Foster Siblings 3: Brokedown Hearts (5 page)

Now, eight days later, David no longer needed to set his alarm clock to wake up in the morning. When he went home to his motel room each night, his body hurt all over, not to mention he stank to high heaven, but for the first time in ages he was sleeping fully through the night, even with the noise from the other motel patrons and the Interstate so close by.

He’d seen the dark-haired motel guest in passing one more time, last evening. Last night, though, David had been so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open, and so he hadn’t dwelled or freaked out over the way his pulse had raced when the guy had nodded at him briefly again. David had blushed and offered a small wave in return, but then ducked into his room and fallen into bed, into a deep sleep.

With the back side of the sanctuary upon them, David gently commanded Brucie and Tippy to halt and sit. Both dogs immediately complied. He rang the buzzer to be let in, and the gate clicked open. After pushing the chain-link fencing all the way open, David let the dogs in first, then slipped through and pulled the gate firmly closed. As David walked the dogs to their respective kennels—good-sized runs that had half the living area outside and half inside—he nodded at another shelter employee while promising the other barking dogs he would eventually take all of them outside for exercise and play.

Right then Erin, the owner of the shelter, moved into step beside David. “It’s nice to see you like this.” For such a petite woman, with such a soft voice, her tone always held amazing command. “I think it’s the first time I’ve seen you truly relaxed since you started working here.” When they reached Brucie’s kennel, she crossed her arms under her breasts and stared up at him. “Maybe the first time I’ve seen you hold your head up and make eye contact with someone for more than two seconds too.”

The hairs on the back of David’s neck tickled and rose, and he fought the urge to drop his attention to the dogs. He couldn’t control his mouth turning dry as a bone. “I guess I was nervous at first.” He busied himself with fumbling to open the kennel door. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. And no need to be nervous around here, either.” Taking hold of the kennel gate, Erin lifted it so it didn’t drag on the concrete, swung it open for David, and grabbed Tippy’s leash.

David entered the kennel with Brucie, but his heart raced erratically. He could feel Erin watching him, judging his every move, and boring a hole through the back of his head with her stare.

From outside the kennel, Erin added, “As long as the animals like you, and you don’t hurt them, and you do the jobs I give you each day, then I’m the sweetest peach in the barrel.” The moment David turned around, she made eye contact through the chain link, and she looked deadlier than the warden who’d made clear to David there would be “no problems or trouble tolerated” under his watch up in the Pensacola prison.

“Mess with me, my animals, or my shelter, though,” Erin went on, “and I’ll turn sour on you faster than milk left sitting out in the July sun.”

David reared. “No…I never…”
Oh God, no
. When the truth hit him, David’s heart stopped.
I was locked up. From now on, people are always going to think I might become violent. Even against animals
. Bile rose with bitter acidity in David’s throat, and he barely suppressed the urge to gag.
God, I would never harm anyone or anything here.

Heat burned straight through David, but somehow he managed to keep looking Erin in the eyes. “I know it might be hard for you to believe so easily right now, but I wouldn’t hurt any of the animals.” David’s throat hurt; everything in him told him to look away, but he held Erin’s gaze and admitted, “I like being here. I want this job to work out more than anything. I swear.”

As fast as Erin had put David in her crosshairs, she smiled. “Good. We like having you here too.” She then beckoned David out of the cage, handed Tippy’s leash back to him, and instructed, “Now give the rest of the dogs their workout, and you can head home after that.” In a backward jog, she waved as she got farther away. “I’m off to pick up a pair of rabbits someone likely thought would be a cute idea to give their kids for Easter.”

Not sure whether to grin back or slump against the kennel, David stood like a statue. “Bye.”

Erin waved once more and then high-fived a wiry, compact, sandy-haired teenager coming around the corner from the direction she headed.

The young guy, Sam, jogged David’s way. “Hey, man.” As he crouched to pet Tippy, he asked, “You want a ride part of the way home later?”

What?
For a good half a minute, David’s mouth gaped. After Sam gave him the side eye, David mentally kicked his butt into gear. “Are you sure?” Other than Erin, nobody had given David more than a cursory greeting since he’d started. “I-I-I don’t want to put you out.”

Sam popped back to his feet and strode to a hall that led to where the cats were housed. “I overheard you mention to Erin the other day that you’re living at the Parkway. Right?”

“Yes.” Kicked further into action, David trotted Tippy to her kennel, adjacent to where Sam stood. “Heading west, it’s off the Interstate.”

Sam nodded. “I think I know it. I’m pretty sure I can get you a little closer than the bus will drop you off before I have to make a turn that takes me home. I don’t mind. I have a few more things to do too”—Sam glanced at his watch—“but I think we’ll be done around the same time.”

Still hardly able to speak, David sputtered, “Okay.” He shot out his hand. “Thank you.”

Rather than shake on it, Sam gave David a low-five hand smack. “No problem. I’ll meet you out front in a couple of hours.”

“Okay.” As Sam disappeared down the corridor, David called out, “Thanks again.”

David stood in place afterward, smiling and confused as hell, until a Great Dane puppy barked loudly, demanding his time outside to run, and pulled David’s attention back to work.

* * * *

As Sam pulled onto the side of the road and stopped his truck, he said, “Don’t worry about Erin and her ball-busting comments about not messing with the shelter.”

Fuck
. David stalled with his fingers gripped around the door handle; the blood drained out of his face.

Sam added, “No, it’s cool, man. Don’t worry. I heard Erin give you the ‘don’t mess with me or my animals’ speech. She said something similar to me when I started working there too. I’m guessing she gives a version of it to everybody. I don’t think it’s… I don’t…” Sam cursed softly, and red slashed his cheeks. “It’s just… Look, I don’t think she said it because you were in prison. When she said what she did, you kind of looked like someone had shot you, and so I figured you probably thought it was because of that. It’s not.”

Inside David’s head, a voice screamed,
Goddamn it, why can’t everyone forget who I am!
but he smothered the self-pity before it could escape his mouth. “It’s not a big deal. I have to get used to it. It’s part of my life now.”

“Sorry.” Frowning, Sam fiddled with the steering wheel. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Crap. Now I’m making strangers uncomfortable
. “No, I shouldn’t be so sensitive about it. Anyway…” David popped the door open and jumped out of the truck. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem. Hey!” Sam stretched across the seat, held the door open, and looked up at David from a leaning position. “Whenever we’re working the same schedule, I’d be happy to drop you here on my way home.”

For a split second, David stood up straighter. He almost said,
Thank you
. But then the fact that he was standing on the side of a busy Interstate, getting ready to walk the rest of the way to his crap motel room, slammed through him hard enough to make him flinch. David couldn’t help assessing the attractive young man in the truck—a kid, really—and the minefield of possible gossip churned his stomach with sick.

Grit clogged David’s throat, and he felt like he might pass out, but he forced out what needed to be said. “Whether Erin outright told you, or you just heard the gossip, you know I was in prison, and you probably know why. I didn’t really think earlier when I accepted your offer, but looking at it now, I don’t think your family would be okay with you giving me a ride once, let alone on a regular basis.”

Sam’s youthful features turned rigid. “I’m not a kid.” He spoke through lips that barely moved. “I’m eighteen, and I’ll be graduating in two weeks. I own my truck. My mom and I take care of our land all by ourselves, and I support myself with two jobs.” Flint chips flashed in Sam’s gray eyes. “I don’t need permission to give someone a ride. I can make the choice to be nice by myself.”

Taking a fast step back, David raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. It’s just…ex-cons don’t sit well with most people, and you have to be smart enough to know that.”

“I am.” After conceding that truth, Sam lost some of the tightness in his frame. Most of the iciness left his stare too. “But my mom’s had shit in her life too; she knows not to judge a book by the reviews of everyone else in town, good or bad. She wouldn’t judge the fact that I’m doing this small favor—that isn’t even really an inconvenience—for you.”

Tension bled out of David, and he started to breathe normally again. “Fair enough. Then I accept you offer.” The size of Sam’s ancient double-cab truck got David’s wheels spinning. “But if I can buy you some gas every week or help out if you need repairs, you let me know, and I’ll be happy to do it.”

Sam waved David’s concern aside. “No. I said it’s okay, and it is. Dropping you here isn’t sending me off my route, I swear. I’m not using any extra gas.”

“Okay.” Humbled, David kept his mind racing, searching for a way to level the field. “But if I can ever do something for you, if you need me to cover a shift for you at the shelter or anything like that, just name it, and I will do it.”

Sam’s face instantly split into a huge grin. “Now we have ourselves a deal. I’ll keep that in mind.” He eased to his side of the truck and called out, “Later.”

David couldn’t help grinning too. “Bye.” He stepped away from the truck.

Sam pulled back onto the road, waiting for an opening so he could merge with the traffic.

David turned to head for the motel but stopped before taking a single step. A chill went through him. The back of his neck tingled, and the hairs stood on end. He spun around and zeroed in on where Sam had been in his truck, but Sam had already pulled into traffic and was a good thirty feet down the road. If he’d been looking at David, he would have had to have done it via his rearview mirror.

Still, the sense of unease remained. With the odd sensation creeping down his back, David swung left and right, but other than traffic and a half dozen cars in a gas station a bit down the road, there wasn’t anybody around. After a long minute, David shook himself and began the short walk to the motel, but he rubbed the back of his neck again. He couldn’t get the goose bumps to settle.

I swear someone is watching me.

On the sticky, hot evening in early May, David shivered.

* * * *

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Ben bobbed and wove his car through Interstate traffic, employing some serious maneuvering and racing tactics to get to the motel as fast as possible.

As he’d done for the past few days while waiting for David to finish work, Ben had settled into his spot, a perfect little patch of grass between two huge, bushy trees. Today, after twenty minutes past David’s schedule, the guy still hadn’t shown at his bus stop. Ben had placed a call to the shelter under the guise of looking for a friend, only to find David had caught a ride home from a fellow employee.

I didn’t figure on that happening at all, let alone so damned quickly.

From observing David recently, in addition to what he’d learned of the man from talking with the warden, Ben had pegged David as introverted, insecure, and nearly terrified of his own shadow. At this point, Ben couldn’t see David resuming his stalking of Christian Sanchez—or in truth, even talking to the man again. David no longer seemed to possess the misguided passion often associated with a person who stalks with the rationale of being in love. Ben had mentioned this to Jonah Roberts in a phone conversation earlier in the day, but Jonah had insisted that given time, once the newness of being released from prison wore off, David would slip back into his old ways.

“And since I don’t have anything to do anyway,” Ben muttered to himself as he eased onto the exit ramp to the road that led to the motel, “I’m gonna be grateful someone gave me some work to help keep my skills honed while I’m away from the job.”

Right then, as Ben rounded a bend, a battered car swerved into his side of the road. The vehicle barreled straight at Ben at top speed just as, less than fifteen feet away, David darted into the street.
Fucking shit.

Adrenaline pierced straight into Ben’s chest and kicked his heart rate into overdrive. Jerking on the steering wheel, Ben careened out of the way of the oncoming car—just barely. The lowrider grazed the driver’s side of Ben’s car, but Ben couldn’t even flick him the finger, let alone shout, because David raced in front of Ben’s car, shouting something incoherent and signaling
stop
with his hands.

“What the fuck!” Ben whipped the car around David, onto the side of the road, and screeched to a stop. With endorphins pumping hard and fast in his system, Ben shifted the car into neutral and shot out of the driver’s-side door. “Jesus, man.” He stormed to the back of the vehicle, straight at David, his breathing hard and heavy. “Do you have a death wish or something? Two people almost just hit you.” Ben leaned down and roared right in David’s face, “What in the hell were you doing?”

David stood on his toes and yelled right back, “I was trying to make sure you didn’t hit the kitten!”

“And in doing so I almost hit you!” Standing toe-to-toe with David like this, so much closer than they’d been those two times at the motel, Ben absorbed David’s features up close; he couldn’t help himself. Rich strands of darker honeyed wheat were layered within light blond hair, and David had a tiny hint of turquoise in his blue eyes, as well as a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His mouth was far too lush for a man, but he had a pronounced Adam’s apple, sculpted shoulders, and a height that, while didn’t match Ben’s six feet five, was taller than most.
Damn it
—standing so close to David woke up something very basic from a long nap in Ben’s core—
he’s stunning.