No Need For Heroes: Third Blow
Page 5
“Who’s shy?” he repeated, putting his hand over his face.
Brucie stared at him, and cocked his head to one side. His ears swiveled around, alerting them to someone approaching the door to the parking lot.
“You need to put something on his nose to make him move his paw up to his face,” she said, sitting up. “Is the door unlocked?”
“Yeah, I left it open when I went out to the dumpster. Early drinker?”
The door opened and half-closed again. There was a thump and a curse, and Will wheeled into the bar.
“New ramp!” he said, grinning and looking down.
“Is it okay?” Trent said, standing up. “I was never much of a woodworker.”
“It’s great, well done! A little steep, perhaps…”
“Shit.”
“No matter. It’s a good workout for me. Hey, Rochelle. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
He rolled over to where she sat and put out his warm hand for her to take. She smiled and looked down as he said, “Seriously though. I’ve not seen you much since the funeral.”
“We’ve been busy. But you’re right, we should make more of an effort, you know, after everything. I guess the funeral…” She trailed to a halt. Saying goodbye to Dellacroce had been hard.
He hadn’t died at the shoot-out. He’d taken four days to die, lingering in his hospital bed, surrounded by machines that went ping. He’d had moments of lucidity and his final acts were ones that would forever put Trent and Rochelle in his debt; his statements to his fellow cops had laid all the blame squarely on Rafe, Nathan and Keenan. With Rafe and Keenan dead, only Nathan was left to serve a life sentence. Killing a cop meant no remand, ever.
Will coughed. “So did you find out who paid your legal expenses in the end?”
“It wasn’t Dellacroce. We thought for a while it might be Trent’s family…”
Trent had let Brucie go back to bed. Trent stayed on his feet, lounging against a table, arms folded. “But it wasn’t my family at all. You won’t guess who came to see us last week.”
“Go on…”
“Hooley.”
“He paid?” Will was incredulous. “I mean, I know he’s got the money and all, but why?”
Rochelle shrugged. “Who knows why Antony Hooley does anything? He said it was Bettina. That she’s soft and sentimental.”
“So are you in his debt now?”
“Apparently not.” Rochelle could still hardly believe it. “He was pretty abrupt. He just said he wanted nothing more to do with us. He didn’t want to hear from us or about us. That it was over.”
“Well now.” Will rolled back and forth, inch by inch, his usual unconscious action. “That’s kind of the best result you could have wanted, right?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Except that a good man is dead,” Trent growled.
Will’s throat bobbed. “Yeah, except that. I am sorry.”
“You didn’t mean what Trent took it to mean,” Rochelle said, shooting Trent an angry look. He sighed and flapped his hands.
“I’ll get the drinks in, shall I?”
“Anyway,” Rochelle said, leaning forward, eager to change the subject. “So we’ve got some news.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’ve called round,” Will said.
“How do you know?”
“Nigel.”
“How does Nigel know?”
“He’s cleverer than you’d think. So, congratulations!”
Rochelle pursed her lips. Nigel was far more perceptive than she’d given him credit for. She had to remember that. “Thank you. You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you?”
“Sure. Plus one?”
“What?” It was Rochelle’s turn to grab Will’s hand, and pat it shamelessly. “What, what? Tell me everything, Will!”
“Nigel set me up with someone. It’s going kind of well. So…”
“Oh my God tell me more. Trent, I need a bottle of wine!”
Trent was halfway across the floor with three cans of soda but he didn’t even break stride to spin around and head back behind the bar, laughing, as Rochelle squealed and pumped Will for every last bit of information.
* * * *
An hour later, the first bottle of wine was all gone and the second bottle was opened. Will wanted to know if their families would be at the wedding, and Rochelle looked at Trent, letting him take the lead in replying.
“Rochelle’s mom and dad will be there. I met them last week. They’re okay.”
Rochelle smiled thinly. “Okay” was as good as it was going to get. But she was glad they were going to attend.
“And your own, Trent?”
She watched his face carefully as he took his time in replying. “It’s really trite to say that real family isn’t a matter of blood. But now I know how clichés end up being clichés, you know? Because they are true. Really true. I tried one last time to make contact with my parents and my mom was crying but my dad didn’t want to know me, and she sided with him. So I’ve walked away and chosen my new family. It’s about who is there for you when you need them, you know? Shit, how much wine have I drunk? I’m making myself feel ill.”
Rochelle grabbed him in a spontaneous hug. “You are allowed to have feelings, you know.”
“No, I’m a big strong man, listen, grrrrr….”
“Stop it.”
“I don’t do what any woman tells me,” he protested, laughing.
“Kiss me.”
Will made a mock-sick noise but Rochelle ignored him. She pulled her big, strong man close and melted into his arms. He pressed down, kissing her, his embrace keeping her safe, for now, for tomorrow, and for ever.
The End
About The Author
Harper Cole writes feisty, sassy heroines who are strong women … it's just that they want to find a man to match!
These steamy romance serials have cliffhanger endings so avoid them if you don't like pacey, thrilling and heart-stopping passion between modern characters.
Don't forget that signing up to the mailing list gets you advance notice of the special launch price of the upcoming books. http://eepurl.com/6NWQj
Table Of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About The Author