Law Man Read online

  “Hello,” I greeted.

  “This Mara?” a gruff male voice asked.

  “Um…yes,” I answered.

  “You know some kids named Billy and Billie?”

  I felt panic seize my chest.

  Just as I feared, it was about Billy and Billie, my stupid, lame, petty criminal cousin Bill’s kids.

  Bill had followed me out to Denver which was something I didn’t need. When we were kids, I loved Bill. He was fun and funny and we got on great. When he got older, he wasn’t so easy to love. Mainly because the way he had fun and the way he dragged me into it and got me into trouble was no longer so great. He’d never stopped liking hanging with me. I’d stopped liking hanging with him. I left Iowa to escape my crazy Mom (whose sister was Bill’s crazy Mom) but also to escape Bill and his antics. Unfortunately, Bill followed me.

  Also unfortunately, in the ensuing years, Bill had two kids with two different women. Both women wisely took off. Both women were the kind of women that when they took off, they left their kids behind. Which were precisely the kinds of women with whom Bill would hook up.

  So Bill had Billy, his son who was nine. And also Billerina, his daughter who was six. Yes, he named his daughter Billerina. Seriously, he was stupid, lame, a petty criminal, a joke and so much of all of these he didn’t realize he was also cruel. Bill called her Billie, thinking it was funny because he was stupid, lame and not very funny.

  I loved those kids and I spent as much time with them as I could. They were the reason I was able to get home late twice that week since I went to go visit them.

  Unfortunately this time came with spending time with Bill. But I loved them enough to put up with their father. Seeing as I was the only solid adult in their life whose love came unconditionally and without a shitload of dysfunction attached to it, they loved me.

  Also seeing as Bill was the idiot to beat all idiots, sometimes shit happened and during those times, I was always dragged in. I didn’t want Bill’s shit hitting the fan and splattering his kids. Unfortunately shit was happening more frequently lately and my normal concern was escalating to panic.

  “Yes,” I answered the gruff voice.

  “You their Ma?” he asked.

  “No…I’m a family friend,” I answered. “Are they okay?”

  “The boy said you’re his guardian. You his guardian?” the gruff voice asked.

  “Um…yes,” I lied. “Um…we, uh…got separated –”

  “Right, whatever. You need to come get ‘em. They’re hungry. Stop ‘n’ Go. Zuni.”

  Then he hung up.

  I closed my eyes. Then I beeped the phone off and flew into action.

  Billy and Billie ran away a lot. Well, Billy did and he took his sister with him.

  Billy had somehow managed to get himself a smart gene in the gene cesspool he’d been offered. At nine, he knew the life he’d been born into was not a safe life to live. Maybe he got this gene from me for I’d also figured my shitty life out early (around the age of four) and felt the same way. Billy had also somehow managed to get himself a loyal and sweet gene which meant he took care of his sister.

  Billie had managed to get mostly adorable little girl genes. Which apparently were strong and coated you with Teflon so that your shitty life could bounce off you and you could only see the wonders of the world. She thought I was wonderful. She thought her father was wonderful. But mostly she thought her brother was wonderful.

  Two out of three weren’t bad.

  I blew out the candles, turned off the music, grabbed my purse and hightailed it out of my apartment. I was rushing hell bent for leather, my head down, my mind consumed with this problem.

  This was the fourth time in half as many months that Billy had tried to run away taking Billie with him. In other words, Billy’s great escapes were escalating. Something was not right in the Bill, Billy and Billie household, more than the normal not right. It was becoming clear that I was going to need to wade in. I didn’t want to wade in with Bill. Wading in with Bill meant that shit might get stuck to me. But I couldn’t leave Billy and Billie in a situation that was worse than the normal not right. The normal not right was already pretty freaking bad.

  “Whoa, Mara, Jesus!” I heard right before I slammed into Detective Mitch Lawson near to the top of the stairs.

  He went down two steps, me going with him. He threw his arm out and grabbed the railing. I was moving so fast I couldn’t stop so my body collided with his. To steady myself my hands automatically lifted to clutch his shirt at his chest. His other arm wrapped tight around my waist. He managed to stop us from both tumbling backwards down the steps to possibly break bones or crack open skulls when we hit the cement sidewalk.

  When we teetered to a stop, I looked up at him.

  Nope, a week away and he was no less gorgeous. Indeed, that close, he was even more gorgeous than ever.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said again, trying to take a step back.

  His arm around my waist tightened and not just a little, a lot. So much that even though my torso was already resting against him from chest to belly this tightening made it so my torso was plastered against him from chest to hips.

  “What’s the hurry?” he asked.

  “I…” I hesitated not wanting to share anything with him. But I really did not want to share that I had a hick, stupid, lame, petty criminal for a cousin. And I further did not want to share Bill was the definition of Not A Great Father whose kids I had to rescue again. “Need to be somewhere,” I decided to say.

  His eyes moved over my face and their movement was doing funny things to my belly at the same time my heart was tripping over itself due to our proximity. This was because I’d just discovered his body felt as hard and muscled as it looked while my two precious second cousins were hungry at a Stop ‘n’ Go.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I lied. “Fine, I just need to be somewhere.”

  “Your face doesn’t say everything is fine,” he replied.

  “It is,” I lied again.

  “It isn’t,” he returned.

  I stopped clutching his shirt and pushed against his hard chest.

  “Really, Mitch, I have to go,” I told him.

  “Where?”

  “I need to pick something up.”

  “What?”

  I stopped pushing and glared at him, beginning to lose my temper mainly because the gruff voiced guy said Billy and Billie were hungry.

  “Would you let me go? I’ve got to be somewhere.”

  “I’ll let you go when you tell me where you’ve got to be and why your face is pale and you look freaked.”

  I lost a bit more of my temper. “It’s none of your business,” I said. “Really, let me go.”

  His arm gave me a squeeze and his face changed from looking kind of curious and definitely alert to still definitely alert and kind of pissed.

  “Four years, I see you and every time I see you, you’re in your own world. Goin’ to work, comin’ home with groceries or from the mall. You’re never in a rush but you’re always in your head and I can see that’s a decent place to be.”

  I blinked at him, shocked he paid that much attention.

  “Now you’re sprinting down the stairs, not lookin’ where you’re goin’ when you’re always careful to look where you’re goin’ and you’re in your head but wherever you are in there, it is far from a decent place to be.” I was still staring up at him but now unblinking and I felt my lips had parted. He went on, “You got a problem?”

  “I –” I started to lie but stopped when his arm gave me another squeeze, pressing the breath out of me.

  “And don’t lie,” he warned.

  I took in a breath. Then I thought of the kids. Then I decided I probably shouldn’t lie because clearly, I was right about police detectives. Even though he didn’t know me, he had finely honed skills where he
could totally figure me out and know when I was lying. He wasn’t going to let me go until I told him the truth. And I needed him to let me go for a variety of reasons.

  “Family problems,” I explained honestly.

  “Bad?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Annoying.”

  That was a fib rather than a lie since I wasn’t certain it was bad. I just figured it was getting there.

  “You need me to come with you?” he offered.

  “No!” I blurted too fast and too loudly and on a desperate pull against his arm that made him give me another squeeze keeping me right where I was.

  When I calmed enough to register the look on his face I realized my mistake. I should have kept cool and paid attention to him. Close attention. For he still looked very alert, he now looked very pissed and he’d added a narrow-eyed, alert, angry disbelief which I knew for sure was not a good addition.

  “Now, sweetheart,” he said in a soft, dangerous voice, “I’m thinkin’ you just lied to me.”

  Oh boy.

  Mental note: if given the chance again, never but never lie to Detective Mitch Lawson.

  “Not really,” I evaded (not a lie). “This happens sometimes.”

  “What happens?” he asked and I figured he was good at his job, especially in the interrogation rooms.

  “I have a cousin, he’s…well, he’s kind of a mess and he’s got two kids. I’m close with his kids and sometimes I need to…” I searched for a word, found it and said, “Intervene.”

  “What kind of mess is he?” he asked.

  “What kinds are there?” I asked back.

  “Lots of kinds,” he answered.

  “He’s all those,” I answered too.

  He studied me. Then he muttered, “Shit.”

  I took in a breath, put minor pressure on my hands at his chest and whispered carefully, “Mitch, I really need to get to the kids.”

  He studied me again. Then he said, “Right.”

  Finally he let me go and stepped down another step. Again I felt that crush of disappointment at the same time I felt relief.

  I felt these for about half a second. Then his hand curled around mine and he tugged me down the stairs toward his SUV.

  I followed because if I didn’t, the determined way he was moving, I knew he’d start dragging me.

  “Um…Mitch?” I called, he lifted his other hand and I saw the lights and heard the beep of his locks opening on his SUV.

  Oh boy.

  “Mitch?” I called again as he led me to the passenger side.

  He didn’t answer. He pulled me around the door and opened it.

  “Uh…Mitch,” I said again and he used his hand in mine to maneuver me into the door.

  Then he spoke.

  “Climb up.”

  I twisted to look up at him. “But, I –”

  Mitch cut me off, “Climb up.”

  “I think that I –”

  Suddenly he was in my space and there wasn’t a lot of it seeing as he was a big guy and we were wedged between his truck and the door. I had to put my hands up again in an automatic effort to fend him off. But they only made it to his (rock hard, by the way) abs before his face was all I could see and my body, heart and lungs all stilled as I stared into his eyes.

  “Mara, climb…the fuck…up.”

  Oh boy.

  I was in trouble and I was in trouble because Detective Mitch Lawson, close, pissed off and bossy was hot.

  “I can take care of this on my own,” I assured him. “I’ve done it before.”

  “I’m a cop,” he announced suddenly.

  “I know,” I told him.

  “I know you know. What you might not know is I’ve been a cop a long time. That means I know all the kinds of messes people can be. You’re not a cop,” he informed me. “So, you tellin’ me your cousin is all the kinds of messes you know means he’s probably all the kinds of messes I know and there is no fuckin’ way I’m lettin’ you get in your car and drive into a mess. Now, Mara, climb…the…fuck…up.”

  “Okay,” I agreed instantly because close, pissed off, bossy Detective Mitch Lawson was also pretty freaking scary.

  He slammed the door behind me. I buckled up as he rounded the hood and swung up beside me. He’d backed out and we were motoring forward when he spoke again.

  “Where are we goin’?”

  “The Stop ‘n’ Go on Zuni.”

  Mitch nodded and guided us through the complex.

  Mitch and I lived in a middle income apartment complex east of Colorado Boulevard. It had a fantastic pool, clubhouse and gym. All of the people who rented units in our complex, along with all of the people who owned the built very close together, middle income homes in the gated community across the street, used these as an added benefit to their HOA.

  Our complex was known throughout Denver as the singles hotspot of apartment complexes and I had to admit, it was kind of the truth. Rent was high enough to keep out the riffraff. Everyone who lived there was a professional working their way up the ladder or someone who did pretty well at whatever their job was and got paid pretty well to do it. The complex was attractive, attractively laid out and attractively landscaped. It was a haven for the active suburban single. The greenbelt and creek had jogging-slash-bike trails, plus stations where they had sturdy equipment that you could do decline sit ups, pull ups and stuff like that. The pool had a gorgeous, nearly unfettered view of the Front Range. It also had two hot tubs, the clubhouse bar was close and you could drink around the pool. All highly conducive to the singles scene.

  Since what normally happened was that you hooked up with someone while in the apartment complex (as B and B and LaTanya and Derek did), lived with them there then moved to the housing development across the street when you got married, the community was also kind of incestuous. If you lived there long enough, everyone knew you and you knew everyone.

  I didn’t move there to be a single in a singles nirvana. I moved there because I liked the look of the place. It was quiet, close to the mall and downtown, the apartments were spacious and the units had lots of green space between them. I also moved there because I loved pools and had a freakish need to be tan for as long as I possibly could be, weather permitting. Me tan slid me up to a Three Point Five, or at least I fancied it did.

  “You wanna tell me what we’re walkin’ into here?” Mitch broke into my thoughts to ask a pertinent question.

  “My cousin’s name is Bill,” I answered. “And he has a nine year old son and a six year old daughter and their names are Billy and Billie. Billy, the boy, with a ‘y’ and Billie, the girl, with an ‘ie’.”

  I felt Mitch’s eyes on me before I felt them leave me and he flipped on the turn signal.

  “You aren’t laughing,” he remarked after he’d turned out of the complex and I’d said no more.

  “I’m not laughing because it isn’t funny and it isn’t funny because I’m not joking,” I replied.

  “Shit,” he muttered, already knowing exactly what kind of mess Bill was.

  And Mitch was right. Bill, Billy and Billie’s names said it all.

  “Anyway, Bill isn’t a great Dad so occasionally Billy packs up Billie and they run away. They usually don’t go very far and once they get there, they talk someone into calling me. I go get them. We have a chat. I get them food because their Dad doesn’t remember to feed them. I take them back to their Dad. Then I have a chat with Bill, leave and come home.”

  This was most of it, not all of it. I didn’t share that every time I left, I considered kidnapping my cousin’s kids. I also considered a phone call to Child Protective Services. And lately, I considered that I lamented the fact that I hadn’t kicked their drunk, stupid, lame Dad’s ass before I left.

  “So they ran away, they’re at the Stop ‘n’ Go and they called you,” Mitch deduced.

  “Yep.”

  “Where’s their Mom?”

  “Moms, plural and they’re both long gone.”


  Mitch had no reply to that.

  I decided since he’d been pretty angry and I wasn’t certain if he was still angry but I was guessing he was that I would share a little more. Maybe being forthcoming would shear the edge of his anger.

  “They have no family in Denver and Bill is my only family here so I’m their only family here. That’s why they call me.”

  “That isn’t why they call you,” Mitch returned immediately and I turned my head to look at him.

  “Pardon?” I asked.

  “That isn’t why they call you,” Mitch repeated.

  “I heard what you said,” I told him. “I just don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean, you’re a brother and sister with two different Moms, both who took off, a Dad that’s such a mess at nine years old you’re runnin’ away and your Dad’s cousin is a woman whose smile lights up her whole face and her laugh ignites a room, you want that in your life. So you run away and call her in hopes that she’s gonna give you that light and warmth to fill your life.”

  I stared at his profile as he drove and I felt my heart beating in my throat but my stomach had clenched so hard I found I couldn’t breathe.

  I didn’t recall ever smiling at him, not a real, unabashed smile and I definitely never laughed around him.

  “I’ve never laughed around you,” I blurted stupidly.

  He glanced at me then back at the road before saying, “Sweetheart, you’re with Brent and Bradon or LaTanya and Derek, I can hear it through the walls.”

  Ohmigod!

  “So you’re saying I have a loud laugh,” I noted.

  “No,” he said with what sounded like extreme patience. “What I’m sayin’ is you have a gorgeous laugh. I’ve heard it. I like it.”

  Ohmigod!

  That couldn’t true. He was just being nice and since I couldn’t deal with him being nice…er we needed to move on.

  “My smile doesn’t light up my whole face. It’s wonky,” I informed him.

  “It isn’t wonky.”

  “It is.”

  “Mara, it isn’t. You don’t smile at me like you mean it because you’re always too freaked out to let yourself go. But I’ve seen you at Derek and LaTanya’s smiling like you mean it. I’ll take your smiles even when you don’t let yourself go because they work really fuckin’ well. But I’ll tell you, when you let yourself go, they’re fuckin’ fantastic.”