Law Man

  Not in my whole life.

  And it was beautiful.

  Then he was speaking as his fingers trailed from behind my ear down my jaw. “I’m sensing, baby, you’re not a fighter. You’re a survivor. You need to be a fighter not to get worn down by all this shit.” His hand cupped my jaw, his eyes roamed my face, his face warmed and he whispered, “What I’d pay money to know is what you survived.”

  Stupidly, I replied, “It wasn’t that interesting.”

  His eyes instantly cut to mine. “So it was something.”

  Oh shit.

  Mental note when dealing with Mitch: he was a police detective and he had ways of getting information therefore never let your guard down.

  “It’s just normal, everyday life stuff. Lots of people have been through worse than me,” I told him. When his eyes didn’t leave mine and his thumb swept my cheekbone and that felt so freaking nice, I repeated, “Lots of people.”

  “Normal everyday stuff does not make someone retreat from life like you do.”

  “I don’t retreat from life. I have a job. Friends. A car –”

  Mitch’s hand left my face and planted itself back in the armrest as his next surprising words cut me off and totally flipped me out.

  “You’re into me,” he declared.

  My breath froze in my throat.

  I pushed passed it to whisper, “Pardon?”

  “You’re into me,” he repeated.

  I straightened in my chair and since he didn’t move I, firstly, had no escape and I, secondly and stupidly, brought my face even closer to his.

  “I’m not into you,” I lied.

  “Liar,” Mitch called me on it. “You’re so into me you’re shit-scared of me.”

  God! I hated it when he figured me out.

  “I am not!” I lied again.

  He ignored me. “A woman like you, who looks like you, dresses like you, who’s into me does not run away from me, she does not push me away and she does not lie to her friends about me unless she’s for some secret reason shit-scared of me.”

  Okay, we were done.

  “You need to leave,” I told him.

  He continued to ignore me. “What a woman like you who’s not got some secret that makes her shit-scared of me does is make me pizza. She tells me about her life. She asks me about mine. And she doesn’t get pissed as all hell anytime I get close to figuring something out about her.”

  “Well, you would know. You’ve had plenty of women ‘into you’ parading in and out of your apartment,” I fired back.

  “So, you paid attention,” he returned.

  “It was hard to miss.”

  “No, Mara, you paid attention.”

  He was not wrong about that.

  Moving on.

  “I will remind you, Mitch, that when I made you that pizza that you said you didn’t care much about but bring up all the time, you had a woman in your apartment.”

  “And I’ll remind you, Mara, that I told you I’d be over in fifteen minutes which meant I intended to get rid of her in fifteen minutes so I could be with you.”

  “So you could have my pizza!” I snapped.

  “No,” he growled, visibly losing patience, “so I could be with you.”

  I glared at him. He kept talking.

  “And I was here in fifteen minutes but you were gone and when you got back, I came to you and tried to explain and you shut the door in my face.”

  “It was late,” I reminded him.

  He ignored me again. “I had no idea she was comin’ over. I didn’t want her over. I wasn’t happy she was over because she and I have been over awhile and she just doesn’t get it. But mostly I wasn’t happy she was over because I wanted…to be…with you.”

  “Can I ask that we have this conversation another time like…never?” I requested sarcastically.

  Mitch ignored me yet again. “Why do you find it so difficult even to consider the fact that I want to be with you?”

  “Mitch, please, would you just shut up and leave?” I snapped.

  “Yeah, I’ll shut up when you give me an honest answer.”

  “I already have,” I lied.

  “What was that everyday life thing that you survived?” he asked.

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” I answered.

  “If it was an everyday life thing that wasn’t a big deal, why won’t you tell me?”

  “Because it’s not your business, now will you shut up and go?”

  “It isn’t because it’s not my business, it’s something else.”

  “God! Will you just shut up and go?”

  “Yeah, I will, after you fuckin’ talk to me.”

  “Why are you pushing this?” I bit off.

  “Why do you think?” he shot back.

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “Could it be, Mara, because I’m into you?”

  I pushed back against the armchair, staring at him, stunned.

  Then I felt the shutters snap closed on my soul as I whispered, “Shut up.”

  His eyes roamed my face then captured mine and he whispered back, “Christ, you won’t even let that penetrate.”

  “Shut up,” I whispered.

  “What happened to you?” he whispered back.

  “Shut up, Mitch.”

  His hand came back to my jaw and he asked gently, “Baby, what happened to you?”

  “Shut up.”

  His thumb swept my cheek again, God, so sweet, so tender then his fingers sifted back into my hair.

  “Did someone hurt you?”

  Still gentle.

  God. Beautiful.

  “Please, shut up.”

  “Who hurt you, baby?”

  “Shut up.”

  His fingers curled around the back of my head, his face moved to within an inch of mine and his soulful eyes were so close. So, so close.

  “How did they hurt you?”

  That was when I lost it. I couldn’t take anymore. Not with him that close, his deep voice that sweet, his hand on me, his eyes looking into mine like he could see into my soul.

  I had to stop the questions. I had to shut him up.

  So I did. I lifted both my hands and put them to both sides of his head and I moved up as I pulled him down to me. Tilting my head at the last second, I pressed my lips against his and I did this hard.

  Immediately, his arms wrapped around me tight, pulling me to him, locking me close as he lifted up, taking me with him as he straightened. My body tight to his, his head slanting, his mouth opening, mine following suit and his tongue swept inside.

  Oh God.

  My hands left his head so I could wrap my arms around his neck. He tasted good, he felt good against me and it had been a long time since I’d been kissed. Destry and I broke up over two years ago. I hadn’t even had a date, much less a lover, and definitely no kisses.

  And this kiss was a great kiss. Not because Mitch was a Ten Point Five and the impossible was happening and he was kissing a Two Point Five. It was just because it was a great kiss. He knew what he was doing and I liked what he was doing, all of it.

  This must have been why one of my hands curled around his neck and went up. My fingers slid into his hair and I was right, it was soft. It was also thick. It felt as beautiful as it looked.

  I pressed myself to him to get more of him, more of his kiss and his arm at my waist slid down, his hand curling around my hip and, thankfully, he pulled me into him. This made me make a noise in the back of my throat, my other hand went down to press under his arm to wrap my arm around him and my fingers encountered the hard muscle of his back. At the feel of it, which I liked a lot, I pressed deeper. My chest into his, my hips into his and my tongue tangled with his as my hand held his head to mine and our heads moved. Switching position, then back, then again, and again, our lips locked, our tongues dancing, drinking, our bodies pressed deep, our arms caging each other in.

  It was the best kiss I’d ever had, it could have been the best kiss in history a
nd I never wanted it to end.

  But everything ended, though the way our kiss did rocked my world.

  Mitch tore his mouth from mine but I felt his forehead rest against mine before I heard him growl on an arm squeeze that took what little breath I had left, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby, you can kiss.”

  My eyes opened slowly to see his right there and I didn’t think because I couldn’t think and therefore I didn’t stop myself before I blurted stupidly and breathlessly, “Oh my God, that was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

  His fingers tensed against my scalp and his shocking reply was, “Damn straight.”

  It was then I noticed we were both breathing heavily. Our breaths mingled against our lips which were still close. We were looking into each other’s eyes and neither of us had moved even a smidgeon away so we were pressed deep and wrapped in each other’s arms.

  “Yeah,” he whispered, his arms going tighter, one side of his mouth inching up and his eyes going warm. “I could work with this Mara.”

  I closed my eyes slowly.

  Oh God. Now what had I done?

  I opened my eyes and whispered back, “Mitch –”

  Before I could say another word, there was a pounding at the door.

  Then I heard my mother shout, “Marabelle Jolene Hanover! Open this fuckin’ door!”

  That was when my body and face froze in terror.

  Chapter Ten

  Mom and Lulamae

  I was frozen in Mitch’s arms. I felt his body go solid against me, his head jerking up and everything left my head as I heard the pounding at the door, my Mom shouting, my Aunt Lulamae, Bill’s Mom shouting with her.

  Aunt Lulamae, arguably crazier and meaner than Mom. Double trouble.

  I hadn’t seen them since I left home. I hadn’t seen them in nearly thirteen years.

  God! What were they doing at my door after ten at night? In fact, why were they here at all?

  “Open this goddamned, fuckin’ door!” Mom screeched.

  “Fuck me,” Mitch muttered, his eyes looking over my shoulder at the door. He let me go and started moving that way.

  I came unstuck, focused and sprung forward, grabbing his hand, tugging back hard and desperate. His neck twisted and he looked down at me.

  “Don’t,” I begged on a whisper and my face must have expressed exactly the panic I was feeling because his fingers flexed around mine and his eyes narrowed on me.

  “Marabelle!” Aunt Lulamae shrieked. “We’re not leavin’ until you open this door and give me my goddamned grandbabies.”

  At her words, I instantly let Mitch go, retreated with quick steps, running into the coffee table and stopping as my terrified eyes shot to the door.

  Bill. Bill had called them. Fucking, fucking Bill!

  “Open the door!” Mom screamed but suddenly Mitch was in my space and in my face.

  “Talk to me fast,” he whispered.

  “My Mom and Bill’s Mom. Aunt Lulamae.”

  “Bad news?” he asked.

  I nodded. “The worst.”

  “I thought you said you were the only relative local,” Mitch observed.

  “They’re not local. They live in Iowa. I haven’t seen them since I left. It’s been thirteen years.”

  His eyes flashed. “That assclown called them,” he muttered.

  I nodded again.

  “Marabelle!” Mom screeched.

  “Seriously, keep it down or I’m callin’ the cops.” I heard Derek’s voice enter the cacophony.

  “Fuck you!” Aunt Lulamae shot back.

  “You’re not close,” Mitch noted, and my gaze went from his shoulder to him to see his eyes looking deep into mine.

  “Things weren’t good at home,” I whispered and Mitch’s jaw went hard.

  More pounding on the door then Aunt Lulamae, “Get your fat ass outta bed and open this door!”

  “Stop shouting!” Derek shouted.

  “The kids?” Mitch asked.

  I shook my head. “Bill hates them just as much as me. The kids have never met either one of them.”

  “Marabelle!” Mom shrieked.

  “Get outta sight,” Mitch ordered and I blinked up at him.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Right, I’m callin’ the cops,” Derek stated.

  “Go right ahead! I hope you do. You live next to a fuckin’ kidnapper!” Aunt Lulamae shouted.

  “Mara, now,” Mitch clipped urgently, “outta sight.”

  “I don’t –”

  His hand came up to cup my cheek. “Now, baby.”

  I nodded. Then I raced to the end of the hall where the door to the kids’ room was. I pressed against the side wall, prayed they slept deep and didn’t wake to hear this.

  I knew this was wussy behavior but I didn’t care. There were reasons I left Iowa and both of them were standing at my door. Mitch was a big guy and he was a cop. I didn’t want him to be confronted with what he’d be confronted with but in that moment of sheer panic, all I could think was that it was better him than me. He could walk away from it. It was in my blood. It lived latent in me and I didn’t need that part of me waking up.

  Therefore, I watched Mitch open the door just enough so he could stand in its frame but not enough for them to see me.

  Then I heard my Mom say, “Well fina…who the fuck are you?”

  “I’m Detective Mitch Lawson,” Mitch replied.

  Silence then, Aunt Lulamae, “I thought Mara lived here.”

  “Mara does live here,” Mitch stated very unwisely then, equally unwisely, he went on to lie. “We’re seein’ each other.”

  “Mara’s seein’ a cop?” Mom asked, voice filled with shock, disbelief and revulsion like he’d said I was seeing a serial rapist.

  “Yeah, she is and she’s explained you’re estranged so I think maybe it’s best that you go,” Mitch explained.

  “Estranged! Right. That’s good. Fuckin’ hilarious. Marabelle Jolene ‘My Shit Don’t Stink’ Hanover is estranged from her Momma. I’m laughin’ my ass off,” Mom stated.

  Why this would be, I couldn’t fathom since we very much were. Not seeing or speaking to someone in over a decade had to be the definition of estranged. Except, of course, my Mom probably didn’t know what that word meant.

  “Like I said, I think it’s best that you go,” Mitch repeated.

  “You give me my grandbabies, I’ll go,” Aunt Lulamae entered the conversation.

  There it was. The reason they were here. Just what I feared. Shit!

  “Mara has temporary guardianship of your grandchildren so I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Mitch replied.

  “Temporary guardianship, my ass. They need to be with their grandma, not some uppity bitch. You let me in and let me get my grandbabies,” Aunt Lulamae returned.

  “I advise you not to force entry or I’ll need to call units to the scene,” Mitch warned, shifting to cop speak and I knew they were trying to push in.

  Damn.

  “You can’t keep me from my grandbabies!” Aunt Lulamae shrieked.

  “I know your grandchildren pretty well, ma’am, they’ve not once mentioned you,” Mitch replied in a calm voice on a semi-lie then went on to flat out lie. “Their teachers and principal have not mentioned you.” Then he started to tell the truth. “The emergency contact on their school records is Mara. Bill Winchell is currently incarcerated. He was not offered bail because he’s a flight risk. He can’t afford representation and the evidence they have is substantial. Regardless, he’s not fit to raise those children and the evidence to support that is even more substantial. Mara’s temporary guardianship will likely be full guardianship soon and you don’t factor into that equation. I suggest if you’d like to see your grandchildren, you phone Mara at a decent time and arrange to have a meeting where you talk civilly about your wishes and she can decide when and how you’ll see your grandchildren. Now, if you wish to see them and not give Mara ammunition to keep you from them I suggest you quiet down, go to
your car, leave the premises and phone Mara to set a time to talk about this amicably.”

  “Well, officer, considerin’ I didn’t understand half of them fancy-ass words that came outta your cop mouth, you can go spit for me quietin’ down and leavin’ the premises before I see my grandbabies,” Aunt Lulamae shot back and I closed my eyes.

  “Why do cops talk like that?” Mom asked Aunt Lulamae.

  “Search me,” Aunt Lulamae responded.

  God. It was like Idiot Skank and her sidekick, Skanky Moron do Denver.

  “Dispatch?” Mitch said, my eyes shot to him to see he had a phone at his ear and then Mitch continued. “Yeah, this is Detective Lawson. I need a couple units at the Evergreen. Unit C. Upper floor. There’s a disturbance.”

  “You did not just call the cops!” Aunt Lulamae screeched.

  “Fuckin’ shit!” Mom shouted. “Just let her see her grandbabies! How hard is that?”

  “Yeah? Thanks. Later,” Mitch said then he flipped his phone closed and stated, “You shout one more time, pound on the door, wake those kids or Mara’s neighbors, I’ll cuff you both, haul you down to the sidewalk myself and get creative with what to charge you with. And what I pick won’t be somethin’ easy like disturbin’ the peace. Don’t try me, I’m not joking. I’m being very serious.”

  This was met with silence and I suspected this was because Mitch was looking as serious as he sounded and he sounded very serious. Mom and Aunt Lulamae weren’t the brightest bulbs in the box but they also weren’t strangers to a jail cell and as often as they’d tried it, they’d never liked it.

  Then Mitch said, “I think we’re done here.” A pause then another lie, “Ladies.” And Mitch closed the door.

  Then, somewhat muted, “You did not just shut the door in my face!”

  That was Aunt Lulamae.

  “Pig!”

  That was Mom.

  I watched Mitch move toward me. When there was silence outside, I turned to the kids’ door and cautiously opened it, peeking in.

  Billie was sprawled, covers half on, half off, Mitch’s pink teddy bear firm in hand, dead to the world. Billy was on his side curled into a tight ball, hands shoved under the pillow. Both were asleep.