Whole Again (Hometown Hero's Book 1)

by Colleen S. Myers

  “Who says I want protection? It’s the audience I don’t want.”

  Ha. Their exchanged glance warmed her to her toes. She’d never felt so wanted in her life. The tent in his pants confirmed her power over him. She watched his ass as he preceded her down the stairs. My, oh my, she could get used to this view.

  ****

  Christine Masterson answered the door herself. As always, Vicki’s mother was immaculate in pearls and a silk pantsuit of dove gray.

  “Darling!” she exclaimed upon opening the door. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you today.”

  Vicki accepted her hug, then stepped back to John’s side. “No, this is a surprise visit. Mom, I want you to meet John. John, my mother.”

  Christine’s eyebrow rose as she took in his well-worn denim, navy-blue Henley, and leather jacket that had seen better days. She stretched her hands out with a forced smile. “Hello, my name is Christine.”

  John didn’t want to shake her hand. This was the mother who’d never come to Vicki’s games. The mother who’d pushed Vicki to get back with David. His gut roiled in protest. He almost expected her hand to be as cold as she was given what he knew. Manners forced him to respond. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  Christine pressed a bejeweled hand to her chest. “Ma’am. Ouch.” She returned her attention to Vicki. “So did you bring your beau to introduce us, or is there another reason for your visit?”

  “Well,” Vicki started. Christine ushered them both inside.

  The foyer they entered was pure white marble with old crown molding framing a large, sweeping, mahogany staircase to an open upper level. The design reminded him of a hotel lobby. Looked nice, felt cold. He shivered at the thought of growing up here. No marks on the wall, no dust, everything shiny and new. The chandelier cost more than the house he grew up in. Jesus. John shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted.

  “John.” Vicki poked his side, recapturing his wandering thoughts, while her mother led them into the kitchen with its gleaming black-and-white tile floors and glass cupboards. Art deco at its best. They all sat at the huge glass table in a shaft of sunlight.

  “What? Sorry.” He bowed his head to Vicki.

  “I was asking her if she knew anything about David and his family’s situation. I know you were interested.”

  John regarded Christine.

  She raised an eyebrow and curled her lip. “Yes, John, please try to control your interest.”

  John’s gut clenched. He leaned forward. “Well, then, I will take a page from your book and ignore her.”

  Christine inhaled and put a hand over her stomach, right eye twitching. He almost felt bad. Well, no, not really.

  Christine said, “Your new boyfriend is not much on social niceties, is he?”

  Vicki grabbed his arm. “John.”

  He covered her fingers and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “It was true, and I won’t ignore a dig.”

  Vicki squeezed his hand tight, her desire for him to let her talk to her mother evident. Fine. I’ll be nice. Ish.

  Christine sat up a bit straighter at the table and put her hands in front of her. “It’s all right, Vicki. It’s true. I wasn’t the most attentive mother, too worried about unimportant things. But I want to be there for you now. What did you need?”

  Vicki’s eyebrow winged upward, and she exchanged a glance with him. “Well, you said that the Watters were having trouble? Grams didn’t know anything about any difficulties.”

  Christine waved a hand. “That is because my mother eschews the social scene. She has her friends who report to her, but she doesn’t countenance gossip. I, on the other hand, love gossip, and word is that Watters, Inc. is circling the drain.”

  Good. Oh sorry. Bad.

  Vicki gasped. “How? Why?”

  Christine continued. “Old man Watters made a series of poor judgments, as they say, and got caught. The feds were closing in and seized a lot of his assets. Soon after, he committed suicide, and the whole situation went away. You remember that.”

  Poor judgments, John’s hairy white ass. Watters Sr. had been dirty. Figured.

  Vicki’s lips turned down. “Yeah. David was devastated. The funeral was quick and hush-hush. I still can’t believe he died that way.”

  John shifted. Hmm. First time he heard about suicide. Very easy to fake a suicide. And all this talk about David pissed John off. He saw that she used to care, and well, he didn’t like it. He stood with an abrupt, “I have to pee.”

  Both women looked at him like startled deer.

  Vicki’s brow creased. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Which way?”

  Christine pointed. He hustled out of there before his jealousy led him to say something more.

  ****

  Vicki watched John rush out of the room. Huh. What’s his problem?

  Christine laughed beside her. “Your young man is jealous.”

  A smile slipped across Vicki’s face. Jealous? Her cheeks flushed. “Really?”

  “Yes. How long have you known him?”

  “We went to high school together, but he just received an honorable discharge from the marines and returned to Pittsburgh in the past week.”

  Christine’s lip curled. “A week.”

  “Yes, mother, and I know that look. Be nice. I . . . I like this one.”

  “But a week—”

  “Mom.”

  Christine huffed. “Fine.”

  “Let’s return to David.”

  Christine’s expression perked up, eyes gleaming. “Yes, David. Well, after his father’s death, Delilah held on to most things, mainly what she brought into the marriage. And, well. She is not the financial whiz her husband was. David is, though. He’s been taking care of everything. It was always kind of weird, I thought.” Christine sat back.

  “What was weird?” Vicki asked.

  “David’s relationship with his mother. They are two peas in a pod, and it became so much worse after his dad died.”

  Vicki laughed. “Tell me about it. He spent more time at her house than ours or at work. I never saw him. That’s when we started having problems. Not that we didn’t always, but it got worse. I thought it was his dad’s death. You think the business?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know David’s been turning things around recently, and Global, Inc. has been eying it. They bought up a ton of shares.”

  Hmm. Vicki tapped her fingers on the table. “Why didn’t David tell me this? I got the impression he was fighting for control of the board, not the company.”

  “Probably so you don’t charge him anything for them. With Global, Inc. circling, you could get a lot more selling those shares then David can scrounge up.”

  Vicki shrugged. “Like I care about money.”

  “That’s because you’ve always had it. You never grew up like me and Joonie, wanting, needing more.”

  “Joonie took care of you and built a multimillion-dollar business.”

  Christine nodded. “Yes. And how many dinners did she make? How much time did she spend with her daughter? That business ruined my childhood. There were days I didn’t eat because my mom stayed at work and forgot she had a daughter. I sold stuff from the house to get grocery money so I had food. Now she’s apologetic, but it doesn’t change the fact that I learned early that it isn’t family or love that makes the world go round. It’s money, and I needed it.”

  Christine brushed a lock of Vicki’s hair back, a slight tremor in her hands. “Your father, he understood that; we got each other. And it was good for a while. But not good enough, I guess. And money is not the answer. I have learned that just like my mom did. You want me to forgive Joonie? Why don’t you try forgiving me, and we go from there? I want to help you with this stuff. Not hear about it a few days later. Let me help.” She grabbed Vicki’s hands and held them to her chest.

  Vicki’s nose started to run. She wiped at her bottom lip and blinked tears away. “Okay.”

  “Okay.”r />
  John wandered in at the end of their okays. His hand came to rest on her shoulder. “Okay.”

  Vicki covered his hand. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” Christine echoed.

  John looked mystified, but gamely added, “I don’t know what all the okaying is about. But okay!”

  He pulled up a chair next to her and sat down again.

  Vicki nudged his foot with hers. “So, Mom, can you dig up more on David’s troubles if you can?”

  “Sure. Want to stay for lunch?”

  John’s hand landed on her thigh. He dragged it upward, keeping a neutral expression on his face when she peeked over. Vicki’s heart skipped a beat. “Um, not today, Mom. I have plans.”

  A smile tugged at John’s lips when he turned his head and wiggled his eyebrows. She squeezed his hand between her thighs, excitement zipping through her like a race car. She couldn’t wait to get him home. “Okay indeed.”

  Twenty

  As they walked out, John cuddled Vicki into his side. “I am proud of you.” And proud to be with you. His hand curled on her waist. He didn’t add that last part. A guy had to have some pride.

  She looked up at him with a smile. “Why?”

  “Because you’re willing to give your mom another chance.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you didn’t know what we were talking about?”

  He hip bumped her. “I lied. But let’s get back to the subject.”

  Vicki shrugged and stepped in front of him to walk backward to the car. “I guess it’s time. And I want to start fresh. With everything, with you.”

  Damn. John’s heart thumped. He squeezed her fingers then brought them up to his lips to kiss. How did he get so lucky?

  He fished for the car keys and pressed the remote starter. It clicked but didn’t turn over. He mashed the button again.

  Beep. Beep.

  Flames shot from the cab of his Toyota and burst out the windows. The boom of the explosion echoed a moment later. John flew backward onto his ass while glass rained the area. Black smoke belched from the interior, coating the ground around him in darkness. The smell of gas and oil hung in the air.

  John sat up and watched wide-eyed while his Buick burned. He covered his eyes and weaved backward on his elbows. His vision faded in and out as he tried to focus. Bomb. Threat. Vicki! Where was Vicki?

  His eyes popped open. He saw Christine Masterson rush past him. Her mouth was open, but he couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears and the crackle of the fire. His nose ran. He raised his hand and touched his chin. Blood. Fuck it. He’d heal.

  Vicki.

  He tracked Christine and saw her come to a rest crouching next to Vicki. Vicki wasn’t moving. Oh God. Vicki. He crawled over to the women. Crawling was quicker since his leg hurt. He had to get to her. He had to make sure she was all right. She was all that mattered. What the fuck was going on here? A car bomb. This wasn’t fucking Iraq.

  Christine cradled Vicki’s head on her lap, brushing back her hair. Her words came into focus. “Come on, baby. Wake up for momma. It’s going to be okay. Open your eyes, baby.”

  Vicki’s head lolled to the side, eyes shut, unresponsive.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Vicki! Oh God.

  He collapsed next to the women. “You have to be careful with a head injury, Christine.” His words unintentionally sharp. “Don’t move her.”

  Christine froze while John examined Vicki.

  His hands shook when he felt for a pulse. His hands crawled down her neck to check for a break. After a few fraught seconds, he confirmed no obvious fractures and no bleeding. But she hadn’t woken up.

  He swallowed hard and skimmed the back of his fingers down her cheek. “Come on, baby. You need to wake up for us now. You’re starting to worry me, sexy. Open those pretty brown eyes for me, okay?”

  Vicki jerked in Christine’s arms once, then lay still.

  He exchanged a desperate glance with her mother. “Did you call 911?”

  “Yes. Is she okay? What is this? What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to find out. Whoever is after her is not going to stop.”

  Christine covered her mouth on a sob, nodding.

  John sighed. Last thing he wanted was a hysterical momma. “She probably got her head rung. She has a pulse. She should be fine. We saw car bombs like this all the time over in the Middle East.” Now if he could only convince his heart. It raced and thudded and a thick, sick taste flooded his mouth. He dived to the side and retched in the grass next to her, head lurching once more.

  Fuck.

  He spit out the remains, then swallowed hard.

  The next few minutes were the longest of his life. He’d waited on friends before, comrades. This was different. This was Vicki. His childhood dream. The little girl with pigtails who was always so damn sweet that she forgot to look for the bad in people and rushed straight ahead. His life would be desolate without her, and she’d only just entered it. She was going to be fine, though. His jaw clenched. Fine.

  The cops and ambulances arrived, red and blue lights flashing, sirens blaring. They bundled Vicki up first and tried to leave with her. That was so not happening. No one was separating them. He jumped into the back with her, fingers squeezing hers. Christine waved and ran to get her own vehicle to follow them.

  John leaned his head onto the stretcher. She had to wake up soon. She had to.

  Her eyes flicked behind her eyelids.

  He held her hand up to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Please, baby.”

  The trip passed without Vicki opening her eyes.

  The ride seemed interminably long even with the sirens screaming. They slowed at every intersection, honking at idiots who refused to move or had their music too loud. God. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his mouth her palm.

  Please.

  Bentley met them at the hospital. He was flanked by at least three other detectives. Guess Vicki’d made the big time this time. Maybe now they’d realize the threat was real. This was not fucking pranksters. Someone was after his woman, and he didn’t know what to do. His gut twisted. Even after his injury, he’d never felt this useless. Then he’d known he had a tough road cut out for him, and he needed to keep on keeping on. This was different. This was some unseen force that could sneak up on him and steal all that he’d come to treasure. It wasn’t fucking right.

  As soon as the paramedics got Vicki’s stretcher out, Bentley and his crew surrounded them.

  The head paramedic waved them off. “Not now.”

  John grinned reluctantly at Bentley’s growl. His hand tightened on hers while they carted her inside.

  At the next door, one of the nurses placed a hand on John’s chest. “You can’t go in here, sir. The doctors are waiting to check you out as well.” She glanced over at Bentley and his crew who ghosted them down the corridor.

  Bentley’s hand fell on his shoulder. He started barking questions at him. “What the hell happened?”

  “Bomb.” Brevity at its best.

  John watched with gritty eyes as they wheeled Vicki behind the double doors ahead of him marked Trauma. She’d better be all right; without her . . .

  “As soon as I heard, we had inspectors check out her car as well. They booby-trapped both of them. And your apartments are being evaluated now. If you hadn’t had a remote starter on your car, you would’ve been inside the vehicle when it blew. You two were lucky.”

  John squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah. It makes you realize what’s important. Whoever is after her isn’t going to give up.”

  “No. It appears not.”

  ****

  John sat next to Vicki’s bed again. He really hoped this didn’t become a habit. He let his head drop. The doctors had done a ton of scans, all clear. She had a moderate to severe concussion, but no internal damage, no bleeding, or anything. But she still hadn’t woken up. He felt a rock
take up residence in his chest, making it hard to breathe.

  Bentley asked yet more questions. John didn’t remember all of them. Head too busy ringing. Bentley shut up as soon as Christine arrived and nodded at him. His expression when she walked up and asked him to find the person who’d hurt her baby looked stunned and determined. There was nothing going to keep Bentley from finding the bomber now. A small smile curved John’s lips, then died a slow death when Vicki continued to stay the fuck asleep.

  Christine left to get Vicki some clothing, and Bentley went for coffee, leaving him alone for a few blessed moments with his woman. Nobody had been able to reach Joonie. The virtual explosion when that woman did hear what happened . . . John gave a silent whistle. It wouldn’t be pretty. And he should probably call his own mom and let her know. She was going to flip out.

  Right when he pulled the phone from his pocket, it rang. Bentley again.

  John sighed and answered. “Any news?”

  “No, I heard from the officers at the Watters estate—the old bat requires us to call it that—and they haven’t found anything. If it’s David, he is doing a damn fine job of covering his tracks. Has she woken? We really need to come up with some leads on who did this. Someone has got to have a grudge. If not David, then who?”

  John ground his teeth and strode to the window of the private room—naturally—and scanned outdoors. “I don’t know. But I’m definitely going to find out. I have some friends from my military time still. I will see if there is any chatter.”

  “Sounds good. Let me know.”

  John tapped the phone against his head for a second, then pressed in his mom’s number.

  “Knock, fucking knock.”

  John whirled.

  Brae leaned against the doorjamb. At least he hadn’t changed. Still the same dark-haired tattooed hard-ass.

  “Brae!”

  “Dude, what the fuck is going on? I come home, and more people are trying to blow you up? You need to work on your social skills.”

  “Next time I’ll remember to say please and thank you.” John pulled his best friend into a hug. “It has been a rough fucking week.”

  “I heard. And you and Ms. Wet Dream there?”