by Tia Siren
He got to his feet anyway to grab his backpack by the front door. I let out a sigh the second he was out of sight and hearing range. There were many times I wondered if the judge had picked the right parent to raise Owen full time. I had no doubt about how much Sidney loved him. She was good about the affection part, and while I loved my son more than life, I couldn’t find it in me to embrace him like he wanted.
I had my father to thank for that. What a kick he would get out of me blaming him for it. I couldn’t even remember the last time he had hugged me, let alone said he loved me.
I popped in the pizza we had picked up on our way home from school. Owen sat quietly at the kitchen table, circling randomly in his workbook. That was another thing I didn’t understand when it came to Owen. I could hardly ever hold still and focus. I had to move. My career in the Special Forces had been short thanks to an enemy bullet fracturing my spine the first few months of a tour. I was lucky from what the army doctors had told me at the time. Most of us never came back, and if we did come back, we came back with injuries so grotesque that it was unbearable. I missed those days, because then I had been moving somewhere with a mission. Now I moved at a slow pace around the house between getting Owen to school, going work, and paying bills.
“How about some football after pizza?” I asked.
Owen didn’t look up from his workbook. “No, thanks. I want to watch TV.”
I shook my head.
“You can’t just sit on the couch and watch TV,” I said. “You need fresh air and exercise.”
“We had plenty of that back with Mom.”
My jaw clenched. This was something Sidney and I had surprisingly agreed on in court. Owen was traumatized enough with everything that had happened. He didn’t need to hear either one of us talk about the other in a bad light. Still, I had no idea how to explain to him what divorce meant.
“I know,” I managed to say. “I’m sorry, bud. There’s just nothing I can do to make things better, is there?”
“No,” Owen said quietly. “Nothing.”
Owen silently ate his piece of pizza next to me at the kitchen table. It took all of my strength not to reach out and ruffle his blond locks of hair in the hope that it would cheer him up. I’m sorry. That was what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t apologize without explaining the entire truth of what had happened. That could come later, when he was old enough to understand that relationships could go awry without any cataclysmic event setting it into a downward spiral.
The doorbell rang right as I scooped up the paper plates from the table. Owen shot out of his seat with an excited grin.
“Hayley’s here!” he shouted, rushing into the hallway.
I arched an eyebrow. I had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason Owen liked Hayley out of all the other babysitters who tried to watch him was because she fed him chocolate and candy. Whenever he brushed his teeth in the morning after Hayley babysat him, there was always chocolate on them. She got him in bed on time though; I’d grant her that. I didn’t complain either, because I needed her there at night when I left.
Footsteps approached the kitchen.
“Hi, Derek.”
“Hayley,” I said, turning to look at her standing in the kitchen with a curt nod. “I just got him some pizza for dinner tonight. He’s finished with his homework too.”
“Right,” Hayley said, turning to look at Owen bouncing around her. “I guess that means we have some time to play a few games then, eh?”
“Not for too long,” I said over Owen shouting happily. “Just for thirty minutes is all.”
“Daaadd!”
I ignored the crestfallen look Owen sent me. I caught ahold of Hayley’s gaze pointedly. She gave a nod of understanding.
“You heard your pops,” she said. “Just for thirty minutes. I have my own homework to do tonight as well.”
“Feel free to use whatever you need,” I said. I clasped Owen’s shoulder as I passed by him. “I have to get ready for work.”
I entered my room to change for another long night. I slipped out of the rumpled clothes I had slept in all day when Owen had been in school. I gave my bed a longing glance. Nothing sounded better than settling down with Owen for the evening and going to bed at a normal hour again.
Crime never rested though. It thrived at nighttime.
I dressed in the usual attire of my pants and a black shirt with my bullet proof vest over it, and I grabbed my Glock 22 from the gun safe next to my bed. The sound of an air pump clicking on startled me for a second. Forcing my finger away from the trigger, I realized with growing dread why the sound was so loud.
My window was still propped open to let the summer air in. I bent down at the waist to see what I suspected— my new neighbor's bedroom window was wide open too, and I could see her blowing up an air mattress with a pile of sheets and blankets next to her.
My eyes focused on the tightness of her ass cheeks, which were peeking out from beneath her gray cotton shorts. I looked away sharply when I felt myself harden. Slamming my window shut, I pulled the shades down violently.
More shitty luck that our bedroom windows faced each other and she also liked to keep her windows open to let the night air in. Go fucking figure. I’d also undoubtedly be getting some shows at night, and enjoying them too.
Chapter Three
Jenna
“I’m worried about you, Jenna. I think we need to hire someone to take care of all of this.”
I rolled my eyes in exasperation for the hundredth time that morning. Not because I didn’t agree with my mother, but because she wholeheartedly believed she could hire a bodyguard to follow me from my house to the store.
“You can’t hire a bodyguard,” I said. “I’m not that important of a person.”
Anna Collins straightened the turquoise nylon scarf tied loosely about her neck. She sniffed delicately while gazing out at the showroom of various furniture sets.
“Nonsense,” she said. “You’re important to me. Just say the word, Jenna, and I’ll have somebody over at that apartment—”
“Mom,” I cut in harshly, shaking my head at her. “Remember what the police officers and social services told us? It’s better to keep my distance right now. We don’t want to tip him off either.”
“I know that. I just think it’s unfair that he won’t send you your things.”
“He paid for the things he has.”
“It shouldn’t be like that, Jenna,” she said, shaking her head at me with a sad frown. “Your father didn’t raise you to believe that sort of thing in a relationship is okay. Then again, we can agree to say you weren’t in a relationship exactly.”
A headache pounded in my temples. I loved my mother more than anything in the world. She hadn’t even batted an eyelash when I’d called from the hospital with two broken ribs, bruised arms, and a concussion to ask for help. Years ago, my father had passed away from a heart attack, and while his death had been dark and abrupt, he had made sure that my mother and I were taken care of. I had never accepted my inheritance because of Leon. He could take everything else, just not any of my dad’s hard-earned money.
The last thing I wanted to talk about though was Leon. I’d done enough of it by talking to the police.
“I appreciate everything you are doing mom,” I said, giving her a smile. “I just want to focus on moving forward now. I can live without a computer and a phone for a little bit until I get a job.”
“Oh, please,” Anna said. “I’m buying you a phone. There’s no way you can go without a phone.”
“Mom—”
“Don’t start, Jenna. Just say you love me, and let’s finish picking out your furniture so it can be delivered later.”
I embraced her tightly for a long moment, inhaling the smell of sunshine on her clothes. There was one perk at least to moving all the way out to Colorado. I got to be close to my mother again.
An hour later, I dropped her off at her gated retirement community with sprawling gardens and evergreen pine
s.
“I love you, dear,” Anna said, leaning in through the window to kiss me on the cheek. “Call me on that brand-new phone of yours if you need.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Mom. I will.”
By the time I arrived back to the house, the handymen my mother had hired to rip out the old carpet were pulling out rolls of rotted pads and stained carpet. I swept the hardwood floors free of nails and dust until the furniture trucks arrived. I stood on the porch while movers came in and out of the house.
Hope. It trickled through me for the first time in a long time. A new house. New furniture. I can do this. I can start my life over again. I tilted my head up to allow the warm sunshine to fall over my face.
“What the hell is all this?”
I started at the sound of Derek’s voice cutting through the morning as sharp as a surgical knife. My heart pounded against my ribcage when I saw him leaning over the fence slightly to watch the movers with an irritated scowl. Martha wasn’t kidding. He hates noise. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, but even rumpled he still looked sexy.
“Movers,” I said, stepping off the porch to walk up to him. The grass tickled my bare toes as I approached. He eyed me with an indifferent expression. “I’m sorry. Martha told me that you don’t like noise.”
“No,” he said sharply, “I don’t like noise. I work at night. The only time I ever get sleep is when my son is in school.”
I recoiled slightly at his agitated demeanor. “Okay, well, they’ll be done soon. I’m sorry. There isn’t anything I can do.”
Derek swept his gaze along the furniture trucks parked out front. It gave me a few seconds to admire his well-maintained frame. I wanted to reach out and feel those muscles bulging out. It wasn’t just his fit figure that hooked me. It was the haunted air that surrounded him. He kept his emotions well-hidden, though, when he looked back at me.
“Just tell them to keep it down,” he said. “This is the only time I get to sleep. I don’t have the ability to sleep all day like you do.”
The insult slapped me hard across the face. I stared at him as he leaned back to go to his house. What is his problem?
“I don’t have the ability to take a nap all day,” I said, a bit defensively. “I have things to do also.”
He snorted. “Such as?”
“I have a job too,” I said, though it was a flat-out lie. I still had to find a job by the end of the week in addition to everything else.
“You don’t look old enough to have an important job,” Derek commented flatly. “You don’t even look old enough to own a house that needs renovations.”
Anger skittered through me at those insults. “Well,” I said, hooking my hands on my hips, “I am old enough. I’m old enough to buy alcohol. I’m old enough to do everything. Not that it’s your business.”
“I didn’t ask,” he said. Jerk. “Just tell your movers to keep it quiet. I need to sleep.”
Exasperated, I looked over at the movers pulling out the frame for my new bed. They weren’t even that loud while they talked to each other.
“It’s impossible to keep quiet when you’re moving,” I said. “You’re asking me to do the impossible. Just close your bedroom window.”
He stiffened visibly at that. I had noticed, well rather heard, him slam his window shut the other night. It had been open again this morning, but the curtains had been drawn closed. I had no idea why I’d even looked at that this morning on my way out. Maybe it was because our bedroom windows faced one another. That thought caused an array of emotions to go through me.
“Tell them to be quiet,” he said shortly.
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already stalking back up his driveway to the front door. He slammed the door shut without sparing me another glance. I walked up to my front porch with a sigh.
“Great,” I grumbled, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “I have an asshole for a neighbor who has ridiculously good hearing. How much better could this get?”
Chapter Four
Derek
Crash!
I jerked awake, one hand instinctively going straight to my Glock. A terrified scream filled the morning air. I shoved the sheets and blankets back. Years of training in the Navy SEALs pumped through my veins as I rushed down the stairs to yank the front door open. I scanned the area for the sound of the crash and scream with my Glock held in front of me defensively.
The second I rounded the right side of my house, I stumbled upon an alarming sight. There she was, my new next door neighbor, dangling by her fingernails from the gutter with a tipped-over ladder on the ground. She gave me a frightened look, either from nearly falling to her death or because I had the barrel of my Glock pointed directly at her.
Irritation swept through me. What the fuck? I clicked the safety back on before slipping my gun into the hoister at my hip.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snapped, stalking over to stand below her. It was a damn miracle she hadn’t fallen yet.
“Hanging out,” she said, her arms shaking from holding on. “The ladder fell when I was climbing up onto the roof.”
“Why were you climbing onto the roof?”
“Does it matter now?” She looked down at me, her face cherry red from the effort to keep holding on. “If you want to watch me break my neck, stick around. I’m sure you’d be happy.”
“I wouldn’t,” I growled. I held out my arms. “Just let go. I’ll catch you.”
She shot me a skeptical look. “Yeah, right. How do I know you can even catch me?”
“I trained in the Navy SEALs,” I said. “So you tell me if I’m able to handle catching a woman dangling from a roof.”
Her arms trembled violently. I waited patiently before she let go of the gutter, squeezing her eyes shut. She landed perfectly in my arms. She was so light that it surprised me. The smell of vanilla and coffee filled my nose. The bare skin of her back felt hot from the sun as it pressed against my arm. I caught a glimpse of her breasts jiggling slightly from the fall before I forced myself to let go of her.
“Thanks,” she said, stumbling to her feet when I practically dropped her. “At least I know you don’t want to watch me break my neck.”
She smiled in wry amusement.
“I’ve seen people with broken necks,” I said. “It’s not a pretty sight.”
“I’m sure.” She held out a small hand. “I’m Jenna Collins, by the way. I never got to introduce myself, because you’ve either yelled at me or ignored me since I moved in.”
I didn’t take ahold of her hand. Her skin had felt way too soft and good against my own. I didn’t want to think of how those hands felt.
“Derek Summers,” I said. “What were you doing up on the roof?”
Jenna glanced up at the gutter that was now twisted from her desperate attempt to hold on. A grimace contorted her freckled face. “I was trying to fix a hole in the roof before it got too hot. I found a raccoon in my attic last night, and I’m confident it’s getting in through the hole up on the roof.”
“Do you even know how to patch a roof?” I asked skeptically. I know she had taken offense to my previous comments about her young age, but she just didn’t seem like the type of woman who could climb up on a roof and know what to do up there.
“It’s not that hard,” Jenna said, puffing up slightly. “I just have to take some of the shingles and nail it down. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
A chuckle escaped my lips of its own will. She paused in picking up the ladder from the ground, visibly surprised at the sound.
“That is not how you patch a roof,” I said, shaking my head. “If you don’t do it right, you’ll have snow and rain leaking into your attic. That will turn into an even bigger problem.”
“Right,” Jenna said. “So I’ll do it right then.”
I admired her stubbornness and pride; we had that in common. But I wasn’t in the mood to rescue her from the roof again because she didn’t check to see if the ladder w
as level and steady on the ground.
“Let me do it,” I said. I reached for the hammer that was tucked in the waistband of her jean shorts.
Jenna started back from me in a panicked fashion. I looked up in mild surprise to see fear, such intense fear, flicker there briefly before shame colored her cheeks. That was when I caught sight of the faintest hint of bruises that looked exactly like fingerprints on her forearms. Realization dawned on me then. Her skittish behavior, checking the locks excessively at night, and eyeing me with wariness made sense. All of it made sense. The defiance. The sharp attitude. Every single bit of it clicked into place.
“I can do it,” she said shortly, crossing her arms to hide the bruises. “Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.”
“You’re going to break your neck if you do it,” I said.
“Not that you care if I do,” she said. She turned on the heel of her bare foot. “Sorry to have bothered you. Better get back to sleep before your son comes home.”
Observant landed on that list too, far too observant if she’d already figured out my schedule. My eyes went straight to the tight curves of her ass cheeks in those frayed jean shorts she wore. I tore my gaze away when she turned to look back at me with a frown.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have come out here,” I said, walking back around to the driveway. “It’s better to fix the roof when it’s cool out, too, like in the evening.”
“You only want me to fix it in the evening because you’re awake then.”
“That too,” I said. “Keep it down.”
I heard a mumbled word that sounded exactly like “asshole” thrown at my back. I slammed my door behind me. Leaning against it, I rubbed the sweat from my forehead while I willed my heart to cool. There was no point in trying to lay back down to get a few hours of sleep. I couldn’t get those images of her bruises out of my mind. Whoever had hit her, he’d hit her hard enough to put her in the house next to me. She wasn’t from around here. That much I could tell from how sun-kissed her skin was. Somewhere from the coast, I imagined. Maybe Florida.