Chaos Remains (Greenstone Security 4)

It wasn’t my lack of phone that kept me up all night. Though that was a contributing factor.

It wasn’t even Robert’s phone call, as it should have been. It was Lance.

He was haunting me, torturing me and he’d never even spoken more than a handful of sentences to me.

My lack of sleep was a punishment I deserved for letting two different men penetrate my consciousness, my sanity.

I resolved as I sucked down the strongest coffee I could possibly make, that I would have a new strength when it came to Lance. That I would be professional with him as he was with me. I’d have a meeting with Keltan and inform him as much as I appreciated their services, I wouldn’t need Greenstone Security anymore. Though I didn’t know how effective that was going to sound since last night’s phone call kind of showed everyone that Robert wasn’t going to back away quietly.

I hadn’t expected him to.

I was still waiting for his father to get involved somehow, as he always had throughout our marriage, reminding me how powerful he was and how weak I was.

It was surprising to me that he hadn’t tried to use that power when I ran, taking his grandson with him. Jeffery Hudson was a lot of things, much like his son. Robert’s mother had died before I met him, breast cancer, so I never knew if she suffered like I had. I’d seen photos of her, beautiful, regal, always put together in a way suiting who she was. It was impossible to discern whether years of abuse hidden behind the picture-perfect smile.

But the fact that Jeffery knew what his son was doing to me, saw the bruises, and did nothing, told me all I needed to know. The way he treated me, looked at me and dismissed me told me more.

But he was different with Nathan. Almost warm. But not quite. It was clear he loved his grandson, and that scared me too. Because he loved Robert. And his love had nurtured a monster.

My son wouldn’t get that kind of love.

Not ever.

Jeffery had never tried to find us, with the tools at his disposal, he could have, showed me he loved his grandson in all the wrong kind of ways.

It was that wrong love that terrified me as I got Nathan breakfast, packed his lunch, making sure to put the last piece of pie in it.

Would he make an effort now? Now that his prized son had lost his battle to take Nathan from me?

I knew that Jeffery would use a lot more civilized means to steal my son from me. He was smarter than Robert. He’d use the law. He’d use his money and power to try and get me painted us an unfit mother, snatch my boy away from me in every way he could.

I wasn’t sure which one scared me more.

But I made sure none of that fear leaked onto my face the entire morning Nathan chatted to me through his oatmeal about what a great night he’d had last night and how he was going to tell all his friends and they’d be jealous.

I let my son’s simple happiness chase away the surface fear. It worked better than coffee to wake me up, strengthen my resolve.

Robert might have brute strength and a badge. Jeffery might have money, power, influence. But there was nothing stronger than a mother’s love. Her determination.

Getting out of the house was somewhat of a production, making sure that Nathan had everything he needed, that he hadn’t decided to get changed into his Superman costume at the last minute, or gotten into my lipstick or any food item. Making sure I turned off all appliances—I was paranoid about setting the house on fire, we had renter’s insurance but still, it would destroy me—making sure that I didn’t have toothpaste on my mouth, that my clothes weren’t on inside out—that had happened multiple times—I had my keys, my purse, some semblance of sanity.

It wasn’t until we were out the door did I start looking for my keys to unlock my car. My keys weren’t there.

“Shit,” I hissed, pissed at myself for letting Lance’s presence, lingering or not, distract me to make me have to go back into the house and find them. For the hundredth time, I cursed myself for not taking the two seconds it would take to attach my house keys to my car keys.

When I looked up, I saw that my car wasn’t there.

“Fuck,” I said louder this time.

“I thought you said we weren’t allowed to say fuck, Mommy. Because our teeth will fall out if we do.” Nathan said. He squinted at me. “Your teeth aren’t falling out.”

I tried to focus on my kid and not the fact that someone had stolen my shitty car right out of the driveway. Who even does that? If you were going to put yourself at risk of going to prison for stealing a car, wouldn’t you make it worth it?