Whoever hurt the kid was in for a shitload of trouble when I found them. But first I needed a name. “Who hurt the kid?”
Her tear-filled eyes met mine. Her lips parted, and then it was like a flicked switch as she shut me out.
Fuck. I was used to torturing people to get answers. And I got them. This situation wasn’t something I was accustomed to.
I stopped thinking about the consequences and found her hand, linking our fingers together. “The kid obviously hasn’t been living with you, and you said you’re not running from an ex. So who was he with?”
She inhaled a ragged breath. “He was in the foster system.”
My spine tightened and my gaze flicked to the bedroom. I’d been lucky to find Hettie or to have had Hettie find me. But I knew kids who had been in the system. Those who were old enough usually ran away and disappeared in the streets if the foster homes were bad. But Jackson, being so young, wouldn’t have had that option.
“You gave him up?” Even saying the words didn’t sit well with me. No matter what she’d faced, I couldn’t see her giving up her child.
She tried to pull away, but there was no way I was letting her. Her shoulders slumped. “Yes.”
“When?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and soft.
She licked the scar above her lip, but this time it was different. Hesitant. It wasn’t just a nervous habit. It was as if it was… a memory. A memory that made her nervous.
I squeezed her hand. “Babe, when did you give him up?”
Her head dipped and I hated not seeing her eyes. Those eyes that gave me a reason to breathe. That settled the turbulence in the dark depths of the water. Kept me from drowning with my brother.
And now she was drowning. “Macayla,” I urged.
“When he was born.” She glanced at the bedroom door and her expression hardened. “I’ll die before I’ll let him be taken away again.”
It was that last word that pummeled into my chest like a tank. Again. Fuck. “That won’t happen.”
Her chin jutted out and her eyes narrowed as she glared at me. “You don’t know that, Vic.”
“Yeah. I do. I don’t break my word—ever.”
“Some things you can’t control.”
“You know what I do for a living?”
She nodded. “Go after the worst criminals in the world.”
“And I don’t stop until they’re found. So when I say I won’t let him be taken from you, I mean I won’t let it happen.” A tear slipped out and trailed down her cheek. “Babe, I’m not saying I’m a good man. I’m not. But my word is solid.”
She swallowed and bit her lower lip, but refused to say anything. I let her have a minute while I listened for the kid to make sure he was still busy with Waffles.
She would’ve only been seventeen when she became pregnant. Still in high school. And living with her father by then.
She closed her eyes, her bottom lip quivering. “My dad thought…. He thought it was for the best, considering….” She stopped and her face paled. She ran her tongue over that damn scar again.
My stomach twisted. “Considering what?”
She swallowed and tipped her chin so her eyes lowered to the floor. “Considering I was still in high school and had no money.”
“Your father had money and your brother could’ve helped.”
She bit her lower lip so hard it turned white. Fuck. “Dad didn’t want Ethan to know. He’d been drafted and worked so hard to get there. If he knew…. It was just better that way.”
I scowled. Jesus Christ, her fuckin’ father. I’d never met him, even when Ethan lived here, but I knew how hard he pushed Ethan with the hockey.
But it didn’t make sense. Why would Ethan care if his sister was pregnant?