Midnight Sommelier - Anne Malcom Page 0,24

too. As was I. But I got it. Things worked differently here. With these families. This school. Their parents had connections to erase all sorts of wrongdoings. It was still the truth, in Black Mountain at least, that you could buy your way out of anything.

“Luna does not want to press charges,” he continued. “If she did, I’d might be able to do something more. Off the record, I’m glad he got some kind of punishment for trying to force himself on a young woman.”

My blood went cold. “He forced himself on her?” I asked.

Dale reached forward to squeeze my upper arm. Normally a man touching me without my permission made my skin crawl and sent my hackles rising, but there was nothing nefarious about this. It was an almost unconscious, comforting gesture.

“As I’ve been able to gather, he was trying to kiss her and she did not want to. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Your son got involved before anything could happen,” he reassured me, letting go of my arm. “She’s a little shaken up but otherwise fine. I couldn’t get her to give me her father’s details. I understand they’re new in town.”

“She lives next door to me,” I said. “I know her father.”

Know was a stretch—more like fantasized what his abs looked like, but I couldn’t exactly tell the Chief that.

“I can take her home, let him know what happened,” I said, dreading the interaction before it began. I figured Zeke was the overprotective type of father and maybe a shoot the messenger kind of person.

Dale nodded. “I’ll swing by tomorrow, introduce myself. Check in on Luna.”

A small bubble of amusement erupted within me at the thought of that interaction, with the removal of a father hearing his worst nightmare, of course. But I didn’t really imagine Zeke as someone who had positive associations with police offers. And that was me going off first impressions, which could be entirely wrong. But I didn’t think I was.

Plus, I would be interested to see what the handsome, straight-laced yet reasonable, chief of police might make of the biker living in our neighborhood.

I imagined some kind of macho man interaction you could sell tickets to.

“Can I see them?” I asked, peering around, looking for my son and Luna. I couldn’t get rid of the sick dread in the pit of my stomach.

Dale nodded to the only other officer on duty that night. “Of course. I had them in an interview room with some cokes until you got here.” He paused, looking at me. “You’ve got a good boy. You and David, you raised him well.”

Pain, immediate and intense. It was worse when people were being sincere. Kind.

Luckily, my son and Luna ran toward me before I had to answer or burst into tears.

I yanked my son into my arms for a quick hug and did the same with Luna, although I held her a little longer. By the way she clutched me, I could tell she needed it. It was something I wished every girl didn’t have to go through, have this rite of passage learning some men would take what they wanted despite being told no. It made you feel more aware of how vulnerable you could be. How unsafe previously benign interactions could be.

“It’s okay, honey,” I murmured into her hair.

I eventually let her go and looked over my son, zeroing in on the blood staining his knuckles.

I was a bad mother. The worst. How did it take me that long to notice?

“Mom, it’s okay. They’re not broken. It looks worse than it is.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m looking at my son’s blood on his knuckles. This is pretty bad, dude.”

“He’s okay,” Dale interceded. “Mr. Daniels ... he’s gonna have a shiner and a crooked nose unless his dad gets him a plastic surgery consult, which I’m sure he will.”

I would’ve grinned if I hadn’t felt so shaken.

“Okay, kids, let’s get you both home so our chief can go to bed,” I said, ushering them to the door. I mouthed ‘thank you’ over their heads, and he gave me a very attractive smile and chin lift.

Things were silent on the way to the car and when I backed out of the lot.

“You got in a fight?” I asked my pacifist son with bloody knuckles.

Ryder nodded. “Wouldn’t exactly call it a fight since he couldn’t punch for shit.”

I fought the urge to smile.

I glanced back at Luna, sitting in the backseat, looking so much smaller than she