Lawful Claim

by Marie Johnston

  E hopped up and pulled Julio to standing. “I’ll follow in the tree line while you bike back. Straight home.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  E’s heart swelled with pride, remembering how he used to refer to his father in the same tone. Even after he was an adult, he talked to his veteran father with nothing but respect up until a heart attack claimed the man’s life.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Two

  Griffin Chase wandered into the kid’s room. Julio was sitting with a thick book open on his lap, a dim lamp barely lighting the room.

  “You did good tonight, kid.”

  “Thanks,” Julio muttered, otherwise ignoring Griffin.

  Forcing his irritation down, Griffin shoved his hands into his chino pockets so he wouldn’t fist them in front of the kid.

  It’d taken him hours to calm Ana down. Still, she insisted on calling the police. They came over, questioned Julio about his near-drowning incident, went to investigate the site where it had allegedly taken place, and said they’d call if they needed anything else.

  “So what happened?”

  Julio gave him a droll look, and Griffin’s hands fisted of their own volition inside their tight constrains. Kids and attitudes didn’t sit well with Griffin, and there was an overabundance of both in this house.

  “I told the cops everything.”

  Yeah, including a too accurate description of the kid with the coveted Pokémon card and enough of a description of the man to make certain John Q. Public would be able to point the police in the right direction.

  What a fucking mess.

  “It’s okay to tell me everything. I understand talking to the police might be a little intimidating, and you might not have mentioned everything.”

  Julio rolled his eyes up at Griffin, considered him for all of one second, and went back to inspecting whatever the hell the book was that sat open on his lap.

  Griffin rocked on his feet waiting for Julio to add anything to the conversation, like how the hell he survived being thrown into the fucking river in the middle of the night. Following Julio’s gaze, Griffin glanced down to the thick book he was paging through, surprised to see it was actually a photo album.

  Griffin’s jaw worked at the sight of photos of the happy couple strewn across the pages: Julio’s father and Ana shortly after they met, smiling together at a picnic, hugging each other at their wedding, Julio Senior in his police uniform.

  “How did you survive the river, Julio?”

  “I climbed out.” Julio, the little shit, repeated without looking up, riveted on a picture of his father dressed as Freemont’s finest.

  So that’s the way it was going to be. Leaving the room, wishing he could inform the kid just how he was going to take his ire out on Ana, Griffin shut the door behind him. He had a call to make and a woman to bang senseless.

  *****

  “Think I hit him?” X bounced next to E as they walked from the garage in Sigma’s compound into the loading bay, heading toward their quarters.

  “You know you did. At least you didn’t use silver this time.”

  X fell quiet, brushing her black hair off her forehead, her brilliant green eyes downcast. Damn, E knew that bothered her. She had quite the contentious relationship with the local Guardian commander Rhys Fitzsimmons. So when Commander Fitzsimmons and Bennett Young showed up to deal with a rogue shifter X and E had also been chasing, there were a few bullets exchanged.

  E would’ve rather bought the rogue shifter supper for killing Agent L and Agent M. But since the shifter would soon go feral and need to be put down anyway, they set out to kill him and kill him they did. Commander Fitzsimmons almost put a bullet in E’s head right as E was taking aim on the rogue, so X “distracted” him, getting grazed herself by Bennett as she nailed the commander’s shooting arm. Both Bennett and X missed vital organs on purpose, but regardless, E was glad because he suspected the commander’s aim would’ve been true, and a head wound is a bitch to recover from. Not to mention the shit he would take if X had to carry his ass out of there.

  Get up here.

  Aw, shit. The mental summons from Madame G left a pounding headache behind. He subtly rubbed his temples. X didn’t suffer the same effects, being a shifter and telepathy was in their nature.

  “What’d you do?” X taunted, poking him in the arm.

  Scowling, he ignored her, keeping his gaze on the floor as they changed direction to head to the elevator.

  X grew quiet, then gazing at him speculatively asked, “Seriously E, what did you do?”

  “The less you know the better.” He kept silent about the other night when he had saved his son. Sure X knew he creeped around his wife’s place, but if he entered Shit City as far as Madame G was concerned, X needed to keep to her own path and not go down with him.

  Tension lined her face, mirroring E’s own, and they silently rode the elevator up to Madame G’s suite.

  The chime of the elevator made E feel like this was a turning point in his life, a significant moment that he couldn’t change, couldn’t back away from.

  The doors slid open presenting Madame G standing in her floor-length, blood-red kimono. Her hands tucked within the sleeves, the only skin showing was her porcelain face and ink-black hair pulled into a high ponytail.

  Both X and E approached and stood before the evil woman, eyes downcast, heads bowed, hands clasped in front of them.

  “Tell me how the hunt went?” their mistress intoned.

  It was a loaded question. But for what intent, he didn’t know.

  “He was dispatched,” X replied dutifully, her bangs falling onto her face, revealing the shaved sides. Her hair had been up in a messy faux hawk, but their little scrimmage mussed it up.

  “Without incident?”

  “No, Madame G. Two Guardians arrived and we engaged, but were able to take out the rogue.” E hoped the bloodshed would satisfy Madame G.

  No luck.

  “Tell me, Agent E and Agent X, how is it you keep encountering the Guardians, yet they are still alive?”

  E suppressed a shiver. Shit was starting to get real. Madame G tested their dedication to her cause periodically, but with both his and X’s wit, they were able to cheat the tests and retain some semblance of humanity.

  “They are highly trained fighters, Madame G,” X answered first. “Our primary goal is to complete our mission, and we often don’t retain the firepower afterward to dispatch the Guardians. They are armed more heavily now since we have killed one of their own.”

  “Hmmm.” Madame G stared at them. E would kill to look up at her, read the conniving bitch’s intention in those glittering, almond-shaped, black eyes, but he remained unmoving like a rock.

  “Agent E, where were you two nights ago?”

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  “At Happy Hari’s getting a blow job, Madame G.” And he had. He hated it, every second, but at least the talented ladies at the massage parlor knew how to give a happy ending to the most uptight of clients.

  “Did your blow job take all night?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He threw in a bit of arrogance. If he paid well enough, and he did, it took as long as he told the ladies it did. Happy Hari’s had been a solid alibi for him many times.

  “Mmm.” He hated her wordless comments. “Your wife is getting married, I hear.”

  Translation: I keep tabs on her and will kill her if you deviate.

  E clenched his jaw, jerking his head into a nod as if the information surprised him. Hearing the words sucked, almost as much as seeing the evidence. He didn’t trust his voice not to betray his knowledge of his wife’s business, and that would let Madame G know some part of him wasn’t fully committed to his dark mistress.

  They stood there, X and E, side-by-side, while Madame G considered them.

  “Go. I’ll have another mission for you tomorrow. Pack your bags, it’s out of town.”

  The feeling of foreboding came back full force. Mada
me G was sending them out of town within days of his son’s attack. Could it be connected, and how?

  Chapter Three

  Driving home, Ana Esposito groaned and repositioned herself in her seat. Griffin had been uncharacteristically rough with her in bed last night. Again.

  Again, she wondered if she had made the right decision saying yes to his proposal. He was a good man and seemed to get along with Julio, at least as much as her son let any of the men she’d dated get along with him. Ana loved Griffin, but lately, he’d seemed distant, brooding, and she had been questioning that often misinterpreted emotion—love.

  While she might love Griffin, she was not in love with him, and how pathetic was that? A good-looking man who treated her right…usually. Ana shifted again and grimaced. He tolerated her son’s aloof behavior and held down a good job, yet she still carried a torch for her dead husband.

  It wasn’t Griffin’s fault she couldn’t get past her feelings for her late husband. Or at least, it wasn’t his fault that she had experienced the head over heels, madly in love emotion in the past to know that what she felt for Griffin wasn’t it.

  But she was lonely, dammit.

  For so many years, it had been her, little Julio, and Nana. Then Nana passed away after a bad bout with pneumonia and the loneliness became unbearable. Because she worked full-time and was a single mom, she had few friends she could go out with and unload her suckass day onto.

  Her coworkers in the pharmaceutical lab were amazing, but not besties. There was no one she could call and vent to about the mess Julio left behind after making a snack, or how her gutters were clogged again, and she hated heights and dreaded dragging the ladder out to clean them every fall. Man, she despised that task. She could never meet coworkers after work just to relax and share in some laughs because she always had to race home to meet her son as he got off the bus.

  Pulling into her driveway, she saw the bus leaving. Perfect timing. She didn’t dare leave Julio alone, not after the attack three nights ago. She shivered. Griffin didn’t believe Julio, but Ana was uncertain. Why would her son lie about that? “To get attention because we’re getting married,” Griffin had replied.

  Regardless, Julio had been dripping wet and shaking when he banged on the front door that night. Ana hadn’t even known he’d snuck out, or that he would ever sneak out. The police claimed there were more than Julio’s footprints and everything about his story corroborated. Her heart was pounding just thinking about it.

  Deep breaths. She had to calm herself before Griffin got home. He seemed to think extreme sex was the perfect way to ease her nerves. After the police had left and she’d tucked Julio into bed with the worn, ever-comforting photo album, she went to bed and tried to sleep. Griffin had come to her.

  She had wanted the lights turned off, but he left them on and descended on her, despite her protests that she most definitely wasn’t in the mood. “You’re too wound up to sleep, let me relax you,” he had said. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was definitely more vigorous than usual.

  Then the next night, he took her in the shower after Julio was put to bed. Griffin’s dark eyes had focused on her while he took his release; it was…disconcerting. She didn’t feel the normal connection he strove to make with her in bed.

  Then last night…she shifted in her seat again. When the hell did he get the idea that she liked to be spanked? Was he into that shit? If so, she should know before they tied the knot, because for her, a sore ass the next day wasn’t her gig.

  She pulled into the garage and waited until her son walked inside before shutting the garage door.

  “Hey kiddo. How was your day?”

  Julio shrugged one bony shoulder, playing with his backpack’s straps. “Fine.”

  All right then. Sometimes, he talked nonstop about his day. Sometimes, it was “fine.”

  She followed him up to the door into the house and waited for him to go inside. She stepped into the entryway off to the side of the kitchen. Shoving her keys into her purse, she bumped into Julio’s back, not noticing he’d stopped in his tracks.

  “Whoa, sorry hon, I—” As Ana glanced up at Julio, she caught sight of what, or rather who, had made him stop short.

  Two men in dark suits were facing them, silently waiting in the kitchen.

  One man stepped forward, presenting a holder containing a badge of some sort, but she was too far away to see the credentials clearly. “Ma’am, we don’t mean to alarm you, but you and your son are in danger.”

  “What? Why?” Ana’s heart pounded. Who wanted to hurt her son? He was a good, sweet kid. Kids don’t have enemies. And cops don’t wait for you inside your home, keeping their badges too far away to see clearly.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. We need to take you with us now.”

  “Oh my God. What’s going on? Do we have to go into witness protection or something? Did we see something we shouldn’t have?” Ana kept shooting off rapid-fire questions while shoving Julio solidly behind her. Making sure her voice sounded panicked, rising in frequency, she prayed it threw the men off.

  “Ma’am don’t panic.” One of the males clasped her arm. Meanwhile, the other male reached into his suit jacket. “The boy is in trouble; you need to come with us.”

  Ana nodded woodenly, her gaze on the hand on her arm, then drifting past it to his other hand, which was now holding a gun. Turning to look behind her and catch Julio’s terrified gaze, she said, “Don’t worry, little Pikachu, it’s going to be okay.”

  Understanding dawned in Julio’s dark eyes, to be replaced with determination. Good, he was ready.

  She turned back to face the man who had a hold of her. He was on the shorter end of average, and plain in every way, but there was a gleam in his eyes…A dispassionate, almost cruel aura exuded from the man. It was the same with the taller one who, thank her lucky stars, had his back to her and was walking away toward the backdoor, probably to a nondescript, windowless van. These two men would garner no second glances if you were passing them on the sidewalk, until you looked into their eyes.

  “Are you sure I can’t grab a change of clothes before we go?” Ana asked.

  Irritation flashed through the first man’s features and as he was shaking his head. Ana steeled herself, snatching for the gun held halfheartedly in her direction. Fully utilizing the element of surprise, she jerked her arm free of his grasp and shoved her shoulder into him as her hand gripped the cool metal of the black gun. Startled, he stumbled back.

  “Go, Julio!” She aimed the gun, a Glock if she had to guess, and pumped two into the man’s chest before he could recover.

  As Julio dashed down the hall, the man she had shot slumped to the kitchen floor. Ana took aim at the second man who was spinning in her direction, his own gun raised. Ana pulled the trigger quickly once, readjusted, and rapidly squeezed off two more shots. One to the head, two to the chest, just like her late police officer husband had taught her.

  The second man was still falling to the floor when Ana sprinted down the hall, following the direction her son had taken.

  Julio was standing in the doorway, waiting to see if it was his mother was coming after him, or if the men were, before he would slam the door shut and lock it. He peered past her to see if she was being followed, then backed into the room to shut and lock the door behind her. Ana raced into the room to the little safe tucked into the top of her closet.

  “Are there any more of them?” Julio asked, after he got the door locked.

  Oh, shit. Were there more of them? And did they hear the gunshots? “I don’t know. We’ll have to be extra cautious when we climb out the window.” With shaking hands, Ana managed to get the safe unlocked with the key she’d hidden at the other end of the closet. “I’m proud of you, Julio. Except for not locking yourself in immediately, you did awesome, kept your cool.”

  Leveling him with a calm stare that camouflaged the terror racing through her, his own panic decreased a couple of levels, and he gulped before nodding calmly
at her acknowledgment. This situation, whatever it was, would be hard enough to survive if either she or her son lost their shit. If she could keep herself from flying apart, then maybe her child, after all he’d been through, could make it without a nervous breakdown.

  She strapped on the belt that held her husband’s old duty pistol and nabbed everything from the safe: handcuffs, extra ammunition, mace. Stuffing them into the belt that barely stayed on her feminine hips, she mused at how foolish she’d felt over the years caring for these items. Up until recently, she even went to the shooting range at least once a year to stay proficient in their use. It had seemed like a disservice to let the items sit and remain unused. But the truth was, when she would look at them, she could see images of a shirtless Julio Senior, sporting a chiseled chest and a washboard stomach, sitting on the couch after a long shift. He’d chat with her about his day, idly cleaning and polishing the leather and metal that made up the various tactical gear.

  He had loved his job and had taken every bit of it seriously, even teaching Ana how to clean and maintain the gun and design emergency plans in case of a fire, or God-forbid, an invasion. Wistfully, Ana wished she could give her deceased spouse a hug and a thank you, because she kept those disciplined plans in mind. As soon as her son was old enough, they talked and trained on various scenarios, and decided on a code word. Originally intended for their “in case a stranger tries to con you into going with him” plan, “Pikachu” worked, beautifully to communicate to her clever child that something was wrong and he needed to follow their escape plan. This included exiting through her home office to arm herself with protection before they climbed out the window.

  “Come on.” She crept up to the window with Julio glued behind her and tucked the curtain back slightly to look around outside. Seeing nothing, she tried to recall every detail from when she had pulled up to her house. “Do you remember seeing any unusual vehicles when the bus dropped you off?”

  “Yeah, there was a van parked by Mrs. Mills’ place. It looked like a work van, and I thought it was weird because they do everything themselves.”