by Robin Leaf
Oh my God, if my hands weren’t full, I’d smack my forehead. I really was a super-fucking-stupid-ass idiot. Walker was so obviously gay, but, ya know, hindsight and all.
That stupid mistake led me to Douglass. It’s too early to tell if he’s a mistake though.
Sure doesn’t feel like one.
Of course, Walker never felt like a mistake, but he never felt exactly right either.
He never felt like Douglass.
God, I just need to get this box on the stupid truck and find him, like now.
I walk outside, rounding the large truck and see that the back is thankfully open. I half expect to see shirtless guys inside, but no such luck. I set the box inside and climb in, noticing that they have moved all the boxes to the back. There’s a spot on top of two others, like it was made for this one, so I lift it up and shove it in its place easily. The truck pitches forward, and I fall into the boxes. Damn, I didn’t know my own strength. I try to stand only to get tossed the other way. What the hell?
Wait, the truck is moving. The truck is fucking moving, and I’m back here, bouncing around like a pinball.
“Hey,” I yell, knocking on what I hope is the cab of the truck. “Stop, there’s someone in here.”
Yeah, it doesn’t stop. In fact, I look out the back to see Mabel’s house getting smaller and smaller. Just how fast is this thing moving?
Time to yell louder and pound harder.
I try to climb over the tower of boxes, hoping I can get a little closer to the tiny window I see at the top. When I think I get some purchase on a stable surface, the fucker driving turns, not slowly either, causing me to fall on my shoulder. The sharp, blinding pain reminds me that my life might actually be in danger.
I can see the headline now. Woman dies by getting beaten up by the inside of a truck. Let’s just hope there’re no cameras in here. I’d hate for my death to be prime-time, or worse, viral entertainment. One of those videos that gets posted and passed around, where people will be both horrified and amused as they view it multiple times and say, “Whoaaaa,” loudly every time they watch me get thrown around.
I feel the truck slowing, but it’s not stopping. At least the asshole is driving more cautiously now, but these potholed streets aren’t my friend, and did he just hit a curb? I guess I should be thankful the furniture isn’t in here yet. I’d be squished for sure.
Damn. This is one of those times where minutes feel like hours. I start to pray, out loud.
“Dear sweet, sweet, baby Jesus, wrapped in swaddling clothes,” I begin. I mean, it worked for Ricky Bobby, got him all those wins, the sweet Powerade sponsorship, and that hot wife and all, so I figure why not? “Please, please, please, let me survive this nightmarish ride with minimal injuries. Let this driver get a clue that I’m back here, so that he can stop the truck and take me back to the loving arms of Douglass, who I’m not even mad at anymore. In fact, I like him a whole lot and I’d really like to tell him that, so if you have a second, please just let this thing run out of gas or something so that I can get on solid ground and not rupture any organs or major arteries and die from internal bleeding. Okay, so… peace out.”
The driver turns right, so I go left, toppling into the boxes once again, and then the truck thankfully stops.
“Way to go, baby Jesus. High five.”
“Shit, Ember,” I hear from around a box, “are you okay?”
I test my limbs carefully to make sure they’re all in working order. My left shoulder is dislocated, I can tell, since the arm just dangles, almost useless. My right hand feels around my head and face for any blood or broken areas.
“Yeah, I think I’m okay, but I think my shoulder is dislocated.”
I look up to see…
“Diesel? Did you not know I was back here?”
“Yeah,” he says blankly, biting his thumbnail. “I knew.”
I run my hand down my face before throwing it out to the side. “So you drove like a fucking maniac knowing I was back here bouncing around like a ping pong ball?”
He looks at his feet. “No, I didn’t know it’d be that bad. I’m sorry, really I am, but I just needed to get you away from everyone else so you could finally answer my question.”
I make a move to stand, but my legs are still a bit shaky. “What fucking question?” I bark. “You never asked me a question.”
He steps to me, offering me his hands, which I reach out for with my right hand. I stand carefully, making sure everything else works before I shoot him an out-with-it-already expression. He steps closer, lowering his eyes to meet mine.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
When the fuck did he ask me… Ooohhhh.
My not-quite-stable legs give out, and I splat on my ass, like I literally make a splatting noise, and stare up into the deceptively innocent baby face of my stalker.
Fuck.
Twenty Six
Dugger
I watch Ember walk away from me, both middle fingers in the air. She’s angry, and honestly I get why. It’s because I did exactly what she accused me of. I really didn’t mean to. It just happened. I wanted to remind her of what I’m offering… what we could be together.
I’ll just give her a few minutes to cool off, but I need to make sure she’s not running off with that douche. I didn’t like the way he was so… eager. She didn’t really seem interested. I’m fairly certain she touched him for my benefit. I might deserve it after the way I treated her today.
Damn. I really fucked up. But I’m new to this relationship thing.
She walks straight to Mabel. Well, that’s fortunate. Mabel will champion for me.
Or she’ll agree with Ember that I was an asshole.
That unpredictable old woman will probably do the latter, just because it’s karma’s way of knocking my dick in the dirt. I need to perform some damage control.
“How’s it going?” Noah asks, making me jump. Seriously, I never heard him approach.
“Ember’s mad at me.”
He nods. “Yeah? You deserve it?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I was a jealous dick.”
He smiles. “Girls don’t like that.”
“So I’ve been told.”
He smacks me on the back. “Give her a minute, then go make it right.”
“That’s the plan, brother.”
Nodding, he walks into Mabel’s room. I wait a minute or two and follow, almost getting knocked over by Ember carrying a box. I smile at her, but she practically huffs, looking away and walking toward the door. I contemplate offering to carry the box for her but decide against it. Maybe she’ll use the walk to the truck and back to calm down. At least her hands are full so she can’t flip me off again.
Beck approaches me, pulling me into the hallway.
“Hey, Dugger, I was wondering, do you think we should actually dance for Mabel? She seems pretty frail, and I don’t want to be responsible for causing a sweet old lady to keel over from a heart attack or anything.”
I laugh. “That woman’s ticker is probably healthier than yours, my friend.”
“Should we do it here or after we move her?”
“Definitely here. We don’t want to hurt anyone at the retirement village. I have no clue the state of the hearts of the rest of the people who live there.”
“Cool, let me find Diesel and ‘Fonzo. We’ll set up in the living room. You said she loves Elvis, right?” I nod as he walks past me. “Cool,” he says over his shoulder. “Give us about ten minutes, then bring her out.”
Noah and Matty prevent my entry by carrying a large bureau.
“Do you need help?” I ask.
“Nah, man,” Matty grunts, “we got it.”
When I walk into Mabel’s room, she brightens.
“Oh, good, you’re here. Dugger, will you go into the closet in the hallway and get my quilts so these guys can wrap my furniture in them? I think I’ll give them to Ember. They should stay in the family.”
I nod, turning to do w
hat I’m told. She’s really got this bossy thing down. There has to be eight or nine quilts, all old, all well taken care of over the years. Wow, these are priceless. I’m sure Ember will love to hear the story behind each one.
I return to the room, dumping the quilts on the bed.
“If you want them to stay in the family, Mabel, why not offer them to Robert’s wife?”
“Robert’s wife left him a long time ago, and I know Robert won’t want them. Braxton only wants the house, so I’m giving them to someone who will appreciate them.”
“Ember will treasure them I’m sure, but since you want them to stay in the family, don’t you have nieces and nephews who might want them?”
She rolls her eyes. “Boy, come here.”
I move to her chair and kneel in front of her.
“You are my family. When will you get that through your thick skull?” Touching my face, she adds, “We get to choose our family, Douglass, and I chose you a long time ago. And since you obviously and wisely choose Ember, she is my family, too.”
Jeez.
I close my eyes tightly, and she pulls me in for a hug.
“I love you, Boy,” she whispers in my ear.
I pull back, unashamed of the tear rolling down my cheek, so I can look in her face when I tell her.
“I love you, too, Mabel.”
Her face is so loving and tender, letting her tears flow, because she knows I’ve never said that to another human being before.
However, we don’t get to address that before Noah comes into the room.
“Doug, can I see you out here for a minute?”
I nod and stand, wiping my face quickly, and ask Mabel, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I don’t know about you, but all this emotional stuff makes me have to pee.”
I smile and help her walk around her bed to the bathroom and make my way out the door.
Noah is in the hallway, his face says it all. Damn, this is bad. I shake off the emotion and focus on him.
“What happened?”
His brows come together. “The truck is missing.”
“What?”
Beck rounds the corner. “Guys, have y’all seen Diesel? I can’t find him anywhere.”
Well, that’s an easy one. I turn to Beck. “Could Diesel have taken the truck?”
“What, the truck is missing, too?” Beck asks. “That’s weird.”
“Matty,” Noah calls. When Matty appears, Noah asks, “Does Diesel have the keys to the truck?”
“Yeah, Kermit, he wanted to open the back for us before we started moving stuff out there.”
Shit. All Mabel’s collectibles and clothes…
“Why would he want a large cargo truck filled with Mabel’s clothes and things?” Noah says, echoing my thoughts. He turns to me. “Did she have anything of value?”
“Nah, man,” Beck defends before I can answer. “Diesel’s a good kid. He wouldn’t steal from the elderly.”
Shit. It hits me like a friggin’ freight train. The way he was looking at her… why didn’t I see it before?
“Where’s Ember?”
“Ember?” Beck says, shooting his eyebrows up to his hairline. “The girl he’s been trying to date? She’s here? He’s been so fucking bent about her for a while, man…”
Mother. Fucking. Shit.
Diesel.
She met him the weekend she met me, two days before the emails started.
He… he fucking kidnapped her.
“God dammit, Noah. Diesel is her stalker.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Ember’s number. I hear a phone ring from Mabel’s room, so I run to it, seeing that it is her phone.
Shit.
“Is there a tracker on the truck?”
Noah already has his phone in his hand, running his thumb over the screen. “I have one installed on all the company vehicles.”
I rush to his side. He holds the screen where I can see.
“The truck is stopped about five miles away at a shopping center.” He pulls up Lieutenant Styles on his phone. “Dan, we think Ember’s been kidnapped.”
I move toward the front door, digging in my pocket for my keys, but Noah stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah, I’ll send you the location. Send black and whites; we’ll meet you there.” He pushes end on the call and points at me. “You don’t even know where you’re going.”
“I’m going to get my girl.”
He grabs my keys out of my hand. “I’m driving.”
We rush to the car. Before I can get my seatbelt fastened, he takes off, driving thankfully like I would to the scene.
This happened on my watch. I should have known, paid more attention, thought about this connection before…
“I know what you’re doing,” Noah says calmly. “And you need to stop. This isn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong. I have excellent people radar, and I didn’t get any creepy vibes off the kid. It’s very possible she left with him willingly.”
“Why the hell would she leave without telling me?”
“Why the hell do women do anything?” He shrugs, taking a turn pretty quickly. “You said you pissed her off.”
I shake my head. “I really don’t think she would leave with another man just to get back at me.”
“Do you really know her that well?”
“I’ve spent four full days with her, barely leaving her side. She is a dedicated nurse, one of the best in that hospital. She’s the type of person to grieve when she loses a patient, and she’s helping a woman she barely knows move into a retirement home and fulfill her bucket list. She’s considerate, thoughtful, passionate, and so fucking caring, and there’s not a vindictive bone in her body. Everyone who knows her loves her.”
He looks at me sideways, smirking. “Sounds like it.”
“God, just drive, man,” I grunt. “If that fucker has done anything to her, I will end him.”
Twenty Seven
Ember
Diesel reaches out his hand to help me up once again, but I try to back away like a crab, my hipbone throbbing in my feeble attempt to flee by my backward crawling and my left arm not even responding to commands. My shirt catches on a nail or a screw, and I hear a rip.
His brows come down hard and he tilts his head, still reaching for me. “Why do you look terrified?” he asks.
“Could it be because you’ve been fucking stalking me?”
He stands, stumbling back. “No I – ”
“You broke into my apartment, secretly took pictures of me from across the parking lot, not to mention threatening me in months’ worth of emails. And right fucking now, you’ve kidnapped me, committed assault with bouncing me around these boxes, and you stole my fucking Beast.”
“I never threatened you. And I stole nothing from you.”
I study his face, seeing no sign of deception, and ask, “So you admit the rest?”
“I haven’t kidnapped you. I just needed to get you away from them to find out if that guy is –”
“That guy was hired by my police lieutenant uncle as a bodyguard to protect me from you, actually.”
His hands grip his hair. “From… me? Why?” He looks at me innocently. “You have to know I’d never hurt you.”
“Why do I have to know that, Diesel?” He turns around, running his hand through his hair, so I just keep talking to his back. “I don’t know anything about you, except that you are a stripper, you’re barely out of high school, you broke into my apartment, you’re stalking me, and you drive like a fucking maniac.”
“So he’s not your boyfriend?” He turns back to me, a hopeful look in his eyes. “That means there’s a chance.”
Holy shit, are you fucking kidding me?
“No, Diesel, there is no chance. Even if you hadn’t just kidnapped me, there’d be no chance.”
“I told you… this isn’t a kidnapping.” He looks down, searching the ground for an answer. “But… why is there no chance?”
>
“Well,” I begin slowly, since he’s apparently really fucking deficient, “to start with, you are at least twelve years younger than I am. You strip for a living, not that there’s anything wrong with it, but I couldn’t date a guy who takes his clothes off for other women, sorry.” God, why am I being considerate about his feelings? Ugh, I’m hopeless. “You have no problem breaking and entering and are scary good at it. You apparently don’t know what stalking is, you stole something very personal of mine, and, oh yeah, you’re a complete loon.”
“I may have broken in, but it was to do something thoughtful for you.” He looks at his feet again. “You work too much.”
“Breaking and entering is never thoughtful, Diesel.” I feel myself getting angrier as I speak, the fear draining from me. “It’s fucking creepy and a major invasion of privacy.”
“But… you helped me. You cared about me.” He looks up at me, pleading with his eyes. “You saved my life.”
I shake my head. “Your life was never in any danger,” I drop my voice to utter, “you know, unlike me right now.”
“I didn’t know that.” He shifts on his feet, looking away from me. “You helped me, and you made it so I didn’t have to pay. You stood up to that doctor on my behalf.” He steps toward me and throws his hands out. “You kept calling me ‘sweetie.’”
Seriously? “It’s a meaningless name I call a lot of patients, Diesel, usually as a calming term for the little ones who are freaking out. It’s certainly not a come on.”
Shit. I just compared him to a child. Please don’t freak out again.
He doesn’t seem to notice because he seems to be too busy running through his memory of the whole hour total we spent together. Jeez.
“You fucking hugged me.”
“Correction,” I yell, causing him to look at me, so I point at him, “you hugged me, and without my consent.” Nodding, I add, “Technically, that’s assault.”
He shakes his head. “No. You had to have hugged me back.”
“No, I didn’t. My arms stayed at my sides.”
He scratches his head, trying to work out the issue. “You told me to come back.”
