I tunnel my fingers into his hair and scratch my nails over his scalp several times until I can feel his strength seeping back in, his muscles tightening where he stands. When I feel his heartbeat is back to a more normal rhythm, I cup his cheeks and pull back so that I can stare into his eyes.
“We’ll deal with it together. Don’t think the worst. We don’t know much. Let’s focus on one thing. Getting back home to them.”
10
PARKER
If someone asked what happened in the past eighteen hours of my life, I couldn’t tell them. Although I could hear and see everything happening, it all felt like it was in a dream state. Skyler and Royce led both Paul and me through the process of getting all of our things from the hotel, including our dogs and bags, as well as stopping at Dennis’s and picking up Paul’s stuff. Dennis and Paul had some heated words because Dennis wanted to accompany his man to Boston. However, doing so would have severely changed the plans they had of him closing his end of the family business and packing up. Paul and Dennis battled it out, but in the end, Paul got his way. Dennis would stay behind with the promise that Paul would call the moment he could to update on our parents’ status.
We were whisked through an airport, Paul’s eyes watchful, his expression so hard everyone kept their distance from us, even when some recognized Skyler and me. Royce got us to the jet, and we took off without any additional fanfare. We stopped once to refuel in the States before landing in Boston a whopping eighteen hours from the time we got the call that my parents had been targeted and attacked. My mother was banged up; my father was in surgery from the injuries he’d sustained in the accident, of which I don’t know anything more to date.
I’m exhausted, but at the same time wired for sound when Paul stops the SUV Skyler had waiting for us at the airport in front of the hospital doors. The four of us jump out, and Royce circles the car.
“You guys go on ahead. I’ll handle the car.” He lifts his chin.
I wave a hand in the air, clasp Skyler’s fingers in a death grip at my side, and run into Bo in the lobby.
“Fuckin’ hell, bro. Glad you’re here.” His expression is relieved, but there are deep bags under his eyes, proving he’s been here the entire time.
“My father?” I grate through clenched teeth.
“He’s going to be fine. Messed up, but alive and out of recovery and in his own room. Your mother’s with him now. I’ll take you there.” Bo turns around, and we all follow him at a fast clip through the halls of the hospital, up an elevator, and down another white-walled corridor.
Standing in front of what I assume is my father’s hospital room door are a couple of burly-looking fellas wearing black T-shirts and black cargo pants and boots, one Caucasian, one African American.
Paul skirts around us and lifts a hand, grasping one man’s meaty paw and squeezing his shoulder, then repeating the process with the other. “My gratitude, brothers.” His voice is thick. “Anyone come through that wasn’t approved?”
Both shake their heads.
“Friends of yours?” I lift my chin to the two heavily muscled giants with buzz cuts and bulging biceps.
Paul grins. “Brothers in arms.”
“Some of the best to have, I imagine.” I smile weakly.
“Damn straight.” Paul turns to the two men. “You’re relieved. Marker whenever, no question.”
The black man scowls, his face turning to stone. “Fuck the marker. This one’s on me. We keep family safe.”
The other soldier nods. “Our families don’t get threatened on our soil and come out harmed. You need us for anything, we’re there, brother. Speaking of . . .” He shifts his hand to behind his back and pulls out a Sig Sauer, then passes the weapon to Paul.
Paul inspects it, checks that the clip is full and a round is in the chamber, flicks the safety, and tucks it in the back of his own pants.
“My thanks.” He claps the man on the biceps, nods, and ushers me, Skyler, and Bo into the room.
The image of my father lying prone in a hospital bed, his head, cheeks, and arms cut up as though he’d been pulled along gravel at a high speed, not to mention his unmoving lower half wrapped in a variety of things I can’t see, burns like icy-hot pokers in my eyes.
“Boys!” My mother stands and opens her arms.
“Ma,” I say, and get to her embrace first. Her wildflower scent seeps deep into my nose, bringing with it comfort and solace. She pats the back of my head, squeezes my neck, and then shifts so she can bring Paul into our huddle. I’m loath to let my mother go, so I don’t, but I do move to the side. She loops her free arm around Paul and kisses his forehead.
“My babies are home. Sweet, sweet heavens above, you’re safe.”
I close my eyes and grind my teeth, not wanting to let my emotions take over. Not now. I can do that later. Much later, when I’ve ascertained whether or not my father is okay. “What about Pops?”
Ma swallows, eases back, and wipes at her tears. “He’s got a long road ahead, but he’s alive. The car that hit us shattered his hips and broke both legs. He had to have full reconstructive surgery on the hips and setting of the bones in his legs. This caused a great deal of internal bleeding, but the doctors assured me they have it under control. He’s on heavy painkillers, blood thinners, and a mess of things we don’t need to go over right now.”
“Christ, Ma.” I rub at the back of my neck. “He’s going to need a lot of physical therapy.”
She stands up straight, shoulders back, and lifts her chin. “And he’ll have it.”
“The pub . . .”
“Got a plan worked out for that, brother,” Bo says softly from the wall at the back of the room. Royce is standing next to him. He must have sneaked in when we were huddled with Ma.
Bo continues. “Gonna take over running the bar for the next six months or so until Pops is back on his feet. He needed help before. A manager eventually. A waitress, definitely. Gonna make that happen. I’m sure you, Royce, Wendy, and Kendra can manage IG without me for a while, yeah?”
I close my eyes.
“Course we can. It’s a good plan, and I’m happy to come in the evenings, manage the money. Whatever it takes,” Royce puts in.
Fuck, I love these guys. My heart pounds, and my throat goes dry at all they’re offering.
“I can help.” Paul’s voice is so harsh it’s like boots scraping over rocks.
Bo shakes his head once. “Man, you gotta protect Sky. Unless you want to find another set of security.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sky whispers, close to my side but not intruding in my brothers-and-mother huddle.
“Paulie, you gotta stay on Sky. I can’t . . . She’s my . . . Fuck . . .” I choke on the words, not able to express how much him protecting my woman means to me.
Ma pats my cheek. “Yes, we know she’s your world. Just like your father is my world. And Dennis is Paul’s world. Bo’s plan is perfect. We have the cook to take care of the food. Bo is perfectly capable of running a pub. He said he worked in one in college.”
Which he totally did. It was how he tagged so many women. A new one every night back in those days. Hell, he’d be doing that now if we didn’t have so much work.
Ma looks to Royce. “With Royce’s help managing the books, I can take care of your father. It’s time I leave the library anyway. We’ve saved enough, and well, it’s time.”
I look at Paul, whose jaw tightens, but he nods before I move my gaze to Bo. “I’m gonna owe you a lot, brother.”
He grins, a twinkle in his eyes. “I know. Looking forward to making you pay up . . . huge. Not sure what it’s gonna be, but it will be awesome!”
“You too, Royce,” I state.
“Nah, man, family is family. ’Sides, Momma Sterling is gonna be all over helping Momma Ellis.” He reminds me how much our families are intertwined where it counts most.
Skyler comes up behind me and wraps her hands around my waist, pressing her chin against my spine, where sh
e kisses me. “Owing Bo doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
A smile threatens my lips. “No, baby. Owing Bo one is never a good thing.”
Bo grins. “I’ll leave you guys to it. Gotta call Tink. She wanted to know the moment you were back. She’s itching to be here but says she’s watching the team that’s meeting with Mr. Wilson.”
“Shit, that’s going down today?” My gaze shoots to Paul’s.
“Yeah. I’ll check in. Ma, you okay? Need anything?” he asks, a deep rumble in his voice.
“Now that my boys are home, no. I’m good. Let’s just get your father up and at ’em, and the world will tilt back on its axis as it should.”
I suck in a huge, calming breath, hold on to Skyler’s hands where they are wrapped around my waist, and finally exhale, my gaze on my father. He’s sleeping soundly, the heart monitor beeping along melodically.
“Peaches, you want to go with Royce and get us some coffee? It’s gonna be a long day and night.”
“Sure, honey. We’ll find some food too. It’s been a while since any of us have eaten.”
The thought of food makes my stomach growl heartily. I didn’t realize we’d forgone food, but it makes sense. All of us were focused on one thing: getting home. Now that we’re here, I can see Pops is going to make it. Ma is shaken but in charge as usual. I can relax a little. We will get to the bottom of who hit my parents with their fucking car.
Royce and Skyler leave as Paul twists to the back of the room, phone to his ear. I move to sit with my father and take his cool hand.
“We’re here for you, Pops. We’ve got a plan in place, and we will get justice for what was done to you. I promise you that. Paul and I won’t sleep until we do.”
After about ten minutes of staring at my father, cataloging his features, from the salt-and-pepper hair to the wrinkles framing his closed eyes, I begin wishing he’d wake up and start complaining about how uncomfortable the bed is, or how he can’t sleep due to the nurses checking on him a hundred times. Basically anything keeping him away from home and being in front of his TV, watching his teams play and bickering with my mother.
Behind me, Paul ends his call, grunts, and gestures for me to move to the door.
“Ma, we’re gonna step out for a minute, yeah?”
“I’m not an invalid. I’ve been taking care of your father for thirty years; I think I can keep doing that without assistance.”
I can’t help grinning. My mother is a freakin’ warrior. She takes a hit and keeps on going.
Once Paul and I get out into the hall, Paul’s face turns hard. “We’ve got a fuckin’ problem.”
“You mean besides the fact that our father is in a hospital bed after someone ran his ass down?” I clench my teeth and cross my arms over my chest.
“The security footage outside of Lucky’s shows a black SUV. Plates clearly visible.”
“Excellent. That means they know who the fucker is?”
He licks his lips. “Plates circle back to a car rental company. And Park, you’re not gonna like who rented that car.”
I close my eyes, already knowing in my heart the name he’s going to say.
“Brother, it’s Tracey Wilson. She rented that car. Wendy’s been trying to get in touch with her. No dice. She’s not answering. I know she told Sky she went back to New York, but there’s nothing on record that says she booked a flight or train out of Boston. Woman’s still here, man. Wendy can’t find her, but says it’s only a matter of time before she shows up.”
I spin around and press my thumb and forefinger into my temple. “Fuck. This is gonna kill Sky.”
“There’s more,” he grumbles.
I close my eyes, lick my lips, and lean against the wall opposite my father’s hospital room. “Lay it on me before Sky gets back.”
“Her father . . .”
“Trevor, retired CIA agent.”
“Yeah. My guys grilled him. An experience he did not find pleasant. Turns out his daughter not only was Daddy’s little girl, she’d read all of his course curriculum and was taught how to make a bomb. Her dad was thorough. Didn’t think she’d ever use it since she talked about becoming a talent agent after meeting and becoming best friends with the girl next door, who was a burgeoning actress. Says all she ever wanted to do was work with Skyler. So, she did it. Guy said Skyler was the best thing that ever happened to his girl.”
“Say what?”
“When they were kids, before Skyler and Tracey met at age ten, Tracey had a baby sister, Staci. Died a year before they moved to that house and Tracey met Skyler. Trevor said Skyler coming into Tracey’s life was a godsend. Tracey was grief-stricken to the point where she stopped talking altogether when her sister died. Trevor told my guys that Skyler took all Tracey’s grief away. Said she focused all her attention on Sky and none of it on the loss of her sister. They’ve been inseparable since.”
“Jesus, you think Skyler is kind of a replacement for the sister she lost?”
Paul shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. Fuck if I know. I’m just telling you what I got from Wendy and my guys.”
“How did she die?”
“Leukemia,” Paul says flatly. “Not pretty or quick.”
“So basically, young Tracey watches her sister die a slow, painful death, meets Skyler, and what, sees it as her job to take care of her? To protect her?”
“Has she told you anything else about their relationship that would strike you as overbearing and suggest such a scenario is in play?”
All of the shit that involves Tracey is overbearing, most specifically how focused she is on Skyler’s career and her romantic relationships. “Uh, yeah. You could say that. Hell, she encouraged Skyler’s last boyfriend to do drugs and cheat on her. So much so, she provided the access to easy women and handfuls of drugs. He took her up on that offer, proving to Tracey he wasn’t worthy of Skyler’s affection. Then of course, she was the one who was there on a white horse to sweep in and fix the problems when Skyler was heartbroken.”
“And what about her parents?” Paul circles back to the first people Skyler lost.
“Did your guys find anything conclusive or new to investigate about that accident?”
He shakes his head. “Not yet. The case is old, and so much of it was handled poorly. We might not ever know what went down on that boat, but it can’t be a coincidence.”
“What did Trevor say about the bomb?”
“At first, he was baffled because not only did it have the markings of what he teaches his agents, it had his own private signature he’d never told anyone about, mostly related to the delayed detonation. He’s a master at setting bombs that are detonated by the turning of a door lock. There’s a sensor that’s unique, and the bomb used on your apartment had a sensor. It wasn’t the same as the ones he’s used, but that could be because decades have passed since he’s made one himself and the manufacturers no longer offer that specific type.”
Paul continues. “At first he thought someone was trying to frame him. Then we started asking about his daughter, and when we made the connection between his bomb and the fact that his daughter could have been the perpetrator, he clammed up real fast. Started asking for legal counsel, which stopped any further questioning, and he demanded the chance to call and check on his daughter’s safety. This, of course, was denied, and law enforcement is holding the guy based on the evidence that the bomb is so closely related to his own signature. He has a pretty strong alibi, what with being in Florida when it all went down, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have created the bomb and given it to someone else to place. We’re using that to hold him, so he doesn’t get ahold of Tracey and warn her that we’re on to her. We don’t want the bitch fleeing before we can get our hands on her.”
“Jesus, this is going to hit Sky like a tsunami hitting Boston and destroying everything in its wake.”
“Yeah, figured that.”
I slump against the wall, my mind spinning on how I’m going to break this news to my wom
an. She’ll be devastated to say the least.
“Do they have a bead on Tracey?”
He shakes his head. “That’s the problem. No one has seen her.”
“The rental? Someone has to have seen an SUV with a seriously damaged front end.”
Paul rubs his hand over his cropped hair. “They found the car abandoned not more than ten blocks from Lucky’s. She’s in the wind, brother.”
11
SKYLER
“Baby girl, how much food you think your man can sock away?” Royce gestures to my tray.
I glance down at my tray filled to the brim with four different sandwiches, chips, drinks, a couple of apples, two slices of pie, a handful of protein bars, and six cookies.
“Um, maybe Cathy wants something.”
Royce grins that super-big, all-pearly-white smile at me. “You’ll be lucky to get him to sit down long enough to eat a sandwich, let alone all of that.”
“I just want to help.”
He squeezes my shoulder with his free hand, a bottle of OJ, the car key, and a banana in his other hand. “You being here, supporting him, is all he needs. I’m gonna surf the salad bar while you check out, yeah?”
“’K, Royce. Here, give me the key, and I’ll put it in my purse.” I smile, gesturing to my bag hanging in front of me. He hands me the key to the SUV we took from the airport, and I tuck it into my purse and push my tray along the long line ahead of me. There are about eight people waiting for the slow-as-molasses cashier to ring everyone through.
My cell phone rings in my back pocket, and my heart stops as I frantically pull out the phone to make sure it isn’t Parker needing me back immediately because something’s taken a turn for the worse with his dad.
The screen says Tracey is calling, and with everything happening, I’m so relieved to see her name I hit the answer button.
“Trace, oh my God! Are you okay?” I breathe into the phone, pressing it hard against my ear.
“Birdie . . . ,” she gasps, her voice sounding pained and small.
“Tracey, what’s going on?”
International Guy: Volume 4 Page 26