All My Heart (The Clover Series)

by Stewart, Danielle

  The door of the building to my left, a bar I think, swings open and out flies a woman who looks like she was launched by a slingshot into the street. She thuds hard into the side of the car, her lipstick smearing across my window. She falls to the ground and I swing my door open to see if she’s all right.

  “Get back in the car, Luke,” Olivia shouts as she races toward the woman. I don’t listen, I’m not sure why. I get that Olivia is in charge. I don’t have a problem understanding our roles here. I’m not trying to be obstinate or a hero, but I just had a close-up look at this poor woman smashing into my car and I want to make sure she’s not hurt. It’s human nature to want to help.

  “Luke, I got this, get back in the car.” Olivia suddenly turns her back to me. She’s blocking the path of a man who’s just stepped out of the bar, likely the man who sent her flying in the first place.

  “Get the hell out of my way,” he growls as he tries to step by Olivia.

  “Is there a problem here, sir?” she asks him, seemingly not fazed by the six inches he towers over her. She’s clearly overlooking the Fu Manchu mustache, endless tattoos up his arms, and the leather motorcycle vest loaded with patches. I, on the other hand, have a full understanding who this man is and how likely he is to use force to get what he wants.

  “This bitch of a woman is my wife and she’s mouthed off to me for the last time today. Now get out of my way so I can finish teaching her a lesson.”

  My hand is on the woman, trying to see if she is able to stand. She’s still shaking her head trying to get her mind and body to sync. “Ma’am, stand up. Can you stand up?” I see a crowd forming around us, but no one looks prepared to step in.

  “Um, I . . .” She’s dazed and terrified, looking up at me like I might be the last person in the world she’ll ever see.

  “Sir, I understand you’re upset. I’m not here to pass judgment on your domestic disputes, but this woman is injured and she needs medical attention. I’m going to ask you to please stand here against the wall while I call for some help for her.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” he laughs at Olivia. “This ain’t your business.” He takes a step forward and I instinctually jump to my feet with the intention of standing between him and Olivia. I’m no tough guy. At the bars back in New York, any fight I got in was Devin’s doing and he normally did all the heavy lifting. But at a bare minimum I can act as a punching bag long enough for these two women to get away. Before I can step fully forward I feel Olivia’s arm on mine, forcefully holding me in place.

  “Sir, I’m going to ask you one more time to step against that wall while I get this woman some medical attention. If you choose not to do so I will detain and charge you.”

  “You and what army? This jackass in the suit going to help you?”

  “No sir, he will not. I don’t need any assistance. I am trained in six different martial arts and I know where every single pressure point in your pudgy ass is. I’ve taken down men much bigger than you. And if by some chance all my years of training somehow fails me,” Olivia reaches to her utility belt and flips open one of the snapped pockets, “I will tase you in the scrotum. I don’t know firsthand, of course, but from the men I have done this to in the past, I hear it is a pain like no other they have ever experienced.”

  “And if I just knock you flat on your ass right here, like I did her,” he points down at the woman who is finally starting to regain her balance, “then what?”

  “I’ll pull my weapon and shoot you in the face.” Olivia smiles, resting her hand on top of the weapon on her thigh. “I’ve got to imagine a man like you won’t really be missed by anyone.”

  I hold my breath, watching the man’s balled-up fists relax slightly, as his teeth grit tightly closed. The mix of adrenaline, fear of being punched in the face, and complete arousal from hearing Olivia threaten this man has my body on edge. I’m torn between wanting something to happen just so I can see Olivia in action and hoping nothing happens so I know she is safe.

  The man silently takes three large steps back and leans himself against the wall. He folds his arms up like a petulant child.

  “Smart choice,” she nods in his direction and then lifts her phone to her ear and calls for help.

  The pack that gathered around us steps closer, and I can hear them talking collectively about how impressive Olivia is. I agree. One of the men steps forward and extends his hand to her. She shakes it firmly as he turns toward me and speaks. “This is what’s happened to this place.” He gestures over to the man against the wall. “Hoyle overlooks all this law-breaking and these problems while he pockets as much money as he can. I can promise you the people of Clover want a change. We need it.”

  When Olivia’s put on hold for a moment and the crowd falls away, she turns toward me and whispers, “If I ever tell you to stay in the car again and you disobey me, I’ll make sure you’ve got nothing left in those pants to entice Mrs. Right. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, trying to fight the excitement I’m feeling in those very pants she’s just referenced. I don’t care if she doesn’t know it yet. She’s Mrs. Right.

  Chapter Eight

  Devin

  Nine interviews in six hours is a new record for me, and not one I want to break in the future. I offered Jordan some help in hiring staff for the new facility and infrastructure Clover would need, but I underestimated how far into the trenches I’d be going. I wasn’t meeting with folks who were looking for upper management positions. Instead I interviewed three for jobs driving the recycling vehicles and six desperately hoping to get entry-level positions at the plant.

  I was of my depth. I know what to look for in a strong leader. I’ve interviewed dozens of people trying to become executives and directors. But this is new territory for me. Luckily, however, Jordan had the people of Clover behind her. Nothing about these people was contrived. They hadn’t taken a course in interview skills. They didn’t answer the question, what’s your biggest weakness? with some canned response about being dedicated to their careers. It was refreshing. One woman, Tonya, told me she was a recovering alcoholic and didn’t feel right not disclosing that to me. She hadn’t had a drink in twenty-two months, and she believed getting a better job would keep her focused on sobriety.

  Carla was hoping to get a second shift position so she wouldn’t have to stop volunteering at her daughter’s school. She explained how fast these years with kids go by and, as much as she needed the money, she didn’t want to miss out on what she felt really mattered in life. Every single person who sat across from me today was an inspiration. At a minimum, the experience was eye-opening. I’d painted this town as close-minded and backward. I’d let myself believe the people here weren’t just complacent in Hoyle’s tyranny; they were culpable. But in reality they all want something better for themselves and their families.

  I lean back in my chair and listen to the next candidate for one of the janitorial positions. His eyes are blue and watered over with age. It’s not legal to ask a perspective employee his age but Mr. Tisdale has been forthcoming with just about everything. His frizzy gray hair spikes slightly and there are dents on his nose where his glasses normally sit. His voice is one that trembles with age.

  “I cleaned the high school for thirty-one years. I retired about five years ago when I turned seventy, but the lifestyle doesn’t suit me. I’m not meant for rocking away my days on a porch. These hands were made for work,” he says, raising his gnarled fingers and turning his palms toward me. “I know you might see me as well past my prime, but I’m still sturdy. I know cleaning tricks people have never heard of before, all passed down from my mother and her mother before her. I’m great with people. All the kids back at the high school got on well with me and would tell you I’m an honest worker. I don’t try to skim nothing. I’ve never even swiped a bottle of window cleaner for my own house. I can work a full day or half, and I can start even before this place is built completely. I’m happy to keep the constructi
on site in order and clean if that’s all you have available. But I just have one condition.” The cheery faced man becomes serious as he rests his hand down on the desk between us.

  “And what’s that, Mr. Tisdale?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.

  “I have to start tomorrow. I can’t take another brunch with the rest of the old fogies.” He stares into my eyes and I can’t break the gaze. His weathered wrinkled forehead, his paper-thin cheeks, everything about this man should tell me his employment doesn’t make any sense. He can’t be scrubbing toilets and lugging buckets of mop water everywhere. He’ll croak. But I see a bit of myself in him. I understand what being idle can do to a man, and when I’m his age I’ll want to keep moving, just to make sure I still can.

  “I can’t hire you as a janitor here, Mr. Tisdale. I’m sorry.”

  He averts his eyes from mine as he leans back in his chair. What surprises me the most is he doesn’t look surprised. Apparently he had no faith I’d be compassionate to his plight. When I soften my face and lean my elbows on the desk I can see a small glimmer of hope flash in his eyes. “I have a different position I need you for. I’m looking for a personal relations manager. I think you’d fit the bill.”

  He furrows his overgrown gray brows at me and twists his mouth to the side as he thinks. “What the hell is that?” he finally asks.

  “You’d be in charge of meeting with everyone who works here. Making your way around the jobsite, then when it’s up and running, all the different facilities. You’d track the progress of switching to renewable and self-sufficient power and energy sources. You would scope everything out and, in the process, see how everyone is doing. Make sure everyone is getting what they need, and feeling good about how things are going. I’d want you to keep the employees’ spirits up and let me know if anyone out there needs anything. I want you to just talk to everyone.”

  I watch as Mr. Tisdale tries to fight his excitement about this. He’s biting at his lip to keep from answering too quickly, but then finally gives in. “So I’d just go around and chat with people every day, and hear them out. Check up on things and just be in the know?”

  “Yes, the personal relations manager makes sure people are satisfied and is a friendly face people can turn to. I think you’d be perfect. But there is one condition.”

  The wind in the old man’s sail subsides slightly as he waits to hear me out. “You’d have to start today.” I shrug as though I’ve dealt him a nonnegotiable term he might not like, when we both know he will.

  “You got yourself a deal, Mr. Sutton.”

  “Call me Devin.” I smile and watch as he starts to leave the room, a spring in his spry step that I don’t recall him entering with. He turns toward me and leans against the frame of the doorway.

  “I remember you, just in case you were wondering. You were quiet, just looking to mind your business. It didn’t work out that way though. I saw some of it. Like that punch you landed square on the quarterback’s face. I got to tell ya, I cheered a little bit.”

  “All I wanted to do was get out of that place. I wasn’t looking for trouble.”

  “Seems like trouble finds you. But that ain’t always a bad thing. It means you get a lot of chances to win. It’s better than being boring.”

  “After I’m done with all of this, I’ll settle for boring.”

  Mr. Tisdale plops his hat back on his head and gives me a wave as he whistles his way down the hall.

  I’ve got one more interview scheduled but not for half an hour, so when there is a knock on the open door, I’m taken aback slightly. But it’s a familiar face I’m actually glad to see.

  “Mayor Kilroy.” I get to my feet and gesture for him to come in and join me. “Glad you stopped by. I was hoping you wouldn’t be a stranger here.”

  “Devin, I can’t believe you’re actually doing all this. The place looks great. You know this office right here used to belong to the head of the mill many years ago. My daddy got his first job by interviewing in this room. You are breathing life back into Clover by reviving this place. It’s loaded with everyone’s memories and heritage.”

  “Well it’s far from complete. The renovations are moving along quickly and it wasn’t in as bad of shape as I thought. Converting it to the facility in Jordan’s proposal is no small task, but there are some amazingly skilled people here in Clover.”

  “And they are motivated as hell to be a part of this. That combination is nearly unstoppable.”

  “Let’s hope so. I’m sure you’ve heard about the accidents here on site. Hoyle is still trying to slow the progress, and we’ve had to move most of the security here to the mill rather than the land they were fanning out, trying to keep him from dumping chemicals or sabotaging it.”

  “That’s actually why I stopped by. I didn’t bother going to Nick on this because it’s a rumor about four times removed from the source, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention it.” Kilroy sits down and a puff of dust flies from the chair beneath the thud of his heavy body. “For goodness sake this might be the actual chair my daddy sat in for his interview.”

  “Furniture isn’t in the budget yet. Now let’s hear that rumor.”

  “Apparently the sabotage here at the plant, while I don’t know who was perpetrating it, was very strategic. Hoyle doesn’t want anyone out on that land. He wants your resources here. I don’t know if this is as much about trying to hurt you and hold back any forward progress or if it is about him not wanting people on these big patches of secluded land.”

  “The security team has found some trailers scattered out there, but they stopped short of investigating them in order to come back to the mill. So if what you are saying is true, his play worked in his favor. But what the hell does he have going on out there? Do you have any idea?”

  “I don’t. There are so many valleys and secluded areas spread across this place that something could go undetected for ages. Especially when he was in control of the law enforcement. He knows every inch of this place better than most. I don’t know what he’s hiding out there, but whatever it is, he wants to keep it running and thinks all this,” Kilroy gestures behind him toward the renovations of the mill, “must run the risk of jeopardizing his plans. But what can you do? You have to keep your men here. Any of those accidents could have been far worse. You can’t have someone being killed out here on this jobsite because of interference.”

  “I’m not the expert on any of that. I’m just going to sit here and hire folks who want jobs. I’ll let the security team and the Marshals decide what to do with Hoyle.”

  “That’s a big shift in your tide,” Kilroy says as he raises his disbelieving eyebrow at me.

  “I’m not giving up on everything, I’m just trying to channel my energy to things I can control. Like giving Mr. Tisdale there a job.”

  “You just tell me if there is anything I can do to help. People are really rallying around this and shedding the fear they had of Hoyle. I’m not naive enough to think we’re out of the woods with him but we’re on the right track.”

  I hear Jordan’s high heels clacking against the unfinished cement floor as she steps through the doorway of the office.

  “Can I talk to you, Devin?” I can tell by the jumpy look in her eye it’s something important.

  “Oh, Miss Garcia. Good to see you again. You know it’s been brought to my attention that I may have been slightly out of line during our first meeting. I didn’t realize that, but now that I know, I’d like to apologize.”

  “Out of line?” Jordan asks as though she’s been faced with the understatement of the century. “And who exactly shined a light on that for you?”

  “Click mentioned that calling someone a Spanish hot tamale might be a smidge off color. Also assuming that you were there to become the coffee girl was presumptuous and perhaps chauvinistic. Again, that was not my intention. I hope we can bury the hatchet. You’re doing great things for this town and I want to make sure we’re getting on well.”

  Jo
rdan, still looking distracted about the reason she came here in the first place, nods her head. “Sure. No harm done.”

  “Good.” Kilroy stands to leave. “I couldn’t stand it if a knock-out girl like you wouldn’t talk to me. No one that pretty should ever be angry. It’ll cause wrinkles.” He’s out the door and around the corner as Jordan locks her eyes with mine. I’m stunned at his words and can’t even laugh.

  “Idiot,” Jordan mumbles and then shakes her head trying to get back to her original mission. “Devin, we need to go back to the house. Hoyle paid a visit to Rebecca and Adeline at the park and apparently threatened throwing you back in jail.”

  I don’t say a word as I pull my coat off the hook on the wall and head down toward the car. I know there is someone still waiting to be interviewed but I don’t care. I can tell by the seriousness on Jordan’s face that nothing else matters right now. Jordan follows my lead in silence and I’m glad. The only thing I want to do is get to Rebecca right now and tell her how ridiculous his threat is. I’m no kid anymore. I’ve got a bank account that would put most people to shame and plenty of favors I can call in. I’m not going to jail. Not a chance.

  When Jordan and I pull up to the front of the house, Rebecca is sitting out on the front steps. Click is at the window, Adeline’s head darting back and forth across the room. Rebecca is waiting for me, to hold me, I can tell. She wants to touch me, to know I’m still okay. She’s afraid to lose me again. I can see it in her eyes as I step out of the car.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her as she scurries into my arms. “There is no way that bastard is going to put me back in jail. It’s not possible.”

  “I know.” She buries her face into my shoulder. She’s cold, sitting out here for far too long I’m sure. “I just can’t go through that again. I can’t have you in there, I can’t be that helpless again.”