Walker Revenge (The Walker Family Series Book 5)

by Bernadette Marie

  She knew that was true. The Walkers never let anything break them. Not family feuds. Not greedy land grabbers. Not possessive ex-cops. They were forgiving and decent people.

  “I’ll stay,” she said softly. “I’ll take care of Russ, and I’ll stay.”

  Phillip smiled. “Good. He needs you, and you need them. It’s as if it were fate.”

  “Someone’s sick idea of fate.”

  He nodded. “If you can think of any reason someone wants in your house, you let me know. I walked through, and I don’t see anything out of place from when we were there.”

  “I feel violated.”

  “That might be all they were going for. But you think about it, and you stay here. Everett and the boys know what’s going on, and I’ve even talked to Byron Walker to see if he knows anything. You know, if there’s something bad going down around here, he’s usually got a hand in it.”

  She couldn’t help but let a little laugh slip. Byron Walker was known for being mischievous and backhanded. “He knew nothing?”

  “Nope, but he’s keeping his ears open too.”

  “Thank you,” she said reaching up and touching his arm. “You have no idea how much all this means to me.”

  “Just doing my job.” He turned and walked toward the door before turning back. “Ya, know, if you ever need an extra hand with him, you might ask Lydia Morgan. She’s fantastic with kids,” he said and then walked out the door.

  Chelsea smiled as she thought of what he’d said. Only ever had eyes on one woman, and I find a way to seem like the idiot I have a reputation for being, whenever she’s around. To anyone it would have to be completely obvious who he’d been talking about. The only one that was that oblivious, she thought, was Lydia.

  Maybe she could talk to her about him. After all, he seemed to be very vested in keeping her safe. Perhaps it was the least she could do for him.

  Lucas stirred next to her, and she looked down at him. He was her miracle, and she loved him more than she ever could have imagined she’d love anyone.

  Feeling the strain of the day, she laid down next to him and closed her eyes. She, too, could use a little refreshing nap.

  ~*~

  Russell woke in his own room, but it had taken him a moment even to realize where he was. He needed to focus on getting stronger because those pain meds weren’t worth the hangover.

  He sat up and managed to scoot himself into a position where he was comfortable on the bed. His left arm was sore, and he took the sling off of it and tried to move it.

  It hurt like a bitch, but he’d focus on getting it back to normal. That would help him when they let him walk. He knew he’d have to use crutches for a while, so he might as well get that upper body strong.

  The door to his room opened, and he looked up assuming he'd see his mother or Chelsea walk through. He hoped for Chelsea. He owed her an apology.

  Instead, a woman in scrubs with little penguins walked into the room with a glass of water and a little cup of pills.

  “Hello, Russell. I’m Karen. I’m here to check up on you,” she said as she handed him the glass and the pills.

  “Where’s Chelsea?”

  “She’s only a student. She’s here to help you when you don’t have a nurse here. I’m here to oversee your care and supervise her.”

  He looked at his hand. “What are these.”

  “Simply some Tylenol.”

  “Good. I don’t want that other stuff. I don’t like them.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but it keeps your pain down.”

  “I’m fine with pain. I’d rather get over this and get back on my feet.”

  She smiled in a way that told him she heard that all the time, but he truly meant it. He hated the thought of his brothers picking up his slack. There was no reason he couldn’t do some of his own work around the ranch. He’d talk to them about it. For a bit, he’d need to do things closer to the house and easier for him to get to in his wheelchair, but he could do something.

  Never did he think he’d be begging for chores, but he felt as though not only his body was suffering but so was his mind.

  Karen turned toward the dresser and opened a bag he’d never seen before. She took out a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope and walked back to him.

  “Let’s see how you’re doing.” She put the cuff on his arm and adjusted it.

  “So Chelsea is still here? She’s still going to work with me?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said as she put the pieces of the stethoscope in her ears.

  He waited until she’d pumped up the cuff, let the air out, and removed the stethoscope from her ears before he spoke again. “She didn’t quit?”

  “Well, I’ve only been here a few hours. I talked to her, and she didn’t mention it.”

  “So she’s still in the house?”

  Karen took the cuff from his arm and placed both items back in her bag. “She was feeding her son when I saw her last. It didn’t look as if she were going anywhere.”

  He let the tension in his shoulders ease when she said it.

  “What do you say to getting bathed?” she asked and the tension formed again. “The shower stool is in place. I’ll get some wrap for your incision and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

  He only nodded, but the thought that this would normally be part of Chelsea’s job filled him with mixed emotions. When his heart rate kicked up, he realized that the excited emotion had won over.

  Russell knew he was a horrible patient. His mother had told him that most of his life. Knowing that his accusation had hurt Chelsea, he decided he’d work on being a little more cordial. After all, if he weren't, he’d never get out of that bed on his own and he’d have Karen giving him a shower for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Eleven

  As a man, Russell could easily fantasize about a woman giving him a shower, and he’d been known to. But he was fairly sure that having Karen shower him might have ruined all his fantasies.

  Before Karen had left, she’d gotten him dressed, helped him into his wheelchair, and taken him out to the kitchen where his mother was cooking dinner.

  “You look fresh,” his mother said as Karen let herself out.

  “I feel better. But I’ll admit, I’ll be happier when I can shower myself,” he chuckled and reached up onto the counter to take an apple from a bowl.

  He set the apple in his lap and managed around the island with one hand.

  “Who will be eating with us?” he asked as he took a bite of the apple.

  “Dad, Gerald, and Ben are finishing up that shed out on the far west field. So I’m going to take this out to them. With Gia back, Dane is staying in town with her.”

  “One less mouth for you to feed.”

  She shrugged. “I’m happy when my boys move on, but I miss having them at my dinner table.”

  Of course, she hadn’t mentioned the names he’d been hoping for, yet she’d said she was leaving to take dinner out to the others. She was setting him up to ask, so he might as well take her bait.

  “Where are Chelsea and Lucas?”

  She didn’t answer right away and continued putting together the meal she’d been working on.

  Finally, she lifted her eyes to him, and he could see they were pained and a bit misty. “Lucas wanted to go see the chickens again. She put him in the old wagon in the garage hoping to keep him from the mud.”

  “So they’re still here.”

  His mother set the spoon she’d been using down on the counter and braced her hands on either side of the bowl in which she’d been stirring.

  This was a stance he’d grown accustomed to in his teenage years, but he’d have to admit, he hadn’t seen it in a very long time. He was about to get his ass chewed, and he was a fully grown man.

  “I’m very surprised you’re even asking about her, the way you dismissed her and all.”

  “I was wrong,” he said as sympathetically as he could, trying to divert the storm about to come.

  “
Damn straight you were. You had no right to accuse her of being the one who drove you off the road.”

  “I didn’t say that.” He held up a hand in protest.

  When she turned, he saw the fire in his mother’s eyes, and he knew she’d understood the context just fine—correct words or not.

  “You know that’s what you were asking her. How could you possibly think she had anything to do with what happened to you?”

  “All of this seems to have a strange underlying coincidence, which doesn’t have anything to do with me, but has a whole lot to do with her.”

  He could see his mother’s jaw tense. “That may be the case, but just coincidence.” Her eyes went sympathetic. “Someone is messing with her. I suppose if they knew you were an important part of her life, then…”

  “But I wasn’t. She left me and moved on. I haven’t been a part of her life in years, Mom. Why would someone hurt me because of our past when we weren’t connected now?”

  Her shoulders dropped. “I don’t know, honey. I just don’t want to see her hurt, or that sweet baby. I know she hurt you—deeply—but I can’t turn her away.”

  Russell let out a breath. “I don’t want her to go either. I’ll try to be a better patient and stay calm.”

  “When it’s over, and you’re back on your feet, then you two can decide your own path.”

  With his right leg, he pushed the chair toward her and looked up at her. “Mom, I’ll do this for her, because I once cared for her. But there is no path for us. I can’t trust her with my heart, no matter what I might have felt.”

  He swore he saw a tear in her eye, but it vanished as she nodded and went back to stirring the pot. There was more she wanted to say, and he knew that. But she refrained.

  Russell backed himself up and maneuvered his way to the table as his mother packed up the dinner she’d made for his father and brothers.

  Before she headed out, she informed him that there were three places set for him, Chelsea, and Lucas. She’d be eating with the others.

  A few moments later, Chelsea and Lucas walked into the kitchen. Lucas ran straight to the back door and pressed his nose to the glass.

  Chelsea chuckled. “He’s obsessed with the chickens and the horses. Eric took him for a short ride today,” she said, as if only making small talk.

  “It’s a perfect place for a little boy.”

  She nodded as she picked up the plates his mother had left for them. She placed one in front of Russell and another next to him, then went back for the other.

  “C’mon, Lucas. Mrs. Walker made you spaghetti.”

  “Yum,” he called out, and hurried to her. As he approached the table, he stopped and looked up at Russell. There was no crying or laughing, no talking or pointing, he only stared.

  Russell smiled, but Lucas didn’t return it.

  “I don’t think he likes me,” he said as Chelsea picked Lucas up and set him on her lap.

  “He just doesn’t know you yet, and your face is still bruised,” she assured him as she kissed her son’s head and began to work around him to get his food ready for him.

  “If you’re going to be staying, looks like we need to get him a highchair.”

  She lifted her head and met his eye with a hesitant stare. “We’re staying.”

  Russell nodded. “You should stay. I was wrong to talk to you like I did earlier.”

  Chelsea gave Lucas a breadstick, and he bit into it while she kept a steely eye on Russell. “You’re admitting you were wrong? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you…”

  “Stop,” he said with a wince. “I know I don’t admit to being wrong—ever. But I was. You have no reason to have hurt me physically.”

  “Because I already hurt you, emotionally?”

  “Did you want to fight?” he asked feeling the tension between them building.

  Chelsea shook her head and then ran a hand over Lucas’s hair. “No. I don’t want to fight. I’m grateful for what your family is doing for us. Being here to help you recover is the only thing I can do to repay them for their generosity.” She looked down at the plate just to her side. She picked up her fork and twirled the noodles on it, then set it down. “Someone broke into my house after Phillip and I were there last.”

  “What are they looking for?”

  “I don’t know,” her voice dipped, and he watched her bat away a tear. “Russ, he kidnapped Lucas once. What if he’s planning it again? What if…”

  He reached his hand to her arm, which held Lucas, and touched her gently. “Sweetheart, nothing is going to happen to him. I’ll see to it personally.”

  “Why?”

  Because I love you, were the words that rang in his head, but he sure as hell wasn’t going down that path again. He was sober and not on any drugs at the moment. “I care for you,” he said, settling on the words. “We may not have the future we’d once planned, but I wish you no ill will. And he doesn’t deserve to grow up with his mother afraid.”

  Lucas picked up the second breadstick on his plate and held it out to Russell. “You eat,” he said and lifted the stick toward him.

  “That one’s yours. I have some.”

  “You eat this,” he said again, urging Russell to take it.

  The tears had dried in her eyes now, and love lit in them. It stung. She used to look at him like she looked at Lucas.

  Russell took the breadstick. “Thank you.” He then picked up the one on his plate and handed it to Lucas. “Here, you have this one.”

  Lucas grabbed it and held it to him. He looked up at his mother and smiled wide.

  They’d had a moment of bonding. Russell would take it. It was warm and comforting to him, and because of the feelings that were stirring inside of him, he wanted to continue to have moments like the one they were sharing. That would only happen if he could keep his mouth in check and his attitude calm.

  Chelsea was making a mental list of things she needed from her house. The highchair was one of them. Perhaps she could have Dane or Gerald take her into town, and they could stop by her house. Surely Phillip would approve of that if she weren’t alone.

  She’d like to have one of the baby gates and Lucas’s toddler bed too. They’d been making some potty training progress until they’d been displaced. She’d have to start all over again, but that was okay. But his potty was at the house too.

  “Are you going to eat that?” Russell asked, and she realized she was only spinning her noodles on her fork, not actually eating.

  “My mind is in other places.”

  Lucas pushed away his plate and began to wiggle in her lap as though he were fighting to get down.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” she argued with him. “You’re a mess, and Mrs. Walker doesn’t need you running around here like that.”

  She picked him up just as Glenda Walker walked back into the house with the box she’d taken with her to feed the others.

  “Well, look who ate dinner.” She moved toward them and reached her hands out to take Lucas. “That makes me feel good. Did you like dinner?”

  He nodded and then pointed to Russell. “He eat my dinner.”

  Russell held his hand in surrender. “It was a gift.”

  Chelsea laughed. “I’ll get him cleaned up. You don’t want him right now. He’s a mess.”

  Glenda urged her with a wave. “I’ll take him, and we’ll get cleaned up. Nothing would make me happier.” She pulled Lucas to her and gave him a kiss on the head. She then looked between Chelsea and Russell. “I think he has some pain meds due soon.”

  “In twenty minutes,” Chelsea assured her.

  “Good. We’re going to go clean up, and then play a little if that’s okay with you.”

  A warmth spread through her and Chelsea smiled. “Of course. Thank you.”

  “Oh, no. Thank you,” Glenda said, as she carried him away.

  Chelsea watched her carry him off, and a part of her wanted to cry from the sadness that he loved spending time with someone other than her
. The other half was emotionally grateful that Lucas had someone like Glenda to love him. Her mother wasn’t close and Dominic’s mother—well, that thought alone scared the hell out of her.

  She was a nasty woman whom Chelsea had hardly known. Even Dominic was afraid of her, and he didn’t fear anything—obviously. She’d been the mastermind behind Dominic taking Lucas in the first place. It was her evil plan to keep what she thought what was hers and hurt Chelsea just as she’d felt her son had been hurt.

  “You do see what’s going on, don’t you,” Russell spoke again, snapping her from her trance. “You’re worried about your ex-husband, but my mother has kidnapped you both,” he said smiling.

  “Doesn’t seem so bad.” She laughed as she walked back to the table and picked up her plate and Lucas’s.

  “Why don’t you sit and eat now? You’ve gotten skinny. I assume this is why. He eats, and you clean.”

  “I should…”

  “You should sit down, finish your dinner, and we could have a real conversation before you give me those stupid pills.”

  She contemplated his offer for just a moment before sitting down next to him and eating the cold plate of spaghetti.

  She was so consumed with eating that it took her a while to realize that Russell was sitting there staring at her.

  “What?” she asked, her mouth full of spaghetti.

  “I’ve missed this.”

  “Staring at me?” She swallowed, and then wiped her mouth.

  Russell chuckled. “Yeah, that too. But I meant I missed us sitting together, being civil.”

  Chelsea moved her food around again, something she realized she did when she was horribly nervous. “Russ, I’m sorry again that I…”

  “Don’t,” he said reaching for her hand and holding it in his.

  She gasped at the feel of his skin on hers. His thumb brushed her knuckles. It was so very familiar, and yet so removed that it felt new.

  “I can’t help it,” she continued. “This is all my fault. All of it. I hurt you. I hurt your family. I hurt my own heart,” she rambled on. “Now you’re hurt, and I’m hiding. This is horrible.”