V: The V in Vigilant

by Snyder, J. M.

  V: The V in Vigilant

  By J.M. Snyder

  Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords

  Book 3 in the Vic and Matt: V series.

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2009 J.M. Snyder

  ISBN 9781611522013

  * * * *

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  NOTE: Readers can learn more about Vic and Matt’s super-powered relationship online at vic-and-matt.com.

  * * * *

  Other books in this series:

  V: The V in Valor

  When one of the landlady’s cats gets loose, Matt broaches the subject of getting a pet with his lover. Vic doesn’t want the added responsibility, but the discussion raises questions of long-term commitment both men have been contemplating but neither is quite willing to address yet. Then Vic interrupts the bullying of a stray dog, and his perspective changes.

  V: The V in Vengeance

  Vic and Matt are slowly adjusting to life with a new addition to their little family—Sadie, the mutt Vic rescued from bullying kids. As they settle into a routine, Matt finds himself dwelling on a more tangible way to show his feeling for Vic. Though living with a superhero isn’t always easy, Matt wouldn’t trade his lover for the world. Especially when vandals strike.

  V: The V in Virtue

  Vic and Matt swear off intercourse for the week after Christmas to come together in an orgasmic union at midnight on New Year’s. When Matt’s coworker Roxie invites them to a year-end bash at her place, their plans for a quiet celebration alone seem thwarted. But Vic manages to make the evening special.

  V: The V in Vulnerable

  Matt stops by a local jewelry store to buy the perfect ring for Vic. But a trio of criminals strike the store while Matt and coworker Roxie are inside. When the police arrive, what started as a simple robbery turns into a hostage situation. With the cops at a stand-off, Officer Kendra Jones places a call to the one man she knows will be able to help. Vic.

  * * * *

  The V in Vigilant

  By J.M. Snyder

  Monday dawned overcast and chilly. By the time Vic Braunson got behind the wheel of his city bus, rain lashed the windshield and cold air shrieked through the slightly open window beside the driver’s seat. Visibility was nil, keeping him well below the posted speed limits as he eased the bus along its prescribed route. Other drivers zoomed by, cutting him off at times, driving as if the heavy rain didn’t bother them. More than once he saw some idiot narrowly avoid an accident. Before he’d even managed to complete one circuit of his route, the muscles in his shoulders and back had knotted up and the start of a tension headache tugged behind his eyes. Vic knew this was going to be a long day.

  As he slowed in front of the bus stop outside the Shriner’s Temple on Lakeside Avenue, Vic saw a familiar sight. The man waiting for a ride was a repeat customer, and the only reason Vic recognized him out of the hundreds of others who rode the bus daily was because he was confined to a wheelchair. He was the only disabled passenger on Vic’s route, and the reason Vic took an extra fifteen minutes each morning in the yard ensuring the wheelchair lift on his bus worked before setting out for the day.

  His name was Roger Ward, Private First-Class. Though he’d been discharged from the service after losing half his right leg to a land mine in Afghanistan, that was how he had introduced himself to Vic the first time he’d ever entered Vic’s bus. Roger was in his late twenties and used a manual wheelchair, pushing it up the hilly sidewalks along Lakeside to reach the bus stop before Vic arrived. If Vic saw him on the way, he’d wait at the stop, wheelchair lift already extended and engine idling. Despite his handicap, Roger kept active, and it was a rare day when Vic didn’t see him somewhere along his route.

  Today Roger wore a dark, bulky jacket, unzipped to show a drab olive T-shirt beneath it. Black, fingerless gloves protected his hands from the tread on his wheels, which he gripped as he waited for the bus. A tall, willowy woman stood beside him, her large umbrella shading them both from the downpour. Auburn curls blew around her head like flames caught in the rainy breeze. Vic hadn’t seen her before. A girlfriend or wife, perhaps? Roger seemed nice enough, and had a ruggedly handsome face Vic often associated with military types. Their conversations were limited to exchanging pleasantries, and even with his telepathic ability, Vic wasn’t one to pry, so what he knew of Roger’s life boiled down to the man’s short-lived Army career. Mindful of the rainwater rushing alongside the curb, Vic guided the bus to a stop directly in front of Roger’s wheelchair and opened the door. “Hey, man,” he called out.

  Roger nodded. “Vic.”

  He scooted back as the wheelchair lift slid out from under the bus steps. The woman fidgeted with the handle of her umbrella, nervously watching the slim sheet of steel as it set down in front of them. “Roger,” she said, her voice lilting on the rain-soaked breeze. “I’ve got the van all day. I can take you around—”

  “Molly, no.” When the lift settled to a stop, Roger wheeled onto it and gripped the railing. Molly stepped closer, trying to keep him under her umbrella, but he shook his head, adamant. “No. The bus is here. I don’t need you to drive me anywhere.”

  From the pursed look on Molly’s face, Vic thought this was an old argument between them. As the lift drew level with the floor of the bus, Roger rolled his eyes at Vic. “Sisters,” he muttered under his breath. “Do you have any?”

  “Used to,” Vic answered, his voice gruff. “She means well.”

  “She coddles me.” Roger wheeled his chair down the aisle, positioning it into an empty space beside the door. “I may be in this chair but that doesn’t mean I can’t do things for myself, you know?”

  Before Vic could answer, he noticed Molly had approached the bus door and was trying to peer inside. “Ma’am, you’ll have to step back.”

  Ignoring him, she called out, “Roger—”

  Her brother snapped, “Step back, Molly. He has to lower the lift.”

  This time she obeyed, retreating to a safe distance and watching the lift with a wary gleam in her eye. Once it was hidden back beneath the steps, though, she clambered onboard the bus, closing her umbrella as it dripped onto the floor. “Molly,” Roger sighed. “You can’t just walk on like that. You need to pay.”

  “Take this.” She thrust the umbrella into his hands, turned, then thought better of it and planted a quick kiss on the top of Roger’s head before he could object. “Call me when you get back. There’s no reason for you to traipse through this mess back to the house when I can pick you up at the stop, you hear?”

  “Mol—”

&nb
sp; “Call me,” she said again, the strength in her voice holding no room for argument.

  Roger sighed, exasperated. “Fine,” he said, dropping the wet umbrella onto the floor beside his chair. “Just get off the bus already, will you? Vic has a schedule to keep. He’s probably running late now as it is, all because of you.”

  At the top of the steps, Molly hesitated, unsure.

  Roger shook his head. “I’ll call you. Go.”

  When Molly wavered on the last step, Vic cleared his throat and rattled the door release. She took his hint and stepped down onto the sidewalk, pulling the hood of her raincoat up over her hair to keep it dry. Before she could change her mind and climb back onboard, Vic closed the doors, turning on his signal two seconds before pulling away from the curb. The city buses were notorious for barreling into traffic, and despite the weather, drivers behind Vic slowed to let him in.

  Roger was the only fare on the bus at the moment. On this leg of his route, Vic never picked up many passengers in the early afternoon—there were no busy restaurants or shops on Lakeside, no businesses whose workers took the bus during lunch breaks, no colleges with students heading off campus. His bus would start getting crowded around three, when he switched over to a route that took him by the Willow Lawn shopping area, with its popular restaurant chains like Panera and Qdoba, the Kroger grocery store, and the Target nearby.

  On such a dreary day, though, Vic enjoyed the quiet. The only noise was the steady squeak and thump of the windshield wipers as they worked, the purr of the engine beneath him, and the rain pelting the windows. He glanced in the mirror above his seat and wasn’t surprised to find Roger staring morosely out the window. Shadows flickered across his face, turning his features into craggy hollows. Though not unattractive, Roger always seemed alone, aloof—he kept to himself, and Molly was the first person, male or female, Vic had ever seen him interact with while on the bus. Pain and sadness gave him a haunting look, and the wheelchair must have kept many people at bay. Vic knew what it was like, being judged by an appearance. With his shaved head, multiple piercings, and penchant for tattoos, Vic wasn’t exactly poster-boy material himself. Add on a couple hundred pounds of muscle in all the right places and he became downright intimidating. Few dared look at him long enough to see through the harsh exterior he showed the world.

  But he was far from alone. His lover, Matt diLorenzo, found Vic damn sexy, tattoos and all, and a day didn’t go by without Vic thanking God or Jesus, or Whoever it was up there listening to him, for bringing such an amazing man into his life. Without Matt, Vic thought he would probably have had the same sorrowful expression on his face that he saw reflected in the window on Roger’s at the moment. Before Matt came into his life, Vic wouldn’t have thought a little bit of love could make that much of a difference. Now, Vic couldn’t imagine living without it.

  Hoping to take Roger’s mind off whatever dark images it dwelled upon, Vic called out, “Hey man, where you headed?”

  “The Bowtie.” Roger sat up a little and gave Vic a quick grin. It banished the shadows from his face and lit up his eyes. “New movie theater on the Boulevard. You know the one?”

  Vic nodded. The place hadn’t been open long—when it was still under construction a few months back, Vic had rescued a stray dog from some bullies behind one of the buildings being renovated. At the moment, said dog now lounged at a daycare facility in the West End, gobbling doggy treats and waiting for Matt to pick her up after work. Vic knew; he had dropped her off there himself before starting his shift.

  Roger ran a hand through hair a shade darker than his sister’s. It hung damp from the rain, longer on his neck and ears than the army would’ve let him keep it. “I’m meeting my girl there for a matinee. I don’t care what we see, as long as the place is dark and she sits real close, you know what I mean? I couldn’t have my sister drive me there and crimp my style.”

  Vic gave a surprised laugh. So much for appearances, eh?

  * * * *

  A few stops after he picked up Roger, Vic caught sight of a man in a crisply ironed business suit beneath the overhang of a building, talking to himself and waving his hands wildly for the bus to stop. The rain had picked up again, driving the man away from the bus stop sign under cover, and apparently he seemed concerned Vic might miss him. Vic slowed down, eased to a stop at the curb, opened his door, and waited.

  And waited.

  The man didn’t move from under the overhang. Vic glared out at him, but little good it did—the man was half-turned away from the bus, one hand to his ear, obviously talking into a Bluetooth device. His loud voice carried across the sidewalk on the wind, snatches of conversation Vic wasn’t interested in. “Hey, buddy?” he called, raising his voice. “Sometime today.”

  Mr. Business Suit held up one finger for Vic to wait.

  A low growl started in the back of Vic’s throat. Without hesitation, he sent one thought across the distance separating them to speak directly into the man’s head. ::Now, or I’m leaving your starched ass behind.::

  The way the guy flinched brought a smug grin to Vic’s face. With a dubious glance at the rain, the man ducked his head beneath his briefcase and jogged up the few steps onto the bus. “Uh-huh, I know,” he said, laughing as he deposited his change in the fare box. “Kath, girl, don’t tell me! I’m not looking forward to the meeting this morning, either.”

  Inside the bus, his voice boomed loudly, obnoxious, and Vic wished he could somehow disable the Bluetooth for the duration of the ride. Any electromagnetic ability would do. Where was a good super-power when he needed it most?

  The quietude evaporated as Vic’s bus ate up the miles. One phone call followed the next. More than once, Vic skimmed over the guy’s thoughts to see where his stop might be—somewhere close, please, Vic prayed. No such luck. The business suit should’ve clued him in; the man would be riding with them all the way downtown, the last stop before Vic’s route swung around and headed back the way it had come. Vic found himself stepping on the gas, gunning it in an effort to outrun the loud-mouth chattering in the back seat of his bus.

  He almost missed the Bowtie theater, Roger’s stop, and probably would’ve driven right by it as his mood darkened if it hadn’t been for someone waiting by the sign. The wind threatened to turn her umbrella inside out, but she held it in a tight grip with one hand; the other held her rain jacket’s hood tight to the top of her head. Vic saw big, kohl-lined eyes as he slowed to a stop, and she pressed together too-red lips as if hoping her lipstick was still in place. Before Vic could even open the door, Roger was already disengaging the brakes on his wheelchair. “That’s my girl, Jen. What do you think? Hot or not?”

  “She’s cute,” Vic admitted. He didn’t add that she wasn’t his type.

  As he initiated the wheelchair lift, she stepped back, but the moment she saw Roger, she shrieked like a teenage fan girl at a Hannah Montana concert. “Roger! Hey, baby!”

  From the back of the bus came an annoyed sigh. “These damn wheelchair lifts,” Mr. Business Suit groused. “They take forever and I’m already running late. Can’t they ban these things during rush hour?”

  A sudden cracking came from the bus’s steering wheel, where Vic’s hands crushed it in anger. Here’s where that electronic power would be handy again—he’d jerry-rig the lift to fail and then they wouldn’t be able to finish the route before it was fixed. Vic tried to catch Roger’s eye, but the ex-serviceman, who had obviously overheard the remark, busied himself with his fingerless gloves and ignored the world at large. But Vic could see by the muscle bunched in Roger’s jaw how the comment bothered him. Channeling his own anger toward the businessman, Vic again spoke directly into the man’s head, this time opening his thoughts to include Roger, as well. ::Arrogant asshole.::

  Very few people knew of his telepathic ability. When confronted with his thoughts in theirs, most assumed his voice was just an extension of their own conscience. Some ignored it, some heeded it, but rarely did they think he actuall
y spoke to them mentally. They simply didn’t have the imagination to consider it a possibility. Outside the handful of people who knew his powers, only children seemed to believe in them when they manifested.

  This businessman was no exception. He laughed out loud, a fake, uneasy chuckle as if to show his comment about the wheelchair lift had been in jest. Only problem was, Vic didn’t find it funny. And it was his damn bus.

  Once Roger was safely on the sidewalk, Jen threw herself in his lap, hugging and kissing in an obscene display of affection that dislodged her umbrella and got both of them soaked. Roger’s brooding look was gone, replaced with a quick laugh as Jen snuggled against him. Seeing them made Vic think of his own lover, Matt, whose warm body he felt pressed to his whenever he closed his eyes. Before heading out for work that morning, Matt had crawled into bed beside Vic and cuddled with him through the blankets for a couple minutes, capping the moment off with a lingering kiss Vic could still taste.

  Vic’s thoughts were rudely brought back to the present when he closed the door and pulled into traffic only to hear his remaining passenger mutter, “Finally.”

  The steering wheel groaned in protest. Vic relaxed his hands, opening them—his boss had warned him the next one he broke would come out of his pay. But God, he hated assholes.

  As he headed downtown, the only sound inside the bus was the businessman’s obnoxious voice. Before long, Vic gripped the steering wheel again, this time to keep from ripping that damn Bluetooth off the guy’s ear. He wouldn’t be sorry to see this fare go—as it was, he couldn’t drive fast enough to the bus stop where the man would exit. Vic should’ve said something for that comment about Roger, though. Sure, he was at work, and yeah, it could get him reprimanded, but he should have spoken up. His own silence seemed like compliance or, worse, agreement, and that rankled more than the businessman’s laugh ever could.

  Then the rain picked up, and a devious thought slipped into the undercurrent of Vic’s mind, as sinuous as a snake. Vic knew where the businessman wanted to exit—a quick brush over the guy’s thoughts showed a high-rise building at Broad and Second. In that busy part of the city, bus stops littered the street every other block. Though no one waited at the stop two ahead of the one outside the businessman’s office, Vic slowed and pulled over to the curb.