Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Social workers, obviously. Foster kids don’t take the weekend off, FYI,” Georgia said dryly.
I waved a dismissive hand. “That’s not what I meant, you little shit.”
God, it was like the last eight years hadn’t even happened.
We were fighting and sparring just as we’d done eight years ago.
As if all those horrible things in her life, and mine, never even happened.
“Alright, let me drop these by the chief’s office, and then we can go,” I said, gathering up the large stack.
She nodded and fell into step beside me.
I closed and locked the door, and she followed behind me sedately, taking in the still busy bull pen.
“Why is it so busy?” She asked.
I put the reports in the Chief’s box and led her outside to my truck.
Opening the passenger side door for her, she hopped in, and I couldn’t help staring at her sexy, toned ass in her skin tight leggings.
It looked fucking amazing.
“Crime doesn’t just stop at night, you know,” I said mockingly.
She stuck her foot out and pushed me back with her foot firmly planted in my gut, then slammed the door.
I chuckled and walked around the front of the truck to my side, and hauled myself in, starting it up.
“I’m in love with you truck,” she purred as the new diesel motor purred. “I want to ride in it forever.”
I looked at her, and with as straight of a voice as I could muster, I said, “This big boy would allow you to ride him forever.”
She burst out laughing.
I was serious, though.
However, I wasn’t talking about my truck.
Chapter 6
Alphas. Because who likes making your own decisions anyway?
-Georgia’s inner thoughts.
Georgia
“Can you give me a little more info on this little girl’s case?” I asked Mary, the woman who was going over all my new cases with me.
I’d started my new job, on a Wednesday no less, and I was getting the info on one of the children that would be under my supervision in the immediate future.
I currently work for a non-profit agency that provides a multitude of services throughout the state of Texas. Full Hearts Adoption Services, FHAS, had several child emergency shelters for children who need a place to stay.
There were also after school programs, I’d learned only moments before, for the youth of the community to have a safe place to stay if they needed it.
In addition, there were services provided for pregnant women who were thinking about giving their children up for adoption as well.
Mary nodded and flipped her file open that she had on the four month old infant.
“No family. Grandfather is in prison for money laundering. No other living relatives. Mother died four months ago. This one is a really high profile case, because it was one of the local police officers that was forced to shoot the mother. The officer involved performed life preserving maneuvers on the mother until the ambulance arrived. The baby was delivered via emergency C-section in Good Shepherd ER,” Mary confided.
My eyes widened. “Wow, that’s a tough one. Who was the officer?”
The question was an idle one, one that I was just curious about. But the next words out of Mary’s mouth froze me in my tracks.
“Officer Nicolas Pena. He’s a SWAT officer with Kilgore Police Department,” Mary said, flipping through the pages in her folder.
She didn’t notice when I froze, and by the time she looked up again, I’d composed my shocked features into a cool mask of indifference.
Holy shit, Nico had shot someone! A pregnant woman at that? Double holy shit!
“They’re calling her Angel. Angel’s being funded, however, and we’re fairly positive it’s related to the case somehow, but we’re not ones to deny help when it’s given. Angel’s currently at her foster mother’s place inside the city limits. She has four other children, two of which are also fosters,” Mary continued.
I started taking notes again, my mind still reeling.
I’d heard the rumors around town about the pregnant woman killed by a cop, but never in a million years would I have suspected that it’d be Nico.
The catholic man who went to church every Sunday and loved kids with a fierceness that bordered on overprotectiveness. The man that did everything within his power to defend human life.
He had to be torn up inside.
“Do I need to do a drop-in with that family?” I asked, trying to divert my attention away from Nico.
My primary responsibility with FHAS would be to find homes for any and all children in the FHAS child directory. Initially, I’d find them a foster home. Then I’d find them permanent homes through adoption.
The children under my care, as of right now, were already placed in their foster homes, so it was now my job to find them their permanent homes. The homes where they’d be truly loved for the rest of their lives like they deserved.
“I’d suggest it. Go introduce yourself to all of them. At least that’s what I would do if I were you.” She nodded, standing.
“Okay, anything else I need to know?” I asked.
She shook her head, and then seemed to hesitate. “These are the children that have been here the longest. The ones that have the least hope of finding a home, besides Angel. I hope you can find them homes. I really do.”
I smiled sadly at Mary.
“I’ll do my best, Mary. Thank you,” I whispered.
That I would try to do. I knew on firsthand account what the label of ‘foster kid’ could do to a child. My brothers had been scared to death after the death of my parents. I’d tried my hardest to keep a positive outlook for them, and none of that would’ve been possible if it wasn’t for the social worker assigned to their case.
Mya Minoa was truly my hero.
Speaking of the devil, Mya walked in with a large smile on her face bearing lunch in her arms.
“Hola, Mary. How are you doing?” Mya asked.
Mya reminded me of Mrs. Pena. In fact, there was a lot about the two that were similar, even their facial features.
That must’ve been why she was able to get into my circle of trust so easily after our ordeal. If it hadn’t been for that, she wouldn’t have stood a chance. Not to my distrusting eighteen year old self.