Finally My Happy Ending (Meant for Me Book 3)

by St. James, Brooke

  "Tyler, I think you took her grandmother's ring that night. It was an heirloom, and I'm gonna have to get that back."

  Tyler stared at his friend dryly before letting out a little laugh.

  "What are you laughing at?" Brock asked.

  "You said you needed to get that ring back."

  Brock nodded. "I do."

  Tyler laughed again as he shook his head. "I wish it was that easy. If it was, I'd get back everything I'd ever taken from anybody and give it to them myself. That thing's long gone."

  "I don't care about everything else you've taken," Brock said. "I just want that ring."

  "I know exactly what ring you're talking about," Tyler said, shaking his head. "It was the only real piece of jewelry she had in that box. That thing saved my life when I got back to Austin. I was in big trouble with Mickey until I showed him that. He said he was gonna give it to his old lady—said she loved vintage stuff like that."

  "So you know where it is?" Brock asked, relief flooding his body.

  Tyler looked at him like he was crazy. "I guess I sort of know where it is," he said, "but you can't just go ask for it back if that's what you were thinking."

  "Of course I can," Brock said. "I'll just go see this guy Mickey and explain that the ring belongs to me."

  Tyler laughed, which made Brock scowl at him.

  "It's not that easy," Tyler said. "Mickey's not someone who'd take kindly to you marching in there demanding that he give you something back. He's not an accidental criminal like I was. Crime is his job." Tyler looked around to see if they were being monitored. "You can't just march in there and bomb the place, either, if that's what you're thinking. Mickey's stubborn, and he'd sooner flush the ring down the toilet rather than give it to you if you start making threats. He doesn’t mess around with refunds. Besides, who knows if he's even with that woman anymore? You need to forget about it. Like I said, the ring is long gone." Tyler paused, and Brock looked at him with an impassive stare. "Just tell me how much the ring was worth, and I'll add it to my list," Tyler said. "It might take me a while, but I promise I'll do my best to repay her."

  "You can't repay her with money," Brock said. "It was her grandma's ring. It's priceless."

  "I'm sorry Brock, but it's gone."

  Chapter 4

  Brock wasn't the type to take 'no' for an answer. It took some coercing, but he finally managed to get the information he needed from Tyler about Mickey's whereabouts.

  Tyler warned Brock adamantly that Mickey wouldn't want to be surprised by a stranger—especially one who was asking for something. But they'd been in dangerous situations with dangerous people while they were in the Navy, and Tyler could tell that Brock wasn't backing down from this one, so he'd offered as much information as he could, including a detailed description of the ring.

  Three hours after he arrived in Austin, Brock was on his way to the place he hoped was Mickey Silliman's house. Tyler didn't have an address, but he gave directions and described everything as best he could.

  Brock was pleasantly surprised when he pulled up at the place Tyler led him to. He knew from the description that it was in a nice neighborhood but was still taken aback by how upscale it was. There was a circular driveway in the front with a few cars parked along it. Brock parked his truck between two of them, got out, and headed to the front door. It opened before he was able to knock, and a big, burly man in a plum colored, velvet sweat suit stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

  "How can I help you?" he asked in a matter of fact tone before rubbing his hands together as if to indicate that he didn't like being out in the cold.

  "Are you Mickey Silliman?" Brock asked.

  "No, I'm not." The man stared at Brock as if that should be enough information to get him to leave.

  "Is this Mickey's house?"

  "Who's asking?"

  "My name's Brock Rollins. I got Mickey's name from Tyler Butterfield."

  The big man let out a sarcastic laugh and muttered a curse. "What's Tyler want with Mickey?" he asked.

  "Tyler doesn't want anything with him. I do."

  The man raised an eyebrow. "Spit it out," he said.

  "I believe Tyler gave Mickey something that wasn't his to give, and I'm here to get it back."

  He laughed. "Mickey doesn't give things back."

  Brock sighed. "Listen, do you mind if I talk to him myself? I'm willing to pay more than it's worth. I just need it back."

  The man looked Brock over for a long time with an apprising glare before motioning with a flick of the head for Brock to follow him. "Wait right here while I go see if Mickey wants to talk to you," he said, pointing to a small seating area near the foyer.

  "Thank you," Brock said.

  The man glanced at him with an expression that said, I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you, before taking off to talk to Mickey.

  Brock leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he waited anxiously to speak to Mickey. It took about five minutes, but the big guy finally appeared, walking toward Brock with a satisfied smile. He stopped in his tracks when Brock noticed him and waved, telling Brock to come with him. Brock did so without hesitation.

  "Thank you for making this happen," he said as they walked down the hall together.

  "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I was you, but I did my best to talk Mickey into hearing you out."

  "Thank you," Brock repeated.

  "You might not be thanking me in a minute," the man said. He let out a laugh. "I suppose he's gonna ask a favor of you." He said that last bit in hushed tones as he opened the door to what looked to be a big office area.

  The far wall was made up of windows looking at the beautiful back patio, and Mickey, who had been staring out of them, turned slowly in his desk chair when he heard the door open. There was another one of Mickey's goons sitting off to the left. Brock's military training kicked in, and he accessed the three men and calculated what it would take to defend himself against them—assuming of course that they weren't armed, which they probably were.

  "What can I help you with, Mr. Rollins?" The man at the desk said. He was an older man with balding white hair and a moustache.

  "Are you Mickey?" Brock asked.

  The man gave a curt nod and motioned for Brock to sit down, which he did.

  "Tyler Butterfield paid you with something that didn't belong to him, and I'm here to see about getting it back," Brock said.

  "You told Leo, and he told me," Mickey said with another slight nod.

  "I'd like to see about getting it back," Brock repeated.

  "You already told Leo that, and he told you I wasn't in the business of giving refunds. Your friend Tyler still owes me a grand. He's lucky I like him."

  "Well, he said he gave you a ring that belonged to me," Brock said. "It's a family heirloom, and I need to get it back."

  Mickey, Leo, and the other goon all laughed at Brock's nerve.

  "I'm willing to pay the thousand dollars Tyler still owes you along with whatever amount you gave him for the ring. I'd also be willing to throw in a piece of my art." Brock paused and looked around. "I see that you're a man of fine taste, and I think one of my pieces would fit well in your home."

  "What are you, a painter?"

  "No sir, I make furniture. But I've been told my stuff's more like art. I was featured in Home and Garden magazine, and I have thirty pieces about to go on display at the Hanover Gallery in Miami right now."

  "Home and Garden, huh?" Mickey asked looking ever so slightly impressed.

  "Yes sir."

  "How much does this furniture go for?"

  "Two to ten thousand depending on the piece," Brock said.

  Mickey sighed and regarded him thoughtfully. "The problem is, my lady's real fond of that ring."

  Brock's heart nearly leapt from his chest when Mickey mentioned it as if it still existed and may very well be in this house. He kept his expression neutral, trying not to show his excitement. "I'm sure she'd like a pie
ce of custom made furniture, and like I said, I'd pay you for the ring and settle Tyler's debt."

  Mickey didn't say anything. He just looked Brock over the way he'd been doing the whole time. Finally, he shifted his attention to Leo, and gave him a smile. "You were right about his size," he said. "And he looks athletic. I think he might be perfect." Mickey turned to Brock who was now regarding him with a curious, cautious expression. "Do you know how to fight, kid?" he asked.

  Brock hadn't been called kid in a long time, but he gave the man a slight nod. He did know how to fight and he would not hesitate to do it if necessary. He looked around again, assessing the situation, but Leo, Mickey, and the other man all maintained a relaxed posture.

  Mickey smiled and raised his fists as if putting up his dukes. "With your fists, kid," he said. "Can you fight with your fists?"

  Brock looked down again before answering. "Yes sir, but I prefer not to."

  Mickey laughed again. "Well, it might be your lucky day. I'm in a bit of a bind, and you might be just the man to help me out. We do a little bare-knuckle action once a month, and my boy who was supposed to fight, uh, he can't make it. You see, I enjoy these fights, and I stand to make a lot of money if my guy comes out on top."

  "I'm not your man for that type of thing," Brock said, shaking his head.

  "Then I'm not your man for the ring," Mickey said with finality. "Good day Mr. Rollins."

  "Did you hear me when I offered to pay you more than the ring was worth?" Brock asked, unable to believe the man wasn't being reasonable.

  "Did you hear me when I said I didn't need your money? I'm asking you to fight for it."

  Brock wanted to unleash on Mickey, but he had no idea where the ring was and figured agreeing to this fight might be the easiest way to resolve the situation. "So you're saying if I do your bare knuckle fight, you'll give me the ring?" he asked.

  "I'm saying if you win I'll give you the ring. A win, plus a piece of art for my lady. You can forget the money Tyler owes me if you agree to those terms." Mickey smirked at Brock. "Do we have a deal?"

  "So you'd just forgive the debt Tyler owes you and give me back the ring if I win?"

  "I hate the idea of canceling our main event, and I stand to make a lot of money if you win, so I wouldn't call it forgiving the debt."

  "And what if I lose?"

  "Then I'll lose some money, and you'll go home without your precious little heirloom. But you won't," Mickey added. "I can see in your eyes how bad you want it."

  "When's this fight supposed to take place?"

  Mickey looked at his watch. "Four hours."

  "Tonight?" Brock asked disbelieving.

  "I thought I made that clear when I said my guy had to back out."

  "You didn't say it was today," Brock said.

  "It's today," Mickey said. "You in or out?"

  "If I win this fight, you give me the ring tonight?" Brock clarified.

  "Yeah, but I still want that custom piece for my lady since she's gonna be mad at me for giving away her ring."

  Brock cringed inwardly at the way he called it 'her ring'. He imagined the hurt in Trish's eyes when she spoke about it, and hated anyone else thinking it was theirs.

  "And if I refuse?" he asked one last time.

  Mickey threw his hands into the air. "Then you can leave," he said. "I don’t need whatever amount of money you want to offer. I had my heart set on a fight tonight, and you seem to fit the bill. Plus, you're playing for something special to you, which means you'll have heart. That always makes for the most interesting fights."

  "How do I know you have the ring?" Brock asked.

  "You'd be pretty stupid coming here if I didn't," Mickey said.

  "I want to see it," Brock said. "I want to make sure you have it with you when I fight tonight, and I want your word that you'll give it to me when I win."

  Mickey busted out laughing. "My word," he said. "You get a load of this kid?" he asked Leo. "My word," he muttered. "My word doesn't mean anything, kid."

  "Yes it does," Brock said. "I want to see that you still have the ring, and after that, I'll go on your word that you'll give it to me."

  "And what if I lie to you?" he said, still smiling.

  "You'd regret that," Brock said. "But you won't."

  Mickey gave him a nod before looking at Leo. "Go ask Sheila for that diamond cluster ring with the wide band," he said. "Tell her I need it for tonight, and if I wind up losing it, then I promise to make it up to her."

  "She's not gonna like me for that," Leo muttered.

  "Whose side are you on, anyway?" Mickey asked. "You're the one who came in here, 'oh Mickey, I think we got just the guy for the fight tonight… oh, Mickey hear him out."

  "Okay, okay, I'm going," Leo said, tossing his hands up in surrender as he walked out.

  Ten minutes later, Leo came back into the room. He shot Mickey a non-descript look that said his visit to Sheila wasn't necessarily pleasant before placing the ring on Mickey's desk. Brock's heart began racing as he leaned forward to inspect it. He wished he was armed and in a military situation. He would grab it, duck and roll, and shoot all three of them before running for the door.

  He leaned forward to make sure it was the ring Tyler described, but didn't even reach out to touch it. He sat back in his chair once he was satisfied that it was the right one. "So I'll win this fight tonight and take it with me when I head home. Maybe I should speak with Sheila before we go about what sort of custom piece she wants. I have a few pieces in front of it, so it'll take me a month or so, but I'll have it shipped to you once it's done."

  Mickey seemed amused as he rocked back in his chair. "You sound pretty sure of yourself for tonight's fight."

  "How big's the guy?" Brock asked.

  "You have to weigh in between 175 and 225. I assumed you fell between these weights.

  "Right in the middle," Brock said. "As long as he's not carrying a weapon, I'll be taking home the ring. Should I speak with Sheila, or will you be choosing for her?"

  Mickey laughed. "As long as he's not armed… You hear this kid?"

  Leo laughed and nodded. "What, you got some special training or something?" Mickey asked.

  "Something like that," Brock answered dryly.

  "Oh, that's right, remember? Tyler told us he was part of some special unit. You'd never know it with how strung out he was."

  "Happens to the best of them," Brock said. "He'll get back on his feet."

  "We'll have to see how you do tonight, kid. If you put on a good show out there, I might have to see about hiring you for some future matches. It's usually good money."

  Brock shook his head. "Thanks, but it's a one-time thing." He motioned to the ring. "That's all I'm after."

  Chapter 5

  It was a beautiful but chilly Sunday afternoon, and I was curled up comfortably in the corner of a couch at my favorite coffee shop. I was there with my roommate, Ryan. Yes, we could have made coffee at home, but where would the fun be in that? Neither of us had anything better to do, and we both enjoyed taking in the sights and sounds of the coffee shop. It was a place we went to on a regular basis, so most of the baristas knew us by name.

  We'd only been there a few minutes when a family caught my eye—at least I assumed they were family. I figured it was a couple with their grown daughter. The reason I took note of them was that the daughter seemed to have Down Syndrome. I'd been volunteering at a place called the Happy House for over a year. It was a non-profit organization providing a place for people with disabilities to take classes or just hang out and have fun. Claire and Jesse Bennett started it for their son Thomas, and I had become close with their family during the time I'd been volunteering.

  This might seem weird since Emily Bennett was the girl who just got engaged to my ex-boyfriend, Shane, but it really wasn't that big of a deal. I was happy for them in spite of the fact that I'd been unable to find someone as good as Shane since we broke up. I taught a weekly creative writing class at the house and
had a blast every time I went there.

  I watched the family at the coffee shop as they interacted with each other. I couldn't help but think about how perfectly they'd fit in at the Happy House.

  "Why are you staring at those people like a big stalker?" Ryan asked.

  His question made me laugh. I glanced at him. Ryan was a bartender and had been out really late the night before. His hair was standing on end, which prompted me to reach up and smooth it down. "I was trying to decide if I should go up and talk to them about the Happy House," I whispered, answering his question.

  Ryan glanced at the family and then turned to me with a shrug.

  "Do you think it'd be rude to introduce myself?" I asked, still whispering.

  He shot me a confused look. "Why would that be rude?"

  My eyes widened. "Because I'd be approaching them about the Happy House," I said. "I didn't know if it was okay for me to just walk up and say, 'Hey, I see you have Down Syndrome. I think you would really like to hang out at this place.'"

  "So don't do it," Ryan said, offering no help whatsoever.

  "I want to, though. Look how sweet they are!"

  He shrugged and shook his head as if I was being impossible. "Do it, then."

  I watched him for a minute longer. I really did fear that approaching them would be awkward, and I hesitated to do it, but I was so proud of the Happy House that I just had to make sure they knew about it. I let out a sigh.

  "What?" Ryan asked, looking up from his phone.

  "I have to do it."

  "Well, you better go ahead before they leave."

  I sighed again, working up the nerve as I dug in my purse for one of Claire Bennett's business cards. "If I have one of her cards with me, then I'll go there. If not, I won't."

  "The card will be the sign!" Ryan said dramatically, making fun of me.