Bad Boy Heroes Boxed Set

by Patricia Ryan

Tucker cursed, muscled in front of him and got the rebound. He scored. Joe took it out and faked to the left, circled right, and went for a shot—that Tucker blocked. His hand came down hard on Joe’s chest.

  “Sorry,” he said, not meaning it.

  Joe grabbed the ball saying, “Like hell,” and scored.

  It got worse from there.

  Dimly, Joe was aware of the demons he was fighting, pushing him to be physical and aggressive. But mostly it felt good to play hard, loose and rough. Tucker matched him move for move, body slam for body slam, and grunt for grunt. He didn’t seem to mind the force, either.

  In thirty minutes, they were tied at twenty-one.

  Sucking in air like a rookie runner, Joe hugged the ball to his stomach; Tucker bent over his knees gasping for breath. His black T-shirt was soaked through. His right cheek looked bruised. Feeling his own ribs, Joe hoped he hadn’t cracked one on that last collision. “You think we’ll live through a tie breaker?”

  “No way. My side’s killin’ me.”

  “From running?”

  “No, hotshot, from where you rammed into me.”

  Joe chuckled. Tucker smiled. They were suddenly two little boys on the playground. It felt good.

  Finally managing to stand upright, Tucker said, “I reckon I needed it.” He eyed Joe. “You look better.”

  “You, too.”

  “Got some water in there.” Joe indicated the duffel bag that he’d brought out. “Want some?”

  Tucker nodded.

  Gingerly shuffling to the side of the court, Joe fished out two bottles of Poland Spring. Still breathing hard, he headed back to Tucker, who’d taken a seat on the surface of a picnic table. Ten feet away, Joe tossed him a bottle. He joined Tucker on the table, feet braced on the bench seat.

  Joe took a long swig and Tucker an even bigger gulp. “You’re a hell of an athlete,” Joe said.

  Tucker nodded. “Race car drivers have to be in top shape.” He grinned.

  “What?”

  “I was just thinkin’ of the story Richard Petty always told.”

  “What was it about?”

  “One time a guy was raggin’ on him about race car drivers not bein’ real athletes. Petty patiently explained the stamina and endurance necessary to drive a car at two hundred miles an hour. When the guy still didn’t buy it, Petty told him to put on a woolen sweat suit, shoes, gloves and a helmet, then get in his family car at noon one day in the middle of July. He should roll up all the windows except for the left front, turn the heater wide-open, and crank the radio as loud as it’d go. He said to drive around in rush-hour traffic for four hours, without stopping except for twenty seconds every half hour for gas and tires. And try not to hit anybody or get hit while he was at it.”

  Joe laughed aloud. After a pause, he said, “Richard Petty was always Danny’s idol.”

  For a moment, Tucker stilled. “What was he like?”

  “Danny?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Nice guy. Friendly as hell, even though his parents had a ton of money.”

  Tucker picked at the label on the bottle. “He loved her a lot, didn’t he?”

  “Yep. And Ron.”

  Sighing, Tucker stared out at the grass and trees in the field. “I took it all away from them.”

  “It was an accident, Tucker. Not your fault.”

  “So she says.” He hesitated. “This newest thing? It is my fault.”

  “Ronny’s trouble?”

  “Yeah. First I come to town. Then he gets in a huff about my…feelings for…oh, hell, Joe, you know how it is.”

  “Ronny’s trouble isn’t your fault. You gotta let go of the guilt, Tucker.”

  “You can’t imagine what it’s like not be able to change something terrible you’ve done.”

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  Joe could feel Tucker’s eyes on him. “What monkey’s on your back?”

  Joe waited a long time to answer. “I’ve hurt people worse than you.”

  “Can’t have.”

  “Yep. Mine was intentional. Vicious. Unforgivable.”

  “Talk about lettin’ go of your guilt, buddy…”

  Joe said nothing, just welcomed the light breeze that cooled his skin, the smell of honest, hard-earned sweat. And he was grateful for the camaraderie that he missed from his Outlaw days.

  “What’d ya do?” Tucker asked after a long silence.

  Immediately, Joe’s heart beat quicker than when he was tearing around the court. His hands sweated more than at the end of the game. He shook his head.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”

  As a trained counselor, Joe knew it was best to get this out. It was why he’d called both Pete and Taylor the night before, but they weren’t home. He would have gone to New York after work tonight if it hadn’t been for the Little League game.

  Take help wherever you can get it , Pete had told him.

  “I beat up my wife.”

  Tucker dropped the bottle. “What?”

  Joe watched the plastic bounce off the bench, turn upside down and spill onto Tucker’s sneaker.

  “I’m a recovered wife beater.”

  There was a very long silence. “I never would have guessed.”

  Joe forced himself to continue. “Next to child molesting, it’s the worst crime, don’t you think?”

  Tucker waited a minute before answering. “I dunno. Killin’ somebody’s husband and father ranks right up there.”

  A little stunned, Joe stared over at Tucker.

  Tucker said, “Look, all I’m sayin’ is I’m in no position to cast the first stone.” He averted his gaze, shrugged in the uncomfortable way men often do when they discuss something personal. “You wanna talk about it, I’m not passin’ judgment.”

  Without giving himself a chance to decline, Joe nodded. “Maybe over a quick burger at Mickey D’s before practice?”

  “You’re on.”

  As Joe rose along with Tucker, he realized he already felt better.

  Pete was on to something.

  *

  “… SOFTWARE’S A HOBBY of mine, is all.” On the way back to the diner, Doc had discussed his newest configurations with Ron, and as they’d walked through the door, Beth had asked about it.

  “Some hobby.” Ron headed behind the counter to get a soft drink. “You should see the graphics. Better than the racing video games I got, Mom. Margo’s gonna flip when she gets a look at them.”

  Ducking his head, Doc flushed. “Just for fun, boy.”

  “Want me to get Gerty for you, Doc?” Beth asked. She was sad, but trying not to show it. She and Tucker had struggled to keep their eyes off each other, but Tucker’s whole body language spoke volumes, and Beth guessed hers did, too.

  “No, it’s okay,” Doc said. “I’ll just wait here. I’m early.”

  “Do I have to hang around, Mom? The diner isn’t busy.”

  “Not yet. We just missed the after-school crowd, and we have about an hour’s reprieve before supper.” She studied Ron’s face. “Why, honey, you got plans?”

  “Somebody asked me to help with their homework, is all.”

  Beth glanced at Doc and caught the twinkle in his eye. “This somebody doesn’t happen to be a girl, does it?”

  “Aw, Mom, come on.”

  “All right. You can have a couple of hours off. Milt and Nancy are coming in to work at dinner. I’d appreciate it if you were back to help me close up.”

  The boy sprouted wings on his feet. Leaving the soda abandoned, he flew past Doc with a quick goodbye, stopping for a peck on Beth’s cheek, and was out the door.

  “Young love,” she said with a sigh.

  Doc cocked his head. “He’s got alotta good traits, that one. Kinda reminds me of Tucker as a boy.”

  Oh! She hadn’t expected that. Beth circled around the counter. “Really?” She plopped down on the stool next to Doc. “Tell me what he was like at seventeen.”

  “A lot like Ronny there.
Restless, with all the Johnny Reb in him you could imagine.”

  “He told me about his stepfather.”

  Doc’s grizzled eyebrows knitted. “I’m shocked. He never talks about it.”

  “We’ve become friends of a sort.” Hell of a lie. They’d become a lot more than friends. You didn’t dream about your buddy, crave his touch whenever he was within ten feet, wish like hell he was inside you.

  “Then you know what a tough life he had.” Doc waited for her nod. “He don’t need no more heartache, Beth.”

  At first, she didn’t answer, just held Doc’s gaze. “I don’t want to hurt him, Doc. He’s a good man.”

  Doc reached out and covered her hand. Hers was trembling. “It ain’t that I don’t like you, girl. It’s just that you could hurt him. You been the first one, in a long time, that could do that.”

  Beth swallowed hard. “I don’t want to hurt him. I’m trying to stay away.”

  “I know you are. I ’preciate that.” He hesitated before he went on. “If things were different with Ronny—the boy’s startin’ to warm up to Tuck, but all it’d take is for him to think you two was lyin’ to him, that maybe Tucker was likin’ him ’cause of you…”

  “I know.” Shaking back her hair, she smiled. “I appreciate your concern and all you’re doing for Ronny. You’ve helped him so much, Doc.”

  “Even if it does deal with racin’?”

  Glancing back to her husband’s pictures on the wall, she smiled wistfully. “I’m just afraid for him.”

  “Racin’s in the blood. You gotta know that.”

  “I know. I just wish he’d get into some other part of it.” She turned her soft gaze back on Doc. “Like you.”

  “Maybe he will.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I gotta ask you somethin’. Don’t say no right away.”

  “All right.”

  “I got tickets to the Indy over Memorial Day.”

  She smiled. “That’s nice.”

  “I wanna take the boy.”

  Beth stopped smiling. “Oh, Doc.”

  “Now, hush. Listen. I’m gonna find a way to drag Tucker along, too.”

  Beth cocked her head. “He doesn’t go to races anymore.”

  “Nope, not since…” He glanced back at the wall, too. “I wanna get ’em both to go. Throw them together for a period of time. It’d do ’em a world a good.”

  “How?”

  “They need to keep buildin’ this relationship. Far as I can see, it has good footing in the ground, but needs some…cement. The Indy might give it to them.” He added, “Especially with you out of the picture.”

  “I don’t want to encourage Ronny’s interest in racing.”

  “It’s too late. The most you can do is redirect it.”

  “That’s what Linc said.”

  “He’s right.”

  “Have you told Ron?”

  “’Course not. Not before askin’ you.”

  She stood as she saw Gerty coming out of the kitchen. “You’re a good man, Doc.” Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter 22

  *

  “MARGO, JACK WANTS to see you.” Philip stood in the doorway of her office, smiling. He looked happier than he had in weeks. His movie-star good looks were accented by his animated face. “I think it’s good news.”

  “Good news?” Man, she could use some. She thought about Linc, and his relationship with a preacher’s kid.

  If you’d at least try to get over this hangup you have about religion, maybe we could…

  Standing, smoothing down the beige silk skirt she wore with a cocoa-colored blouse, she banished the thought. It would never work. He was better off with the PK. She grabbed her matching jacket and asked, “What kind of good news?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’m invited, too.” He waited for her by the door and when she reached him, he placed his hand on the small of her back and escorted her to the elevator.

  Inside, she leaned against the railing. “What’s going on, do you think?”

  “Maybe something to do with the VP of Engineering.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “This could be the announcement.”

  She was too stunned to object to the personal gesture. “Really?”

  The elevator stopped at the executive level, and Margo and Philip exited. Again he guided her, his hand at her back. Like a husband might. Or a lover. When Geraldine looked up from the desk outside his and the CEO’s office, though, he quickly stepped back.

  “Hi, gorgeous,” Philip said. “Is he ready to see us?”

  “Hush your flattery.” She smiled. “Go on in.”

  Jack Sheer’s office was nothing like the man himself. Whereas the CEO was an average-height, pleasant-looking man with thinning gray hair and a sincere friendliness in his brown eyes, it seemed he might be more at home coaching Little League baseball than running a multimillion-dollar firm. In contrast, his office was large and impressive. Facing Sixth Avenue, it commanded a breathtaking view of the city.

  From behind his oak desk, Jack waved them in as he spoke into the phone. “No, it’s fine, Brad. I’ll be home for that. I promise. Sure, son, call any time.” He smiled self-effacingly at them when he hung up. “I’m too old to have teenagers.”

  Jack was sixty. He’d had kids late in life; everybody in the company knew both of his children wrapped him around their little fingers. And Margo had always considered Jack and his wife Catherine as the ideal couple.

  “What’s the boy up to now?” Philip asked easily.

  “Oh, he’s in a psychic phase. He wants me to take him to this store in the Village tomorrow when he’s off from school.” Brad attended the famous School of the Arts in New York and was a budding actor.

  Not losing his easy manner, Jack zeroed in on Margo. “Thanks for coming up, Margo. I wanted to talk to you about a couple of things. Have a seat.”

  She and Philip faced Jack across his desk, seated in two taupe leather chairs.

  “A couple of things?”

  “Hmm.” Jack’s warm brown gaze focused on her. Family man though he was, he changed from Clark Kent to Superman when business was involved. “It’s no secret you’re being seriously considered for the new VP of Engineering. I’d just about made up my mind when something happened this week.”

  “Made up your mind?”

  “Yes. I’d like you as the next VP, if I can get this straightened out in my head.”

  Margo felt warmth spread through her. This was exactly what she wanted, worked for all these years, what she’d given up a man and a family for. She took a quick moment to relish the feeling of success. “What needs to be straightened out?”

  “We’ve had some odd complaints in the last few days.”

  “About me?”

  “About your work. I have to admit, they don’t fit in with your usual MO.”

  “What’s the problem? Who are they from?”

  He held up two memos. “One is from Brubeck’s. It says the last product you finished up for them was late.”

  “Late? I had that in weeks ahead of time.”

  Scowling, he handed her the memo across the desk.

  She scanned it. “I don’t understand.” She looked up at Philip. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “Nope.”

  She transferred her gaze to Jack. “I’ll check with manufacturing and distribution. But this doesn’t make sense. The product was ready to go into production weeks ahead of schedule.” She frowned. “Who else complained?”

  “Laufler. Their contract is important to us, because of their diversity. They own a number of companies that could give us business.”

  “I know it is. What did they say?”

  “They’re unhappy about being out-sourced. They were very impressed with you when you went to visit them in Boston; they ‘thought they were getting your personal attention on the product.”

  Margo’s gaze shot to Philip. He watched her;
a flicker of emotion in his eyes caught her attention. She waited for him to say something. After an uncomfortable silence, he straightened. “I’m afraid that was my fault, Jack. I made the decision to out-source because Margo’s schedule has been hectic and I didn’t realize the contract was so dependent on her.” He shrugged boyishly. “I kind of thought it was me that snared them in Boston.”

  Jack smiled. “Sounds like you, buddy. Must be a miscommunication. In any case, call and soothe their feathers. Tell them there was a glitch.” He faced Margo. “Is everything going well with you, Margo? Any problems I should be aware of?”

  Margo lifted her chin. How could she say she was concerned about Philip’s behavior when he’d just bailed her out? “No, nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Fine. Consider this finished.”

  She faced the president squarely. “How will these two issues affect your decision about the vice presidency, Jack?”

  “They probably won’t. You have a perfect deadline record for the eight years you’ve been here. Philip has assumed responsibility for the Laufler thing. This Brubeck deal—check it out, see why delivery was late. Get in touch with Brubeck himself. And let me know.”

  “All right.”

  They stood just as the door opened. It was Geraldine. “Jack, Amy’s on the line. From college.”

  “Ah, my little girl.” He shook his head. “I told you I was too old for these kids. They call me like I’m one of their friends any time of day.” Again, it was common knowledge that Jack’s children were free to phone whenever they needed him and he was gotten out of all but the most important meetings.

  “I admire that about you,” Margo said.

  He rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say.” He picked up the phone. “Get back to me as soon as you can.” As Margo exited the office she heard, “Hi, sweetheart, what can I do for you?”

  Philip chuckled as he closed the door behind them. “He’s such a good guy. I don’t know how he ever rose in the ranks of business.”

  Flying high from the news about the VP, Margo drew in a deep breath. “Maybe because he is such a good guy. Rumor has it he’s never stood for any unethical behavior.”

  Philip didn’t respond as he followed her to the elevator. “Want me to check out the date thing for the Brubeck product?”