Law Man (Dream Man #3)(16)

“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 f**kin’ way I’m lettin’ you get in your car and drive into a mess. Now, Mara, climb…the…f*ck…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.”