Power Mage 3 by Hondo Jinx

Author:Hondo Jinx [Jinx, Hondo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07VBBXFPR
Published: 2019-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

12

Tammy cracked the kids’ door just wide enough that she could work by the sliver of light that fell through the gap. Then she tiptoed inside and gritted her teeth, growling quietly when she stepped on something hard.

Standing on one leg, she squeezed her foot, staring down at the offending object.

One of Ty’s toys, of course. A cowboy complete with not only one but two six-shooters. The boy not quite seven years old and already obsessed with guns.

How many times do I have to tell him to pick up his toys? she thought, trying to squeeze the pain from her arch. By seven, he should be mature enough to keep his stuff picked up.

But in all fairness, she thought, by twenty-seven, I should be smart enough to wear shoes walking into a dark room likely littered with toys.

She glared down at the cowboy. To make matters worse, the plastic gunslinger reminded her of Nina’s boyfriend, Brawley. And that son of bitch was definitely on her shit list now.

The news out of Miami was terrifying. She just hoped Nina was okay.

At least the crazy bastard had been good to his word. She’d received the money order that afternoon. She appreciated the extra cash, too. But Brawley was still on her shit list. She’d skin him alive if Nina was hurt.

Hurt… or worse.

But she wouldn’t allow herself to think along those lines. She just wished she hadn’t shielded her friend’s mind. Then she could check in on her.

Ty breathed softly from the top bunk, out like a light. The boy was just like his father. A hard charger, he never wanted to go to bed. Then as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a poleaxed calf. Whatever he did, the boy went all in, whether it sleeping, eating, badgering his little sister, spreading sharp-ass toys all over the carpet, or chasing Luna around the yard.

Speaking of Luna, the little bichon frise was barking up a storm outside. Probably hollering at those assholes across the way. Whatever the case, if Luna woke the kids, Tammy would skin her alive.

Tammy fetched a diaper from the top of the dresser and crouched down by the lower bunk where little Hannah lay diagonally atop the covers. Her tiny little toes poked from the bottom of her princess nightgown, pink and pudgy and perfect in the shaft of light from the hall.

Tammy straightened her little girl atop the bed. Hannah stirred drowsily. Unlike Ty, who slept like the dead and woke like a live wire, three-year-old Hannah was a light sleeper but a slow waker. Her nights were patchy, her mornings blurry. In that way and many others, Hannah favored her mother.

One thing Hannah had inherited from Charley, however, was her temperature. The little girl was a furnace. Even with the AC on—and since getting cash from Brawley, Tammy had left it on all night—little Hannah had thrown off her covers and her strawberry blond bangs were dark with sweat and plastered to her hot little forehead.

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