Tough Love

by Lori Foster

  He laughed at himself as he went down the walkway into the cold, quiet night. Vanity Baker might look perfect, but she was as human and fallible as he was.

  Maybe, despite everything, that made her absolutely perfect...for him.

  * * *

  AFTER A NIGHT spent painting, binge eating, and stupidly crying, Vanity canceled everything except her shift at Yvette’s secondhand store. Wanting uninterrupted time alone, she’d shut off her phone, and now, when she turned it back on, she saw a lot of messages.

  All from Stack’s friends.

  New tears welled up. Throughout the long night, she’d wondered if losing Stack would also mean losing everyone else she held dear.

  Determined to face the day stronger, to stop being an emotional wimp, she listened first to Armie’s message. He wanted her to call him before she left the house today. Instead she texted her thanks to him, and told him she was fine. Then she listened to a message from Leese saying he was there if she needed to talk. She sent another text, thanking him.

  Next was a message from Merissa that said, Rissy was here. It made her smile. Rissy seldom left lengthy messages. Her feeling was that people would either reply or not, but she didn’t want to be a bother.

  When she saw the note from Yvette, she hit the phone icon and called her friend.

  “Hey,” Yvette said before the phone had even finished one ring. “Are you okay?”

  For a second there, Vanity choked on her reassurances, but she cleared her throat, nodded and managed a credible, “Sure.”

  “Vanity.” Yvette’s tone chided. “What can I do?”

  “There’s nothing to do. It’s over.” Maybe, Vanity thought, if she said it enough, it’d get easier.

  “No! That can’t be. Surely—”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay,” Vanity stressed. She hoped that would get easier, too, because right now she felt totally shattered, as if pieces of herself were missing. “In fact, I’ll be leaving in a few minutes for the shop.”

  “No way! Take the day off. I’ll work the shift.”

  “Honestly, Yvette, I’d rather do it. Moping around is for the birds.”

  Yvette hesitated, but she knew Vanity well, so she conceded. “Okay. I get that you want to stay busy. But count on lots of calls. Knowing the guys the way I do, they’re going to take turns checking on you.”

  Vanity groaned. The last thing she wanted was sympathy. “Thanks for the warning.”

  Ready for some fresh air, she set the alarm, locked up the empty house on her way to the garage, and braved the cold to drive to the shop. On the way she replied to Merissa’s text with a call.

  Rissy, too, answered right away. “Hey, Vee. What’s up?”

  Going for the jovial route? Vanity found a smile. “You sound just like Armie.”

  Rissy groaned. “You take that back.”

  Vanity laughed. “Sorry.”

  “So... I just wanted to see how you are. You looked pretty shook up yesterday when you left the bar. I’m not sure what’s going on with you and Stack, but—”

  “It’s over.” The stunned silence surprised Vanity. “Merissa?”

  “I’m here, I just... How can that be? Stack is crazy about you!”

  Apparently not. “I did some stupid things, and I guess he couldn’t forgive me. It’s my own fault.”

  “Damn, Vee. I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks.”

  Uncertain, Merissa said, “If you want to talk—”

  “I appreciate that, Rissy. I really do.” Sympathy would have her weeping again if she let it. “Right now I just want to stay busy.”

  “I understand. If you change your mind, shoot me a text. I promise I can be very distracting.”

  After agreeing that she would if necessary, Vanity got caught up on calls and texts. It seemed everyone wanted to talk to her, commiserate with her, try to make her feel better.

  In different ways, they were each shocked that things were over between her and Stack.

  One advantage to talking on the phone was that Vanity was able to ask for time. She didn’t want visits, and while some of the guys were adamant that she needed them, in the end they agreed to abide by her wishes.

  Though her heart remained broken, at least she knew that Stack’s friends hadn’t given up on her. They didn’t know the issues, and they didn’t pry, but they did care about her.

  She felt better, knowing she wasn’t alone after all.

  Luckily, the resale shop stayed busy. She worked through lunch without a break, which suited her just fine. A few hours before her shift would end, things finally quieted down. Left with only her own unsettled thoughts, Vanity dropped to the stool behind the counter and propped her head on her hand.

  Funny, because she usually didn’t see Stack much during the day, but every hour, every minute, she’d missed him. The thought of going home alone didn’t appeal at all. Maybe she needed to get a couple of dogs. When Norwood and Maggie had been there, the place had never felt empty. The dogs had brought a lot of energy and love to her house.

  Her laugh sounded more like a sob. She couldn’t replace Stack with pets. But what choice did she have?

  She was thinking of going by a shelter when her phone rang and startled her. In a glance she saw it was Jack Woolridge, the PI she’d hired, and immediately worried that something might have happened to Stack.

  Anxious, she slipped off the stool and turned her back to the front door. “Jack, hello. Did you have news for me?”

  “Matter of fact, ma’am, I do.” He gave a pause for emphasis, then announced, “I found Phil.”

  Thank goodness. Vanity might have blown things with Stack, but she could give him this. “Where is he?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t think you need to worry about him. See, I found him at this bar just outside of town. He was with a woman, and I got close enough to listen in.”

  Suspicions sharpened. “A woman?”

  “Yeah. I pretended to be another drunk, so they paid no attention to me.”

  To Vanity, it seemed obvious who the woman might be. “What did she look like?”

  “I can do you one better than a description. I caught her name when Phil greeted her.”

  “Whitney?”

  “That’d be her. You know her?”

  “She’s friends with Phil and used to date Stack.”

  “Ah. Well, here’s the kicker. Phil accused her of sending more goons to beat up your boyfriend. He seemed real put out over it.”

  Whoa, wait? What? “Phil thinks Whitney was behind that?”

  “She didn’t really deny it,” Jack explained. “In fact, she laughed.”

  Oh, my God. Vanity hadn’t figured on that twist. It didn’t make sense. “Why would Whitney do that?”

  “Phil asked her the same thing. From what I could hear, she’s playing both sides. She said she learned from him, so I’m thinking Phil did send the first set of bully boys. Not to kill Hannigan or anything, just to stall him. Something about getting money from you.”

  Oh, God. Phil had deliberately held up Stack to ensure he wouldn’t interrupt? New guilt stole her strength, and she backed up to sit on the stool. “Yes,” she said in a croak. “He asked me for money the same night Stack was attacked.”

  “So that much is probably true. Now here’s where it gets complicated.”

  Because it wasn’t complicated enough already?

  “I’m thinking Whitney told Phil to go to the apartment to get what he wanted. Then she tipped off Hannigan, making out like she was the good guy in all this. But really she just wanted them both there at the same time. See, she also sent two more thugs, and they were supposed to work him over good this time.”

  The thought of Stack being set up, ambushed, made her stomach churn. “Why would she do that?”

  With a shrug in his tone, Jack said, “Heard her tell Phil that he’d caused the conflict between her and Hannigan, so now he could be the solution. When the men attack
ed, Phil would get the blame, and she’d get to console Hannigan.”

  Things started to click into place, but it all still seemed very far-fetched. “So let me get this straight. Whitney convinced Phil to go to the apartment, then told Stack he’d be there, and then hired thugs to go after Stack, assuming he’d think Phil had hired them.” That bitch. “She wants Stack to think she’s confiding in him, trying to protect him, so they can get closer.”

  “She told Phil she wasn’t done with Hannigan, so, yeah, that’s how it sounds. While Hannigan healed up from his beating, she’d be there to coddle him.”

  “I think I’m going to puke.”

  Jack laughed. “Yeah, she’s twisted. And that’s why I’m calling. See, Whitney suggested to Phil that he might want to leave town. She doesn’t want him around muddying up her plans by telling the truth to anyone. Phil threatened to go straight to the cops instead...and she told him he’d be next on the hit list if he did.”

  So many incredible threats. Vanity didn’t know what to say, what to do. Her thoughts scrambled.

  “After Phil charged off,” Jack continued, “I decided he was the lesser of the threats, and I stuck with the lady.”

  “Thank you, Jack. Very smart thinking.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “I didn’t know if you wanted me involving the cops or not, but Whitney made a call, told someone to go after Hannigan one more time.”

  Oh, no! “When?”

  “Tonight I think, but I don’t know where. What do you want me to do? Keep tailing her? Call in the police?”

  “Tail her, yes. Let me talk to Stack, and then I’ll call you back. Until then, don’t let her out of your sight!”

  “Got it covered.”

  Vanity disconnected the phone and immediately dialed Stack. He was probably still at the rec center, could still be working out. She hated to interrupt, but she had to get his input, and she had to warn him.

  What if he was so mad, he ignored her call? If he did, she’d call Armie. Or Cannon.

  Or...she still had the second phone for emergencies. If she had to, she’d use the blasted bat signal. “Vanity?”

  Relief robbed her of strength. He hadn’t ignored her call. That had to mean something, right?

  Her relief was short-lived, because almost at the same time Stack answered, the shop door swung open, and Phil, haggard and breathing hard, stood there staring at her. Hatred and desperation darkened his eyes.

  Vanity went temporarily blank.

  “Vanity?” Stack said again, now with more insistence.

  Oh, no, no, no. Phil looked unhinged. This wasn’t a pot high, and this wasn’t everyday anger. Alarm kicked her heartbeat into high gear.

  Phil had a hand in his pocket...to conceal a weapon? If she told Stack he was here, would Phil lash out? With no time to waste, she settled on what to do, and prayed it was the right decision.

  To keep Phil from catching on, she tried to sound pleasant instead of alarmed as she said to Stack, “Hang on, please,” and laid the phone on the counter. Hopefully Phil would assume she’d put a customer on hold. If Stack could hear her talking, he’d understand, so she said louder than necessary, “Phil. What are you doing here?”

  * * *

  WITH STACK’S KNUCKLES BRUISED, Cannon, Denver, Armie, Miles and Brand had all ganged up on him, refusing to let him hit the heavy bag. So he’d practiced kicks on it instead. Endlessly. Until sweat had soaked his body and his thighs felt like noodles.

  Hadn’t helped, so he’d gone for a jog. Hours long. He’d pounded the pavement until he couldn’t breathe, and still a wild, turbulent mix of emotions left him unsettled.

  No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get Vanity off his mind.

  It didn’t help that everyone was so pissed. At him.

  You’d think he’d beaten up a new fighter, the way they all vilified him.

  Leese was the worst. If looks could kill, Stack would have expired that morning. A dozen times throughout the day he’d considered going after Leese, and Leese had looked to welcome it. But each time he took a step in that direction, Armie or Cannon was there, backing him off.

  “Don’t blame Leese for caring if you don’t,” Armie had said.

  With no idea what that meant, Stack had ignored both men.

  Later, when he’d found Leese mean-mugging him again, Cannon elbowed him and said, “You’ve got enough on your plate, Stack. Let it go.”

  He’d wondered why no one told Leese to let up, but short of saying, “Leese started it,” which would make him sound like a disgruntled schoolboy, what could he do?

  He’d gone back to working out his frustration through physical exertion.

  For most of the day Stack hadn’t understood why everyone kept giving him ugly stares.

  Then Yvette had showed up, storming past Cannon in a beeline to him.

  Yvette never stormed, so she’d gotten Stack’s attention right off. His first thought had been that something had happened to Vanity.

  Fear had slammed into him, and he’d met Yvette halfway. “What’s wrong?”

  She stopped him with a poke at his chest. “You’re a jerk, Stack Hannigan, that’s what’s wrong.”

  Whoa. Stack lifted his hands. “What’d I do?”

  “Oh, my God, do you seriously have to ask?”

  “Uh...yeah.” Far as he knew, he hadn’t done a damn thing to Yvette. He wouldn’t.

  Frowning more fiercely than he’d ever seen before, Yvette grabbed his elbow and pulled him toward the back wall.

  Stack looked back at Cannon and saw his friend just standing there, arms folded over his chest, his expression...satisfied.

  Well, hell. No help there.

  Leese saluted him. Armie looked on the verge of laughing.

  When Yvette stopped, they had a scrap of privacy—meaning no one could hear, but they could all see.

  See him getting his ass chewed by Yvette.

  Enough already. “Look,” Stack started to say. “I don’t know what—”

  Tone feral, Yvette growled, “You made her cry.”

  Shit. Hating the thought of that, Stack asked, “Vanity?”

  Yvette tucked in her chin. “Don’t act confused. Yes, Vanity.” And then with sadness, “How could you do that to her? I thought you were one of the good guys.”

  He thought he was, too. With the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, Stack explained, “We argued.” That’s all. An argument. How could he have known that would upset her so much? Vanity was the one who’d betrayed him with lies.

  Although, now that he thought about their exchange, Vanity’s side of the argument had consisted mostly of her yelling that she loved him.

  Feeling a trickle of sweat track down his temple, Stack rubbed a forearm over his face.

  By the time he’d left last night, Vanity had looked only pissed, not weepy. It twisted his guts to think he’d walked away when she might have needed him. “I’ll talk to her.” And somehow he’d figure it out, because lies or not, he cared about her.

  “You should have talked before you told her it was over.”

  Stack took a step back. “I did what?”

  Now Yvette looked near tears. “She’s the strongest person I know, Stack. She never cries, not over anything.” Going all angry Amazon again, Yvette stretched up to her tiptoes. “But you made her.”

  “We’re not over. Jesus. Don’t start rumors like that.”

  Yvette blinked. “You are.” Confused, she’d dropped back to her feet. “Vanity said so.”

  Rage returning to the boiling point, Stack crowded in closer again. “She said she’s through with me?”

  Yvette stared at him, then behind him—and yeah, of course, Cannon had moved closer.

  Stack knew he’d made a damned spectacle of himself.

  No longer looking angry, Leese said, “Vanity got the idea that you were calling it quits.”

  As a warning, Stack told him, “Not even, so you can just back up on that shit.”

 
; “Glad to hear it,” Leese said with his own black frown. “Maybe you should tell her that.”

  So Leese had been mad at him for upsetting Vanity? Maybe he owed him an apology.

  Yvette touched his arm. “She’s not as casual about relationships as most people might be. As long as I’ve known Vanity, she’s never been serious about a guy, but she’d put everything on the line for a friend. I can only imagine how invested she’d be over the guy she loves.”

  The guy she loves.

  And he’d accused her. Walked away from her.

  He’d made her cry.

  Looking less angry and more instructional, Leese said, “I tried to steer her in the right direction, you know? But she doesn’t totally catch the cues. She wanted to get your interest when I knew you were already hooked.”

  Hooked, reeled in and happy about it. Stack drew a deep breath and released a lot of resentment. “She’s mine.”

  “Well, hallelujah.” Cannon smiled. “I think she’s the one you need to tell.”

  Armie gave Stack a shove. “I’d say you should ice those knuckles again, but it’d probably be better if you just grabbed a shower and got on your way.”

  To Vanity. Right. That sounded like a fine plan. And with that decided, urgency had replaced the anger.

  He’d showered with haste, thrown on his clothes, and had just gotten into his car when she called. He’d been all ready to explain, to reiterate that he cared.

  But a second after that, Phil had walked in on her.

  So now, driving as fast as he dared, keeping the call on speaker, Stack listened in.

  He could hear Phil talking but couldn’t understand everything he said. Something clattered, and he imagined Phil moving into the shop, stepping around the space filled with a variety of items.

  Vanity, who probably stood near the counter, came through loud and clear when she said, “You actually think I’d give you money again?”

  More mumbling from Phil, and then, as if he’d gotten closer to her, Stack heard, “You have to help me. I don’t have any other choice.”

  “You lied to me, Phil. You said you needed the money for a job.”

  “Yeah, a lie. Sorry ’bout that. This time I’ll be square with you. Swear.”

  “All right.” Vanity’s voice faded, got stronger again. Was she moving around, too? Fear choked him when he realized she might be trying to keep space between herself and Phil. “How much do you need now, and why?”