Shadow & Soul (30 page)

“How close we
were
. And yeah. I can live with it. I’ve already lost what we were. I’m done. I mean it. I’m young, not stupid.”

“Okay, honey,” Bibi sighed. She rooted around in her big handbag and pulled out a burner phone, still in its packaging. “Can we set this up, and you and me keep in touch this way?”

Faith stared at the phone like it might leap up and bite her at any second.

“Just you and me, Faith. I won’t tell anybody else about it. I just picked this up here in town. Hooj doesn’t even know about it—but I probably will tell him. But I won’t tell anyone else, and it’ll be just me on the line if you use it. And I’ll call sometimes, too. Just to check in. Every couple of months or so, unless you call more.”

Still, Faith could only stare.

“Please. Faith, please.”

“Okay.” She pulled the phone toward her. “Okay. Just you.”

“Just me. I swear.”

“Swear on Hoosier’s life.”

Bibi blinked, and then she took a breath. “On Hoosier’s life, then. I swear.” She smiled. “Thank you, Faith. You’ll stay and eat, right? I want to send you off into the world here with a good meal.”

“I eat fine, Bibi. I’m good. I really am.”

Bibi reached across the table and grabbed Faith’s hand. “I’m glad. But have dinner with me?”

The server was back with the iced tea. Faith picked up a menu and asked for a few more minutes to make her selection.

~oOo~

The phone that Faith had, over the years, taken to calling the Bibi Express, rang in the middle of the night. Faith pushed Tau’s leg off her and got up. He groaned and rolled over but didn’t wake.

She walked naked into the living room and dug the phone out of a drawer in the dresser she used as a television stand. By the time she got there, it had stopped ringing, so she stood there, looking at the screen, waiting for it to show a voice mail.

Bibi never called in the middle of the night, so Faith felt a small fizz of disquiet in her head. Something was wrong, she knew.

Instead of a voice mail, the phone rang again, Bibi’s name reappearing on the screen. Faith answered. “Hey, Beeb.

Bibi’s voice was heavy, like her throat was swollen. “Baby, come home. Right now.”

Faith sat down on the ottoman she used like a coffee table. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s your daddy, hon.” Bibi cleared her throat and sniffed before she went on. “He died tonight. You have to come home.”

“He died?” Faith felt small and young, and she curled her upper body over her legs. “He died?” She’d left home almost six years ago, and hadn’t seen or heard from her father in all that time. The distance had made him more her daddy in memory than he had been when she’d left.

“I told you it would happen, Faith. Come home. Stand with your family and say goodbye. Sera’s comin’. She’s already on her way.”

Sera was living in New York City, a rising star in the world of international finance. Faith was still working on the Pier, but she was starting to make things happen with her art, too.

She could not possibly be within a hundred miles of her mother. Margot in grief, unfettered by her husband’s control? Her daughters both before her, a ready comparison? No. Absolutely not.

“I’m not coming, Bibi.”

“Faith!”

“I love you. I’ll talk to you soon.” She ended the call and turned the phone off.

Then she pulled her legs onto the ottoman and sobbed.

Tau came out and squatted at her side, his strong brown hands smoothing over her hair. “What is it, love?” he asked in his melodically accented voice.

She didn’t love him—she didn’t think she could love anyone anymore—but she was glad of him, and she was grateful he was here with her now. “My daddy died.” She curled into his arms.

“Ah. I am sorry. What can I do?”

“I just want to go back to bed.”

He nodded and picked her up, and he stayed in bed with her the whole day.

If she could love anyone but Michael, she would know it now, because Tau was someone who deserved her love. He was beautiful, kind, and strong, and he loved her.

But she couldn’t love anyone but Michael, and she’d never see him again. She could never see him again. Not after what her parents had taken from her. From them.

Even in Tau’s arms, Faith felt a loneliness as dense as the bottom of the ocean.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Demon rolled his shoulders and tried not to fidget. He didn’t understand how it could be true: he wore a heavy leather kutte on his back every day, but the lighter wool blend or whatever it was of his new suit felt like a goddamn straightjacket. It was the sleeves, that was it. His arms didn’t fit in the goddamn sleeves, and he couldn’t move.

And the tie. Christ, the tie. Men like Finn Bennett dressed like this every day, but Demon knew he was sitting here like a gorilla, embodying every cliché about uncivilized bikers with his squirming.

Finn had told him that he needed to dress ‘respectfully’ in court, so Bibi and Faith had taken him shopping. He was going to burn the results of that outing at his earliest opportunity.

It wasn’t his first time in court, but it was his first time as an adult that he hadn’t been brought in a side door wearing a jumpsuit and shackles. The only times he’d actually gone to trial for his transgressions had been in juvenile court. Then, too, he’d been shoved into some ridiculous getup and had sat there squirming next to his lawyer or advocate or whoever.

Those ‘whoevers’ had been court-appointed. Now, he was in family court, sitting next to the great and powerful Findley Bennett. Faith was sitting right behind him, and every now and then, usually after he’d squirmed, her hand came forward and rubbed over his back. Hoosier, Connor, Muse, and Sid were behind him, too. Bibi had Tucker in the corridor outside. She’d dressed him in a silly little suit, too, for no reason Demon had understood, except that she’d thought it was ‘darlin’.’

This was it. He would either leave this building with custody of Tucker, or with no chance of ever having it.

He turned and looked at Faith. She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with love and encouragement. God, she was so beautiful, she was so good, and she was his. Today—
today
—he might be on the path to have everything. They’d moved Margot into a home the week before. They were getting her house ready to put on the market, and they were looking for a home of their own. The life he wanted was right in front of him, close enough to wrap his arms around.

But if he lost Tucker, he knew everything would fall apart. He knew that it would break him, and he’d take everything he loved down with him.

So he faced the bench and waited.

The process was different from what he’d expected. Almost everything had been done ahead of time. Papers had been filed and counterfiled, reports had been submitted and responded to, affidavits and sworn statements and who knew what all. Finn had told him that the judge would have read the entire record before today and would likely have her ruling prepared. Today was for any final statements, and then, unless something new required further deliberation, the ruling. According to Finn, some judges did a hearing and then just emailed their ruling out later. This judge preferred all the parties to be present when she ruled.

Whatever. He just wanted somebody to fucking tell him if his life was starting or ending.

The rear door to the courtroom opened, and the state’s attorney came in, followed by the guy that had been helping assemble the state’s case for making Tucker a permanent ward. Sid’s old boss, Harry Rucker. That was a guy Demon would have liked a few minutes alone with.

Neither the lawyer nor Rucker looked their way as they sat down. Finn turned and offered Demon a little smile and a nod. He looked pleased. Demon tried not to let that get his hopes up.

The bailiff called for the room to rise, and the judge, a woman in maybe her fifties or so, stepped up behind the bench. She sat, everyone else sat, and the proceedings were called to order.

He tried to pay attention to the legal blather that started things off, but a lot of it didn’t make much sense. But then the judge nodded and crossed her arms on the bench before her.

“Before I make my ruling, each party may make a final statement.” She nodded at the state lawyer. “Mr. Gomez?”

Rucker leaned over and whispered something in Gomez’s ear. He nodded and stood. “Our filings are complete, and we have nothing new to add. We would, however, ask the Court to seriously consider Mr. Van Buren’s violent criminal record, which includes a conviction for second-degree murder.”

Finn stood. “Objection, Your Honor. The conviction to which the state’s Counsel refers is a part of a sealed juvenile record.”

Gomez turned on Finn. “And you know full well the seal doesn’t apply in court.”

“It doesn’t apply in
criminal
court. This is family court. Or did you get lost?”

The judge rapped her gavel. “Okay, gentlemen. Points are taken. I am fully acquainted with the facts of this case, including the petitioner’s adventures with the law. But Mr. Bennett’s objection is overruled. I have the discretion to consider Mr. Van Buren’s full record, and I have.” She turned to Gomez. “Anything further?”

“No, Your Honor.” He sat.

Demon’s stomach felt twisted up. Fuck. Would his childhood fuck him up again? He looked over his shoulder; Faith looked worried, too. Oh, fuck.

“Mr. Bennett?”

At the judge’s prompting, Finn stood. “Thank you, Your Honor. Our filings are complete as well. They tell the story of a man who loves his son deeply and who is doing everything in his power to help him overcome the traumatic beginnings of his life. Little Tucker was born addicted to methamphetamine. He was left in the care of an addict who neglected and mistreated him even before he was born, and that addict was allowed nearly free rein by a negligent caseworker who, as we showed in our filing and has not been disputed, falsified reports. In contrast, all of the objective parenting evaluations and observation reports of Mr. Van Buren and of Tucker show a loving father-and-son bond and a stable environment for the child to be raised in. Mr. Van Buren is as much a victim of our broken and overworked system as Tucker was a victim of his mother.”

“Objection!” Gomez jumped up. “The ‘system’ isn’t on trial. Mr. Bennett is playing out his next sound byte.”

“Sustained. Let’s keep the focus on the boy, Mr. Bennett.”

“Of course, Your Honor. It’s clear that Mr. Van Buren is a fine parent who will give Tucker a fine home. Three separate reports—including Tucker’s current caseworker—recommend custody. The record Mr. Gomez would like you to consider has not had any new entries for years—since long before Tucker was born. This is a man who has turned his life around. A man who loves his son and has been nothing but stable and nurturing. The case speaks for itself, so I have nothing further. Thank you.”

Bennett sat down. Demon looked at him, dissatisfied. It wasn’t enough. He knew it wasn’t enough.

The judge was quiet for a few minutes—or maybe it was just seconds—making some notes. Demon sat, feeling bound by his clothes and trying not to fidget.

Then she looked up. “Since there was no new information provided today, I am ready to rule.” Demon expected her to tell him to stand, but she didn’t. “Lots of evidence has been submitted, lots of opinions have been offered. This is always the case with child custody. But what my ruling must come down to is one simple question: in what situation is the child best served? My only interest is the child. Whether or not Mr. Van Buren was treated unfairly in the past is a concern for another court. Here, I only care if Tucker has been treated unfairly. Mr. Van Buren’s criminal record is indeed…elaborate, and it tells the story of a man who has lived a violent life.”

Demon dropped his head, and he felt Faith’s hand on his back. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“The state wishes me to consider the petitioner’s juvenile record. I’ve done so. I’ve noted not only the murder conviction but also the mitigating circumstances attached. I’ve also read the observation and evaluation reports for Tucker and his father. I’ve seen the videos. It is clear that they have a strong bond. The state has argued that Mr. Van Buren is performing for the evaluators. I have no official opinion on that. But I do have an opinion about whether Tucker is performing. And my opinion is that of course he is not. He’s a two-year-old boy who obviously loves and feels comfortable with his father.”

Demon looked up. The judge was looking right at him.

“Yes, Mr. Van Buren, your record concerns me. But if the state were to take custody of all children whose parents have criminal records…well, we’d need to hire a great deal more caseworkers, that’s for sure. You have paid your dues. At this point, you owe no more, and I would strongly encourage you not to accrue any in the future. Because your son needs his father. Sole legal and physical custody of the minor child, Tucker Maxwell Van Buren, is granted to his father, Michael John Van Buren. Make him proud of you, sir. And we are adjourned.” The judge rapped the gavel once and then stood up.

Demon just sat there, stunned. Finn grabbed his elbow and pulled him to stand. The judge left, and the seats behind Demon and Finn erupted into rowdy cheers. Demon’s back was slapped repeatedly; he rocked with the impacts but couldn’t make himself connect with anything.

It couldn’t be real. He would wake up and none of this would be real.

Then Faith was at his side. “Michael,” was all she said. She grabbed the lapel of his stupid suit coat and tugged, and he finally moved. He turned and looked down into her gorgeous face. “Michael. He’s yours. We can go home. Happy birthday.”

That was right. It was his birthday. He’d forgotten.

He wound his arms around her and lifted her off the floor. Then he pressed his face against her neck and wept.

~oOo~

Riley was still home with the new baby, so the club had the party at their house. Lexi’s sixth birthday was in two days, and Nolan had had a birthday a few days before, so they’d bundled all the celebrations into a big, family-friendly bash.

It was the end of April, and Bart was grilling. They had a thing on their patio like an outdoor kitchen. Sometimes, the reality that he hung out with a fucking movie star struck Demon hard. What a strange life he had.

Their pool was open, and Demon was in the shallow end with Tucker, who was wearing little yellow floaties on his arms and trying like crazy to swim. Demon didn’t really dig pools. He’d never learned to swim, and the sensation of buoyancy, especially if he got into water above his waist, freaked him out a little. It was a secret he still had. But in the shallow end, serving as a climbing wall for the kids, throwing Lexi and Ian off his shoulders and dragging Tucker around in a circle through the water—that he could handle.

Faith in a bikini—that was something else entirely, and he wasn’t at all sure he could handle it. It was black, with rings on the hips and between her tits, and it was spectacular. But he wanted her to put a fucking shirt on, at least. There were horny guys everywhere, and while he knew they wouldn’t dare touch her, he caught them checking her out, trying to be subtle. He’d caught Double A three times now. If there was a fourth, that asshole might just get shot a third fucking time. And Demon would aim a bit in from his thigh.

When he’d asked her to put a shirt on, she’d laughed at him.

Having an old lady was going to take some getting used to. But he had her. And he had Tucker. He’d gotten his arms around it all, almost everything he’d ever wanted.

When Lexi and Ian got out of the pool and trotted off to their big play area, Demon helped an eager Tucker out of his floaties so he could run after them, his swim diaper leaving a dripping trail behind him.

He was going to have to teach him to use the toilet. He had no idea how, but he’d figure it out. He had people to help him. His son would grow up surrounded in love. He’d grow up safe and secure. Strong.

Demon lifted himself out of the water and sat on the side of the pool, looking around the yard. The air smelled of cooking cow and spicy sauce, and his stomach rumbled in appreciation and anticipation. It was a family party, so only Coco and Maria, the two most established club girls, were there, and they were helping out with food and drinks. That left a lot of unattached men with nothing to do but drink and play, so a bizarre, full-contact game of croquet was happening in the yard. Demon laughed. The way those mallets were swinging, somebody was going to be bloody before it was over.