It takes a little over an hour to get to Lola’s mom’s house. I’ve never met the woman. We pull up and park on the street. The grass out front is overgrown, much like all the other houses. Everything in this neighborhood looks unkept. Sean is the first off his bike.
“You want to head in?” he asks as he slides his glasses down his nose and stares at me over the top.
Climbing off my bike, I take in my surroundings. A curtain moves inside the house, and I say, “Someone’s home.”
“I’m going to go around back,” says Cutter. “Holler if you need me.”
I wait until he’s halfway down the side of the house before I walk up the path to knock on the door. Sean stands behind me off to one side, hand behind his back, probably on a gun. He’s nothing if not prepared. I pound on the door with the side of my fist, and the paint falls off, flaking bits of red onto the porch at my feet. There’s a noise inside, could be the television, but it sounds more like muffled voices from at least two people.
The door cracks an inch, showing me a sliver of an older female’s face. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Cartland?”
“Who wants to know?”
I’m not in the mood to fuck around, so I put my hand on the door and push it back. The woman gasps and tries pathetically to keep me from entering. She ends up on her ass on the floor.
“Get the fuck out!” she screams.
Sean walks past me to check the rest of the house. I kick the door shut and stare down at her. She has a meth mouth, bad breath, her blonde hair is thinning and greasy, and judging by her glassy expression, she’s high. Crab-crawling backward away from me, she stops when she hits the wall.
I crouch down and peer her in the eyes. “Are you Mrs. Cartland?” She nods. “I’m Kyle MacKenny, Lola’s boyfriend.” The word ‘boyfriend’ feels foreign in my mouth. We’re so much more than that.
“Why’d you barge in here?”
Ignoring her question, I ask, “Have you seen Lola?”
The woman drops her gaze to my chest and shakes her head.
I stand, lips pursed, and crack my knuckles. “Mrs. Cartland, I don’t believe you. Now, I need you to hear this. Your daughter is mine. No one messes with what’s mine, so I’m going to ask you once more. Have. You. Seen. Lola?”
She shakes her head again and then covers her head with her arms as though she’s waiting for me to strike a blow. It’s disturbing to see a woman so used to being hit. I’ve never hurt a woman, and I’m not about to start now.
“Sean,” I yell.
He comes into the room with a boy of about fifteen. Sean has him by the collar of his shirt and frog-marches him to me.
“Look what I found.”
“Fuck you, you prick!”
Sean hits him up the side of his head, and the kid’s eyes go wild. He thrashes about, and Sean laughs. “Feisty little fucker, aren’t you?”
I glance at Mrs. Cartland, but she’s in the same position.
So I take a step toward the kid. “Who are you?”
“None of your fucking business,” he hisses.
Sighing in frustration, I scrub my hands over my face and stare up at the ceiling. “Let him go.”
“What?”
I level Sean with a stare. “Let him go, and you…” I point to Mrs. Cartland, “… get up.”
Sean lets the little fucker go and pushes him forward.
The kid’s face screws up in a scowl. “What did you do to her?” he demands.
“Nothing,” I reply coldly.
Mrs. Cartland pushes herself up the wall, then wraps her arms around herself.
The kid rushes over and cups her face. “Mom, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“Mom?” Sean and I both state at once.
Cutter walks in from the back of the house. “No one else is here.” He looks bored as he nods to the boy and his mother. “Who are they?”
“The woman is Lola’s mother. And the kid? Apparently, he’s Lola’s brother.”
“No shit?” replies Cutter, genuinely surprised.
“I didn’t know Lola had a younger brother,” says Sean.
“Me, either.” Cocking my head to the side, I stare at them. “Which begs the question, how did we not know? I thought we did a background check on Lola?”
“She needs to sit down,” states the kid as he wraps an arm around the woman and guides her through the house.
I follow them, and he sits his mom at a dining table, then goes and gets her a can of Coke out of the refrigerator.
“Lola didn’t tell you about me?” He sounds almost hurt and avoids looking at anyone but his pathetic mother.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Logan.”
“It’s a good name. Means descendant of the warrior.”
Logan scowls at me. “You made that up.”
I shake my head. “Look it up. How old are you, Logan?”
“Fourteen.”
“Have you seen Lola?”
He shakes his head and glances down at his mother, who gives a slight shake of her head. Logan looks at the floor, he and his junkie mother avoiding all eye contact.
I gesture to Cutter with a chin lift. “Sweep the house.”
“What does that mean?” asks Logan.
Pulling out a chair, I sit opposite his mother. “It means I don’t believe you. Cutter is going to rip this house apart until I find what I’m looking for.” Logan places a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “You know, kid, it doesn’t have to be this way.”
“What way?”
A loud crash sounds in the living room, and he goes running toward it.
I take the opportunity to lean into Mrs. Cartland. Bad breath, sweat, and ammonia hit my senses, but I don’t recoil. “He’s going to find your stash.” Mrs. Cartland stands, and I block her way. “We’re going to take it, and then I’m going to have Sean here, sit with you and watch you go through withdrawal and not let you get another hit.”
“No!”
“Where the fuck is Lola?”
“She’s not here.” She shakes her head from side to side.
Logan comes back into the room, and Sean pushes him back.
“Don’t hurt her. Mom, please tell them.”
I peer over my shoulder. “If you know something, now is the time.”
“David. It was David.”
“You shut your mouth,” yells Mrs. Cartland.
I grab her by the neck and walk her backward until she hits the wall. Then with my face an inch from hers, I hiss, “You tell me what I want to know. Now!”
“Stop it, I’ll tell you.”
With my lips turned down, I push on Mrs. Cartland’s neck and then step back. She makes a choking sound, and then Logan makes an animalistic noise. I turn around to find Sean holding him off with one arm.
“Relax, kid. I didn’t hurt her.” I smirk. “But I will if you don’t give me what I want.”
Cutter appears behind him and gives me wide eyes, knowing full well I won’t hurt a woman.
“Dave was talking shit about Lola a couple of nights ago. They used to date. It’s him you want.”