The Bigger They Are by LadyExcalibur2010, T - Z
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The Bigger They Are by LadyExcalibur2010
The Bigger They Are
Chapter 1: Here's to You, Mrs. James
I sighed as I slid in behind the wheel of my car. It had been a long week, and
while I didn't have anything specific to look forward to this weekend, it was still
nice to know that I could sleep in if I wanted to. I probably wouldn't, but having
the option was nice – a little luxury. I wondered if I was getting old. I already
knew the answer to that question, and the answer was yes. Still, I couldn't
conjure up too much guilt about enjoying a bit of extra sleep.
Besides, I was still getting used to being stateside again. It was still an odd
feeling not sleeping in a tent or hearing mortar fire at night. I almost…missed it,
as strange as it sounded. It had been familiar after a while, and the peace and
quiet was taking some getting used to.
It was a beautiful North Carolina day, the sun was shining and there was a gentle
breeze cooling things down. Sort of zoning out, I was shocked when I heard
something that was definitely larger than a pebble from the road thwack against
my windshield. I watched the crack splinter across it like a spider web. Shit.
"What the fuck…?' I muttered, looking up at they sky. Nope, still clear and
gorgeous – so it wasn't hail. In the rearview mirror I looked at the overpass and
that's when I saw him.
"That little fucker," I muttered as I took a quick turn onto a service road and
doubled back. "Throw shit at my car, will you?" I had dealt with troublemakers
my entire adult life, and this one had just overstepped his boundaries. Big time.
Payback was a bitch.
To my surprise, the criminal saw me coming and scurried away on a…bicycle? I
grinned. "All the easier to catch…" I said under my breath. "Not so smart, are
you?"
It took less than two minutes to find the area in the brush where the jerk had
tried to find shelter in the woods. That wasn't happening. I had never allowed my
quarry to escape me and I wasn't about to start now. I had broken down doors in
Baghdad; I wasn't concerned about chasing down some punk in the woods of
North Carolina. I jumped out of my car before I could even consider that chasing
after the guy might not be the best idea I had ever had. The odds were that he
wouldn't have an automatic weapon, so I liked my chances.
I could hear the commotion in the woods and hauled ass in that direction. I might
be pushing forty, but I could still run – the military had made damn sure of that.
The bike actually slowed him down in the woods and I took advantage of that
fact. Another minute and I was grabbing the little shit's shirt and whipping him
right the fuck off his bike. He sprawled at my feet and I could only gape at him in
surprise.
The body was big, almost as big as me, but the face… Fuck. This was a kid. He
probably hadn't even turned fifteen yet. Old enough to be a delinquent obviously,
I thought. "What the fuck was that about?" I demanded, angry at him for my
windshield and angry at myself for letting my temper get the best of me.
The kid struggled to his feet, panting and red in the face. I felt a little out of
breath myself but I'll be damned if I was going to show it. I expected him to show
some fear, maybe even a little fucking remorse. I mean, I was in uniform and I
was royally pissed. I'd been known to reduce privates to tears and had once
made a corporal almost pee himself. But this boy just narrowed his blue eyes at
me and spat at the ground.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he hissed. "Maybe you shouldn't fucking
assault strangers!"
The defiance was overdone and he couldn't pull off the innocent act. I put my
hands on my hips and settled my best "You've just fucked up Private and you're
about to reap the consequences" glare. I had years of practice and it was
effective. At least, it had been until now. The kid just blinked at me. "All right
then, why don't we call the cops and they can help us settle this little dispute." I
pulled my cell from my pocket and held it up.
His posture remained stiff and combative for a moment and then I saw the anger
seep out of him. He became a frightened boy then, and I had to fight hard to
maintain my hard ass expression. Never let them see you waver. "No?" I
questioned. "Okay, if you don't like that option, how about we call your parents
instead? Then maybe we can all sit down and work out a way for you to pay for
the damage you did to my car."
He shook his head.
"How old are you?" I asked.
He pressed his lips together and then hissed, "Fourteen." Just as I'd thought. I
sighed. I had seen enough kids just like this one to recognize angry when I saw
it. This kid was pissed off at the world in general and me in particular. Of course,
I was a little pissed off myself.
"Son, you have two choices here…I'm calling the cops or your parents." I gave
him a moment to consider the alternatives. "Which one is it going to be?" I
wiggled the phone. "Your call, kid."
"Call my mom," he muttered under his breath. Okay, so dad was out of the
picture. Figured. When would guys learn that they couldn't make kids and then
walk away? How many times had I seen a young man struggle to reach his
potential when he'd never had a male figure to look up to – to learn from? I
thought of my own father and I realized, yet again, just how lucky I was.
"Her number?" I prompted.
He murmured some digits and I pressed them into the phone. Before I hit send, I
asked, "Her name?'
"It's Mrs. James to you," he snapped. I rolled my eyes at him just to let him know
how unimpressed I was. Stupid little punk…
"Hello?" A soft, husky voice came over the line and I felt a small tingle run down
my spine.
"Uh, Mrs. James?"
"Yes," she replied cautiously. She sounded young, too young to be this
behemoth's mother.
"I'm here with your son…" Shit, I didn't know the kid's name.
I looked at him questioningly and he shot back with "Emmett." His tone was
surly, his expression even more so.
"Uh, with your son Emmett," I repeated. I wasn't going to let this punk kid make
me lose my temper… I wasn't going to let his punk kid-
She heaved a deep sigh. "What did he do this time?" She sounded resigned and
weary.
So, the little punk had a history of doing stupid shit. Figured. Someone needed to
teach him some manners. I wondered if his dad lived close enough to take care of
his responsibilities. Or maybe he just didn't give a shit. Then I realized that I
might be wrong. This was a military town, after all, and his father might be
deployed. I hoped that was the case. Maybe I'd even give his father a little call to
set him straight on what his son was up to. Calling in a military dad was bringing
in the big guns, and usually the moms were more than capable of handling kids
that got out of control. They were used to it. There was no tougher job in the
military than being the spouse – whether it was being the husband or wife. That
was one reason I'd never settled down. I knew how unfair it could be to the one
waiting at home. Still, something needed to be done about this kid. I'd see how
the meeting with mom went before I considered having a little chat with the
father.
"Well, he threw a rock or something off the overpass and cracked my windshield."
I heard kids yelling in the background and she covered the phone for a moment
and spoke quickly. I couldn't tell what she said, but it was obvious she had her
hands full. "Listen, it's not so much the damage, but he could have really hurt
someone-"
"No, no, you're absolutely right to call me," she said quickly. "Uh, listen I can't
leave right now. Is there any way you could bring him home and we'll settle up
the damages?" She paused. "I hate to ask, it's just that-"
"Sure," I agreed, for some reason I was way more eager to see the owner of that
sweet, husky voice than I should have been. We said good-bye and I grabbed the
boy's bike and put in the trunk. "Get in," I ordered. He got in sullenly but that
didn't bother me. "Where to?"
Giving me directions, he tried to put his game face on, but I could see him
swallow hard when we pulled into the driveway of a small but beautifully kept
home with bright yellow shutters. His nervousness was actually a good sign. He
didn't want to make his mother angry, which meant he respected her on some
level. How deep that respect went, and how much control his mother actually had
of him remained to be seen.
The front door crashed open and three more boys came tumbling out. They all
had dark hair, though only the oldest seemed to be sporting the curls. Suddenly I
wondered if his mother had curly hair and if it fell down over her shoulders. Quit
it, I reminded myself. She could be married. In fact, she probably is. And to a
fellow soldier. No one likes a Jody.** Besides, she could look like Medusa. It
might only be her voice that's attractive and then won't you be embarrassed?
Lusting after a honey-voiced Medusa isn't your style, Cullen.
"Ohhhh, Emmett's in trouble!" The youngest crowed. He had to be a little brother.
No one gloated like that unless a sibling was in deep shit.
A boy of about twelve just shook his head as Emmett stepped out of the car. The
youngest one looked to be about eight and was jumping around calling Emmett a
stupid head. He was laughing a lot and pointing. Emmett scowled at him, but I
noticed that the littlest one didn't seem to be worried that Emmett would hit him.
That revealed something about the boys and their upbringing. It was a good sign.
They knew that hitting wasn't tolerated. I was beginning to feel more optimistic.
The fourth boy seemed to be about ten years old and hung back closer to the
house, seeming to wait for something – or maybe someone. I recognize the
protective stance that some boys get when dad isn't in the picture for whatever
reason. He was his mother's guardian, at least as far as he was concerned. The
door opened again and out stepped…
Fuck me…
Well, well…Medusa she ain't.
Chapter 2: On the Mantle
There was no way in hell that the angel making her way toward me could possibly
have given birth to the four boisterous boys that were currently gathered around
my car. The youngest one was pointing to the windshield and I heard him mutter
"…deep shit…" I settled a firm glare on him and he flushed and looked away. I
could tell already that his mother wouldn't tolerate that kind of talk. He shot me a
worried glance and I have him a slight smile to let him know that I'd keep it
between us. This time. He grinned and went back to taunting Emmett. Little
brothers…they were all the same.
I was desperate to do anything to draw my attention away from the beauty who
was scowling at her boys. Were they her boys? Or was she just a ridiculously
attractive friend? I was in so much trouble… My body was reacting in predictable
and inconvenient ways. Suddenly I felt as if I was seventeen again and in Miss
Porter's English class. Damn, that woman had had some fine legs and I'd spent
my senior year hiding the tent I was pitching behind my desk… Not helping.
"Boys," she said softly and all four of them turned toward her. Yep, she was
definitely their mother. The oldest one, Emmett, flushed and shifted nervously on
his feet.
She came to stand in front of me and I was assaulted by the tantalizing hint of
cinnamon and apples. I felt my mouth watering. Apple pie was my favorite
dessert. She smelled of sweet confections and another scent that was uniquely
feminine and hers alone. She held out her hand and I forced myself to take it
without hauling her into my arms and planting a big kiss on her and then grinding
myself against her. Deep shit, I reminded myself, echoing the boy's words.
Women like Mrs. James were strictly off limits, for many, many reasons.
"I'm Bella James," she said quietly in that husky, sexy voice of hers. Bella. It
suited her. She was definitely beautiful. "And I'm terribly sorry about what
happened." She scowled at her oldest son. "I can assure you that full reparations
will be made." Emmett flushed again and stared at his feet. Maybe there was
hope for the boy yet. I had half expected defiance and yelling. Instead there was
nothing but shame and apology in the boy's expression. I began to suspect that
young Emmett's problem with criminal behavior was a recent one. In which case,
something had obviously changed in the boy's life.
But what?
I looked at Bella James more closely and noted the lines of stress, the fatigue in
the dark circles under her eyes that did not seem to belong on her lovely face.
She was beautiful, but…burdened. Yes, that was it. Something had put a heavy
burden on her slender shoulders and I was immediately burning to alleviate her
load.
Pump the brakes there, Cullen. You don't do commitment…or burdens.
Remember? You're free and answer to no one and you intend to stay that way.
Deep shit indeed. For all I knew, she was a married woman. But if she was, then
where was he? And why did I care so much? I had way too much respect for my
brothers in arms to ever be a Jody, no matter how tempting this brunette beauty
was. I needed to get myself squared away and get my shit together. Now.
"Perhaps we should talk inside?" I asked and was rewarded with a lovely blush.
Now I knew where her sons got it. Of course on her it was alluring and sexy.
She gave a jerky nod. "You," she said, pointing to Emmett. "To your room." I
turned to watch him, anticipating some sort of argument, but instead he nodded
and walked quickly into the house. She looked at her other sons. "And none of
you bother him either. He's got some serious thinking to do."
"That could take a while," the youngest one quipped. One of his brothers
snickered but I didn't see which one.
Bella turned back to me and started to speak. There was an interruption.
"But that's my room too!" the second oldest one protested.
His mother quirked one eyebrow at him. "Really, Seth?" The boy's expression fell.
"Is that how you want this to go?"
"No ma'am," he muttered, kicking at the ground.
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