In Safe Hands

by Victoria Sue

  The door opened, and his own step back was automatic, even if he had tried to unsuccessfully cover up his shocked reaction. Deacon knew by the way the man’s lips tightened and thinned that he hadn’t been fooled.

  “I’m Maverick Delgardo. The office is directly in front of you.”

  They shook hands as Deacon muttered his name. Then ducking his head away from the knowing stare, he stepped into blessedly cool air and walked forward across the entranceway and into the office opposite him. He sank gratefully into the large leather chair in front of the desk and looked behind him, wondering where Mr. Delgardo had gone. Deacon heard the main door close and then watched the man walk excruciatingly slowly toward where he was. He turned back before Delgardo could see him watching and was embarrassed again. His reaction to the man’s face had been bad enough; the last thing he wanted was to be caught staring. Delgardo was limping, but his steps were so forced it looked like he was hurt in both legs. Awkward silence settled in the room, and Deacon looked up as Delgardo came into the office.

  “Mr. Daniels—”

  “Deacon, please,” he interjected.

  “Then call me Maverick or Mav, if you like.”

  “M-Mav?” Deacon clamped his lips together. For God’s sake, he sounded like a little kid.

  “My sister sends her apologies. She had papers to serve, and the two appointments clashed. However, if you tell me exactly what the problem seems to be, we will see what we can do to help.”

  Deacon opened his mouth to launch into the same explanation he had tried to tell the cops. That he’d gotten the note on the windshield of his car. That he had finally been given the chance to start his life again, and it wasn’t about to slip through his fingers—it was likely being wrenched from his grasp. But all that came out was “I think I’m losing my mind.” And he pushed away from the desk and stood. He couldn’t do this. It was pointless and humiliating.

  There was a beat of silence while he waited for Mav to agree with him, but Mav just said, “It seems a waste of gas, you driving here and leaving without seeing if we can do something.” He sounded so reasonable. Maybe Maverick was good at calming hysterical clients.

  “Sorry,” he offered and sat down again.

  Mav shook his head. “There’s no reason to apologize. Do you want to start at the beginning?”

  Deacon met Maverick’s calm brown eyes and seemed to breathe a little easier. His gaze roamed over the large man, and he felt his heartbeat slow. In any other situation, Deacon would be really attracted to him. And it wasn’t just his size. It was the aura of competence surrounding Maverick that pushed all Deacon’s buttons.

  “I found a note on my car eight days ago.”

  “You have the note?”

  Deacon shook his head. “I threw it away, but the cops kept the second.”

  “The second?” Mav asked immediately, his focus laser-sharp.

  “It was on my car three days ago. It just said, ‘I’m watching you, Joker.’”

  Mav looked up. “Joker?”

  “Only a Joker,” Deacon said flatly, wondering if the guy was deliberately being dense. “The number one hit off our first album.” When everything had been good.

  “Where was your car both times?”

  “Outside my apartment.”

  “So the cops are thinking this is a joke—sorry—just in bad taste?”

  Deacon nodded. “I know it probably is….” He’d tried very hard to convince himself it was. “I didn’t like whoever knowing what I drive or where I live.”

  “But you’re not sure?”

  Maybe Deacon wasn’t fooling anyone. “Do you know what happened before?” He kept looking at Maverick until he saw the knowledge in the steady gaze. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or ashamed.

  “I know about the car fatality last year, if that’s what you mean.”

  “And my niece?”

  Maverick’s eyes narrowed. “Your niece? There was a threat to your niece?”

  “No. My older brother died less than a year ago and named me Molly’s guardian, much to the disgust of my mother.”

  “Your brother who died of an overdose,” Mav clarified.

  Deacon tried not to wince. “Yes. Molly is two and has lived with me since Mikey died. Mikey didn’t know about her for a few months until her mother died.”

  “Did you know?”

  “No,” Deacon whispered. “We sent texts, emailed, that sort of thing, but I was too busy being a rock star, and I think Mikey wanted to meet me as an equal this time.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I paid for rehab just over three years ago, and it killed him that I had to. Mikey always saw himself as my protector, not the other way around, so when he lost his job, instead of calling me, he tried to cope.” For a second Deacon closed his eyes. He’d been playing the “if only” game for far too long. “Anyway, long story short, Sony and Nickelodeon dropped the band, and my fool agent made up the stalker story, and that poor woman died. My mom got the agent to swear the idea was mine and won custody of Molly last month. Manny completely trashed me in court, saying I made everything up and it was likely my influence that sent Mikey off the rails in the first place. That’s why no one believes me.”

  Mav searched his face for a few seconds. “Well, I’m not a lawyer, so I can’t comment on the custody case, but the rest makes no sense. You have your first real chance at a new career. You would have to be a masochist to instigate this.”

  Deacon blew out a breath and relaxed a little. Did that mean he believed him? “Don’t get me wrong. I’m hoping to death this is a bad joke by some bitter fan.”

  “A fan?”

  “Yeah, I got a ton of hate mail when we lost both deals and the band split up.” Deacon swallowed. “Actual death threats. That’s when my agent decided it would be a good idea to invent the story someone was out to get me. He thought it might swing public opinion back the other way. A disaster waiting to happen. I didn’t know.” He wanted this guy to believe him. He needed Mav to believe him… which made no sense whatsoever.

  Mav seemed content to let silence settle over the room. Deacon tried not to squirm.

  “There’s something else,” Maverick said.

  Deacon looked up in surprise. It hadn’t been a question. “Yes, but I didn’t tell the cops.”

  Mav tilted his head silently, waiting for the answer.

  “My phone keeps ringing, and no one talks when I answer. It’s a blocked number.” It had been annoying at first, but after the note, it took on another meaning.

  “Have you changed your number?”

  Deacon nodded. “And it’s unlisted, but it barely took a few days before it started again.” And when he got the disbelieving reaction about the note, he hadn’t bothered mentioning the phone.

  “And?” Mav watched him steadily.

  “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” He thought he was crazy.

  “I really need you to tell me everything.”

  But still he hesitated. Not that it mattered if everyone thought he was insane now. He’d lost Molly. He’d lost her for good. And if this was some crazy fan, much as he hated the idea, Molly was better off with his mother.

  “I’ve seen the same car following me a few times.” He laughed shortly. It sounded like a bad cop show.

  “Did you get a license? Description?” Mav dragged a notepad toward him.

  “It’s probably my imagination.” He wasn’t sure whether to feel worried or vindicated when Mav shook his head. “It’s a Dodge Charger. I used to be crazy about them as a teenager, so I tend to take notice of them even now when they’re quite common. I’ve never seen it close enough for any details. It’s just all black”—he lifted his hand to forestall any comment—“and I know that’s a popular color, but it was exactly what I wanted back then. So when I see one, I notice. Now it’s like I see it all the time.”

  “Do you ever see who’s driving?”

  Deacon shook his head, but then the cell phone sitting on the desk sta
rted dancing across it, and Mav glanced at the screen, then swiped it up. Deacon stepped outside the office, thinking Maverick might need some privacy. No, now he was lying to himself. He needed a minute away from those astute brown eyes that seemed to ask a ton of questions he wasn’t sure he had the answers to. He gazed at the pretty teenager whose photos were all over the walls and wondered if she was Mav’s daughter. He would have been young, though. Maybe it was his niece?

  “Sorry, I’m going to have to cut this short.”

  Deacon looked up as Mav appeared at the doorway to the office. It seemed to sum up their interaction so far, all the apologies, but then he noted the stiffness in Mav’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Jamie just got sideswiped by an idiot who ran a stoplight. Her ankle is the biggest casualty, though.” He blew out a breath. “It could have been so much worse.”

  “You obviously need to go,” Deacon said immediately. “Where is she being taken?”

  Mav shook himself. “WellStar on Parkway. About a thirty minute cab ride.”

  “Plus however long they take to show up. You’ll have to navigate.” Deacon turned for the door, but a large hand stopped him.

  “I wasn’t asking—”

  “I know,” Deacon assured him. Not waiting for any other objection, he hurried to the car while Mav was hopefully locking the door.

  As Mav got into the BMW, Deacon, even though he tried not to watch, immediately understood what was buried beneath the baggy sweats Mav wore. Mav had to grab his right leg and swing it into the floorboard. Deacon’s mind was going a million miles a minute, but he could hardly ask. Was whatever happened to his leg the same as what had damaged his face?

  As soon as Mav was in, Deacon set off. “You need to go right at the end and head for seventy-five” was all Mav said. The quiet seemed oppressive, but Deacon didn’t know how to break it. Mav was obviously worried about his sister, so small talk would just be insensitive.

  He was almost relieved when they pulled up outside the ER. “I’m sorry we had to cut the meeting short.” Deacon desperately wanted to go around and help Mav out of the car, but he wasn’t suicidal. Mav managed to get out, and then he turned, white-knuckling the hand on the edge of the car door.

  “Let me know how she is?” he urged before Mav could say anything else.

  Mav looked taken aback that Deacon would care, but he nodded. “Give me your phone.”

  Deacon handed it over in surprise. “The password is MOL2015.”

  Mav took the phone, and Deacon tried not to watch his hand tremble as Mav entered the password and typed a quick text. “I’ve sent myself your number.” He passed it back, then hesitated. “Thanks,” he said, then shut the door.

  The phone rang almost right away, and Deacon recognized the number as Augusta’s, Mrs. Sanchez’s daughter, who also had an apartment in their complex. He answered it immediately.

  “Deacon?”

  A chill walked down his spine. “What is it?”

  “Deacon, I’m so sorry, but the AC people were late, and when I went to let them in, your door was damaged. It looks like someone broke in. I called the cops.” Her voice hitched. “I think you’d better come see.”

  Deacon sat completely frozen for what seemed like forever, and he automatically looked over to the entrance where Mav had gone inside. “Has anything been stolen?”

  “It’s hard to tell,” Augusta whispered.

  The chill in his back turned icy. “What do you mean?”

  He heard the breath she took. “It’s trashed, Deacon. I’m sorry.”

  Deacon was moving before he realized it. Another twenty minutes and he was pulling into his apartment complex. He saw the two black-and-whites with blue lights flashing as he pulled up, but he didn’t even need to get out of the car to see what was upsetting Augusta. In huge red letters spray-painted over his door were the words “The joke’s on you.”

  It was starting all over again. And this time he was worried it was never going to stop.

  Chapter Three

  “IT’S BROKEN.” Jamie’s eyes filled for the second time in so many hours, and Mav hushed her as he wrapped his arms around her. He heard a discreet cough from the corner and looked over to see an older man dressed in a white coat, who he remembered from the man’s visits to his sister’s. “Richards?”

  The man nodded in relief, and they shook hands. Mav glanced back at his sister, waiting to find out why Harvey Richards was here, when Richards spoke up.

  “Mav, I know we haven’t seen each other many times, but I’m David’s father. I work in the ER and saw the notification of Jamie’s admission.” He paused and looked fondly at Mav’s sister. “Jamie’s gonna be off her feet for a few days and then crutches for at least six weeks. In three days, Melanie and David leave on their school trip to Spain, so Melanie won’t be any help to her mom.” He coughed. “My elderly mother lives with me, and I employ a nurse to help her with personal care.”

  Mav had no idea what any of this—oh, no, he did. Jamie would need personal care, and he wasn’t even capable of taking care of himself most days. He looked back at Jamie, who was smiling even though she was obviously in pain.

  “The thing is, I would be delighted to have Jamie come and stay with me while she recovers. Miss Abernathy is more than able to help Jamie at the same time, and I have another spare room for Melanie until they leave for Spain.” He paused. “You are more than welcome to the couch in the meantime. I—”

  “That is very generous but completely unnecessary,” Mav assured the man. He felt Jamie’s fingers tighten on his.

  “Are you sure?” she asked worriedly.

  “Positive.” Mav smiled and shot Richards an assessing look. He had a feeling Richards would be more than happy for Jamie to move in there full-time, and that was totally their business, but Mav didn’t think Jamie had even halfway recovered from what her bastard of an ex-husband had done.

  “They want to keep me in tonight, but I can be discharged tomorrow,” she added, and at that moment, a frantic Melanie burst into the room and nearly flung herself at Jamie.

  “Mom!”

  Mav assumed the young man who followed and greeted Richards was David, his son.

  Jamie gave Melanie a big hug, then immediately transitioned into Mom mode, giving Melanie instructions for packing clothes and toiletries. David was going to drive her back now for them. Faced with a task, Melanie immediately calmed down and seemed to realize Mav was in the room.

  “Uncle Mav, do you want a ride home?” she offered immediately.

  Mav hesitated and looked down at his sister.

  “Oh, I forgot. How did the meeting go?”

  “We kind of got interrupted,” he said, smiling for the first time since the hospital had called him, but not having the first clue what to make of the tinge of regret that accompanied that statement. Which was a shame. Deacon Daniels was intriguing. “But I think it was just someone’s idea of a practical joke. Likely to be a disgruntled fan.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’m going to meet with him tomorrow.” Not that he’d made any arrangements, but it wouldn’t hurt to talk some more. He tried to ease his weight without making it obvious. The pain in his back was something fierce.

  “Can you manage?” Jamie asked, noticing.

  “Absolutely,” Mav assured her, with way more confidence than he actually felt. She didn’t look convinced but just nodded. He squeezed her hand and followed his niece, probably walking much faster than he should.

  It was his own fault. He’d gone through the fitting and the weeks-long process of healing, but after four months, when he hadn’t been able to seamlessly transition into handling and balancing on the leg that was supposed to make him whole, he’d simply run away—or crawled might be more apt. He’d missed three fitting appointments, and he knew his residual had shrunk. He knew it. But rational thought had taken a back seat to disappearing into a Jack and Coke. These days he didn’t even bother with the Coke.

  Supposed
to make him whole? He was more broken every day.

  He was glad Melanie and David didn’t notice how long it took him to get into the house. She had run in practically before he’d swung his leg out. Not that he blamed her. And she was a good kid. Just mostly oblivious, as teenagers often were, and she’d had a shock. When one parent proved unreliable, kids tended to hold on to the other with gritted teeth.

  He had.

  And Jamie had been absent at the time. She’d already been at college when Dad lost his job. Not that any of them had realized for quite a while. The first Mav had known was when he’d heard his mom sobbing in the kitchen. He’d rushed straight in there, thinking she was alone, but his dad was there, and Mav hadn’t known what to do. He’d gone upstairs and listened when the footsteps and the slam of the door told him his dad had left. And much to his shame, he had stayed where he was instead of rushing down to talk to his mom. Dad had come home after a few hours, and it was only when he didn’t leave for work the next day that Mav found out his dad had gotten fired two whole months earlier but had been too ashamed to admit it. Mav hadn’t understood. At only twelve, he’d thought everything would be okay. Even when his dad spent most days slumped in front of the TV and his mom got a job and went out to work.

  Even when she had looked more tired. Even when she’d gotten sick, and especially when she’d died.

  And through it all, his dad had sat there, drinking and watching TV. Of course, he’d died himself three years later, but to Mav, his dad had stopped living the day he became unemployed.

  Mav’s phone was ringing as soon as he made it inside. It seemed to be the day for it, and he answered, already heading for the back room and a drink. “Yep?”

  “Mr. Delgardo?”

  Mav stilled at the official-sounding voice. But Jamie was okay. He’d only just left her. “Yes, what—”

  “Mr. Deacon Daniels has asked us to call you. I’m Officer—” Mav sucked in oxygen and missed the next few words. “Mr. Delgardo? Would you be able to collect him? Are you—”

  Mav heard muffled voices in the background, and then the phone was taken over. “Mav?”