Bad Boy Heroes Boxed Set

by Patricia Ryan

  Her mind on business now, Annie wiped her hands on a towel, gathered up her purse, dragged a fleece jacket out of the closet and threw it on over her green sweater and jeans. “The new Social Services guy is coming tonight. This is to meet him.”

  “I thought he wasn’t due until the end of the month.”

  “He wasn’t. Haven’t you heard? Marnie” —the head of the Youth Council and director of Glen Oaks Social Services— “had a baby girl early—the day before yesterday.”

  “No kidding.” Suzie looked at Annie. “Who’s the new guy?”

  “Somebody from the city division. Apparently, he asked to come to Glen Oaks. Must have wanted a change of pace.”

  “Hmm, new blood in town. How old is he?”

  “I don’t know anything about him. No one does, since he wasn’t expected until April.” Annie grinned and ruffled Suzie’s hair on her way to the door. It was thick and silky—like Joe’s used to be. “I’ll check him out for you, though, kiddo.”

  “Check him out for yourself.”

  Annie turned as she opened the door. “No way. The last thing I need in my life is a man.” Though the thought no longer made her stomach queasy, it’d be a cold day in hell when she’d trust a guy again. Surveying the kitchen, she added, “I told the kids you’d make hot chocolate.”

  “Mommy’s favorite,” Faith commented idly.

  As well as Beth’s and Margo’s. Annie smiled at the thought. “Lock up and put the alarm on. It’s getting dark.”

  Long ago, she’d accepted the fact that she might never feel completely safe, but, with the necessary precautions, she could live with that. Smiling, she stepped out into the cool night air.

  *

  JOE MURPHY SAT in his brand-new Bronco, staring at the Social Services building, his new place of employment, starting in a couple of minutes. A compact little brick structure, it was attached to the town hall and new to Glen Oaks in the last six years. Nestled across the street was the high school, which brought back bad memories.

  Better get used to it, buddy. The reminders are going to be popping up at you like jack-in-the-boxes.

  But he could handle it. He could handle anything. Once you’d lost all you had, once you’d hit bottom hard enough to knock some sense into your head—and survived—you could handle whatever came your way. That lesson was one of the many things he’d learned in the years since he’d hopped a bus out of this town on a snowy February night, the reality of what he’d become slapping him in the face harder than the cold raw wind.

  You’re not that man anymore.

  No, he wasn’t. But sometimes he’d wake up sweating in the middle of the night, worried that monster still lurked inside of him, like Hyde to Jekyll, and someday would claw his way out.

  “You can beat Hyde, if indeed it’s true,” Pete, his counselor in the recovery program, had said. “You’re one of the strongest men I know, Joe.”

  Strong enough to face Glen Oaks tonight? Strong enough to face Annie? Linc?

  Yes.

  Grabbing his briefcase from the seat behind him, along with his tweed sports coat, Joe exited his car, donned the jacket and took a deep breath. But setting foot on Glen Oaks soil again caused another spurt of anxiety to race through him. What if this wasn’t the right way to reenter? Should he have let them know he was moving back here?

  Pete had asked him the same question. As Joe strode up the sidewalk and approached the door, he soothed his nerves by recounting why he’d opted for his return to be a surprise….

  “I’m going back to see Matt. If I let them know I’m coming, Annie could take him somewhere, keep him from me. Even get a restraining order. But if I take this job, publicly show her I’ve changed, she might reconsider doing anything hasty. Also, if I’m established in a respected position, she might not be able to keep him away from me.”

  Pete had scowled. “Sounds risky to me.”

  “All that matters is I get to see my son.”

  “Your health and happiness matter, too, Joe.”

  “I need to see my son. To…make sure he doesn’t end up like me. You know the statistics.”

  Pete had nodded then, and wished him luck….

  Slowly, Joe pushed open the heavy aluminum door to the agency. In his head, he enumerated who would be there tonight. The new high school principal, Sandra Summers. A police lieutenant named Mike Pratt. A probation officer, Jim Tacone. There was a secretary, Jane Meachum, to take notes. Then five people he knew, Mayor Al Hunsinger, Roman Becker, attorney-at-law, and retired teacher Janice Breed. Of course, his former best friend, Linc Grayson, whose brainchild this Council had been.

  And, last, his ex-wife, Annie Lang. She’d dropped his name with the divorce.

  Taking in another cleansing breath when he reached the meeting-room door, he stepped inside. The area was about fifteen foot square, wallpapered with muted colors. The scent of strong coffee dominated the room. Carpet covered the floor. Two people were sitting down at a rectangular oak conference table. Four others were gathered by a coffeepot, chatting. Two more were off to the side in intimate conversation. It was those two who drew him like a lodestone. But he couldn’t focus on them just yet.

  Scanning the group, pasting on a smile full of false bravado, Joe said, “Hi, everybody. Sorry I’m late. There was heavy traffic coming out from the city.”

  Eight heads turned toward him.

  Don’t look at her

  A tall, balding man rose. He approached Joe. “I’m Al Hunsinger.”

  “I know who you are, Mr. Hunsinger.”

  The man cocked his head. “Have we met? You look familiar.”

  Here goes. “It’s because I grew up here, but I left town six years ago. I’m Joe Murphy.”

  A small gasp drew everybody’s attention, including Joe’s. His ex-wife—all compact five feet of her—had frozen like a trapped animal. Next to her, his ex–best friend gripped her arm.

  Linc hadn’t changed much. He was still stocky and muscular and had the irrefutable aura of a gangster. Of an Outlaw. It was Annie who looked different. She was still as slender as she’d been six years before, with the long muscles and lean lines of a dancer. But all that glorious hair was gone.

  A memory assaulted him. Pete had told him to be prepared for these ambushes. Over my dead body you’ll cut your hair. Now get over here and shut up.

  He nodded to her.

  With grim resolve, he scanned the others. “I know some of you,” he said with a smile that cost him. “I’m sure my presence here is a surprise to you, but I’ve been working in the Youth Division of Social Services in New York for a while now, and I asked to be sent to Glen Oaks.” He gave them a self-effacing grin. “You’re probably surprised to see me in this role, so if you want to get coffee and take a seat, I’ll pass out my résumé. You’ll be able to tell that I’m fully qualified to be Director of Social Services here. I’m confident I can facilitate this worthwhile committee, and I hope you’ll accept me for who I’ve become.”

  Several people got up to get coffee; all of them shot concerned looks at Annie and Linc, who remained rooted to the spot by the window.

  Joe set his briefcase down on the table, took out copies of his résumé, shook hands with the still slick-looking Roman Becker, the Council’s lawyer, and with the probation officer with the tired eyes. The secretary, Jane Meachum, was a pretty, innocent type, who gave him a shy smile. Then he distributed the papers to the six people near him, introducing himself and shaking hands as he went along.

  His heart beating like a drum, he forced himself to head for the window. Remember the plan. If you could recover, you can do this. Too soon, he stood in front of them.

  Linc’s arm slid around Annie’s shoulders. God, she was so little Joe had to keep himself from wincing. He topped her by a foot, and had close to a hundred pounds on her.

  She’d never stood a chance against him.

  Viciously pushing the thought away, Joe looked her straight in the eye. “Hello, Annie.�
� He glanced to her left. “Linc.”

  Annie straightened and moved away from Linc. Her warm amber eyes were frosty, and her mouth a grim slash in that beautiful porcelain-skinned face. “Joe.” She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was strong. He was glad she’d gotten some backbone.

  “I came home, Annie. I want to see my son.”

  Her gaze flew to Linc’s, panicky. Before they could say any more, Joe added, “I hope you two will look at my résumé. I think it’ll help to calm your fears.” He shrugged. “It’ll be a start, anyway.”

  Annie shook her head.

  Though he’d expected this, it still made his heart trip in his chest. “Linc, will you try to convince Annie to give me a chance? I’m back to stay, and I promise I won’t do anything to hurt anybody. But I want to see my son.” He handed them his résumé. “Read this.”

  With that he turned and walked back to the table. He could feel their eyes bore into him, could still see the traces of fear in Annie’s. Rightly so.

  Unbidden, the ghosts came. The last time he’d seen Linc, they’d been in a shadowy waiting room at Glen Oaks Hospital, where Annie was having a miscarriage. His friend’s face had been mottled red, his voice condemning as he grabbed Joe by the collar and yelled, Get the hell out of Glen Oaks and never come back.

  The last time Joe had seen Annie, she’d been on the floor of their apartment, her lip split, her shoulder dislocated, and cradling her abdomen protectively, she’d pleaded, Don’t kick me again, Joey, I’m pregnant.

  oOo

  FORCING her hands not to shake—she had control here, if she took it—Annie stared woodenly at the papers in her hands. Still by the window, she read the résumé.

  Education: Three years at NYU in an accelerated Social Services program. Graduated 2000. Two years in a Masters of Social Work program, graduating Magna Cum Laude in 2002. Pursuing a doctorate in Clinical Psychology at Columbia University.

  Work experience: Interned summers, vacations and weekends at: Forty-Fifth Street Youth Services, VOA Children’s Center, Catholic Family Center for Troubled Youth. Spearheaded Times Square Save-the-Kids Project

  Employment: Center for Family Services, 2001 to present. Runs support groups for Children of Alcoholics, Children of Batterers, Recovered Batterers.

  The last stopped her, like walking into a wall in the dark. Disoriented, she couldn’t take the whole thing in. It had to be a bad dream that she’d awakened from. But like all those other times, her contact with Joe Murphy was an all-too-real nightmare, and needed to be dealt with.

  So, fine, deal with it. He might be back, but that didn’t mean he’d get access to the kids.

  Kids.

  Oh, no. He’d spoken only of Matt. Didn’t he realize…

  Her thoughts were interrupted by his clear, controlled voice. “Now that you’ve had time to peruse my credentials, perhaps you could come to the table and we’ll talk about this Friday’s Council meeting.” Absently she noted how different his vocabulary and even his speech patterns were.

  Nudging Annie, Linc said, “Come on, kid, we can do this.”

  She leaned on his shoulder for a moment, taking comfort in the strong, muscled feel of him. Then she crossed the room and took a seat at the opposite end of the table from her ex-husband.

  “Can we ask some questions first, Joe, before we start talking about the newest case?” This from Janice Breed.

  Joe grinned. “Of course, Mrs. Breed. I just hope I can answer them better than I could in your English class.”

  Some of the tension was broken by his levity.

  “Are you permanently assigned here?”

  “It’s still up in the air. Mamie Smith has a year’s maternity leave, so I’ll be in this job for at least that long. But honestly, I’d like to move back to Glen Oaks permanently.”

  Annie’s insides turned cold. She’d read stats on batterers. Relapse, when thrown into the old situation, was high.

  He spoke again, and smiled, calling attention to those dimples she’d once loved. For the first time, she allowed herself to take in his appearance. Though he was only in his late thirties, he’d aged dramatically. His dark hair had turned salt and pepper. He’d donned wire-rimmed glasses, accenting the lines around his eyes. His clothes were neatly tailored—a gray blazer under which he wore a pristine white shirt and tie, with black slacks. She shivered as she glanced at his hands. They were big, still capable of great pain, even though they were bordered by starched cuffs now. Expensive dress for someone who had worked in Social Services.

  She recalled the large child support check she received every month. Where did he get his money? Drugs? Though they’d done pot when they were young, they’d quit in their twenties. He drank like a fish then, but never touched anything else.

  She tuned in when Roman Becker asked, “Why’d you leave Glen Oaks in such a hurry, Murphy?”

  Joe swallowed hard and his gray eyes flashed with something—not anger, something self-directed. “For personal reasons, Mr. Becker. I can assure you, I’ve changed since I last walked the streets of this town. I hope you’ll all give me a chance to show you that.”

  They didn’t have a choice. But Annie did.

  “Now, if we can get down to business.” He glanced at the clock. “I understand the Council meets on Fridays. I’ve acquainted myself with the procedures of the group—which, by the way, I believe is a sound, well-run committee.” He picked up a folder. “And I’ve read the file on Ronny Donovan.”

  “You gonna be able to be objective about the kid, Joe?” Mayor Hunsinger asked. “Wasn’t his father a good friend of yours?”

  Joe glanced at Linc. Annie saw Linc’s expression soften. He was always the most sentimental, the most forgiving, of them. The vise around her chest tightened. What if Linc sided with Joe?

  “We knew this would be an issue on the Council in general,” Linc said. “Because Glen Oaks is a small town, members would know or may be related to the teens who come before us. We haven’t had a problem with it before. And any time there was a question, we’ve worked it out.”

  “But Murphy’s in charge of this committee, like Marnie was. He has a lot of power.”

  “I think I can be objective, Al. My past experiences and training have taught me that allowing someone’s bad behavior to continue is not in their best interests. The old concept of tough love.” After more questions and a brief discussion of the case at hand, he glanced at the clock again. “If there’s nothing else, we can adjourn until Friday. I don’t intend to prolong meetings when it’s not necessary.”

  Everyone agreed. In minutes, the room emptied of all but Linc, Annie and Joe, who stood and faced each other. Someone closed the door, its snick loud and meaningful. Annie felt Linc squeeze her shoulder, then he turned to Joe. “This is a hell of a thing.”

  Joe shrugged. “I know it’s a surprise.” He looked directly at Annie. “I did it this way on purpose. I didn’t want to give you time to take off, or get a restraining order, without giving me a chance to show you I’ve changed.”

  Annie flicked her fingers against the résumé she’d picked up from the table. “A few degrees and some jobs working with kids isn’t proof you don’t hit women anymore.”

  Her comment had found its target. His face flushed and he cleared his throat. “No, it doesn’t. But I spent a full year in a Batterer’s Recovery Program in the city. I’ve also had three years of private counseling.”

  “You’re still a wife beater,” she said starkly.

  Raising his chin, he held her gaze. “I’m a recovered wife beater.”

  Linc leaned over and whispered, “Annie, you have options.”

  She blew out a heavy breath. “There’s no way I’m going to let you see your children unsupervised, or be alone with me and them.”

  Joe said, “I don’t expect—” He halted mid-sentence, stared blankly at her. Ludicrously his gaze dropped to her stomach, making her realize what she’d revealed.

  “
Children?” His shoulders sagged and his confidence visibly receded. “You didn’t lose the baby that night?”

  Sighing, she averted her face and scrubbed her fingers over her eyes.

  Linc put a hand on her shoulder again. “He would’ve found out soon anyway, Annie.”

  Resignedly, she nodded.

  Linc faced Joe. Very simply he said, “You have a five-year-old daughter, Joe. Her name is Faith.”

  *

  BEFORE JOE COULD react, Roman Becker and Al Hunsinger came back in and asked to talk to him privately. Annie watched her ex-husband agree, turn and ask Linc and her to wait for him, then calmly follow the other men to the mayor’s office. She was stunned by his composure. For a man who’d just been told he had a second child, he seemed as cool as a winter morning.

  She and Linc tried to discuss the ramifications of Joe’s decision to come back to Glen Oaks, but they were both shell-shocked and didn’t have much to say. When Joe finally returned, she faced him, ready to do battle. Linc stood a little in front of her, as if to protect her. One of the side effects of what Joe had done to her was her best friends’ guilt for not realizing Annie was being battered. Linc’s was the worst. Though Annie had assured them she’d purposely kept it to herself, ashamed and afraid to let on what was happening—God, it had been such a cliché—her three best friends suffered over their ignorance.

  Joe faced her, his jaw hard, his features taut; but his gray eyes burned with intensity. “I have a daughter?” His voice had cracked on the word.

  “Yes.” Annie crossed her arms over her stomach in remembered pain. “No thanks to you.”

  A muscle leapt in his throat. “Is she…is she all right?”

  Annie knew what he was asking. A swift kick in the stomach during pregnancy could cause brain damage. Luckily, the blow had landed on the top of her thighs, not where he’d aimed; still, the hospital had been concerned about a miscarriage because she’d fallen. “She’s fine. A lot smarter than you or I ever will be.”