Throttle (Jack 'Em Up #3)

by Shauna Allen

  “What? Like teacher’s pet?”

  I kicked at Jesse’s shin. “Shut up.”

  Jesse laughed. “Just kiddin,’ bro. I think that’s great.”

  Micah turned toward Jesse. “When will you be back to work?”

  “Day after tomorrow. The wife has another day off from the firm and I promised I’d spend it with her, doing laundry and . . . other things.” His shit-eating smirk was too much.

  “Didn’t you get enough of that in the Bahamas?”

  “Nope.”

  “Ha. Well . . .” I pinched my chin in thought, pasting on my most serious face. “With a wife who looks like Rachel, I guess nobody could get enough . . .”

  He socked me in the arm. “Shut the fuck up about my wife. Get your own.”

  “Ooh. That’s low, even for you,” I joked. No way, no how, would there be a wife in my future. Kristi had obliterated every ounce of my naïve trust in women. I didn’t want any more of that bullshit drama, and I sure as shit wouldn’t subject my son to it either. It was him and I against the world, and we didn’t need a woman.

  Well, occasionally, my body had other ideas, but that was easy enough to take care of. My heart, though? My kid’s? I’d be protecting those at all costs.

  Ry and I had tacos for dinner and played another game of Ry Beats Dad in Hot Wheels Racing on the living room floor, until it was time to get a bath.

  “Come on,” I coaxed with my hand out. “Gotta get ready for bed. School tomorrow.”

  He groaned, but gave in easily enough. I ran his bubble bath with the same soap I’d used since he was a baby, loving the smell of him when he was clean. He hopped in and I sudsed him up really good, slicking his hair into a wet Mohawk.

  “How are things going with Miss Waters?” I asked all innocent-like. “You seem to like her a lot.”

  He dunked his Spiderman into the water and I cringed. We’d already had the argument that Spiderman didn’t swim, that was Aqua Man’s job, but he wouldn’t listen. “She’s nice.”

  “Yeah?” I scrubbed his back. “What do you guys talk about?”

  Spiderman started doing the butterfly. “Stuff. School. You.”

  “Me?” I sat back on my haunches, surprised.

  He zipped Spidey up to the bath ledge for a swan dive. “Yeah. I told her you’re nice, too.”

  “She asked if I was nice to you?”

  “No. I told her.” He glanced up, water droplets spiking his dark lashes. “You are nice. You’re the best daddy.”

  My insides melted into a puddle of goo. Exactly the same as the first time I’d held him and been so overcome with love, I thought I’d explode. Not wanting to get all emotional on him, I drenched his head with water from his bucket. “You sure about that?”

  He giggled and shook his head like a dog. “Yeah.”

  “Huh.”

  My cell vibrated in my back pocket and I stood, dried my hands, and pulled it out. Unknown number. I let it go to voicemail and stooped to pull the drain plug. Huddling Ry into a clean towel, I waited while he brushed his teeth, then we made our way to his room, where he picked out his pajamas and I tucked him in.

  “Goodnight, Buddy.” I kissed his forehead. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Daddy.”

  I flipped off his light and made sure the nightlight came on before I shut the door and padded down the hall. As I was scooping a bowl of ice cream for myself, my phone vibrated again. Another unknown number.

  Frowning, I took the call. “Hello?”

  “Trace?”

  Her voice was wobbly and foreign to my ears, yet painfully familiar at the same time. My stomach knotted as my entire body went hot and icy cold at the same time. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Kristi.”

  “I know.”

  She paused, her breathing ragged over the line. I bowed my head and contemplated hanging up, but I knew she’d just call back.

  “How’d you get my number?”

  “You never changed it. I took a chance.”

  “Why?” I demanded. “What do you want?”

  “How’s Ryder?”

  A thousand uncomfortable emotions filled my chest as she said my son’s name. Not her son. Not our son. My son. “Why?”

  “You don’t have to be so rude. He’s my child, too.”

  “He is? Since when? Since you left him two days after he was born? Since you’ve never, ever called to check on him before? Since—” I bit my tongue to keep myself from spewing profanities at her. Ryder and I had been fine all this time. We didn’t need her. Didn’t want her. Not a junkie who was more interested in her next fix or partying than her own kid.

  “Trace!” she cut off my mental avalanche of fury. “I’m clean. I don’t . . . I’m not like that anymore.”

  I blinked twice, not sure how to respond. Then it hit me with the force of a hurricane. She technically still had rights to Ryder. I hadn’t done anything when he was a baby because I foolishly hoped she’d come back to help me. Then, when that never happened, it was easier to pretend she didn’t exist. I didn’t have the money for expensive court proceedings anyway. Guilt and disgust roiled in my gut, shoving bile up my throat.

  “You still there?” she asked, her voice timid and uncertain.

  “Yeah. I’m here.” I shoved the carton of ice cream back in the freezer, my appetite gone.

  “I’d like to see him, Trace. He needs to know his mother.”

  I slid heavily down the nearest wall to the floor, unable to stand. How could this be happening? Could I trust her? Would it be safe for Ryder? I wanted to shout at her, scream and cuss and tell her to go to hell, but I couldn’t. I just . . . couldn’t.

  As conflicted as I was, did she have a point? Didn’t Ryder have a right to get to know his mom? Experience the maternal love only a woman can provide?

  “I don’t know,” I finally managed to croak out.

  “Yeah, well, think about it. I know this seems kinda sudden, but I’ve been in rehab, then I lived with my folks for a while in Colorado. Now I’m back in Baybridge. I’m staying with a friend while I look for a job. I wanna do this right, Trace. Gimme that chance, okay?”

  We hung up, but I didn’t give her an answer. I was so fucking confused. She sounded different. Maybe she really had changed. Maybe this was the best thing for Ry.

  I wasn’t sure, but I did know she wouldn’t give me much time to figure it out, and that scared me most of all.

  Tori

  Thursday morning, I dodged Everett in the parking lot, but I wasn’t so lucky at the office coffeepot.

  “Good morning, Tori.” He stretched in front of me to grab his mug, brushing my chest.

  I stepped away and shot the back of his head a glare. I didn’t want to rock the boat at a new job, especially since he was buddy-buddy with the Superintendent, but if he touched me inappropriately one more time, I was fully prepared to knock his teeth in. I never should’ve danced with him . . . No. I stopped that asinine thought in its tracks. A friendly dance was simply that. Not an invitation to touch, ogle, or generally insert himself into my personal life.

  I pivoted and stomped away.

  “Don’t you want coffee?” he called to my back.

  “Changed my mind¸” I said without turning.

  I closed myself into my office and leaned against the door with a breath. Seriously. I’ve dealt with worse as a waitress, but something about that man really skeeved me.

  In the corner, my eyes caught on the nerf football lying on the floor. Ryder Berringer had played with it during our last visit as he talked about everything his father had done that morning. His daddy, the new Room Dad. His daddy, the guy I couldn’t get off my mind since the night I had pizza with them because he was funny and sweet and charming.

  And hot.

  Mustn’t forget that.

  Yesterday, he was in clean jeans and a T-shirt that hugged him perfectly. His dark hair was mussed in that sexy guy way as if he’d run his fingers through it a hundred
times. His hazel eyes were bright with just a hint of mischief. Yeah, Daddy had me all stirred up.

  I flounced into my office chair and booted up my computer. I needed to get that man off my mind. I was counseling his son. Professional boundaries and all that.

  I managed to keep my brain on work, other than a brief text conversation with my sister, Kendall, who was worried about Mom.

  She needs to get to a doctor, she texted.

  Why?

  She’s been coughing for weeks . . . allergies that bad in Texas?

  I frowned. Mom had blamed allergies when we’d been on the phone the other night, but come to think of it, she’d never had that issue before. Not sure.

  The conversation ended when I promised to go check on our mother soon.

  My mom and sisters were heavy on my mind when I trudged outside after school to head home. I wasn’t my mother’s babysitter, but she’d also never been one to seek medical help for anything. Hell, last year, she’d battled bronchitis for two weeks before nearly ending up in the hospital. Stubborn woman.

  Old Betsy chugged out of the school parking lot and even managed some cool air from the AC. A bead of sweat formed and rolled down my chest as I passed Mario’s Italian restaurant. Suddenly, the thought of leftover tuna casserole didn’t appeal.

  I hooked a U-turn and pulled into Mario’s and parked next to a red Corvette.

  Inside, the mouthwatering scents of garlic and spices met me. I accepted a menu from the hostess and moved to the bar area to order to-go.

  “Tori?”

  Behind me, a trio of familiar women were grinning at me over a half-empty pitcher of margaritas. “Rachel.” I smiled at the redhead, who was positively glowing.

  She waved me over. “Join us.”

  I hesitated. I knew these women as customers I served at the Funky Monkey. We were friendly, but not friends exactly. I didn’t really have friends.

  “Come on,” Delilah urged. “There’s plenty of room.” She patted the seat next to her.

  My life hadn’t left much room for girlfriends and I wanted that. I always had. Biting the bullet, I made my way over and slid into the empty chair.

  Delilah nudged me with her shoulder. “Long time, no see.”

  “Yeah. You look great,” Rachel agreed.

  The blonde across from me simply smiled and sipped her drink, her eyes downturned.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know we’ve met, but . . .”

  Her startling green eyes met mine. “I’m Jewel. Delilah’s cousin. I’m kinda new to town.”

  “Right. Nice to see you again.” Rachel poured me a margarita and slid it my way. I smiled and picked it up. “So, what do you do?”

  “I work for the police department.”

  I blinked at her non-specific answer. Rachel nudged Jewel with her shoulder. “She’s a sketch artist. She’s really good.”

  “Really?” Vague details of barroom conversations filtered back. Rachel was an attorney. Delilah did something at a sports medicine clinic . . . massage, maybe? I never knew what Jewel did. Impressive.

  Jewel flushed. I hedged her obvious discomfort talking about herself and lifted my glass. “What are we celebrating?”

  Rachel grabbed a piece of bread, her face glowing bright enough to light the room. “I just got home from my honeymoon and I have the best husband on the planet.”

  “Hey!” Delilah said.

  Rachel laughed. “Okay, fine. Blake’s all right, too.”

  I sipped my drink as Jewel’s eyes caught mine. We were the odd men out obviously. No men. No love. No nothing.

  I murmured my congratulations and was grateful when the waitress appeared for our orders. Later, as I shoved my mouth full of garlic bread, I watched the interplay between Delilah and Rachel with interest and maybe a tiny bit of jealousy. I’d never had a real relationship. I’d dated, yes. Even fancied myself in love once upon a time, but I quickly found out what a loser he was when I ran into his wife. What would it be like to have love like that? A man to hold me when I had a bad day? To make love with? Heck, to kill spiders and change my oil?

  “So, where have you been?” Rachel asked me. “Haven’t seen you at the Funky Monkey in a while. Did you finish school?”

  I nodded. “I did. I’m working at the elementary school now.”

  “Really?” Delilah leaned in. “That’s great. What do you do there?”

  “I’m the guidance counselor.”

  They all stared at me in shocked wonder.

  “Wow,” Jewel managed to say first.

  “I had no idea,” Rachel added. “I mean, I knew you said you were getting a degree in child psychology, but . . . wow. That’s impressive.”

  “Thanks.” I sipped my drink and basked a little in their praise.

  “Maybe you can help our friend Trace with his son, Ryder. He’s been having some trouble lately,” Delilah said, her eyes soft with concern.

  “Oh. Um . . .” I wasn’t sure what to say. My work with Ryder was confidential, so unless Trace chose to share, it wasn’t my place. “Huh,” I added lamely before quickly picking up my drink for another slug. I was finally feeling the beginnings of a buzz so I sipped again.

  “Well, that explains the stuffy clothes,” Rachel said with a smirk as she twirled her glass and nodded at my black suit. “Don’t get me wrong, you look good, but I kinda miss the purple streaks in your hair.”

  Join the club. “Me, too.” We giggled at that. “I figured it wouldn’t look too good to show up for my interview with blue hair and my nose piercing, so I tamed it down a bit.”

  “Very tame,” Delilah agreed with a smirk.

  We chatted over our food once it was served and I found myself being easily drawn into their camaraderie. Even Jewel, as quiet as she was, was smart and witty and fun.

  “So, what’s up with Micah dating that Stephanie girl?” Rachel asked over her bite of cheesy lasagna.

  My eyes shot back and forth as Rachel and Delilah exchanged eye rolls.

  “Two dates,” Delilah clarified with a frown. “I think he gave in because he’s too nice to tell her to back off. She was practically stalking him at the gym.”

  Jewel’s face flushed, but she kept her eyes averted and focused on twirling the perfect bite of spaghetti.

  “Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” Delilah gripped Jewel’s hand.

  Jewel shook it off with a watery smile. “No big deal. Really.” She must’ve seen my confused expression. “I, uh, just moved back to town.” Her big green eyes met mine as she seemed to shore up her strength. “My ex was getting abusive. Stalking me. I left and Rachel helped me file a restraining order.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Don’t be.” Jewel lifted her drink in a mock salute. “He’s an asshole and I’m done with him.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Rachel lifted her water.

  “So . . .” I said after we’d been eating a while. “Is Micah the black-haired guy who sometimes came to the Funky Monkey with y’all?”

  Rachel grinned, her cheeks flushed. “Okay. Let me give you the lay of the land. You were so busy working the bar, you might’ve missed out on the specifics.” She made a show of sipping her drink and wiping her fingers on a napkin as she collected her thoughts. “Delilah and I have been best friends since we were kids. Jewel here is Delilah’s cousin. Blake and Delilah met in high school and have been the inseparable, perfect couple since then . . .”

  Delilah made a hacking noise and sipped her water.

  “Whatever,” Rachel said, shooting her a snarky grin. “You are. Just because you went through a shitty time doesn’t negate that. Anyway . . .” She focused back on me. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. So, Blake and Jesse have been friends for years, too. I had it bad for him back in school, but, well, I was too young and dumb to do anything about it. Then he went to prison and I lost my shot for a few years—”

  “Prison?” I nearly choked on my bread.

  “Yeah.
I know.” Rachel’s eyes lost focus for a moment as she got lost in a memory. “Water under the bridge.” She nodded and refocused. “Don’t worry, he’s not violent.”

  “Well, unless you mess with someone he loves,” Delilah clarified.

  “Right. Well . . .” Rachel actually blushed. “Anyway, we finally got our shit together and I scooped up the hottie and now he’s my husband.” She wiggled the rock on her left hand.

  “And Micah and Trace round out the pack of men. Or trouble. Depending on how you look at it.” Delilah’s eyes sparkled as she spoke, showing her true affection for the guys. “They all run Jack ‘Em Up together.”

  “Right.” I sipped my margarita, licking the salt from my lips. “So . . . you’re all either related or good friends, like, forever?”

  “That about sums it up,” Delilah said with a smile.

  “That’s great.” I stared at my food and tried to hide my stupid, childish feelings of envy. I’d never had friends like that. Between my mom’s several jobs and moving all the time to wherever we could afford to live, plus being embarrassed about our poverty, I’d never established roots where friendships could thrive. I was also ashamed to admit, there was a time when I was a selfish teenager that I was mortified if anyone found out my baby sister had Downs.

  Thankfully the subject dropped as the conversation moved to Delilah’s daughter, Molly, holiday plans, and an upcoming girls’ night out.

  “You should come with us,” Delilah said.

  “Yeah,” Jewel added. “That would be fun.”

  I stalled a moment, then realized I had nothing to be worried about. I had a life now. I was settled. I could do whatever the hell I wanted. Never again would shame keep me from my life. I smiled. “Sure. That’d be great.”

  Once my drink had worn off, I bid the girls goodbye and headed out to Betsy. It wasn’t until I was parked in front of my crappy apartment that I realized I’d totally forgotten to go by Mom’s.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  Trace

  I thanked my lucky stars when I didn’t hear from Kristi again that week. I was letting myself be lulled into the idea that her call was a fluke. She’d probably decided it would be too much to drop into Ry’s life at this point. Maybe she’d even moved on. It would certainly make my life easier.