by Belle Aurora
It was an odd feeling, really. For the first time since Twitch died... I didn’t want to be alone anymore.
As I sat at my desk with a throbbing mouth and a bruised temple, my lips thinned.
Why did that piss me off so much?
It was close to four a.m. when my doorbell rang.
Sliding out of bed, dressed in nothing but a tiny silk teddy, I reached for the Glock inside my nightstand. When I had it in hand, I looked through the peephole and frowned, throwing the door open and pointing the barrel of my gun at his chest.
“What are you doing here, Turk?” My voice was rough with sleep.
He looked down at the gun a moment before training his smiling eyes on me. “I missed you.”
Yeah, right. “Why are you really here?”
When he reached behind him, I stepped forward, face hard, and pushed my gun into his chest. “Fucking try it.” Wild-eyed, I pressed my gun into him hard enough to bruise and smirked. “Give me a reason. I dare you.”
But Aslan Sadik just watched me closely before pulling out the concealed item. He held it out to me, and my heart began to race.
“Is this a trick?” My eyes narrowed at him. “What game are you playing? I don’t know this one.”
“No game,” he said, raising his free hand in a placating gesture. “It just reminded me of you.” He ran his thumb over the red rose. “Beautiful.” He gently touched the few bruised petals. “But a little damaged.”
God, he was laying it on thick. “If you came here to fuck—”
“Actually, I have to go. My wife is likely waiting for me.”
When I made no move to take the rose, he took my free hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles, and I hid the shiver it caused well enough. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hide the goosebumps that lined my arms, and when Aslan spied them, he smiled, running soft fingertips over them. “I think you lied.”
My brow lowered. “About what?”
“I think you do want to be wooed.” At my disbelieving scoff, he went on. “I think you want someone to be gentle with you, Ling. You just don’t know it, because you’ve never experienced that at that hands of a man.” When he stated, “You’ve been let down by men, myself included, and I’m sorry for that,” I wanted to unload my clip into him.
How dare he assume he knew me?
How dare he be partly right?
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
What did he want me to say to that?
He didn’t say a word as he placed the rose into my hand. I held it tightly, needing to feel the sharp sting of its thorns in my palms to break through the inner turmoil I felt.
Aslan walked backward, away from me, and I wanted him back. Before he left, he uttered, “You look beautiful in the moonlight.”
When he was gone, I shut the door behind me and put my back to it. I wanted to be unaffected, but I never had been, not with Aslan. I loathed that he somehow knew that.
“Fuck.” I looked down at the pretty rose and my heart jolted.
Jesus Christ, Ling.
What are you doing?
Oh, no.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was falling in love.
Chapter Eight
Lexi
It was so good to be working again. I mean, it wasn’t paid work, but it was still something I was passionate about, and if I could help even one person, then I was good. Truth was, I didn’t need the money. I had more than I knew what to do with. Untraceable checks still came monthly to this day. But my time was something I could give to people who needed it.
I volunteered for a non-profit organization that did house checks on people suffering with depression, mental illness, suicidal thoughts, and a number of other mental disorders.
Walking to the door, I knocked, and when the woman answered the door, I smiled. “Hello. I’m Lexi Ballentine. We spoke on the phone.”
The woman nodded but didn’t move to open the door any wider.
“Can I come in?” When she watched me carefully, I said politely, “Or I can stay out here. That’s okay too.” I looked down at my notes. “It’s Gianna, isn’t it?”
She nodded, choosing to remain silent, and that was fine. I could carry a conversation on my own; I didn’t need help.
I smiled softly. “That’s a pretty name. Are you Italian?”
At that, she spoke quietly. “My father was.” Then she asked, “You’re American?”
Got her.
All you needed was an in, and she gifted me that, bless her. “Yeah. I came to live here when I was twenty. Have you ever been to Italy before?”
She shook her head, and I couldn’t help but notice how gaunt she looked.
“Is it okay if I ask you a few questions, Gianna?”
She didn’t look happy but said, “That’s fine.”
I made sure to speak in quiet tones. I didn’t want to rattle her anymore than she clearly was. “When’s the last time you ate, honey?”
The lean woman licked her lips. “Yesterday, I think.”
I think.
“I only ask because I have some groceries in my trunk.” I laid my sympathetic eyes on her. “I know how daunting it can be to go shopping when you suffer from anxiety.” I really did. I spent the first year of A.J.’s precious life suffering from anxiety, and I had attacks more often than not. “Do you need anything? I have the basics. Bread, milk, cereal, eggs.”
God, she looked ready to burst into tears, and when she spoke, it was barely a whisper. “Yes, please.”
I closed the clipboard. “Be right back.”
Opening the trunk of my car, I took out a few calico bags and loaded them up. When I carried them over, I was pleasantly surprised when Gianna opened the door all the way. I took her unspoken invitation and headed inside. The moment I stepped inside, I came to recognize why she didn’t want me in her house.
It was a mess.
Ignoring the clutter, I walked on through to the kitchen, and said, “In here okay?”
The smell was bad.
When Gianna followed me into the kitchen, she watched as I unloaded the groceries and hugged herself, making her look even smaller than she was. “I’ve been meaning to clean up.”
Of course she had. But, for a person with anxiety, it was easier said than done.
Without asking, I went over to the pile of dishes at the sink and turned on the hot water. The pots on the stove looked moldy.
Gianna looked mortified. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Why don’t you sit down and eat something and we’ll chat.” I pulled on the gloves and allowed the steaming water to soak the plates a minute before I took the sponge and started scrubbing.
Knowing I was going to do what I was going to do, Gianna hesitantly poured herself a bowl of cereal then sat at the table as I washed the dishes. “Thank you.”
That was it. That was all I needed. It made it all worthwhile.
I twisted back to her and smiled. “You’re so welcome.”
We spoke a while before I told her about the free session of therapy she was entitled to. She politely declined, but I left the leaflets with her anyways. We continued to talk as I cleared away all the empty boxes from around the house, and when I started picking up clothing off of the floor, Gianna joined in.
I put on a load of laundry for her and made sure to stay until it was finished, knowing it would likely not get taken out of the machine if I didn’t pull it out myself.
It wasn’t laziness. It was just the condition she was suffering from.
A couple of hours later, I left her cleaner home and told her I’d be back in a few days to check in. Gianna waved me off, and I had a feeling the next time I came over, she’d let me in.
Yeah.
My job was hard but most definitely rewarding.
A sad thought crossed me as I drove away.
Here I was helping people, and I still couldn’t figure out how to help my son.
How de
pressing.
***
Twitch
It had been days since I’d seen my son, and I was going through withdrawals. I was irritable, irrationally mad, and I was on edge. Short of breaking into the house and stealing him away for a while, all I could do was watch on from afar as the little Goth took him out and about, to and from school, to the park for a play, grocery shopping where A.J. snuck things into the shopping cart and the small woman pretended not to notice.
I didn’t know who she was, this babysitter, but I couldn’t ignore the clip she wore under her jacket.
Whoever she was, she was there to guard my son, so I decided she was okay. She didn’t look like much, and the truth was, I could’ve taken her out in a heartbeat, but Lexi trusted her enough with our boy, and that was all the credentials I needed to see.
The woman unwrapped an ice cream for A.J., and before she gave it to him, she squatted down in front of him and started speaking. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she kept A.J.’s attention and her face softened in a way I’d never seen while watching her. A.J. threw himself into her arms and she held him tightly, stroking his messy dark hair and kissing his forehead as a mother would.
A.J. took the ice cream from her, and the woman smiled down at him lovingly.
Yeah.
She was okay, I guess.
When a group of large men approached, I stepped closer, frowning. But the little woman smiled up at them, laughing, before she took turns hugging each one. I didn’t recognize any of them, but I recognized the jackets they wore.
D.M.S.
Drugs, Money, Sex.
They were a Maori gang, and it seemed A.J.’s babysitter knew them well. It made me wonder who this woman was exactly and where she came from.
The large men all took turns shaking A.J.’s hand when the woman presented him proudly to them, and I silently fumed.
Who the fuck was she to introduce my son to New Zealand gang members like it was nothing?
If I had a living voice, I’d be having words with Lexi—mark my words.
This was not acceptable.
I needed to talk to Happy.
***
Molly
It was difficult for somebody like me to have attachments.
My life was sour, and for the most part, I felt I didn’t deserve the kind of sweet I got from the little monster who had wormed his way into my heart.
I sipped my coffee, watching the boy I had grown to love over the rim of my bright yellow Pokémon mug. His tart expression was obvious. Of course, Lexi noticed it too, but A.J. had been moody for a while now and she didn’t know why.
I caught her searching his face with well-hidden worry. She was desperately trying to find the cause of A.J.’s irritability.
I knew the cause. Part of it, anyways.
Zoe ‘The Cunt’ Braemore.
The little shit who teased A.J., and she baited him with something that should have been off limits. She teased him about not having a dad.
It would explain why A.J. had started to see his dad at night. It would also explain the sudden angst he developed in the mornings before school.
Something told me fucking up a five-year-old was bad form, but what did I know?
I was a hood rat, after all.
I pled ignorance.
The chair creaked when I leaned back in it, lifting my leg to rest an ankle on my knee. I waited a moment, basking in the comfortable silence, before looking to Lexi and stating, “So, I’m gonna pick up A.J. from school today.”
Lexi looked up from the newspaper, a small frown creasing her pretty brow. “What?” She put the paper down. “It’s your day off. You don’t need to do that. What do the kids do for fun these days? Spoil yourself. Go out and get your nails done.”
I glanced down at my chipped black nails before peering back up at her.
When she took in the face I made, she rolled her eyes. “Okay, so don’t get your nails done.” She smiled in encouragement. “Do something reckless and fun. Enjoy yourself, Molly.”
My boy was damn near hyperventilating. A.J. stared into his toast, feeling my eyes on him.
“Nah.” I sipped my coffee. “I have plans for my little boo.” Lexi wanted to protest, but before she could, I asked A.J. “Handsome Dan, you wanna go for a ride with me in Big Red?”
Eyes wide, his fingers went limp, and the piece of toast he held in his hand dropped to the table with a dull plop. “Really?”
I didn’t smile often, but when I did, I made sure I saved them all for this child. This beautiful, pure child who wore his heart on his sleeve. He was too good for this world, and somehow, by fate alone, I was the lucky bitch who got to spend almost every day with him.
Guiding him. Minding him. Protecting him.
It was not a job I took lightly.
I might’ve only been twenty-two years old, but I had seen some shit. That shit had aged me some. It also taught me a whole lot about life and who not to trust. It made me good at what I did, and although there were days when I wished I was never born, I’d go through every single bad day over and over again if it meant I would end up exactly where I was right now.
My thick lips felt wide and uncomfortably stretched. “Hell, yeah.” I paused a sec. “As long as it’s okay with your mom.”
She was focused on me, hard. Her voice, however, remained quiet. “What’s going on?”
Lexi was not a dumb woman. You would never guess it from looking at her, but the shit I’d seen? She’d seen it too. We just wore it differently.
I wore my battle wounds openly.
She wore them as deep-set scars.
You do you, girl.
When she crossed her arms over her chest, I reached over and stole a square of A.J.’s toast, grinning at the way he gasped in outrage. I chewed slowly, and it took me a while to answer. “Nothin’.”
Lexi looked to A.J., concern etched on her features. She was a good mom. It was impossible not to like the lady. I wished I had someone like her on my side when I was a kid doing things a kid should not have been doing. Maybe if I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it were possible for a person like her to exist.
She would have fought for me.
She would have fought for me as if I were her own.
A mama bear at heart.
“Please, Mum?” He pulled out the big guns, turning up the adorable a notch by pouting his lips. When he lifted his hands, gripping them tightly under his chin in prayers, I knew she was toast.
Her shoulders fell, and I smiled into the rim of the mug.
Lexi’s smile fell. “Are you sure, Molly?”
I waved her off, standing to take my now empty mug to the sink. “I’ll put the booster seat in the trunk before I take off today. Don’t worry. I’ll keep it under eighty.”
Her face softened mildly. “I know you will.”
She didn’t say this harshly. It wasn’t a threat or a warning.
Alexa Ballentine had complete faith in me.
I wanted to hug her then. I mean, I never would. I wasn’t the hugging type. But I wanted to.
She would never understand what she had given me the day she took me into her household, trusting me with her child. Lexi and her band of misfit friends were healing something inside me that I’d forgotten was long broken.
Rather than show the flurry of confusing emotions running through me, I turned my back on her and made a show of washing my mug. Without facing her, I uttered, “I’ll have the little monster back by four thirty.”
Lexi spoke to her son. “Go put your shoes on and get your school bag, buddy.”
When I heard her come up behind me and when she came into view, leaning her hip on the sink to face my side, I lifted my eyes to meet hers. She all but whispered, “He adores you, you know.”
She could’ve said anything. I didn’t know why she chose to tell me that rather than asking me about the suspicious change of afternoon plans, but I was thankful for it. Thankful for her.
/>
“The feeling’s mutual, Lex.”
Her hand came down on my shoulder and she gave it a light squeeze before walking away. She reached the hallway, when she spoke again, “I know.”
Something warm and thick stirred in my chest, and I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like crying then.
I rinsed my mug and set it down to dry.
Zoe Braemore was about to learn that even though A.J. didn’t have a father, he had a family who loved him to. And not all families were blood related.
My car squeaked when I pulled in to park directly out front of A.J.’s school. It was barely audible over the loud purring rev of Big Red’s engine, but I heard it and frowned.
I made a mental note to check the break pads when we got home.
Backup hadn’t arrived yet, but he said he’d be there and I knew he would be.
I understood why he was doing me this favor without question.
It was because of A.J.
This kid, this sweet, naïve child, had no idea the connections he had in the underworld or the legacy he held. The son of Antonio ‘Twitch’ Falco, quite possibly the most dangerous man in the world at one point. The godson of Julius “The Law” Carter, a man who was judge, jury, and executioner of the underworld. He called Farid ‘Happy’ Ahmadi, the son of Persian mobster Omid Ahmadi, his uncle.
Together, these men, they were the holy trinity of the underground.
If you got in their good favor, you were golden. Set for life.
Without Julius, I never would have met Lexi. Never would have met A.J. And my life would have been poorer for it.
I owed Julius. Owed him big time.
He knew it. I knew it.
I had no idea how to repay him, and I fucking hated being indebted.
You’ll figure it out.
Well, I’d fucking have to. He’d make sure of it.
The black Hummer pulled up, and although I couldn’t see who was inside, I pushed off Big Red, my ‘74 supercharged Holden Torana SL5000. She was a beauty and all I had left of my mother. One ginormous figure stepped out of the car. He was daunting—I’d give him that.
Hemi spoke, and his New Zealand accent always made me laugh. “Hey, Molly love.”
What it actually sounded like was, “Huy, Molly luff.”
“Hemi.” My lip twitched. “Thanks for coming.”