Love and War: Part Two (Shadows in the Dark Book 2)

“Babe,” Lux says, opening the office door as she knocks. “Can we come in?”

Kaston looks up from a stack of papers on his desk, a cup of coffee to his right. It’s early. It was my only chance to talk to him before I have to leave for work.

He looks so . . . I don’t know, domestic? Like a professional. And he’s not even wearing the suit I’ve seen him in a few times. I need to stop being so stereotypical of what criminals are supposed to act like and look like. He does have a legitimate job.

Focus.

I came to the house early in hopes he’d see me. Something has been bothering me. Call it my motherly intuition kicking in, but it’s taken the forefront of my mind to the point that it’s making me crazy. He waves us in. “He works from home on the days I don’t have school,” Lux says, rolling her eyes in a way you know is utter love and not annoyance. “So there is no rush.”

I follow Lux to the guest seating facing his desk. We sit at the same time. She crosses her legs and places her hands in her lap, as if we have an official appointment. How formal of her.

My hands are connected in my lap, my insides knotting together. He looks at me, and then her, his brow rising, then a smirk sets deep in his face. “Ladies, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

You have to do this. It’s for our family.

“Well, it’s funny that you asked. Delta has something she needs to ask you.”

He glances at me. “What you got for me?”

I inhale and breathe out. “I was wondering if I could ask you for a really big favor. I know the two of you have been kind enough to let me stay here—”

“Delta,” Lux whines.

I hold up my hand to stop her. “It’s a kindness I am not owed. It means a lot to me. I know the two of you are trying to start your lives together and need your alone time, so I’m grateful that you’re giving me a place to stay. I have no place to ask for a favor, but it’s not so much for me as it is for someone else.”

Kaston places his elbow on the arm of the chair, his forefinger rubbing his upper lip, studying me. “This about Kross?”

“Yes.”

“Continue.”

I try to calm my nerves, hoping that if this goes through, Kross doesn’t get pissed at me. This isn’t something to take lightly. If this doesn’t end in my favor, it could be the end of us, but I need this closure. “I would like to hire you to find out about Kross’s birth mother. He doesn’t remember her. He thinks he was abandoned. He was left to rot in that hellhole with a woman that tormented and abused him. I’m still shocked she was a foster parent with the kinds of things she did to him, and that no one ever noticed! For the life of me, I can’t imagine how anyone could raise their child to a certain point and then just leave him. I want to talk to her. To find out why she did it. There has to be a reason he was sent to live in that hell. I need to know.”

He leans forward, placing his forearms on the desk with his hands clasped together. “So, let me get this straight. You want me to dig up Kross’s past without his permission? The same guy who is also my dealer. The person that I use for very specific, illegal needs. Finding an arms dealer is not like contracting out for plumbing or electrical. There is trust involved. There is always risk. And you want me to blow that trust to Hell and back for something that doesn’t benefit you or me? I don’t think so. There’s too much at stake, and I’d like to think that he’s more than just a business contact. I don’t fuck over my friends.”

I release the breath I’ve been holding, disappointed, and nod. “Okay, I understand. Thank you for letting me ask at least.”

I stand to leave, but Lux grabs my hand, pulling me back down. “Wait one damn second. I love you, and I understand your point of view; however, if I remember correctly, you dug up my shit without my permission!”

“You only know that because I told you. I had my reasons.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “And she has hers!”

“Lux, it’s fine. Please don’t get angry over my stuff. My intention was not to cause any problems between the two of you.”

“No, Delta. It’s not fine. Kaston, she’s pregnant with his baby. His baby! He’s the father of her unborn child. That opens him up for personal things. It’s no longer just business. You know if I wanted you to dig up shit on Sophie’s dad you wouldn’t even hesitate.”

“There is a difference in a sperm donor and a father.”

“You don’t even know him. Do you really want to go there? Staying on topic, Kross is having a hard time dealing with it. Did it ever occur to you that maybe it’s because he had a rough childhood . . . like me? She keeps saying we’re similar, well, then I’m going to speak for him as if walking in his shoes. Maybe if she got some answers, it would be closure for him too. Everyone needs closure! We all have shitty moms, even you. You looked her up when we were still new. That brings us all together in ways. You want to make me happy? This would make me happy. Not a fancy wedding or a honeymoon in the Cape. Although it may surprise you, family trumps all of those things. She’s my family, and she’s hurting. This is something she needs and you have the resources to give it to her. She never asks for a damn thing.”

I want to curl away, the awkwardness settling in. Kaston looks at her in a way that seems so private. They aren’t speaking. Then, finally he breaks, the tension in his body leaving, and he’s suddenly sitting relaxed before he looks over at me. His voice softens. “What makes you think he wants to know if he’s never looked into it himself? I’m almost positive Kross has his own resources for information.”

“I don’t think the demons have left him alone long enough for him to consider it. He’s haunted, Kaston. You have no idea.”

He rubs his hands up and down his face and leans back in his chair. “I need to think about it. There are two people I’ve considered off limits when it comes to deep digging: Chevy and Kross. Their information—aside from a standard background check employers use—is private and I’ve respected those boundaries to keep it that way.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” I say, my heart quickly pushing its way to my throat.

He opens a drawer and then lays a notepad in front of me with a pen. “List any information you know, should I decide to look into it.”

I stare at the lines covering the paper, before closing my eyes. I’m doing this for you, baby, both of you.

Then, I pick up the pen and call upon any information I’ve filed away from conversations we’ve had or stories he’s told. Within minutes the tip of the pen begins to move.

-Possible name: Rachel Brannon.

-State of residence: Illinois.

-All counties within a-hundred-mile radius of Chicago.

I think, pen shaking. Those fucking neon lights. The stage he recalled from a kid’s point of view. The dancing. His reaction to me stripping.

-Background information: possible stripper. Maybe even prostitution.

-Transferred into foster care young. Approximately twenty-six years ago.

-Biological father: Unknown.

The details of that story come back to mind. I didn’t get memories out of Kross often, but the times he gave me clues or information of things inside his head I made sure to memorize them. I’m not sure about this, or any of it for that matter, but I’m going to go with my gut instincts on this one. Something about his name and the way he remembers that particular detail sends chills down my spine.

-Biological father: Could possibly be the club owner. Large cross tattoo covering full side of neck.

I cap the pen and slide it back to him. He glances over the details, and then places the notepad in the same drawer he got it out of. “I’ll think it over. If I go against my better judgment and decide to dig, I’ll let you know after the fact. There is no reason to get your hopes up if I find nothing.”

I nod, gathering my purse to leave. But before my butt comes off the chair, something overwhelms me. “Thank you, Kaston. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I really just want what’s best for him. I love him more than he’ll ever understand. Deep down, farther than anyone could imagine, I believe he’s just that scared little kid that was left with no answers, no memories, and was thrown from family to family until he got stuck in the worst one of them all. Where we had freedom, he knew captivity. When we had choices, he was practically a slave. We know a shitty, lonely childhood and he knows pain and solitary confinement. He had no guidance, only torment. When Lux and I had each other to get through our issues, he had no one. We walked away and he sacrificed to leave. Of course, he’s cruel, controlling, and hard. It’s the result of everything he’s been through. His only way to cope is to block out everything that normal people thrive on. This baby, the one thing that makes so many people happy, scares him to death. Fear drives anger. Even if it doesn’t work out with him and me, I need to know what kind of person would do that to her own flesh and blood. It’s the only way he’ll ever know peace, to ever forgive, to ever learn to love.”

I stand and walk to the door, grabbing the doorknob. “Delta.”

I turn at the sound of Kaston’s voice. “If you feel that way and he’s pursuing you then why haven’t you gone back?”

“Because I’m giving him the one thing he was never given before: options. And I’m making sure our baby never goes through what we did: parents that don’t want it. When I know he wants us both, and loves me, then I’ll run back to him and never leave again. I need to know it’s more than his need for control.”

And with that I walk out the door, my nerves relaxing the second I am on the other side. This has to work. I need to find that little boy and show him that he’s loved, and that he always has been.

I get in my car and toss my purse in the passenger seat, before sliding the key into the ignition. I sip my white chocolate mocha before placing the coffee cup in my cup holder and the bag holding my ham, egg, and cheese bagel on the seat.

I turn the key over, only to hear the stall of the engine. I stop and try again. Same thing. “No . . . No. Please don’t do this to me.”

I get out and lift the hood, checking underneath it for God knows what. I have no idea what I’m looking for, but I do check that the battery cables aren’t corroded like last time this happened. They still look clean from having to replace the connector.

I walk back to my car and try to crank it again. Nothing. I slam my hands against the steering wheel over and over, before tears spill from my eyes. “Why do you fucking hate me? I don’t need this today.”

My head falls against the headrest. “He’s going to be pissed at me for being late.”

I glance at my phone. 7:52. Me and Remington are on schedule for the same time today. I quickly find his contact and call him, putting the phone to my ear. He answers after only a few rings. “Delta? Are you okay? You’ve never called me. I wasn’t even sure why you wanted my number.”

“Are you at work yet? Please say no.”

“No. Just left to head that way. What’s up?”

“Will you come get me? Please. My car won’t crank.”

“And Kross?”

“Had an early appointment. I don’t want to make this situation worse by pulling him away. I figured you were closer than my friend.”

“Where are you?”

“Java Drip.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thanks, Remington.”

“Uh huh. You just remember who’s your friend when he wants to beat my ass.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. It’s a ride. Last time you provoked him.”

“See ya in a few.”

I disconnect the call and wait. Might as well go ahead and eat, because it’s probably going to be hell on wheels when I clock in late—Kross’s easiest pulled trigger.

Kross

I place the bandage over the tricep tattoo and roll back on my stool, tossing my gloves on the tray. “Good to go, man. Keep it moist. No soap or scrubbing until it heals. Touch ups for new tattoos are first Tuesday after your appointment from three to five if you’ve lost any color. Cassie will get you downstairs.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it,” he says, and then walks toward the door just as I glance at the clock. 8:10. She’s fucking late. The one thing I do not tolerate is tardiness. It makes or breaks a company, especially when someone else can’t just fill in with your client on a tattoo. It looks bad on me more than anyone if I put up with it. She doesn’t get special privileges.

I fight the urge to track her, to assume the worst. Kaston wouldn’t hire her out from under me. He wouldn’t piss me off that way. Then it dawns on me. I look at the schedule. “Where the fuck is Remington? And Delta?”

The tattoo guns stop. The two girls getting matching shoulder pieces by Joey and Wesson are staring at me, wide-eyed and still. “Uh, Boss,” Joey says, nodding toward one of the clients.

“Where are they?” My voice booms across the room. “One of you better know why they are both late.”

He glances at Wesson, and Wesson shrugs. “Kross,” Cassie says over the intercom.

I press my finger over the button, trying to control my temper. “What?”

“Can you close the ticket for Jake so that I know what to charge him?”

Shit. “Yeah. Give me a second.”

I stand and walk to the employee computer, pulling up the appointment information. I put in the charge and close it out. Every feeling racking my body proves I need to go outside and take a break before I do something I’m going to regret. Footsteps sound on the back stairs.

I force open the door, halting Delta in the center of the stairway, Remington close behind. She glances at me. Only a second later her eyes dilate and she says, “It’s not what you think.”

Usually when someone says that shit that’s exactly what it means. “Then enlighten me, because this doesn’t look good.”

That urge is coming back. Now that I gave in, it’s coming back even easier. And the one standing behind her is the one I want. “Fuck,” he says. “I told you.”

“Let Remington go inside and we’ll talk. He did nothing wrong.”

“He showed up late with my fucking girl and I don’t see your car. Based on the fact that you aren’t winded it’s not likely that you walked. I’d say that’s a pretty good reason for someone to die today.”

“Kross,” she growls. “I called him to give me a ride! My car wouldn’t crank.”

“I don’t recall my phone ringing.”

“You had an appointment. I have the schedule memorized just like you told me to. There was no reason to pull you away when Remington was on his way.”

I stare at Remington as I hand her my keys. He stands tall, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go get in the truck.”

“Nooooo! Not until you let him go inside.”

“Delta, for the love of God, go get in the fucking truck!”

She flinches. “Delta, it’s fine. I can handle his shit. Just go,” Remington says.

She glances between us—me at the top, him at the bottom, before looking back at me with tears in her eyes. “He’s my friend. They were all my friends, especially Wesson in the beginning, before us. He’s the only one that doesn’t act scared of you in spite of being my friend, unlike the other two in there that have made things fucking awkward when you’re around. Just because someone has a dick doesn’t mean I want it. After all this time, you should trust me.”

Then she walks off, stomping her feet the entire way to my truck. I internally sigh, fighting a smile. I descend, one step at a time, until I’m standing face to face with Remington. “What’s wrong with her car?”

His eyes scan mine, and his stance relaxes from the defensive one it was in. “I don’t know. I told her to lock it and you could check it out later.”

“I appreciate you not leaving her stranded, but next time, you better fucking call me first. Are we clear?”

He smirks. “Sure thing, Boss.”

“Congratulations on not being a pussy. You just made manager. Now go run the shop until I get back. We’ll go over details later.”

And with that I walk off, appreciating the sound of his feet running up the stairs. I need men with backbones, not pushovers. The only ones that can earn my trust are the ones that can take my shit and handle it. I have a lot of business that goes on behind the scenes of my shops, and I sure as fuck don’t need someone that will break under a little pressure. There is a method to my madness. A good king knows how to build his kingdom, starting with his soldiers.