Wicked Alliance

Excerpt From: Wicked Alliance

Hunter Montgomery knocked on the door before using his key to let himself in. He entered the familiar foyer of his childhood home, closing the door behind him.

"Hunter?" his mother, Alana called.

Hunter headed towards the direction her voice had come from. He frowned, not sure why his mother had called him in the middle of his workday to come by-something she had never done before. He entered the living room and spotted his mother sitting on the couch. He could clearly tell she was crying-her reddened, swollen eyes gave her away. He could count on one hand the times he had seen her cry, each time after a major change in their lives. Hunter approached his mom then sat beside her on the couch, taking one of her hands in his.

His mom always knew when he needed her there, holding his hand. When he was a teenager and his father died-the first major change in their lives-she’d been there. His mother had shed tears then, and he’d felt powerless to help her. She’d gripped his hand and assured him that everything would be okay eventually-it had been. A year later, she’d held his hand again as he admitted he was gay. She’d shed tears then, too, not because of his sexual orientation, but thinking of the adversity she knew he would face. His mother had been fierce in her assertion that no one would make her baby feel anything else but accepted. She was his champion. The next time she’d cried was when he’d told her he was going to become a cop at the Hollisville Police Department, as his dad had been. She’d been proud, yet scared he would be hurt or killed in the line of duty just like his dad. But his mother hadn’t dissuaded him from his course-she’d stood by him, proud he was her son. The last time she’d cried was by his bedside when he had been injured in the line of duty. He hadn’t thought he’d been hurt that badly, but infections and other complications had almost taken his life. His mother’s words, that he was too stubborn to die, had kept him going. And as usual, his mama had been right.

Hunter focused on his mother, squeezing her hand. "Tell me."

"Do you remember when you cleaned out the attic?" Alana asked.

"Yes." Hunter did-it had been a few months ago, when he had been working on a complicated case that had no leads.

"Well, those pieces I had you move to the garage-the ones that used to be in your father’s home office-I contacted an antique store to come by and check them out. I wanted to have them restored for you. I’m going to give them to you as a gift," Alana said.

Although it wasn’t his birthday or any holiday, Hunter already knew why she was giving him such a gift. She’d done the same thing each year around this time, the time she liked to call his second birth. In two weeks, June sixteenth, would be the anniversary of the day he pulled through after he’d been shot. His mother acknowledged the day each year with some kind of gift. With anyone else, Hunter refused to talk about or even think of the day. But with his mother, he did.

Hunter was surprised and pleased she was giving him his dad’s office set. His dad had made all the pieces himself, having learnt as a boy from his father, who was a furniture maker. When Hunter was old enough, his dad had shown him how to do it, too. The last piece of his dad’s office set had been unfinished when he died. Hunter had completed the bookcase and, unused, it had been put away with everything else. Even today, Hunter still used his dad’s old workshop, set up in the garage, to make pieces of furniture, as his place wasn’t big enough for his own workshop. Making furniture relaxed him after the stresses of his job.

"That’s great of you, Mom. But stop stalling and tell me why you’re crying," Hunter said gently.

Alana glanced at him, her eyes swimming with tears. "When I had them come out for the furniture, I asked the nice man who came if he could recommend someone who could handle jewellery and the desk clock. He said he could have all of it restored, so I agreed, and he took everything."

Hunter interrupted. "He stole everything, didn’t he? We need to report it."

"No, no, Hunter. He didn’t," Alana assured.

"Then what happened?" Hunter asked.

"The furniture will be here soon. The jewellery and desk clock were ready, and he was getting them back to the store, but-" Alana paused, wiping at the tears now spilling on her cheeks, then said, "There was a robbery. They stole the entire contents of the truck. The jewellery is gone, and the clock. Your dad’s things," Alana cried.

Hunter realised then that there was a different feel to the hand he held. He turned over his mother’s hand. Her ring finger, which usually held her engagement ring and wedding band, was missing the engagement ring. She’d never removed either, even though his dad had been gone for a long time. The engagement ring was a fourteen-carat gold, in a tri-colour braided weave pattern of white, yellow and rose gold across the ring. The band was gold. Her wedding ring was a Celtic knot band with a diamond in the centre, and attached to the engagement ring at the diamond. His dad had had a matching ring set. There was no diamond in his wedding ring, but it still connected to the engagement ring. His parents had had it specially made.

"Your engagement ring," Hunter said quietly.

Alana nodded. "And your father’s clock."

"I don’t give a damn about the clock," Hunter said.

"Don’t say that. I was going to give it to you along with the office set." His mom gripped his hand.