Page 20 of Married to the Enemy

Mia’s pulse fluttered visibly at her throat, betraying nerves she was pretending not to feel. “Yeah, sometimes I go a bit… off the rails when—”

“Confronted with issues when you have no idea how complicated they are?” he cut in, his voice sharp. He had to bite back the urge to soften it. She needed to understand she’d just stepped into waters way over her head. “I have to go get Freddy.”

“I’ll come with you.”

She didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t wait for his agreement. Mia just brushed past him like this was her mission too. His temper spiked—he wanted to haul her back, remind her that this wasn’t a game, that her little courtroom declaration had just painted another bullseye on her back.

He glanced over at the previous foster parents, both of whom were glaring at Mia because she’d taken away a big monthly paycheck from the state.

But then his hand moved before his head caught up. His palm landed firm on her shoulder, pulling her back in line with him.

“We’ll both go get Freddy,” he grumbled, letting authority roll into his tone, letting her feel the steel there.

She gasped softly, and for a split second, her lips twitched like she was fighting a grin. He scowled harder. Was she actually turned on by him ordering her around? Hell, this woman was insane.

Together, they rounded the corner. Freddy’s wheelchair was parked right next to Evangeline’s, and Mia’s grandmother was gripping the boy’s hand like a lifeline. He saw it immediately—Nonna wasn’t going to let him go. She recognized that fear in his eyes because she’d lived it too.

Freddy’s gaze lifted to him, and something twisted deep in Raffe’s gut. The kid looked at him the way a drowning man looked at the only hand reaching into the water.

“You okay?” Raffe asked, crouching down slightly.

“Yeah.” Freddy dropped his gaze, shoulders hunching. “I’m sorry I got caught.”

Raffe had to smother a chuckle. The kid had guts. “You’re sorry you got caught—not that you were stealing?”

The boy’s eyes flicked up again, clear and steady. He shook his head. “No. I’m not sorry about that.”

Before Raffe could respond, Mia cut in, her voice gentle but insistent. “What did you steal?”

He shot her a glare, but the daft woman either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She was focused on Freddy, her soft brown eyes filled with compassion. And damned if the kid didn’t melt a little under her gaze, his rigid shoulders easing.

“Food,” Freddy admitted quietly. “We were all hungry. Me and the other foster kids.” He sighed heavily, shifting uncomfortably in his wheelchair. “We weren’t given dinner because we didn’t finish our chores.”

Mia crouched down so she was eye level with him. Her dark curls tumbled forward, brushing her cheek. Raffe told himself not to look, not to let his gaze dip where it wanted to. But his traitor eyes remembered yesterday in the park, remembered the way she’d walked away from him, and—damn it—there he was, eyeing her ass again like a rookie who couldn’t control himself.

He jerked his eyes away, forcing his gaze upwards, and locked eyes instead with the sharp, knowing gaze of Evangeline Santini.

The older woman’s eyes sparkled. Not frail. And definitely not oblivious. She saw far too much.

Damn it. This whole thing was getting way too complicated.

“We need to get out of here,” he muttered, his tone harsher than he’d intended. But if he didn’t move them now—out of the courthouse hallway, away from the vultures circling—things were going to spin out of control faster than they already had.

Mia nodded briskly. “I agree. And we just happen to have a whole bucket of fried chicken with us.” Then she glanced at Evangeline who still held the greasy napkin. “Okay, most of a bucket of chicken.” Her nonna looked smugly unrepentant. She turned back to Freddy, her smile soft. “If you’re still hungry, how about we grab that chicken while we head home?”

“He’s coming with me,” Raffe cut in, the words harsher than he intended.

Freddy’s grin collapsed, and Raffe cursed himself silently. Great. Kick the damn puppy while you’re at it, Moretti. The kid had been through enough.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Fine,” he muttered at last. “We’ll stop and get some chicken before we head home.”

Mia’s head whipped around, her big brown eyes wide, lips parting as if she couldn’t believe she’d won that easily. “You’re coming to my house, right?”

“No.” He bit the word off. “We’ll go to my apartment.”

Her brows shot up, then she crossed her arms and leaned her weight into the handles of her grandmother’s wheelchair like she was readying herself for battle. “If you come to my place, Freddy will have his own bedroom. We can move one of the beds to the first floor so he won’t have to deal with stairs. And the back door’s nearly level with the yard—easy wheelchair access.” She paused just long enough to deliver the killing blow. “Plus, Nonna can stay home with him while you’re working your full-time job.”

Raffe clenched his teeth at the jab. He heard the emphasis—her not-so-subtle reminder that less than twenty-four hours ago, she thought he was a bum on a park bench. Now, she was throwing his cover back in his face.