Mother Lovers

by Kassanna

  Eventually she made a deal with the sleazy hotel owner to clean rooms in exchange for living in one of them. Still, it wasn’t enough. They had to eat and live, so she did a few extra things that still made her shudder sometimes. Survival was the goal; she did what she could to make sure Kevin didn’t suffer for their parents’ choices. Obviously, she’d failed. She brushed away tears that rolled down her cheek.

  Her saving grace was art, and the discovery that she had a moderate amount of talent. Lost in the pages of whatever blank paper she could scrounge up, she created worlds birthed from the recesses of her mind. Those places allowed her to hide, if only for a few hours, from the shit happening around her. Minimum-wage jobs flipping burgers, and panhandling in the park by drawing portraits got her through her senior year. She didn’t walk in graduation, but she got a diploma.

  Taking care of Kevin had slowly become an issue. No matter what she did, he always needed more. Name-brand shoes, designer clothing…she made sure he lacked nothing, even if she had to go without. He was the most popular kid in school. Scrounging and counting pennies, she got her brother through most of high school, intact mentally, emotionally, physically. At least she thought she did. He dropped out right before his senior year.

  The light changed to red. She dropped the gearshift into neutral and stomped her foot on the brake. Tires squealed and wisps of smoke rose from her tires as the vehicle screeched to a stop.

  Indiana peered down at the steering wheel. If she ever found out who introduced Kevin to cocaine, she would gladly do the time because the SOB would be dead.

  Red switched to green. She blew out a breath and put the vehicle in gear.

  At some point, her brother discovered crack, and now he was following in their daddy’s footsteps; only his favorite pastime was smoking or shooting up drugs. Addiction was the bitch to whom he answered.

  She’d hoped his children’s mother would be the anchor that he needed to get clean. All he did was drag the woman down with him. They lived in a run-down one-bedroom apartment with their two children, and it was like watching a movie on repeat. Indiana saw the parallels of her life in her niece’s, and it was painful to acknowledge the similarities.

  Indiana pulled into the pothole-riddled parking lot of her brother’s decrepit apartment building. The damn nonsense ended with her, right here and now. She’d already warned Kevin if he fell off the wagon again, she would take the kids. The documents to end his parental rights were in her glove compartment.

  She reached for the bat. If she had to beat the signature out of him and Marva, then so be it.

  ***

  Dodging the potholes, Rick Livingston pulled into the miniscule parking lot of an apartment building that had seen better days. The two-story building with the peeling green exterior reminded him of a cell block. Patches of grass burst through hard-packed dirt that filled in the missing patches of crumbling concrete and added color to the worn surface.

  He reached for the handset before pulling out his badge from beneath his shirt. In plainclothes, he wouldn’t be recognized as the authority. Technically, he probably shouldn’t have answered the call, since he worked for the office of the prosecutor. But when no one responded to dispatch, he felt compelled to take it.

  Maybe he had the wrong address; his hand hovered over the radio as he studied the area. Nothing appeared to be amiss. A few folks stood at the corner of the structure; they glanced his way before slipping around the side.

  A crack rent the air, and his attention was drawn to the building itself. A door on the first floor slammed open and a tall African-American man stumbled out backward. He landed on his ass sending a plume of dust rising around him from the small area of dirt off the walkway. His clothes were dingy; flecks of white dotted his pants hems next to ratty tennis shoes and his T-shirt was torn at the collar. He hurriedly sidled backward, away from the open door.

  A petite woman stepped into Rick’s line of vision. She wielded a metal bat like a sword, the sun’s rays gleaming off the polished surface. Sleeves of tattoos covered both arms, and something shimmered from the vicinity of her belly button. Her tank top clung to her figure and barely reached her midriff. Jeans torn at the knee looked as if they had been poured over thick hips. Her biceps bulged as she swung again and the guy scrambled to his feet, covering his head with his arms to deflect the blows.

  The woman was yelling, which drew Rick’s attention to her face. Her skin was the color of toffee. Small, slightly slanted eyes, a slim nose, and succulent lips, the tendons in her neck were stark as she opened her mouth. She swung again and connected with the man’s arm. The guy quickly dropped it against him and cradled it to his chest.

  Domestic dispute—damn, he hated these calls. Rick picked up the mic and requested backup.

  He opened the door to exit the automobile, and oppressive heat beat down on him. How the hell did it go from a freeze-your-ass of winter to a hotter-than-hell spring?

  Rick rolled his shoulders and announced his presence. The fighting couple stopped long enough to turn and stare at him before the woman swung again and aimed for the guy’s legs. He dropped like a sack of rocks.

  “That’s for hitting me. Next time you raise your hand to a woman, you will remember this ass-whipping.” She brought the bat down again across the guy’s stomach. “You and Marva are two of the sorriest excuses for parents I have ever seen and that’s saying a lot, considering who raised us!” She extended her arms.

  Rick pulled his stun gun free of the holster. “Lady, I’m going to need you to put the bat down,” Rick shouted as he inched toward her. He glanced down at the man laid out on the ground. The fella moaned and rolled to his side; at least the guy was alive. Rick tightened his grip on the butt of the weapon. “I’m not going to ask again.”

  She twisted to face him. Blood dribbled from her bottom lip and the dark outline of a bruise was forming on her cheek. She twirled her wrist, sending the bat in a complete arch. She stopped and held up her finger, glancing over her shoulder before returning his gaze. “Dude, my idiot asshole brother deserves a few more blows to the head. It might knock some sense into him.”

  “Put the weapon down,” he yelled, moving forward.

  “Aunty!” A child, dragging a toddler behind her, rushed out the door.

  The injured guy behind her suddenly sat up. “Damn it, Di! You’re a cunt-eating bitch!”

  The kid moved, trotting toward the couple.

  “I got your bitch!” In a flurry of movements, the woman swiveled on her toes and brought the slugger around.

  There was no time; minutes slowed. Rick aimed and fired. Wires burst out from the muzzle of his gun. One barb was deflected by the bat, but the other connected with her shoulder. The woman dropped to her knees, trembling, as the voltage coursed through her body.

  “No!” screamed the little girl, sprinting toward her. Neighbors appeared in their doorways, and some exited their apartments, forming a small crowd.

  Where the hell was his backup?

  An old woman pushed to the forefront of the group and snatched the children back. “You got it all wrong.”

  Sirens blared in the background.

  The woman he’d tased writhed on the ground between him and the crowd. She was still clutching the bat. The man she attacked staggered to his feet and lumbered between people to get lost in the crowd. This situation had become a major cluster-fuck as the group of onlookers closed in around him.

  “Why did you have to shoot her?” someone screamed.

  Shit was definitely escalating out of control. He disengaged the connection before holstering his weapon and stomping forward. He ignored the people around him and approached the prone woman.

  Finally, the backup he had been waiting for arrived. Police officers shouldered through the group, breaking them up and cordoning off the scene. Rick looked up to see his old friend, Sergeant Jeffries, gazing down at him as he locked zip ties around the assailant’s wrists.

  “Why am I not surpris
ed to find you in the middle of this madness?” Sarge waved a hand in question.

  Rick rose. “It was a domestic dispute, and she had a weapon. I made a call. You need to find the guy. He was pretty beat up, so that shouldn’t be hard. I’ll write up my report and forward it to you.”

  “I thought you wanted to get away from these types of calls. Isn’t that why you transferred to the DA’s office?” Jeffries scratched his chin.

  “Something like that. But you’re here now, so have at it.” Rick turned and met the anxious gaze of the child that had been trying to reach the couple.

  “I called Aunty Di, Daddy was high. She was the only person I could think of that would be able to protect us,” the kid sobbed. “Please let her go.” Tears streamed down her small oval face as she released the kid next to her and grasped Rick’s fingers.

  He gently tugged his hand free and watched as paramedics crossed the tape and hurried toward the woman. Digging those barbs out was going to hurt.

  Guilt welled up within him, making him uncomfortable. He exhaled and returned his focus to the little girl. “That’s out of my hands.”

  He moved past the little girl and glanced over his shoulder one more time at the woman. Her braids were fanned out around her head and she still gripped the bat.

  Later, he would get hold of Jeffries and find out what really happened. After all, there were always three sides to every story: suspect one, suspect two, and the truth. He guessed she had one hell of a tale to tell. Why was he so interested?

  He shook his head and stalked to his car. There were other cases that needed his attention.

  Chapter Two

  Papers littered the tiny desk. Indiana tapped the keyboard and stared at the flat screen monitor. Indelible Ink—the tattoo parlor she ran with Marty—was at least making enough to pay them and keep the keep the shop open.

  The lines on the spreadsheet blurred, and she closed her tired eyes to rub them. Another month’s worth of bills paid. Personally, she would have to do a little creative juggling now that she had another lawyer to pay off. It took all of her savings to cover his retainer. Between the criminal attorney and the family law attorney, she was in serious debt.

  Kevin even contacted her from the county jail, looking for her to bail him out again. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

  Indiana snorted; at least, the cop was fair and arrested her brother, too. Calista and Caivin were staying with her at the moment, but that could change if she was found guilty of the assault charges. The only family the children knew beside their parents was her, and the last place she wanted to see them was in a flawed foster system. And that was a serious possibility, because she hadn’t seen Marva since the altercation.

  Living with their mother was only marginally better, but she didn’t believe that Marva would hurt them. She had back-to-back court dates. The judge might throw out the case, based on the circumstances, or she might get a few hundred hours or so community service. Worst case scenario; she would do jail time, and that would really screw her up in family court.

  She opened her eyes and glanced at the calendar nailed to the wall. Who was she kidding? Her life was based on bad shit happening, so her best bet was to plan for the worst and hope for the best. She needed to come up with contingency plans B, C, and D. Indiana skimmed her palm along her braids and patted the spot that was itching.

  Marty filled the doorway, bracing his arms against the jamb. He raised a brow in her direction.

  “What do you want now?” She looked him up and down. He was a good-looking man, tatted and bald and when he wasn’t in the shop, he was at the gym. She often wondered what kind of lover he would make and chuckled at her train of thought. Marty wouldn’t be interested in her. He was in a committed relationship with a male bodybuilder that could break her in two.

  “Your two o’clock is here. Want to let me in on the joke?” Marty waggled his brows.

  “Not really. Brice might hurt me.” She leaned forward and braced her chin in her hand.

  “Uh-uh, he loves you. I think he might even switch sides for you. By the way, I asked him to pick up the kids from school and daycare. I have a two-thirty I couldn’t reschedule.”

  “Thanks for that. I appreciate you two helping me out with Calista and Caivin.” She rose. “I’m still keeping my thoughts to myself. Bills are paid, so all that’s left is to collect our salary.”

  “Wonderful. I might be able to afford to take my man out for dinner.” Marty rolled his eyes. “Speaking of which, your next appointment is smoking hot and if he wasn’t so adamant about having you, I would definitely try to claim him.”

  “Then Brice would kill you and when he went to trial, I would back up his fake alibi ’cause, yeah, I want to live.” She squeezed around the desk. “See? Your errant thoughts could lead us to a very dark place, so get your mind out of the gutter.” She stood in front of her partner and wiggled her fingers. “Well, it’s time to put these moneymakers to work, because Mama’s gotta make that cash.”

  “Go get it, Dirty.” Marty snapped his fingers in an arch and eased out of the way. “Show ’em what you working with.”

  “Don’t do that. You just killed the manly image I had of you.” Indiana shook her head and ambled down the hall toward her cubbyhole.

  “Hi, I’m Indiana.” She rounded the corner and stopped to stare at the man filling her small space.

  The cop who’d tased her circled the room, peering at the framed images hanging on the walls. He glanced her way and nodded in acknowledgement.

  The guy didn’t look like a policeman, but more like a grungy roadie for a rock band. He wore dark jeans and a T-shirt with the name of a local rock band splashed across the front. The muscular lines of his body were easily defined by the way his clothes clung to his body. His black hair was combed back and curled around the collar of his shirt. His shield hung around his neck, swinging gently with every move he made. The guy was hot, or she was horny and had waited way too long to satisfy her needs.

  “Did you draw all these?” He twisted around and gazed at her through vivid green eyes

  “I did.” She crossed her arms under her breasts and focused on the machinery beyond his hand. “What do you want?”

  “I want another tattoo and you came highly recommended.” He reached behind him and yanked his shirt off. “I was thinking, something right here.” He pointed to his shoulder area.

  Phew, sexy was an understatement. The man was seriously cut; she counted his abs. One…two…screw that. Following the lines of his body down would only lead her to the Promised Land and she really didn’t want to go there right then. Her mouth went dry. She needed to get out of his company. Fast.

  “My partner Marty is a wonderful artist. I’m sure he can accommodate you.” She pointed a thumb behind her. “I’ll just go get him.

  He stepped forward, entering her personal space. “If I wanted him to work on my body, I would have requested him.”

  And he smelled good. A man shouldn’t smell so damn good. “Look, Mister…”

  “Just Richard but my friends call me Rick.” His smile changed the contours of his face. He went from looking like a hard-ass to a totally kissable one. Whoa.

  “Aunty Di, guess what?” Calista’s footsteps echoed in the hall.

  Indiana gazed over her shoulder and smiled. “Hey sweetpea, can we talk about your day later? I’m with a client.”

  “There’s a field trip at school.” Her niece pressed on, scooted around her leg and stopped. “It’s you.” Calista pursed her lips before speaking. “You should say you’re sorry for hurting my aunty.” The child pressed her lips together in a firm line.

  Rick cocked his head, gazing at Calista. His lips turned down at the corners. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you or your aunt. I saw a situation and made a call. That’s my job.” He kept his tone soft, and then lifted his chin. “I came by to check and see how she was doing.”

  Indiana wrapped her palms around her niece’s slim sh
oulder. “I have to work now, sweetheart. I bet Uncle Marty would love to hear all about your day.”

  Calista nodded, and backed up.

  “Wait. Did you thank Uncle Brice for picking you up?” Indiana widened her eyes and tilted her head.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Calista skipped down the hall toward the office.

  “You’re taking care of the kids now?” Rick watched the child leave.

  “Given my brother’s situation, I should have taken the children some time ago. Not that it’s any of your business.” Indiana commented dryly.

  Admitting her mistake opened the flood gates to her guilt. She knew what was happening and she kept hoping Kevin would get better about cleaning up and take more responsibility for his children. She’d been horribly wrong, and Calista had suffered for her error in judgement.

  Dick interrupted her thoughts. “So I was thinking I want something Zen, maybe a Buddha with thunderclouds and lighting bolts in the background.” He splayed a hand around his shoulder. “About yay big.”

  She had enough trouble. There were too many reasons to count why doing a tat for him was a bad idea. Beside the fact that he was a cop, had she met him at any other time in her life she would have taken him home and rode him like she was trying to break a bronco.

  “I think its best you find another artist.” She would not get pulled into working with him. Indiana sucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Don’t do that,” he muttered with a groan, and sat in her chair.

  She snapped her head in his direction. “Listen, Dick…”

  “Rick.”