“Who is Tremblay and why would he want to hurt us?” Bethany asked as she put a robe on, padding over to the kitchen table.
“He’s not going to hurt you,” Molson did his best to calm down. He didn’t want to upset Bethany. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
“I’m beginning to understand why Jana doesn’t want you near her family anymore,” Drew seriously remarked.
Molson snapped his head back, reeling from the verbal punch that Drew had just thrown.
“He doesn’t mean that,” Bethany said gently as she grabbed coffee and sat down. She took one sip, made a face and added more cream and sugar.
“Doesn’t he?” Molson asked, staring at Drew. “He sounded serious to me.”
Drew took Bethany’s hand in his. “Your actions could potentially harm my wife.”
“You’re not married yet,” Molson automatically corrected Drew.
“We will be,” Drew responded. “I’m not going to let you endanger her.”
“You’re going to kick me out of your life,” Molson said flatly. His stomach clenched. He pushed aside his cup of coffee, certain he couldn’t drink another mouthful.
“No, he’s not,” Bethany sought to defuse the situation. “You’re family. You will always be in each other’s lives.”
“Tell that to Jana,” Molson said bitterly.
“She just wants to protect her kids,” Drew replied. “A valid point.”
“Stop it!” Bethany told them both firmly. “That is enough.”
Molson stood up. “Just do what you need to do to get Tremblay and his goons’ immunity when they testify.”
“Tremblay already knew what he wanted from you when he made the deal,” Drew said tiredly. “Whatever it is, he’s got the favor you owe him figured out. He’s just stringing you along until he reveals it.”
Molson knew that. He laid a hand on Bethany’s shoulder. “Be good to him, even if he’s an imbecile some days.”
“Molson, come back,” Bethany pleaded as he walked out the door.
He waited a moment in the corridor, leaning against the wall. No one followed him. More importantly, Drew didn’t follow him. He looked at the keys he palmed as he had entered the apartment. It would probably take a couple of hours before Drew noticed Molson had swiped his motorcycle. Molson figured he might as well get one last ride before Drew threw him out of his life forever.
Ignoring the hollow feeling in his heart, Molson took the stairs. Riding the motorcycle, it didn’t take long to get back to Margot’s house. He pulled the bike to the back of the driveway, knowing that it wasn’t a great neighborhood and Drew would have his hide if the motorcycle got stolen.
The back door was open and there was cereal strewn across the backyard.
Sighing, Molson went inside. “Ma! You done feeding the ducks by the pond?”
Sometimes Margot thought she saw ducks and a pond in the backyard. Sometimes she thought she was Mrs. Ramesly and insisted that everyone take her shopping. Other times, Margot baked the most disgusting things with whatever she had in the house.
When he was a kid, Molson had eaten fruitio’s, banana loaf with mustard jelly. That particular cooking experiment hadn’t been half bad. Then again, Molson had been starving as a kid, so any food was good.
Whatever she was up to now, Molson was too tired to deal with it. He wished she would just take her medications on time. No matter how often he tried to force her to take them, Margot always seemed to get away with not having them.
She was an expert at not taking her pills, hiding them, flushing them, throwing them up.
“Ma!” Molson smelled gas. He went to the stove, making sure the dials were off. It was his secret fear that someday she’d burn down the house with her in it. “Ma, where are you?”
A noise from the basement caught his attention.
His mother hated the basement. She never would go down there, saying it was too full of rats, too dark. It was an old cellar type basement with a damp dirt floor and crumbling foundations showing the age of the house. There were boxes down there from some bygone era, thickly coated with dust.
Molson wasn’t a fan of the basement either.
