Four? It was already four? Nice. I was going to have to get up in four hours to get ready for my day shift at the garage.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling the need to be belligerent but trying to hold it back.
"Hands out of your pockets," they barked at me together.
I jerked my hands free and lifted them to show I didn't have a weapon.
"Why did you need to wake her up and talk to her?" the taller one with more attitude repeated.
Glancing away from him, I ran my hand over my face. "I found some messages from another guy on her Facebook page. And I didn't like what they said."
There. I made it look like a lovers' quarrel. I don't know why I covered for her since she'd been planning to sneak drugs in behind my back. But I didn't want to see her go to jail either.
The ball-buster cop, the one who'd arrested me seven months ago, stepped close to study my face. "I've dealt with you before, haven't I?"
"Yes," I admitted. "For battery and assault."
I had looked up the guy Tristy was seventy percent certain was Julian's biological father because he'd been hitting her, and I'd bashed his face in.
Almost disappointed that I was being so cooperative and not giving them any lip, the men turned away from me, eyeing Tristy.
"Are you sure you're okay, ma'am? Did he hit you or touch you in any malicious way?"
She drew even further into herself.
I sighed and rubbed my forehead, ready to get this shit over with. "Tristy, just let them look you over so they know you're okay."
"No!" she screamed, stomping her foot and glaring at me. "I don't want anyone to fucking look at me. I don't want anyone to fucking touch me. JUST . . . LEAVE . . . ME . . . ALONE."
Down the hall, Julian's muted wail made me hiss a curse. "Now that was loud enough to wake the baby," I told the officers before I started down the hall to fetch him.
The short cop followed me. "Anyone else home?" he asked, glancing into Tristy's room when he passed it.
My gut clenched as I hoped to God Tris hadn't been lying about there being no drugs here, because if they found anything in my apartment, Julian would end up in foster care. That was the very last thing I wanted to happen to him.
"No," I answered as I opened the door to my room. "It's just the three of us." I kept the light off so the sudden blare wouldn't hurt Julian's eyes, but the cop flipped it on as he stepped into the room behind me. And of course, the baby's wail grew louder.
"Hey, little man," I murmured. "Did Mommy wake you up? I know she did, you poor thing. And you just got to sleep too. I'm sorry, bud." Kissing his hair as I cuddled him against my chest, I swayed on my feet, hoping to rock him back to sleep. With my nose buried in his dark curls, I slid my gaze to the cop who wou
ldn't stop gawking.
"That kid's black," he blurted out, shocking the shit out of me.
I blinked, wondering what Julian's ethnicity had to do with anything. "Gee, really? I hadn't noticed."
At my sarcastic answer, he shook his head. "But . . . you're . . . why are you the one coming back here and taking care of him when he's obviously not yours?"
For a split second, I saw red. Just because my blood didn't flow through this child's veins didn't make him any less mine. I loved this kid more than just about anyone.
"Because no one else is going to take care of him. And he is mine. He's my stepson."
Eyeing me strangely, the cop nodded slowly. Something akin to respect glinted in his eyes before he said, "Next time you get mad at your old lady, keep your tone down, will you? If we take too many calls at the same address, someone eventually goes to jail. And that someone would be you."
I nodded, realizing he was trying to give me a break and a friendly heads-up. Some people would've taken it as a threat, but I knew how these guys worked.
"I hear you," I answered.
He lingered another moment, his gaze returning to Julian who'd closed his eyes and was snuggled peacefully against me. "Cute kid," he finally said.