Angel Smits - The Marine Finds His Family

Slowly, DJ took a step back so he could awkwardly kneel down to peer into his son’s face. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll find her. Everyone’s just concerned.”

“They don’t like Mama.” Tyler glared at his aunts and uncles. “But she’s the best mom. She’s just scared. She took care of me the best she could.” He hiccuped. “I just wanna go home.”

“I know.” DJ didn’t think this was the time to remind Tyler that this was his home now. Instead, he wrapped his arm around the boy’s thin shoulders and turned to face the room of people. His gaze traveled to each one. So familiar to him, but virtual strangers to Tyler. He felt Tyler lean into his side.

“As I said, this isn’t up for negotiation. It’s a done deal. I’m just letting you all know what we’re planning. You can either help, or not. Your choice. But we’d appreciate at least your support.”

The room fell silent.

Wyatt spoke first. “You got it. Whatever you need,” he said softly, holding Emily’s hand. She nodded, too.

Wyatt nudged Tara in the ribs. “Hey, I’ve always supported him, even with the insane things.” Everyone, even Tyler, laughed.

“I’ll do whatever you need on the legal end. Just let me know.” Jason nodded.

“You got it.” Mandy smiled. “Though, in this condition, I’m not much help to anyone.” She ran a loving hand over her tummy again, smiling. “Hey, little one, soon you’ll get to meet all these aunts and uncles. And a cousin, too,” she whispered to the baby.

Addie was the only holdout. And she was the only one besides Wyatt who Tyler really knew. Don’t let him down, DJ silently pleaded. DJ hugged Tyler, then walked over to face his older sister.

“You...you just be careful, okay?” She stood and faced him. “I know you think you’re the mighty warrior, but we just got you back.” Her voice broke.

“I’ll be careful, Ad.” He looked down at his older sister and saw the sheen in her eyes. “I promise.” He glanced back at his son. “I have a whole lot more to lose now.”

* * *

THE EVEN MOTION of the late-night city bus nearly lulled Tammie to sleep. When something hard hit her shoulder, she jerked awake. Her arms tightened around her backpack the same instant a skinny arm snaked over her shoulder. Dirty, clawlike fingers grasped the strap and tugged hard.

Tammie was worn-out but not stupid.

The would-be thief got more than he bargained for when she yanked hard. “No!” she cried, ripping her backpack free.

“Bitch.” The boy spit out the word easily and lunged over the seat.

“Hey!” the bus driver yelled. “What’s going on back there?”

“Mind your business, old man.”

Tammie took the opportunity to stand and wobble through the aisle, the backpack clutched to her chest. She settled in the seat right behind the driver.

A bus stop loomed ahead and the driver pulled over to the curb. “Off!” the driver yelled. The boy stood, cursing as he exited through the rear doors. She heard his steps fade away in the darkness.

“You, too, lady.”

“But—”

“I’m done for the night. Don’t need no more trouble. Go on.”

The old man glared at her and inclined his head to the open door.

“But my stop’s the next one.”

“Then you won’t have far to walk. Move it.”

The dark night was thick outside the lights of the bus. She knew where she was, but that didn’t lessen her fear of walking through this neighborhood at night. Alone. Heck, she didn’t walk it in the daylight. She normally got off right across the street from work.

The doors squeaked shut and the strong smell of diesel filled the air as the bus moved away. No time for standing around. She had three blocks to go. Three long, dark blocks.

Her footsteps seemed loud in the darkness as she nearly ran, glancing over her shoulder several times, just in case the thief was still lurking in the shadows.

Tammie clung tight to the backpack she’d filled all those months ago in Florida, cataloging what was inside with each step. Her toiletries. Her underwear. Two pairs of jeans, one set of sweats and three T-shirts. Her wallet. A set of keys that now belonged to nothing since she’d sold her car and had abandoned her house. Two sample pieces of the jewelry she’d made that had been in the pack from that last, fateful show. They’d still been in the pack when she’d tossed in everything else.

And there was a book.

The hardcover copy of Wuthering Heights wasn’t just for reading, though it was good for that, too. Nestled in between the pages was all she had left of Tyler. His baby pictures. His first school photo. The awkward goodbye note he’d written when she’d told him to go with his uncle Wyatt. And all the money she had in the world stuck in different pages. Five hundred and forty-six dollars. The thirty-three cents at the bottom of the backpack jangled every once in a while when she moved.

Everything else was gone.

Stolen by Dom. Destroyed by his thugs. Or just plain used up.

She refused to cry. Absolutely refused to give in. Her father had always accused her of being stubborn. Maybe for once his being right was a good thing.

The fleeting thought of her parents was like a speed bump and she nearly stumbled. Righting herself, she leaned on the wall of a darkened building to catch her breath. She just wanted to find a hole and crawl into it.

Tammie had no idea what to do next. No clue how to get her life back. She’d tried confronting Dom. But that’s what had caused him to turn on her in the first place, made him destroy everything she’d worked so hard for. She’d tried going to the authorities to ask for help. What a joke. She had no real proof. No clout. Nothing. They’d told her there was nothing they could do.

Despite the frightening warning she’d been given by his buddies, she’d filed a report anyway. But it hadn’t done any good.

A copy of that police report was nestled between her book’s pages, as well.

She’d done everything she could think of, only to lose over and over again to him.

And so she’d finally run.

And he’d followed. Always finding her. Always destroying what little she’d managed to build.

Belatedly, she’d figured out that he found them whenever she registered Tyler for school. She couldn’t take him out of school—she wouldn’t do that to him—yet changing cities and schools every couple of months was damaging and a waste. His education had definitely suffered and that had been another reason to give him up until she could figure out how to fix her situation—and keep Tyler safe.

Her throat ached, clogged with tears of frustration and loss.

She just wanted to go home. All the places she’d lived over the past year flashed behind her closed eyelids. The tiny bungalow she’d bought in Florida hurt the most to think about. Her studio. Tyler’s bedroom full of his toys. Her room with the soft mattress and her favorite blue decorations. She even missed the leaky pipe in the bathroom.

All of it gone.

Anger replaced the threatening tears. She wanted it back. All of it.

She’d do whatever she could to get it back.

Slowly, wiping her eyes on her shoulder, Tammie stood away from the wall. She took a deep breath and started walking again. One way or another, she was going home.

When she rounded the corner where the diner sat, the bright lights of the block eased her fears. The diner. The liquor store. The pawnshop...

She’d met the owner of the pawnshop when he’d come into the diner a couple weeks ago. Nice, older guy. Tipped good.

Stepping inside the brightly lit store, Tammie noticed that the pawnshop was huge. Every last corner was filled with pieces of furniture, electronics galore, some odd stuffed animal heads on the wall and cases of jewelry. She’d never seen anything like it. Tammie ignored most of it, especially the jewelry cases—it would hurt too much. Instead, she walked purposefully to the cases at the back. Five hundred and forty-six dollars wouldn’t buy her a new gun. It wouldn’t buy her a big gun.