Chapter 4 #2
By the time the last bell goes, I’m back at my desk with the donor folder open and still unsigned, the window cracked for the smell of cut grass and the rain coming in off the hills. Gate noise drifts up, engines idling, kids hollering goodbyes, the turnstile squeaking on its hinge.
Then a child’s cry cuts through all of it, high and scared, and I’m on my feet before I’ve decided to be.
The window shows the whole front drive. Two kids, a boy of maybe seven and a smaller girl, are both digging their heels into the asphalt against a woman who has each of them by the wrist and is hauling them toward a parked sedan.
The boy twists and kicks, screaming for his mother while the woman drags him off his feet.
A second woman has the girl’s free arm, thin and dark-blond, fighting to pull both children back toward herself while they lean into her with everything they’ve got.
She has to be the mother. The gate guard’s been pulled to wave out the car line, so not one person down there is doing a thing about a grown woman dragging two terrified kids across my front steps.
I’m already moving for the door when a familiar figure cuts across the drive at a dead run. Even from where I stand, I’d know that stubborn set of shoulders anywhere. Jessa’s wading straight into the middle of it.
I get a hand on the door and stop. She’s reached them already, wedging herself between the dark-blond woman and the one doing the dragging, her voice carrying through the open window, the wolf’s hearing pulling every word out of the noise.
“Let go of them.” She’s got a palm on the boy’s shoulder, steering him back toward his mother. “What’s your problem?”
“Stay out of it.” The dragging woman doesn’t ease her grip. “This is family business.”
“Then your family’s got a problem because these kids are screaming.”
“They’re my brother’s children. I’m their aunt.”
“Did you give birth to them?” Jessa snaps.
“I just told you,” the woman hisses. “I’m their aunt.”
Jessa is not one to cower away. She sneers. “Then you’ve got no right to put your hands on them.”
The aunt’s chin comes up, color climbing her throat. “Don’t you go sticking your nose into a family matter.”
Jessa crosses her arms over her chest and plants her feet, and from where I stand, I can see her dig in for the long haul. “You know what? I have a lot of time on my hands today. I want to get involved.”
The aunt switches tack. “Do you have the first idea who you’re dealing with? My brother’s a firefighter in this town.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed by that or frightened?”
“You should be both.” The woman raises her voice. “He can make life very difficult for you.”
I settle against the window frame, watching. I’d like to see that man try.
“I’ll take my chances. And if you drag those children one more inch, I’m calling the police.”
Watching her skin the woman alive with her tongue is fascinating. The animal in me never minded her temper turned on me, but it likes the sight of it turned on someone who’s earned it even better.
Down on the drive, the dark-blond woman has both kids gathered against her now, shaking, her eyes huge and wet. I don’t know her, don’t know the children, can’t place a single one of them among the hundreds who pass through these gates. I frown and then call out to one of the office staff.
A woman enters, and I gesture to the window. “Find out who they are, the mother and the two kids. And get security out there.”
My gaze turns back to the argument, which is nowhere close to finished. The aunt jabs a finger at the mother. “She stole them. She took my brother’s own kids right out of their beds and ran.”
“I didn’t steal anyone. I got them somewhere safe, away from him.” The mother’s voice shakes but holds. “He puts his hands on them.”
“That’s a lie. A father’s allowed to discipline his own children.” The aunt sneers. “Better they be disciplined now than turn into useless garbage like you.”
“It’s bad enough he uses his fists on me.” The mother pulls the kids tighter. “I won’t stand there and let him use his fists on them.”
The aunt’s patience snaps. “Let him? Let him?!”
Her hand flies up, open palm, swinging for the mother’s face, and Jessa moves without a half-second’s thought, stepping squarely into the path of it. The slap cracks across her cheek instead.
I’m through the door.
The wolf has gone from amused to murderous between one stair and the next, a snarl building in my chest that no human throat should make, and I swallow it down by force as I take the steps three at a time. Down on the drive, Mia’s scream splits the air, her mother’s name torn out of her.
By the time I hit the bottom of the steps, Jessa’s shoved the woman back a pace, ignoring her clearly stinging cheek, her eyes lit with something I recognize from the curb in the rain.
“Try that again,” she says, low and even. “Hit me one more time and see how it goes for you.”
The aunt, fool that she is, draws her hand back for another swing.
Jessa’s fist comes up and around before I can close the last ten feet, a short, clean shot that catches the woman flush on the nose. The crunch reaches me across the drive. Down she goes where she stands, both hands flying to her face, blood already sheeting between her fingers.
Jessa shakes out her knuckles, winces, then turns her head and finds me standing there. “What are you looking at?” she snaps out.
I lift both hands, palms out, and lose the war with my grin. “You’ve got it handled. I’m only here for the view.”
The woman shrieks up at me from the ground, blood bubbling over her lip. “I’ll kill you. I’ll have you arrested. I’m reporting this. You all saw it, she broke my nose.”
“Report it, then.” I plant myself between her and Jessa and let my voice drop. “The moment you do, I bring kidnapping charges against you for hauling two of my students off school grounds against their will. I’ve got security cameras everywhere.”
Her eyes snap up to my face, and recognition hits hard. She knows exactly who owns the building behind me, and the venom drops out of her face, replaced by a fawning smile.
“Mr. Steele, you don’t understand the situation.” She scrambles half upright, wheedling now through the blood. A bloodied finger stabs toward the mother. “That one stole my brother’s kids and turned them against him. She’s tearing my family apart. I only wanted to see my nephew and niece.”
“I don’t care about your family’s troubles.
” I keep my voice down, and that does more than shouting would.
“As long as those children walk through my gates, you don’t lay a hand on them.
Not here, not anywhere near here. And we don’t bother the police with people like you. We deal with them ourselves.”
I leave the threat hanging where she can feel it. She goes a shade paler under the blood, scrambles the rest of the way to her feet, and bolts for her car without another word.
The sedan peels out too fast, fishtailing onto the road. I turn to the mother, sunk onto the low wall by the steps with a child clamped under each arm, all of them shaking.
“Are you three all right?”
She nods, not trusting her voice, holding her kids close enough to hurt. The office assistant has reached the steps, and I wave her over.
“Take them inside. Somewhere quiet. Get them something warm to drink and let them breathe a minute before they head home.”
The woman looks up at me, exhausted and grateful at once, and lets the assistant lead her children through the doors. Jessa keeps a hand on her shoulder the whole time, murmuring something I can’t catch, the two of them not quite strangers to each other. That’s another thread for Adrian.
That leaves Jessa standing in the middle of my drive, cradling a split set of knuckles she’s pretending don’t hurt, two girls now plastered to her sides.
“Mom, that was so cool,” Mia breathes, gazing up at her with open hero worship. “You hit her so hard.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Vasquez. That was really cool!” Bella looks up at her adoringly, as if she’s never seen me pummel a grown wolf into the ground during a sparring session. Traitor.
“We don’t hit people, Mia.” Jessa says it without any heat at all, which ruins the lesson entirely.
I close the last of the distance between us. Her knuckles have gone red and swollen, the skin broken across two of them, and the sight drags a low rough sound up out of my chest before I can stop it. I don’t like seeing her hurt. The wolf likes it even less.
“Come with me.”
“No, we’re leaving.” She steps back. “I’ve made enough of a scene for one—”
I take her by the wrist, careful of the ruined knuckles, and start walking her toward the building. She plants her heels and pulls against me the whole way, which does nothing at all.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Your hand needs looking at.” I don’t slow down. “I have a first-aid kit in my office.”
“It’s fine. I can manage it at home.”
“It’s split open and starting to bruise. Humor me.”
She digs in harder, furious now, twisting her wrist to get loose. “Let go of me. You can’t just drag me around like—”
“Behave, or I’ll carry you in over my shoulder.” I stop and look down at her, letting my eyes flick to the two girls trailing wide-eyed at our heels. “Is that what you want your daughter to see?”
Jessa goes rigid. Her gaze cuts to Mia, who’s watching the whole exchange with open fascination, then back to me, fury and defeat at war across her face.
Jerk, she mouths, too low for the girls to hear.
I keep the satisfaction to myself and walk her inside.