WILDER DAYS

by Linda Winstead Jones

  She’d never been able to defy convention the way Del and Noelle did. The years her father had spent pounding the expected responsibilities into her had not been wasted. Then again, maybe the ability to say to hell with expectations was genetic. Del had it, so did Noelle. Vic was more like the mother she’d never known, the woman who’d died when Vic was only three. She liked that explanation better than the little voice that sometimes whispered that she was very much like her traditional father.

  She placed her folded arms on the bed and watched Del sleep. Heavens, he was gorgeous! His face, his body. Her eyes swept down that body and her eyes came to rest on the marking on his chest. It was small, faded, but all too clear. Her smile died slowly. Vic, the name surrounded by the outline of a heart, had been tattooed over Del’s own heart. She reached out and touched it, gently tracing the letters in her name. He hadn’t forgotten her when he’d walked away. With that name there for him to see every day, he hadn’t forgotten her at all.

  “I was very young, and very drunk,” he said sleepily, his hand reaching up to gently capture her own.

  She wanted to cry, for everything that had gone wrong. In that instant she hated her father for what he’d done, for what he’d taken from them. In the past she’d tried to reason that even though he was wrong, her father had only done what he’d thought was best. She couldn’t fool herself that way any longer. Will Archard was a controlling, manipulative man, and she hated him for what he’d done.

  “You can only imagine what it was like showering with a bunch of marines with the name Vic tattooed on my chest,” Del teased.

  She traced the heart while Del continued to clasp her wrist in his large, warm hand.

  “Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered.

  “I’m not,” she said as a single tear slipped down her cheek. She sniffled, chased the tears away and looked him in the eye. “Did it hurt?”

  “Hell, yes.” He managed to give her a lazy grin.

  She wondered what he’d say if she told him she wasn’t asking about the tattoo.

  “Come on,” he said, pulling back the sheet and inviting her in. “I’m not ready to get out of bed. Not yet.”

  She gratefully joined him in the bed, snuggling against him, finding that perfect resting place for her head, there in the crook of his shoulder. And she wondered if when they finally left the bed and this room, the truce they’d called last night would be over.

  Vic poured coffee for three and smiled at Shock. “Don’t you sleep?” she asked.

  “Not much,” Shock admitted as he took the mug she offered.

  “He probably slept half the night, sitting in the car at the end of the road,” Del said.

  “Did not,” Shock muttered defensively. “And if I did take a very short nap, I made sure there was someone wide-awake sitting right beside me.”

  Del glared.

  “Stakeout is the most boring part of the job,” Shock argued. “Hey, Vic,” he said, eager to change the subject, “that friend of yours, Wanda. Is she seeing anybody?” The question was accompanied by a waggle of his eyebrows.

  “No,” Vic answered as she added sugar to her own coffee. “Not at the moment.”

  “Girl like that, pretty, smart, mouthwatering figure, she probably has to fight men off with a stick.” Shock wrinkled his nose.

  Del couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Shock was nervous. About a woman.

  You’d never know it to look at him, but Albert Shockley was never without a woman. He wasn’t good-looking by anyone’s standards, he wasn’t tall or muscular. But he had charm—there was no other word for it—and women came on to him all the time. He had a gift for making each woman feel special.

  And he never got nervous. Or serious.

  “She has how many kids?” Del asked.

  Shock shot a narrow-eyed glance Del’s way. “Three boys, and I’m sure they’re all very well behaved.” He turned to Vic. “Right?”

  “They have their moments,” she said, apparently trying to soften the blow. “They are boys, after all. Seven, nine, and ten years old.”

  “Oh. But they spend most of the day in school, right?” Shock asked.

  Vic wrinkled her nose, trying not to smile. “Summer vacation.”

  Shock smiled widely. “I’ll bet they spend at least part of the summer with their dad. Where does he live?” He looked as if he were hoping for someplace far away from Alabama. Someplace like Alaska.

  Vic’s smile faded. “Wanda’s not divorced. She’s a widow.”

  “Ouch,” Shock muttered.

  Del’s radio saved them all, coming to life with a crackle and a tinny voice. “We have two men headed for the door,” a man on the day crew piped in. “No sign that they’re armed, one of them is an old guy. What do you want us to do?”

  Del pressed the button on the side of the walkie-talkie. “Stand by.” He took his pistol from its place at his spine and headed for the front door, and Shock put down his coffee cup and easily slipped his own weapon into his hand. Shock cut into the living room, where he’d be out of sight but ready.

  Vic was on Del’s heels. “Stay in the kitchen,” he ordered.

  “I will not!”

  He cast her a sharp glance that made her hesitate before continuing to follow him. “It’s probably nothing. A salesman or the preacher or a...”

  Del looked through the peephole. “Or your father.”

  Vic went still and white. “He never comes here,” she said softly. “Why now?”

  He looked down at her. The bastard really had her in knots. It wasn’t right. “You want me to get rid of him?”

  The change was quick and sure. The color came back to Vic’s face, her spine grew rigid and the light in her eyes dimmed. “No.” This was Vic prepared to do battle, this was the woman who had learned to get by without anyone’s help. He hated that, in a way. He wanted her to lean on him, to ask him to take care of her problems for her. But she was all grown up now and she took care of her own problems. “I’ll handle it.”

  With her chin high she opened the door, poised for battle, steely-eyed and outwardly calm. Inside, he didn’t think she was calm at all. She was prepared for the sight of her father, but not for the man who stood behind Will Archard. Her face went white.

  “Preston,” she said, her facade faltering.

  The asshole, live and in person.

  Will Archard stepped into the house without being invited, and his eyes immediately lit on Del. “And you are?” he asked, his air superior, his nose out of joint. How could someone who was no more than five foot eight look down at a man who stood a good six inches taller? Archard certainly tried.

  “Oh, we’ve met,” Del said, offering his hand. He waited until he had Archard’s hand in his before he finished. “But it has been a long time. Del Wilder.” He grinned tightly. “Remember me?”

  The old man paled and his lips thinned.

  “Is Noelle here?” Preston asked as he followed Archard into the entryway. “I told her I’d be here this week.” He glanced at his watch. “We tee off in twenty minutes. I don’t have much time.”

  “Preston,” Archard said, his voice rigid, “this is Del Wilder. I believe you’ve heard the name.”

  Preston appeared to be only slightly distressed, but he did offer a meaningful lift of one eyebrow. “I do hope you’re not here to stir up trouble.” He returned his attention to Vic. “Victoria, is Noelle here?”

  “No, she’s not,” Vic answered. Confused, she glanced from one man to the other. “What do you two want?”

  Archard pressed the thumb and forefinger of one hand to the bridge of his nose. “The company picnic is next weekend. Had you forgotten?”

  “Yes,” Vic said.

  “I thought so.” Archard’s voice hinted at his despair. “Ryan Parrish will be in town. He’d like to escort you and Noelle—”

  “No,” Vic interrupted. “Absolutely not.”

  “It’s a family affair, Victoria. You and Noelle should be there.
How does it look when my only child refuses to be involved in even the smallest way...”

  “A picnic,” Del said. He’d had enough of this. Not hitting someone was growing more difficult by the second. Unfortunately, that was not an option. “Oh, baby.” He draped an arm around Vic’s shoulder. “I can’t wait. I love a picnic.” He laid his eyes on Archard. “Are you providing the beer or should I bring my own?”

  “As charming as it would be to include you, Mr. Wilder,” Archard said tightly, “this is strictly for employees of Archard Enterprises and their families.”

  Will Archard liked to intimidate, and probably always had. With his haughty air and his beady eyes it was clear he was accustomed to getting his own way. He’d pushed Vic around for the last time.

  “But I am family, Pops,” Del said irreverently. “Or have you forgotten.”

  “You had to tell him, didn’t you,” Preston said, his comment directed at Vic. “You couldn’t just think of what’s best for Noelle and leave things as they are. Were,” he added with a frown. “Please tell me you haven’t told Noelle that this miscreant is her father. She’ll be mortified.”

  Miscreant? Where the hell were these people from?

  Del looked down at Vic, who stood close beside him as if she were trying to hide. No wonder she was so afraid. “I could have them arrested,” he said.

  Vic shook her head softly.

  “I’d like to see you try something so ludicrous,” Archard seethed.

  Del grinned crookedly as he took his ID from his back pocket and flipped the leather case open to display his badge. “Would you really?”

  The tension in the air was thick, so heavy he could almost touch it. Archard didn’t like to lose; neither did Del.

  “Come on, Will, we’re going to miss tee off,” Preston said. He was, at least, suitable frightened by the sight of Del’s badge. “We don’t want to make Ryan and Curtis wait.”

  “No,” Del said, taking a threatening step forward. “Don’t make your golf buddies wait. That would be rude.”

  The two backed out of the front door. When the door closed on them, Vic breathed a sigh of pure relief.

  Del placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay, baby. They’re gone.”

  She shook her head. “Does it strike anyone but me as odd that my father still likes to play golf with the man who… who...”

  “They deserve each other,” he said.

  Vic was shaken by the brief visit, and he couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and kiss her lightly on the forehead, to lay his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t want anyone to take care of her. She needed someone to take care of her more than anyone he’d ever met.

  Shock appeared, silently coming up behind Vic. He’d been so still and quiet, there in the living room, Del had almost forgotten his partner was in the house.

  “Man, what a couple of dweebs. And stiffs! If you shoved lumps of coal up their butts, you’d have diamonds in less than a week.”

  Vic laughed. Not loud, and not hearty, but she did laugh.

  Shock’s expression softened as Vic turned away. He wasn’t blind to what was going on, what Vic had been through. “Wanda,’’ he said, changing the subject. “She does at least have a mother in town who can baby-sit a lot, right? Right?”

  Her father and her ex stopping by had ruined the morning, but Vic refused to allow them to spoil the entire day. Noelle was safe and Del was her lover again. It wouldn’t last, she knew that, but while it did she wanted to enjoy the feel and smell and taste of him.

  So she dismissed the unpleasantness her visitors had brought with them and left in her heart, and concentrated on more agreeable matters. It was easy to do, when Del kept coming up behind her and touching her, laying his hands on her in a familiar way, kissing her for no reason at all.

  She was in the pantry looking for the peanut butter when he came up behind her and pulled the door shut, leaving them in very close quarters with no light but for the dim bulb that shone overhead. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, and said the words she didn’t want to hear.

  “We need to talk.”

  “No,” she said, rising up on her toes to kiss him lightly. “Talking is highly overrated.” She and Del did much better when they didn’t talk, when they let their bodies communicate without words.

  Del absently unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and let his fingers trail lazily between her breasts. “Once Holly shows up, things will start happening fast. Too fast.” One finger trailed up to her neck and back down again. “I want this settled before then.”

  Her heart climbed into her throat. “You want what settled?”

  Del laid his eyes on her face. She wished he would smile, but he didn’t. She wished he would forget about getting anything settled and just kiss her.

  He didn’t. “You said it was too dangerous for Noelle or anyone else to know that I’m her father. Do you still believe that to be true?”

  She licked her lips. “Del...”

  “Do you?”

  She loved her daughter. She would do anything and everything to protect Noelle. But love balanced out a lot of bad stuff. Noelle deserved a father who loved her, a father who would be there when she needed him. If Del could do that...

  “I think maybe I was wrong,” she said, her voice not rising above a whisper. “I think Noelle would be very lucky to have you as a father. It won’t be easy,” she added quickly. “Nothing with Noelle is ever easy. She fights everything.” Good and bad, right and wrong. “You’re so much alike.” More than they knew. Did anyone see it but her? “I have a feeling the two of you are going to butt heads, and when that happens I don’t want to be anywhere near by. But the day will come when you’ll be close, I just know it.” She took a deep breath. “When this is over, we should tell her. Together.”

  Del smiled and reached up to hook a strand of hair behind her ear. The move was simple and intimate and unexpectedly arousing. “And what about you?” he asked.

  “What about me?” she whispered. Her heart hammered against her chest, she couldn’t breathe. A part of her wanted to kiss Del to silence him, touch him in a way he couldn’t resist, and then make love to him right here. Against the wall, on the floor. Anywhere. The physical aspect of their relationship she could handle. It might not last, but she understood it. Anything more than that scared the hell out of her.

  But she did nothing but grab a fistful of Del’s T-shirt and hold on tight, while she rested her nose against his heart. There, where he had her name carved on his skin, burned into his flesh.

  Del wasn’t going to let her get off easy. He cupped her chin and made her look him in the eye. “You need me.”

  “I...” She started to argue, but didn’t get far. The normally easy argument died on her lips, and she had to force it, harsh and unyielding. “I don’t need anyone.”

  Del didn’t seem at all surprised by her response. “You need me.”

  Vic’s heart hammered too hard. She didn’t need anyone, not anymore. She was all grown up, and if she leaned on Del and he left again it would kill her. “I’m not a kid anymore,” she insisted.

  “Neither am I,” Del countered. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t need you.”

  He was talking about physical need, she knew, and that she could handle. “Now?” she whispered. “Here?”

  Del smiled and shook his head. “Well, yes, but, dammit, Vic, why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” He leaned down and placed his face close to hers. They stood there eye to eye, nose to nose. A simple shift of her head and they’d be mouth to mouth. “Last night, you said you loved me.”

  Her heart hitched in her chest. “I did not!” she insisted.

  “You did,” he said, not at all offended by her response. “Half-asleep, well loved...” His smile faded. “Did you mean it? Or was it just part of an old dream?”

  It would be safest to tell him she hadn’t
meant it, that she wanted nothing beyond what they’d shared last night. But the words caught in her throat. Did she still love him? As much as she had before, more even. Did they have a chance at something beyond the occasional truce?

  Yes, they did. They definitely had something. That was the reason she hadn’t given any thought to protection since that first night they’d almost made love. Del was maddening at times. He’d turned her world upside down. But he was not temporary.

  “Del...”

  His cell phone rang, and he cursed low and long as he placed Vic on her feet and unclipped the phone from his belt.

  “What?”

  She watched as Del listened to the caller, and his anger was replaced by something else. Surprise, then obvious fear.

  “They’re not a part of this,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Whatever you want. Anything...” He looked Vic in the eye, and she didn’t like what she saw there. Not at all.

  “Let me talk to the kid,” he said.

  Vic’s knees went watery. Noelle.

  “Two seconds!” he argued when his request was apparently refused. Del’s face went white as he listened to the caller.

  “Is she okay?” she whispered.

  Del’s answer was a quick nod of his head.

  “I want to talk to her.” As much as she needed to breathe, she needed to talk to her daughter.

  Del shook his head in an abrupt refusal and lifted a finger to silence her.

  A second later, he hit the button to end the call. “That was Holly. She has Noelle and my mother,” he said, forcing calmness into his voice.

  “Are they okay?” Vic asked.

  Del nodded. “It’s me Holly wants.” He turned, opened the pantry door and stalked away.

  He was going to trade himself for Noelle and Louise, she knew it. “There has to be another way.”

  He shook his head.

  It wasn’t fair. She wanted Noelle safe, but she also wanted Del alive and safe and with her. Dammit, why couldn’t she ever have both? Her daughter and the man she loved. Two halves of her heart, never whole, always wanting. “I’m going with you.”