Sheltering Annie

by Lauren Giordano

  When Tommy shrugged, Hank checked the label in the waistband, conscious that he was seriously overstepping his bounds. 6X. Did sizes correlate to age? He glanced to Jason. Did that mean Jason was a 4? "C'mon Sport, it's almost dinner time." He would have to be careful. Subtle. Hank winced. Not exactly his strong suit. But, he would have to try—because if Annie suspected him of financial assistance, she might be insulted. Offering Tommy his hand, he tugged him up from the floor. He didn't want her to hurt anymore—and he sure as hell didn't ever want to be the one doing the hurting. But, maybe Saturday, he could begin to put his plan in action.

  Chapter 12

  Still smiling after dinner that night, Annie listened to Hank telling stories about his farm and what they would see on Saturday. Her boys were—riveted. Smiling. Laughing over stories about Bo. She leaned against the doorframe once they arrived at the daycare center, listening to the never-ending series of questions. First Tommy, then Jason.

  That night's task—caulking the new bay window so they could paint the wall the following night. Miss Robin was eager to see color before the week's end. She'd picked a bright, peachy coral for that wall, a saturated color that would likely glow in sunlight.

  "Once we get this caulked and get a few coats of paint up tomorrow night, I can start on the first window seat," Hank explained, drifting over to her once he'd assigned the boys the task of laying out his supplies.

  Annie sighed as he approached, the desire to kiss him nearly overtaking her good sense. They'd held hands under the table at dinner. His touch was now something she craved. The air around them seeming to spark with electricity whenever he was near. "Uh-huh."

  Henry chuckled. "Sweet, did you just hear anything I said?"

  His sexy grin was irresistible. "Caulk. Paint. And . . . something." All she could think about was that afternoon. How close they'd come. How much she'd wanted him. Over the last three years, the thought of taking a chance on a man again—any man, had made her skin crawl. Now—staring at Henry, she hated the thought of having to wait. Two more days was going to feel like a year.

  Standing near her, his fingers brushed hers. "Now that I know that look in your eyes, it just makes me wish tomorrow was Saturday."

  She leaned into him, brushing her mouth against his bristled cheek. "I wish now was Saturday."

  "The best way I know of to exercise mounting frustration . . ." His eyes gave her a once-over that made her shiver. "Is to work it off," he said with a smile. "Think you can handle caulking the top of the window frame? I need to keep an eye on the boys and I'm pretty sure you don't want them on the ladder."

  "I accept your challenge," she teased. "I've got three years to make up for."

  Henry hesitated. "What do you mean?"

  "You know-" She shrugged, trying to find the right words to make him understand how she felt. How hope and resentment could co-exist in her heart. How much she'd been forced to give up—but how desperately she still believed in her little family's future. "I feel like Phil has stolen-" She lowered her voice, conscious of the boys being a little too close for comfort. How could she explain what it felt like to have your freedom snatched away? To not be able to reach goals because someone blocked your way? "He's taken three years of my life. If I ever get it back, I need to prove to myself that I'm capable-"

  "Darlin', you already are," he insisted. "You're a capable mom. Despite him holding you back, you're scrappy in how you've handled a terrible situation. No matter what he throws at you—you come up with a plan to defy him." His voice adamant, the tone sent a surge of pride through her. "I'm sure you're an incredible nurse-" He took her hand in his. "And you will be again very soon."

  Would she? Annie sighed. "I just feel . . . inadequate. Like if I'm ever finally free—I need to do it on my own."

  Henry stilled beside her. "Sweet, I want you to do whatever you want. I would never hold you back."

  Something in his voice made her glance up at him. A thread of uncertainty. She gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm not . . . fragile. I'm strong. I just need to be able to prove that."

  His warm, magnetic, Hank smile wasn't reaching his eyes. "How about you start now?" Handing her a caulk gun, he threaded his fingers through hers. "C'mon, sweet. Let me show you."

  An hour later, she paused on the ladder, watching as Henry examined a bead of caulk he'd allowed Tommy to run down the side of the window. She hid her smile over the goggles her son had insisted he needed to wear. His curly hair was clumped up where the elastic hugged his head.

  "Great job, TomTom. That's a beautiful, straight line."

  "Is it my turn yet? I's next."

  "That's right, bud. You're next." Henry acknowledged Jason's plea, as he hopped from one foot to the other." Didn't Tommy do a good job?"

  "Why's it important?" Tommy handed his brother the caulking gun.

  Hank quickly interceded, holding Jason's little hands in his—before caulk squeezed out everywhere. "Imagine standing here in the window on a rainy day. You're looking out the window while you're dry and safe inside, right?"

  Tommy pressed his nose to the glass, staring at the darkness beyond the window. "Yeah."

  "The caulk you just ran along this edge means no water is going to get inside this window. It won't leak . . . because of you. The good job you did."

  Her heart clutched when her son smiled, his eyes starry over praise from his hero. Lord, what would it be like? For her sons—to grow up with a man like Henry? To hear praise instead of caustic anger. To feel love, instead of fear. To take pride in their work—no matter the project. To drift off to sleep each night, knowing the man in their house would do anything to protect them—from men like the father they'd been born to.

  "Okay, let's help Jason with his line and then we're done for the night. You can have your bath and get ready for bed."

  "Can I help again? When the other window comes?"

  Hank sensed her watching him and lifted his gaze to her perch on the ladder. "Well, I certainly can't do it without you. You guys are pros now. I'll need your help."

  His reassuring smile dissolved her lingering guilt. The anchor of failure she dragged with her . . . always. Her worry over—everything. While she may doubt herself, she would never doubt Henry. His intentions. His love for her boys. Hopefully—his eventual love for her. If she could only allow herself to accept it. Soon, she promised. Soon, she'd be able to offer Henry as much as he was giving them. A job, so she could finally feel financially secure. A job would rebuild her confidence. It would make her feel in control. That she could be good for Henry—worthy of him. A true partner to him, instead of a burden. Once she could finally trust herself again—she could allow herself to believe in them.

  "HERE YOU GO."

  Phil winced when the file clerk dropped a stack of claims on his desk. Her chirpy voice sliced through his skull like a saw blade. Glaring at her departing back, he reached into his drawer for the aspirin bottle. "Idiot," he muttered. Why the hell had he gotten so drunk? It musta been because he'd skipped lunch. "And then . . . dinner." The few beers had just hit him harder than usual. But, that meant instead of takin' care of Annie last night, he'd wasted it. Passed out in the musty chair in Betsy's rathole living room.

  The two Vikos he'd promised to save for an emergency—gone. Even after slapping her around this morning, the bitch insisted she hadn't taken them. So, that musta meant—he had. He was getting careless. Which meant today—he'd dragged his ass in to work. Two more Vikes in his pocket. "But, those are gonna stay there." The niggling voice in his head urged him to touch them. Feel to make sure they were still there. "Just protectin' the stash," he reminded himself, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. But, everyone's head was down. Reading claims files. Or on the phone—with an endless series of whiny people wanting answers.

  Phil closed his eyes. Like he cared? He touched his pocket again, his fingers soothing the two reassuring ovals through the fabric. Why should Betsy get them all? That's why he had to hide them f
rom her. He resisted the urge . . . to walk down the hall to the bathroom. If he could just break one in half. No—cuz then he'd lose part if he wasn't careful. A nice, clean cut prevented that. "Or-" His eyes popped open. Bite it. He could just . . . A third- He glanced at the stack of files. Felt for the pills again. A third would take the edge off. But—a half would ease his pounding head. Enough to get through a few hours of this shit job.

  Then, he'd refocus. This weekend, he vowed. He'd get Annie off his back for good. "Get her outta my paycheck." Rage bubbled to the surface of the cauldron in his head. His check this week? Garnished for child support. For kids he didn't want. He needed that money. Hand in his pocket, Phil rose and headed for the bathroom. He needed that money.

  HANK CHECKED HIS WATCH the following morning and winced. Tossed his pencil on the legal pad. Took a sip of cold coffee. Already three hours into his day, he hadn't accomplished much on any front. The steel guys were still two days behind schedule. Pete hadn't received any information from his source on Phil McKenna. Not that Hank had expected it so soon. But—it would have been nice to start planning the Bastard Ex-Husband Op. To start planning something.

  And on the Annie front, the reel in his head kept replaying the previous night's conversation. Annie's words. "I'm not fragile." Hell, she was the opposite. She was tough. She could hold her own. If she could survive two years on the run from her ex, she could likely do just about anything. The scarier one—the words that had kept him awake half the night was the "I can do it on my own." What did that mean? She didn't want him? Was she undecided? Was it a temporary feeling? Would she eventually want him? Did she want a separate life with the boys—with him on the sidelines? Was he just—someone to date?

  "I need guidelines." He wanted—a map. Hell, a blueprint. Something he could read. And more importantly, understand. What was she thinking? How long would it take? He knew he wasn't being fair—her life was in flux. It had been that way for- "Hell, years." How could Annie know what she wanted? Aside from a life free of terror. Aside from safety? Stability? A job? Would he even factor into her plans?

  Hank wanted criteria. If X occurs, then Y happens. On Z date. He wanted- "A construction schedule." He stared at the project schedule on the wall. Every activity—laid out in advance. Eight months of construction. The color-coded rainbow overlap of numerous subcontractors—all working in harmony- "Yeah, right." He snorted. Things never worked out the way they were planned. But, the schedule was the starting point. The way to see where the blips would occur. In advance. So, they could plan for them. He wanted that with Annie. Shaking his head, he shoved his coffee aside. But, who the hell was he? "You don't have the right to pressure her."

  "Old man, are you already talking to yourself? We've still got a long way to go out here."

  Hank glanced up with the arrival of his boss, relieved to set aside his confusion—and itching to let off a little steam. The kid—with his perfect life. "You would too, if you were runnin' this job."

  Jeff Traynor dropped into a chair, tossing his messenger bag on the conference room table. "What's the problem?" He eyed him curiously. "We're only two days behind schedule. I talked with Rudy last night. He said he'd get another erection crew out here Monday."

  "Well, I just talked to the foreman an hour ago, and he isn't aware of that." He knew he was taking out his frustration on the kid. Hell, the project was about the only thing running smoothly.

  "So—I'll email Rudy again tonight to remind him he promised more labor for Monday." He lasered in on Hank. "Is something else going on?"

  Hell, he should've kept his mouth shut. "I'm—worried about Annie and her boys."

  "What did I miss?" His boss looked puzzled. "Is this about the cafeteria line?"

  "Annie finally told me yesterday-" He swallowed around the notch of anger. "She's the woman Phil is after."

  "Phil-" Jeff went still. "The guy who went after Marisol-"

  "He's Annie's ex-husband. She and her boys-" Hank hesitated, his face heating with anger. "Damn it, Jeff—they live here. Annie volunteers because she's a client at New Beginnings."

  He did a double-take. "She lives here? But, she doesn't look like-"

  "A victim?" Hank recognized the shock in his eyes. Hell, he'd felt it himself. "Yeah—I didn't think so, either. But, what do they look like?"

  "Hector mentioned-" His expression dazed, Traynor stared past him to the wall. "He told me about his friends . . . that their dad hit them." His throat rippled with a swallow that likely hurt. "God, it's her? She's here like twelve hours a day. It's Tommy and Jason?"

  His stomach felt as though he'd eaten a chunk of steel instead of a donut. "Yeah."

  Distracted, Traynor ran a hand through his hair. "I just- I never imagined-"

  Annie didn't look like a victim. The arrogance of his thoughts slapped him in the face. She was a beautiful, passionate woman. She was a hundred different words for a fierce, proud, protective mother. Victim was so far down the list, he never would have searched for it. But—he didn't know jack about abused women. And thinking about it now made him edgy. Angry. In need of revenge. Eager to solve the problem. The Phil problem. Because all this time . . . each moment they'd spent together, she'd likely been strumming with fear. And he could've been helping her.

  "Mari never said anything." The kid's eyes were troubled.

  "That's why I had such a hard time gettin' her to go out. She's afraid he'll grab the kids."

  His boss frowned. "Aren't they divorced?"

  "Yeah—but he's an alcoholic. A control freak." Vocalizing it almost made him feel better. And worse. Acknowledging the nightmare Annie had been dealing with. But, talking about it—something so foreign- So crazy, actually helped settle him. Cleared his mind of fury. So, he could develop a battle plan. "She's lived in six shelters over the past two years."

  "Years?" His expression flashed with disbelief.

  "Tommy's been in three schools this year alone." He released a frustrated sigh. "Annie's a nurse."

  "Then why does she work here?" A flurry of activity took place behind his eyes. "Jesus—she can't leave. He prevents her from working." His expression turned grim. "I'm getting really tired of hearing these awful stories."

  "Something going on with Miss Ortega?" Hank was relieved to set aside his own worries, if only for a moment.

  "Only that Hector's drug-addict, non-existent mother is preventing Marisol from adopting him." His jaw tightened with his angry words. "She's been dealing with the state adoption process for nearly three years." His eyes flashed with animosity. "I'm going to help her with the legal bullshit. I've asked Specialty's attorney to help me out. It's a tangled mess—dealing with the foster system and the courts. Getting the mother to relinquish custody."

  Compassion nudging through him, Hank suddenly realized—maybe Jeffie didn't have such an easy time of it after all. The stud who had it all—was in deep with Marisol Ortega. "I hope that all works out."

  "Oh, it will," he promised, leveling his gaze at Hank. "Maybe our lawyer can give you some recommendations."

  Hank considered it. He'd certainly need legal help with what he had in mind for Phil. "I think I'll take you up on that—because I'm definitely doing something about it."

  His friend stilled. "What do you have in mind?"

  "Track him down." Hunt him down. "Maybe tail him a day or two—get a bead on his routine."

  Traynor's eyes widened. "Hank—you can't kill him."

  "I won't need to kill him. Just scare the hell out of him—like he’s doin' to her." He settled back in his chair, warming to the subject. "Big man—beatin' up on a woman." He clenched his fist, his neck prickling with anger. "Frankly—I think I'll enjoy scarin' the hell out of him."

  Jeff raised an eyebrow. "Why don't I give my brother in law, Charlie a call? Andrea's husband is a state trooper."

  "I'm not gonna kill him," Hank reminded, amused by the kid's expression.

  "Yeah—but he can give us a few pointers. Off-the-record? You kn
ow . . . so you don't do something that gets you arrested."

  "If it gets Phil out of her life, I don't much give a damn." Hank ran a hand down his face. "Annie can't relax until he's out of the picture—and I'm tired of seeing her scared all the time."

  Jeff smiled. "You really like her."

  Love. He loved her. "Yeah. And her boys." He wanted them safe—until he had the right to take care of them himself. "Did you get a chance to talk with Jake? Or your parents?" It was time to move to a safer topic—one that didn't knot his stomach with frustration.

  "Yes, and yes," he confirmed. "Jake's not thrilled-" He smirked. "No surprise there. But, as long as cost doesn't give him heart failure, he wants to do what's right."

  "Not bad." When the kid wanted something, he could step up.

  "Well, it helped that Jenna was there, too," Jeff admitted. "My sister-in-law was quick to remind him what it's like to be a struggling single parent." He glanced at his watch. "Which reminds me . . . Mona and Linc want to drop by later today to see numbers." He shot him a glance. "Meaning . . . we need some numbers by two o'clock. Have you got any yet?"

  Hank chuckled. "It's a good thing we've worked together before. I know how you operate." Jeffie's plans usually included a great deal of 'wing it'. "I've got two prices on the airlock entrance to the residences—if Specialty wants to donate that." He leafed through his legal pad. "I'm still waiting on the masonry guys, but I can shotgun a price based on the numbers they've given us for the rest of the project."

  "What about enclosing the cafeteria line?"

  He flipped several pages. "Not much cost. But, I need to confirm existing water lines and power. The ladies were still busy back there when I had time to look."

  "Anything else?"