Love Struck Bad Boys - 3 Novel Box Set

by Amber Burns

  “It’s about Vanna.”

  I should hang up. I actually muffle my end of the receiver, let out the ‘Fuck’ I’ve been bottling and place the phone just as Violet says, “…and we don’t know what to do.”

  “About?”

  “About Vanna! She’s not with you, right?”

  I don’t bother to cover the fuck now. I can almost see Violet flinching; her end’s gone eerily quiet in my rant. “Is this some sort of sick joke? Why the fuck would Vanna be here? Hasn’t she told you she’s ripped my heart out?

  “We’re broken the fuck up. People who break the fuck up don’t normally state-hop with each other.”

  Violet laughs, but it’s a nervous, tittering sound – I recognize it for what it is, I’ve put her on the spot. Too bad I’m all fired up to care.

  That and I’ve got more to say and ensure anyone with the surname Sterling and who happens to be related in some way to Vanna doesn’t call me again.

  “Is that the asshole? Are you talking to the asshole, Vi? Answer me, dammit.” I hear Wes in the background. That’s fine with me. I’d feel all the less worse later for ripping into Wes than Violet.

  Sure enough there’s a shuffle and he’s now blasting in my ear. “You’re a piece of work, you know that. First Vanna, now you’re ripping through my not-missing sister. You big, bald shithead.”

  “I’m not fucking bald!”

  He can’t see or feel the backlash of hammering my fist down on Jordan’s desk.

  Wes isn’t listening to my correction. He’s on a roll. A fucking roll if I’ve ever had to sit through someone cussing me, I’d rather it not be Wes. He’s got balls and way more fire than I expected for an uppity, suave urbanite. “Listen, ass for brains, I’ll ask you once and only once before I get the cops busting down your door: What the hell did you do to Vanna?”

  “What?” I’m standing in a second, chair kicked back, upsetting a staplers and pencil holder from their perch on the edge of the boss’ otherwise fairly neat desk.

  Damn Jordan and his cord phone. I don’t need this shit right now.

  If I thought I was in the mood to crush the phone before, Wes succeeded in making me want to try it. He’s lucky he’s several states away; the distance alone is starting to look like nothing though as a picture of my using his much-better beard to wring his neck wavering to the forefront of my mind.

  I close my eyes on the urge, and breathing deeply I repeat my question.

  Wes starts screaming his empty threats again. I pull the phone from my ear, wait for the pause of breath on his end and dive in.

  “Obviously you don’t listen to your sister. You guys fight like cats and dogs, and that’s no business of mine, but you’d save my time and yours as she asked the same fucking question. I’ll give you the same answer, and then I’m hanging up.”

  More screams, pause, and I’m through. “Vanna. Is. Not. With. Me. What part of a break-up don’t you understand, little man?”

  “The part where my sister’s missing and there’s nothing, not even one of those cryptic notes, and the last time I saw her not crying her eyes out was six nights ago, right after you brought her back from wherever the fuck you took her.”

  He’s talking about Pearlwater and the morning after our sex-turned-fight. A man of my word, I woke up from sleeping in the truck – I actually did no sleeping, and I met Vanna back in our room to change and pack and, checking out in some un-godly morning hour, I drove her to the city and dropped her off at her apartment like nothing transpired between us.

  Right after that I went straight back to Cold Springs and Pops’ and Grandmamma’s place, packed, waited for the car rentals to open for the business day and prepped mentally for the drive to Atlanta.

  Wes is calmer when he replies. “Vanna isn’t with you?”

  I’m not a praying man, to the disappointment of my Grandmamma, but hallelujah.

  “No, I don’t have her stashed somewhere.” Okay, so that might be a foot-in-the-mouth moment. Quick to smooth any ruffled feathers from my latest response, I add, curiosity piqued, “What’s all this about anyways?”

  “So now you care?”

  I deserve that and calling it even, I wait patiently, silently for Wes to get to a place where he’s willing to answer.

  “It’s pretty simple: Vanna wasn’t herself for the past week and then, poof, I go by her apartment today, as I have been every day, to get her to eat something and no one answers. I got in using my spare key only to see her drawers and closet cleaned out.

  “She left with her clothes. Maybe she went on a trip,” maybe to forget me?

  I’m not hopeful. It would be nice if I got under her skin in any way to push her into quietly doing something un-Vanna like.

  “And you’re sure she didn’t leave a message?”

  “Yes, we’re sure. Violet checked her voicemail, too.”

  “Why did you think she was with me?”

  Wes is quiet long enough for me to check if he’s disconnected.

  “I’m here. I’m just trying to not cuss you out, that’s all.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Are you really going to act all cute and stupid? Vanna loved your big, dumb ass and you dropped her flat. You should get hit by a bus, shot by a drug dealer or meet some equally grotesque but quick end.”

  I’m speechless. “Remind me not to invite you to my funeral.”

  “Done,” Wes sighs and like that he goes from hoping for my death to wheedling some sympathy from me.

  Well, hell. Is that worry squeezing my gut?

  Fuck, I’m really a goner. And I’m about to hate myself…

  “Has she done this at least once before?”

  As soon as I ask, I’ve got my answer.

  “Stupid question, forget it.”

  “Forgotten.”

  “Where else could she have gone? Any places she’s talked about recently, or favorite places she’s visited and mentioned before? Do you have family anywhere close by?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Violet?” I wait for Wes to consult Violet and come back with a negative. Vanna’s the wall-flower type to the tee.

  I remember how she ate up my tales of travelling while on active duty. Now it makes sense, and man, I wish she could have given us a chance. Cliché as it is, I would have shown her the world, handed her the world if she’d let me.

  “Oh my god,” Wes is saying, “she wouldn’t.” He’s talking to Violet, but the receiver has to be pressed to his ear.

  “What is it?”

  “Only that we think we know where she is.” And then he’s back to Violet, “She wouldn’t though. Vanna couldn’t be that stupid, could she?”

  I resist telling him to watch his mouth. Vanna isn’t my girl anymore, and nothing’s worse than being a Shining Knight than being a knight for an ex.

  “If you’ve got something, then I hate to be the bearer of reason and sanity but time is of the essence.”

  Vanna could be a missing person’s case, but I’m not even touching that. I like to think on the bright side, so I think of the last time we were together, enjoying ourselves. That takes me back to the evening in our hotel bed. Vanna under me, her pussy glinting with her juices, her evidence of desire for me.

  The tangy taste of her coating my tongue and her mewling and panting…

  Happy thoughts, Fuller, happy. Not the time to make your cock go hard and achy for a girl who doesn’t want anything to do with you.

  “West Virginia?”

  “Specifically a little hillbilly place called Rosebay. Lovely, really, if you’re a Caucasian, heterosexual man or a woman who has no clue we’re in the twenty-first century.”

  “I’m sensing a history. Why’d she be in this Rosebay?” I lean against Jordan’s desk; I’m really going for the long haul when all I planned to do in the beginning with Violet was hang up.

  Once again proof of Vanna’s magical sway over me.

  After Wes glazes over the whole ordeal with his parents, he s
ays, “We should call them now.”

  “If she’s with your parents, isn’t that fine? Wait, there not cultists or anything, are they?”

  Wes laughs and his mirth is genuine. “That would be kinda awesome and so much better crazy cultists than dumb-as-doorknobs rednecks. No, trust me. They’re way more dangerous as yokels. So, don’t hang up, give me a minute and we’ll do this.”

  “Do what?” he’s clicked off and I’m talking to dead air. He told me not to hang up, so I wait and give him the minute he’s asked for.

  At a minute and forty second – I counted for a hundred – Wes narrowly misses doing exactly what he told me not to do, hang up.

  “I was going to hang up.” I hear another ring tone and wonder where it’s coming from.

  “Thanks, no thanks for the honesty, and shhh, you’re not supposed to be on this call.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the point of three-way, dummy. Now shut up.”

  The other line picks up to a tinkling feminine welcome.

  Wes doesn’t reply, he’s switched with Violet who is returning after I last scared her off. Sorta.

  “Violet! Is that my sweet, precious girl? Oh, what a lovely surprise! Donald, Donald you big oaf, come here. Oh, your dad’s coming to say ‘hello’. I’m going to patch you through speaker, okay, dear?”

  “Melissa, what is it?” Donald Sterling sounds like a bear rudely woken from its winter nap. But he sounds only that less gruff when he’s talking to Violet.

  They say their greetings and then it’s down to business. I’m still sorely confused as to why Vanna would be in any trouble with her parents. They couldn’t be abusive, could they? Sure, they sounded syrupy and like a postcard couple, but fuck wouldn’t I know that sweetness can sometimes mask the craziest, evilest things.

  A memory of one Marine’s father knocking him down in his bunker came to mind. I wasn’t supposed to be in there and I walked in on the affair. It was messy and awkward and being a fresh private I had no clue what to do.

  The father grabbed his son by the collar and righted him, even going as far as to brush off any imaginary dust before patting his cheek and wishing him luck for what was to come.

  It continues to haunt me nearly a decade later.

  That memory married to the thought of Vanna being thrown down like that by her growling father or being teased and taunted in that syrupy voice by her mother brings on a storm cloud of dark anger.

  “Vanna?” Mrs. Sterling chuckles. “Oh, is that why you’re calling us? Isn’t there a better reason to check in on your parents, love?

  “And anyways, you don’t have to worry your pretty head. Oh, and I know Wesley is there so please tell him that even though he doesn’t want to speak to his poor, aging parents, his and your worry is unfounded: Vanna is absolutely fine and safely back home.”

  Where she belongs, she means though she doesn’t say it. Something about her tone is off. It’s smug, that’s what it is. Like I-have-a-secret-and-just-wait-till-you-hear-it.

  I don’t like it. But I’m not liking a lot of things nowadays, even the things I used to like.

  “You should be home, too, Violet. Your brother might be off sinning, but he shouldn’t be influencing you none.” Mr. Sterling, clearly, has no love for Wes. And what’s this about sinning?

  I imagine Wes seething on Violet’s end, but Violet’s still answering so he’s found a way to control himself. Surprisingly.

  “I’ll visit someday soon, Daddy, promise. It’s just that Vanna was supposed to help me cook this amazing pecan pie, and well, you know how I am in the kitchen, Mama. Could I talk to her?”

  All lies but it does the trick. Mr. and Mrs. Sterling are buttered up by their youngest.

  “I’ll call for her. She’s next door at Mabel’s getting her hair done.”

  Violet sounds surprised. “Why?”

  Mrs. Sterling laughs that tinkling laugh. “I promised I’d keep mum, but she’s out and you’re her sister and my daughter and – well, you’re next in line hopefully, making me and your Daddy proud.”

  “Mama, what’s going on?”

  Violet’s tone is freaking me out. I’m about to reveal my presence to these virtual strangers when Mrs. Sterling says, “It’s wedding bells, dear. Your sister’s getting ready for her walk down the aisle. Finally.”

  And that ‘finally’ undoes me. I set the receiver to my chest and heave loudly. Everything I’d kept bundled up comes flooding to the front, and all I want to do is slam the receiver down, go find the punching bags and working out my frustration and anger and hurt and disappointment – all of that girly stuff I’ve been talking about.

  And Jordan seriously chooses now to walk in.

  “What’s up?” he stops in his doorway, looking less like the boss, unsure in a rare moment.

  I don’t know, I want to say, but I’ve already vowed to find out even before Wes’ voice rings in my ear.

  “Wesley Sterling!” his mother is shouting right back, Mr. Sterling somewhere in the back making his anger just as vocal. There’s a click on Mrs. Sterling’s wailing, a turn in the conversation, and Wes alone replies, “Are you still there?”

  “I’m going to assume you’re referring to me.”

  “I am,” he sighs, it’s filled with his hot anger. “Did you get all that?”

  Loud and too fucking clear.

  “What happened to Violet?” I ask instead, deciding to channel my wrath into productivity. My mind is spinning with a plan and I’m hoping Wes is going to be on the same page.

  “She’s right here. You were being way too nice,” he’s talking to her now as I hear Violet murmur something back. “Yeah, so, do you see what I mean now? She’s gone for a bloody day and they’ve already got her marrying off.”

  “Like hell.”

  Wes doesn’t cover his intrigue. “Oh? Mr. Macho’s got a plan then. Do tell.”

  “I’ve just added myself to the guest list.” I say.

  “Swoon. You know this would totally redeem you in my eyes, even if you and Vanna continue to live in Splitsville, population a whole heck lot of us.”

  “So you’re going to give me the details I need?”

  Wes prattles off the address of the Sterling family home in Rosebay, West Virginia. He also warns me to quote-on-quote “backup”.

  “Dear old dad is all about the self-defense and he’s a long member of the NRA chapter in Charleston, goes to the monthly meeting without fail as long as I lived with them and that’d be the first eighteen years of my thirty-four year old existence.”

  “So he’s packing and I should bring my own heat. Is that what I’m sensing?”

  “You’re sensing correctly.”

  When I hang up with Wes, I re-read the address I scribbled on the back of my completed transfer form.

  I look to see Jordan giving me the stink eye. I’m occupying his and ignoring him, oh and now I’m going to have to tell him I’m bailing for an indefinite period to talk my ex out of marrying some other guy.

  That is, of course, the least of my problems.

  So she doesn’t want to marry me, but some other guy’s just fine – and a WEEK after us.

  Vanna, you better have a good reason because I’m coming for it.

  14

  “When you rang I thought it was to say ‘hello’. You know how to hurt a guy, Amos.”

  “Stop being weird,” I toss over my shoulder, straightening from snooping in a complete stranger’s living room bay window. The irony doesn’t escape me.

  And neither does my companion’s throaty chuckle. Leaning against the stair railing, he smiles down at me, dark eyes glinting, lips quirking just a hint – as far as his humor will allow me.

  I do another double take at the suit staring down at me from under the bushiest eyebrows I’ve yet to see.

  It’s a whole lot of hair stuffed in that smart tie, tailored blazer and trousers.

  “Now who’s being weird?”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, b
reaking my stare to turn my gaze round to our surroundings. “It’s strange to see you so…”

  “Clean? C’mon, you can say it. You’ve called me worse, also clocked me if I remember correctly, right here.” He stroked his jaw. “And your sister kissed me better.”

  River’s bellowing laugh is going to blow our cover, and I should really shut him up, but I’m joining in. It feels nice to let some of the tension go.