Page 7 of Small Town Secrets

“I tried to warn you. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged and ticked one corner of her lip higher, exuding and an attitude of, “sucks to be you.” Damned if she let this stranger judge her or her child. “It’s time for me and my daughter to move on.”

Four

Adrian stood dumbfounded, while Laila powered away, auburn curls bouncing behind her and fingers clasped around her little girl’s hand. Until now, he’d had no idea she had a child, and he didn’t know how he felt about that.

Hell, forget about the kid. Is she even single?

In his mere twenty-four hours as her neighbor, he hadn’t seen any man enter her house. Nor did one seem to be around now. So, maybe he wasn’t so off-target there. But the child? With Laila’s age, he’d assumed… Well, he’d assumed wrong.

He shook his head and used the slow search for his seat at the outdoor wedding area to clear his thoughts. Since his friendship with Dean was common knowledge, he’d start his seat-searching there, his hunch quickly proving correct.

He paused before his chair marked out with his name on a floral card at the table, his focus shifting from the empty seat to his left, and then farther along to a blonde woman he didn’t recognize. She wore a long, pale green dress, and had bright blue eyes. Despite her shorter and lighter hair, her features seemed strongly reminiscent of Laila. In a small town such as Harlow, perhaps it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume the two were related. A sister. Cousin, maybe?

Just as he settled into his chair and vowed to move on, Laila strode over, defying any expectation she might claim the empty seat beside him and taking the one opposite the blonde. Her daughter was nowhere to be seen, likely back inside dancing with the other kids.

Despite a strong awareness of her presence and the mild tugging in his chest, he made quick with adjusting his position so that his back stayed to her. Meanwhile, a series of low murmurs delivered snippets of the two women’s conversation. Something about how they’d visited this site as children. With their dad. So, definitely sisters.

Now the chatter livened and moved to how the empty seat next to him was marked for Chip Overton, the blonde’s ex, and a name Adrian recalled as the focus of the syndicate’s last attack on Harlow. The escalating violence, on top of Dean and Sarah’s past ordeal, had pushed Adrian to take up temporary residence in this town.

He caught the blonde’s name, Ally—no doubt the same Ally held hostage in the syndicate’s recent trap—before he vowed to stop eavesdropping and turned his mind to the glass of wine before him.

Laila’s attempts to hide her fatigue yesterday made a lot more sense now. The longer he thought, the more pieces fit together. The late shift she’d returned from. The backpack and books piled on the kitchen table, too big for any little girl no more than four years old. And while Laila and Ally had talked about Chip, there’d been no sign or mention of Laila having a partner.

Then there was her avoidance of being asked out, similar to the same, justified, defenses he’d witnessed as a child from his own mother. A denial of her more human vulnerabilities and needs. As if she could do it all and never require a break. Perhaps like his mother, there was a history of men who bailed whenever the realities of dating a single mom got too much. Though none of that was quite as painful as losing the one man with the most incentive to stay. The child’s father.

He was also making another huge assumption about why this woman might be single. Perhaps Laila here was a grieving widow. He’d encountered a fair few of those in his years serving. Perhaps she’d never be okay with dating again. With all the uncertainty attached to his job, maybe he’d be best to keep his distance too.

Time to remember why I’m here.

He’d come to this town to help his friend, Dean, and the woman he loved, Sarah—Dean having saved Adrian’s ass a number of times in their years serving together overseas. He’d come here to continue his life’s work of protecting the vulnerable. To provide extra muscle and the benefit of his contacts and experience in organized crime.

And even as he tried to keep his mind on this mission, Laila too seemed linked to his cause. The gravity of a woman raising a kid alone in a troubled town. What this whole syndicate thing must be to a woman like her, her own sister having already been kidnapped and still a likely target.

He sighed and drew his wine glass closer, aware that Laila didn’t seem to be the type to appreciate sympathy or offers of protection. And as much as she probably wouldn’t want either of those things, he also didn’t need any distraction, nor was it in any woman or child’s best interest to be linked to him.

Only knuckleheads get attached.

I could never forgive myself if they became a target.

He couldn’t make any wrong moves here. He’d have to go slow. Get a better read on this situation. And then maybe retire from the whole “protector” gig forever…

He scoffed into his wine glass and took his first sip, his idea on retiring not bad after all. Even if he did mostly trust his contacts, people under pressure were known to turn. He’d been lucky up until now, maybe too damn lucky. So perhaps he would stop testing his chances and dip out when all this syndicate business ended.

A small voice had him turning back to Laila. Her little girl had approached the table and now tugged at her mother’s arm. Once again, she wanted mom back on the dance floor. Laila resisted for a while longer, her focus clinging to her sister as though she held to the last dregs of adult conversation, before she gave in and followed her child.

His attention lingered on her back and his mind wandered to the responsibility and sacrifice someone in her position took on. That thought only held until his gaze dipped to Ally and the scrutiny in her eyes. She’d noticed his staring and clearly had opinions on the matter.

Despite his muscles stiffening at being caught, he raised a brow and challenged her to voice a problem with his interest in her sister. All Ally did was chuckle and shake her head, a pensive expression taking over as she stood. As much as she seemed to want to leave, a man stopped before her, his intense stare spurring Adrian to believe this was the infamous Chip.

Wanting to give these two some space, he found his feet and followed his instincts to Laila on the dance floor. The shock of her having a child had ebbed and he now considered himself capable of talking to her about it.

But he failed to enter the dance floor and instead watched her spin circles with her daughter in her arms. She lifted the child high and kissed her round cheeks, mother and child’s laughter rippling out like a gentle wave over his reservations. In spite of having every reason to give this woman her space, a smile out powered his doubts and before he knew it, he pushed his way through the small crowd.

An older woman stepped in his way, her brows and lips set in a firm line. Her prolonged stare held a softer, more concerned edge, one that told him to wait a moment, before she turned and whispered something into Laila’s ear.

Laila whipped around, her eyes wide and cheeks hollow, as her gaze landed on him. She hadn’t expected him to come back, like she’d assumed having a child would ward him off. And he assumed the woman who’d intervened just now was her mother, which likely only added to Laila’s surprise.

The older woman gave him a small nod while she spoke to Laila again, Laila’s face hardening as she replied and shook her head. Like her mother wanted her to give him a chance, while Laila seemed firmly against the idea.

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