Plain Jane and the Bad Boy (Plain Jane Series)

by Tmonique Stephens

  The lawnmower was still buzzing when he exited the bathroom somewhat refreshed, though the motor had a strange whine to it.

  Better go out there and stop Mack from shooting the damn thing. The mower shut off as he stepped out his front door. Expecting to see Mack, he spotted his renter across the street sitting on her front lawn with the mower on its side and her hand between the blades.

  “That’s a bad idea!” He darted across the street.

  Her head snapped up and the whites of her eyes caused him to falter. He’d seen that wide-eyed stare before, and his blood ran cold.

  Initially, she froze, which was a good thing since she could’ve lost a hand. Then, she scrambled away as fast as she could.

  He held up his empty hands in a classic “I’m not here to hurt you” stance and slowed his approach. “Didn’t mean to frighten you, but you’re about to lose a hand.”

  That look on her face, the stark terror, he’d seen that expression on patrol in Syria when a citizen had spotted his unit. Were they there to help or to slaughter them? He’d seen it so often he’d become numb and then filed all of that away when he touched down on US soil. Now, all those memories rushed back because he never expected to see that terror in America from a person looking at him.

  Eyes wide as saucers in a pale, gaunt face, the woman continued to back away until she practically merged with the siding of the house. He had the urge to say, “I come in peace,” instead, he said, “I’m Liam Callahan. I own the property you’re renting. I’m also your neighbor.” He didn’t hold out his hand because he doubted she’d take it.

  He dropped to one knee for a look at the lawnmower. It was old, patches of rust chewed through parts of the body, the blades worn. He’d forgotten this was in the backyard shed on the property.

  “I’m tossing this and I’ll set up a service to take care of the lawn so you won’t have to.” He glanced over his shoulder and was pleased she’d climbed to her feet. God, she was thin, painfully. The sleeveless red shirt and blue skirt hung on her body. Her long neck balanced on knobby shoulders. Her head resembled a bobble as she trembled. His presence frightened her so much, she shook like a leaf in the wind.

  Her hair was shoulder length and a soft black, and with her chin buried in her chest, it covered half of her face. He got the sense that was her default, to hide in plain sight, to use her hair as a curtain to hide behind.

  A baby’s gurgle came from the porch. He glanced over to see a chubby, dark-haired bundle of fluff strapped into a stroller. Before he could ask her name, the woman rushed over and hauled the stroller back inside the house.

  Shit. He didn’t think he’d ever actually caused a woman to literally run away from him, especially when he tried to be as harmless as possible. Still, he had to establish a tenant-landlord relationship. He knocked on the door, certain she wouldn’t open it.

  The baby answered with a resounding cry. Nothing from the mother. Damn. He felt like he’d broken something he had no idea how to fix. “If you need any repairs, you can call the real estate office or ring my bell.”

  Yeah, like that was gonna happen.

  With the mower in tow, he took his ass back across the street, and parked the rusted machine on the curb for pickup. Going back to sleep would’ve been great, but he couldn’t. Her fear had imprinted on his brain. That type of fear came from one thing. A man. Someone had abused her, badly. So much so, any man was a threat. Who’d done this to her? Yeah, it was none of his business, but that didn’t mean shit. No one would stop him from making it his business.

  Bright and early, Monday morning, Liam walked into his office, a space he rented in an office park, and pulled the file on the rental property. Sabrina Wilkins. By her birthdate, she clocked in at twenty-four annnd…there wasn’t much of anything else because she was a client of Lazarus House. She wasn’t the first battered woman his company had rented to. It was the first time one had rented the house across the street.

  There were a few properties on the books he had a hard time selling, houses in neighborhoods riddled with crime and drugs. Those he rented, but the turnover rate was high, and the tenants tended to be assholes, no better than those roaming the streets.

  Anna, a former Lazarus House client, suggested the arrangement last summer. Years after she and her son escaped her abusive husband, her ties remained close to the organization.

  Liam had no complaints with the arrangement. The rent was paid upfront for three months. If the women were able to stand on their own feet after the twelve-week period, they moved out and moved on. If not, they were reevaluated. Some rental agreements were extended, others ended.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Callahan?” Anna stood over him with her morning coffee in her hand, her gaze locked on the file open on his desk.

  “Um. No.” But he didn’t close the file.

  Anna took a seat in the only chair in his tiny office. He was out in the field so much working on or overseeing a project, he had no need for an elaborate workspace. “Since when do you need to look through files? Especially, the Lazarus files?” Anna gave him the look only a fifty-five-year-old matron could pull off.

  Why did he feel like confessing all his sins? Anna, with her master’s degree in grandmotherly charm, had that effect on him and everyone else in the company. “Why’d you rent the house on Palm Avenue, across the street from me?”

  “It was vacant for three months.” She sipped her coffee and studied him.

  So? “I planned on turning it into a neighborhood man cave.”

  She smiled smugly. “Uh-huh. If you get zoning for that, which is a long shot. Besides, if you really wanted that man cave, you would’ve done more than talk about it. That’s all you, Mack, and Jay have done in the last year, talk about it. All talk and no action.” She flapped her fingers together, mocking him. “The director of Lazarus House called me. She had a client that desperately needed placement. We had the house available. Same terms apply. It’s a three-month lease. Lazarus House pays upfront.”

  “Do you meet the women before renting to them?” He wasn’t one to judge, but was Sabrina Wilkins stable enough to be on her own with a baby? She didn’t seem stable.

  “Yes. When they pick up the keys, though, I didn’t with Miss Wilkins. She picked up the keys after I’d left for the day.” She set her cup down and leaned forward, all business. “Is there a problem with her?”

  “No.” He tried to reassure her and failed.

  “Did her ex find her?” Anna shot to her feet. “I need to call Lazarus. We have to move her. There’s a hotel across town—”

  “Anna, calm down and sit. Her ex didn’t find her.” Wait a sec. “Do you know who her ex is?”

  “No. Lazarus House doesn’t share that information and we never ask. Why?”

  He shrugged, tried to make it nonchalant. “No reason.”

  “Then what’s with all the questions when you’ve never cared before.”

  True enough. He cared, but he didn’t care. Yesterday, that changed. “I never met any of the women before.”

  “Oh.” That got her butt back in the chair. “So, you met her?”

  He nodded. “I stopped her from sticking her hand in the lawnmower and you would’ve thought I-I’d—” The terror in her brown eyes slammed into him again.

  Anna reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. “I’m sure you did a good thing and her reaction wasn’t your fault.”

  “I threw the rusty piece of junk out. Can you please restart the lawn service for her property? Put it on our tab.”

  “Of course. I’ll go over and introduce myself too. See if she needs any help with anything. Maybe she just needs to talk.”

  Willa and Sasha had tried. Maybe Anna would have better luck. Liam doubted it but he wouldn’t dissuade her. Hell, he’d give her a lift over there. “Let’s go.” He had his keys in his hand and was halfway to the door when Anna blocked him.

  “It’s best I handle this on my own. She’s had a rough time with men, your
presence will not be helpful.”

  Liam couldn’t argue her point and didn’t try.

  “Plus,” she continued, “You’re supposed to be at the new house instructing the crew, then viewing a few prospective houses before the auction.”

  He chuckled. “Smooth way to get rid of me.” Anna didn’t want him tagging along and neither would the woman. He glanced at the file. Sabrina Wilkins. “All right. Call Mack, tell him I’m on my way.”

  “Will do.” She headed out of his office.

  “Anna.” She halted and looked back at him with that expression mother’s get when they’re waiting for their kid to spit it out. “Thanks, and call me if you need anything.”

  She waved him away. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this. You better get going too.” All business, she stopped at Sasha’s desk and left instructions with her before heading out.

  Certain Anna would take care of everything, he headed for his truck. He made it to the driver’s side when Willa’s Jeep Grand Cherokee—tires skidding across the asphalt—screeched to a halt in front of his truck. “What is it?” he asked through the open window, knowing it had to be bad.

  “It’s Finlay. He’s been shot.”

  Chapter Four

  The rumble of an engine starting dragged Sabrina out of the half-dead slumber she’d finally succumbed to at 3:00 a.m. She rolled off the bed and landed on her side, bruising her elbow and knee.

  On her hands and knees, she scrambled to the window and peeked through the blinds, only to catch dwindling taillights. Was it his truck? The owner. The man who could at best put her out on the street, at worst kill her when he discovers her connection to the Black Dragons. Straining to see, the taillights didn’t divulge the owner. However, all the other cars and trucks in the cul-de-sac were gone. The neighborhood had gone to work, leaving her and Vivi alone. Relieved, she turned to see Vivi sitting up in the middle of the bed, eyeing her mother over the pillow fort as if she doubted her sanity.

  “Morning.”

  Vivi babbled something only she understood.

  Sabrina returned to the bed and crawled next to her baby. She shoved the pillows out of the way and flopped next to her. She had minutes at best before Vivi would demand to be changed and fed, still, Sabrina enjoyed this quiet moment with her daughter using her as a jungle gym. Vivi was a morning person, judging by her happy disposition, which usually lasted until mid-afternoon and degraded from there. Her favorite pastime seemed to be the warm breezes floating across the backyard while she safely played in her playpen.

  Vincent wasn’t a morning person. He hated waking to the cry of a baby. Hated the dirty diapers. Hated the Baby Magic smell.

  Vivi whined. Her patience had run out, and she pulled at the neck of Sabrina’s tee-shirt.

  “All right. Breakfast first, then I’ll get you cleaned up.”

  Vivi drank her fill of high-octane breast milk, though not as plentiful as it used to be. Sabrina’s weight loss had steadily reduced her milk supply. After feeding, she and Vivi had a nice soak in the bathtub. Yesterday had been hard. She’d nearly thrown Vivi in her car seat and hit the road. That’s how bad Liam Callahan had frightened her. Seeing him standing inches from her, all she could think was that he knew who she was. Which was absurd when their paths crossed in a bar three years ago. He was on the peripheral of the Mayhem MC, nine deep in numbers compared to the six members of the Black Dragons. He had to be there by happenstance since he wasn’t a member of Mayhem.

  The minute Mayhem entered the building, she and the other girlfriends headed out the back, though not before she took a good look at all of them. A good look at him, the most striking one in the bunch. He was a big guy, wider and taller than Vincent. Which wasn’t a feat since all she needed was a pair of average heels to see over Vincent’s balding head. Liam Callahan was black Irish. He was clean-shaven with slightly tanned skin, midnight hair and midnight eyes to match. The coloring was said to be a gift from a Spaniard somewhere in the ancestry. She knew this from Vincent spilling the beans later that night as he cursed the father, Finlay, and the son. Vincent hated the pair. She never asked why. It wasn’t wise to delve into club business or ask Vincent any questions about another man. A hand cutting off her air quelled any inquisitiveness.

  The man she saw yesterday hadn’t changed much. He seemed leaner, the baby fat had vanished, leaving a cut body no T-shirt could hide. The few tats she spotted were lost in the adrenalin rush. Too afraid to meet his eyes, she stared at his mouth, at his straight white teeth flashing every time he spoke, and the mustache and goatee in desperate need of trimming. Gone was the man lost in the shadow of his father. Now, with his own business, he cast his own shadow.

  An hour after sunrise and they’d made it to the kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the window. The day had just begun, and it was already beautiful. She had a few hours before she had to go to work. “How about a small picnic lunch? Just the two of us.” Vivi was too busy chewing on her fingers to answer as she perched on Sabrina’s lap, each enjoying a bowl of cereal. Vivi’s the consistency of mush.

  The doorbell rang.

  Sabrina snatched her daughter up and grabbed the biggest knife in the block. She had a go bag by the front door, and another one in the trunk of her car. The nearest highway was south, then she’d head west and keep going until she hit the coast, or she ran out of gas, which would be way before she got anywhere near California.

  “Hello, my name is Anna Ramirez.” A woman’s voice called from the other side of the door. “I’m with the realty company that rented the house to Lazarus House. I’m also a former client. I stayed with June for four months back in 1989. The center had recently opened.”

  She sounded convincing, and she knew June, the founder of Lazarus House. Sabrina took a risk and shouted through the door. “What do you want?”

  “I’m just checking on you. Making sure you have everything you need. New house. New city. Single mom with a young baby. That was me thirty years ago. Not so long ago.”

  Not long enough ago by the lingering pain in Anna’s voice. And the sincerity. “You know June?” One could never be too careful.

  “Yes. I ended up becoming part of the staff and worked with her for five years.”

  “What’s her dog’s name?”

  “She doesn’t like dogs. She loves cats and has two Persians, Tigger and Taffy.”

  One gray. One orange and white. “Tigger died earlier this year.” Sabrina opened the door and faced the middle-aged Latina with the kindest face she’d ever seen. A face that turned weepy, her eyes suddenly wet.

  “Oh, no. She loved that orange cat. She must be heartbroken.” She clutched her heart.

  “She was.” Sabrina stepped aside and let the woman into her temporary home. Now that Anna wasn’t a physical threat, Sabrina wondered why the woman had stopped by. She hadn’t called in for a repair, even though the bathroom sink leaked, and the hot water was lukewarm.

  “What an adorable baby!” She gushed the moment she set eyes on Vivi.

  Vivi tucked her head into her mother’s chest and stared at the newcomer. “Say good morning, Vivi.”

  “Vivi?” The woman shook the hand Vivi extended.

  “It’s short for Vivian, my grandmother’s name.” Was Anna here to tell them they had to leave? Did the funds from Lazarus House dry up? If that were the case, Sabrina had no idea what she’d do. They’d be homeless.

  What am I gonna do? Where are we gonna go?

  Quietly panicking, Sabrina led her guest to the kitchen. The house was neat, nothing out of place. Vincent demanded a spotless home, and she’d suffered enough to never forget the consequences of leaving a stray sock on the floor, even if it didn’t belong to her.

  “Please, have a seat.” Sabrina pointed to the simple wooden chair on the other side of the square dining table. “Can I get you a glass of…?” She had nothing to offer the woman, except water.

  “Water will be fine. On such a warm day, that’s all I need.”
>
  With Vivi balanced on her hip, she returned the knife to the block, surprised her guest hadn’t batted an eye at the weapon clutched in her hand. She retrieved a glass and the plastic pitcher out of the refrigerator. She caught the woman staring at her empty fridge. It was so empty one could stash a body inside. “Need to grocery shop,” she mumbled defensively, which meant a trip to the food pantry. The first of the month was a week away and food stamps only stretched so far.

  She filled the glass and placed it in front of her guest, then sat opposite her. Vivi reached for her Mickey Mouse bowl. “Ms. Ramirez. Why are you here? Is something wrong?” She spooned mush into Vivi’s open mouth.

  Laugh lines and crow’s feet carved deep grooves into Ms. Ramirez’s cheeks and the corners of her eyes. “My son had a bowl just like that.”

  The flea market purchase probably was her son’s bowl.

  “There’s nothing wrong, dear. Mr. Callahan, the owner of the house and my boss, spoke to me this morning—”

  Sabrina leaped to her feet, Vivi tight in her arms. What the fuck! I’m getting thrown out over a lawnmower? “Please. I have nowhere else to go, and I can’t go back to Lazarus. They were wonderful, treated us right, but it’s so crowded. There are so many women and kids.” And the shelter was in Black Dragon territory, across the street from the sheriff’s station, but still in their territory. She jumped at the chance to move to the other side of town and get her life together. Once she had enough money, she and Vivi would head west and start fresh.

  “And I don’t have enough gas in my tank to get across town.” She had twelve dollars in her pocket until Friday when she picked up her check from her part-time job at the 99 Cents and More store. A whole two hundred and ten dollars. Not even enough to pay for daycare. Lazarus house came through on that end as well for another few weeks.

  If I have to go back. Shaking too much to stand, Sabrina leaned against the refrigerator and slid to the floor while, sensing her emotional state, Vivi wailed.