Bad Boy Heroes Boxed Set

by Patricia Ryan

  Tucker turned away and sauntered into the living room, surprised he felt left out. After all, he was the one who’d made it clear to Doc that he didn’t want to be around Danny Donovan’s son. But for some reason, the sight of the two of them at the computer, with Tucker looking in, resurrected the sight of his stepfather and Mac, the old man’s real son, all those times when they’d excluded Tucker.

  Christ, why was he going there? It had been a long time since he’d thought about Ralph Pearson, though he heard from Mac occasionally. Tucker dropped down on the couch in the early evening darkness, flicked on the TV with the remote, propped up his feet on the old chest that served as a coffee table and sipped his beer.

  But instead of the candy-ass game-show host asking if you’d like to win a million bucks, Tucker pictured Pearson’s face. He saw the man the night Tucker’s mother died, and his expression which said, Now I’m stuck with you. He saw the man hug Mac, tell him how proud he was of his success in the baseball game, while Tucker lagged behind. He saw the man’s wallet with only Mac’s picture in it. And he saw the empty seat in an audience full of loving parents on graduation day.

  An abrupt buzz startled him from his memories. At first he thought somebody had won the grand prize on TV. But when he heard it again, he realized it was the doorbell.

  And knew it was Beth Donovan, coming to get Ron.

  He should call the kid to answer the door. He should go upstairs and avoid her. Instead, he stood, tucked his black T-shirt into his jeans, slicked back his hair and went to the door.

  From under the glow of the outside lamp, she smiled real soft at him. Her hair shone like sable. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, and her chestnut eyes sparkled. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” His gaze narrowed on her. He hadn’t realized how thick her eyelashes were.

  “Is, um, Ron ready?”

  “Ron?” He stared at her blankly. “Oh, yeah. Come on in.”

  He stood aside and once she was in and headed to the living room, he closed the door and hit his head with his hand. Idiot, what’s got into you?

  Following her, he said, “Go on through. He’s in the back office with Doc.”

  “He’s working in the office?”

  Tucker noticed she looked taller tonight. Must be those boots she wore. Just like an outlaw. He grinned. “Yeah, they’re on the computer.”

  “That doesn’t sound like punishment to me.”

  “Punishment?”

  “This community service is supposed to be…unpleasant.”

  Tucker came close and squeezed her shoulder. “It was, up until about ten minutes ago. Doc had him cleanin’ out the garage. Dirtier work than diggin’ ditches; it had to be done for when the car’s chassis is delivered.”

  “When is that?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  She glanced to the back of the house. “Is that the room?”

  “Uh-huh. Go on in.” He forced himself to stay where he was.

  Giving him a smile that reminded him of the ones shy girls had shot his way in high school, she headed back. He dropped down on the couch to watch the people in the audience cheer on the contestant. She was a pretty blonde—his type. Tucker had always liked his women tall and slender with breasts that could more than fill a man’s hand and long legs that could wrap around him.

  “Aw, please Mom, five more minutes. I just got into this site and I wanna see…”

  Tucker tuned out the rest. What the hell was the kid doing? Wanting to stay here?

  In his peripheral vision, he saw Beth come up beside the couch. “He doesn’t want to leave yet.”

  “So I heard.”

  Glancing around nervously, she shrugged. “I…I’ll wait in the car.”

  He bolted off the couch. “The hell you will. My mama’d skin me alive if I let you do that.”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “I never noticed that drawl was so pronounced before.”

  Winking at her, he said, “Whenever necessary, ma’am. Let me have your coat.” She unzipped the tan canvas jacket she wore, revealing a simple red-and-black plaid flannel shirt that she filled out real fine, tucked into jeans that were hug-me tight.

  Clearing his throat, he took her jacket. “Want a beer?”

  “Sure.” She eyed his. “I like Corona.”

  “A woman after my own heart.” He grinned and, feeling like he’d just qualified for a Winston Cup race, went to the fridge. When he returned with a beer, she was checking out his trophies.

  He stayed across the room from her. “Here’s your beer.”

  She pivoted and angled her head. “This is impressive.”

  Carelessly he shrugged, set the bottle on the table and sank onto the couch. She took the hint and joined him. “You don’t like to talk about racing, do you?”

  “Nope.”

  She sipped her beer and gave a satisfied sigh. “You aren’t going to have a choice, though, are you? When the publicity for the exhibition starts.”

  Frowning, he shook his head. “I’m lookin’ forward to that about as much as eatin’ liver and onions.”

  “Ever since Danny’s death, you’ve shied away from publicity.”

  He stared at the screen watching the slick host get in a few jokes. “You know, you can watch this show, Jeopardy and reruns of The Price is Right all at once with some careful channel surfin’.”

  “Hmm.”

  He could feel her eyes on him.

  Finally, he met her gaze. “They were always wantin’ to know about it. How I felt.” He drew in a deep breath. “I agreed to publicity stuff for the exhibition race here under duress, as they say.”

  “It’ll come up, about Danny, since the race is in Glen Oaks.”

  He watched her face for signs of resentment. Again he saw none. “Will it hurt you?”

  She shook her head. The action dislodged a strand of hair from behind her ear. His hand itched to replace it, but he gripped the bottle instead. “Not me.” She glanced toward the back room. “I’m a little worried about him, though.” Then she sighed. “So, what else is new?”

  He hadn’t planned on asking. “What’d he say about this weekend? I heard him tell Doc he was bored.”

  “Thank God for boredom.” She sighed heavily. “I guess it went okay.”

  This time, he did reach out and squeeze her shoulder. “Let’s hope it stays that way. Murphy said it should.”

  “You talked to Joe about this?”

  “Um, yeah.” For a long time. “I ran into him and it came up,” he lied.

  “It’s so weird. Having Joe back, in charge of Ron’s case.” She studied Tucker’s face. “Having you here, working with him. Working with the town.”

  “Life’s a bitch.” He heard the bitterness in his tone.

  “No, I think it’s good you’re back. And Joe, too. He’s got unresolved issues.” She frowned. “I think he’s suffered. A lot.”

  Tucker had had the same impression about the solemn man with the haunted eyes. Felt some kinship with him.

  “You, too,” she said softly, reading his mind.

  “Nah. I don’t have any unresolved issues.” He glanced at the TV again. “Now don’t that beat all. The guy’s gonna win a million bucks tonight.”

  She said nothing, so he looked at her. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Beth. I ruined your life.”

  “No, Tucker, you didn’t.”

  “Yeah, he did,” they heard from a few feet back.

  Both turned.

  Ron Donovan stood behind them, hands jammed in his jeans, the collar of his leather jacket turned up.

  And pure venom in his young face.

  *

  LOOSE Anderson was a mean son-of-a-bitch. Having lived in the city most of his life, he said he needed to be mean to stay alive. Ron always thought he liked being tough.

  “Scram, jerk,” Loose barked at the freshman who followed him into the boys’ john. “I got business in my office.”

  The pimply kid clutched his clarinet case like it was
a shield and did an about-face. Ron turned his back to wash his hands.

  “How’s my man?” Loose asked as he hiked himself up to sit on one of the sinks, shook out a cigarette and lit up. His brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. It always looked dirty.

  “Your man is in deep shit, Loose. Put that thing away, will ya? If I get in any more trouble, my ass is fried.”

  Loose took a long drag, then butted out on the small ledge near the mirror. His black eyes sparkled like they always did when he was excited. “Yeah, but you been to the pen. That’s awesome.”

  “It’s not the pen.” Ron thought about the stark cell with its gray walls. And bars. He’d been scared shitless the first night there. The jail was minimum security, with no hardened criminals in sight, but he’d been hit with a mega-bad case of claustrophobia when the door had clanged shut. He wondered what Loose would say if he knew Ron had wished for his mother so bad it hurt. “It’s a goddamned cell, is all. I get to stare at the walls for twenty-four hours.”

  Tell me about it, Ron, Murphy had said.

  I don’t wanna talk about it.

  I can help.

  I…was scared, being in there all alone.

  What else are you scared of, son?

  “Hey man, you spacing out again. I swear this Quaid thing’s got you by the balls.”

  “Whose got Ronny by the balls?”

  Ron turned to see Maze LaMont swagger into the bathroom. Dressed in pure black—a slinky shirt, worn jeans and boots—his bleached-blond hair had been spiked into several points. Beneath it, hostile blue eyes stared out at the world. Though he never let it show, Maze’s eyes made Ron shudder sometimes. The three of them, along with Sammy Shecker—who was more of a gofer and on the outskirts most of the time—had formed their own group of sorts.

  Ron, you’ve got to stay squeaky-clean now. Your mom’s worried about the guys you hang out with. Was Murphy right?

  “The Menace’s got Ronny dangling.” Loose laughed. His father had worked at the racetrack since they moved out from the city, and thought Quaid walked on water.

  Quaid , who’d been having a cozy little chat with his mother last Monday night. Christ, Ron couldn’t even think about that.

  The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. “Sprung!” Loose exclaimed, jumped off the sink and high-lived it with Maze. “Come on, my man, we outta here.”

  Maze swore colorfully and they turned to Ron. “Sorry you can’t come, Ronny boy. We got these chicks lined up at the cottage.” His grin revealed yellowed teeth. “They squeezable as hell. And I’m tryin’ to lure Lily White into coming out.”

  Lately, Ron had been relieved when lie couldn’t go with them, but he’d never let on. And he hoped Lily didn’t go, though he wasn’t sure why. “Breaks my heart, Maze.”

  “See ya.” The boys bumped into somebody on the way out. “Watch your fuckin’ step,” Maze spat out.

  “You watch your filthy mouth, LaMont.”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry Mr. Johnson.” Loose grabbed Maze by the arm. A wild card, there was no telling who LaMont might pick a fight with, or what he might do. Rumor had it at his last school, he knifed the principal.

  Johnson was shaking his head as he came inside. His brows lifted when he found Ron there. “Hi, Ron.” The teacher scowled. Glanced behind him. “I know this is none of my business, but you shouldn’t be hanging out with those guys. You or Sammy.”

  Ron picked up his books. “We’re buddies.”

  “They’re on the downslide. I don’t think you are.”

  “Mr. Johnson, I’m the one who’s going to jail. Not them.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Everything.” He checked his watch. “Want to come and work on the computers? My department meeting was canceled.”

  Ron smiled before he remembered. “I gotta be at my community service by four.”

  “Hmm. Well, I’m heading out to the lake after school. I could drop you off. That way you could get a good half hour in on the CAD program.”

  It was too much to resist. And this way his mother didn’t have to take him to Holt’s. Didn’t have to get near Quaid. Maybe Ron could call Uncle Linc to pick him up. “Yeah, sure, if my old lady says it’s okay.”

  Johnson gave him a playful punch on the arm. “You can call her from the math office. Come on kid, let’s go see that machine.”

  Forgetting all about his mother, and Loose and Maze, Ron followed the teacher out of the lay.

  Chapter 10

  *

  “THIS WAS A great idea.” Annie took a bite of her Caesar salad and munched on the lettuce. “And this place is terrific.”

  Margo sipped her minestrone. “I love it. I used to eat here all the time with Philip.”

  “Used to?” Annie asked. There was something about Margo’s tone.

  “Yeah, he’s on my shit list.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t want to know. It’ll ruin all our appetites.”

  Annie surveyed her best friends. They were dressed in their usual attire, which always gave her a sense of security. She herself wore layers of black leggings, a black Spandex top and a light blue sweater over them. Beth had on a pretty angora sweater in deep pink, which she wore with dark slacks; it set off her coloring. Margo stayed typecast, too, in tight brown jeans, suede boots and an off-white sweater. The three of them were so different now, but it didn’t matter. They were closer than most sisters.

  Beth toyed with her quiche and said nothing. She wasn’t even paying attention.

  Annie and Margo exchanged glances.

  “Bethy, you okay?” Margo asked.

  Her head came up quickly. “Yeah, sure.” She looked to Annie. “You?”

  “I guess I just hope the kids’ll be all right.”

  Beth asked, “Isn’t Suzie with them?”

  “Uh-huh. It’s just that I don’t like leaving them overnight.” She took a taste of her iced tea.

  “Hey, we agreed, time for a girls sleepover.” Margo sighed. “I miss you guys.”

  Beth’s look was shrewd. “I know this is really all for me, but I don’t need baby-sitting. I’m okay.”

  “You cried when we dropped Ron off at Lancaster this morning,” Annie said. “You need distraction.” She studied the decor. Like so many of those in the city, the restaurant was long and narrow and paneled in deep mahogany. There were about twenty tables. The three of them sat in the front, facing Madison Avenue through a huge picture window.

  Gently, Beth touched her hand. “You’re spacing out, too.”

  Annie nodded. “I’m worried about Joe being around the kids.”

  “No need for that,” Margo told her. “Joe’s not in Glen Oaks this weekend.”

  “Oh.” She scowled. “How do you know that?”

  “I, um, met him for coffee right around the corner from here this morning.” She pointed to a building across the street. “He’s got some business over there today, he said.”

  The thought discomfited Annie. “What did he want with you?”

  “To assure me that he’s recovered. That he’s not going to hurt you or the kids.” She shrugged. “He thought it might ease your mind if he could convince me, since I’m such a tough nut to crack.” She grinned on the last accurate description.

  Beth sighed. “He’s not going to hurt them, honey. I believe that in my heart, but in any case, Linc’s always there; he’ll watch out for them.”

  “Linc already has too much on his plate.” Annie shook her head. “He doesn’t need this.”

  “He thinks he’s responsible for everything.” Glancing away, Margo watched pedestrians cross the busy avenue. “He needs a woman in his life to give him balance. Damn, I hate even saying that.”

  Neither Annie nor Beth spoke.

  “I’m just sorry it can’t be me.”

  “I am, too.” Beth’s gaze was sympathetic. “I think he’s really lonely.”

  As always, Margo grasped for any crumbs she could get about Linc’s life. When she heard he had a d
ate, or was serious about somebody, Annie knew it killed her, but she asked anyway. “Did he say that?”

  “In so many words.” Beth grasped Margo’s hand. “After the fight you two had on the phone.”

  “He told you about that?”

  “Not the details. Just that he hates to fight with you. He misses you, Margo.”

  “We haven’t talked since then. It’s why I didn’t go to Glen Oaks this weekend.”

  “Instead, you stayed in the city, lured us to town, therefore avoiding Linc.”

  “Yeah.”

  Margo stared out the window at the building she said Joe worked in.

  After a moment, Annie tracked her gaze. “I wonder what kind of building that is.”

  “I’ve been in there several times. It has offices and studios and stuff.”

  “Linc told me Joe has a part-time job.” Beth watched out the window, too. “Maybe it’s in there.”

  Annie bit her lip. “From the looks of his clothes and car, it must be lucrative.” Her eyes closed briefly. “God, I hope he’s not into anything illegal.”

  “Linc talked to him about that, too,” Beth said. “Joe swears it’s not.”

  “Joe puts up a good front, Beth.”

  Deliberately, Margo pushed her food away and leaned forward on her elbows. “Do you still think about it?”

  “What, how he used to beat me up?”

  Beth winced. “Oh, God. I hope you don’t.”

  “I do. I make myself, so I won’t forget what a puppet I was. And so I’ll never let any man pull those strings again.”

  “You don’t let any man near you,” Margo said candidly.

  “And that’s not healthy either,” Beth agreed.

  Annie snagged Beth’s gaze. “I’m not the only one. You avoid involvement like the plague.”

  “I date.”

  “Yeah, you never made it to the sack with Roman Becker, though, did you?”

  “Nope.” Beth giggled. “I was afraid I might mess up his hair.” Beth got a faraway look in her eye and squirmed in her seat.

  “What?” Margo asked.

  “Huh?”