But having him taken away had seemed like a wake-up call to his mother who cleaned up, kicked out the uncle, got a job, got her life in order.
So when he was three, he was given back.
And his mother, worried about child services keeping her on file indefinitely, skipped town with him and started over in Navesink Bank. Where her drug abuse and neglect somehow flew under the radar, Quinn getting good at taking care of himself and covering for her.
That was until he was seven and they went shopping at the food store with whatever little money she had for such things.
She had shot up in the car before they went in.
And she OD'd right on the floor in the pasta aisle with Quinn on the floor, screaming at her, trying to wake her up.
It was actually caught on camera by an onlooker who turned it over to child services who had, in turn, showed it to us so we could understand his trauma.
He came to us about eight months after that. And he was in therapy twice a week still to try to help him deal.
He still couldn't stand the sight of pasta. So we never cooked it. And he had a hard time accepting me as a maternal figure, likely because I was nothing like his maternal mother and also the fact that he was afraid I might die on him too.
But I was in it for the long haul and I knew we would get there some day.
He did, however, take to his sisters, brother, and Sawyer like a fish to water. He was Nate's shadow and if Nate took a stand on something, so did he.
"Mom," Ari said, rolling her eyes at me.
"Hey, you can be annoyed at them and I think you have that right," I said as I tucked her hair behind her ear, "but at least you have some men in your life that care enough to want to make sure you don't date until you're thirty. And if it makes you feel any better, when Nate decides to start dating, you, me, and Benny will all drive him over there with scrapbooks full of his awkward baby pictures and tell her all the embarrassing stories we have on him."
"Ma," Nate said, uncrossing his arms, knowing I damn well meant it too.
"Hey, you started it," I said with a shrug.
"Technically Dad started it."
Sawyer didn't seem the least bit bothered when Nate looked to him for backup. "Hey, you protect your women even if that means they're pissy about it," he said easily.
"And even if they don't need your protection," I said, looking at Ari who had been a black belt at the local martial arts gym for the past year already.
Sawyer was cool having girls so long as he knew they could whoop the shit out of any man who might get in their way.
"He's older than her," Sawyer said, small-eying me.
"He's one year older than her and the son of a good friend of yours and you know he was raised right and will respect our daughter or not only will you whoop his ass but so will his father."
"Paine has softened up," Sawyer tried, grasping at straws.
"No, he hasn't. And he certainly hasn't about this. And where Paine is, there is Shooter and Breaker too. And not one of those men will allow him to get away with disrespecting Ari."
"You've known Jackson since he was a toddler," Ari added. "And Bri, Alexis, and Junior are coming too."
"And Janie and Lo are the chaperones," I added, landing the death blow to his argument.
Anyone who had ever met Janie and Lo knew that there was no way any guy within one hundred yards was disrespecting any girl or woman.
"Fine," Sawyer sighed, dropping his arms. But then he had an evil little smirk that I didn't trust. "But I have one condition."
"Dad, no," Ari said, already knowing where her father's mind was. Those two had been thick as thieves until Ari started pulling away in all her teenage independence.
"Yep," he said, nodding, enjoying her discomfort way too much. "Nate is coming too."
"Ugh!" she growled, throwing her hands up. "Fine!" she declared, a testament to how much she wanted to go if she was going to let her brother tag along as their father's spy. "If you embarrass me," she hissed at Nate as he fell into step with her, "I swear to God I will tell all the girls in school about that time you..."
The rest trailed off as the door slammed behind them.
Sawyer looked at me and I shook my head. "I don't want to know," I said, exhaling, as he crossed over to me.
"I hate that she's going to start dating," he told me, unnecessarily.
"We knew this day would come when we learned the sex."
"Yeah, but I was hoping she would, I dunno, be into girls or something," he told me, arms going around my lower back.
"Girls can still break girls' hearts," I added.
"He better the fuck not break her heart," he said with force behind the words.
"Jackson is a good kid," I assured him. "And he is shaping up to be a good man."
"Even good men have an agenda."
"Oh, yeah?" I asked, teasing smile pulling at my lips. "You're a good man. Did you have an agenda with me?"
"Hell fucking yeah I had an agenda."
"Hmm," I said, arms going around his neck, pulling his body flush to mine. "What agenda was that?"
"Same one I still got," he said, eyes going hot, smile going wicked. The tips of his fingers teased down over my ass.
"What's that?" I asked, body already ready for him.
"To get you and keep you naked as much as possible," he told me in a low rumble.
"Oh, gross," Benny declared, having run out into the living room, only to run back into her room.
We both took and exhaled a deep breath in unison, excepting the fact that we were parents and naked time was generally relegated to late at night, early in the morning in the shower, or on the rare occasion that all the kids had places to be, on the weekend.
But that was okay.
We still had the passion we always did.
And sometimes the wait made it even better.
"Didn't think I could love you more than I did when I saw you wheeled back into the room after surgery," he told me, leaning forward to press his lips into my forehead. "But I love you more each fucking day."
Yeah, he never did clean up his potty mouth.
And the kids grew up just fine even though he couldn't always 'mind his fucks and shits'.
"I love you too," I agreed, leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss.
And I did.
I didn't know how deeply love could go until I fell for him.
Until he helped me through the worst phase of my life.
Until he started a family with me without any reservations.
Until I saw how he loved our children.
Until I realized that every single little thing in my life had been laid out to lead me right to him.
Those lost three-hundred and sixty seven days were nothing, nothing compared to the almost-five-thousand I had with him.
And all the ones left in our future.
XX
Keep reading for a preview of Tig's story...
14 WEEKS
Tig -
It was a slow week.
And if there was one thing a group of three men who were used to pretty constant work and a fair amount of action weren't comfortable with, it was sitting around on our hands.
But that was exactly what we were doing. We were all in Sawyer's office, the two of them sitting down and drinking coffee, me standing by the window. Marg was out so there was absolutely no warning before the door burst open and a woman was standing there.
To say that she was gorgeous would truly be the understatement of a decade. But then again, she had always been beautiful.
She was tall- all legs and torso with a high, round ass and just enough up top to pique a man's interest. She had fucking flawless mixed race skin, light-skinned black, with long, curly black hair and stunning hazel eyes.
And because she was who she was, she dressed to impress.
She had on a tight hunter green pencil skirt and a second-skin white long-sleeve tee that was short enough for there to be a s
liver of skin exposed between the hem of that and the waist of her skirt. Her feet were in some kind of distressed green boots and had a green and white striped clutch in her hand that had five mini silver rings on three different fingers and a silver watch on a white band on one wrist.
She dressed like that because she designed clothes for a living.
"Oh, fuck. Here's trouble," Brock said, shaking his head, amused smile in place.
He wasn't wrong.
If there was one thing Kenzi was, it was trouble.
"Kenz," Sawyer said, already shaking his head at her.
"Sawyer," she said, lifting her chin already, likely reading the fact that he didn't want to have to deal with her. "I need your help."
"Oh, like fuck," he laughed, shaking his head.
"Why can't you ask your brothers?" Brock asked.
"Paine is still in that ridiculous honeymoon phase with Elsie and Enzo is in the city working for Xander Rhodes and talking about that Espen chick. They've both done enough of cleaning up for me."
"Do they know you're in some kind of trouble?"
"Did I say I was in trouble?"
"You said you needed help."
"Since when are those synonyms for the other?"
"Since about the day you were old enough to leave the house alone. You have been nothing but a walking, talking, hot as shit bundle of trouble."
To that, her lips twitched. "I'll let that slide because you called me hot as shit. But to answer your question, no. I haven't talked to my brothers about this and I have no plans to. Neither will any of you."
"Are you in danger?"
"Depends on what your definition is."
"Someone going to mark you up or kill you?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then we're not taking your case."
"Sawyer..."
"No," he said, more firmly.
"Brock," she tried, turning her gaze on him.
"Sweetheart, I'm not in charge here."
Her shoulders squared and her jaw got tight. See, even if you only knew Kenzi from afar like me, you knew when she was about to blow off. And, see, she was known for her attitude, being strong enough to take on both of her badass ex-gangbanging brothers.
"You listen to me you arrogant bastard," she snapped, moving toward the desk and planting her hands on it, leaning toward him. "See? I know you know me. But the thing is, I do my due diligence. So I looked into you. And you, Sawyer Anderson, have one weakness."
"Babe, if you knew me, you'd know I have no weaknesses."
"Oh," she said, smiling a little. "See, it's funny you should ask me about my brothers. Because if you refuse to help me, I am going to see yours."
Sawyer stiffened at that.
See, she was right.
Barrett was Sawyer's weak spot.
Because Barrett used to work for Sawyer, being the best fucking investigator most of us had ever come across, even being in the business ourselves. But where he had brains, he lacked physical training. Sawyer and Brock had a decade plus in military, specializing in some black ops that weren't even on some top secret books.
Me, well, I grew up in a rough area.
I literally had to fight my way out.
Barrett was smart, scarily so, but he didn't know a round kick from a fucking turkey sandwich.
Kenzi knew that because her brother, Paine, had been dating Elsie when Barrett was working on Elsie's case. And Barrett got his ass kicked badly enough to warrant a hospital stay.
But, being stubborn, he refused to come back to work for Sawyer and, for either some sibling rivalry or some desire to prove himself, Barrett took every goddamn job that Sawyer refused.
None of us had any doubt that he would take on Kenzi too.
And we all knew that if Kenzi was asking for help, shit was serious.
"Kenz, if you aren't going to tell me what you got yourself into, I can't agree to help you."
"I can pay."
"I'm sure you can."
"What is your deal, Sawyer?" she sighed.
"Listen, I don't want a visit from your mammoth brothers when they find out I took a case for you without talking to them about it first."
"If you call my brothers, I swear to..."
"Look, you want to know if your boyfriend is cheating? He is. You want to know if someone in your apartment building is a criminal? They are. You think an employee is skimming off the books? Yeah, he probably fucking is. Go with your gut. Drop the guy. Move somewhere else. Fire the jackass. There you go. Case closed."
"Right. In case anyone hasn't told you today, though I think that is wholly unlikely, you're a jackass. I would thank you for your time, but you've barely given me..." she picked up her arm and checked her watch, a motion that was so uncommon anymore that I found myself fascinated by it, "two minutes of it. So fuck you very much and have a nice day."
With that, she literally turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving her scent behind, something sweet and real- vanilla and flowers. Not that shit they charge you eighty dollars a bottle for to make you smell like a French whore.
"We should call Paine," Brock said as soon as the click of her heels disappeared.
"I'm calling Barrett right now," Sawyer said, reaching for his cell. "He won't like it, but he's not taking this case. And then, yeah, I'm calling Paine."
"Why don't I take the case?" I asked, making both of them turn to look at me.
"Tig, know you're not from around here originally," Brock said, shaking his head. "But Kenzi has been running wild since she was thirteen years old. I think every one around here from us to Wolf, Reign, Cash, and Breaker to at least half of the Mallicks have dragged her out of one definitely dangerous or potentially dangerous situation and dropped her off at home. And, let me tell you, she's never been thankful for it. I, for one, had to take her home kicking and screaming when she was nearly fall down drunk in high school. Gina was thankful, of course, but I've never gotten a thank you from Kenz."
That didn't surprise me in the least. And, well, where I came from, I was used to hardass women with a lot of spirit. That shit didn't phase me.
"And?"
"And if you take her case, Tig, she will make your life a living hell."
"What if she really needs help, Sawyer?" I asked, shrugging. "Don't know her too well but she seems like the kind of woman who doesn't like asking for help. So if she's asking, if she swallowed her pride enough to come here, it could be serious. Wouldn't you rather someone with some experience look into it? And like she said, Paine and Enzo have lives. You know they'd drop everything for their sister, but maybe we shouldn't call them until we know what she has going on. Why make them drop everything if all she wants is to scare off a clingy ex?"
Sawyer sighed and I knew I had him.
"Fine. Go get her," he said, nodding toward the door.
I didn't need more than that. I took off down the hall and out the building at a near-run, stopping on the front steps to check the streets. There was nowhere to park in the middle of a weekday so she was likely heading for the main lot on the side street. On that thought, I made my way there.
And found her bleeping the button for a late model white crossover SUV.
"Kenzi, wait up," I called, making her stiffen and turn, eyes wary.
That was what made me realize I made the right decision to champion her case. Women like her- confident, strong, wild, carefree, and ball-busting, yeah, they didn't look wary often. Not in the middle of the day in a lot with people all around. She was safe.
But she didn't feel safe.
"I'd say hi, but I don't know your name."
I wasn't exactly offended by that. I made it a point to be under most peoples' radars. I liked my anonymity. I liked, despite my job, to live a quiet life.
"Tig."
"Tig. That's a weird name."
"My government one," I said with a shrug. "You got brothers named Paine and Enzo and my name is odd to you?"
"My father was a
dick."
"Yeah, mine too."
"So he's taking my case."
"I'm taking your case."
"No offense, but I know Sawyer and Brock. I don't know you."
"No, but Sawyer is calling his brother now to threaten him not to take your case. He kicks a lot of work Barrett's way. A lot of work that adds up to a lot of money. He takes you on and Sawyer will cut him off and go elsewhere. He wants to prove himself, but not enough to risk his income."
"You guys might be the only game in town, but this isn't the boonies. I can find other PIs."
"But not ones with the experience and resources and connections that I have."
"You're pretty sure of yourself," she said, lips tipping up.
"I'm not one for pride, honey, so if I tell you I'm good, it's just a fact."
"Why are you taking me on when your coworkers don't want to come near me with a ten foot stick?"
"Maybe because I didn't have to deal with you puking in my car a lifetime ago or pry you out of the arms of a known bastard or any number of things that you have..."
"Yeah, yeah. I have a past. I don't need a recap of mistakes I made, as you said, a lifetime ago."
"Or maybe I think a woman like you asking for help means things are a fuckuva lot more serious than she is letting on."
"A woman like me?" she asked, chin raising a bit.
"A strong woman," I clarified.
She accepted that. "Are you going to call my brothers?"
"Not unless I have to."
She looked me over slowly, taking in what she figured were my assets and faults, then shrugging. "Alright."
"Alright?"
"Yeah. Meet me tomorrow at one-twenty-one Lone Oak West at seven in the morning."
"Not going to tell me what I am walking into?"
"If you're as good as you say you are, you can handle whatever it is, can't you?" she asked, opening her door, climbing inside, and backing out of her spot, never once looking at me again.
367 Days Page 23
