’ve learned, and how you could impress her with your wit and charm.”

  The blond quarterback failed to give her his usual smile. “My new girlfriend likes me just as I am, Miss Jones.” He frowned as he studied the textbook in front of him and made notes without taking his gaze off the pages.

  Mercy battled not to raise her eyebrows at his abrupt behavior. This wasn’t the easy-going star quarterback she had come to know. In fact, the last few days he’d seemed like a stranger to her. Impatient. Moody.

  Maybe he was stressed about the last game of the season tomorrow. A home game, too.

  “Okay.” Mercy glanced over at the two other teachers and six students in the classroom—some of them starting to pack up. “Do you have any questions about the assignment?”

  “No.” Cole stood, gathered up his papers and textbook and shoved them into his backpack. “I’ll have it done by Tuesday.” His gaze skirted around her as he slid his chair back to the desk.

  “Cole.”

  “Yes?” His tone was polite, but there was no mistaking he wanted to get gone. Wasn’t he due now at football practice?

  Mercy stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Have a good afternoon.” She held his stare, catching the slight flattening of his lips at her subtle reminder of his lack of a proper goodbye.

  His smile was contrite. “You too, Miss Jones.” With a nod, he turned and walked toward the classroom’s door, but came to an abrupt stop.

  “What do you want?” Cole demanded in a hard voice, his body tense.

  “Not here to see you, Hunt.” The reply was equally challenging.

  Mercy recognized the speaker.

  “Isaac, glad you stopped by.” Mercy moved up beside Cole.

  The quarterback ignored her and glared at Isaac, who stood less than three feet away, his unblinking gaze filled with scorn.

  What the hell?

  Cole might be a couple of inches taller, but Isaac was just as fit and broad in the shoulders. And Mercy had read his record. The boy could fight.

  “Cole, you’re due at practice, aren’t you? Better not be late.” Mercy’s no-nonsense tone reminded Cole of his manners enough to walk past Isaac, though he missed bumping into the other teenager by less than an inch. The quarterback never looked back as he exited the building.

  “You want to tell me what that was about?” Mercy fought not to cross her arms over her chest. Open confrontation wasn’t her style, and never worked with Isaac.

  He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Mutual dislike is all.” His face was blank of emotion. She wasn’t going to get any more from him on that subject.

  Fine. She had other matters to discuss.

  “You’ve missed two days of school in the last ten, as well as our last appointment at the youth center.” Sean had been worried, then annoyed when he saw Mercy was getting concerned. “I called your mom. She said you’ve been out a lot lately.”

  The woman had covered for his absence from school, but it was in a rushed, panicked way that conveyed she had no idea he’d not been here on those days. Although his mom did share with Mercy her fears of her son’s growing distant behavior and more frequent outbursts of temper.

  “That’s why I’m here. Mom told me you called. Sorry I missed Mr. Gallagher at the center. My fault.” He looked to the side, before turning back to Mercy. “Everything will be back to normal next week.”

  “Why is it different this week?”

  Her belly tightened as Isaac’s gaze shuttered.

  “Just busy.” He backed away. “I gotta go. Mom’s expecting me home.” He turned and jogged down the corridor.

  Except his mom worked Thursday nights as a cleaner at a local hospital.

  “Isaac, wait!” Mercy stepped forward, but the kid was already out the door into the darkening October afternoon.

  Dammit.

  Isaac had checked in. But then he had lied to her.

  She dragged a hand through her hair. What could she do without more facts? At least she could let Sean know she’d caught up with the kid. He’d been concerned when Isaac hadn’t shown up, more so when he found out Isaac had missed school on Tuesday. But the school had received calls from his ‘mother’ on both days he was absent. A friend, someone using his mom’s phone to cover for him?

  Maybe Sean would have some ideas?

  She was due to meet him at that new Chinese place at the mall for dinner. Hurrying to her car, she glanced at her watch. Five on the dot. So, she had two hours. Enough time to buy her parents that thirtieth wedding anniversary gift, and maybe visit a couple of her favorite stores.

  Didn’t she need some more of those gorgeous soaps from Lush? And the shower smoothies, too. Turkish delight and maybe the Argan body conditioner.

  Hmm, how about something more masculine—a spicy sandalwood perhaps—for Sean? Lord knew he’d been taking enough showers at her place lately. Every Friday night and most Saturdays, too. Not that she was complaining. God, the man had skills in the bedroom department. But it was the conversation and laughter they shared outside the bedroom that had her counting down to the weekends. Their busy schedules made catching up during the week more difficult, but like tonight, they sometimes managed dinner.

  And watching Netflix on the sofa.

  S
he smiled to herself as she started for the mall. The guy had a gift for finding the best movies and then cuddling her as they watched. Now that was a great way to spend a few hours, or even a Sunday.

  As she drove out of the school, the truth hit her. Face it, girl, you like him. Big time.

  A happy lightness invaded her body. Five weeks since she had first met Sean, and she was totally falling for the guy. But there was still so much to learn about him. Why, last Sunday she discovered he loved peanut butter toast but hated eating it in bed because you could never get rid of the crumbs in the sheets. Even as she teased him, she wanted to fist pump the air in total agreement.

  Breadcrumbs in the sheets. It was the little things, right?

  After snagging a parking space close to the mall’s entry, she hunted down the silver double photo frame her mom had hinted at—as in, pre-ordered for Mercy to purchase—for her anniversary gift to her parents. As a surprise, she also got them tickets to a hit Broadway musical now touring Seattle.

  Still with half an hour before she was due to meet Sean, Mercy walked out of Lush with a bag of goodies, including a bar of their spicy soap. She so needed that extra shelf in the bathroom. Maybe her Dad could come over on Sunday, or—

  She stopped mid-stride. Up ahead, Sean stood outside an electronics store. He was standing with a woman. A redhead. Around his age. Maybe younger. She looked vaguely familiar. No, she shared a resemblance to Sean. Her hair was more red compared to his russet brown, but there was no denying the connection. His sister? What was her name? London?

  Oh, how cool. Mercy felt her mouth move into a smile. She walked toward them, only getting a few steps before Sean’s gaze locked with hers. For a second she was sure he cursed, but then he gave her a quick smile. He grabbed the woman, held her tight in a hug and said something in her ear.

  The next second the woman leaned back, then hustled out of sight like she was racing to catch a bus.

  Mercy blinked. That was…sudden.

  Sean reached her side in a few strides. “Hey, nice surprise.” His smile reached his eyes. His kiss sent a shiver all the way to her toes. Nothing unusual there.