Club Justice (13 page)

The arrival of the elder Miles interrupted Mox’s thoughts. The practiced smile of a car salesman spread across his drawn features and he thrust his hand out in a greeting too enthusiastic and dripping with insincerity. Clenching his jaw, Mox returned the hearty handshake, tamping down the urge to grind the smaller man’s fingers to dust. They stared at one another in silence; each wondering for the thousandth time what weary traveler had made a pit stop between Flo’s thighs the night Mox was conceived. And as always, Mox waited, hoping today would be the day Miles would realize that neither of them was at fault in her game. His heart cracked a little further as the man whose name he shared turned away, wiping nervous hands on his pants in search of his next drink.

His mother’s next words made him whip around to face her, his head already shaking in denial.

“I want you to come home. There is too much going on with the Brawer family right now and a lot of it is on the wrong side of the law. I won’t have my baby caught up in their mess. I know you don’t like it, Miles, but it makes sense for everyone involved. Do you really think that Ginny is going to admit that the things I’ve told you are true? She doesn’t want to hurt you, but if you care about them you will see that relieving them of the burden of an extra mouth to feed is the right decision.”

Still shaking his head, Mox backed away.

“It will be different this time, sweetheart. You’re not a child,” Flo soothed, reaching for him.

Batting her hands away, Mox dropped his plate at her feet and turned, shouldering his way through the crowd. Her shrill cries set his teeth on edge, reminding him of Becca. He fucking hated women.
Except for Ginny,
the voice in his head whispered. He leaned against the side of his truck, arms wrapping around himself to try and ease the overwhelming ache in his chest. He couldn’t hurt her. Not ever.

Chapter Thirteen

A ball of dread burned in the pit of her stomach. Call it women’s intuition, or mother’s instinct, call it what you wanted, but she knew something was wrong. She had known when she couldn’t find him as the hog roast wound down, when his cell phone went straight to voicemail, when Flo had smirked at her, wiggling her garish fake nails in farewell. Coming home to an empty house had only confirmed those fears.

The indifferent attitude of the other men in her life had only infuriated her. Her baby was missing and they were more concerned with getting to their recliner, playing video games, or chasing short skirts. Gnawing her bottom lip, Ginny wracked her brain as she drove through town. Where was he?  Slowing to cross the tracks, Flo’s smirk popped to mind. It had been more than glee over their misfortune, there had been a challenge in those watery blue eyes Ginny hadn’t seen in years. Cursing under her breath, she crept through the tiny backstreets, watching street signs for Vine. Locating the narrow street, she turned down it, scanning the similar bungalows for the Sampson residence. Flo’s pink Corvette was a beacon.

Relief and disappointment warred within her when she didn’t spot Mox’s truck. The Charger’s tires barked as she made a hasty escape, not liking the reversal of roles here. Bile burned her throat at the thought. They were nothing alike. She would never turn her back on her child or one of her heart. She didn’t have a clue what had caused Mox to run again after so many years, but she had every intention of finding him and straightening it out. He was her son, labor or not.

Glancing down a side street, something nagged at her memory. In one of their many late-night heart-to-hearts, Mox had mentioned a ball diamond where he had fashioned a fort out of the dugout on chilly nights. Circling the block, she looked for the tiny neighborhood park she knew was nestled on this side of town. She felt a twinge of guilt as she pulled into the gravel drive. Ivy grew over the wooden sign naming this simple lot the Miles Sampson Park. She had forgotten that Mox’s grandfather had been quite active with the little league baseball in his time. It was no wonder Mox felt comfortable here, even if he hadn’t been fortunate enough to know his grandfather. She made a mental note to come down and weed around the sign, maybe put some flowers in.

The park was deserted and she couldn’t make anything out in either dugout. Grabbing her purse, she stepped out of the car. His truck was nowhere in sight. Scanning the deepening shadows, she started for the closest dugout, praying she was right. She was. A lump formed in her throat as she looked through the wire mesh window at the man-child stretched out on the bench. Arm tossed across his face, he looked weary. Coming around the corner to lean in the doorway she asked,

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Startled, Mox nearly fell off the bench as he tried to sit up.

“What’re you doing here?” he mumbled, hanging his head in embarrassment.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Thinking.”

“I can understand that. I like to get away when I need to think. Is it something I can help with?”

His sigh seemed to come from his toes, his broad shoulders lifting and falling again in a slump.

“I talked to Flo at the hog roast.”

Ginny bit back a nasty retort. It figured. Nothing good ever came from contact with that woman. She waited for him to continue, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around him like she had so many times over the years.

“She wants me to come home.”

“That house was never a home to you. You have a home now.”

He nodded, still not meeting her gaze.

“I’m thinking about getting my own place. I make enough at the shop I could afford rent and my Harley payment.”

Ginny fought to breathe. What in the hell had they done to make Mox want to move out? She would kill Zeke if he had been an insensitive ass again. What had that bitch told him? Both he and Rhys would be turning twenty soon. They weren’t children anymore. Maybe he needed his own space. She shook her head. That made sense with Rhys and that bitch Becca, but not her Mox.

“Did you meet someone?”

He looked up, confusion clear on his handsome features.

“A girl, honey. Do you have a new girlfriend I haven’t met?”

“Oh, hell no. Women are too much trouble. Except you of course, Gin. I will just bang some bike bunny when I need to or stick to good ol’ Rosie. She never talks back,” he said, face screwing up in disgust at the fairer sex.

Ginny couldn’t hold back her laugh.

“You are too much like Zeke.”

“But Zeke loves you.”

“He loves me now, but trust me, he had the same opinion when he was your age. He was never going to settle for one flavor when he could have the whole Baskin Robbins experience.”

Mox chuckled.

“He was lucky to find someone who likes him and well … you know. I get tired of their whining. It doesn’t matter how careful I am.” His voice trailed off, the heat in his cheeks obvious even from the dugout’s doorway.

Moving to sit beside him, Ginny gave him a squeeze.

“Like Zeke, you are a big boy, and not all women are created equal. You will find one that is right for you and when you do, she will adore you for all the same qualities I find in Zeke. There is something so sexy about having a big, strong man that loves and takes care of you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

“Do you think of me as an adult?”

“That is a rough question, baby,” Ginny said then laughed. “And I think I just answered it. I know in my head that you are a man now, but to a mother’s heart, you are always going to be my baby. Does that make sense?”

Mox nodded, staring at the ground as he mulled things over. “Will you answer one thing truthfully? Don’t protect me. Treat me like an adult.”

“Look at me,” Ginny said firmly. She waited until he raised his troubled gaze to hers. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Are you and Zeke having money problems?” he whispered.

“Oh, God no, baby!”

“Please, Gin.”

Ginny paused at the weary resignation in the young man’s voice and sighed softly.

“Honey, there’s a difference between being cautious and hurting. I won’t deny I’m watching what I spend, but we’re not in trouble. The bills are all getting paid on time. No worries.”

“Are you going to be okay without Zeke’s pension?”

“We’ll be fine until his pension kicks in. They finally straightened things out and we’re getting his vacation pay. He had forty weeks accumulated, damn workaholic. Why the worries, baby? What did Flo say to you?”

Mox blew out his breath.

“She said you were broke, that if I cared about you guys the best thing I could do was leave, you know, not be a burden, another mouth to feed.”

“That manipulative bitch,” Ginny said, shaking her head in reluctant admiration of the other woman’s gift for twisting the truth until it squealed. “I promise you, we will be fine. The freezers and cupboards are full to bursting. We have savings that we haven’t even tapped into and with Zeke’s vacation checks coming in now, we won’t need to. If you want to worry about someone, worry about the people that lost their primary income or about Sambo. He lost his second income, his home, and nearly everything he owned when the pub burned.”

Mox hung his head, confusion warring with rage at the thought of Sambo. If the lanky bartender was messing with Ginny, he had a lot bigger worries than cash flow.

“If you truly want to get a place of your own, make sure it is what you want and not because of Flo’s lies. Oh, and don’t think you can ditch me that easily. You will always be my baby.”

“I’m not trying to ditch you,” Mox mumbled. “And if you are sure, I’d like to stay. I could even pay rent.”

“I wouldn’t let Zeke hear you say that. The tightwad would take you up on it,” Ginny said with a smirk. “Booze and broads is on you boys, but Zeke and I will spring for room and board.”

Mox laughed, his ears coloring in embarrassment.

“Zeke already bought us a case of condoms.”

“Then you should be set for a couple weeks at least,” Ginny said with a wink. “Now, come on. Let’s go home.”

The conversation with Flo on a constant loop in his brain, Mox sprawled on his bed. Stretching, he tried to ease a bit of the tension from his muscled body. He loved Ginny with all of his heart, and Zeke, in a more complicated man way, but the things the bitch who’d birthed him had said that afternoon made too much sense to ignore. Flo was not a particularly smart woman. It was really no wonder he wasn’t prized for his quick wit. He was guessing his father hadn’t been a Mensa member either. The point being, as spiteful as she could be, Flo hadn’t been making the stuff up.

He believed that money matters were not as dire as Flo had suggested, and Ginny’s freezers and pantry had held up to his quick inspection. He didn’t know the law, but it was possible they couldn’t deny Zeke accumulated vacation time; he had earned it. Was Ginny certain about the pension, or was she hoping the Internal Affairs investigation would clear Zeke? Fired or retired, it was a fine line with a pending investigation. Was Zeke dirty? Some thought so. There were stories, on the job and off, whispers that would make a man’s blood run cold. Grinding his palms into weary eyes, he shook his head. Something Zeke had told him once had stuck with him: a real man was neither all good nor bad, but a combination that allowed him to protect his family and sleep at night.

Did Sambo sleep at night? Could he screw his brother’s wife and look him in the eye daily? What a man would do was one thing, but for the life of him, Mox couldn’t wrap his mind around the thought of Ginny cheating on Zeke. Out of everything Flo had said today, that was the one that didn’t make sense. He had never seen a couple as tight as Zeke and Ginny. Her devotion to her husband was obvious in hundreds of little things she did every day, and well, Gin was Zeke’s soft spot for sure.

Had Ginny really ordered The Lantern torched? There was no doubt in his mind that Sambo would have done the deed if she asked. Lovers or not, Sambo was loyal to the Lord’s queen. If they had planned the arson together, did Zeke know? Flo had said that Ginny and Sambo had been lovers for years and that everyone knew. Obviously not everyone, Sambo was still breathing. Zeke had nearly killed a former Lord for trying to get in Ginny’s pants. There was no way he would let an affair slide.

Scrubbing at his face with work-roughened hands, Mox tried to erase the doubts Flo had planted. In the eleven years he had lived under their roof, and hell, for years before that, Zeke and Ginny had never been anything but good to him. They treated him like one of their own and were everything he had ever wanted in parents. If shit was going down now, all he wanted to know was how to help. Flo’s crack about not going down with the Brawer’s burned. If there was one thing Zeke and Ginny had taught him, it was that you protected family.  

Chapter Fourteen

God bless small town gossips. Kramer’s mind was spinning with new background information on Zeke Brawer and the former Ginny Kennedy. Zeke’s father was a rapist. Interesting how that tidbit of information had never made it to his file. The department shrinks would have had a field day. It certainly spoke of possible motive in the Porter shooting. Porter was too young to have done the deed with Zeke’s mother, but it could have been a trigger. It was most unfortunate that mama Brawer was deceased. It seemed mother and son had been quite close. Who knew a man better than his mother? 

Rumor was just as rampant when it came to what had been going on behind closed doors in the Kennedy household. Popular consensus said Bill Kennedy had been a hard drinking, God-fearing man. It was quite the combination. That he had ruled his family with an iron fist didn’t seem to be in question, but how often that fist had found his wife or two kids seemed a little fuzzy. Word was the boy had been the model son, a football star before joining the Marines at the same time as Brawer. Little Virginia, on the other hand, had been a wild child. Her early promiscuity and relationship with the older Brawer had turned some heads, including her father’s.