Bad Boy Heroes Boxed Set

by Patricia Ryan

  Beth felt her stomach pitch as Ron stood and stared at her. His eyes were so bleak, she couldn’t bear to look at them, so she stepped forward and hugged him. He held on tight, and ludicrously, she remembered that when he’d turned eleven he’d stopped hugging her in front of others.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You’ll be okay, honey, I promise.”

  When he drew away, his eyes were moist. Beth almost lost it then, but she held back for him.

  Joe took Ron’s arm and drew him aside, said something Beth couldn’t hear, and patted his shoulder. Then J. Bailey opened the steel door and took Ronny inside.

  The door banged shut with a loud clang that reverberated through the barren room. She just watched after her son, numb. Then the feeling started, rising up from her lungs into her throat. She thought she might be sick, and clapped her hands over her mouth. Her knees buckled. Joe crossed to her, and with only a slight hesitation, took hold of her shoulders and pulled her close. She held on to him, clutching his soft sweater, listening to the soothing words he uttered. After a minute, she felt stronger and drew back. “Sorry, I’m not usually so…weak.”

  His gray eyes were full of warmth. “You got good reason, Bonnie.”

  Despite the horror of the circumstances, she smiled at the old nickname. “Thanks, Billy.”

  “Ronny’ll be all right.” Joe’s tone turned sober. “And the first time is the toughest. Seeing everything. Its starkness. You won’t even come in after today. Just drop him off at the door.”

  “Really? How do you know that?”

  “I’m familiar with the routine.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “You knew they’d let you come in with me, didn’t you? You knew the officer.”

  His expression said guilty-as-charged. “Yeah.”

  “Do they always let social workers in?”

  His face reddened. “I got a little pull here. I’ve dealt with this facility before.”

  “Thanks Joe, for doing this for me. And for helping my son.”

  After a hesitation, Joe squeezed her neck. “You’re welcome.” He nodded to the exit. “You ready to go?”

  She glanced at the steel door through which Ronny had passed. “Yes. I’ll be all right.”

  “Sure you will. The Outlaws are tough, remember?”

  She touched his arm. “I remember.”

  *

  WHAT THE HELL was he doing here? Tucker leaned against the wall of the souvenir shop and stared at The Downtown Diner, like the stepchild he’d been, looking in from the outside. It was dusk and Beth Donovan had put up the CLOSED sign. The last patron had left, followed by what must be the employees, one tall and thin, one short and stubby. Mutt and Jeff, Doc had called them.

  Through the front glass, he could see her move around. She straightened menus on the counter, then she wiped it off. She checked the coffeepots and headed to the front booths. When she leaned over a table, she looked up through the window. And froze.

  Shit! Too late he realized he was visible underneath the new streetlight that had been part of the downtown renovation. His heartbeat picked up like it did before a big race. She stared at him for a few moments, then turned away. He blew out a heavy breath. A reprieve. She’d seen him but wasn’t going to make an issue of it.

  Pushing off from the brick wall, he decided to go back to Doc’s, stop this stupid vigil that he’d been compelled to keep all day—driving through the streets, passing the diner several times, walking around town till he got too cold. Disgusted with himself, Tucker took a step toward his car when the front door of the diner opened. She stood in the doorway.

  Go home , he told himself. Leave it alone.

  He edged toward the road.

  She waited.

  He stepped down the curb.

  She watched him.

  He felt snared like the rabbits he used to catch in traps. Calling himself a no good, selfish fool, he crossed the street. Five feet away from her, he stopped, jammed his hands into his suede jacket and stared some more.

  In the faint light of the street, he could see the lines of stress on her face. She’d pulled her hair back in some kind of tie, and it made her look as fragile as the tiny glass figurines his mother used to collect. Arms wrapped around her waist, she shivered in the thin cotton sweater she wore. Like the one she’d worn the night of the Council meeting, it was pink and soft as down. “It’s cold out here. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “I don’t wanna bother you.”

  “You were watching me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  She shrugged. “You didn’t. Come inside.”

  Mutely, he nodded and followed her into the diner. The lure was too great; he felt as if he’d been stripped of his own free will. Closing the door behind him, he stayed by it. She crossed the room, her legs impossibly long in the dark gray slacks. Behind the counter, she went to the coffee. A pot still warmed on the burner. He could smell the rich brew. “It’s high test,” she said softly. “I don’t drink the decaf.”

  “Me, either.” He unbuttoned his coat but left it on, not sure how long he’d be welcome, willing himself to break the spell and leave her. Instead, he approached the counter and took in details as he went. Great decor…cozy walls, neat recessed lighting. “Your place is nice.”

  “Haven’t you been here before?”

  “Not since…” His words trailed off. “Not in a long time.”

  She nodded, understanding. “It got a whole new face-lift, like the rest of the town. When the plans were made for your return, we all sunk some money into renovation.”

  Dropping onto a stool, he watched her set the mug in front of him. Steam filtered up from it, warming his cold cheeks. “I hope this works out for Glen Oaks.”

  “It already has. The hotels near the track and the bed-and-breakfasts within twenty miles are booked the entire week of the race in September.” She sipped from her own mug. “Ticket sales for regular races are up, too.”

  “It’ll be just like Indy week,” he muttered. Doc was going to the big race again this year and badgered Tucker to go, but he’d refused, like always.

  “Danny wanted to go there; he would have loved that—the track started booking NASCAR in ninety-three.”

  Tucker’s stomach tightened. How much had he deprived young Danny Donovan of?

  “I hear it’s like Disney World.” Beth’s voice was dreamy.

  Tucker remembered thinking the same thing the first time he raced there. “I’m sorry he never made it.”

  “We went to Daytona once as spectators. We took Ronny to Orlando afterward, to the Magic Kingdom.” For a moment, her sad face glowed with fond memories, then it darkened as if she remembered present reality.

  It made him ask, “How’d it go today?”

  She scowled. “You knew he was going this morning?”

  I thought about it all day . “Yeah. He, um, he told Doc how it all shook out.”

  Indicating the street, she asked, “Is that why you were out there?”

  He nodded.

  She bit her lip. “It went as well as can be expected.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It was just so hard to leave him there, alone.” Her eyes filled with tiny unshed tears that sparkled off the lights above.

  “I wish…” He didn’t finish. What the hell could he say? I wish I hadn’t killed your husband? Ronny’s father?

  The moisture receded. “Mr. Quaid, we’ve had this discussion. Ronny’s problems aren’t your fault.”

  “Please, make it Tucker.”

  “Then call me Beth.” She gave him a shy small smile that tugged at his heartstrings.

  His eyes darted to the wall at the end of the room, decorated with racing pictures. In the center was a big framed photo. The temptation was too great. He stood. Beckoned by the memories, enticed by the past, he crossed to it.

  There he was, the ghost that haunted Tucker to this d
ay, in living color. He stared at the man he’d killed, noting his small stature. Most NASCAR drivers were Donovan’s height and build—five seven or eight, one sixty. Tucker himself was more Richard Petty’s size, with his six feet and heavier frame. They had to make the driver’s windows bigger for him to slide through. His eyes burned as he took in the pictures. Donovan held a helmet under his arm, and was dressed in a black-and-orange racing suit, backdropped by a Ford emblazoned with Mobil Oil on the side.

  A lump lodged in Tucker’s throat as he felt Beth come up behind him. “That was when he qualified for the ninety-two race.”

  The race he’d crashed in.

  “He was ecstatic.” She smiled wistfully. “It took him a long time to get a sponsor.” Her voice held warmth. Love. Devotion. For one brief moment, Tucker was swamped with regret for never allowing a woman close enough to feel that way about him. Staring at Donovan, awash with guilt and grief, Tucker shuddered.

  He felt a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault, Tucker.”

  The use of his given name was rife with forgiveness. He looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and sincere. Her lips held a faint blush of coral, and were smiling sadly. How could she possibly be this good, this forgiving? “Thanks for that, Beth.”

  She left her hand where it was. “You have to forgive yourself.” She glanced at Danny. “We all do, for our past.”

  Tucker swallowed hard. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

  “With all my heart. If I didn’t, I couldn’t—’

  From behind, Tucker felt a cold draft and heard a booming voice growl, “What’s going on here?”

  He turned. So did Beth. Quickly she dropped her hand, but the woman and man poised by the door hadn’t missed the gesture. They were about sixty, both gray-haired, dressed to the nines for a Saturday night out. The man wore glasses and an outraged expression on his face.

  Tucker had seen these people before.

  They were Julia and Carl Donovan.

  Danny’s parents.

  *

  BETH EDGED IN front of Tucker like a lion defending her cub. The whimsical thought would have made her smile if the circumstances had been different—he had several inches and at least fifty pounds on her. Still, she felt compelled to shield him from what she knew was coming. “Julia, Carl. What are you doing here?”

  Danny’s father, a big man with square-cut features and a glint in his eye honed by years of corporate success, straightened his shoulders; he was still trim and fit at sixty-two. “I asked you a question, Beth.”

  Lord, she was too tired for this. Usually she could tolerate the Donovans’ imperiousness. Danny had called them Charles and Princess Di behind their backs, and as a young married couple, he and Beth had joked their way through their dealings with his parents. Tonight she had little reserve for anyone, least of all her royal in-laws. But she’d learned early on that to back down with these people had dire consequences.

  It isn’t that we don’t like her, dear. She’s just not right for you.

  “And I asked you a question, too.” Angling her chin, she watched them with hard-won determination.

  “We’ve been upset all day about Ronny,” Julia finally told her, snagging a tissue out of her purse and delicately patting her eyes. Beth didn’t doubt she’d cried over Ronny’s circumstances. Her fine-boned features and well-bred facade showed lines of strain. In their own way, they loved him.

  I’m sorry, Mrs. Donovan, but I love your son.

  You’re only eighteen, what do you know about love?

  Enough.

  “I know you’re concerned, Julia. I stopped by to give you a report when I got back from Lancaster, but no one was home.”

  “Carl took me shopping in the city to cheer me up. We just finished dinner at the Country Club and drove by your house, but you weren’t there.”

  “Beth, why is that man here?” Carl glared at Tucker.

  Beth heard what might be a groan behind her. Remembering his green eyes so dark with remorse gave her strength. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. Mr. Quaid isn’t the enemy, Carl. If you must cast blame for Danny’s death, blame the sport.”

  “How Christian of you.” Julia wasn’t too upset to get that little dig in.

  That brother of hers, he’ll last as a minister about as long as snow in April.

  Tucker shifted and came around beside her. “I’m sorry if my bein’ here upsets you, Mr. Donovan. Mrs. Donovan.” His voice was gritty with emotional strain. “I saw Beth in the diner and stopped to see how Ron was.”

  “You stay away from Ronny,” Carl spat out, his face reddening. “He’s to have nothing to do with that damned sport.”

  Beth drew in a deep breath. “You know that the court assigned Ronny community service with Mr. Quaid.”

  “You should have let us call our judge friend.” Again, Julia sniffled.

  Let us send Ronny to that prep school in Vermont where his father went…Ronny should be firmly disciplined…maybe he can stay with us…. Beth, you’re just not capable of handling this kind of thing, especially with your background…

  “No, that wouldn’t have been right.” Getting Ronny off, as the Donovans had done in the past, only seemed to have made her son’s rebellious streak worse. But Beth held on to her patience. The two people before her still suffered greatly over the loss of their only child; their grandson’s decline into crime had almost leveled them.

  “Is it right that you’ve allowed this man into your lives?” Carl asked accusingly.

  “I’m leavin’.” Tucker’s stark words were clipped. When she stole a quick glance at him, she saw his mask was back in place.

  Gripping his arm, she said, “No. I think we should all sit down and talk about this. Clear the air.”

  Julia tossed back her hair. “I have no intention of sitting anywhere near this man. If we’d had our way, he would never have been allowed to set foot in Glen Oaks again.” Though Carl was on the town council, even his inimitable power and money couldn’t keep them from voting for Tucker’s return. “As a matter of fact, we’ve decided to go to Europe for several weeks just to get out of this town while…” Julia stared at Beth. “… well, you know.” She faced her husband. “Let’s go, Carl.”

  But Carl wasn’t finished yet. He grasped his wife’s arm and leveled angry eyes on Beth. “Danny would be very disappointed in you, Mary Elizabeth.” With that, the couple swept out the door, full of righteous indignation and misplaced fury.

  Beth wilted. The day had already been too hard before this onslaught of Donovan rage. She crossed to the counter and dropped down on a stool. Picking up her coffee, she sipped it. It was cold, and bitter, like life had gotten. She set it down and buried her face in her hands. Tucker came up behind her. Instead of leaving, he sank onto the seat next to her.

  The tears came. She tried to battle them back but she couldn’t, not after taking Ronny to that awful place that morning, not after the attack by Danny’s parents. The flood broke through, and she was powerless to stop it.

  Tucker’s hand went to her shoulder; he moved in close, and his arm encircled her. Then she really cried, deep wrenching sobs that wracked her whole body. Dimly she was aware of his soothing motions on her back, of nonsense words of consolation. Strong fingers stroked her hair.

  When her sobs abated, she sniffled and drew back. So did he. She glanced over at him. “Sorry, I’m not usually so emotional.”

  “You got the right.” He tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She wiped her cheeks and blew her nose.

  He sat back, picked up his cold coffee and sipped. Finally he asked, “Mary Elizabeth?”

  It made her smile, which she suspected was his intent. “My real name. I’m Mary Elizabeth, my best friends are Mary Margaret, and Mary Anne. We got a big kick out of it when we were young.”

  “Ah.” He waited, then angled his head to the door. “Are they always like that with you?”

  Closing her eyes, she saw
the Donovans the day Danny told them she was pregnant and they were getting married. She’d insisted on going with him to his house on the hill. The palace, he’d called it.

  There are other ways to deal with this, son, you don’t have to marry her.

  But I want to marry her I’m happy about the baby.

  First her brother gets you into that gang. Now this…

  “Yes, they always have.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. “The classic story. Girl from wrong side of the tracks corrupts fair-haired boy. It was my fault he raced. We lured him into the gang. I shouldn’t have gotten pregnant before we were married.” She shot him a self-effacing smile. “I could continue the litany, but the thing about it is…they were right.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, they were. Danny was pretty straight before he got involved with Linc and me. At first his falling in with us was an act of rebellion. But he got tight with Linc, and then me.” She didn’t hide the smile. “He fell hard and fast, and I kept him there.”

  “Did you love him?”

  “Right up until the day he died, I was crazy about him. He was nothing like his parents. Money meant little to him. Prestige nothing. All he really cared about was me, Ronny and racing. He had all of it until he…”

  Tucker stiffened.

  She swiveled around and faced him. “Don’t say you killed him, Tucker. You didn’t.”

  He angled his head to the door. “They think so.”

  “They’re into blame. Their world is full of it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For them?”

  He shook his head. “That you have to deal with them.”

  “I…care about them.”

  Tucker’s jaw dropped.

  “I do. They stopped their pressure a few years after Ronny was born. It only started again when he got into trouble.” She was still facing him, her feet on the rung of the stool.

  He swiveled around to watch her and crossed his arms over his chest. The position accented his big shoulders and long, lean frame. “When was that?”