Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (8 page)

“Every one of you is cuter than a toe sack full of puppies.”

I hadn’t been referred to as cute since I was a little boy. If Ms. Georgia said it, though, I wasn’t about to argue.

“All of you have the same sharp jaw as your daddy.” She was tracing her own face as she spoke. Carson looked at her with such admiration, the same way my daddy regarded my momma. “Eyes so blue the ocean is surely jealous.” She waved her hand in the air. Nana VanBuren once told us angels took a drop of the ocean to give us the color of our eyes. I guessed Ms. Georgia knew what she was sayin’. “The only real difference between y’all is the color of your hair.” She ended as she leaned back in her chair, wine glass to her lips.

There was more than hair color that separated me and my brothers. There were three different mothers who gave birth to us, but then they either didn’t want or couldn’t keep us. My brother Austin was the type of man you brought home to meet your father, with his Master’s degree and gentlemanly ways. Chase, the all American hero, carried more men out of battlefields than he would ever admit. The kind of boyfriend, who would write to you every day, and keep his promise of loving only one girl at a time.

“Austin, honey. You work behind a desk all day and yet your arms are as big as these two.” She pointed to Chase and me.

“Yes, Ma’am. I have to keep up with them. They’d never let me forget if I didn’t.” His smile flashed in her direction, the one our momma said was lethal if we weren’t careful.

“Chase, do you have anyone special?”

Where my little brother was the motivator of the trio, he was also the one to always have a girl by his side. From the time he figured out the difference between the sexes, he’d wanted to be near one.

“Yes, Ma’am. I have a girl I’ve been seeing for a few months now.”

“Oh, I bet that will be hard on you when you get stationed back in the states.” Ms. Georgia was pure of heart; her smile and compassion made her the lady she was. You just didn’t want to get on her bad side. Carson had pushed her buttons one too many times, and had scars to prove it.

“Actually, she lives here in Charleston. Works for a dentist in Summerville.”

Austin and I both turn toward him with a look of surprise. Chase covered his mouth with his glass of beer.

“Really, why didn’t you invite her?” Austin questioned, checking the screen of his cell phone.

“Because, we’ve only been exchanging letters and email. I haven’t met her in person yet.” Chase was the biggest of the three of us at six-four; arms the size of my thigh and the skills to kill a man with a spoon. Yet, as he admitted this, he shrank into his chair.

“That’s very nice of you, Chase. You should meet her in a public place without all of these fellas around to embarrass her.”

His cheeks flushed slightly, nodding his head in agreement. “Yes, Ma’am”.

“Does this girl have a name?”

Chase looked to me, his eyes, as Georgia said, carbon copies of mine searching for the hook line.

“Harmony.” He answered with a look that told me not to challenge him; she was special, or at least he wanted her to be.

“Like a song?”

Chase’s face broke into a smile, lowering his gaze as he answered Carson’s question. “Yes, Sir, just like a song.”

I wanted to shake him, slap the taste out of his mouth, but this was classic Chase. Fall head over heels in love with a short skirt. Then give her the world as she fucked your best friend. Yet, he hadn’t even met her in person.

Chase and I disagreed on relationships. Where I went after the faceless girl, no last names or strings attached, he wanted the white picket fence and kids. The walking down the street holding hands and picking out lawn furniture family portrait. As men, we disagreed, as brothers we respected the others’ opinion.

“Well, it would seem that your reason for your visit this time, just took on a positive note.”

Austin had become very quiet, his beer untouched. “Hey Austin, you all right, man?”

Looking in my direction, he cleared his throat, scooting up in his chair. “Yeah, I was just remembering what Momma was talking about during Granddaddy’s funeral.” He pulled his beer close to him, swallowing back about half of the glass, his eyes concentrating on the few bubbles floating to the top.

“What? The children’s home?”

Austin nodded his head; his eyes remaining downcast, his memory bubbling to the surface just like his beer. “I remember when the Nun came to get me out of the police car. She told me I was going to meet little boys just my age.” Playing with the edges of his napkin, his eyes finally met mine. “Do you remember that day, Dylan?” His voice was noncommittal. We’d talked to several counselors about our time in the system; been told we did nothing wrong to end up there.

“I remember you came in with a chocolate chip cookie. Sister Mary Theresa told us you and Chase got cookies first because you were new. Then she handed the plate to Chase and let him pass them out to the rest of us.” He nodded his head in agreement. To this day, I couldn’t stand the taste of a chocolate chip anything.

“Someone was banging on the door, and Sister went to see who it was.” I took a drink of the fresh beer our waitress placed before me. “Then that fat fuck…what was his name?” I stopped. I could never remember his name, only the shit he pulled.

“Cash,” Austin and Chase spoke in unison.

“That’s right, Cash. And his sister…” Before I could speak her name, Austin finished with, “Ginny.”

“I was gonna say
Virginia
and everyone called her Ginny.” I smacked the side of Austin’s head, messing up his dark hair. He and our momma had the exact same shade of hair. I hadn’t given it much thought until now.

“Cash waited until Sister was out of sight before he pulled the plate out of your hands and pushed you down.” Chase nodded his head and picked up his beer.

“He handed the plate off to Ginny and told everyone else to leave the room. Then he tried to shove me to the ground,” Austin surmised, his memory as clear as mine.

“His mistake was trying to pick on the two littlest of the bunch, just like the coward he was,” I added, anger from all those years ago rising in my chest. I had been in the system since the moment I was born, and lived at that particular home for almost a year. Chase and Austin arrived within an hour of one another. I had watched from the kitchen window as they each came in. Something stirred in me, telling my young mind these guys were different. Cash had bullied every new kid who walked through the door, with the exception of me. He tried. He also went to the hospital with a broken nose. I knew what he was up to when he told everyone else to leave. Usually, I left things alone, allowed the new kid to fight his own battle. But these two, the feeling I had in my gut, well, it was different. I felt an overwhelming need to jump in and do what I could.

“He messed with the wrong ones when he tried to pick on the two of you.”

It was a silent bond between the three of us—protect each other and protect the family. We recalled what transpired as Cash pulled his fist back to punch Chase in the face.

“I never thanked you for that day,” Chase spoke around his glass. I knew what he meant; boys like Cash would have taken things much further when they’d found a weak spot. Being in foster care for as long as I was, I’d seen enough to know I didn’t want to go back.

“You know, I wonder what happened to those two?”

Austin had told the Sisters Cash had tripped on the rug, in his fall he hit the side of the coffee table and hurt his arm. He left out the part where I shoved him, took his fist in my hand and slammed it on the table.

“Cash is most likely serving eighteen months for robbing a Mrs. Fields store.” For a split second the table was silent as everyone digested what I had said. Then, when realization hit, Chase threw a napkin at my face. “Fucker,” I returned, tossing the napkin back at him.

“You know to this day, I won’t eat a chocolate chip cookie,” Austin admitted, adding his own wadded up napkin into the fight.

“Me, either,” Chase and I responded.

“Hey, isn’t that Claire?” Carson asked Georgia, pointing his glass to the table three spots over. Everyone glanced in the direction, finding a table full of girls, a few of whom I recognized.

“I think you’re right.” Georgia waved in the girl’s direction.

I noticed Shayla first, her blonde hair almost glowing in the shitty lighting overhead and the overuse of bleach to get it that color. I’d seen her naked enough times to know the carpets didn’t match the drapes. Her pussy had a thick black strip of hair nestled above her clit. Sitting beside her, heads together like two teenage girls planning a prom, was Portia. I thought she used to be a stripper, but she denied it. Fuck if I cared, she had the loosest ass I’d ever been in. First time I met her; she and Shayla invited me to join them. We ended up in bed, with Shayla on her knees below Portia, her tongue and fingers in her pussy, occasionally playing with my balls, as I fucked Portia’s ass.

Next to her sat Kitty, one of the nurses Shayla talked bad about, accusing her of being a prude and shit. Kitty was too innocent for me, not because of the high probability she was still a fucking virgin, but because she was ignorant about life.

Next to Kitty sat the girl I bumped into outside the elevators. I was guessing this to be Claire as she was waving back to Carson. She said something to Kitty as she pushed her chair back, grabbing her beer and walking in our direction. Her hips were swaying in a natural rhythm, not that fake shit chicks did to get our attention. Her tits were real, hair color too, not that I wouldn’t mind checking her undercarriage to be certain.

“Ms. Georgia, Mr. Carson, I never expected to see you guys here.”

I shoved my beer away from me; my chest tingling again like it did the day Granddaddy died. Indigestion, from not eating, I suspected.

“We come here all the time, Claire.” Carson placed his arm around Georgia. “They have the best fish and chips in the city.” Carson’s suggestion of food had everyone else feeling their empty guts. Holding up my hand in the air, I signaled the waitress for a menu.

“What brings you here, darlin?”

She pointed behind the bar where a tall redheaded guy in glasses was filling mugs of beer and placing them on a tray. “My friend wanted to cheer me up, invited all the nurses out for a drink. His family owns this bar.” Directing her other hand back to the table where she came from. Portia giving me a questioning look.

“I heard about your grandpa.”

I turned my attention back to her, our eyes lock and the pain in my chest changed from a burn to almost bubble-like.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone and I know you get sick of hearing everyone tell you how great they were.”

I felt the menu land on my arm, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away from hers.

“My uncle died a few months back, and your father and grandpa did some pretty remarkable things to make my life easier.” Her voice quivered as she continued her declaration.

“So I won’t tell you what a great man he was, you already know that. But I will tell you I won’t mess up what he gave me.”

Her smile was small, but reassuring. I appreciated her honesty and not being like everyone else in how they addressed the loss of Granddaddy. I was stuck on stupid, because I couldn’t open my goddamn mouth to respond. I couldn’t hear Chase pushing his chair back to shake her hand. Austin reached across the table to do the same.

“Well, I will just head back to…” She pointed behind her, taking two steps, smiling sheepishly then completely bolted. Conversations had started around the table, but I was fixated on her retreating form. A hand suddenly gripped my arm, pulling my attention back, nearly sending my hand to my gun holster.

“You listen to me and you listen good,” Carson spoke through clenched teeth. His eyes darted back and forth between mine, his grip on my arm tightening.

“Claire is a good and decent girl.” He enunciated each and every word. “She has worked hard for every stitch she owns and I will
not
allow you to do anything to ruin that for her.”

Carson had never discouraged me from going after any girl.

“Hey.” I jerked my arm out of his grasp. “She isn’t my type.”

“Bullshit.” He hissed as he grabbed my T-shirt. “She is exactly your type. But you know what?” His other hand grabbed the back of my neck. “She is so far out of your league you would need to climb the Empire State Building to kiss her feet.”

He shoved me back with the last word. I looked around the table, and, thankfully, no one noticed the change in tone.

“Claire is like a daughter to me,” he whispered in my direction. “Georgia rented her an apartment in her building. I helped move her in, and made sure the boys knew to circle the building at night.” He stopped briefly as he gave the waitress his food order.

“You may be half my age, but I swear to God, Dylan, if you try anything with her, I will kick your ass.”

One thing about Carson, he never made empty threats. This girl, Claire, was important to him, so I would respect his wishes. Besides, there was an all too willing redhead motioning for me to meet her in the bathroom.