by Cate Ashwood
When he pulled up in front of Melonie’s trailer, he could see Birdy cowering in the back seat of her mother’s little Ford Fiesta. John nearly stopped to pull her out, get her into his truck, but Thompson distracted him. His voice cut through the night, words slurring with hate and too much booze.
“You fucking cunt!” he spat at Melonie as he pushed her to the ground. Melonie must have gotten at least one good hit on him because Thompson had an angry red handprint on his cheek. “You’re gonna regret that,” he said, this time with a deadly calm.
Just as Thompson started to draw his foot back, ready to kick Melonie, John was on him, connecting a sharp punch into Thompson’s ribs. “You think so?” he asked, hitting him again until Thompson fell back. John put himself between Thompson and Melonie and then grabbed Thompson by the front of his shirt, hauling him back to his feet. “You think you’re some big man? Beatin’ up two girls?” It didn’t matter that Melonie was an adult now, didn’t matter that she was better than him in every way. To John she would always be his baby sister.
John held Thompson close, could smell the cheap whiskey on his hot breath. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of a new set of headlights shining on them, blue and red flashing across the front of the trailer, lighting up the predawn darkness. Of course one of the neighbors had called the cops. Why wouldn’t they?
“Your sister’s a whore,” Thompson whispered, venom in every word. “And that little shit probably ain’t even mine.”
That was all it took for John. He threw Thompson back and then dropped his fist like a sledgehammer against Thompson’s face. When he fell to the ground, John yelled, “Gimme one more reason, you piece of shit!” He was on the verge of losing control as he drew his thick boot back and kicked Thompson in the ribs. “I’m already thinkin’ of all the ways I could kill you tonight.” Another kick. “Just give me one more reason.”
Before he could get another good one in, there were two men holding John back. He tried to tear himself away, tried to get back to Thompson, but their hold on him was too strong. Instead he said, “I’ll rip you up, you son of a bitch. I’ll drop you in the swamp and let it swallow you piece by piece.”
“John,” Andy’s voice registered, the stern, angry tone clear, and John stopped trying to break away. “Not another word, you hear me? Not one more goddamn word.”
Their grip on him loosened when John nodded, but it tightened again when he tried to pull away.
When Melonie said, “John, you gotta settle down. Birdy’s cryin’ for ya,” John finally stopped resisting. He nodded again and put his hands behind his back.
Thompson struggled to get to his feet, holding his ribs the entire time. “You heard that, right? Bastard just threatened to kill me.” Still staggering, Thompson spit blood on the ground at John’s feet. John couldn’t help a small smirk when he saw a piece of tooth in there with it.
“I’m sorry,” Andy said slowly, thoughtfully. “There was a lot goin’ on. I didn’t hear any threats.”
John noticed Matt standing there now. He and Andy looked a little winded. Chloe always said he didn’t know his own strength when he was mad. Guess she was right about that too.
Carl stepped up beside them, Jay still getting out of the squad car.
Andy looked to Carl and asked, “You hear Mr. Turner make any threats to Mr. Thompson?”
“I didn’t hear a damn thing,” Carl said. The unspoken warning, don’t bother pressing any charges tonight, was clear in his tone. “How about you, Kinsley? You hear anything?”
John’s stomach tightened. Matt was new, from another part of the country—from another world—and John imagined they didn’t have the same good-ol’-boys way of doing things in San Francisco. Everybody within a mile radius probably heard what he’d said to Thompson. Thankfully—out of loyalty to John or maybe because he didn’t want to rock the boat with his new partner—Matt only shrugged and caught John’s eye.
“Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink tonight, Charles,” Andy said firmly. “Maybe you heard him wrong.”
Charles narrowed his eyes and looked at John. “Take your whore sister and her little brat. I never wanna see either of ’em again.”
John nearly hauled off another punch, but Birdy tugged at his shirt and lifted her arms to him. He picked Birdy up and held her close, glaring at Charles Thompson the entire time. “You never will,” he said to Thompson.
“Can we stay with you, Uncle John?” Birdy whispered into John’s ear as she rested her little head on his shoulder.
He turned away from Thompson and held Birdy tighter. “Forever and ever, if ya wanna, baby bird.”
“I wanna,” Birdy said simply as she pressed a kiss to John’s cheek.
Andy and Matt followed John to his truck and left Carl to deal with Thompson.
They waited while John put Birdy in the cab of his pickup and buckled her in next to Melonie.
When John closed the door, Andy said, “I hate to say this, John, but you and I both know if anything happens to that trash, we’ll be lookin’ at you first.”
“I know it,” John said with a heavy sigh. “He beat ’em, Andy. Just so ya know. Both of ’em.”
“Everybody in town knows he’s got a temper, knows what he’s like. It was only a matter of time before…. Well, anyway. Bring her into the station tomorrow, have her fill out the paperwork for a restraining order,” Andy said. “Get some pictures if there’s any bruises. And, for Christ’s sake, tell her to call 911, not you, if he comes near her. The last thing she needs is for you to end up in jail, ya hear?”
“I hear ya.” John looked at Matt and wished he knew him well enough to read all those expressions in his eyes.
Matt said, “I can swing by your place with the paperwork after my shift is over. Save you guys a trip.”
Warmth spread through John. He hadn’t fucked things up too badly, apparently. Or Matt wanted some privacy to tell John off. Either way, he’d be seeing Matt later. “I’d appreciate it, thanks.”
“So, that’s settled,” Andy said. “Now, you get on outta here, because we aren’t leavin’ until you do.”
“Gotcha,” John said before rounding the front of his truck and climbing in. Melonie had already grabbed their things from her car and tossed them in the back, so John buckled up and started the engine.
“Uncle John?” Birdy said from beside him. “Can we get a puppy?”
John couldn’t help but chuckle as he turned his truck around and pulled out onto the road. “We can get a puppy, sure.”
Just as he started to think she maybe got out of there unscathed, Birdy added, “I wanna train him to be a big ol’ attack dog. He’ll bite Daddy if he ever comes around again.”
John’s heart cracked open then. “You don’t need a mean ol’ dog for that, baby bird. That’s what I’m here for.” When he glanced over at Melonie, she was crying softly, dabbing her nose with a tissue. “Me and your momma’ll always take good care of you.”
Melonie caught his eye, her smile broken and sad, maybe even a little guilty. “That’s right, Birdy.”
On the way home, John and Melonie sang their old lullabies to Birdy until she drifted off.
Chapter Twelve
“YOU WANNA fill me in on what we just walked into back there?” Matt said once he and Andy were back in their squad car, heading toward the station. Carl had followed the paramedics to deal with Thompson at the hospital, and Matt was glad to be done with him. He hadn’t liked the way Thompson had looked at John, or the bruises blooming on his sister’s skin.
“Bit of a shit show, wasn’t it? Domestic disputes make up a good deal of our call volume, if you hadn’t noticed, and if you’d asked me when I started with the MRPD who my money would be on for longest rap sheet, it woulda been Thompson. He’s a piece of trash. Everyone in town knows he drinks too much and has a hell of a temper. Doesn’t take a genius to realize Mel’s probably getting knocked around.”
“And no one’s
done anything about him?” Matt had suspected he was abusive after the conversation they’d had at John’s the night before, but he didn’t think it was common knowledge.
“Nothing we can do without a complaint. Just because we all figured what’s going on doesn’t mean there’s enough proof for us to intervene. Tonight’s the first time we’ve been called out here. Officially, anyway.”
Matt nodded, but he didn’t understand, not really. Things seemed to fall into a grayer area around here than they did in San Francisco, and the longer he spent here, the less he understood it. Why make allowances for one person and not another? Why let Mrs. Beaudoin go with a slap on the wrist and at the same time no one did a thing about Thompson?
It seemed odd—and wrong—that Thompson would be allowed to do what he was doing, even without an official complaint, but then again, what did Matt know? He was still an outsider here, still learning how everything worked. There were nuances to this job and this town that he was still picking up on. Being a cop here meant something different than it had to him back in California. Never in his career had he compromised his morals. Ever. He’d never been tempted to.
Not once had he lied or fudged the facts as a means to an end. How quickly he’d been willing to keep his mouth shut to help John out was something he didn’t want to examine too closely. Technically, shrugging only implied refutation, but Matt hadn’t hesitated to come to John’s aide. The morals he’d held in such high regard had flown right out the window in a split second.
Maybe it was this place. He’d only been in town for a couple of months, and it had been even less time since he’d started with the MRPD, but maybe he was adopting some of the local idiosyncrasies as well. Maybe the gray areas he’d avoided in the past were now a part of who he was becoming.
“It’s lucky we got there so quick. John woulda killed the bastard if given the chance, and that’s a whole mess of paperwork I don’t wanna have to deal with.”
Matt laughed weakly.
“I’m only half-joking. John’s temper’s almost as hot as Thompson’s. At least his heart’s in the right place for the most part. He’s protective of his own, not that I can blame the guy. Thompson’s a useless piece of shit.” Andy shook his head. “Mel’s always been too good for him, and that girl of hers is a good kid. Oughtta be brought up in a better environment than that.”
“You don’t think he really would have killed Thompson,” Matt said, looking over to gauge Andy’s reaction. Andy shrugged but didn’t reply. It left an unsettled feeling in Matt’s gut—the same feeling he’d had so many times after a close call.
The look on John’s face flashed through Matt’s mind as he imagined what it would feel like to know someone was hurting someone he loved. Being an only child, it was impossible to draw a direct comparison, but the memory of Santiago, beaten and bruised after a break-and-enter call gone sideways gave him a frame of reference he wished he didn’t have.
Tonight had been a close call. He knew it, and Andy knew it. He wondered if Thompson knew it.
Carl’s voice sounded over the radio, breaking Matt from his thoughts and letting them know Thompson was being checked out by a doc. The nurses in triage had assured him Thompson would be cleared, well enough to spend the night in lockup rather than a warm hospital bed. Matt was delighted.
“Looks like he’s not gonna get away with beating up on Melonie this time,” Matt said.
Andy grinned and shook his head. “Nope, not this time. I’m glad Mel’s decided to move forward with a T.R.O. Maybe it means she’s done with his sorry ass for good.”
CLUTCHING THE forms in left hand, Matt pulled the screen door open and knocked softly at John’s door. Despite being the middle of the afternoon, Matt wondered if anyone was still sleeping. Birdy hadn’t looked to be more than five or six years old, but after the shit that had gone down the night before, she probably needed rest more than anything.
Minutes passed and Matt was about to leave when he heard the lock slide back, and John opened the door a moment later. The sight of him, eyes tired and knuckles bruised, made Matt’s heart ache a little.
“Hey,” John said, stepping aside and holding the door wider for Matt to enter. “I was startin’ to wonder if you’d be by after all.”
“Late call, so my shift ran long. Hope I didn’t wake anyone up.”
John closed the door behind him. The lights were off, curtains drawn. Inside his living room, it didn’t feel like the middle of the day. “Nah, I was up. Birdy and Mel are in my room,” John said as he reached a hand out to Matt, touching his chest with one fingertip, a single point of connection. “Sorry about all that mess. Didn’t mean to…. Well, anyway, thanks for bringin’ the papers over.” John looked like he wanted to pull Matt closer, but instead he took a step back.
“Sorry it took so long. I didn’t want Mel to have to go down to the station, though,” Matt said, holding the forms out for John to take. “The sooner Mel gets the ball rolling with the paperwork, the sooner we can make sure Thompson never lays another hand on her.”
John looked everything over and then dropped the papers on the coffee table, as if he were too tired, too overwhelmed to think about it anymore.
“If she needs any help filling them out, you’ve got my number.”
John’s expression changed. Gratitude? Relief? He edged toward the kitchen. “You want a beer or something?”
Matt let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Sure. That’d be nice.” He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he’d shown up. Offering to bring the paperwork by had been an impulsive suggestion and one he hoped he wouldn’t regret later the moment it was out of his mouth. John’s life wasn’t exactly simple, and with the addition of his sister and niece to his small home, it had just become even more complicated.
John returned with two bottles and handed one to Matt as he took a seat on the couch next to him.
“How’re Mel and Birdy holding up after last night?” Matt asked. The beer was ice-cold and highlighted just how hot the afternoon was. Even this early in the day, the mugginess seemed to envelop everything, as if it had a personality of its own, and the air-conditioning in the house could only do so much to keep it at bay.
“Mel’s shaken up, but I’m more worried about Birdy.” John’s jaw jumped where he ground his teeth, trying not to say something or just too angry to talk, Matt couldn’t decide. “I hate that bastard. Always have.”
Matt nodded, understanding completely. “Hey,” he said softly, catching John’s eye. “At least it’s over now, right? They’re safe now and Mel isn’t going back to him.”
“Yeah, I know.” John sounded defeated, like he’d finally given up a long battle.
“You get any sleep yet?”
John let his head fall to the back of the couch. “A bit, yeah.” He watched Matt next to him, not too close, their knees barely brushing together. “Hard for me to sleep once the sun is up, though. Called in some vacation time this week so I can help Mel get settled, get the rest of her stuff.”
Alarm bells went off in Matt’s head. “Maybe call down to the station when you guys wanna head over to Thompson’s? They’ll send a patrol car out, keep an eye on things in case he’s released before you’re done.”
John arched a brow as he lifted his beer to his lips and took a long pull. “I’m not gonna do anything stupid,” he said after a moment. “Might not have killed him last night even if you hadn’t shown up.”
Might not have. “That’s really comforting.”
John laughed, quiet, barely amused. “It should be.” When John grinned at him, for just one second, everything else fell away. “I might not’ve been in my right mind at first, but I’d have come around with or without y’all there. Birdy was watchin’.”
But if Birdy hadn’t been there? Matt didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened. Instead he said, “I’m just glad the whole thing is behind them.”
John shifted on the couch an
d faced Matt. “You and me both.” He leaned closer, still not touching, but close enough for Matt to feel the heat radiating from John. “I really wish I could kiss you right now,” he whispered, his gaze darting to the hallway, probably thinking of how impossible it would be with Mel and Birdy only a few yards away.
Matt huffed out a breath of a laugh. “You and me both,” he echoed, getting John to smile.
John wet his lips and leaned closer. “Maybe just one,” he said, his voice sounding raw, needy, as he closed the space between them.
The world stilled and everything switched to slow motion, heat and desire igniting the moment John’s lips brushed against his own. It had only been a matter of hours since he and John had last done this, but it felt like far too long. John was aggressive, demanding, taking charge of the kiss and owning Matt the moment their tongues slid against each other. Matt moaned as John shifted, coming up to his knees to push Matt backward against the cushions, pinning him in place.
A floorboard creaked from somewhere down the hall. John jerked away, running his fingers through his hair. From the other side of the couch, Matt could hear him exhale, but before he could say anything, Birdy padded into the room, her pajama pants twisted and her blonde hair falling free from her braid.
“Uncle John?” she asked, squinting in the dim light of the living room. “Is it time for breakfast yet?”
“You slept right through breakfast, baby bird,” John said. Birdy came to the couch and climbed up between John and Matt. She cuddled up next to John, and he wrapped his arm around her. “You wanna help me fix us some brunch?” he asked into the top of her head. She nodded but didn’t say anything. John caught Matt’s eye, something apologetic in the look he leveled at Matt. “You wanna stay for a bit? Birdy and me make a good omelet.”
It didn’t take long for Matt to decide. He knew things were more complicated than either of them had signed on for, and part of Matt was terrified John would call… whatever they were doing… off because of it. But John had invited him to stay, so that was all that mattered. “Sounds good, thank you.” A pile of pretty heavy shit had just landed on John’s plate, and romantic entanglements were probably not his first priority, but God, Matt was glad there was still room for him somewhere in John’s life, even if it was only for a late breakfast and some emotional support.