“Did you make the pierogies from scratch?” she asked.
He looked over his shoulder with a smile. “My mom is half-Polish, half-Spanish. There is no other way to make a pierogi.” A faint accent stained his words. “The kielbasa would be best grilled, but since its fall in Pittsburgh, I didn’t get one yet, figuring I wouldn’t get much time on it.”
“Might be in for a surprise this year.”
John inclined his head to the refrigerator. “Maybe. Grab a drink, beer or whatnot. This will only be a second.”
Vicki skirted around him. Their hips brushed as she went past. “Sorry.”
John stilled. His head swiveled to follow her progress to the refrigerator. Ha. She knew she affected him. Why was he being so stubborn and withdrawing? Was he afraid of David or something? It took her a minute to realize she said that last question out loud.
John threw down his spoon and wheeled on her. “Is that really what you think, Vicki? That some slick pervert scared me? No, I’m just not good enough for you. All right?”
“No, it’s not all right, and you don’t get to make that decision. I do. And I like you, damn it. I always have.”
The words hung in the air between them. She wished she could take them back. Her gaze dropped.
John shifted closer to her. “Have you?”
Vicki kept her eyes down. Why did she tell him that? How pathetic was she. Her hand gripped the strap of her purse, tight. Too late to take it back now. “You were always strutting down the hallway, too cool to acknowledge all the girls behind you giggling and lusting after you.”
His mouth brushed her ear, making her shiver. “Were you one of those girls lusting behind me?”
She still didn’t have her beer. That would have been nice right now. Her eyes drifted up his chest. “Yes.”
Next thing she knew, her back was against the wall, and John was kissing her. His mouth slammed across hers, tongue slipping in deep. Holy moly. His hands threaded deep in her hair, changing the angle of the kiss.
Her hand gripped his shoulders. This was not the response she’d expected. Maybe laughter. Violent lust hadn’t even occurred to her.
His leg pressed in between hers; her own leg wrapped around his waist. She felt his arousal jabbing into her belly.
She pushed on his chest. She needed space. Her breath came in pants. His mouth trailed down to her chin and then along her jaw to her neck. A gasp slipped out. Little shocks spread in the wake of his touch. Really. He was confusing the snot out of her. But it felt so good, she couldn’t find the nerve to make him stop. John’s teeth nipped her ear. Her thighs grew slick.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
John’s head came up. “Not God. John.”
She slapped his shoulder as his mouth ravaged hers once more. He laughed in between kisses, and he was so freaking hot, he was smoking. Wait.
Her eyes widened as she glanced over his shoulder. Actual smoke.
The fire alarm went off with shrill beep.
“Fuck,” John swore. He turned and transferred the charcoaled potato pastry to the sink and turned on the water. “Sorry. I forgot about our food. We still have the kielbasa.”
He looked over at her.
She straightened her shirt. When did he get her bra undone? She refastened it and slipped past him before he could react. “I should probably take that as my cue to leave. Since you don’t think we will work out and all.”
“Wait. Vicki.” The alarm shrieked again claiming his attention as she slipped out the door.
Once outside, she bolted for her own apartment, dimly hearing a “Vicki” called out behind her. As she passed the parking lot, she noticed her car at the curb. Perfect. Forget home. A drive was just the thing. She jumped inside, put her foot on the brake, pushed to start, and off she went. Avoidance at its best.
****
John waved his dish towel at the alarm so it would stop blaring. The fan over the stove helped as well. After a few seconds, it finally stopped shrieking. Jesus.
“Vicki,” he called out, but she was already through the door.
As he moved to follow her, his phone started to ring. Damn it. He palmed the case. It was Growing Strong. He’d entered the number when he called for the interview. He looked outside, then back to the phone.
He pressed Accept, taking a deep breath. “Hello, John Lawrence.”
“Hello, Mr. Lawrence. This is Mr. Reynolds from Growing Strong. How are you today?”
“I am doing well, sergeant. How about yourself?”
The sarge’s chuckle tinkled through the phone. “I am doing well. I’m calling with good news. Mrs. Steiner reviewed the applicants, and she has chosen you for the internship.”
John’s heart thudded, his already shaky breath shuddering out. “Just like that, without a personal interview? That’s amazing.”
“Yes. I’m very excited for you. She wants you to come to work this Wednesday. Give you a day to get ready and then start right away. Is that acceptable?”
“Hell, yes, that sounds perfect. Do I need to sign a contract or anything?”
“We will have you sign everything when you come in Wednesday morning. Come to the same place you were Friday. We will get the paperwork taken care of, and then you can meet with Mrs. Steiner. It’ll be nice working with you,” the sarge said.
“Same, and thank you so much for the call.”
“See you Wednesday.”
John put down the phone in a daze. His fist pumped in the air. He looked around the apartment to celebrate. Without a thought, he bolted up to Vicki’s to share the news. After a minute of knocking, John tried to peek in the window. No lights, no Vicki. He had no right to be disappointed, but he was. His hand slammed against the door. Damn it.
Thirteen
Ring. Ring.
Vicki glanced over at the clock. Four a.m. Who the hell would be calling her now? Vicki rolled over and grabbed her cell, her voice cracking. “Hello.”
“Did you have a nice day at work? I hope you did. I hope you had a great day. It will be one of the last days you’ll have, bitch. I’m coming for you, and this time, it won’t be the tires I slash.” The voice was mechanical, androgynous, and flat.
Vicki fought a chill and brushed back her hair. What the heck? She stared at the phone a second, the dial tone sounding in her ear before she could craft a suitable reply. She checked her call log. Blocked number. Did they threaten her? And they mentioned her tires? Maybe the damage to her car wasn’t a prank. Could someone really be trying to hurt her? Nah, couldn’t be. She hadn’t hurt anyone. No, it was more teenage games. That was what this was. She took a deep breath in and pulled the covers up to her chin. Just a prank. She closed her eyes and thought happy thoughts. But didn’t sleep.
She expected it when the phone rang fifteen minutes later. “Whoever this is, this is not funn—”
“Silence! I wasn’t done talking. You looked ridiculous in your jeans and T-shirt today.” What? The person hung up.
Vicki stared at the screen and found herself listening to the ringtone. And this time she knew it was no teenager calling. How did they know what she wore today? Who was doing this? Why were they trying to scare her? This was crazy. What was she going to do?
She immediately looked at the floor and thought of John. No. No. He didn’t want to get involved. And this was a personal matter. She was an adult. She could handle this. She’d call the police. She’d already filed a complaint about the tires. Now she should file a complaint for the sugar in the gas tank and the calls. This was more serious than she thought.
One unproductive call to the local precinct later, Vicki admitted defeat and contemplated what the hell to do. No way was she sleeping. She paced back and forth in her bedroom. She was too jittery for that. But she couldn’t stay here. It didn’t feel safe any longer. She called the first person that came to her mind. Other than John. She needed to stop thinking about John. Yes, he was a marine, but he didn’t want her. Even if he was sending mixe
d signals. Sort of. No, she needed Joonie.
Her grandmother picked up on the third ring, Vicki heard rustling. “Cover yourself. It’s my granddaughter.” Then a quick, “Hello.”
“Hey, Grams. Did I—er—interrupt anything?” And, well, ew.
“No, dear, I was sleeping. Why are you calling so early?”
“I got a weird phone call. They, well, they threatened me.” Saying it out loud made the threat realer. Vicki rubbed at her throat, her fingers shaking, her skin crawling. What the hell? Why would someone want to hurt her?
Joonie must have thought the same thing. “What?” Her grandmother’s voice rose. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Someone called, and when I picked up, they asked how my day was and said it would be the last I’ll ever have.” Tears burned her eyes. As she continued to explain, she got more nervous. She was blowing this out of proportion, she knew, but it was hard to stay objective when she could hear the creepy voice telling her it would be the last day she’d ever have.
“What’s this about tires?”
Oh, I forgot to tell her about that.
“Well, I went to Sunday brunch with Mom, and when I came out, someone had slashed my tires. And this morning, someone put sugar in my gas tank.”
“Did you call the police?” Joonie demanded.
“Yes, of course. At least, I did for the tires. And I just did for the call and the sugar. They wanted to send someone over now, but I told them it would be better to come in the morning.” Not that she would sleep at all after that call.
“Morning? Forget that. I know the chief of police. Hell. I went to school with him. Detectives will be by in an hour.”
“But I have to go to work.” It was only her second day.
Joonie snorted. “Vicki. I own the damn place. In fact, come over here. You’ll be safe.”
“You have company. I heard him. Is it the dentist with the full set of teeth?”
“He’s an orthodontist, and come over anyway. We’ll keep it down.”
Ew again. Vicki squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the mental image. “And witness your postcoital bliss. No thanks. Um, remember John? The one I had a date with Saturday?”
“Oh, the hottie. Yes, you never did tell me how that went.”
“That’s the one. He, ah, lives next door to me.” Vicki tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and paced back to her bed.
“Oh, convenient.” Vicki could almost see her grandmother’s ears perk up. “Did you get some?”
“Grams!” Vicki rolled her eyes and sat on the bed. “No, and he isn’t interested in anything with me, I will have you know. I don’t think so anyway.”
“Well, which is it?”
“He said he didn’t want to be involved, then kissed my socks off. He kept saying he wasn’t good enough for me.”
And wasn’t that a kick in the pants. Going from David, Mr. Superior, to John, Mr. Military Man who was not willing to commit.
“Well, of course not. No one is, but that doesn’t mean you can’t jump his bones.”
“Grams!” Vicki threw her arms out and lay back.
“You said he lives nearby? Go stay with him. I will have people by soon.”
Vicki bit her lip and looked at the floor again. “I don’t want to wake him.”
“Why not? No man is going to turn away a beautiful woman from his door. Go. Or I am coming to get you.”
When Grams used that tone, Vicki knew to listen. “Okay.”
****
Bam. Bam. Bam.
Knocks thundered through the apartment. John rolled off his bed and hit the floor with a thud.
He searched the floor for his prosthesis. He yanked it on and then glanced at the clock. 4:20 a.m. What in the hell? Who would stop by now? The last time he got woken, it was Vicki. His heart sped up at the thought. After their kiss in the kitchen, she took off. She better be all right. He yanked on his pajama pants and hurried to the door.
Vicki stood outside, her cheeks tear-stained, and John fought an uncontrollable desire to do violence, on, well, whoever made her cry. He pulled her up against him and looked around behind her. No one in sight. What the—
“What is going on, Vicki? You all right?”
He skimmed his hands down her arms. A quick glance revealed no injury. Her pajamas were way too thin for a cold September night in Pittsburgh, though. He tugged her inside and closed the door.
Vicki clutched her arms around her waist, shivering. “I’m so sorry to wake you up again. I didn’t know where else to turn.”
“What’s going on?” He swept his hands up and down her arms again until she stopped shaking. When she didn’t immediately respond, he shook her. “Now you’re the one scaring me. What’s going on, Vee?”
“I was sleeping, and some dude called and threatened me.”
“David?” The name dripped off his tongue with malice. If David was trying to hurt her, he’d kill him. No one hurt his . . . well, Vicki.
“No. Not David, I don’t think. I don’t know. The voice was one of those mechanical ones. I couldn’t tell. It asked me if I had a nice day and . . . and . . .” Vicki started to cry, recapping the other events of the weekend.
John’s fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?” He shook her. “I wouldn’t have let you leave. What if they’d been up in your apartment?” She could have been hurt. His stomach fell and his fists clenched. No one was going to hurt her. Not on his watch.
“Well, I thought it was pranks until the call. Now I don’t know what to think. There are some detectives coming over soon to interview me. I gave them your address. I hope you don’t mind.”
Really? “Of course I don’t mind, you idiot. I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Vicki’s eyes snapped up. “What do you mean, you care about me?”
“I always have.” He felt a slow grin stretch his lips, until his cheeks hurt. “Just like you have always cared about me.”
Her hand rose and cradled his cheek. She shuffled and stepped on his toes.
He reacted without thinking and shoved her away.
“John,” she started. “What’s up with your foot? Why do you have a shoe on one but not the other? What is this old injury of yours?”
Like a bandage, quick and painless. He should just tell her. His breath huffed out. “I got shot. It took my left foot and lower leg.”
“What?” She stepped back and took in his stance. “When? You walk so well.”
“They call it a stable prosthetic. Where the bullet hit shattered too much joint to keep the foot, but it left enough of a stump that with my prosthetics and liner, I can jog even. The biggest thing is when I get a sore. When David shoved me, I twisted on my foot when I fell, and it ripped open my scar a little. It’s been hurting ever since.”
Vicki put her hands on her hips. She looked so cute, like a vengeful Barbie doll. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“’Cause how does a guy tell a girl he likes, Hey, my foot’s gone. I’m half a man. Let’s have us some sex?”
“Maybe the girl isn’t only interested in sex. Maybe she cares. Maybe the guy is an idiot.” Vicki’s voice rose with every sentence, and her finger punched the air.
John cringed and raked a hand through his hair. “Maybe he was scared. I don’t know, all right. You make me feel . . . shit. I don’t know.”
Vicki gasped. “I make you feel shit?”
Oh God, this was not going well for him. “No, you make me feel strong. And I didn’t want to see the pity in your eyes when I told you.” He’d seen enough pity since it had happened. From his friends. His family. His unit. Everyone.
Vicki crossed her arms, and her foot began to tap. “Is this why you didn’t want to get involved?”
“Yes.” John spread his arms.
Tap, tap, tap.
She walked closer and shoved him to the wall. “Does this look like pity on my face, you jackass? How shallow do you think I am?”
/> “I don’t know. You married that Watters guy after all.” As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. He sucked in a breath.
Vicki’s eyes glowed with ire. “You . . . I’m . . .” A knock saved him. “You are so lucky the detectives are here.” She stomped to the door.
John couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to her ass in the cute black pajamas with Eeyore on them. She was so cute when she was angry. And the smooth skin on her back where her black tank top rode up beckoned to him, urging him to touch. God damn it. Just what the cops needed to see. A tent. He would be their prime suspect; he knew it. Great.
****
The detective’s name was Bentley, like the car. His rumpled suit and tie along with his hound dog eyes added to the stereotype Vicki had about detectives from Law & Order. So far, he’d verified what had happened and the times and dates. She kept hearing duh-duh in the background between every question. Nervous laughter tickled her throat and distracted her from her dire thoughts regarding John, aka the asshole.
She cut her eyes to the couch where he sat and watched TV. She’d insisted that she talk to the detective alone, and she could tell from the pace of his twitching foot right now, it’d pissed him off. Good. Now he knew how she felt. Not telling her about his wound. She didn’t care if he had lost a limb. He had been fighting for his country. How dare he think that mattered to her? He was a macho idiot. Like most men.
Her eyes drifted down to his leg, then up again when his hand slid down to rub at his belly. She couldn’t stop her eyes from following the movement. And she realized all at once it was a ploy.
Her eyes darted up, and yep, a smile spread across his face. He winked.
Ass.
She looked back at the detective, resolute.
Bentley, busy writing his thoughts down, hadn’t said anything for the last few minutes. “Give me the names of the two companies that took care of your car again?”
Whole Again (Hometown Hero's Book 1) Page 9
