by Belle Aurora
A.J. took her lead and pressed his small fingers to her face. When he suddenly dropped them and asked, “Why do you cry at night?” I very nearly died.
Wide-eyed and thoroughly confused by his ill-mannered conduct, I spun around and scolded him. “That is enough.”
But Ana put a hand up to me, letting me know it was okay. I couldn’t help but notice the way her hands shook as she spoke, as if it was taxing her greatly to use her voice, but she did that for A.J. “I cry because I’m sad, baby.”
And A.J. rewarded her.
Standing suddenly, he rushed to his room. We all heard the commotion as he threw things around, and when he finally found what he was looking for, he returned. Ana took the outstretched brown bear he held, and as she looked at it, he told her, “Sometimes, when I get sad, I hug my bear.” He looked her in the eye in the unabashed way only a child could. “He feels nice. He’s soft and smells like cookies.”
Ana put her nose to the center of the teddy bear’s stomach then smiled. “He does.” She handed him back his bear. “But I can’t take him from you. He’s yours.”
He puffed out his chest, as he stated, “I’m a big boy. I don’t need him anymore.”
“Sure you do,” she said kindly, holding out his bear, insisting he take it from her.
When he said what he did, pride warmed me. “I think you need him more.”
He was a good boy and he genuinely wanted to help. As I plated up breakfast, I quietly told her, “Stubborn as a mule, he is. He won’t take no for an answer.” My eyes widened comically. “Trust me on that.”
At my son’s persistence, she looked down at the bear, gently touching its nose before hugging it to her, her long black hair falling over her face. Her voice was soft. “Thank you.”
He returned her smile. “You’re pretty, Ana.” Then he turned to me. “Can I watch TV now?”
Oh my God, this child. “Sure.”
Julius’s shoulders shook in silent laughter as he sat at the table, taking his plate with him. “I better watch my back, Lex. I think your boy’s tryin’a steal my girl.”
As I sat with them, I uttered, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him this morning. I’m so sorry.”
But it was Ana who responded. “It’s okay. I love A.J.”
I looked at my son in the next room and my face softened. “He loves you too.”
And he did. He proved it time and time again, spending time with Ana when he thought she was lonely, talking to her, sharing his snacks with the little woman, bringing her his most cherished things to borrow or keep. And when time came to say goodbye, A.J. was devastated.
He asked a soggy, “Are you ever coming back?” as he wiped at his nose with his sleeve.
Ana knelt down and smiled gently. “Of course, baby. We’re not moving far.” She took his hand and held it tight. “You can come visit whenever you like.”
“Now?” he asked, sniffling, and she laughed softly at how ridiculous he was being.
I had a strong feeling that A.J. had helped her heal some, and there was no better compliment as a parent. It spoke volumes about his character.
It hurt to see him lose his friend, but it was nice to see Ana and Julius taking steps forward in life. For a long while, they were stuck. Not moving forward or backward.
Just... stuck.
With a gentle hand, she wiped away his tears and spoke quietly. “I promise as soon as we have furniture and I have a bed for you, you can come have a sleepover with us, okay?”
At that, he smiled through his tears. “Okay.” He hugged her as tightly as he could, and when they parted, Julius held his arms open.
A.J. went to him slowly, dragging his feet, and when he reached him, he dipped his chin, looking miserable. Julius picked him up, and when A.J. rested his head on Uncle Julius’s shoulder, my insides melted into a pile of goop.
“You’re the man of the house,” Julius told him, and A.J. nodded at his shoulder. “That means you’ve gotta look after your mom.”
I smiled sadly when A.J. looked to me and muttered, “I will. I promise.”
“That’s my boy,” Julius said, holding his godson close and swaying gently from side to side. “You good?”
A.J. shook his head dismally and Julius hugged him tighter, snuffling out a soft laugh through his nose. “Aw, c’mon. You’re killin’ me here.”
When I saw A.J. smirk, I knew he was milking it, clearly loving the attention, and later that night, when Julius and Ana had finally left us, the house felt dreadfully still, quiet in a way it hadn’t been in months, and to be honest, I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Weeks passed, and the house remained still. Julius called, and he sounded uneasy when he said, “I think I might be overstepping here, Lex.”
What an odd sentiment.
We were so far past overstepping. After all we had been through, I didn’t think we could have lived any other way than what we were. Boundaries never got crossed because there were no boundaries between us.
“No such thing,” I told him. “What’s up?”
“I got a call from someone I know. Actually, the daughter of someone I know. She’s looking for work.”
Yep. I was definitely confused.
I drawled out, “Okay?”
“She doesn’t have a lot of experience, but she is good at one thing.”
“Oh?” I asked cautiously, “What’s that?”
“She’s great with kids.”
And my heart sunk. “Julius—”
But he cut me off with, “Think about it, Lex. You’ve wanted to go back to work for a while now but said the hours make it too hard to juggle A.J. and a job.” He quickly uttered, “Molly can help with that. You’d be able to work again, whatever the hours.” After a silent moment, he vowed, “A.J. will love her.”
I didn’t want to hurt Julius’s feeling, but this did feel like overstepping. “Her name’s Molly?”
“Yep. She’s twenty-one and looking for something permanent.”
I sighed softly.
My maternal worry came into play. “Do you trust her?”
“Lex,” was all he said, and I knew it was a stupid question. As if Julius would let anybody untrustworthy around his godson.
The thought of working again sounded amazing. I couldn’t help but consider the offer.
“Well, I can’t promise permanent, but—” I let out a long drawn out sigh. “—maybe she can come down for a day or two next week so I can get to know her a little.”
Julius was okay with that. “Of course, I wouldn’t jump into anything until you meet her. She’s, uh...” He paused. “She’s different.”
The following week, when I met Molly, I understood what “different” meant.
When I answered the door and found the petite, olive-skinned girl standing there, wearing black skintight jeans, a loose mesh long-sleeved top, and combat boots, I balked. She wore thick black eye shadow around her wide hazel eyes, and her big, pouty lips were painted an aubergine color. Her dark hair was short and curly, parted in the middle, and she had bangs, which she wore straight. Her short trimmed nails were painted black and she had tattoos. When she opened her mouth, I didn’t expect to hear the sweetness her voice provided.
“Ms. Ballentine?” When I continued to stare at her, her eyes darted around slowly and she reached up to scratch at her shoulder. “Uh, I’m Molly.” But I couldn’t speak. Her eyes widened as she clarified further, “Julius sent me.”
The last statement came out sounding like a question.
It took me a moment to reboot, and when I did, I shook my head as if to clear it. “I’m sorry,” I told her, opening the door and stepping aside. “Please, come in.”
She did, but she hesitated. I didn’t blame her. If I’d received the same welcome I’d just given, I’d hesitate too.
Once inside, I led her into the kitchen and smiled politely. “Have a seat.” The moment she was seated, her knee bounced erratically and I just knew I’d ruined my first impre
ssion with this girl. I tried to make it up. “So, you’re a babysitter?”
“A nanny,” she illuminated. “I was an au pair, actually.”
She did not look it. “Oh, really? Whereabouts?”
“In London.” Molly looked around the kitchen until she spied A.J.’s class photo on the fridge. It sat next to the one and only photo I had of Twitch. She looked at my beautiful boy and a small smile played at her lips. “That’s A.J.?”
I turned to look at that photo and smiled. “Yeah. That’s him.”
“He’s cute.”
“Oh, he knows it.” My smile widened.
A brief moment of silence passed between us, and I watched as Molly’s face fell. She stood and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She forced a smile and tried again. When she spoke, her voice held an understanding to it. “I don’t think this is going to work out.” I stood and attempted to speak, but she shook her head. “It’s okay, really. I get it.” As she backed out of the kitchen, she averted her gaze, and said, “Thanks for meeting me.”
That young girl felt alienated, and I had done that to her.
I felt like the lowest piece of scum to have ever been born.
By the time I found my feet and started after her, she was already in her bright red muscle car. I rushed out of my house, barefoot, and just as the car started with a low rumble, I stepped out in front of it, and she blinked at me as if I were a crazy person.
I motioned for her to turn off the engine, and when she did, she continued to sit in the driver side, looking cautiously at me and lowering the window. I walked the few steps over and bent at the waist, looking in. “Why don’t you come back inside?” She side-eyed me but didn’t make to move. So I tried to mend what damage I had done by saying, “A.J. will be home soon. If we’re going to do this, I’d like for you to meet him.”
The silence between us lasted a while.
Reluctantly, she stepped out of the car, and then we were back in the kitchen, waiting for A.J. to come home from his play date. Conversation was sparse, and Molly didn’t make eye contact after that, but the moment the doorbell rang and I let A.J. inside, waving off his friend’s mother, Molly was resurrected.
A.J. rushed into the kitchen, and the moment he spotted her, he blinked in surprise. “Who are you?”
She scoffed at his rudeness, then returned, “Who are you?”
“I’m A.J.” Then he stated, “I live here.”
And Molly grinned. “I’m Molly, and I don’t.”
So she was good with kids.
“Whoa,” he said, awestruck as his eyes glanced the tattoos through the holes in her shirt. “You’ve got tattoos.”
“I do,” she said, then narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you?”
He giggled. “No,” and then he added, “I’m too little,” as if she didn’t know. I knew it was coming before he said it. “My dad’s got tattoos. Lots of them.”
I did not expect her to say what she did. “I met your dad once.”
My frown was slight. She had?
And A.J. was instantly dumbfounded. He spoke slowly, quietly, “You did?”
She nodded. “Yep, I did. It was a long time ago, but I still remember him.”
Sounds about right. Who could blame her?
Twitch was hard to forget.
“How long?” A.J. asked, dropping his backpack on the floor and stepping closer.
Molly thought about it. “Years ago.” She smiled down at him, knowing he was wrapped in attention. “I remember he was so tall.” Then she frowned. “Or maybe I’m just small. I don’t know.”
A.J. piped in with, “You are small, but Dad was...” He looked to me, and I smiled reassuringly. He continued, “Yeah. Dad was tall.”
As I sat there listening to the little Goth tell my son what little she knew about his father, I leaned against the kitchen counter and smiled at her recollection. After she was done, A.J. was half in love, and when she said, “You look just like him,” I knew A.J. was hers, heart and soul.
I booked Molly in for two days a week for a month. I increased that by a day over the next week, and another the next, until eventually, she was in our home more often than not. I got to see a different side of her. The playful but firm guardian to a little boy who adored her, and she loved A.J. wholeheartedly.
It seemed natural that when I found part-time work in the social sector that I asked her to move in with us. Molly graciously accepted, and she’s been with us ever since.
But I wasn’t a stupid woman, and my time spent with Twitch had taught me a lot, to read between the lines and hear the words unspoken. So when I found out that Molly was highly skilled in weapons training and martial arts, my suspicions were confirmed.
I wasn’t sure who Molly was, but Julius wanted her near A.J. for a reason, and that reason was protection. I just didn’t know why.
And that bothered me.
Chapter Three
Ling
With a vicious scowl, I put my hands to the doublewide doors and pushed as hard as I could. They opened with a whoosh, slapping the walls with a loud smack. I strode in, baseball bat in hand, surrounded by my brothers, and looked on at the absolute clusterfuck in front of me.
My men were brawling with the Turks again.
From behind me, Van cussed loudly, “Fuck, Ling.” His eyes shot to mine. “Don’t just stand there.” He looked down at me, leant in, and snarled, “Do something.”
Oh, I’d do something, all right.
My lip curled. I strolled inside and perched the bat to rest on my shoulder as I moved through the club. The tiny red dress I wore wasn’t exactly an outfit made for damage control, but, shit, what’s a girl to do?
These men were starting to rattle me. I was their fucking queen, and this was how they treated me?
I was going to show them just how I felt about their insubordination, and I was going to do it in a way that was uniquely my own.
The red-soled heels I wore felt tacky on the sticky nightclub floor, and when I approached one group of men tussling, I lowered the bat a moment before lifting it high up over my head. I braced, my face twisted, and then I brought it down as hard as I could over one guy’s head.
My guy.
He fell with an ungraceful thud, unmoving.
The two Turkish men reared back to look down at the prone body of my Vietnamese soldier and gaped. I smiled wide, wild-eyed, and leant in, crooking my finger. When I was sure I held their attention, I licked my cherry-red lips, and said, “Now imagine what I’ll do to you.”
Mere seconds later, they were scrambling as I pursed my lips, looking around for my next victim. I looked to my Dragons, my boys, and shook my head discreetly in displeasure. They never learned.
But they would.
As I moved onto another group of men, I held onto my bat with one hand while reaching into my garter for my switchblade. Singlehandedly, I flipped it open before gritting my teeth and bringing it down into the thigh of one of my men.
The young gun screamed out in pain and reared back to hit me. His face, contorted in anger, turned to fear the moment he saw me.
My eyes dared him to speak, dared him to make a fucking sound, and like the good boys I’d raised, he lowered his head submissively.
They were shameful.
It wasn’t their fault they were like this. It was mine. I had been too lenient, too long, wanting my boys to have a good time while working. And they did. They just didn’t know when to quit.
Clicking my tongue, my face transformed as I knelt down, gripping the back of his head lovingly and gently bringing it to my bosom. I stroked his sweaty face, and muttered, “I don’t like hurting my babies.” In a split second, my face contorted. I gripped his hair and tugged hard, forcing him to look up into my eyes. “But you continue to shame me.” My eyes landed on the knife sticking out of this thigh. I put my hand down and pushed on it.
The young man’s face twisted in pain, and he gasped, but he didn’t scream. Instead, h
e bit his lip hard enough to bleed. My heart started to race.
Damn.
All this blood and pain was making me hot.
As I brought my face to his, I pressed harder on the knife’s handle, and when a choked sound gurgled in his throat, I threw my head back and my mouth parted in desire.
I really needed to get laid.
When I slowly ran my tongue over the youngins lips, I felt his short, panting breaths against my mouth, and I pressed my lips to his, sweetly thanking him for his service. As I pulled back and stood, I peered down at him impassively. “Go home. Now.”
With a sigh, I put my hand to my hips, legs braced, and looked on at the carnage that ensued.
Bodies littered everywhere; it was a bloodbath, and when I felt someone come up from behind, I put my hand to the .22 caliber concealed in my garter.
But then he spoke. “This is getting out of control.”
My eldest brother, Van. The only brother I really bothered with, the only one of my family who understood me, because he was the same.
I nodded slightly, and when Van pressed his front to my back, I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.
It was a game we played with each other, pushing the limits.
Yeah.
We were fucked like that.
His hand came to rest on my hip and he leant in close, placing his lips to my ear. “This is your domain. Take control.” The hand at my hip squeezed. “Be the queen I know you are.”
I twisted to look up at him and he kept his face close. Too close.
Without breaking eye contact, I took out my gun, lifted it, and fired three shots.
Van’s eyes smiled, shining with pride, and I returned that arrogant smile, peering down at his lips a long moment.
“Ling.”
I bit my own lip, wondering what he’d taste like.
“Ling,” he warned roughly, taking hold of my wrist and snapping me out of my stupor.
Blinking, I shook the unnatural desire off and looked around, searching the floor, momentarily surprised to find all eyes on me. Luckily for them, I loved the attention. Lived for it.