by C. C. Koen
Unlikely Allies
Copyright © 2015 C.C. KOEN
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this novel with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the written permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Thank you for respecting the work of all authors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks, and word marks mentioned in this book.
Contains mature content and language. Not recommended for readers under the age of eighteen due to sexual situations and subject matter.
Publisher: C.C. Koen
www.cckoen.com
Editing
Laurie Boris
Formatting
Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
Cover Design
www.SelfPubBookCovers.com/Shardel
SPECIFIC GRAPHICS CREATED AND PROVIDED BY AUTHOR
Duck image: Teguh Mujiono © 123RF.com
Box image: provinc © 123RF.com
Tea cup image: Ratchanee Chanhom © 123RF.com
Flower image: Ganna Didora © 123RF.com (purple image)
Flower image: chantall © 123RF.com (black image)
Unlikely Allies
Dedications
Mama’s Rule #1
Mama’s Rule #2
Mama’s Rule #3
Mama’s Rule #4
Mama’s Rule #5
Mama’s Rule #6
Mama’s Rule #7
Mama’s Rule #8
Mama’s Rule #9
Mama’s Rule #10
Mama’s Rule #11
Mama’s Rule #12
Mama’s Rule #13
Mama’s Rule #14
Mama’s Rule #15
Mama’s Rule #16
Mama’s Rule #17
Mama’s Rule #18
Mama’s Rule #19
Mama’s Rule #20
Mama’s Rule #21
Mama’s Rule #22
Mama’s Rule #23
Mama’s Rule #24
Mama’s Rule #25
Mama’s Rule #26
Mama’s Rule #27
Mama’s Rule #28
Bonus Material
Dear Readers
Other Books by C.C. Koen
About the Author
To anyone who has been touched by the love of a child.
A child is an uncut diamond shaped by the hands of others.
~ Adapted from: Austin O’Malley ~
To my baby, you will always and forever be my greatest accomplishment.
My soul’s first embrace, cradled you with tender loving care.
My heart entwined to yours, enlivened from beat one.
My love transcends eternity, a guiding star enlightening the darkness.
May your soul nurture.
May your heart treasure.
May your love inspire.
RICK STROLLED INTO THE OFFICE and collapsed into the leather chair behind his desk. Piles of manila folders spread across the top, reminding him of all the work he still had to do tonight. He reached for a file, and a movement to the right of his shoulder caught his eye. A pudgy white mouse was propped on the computer keyboard a few feet away. He stared in disbelief as the rodent licked its furry arm and scrubbed its face. Where did it come from?
“Herbert, Herbert. Where are ya?”
The urgent request drew his attention to the hallway and then to his watch. Seven o’clock, no one should be here at this hour. On a Friday night, his employees always left at five.
“Herbert. Come here.”
The muffled traffic noise of New York City twenty floors below didn’t mask the demanding voice that got louder and closer to his doorway.
Before he could get up to investigate, a little girl with candy apple red hair shuffled into his office, peeking to the right and the left. “Herbert, ya in here?” she demanded, ducking down on her knees and searching under the sofa to the right of the entry.
Careful not to startle her, he stayed behind his desk and gently cleared his throat.
The little pixie’s head popped up, and she rose from her knees, plopping a thumb in her mouth. She took a step toward his desk and then another and another, her brow pinching tighter with each move. Lips clasped around her finger, her words came out garbled. “Woo see Heverp?”
Surprised by the unexpected visitor, it took him a few seconds to recall her question and a couple more to figure out what she asked. When he did, his gaze darted to an empty computer keyboard. Crap.
Bent over and searching under the desk, he saw no sign of the runaway mouse. When he scooted his chair back to stand, he felt a poke on his shoulder. He turned and came face to face with dozens of freckles sprinkled across the bridge of the little girl’s nose and cheeks and an overwhelming bubblegum-flavored aroma. Her huge, light green eyes stared at him.
“Woo okay?” She pulled her moist thumb out of her mouth and set it on his chin, resting her palm on his cheek.
When was the last time anyone asked him that?
“Ya look funny.” She leaned forward, her knees resting against his shin, and patted him on the shoulder with her other hand. “Itta be okay.” She soothed like a wise old woman, her upper gums glistening and revealing several missing teeth.
A scratch and tug along the hem of his pant leg drew his attention to the floor.
“Herbert, no,” she scolded, scooping the mouse into her arms and petting the furball’s back. The rodent returned the affection, rubbing its pointy nose along her cheek.
His employees brought their children to the annual company picnic, but he never thought twice about them. This child, though, intrigued him. What was she doing here? Where were her parents? About to ask her, all of a sudden a furry stomach was shoved into his nose.
“Ya can hold him.”
He clasped the mouse’s bottom and guided it downward, suspending the animal between them.
“He don’t bite,” she stated with utmost sincerity.
“Who are you?” he prompted as the impatient creature squirmed in his palm.
“Cecily Bryna Tyson,” she announced as if she were the queen of England being presented to her constituents, back straightened and chin held high.
“Well . . .” He pressed his lips together, resisting a smirk, and offered a formal greeting in return. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Richard Maxwell Stone.”
“What ya doin’?” Cecily scanned the room again, her eyes coming to rest on his computer, the Gateway Enterprises logo scrolling across the screen. “Ya got games on here?” She tucked Herbert into the front pocket of her sunflower-patterned dress and buttoned the flap enclosure. Shuffling around Rick, she wandered over to the large monitor behind him. Herbert’s pink nose and arms poked out. She shoved the mouse’s clutching paws back in. “Stay.”
“Uh, is he going t
o get out?”
Cecily sighed. “Prob’ly. He don’t like it in there.” She punched several buttons on the keyboard. The monitor came to life, displaying an ocean desktop scene. She glanced at him. “Can I play?”
“Cece, Cece, where are you?”
They both turned toward the door.
An adult version of the pint-sized girl appeared in the doorway. This variation, though, had hair on the cherry side of auburn with twists of milk chocolate streaming through the strands. A messy ponytail slung high on top of her head, and thick, curly waves fell over her shoulder, instead of bright, reddish-orange pigtails like Cece’s.
“Cece, come here.” The woman’s stern tone communicated there better not be any arguments. Cece marched across the room. “My daughter shouldn’t have run off. I’m sorry if she disturbed you.”
A company logo and name written in gold script in a circular pattern above her left breast caught his attention: Westlake Security Services. His best friend, Matt, owned the firm adjacent to his office. She’d have to pass his suite to get there, yet he’d never seen her before. He inspected her uniform, a gray polo shirt and black slacks. An outfit he’d seen many times before, but it never looked that good on anyone else. The fabric, tucked in at her waist, had a cut that hugged her handful-sized breasts, and slim pants accentuated her curvy hips.
He lifted his gaze and found the woman ushering Cece out the door. “Wait.”
Cece turned, beaming a huge smile at him. “I would a told ya bye.” And just as fast, her little face morphed from happy to perturbed, aimed at her mother, and with her arms crossed, Cece shook her head.
Without missing a beat, and as smooth as his mother would have, the woman redirected Cece. “Say good night to Mr. . . .”
“Stone, Rick Stone.”
She set a hand on Cece’s shoulder, nudging her and casting a do-what-your-mother-says stare. “I have to get back to work. Say goodbye to Mr. Stone.”
“What’s your name?” He couldn’t let her get away that fast.
“Maggie.”
“Margareta Cassidy Tyson,” Cece shouted with emphasis, a pause between each distinction. “My mama works here.” She pointed toward the hall. “She plays on a phone and 'puter. It got lotsa buttons.” She shook her head, pigtails flinging back and forth over one shoulder then the other, followed by an overdrawn sigh. “She don’t let me push 'em. Don’t ya think I should get to push 'em? He let me push his.” Cece looked up at her mother and shot her arm toward him, her shrugging shoulders communicating, “See, everybody can do it. No big deal.”
Rick chuckled and then stopped when Maggie spun around, hands set on her hips. He rubbed his palm along the back of his neck and shifted from one foot to the other as an uncomfortable silence engulfed the room. “Let me explain.”
AT THAT MOMENT, HERBERT LEAPT out of Cece’s pocket and scurried toward his desk. Cece dove after the feisty rascal, crawling on her hands and knees.
He crouched down, his hands dangling from his bent legs and at the ready for the escapee. Cece caught Herbert by the scruff of his neck and came to a stop underneath his desk. She glanced up at him, shaking her head like an impatient mother. “He’s bein’ bad.” She crawled closer and plopped the squirming ball of fluff on top of his hand. “Ya take him.”
Before he could take hold, Cece’s mother plucked the mouse away. Helping her up off the floor, he grabbed Cece’s arm and pulled. As soon as she got to her feet, Cece extended her hand out to her mother.
Maggie held Herbert a foot above her daughter’s reach. “I told you to leave him at home.”
Cece’s other hand slipped into his, her fingers warm and a little damp. Maggie’s gaze dropped to their joined grasp. His did too. Cece’s little fingertips peeked out between his thumb and forefinger. A light squeeze in his palm brought him out of his stupor. Cece looked at him and jerked her head toward her mother a few times, whispering to him, “Tell her, 'kay? I didn’t do nothin’ bad.”
His shoulders stiffened as he faced Maggie, her pinched mouth and squinty eyes darting from Cece to him and back again multiple times. A look mothers perfected, causing even an adult male to cringe. He ran a billion-dollar mergers and acquisitions company, dealt with money-hungry investors, a demanding board of directors, his overbearing, power-crazy grandfather, and fifty quick-witted employees, yet one harsh stare from Maggie sent him in an unexplainable tailspin. No wonder Cece crossed one foot then the other back and forth while cowering into his side.
“Cece was looking for Herbert. He was on my keyboard, then he wasn’t. After a while, we found him on the floor. She saw my computer and pushed a few buttons. That’s what she was talking about.” He spit out his explanation as quickly as possible under her scrutinizing glare.
Maggie’s mouth fell open and shut several times. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” She handed the mouse back to Cece. “Put him in your pocket. There’s a box in my office we can put him in.” She took hold of her daughter’s arm and marched toward the exit.
“I’m hungry, Mama.” Cece’s growling stomach seemed to agree.
“I have some snacks in my bag, we’ll get them when we get back to the office, okay?”
Cece spun around to him. “Ya like hot dogs?”
He smirked at her out of the blue question. “As a matter of fact I do.”
“Ya wanna g—” Maggie’s hand covered Cece’s mouth, but the persistent wonder continued to speak, her garbled muffle asking, “eh smmm?”
The little dynamo tugged at her mother’s arm and wasn’t intimidated by him, yet staff who’d known him for years walked on eggshells even though he treated them well. In all the time he managed the business alongside his grandfather, replacing him after his retirement a couple years ago, none of his employees ever invited him anywhere, let alone to get something to eat.
Cece shoved Maggie’s arm, knocking it away from her mouth.
“Yes,” he replied before Cece could say anything else.
“No,” Maggie countered. “We’ll get out of your way now.” She tugged on Cece’s arm, but as soon as they crossed the threshold, Cece plopped down on her rear end, cementing herself to the floor.
“Mama, he says yeah.” Cece twisted toward him, her lower lip extended.
Rounding the desk, he approached them, both on the opposite ends of a tug of war. Maggie pulled as Cece leaned her full body weight in the opposite direction, her back an inch above the carpet. “Maggie, it’s no big deal. There’s a hot dog stand at the end of the block.”
In a swift maneuver executed better than any soldier in ground warfare, Cece rolled, leapfrogged, and dashed to his side again in less than two-point-five seconds. She grabbed his hand, shooting him a megawatt grin. He repeated the gesture.
Maggie threw her arms in the air, huffing out a huge breath. “I have work to do, Cece. There are plenty of snacks in my bag. That’ll do for now. When it’s time for my break, I’ll take you to the hot dog shack.”
“I know your boss, he wouldn’t mind. Get your daughter what she wants.”
Cece’s stomach growled louder and right on cue.
“I can’t leave the phones unanswered for too long. I was only supposed to take Cece to the bathroom and come right back.” Maggie glanced at her watch. “We’ve been gone for more than fifteen minutes. I have to go. Now.”
“I’ll get whatever she wants and bring it to you,” he offered.
“I wanna go.” Cece’s green eyes pleaded with him.
“No.” Maggie motioned to her daughter with a crook of her hand. “Mr. Stone is a busy man. Come on. Let me get back to work, and I’ll see what I can do about getting you a hot dog.”
Cece’s gaze dropped to the floor, and she shuffled over to her mother. She peeked back at him and trudged out the door. The complete devastation on Cece’s face made his chest hurt.
In a soft voice Maggie said, “Mr. Stone, Cece has to learn she can’t have her way all the time. This is a business, and she knows I have a
job to do. She had dinner, so the snacks would’ve been enough.”
He raised his hands in surrender and nodded. Why was he getting involved in something that had nothing to do with him? He had tons of work to finish tonight, and he needed to focus on that—not them.
“You’re right.” He returned to his desk, flipping open a file and writing notes in the margins. What he jotted, he had no idea. He didn’t even see the words on the page. The image of Maggie still standing in the doorway was stuck in his peripheral vision.
“Have a nice night, Mr. Stone.”
He nodded, maybe grunted, and continued to scribble on the paper.
“Bye.” Cece’s disheartened farewell drifted from the hallway.
When he eventually looked up, a closed door locked him in—all alone.
RICK WAVED TO PAUL, THE evening security guard, and exited the office building. Another midnight departure. It wasn’t that Rick noticed the time anymore; a fifteen-hour work day was common for him. Tonight though, he left with each task on his to-do list accomplished.
Dead tired, he focused on the parking garage across the street. At the walking signal, he jogged to the other side. Two huddled bodies in the bus stop enclosure captured his attention. “What are you doing?” He rushed toward them, stopping at the edge of the bench.
Maggie jolted and glowered at him. “You scared me half to death. I’m waiting for the bus.”
Was she out of her mind? “It’s not safe. You can’t even defend yourself. Not with a sleeping girl in your arms.”
Maggie rested her cheek on top of Cece’s. “I don’t have a choice.”
“You could have caught a cab.”
She tilted her chin up, shot him an agitated brow, and buried her face against Cece’s. “It’s far. It would’ve been too expensive.”
“I’ll drive you. Where do you live?”
“No,” she whispered.
“It wasn’t a choice, Maggie.” He leaned down to scoop Cece into his arms, but Maggie put her hand up, stopping him.
“Don’t.” She stared, unrelenting, and her back scooted into the corner of the booth. Her tight, squared shoulders were on full alert. “How do I know you aren’t some lunatic?”