by Marie Harte
He speared her with his stare. “Would you go with me?”
“Did you not just hear me? Free dinner? Of course.”
The relief he tried to hide brought tears to her eyes, so she pretended to choke on her coffee to hide her compassion. Man, she hadn’t figured on today being so emotional. Learning about each other’s likes and dislikes had seemed a simple enough thing. Smith hated chocolate but liked fruity treats. He loved soccer, hated football, and wasn’t into shopping. At all. But he’d walked and talked with her, held her hand a few times, and glared at anyone who walked too close.
And he kept trying to buy her stuff, which freaked her out. So used to being the one to cater to others, she didn’t know how to handle someone being there for her. God, he had to stop being so darned sweet. He was making her fall for him, something she swore she wouldn’t do so soon after being dumped by Cody.
Looking back, she had trouble understanding how she could have thought herself in love with him. He’d been slick and handsome but nowhere near as attentive and kind as Smith.
Erin sipped her coffee and pondered her dilemma. “Tell me about Cash,” she said to Smith. And as he described a man very much like himself, she wondered how she could help Smith deal with his family problems. Or if she should. None of this was her business. Heck. She could barely deal with her own messy life.
An apartment on the fritz. An argumentative landlord she needed to please to keep her rent affordable—or what passed for affordable in Seattle—and an ex-boyfriend she hadn’t gotten the nerve to deal with. Cody continued to leave her messages, and she knew she needed to resolve her past to make a new future. Why ignore him any longer? She should just talk to him and put him in her rearview mirror.
But… it had only been two weeks since he’d dumped her. Only? It felt like a lifetime ago. She couldn’t imagine being with Cody now after having known Smith.
Still, the realization that so little time had passed cautioned her to slow down with Smith. Just because she happened to find a decent man under all his bluster didn’t mean hearts and flowers and forever would follow. That was nonsense.
So she kept her smile in place, asked the right questions at the right times, and enjoyed the rest of her day with Smith. Then she went home to fetch Tilly’s dinner and fell asleep in her own bed by herself. Wondering when she’d stop feeling so alone and be content with her own company.
* * *
Smith didn’t know what had gone wrong. He couldn’t pinpoint when Erin’s attitude had changed, but he had a feeling he’d ruined things by getting all emotional in the coffee shop. She still laughed and smiled with him, but she seemed distanced.
Or he could be imagining it all, because what the hell did he know about women?
“Hey, dickhead, watch where you’re going,” a large man in fatigues and a short haircut yelled at Finley, who was trying to move a monster of a table by himself down a hallway. Finley ignored him and managed to find the elevator.
Friday’s schedule needed everyone out in the trucks. Smith would love to know who’d made the assignments. Today he had a three bedroom move in an apartment that fortunately had an elevator. They’d parked the truck outside, with Stan, one of the ex-air farce guys, as he liked to call them, guarding the truck. The neighborhood fell on the dark side of shady, and the sheer number of questionable types in the building and the surrounding area reinforced the notion. He could see why the small family of five wanted to move.
Between Stan, Smith, and Finley, they had the house covered. Stan guarded the truck while Finley and Smith moved the family’s belongings. Only Mr. Chen stayed behind, his wife and kids already at the new place in Tacoma.
“I’ve packed up the last of the kitchen items,” the man told Smith, who nodded.
“Thanks. We’ll have it moved out and all set to go in no time.” Smith figured another two hours at this rate. They could move faster if they’d had one more body, but with everyone so spread out, they’d made do with what they had.
They needed Stan right where he was. A truck full of goodies had drawn too much interest, in Smith’s opinion. He would have helped Finley move a few items, but he didn’t trust the neighbors not to help themselves to Mr. Chen’s boxes. And Mr. Chen would be little help. The guy seemed afraid of his own shadow.
The large man moving down the hallway lingered by Mr. Chen’s open door. Smith stood just inside and stared at the guy. A few feet shorter but bulked up with more meat than muscle, this nosy neighbor would prove to be a problem. Smith could feel it.
He wanted to tear the guy a new one, especially when the fucker made eye contact and sneered. “You leaving anytime soon? Your guys are blocking the hallway and hogging the elevator, asshole.”
Smith wore his work uniform. Not a good idea to go off on anyone without provocation. Not liking the guy’s looks wouldn’t cut it. He knew beating up dickheads went beyond the scope of his employment. But it would be so satisfying to break this guy in half. He’d been casing the apartment since they’d arrived that morning.
Smith decided to answer the man. He stepped forward, until they stood nose to nose. More like nose to forehead. “Yeah. I’ll be leaving as soon as all of Mr. Chen’s things are moved out. Not one single box had better go missing, or I’ll have to stick around and look for it.” He glared at the guy. “We’re a full-service company, and we take our clients’ security seriously.”
The big dude snorted and scrubbed his military short hair. If this dick had served a day in any service, Smith would eat two helpings of Naomi’s gross chocolate cake—which he prayed she didn’t serve the following night.
Finley returned. “Excuse me, No-neck. We have shit to do.”
Smith would have called him on it except Finley had been talking to the asshole blocking the door, not him for a change. Though slighter than Smith and a lot more glib, Finley had done his time in the Navy as a Master at Arms, what the Navy called their military police. The guy joked too much, had a stupid sense of humor, and liked to perform magic tricks that Smith would never in a million years admit stumped him. He didn’t seem all that intimidating, but Smith had a feeling Finley could hold his own.
He wondered if he was about to watch shit go down. No-neck turned to Finley and glared. “You talking to me?”
Finley grinned. “Well, I’d call him No-neck” —he nodded at Smith— “but I have other names for him. Like Staff Sergeant Grumpy. Or Thanos. Or Satan, which seems to fit the more I come to know him.”
Smith tried not to laugh. Showing amusement would only encourage the Navy idiot.
No-neck looked confused, and Finley slipped by him to grab a box.
Smith did his best to be professional. “Buddy, you’re blocking the door. We need to get done so we can get out of everyone’s way.”
The guy took another step forward. “Tell you what. Me and my bros are gonna come in here and see what we need. We’ll take a few boxes off your hands. Maybe a TV or stereo. Then you guys can have all the time you want.” He whistled and two of his friends appeared from a door down the hall. Neither looked too intelligent.
From what Smith could tell, they didn’t carry weapons. The shorter blond man looked more pudgy than muscular. His dark-haired friend had muscle but walked stiffly, as if injured or recovering from an injury. Both men looked up to no good, though, and they backed up their friend with mean smiles.
Smith grinned back. “Thanks so much for this,” he said with all sincerity to No-neck. He turned and spoke to Finley behind him with a nervous looking Mr. Chen. “Finley, can you help Mr. Chen get the rest of the stuff staged in the hall and living room? I have something to take care of.”
“Need help?”
“Nah. But lock up, would you?” He shoved No-neck back as he stepped forward into the hall. The door locked behind him. “Now, I’m warning you. I’m unarmed, just here to do a job for Mr. Chen.” He cracked his knuckles and rotated his shoulders, feeing the adrenaline surge. It had been so long since he’d gotten
to break something.
He laughed. “Okay, which fuckhead goes first? You gotta hit me though. Then I can claim self-defense when I end you.”
The guys behind No-neck looked at each other then turned and walked away. Crap. “Hey, No-neck. Your pussy girlfriends left.” That would set the guy off.
Smith wasn’t wrong. The bulky man aimed for Smith’s face, but Smith ducked back.
“The gut. Go for my stomach.”
No-neck frowned but aimed at Smith’s stomach. Smith tightened his core and stepped back to mitigate the blow. It packed little enough punch. But the impact made it okay to hit back.
A minute later, the idiot lay on the floor with a broken nose and clutching his dick. Smith hadn’t broken a sweat. He waited, praying for someone with balls to join in. No one did.
The bully on the block lay in agony, his groupies apparently too scared to make a move with their illustrious leader on the floor. Smith leaned down to grab the collar of No-neck’s sweatshirt and pulled the jerk down the hall.
“Which one is yours?”
“17,” the guy wheezed, pulling at his sweatshirt to keep it from choking him.
Smith turned to see Finley once again carrying boxes toward the elevator, Mr. Chen grinning widely behind him.
Finley looked at him and shook his head. “Show off.” The pair disappeared into the elevator.
Once in front of Unit 17, Smith banged on the door.
A sullen teenager answered it. “Yeah?”
The kid looked down the man on the ground and started laughing.
“He yours?” Smith asked.
“Unfortunately. DNA can be a bitch.”
Smith smothered a laugh. “Well, keep him locked up before he hurts himself. He ran into a door by Mr. Chen’s. It’s pretty slippery down there.”
The kid gave him a thumbs up before glaring down at his…father? Brother? Something. “Yo, Ma,” he yelled over his shoulder, then shot a grin at Smith. “Petey tripped in the hallway and broke his nose.” The kid left the door open but made no move to help Petey inside. “Thanks, dude.”
Smith shrugged and left. A glance behind him showed Petey crawling into the apartment. Then the door slammed closed.
He passed another few doors until one opened, showing a little girl. She carried a stuffed dog and wore a tiara over rows of braids tied back with light blue fasteners. “Hello.”
He stopped, a sucker for kids. “Hey. I like your dog.”
“This is Pup-pup. Ruff, ruff.” She made the dog pretend lick his leg.
He grinned.
Behind her, a frantic woman, probably her mother, rushed behind her and gave Smith a wary look.
Smith held up his hands. “Just passing by. I’m with Vets on the Go! moving Mr. Chen out today.”
The lady paused, then looked out the door, up and down the hall. “Everything okay?”
“Yep. No problems.”
She nodded, looked pensive, then asked in a hesitant voice, “Do you think you could do me a little favor? It wouldn’t take but a few minutes of your time. I can pay you.”
Not much, from the state of what he saw inside and the condition of the apartment complex. But she looked a little desperate, and the kid was adorable. “Let me finish with Mr. Chen. I’ll be back.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
After he finished helping Finley move the rest of Mr. Chen’s items, Finley and Stan drove the truck to the new address. Smith would take his truck to the next move on the list to help out the Jackson brothers.
Mr. Chen was so grateful tears came to his eyes, which made Smith feel awkward.
“It’s no trouble. Seriously.”
But Mr. Chen refused to let him leave without giving him a few vouchers for his new restaurant in Tacoma. Something Smith didn’t think he’d ever use, but he accepted the gift all the same to soothe the man’s pride.
He knocked on the door of the stuffed dog handler and her mother. It opened quickly. Again, the lady looked up and down the hallway before encouraging him to enter.
The apartment looked clean and neat though rundown, the furniture beaten, the paint on the walls dingy. A little house had been fashioned from sheets and pillows over a table, a collection of stuffed animals and dolls surrounding her castle. The girl waved a magic wand made from a wooden spoon tied with sparkly ribbon and addressed her many toys as her “royal subjects.”
He waved. She grinned and waved back, showing a missing front tooth.
The mother drew his attention toward the kitchen, where a medium-sized refrigerator stood near an empty space. The woman shrugged. “I paid good money for the delivery, and the guys just dropped it off and left since I refused to pay them an extra fifty!”
He frowned. “You should call the store and complain.”
She rolled her eyes. “Honey, if I’d bought it from a store I would have. This came from Abe’s downtown.” At his blank look, she said, “Abe’s has all sorts of stuff you might need at a discounted rate.”
“Sure.” Made sense. She hadn’t said it was a pawn shop. And he didn’t ask where she thought it might come from. “So, you need help moving it back and installing it?”
“I have twenty-five bucks I can give you.”
Money that would be better spent on her kid and herself.
“Hold that thought.” He had no problem muscling it into place or plugging it in. It fit without a problem. When done, he turned to her. “Look, while I’m here, you need anything else moved?”
The woman brightened. “Actually, I do.”
He spent the next hour using her tools to fix her bed and her daughter’s broke-ass dresser. He also moved the couch against the far wall, where the woman, Martha, had wanted it in the first place.
“You, Smith, are a lifesaver.” Martha beamed. “I can’t thank you enough. Will forty dollars cover it? I can do forty.”
He straightened to find the little girl staring at him.
She frowned. “Are you my daddy?”
Martha clapped a hand over her face, her cheeks pink. “No, Sherri. That is not your daddy.”
He grinned. “I’m not lucky enough to have a kid like you. You’re too cute.”
Sherri beamed and darted back to her castle.
Martha tried to hand him two worn twenties. He stepped back. “No can do. I have to do one good deed a day to keep myself from going to hell. Since I pounded some guy down the hall, I figure this makes up for it.”
She grinned. “Actually, I’d say that makes two good deeds for the day.”
“It felt good, I can tell you that.” He walked toward the door. “Keep the cash. But if anyone asks, you have no idea who hit that dickhead in 17.”
Martha nodded. “Not a clue.” Then she shocked him by hugging him. “Thanks so much. You really helped us out.”
He left, feeling not so down. Until Cash called, bitching him out for being late to pick him up at the warehouse. Apparently, Cash was waiting to ride with him to their next job. Which they’d be doing together, without the Jackson brothers, who had been tapped for a same day emergency move.
Smith hung up and banged his head on the wall. “This is so not my day.”
Chapter Nine
Smith didn’t say much to Cash as they worked, though he felt his brother’s gaze on him throughout the move. The customers had thankfully opened the door and left, promising to return in several hours. Smith and Cash were to lock up after they finished.
To Smith’s pleasant surprise, when Cash kept his mouth shut and did nothing but work, he wasn’t so bad. Although it almost became a contest to see who could move more, faster.
They finished ahead of schedule, making the Friday an early one. As they moved the contents to a storage unit in West Seattle, Cash started talking.
So much for a quiet ride back.
“So. You’re going to Reid’s tomorrow night.”
“Yep.”
Smith fiddled with the radio and finally settled on a country station through
all the static. The sky above looked like rain.
“I hate country music,” Cash muttered.
Smith turned up the radio.
“Such a dick.” Cash turned it off.
Smith sighed and looked out the window. Traffic backed up on 99, and he bit back a swear. Shoot me now. A glance at Cash showed the asshole grinning at him.
“Gee, this gives us more time to talk.”
Smith swore aloud this time. “Shit. What do you want?”
“Well, just…” Cash swallowed and gave him a forced but pleasant smile. “How are you doing?”
“This is painful. I mean, it hurts all over.”
Cash sighed. “I know. I promised Jordan I’d try to be nice. It’s awful and makes me nauseous to be nice to you. I hate it.”
“Great. Then shut your pie hole and put the music back on.”
“Then again, knowing how much you hate talking to me makes it all worth it.” Cash’s green eyes glowed with mirth, his dark hair and muscular form so similar to Smith’s that it felt odd to look at him.
“Tell me what I can do to shut you the hell up,” Smith growled.
“Maybe you can explain why you’re such a dick, for starters.”
Smith smiled. “It’s genetic.”
“Oh, that’s clever.” Cash rolled his eyes.
“Look. We share the same mom and dad. Big deal. You already have a brother and a family. What the hell do you want with me? Because I really want to know.”
“I don’t know.” Cash looked puzzled. “If you’d never come to Vets on the Go!, maybe I wouldn’t have such a problem keeping to myself. I’d have read about you in Angela’s journal, but you wouldn’t be real to me. But you’re here, and you hate us. And I get it, because I hate you too.” That seemed to cheer him. “But then that makes it even more obvious how alike we are, and that’s irritating.”
“You got that right.” Cash had a point. Smith sighed. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, we told you about Angela and dickhead Charles.” The man’s supposed father. “What was Meg like?”