Everyday Hero

by Jo Leigh

  “Do you have your copy of the NTA?” Kate asked.

  He patted his back pocket. “Right next to my heart.”

  She gave him the smile he deserved before heading toward the back entrance. “We need to go get Bobby’s clothes. And I want to talk to your mother. I’m sure she’ll agree to let Bobby stay at the center.”

  “Yeah, why not?” he said, not even trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. “More time for her to pursue her little hobby.”

  Kate stopped short and he nearly bumped into her. “Is there anyone you do like?”

  He looked straight into her green eyes. “There was this guy, once. He died.”

  Well, glory be. The steely-eyed cop had a sense of humor. It didn’t seem to be fully developed, but with some work there just might be hope.

  “So,” she said. “Are you coming with me?”

  “Where?”

  “Back to the center, after we get Bobby’s stuff.”

  “I guess. I don’t have anything better to do.”

  “Have you ever thought of becoming an inspirational speaker?”

  He smiled, but not so she could see it.

  They got to the back entrance to the station, which led to the official parking lot. One of the guards would bring Bobby here and then they could leave. He wanted it over with. Not just the waiting, but the next part, too. He hadn’t seen his mother in years. Their phone conversations were always stilted and made him feel like hell. Teresa Sarducci had made guilt an art form. To be in the same room with her was to sit at the feet of the master. The pitiful looks. The sighs. The tremble of her lower lip.

  “This whole thing is a mistake,” he said.

  “No, Reynolds said he would bring Bobby here in a minute.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. Look, you go on and take Bobby home. Get his stuff. It’ll be easier for everyone if I’m not there.”

  Kate’s fisted hands went to her hips. “Trying for the world land speed record of broken promises?”

  “Don’t have a kitten. I’m not leaving town. I just think it would be better for Bobby if I wasn’t there with him. I’ll meet you guys back at the center.”

  “Better for Bobby? You are so transparent I can see what you had for breakfast.” She took a step closer to him, close enough that he could make out the individual eyelashes and count the freckles on her nose.

  “This is the deal, Russo. You either knock off the crap, or you’re out of here. I’ve already got one kid to take care of. I don’t need two.”

  He started to give her a smart-ass answer, but stopped the second his gaze met hers. He studied her face. The determination there, the fervor. When she looked at him like that, he could almost accept that his being around could have a good effect on his brother. That coming here hadn’t been a mistake.

  He closed his eyes briefly, just long enough to break the connection between them. There was a decision to be made and he needed to make it for himself—not just to please Pollyanna.

  If he stayed, he would have to give it everything he had. All of it. He would have to face things he’d been avoiding for nine years. He would have to put aside his own feelings and concentrate completely on proving to Bobby that he could make it.

  “Let me ask you something,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “What makes you think my sticking around won’t make things worse?”

  She thought about it for a long time. Her brow creased and she got hold of a tiny bit of her lower lip with her teeth. Finally she nodded once more and said, “If you screw it up, Bobby will join up with Danny. Statistically, that means in the next five years he’ll be killed, or go to prison. When he’s older—that is if he lives—he’ll know just how to play the game, because he’ll have had good teachers. Of course, by then he’ll have fathered several children and if he bothers to take care of them at all, he’ll poison their lives, too. But that’s likely to happen even if you decide to leave right now. So, to answer your question, I don’t think you can make it worse.”

  “What about you? I thought you believed you could save him?”

  She looked down and he saw her lashes fan lightly across her cheeks. “The chances of Bobby listening to me aren’t very good,” she said. “I’ll try and I’ll keep trying, but he has no stake in me. He might respect me a little. But that’s not enough. Bobby doesn’t love me. I’ve got a hunch, though, that he does love you. That’s why, if you stay, he’s got a chance.”

  Behind them, a door opened and Bobby stood next to Reynolds. The boy had a plastic bag in his hands and T.J. could see a brown wallet and a key. His worldly possessions.

  Looking one more time at Kate, at the plea in her gaze, he knew he would stay. And fight.

  Chapter 3

  Kate poured herself a second cup of coffee, then slipped back into the quiet of the morning. No one was up yet. The kids who stayed here were still asleep, the troops wouldn’t arrive for another hour and a half. It was her time, a precious few minutes when no demands were made, no arguments needed settling. She sat at the big wooden table, leaving her morning paper folded for now. Of course, her thoughts went to T.J.

  That had been happening all too frequently in the past two days. He’d shown up, as promised, at the hearing. He’d played it smart with the judge and even smarter with Bobby. He hadn’t pressed, hadn’t made a big production of staying in town for the rest of the summer. He’d given his word, that’s all. To the judge, to his mother and Gus, to Bobby. He’d sworn to do his best and she believed he would. What she didn’t know was if it would be enough.

  Bobby was belligerence personified. All his anger and hurt were directed at his older brother. Years of hurt and neglect had left him scarred and his need for revenge was honest, if not healthy. What on earth had she let herself in for?

  This center was supposed to be a refuge. A safe haven for the kids—and for her. T.J. Russo’s appearance threatened to change all that.

  She sipped her coffee. He would be here in a little while. She wasn’t prepared. Oh, there was work for him to do, God knows she needed all the help she could get. It was the idea of him so close for long stretches of time that made her nervous. He unsettled her. Big time. What she couldn’t figure out was why?

  Okay, okay, so he was gorgeous. Big deal. Gorgeous men were nothing but trouble. They got away with murder because they knew they could. She’d never been a sucker for a pretty face or even death-defying shoulders. Except yesterday, when she’d watched him talking to the judge. She should have been going over her paperwork, or comforting Teresa Sarducci, but no. She was too busy staring at his shoulders, his back, the way his jacket fit, the creases in his carefully pressed slacks. She’d lost four minutes looking at his jaw. When he’d turned and glanced her way, she’d blushed. Blushed!

  “Get a hold of yourself, girl,” she said aloud. “He’s just a man.”

  “Who’s just a man?”

  Kate nearly dropped her coffee cup as she spun around. Molly stood just inside the kitchen. Barely awake and still in her old chenille robe, her assistant shuffled toward the coffeepot in ancient, wounded bunny slippers. “Talking to yourself is one of the first signs of old age,” she said, her voice raspy from sleep.

  “Thanks for the insight.”

  “No problemo.”

  Kate watched as Molly followed her morning ritual. First coffee, black, then a bagel, sliced carefully and toasted long enough to burn the edges. No butter, God forbid she should add one ounce to her eighteen-year-old, one-hundred-five-pound body. Then she shuffled to the table and grabbed the paper, quickly finding the sports section to check up on her beloved Dodgers.

  “What did you and Bobby talk about last night?”

  Molly took a sip before she turned half-opened eyes toward her. “Same old, same old. No one understands him. Life isn’t fair. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”

  “And you agreed with his analysis, of course.”

  “Well, yeah. You know. Us against them, down with
the establishment.”

  “Hey, I’m the establishment.”

  “I’m just trying to make his transition easier. You know he’ll come around.”

  “No, I don’t know that. He’s got some real problems.”

  “They all have real problems and they all come around. If you bring ’em here, that is.”

  “I’m inspired by your faith in me.”

  “Well, you could still screw up. There’s always a first time.”

  “Thank you. I’m touched.”

  Molly snorted in a most indelicate way.

  “God, that turns me on.”

  Kate grinned at the sound of Peter’s voice.

  “Bite me,” Molly said.

  Peter came around in back of Molly and nipped her quickly on the neck. He moved like lightning then, because her elbow came back sharp and high. Just like every morning.

  These kids were her joy and her headache and she wished summer would never end so they would stay with her, just like this, forever.

  Peter made it to the coffee machine and while be poured himself a cup, he turned to Kate. “There’s a guy out back. Sitting in a Camaro. Thought you might like to know.”

  He was here already? She looked at the clock above the sink. Seven-fifteen and he was here? Grabbing her cup, she got up and put it in the sink. She wasn’t dressed yet, for God’s sake. What was he thinking?

  “Is this the guy you have the hots for?” Molly asked.

  “What?”

  “You know. The one who’s just a man?”

  “Yes. No. I mean no. He’s Bobby’s older brother, that’s all.”

  Molly’s dark eyebrows raised. “Is he as studly as brother number two?”

  “Molly, read your paper. I’ve got to go get dressed.”

  “Pardon me, but I’m not the one who was talking to myself.”

  “What did she say?” Peter asked as he took his seat across from Molly.

  “I think it was ”Take me, take me hard, you hunka hunka burning love.’”

  Kate lightly thwapped her assistant on the back of the head as she walked past her.

  “Hey!”

  “Do me a favor, Molly. Stuff it.” She got past the kitchen door, then backtracked. “And get Bobby up, would you, Peter?” Then she headed down the hall toward her room.

  She didn’t make it.

  T.J. watched Kate walk down the hall and all he could do was admire the view.

  She wore gray sweats and a tank top, no shoes. Her hair was down, tousled from sleep, sexy as hell. The nearer she got, the more aware he became of her size. Nearly as tall as he was, but in the genderless outfit, she was more woman than he thought possible.

  “You’re here early,” she said, stopping a little too far away from him.

  “Might as well get started.”

  She nodded. “Bobby’s not up yet. The others are in the kitchen, though. Go introduce yourself while I get dressed.”

  “Don’t change on my account.”

  She took a small step backward. “It’s not on your account. I’m running late.”

  He walked toward her and when he was at her side, he glanced into one of the rooms. Dozens of supermodel posters on every available surface made him suspect this was not her boudoir. “Who lives here?”

  “That’s Peter’s room.” She stepped closer to T.J. to share his view. “He likes girls.”

  T.J. nodded. “So it seems. Who is he?”

  She brought her right hand up and threaded her fingers through her hair, pushing the red strands back, revealing that long neck of hers. A pull at his groin took him by surprise and he quickly looked away. His gaze lit on Cindy Crawford and he sighed in relief. Of course he’d be turned on by her. What red-blooded heterosexual male wasn’t?

  “Peter’s staying here for the summer. His mother was killed in a drive-by shooting last October and he was having some trouble at home. He’s in charge of the gradeschoolers. It’s been good for him. I expect it will be good for Bobby, too.”

  T.J. studied the walls in Peter’s room, remembering the cramped cells from long ago. “I thought, with the Sisters gone, that this place had changed. But it’s still the same way station, isn’t it? Only without the religion.”

  “We don’t discourage religion, but yes, you’re right. What Father Xavier and the Sisters did here was wonderful. They helped a lot of young people find the right road.”

  She paused and he could feel her watch him. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

  “You have any coffee in this place?”

  She nodded and pointed down the hall. “In there. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  As he passed her, his arm brushed hers lightly, just a hint of contact. The sensation traveled straight into his chest and he picked up his pace, just as she did. When he looked back at her, she was walking, fast, rubbing that small section of bare skin with her hand. It was going to be interesting working with her all day.

  He moved on down the hall and glanced in the other two rooms to his right, but Bobby wasn’t in either. Then he reached the kitchen.

  It hadn’t changed much. Functional and ugly, it seemed half the size after all these years. A young man close to Bobby’s age sat at the table reading the comics. He looked up, nodded, then went back to the paper. Next to him, a girl with very blond hair, cut so short it stood straight up, sat nursing a cup of coffee. She eyed him up one side and down the other and when she reached his face again, the corner of her mouth lifted in a crooked smile.

  “Do I pass?”

  She nodded. “You’ll do.”

  “T.J. Russo.”

  “Molly Tyson.” She pointed to the young man. “Peter Warren.”

  “You two live here, huh?

  “For the summer. I’m in charge of the nursery. We have a day-care center here for infants and toddlers.”

  “I’m with grade one through six,” Peter said.

  “Kate does the rest?”

  “We have volunteers most of the time. Like you.”

  “Yeah. Just like me.” He spied the coffeepot on the counter. “May I?”

  Molly nodded. “Help yourself.”

  He found a cup that wasn’t chipped and poured.

  “Your brother’s going to work with me,” Molly said. “With the little ones.”

  “You’re kidding.” He walked to the table and pulled out a chair. “Bobby?”

  She nodded. She was really a pretty girl, despite the unorthodox haircut. Big blue eyes, a generous mouth. Young, maybe eighteen.

  “Kate says taking care of the little kids encourages responsibility.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said. “Somehow I can’t imagine Bobby changing a diaper.”

  “He’ll get used to it.”

  “eight.”

  “You’ll be working with Kate. I hope you’re in shape. She’ll run you ragged.”

  “I think I can hold my own.”

  “Uh-huh. You know she runs five miles a day. And plays basketball. Baseball, too.”

  “She likes to wipe everyone out,” Peter added. “Make ’em too tired to cause havoc on the streets.”

  “It’s a good plan.”

  “Most guys can’t keep up with her,” Molly said.

  “I see.”

  She leaned forward, staring intently into his eyes. “Do you think you can? You know, she’s six feet tall. She says she’s five-eleven, but she’s not. She’s strong, too. Tough.”

  He worked hard at keeping a straight face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Molly leaned back. “Okay, then.”

  So, Kate had her own Praetorian guard. One thing T.J. understood was loyalty. It meant the leadership was fair, the working conditions satisfying. A good police captain got this kind of devotion from his officers. From what he’d already seen of Kate, it wasn’t surprising that her assistants felt protective. He would do his best not to disappoint any of them.

  Molly had gone back to reading the paper and Peter started doing the crossword
puzzle. He must be pretty good at it, using a pen instead of a pencil. T.J. drank some coffee and looked around the room he hadn’t been in since high school. It was a damn peculiar world to bring him back here. Damn peculiar.

  Kate looked in the mirror above her dresser. What harm would a little mascara do? She lifted the wand to her eye, then brought it back down. No. Why should she put on makeup? She never wore it during working hours. How would she explain it to Molly and Peter, let alone the whole tribe? On the other hand, what did she care what anybody thought? She lifted her hand again and this time she darkened her lashes with the black makeup. Before she lost her nerve, she did the other eye, grabbed a broken piece of rouge and pinked her cheeks. She even took the lipstick from her top drawer and did her lips.

  There. She didn’t look too, too. Just nice. Like a girl. Hell, Molly wore makeup, didn’t she? Most women wore makeup. It didn’t mean anything. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Russo.

  She grabbed her brush and attacked her hair, pulling the bristles through with a vengeance. What was she so upset about? He was only a man! Not even a particularly nice man. He was trouble, hadn’t she figured that out yet? The only reason he was in her center was because Bobby needed him. Period. End of story.

  She bent double, tossed her hair forward and brushed some more. Damn it, she had rules about men, didn’t she? Rules that had served her very well, thank you. Number one—keep your distance. Number two—well, number one pretty much covered it. All her life, men had been nothing but a pain in the behind and T.J. Russo was no exception. She had the center. And the kids. That was enough for anyone. No need to complicate matters.

  She rose again, tossing her hair back. He was nothing to her. Nothing. Not even worth a second thought. Grabbing her scrunchie, she tied her hair in a ponytail, then went to the closet and got her running shoes. Another moment and she was finished, ready to start the day. Just like any other day.

  She grabbed her whistle from the nail by her door, then went down the hall, feeling the old confidence in her legs and in the strength of her back. She looked forward to her run. To the basketball game she would play this afternoon. To shaping young lives and molding some character.