Robin in the Hood (Robbin' Hearts Series Book 1)

by Diane J. Reed

  Or, I should say, what used to be our lofty status.

  And that’s when a shiver sped down my spine.

  Who was my father, really?

  Royle?

  Doyle?

  Had anything about our lives been real?

  I took a deep breath and glanced over at the couch, where my dad was sleeping like a child, all wrapped up in Granny’s quilt. Though he snored as loud as a hacksaw and drool dribbled from his chin, his face appeared amazingly carefree, with his secrets still tucked far, far away from me.

  Yet strangely, a pair of men’s dress shoes now sat on the floor beside him. I saw a note next to the shoes, and I tiptoed closer to pick it up. In handwritten scrawl, it read:

  Silver Spoon,

  Hope you like the street clothes and shoes for your old man.

  Gotta blend in, you know. Oh yeah, and the Mazda fetched $700.

  —Creek

  “WHAT?!!!” I cried way too loud. “Creek sold my convertible??”

  My dad merely yawned and tugged the quilt over his head, falling back into a heavy snore.

  Spitting mad, I clenched my fists and dashed out of the trailer into the bright, noonday sun. All I found was an empty mud patch on the grass where my dream-came-true car used to be, along with another note on the ground.

  Furious, I snatched it up.

  By the way, that $350 that was in your uniform pocket went to pitch in for Brandi’s treatment this morning. She doesn’t know, so please keep it quiet.

  —Creek

  I have no idea how long I stood there, speechless.

  At first I wanted to scream and bang my fists on something—or someone—and then I wanted to cry.

  But how could I argue with the way he’d spent the money?

  After all, bingo lady would’ve thanked Jesus with a heaven-busting shout if she knew it had gone to medical care. And then she would’ve called Creek an angel.

  But since when do angels sport dagger-like scars on their cheeks and stalk teenage girls like me?

  Unless . . .

  This crazy, backwoods trailer park has got one hell of a Robin Hood on its hands.

  Heaving a big sigh, I sat down on a log on the ground, thoroughly frustrated. For all I knew, Creek might be watching me this very second—and he probably had designs already on the $700 in my fist.

  Just then, I spotted Brandi walking across the meadow out of the corner of my eye. She was expertly dodging the TNT Twins’ holes with her red, high-heeled go-go boots. They matched the vinyl mini-dress she had on, as well as a cascading red wig that completed her look. I couldn’t decide whether she resembled the red-head in that retro Viva Las Vegas poster that hangs at our local theater, or if she wanted to look like a firebomb waiting to happen. All I could say was, for a lady who had cancer, she sure knew how to dress out loud.

  “Howdy-doodle!” she called out, wiggling her bright red fingernails at me. “I got ham and beans with your name on it. You don’t even know it’s lunch time, do ya? Not that I’m calling you a sleepy head or nothin’!”

  Her voice was so grating I wanted to plug my ears, but who could argue with her smile as big as Texas? The woman glowed like good cheer on steroids.

  “Look what you got!” she gasped, staring at my hand. Before I could stuff the money in my pocket, she’d snatched my wad of bills. “Oh Lordy, it’s seven hundred dollars.” I saw tears instantly well in her eyes. “You know, Creek mentioned that you might want to donate a little somethin’ for my follow-up appointment tomorrow, but I just didn’t believe him, seein’ how we’re brand new friends and all. My gosh, honey, you got yourself a heart of gold!”

  “W-what?” I stammered.

  Brandi hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe. How she managed it with a plate of ham and beans in her hand defied logic, but something told me her shifts at the Moo & Brew Drive-Thru had fine-tuned her finesse. When she released me, I gasped for air like a beached fish.

  But I couldn’t help catching the deeply shaken look in her eyes. Like she’d witnessed a train wreck.

  I blinked for a second, but it was still there. Despite her day-glo green eyeshadow and stoplight-red lipstick, her eyes seemed filled with downright . . . fear.

  And in the harsh daylight, not even her spackled-on foundation and sparkly cheek bronzer could completely camouflage the ashy tone to her skin. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she looked almost like a . . .

  Dead woman.

  All at once, it hit me why Brandi wore such candy-coated outfits.

  They were her armor.

  The same way I used to hide behind my perfectly-crisp, pleated uniform, with my secret tool belt of Geisha skills tucked cleverly out of sight—so the mean girls couldn’t get to me.

  But Brandi was bracing herself against far more than snarky, trust-fund chicks. This was a woman who was fighting for her life.

  Swiftly, I saw her wipe away the tears that had slipped down her cheeks, forcing a big smile.

  “Aw, don’t mind me!” Brandi chirped in a bright tone that didn’t fool me one bit. “I just get weepy over the littlest old things.”

  She fluttered her hand as if she’d merely been over-excited, but I could see the raw courage in her eyes.

  “Tell you what, darlin,’” she quickly changed the subject, “I’ll go in yer trailer and serve these vittles to yer Pa right now. After all, one good turn deserves another! And maybe with my help, he’ll polish off the whole plate.”

  Brandi looked over my skin-tight clothes and gave me a sly wink. “See, we take care of our own here at Turtle Shores. And if you ask me, you look like you’re fixin’ to go out on a date.” She gave me a sassy click of the tongue. “So you just git along now, and I'll make sure yer Pa’s all taken care of. Might even persuade him to play a round of poker. Catch ya later!”

  Before I could get a word in edgewise, Brandi had breezed past me and into our trailer, shutting the door so hard she made it rattle.

  And I was left standing alone in my tracks, reeling.

  In what felt like a nano-second, I was back to square one. No, worse than square one—not only were we broke again, but now we were missing my Miata!

  “Ahhhh!!!” I fumed helplessly, kicking the dirt.

  Across the meadow, a boulder popped up. A head peeked out and stared at me, wide-eyed, like I’d managed to figure out the secret pass code.

  “You guys are nutso, do you know that??” I shouted with a hard stomp of my foot.

  He simply laughed till his rock costume jiggled, and when his boulder buddy popped up beside him, they did a fist bump.

  “That’s it! I am soooo outta here!”

  I stormed off into the thick forest, a good distance from the meadow, before I was tempted to throw something at the TNT Twins. Knowing them, it might start a firestorm.

  Besides, I just wanted a few minutes to cool down, regroup a little, and plan my next move. The last thing I needed was to allow the TNT Twins to see me get flustered—or worse—see me break down and cry.

  But as my legs marched like pistons through the dense woods and underbrush of honeysuckle, it occurred to me that I was being followed.

  Because every time I took a step, I thought I saw the forest shadows beside me darken a little, and it wasn’t like the sky had gotten overcast or anything. Then my skin began to tingle, and I even felt the small hairs stiffen on the back of my neck, as if something—or someone—was hovering way too close.

  Just like that time at the bank.

  Okay, I thought, it never did a girl any good to panic and try to hide from the alpha chicks at Pinnacle. They just saw it as a sign of weakness, and they’d hunt the poor girl down with their dirty tricks until they managed to crush her soul. So even though I did cave last night for that scary-crazy Granny Tinker, it was only because I was dead tired. Now that I’ve had some sleep and gotten my mojo back, it’s time to meet this Creek guy head on.

  I stopped and took in a deep breath to jack up my fortitude, then folde
d my arms.

  “LISTEN MISTER,” I said really loud, “I know you’re out here.”

  I turned a little, just to see if I might catch a glimpse.

  But there was nothing.

  Frustrated, I let out a huff.

  “And you should’ve asked me before you sold my car!”

  Silence.

  Not even the leaves dared to rustle.

  “That was my frickin’ car!!”

  Still nothing.

  I decided to go for the jugular—always my best tactic at Pinnacle. Find the soft spot and press until it really, really hurts.

  “So, how would you like it if I took something of yours? I know where you hide Dooley! Nothing’s stopping me from calling Child Protection Services right now—”

  In a split-second, the mystery man had dropped in front of me, leaves falling all around us, as if he’d jumped down from a tree.

  “You do that and you’re dead—”

  His large hands were around my neck in a heartbeat, all heat and hard muscle pressing down upon my skin, fully prepared to crush my throat.

  And I’m pretty sure my pulse ceased right then and there. I was so scared I felt like my brain had flatlined.

  But if I’ve learned anything from my incarceration at Pinnacle, it’s to stare down the enemy, no matter how terrified you are. Then kill ’em with a smile.

  “So, you gonna do me in the same way you knocked off your mom’s boyfriend?”

  I deliberately curled my lips into a wicked grin.

  “Aw, come on, can’t you show me some originality?”

  Creek’s whole body appeared as tight as a coiled snake. I swear to God, I could feel the heat of his anger radiating off his skin in waves. But his absurdly blue eyes—the kind that only belong to winged, celestial figures in Renaissance paintings—grew twice their size.

  Ha!

  I knew I’d found his tender spot then! He may be an incredibly tough customer, but at least he did have one bottomless wound that I could liberally dust with salt.

  “You did kill that guy, didn’t you?” I pressed viciously, trying hard to keep myself from trembling like jello. “Or is that just a nasty trailer park rumor?”

  Creek’s hold didn’t loosen a bit. But his eyes narrowed as he studied mine with the same intensity of Granny Tinker, as if he could somehow read the darkest corners of my heart that even I might not be aware of. Yet in his grip, all of a sudden I felt like we’d become one creature—one tense, balanced-on-a-razor’s-edge being—and if he dared to hold me much longer, I might just be able to see right into his most secrets places, too! With that thought, I felt the barest shiver run from his fingertips into my skin.

  So, I smiled to myself, who’s the predator and who’s the prey now?

  To my total surprise, Creek’s grasp seemed to ease slightly with my line of thought as if it had vibrated through my skin. And he very cautiously released his fingers one by one, leaving only the sweat from his grip that lingered upon my neck. His gaze seared into mine.

  “I had that asshole on his knees,” he seethed.

  Creek’s eyes were blue flames, so fierce and so very full of . . . rage.

  “But Dooley came.”

  His words hung in the air between us—bitter and painfully fresh—as though the incident had happened mere moments ago.

  Slowly, Creek raked his hand through his messy, blonde hair. His gaze never flinched from my eyes.

  I stole a deep breath—my first in what felt like a minute—and seriously considered making a run for it. But I knew my odds of escape at this point were infinitesimally slim. Instead, I swallowed hard, my mind racing to do the math.

  “So . . . you were about to finish the guy off, when Dooley . . .”

  I played out the scenario in my head.

  “Walked in?”

  Creek’s jaw clenched, then twisted.

  “And you let him go, rather than allow a child to . . . witness something like that?”

  “Smart girl, Silver Spoon.”

  I nodded, grateful to be breathing. But I didn’t kid myself for a second—now was the time to negotiate some kind of pact with this guy, or spend the rest of my trailer park days trying to outrun him.

  Dig out your trump cards, Geisha girl!

  “You know,” I said with every ounce of bravery I could muster, thrusting up my chin, “looks like we’re in the same business then, doesn’t it?”

  Creek cocked his head. His eyes appeared hard.

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, we’re both trying to take care of people we . . . l—lo—”

  I stumbled over the word, feeling prickles surface on my skin.

  “Love,” I finally spit out, embarrassed.

  Honestly, I’d never mentioned that term in connection with my dad in my entire life. And I wasn’t sure if I really meant it, or if I simply wished it were true.

  Because dealing with my father had always been like stepping into a hall of mirrors at a carnival. Every time I thought I was getting close to him, his reflection changed on me, and even now I wasn’t sure who the hell he was.

  “It seems to me,” I pressed on, hoping Creek hadn’t caught a whiff of my uncertainty, “that we both might be more effective if we joined forces to help our family members. You know, combined my female intuition and charm with your, um . . . street smarts? After all, I did beat you at the bank. Sometimes a soft touch works wonders! We could be the next Bonny and Clyde, like—”

  “Partners?” Creek said, incredulous.

  He wasn’t exactly wide-eyed anymore. In fact, he was—

  Laughing.

  A grin had burst on Creek’s face, as if the idea were beyond preposterous. And he rocked back on his heels with his thumbs in his front pockets as he let out a deep, throaty chuckle. His tousled hair fell loosely about his shoulders, pure gold in a shaft of light that had broken through the trees. And for the first time since we’d met, his face glowed with a warmth that was downright guaranteed to bowl most chicks over, even if it was at my expense.

  It was enough to make a girl . . .

  Pretty much keel over and drop dead of a heart attack.

  Seriously, this guy was public enemy number one, a pure menace to women’s health. There simply ought to be a law against anyone that beautiful running around wild and temporarily . . . unkissed.

  And I couldn’t help licking my lips, fantasizing about what it would be like to seal that kind of deal.

  When suddenly, I spotted it—

  A bold scar on his right bicep, inside a tattoo of a big, red heart.

  Like he’d scratched out someone’s name. And even more to the point: the name of a former girlfriend.

  Creek swiftly folded his arms, covering it with his large fingers so I couldn't see. A hint of red flashed on his cheeks.

  Ah, so you’ve got more than one deep wound, I realized, feeling as evil as those she-monsters who used to torment me at Pinnacle. But I have to admit, now that I’d tasted a little of their power, it felt truly intoxicating.

  Especially when the handsomest creature in the solar system was standing right in front of me with sunshine glinting off his flaxen hair and pure, unadulterated vulnerability in his eyes.

  Creek stiffened his back and swelled his chest a little, appearing tall and tough as nails, like usual. But I knew his secret now. He had a heart that had been broken once, and might still be in pieces—and I intended to exploit each and every shard in my favor.

  “Just what do you propose we do as partners?” Creek persisted with an edge to his voice, a bit too eager to divert my attention from that scar on his arm.

  I sucked up a deep breath.

  Oh, maybe make out till next Tuesday! I wanted to say, hoping he hadn’t somehow heard my thoughts on a breeze. But really, that face and physique all in one package? Truly God does display a twisted sense of humor on us poor girls.

  I shook my head to try and regain my focus.

  “Um . . . how about rob ban
ks?” I blurted in a quick save, hardly believing those words came out of my mouth. “I mean, think about it—after just a couple of big hits, we could be set. Right? No more money troubles.”

  “Like that whopping three-hundred-fifty bucks you got from Home and Hearth?” he taunted, shaking his head. “High roller, Silver Spoon.”

  Boy, oh boy—I was pissed off now.

  “For your information, that three-fifty was better than what you hauled in, as I recall. And if it weren’t for the Miata I, uh—borrowed—you wouldn’t have gotten the seven hundred, either. So don’t be callin’ me Silver Spoon. I’ve earned my keep.”

  “Then what should I call you?” Creek interrupted, leaning in closer to me. I could feel his eyes traveling over my ridiculously too-tight clothes, lingering on the tender curves they revealed, as if they’d been freshly picked just for him. Then the warmth of his breath brushed against my ear, sending every nerve ending I had on high alert.

  “Jail bait?” he whispered.

  Until that very moment, I didn’t think it was scientifically possible for every single skin cell in my body to blush in unison. Nevertheless, I’m quite sure that even my bare midriff had turned a bright, cherry red.

  Dammit! Creek had totally derailed me with that one. But I still had some fight left in me.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” I replied, slipping up my hand to skim the scar on his bicep. “After all, you brought me these threads.”

  There it was—a slight pink to his cheeks again. And I was all ready for round two, when I saw Creek’s blue eyes narrow a little.

  “Look, your little private-school getup was a dead give away,” he stated flatly. “And so was that shiny, red convertible—it had an electronic tracer. You’re lucky the cops hadn’t caught up with you yet, Hot Pants.”

  I blushed in equal measure.

  “But I do kinda get your point,” he said grudgingly. “We both have folks to look after here, and we’re the only breadwinners they’ve got left. So listen up. I’ll try giving you a test run. There’s a small store with an ATM that has lousy surveillance up the road. I’ve been casing it for weeks, and it’s an easy hit. With any luck, we could get a decent haul—if we play our cards right and don’t use weapons while we’re still young enough not to face federal time.”