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Mike complied, and there was a moment while Ben looked down at the results. He glanced back at Sofia, disappointment in his expression.
“Not drunk, after all,” Ben said with a sigh.
“Get me out of these cuffs!” Mike snapped. “I’m on the way to the hospital. My wife broke her wrist, and they asked me to meet her there.”
Ben hooked a thumb over his belt and eyed Mike thoughtfully for a moment, then he glanced back in Sofia’s direction.
“Uncuff him,” she said, shaking her head. She knew she didn’t really have a say in this, but she was angry nonetheless. Nothing infuriated her more than men with power who abused their positions—regardless of their reason.
Ben shrugged and pulled out the key to unlock the cuffs. Mike rubbed his wrists and glared in Ben’s direction.
“You’re an idiot, Ben!” Mike said.
“That’s Officer Blake, to you,” Ben said icily. “And I sincerely hope you were miles away when your wife got hurt.”
Ben took a step forward, and Mike’s attitude evaporated. He held up his hands.
“I was,” Mike said. “Just let me go see if she’s okay.”
Obviously there was a history between these two, evident by their mutual dislike, but Ben had the upper hand here. He was in the position of authority, and he was leaning on it. He didn’t seem any different from the Benji Blake she’d fallen in love with all those years ago—ever the rebel.
“Drive to the hospital slowly,” Ben said, his voice low. “I’m watching you.”
After they’d both gotten back into the car, Ben looked over at Sofia, then frowned when he noticed her expression.
“What?” he said.
“What was that?” she demanded. “I get that Mike is a bit of a jerk, but that doesn’t mean you can push him around like that. There are laws against that sort of thing!”
“I have my reasons,” Ben replied, starting the car again. He pulled out behind Mike’s truck, following him down the road in the direction of the hospital.
“Care to share them?” she retorted. “Because that looked like a flagrant abuse of power. I’m frankly rather surprised that you’d do that to a journalist, especially with another journalist present to corroborate the story.”
“Can’t say too much legally,” he replied. “And I can’t take the chance of it going into one of your articles.” He gestured in the direction of her tablet.
She sighed and turned the tablet upside down. If he had a reason, she’d like to hear it. “All right, you have my word that it’s off the record.”
Ben shrugged. “Let’s just say Mike had it coming.”
“So a personal vendetta?” she clarified.
He eyed her for a moment, then put his attention back on to the road. “You don’t think too much of me, do you? No. I’ve personally arrested Mike Layton three times for beating up his wife.”
Sofia froze. She hadn’t seen that coming. Mike didn’t seem like the type—loud, obnoxious and opinionated, yes, but violent? There was a picture of Mike’s wife on his desk at the office, a slender woman with gentle eyes...
“And you thought—” she started.
“I thought that he was drunk,” he replied with a shrug. “If I can stick him in the drunk tank instead of sending him home to Mavis, then I think that’s a job well done. I really hope he was as far away from Mavis as possible when she broke her wrist, but I have to say, I have my doubts about that. Why she stays with him, I’ll never know.”
Sofia sighed and nodded. “I didn’t know that about Mike.”
She understood Ben’s anger and his desire to make Mike uncomfortable, even for a little while, but that didn’t cover everything for her.
“You’re still playing by your own rules,” she said. “You were like this when we were together—always doing everything your own way. Even if it would only hurt you in the end, you had to have it your way.”
Ben glanced at her, then signaled a turn, still following Mike, as promised. “My way is effective.” A twinkle of humor came into his eyes, and she shook her head.
“You cuffed a man without cause. That isn’t even legal.”
“I had cause,” he retorted. “Just not...immediate. You’re thinking of poor, mistreated Mike. What about Mavis? Mavis knows that all she has to do is mention my name, and her husband backs off. That’s something positive, I’d say. And giving women a safe place to go and a number to call when their husbands get abusive is part of what we’re trying to do with this community watch project. It’s about the community looking out for each other and cops being called right away, not when it’s too late. If the women don’t trust us, all the programs in the world aren’t going to make any difference.”
She had to agree with the results, but she wasn’t convinced of his methods.
“You’ve always done things your own way,” she said after a moment. “And while I get it this time, it’ll catch up with you eventually.”
“You think I’m some kind of rogue cop, dealing out my own version of justice?” he asked, humor edging his tone.
“Yes.” She had to admit that was exactly what she thought. He was the same old Benji Blake, except this version had a badge and a gun. As a teen, she’d found it exciting and alluring, but not now as an adult, and certainly not as a mother.
They were nearing the hospital, and Ben gave his siren one whoop of farewell, then eased past Mike’s truck and kept on their way.
“Sofia, you don’t have to worry about me,” Ben said quietly. “I’m a decent guy.”
She was silent, considering. Was he a decent guy, or was he just an older version of the same rebel he’d always been? If it weren’t for her son in the mix, she wouldn’t have cared so much, but Ben’s character would have a huge impact on Jack. Jack would idealize Ben. He’d look up to him. He’d emulate him, and the last thing she needed was a son who turned out exactly like his father.
“Just keep in mind that I’m a journalist first,” she said with a sigh. “I’m here to write articles that can help improve the public’s perception about the police force, but I’m not going to lie, either. Don’t put me in the position of having to write up a story that sets back your entire project.”
Ben’s jaw tightened. “I’ll have you know that I care about this—more than you probably realize. You lived on the good side of the tracks, but I saw a different side to this town growing up. I’m going to fix that, whatever it takes. So you might have your ideals right now, but I’ve got more than ideals. I’ve got a plan, and I’m not afraid to put it into action.”
Sofia didn’t answer. Ben might be a cop, but she was a journalist, and she had a responsibility to her job as well as to this town. The laws were there for a reason, and she found it ironic that she was now pushing against Benji from the other side of the law. But Ben was like that—rock solid, completely immoveable and always perched right on the line. Some things would never change.
Chapter Three (#ulink_2ffcd212-9211-5f16-a2b6-8487db5e4eed)
That evening, after dropping Sofia off at her father’s house, Ben drove back to the other side of town where his mother lived. His mind was still chewing over the fact that he was a father, and he didn’t know exactly how to process it all. He’d made plans to have dinner with his mother several days ago, and he didn’t have the heart to break them. Besides, his mom deserved to know about this. A grandson would impact her life, too.
The trailer park was located on the east side of Haggerston, surrounded by a corrugated metal fence that corralled two looping roads, both lined by aging mobile homes. This had been home sweet home when Ben was being raised by his struggling single mother, Shyla Blake. She’d worked two jobs for as long as he could remember, and now that he could afford to pay her rent elsewhere, she downright refused to move.
“I’m fine,” she’d said. “Just fix the heat and get me an air conditioner. It might be humble, but it’s home.”
Ben had to admit that it did feel like home still, in spite of it all. His mother’s time had been monopolized by providing for him, and as a result, Ben had been generally unsupervised for much of his childhood. His mother worked the night shift at the front desk of a local hotel, and she’d call just to check on him. He could remember muting the TV to talk to her for a minute or two before she was noticed by her particularly grumpy boss. She’d done her very best for Ben, and whatever mistakes he’d made growing up certainly hadn’t been her fault.
Ben got out of the squad car, locked the door and headed up the walk. His mother flung the door open before he even reached the steps. She was a short woman with mouse-brown hair—dyed to stay that way—that was pulled up in a high ponytail and hair sprayed to stay in a floofy ’80s do that she couldn’t be convinced to relinquish.
“Hi, honey. I was so glad you said you were coming for supper. Come on in.”
The sound of a game show floated through the background, and he followed her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. His mother gave him a peck on the cheek, and he sank into one of two chairs that flanked a tiny, flyer-covered kitchen table.
“Macaroni and cheese?” he asked, nodding toward the stove.
“Your favorite,” she said, turning down the TV volume. “You look tired.”
“I’m wiped.”
“So I heard from Ellen who heard from Liza at the deli that Sofia McCray is back in town,” his mother said, shooting him an apologetic look. “Is it true?”
“Afraid so,” he replied.
“I’m surprised she’d show her face around here,” his mother muttered. “After she and that uppity mother of hers just walked off the way they did. Not a word to anyone—and left poor Steve by himself...”
She’d left Ben, too, for that matter.
“I always said Valentina McCray was hiding a bad core,” his mother went on. “And Sofia is just like her mother. I always said it, didn’t I? And you never believed me. I don’t know what all Valentina was hiding—an affair? Maybe even mob connections—”
“Being Italian doesn’t make her mafia,” Ben said with a sigh.
“I know, I know...” His mother turned back to the stove, lifting the lid off the bubbling pot to release some steam. “I’ve always said that I don’t care what country the girl is from, as long as she’s got a good heart. I’ve always said that, haven’t I? But the proof is in the pudding with that one!”
Ben wasn’t sure if “that one” referred to Sofia or her mother, but it probably didn’t much matter at this point of the conversation. His mother didn’t care for either woman. Everyone had known that the McCray marriage hadn’t been rock solid, but the gossips of Haggerston blamed it on Valentina because she was high-spirited, even though Steve hadn’t seemed to complain. Valentina was petite with a dark complexion that made her look twenty years younger than she was—sparking the envy of every woman in town. When Valentina up and left her husband, that was proof enough about her “bad core” in his mother’s books.
This was an old, oft-repeated conversation. They both knew it like the backs of their hands, and they went over it from time to time, just to buff it back to a shine. Ben’s mother had been thrilled when Ben had broken up with Sofia, even if he’d only done it because her father had convinced him that he was a loser who would just hold her back. Sofia had graduated high school and earned scholarships for her high grades. Ben hadn’t even graduated with his class that year, and he wouldn’t be going anywhere. That had done a number on his confidence. Steve McCray had told him privately that it was only a matter of time before Sofia saw what a loser he was and she’d move on to someone worthy of her. It made sense, and when Sofia had started questioning him about the future there in the parking lot, it had all crumbled down around him. He couldn’t offer her a future. He had nothing to give. So Ben had broken it off and driven away, convinced that if he did the dumping instead of getting the same treatment from her, it would be easier to bear. It hadn’t been, and he’d spent the past nine years wishing he’d at least gotten a goodbye.
“I actually saw Sofia today,” Ben said.
“Oh?”
“She’s a journalist now—”
“Well la-di-da.” Her voice dripped distain.
“And she’s been assigned to ride along with an officer for a couple of weeks to cover this new community watch project we’re starting up.” He shot his mother a boyish grin. “And the officer she’s riding with is me.”
His mother regarded him in silence for a long moment. “You’re kidding,” she finally said.
Ben shook his head. “I’m dead serious.”
“Don’t you go falling for her again,” his mother said. The pot started to boil over, and she whipped it off the burner.
Not falling for Sofia was easier said than done. Sitting with her in the car all day, the soft, floral scent of her wafting through the cab, had been awkward, but it had also been the sort of thing he’d dreamed about for the past nine years—another chance to just be next to her. He’d never really thought that he’d see her again.
“So what is she like now?” his mother asked as she tossed the noodles into a colander.
“She’s—” How was he supposed to tell his mother this? He swallowed. “She had a bit of news for me.”
She slowly raised her head, her brow crinkling in suspicion. “What kind of news?”
“She has an eight-year-old son.” He met his mother’s gaze and sucked in a breath. “And he’s mine.”
“Yours?” she asked weakly. “Are you sure? She could be lying.”
“No, I’m pretty sure,” he replied, shaking his head. “She didn’t seem too thrilled about me being his father as it is.”
Tears welled up in his mother’s eyes, and she stood stock-still for a long moment.
“You have a son,” she said in amazement. “That means I have a grandson.”
“Yeah, that’s how it works,” he said.
Then she dabbed at her mascara with the heel of one hand. “After little Mandy...”
He didn’t know what else to say, even though nothing else was necessary. His mother had been there with him through the whole ordeal when he lost Lisa and Mandy. She’d stood next to him like a soldier during the funeral, holding him up with the sheer force of her will and all of the muscle she had in her one-hundred-and-forty-pound body.
“Have you seen him?” his mother asked after a moment of silence.
“For about two minutes today. It was short.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jack.”
“And Sofia—what does she want?” she asked warily.
“Nothing that I know of,” he replied. “She just felt obliged to let me know, I guess.”
“After nine years?” she snapped. “She waited nine whole years to let you know that you have a son, and you think she doesn’t want anything? Mark my words, she wants money.”
“If he’s my son, I’ll support him,” Ben replied. “I have no problem with that.”
“What about her—is she married?” his mother pressed.
“No, she’s single, and before you start worrying, I don’t think she has any interest in me. In fact, she seems to think I’m no better than I was at seventeen.”
“You were a good kid.” His mother frowned.
“I got into a lot of trouble, Mom.”
“But you had a good heart,” his mother argued. Hearts were weighed differently than behavior, in her estimation of things.
“Of gold.” He could hear the bitterness in his own tone.
His mother had always believed that he was an innocent lamb, regardless of his suspension from school multiple times and a few serious warnings from the local police. Ben had been angry back then, and while he’d loved Sofia heart and soul, he wouldn’t have made a good husband or father. He could see that, and the most painful part of all of this was that he couldn’t entirely blame Sofia for making the choice that she did, even though that choice hurt him. A mother might love you no matter what you did, but a wife or a girlfriend—those were different rules to play by. And like Sofia had said, sometimes a woman just had a limit. Could he really blame her for drawing a line?
“At least Lisa didn’t know about all of this,” his mother said, her chin quivering at the memory, and he felt that old stab of guilt.
“No, Lisa should have known.”
“Just to hurt her?” his mother countered. “I think, for her, not knowing was kinder.”
“She could have made a more informed decision before marrying me,” he muttered.
