No, she wasn’t going to let all this emotional bullshit get to her. There were other, important things to focus on. Projects like mending the fence, taking care of things Gram and Grampa couldn’t any longer, were exactly the reasons the decision to move were made.
Once the place was up to par, all sparkly and shiny, she’d work in tandem with her mom, and convince Gram and Grampa they could take care of a few head of cattle. Maybe a horse or two. Riding the trail down to the creek had always been one of her favorite things to do when she was little, and it hit Karina hard when she realized that wouldn’t happen again anytime soon.
While back in L.A., Karina had pictured herself in jeans, cowboy hat, and boots, riding atop her favorite horse, Firestorm, as she corralled a cow from the pasture. Of course, she knew Firestorm had passed last year, but the desire to feel that free again never left her. She’d assumed, mistakenly, Grampa would have bought a new horse. It never occurred to her the barn would be empty when they arrived.
Karina swished the last bit of paint on the brush on the same piece she’d been painting for over ten minutes. The hard labor was supposed to force her to concentrate on the mundane tasks, rather than thinking about her aging grandparents, her pathetic excuse for a friend, or the life she would never live with Cal.
All this mushy, sentimental crap made Karina want to vomit. No, it made her want to shoot or punch something. Or someone. Hard. Rolling around in the mental dumpster filled with reeking emotions wasn’t like her.
She was a tough chick, quick tempered and not one to let things get to her. Years on the job had turned her heart to stone. It was a necessary safety valve. Dealing with lowlife criminals on a daily basis would drive a person bat-shit crazy if emotions were allowed to remain at the surface.
But everything changed after she went undercover in the Jubilee senior abuse case. Years of tracking down bail jumpers, catching people on video for one crime or another, working undercover to determine if a boyfriend/husband was a cheater, hadn’t prepared Karina mentally for what awaited to shock her sense of compassion in the senior housing industry.
Everyone, including the toughest hardheads, had a soft spot. An Achilles heel. Cal’s was his love of animals. God help the hapless soul who harmed a furry creature in the presence of Calvin Benson. He was always bringing a fluff ball of some sort home to take care of until he found it a good home. A malnourished cat. Sick hamster. Starving puppies. When he brought home Ranger, a wormy, half-starved bedraggled knot of fur, Karina didn’t give the creature twenty-four hours to live. But, Ranger proved her wrong, and to her and Cal’s surprise, bonded with her instead of him.
Her mom’s cause was abused women. The only time Sgt. LiAnn Tuck had ever been reprimanded at work and given “forced vacation days” happened when accidental bumps and bruises showed up on a few of the men arrested for beating the shit out of their wives.
Karina’s was the elderly, and the reason she never became a cop, as planned. Six weeks before she was to head to the academy, she nearly beat a man to death after witnessing him roll a homeless old man–all caught on video by a surveillance camera across the street.
Hopes of following in the footsteps of her mother ended, and pushed Karina in the path of Calvin Benson. She met him while attending the court-ordered anger management classes that kept her out of jail. After listening to each other’s stories, they became an item, and eventually, business partners. Cal’s temper got him kicked off the force, but his burning desire to catch the dregs of society hadn’t diminished. Neither had Karina’s. So, they combined their skills and started We’ve Got Ya!
Karina adored the elderly, and watching them in pain or being neglected struck a nerve. A very sensitive and volatile one. Maybe it was because she was so close to her own grandparents. Or maybe it was because she could sense the loneliness so many of them wore like an accessory. No more children to raise, no more work to attend to, and loss of mental and physical strength as the end drew closer. The sensation of feeling useless, no longer needed, a burden on their families. Heartache at being forced to watch loved ones pass on. Bodies that no longer functioned as they had in their prime, forcing them to rely on others to help them complete the daily tasks of living. The look of life sparking in their eyes when the doors would open, the hope of one of their loved ones coming for a visit, shining like a beacon on their faces. Then, the shattered torment of realizing the visitor was for someone else, and another day would pass. Alone. The vulnerability of the aged as technology overtook the world, leaving them lost and confused. Diminished mental acuity made them easy targets for criminals. And the senior housing sector of the world, at least the ones she’d worked undercover at, took full advantage of their trapped quarry. The more emotional upheavals Karina witnessed, the more her shields cracked, until they crumpled to the ground.
While undercover, the emotions Karina had to keep in check daily, began to wear on her nerves. All her strength was concentrated on keeping her mouth shut as she witnessed so many unspeakable things. It was completely against her character, and fighting the urge to kick the shit out of several staff members at various locations, took a toll on her mental state. Prior to the assignment, Karina never really took stock of her life. At least not from an emotional viewpoint. Things just…were. She owned a successful business, lived in a nice apartment right by the beach, drove a great car, a gorgeous hunk of man to keep her warm at night, and a family who loved her. That was enough. But, as she tried to sleep at night in the unfamiliar places while undercover, her mental walls began to crack from the stress. She found herself thinking about her future. One she wanted to include Calvin Benson as her other half.
A life she had secretly hoped to lead with him. His touch. His smell. The way his hooded eyes looked at her when his passion was in full swing. Umm, the sensation of his strong hands as they moved over her body, poking, prodding, stroking. The sound of his deep, throaty laughter when something amused him. The way he whispered “I love you” in her ear, or mumbled her name at the peak of ecstasy when in bed.
No, no, no! Shrugging her shoulders, Karina brushed the feelings off her, like they were unwelcome pests. There were too many things that needed to be done around the farm, and no time to ruminate about her old life. After all, what did she have to complain about, really? She had a bank account full of enough cash to last her at least five years while she figured out what her next career move would be. Dragula was paid for, she was healthy (except for her newly discovered allergies) and she was surrounded by a loving family. Karina Ruby Summers didn’t need a man to make her life whole, or so her mind told her. She wasn’t some whiny, clingy heroine who needed validation from a man! Karina was a modern woman, raised by another modern woman, and took no shit from anyone. Cal ruined everything they had together, and she was not about to waste any more of her time pining for him. No second chances. Period.
Where did the woman with the quick tongue and temper go? The one who got into trouble several times during her youth, especially when her teenage years hit. What happened to the girl who was suspended from school after giving a very loud and expletive-filled opinion to a smarmy math teacher named Mr. Jolly, after a very embarrassing stint standing in front of the class, trying to solve a difficult equation?
Oh, yeah, she got old. And sentimental.
The ache inside Karina’s heart wasn’t listening to her catty mind. Neither was her internal baby alarm. The incessant buzzing late at night, the warning her eggs were close to drying up, was about to drive her looney. It was the oddest thing. When she had been with Cal, who never, ever, wanted children, no bells rang in her head. But, that had changed the minute their relationship ended.
Karina thought about it for a moment while she stared out across the overgrown hayfield. Did she really want a child? Or was the craving for one just her mind’s way of transferring her painful emotions about Cal to something else? On instinct, Karina’s hand moved across her taut, slender belly. No. Her longing for a child had ju
st been sitting on the backburner because she secretly hoped once she and Cal married, he would change his mind about children.
Stop it, girl. Just…stop it. She put the brush back inside the empty can, wiped a straggler tear away, and started toward the front porch. In a fit of anger, she spun back around and kicked the empty paint can halfway across the yard, sending the brush in one direction, the metal container in another. Satisfied with herself, she continued to the porch. Swiping at the mosquitoes buzzing around her damp face, she cursed her skin’s aversion to bug spray. If she was going to live in such humid state, full of insects big enough to hitch a ride on, she needed to find some sort of repellent that wouldn’t turn her skin into blotches of itchy, red patches.
Before she made it to the first step, Ranger jerked his head up from his spot under the swing and growled, followed by a loud bark. Karina followed his gaze out to the driveway, squinting under the sun’s vibrant rays.
A lone pickup truck rumbled up the road, and parked next to her car. When the cloud of dust settled, the door opened. Taking the steps two at a time, she grabbed Ranger by his collar before he took off to greet the intruder with a wet nose to the crotch. When she glanced back up, Karina was surprised to see who came for a visit.
“Ranger, inside!” The big dog hesitated, determined to stand guard. “Ranger! Geh rein!” Karina opened the front door and he scooted inside, his low growl reverberating through him. “So ist brav, Ranger. Bleib,” she cooed, and then shut the door. Her beloved dog was stubborn when it came to strangers, but he always listened when Karina gave him commands in German.
“Afternoon, Ms. Karina. Looks like you’ve been busy today. Gotta ask, did you just talk to your dog in another language?”
On instinct, her fingers flew to her disheveled hair. Karina grimaced, knowing she just added some new white streaks to it. The images of her head looking like a skunk sped by. “Aren’t you the observant one? Yes, it was German and, I lost my fight with the paint. So, what brings you by, um, Bryce, isn’t it?”
“Wrong brother. I’m Bo,” he drawled.
Karina’s tongue went dry. She was a sucker for the sexy dialect, especially coming from the mouth of the young stud in front of her. “Oh, sorry. Huh, I bet that’s never happened before. Okay, so, Bo, what brings you by? Did you leave something here the other day? I know it isn’t about the invoice. We already paid for the move.”
“No, ma’am. My visit today ain’t got nothin’ to do with unloadin’ your belongin’s.”
Karina watched a sexy smile appear on his full lips. Wisps of his blond hair poked out from under his Stetson, curling up around his ears. His white shirt looked three sizes too small, and about ready to bust apart from the strain of his ripped muscles underneath it. Bo turned and reached inside his truck to grab something. Though she tried not to stare, Karina couldn’t take her eyes off his perfectly shaped ass, clad in stone-washed denim. Yeow, but it’s hot down South.
While his back was to her, Karina tried, but failed to smooth out the wrinkles in her damp, cotton shirt. Heat jutted up from her chest to her face when she remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra. Karina was commando – without makeup, a nose brighter than Rudolph’s, and eyes swollen and puffy. She was sort of surprised the boy didn’t grimace when he walked up.
“Uh, I was just about to leave. Need to get some more paint. What…” her words trailed off when Bo turned back around. He held a gallon of white, exterior enamel at the end of his strong fingers.
“Couldn’t help but overhear you talkin’ to your grandpa about paintin’ the fence the other day. Thought you might need some help. You don’t exactly look like the type who’s ever painted one before. Actually, you look more like you should be on the cover of a magazine or somethin’. Or, in one of those commercials on TV about comin’ for a visit to California.”
Karina bristled. “Nice enough, and though I appreciate the thought, and the fake compliment, I don’t need any help. I am perfectly capable of fixing things on my own. And, as I mentioned, I was just about to leave. Got some other things besides paint I need to buy. So, thank you for the gift, but…”
Without a word, Bo ignored her protests and sauntered to the back of his truck, hefting a stack of fence spindles from the bed. As he walked back toward Karina, his grin was even wider. “Gotcha covered, ma’am.”
Karina recognized the glow of interest on his face, immediately feeling her cheeks burn. The man, no, the boy, didn’t come to just show some southern hospitality to a new resident. The kid was interested in her, which she found amusing and annoying at the same time. He couldn’t be more than twenty-three. Way, way too young for her. Karina wasn’t quite ready to add the title of cougar to her long list of others just yet. Bo was barely above jailbait age. She started to protest, to spit out something rude and negative that would send the boy packing, but Karina’s entire body froze when he stopped less than two feet in front of her.
His bright, blue eyes swept over her with such intensity, she could almost feel the heat of their caresses. Karina’s pulse quickened. Bo tossed the wood to his right, set the paint can down, and took his hat off. In one swift, probably well-practiced move, his t-shirt disappeared. Karina had to bite her lip to keep from gasping at the sight of his toned, tanned physique.
Holy. Shit. I’m in sooo much trouble. He’s the one who should be on a cover. Playgirl, to be exact. The boy is so gorgeous, he could sell cigarettes to the Surgeon General.
His smoldering stare lingered on her breasts before moving to her swollen thumb. “I see the hammer won the last battle,” Bo said, bending down to scoop up the tool to Karina’s right. He slid his hat back on and moved closer, clasping her uninjured hand with his rough, calloused fingers. “Let me show y’all how to play with country toys without gettin’ hurt. Easy enough. Just follow my lead. I promise, I’m a good teacher. Had lots of practice over the years.”
Karina should have told him to go home and play with toys more age appropriate, like a Tonka set. Should have mentioned she had a black belt in Jujitsu, and could take his lofty ego down a few pegs with only one or two swift moves. Given him an earful about this being the twenty-first century, and to leave behind his ancient social misconceptions about women. Or, maybe Karina should have challenged him to take his gun out of his truck, which she had no doubts he had, and see which one of them was a better shot. Wipe the confident smirk, the southern boy swagger, away from his beautiful face after she schooled him at target shooting. Let him damn well know she wasn’t some airheaded beach bunny whose only interests in life centered on shopping and achieving the perfect tan.
Instead, Karina let his charms snake right through her and attach themselves to her hidden libido. He was so close, she could smell his cologne, and the faint scent of cinnamon on his breath. The strength in his fingers sent chills up her spine, the image of them touching every part of her slammed into her mind. She tried to clear her head and think of some smartass retort, but came up with shit. If he can wield this much power over me with most of his clothes on…oh, boy. Things just got really interesting.
Thoughts of what’s-his-name disappeared with just one, thousand-watt grin from the hunk in front of her. With a coy smirk, she took her hand out of his, flicked the tip of his Stetson and replied, “Bo, you just opened up a can I’m not entirely sure you can handle.”
Bo’s laughter was rich, deep and throaty. He scooped up the paint can and motioned for Karina to lead the way. As they walked toward the fence, he replied, “There ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle,” and then began to hum the song California Girls.
I’m in such trouble.
12
Deep Inside the Industry
Nick Shonnert sat in his car and waited in silence in the long line at the bank. He grimaced after looking at the clock on the dashboard– 11:30. There were six cars ahead of him, and they hadn’t moved in over five minutes. He glanced back toward the front door and saw just as many people standing inside as he did outside, mos
tly elderly. It dawned on Nick what day it was–retiree payday from the good ol’ U.S. Government. Great. Freaking great.
Though it was well over one-hundred degrees outside, the interior of his Lexus finally cooled down enough his ass didn’t feel like it was on fire. But that really didn’t matter to Nick at the moment. Not only did he have personal business to attend to, but he couldn’t stand being on property at Green Pastures any second longer, terrified of a visit from Carmella. While he waited for his turn in line to get the cash for Sabrina’s tuition, Nick let his freaked-out mind wander to just how he wound up in such a screwed-up nightmare.
Nick had never been proficient in athletics due to his myopic eyesight and lack of body coordination, though he surely had the desire to be the next big-name ball player. After his father died of cancer when he was just four-years old, his mother remarried a burly contractor, William Olsen. Their stepfather/stepson relationship was rocky at best, and Nick never felt the need to bestow a title to the gruff man that in any way tied to a parental figure. Nick always called him simply Olsen.
Olsen tried to teach him the joys of hunting, fishing and football. When each of those activities failed, Olsen took a different tactic. He tried to get Nick interested in construction. It was “in a man’s nature to build” was Olsen’s favorite saying. Nick still had a small scar on his knee from a fun-filled day at a construction site, after Olsen drug him to work. At seven, Nick was still terrified of heights, and when Olsen insisted he climb up the ladder behind him to work on the roof of a house, the day ended on a sour note. Nick fell after only making it up four rungs on the ladder. He lost his balance and landed on hot blacktop. Olsen grumbled and whined the entire drive to the hospital, and only took Nick because a co-worker insisted the gash needed stitches.
Blood Ties_A Magnolia Novel Page 11
