Bart staunchly refused to let me throw him a party the night before he left but he grudgingly agreed to a pizza and movie night with the kids, letting them stay up, drink soda at night and sleep in his bed.
“I think they’re really going to miss you,” I said to him. He sighed heavily.
“No, they won’t, they have you. They barely know me.”
“Don’t say that. They’re crazy about you. For their sake, you have to make an effort and contact us.”
“I know… are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said dismissively.
“I’m serious. I know things are rough between you and Michael right now.”
Since I only wanted one thing—the car—from Michael and there was nothing else we were splitting up or fighting over, he literally only had to sign the papers, our lawyers would file, and we would be divorced. That was it. Too much to ask however for his royal stubbornness because not only had he not signed, he had also stopped calling me. This was not a bad thing, but at least when he was yelling, I knew what he was up to. I was suspicious more than scared or anything else. Ben—my lawyer—told me that it was extremely common for people to just move on with their lives even before their divorces had been finalized but I… I couldn’t.
It wasn’t another man that I wanted out of the divorce; it was separation from the one that I was with. It wasn’t like Monterey was bursting with suitors for me. There was Thaddeus, but he didn’t count. He was just playing games. The guy wanted to yank my chain, not be my lover while I divorced my husband.
“We’re getting a divorce. We’ve been talking through our lawyers. There’s nothing he can do to me. Everything is going to be fine. Didn’t you leave me with my own personal babysitter?” I joked.
“Hm. About him, Ron… I don’t know if it’s the best idea to be spending a lot of your time with him,” he said. I watched his face as he said it, waiting for the justification to come but it didn’t. Of course, now I wanted to know why. The hard part was going to be asking in a way that didn’t make him think I was curious. I tried.
“Oh yeah?” I asked. I raised my brows a little for innocent confusion. “Why?”
There was literally only one possible reason why. Bart shrugged and repeated himself.
“Not a good idea, Ronnie.”
“Bart, you are leaving me alone with your kids. You obviously trust me to make some sound adult decisions… why not this one?”
“There are a few reasons, but the best is that you’re still married,” he said sagely.
Humph.
“It isn’t like that,” I said dismissively. I shot him a sidelong look and saw his face. He didn’t believe me, and I wasn’t sure that I did either.
“I’m only saying this because I care about you.”
“Are you trying to get all your big-brothering in now because you left before I was dating in high school?”
“I am trying to warn you to watch yourself around Thad. The guy is my friend, and I trust him, but I don’t trust him not to hurt you. He’s not the best person when it comes to women.”
“Thank you for your concern,” I told him. “I know you’re leaving early tomorrow, but I know the kids would still want to be up to say bye.” I was changing the subject, and he must have noticed because he didn’t push it anymore.
He nodded and went to join them on the couch. Since it was their dad’s last day here, they had graciously let him make the movie selection; the Toy Story movies, all three in succession. They didn’t need me to be there, so I escaped to my room when the pizza came, where I could stew.
Sulking in my room when my family was downstairs enjoying each other’s company. Fuck. I really was fifteen again.
This wasn’t fair. I never got to tell Bart off about the women he dated. I didn’t even really want to date Thad. His little speech presupposed a lot of things about the nature of our relationship and that was just out of line. The man was attractive, but that didn’t mean anything—so were a lot of guys. He had no reason to think that something would be going on unless… unless he had asked Thad and had gotten an answer that made him suspicious. They were friends, who knew what Thad had to say about me that was not completely mortifying.
He didn’t get to make up for all the time we had lost together by speaking over me like I was still a kid now. I wasn’t a kid. I was a grown up. A married woman. Maybe I should try to contact Michael, I thought. I had never been divorced before, but I didn’t know what he was up to and I wanted to feel like I had some control over the situation.
Where was he? Was he at the house? Out? Working late? I didn’t know. Bart and the kids were downstairs, having a great time, no doubt. I sighed deeply trying to listen. All I could hear were the faint sounds of the television downstairs and the wind coming in through my open window. Suddenly, the way you can turn a light switch off and all light disappears, like there has never been a time before that when there was light in the room, I felt completely alone. I lay there on my bed feeling every bit of the isolation I had somehow managed not to feel during my entire fail of a marriage.
What had I been doing for the last six years?
Since coming to Monterey, I was finally connected to people who weren’t going to berate me and blame me for being the person that I was. How long had I felt like this? Was it new or did it just feel new because, for the past couple weeks, I had not been feeling that way?
I was out of bed before I knew what I was doing. Monterey wasn’t that big, but there were enough restaurants and bars around that I was spoiled for choice for a place to get drunk. I just didn’t want to be alone. It didn’t matter if nobody spoke to me, I just wanted to hear something other than my thoughts.
The Uber driver had suggested Tarpy’s Roadhouse. Apparently, there were good steaks. Tarpy’s Roadhouse it was then.
It was a full-fledged restaurant. Nice. I dawdled at the entrance feeling awkward about being there alone before finally turning my back and leaving. I’d just walk away and come back. Why was this so hard? I felt like everyone was looking at me. Like they knew I had pawned my wedding ring and had had a failed marriage. My throat felt dry, and I regretted leaving the house. I didn’t need to be around people, I needed to stop feeling like being alone was physically painful.
“Veronica?”
I froze and slowly turned. Don’t be Michael, don’t be Michael… or do be Michael. I didn’t know what I wanted.
I looked up and saw the face of Thaddeus-I-didn’t-know-his-last-name-yet. I bit my lip nervously.
“Hi,” I croaked.
“Is your brother here?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“You aren’t here alone? Are you?”
I could have lied. I probably should have, but I didn’t.
“I am,” I said. He looked at me and the face he had—worried and concerned—morphed into playful and flirtatious.
“I guess I’d better get you home then. Unless you want to sleepover?”
I frowned and turned around. All I wanted was somewhere I could eat steak and get drunk. I heard him calling my name, coming up behind me. His hand gripping my upper arm stopped me.
“Let go,” I said crossly, turning to face him.
“Hey,” he said, still holding onto me, this time with two hands, “I’m sorry. Why are you here? Do you have a ride back home?”
“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” I said petulantly. He looked down at me and slid his hands down my arms, so it was harder to fidget.
“What happened? Tell me,” he said.
“Nothing happened,” I said, looking down. His eyes were dark, very dark brown, and I felt like if I kept looking into them, I would make an admission I would regret. He didn’t have a jacket or anything on, and he was wearing a t-shirt. He had no unmarked skin on his arms bar his palms. Even the backs of his hands were tattooed. His hair was longish, but it was the sort of long that was because of neglect and not a style. It wasn’t as long a
s mine but probably could be in another few months.
“Were you meeting someone here?”
Ha. I wish. How would I score that? Even my husband didn’t want to talk to me.
“No,” I shook my head and looked up.
“Do you want me to take you home?”
Of the two possible things he could have meant with that statement, he meant the PG version. His face was worried again. His brows were drawn, and his mouth was hard. I wanted to say something when my phone began to ring. I waited for him to let go of my arms, so I could take the call. I apologized and walked a couple of steps away, my back to him.
“Hello?”
“Veronica, we need to talk,” Michael said to me.
“Uh… okay?” I said. I was flustered. I wasn’t used to docile and communicative Michael. Where was the yelling and disrespect?
“I want to meet you.”
“I’m not coming back to the house,” I said.
“I know. I’ll come to you. Just let me know a date and time you can meet, and we can organize it.”
I furrowed my brow. What was he getting at? Was this a trick to make me tell him where I was?
“I don’t have anything that I need to tell you in person.”
“I do, Veronica. Please.”
“Do you know where I am?” I challenged.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“I can’t believe you had me followed.”
“You gave me no choice. Just talk with me, Veronica. That is all I want.”
I rolled my eyes and hung the phone up. When I turned around Thad was still there looking right at me.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
“Do you still need a ride?” he asked again.
“Yeah. Thanks. I’d like that.”
He led me to his car. A truck. He opened the passenger side for me before climbing in himself. How much, if any of my conversation with Michael had he heard? Did he care to listen? I didn’t care if he listened or cared about what he heard. If he asked me who I was talking to that meant he had been eavesdropping and I didn’t know how that made me feel.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked gently.
Okay, so maybe I did know how it made me feel if he had been eavesdropping—unreasonably nervous. I had been talking to my husband. Why did I feel like I shouldn’t have been?
“My brother,” I said, lying. “Why?”
“I couldn’t help overhearing. You said something about being followed… I hope you don’t think I found you here because your brother sent me,” he said.
“Oh, no. I didn’t… we were discussing something else,” I said vaguely.
“How’d you end up at the Roadhouse? It’s sort of out of your way,” he asked.
“I just asked around for somewhere to eat. The kids and Bart were at home; I didn’t want to bother them.”
“Next time you want to go out somewhere, I’ll be glad to take you,” he said, looking over at me. Why was he being so nice to me all of a sudden? Was he even being nice or was this just him propositioning me?
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
We got to the house, and he stepped out of the car to walk me all the way to the door.
“Give me your phone,” he said.
“What?”
“Phone,” he repeated with a hand outstretched. I handed it to him and watched as he saved his phone number into it. “There. Whenever you want to call,” he said. I thanked him and went into the house. I heard his truck start up and drive away. The living room was empty, so Bart and the kids were most likely already asleep. I hurried up to bed.
The next morning, early just as the sun was coming up, Nikki and Christopher silently crawled into my bed.
Bart had gone.
7
Thaddeus
Tarpy’s Roadhouse was oppressively formal, but it was fine when all you wanted was a beer. I really only ever went there because it was close to the shooting range. Handling firearms made you thirsty. I liked to keep my skills sharp, and unlike a lot of places, this place had extensive outdoor ranges, which I preferred. That was truer to life than the indoor places.
If you were shooting a gun in real life, you were most likely outside, or it was in your best interests to be. Every time I had to shoot guns, I had the wind, noise, other people and other guns firing at me to contend with. The nice, safe, sanitized indoor ranges were cool if all you wanted was to practice but too tame for me.
It wasn’t like firing on someone intent to kill you before you killed them, but it was fine. I didn’t need to be at one hundred all the time. It was just somewhere I could take my Browning buck mark out to play. Rifles had more power and were more intimidating, but you were working basically one handed with a pistol. I wasn’t a collector or anything, but I had a couple of pieces. On principle, I only used them on steel or paper targets. I hadn’t been forced to use it on anything or anyone different—yet.
At the range was where I had been just before I had hit Tarpy’s. It wasn’t open to the public that late but sometimes, depending on whose shift it was, I could talk my way onto the range to shoot a couple of rounds past hours. They loved service members, and they especially loved veterans, which was what I technically was, especially special ops guys. I milked those six years in the SEALs for all they were worth.
Tarpy’s was the last place that I had expected to see Veronica. Covered in gunpowder residue and ready to call it a day, she was a sight for sore eyes. She had completely freaked out though. Skittish, like a deer, or a rabbit. I hadn’t heard from her since but that was okay. She was probably just waiting for me to make a move. Bart had just left. I wasn’t waiting for him to leave so I could finally talk to her, but his absence was going to make it a lot easier.
My phone was vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out just as the ringing stopped. I hadn’t heard it over the gunfire. There were rules against using your phone on the shooting range, understandably, but they had nothing to worry about; I was a professional. I couldn’t help smirking when I read who had been calling me. I had saved her number under ‘Sugartits.’ I picked up.
Bart zero. Me one. Seems like she had been waiting for Bart to leave too.
“Hello?”
“Hi, uh... how are you?” she asked.
“Good. I thought you’d make me wait a little longer. You need someone to come take care of you?” I asked her.
“Close. I want you to take care of the kids.”
The what?
“Thaddeus?” she said.
“Huh? Yeah. What were you saying?” I had blanked for a second. She hadn’t just asked me to babysit because that was what it had sounded like. No way.
“Is this a bad time? If it is, I can probably try and call someone else or figure out a way to take them with me.”
The only ‘them’ she could possibly be talking about were those kids, but she was willing to explore her other options. Fantastic idea. She should do that.
“I’m not busy,” I heard myself say. I put the pistol down and walked away from the range to somewhere a little more quiet. She didn’t need to hear combat sounds during our phone call. Even if you weren’t experienced, if it wasn’t a gunshot, what the fuck else could it be?
“I just need to head out for a couple of hours, and I can’t take the kids with me. Could you please come to the house and watch them while I’m gone?”
Was it me or did the Kingsley family just have the worst instincts when it came to people they trusted around their kids? The woman who was supposed to be their mother, who up until recently had full custody of them had left them. She had fucking released them to fend for themselves. She had done the thing where you left a bunch of kittens in a box outside for someone to adopt, but she had done it with her kids. That shit was on her, but Bart had had to have had some indication that she wasn’t the most maternal girl when they were together.
Then there was me. Not only had Bart—again, Bart—asked me to take care of his sister,
I was watching the kids now too. There was nothing about me that said I was nurturing or would be able to relate to a kid. I hadn’t talked to a kid since I was one. Kids were scared of me or should have been if they knew what was good for them. Bart’s little girl, Nicolette—she had the right idea.
“I don’t know Ronnie. I can’t guarantee they’ll have a good time.”
“They have all their stuff at home. I just need an adult there, so they don’t burn the house down.”
I couldn’t guarantee that that wouldn’t happen either.
“I expect a handsome, handsome reward for doing this,” I said to her, jokingly. I didn’t really expect her to give me anything. I wasn’t looking for money—definitely not—but if she decided she wanted to show me how much she appreciated my generosity in other ways, I wouldn’t say no.
“Thank you so much, Thaddeus,” she said. I smiled hearing how relieved she sounded. She hadn’t said where she was going or what she wanted to do, but it was probably something important, given her reaction. Once she told me when to go by and hung up, the weight of what I had agreed to sunk in.
What had I just gotten myself into? She had given me many opportunities to say no, and I had ignored each one. It wasn’t like what I was doing now was especially important, but I could think of a million ways that I would have liked to spend the afternoon and ‘with Bart’s kids’ was not one of them. It was because she had asked me. I’d do it if she wanted me to. I’d probably do a lot of things if she asked me to. She was probably desperate. Her options were limited, and she had said she would give me something in return.
I’d take anything but if she let me choose… all I wanted was one night. We would leave the lights on, and I’d fuck her till she couldn’t move. I’d give it to her so good she’d still feel it the next morning. Her tits, her lips and that ass… just one night. Even she’d agree to that. I could probably convince her.
Thaddeus (Heartbreakers & Troublemakers Book 2) Page 5