Tank straddled his bike and grabbed his bandana out of the saddlebag. As much as he didn’t want to leave Annie, helping an abused child was important, too. This was what he moved to Black Widow to do.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” He tied the Batman symbol around his head. “I know JoJo doesn’t come off as the friendliest, but deep down, she seems good.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be fine.” Annie offered him a small smile and shrugged her shoulder—the bare shoulder that he so desperately wanted to kiss—as she stood beside him.

Mercy. He placed his hands on his handles and squeezed. Hard.

“Besides, I’ve got my guard dog right here.” She patted Al on the top of his head.

His dog had his tongue sticking out and his eyes rolling to the back of his head from her affection. Tank couldn’t blame the pup. His eyes would probably roll to the back of his head from her affection, too.

“I think JoJo is a good person to have on my side,” she added, breaking his thoughts.

While his Guardian friend was doing him a favor sitting with Annie, he still wanted to be the man for the job. The tension in his hands shot through his body. “Listen, Annie, I won’t be long, okay? I’ll bring us back some lunch, and we can talk some more.”

She nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Your keys are on the counter top if you decide you want to leave. I don’t want to make you feel trapped or stranded, but please, Annie…” He stared at the mouth he longed to kiss and brought his voice to a whisper. “Please, don’t leave. At least until we can make sure you are safe.”

He saw the rise of her chest and the twinkle in her eye.

“I won’t.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief. She would stay, at least until he got back.

The rumble of motorcycles broke the moment. She shifted her gaze toward the other two men and took a step back.

“You ready, son?” Father yelled over the noise.

Boy, does this man have shitty timing.

“Yeah,” he yelled back and cranked his ignition. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s go.” The leader pointed toward the road and zoomed ahead, Steele following close behind.

Tank glanced back at the house where JoJo waited inside.

“You should go,” Annie said. “They’re leaving you.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I should.” Turning his head, he spotted the two men waiting at the end of his drive. Something, according to Steele, they didn’t do.

He glanced back at Beauty and held out his hand. “Do you trust me?”

She watched him, hesitant. The frightened woman from last night showed herself again. Of course she didn’t trust him. He began to pull his hand back, when she reached out and grasped it. The tingling flew through his arm.

“I do.” She squeezed his fingers, and the movement shot to his heart.

“Good.” Gently, he embraced her hand, and dropped it before he pulled her closer. He wanted to kiss her, show her what a real man felt like, but not now. Not yet. It was too soon, for both of them. The moment in the kitchen they shared…poor judgment on his part. She needed time.

He reached for his helmet, tossed it on, and sped down his drive, putting space between them before he changed his mind about kissing her. The faster he did his duty for the day, the faster he could get back to her.

* * *

Tank followed Father and Steele up a cracked sidewalk. A pot of red flowers hung by a rafter from the top of the porch. The screen door had a hole in the mesh the size of a baseball.

Kid probably got a beating for that.

Father put a hand out to stop him at the top of the steps. “We always give plenty of space between the door and us. If we stand too close, people, especially women, get turned off. They are less likely to answer if they feel threatened or pressured.”

“Makes sense.”

Tyler took another step down so he and Father were eye level. If he appeared shorter, maybe he wouldn’t look so menacing.

“And take off your bandana. We try to look as gentlemanly as possible when we handle a situation like this.”

Tank did as he was told, and slid the cloth in his front pocket.

Steele opened the screen and racked his knuckles across the wooden door. “I’ll take it,” he said as he stepped back by the stairs.

“Sure.” Father nodded. The man leaned his head closer to Tank and whispered, “Just follow our lead, okay?”

“Got it.”

“And smile for Christ’s sake.”

He flashed Father his teeth, and the man backed up.

“Not a grimace,” he whispered. “I said a smile, damn it.”

He softened his features as a sinking feeling settled in his gut. He could do this. He would help this kid. From the looks of the neighborhood—nice cars in the driveway, middle class homes—it wasn’t a place someone would suspect child abuse. Then again, abuse didn’t discriminate amongst class.

A brunette woman opened the door. She wore a light pink tank top and jeans. The lady was close to the same size and stature as Annie, but the resemblance stopped there. From the woman’s face, she appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. A fresh, purple bruise covered her bicep. Imprint of a thumb. The coloring reminded him of Annie’s swollen eye.

He tightened his fists then immediately loosened them. If the lady would of noticed, he might have frightened her. Instead, he concentrated on smiling.

Don’t grimace. Don’t grimace.

She glanced over the three of them, and straightened her shoulders. “Can I help you, gentleman?”

“Umm…hello, ma’am.” Steele rubbed the back of his neck, his cool demeanor slipping for a second. “My name is Blake Steele.” He held a hand to his chest then pointed to each of them. “And this is Jack Grimes and Tyler Wilde.”

Jack? The fact Father had a real name never occurred to him. He glanced back at the long-haired man. He did kind of look like a Jack. Kind of.

“And you’re Ma…” The fireman cleared his throat. “Mary Franks, right?”

What the hell was wrong with him? Did all women make him stutter?

“Yeah?” She gave him a questioning look.

“We’re with a group called The Blue Guardians. Have you ever heard of us or seen us around town?”

Mary glanced over Steele and Father’s vests. “Yeah, I’ve seen a few of you guys around, but a nurse at the hospital this morning told me about you. Said you guys could be trusted, and I could go to you for help. She also mentioned you guys even visit kids in the hospital sometimes.”

“Yes, ma’am. If we get enough notice and have permission, we do.” Steele seemed to have found his regular voice again. “Our group’s mission is to help protect women and children who’ve been abused. We got word from one of our members yesterday that your son has been hurt, and someone from the hospital called Jack this morning stating the same thing. We just came to see if we could offer any help.”

“Yeah?” Mary let out a sigh. “Well, we sure could have used your help last night.” She pushed the screen door open wider. “Would you men like a glass of sun tea?”

“That’d be nice, ma’am. Thank you.” Steele gave her a side smile.

Tank imagined that smile came in handy for the firefighter every once in a while.

He followed the Guardians into the living room. A little boy, about seven or eight, sat on the couch, hugging his teddy bear, his stare glued to some animated cartoon on television. The child didn’t bother giving them a glance.

Nathaniel.

For a moment, Tank saw himself sitting there.

Yes, he could help this little boy.

“You men can have a seat at the table.” Mary pointed into the small kitchen area to her right. She walked ahead of them and grabbed three glasses out of the cupboard.

Tank followed the guys, all the while trying to catch another glance at the boy.

“He won’t talk to you,” the mother said. “He’s scared.”

“Where is the father now?” he asked.

“Jail.” Mary dumped ice into the three glasses. “We had another altercation last night. I didn’t know he was abusing Nathanial. I swear I didn’t.” She stopped putting ice into the glass and gripped the counter tops. Her knuckles matched his moments before.

He ached for Mary, and a part of him wished his mother were here to console her. No one could offer advice to a mother better than another mother.

Steele rushed to the woman’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. We’re here to protect you. Both of you.”

She glanced at Steele, then him and Father, and nodded her head. She wiped a tear away, and took in a deep breath. When she went to reach for the pitcher on the windowsill, her hands shook so much she nearly dropped the jug.

“Let me do that.” Steele reached for the tea and poured the three glasses.

“Thanks.” The nervous woman leaned back against the counter. “Craig, he’s hit me some, but I swear I had no idea he did it to Nathanial until this past week,” her voice wavered, and she glanced into the living room to see if her son could hear their conversation. “Sure, Nat would have a bruise here and there, but he’s a boy. I just thought he was doing what boys do, ya know? Being a kid, getting dirty, that sort of thing. It wasn’t until he tossed the baseball through the screen door that I realized Craig’s anger didn’t stop or even start with me.”

“Start?” Father asked before he sat.

Tyler followed the man’s lead.

Mary glanced back into the living room. “Nathaniel is my stepson. His mother died during childbirth. I’ve raised him since he was four.”

Perhaps that’s why she didn’t know he was being abused. She wasn’t the child’s real mother, but the notion didn’t set well with him. Even the best actress in the world couldn’t fake the care and concern this woman seemed to show for her son.

“When was the baseball accident?” he asked.

“Last week.” Mary turned to look out the window. “Nathanial’s a good kid. He didn’t deserve to be hit like that.”

“No one deserves to be abused, Mary,” Father said in a low voice.

Her shoulders relaxed at his tone. No wonder the man was the leader; he probably learned to talk like that in school.

“Maybe so, but especially not Nathaniel. He’s not my blood child, but he’s my boy, and that’s all he was doing. Being a boy. He and a neighborhood kid were playing catch. The other kid didn’t catch the ball, and off it sailed through the screen and into the living room.” Her grip remained firm on the countertop’s edge.

“Craig popped Nathanial so hard across the face, it’s no wonder he didn’t pass out. I picked up the phone to call the police, but Craig knocked the phone out of my hand and stormed out. He disappeared for a few nights. He’d never been gone so long before. I thought maybe something happened to him.”

“Did you ever call the police about him missing?” Tank took the tea glass Steele offered.

“No.” Mary glanced at him and shook her head. “Is it mean to say I hoped something bad had happened to him? If the police looked for him and found him, well then, they would send him right back home. I didn’t want him here.”

“But since something happened again last night, I’m guessing he came back, right?” Father asked.

“Yeah. Things got pretty bad.” The mother stopped and took in another breath.

“Take your time,” Steele suggested. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “No, I want to.”

“Here, have a seat.” The firefighter crossed the kitchen and pulled out a chair for her. She followed and sat down.

“While Craig was away, I had some time to talk to Nathaniel. He’d been extra quiet lately. He’s seven. I thought maybe it was just a difficult time for him, being between the little boy stage and big boy. He’s starting to get homework from school, so I thought maybe he was just tired. But after asking him a few questions, I realized all the times Nathaniel would clam up and not talk were times after Craig had hit him. I was always at work or out grocery shopping whenever it happened.”

Typical abuser. They hurt someone a fraction of their size to make them feel in control, dominate, important. He gripped his tea glass tighter. If this Craig man had been home, he would have chunked it at the man’s head. Then again, that wouldn’t make him any better than Craig. And he would never be an abuser.

Mary continued, “I asked Nat why he never told me, and he said it was because he was scared if he told, Craig would hit him or me more. I didn’t know he knew Craig hit me. He always did it in private, and I tried to hide the bruises. I didn’t want Nathanial to know.” Her pained gaze turned to her arm. “Turns out, I wasn’t doing a very good job of disguising my problems. Today, I guess I didn’t see much of a point.” She sighed and fought back another tear. “Can you imagine? Your seven-year old not coming to you because he was worried of being hit more? No child should have to go through that. I know he’s not mine, but I would give anything for him. I suppose that’s why I didn’t know Craig abused Nathaniel. I’m not his real mother. I don’t have that mother’s intuition everyone always talks about.”

Steele grabbed a paper towel off the counter and handed it to her. “I’m sure that’s not true, Mary. I’m sure you’re a great mother.”

“I agree,” Tank said, echoing Steele. His thoughts had been accurate. This woman was no fake. She loved the little boy sitting on the sofa.

“Thanks. A month ago, I might have agreed with you. Now, I’m not so sure.” She dabbed her eyes.

His heart broke more for her. He imagined at one time his own mother had some of the same mixed emotions this woman faced now.

When Mary stopped crying, he pried more. “What happened last night?”

“Craig came back all apologetic. Said he would never do it again. Even tried to apologize to Nathaniel, but Nat didn’t care. That little boy in there”—she pointed into the living room—“that boy who’s always been so full of love, looked at his father with sheer hate. I can’t blame him. I hate Craig, too, but he’s not my father. No boy should hate his father.”

He glanced back at the kid, the bear still tight to his chest. At least this little man would never have to suffer again.

“Anyway, I told Craig I had talked to a lawyer, and I was in the process of filing for a divorce, as well as seeking custody of Nathaniel. He went ballistic. Started throwing things, threatening to kill me. Nathaniel got scared and ran to our neighbors’. They called the cops. Craig’s in jail today. My only hope is he stays there, and Nat stays with me. Forever.”

“Since your husband is in jail, and the counselor from the hospital called, then I can assume you had to talk to the police. It’s how protocol goes,” Father explained.

“Yes, so did Nathaniel. Well, as much as the counselor could coax out of him to tell the police at least. We just got home not too long ago from the hospital. Craig’s going to trial. I hope the bastard gets a long time in prison, and loses his rights to Nathaniel.”

“So do I, Mary,” Tank said. Blood or not, love couldn’t be hidden. And just because Craig was Nathaniel’s biological father didn’t mean he was a real father. There had to be someone better out there for this little boy.

“Mary, we’ll help you as much as we can. We want you to know that.” Steele sat next to her at the dining table.

“We can position men outside your door twenty-four seven,” Father informed her. “But seeing as how Craig still has full custody of Nathaniel, we can’t relocate you guys. That would be considered kidnapping. Another downside is if Craig gets out of jail on bond, then we wouldn’t be able to stand guard either. Since this is his house, he would say we were trespassing.”

“I appreciate your help.” Mary reached out and patted Father’s hand. “But there is no need to worry. The judge took away any chance of bail. Something about him being a threat to possible witnesses. Which is true, and the only person harming us was Craig. As long as he is locked away, then we’re okay.”

“If there is anything we can do, let us know, okay?” Father asked.

“Sure. My parents are wiring me the money for a divorce. If all goes as planned, I’ll be moving to a place a little smaller, a little cheaper. If you guys want to lift some boxes, well, I suppose when I do move, I could use your help.”

“That’s a promise,” Father said.

“Ma’am.” Tank glanced back at the boy. “I know you said Nathaniel doesn’t talk much after the incidents, but if it’s okay with you, I’d like to try.”

The woman gave him a dubious look. “By all means, but don’t be too disappointed if you can’t get through to him. The counselor barely got ten words out of him all morning.”

He stood. “Thank you.”

Father placed a hand on his arm and raised an eyebrow. “You sure about this?”

“Trust me, Counselor.” Tank slapped the man on the arm.

“I’ll introduce you.” Mary stood and escorted him to the living room. She sat next to her son and rubbed a hand through his hair. “Hey, Nat, baby, these men are here to talk to you. This is Tyler. He’s nice.”

“I don’t want to talk.” Nathaniel sulked and sunk lower into the sofa.

“I know, baby. Why don’t you just listen, okay?”

The kid looked up at his stepmom and nodded. A bruise covered his cheek and grazed his hairline. Tank’s chest tightened.

“Thanks, sweetie.” Mary kissed her son on the head and stood. “I’ll go back to the kitchen with the other two men. I’ll just be right there, honey.” The mom pointed to the kitchen table. She gave Tank a side-glance and ambled back toward Steele and Father.

When she was out of earshot, Tank took a slow step closer. “Hey, Nathanial,” he said, keeping his voice gentle and low. He didn’t want to scare the kid before he really began. “May I sit here?” He pointed to the recliner next to the couch.

Nathaniel kept his head low, but gave the chair a side-glance and yielded the briefest head nod. Carefully, Tank sat.

A picture of the boy and a man sat on the sofa table.

“Is this your dad?” He pointed to the picture.

The kid glanced over and pouted his lower lip. “I don’t have a dad anymore.”

The pain of losing a father ran deep inside of him. He swallowed the anger and sadness and focused on the kid.

“I hear you like to play baseball. Is that true?” Tank asked, changing the subject.

The boy stared at the floor and gave a shoulder shrug.

“Yeah, I like baseball okay, but my favorite sport is football.” He leaned in and whispered, “Can I tell you a secret, Nathaniel?”

The boy cut his glare back to him.

Tank took that as his cue to continue. “See, I’m from Louisiana, so I’m a Saints fan myself. I’ve only lived in Black Widow a couple of weeks, but since we are so close to Houston, I see lots of Texans gear. I like it here in Black Widow, but if I tell those guys in the kitchen I’m a Saints fan, they may not let me stay in their group. Don’t tell them, okay?” He pointed to the men in the kitchen.

The boy looked him straight in the eye. “Okay.”

“You promise?”

The kid nodded.

“Whew.” He grabbed his bandana out of his pocket and swooped the rag over his forehead. “Good. Glad to get that off my chest.”

Nathaniel stared at the cloth. “What’s that?”

“This?” He unfolded his bandana and held it up so Nathaniel could see. “It’s my Batman. I take him everywhere I go.”

“Why?”

“He helps remind me of what I’ve gone through.” He stared at the logo. “And it helps me not be so scared anymore. When I was a boy, I had a bad father, too.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I did. He used to give me some bruises, kinda like that one on your cheek.”

Nathaniel ducked his head and whispered, “How did you fight him?”

“I didn’t. I was too scared. My mom tried to protect me just like yours did.”

“Mary’s not my real mom. I don’t have a real mom or a dad anymore.” Nat glanced down at his bear.

Nathaniel felt orphaned…at seven. Another experience no child should go through.

“Mary loves you. She wants to be your real mom, and she wants to make sure you never get hurt again.”

“Is that what your mom did? Make sure you never got hurt again?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “She did, or at least she tried real hard to make sure I never did, and my dad went away to a place where he couldn’t hurt me anymore.”

“Prison?”

How does a seven year-old know about prison? As much as it pained him that the kid had a rough start, he wouldn’t lie to him. “Yeah, my dad went to prison.”

“I hope my dad goes there.”

“Me, too, son.” He wrung his bandana in his hands. “My dad, he made me feel real bad about myself for a long time. Then, one day, I decided I never wanted to feel like that again, and I wouldn’t allow him to have that control over me.”

“What did you do?”

“I began to lift weights. I grew big and strong, and I swore to myself I’d never be hurt again.” Tank wrapped his bandana around his head.

“Why do you wear it on your head like that?

“Not only is this a reminder.” He pointed to the kerchief. “But it’s also my head gear. When I ride my motorcycle, I like to have something to hold my hair in place.” He tapped the top of his head. “I don’t want it to get messed up. You know, I gotta impress the ladies.” Not like his short hair could really get mussed, but Nat seemed to like his reasoning.

“You have a bike?” The kid’s eyes widened innocent and pure.

God, he prayed there was still some innocence left in this child.

“Yep. Sure do. In fact, we all do. You want to go see them?”

Nathaniel nodded as a slight smile touched his lips.

Tank’s stomach flipped. As anxious as he had felt to get back to Annie, being here, doing this with Nathaniel had been the right choice. He’d helped this kid smile.

“Okay.” He clapped his hands and stood. “Great. Let’s go. Hey, guys,” he called to the team in the kitchen. “Nat, here, wants to go see our bikes.”

“Hot dog,” Father said. “Let’s go. I’ve got the best one out there.”

“Yeah, for an old man,” Steele joked.

He heard Nathaniel let out a small giggle. The guys must have, too, because their bantering continued.

“Hey, don’t knock Harley. She’s my baby.” The leader poked a finger into the firefighter’s shoulder.

Swatting the old man’s hand away, Steele said, “Harley? That’s what you named your bike? How original.”

“Hey, I have my reasons.” Father placed his hands in his back pockets.

“Sure you do.” Steele nodded.

Tank leaned down and whispered to Nathaniel. “These guys are crazy.” He was rewarded with a huge smile.

Steele bent down on one knee in front of the boy. “Nat, you want to see a real bike, you’ve got to see mine.” The man pointed to his own chest.

“Dude, that granny ride? No way. I’ve got the real, deal,” Tank said.

“That little baby machine. Please,” Father ribbed.

Nathaniel let out another round of giggles. “I have an idea,” Tank interjected. “Let’s let Nathaniel decide. What do you say, Mary?”

“I think that sounds like a winner.” The mother smiled at her son then pulled him tight to her body. Nathaniel squeezed his stepmother back then shot out the front door. Mary glanced up at him. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “No problem, ma’am. Just doing my job.”

“Well, you’re wonderful at it.” She wiped a fresh tear from her eye.

His chest swelled more as he followed everyone out the door. He really could do this.

All three of the bikes stood on the curb in front of the house. He trotted down the steps and opened his arms like a game show host. “Okay, Nathaniel, which ride do you like the best?”

The boy’s eyes grew wide as he took slow steps and walked around the three bikes, examining them each carefully. He held his hand out then pulled it back quickly, like the flames on Steele’s chopper might actually burn him.

“It’s okay,” Father said. “You can touch them.”

Nate lifted his hand and rubbed an open palm down the body of Steele’s bike, then he lifted one arm to reach for the ape hanger.

“You like it, man?” Steele stepped beside the kid. “This one’s mine. Fire engine red just like a fire truck.”

“You like fire trucks?”

Tank saw the glint in Steele’s eyes change for a brief second at Nathaniel’s question, then his eyes turned back up to match his smile. If Tank hadn’t of been looking at the firefighter, he would have missed the changing facial expression.

“I sure do, son. I’m a firefighter.”

“Cool!”

Tank reverted his gaze back to Nathaniel. The boy’s eyes got big again, and his heart split a little. The kid found a new hero.

“Whose is this one?” The boy pointed to his bike, and his heart gave another little jolt.

“That’s mine.” Tank straddled the metal frame.

“It’s gray, like his hair.” Nathanial pointed to Father’s head.

The leader let out a bark of laughter. “Kid, you’re funny.”

“My bike is not gray,” he corrected. “It’s gunmetal, but you’re right.” Tank tapped the kid on the arm and smiled. “Jack’s hair is gray.”

“Can I go for a ride?” Nathaniel hugged his bear tighter.

“Nat, baby.” Mary scooted closer. “I don’t think these gentleman have time—”

“No, it’s okay.” Father reached into his saddlebag. “We brought a helmet just for him.”

“Oh, can I go, Mom. Please?” The kid bounced on his toes, a full-blown smile showing on his face.

“I don’t know, Nat, honey. You’ve never been on a motorcycle and—”

“I’ve only wrecked twice, ma’am.” Tank mocked seriousness.

Steele sucked back a snicker.

“In all honesty, we did a background check on this one.” Father slapped his shoulder. “His driving record is clean, and so is Blake’s and my own. We’ll be very cautious.”

“Oh, okay, but just for a little bit and just around the block.” Mary pointed a finger at the men.

“Yeah!” Nathaniel tossed his teddy to his mom and grabbed the helmet. Father strapped it on for him.

“I like your enthusiasm kid, but first things first. You have to have a biker name. Mine’s Father.” Jack pointed to himself then hooked a finger at him. “This is Tank, and that’s Steele, and you’re…” He glanced the child over then stared back at the kid’s teddy bear. “You’re Bear. Now, Bear, who do you want to ride with? Steele doesn’t have an extra seat, so it’s either me or Tank.”

Nathaniel shot a quick finger toward him, and another ounce of pride filled Tank’s chest.

“Tank it is. Hop on kid. Let’s go.”

“I’ll stay back with Mary, if that’s okay with you?” Steele asked the mom.

“Sure,” the woman said all too quickly.

“Well, then, let’s ride, boys.” Father saddled his bike and revved his engine.

“This is so cool,” Bear squealed.

“Yep.” Tank placed the kid on the bike’s seat in front of him and barricaded the boy with his arms. “Hold on, Bear. This’ll be fun.”

The boy giggled all the way down the street.