He was obviously good at it. I even knew a few women who knew firsthand he was good at it. How embarrassing would it be when I was not good at it?

I decided to think about it later, much later, after I’d jumped a plane to Nicaragua tomorrow afternoon and disappeared off Vance Crowe radar.

I jumped down off the bed, scattering and ticking off Boo who thought we were in for the night. I put on a chocolate brown turtleneck (as in, dark chocolate, almost black), matching cords, a deep brown belt and matching boots. The boots had low heels, they were comfortable and I could run in them. The best thing about the boots though, even with all that, they still looked killer (you couldn’t be a badass mother without killer boots, it was a rule).

I pulled back my hair in a ponytail and I was ready to roll.

Then I turned out the lights and I waited.

I didn’t put it past Vance to watch the house and then follow me.

After I figured he’d given up (if he was out there at all), I gathered my weapons, went out to Hazel and I took on the night.

* * * * *

My plan was simple.

Wreak enough havoc on the dealers and the suppliers of the dealers who made their sales in the places where the runaways hung out so that the dealers would eventually give up and find some other place to do business.

If the runaways followed the dealers, I would move to new turf.

I wasn’t taking on all Denver dealers, trying to shut down their business. I just wanted them to leave my kids alone.

I knew driving Hazel was stupid and I was considering dipping into the ever growing mortgage fund that Nick never touched and buying something for patrol that was less conspicuous than a red, cherry-condition 1983 Camaro. I just couldn’t find the time.

I patrolled and kept my eyes peeled for a tail. There wasn’t one.

Things were quiet. Some kids were out; it was cold, so not many. There weren’t any dealers around.

I was considering going to the bar where I’d seen Darius last night and watching him, or just giving up, packing it in and getting some needed shuteye when I saw them.

Martin and Curtis, two runaways from King’s. They were brothers, fourteen and twelve. They’d come in about a month after Park died and I knew it was because they heard about me (because of Sniff, everyone had heard about me).

They hit my caseload so I was working with them. They hadn’t told me much and didn’t spend the night at King’s but I was hoping for a breakthrough soon.

I watched as they ran out of an alley and down 15th Street. They were being followed by two dealers. I knew the dealers. They weren’t small time. They were serious players.

My heart started thumping and I followed them. The kids ducked into another alley and the dealers followed.

If I followed in Hazel, they’d see me. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad so I made a split-second decision.

Quickly, I parked on the street. I had my mace in my pocket, my stun gun and Glock on the seat. I grabbed the Glock, exited the car, left it unsecured, ran into the alley and hoped I wouldn’t pee my pants.

By the time I got to them, Martin, the older brother, was stand up wrestling with one of them, grunting and losing. The other one had Curtis against the wall.

Fuck.

I aimed my gun at the dealer on Curtis. “Back off!” I shouted.

His head whipped around. The other one got Martin in a headlock and twisted him around violently so he could look at me.

Their names were Clarence and Jermaine, no street names that I knew of. Clarence had Martin. Jermaine had Curtis.

I kept my gun and eye on Jermaine and channeled my internal badass mother.

“Back off,” I repeated, low.

“Holy shit!” Jermaine laughed. “It’s The Law.”

He pulled Curtis forward by his collar and slammed him viciously into the wall and I heard Curtis’s skull crack against the brick.

Um…

I… did… not… think… so.

My eyes narrowed and my head cocked to the sight of the gun.

In a serious, pissed off voice, I said, “I’ll say it one more time, let him go.”

To my surprise, he let him go. To my despair, he only did it so he could come at me.

Martin was still struggling against the headlock, intermittently groaning and whining. His feral noises of fear were spurring me on by pissing me off even more.

Curtis was standing frozen, likely partially dazed, partially scared stiff.

“Watcha gonna do Law? Slash my tires? Throw a smoke bomb? Light some shit on fire on my doorstep? You’re a f**kin’ joke,” Jermaine taunted.

Excuse me, I never lit poo on fire on someone’s doorstep. That was immature.

“Go. Now,” I returned, ignoring his words. “Leave the kids alone. If you go, no one will get hurt.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” Jermaine snarled and then came at me.

When he came at me, I switched my gun to the other hand knowing he’d get physical just to prove a point. The big man subdues the silly woman.

Fuck him.

Right away he gave me my opening, throwing out his arm to grab me. So I took it.

When he arrived at me, I grabbed his wrist and leaned down, ducking under his arm, using my leverage, his momentum and bulk, and I twisted his arm and flipped him up and around and he landed with a sickening thud on his back.

Then without hesitation, I aimed and kicked him savagely between his legs. He let out a ferocious howl and curled into a fetal position. I put my boot to his neck and leaned my weight into it (maybe a little more weight than I needed but I told myself that I was new to this and allowed myself some leeway).

Then I lifted my head, my eyes slicing to Clarence. I switched my gun to my right hand, cupped it with my left and aimed.

“Let him go,” I ordered.

Clarence was staring at me in shock, so much so he didn’t let Martin go.

I dropped my aim and fired. The bullet hit next to his left foot. He felt the impact and jumped but he didn’t let Martin go.

I lifted my gun, aimed it at his head and cocked my own to the gun’s sight. “I said, let… him… go.”

He let Martin go.

Martin ran immediately to Curtis.

I stood aiming at Clarence, my boot still at the writhing Jermaine’s neck and I wondered what the hell I should do now.

Then Clarence’s eyes moved from their study of my gun to look over my shoulder.

“Holy f**k. It’s true,” Clarence whispered but loudly so I could hear.