For the Children

The power to destroy reason.

She couldn’t let him do that.

So she’d called Valerie. And didn’t feel the least bit guilty about telling her friend that things were getting desperate and she really needed the paternity issue settled once and for all. A court order, anything Valerie could do to get her ex-husband off her back.

And when Valerie had asked what was going on, she’d told her she was afraid for her life. That Kirk had threatened her. That he had a horrible temper and she was afraid of what he’d do.

Smoothing the top of her son’s head, Susan relaxed a little more. Her tactic had worked.

But then, she’d known it would.

Susan Douglas had learned from a master.

COACH HAD PROMISED come hell or high water, that he’d be there Wednesday afternoon. Four o’clock sharp. Abraham came straight home from the school he hated worse than being slugged by a disgruntled trick—though definitely not worse than having the bastard grab at his pants—and hung out at the corner where he could watch for the Vette. If he went in the house, his foster mother would start analyzing crap she knew nothing about and never would, playing Donna Reed or June Cleaver. She didn’t have a clue what the real world was like.

Mothers still loved their kids, but they had responsibilities nowadays, had to work for a living instead of hanging out wearing aprons and baking cookies. And they sure as hell didn’t have time to analyze a kid and think they knew all the answers.

Thank God for that.

He started to sweat at twenty to four. Something might’ve held Coach up and he might not be coming. Maybe he forgot. Or found some other kid he could help. He might’ve decided that Abe’s new place was too far to drive.

Sinking down onto the curb, he didn’t care that he was making the backside of his jeans dusty, since he and Mom didn’t have to wash them, anyway. They hadn’t even let him bring his own clothes and he hated the stiff new things they were making him wear. He picked up a handful of pebbles.

His backpack still strapped to his shoulders, he jiggled the rocks in his palm. It wouldn’t matter if Coach didn’t come. He’d be free to head out then. He was only staying because he’d promised the coach. And if Chandler didn’t keep his promise, then Abe’s was null and void. No second chances.

Not for a world that didn’t give him any.

Ten minutes to four. Abraham stood up. He might as well head out. Chances were Coach wasn’t going to show. And he’d feel stupid standing there like a little kid, waiting for him anyway. Backing up to the stop sign, he considered his options.

There was no reason to return to the house. Every morning when he left there, he had everything he needed in his backpack. Glancing up and down both streets at the quiet intersection, he pondered which way to go. He wasn’t quite sure where the freeway was, but knew he’d find it.

Abraham always found his way.

At five to four, just as he was heading north, away from the corner, Coach Chandler pulled up to the curb.

“Hop in.”

Quenching the relief in his belly, he did.

“DOES MRS. MORTON KNOW you’re with me?” Kirk eyed the sullen-faced boy as he slouched down in the leather seat of his forty-five-thousand-dollar car.

“Yeah.” The sweater they’d bought for the boy wasn’t anything Kirk could imagine Abraham choosing for himself. Seeing Abraham in it irritated him. They’d taken the kid from everything he knew. Couldn’t they at least leave his clothes alone?

“You told her I was taking you to dinner like we discussed?” he pressed, mostly because Abraham was staring out the passenger window.

As though he could read Kirk’s thoughts, Abraham turned his hard eyes directly on Kirk. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

With his years of honed instincts, Kirk wasn’t satisfied with that look, but he trusted the boy anyway. Someone had to. So Abraham was plotting something. But the boy wasn’t lying to him about this.

He’d just have to be smarter than Abraham, talk him out of whatever plan he had for the evening. And make sure the boy was still in the car when he pulled up to the Mortons’ later that evening. Abraham Billings had no idea who he was dealing with.

Though he suggested every restaurant he could think of, Kirk ended up eating

fast-food hamburgers and French fries with the boy. In his car. It was the only thing he’d agree to.

Abraham obviously didn’t realize that eating in a vintage Corvette was a sin.

Just as Kirk didn’t realize what kind of bomb he was going to detonate when he asked how Abraham was doing.