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A Stone in the Sea(103)

By:A.L. Jackson


I peeked through to see what had Shea completely frozen.

Two police officers stood behind a middle-aged woman who was dressed in a cheap suit, her dark hair twisted up in a shrewd bun.

My chest squeezed, and over my shoulder, I glanced at Shea, looking for help, for an indication of what the hell was going on, before my own reality slowly pressed in.

In resignation, I shook my head. “Baby, they’re coming for me. I pushed down that asshole at the hospital who was implying we weren’t watching Kallie on the beach. He was tossing around the threat of charges today.”

Should have known those bastards would never let me get away with defending those I cared about.

“Baz, no.” She swallowed hard, like she couldn’t fathom it.

“It’s going to be okay,” I promised.

Reluctantly, I unlocked the door and pulled it open. I stood in the doorframe with arms crossed over my bare chest, almost daring them to come for me, silently calculating how I was going to make that scum’s life a living hell.

The woman in the suit reared back, like I’d taken her by surprise, before she cleared her throat and lifted her chin in authority. “I need to speak with Ms. Bentley, please.

Not for me.

What the fuck?

My hackles rose, apprehension shaking me down, and I slowly turned to look back at where Shea’s hands trembled where she twisted them out in front of her.

Her voice cracked. “I’m Shea Bentley.”

The woman set her hand on the door, as if she were holding it open, keeping us from slamming it in her face.

I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to do exactly that, to run for Shea and wrap her up.

To preserve and defend.

I knew it all the way to my soul.

That was my job now—taking care of Shea, taking care of Kallie.

“I’m Claribel Sanchez with Child Protective Services…”

I felt the bottom drop out of Shea’s world.

It dragged mine right along with it.

Shea took a defensive step back as the woman took one forward. Claribel Sanchez produced the folder she had tucked under her arm. “We have an emergency injunction in the care of your daughter, Kallie Bentley. I’m sorry, but we have to remove her from your care pending further investigation of the incident occurring yesterday.”

“N-n-no,” Shea stuttered over the denial, and she backed up more. Anxiety and desperation scattered through her, defenses turned to full throttle, like she was considering bolting up the stairs and going for her daughter.

I cut in, trying to diffuse the situation. “What is going on here? Kallie was released from the hospital without injuries. She’s in no danger.”

The woman had the grace of appearing sympathetic as she glanced between Shea and me, who looked like she was about to succumb to the worst kind of anxiety attack. “I’m sorry, but that’s for the court to decide. She’ll be removed from her mother’s care until it’s resolved if Ms. Bentley is fit to maintain custody.”

“Please,” Shea cried, stepping forward as if she were going to take hold of the woman, beseeching, imploring, breaking another piece of my heart. “Please don’t do this. My child…she’s my life. I would never willingly allow anything bad to happen to her. That article…they lied…I was in the water with her and a wave knocked her from my hold. Please. Don’t do this.”

Desperation poured from her.

More sympathy from the woman, her eyes traveling around the sanctity and peace of Shea’s house, like she was forming her own judgments and maybe they were contrary to the court’s.

But I knew well enough that none of that mattered.

This woman was simply doing her job.

How the hell could they determine that from gossip rags? Not interview those who were there? This was fucked.

I dug my phone from my back pocket. Kenny was on speed dial. It went right to voicemail.

Fuck, I silently cursed, ending that call and dialing Anthony. He answered on the second ring. “What now, Sebastian? Please tell me you haven’t gone and gotten yourself into more trouble,” he asked, resigned, drained from the day.

“CPS is taking Kallie. Get Kenny and now. I want to know who did this and get this reversed. Immediately.” Hysteria and anger gushed from me in a steady stream of words. “Tell him to get a team together. Whoever is the best. I want them working on this tonight.”

For Shea, I knew even one night was too much.

“Shit,” he hissed. “I’m on it.”

I clicked off the call.

The two police officers stepped inside with the clear intention to dissuade any untoward opposition on my part, prepared for my counter attack.

“No,” Shea begged when the woman began to inch toward her. She stretched her arms across the stairs, a barrier across both railings. “No,” she said again.