Rock point collection, p.91
Rock Point Collection, page 91
“What’s that?” Harry pipes up, but before I can answer Theo does, his face hard.
“It means he’s not allowed to come close to us, right, Mom?”
My boy, so smart and so much more mature than I’d like him to be at thirteen.
“That’s bullshit,” Liam interjects, angry.
“You don’t know anything,” Theo fires back.
“Boys,” I draw their attention before another fight breaks out and quickly look at Dylan, who’s been quiet so far. He just nods his encouragement. “Liam, I already explained to you, if your father wants to see you there is a right way to go about that. Threatening me, showing up where I’m working, that’s not okay. That’s just plain scary.”
“Why were you scared?” Harry wants to know, his eyes worried. My sensitive kid.
Time for more truth I would’ve preferred to keep from the kids, but I need them to understand how dangerous their father can be. “Because he’s hurt me before, Bub.”
“You mean, like hit you?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“I don’t believe you.” I look at Liam, who is furiously blinking at tears and my heart breaks for him.
“You’re so stupid. Our dad’s an asshole.” Before I can stop Theo, he jumps up, kicking his chair back from the table. “He was always a dick to Mom and I saw it. I saw him hit her, and I don’t ever want to see him again. Never!”
Theo bails to the basement, Liam runs upstairs, and Harry sits across from me, big tears rolling down his face. I turn to Dylan, trying to keep my own emotions in check.
“Now what?”
He slips down the stool and closes the distance between us. I don’t even complain when he bends down, hooks a hand behind my neck and presses a quick kiss to my trembling lips. “Now you take care of your youngest, and I’ll tackle the other two.” Another kiss to my forehead and he’s off to the basement.
“Come here, baby,” I tell Harry, who’s trying to wipe the tears that seem to keep coming.
I don’t have to tell him twice. He’s up out of his chair and rounding the table. I barely have time to brace when he slams into my body.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs into my shirt.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, honey. None of this is your fault.” I guide him to the couch where he cuddles right back into me.
“It is…my fault,” he sniffs. “Liam said Dad left because of m—”
I quickly move my kid back a few inches so I can get in his face. “No. He. Did. Not. Your brother was wrong. Your father leaving had nothing to do with you.”
I hope to God I got through to him when he ducks his head and shoves his face in my neck.
A few minutes later, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Theo sits down on the couch on my other side, pressing close. I tilt my head back to see Dylan watching us.
“Let me get Liam and we’ll talk this through,” he announces, and all I can do is nod, overcome with gratitude he’s here.
It takes another ten before Liam shuffles into the room, his face blotchy from crying. I pull Harry onto my lap and pat the seat next to me.
“Come here, Bub. Sit by me.”
I swear if ever I’m unlucky enough to see Jeremy’s face again, I’ll rip off his dick and shove it down his throat for putting my boys through this.
Dylan walks up behind Liam and gives him a little shove in my direction when he hesitates. When he sits down, leaving a gap between us, I lift my arm around his shoulders and tuck him closer.
“Right.” Dylan takes a seat on the coffee table, right in front of us. “Here’s the deal, and brace, because it sucks. Your dad wasn’t a good dad, and so far he’s shown he still isn’t. What happened then and now is nobody’s fault but his. Not your mom and not any of you. You guys are a family, and you need to start looking out for each other like your mom has done by herself these past years. You can start by not fighting.” He directs a pointed look at each of the boys, and has them fidget against me. “But also by being smart, and being safe. You all need phones.”
It takes the two youngest jumping up and cheering before it filters through what he just said. Phones?
“They’re too young,” I blurt out. “Theo just got one for his thirteenth.”
“Mo-om,” Harry complains, but I ignore him.
I’m focused on Dylan, who leans over and gives my knee a squeeze.
“Babe, you want them safe? You’ve gotta give them the tools.”
I hate it when he makes sense. “It’s not cheap,” I point out.
“It’s not that much either, if you get them flip phones on a plan without data. I have a plan for Max with straight phone and text. I’ll hook you up.”
“That’s not fair, I want an iPhone like Theo,” Liam complains, but I quickly pin him with a look, my mom reflexes thrown into high gear.
“When you’re thirteen—like your brother; have a part-time job so you can pay for it—like your brother; and most important of all, work hard to improve your attitude. Until then you’ll have to make do with a flip phone.”
I know, even as I’m saying it, I just caved to giving my kids phones. Dylan tries to hide his smile, but Harry makes no such effort, he’s grinning ear to ear. Drat.
“Now that’s settled,” Dylan continues, ignoring my glare. “Let’s talk codes…”
The boys are riveted when he starts explaining how radio codes work, but when they start making references to what I assume are games, it all becomes noise to me. I retreat to the kitchen and dig through the fridge for quick meal ideas, since it’s already nearing on six.
I’m just putting my sausage bake in the oven—sliced smoked sausage, potato, chunks of pepper and onion, some spices, an egg, and grated cheese—when I feel Dylan’s hand on my hip. I close the oven door and turn to face him.
“The boys are putting together their own list of 10-codes,” he informs me with a grin. “They just dubbed 10-99 Mom alert. As one responsible parent to another, I thought you should know.”
“Appreciate it.” I grin back at him. “What are they gonna do with the codes?”
I dart a quick glance into the living room, where the boys are bent over the coffee table, scribbling on pieces of paper, when Dylan slips an arm around my waist, fitting me against him. “It’ll be their custom designed alarm system. A way to communicate quickly if they ever find themselves in trouble. We’ll add both our numbers at the top of their speed dial, and make sure we all have an explanation of the codes on our phones.”
“You got them to work together,” I note, checking on the kids, the one blond head between the two darker ones.
“Kills a few birds with one stone: it creates a common goal, adds to their sense of responsibility, makes them feel in control—and last but not least—has them focused on something other than their father being a certifiable cocksucker.”
I throw my head back and laugh, a sound that I guess has become so rare, all three boys curiously look my way. I wink at them and wait until their attention is back on their list before I put a hand in the middle of Dylan’s chest.
“You’re a miracle worker.”
FOURTEEN
Dylan
You’re a miracle worker.
Her laugh had been nothing short of amazing, but hearing those words after had settled deep under my skin.
Her boys had come up with a list of codes. Some of them were cause for hilarity, but others had been sobering, showing the kinds of things kids—even at that young age—worry about.
We ate Marya’s sausage bake—delicious—and after, she let me pull her outside on her front step so I could kiss her goodbye.
Work had kept both of us busy yesterday, but we connected via text last night, when I told her I’d drop off the phones for the boys today. That almost resulted in a stupid argument about who was going to pay for the phones, but it swung my way when I explained I wanted to get Jasper to install a tracker, the same one he installed on Max’s, just in case. She liked the idea of added security, but insisted she’d pay me back, and took my silence as agreement. Her mistake.
“It’ll run in the background,” Jasper explains. “It’s as simple to install as any other app, except you have to upload it from the computer since it’s not on the market.”
“And you say it’ll work on Marya and her oldest’s iPhones as well?”
“Yup. Installed it on Bella’s. Takes all of two minutes. I’ll send you a copy.”
“Okay, I’ll do that tonight.”
“What’s that?”
Jasper points at the list with emergency codes I’m entering into a reference file on the boys’ phones. I don’t think they’ll need them, they were already quizzing each other over dinner on Tuesday, but the cheat sheet won’t hurt. It’s already on Marya’s, Theo’s, and my phone, and figured I might as well add it to Max’s as well.
I turn the list around to show him.
10-1 Dad alert
10-2 stranger danger
10-3 SOS
10-4 Gotcha
10-5 Zombie attack
10-6 fire
10-7 hiding
10-8 kidnapper
10-9 lost
10-10 red alert
10-11 gun
10-12 urgent
10-13 starving
10-14 pizza tonight
10-15 need pick up
10-99 Mom alert
“These are not your standard 10-codes,” Jasper snickers. “Zombie attack?”
“Boys put it together,” I share by way of explanation.
“I can tell.” He picks up his phone and takes a quick picture. “For reference,” he explains.
“Whatever. You almost done?”
“Yeah. Oh, by the way.” He shoves a sheet of paper my way.
“What’s this? Copy of a police report?”
Jasper nods. “Talked to a guy I know in the Montrose PD, earlier in the week, to see if they have anything on Jeremy Berger. He called me back this morning. Sent me that.”
I catch the complainant’s name, Sylvia Berger, and quickly skim the content: a domestic abuse claim on none other than Marya’s ex.
“The wife apparently kicked his ass to the curb a while ago, changed the locks on him and everything. Told him to leave her alone or she’d file a report on him. She says she doesn’t know where he stayed, but he showed up last week, wanting to see his kid, and forced himself into the house. Smacked her around with their little girl looking on. Guess that motivated her to finally file that report.”
“Jesus. Guy’s a piece of work. Assume that’s why he set up in that cabin in Hermosa.”
“Yup, passed on the address and filled Jimmy in on what was going on here. Word of warning though, he’s interested in talking to Marya. May want to give her a heads-up.”
“Fuck. She needs that on top of everything else.” I rub a hand over my face.
“He do the same thing to her? Put his hands on her?”
I can’t bring myself to answer, so I growl in response.
I’d suspected it—Marya had never quite spelled it out—until Theo blurted a few nights ago what he’d witnessed.
A heavy silence stretches as I watch Jasper’s jaw work. “Shit,” he finally barks, flaring his nostrils as he sucks in a deep breath. “Now I wish you’d have let Luna have a decent go at him on Monday.”
When we’d walked into the office after serving that dirtbag with the protection order, the bruise forming on Luna’s cheek had not gone unnoticed, and she hadn’t hesitated giving the guys the blow-by-blow. Including me stepping in before she could do him more damage.
Heck, I’d thought the same thing Tuesday night after hearing those strangled words come from her oldest, as he described exactly what he’d witnessed when I was in the basement with him. If not for the state of those boys, I’d have hightailed it out of there, back up to Hermosa, to finish the job Luna started.
“Not as much as me,” I grunt.
“I bet.” Jasper hands me the second phone. “All set up. Get out of here. I’ll shoot over that software.”
I tuck both flip phones in my pocket and snatch up the copy of the police report. “Takin’ this.”
“About time that woman has a good man looking out for her.”
The unfamiliar compliment startles me as warmth spreads into my limbs. There’d been too many years of not being a good man, a good son, a good father. Since joining the team as the junior agent, I’d tried hard to do better—be better—because of the caliber of the people I work with. I didn’t grow up with siblings, or even many friends, but my teammates have become the brothers and sister I never had. Hearing a man I look up to say something like that means something.
It means a lot.
Still, all I manage is a mumbled, “Thanks,” and a chin lift before walking out the door.
-
“I meant to ask you,” Marya says, pulling apart the pork in her slow cooker.
I’d picked up Max from school and came right here. Marya had made good on her promise of last night to cook Max and me dinner, in return for me taking care of the phones for her.
Apparently pulled pork, and it smells phenomenal.
Since tomorrow is a professional development day and homework can be done later, the boys disappeared down to the basement after the excitement of the new cell phones had worn off. I reminded them to stay offline.
“Is there any news on what happened to that Flora Vista boy?”
“Not really our case, but we’re helping check out a few tips.”
I can’t tell her much more, in part because our office doesn’t have lead on this case, but also because I don’t want to get into details with her. Like the fact the coroner found semen on the boy, or that the investigation turned up a surprising number of registered sex offenders living within a fifty-mile radius from where the boy went missing. That’s what we’ve been doing most of this week, knocking on doors of those registered in our county. It’s a slow, tedious process that requires a lot of sorting through background information on these deviants to see if there’s anything we could link to Seth’s case.
Some of the shit is so disturbing, I mentioned to Luna this morning it’s almost enough to lose your faith in the justice system we’re here to uphold. How some of these guys—mostly—are even walking around free is beyond comprehension.
“You can’t talk about it,” she says with a grimace, noticing my hesitation. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
I put a hand on her arm, stilling her movements. “You can ask me anything, just know it’s not personal when I can’t always answer. Especially if it’s an ongoing investigation.”
“Okay. It’s just…that’s the second time I hear you mention for the kids to stay offline, I was just wondering if there’s something…” She lets her voice trail off.
Current circumstances have made her hyper-vigilant, so it shouldn’t really surprise me she picked up on that. Should’ve had a talk with her about that sooner. This case, her dick ex, keeping up with my own kid, this new relationship—I feel like I focus on too many things at the same time and missing the mark on all of them.
Time to get my head out of my ass.
“I should’ve mentioned this before. Max came to me a little over a week ago and mentioned one of the players in his PS4 group made him uncomfortable. Jasper and I were going to look into it, but then Seth disappeared and we got wrapped up in that. Should’ve said something.”
“Is that the same group Liam is part of?” The concern is evident on her face and that’s on me too.
“I think so.” I realize I should probably ask Liam if he’s noticed anyone acting weird.
Marya drops the forks she’d been using on the pork onto the counter and marches to the entertainment center in her living room. She pulls a router tucked back on one of the shelves, and yanks out the cord. With the appliance tucked under her arm, she heads to the top of the basement stairs.
“Guys, just a heads-up. There’s something wrong with the router, I have to take it in to get it fixed!”
“Mo-om!”
“Deal with it, Harry,” she calls back to her youngest. “You can just play with your brothers.” She walks up to the fridge, stuffs the router into the small cupboard above, and picks up her forks again.
“You figure it out, let me know. Until then, no more online gaming.”
Not pissed off—matter-of-fact—and without any hint of recrimination.
Fuck, she’s perfect.
Marya
I can tell he’s beating himself up about it, something I’ve noticed he does easily—taking responsibility—but he won’t get a hard time from me. He has enough on his mind.
He’s already stepping in with Jeremy—which I’m grateful for, don’t get me wrong—but with a kid of his own, a demanding job, and a devastating case on his plate, he shouldn’t feel he also has to carry responsibility for my guys. That’s my job.
His hands slip around my waist, pushing low on my belly. I can feel his prominent erection pressing into me.
“Feel that?” His voice sounds right by my ear.
“Mmmm.”
“That’s how much I liked watching you getting things done without fucking around.”
“The kids…” I mumble, even as I’m grinding my ass against him.
“Yeah.” He slides one hand up my front and curves his fingers around my jaw, tilting my head back. His dark gaze pierces through me. “Need to carve out some time.” The fire in those brown eyes and his deep raspy sound are hypnotizing. “Soon.”
“Yes.” My own voice sounds thready.
“So fucking beautiful.”
The next moment his lips are bruising mine in a consuming kiss that has me wobble on my feet. Dylan’s hand tightens on my stomach, keeping me steady as his mouth lifts away.
“Soon,” he repeats on a whisper.
“I have to work tomorrow night, but I’m off Saturday night,” I blurt out, blushing at my own boldness, when he turns me around and cups my face with his hands.
“Would love taking you up on that, Sweetheart. Problem is, I can’t guarantee I won’t get called away.”
