11. Chapter 11
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Raffe growled in Mia’s ear as they stepped away from Jenny, the uncharacteristically cheerful social worker who had just shoved a mountain of paperwork at them.
Paperwork that now bound them both to a boy who didn’t deserve the hell he’d been forced into.
“Freddy and I could’ve figured this out on our own. ”
His jaw was tight, his voice low, meant only for her. Damn it, he was furious. She’d just hijacked the hearing, hijacked his life!
But another part of him—an infuriating part—couldn’t help but admire the way she’d stood up in open court, chin high, voice strong, offering her home to a boy she’d never even known about before now. It had been reckless, impulsive, utterly maddening… and impressive as hell.
Mia’s pulse fluttered visibly at her throat, betraying nerves she was pretending not to feel. “Yeah, sometimes I go a bit… off the rails when—”
“Confronted with issues when you have no idea how complicated they are?” he cut in, his voice sharp. He had to bite back the urge to soften it. She needed to understand she’d just stepped into waters way over her head. “I have to go get Freddy.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t wait for his agreement. Mia just brushed past him like this was her mission too. His temper spiked—he wanted to haul her back, remind her that this wasn’t a game, that her little courtroom declaration had just painted another bullseye on her back.
He glanced over at the previous foster parents, both of whom were glaring at Mia because she’d taken away a big monthly paycheck from the state.
But then his hand moved before his head caught up. His palm landed firm on her shoulder, pulling her back in line with him.
“We’ll both go get Freddy,” he grumbled, letting authority roll into his tone, letting her feel the steel there.
She gasped softly, and for a split second, her lips twitched like she was fighting a grin. He scowled harder. Was she actually turned on by him ordering her around? Hell, this woman was insane.
Together, they rounded the corner. Freddy’s wheelchair was parked right next to Evangeline’s, and Mia’s grandmother was gripping the boy’s hand like a lifeline. He saw it immediately—Nonna wasn’t going to let him go. She recognized that fear in his eyes because she’d lived it too.
Freddy’s gaze lifted to him, and something twisted deep in Raffe’s gut. The kid looked at him the way a drowning man looked at the only hand reaching into the water.
“You okay?” Raffe asked, crouching down slightly.
“Yeah.” Freddy dropped his gaze, shoulders hunching. “I’m sorry I got caught.”
Raffe had to smother a chuckle. The kid had guts. “You’re sorry you got caught—not that you were stealing?”
The boy’s eyes flicked up again, clear and steady. He shook his head. “No. I’m not sorry about that.”
Before Raffe could respond, Mia cut in, her voice gentle but insistent. “What did you steal?”
He shot her a glare, but the daft woman either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She was focused on Freddy, her soft brown eyes filled with compassion. And damned if the kid didn’t melt a little under her gaze, his rigid shoulders easing.
“Food,” Freddy admitted quietly. “We were all hungry. Me and the other foster kids.” He sighed heavily, shifting uncomfortably in his wheelchair. “We weren’t given dinner because we didn’t finish our chores.”
Mia crouched down so she was eye level with him.
Her dark curls tumbled forward, brushing her cheek.
Raffe told himself not to look, not to let his gaze dip where it wanted to.
But his traitor eyes remembered yesterday in the park, remembered the way she’d walked away from him, and—damn it—there he was, eyeing her ass again like a rookie who couldn’t control himself.
He jerked his eyes away, forcing his gaze upwards, and locked eyes instead with the sharp, knowing gaze of Evangeline Santini.
The older woman’s eyes sparkled. Not frail. And definitely not oblivious. She saw far too much.
Damn it. This whole thing was getting way too complicated.
“We need to get out of here,” he muttered, his tone harsher than he’d intended. But if he didn’t move them now—out of the courthouse hallway, away from the vultures circling—things were going to spin out of control faster than they already had.
Mia nodded briskly. “I agree. And we just happen to have a whole bucket of fried chicken with us.” Then she glanced at Evangeline who still held the greasy napkin.
“Okay, most of a bucket of chicken.” Her nonna looked smugly unrepentant.
She turned back to Freddy, her smile soft.
“If you’re still hungry, how about we grab that chicken while we head home? ”
“He’s coming with me,” Raffe cut in, the words harsher than he intended.
Freddy’s grin collapsed, and Raffe cursed himself silently. Great. Kick the damn puppy while you’re at it, Moretti. The kid had been through enough.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Fine,” he muttered at last. “We’ll stop and get some chicken before we head home.”
Mia’s head whipped around, her big brown eyes wide, lips parting as if she couldn’t believe she’d won that easily. “You’re coming to my house, right?”
“No.” He bit the word off. “We’ll go to my apartment.”
Her brows shot up, then she crossed her arms and leaned her weight into the handles of her grandmother’s wheelchair like she was readying herself for battle.
“If you come to my place, Freddy will have his own bedroom. We can move one of the beds to the first floor so he won’t have to deal with stairs.
And the back door’s nearly level with the yard—easy wheelchair access.
” She paused just long enough to deliver the killing blow.
“Plus, Nonna can stay home with him while you’re working your full-time job. ”
Raffe clenched his teeth at the jab. He heard the emphasis—her not-so-subtle reminder that less than twenty-four hours ago, she thought he was a bum on a park bench. Now, she was throwing his cover back in his face.
He looked down at Freddy. The boy’s hopeful eyes shone, a flicker of something brighter than Raffe had seen all day. Then Mia—stubborn, maddening Mia—met his gaze with her own expectant stare. Both waiting. Both silently daring him to say no.
He wasn’t strong enough for that. Not against those two.
With a heavy sigh, he nodded. “Fine. But just… just until we get things sorted.”
Dropping to one knee, he met Freddy’s eyes. “You need to think about a lot of stuff, buddy. If you’re uncomfortable with anything, you tell me. Got it?”
The boy’s grin returned, small and shy but real. It nearly gutted him. This kid had stolen food for others, gotten caught, and still hadn’t apologized for the act itself. Brave didn’t even begin to cover it. Raffe wished he had half that courage.
Straightening, Raffe’s gaze landed on Mia again. She was still watching him, her expression soft but steady. He looked away quickly, scanning the hall. Too many people. Too many eyes. He needed to get them out of here before someone recognized him and completely blew his cover.
“Let’s go,” he growled, taking hold of Freddy’s wheelchair. Mia fell into step beside him, pushing her grandmother like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Together, they rolled out of the courthouse. Raffe caught the flicker of movement—their shadows stretching side by side in the afternoon light—and for a moment, he wondered if it was symbolic.
He shook the thought off. Symbolism was for poets, not federal agents.
Still, he couldn’t deny the unfamiliar feeling in his chest. Lighter. Hopeful. As if—for the first time in too damn long—the world might actually tilt toward something better.
He didn’t have the smoking gun on Vito Calvino’s crime syndicate. He didn’t have a place big enough for this makeshift family he’d somehow acquired in the last few hours. And yeah—his boss was going to tear him a new one as soon she found out what had gone down today.
But the spring sunshine was warm, and Freddy was smiling. That was enough.
He lifted Freddy into the passenger seat of his truck, then folded up both wheelchairs, stowing them carefully in the back. He shut the tailgate with a decisive thud, turned to Mia, and muttered, “I’ll follow you.”
He didn’t add the rest—that she shouldn’t get used to him being so agreeable. He’d told himself that before. But somehow, the words stuck in his throat.