Dreadnought (Nemesis #1)(82)

“Adair is my nephew. I won’t have the last piece of my brother living on the other side of the country. Besides, your mother is there. Your family, friends …” I could go on and on about all the people who cared for Mallory Ward. The girl wasn’t noticeably popular, but she was loved by everyone who knew her.

Her eyes flashed with pain and sadness before she turned away, leaning down to scoop up her little boy into her arms. His short arms swung around her neck and clung to her, his face buried in her hair.

“I can’t,” she whispered, walking past me.

“Why not?” I turned to follow her, one of my strides matching two of hers. “You owe someone money? Someone threatening you?”

“No!” she hissed, turning on me with that defensive flare. “I’m happy here.”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s not!”

“You’re telling me you love living in this run-down house that’s one knock away from falling to pieces in this kind of neighborhood?”

“There’s nothing wrong with this neighborhood,” she replied, not disagreeing about the house.

“This is a gang neighborhood. The house two streets down had the shit gunned out of it!” I already knew all the wrongs with her living conditions, but the more I listed them out loud, the more I felt the anger building in my chest. “Adair doesn’t even go to a school! He should already be in kindergarten by now!”

“He’s not old enough for kindergarten. He’s in daycare,” she retorted, clutching the shaking Adair closer. “He goes to Sunny Skies.”

“You mean that piece of shit painted with rainbows and dick graffiti I rode past on the way in?”

She didn’t argue.

“That’s it!” I yelled, throwing my arms in the air. “Grab your shit. You’re coming home with me.”

“What?” she screeched. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice.” I reached forward and grabbed the free arm she wasn’t using to hold Adair, tugging her forward.

“I do have a choice,” she growled, struggling against his hold. “And I’m not going with you.”

“Then I’ll call child services,” I snapped, whirling on her. I dropped my voice. “Then they’ll come; they’ll see this house, that piece of crap school, that house torn apart by bullets; and they’ll take Adair from you. Do you want that?”

“No!” Mallory screamed, her grip on Adair tightening.

“Then you’re coming with me.”

“But—”

“No.”

When her struggling began to wane, I loosened my grip. Suddenly, she stopped, and I jerked back, coming to a standstill.

Turning to face her, I opened my mouth, ready to argue with her some more, only to snap it shut.

Her eyes were downcast, wide and round, and so still it was unnerving.

“Mallory?” I asked.

She didn’t answer.

There was emotion, little bits of it flickering into smaller parts of her expression. She simply looked down into the gaping hole in the floor like it was the abyss to hell.

“Mallory,” I said louder as I cupped her face, forcing her to look up at me. As she did, I noticed sorrow and grief, but most of all, guilt.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Why?” I demanded. Why couldn’t she come home? What was keeping her from the place that held everyone she loved? What was she hiding?

She shook her head, unable to answer.

I growled out a sigh, letting her go to run my hands through my hair, the cogs working in my head.

“You’ll come home, and you’ll stay with me,” I declared.

I had planned for her to move in with her mother or something, but until then, she was going to stay with me. Truth be told, I needed to keep my eyes on her. There was no way I could trust her not to run.

She didn’t agree.

“I can’t stay with you,” she argued, coming back to herself.

I was about to argue some more when I heard the roar of a vehicle engine in front of the house. When the sound cut out, I turned back to Mallory, seeing her eyes on mine, seemingly thinking nothing of the sound.

“That’s our ride,” I replied.

In that second, she looked trapped, ready to bolt.

“Child services,” I reminded her.

Her expression turned into one of fury that made me feel cautious. Then she raised her free hand and swung at me so fast I didn’t have time to stop it.

Heat burned the side of my face, and I was positive the metallic taste on my tongue was blood.

“Bastard!” she hissed before stomping down the hallway and into one of the other rooms.

“Where are you going?” I yelled.

“To get my shit!” she yelled back.

She slammed the door shut behind her with an echoing bang. Then I heard the harsh sound of Adair crying again. It was only a few moments before she appeared from the doorway again, Adair clutching her long shirt as she pulled a small suitcase behind her and hiked a large travel bag over one shoulder and her purse over the other.

“Is that it?” I asked in surprise.

“I travel light,” she growled, her anger still burning high.