by Julie Miller
Buddy? Not good. Like the other woman, Meghan clenched her teeth and held her emotions in check. She couldn’t tell if it was fear or anger or disappointment trying to make itself heard—probably a combination of the three. “Do you know what they were fighting about?”
Sergeant Wheeler shook her head. “The preliminary report doesn’t say. But from the looks of the kids when they came in, it might be gang related. His buddy’s got a Warrior tattoo.”
Definitely not good. One of the conditions of Alex remaining in Dorie’s home was that he sever all connections to the Westside Warriors. Though he, too, sported a stylized W tattoo on the back of his right shoulder, his career as a gang-banger had ended.
Supposedly.
“Is he free to go?”
Sergeant Wheeler nodded. “The papers will give you the date he has to appear in juvie court.” She pointed to a row of empty chairs beside the elevator. “Have a seat. He’ll be right out.”
Meghan chose to pace rather than sit. “Police reports. Court dates.” She swiped her loose hair up behind the nape of her neck, then let it filter through her fingers down her back. “How are we going to handle this one?” She supposed most kids had families they could count on. They’d have a parent or sibling who could guide them through their trouble. Right now, all Alex had was her. She cocked her eyebrows into a wry frown. “There’s a comforting thought.”
About as comforting as the anonymous love note that pressed against her hip inside her pocket. Meghan stopped in her tracks. Why hadn’t she pitched the thing? Now it was calling to her. That all-too-suspicious voice inside her head that longed for security was demanding answers. Closure.
She pulled out the wadded card and smoothed it flat between her palms.
You know I love you.
Maybe John had sent the roses, and she was blowing this whole thing out of proportion. They were getting to be pretty close friends. But a dozen roses as a platonic gesture? And wouldn’t he have signed the card? Or confessed to leaving her the rose in the fire truck?
She didn’t have any family to speak of, at least none alive who’d claim to love her.
Of course, there was always…Meghan caught her breath at the crazy possibility. She’d run into Gideon this afternoon—after almost two years apart from each other. Though he’d touched her so tenderly, his mood had been distant. Cool. As if he was trying to hide something. Surely, he didn’t still feel…he couldn’t.
Her heart did a crazy flip-flop in her chest. But she quickly squelched the foolish hope with common sense. The reasons she’d had to leave were the same now as they’d been two years ago. Gideon had talked about kids and family and forever.
How long would his love have really lasted when he found out she couldn’t guarantee him any of those things? And noble son of a gun that he was, he’d have probably stayed with her anyway—not because she made him happy, but because he thought it was the right thing to do. She refused to sentence him to a life of sacrifice like that.
Maybe the flowers were just a misguided thank-you from a dog lover who’d seen her after the fire. But then, the note didn’t make sense.
You know I love you.
She didn’t want anyone to love her like this.
She slipped the card back into her pocket, no closer to finding answers than she’d been earlier.
Her therapist had told her that she needed to tell Gideon the truth, that that would be the only way to bring closure to that chapter of her life. She’d come a long way in the past two years, developing the emotional courage she’d lacked for so long. But along with that courage came a sense of responsibility. Gideon deserved to know why she’d turned down his marriage proposal, running out of his apartment and his life with little more than a backward glance. But he didn’t deserve any more pain. And she wasn’t sure how the truth could do anything but hurt him all over again.
It seemed both a curse and a blessing to have someone else’s troubles to worry about for a change.
“Alex.” She recognized the sixteen-year-old by his short, stocky dimensions as a young police officer escorted him down the hall to meet her. What the sixteen-year-old lacked in height, he packed on with muscle. He was perfect for the wrestling program at the local high school. He’d even made the varsity team his sophomore year. But that had been last winter. Since school had gotten out for the summer, he’d been moody and mysterious and had missed Dorie’s curfew more than once.
Now he’d been detained for disorderly conduct. If he was lucky, the judge would only order community service and not assign him to a probation officer. Meghan shook her head, wishing she knew what had caused his backslide from reformation success to juvenile delinquent.
His thick, black hair curled down to his collar and framed the tiny gold hoops in the lobe of each ear. God, he was a good-looking kid, with the sculpted features and olive skin of his Italian ancestry. But his swollen lip and permanent scowl kept him from being handsome.
The officer handed him off and walked away. Alex stared hard at Meghan’s feet, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure you are.” She had to tread lightly here. But she needed to make a point. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. The kid needed it. So did she. But she kept it brief and quickly pulled away. “Dorie couldn’t come because hearing you were down here shot her blood pressure through the roof.”
“Is she okay?” At least he had the compassion to care.
“For now. But I have to wonder how much more stress she can handle.” Meghan ducked her chin to see his eyes since he wouldn’t look at her. “Are you okay?”
He spared her half a glance. “Yeah.”
“What’s this?” She quickly inspected the banged-up knuckles on his left hand. “You need to clean up and get some ice on that.”
“I’m okay.”
A typical male protest. She could tell from the downcast tilt of his eyes that he was far from okay. Alex was a pretty bold kid. What his Mediterranean charm couldn’t get for him, his fists and attitude often had. Was he embarrassed? Did he feel as guilty as those coal-black eyes looked? “You promised Dorie you wouldn’t fight.”
“I had to.”
“Had to? Why?”
“Yo, baby.” A thickly accented voice interrupted from behind her back. “You Alex’s other mama? I don’t know how a little boy like him finds them so fine.”
“Boy?” Alex straightened. His muscles bulged with a bristling tension that put Meghan on guard against his Latin temper. Is that what they’d fought about? An insult to his manhood?
Meghan turned to face the young man who’d accosted her. “Excuse me, but we’re having a private conversation.”
She guessed from the bruised swelling around his eye that he’d been the one in the fight with Alex. He looked no more than eighteen or twenty. But the kid had money. The gold chains hanging from his neck and the belt loop of his baggy pants, as well as the high-priced lawyer standing beside him in the three-piece suit, were testament to that.
“Ezio.” The lawyer looked hot and bored. “I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”
But Ezio clearly was used to giving orders, not taking them. The cut-back sleeves of his muscle shirt revealed the W tattoo that marked him as a Westside Warrior. The knife stenciled above the W labeled him their leader. He ignored his attorney’s advice.
A whisper of recognition tried to push its way into Meghan’s conscious mind, but the boy’s lewd come-on diverted her attention.
“You lookin’ phat.” He ran his gaze up and down Meghan’s body, lingering with bold thoroughness on the loose strands of her hair where it rested at the top of her breasts. A suggestive sweep of his tongue traced his bottom lip. “Pretty hot and tempting.”
Alex jerked beside her. “Shut up.”
“Alex, don’t.”
“Excuse me?” Ezio touched his fingers to his chest as if he was the injured party. “Did you say something to me?”
“Eno
ugh,” muttered the lawyer. The stuffy man inhaled and finally looked her way, as if he found this whole confrontation tedious and beneath him.
The two young men squared off like cocks in a fighting ring, with Meghan stuck between them, trying to calm Alex’s protective anger.
“I think Sweet Thing likes me. Alexis is just a boy. She needs a man.” With a crude promise of his intentions, Ezio slid his hand toward his crotch. “I’ll show you better than a good time, baby.”
Alex’s curse was swift and graphic.
When he shifted, his chest puffing up to do battle, Meghan planted her feet and shoved him back a step, away from the mocking preen of his baggy-pantsed enemy. “Let it go, Alex.”
She’d fended off hotshots before. All by herself.
“He can’t talk—”
Alex was strong. Meghan anchored her hands at his shoulders and planted her feet. Oh, God. When had Alex developed such a chivalrous streak? Other mama? She understood Ezio’s come-on line now. The boy must have hurt or insulted Alex’s girlfriend.
Ezio pursed his lips and blew taunting kisses.
Meghan was losing this battle of strength and wills. She angled her face over her shoulder. “Are you his lawyer or not?” Alex’s anger radiated through his muscles into her fingers, fueling her own temper. Why wasn’t that grown man doing anything to keep these two adolescents out of trouble? “Tell your client to get out of here before I sue for harrassment.”
Ezio leaned forward and leered. “Would that be sexual harrassment?”
Alex lunged, knocking Meghan off balance. “Stop it!” She yelled too late.
By now the scuffle had begun. Meghan was vaguely aware of a blur of blue from the corner of her eye. A fist flew past her ear and missed its target. Passionate Italian obscenities filled the air. A bell dinged. The elevator door opened to the sound of male laughter. Ezio jostled Meghan from behind. The laughter stopped abruptly. Meghan’s shoulder twisted between the hot, sweaty crush of Alex and Ezio charging each other.
“Meg?”
The flurry of motion happened so quickly, she could only process it after the fact. The three men on the elevator were suddenly a part of the fight. Only there was no more fight. At least, she wasn’t a part of it anymore.
Strong male arms reached into the middle of the fray and lifted her free. Her feet left the floor and for a moment she was cradled against something hard and warm before being set to the side behind a broad wall of bright royal blue. She recognized the musky scent of the man before the dark hair and fierce eyes registered. “Gideon?”
“What the hell’s going on?” he demanded.
Around the protective jut of his shoulder she saw a big blond bruiser come off the elevator next, neatly pinning Ezio in some kind of hold around his arms and shoulders. The third man on the elevator, a barrel-chested brute with an unquestionable air of authority, closed a big hand over Alex’s shoulder. “You don’t want to do that, son.” He scanned the room beyond them, a distinct look of displeasure on his face. “Is everyone off duty here?” His booming voice was a tad less gruff when he nodded at her. “Meghan.”
“Hi, Mitch.” Gideon’s cousin. Captain of the Fourth Precinct. Even Ezio’s lawyer was paying attention now.
The female officer ran up behind him. “I’m sorry, sir. I got held up on the phone. I didn’t see what was happening right away.”
Mitch’s brown eyes, so like Gideon’s, swept over the woman. He frowned, but his words were far gentler than his scowl. “Danny again?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Damn.” He handed Alex off to Gideon. He fixed his most authoritative glare on the boy. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see this.” He nodded to the officer. “Sarge, get someone to cover your desk. I want to see you in my office.” Then his pinpoint gaze sought out Meghan. “Are you okay?”
Meghan nodded. “Thanks, Mitch.” For breaking up the fight and for not pressing charges. Fortunately for her and Alex, he had a matter of greater concern to attend to right now. She offered an encouraging smile to Sergeant Wheeler. “Don’t blame her.”
He urged the sergeant away from the scene. “Let’s talk.”
Ezio squirmed against his captor and yelled at his attorney. “Hey, man, do something! This is police brutality.”
“Shut up, Ezio.” The lawyer sounded as though he meant business now.
The blue-eyed man with a badge who held the youth had the ability to restrain Ezio and to offer her a lopsided smile all at the same time. “Hey, Meghan. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Josh.” Gideon Taylor’s youngest brother had an irresistible smile that urged her to smile in return. “I’m glad we ran into each other.” Like Mitch, Josh was a cop. She hadn’t seen either one in ages, though, and noted that he wasn’t wearing the traditional blue and black uniform of the K.C.P.D. He must be working as a detective now. “Really glad.”
“Joshua.” Josh’s gaze snapped to his brother’s. “I’m all for getting reacquainted—” Gideon eyeballed the lawyer and the two young men, his expression filled with accusation “—but I still want to know why these two were trading punches.” His gaze changed to a different sort of fire when it landed on her. “And I want to know why you were stuck in the middle of it.”
The lawyer must have recognized the Taylors as a force to be reckoned with, because now he wanted to get involved. “It’s just a misunderstanding, Officers. My client and I were leaving.”
“By all means.” Josh pushed the kid inside the elevator with his lawyer and punched a button to send them on their way.
He blocked the doors until they shut on the lawyer’s words to his temperamental client. “You know, my boss won’t always send me to bail you out of trouble if you keep allowing personal agendas to get in the way.”
When Ezio was gone, Meghan breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. “Thanks, guys.”
“No sweat. I’d like to know what that was all about, too.” She heard Josh’s voice without really seeing the concern on his face.
Her world had shrunk down to Gideon’s stony expression. Though he stood between her and Alex, his eyes blazed with questions. He held himself perfectly still.
She was vaguely aware of Josh drifting away from the elevators, excusing himself. “Well, I promised to show Mitch new pictures of my little girl. Gid? You okay here?”
Josh’s concern finally prodded a reaction from Gideon. His expression relaxed into a brief smile. “I’m fine. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Once Josh had gone, Gideon shoved his left hand into his pocket and stepped away so he could turn to face her. His friendly smile disappeared and he became a harder, darker version of the man she used to know. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Meghan stalled, smoothing the front of Alex’s shirt where she’d wrinkled it in her fist trying to keep him out of trouble. This was the world she came from. The wrong side of the tracks. Survival of the toughest. Gideon came from the world of cops and intact families and friends one could count on.
He wouldn’t understand her ragtag version of a family.
“I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”
She could tell he’d put in an even longer day than hers. He still wore his work clothes. But the rumpled black chinos had molded themselves to the solid trunks of his thighs and the trim cut of his hips, giving him a leaner, more world-weary look. A stubble of coffee-dark hair shaded his jaw, adding to the glower of his expression.
“I’m not used to seeing you at the police station.” He inclined his head over his shoulder toward the elevator. “Ezio Moscatelli is a kid I’ve interviewed before. We thought he was having new recruits set fires as a gang initiation.”
“Was he?”
“We couldn’t prove it.” His mouth thinned into a grim line. “I can’t say I’m thrilled to know the two of you are acquainted. The kid’s too damn cocky for his own good.”
Once, she would have run her fingertips along the masculine friction of his even
ing beard growth, coaxing a smile from him to ease the stress of a taxing day. Gideon was a man who took on more responsibility than he should. He’d once said her gentle massages were the only thing that gave him the escape he needed when he got entrenched in a problem he cared too much about or couldn’t fix. He’d said she gave him the ability to reground himself and move on.
She curled her fingers into her palm to keep from reaching out to comfort and reassure him now.
“I just met that kid a few minutes ago.” She settled for calming his concerns verbally. But she didn’t want to discuss gangs while Alex was around. “Quite frankly, I’m glad he’s gone. I’ve had enough trouble for one day.”
“Who’s this?” Gideon shifted to include Alex in their conversation.
“Alex Pitsaeli, this is Gideon Taylor. He’s…” A former lover. The man I betrayed. Her breath rushed out in a self-conscious sigh. “Someone I used to work with.” She hurried to cover the awkward pause and complete the introduction. “Alex is a foster teen at Dorie Mesner’s home. You remember Dorie, don’t you?”
“Sure. Nice to meet you.”
Alex stared at Gideon’s outstretched hand as if it held a knife. “What?”
Meghan pressed her lips together, wishing she knew the secret formula to dispel adolescent rudeness.
But Gideon didn’t seemed offended by the snub. If anything, he seemed to relax, as if he was right at home dealing with distrustful teenage attitudes. But his hand never moved. “It’s the customary way men greet each other when they’ve been introduced.”
She couldn’t help but notice the subtle jerk in Alex’s shoulders at the word “men,” and his inclusion in that category. He covered his startled reaction by rolling his shoulders and shuffling on his feet. But then slowly, as if that imaginary knife might still be able to stab him, he reached out and grasped Gideon’s hand. “Mr. Taylor.”
Gideon held on a moment longer, silently demanding that Alex raise his chin and make eye contact. Once Alex did, he rewarded the teen with a pleased look. “Gideon’ll do fine,” he offered.
Meghan felt a grateful smile warm her from the inside out. Gideon was a natural. He talked to Alex with respect, and effortlessly commanded it in return. Alex was already standing a little taller. And the tension that left him too eager to talk with his fists dissipated as the two “men” chatted about school and whether or not the Chiefs could put together any kind of defense this fall.