by Jayne Rylon
“Shit.” The investigator’s brows drew together as he jotted down the facts.
“Yeah. Head-on collision with a delivery truck then through the guardrails into a river. If he lived long enough, he drowned.”
“Hell of a way to go.” Rick shuddered. “But I don’t get it, Tom. What am I supposed to look into here? Does she think he was drinking? Or maybe that he committed suicide by car wreck or something?”
“God, no.” He waved off those horrid thoughts. “She suspects foul play. Actually, I should say she’s convinced of it. And she believes it’s her fault.”
“What?” Rick’s head whipped up at that, shooting Tom a that’s-total-bullshit kind of stare that he had probably used himself when he first realized Willie’s hang-ups.
“It’s not exactly a hotbed of acceptance down there. She’s black, he wasn’t. People are fucking idiots.” Tom shrugged. “They were threatened. Repeatedly. She says there were skid marks and eye-witness reports of a second car forcing her husband into oncoming traffic.”
“Now that’s a whole other story.” Rick leaned toward Tom. The guy had a knack for this kind of work. He was definitely in the right line of business. When his interest was piqued, nothing could stop him from discovering the truth.
“No kidding.” Tom leaned his back against the refrigerator and crossed his legs at the ankle. “I know it’s been forever, but whoever did that to Willie, took her husband and those kids’ dad… They deserve to pay for it.”
“So you want revenge? Or just closure for your lady friend?” Rick didn’t seem as if he’d mind either way.
“No reason we couldn’t have both, I suppose. She’s top priority. Always will be.”
“You’re a good guy, Tom London.” Rick clicked a button on the side of his phone, blackening the screen before he pocketed the device. “I think I have everything I’ll need. It might take longer than usual, considering how far back I have to go to find people I can talk to who might know more.”
“Fine. Whatever it takes. Usual fees?” Tom asked. Then he clarified, “Travel expenses on top of course if you need to go down there in person.”
“Not this time. Consider it a frequent-customer discount. I’m taking this case because I think you deserve a chance at the happiness you’ve given so many other people around you.” Rick stood. He crossed to Tom, who met him part of the way, and clapped him on the back, jarring him a bit. “If knowing this will allow you to go after Ms. Brown, or her to quit running from you, I’ll do my best. Can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“That’s really generous of you. I insist—”
“Nope.” Rick shook his head and swaggered toward the door. “Who knows, maybe someday you can return the favor. Or you can have your kids spruce up my car some. We’ll work it out.”
“You want a drink out back before you head home or you have actual work to do today?” Tom enjoyed talking to the guy and he sensed a loneliness in Rick that he understood.
“Well, now I’ve got something to keep me busy.” He smiled. “Thanks for the offer, though. I think I can get some calls in this afternoon while businesses are still open.”
“I really appreciate this, Rick.” Tom followed the other guy to the door and opened it wide.
On the other side, Eli, Roman, Carver, and Holden were eating up most of the free space on the porch. When the hell had they gotten so damn big? He supposed Eli took after him some, though all those tattoos made his muscles seem more intimidating than Tom’s lean, cut build.
Nothing a few hundred crunches a day couldn’t earn a man.
Tom would never admit it, but he’d even done jivamukti with Sabra a few times lately to improve his flexibility. Poor Willie, she wasn’t going to know what hit her when he unleashed his full potential on her.
He grinned.
“What’s that shit-eater for?” Carver laughed as he smacked Tom in the stomach with the back of his hand.
“Nothing, nothing.” He shook his head.
“Hey, Rick.” Roman put his hand out and shook with the investigator. “Everything okay? You’re not here about my mother, are you? Nothing’s changed, has it? She’s still fine with us having Quinn. Right?”
Oh, shit. Tom hadn’t meant to worry Barracuda. That was more talking from him than they usually heard in a week.
“Sure. Don’t worry about that.” Rick evaded the question, loyal to Tom as always. “Nobody’s taking your brother away. You know we wouldn’t let that happen.”
“Damn straight,” Carver—Roman’s new husband—added. He put his hand on Roman’s shoulder and squeezed. “Even if we have to kick an ass or two, he’s staying with us as long as he wants.”
“See you guys around.” The investigator trotted down the stairs then toward his sleek black Mercedes before they could interrogate him further.
“Thank you!” Tom called.
With the coast clear, the handful of Hot Rods barreled past Tom, piling into the kitchen. Was it any wonder he liked to sit outside when they occupied so much damn space? He remembered them as scrawny teenagers and shook his head over the men they’d grown into.
“Thought we’d come over and bug you for a while.” Holden went straight to the pantry and hauled out the box of cookies Tom always kept on hand before popping a couple in his mouth. They weren’t nearly as good as the ones his wife used to make Eli. It was a habit he hadn’t been able to shake once she was gone, though. Maybe eating them reminded him of her and how sweet she’d been.
On occasion the guys would pop over for a beer out back. Not with Roman in tow, though. They didn’t keep alcohol in their own apartment above the garage for his sake, and they certainly wouldn’t crack open a cold one in front of him either. Not that he would probably mind anymore. He was pretty amazing in that regard.
Gavyn, on the other hand, they were even more careful around after his disastrous relapse into alcoholism several months ago. He was fighting, harder now than ever before, and none of the guys would make his journey tougher than it needed to be.
“Why? Ambrose crying again?” Tom laughed.
“How can such a tiny person make so much noise?” Carver wondered.
“And so much poop,” Roman chimed in.
“Yeah, I thought Rebel was bad. Or Buster McHightops.” Eli referred to one of the mechanics, Bryce, and the shop’s puppy, which they shared joint custody of, though the Boston terrier had taken to sticking with Quinn most of the time lately. “That baby beats them all.”
“You love her anyway.” Tom could see right through their act. They might bitch and moan, but they were guys who cared for each other as strongly as their own soul mates. Together, they’d survived some unbelievable heartache, and it had made them inseparable. Kaige and Nola’s baby might as well have been their own. They would protect her with their lives if needed. Tom had raised them right.
“And speaking of luuuurve…” Eli winked.
Oh shit, how had he forgotten?
Tom glanced at the clock. Yep, Quinn had gotten home from school about a half hour ago. There was no way he’d waited that long to spill what he’d seen the night before to his big brothers.
“We think you know something about that.” Holden grinned.
“Wipe the crumbs off your face, son, and maybe I can take you a little more seriously.” Tom put Swinger in his place. Or at least he tried.
“So you and Ms. Brown finally…” Carver wiggled his brows.
“No, nothing happened. It wouldn’t have even if Quinn hadn’t interrupted. We’re taking things slow.” He shrugged.
“If you went any damn slower you’d be going backwards,” Carver teased. “Hell, in the past year Kaige met Nola, fell in love, knocked her up, got married, and had a kid. Okay, so they sort of jumbled things up there with the oopsie baby part. All’s well that ends well though, right? Meanwhile, I bet you haven’t even gotten to second base with Ms. Brown.”
Tom remembered how damn close his fingers had be
en to cupping her breast the night before. They flexed as he imagined it wouldn’t be long now. Hopefully it didn’t take another year to get a hell of a lot further than that. Still, he would wait if it did.
“Meep! Shut the hell up. I don’t want to think about Ms. Brown’s tits or my dad getting to second base with anyone, for that matter.” Eli rubbed the lines that appeared between his eyes.
“Welcome to my world.” Tom snorted. “How many times do I have to break out the secret knock when I visit over there then pretend like I don’t hear the moaning and whatnot before we act like I didn’t almost barge in on some of you doing God-knows-what to each other in that living room? Remind me never to sit on your furniture again.”
“That’s probably a good call.” Roman nodded.
“Besides, I’m pretty sure both Nola and Amber will smash your balls for talking about their mom like that,” Holden warned. “I will laugh my ass off at the sight of their vengeance, too. Well, actually, Nola’s pretty hot when she’s pissed. I might get other ideas…”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Right there. All right, that’s enough for me.” Tom shook his head. “Why don’t we call a truce? You don’t worry about my love life and I won’t mess around with yours. I was scheduled to babysit this weekend so you could have the apartment to yourselves for a while, but I might feel a cold coming on.”
He pretended to clear his throat.
The gang had a complex relationship, one that involved each of them in some way or another. He knew they had sex outside their committed couplings or trios, sharing partners within the group—especially the guys with the other guys. As for the details, he didn’t need to know exactly how they expressed their bond with each other. As long as everyone agreed to the system and it worked for them, he was supportive.
He’d never turn his back on them. Besides, Ambrose was adorable. He thought he might enjoy being a grandparent even more than he’d relished being a dad. Considering these kids had saved him from losing his mind with grief, that was really saying something.
“Okay, okay!” Eli held his hand up, palm out. “That’s not playing fair.”
“That’s what I thought.” Tom smirked.
“Can I just say one more thing?” Carver asked.
“I’m pretty sure I can’t stop you. You’ve got a big mouth.” He elbowed the smaller guy in his side.
“Yes. Yes, he does.” Roman shot his husband a secret smile that had them all groaning.
“What did we just talk about?” Tom rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand.
“Right. So. I’m going to leave it at this… If you were one of us, and we were you, you’d be giving us hell for not going after what’s right there in front of our faces. Ms. Brown is awesome and you two are even awesomer together.”
“That’s not even a word.” Eli shook his head.
“Whatever. I’m not as good at this as Tom is.” Carver held his hand out and Roman took it, lending him strength. “What I mean, is that…you should go for it.”
“Not that it’s really any of you kids’ business—”
“Fuck that, Tom.” Roman laughed this time. “Everything around here is your business. And you’re ours.”
“—but I’m planning on it.” Tom smiled. “I already told her I’m gonna wait her out.”
“Is ‘her’ my mom?” Amber asked as she joined them, with her boyfriend and business partner, Gavyn, right behind.
“Ummm…” Tom wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I really hope it is.” She came over and kissed his burning cheek. “Except, I came over here to say I don’t think you should waste any more time.”
“You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you, Tom?” Gavyn asked. “Everyone can see you’re great together.”
“What is this bullshit?” Tom threw his hands up. “Gang Up on Tom Day?”
“Or, as Ms. Brown might say…Gang Up on Tooooommmmmmy Day,” Eli teased in a high-pitched singsong.
Each of the kids cracked up at that.
“All right. That’s enough. I can manage my own affairs, thank you,” he blustered.
“So you admit there is an affair to manage?” Holden prodded.
“Look, I don’t know what you call it these days. There’s something there, yes. Now, if you don’t leave me alone you’ll drive me crazy and then no one will be getting any. I’ll be locked up, Willie will be sad—I think—and you’ll be on babysitting duty for the rest of your lives.” He shot them the I’m-the-dad-don’t-argue glare that had never really worked much on the gang of streetwise kids, less so since they’d become independent adults.
“I see how it is. You can dish out advice, for years and years, but you’re not very good at taking it, are you? Tommy?” Holden grinned.
“That’s it. I’m hiding those cookies,” Tom threatened.
“Not if I eat them first.” Swinger grinned then stole another handful.
“Careful there, buddy,” Gavyn teased him. “Sugar is addicting, too. Besides, you wouldn’t want to get soft around the middle for your girl, now would you? Her arms are so defined from that crazy yoga stuff she could probably smash those cookies with her guns.”
“I’m never soft for Sabra.” Holden smirked.
Tom gave up. He put his head in his hand and let them faux-fight with a shit ton of sexual innuendo thrown in. If he smiled to himself, content with how settled and comfortable they were in their own unique and colorfully inked skins, that was for him alone to know.
Maybe they had a point.
It hadn’t been easy for any of them to trust after being screwed over by life. They had faith in themselves, their partners, and the encouragement he’d given them.
Tom owed them the same.
After all, Willie had become like a mom to them, something almost none of them had had growing up. Or at least, not in a positive way.
Bringing her into their family, permanently, wouldn’t only be best for him.
It’d benefit his kids, too.
And he’d do anything for them.
Such a sacrifice. He laughed at himself as he enjoyed the ruckus they caused around him.
Chapter Three
Willie grabbed the stack of mail out of her box then went inside the house she’d shared with her daughters. Both had moved out within months of each other. She wished them well on the next phase of their lives, with fine young men who’d fought to overcome adversity. Not to mention Nola’s little one.
Still, as she looked around their living room she noticed the brighter squares on the faded paint, where pictures had previously hung on the walls. Her daughters had taken some to decorate their new places. No laughter, or arguing, or blaring TVs interrupted the absolute silence. A light coating of dust hazed the coffee table since none of them had been there lately to either clean it or make marks in the film.
A cramped though lively house had turned into a museum seemingly overnight.
Her girls were headed in the right direction. That didn’t mean she didn’t worry about them. Amber, who was coping with Gavyn’s addiction and helping him successfully navigate staying clean while launching a business. Nola, with the baby, her recent marriage, and figuring out her place at Hot Rods.
It was a lot to handle even before Willie got to thinking about herself and Tom London.
The slew of recent changes had her head spinning. At least that’s what she thought it was. She wandered over to the couch and sank onto it, pressing her hands to her face to ward off the throbbing that began again behind her eyes. It’d been happening more and more frequently lately. Her nightmares had been growing more vicious, too.
After years of battling anxiety and depression after Steven’s death, she recognized the symptoms of an imminent rough period. So she did what she’d been putting off.
Willie took her phone from her purse then selected her doctor’s contact.
The woman who answered was new, since the previous assistant had retired recently.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. That prescription is expired,” the woman informed her cheerily. “I can make an appointment for you to see the doctor if you’d like.”
It was never a rigorous deal. A few questions, some blood work, then bing, bam, boom, she was out of there. So she agreed.
After what sounded like a few thousand keystrokes, the woman perked up even more, if that was possible. “Actually, it looks like Dr. Smith has had a cancellation for tomorrow afternoon if you’d like to sneak in then.”
“Sure, that sounds terrific.” Well, not really. She didn’t particularly enjoy going to the doctor. At least it would be over and done with soon. Especially since she could only imagine how much more determined and forward Tom would be now that he’d declared open war on their friend status.
Willie spent some time dusting the living room and chucked a bunch of the food that had spoiled in the fridge then took out the garbage. She had the place shined up by the time she stood and surveyed the tiny house that had been their home for so long.
Would it be her place for much longer?
It both terrified and thrilled her that she didn’t think so.
Her heart had already defected to Team London.
Spur of the moment, she picked up her phone again and tapped the picture of Tommy grinning at her. She’d snapped it while she sat beside him at the Hot Rods quadruple wedding. He looked so damn handsome, and so happy, that she couldn’t help but grin in return. It also made what she was about to do harder. She had to be sure.
“Hey there, Ms. Brown.” His warm greeting nearly melted her resolve. “What time can I expect you home? Want me to cook up some of my famous spaghetti?”
She hated to tell him that his sauce was kind of bland and yet, somehow, simultaneously too salty. So she didn’t, happily eating it when he went through the trouble to prepare it for her.
