Debt Collector's Due

“F-Fie?” I croak.

“Yeah, honey, that’s him.” I stumble from his hold like a colt on shaky legs. Alfie pushes off the car. He’s bigger, older, and more worn. I can see the crow’s feet around his eyes and the deeper creases in his furrowed brow. I can’t read his eyes from a distance. I grip the metal handrail with both hands as I slowly make my way down the stairs. He walks forward and pauses a few feet away. I’m drowning in the blue eyes that were always the window to his tattered soul. On the ground, I freeze. His eyes are a swirling pool of emotions I can’t pin a reading on.

I latch onto the feeling foremost in my brain: relief .We’re safe here with him. A sob creeps up into my throat, and I run toward him. He opens his arms and lifts me into the air. I cup his face with shaking hands, desperate to feel his solid form.

“Oh my God. It’s really you.”

“It’s me, Thena,” he whispers. It’s that same deep, heavily accented voice. No one else could ever recreate. His arms tighten, and I cling to him, soaking up his strength and protection. I close my eyes and inhale the hints of tobacco, leather, and spices that make up Armani Code. I pull back and eye his plump pink lips. The scar above his lip is old. Probably inflicted while I watched. My stomach tightens, and guilt crashes down on me. My tongue snakes out, and I trace the white faded line, in a silent apology. Our lips crash together, and I lose myself in the taste and feel of him. He grips my hair, and I groan as he massages my scalp and tilts his head, deepening the lip lock. He always knew how to make the world stop spinning with his kiss. I whimper. He presses against my belly, thick and long.

My lungs burn, and I pull away shaking and gasping. It’s been so long since I felt a man’s touch, and none ever affected me the way this man did. The worry, grief, and confusion sucker punch me. I shake free and shove him back. “Why? If you’re here now fine, why didn’t you ever come back for me or even contact me, huh?” I cover my mouth. Did he not want Kier? I shake my head and stumble back. He grabs my wrist and stops my retreat. “Because I couldn’t. You think I was in any position to help you? I arrived here on a ship, damn near starved to death. That locker he dumped me in was meant to be my tomb. It took me time to get back on my feet and longer still to gain power. By the time I was in a position to come get you, too much time had passed.” He shook his head.

“I waited for you.” My voice cracks. Ashamed of my weakness, I glance at the ground. He moved to cup my face, and I swat his hand away. “You don’t have the right.”

His nostrils flare, and his eyes darken. “You saying someone else does?”

I open my mouth.

“Mom.”

Alfie glances over my shoulder and stiffens.

His eyes dilate, and he glares down at me.

“You kept this from me.”

“You had no more use for me. You think I’d risk his safety and stability, not to mention his heart? No.” I shake my head.

“You had no right.”

“I had every right to do what I felt was best.”

“Mom is. Is everything okay?” his voice shakes.

I turn and nod my head. “Yes, baby. It’s fine. This.. this is Alfie. He’s –.” I trail off unsure what to say.

“An old friend of your mothers. I knew her years ago before you were born.”

Kier narrows his eyes, and there’s no denying the lineage.

“You can come down, babe,” I say, walking toward him, eager to put distance between myself and the man who I know wants to wring my neck. He takes family seriously. I knew it. I thought of contacting him so many times over the years and always stopped short. If I was caught, it could mean disaster for both of us. The freedom I had would be taken away, and I was convinced my father would finish the job he’d started all those years ago in my bedroom. I had no way of knowing how well he’d done across the pond.’

And yet, he couldn’t be bothered to check in on me? My father was right. I was a passing fancy. Forbidden fruit he’d sampled and left behind. My head throbs. I clench my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. The travel, stress, and emotional overload are about to knock me on my ass in the form of a migraine.

Alfie cups the back of my neck and massages. I want to pull away, but the relief it brings is too good. I groan.

“You’ll be staying with me for a while here in London.”

“London! Mom can we see where JK Rowling wrote Harry Potter.”

I snicker. “Yes, Kier,” I say quietly.

“Kier?” he whispers

“Kieron.”

“It’s a fine name,” he says thoughtfully. I don’t want his words to please me. His opinion, shouldn’t matter, and yet it does.

“What about the boys?” I ask quietly.”