He didn't need to worry though, just the words “Funk family” brought up a plethora of links. He spent the next few hours poring through news articles, blogs, and Facebook posts. The tragedy was even worse than Amy had hinted at. It seemed, according to the news outlets, that Amy's mother hadn’t cheated. Her husband had spent most of their relationship in a jealous rage. She’d tried to leave him several times and had gone back every time. Until, eventually, he killed her.
Thankfully, there was nothing about the children having had to endure abuse at the hands of their father. That didn't mean it hadn't happened, just that it hadn't been public. Jared wanted to find out. He didn't know why he was suddenly so invested in the Funk family, but something was driving him to discover what he could about Amy and her siblings.
Jared was a sucker for women and children. Especially the damsels-in-distress. He couldn't rest until he knew for sure that his curvy little neighbour was well taken care of. He didn't know what exactly he was going to do if he found her in trouble, but he’d think of something. Nobody should live through what the Funk children lived through and spend the rest of their lives struggling.
Jared sent Amy a Facebook friend request. He wasn’t expecting much, especially since his profile only had a few pictures of cars and bikes. It was probably creepy as hell for a 34-year-old man to send a friend request over social media to a 20-year-old woman, but he felt compelled. He needed to make sure that she was okay.
He grinned when she immediately accepted. He started digging through Amy's Facebook posts.
He wasn’t sure what he was looking for until he realized it was what was missing that was interesting. Amy had little to no social media interaction, which was strange for a girl her age. Her Facebook account hadn’t been touched in years, so far as he could tell. Her last interaction had been on her 18th birthday, which was two weeks before the death of her mother.
He clicked on a picture of Amy, her mom and her siblings. They looked happy. Like a typical family. Not that he knew what a typical family looked like, but he’d seen pictures and spent plenty of time with Jenna, Vince and their kids.
Jared also discovered a lack of extended family in Amy’s posts and pictures. The grandparents on both sides of the family had been long dead before the tragedy. Amy's mom, Alicia, had one sister. According to her social media, the sister lived in New Jersey, the exact opposite side of the country. He supposed she’d chosen not to take them in, an idea that infuriated him.
The more he read, the more determined he became to find out exactly what was going on in the house next door.
He closed the lid to the laptop and set it on the coffee table then picked up his beer, his second for the evening, and took a long swig. It was warm now; he should probably dump it.
He was about to stand and go to his kitchen for food, a frozen lasagna TV dinner, when a quick knock on his front door drew his attention. Jared was a pretty jumpy guy. He and his boss skated the edge of the law. Sometimes working on legit projects, like their construction sites, and other times working in organized crime on other kinds of deals. Having been part of a motorcycle club, Jared and Vince had developed a code between them. A code that dictated their lives. They worked hard, they made money, and they watched each other's backs.
Occasionally, they made enemies. Jared reached under the table by his front entrance, pulled his gun from the holster screwed into the wood and checked that it was ready to go. He held it slightly behind his back and glanced through the peephole. He didn't see anything. This was no comfort, though. Someone could’ve dropped a bomb off on his doorstep. He'd seen enough shady shit in his life to believe it possible.
He jerked the door open quickly and glanced down for a package, intending to slam the door shut again if he saw anything suspicious. What he saw was a pair of brightly painted red toenails and cheap flip-flops. His gaze travelled up a pair of curvy, tanned legs to shorts that were still way too short and landed on the tiny Tweety Bird tattoo still visible between the edge of her shorts and her shirt.
Amy thrust a package toward him, a tinfoil covered pie plate with his sugar container on top. "I brought your sugar back, and there's pie in the tin."
At first, Jared stood frozen, unsure what to do. Gradually, her expression melted from confident to uncertainty. He realized it must've taken courage to come over to her big scary biker neighbour’s house to drop off food. And here he was, being silent and taciturn.
"Thank you, Amy."
He shoved the gun into the back of his jeans and tugged his shirt over it so she wouldn’t see it. He reached out and took hold of her arms, pulling her slowly and gently into the house. The storm door slammed behind her. She jumped, startled, and looked over her shoulder at the door. She was definitely not as calm as she was trying to project. Somehow, this made him feel better. He shouldn't be so disconcerted by a woman barely out of her teens.
"Come inside while I eat." He meant to ask it like a question, but it came across as a command.
Her brow wrinkled and she took a step back. "I… I can't. I need to get back to my sisters.” She gave him a wry look. "If I'm gone too long, they're likely to burn the house down."
It was an offhand comment, one that shouldn't have meant anything, but it annoyed him. Were her siblings trouble? Did they not listen to her? Then he realized he needed to find out more about her. What if one of her siblings had special needs? What if they had mental health problems, which wouldn’t be too surprising given their history. He didn't know why he was suddenly so invested in this family, but he was.
"Right, of course." He let her go, retaining his grip on the containers. Before she could leave, he asked, "Your aunt Judy, the one that lives in New Jersey, why didn't she take you guys… after your parents were gone?"
A shuttered expression fell over her face and she reached for the door, pushing it open and stepping outside. He thought she was going to leave without another word, without answering his question. And to be honest, he deserved it. They barely knew each other before her family tragedy, and he didn't know a damn thing about her now. Except that her body was so smoking hot that it was rocking his world and fucking with his head. It wasn't just her body though. It was her soft, pretty eyes, her sexy voice, her attitude and that stupid little tattoo.
"You Googled me."
Rather than accusing, her voice took on a resigned quality. Obviously, she'd been asked questions like this before. Probably by social services workers, maybe the media.
"Sorry." He tried to sound sorry, though he wasn't. If he had to, he would do it again.
She shrugged. "Don't be sorry. Everyone Googles me when they find out. Aunt Judith has her own life. She wasn't about to give it up and move here and we didn't want to move there."
Jared desperately wanted to ask more, but she walked swiftly away, allowing the door to shut behind her. As soon as her flip-flops touched the edge of his lawn she took off running, racing home as though a demon was chasing her. He didn't want to be her demon though, he wanted to be her knight.
He set the containers down on his kitchen counter and peeled the tinfoil off the pie. A delicious smell wafted up, making his mouth water and his hand automatically reach for the nearest fork. She’d sent over half a pie. A woman who was indifferent wouldn't send over this much pie to the neighbour who let her borrow sugar. At least, he hoped that was true.