Bad Boy Heroes Boxed Set

by Patricia Ryan

  Chapter 15

  *

  WITH A LONELY Saturday night looming ahead of him, Linc had to get out of here. Every once in a while, the walls of the church and his garage apartment started to close in on him; he imagined it was what hell would be like. The same thing had happened in his small bedroom at his grandparents’ house when he was young. It was why he’d gotten into trouble—in part, to alleviate the boredom, and in part to rage against God for his parents’ death and his grandparents’ ineptitude. Because of it, Linc understood Ronny’s angst. God’s divine plan in the works, he thought wryly.

  Switching off the last of the lights, he grabbed his battered bomber jacket, threw it on over his long-sleeved red T-shirt and jeans and was just locking up the door when a truck swerved into the lot. Please don’t let it be a parishioner in need of help. He wasn’t sure he had the strength right now to deal with anyone’s crisis.

  A bulk of a man bolted out of the car and stormed toward Linc. If he hadn’t had God on his side, Linc would have been scared. That, and the knowledge that he never forgot the street smarts that had saved him in sticky situations before.

  “I wanna talk to you, Reverend Grayson.” Sam DeMartino’s face was flushed and he smelled like gin. From the looks of him, Rosa’s husband was ready to go a few rounds in the ring.

  Linc’s instincts went on red alert, telling him not to underestimate the man. “Fine. Shoot,” Linc said without a trace of fear in his voice. Jesse James could bluff better than the best of them.

  “I don’t want Rosa coming to that group no more.”

  “Why?”

  “You filling her head with this self-esteem shit.” To underscore his attitude, he spit off to the side.

  “Rosa’s a wonderful person. She should think more of herself.”

  “She’s got a family to take care of. She shouldn’t be off with all those wacky women who don’t have nothing better to do.”

  “I don’t agree.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m her husband. What I say goes in my house.”

  “Sam, she isn’t a possession. She has rights.” He angled his head to the door. “Look, why don’t you come in, we’ll talk about this and maybe—”

  “I ain’t coming in. And maybe Rosa ain’t coming back to church, neither.”

  “I really hope that won’t happen.”

  DeMartino stepped close. He was a bruiser of a man who towered over Linc by a good head. His shoulders were as wide as a coke machine. “It will. If you don’t stay outta her head. This is between a man and his wife.”

  “It’s also between a woman and her God.”

  Sam’s fists curled. Linc felt his whole body tense. He raised his chin and stared up at the man, just as he had the street thugs in New York all those years before.

  And just like them, Sam backed up a step. “Go to hell, Grayson.”

  Linc blew out a heavy breath as he watched Sam stalk away, get in his car, and burn rubber wheeling out of the parking lot.

  Leaning against the church door, Linc closed his eyes. Damn it. First Margo, then this. Defenses down, he allowed himself to think about her. She’d been in town all week and had avoided him. It was a matter of pride that he’d left her alone, too.

  Ah, Linc, pride is the work of the devil.

  I don’t wanna talk to you right now.

  You don’t get to pick and choose when we talk.

  Why the hell not?

  Because I’m God, that’s why.

  Linc snarled at God as he strode to his motorcycle. Though it was still too cold to be riding it, he’d dragged it out of the garage anyway, hoping to work off his pique with a long ride. He thought the wind and noise would drown out his Maker’s advice as he got on, kick-started the bike and spun toward town. Since he was staying away from Bethy’s diner, he decided to escape to the drugstore soda fountain and eat.

  God followed him right inside.

  Tell me why you’re angry.

  You’re God , Linc sacrilegiously told the voice in his head. You figure it out.

  *

  JOE STARED OVER to where his mother perched primly on the couch. He’d stopped at his old house on a whim to see Grace Murphy, mostly because he was so lonely he couldn’t stand working in his office any longer on a Saturday. He’d sat with her for a half hour, chatting companionably. She looked older than when he’d left six years before, now sporting totally white hair and more lines on her face. She still wore those flowered housedresses with a sweater no matter what time of year it was.

  Just then Suzie walked in with Faith after dance class; he felt like God had given him a gift.

  Suzie called hello and headed upstairs. His daughter made a running leap for him. “Dad-dy!” she said throwing herself into his arms.

  Standing to catch her, he savored her solid little body. As he hugged her, he listened to her chatter about her plans; she was spending the night with her grandma while Matt had a sleepover with a buddy. Joe wondered what Annie was doing. Did she date? Was some other man kneading her sore muscles, putting her to sleep?

  Don’t go there. It’s dangerous territory.

  Trouble was, since he’d been back in town, his mind had been going there without his consent. He thought about Annie a lot, sometimes in sexual ways. He had to admit, though, that it was good to feel alive again. For years he’d had no interest in sex; his therapist had told him guilt and depression did that to a person’s libido. He’d had a few casual relationships since he’d come out of the funk, but nothing serious.

  Face it, buddy, Annie’s a tough act to follow.

  “Joey? What are you thinking about?” his mother asked.

  “I was thinking about Annie.”

  A spark of anger lit Grace’s eyes and her thin frame tensed. “Faith honey, go see if Aunt Suzie’s almost ready.”

  Faith bounded away and Joe stared at the faded flowered couch where his father used to drink his Molsons. When he’d had enough, he’d start with his fists.

  Just like you.

  Oh, God.

  Grace straightened a doily on the worn wood table. “I think it’s a sin. Annie not letting you see the kids more. She’s a hard woman.”

  Annie’s pale face whenever she was in his presence appeared before him. “Annie’s got reason. We need to talk about that, Ma.” For weeks he’d tried to get Grace to address the issue of his abuse, and his father’s. But she had always circumvented the discussion and, coward that he was, he’d let her.

  “No reason’s good enough to abandon your husband.”

  “Is that why you stayed with Pa?”

  Grace’s eyes narrowed on him. “Don’t be playing the psychologist with me, Joey Murphy. I don’t need a shrink. I need a son.”

  He heard Faith and Suzie upstairs, and knew he couldn’t get into this now.

  “Well, you got him.” Joe stood. “How about if he comes over Tuesday and takes his ma to lunch.” Maybe they could talk then.

  “She’d love that.” Grace eyed him carefully. “Maybe you’ll tell her how you afford those highfalutin’ clothes.”

  Joe looked down at his black chinos, silver Polo sweater and hand-tooled boots. Underneath which he wore scandalous underwear. He saw Annie’s face again—the look in her eyes when he stood before her almost nude. It hadn’t been totally unpleasant. He grinned. “Maybe I will.”

  “You sure you don’t want to come with us to the movie?” Grace and Suzie were taking Faith to see a remake of The King and I.

  “I’d love to come, but Annie wouldn’t like it.”

  “Shouldn’t need permission to see your own daughter.”

  “I deserve it, Ma. It’s what I want to discuss with you.”

  Clatter sounded on the stairs. Suzie appeared in the doorway carrying Faith piggyback style. Joe had a sudden image of Suzie, at Faith’s age, and how he’d carried the little pigtailed girl around just like that. Suzie’s pretty eyes flickered, and he wondered if she had the same thought.

  Faith slid to
the floor. “Can Daddy come with us?” she asked.

  Even Suzie looked torn.

  “Nope, sweetheart.” He bent down for a hug. “It’s your night to spend with Grandma and Aunt Suz. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a chaperone. And only for the afternoon. It wasn’t nearly enough. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “Keep a stiff upper lip.”

  She smiled. “It means be brave. It comes from…” She scrunched her face up, again looking like Suzie used to look.

  “We’ll check tomorrow.” He stood and hugged his mother. He wanted badly to hug Suzie. But he didn’t chance it.

  With one last wave, he grabbed his leather coat and strode to the kitchen, feeling like a leper in his old house, an outcast from his own family. The depth of the emotion blindsided him. He’d just opened the door when he felt a hand on his arm. Turning, he found his sister standing before him. Her eyes had lost some of their animosity over the last four weeks, but there was still a wariness embedded in their cornflower depths.

  After a brief hesitation, she reached up and hugged him. He felt his eyes sting. She whispered only, “I remember all those piggybacks, Joey.”

  “Good.” His voice was raw. He held on to her tight, drew back and gave her a weak smile.

  Then he went out into the night.

  Alone.

  *

  TUCKER WAS GONNA lose his ever loving mind if he didn’t get out of the house. Which was why he was driving Doc to town. Doc, who had a freakin’ date. With Gerty Stoffer.

  “It ain’t a date,” Doc grumbled, tugging at the collar of the starched blue dress shirt he’d put on.

  “Yeah? Then what’s got you smellin’ like a field of daisies?” Doc swore colorfully. “I told ya. Gerty’s at the diner alone with Nana. I’m gonna help out.”

  He tried not to ask. “Oh, um, where’s Beth?” Please don’t say she has a date. With Roman Becker. Whose hand she’d held in the diner the week before.

  “She’s out with her girlfriends tonight. Seems that pistol Margo arranged somethin’ for the three of ’em before she goes back to the city tomorrow.” In the headlights of oncoming cars, Doc smiled. “She sure is a handful. Needs a good man to tame her.”

  “You must be losin’ it, old man. She’s…” The kindest woman I’ve ever known. The sweetest. The sexiest…“She’s an angel.”

  “Who the hell you talkin’ about, boy?”

  “Beth.”

  Doc shook his head. “I was describin’ Margo. You got a one-track mind these days, Tuck.”

  A little too fast, Tucker pulled up to the diner. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

  Doc didn’t get out right away. He seemed to think for once before he spoke. His tone was grave when he finally said, “It’d be a mistake, son. The boy…the town…the past.”

  Tucker wilted into the Jag’s seat, laid his head wearily on the leather, and closed his eyes. “I know.”

  “Wanna come in and eat with us?”

  “Nah, I’ll get somethin’ in town.” He shot Doc a wiseass grin. “Wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”

  “Bullshit.” Doc opened the car door, but before he got out he squeezed Tucker’s arm. “Take care, boy.”

  “Hey, The Menace is fine.”

  After Doc was inside, Tucker stared out into the semidarkness. The town was deserted for a Saturday night at six. Hell, there wasn’t much to do in this hick place, where they rolled up the sidewalks at dusk.

  He should go to New York. Jamming his fists in his pockets, his hand connected with a card there. From Tara Snow. All day Monday she’d purred like a kitten wanting petting. Call me, she’d said when he’d dropped her off on Main Street after spending a boring several hours taking pictures around town. Like his mama had taught him, he’d escorted her to her car; once there she’d reached up and kissed him, a big openmouthed kiss that had him grabbing onto her for balance.

  She’d slid into her car and he’d headed toward his Jag only to stop like a man struck blind to see Beth staring out the diner window. Damn, she’d seen the kiss. He just knew it.

  For long seconds, he’d simply watched her. Then he’d gotten in his car. It was best she think he was the worst kind of playboy…

  A tap on the side of his car jarred him. He looked out to see Joe Murphy at the door. Tucker lowered the window.

  “Hi, Tucker. Something wrong? You been sitting here awhile.”

  “Nope. Nothin’ wrong. I just dropped Doc off and was tryin’ to decide how to fill up my night.”

  “Me, too. I was thinking about getting something to eat.”

  Tucker glanced at the diner. “In there?”

  “Nope. They’re closing early tonight.”

  He looked after Doc. The liar.

  “I just saw Linc go into the drugstore,” Joe told him. “Wanna check out the food there with me?”

  Hell, he didn’t have anything to lose. Tucker exited the car and accompanied Joe down the street.

  Sure enough, they found Linc at the soda fountain, staring at a menu. He looked like a lost little boy. Come to think of it, so did Murphy. When Tucker caught a glance of himself in the mirror, he chuckled. They were Peter Pan and his friends to a tee.

  Joe and Tucker slid onto stools flanking Linc. The Reverend looked up at them. Tucker recognized the loneliness in his face, the need for company. “You eatin’?” Tucker asked.

  “I was thinking about it.”

  Joe scanned the menu. “Some Saturday night dinner, huh?”

  “I could go for southern ribs and cornbread right now,” Tucker mused.

  Joe looked at Linc. Linc smiled at Joe. “The Crocodile still open?” Joe asked.

  “Yep. Dinner’s till eight, then some down and dirty dancing.”

  “What’s The Crocodile?” Tucker felt perked up all of a sudden.

  Joe didn’t look so sad either. “Just about the best rib place outside of New York City.”

  “Yeah? Far as I can tell, you Yankees don’t know beans about ribs.”

  It became an issue of pride. Their hometown reputation had been challenged. The two other men stood. Puffed out their chests.

  “You think so, Rebel?” Linc asked.

  Tucker laughed. “I’d downright bet on it.”

  They each grabbed him by an arm. “You’re on. We Yankees gonna show you how wrong you are.” Linc’s voice took on a Western accent. Tucker was reminded of the Outlaws.

  “And you’re gonna pay, Reb, if we’re right.” Joe fell into the byplay.

  Tucker let himself be dragged out. “Ain’t gonna have to shell out a dime!”

  Suddenly, for all three, the night ahead seemed brighter.

  *

  “NO WAY IN hell am I going to wear that.” Annie stared at the shirt Margo held out as if it were see-through with cutout boobs. “Where’d you get it, anyway?”

  “At Hot Spots.” She glanced at Beth who sat on her bed sipping a glass of wine. “It’s where Ronny gets all his Tshirts.”

  “Oh, well that convinces me.” Annie’s tone was dry.

  “Damn it, you guys. You’ve turned into regular lily-livered matrons.”

  Before she could stop herself, Annie wondered where that phrase came from. Joe would know. It’d be in his book.

  Beth’s eyes narrowed on Margo. “Not after you got done with our hair.” She fingered the curls Margo had put in her usually straight locks. It was wild, bouncing all over the place, but it looked great on her. Sexy.

  “Your hair looks terrific that way, Bon. It frames your face; you could model for a shampoo commercial.” Annie turned back the mirror. “Now mine, on the other hand…”

  Margo came up to stand in back of her. “It looks mag.” Margo had straightened Annie’s curls just until they fell in soft waves to her shoulder; then she’d pulled a few strands back off her face with a clip. Her bangs feathered across her forehead. “You’re ever the lady, Belle Star.” She held up the Western shirt. “Which is why you need this fringed thing. With
your denim skirt and boots, you’ll be all set for some fancy two-steppin’.” She arched a brow. “You ain’t afraid, are ya, girl?”

  Sucked in by Margo’s charm, Annie grinned and stood. She whipped off her cotton blouse, snatched the shirt out of her friend’s hand and donned it. “Oh God, I can barely button this.”

  Margo giggled. “That’s the point. Besides, Crocodile’s is out of the way. You won’t see anybody you know there.”

  It did look sort of sexy. And the silk felt good against her skin. And it had been so long since she’d cared about her appearance….

  Margo grasped her shoulders. “It’s time you looked like a woman again, Annie. You’ve got a great build from dancing. Show it off a little.”

  “Maybe just this once.” She angled her head to the bed. “If she does.”

  “Me?” Beth glanced down at her jeans and shirt. “I look fine.”

  “Fine won’t cut it.” Margo strode to the closet where she’d hung her clothes for the week. She dragged out a pair of leather pants. “Here.” She tossed them to Beth. “We’re the same size. Put these on.”

  “Over my dead body.” Beth fingered the black leather. “God they’re soft.” A vest joined the pants.

  “Come on. It might just spruce up that plain white blouse you got on.” She winked at Annie. “If you don’t wear a bra.”

  Beth’s eyes narrowed on Margo. “You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?”

  “Nope. You’re a chicken. Even wimp Annie’s braver than you are.” Margo proceeded to select her own duds from the closet. She chose an oversize suede shirt and a short matching skirt.

  “That’s not so daring,” Beth said as she watched Margo.

  With flair, Margo pulled out a suede halter top. “It is with the top unbuttoned and this underneath.”

  “Oh, God, if Ma Barker dares wear that…” Standing, Beth put down her wine, whipped off her shirt, then unclasped her bra and threw it at Margo.

  They all giggled like kids.

  Ten minutes later, they stood in front of the mirror.

  Annie said, “Who are those women?”

  “The girls we used to be.” Margo’s smile was a little sad.