Risky Business (11 page)

Then again, he'd saved her from getting burned, like a true hero, though leaping with her into the canal had been a huge overreaction. She couldn't help wondering if the two were somehow related, his past and his overzealous response to her being in danger. And what of the way he'd dug in his heels and refused to help her with the business? Where did his heroism fit in with that?

She splayed her hand over the bike seat, letting her fingers bump over the seams in the leather. She'd never ridden on a motorcycle before, due to a lack of opportunity, but she'd always been drawn to them and to men who rode them. The motorcycle fit perfectly with Theo, as she knew him—solitary, dangerous, and out of her league.

Regardless, the two of them needed to figure out a way to work together. She couldn't operate Cloud Nine without him, but he seemed determined to make her life as difficult as possible. Tomorrow, she'd find the deed to Lanette and hand over ownership of it to him. At least then keeping him as her employee wouldn't feel as much like coercion.

“You came anyway.” The unexpected voice gave her a jolt.

She whirled to face him, bumping her butt against the motorcycle seat in her embarrassment that Theo had caught her handling his bike. His hair was damp, like he'd just showered. He wore jeans and a burgundy short-sleeve T-shirt that clung to his body as though he hadn't been patient enough to dry off thoroughly, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder. Sexy didn't even begin to describe him. “Yes. It was a great game.”

He lifted the hockey bag strap over his head, then set the bag on the seat, his body brushing hers as he loomed over her. He radiated heat and, though he smelled clean, it was more like clean sweat than soap. She suspected that his shower hadn't done enough to cool him down properly after the game.

It would be the right move to step away from him and the bike, but like the day he'd carried her onto the dock, she couldn't seem to make her legs work. He didn't move away from her touch, either, so she had to assume he was trying to intimidate her with his nearness, but two could play at that game. She bent her knee and brushed her leg against his.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “It wasn't enough for you to invade my place of business, now you're inserting yourself into my private life, too?” His tone dripped with simmering irritation.

She almost explained away her choice, so commanding was his presence, but she didn't owe him an explanation. Her friend had invited her and she'd wanted a way to get to know the community. And irritate Theo. So, mission accomplished, she supposed.

She gestured to the symbol on the bike. “You're a vet.”

He huffed. “You're unbelievable. You know that?”

Maybe so. “I find you pretty unbelievable, too, if that's any consolation.”

Brows raised, like he couldn't believe her audacity, he reached passed her and grabbed the black half helmet looped over the handlebar, then strapped it on.

There had to be a way past his anger at her, a way for the two of them to engage in a civil conversation. She wasn't quite ready to give up for the night. “You were wounded. You've seen combat.”

“That's what soldiers do.”

She jumped a little when his hands circled her waist. His fingers and palms molded to the flair of her hips. “What are you doing?”

He answered in terse French, then huffed and shook his head. “I'm moving you so I can leave.”

Before she could respond or extricate her hips from his grip so she could move on her own, he half-lifted, half-pushed her away from the motorcycle.

Her breath caught, watching him swing onto the seat, then turn the engine over. The roar startled Katie awake. Her arms and legs flailing, she turned her face to the sky and cried.

Allison snuggled her close as she called over the sound, “I know you resent me for being here, but I don't have a choice. I have a child to support. Could you just give me the chance to prove that I can make this work before you decide to hate me?”

He flipped the kickstand up and revved the engine. Either he didn't hear her or had decided to pretend he couldn't, as was his usual MO. The motorcycle took off out of the parking lot.

“You jerk!” she hollered at the top of her lungs, stabbing the air with her finger. “Maybe I'll go to Locks anyway! I'm starting to enjoy pissing you off.”

“He can't hear you,” a man's voice said behind her.

She turned to see Will. He looked fresh from the shower, too, with wet hair and clinging clothes, though he didn't get close enough to her for her to catch his scent as she had with Theo. The prosthesis he wore was different from the one he'd used during the game or the one he'd worn while working construction at Cloud Nine. This one was flesh colored and an excellent likeness to a hand.

“He didn't want to hear me,” she said. “He'd rather pretend I don't exist. He's been doing that all week.”

Will pointed to his ear. “He's partially deaf from his TBI. Any background noise and he can't hear anything.”

“Oh.
Oh.
” His combat injury. “What's a TBI?”

“Traumatic Brain Injury.”

That was going to take a little while for her to process. Theo had suffered—no,
overcome
—a brain injury? “That's . . .”

“It sucks, is what it does. Except that anytime Theo wants to check out, he gets on that bike or cranks up the radio or works on loud machinery, like he has his own personal mute button for the world. Pisses everyone off when he pulls shit like that, so don't feel like you're the only one he does it to—but I'm not going to lie and tell you I didn't wish I could do the same sometimes.”

Something akin to sympathy for the man who'd made her life a living hell that week took root inside her . . . right up until she thought back to all the times he'd turned up the radio or started heavy machinery when she walked his way. He'd been drowning her out on purpose.
Muting her.
What an asshole.

“I didn't know that,” she ground out through gritted teeth.

Will grinned, his eyes twinkling like he'd enjoyed stirring up the tension between her and Theo. “You coming to Locks?”

Tempting. Really tempting now that she thought about the satisfaction of committing petty revenge. “I wish, but it's past Katie's bedtime and, as you can see, she's not handling it well. Next time, though.”

She loved being a mom, but, man, did she miss hanging out with friends or getting out of the house for a drink without wearing a baby pouch. Maybe she'd take Harper up on her offer to connect her with a babysitter.

“That's too bad. The other guys and I would've had fun watching Theo sulk.”

As she would have, too. “You and he are friends, though, right?”

It was hard to tell sometimes, given how much Will seemed to relish the opportunity to tick Theo off.

“Yeah, we're cool. But if your friends won't give you hell when you act like a dick, what good are they?”

True, that.

She watched Will walk to a massive black truck and toss his hockey bag in the back, then climb into the driver's seat. Friends. She'd found out who her real friends were during the well-publicized scandal of Lowell's arrest and trial. That had been one of many hidden blessings to emerge out of the disaster of the last year. There had been a lot of people who'd turned their backs on Allison—just about every one of the politicians' wives in her and Lowell's social circles acted like she didn't exist—but her three siblings had rallied around her and continued to do so.

She was looking forward to Janie and Grant's arrival on Saturday. Not because she wanted her stuff, which she did, but because she was craving familiar faces, even though she'd only been away from her family for a week. They'd wanted to accompany her to Destiny Falls from day one, to help her move and get settled, but she'd asked them to hold off, thinking that she needed to embark on that part of her journey on her own, like some kind of misguided symbolic gesture.

Well, screw symbolism. She couldn't wait to spend the day with Janie and Grant. Knowing that it'd tick Theo off that she was moving all her possessions into the landing house was icing on the cake.

Early on Saturday, Duke, Brandon, and Will arrived, ready to work. Allison had awoken that morning filled with butterflies in anticipation of Janie and Grant's arrival, and she greeted the workers at the door with enough exuberance that Brandon teased her about not needing the coffee he'd brought her.

When she'd asked about Liam's whereabouts, Duke had dismissed the question with a swat to the air. “He had his own stuff going on today.”

Liam was one of the people in her new life at Cloud Nine who remained an enigma to her. He scared her a little, if she was being honest. He was closed off and tense, with an agitated, angry energy that seemed ready to burst at any moment, like he was a living, breathing bomb. Even though she really liked his sister, Olivia, she'd been struck by an unexpected sense of relief that he hadn't come that morning.

The other enigma in her life, Theo, had come through the office briefly, but Duke sent him to the garage with two nail guns that needed fixing. Despite his hostility toward her, and the off-balance, fluttery feeling she got every time he was near, his enigmatic qualities drew her in, unlike Liam. She couldn't stop from seeking him out with her gaze every time she walked outside or passed the garage. And, not that she'd admit it aloud, but part of her eagerness for Janie and Grant's arrival, as well as the storage pod, was her anticipation of his reaction.

Too restless to be productive, she watched the men work from her perch on top of the reception desk, sipping coffee, while Katie knocked toys off the tray of her activity station.

She had no idea what time the storage pod company would be dropping off her pod, or when Grant and Janie would be arriving, other than the vague promise of all involved to arrive before noon. Still, she darted glances out the window every time a car passed. They wouldn't be able to move furniture into the main office or sitting area in front of the fireplace until Duke's crew laid the flooring, whenever that happened, but at least they could get the upstairs set up to Allison's liking and unearth her kitchenware and Katie's things.

“Allison, what did you think of the game on Thursday?” Brandon asked into the lengthening quiet.

“I loved it. Bomb Squad is something else. The men's league in Buffalo is nothing like what you guys do.”

“The boys do okay, don't they?” Duke tried to play it cool, but Allison read his pride easily enough.

“We have levels of teams in the Canal Towns League like the Buffalo teams, that aren't as serious as we are. Guys just out for a good time and to let off steam after work,” Brandon said.

“Isn't that what Bomb Squad is, except that your idea of a good time is kicking ass on the ice?” Nothing wrong with a little harmless flattery if it might earn her more brownie points with Theo's friends.

Mixing a grayish-white paste in a bucket near the hearth, Will chuckled and shook his head.

Allison planted a hand on her hip with mock indignation. “What's so funny?”

He looked abashed. “I like it when girls cuss. Little bitty body, whole lot of attitude. It's cool.”

“We're going to get the gig,” Brandon said. “I can feel it.”

“What gig?”

Duke looked flummoxed at the question. “Theo didn't tell you?”

“Uh, no. He doesn't exactly approve of my existence.”

Will grinned. “I'm not so sure. Last night in the locker room, he was saying how—”

Brandon slammed a nail gun onto the makeshift workbench they'd erected. “Don't be a dick.”

Will held his hands up in surrender. “Have it your way.”

She desperately wanted to know what Theo had said in the locker room about her, but she wouldn't dream of revealing how deeply curious she was by pressing for more information. “Tell me about the gig,” she said instead, to Brandon.

“The gig is an exhibition game in April sponsored by Wounded Veterans International. We'd be playing against a Russian team of wounded vets.”

“What a cool opportunity,” Allison said. “Isn't that what you hockey guys live for—a chance to beat the Russians?”

Brandon raised his coffee mug in a toast. “Absolutely.”

“We put our bid in—well, I put our bid in—months ago, and last week, they sent scouts to our game, and yesterday Duke and Theo went to a logistical planning meeting with executives from WWI and the mayor and city planner, so we're thinking there's a pretty decent chance of being selected.”

Allison raised her mug, too. “Wounded Veterans International would be fools not to choose Bomb Squad for the exhibition game.”

“Brandon's bionic leg alone should get us the gig,” Will said.

Now that the subject had been broached, Allison didn't feel like she was crossing any sort of lines by commenting. “I agree. I wasn't aware until after the game started that you were all vets who'd been injured in combat.”

Will held up his prosthetic. “You knew about my injury.”

“Yes, but I didn't know it was a battle wound.”

“Does that change things in your mind?”

It did. Though she couldn't decide if Will was being standoffish with the question or just curious, she decided to take a chance and be honest. “It does, for me. I don't take it lightly that soldiers sacrifice their safety and sometimes their lives for our freedom. So, yes, knowing that all of you got your wounds in battle matters. It should matter to everyone in this country.”

Will chortled. “It doesn't. Trust me.”

“Well, it should,” she said. “Maybe the exhibition game will help with that.”

Duke lifted his ball cap and scratched his forehead. “I'm just hoping it shows other vets who are struggling that there's hope. Hell, I'd love it if they all flooded Destiny Falls. This is a great haven for soldiers.”

“Thanks to you,” Will said quietly.

Duke grunted.

“How did you all come to live in Destiny Falls? I assume you're not all from here.”

“Liam is, but he's the only one,” Brandon said. “I'm from Connecticut. But I went through rehab in a VA facility outside of Buffalo, which is where I met Duke.”

“I'm from Georgia,” Will said. “Same story. I was going through rehab, wondering what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life with only one hand, and that's when Duke found me.”

“You girls are making me blush,” Duke said. To Allison, he added, “All I do is give soldiers the second chance I never had when I came back from Vietnam. Nothing special.”

Brandon and Will grumbled in protest.

Brandon grabbed the thermos and topped off Allison's mug, then his own. “Don't let him fool you. He's saved a lot of lives, mine included. I was in a spiral after I got out of Walter Reed. Never played ice hockey before in my life, but Duke told me he wouldn't hire me unless I played on Bomb Squad. I felt like I'd already lost everything, so I had nothing to lose by giving it a try.”

Duke rubbed his neck, obviously uncomfortable with the praise. “It's not just me being an asshole, making them play for the team. It's good for the guys when they come back, because that's one of the things you lose when you get out of the service—the brotherhood.”

“So you give them a new brotherhood.”

“I don't give them anything. I just open the door. They have to walk through and take the chance.”

“Were you wounded in combat?” Allison asked.

Duke tapped his temple. “Only up here, but that was enough to sideline me for a long time. Drugs, alcohol—I tried all kinds of self-medicating to quiet the demons in my head before I figured out that I was hurting the country I fought to protect by polluting it with my sins.”

Made sense. Allison had soldiers in her extended family who'd never been the same after returning from war, and others still who suffered depression and alcoholism; but none had ever shared their stories with her as openly as Duke. She had come near death and had the demons to prove it, too, but a water curse was nothing compared to what soldiers went through.

She'd been one of the lucky ones, surviving a near drowning without any permanent brain or respiratory damage, though it'd taken her body years to recover completely. Even longer for her parents and the rest of her family to stop treating her like she was made of glass. Her gaze slid to the street beyond the front window. Had Janie and Grant ever really stopped treating her like that? That was up for debate.

Brandon nudged her arm. “You know what they say about a watched pot.”

“I can't help it.”

“Homesick?”

“No.” Oh, God, no. Though she was looking forward to spending the day with Janie and Grant, after the near constant support of her family over the past eight months, they could all use a breather. “Though I am a little stuff sick. I miss my things. My coffeepot, Katie's high chair and crib, my bed. All those little things.”

Will paused in filling in the cracks around the drywall with putty. “Sounds like me on my first deployment. I missed the stupidest stuff.”

“Like what did you miss?”

“Walking to the fridge in the middle of the night for a snack when I couldn't sleep, then sitting in front of the TV until I was tired again.”

“Beer,” Brandon said.

“Getting up in the morning to a song on my clock radio, taking a shower where the water stayed the right temperature the whole time, then shaving with my electric shaver.”

“Girls,” Brandon said.

Will snorted, then went back to his work.

“Did you miss girls, too?” Allison asked.

Will shrugged one shoulder. “I did. I had a girlfriend who waited for me to come home, but . . . I have a temper. A bad one.”

Chill bumps raced up her arms. Either she was a terrible judge of character or Will had a split personality because she couldn't see him hurting a fly, much less as an abuser. He hunched into his work, his expression hard and distant.

“You didn't hurt Erica,” Duke said with absolute conviction.

“I almost did. How about we drop the subject?”

A heavy silence settled over the room. Duke and Brandon taped plastic over the window and hearth, looking like they were prepping to paint the walls. Allison set her mug down and picked up Katie, then walked to the window. No sign of the moving van or her siblings, but it was still early.

Katie banged on the glass, then swayed forward, mouth open, as though trying to get the window in her mouth like she did everything else.

As she gazed outside, letting Katie lick the glass, the storage pod truck pulled into the landing's small lot and double-parked behind the workers' cars. Next into the lot was a smaller car. Chelsea's beat-up silver hatchback.

Allison must have made a sound to go along with her utter shock because all the men stopped working.

“What?” Will said. “Everything okay?”

“I think so. It's my other sister, not the one I was expecting.”

Allison adored Chelsea, her only younger sibling. She had the sneaking suspicion it was because Chelsea had been one of the few people in Allison's life not to treat her differently after the near drowning. Chelsea had only been four at the time, and the gravity of the situation hadn't sunk in with her, which was probably why Allison would always have a soft spot in her heart for her. That, and her free, rambling spirit that heard music in the world. There were times, a lot of times, she wished she were more like Chelsea. Free, fearless, bold.

How she and Allison were supposed to move a pod-worth of furniture in the house remained to be seen. Either Janie and Grant would be arriving shortly or Allison was going to have to take Duke, Will, and Brandon up on their offer to help her move in after all.

Chelsea poured out of the car and wiggled flirty fingers at the truck driver, then turned her smile and wave to Allison. Allison waved back, wondering if she'd already slipped the driver her phone number or if that was something they'd get to right before he left.

Chelsea opened the passenger door of the hatchback and retrieved her guitar case, which was riding shotgun, complete with a seatbelt on.

Brandon and Will moved next to Allison to gaze outside.

“That's a massive storage pod.”

The way Will said it, Allison could tell he was calculating the manual labor he'd gotten himself into with his offer to help.

“Lowell signed everything over to me in the divorce, so I decided not to sell any of it until I figured out what I needed in my new place.”

“More importantly, is that your sister?” Brandon asked.

“Yes. My younger sister, Chelsea. She's a musician.”

She and Chelsea looked similar, sort of, if you took a good look at the shape of their faces and the slant of their noses. But Chelsea was an inch taller, a couple dress sizes smaller, and presently sporting blond hair, which was a huge change from the
Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
phase she'd been in the last time they'd seen each other a month or so ago. It looked like Chelsea had abandoned the black-haired goth look and had entered a Sheryl Crow phase of musicianship—her hair shaggy and her designer hole-riddled jeans and gauzy shirt accessorized with a guitar and earth tone makeup.

With the guitar case slung across her back, she opened the hatchback and pulled out her large red suitcase. Allison's heart sank. With Chelsea, one never knew how long she'd stay. Sometimes minutes, other times months. It all depended on her guy of the week and her gig of the week.

“Looks like she's staying.”

Allison heard the interest in Brandon's tone, but she was too preoccupied with the idea that Chelsea planned to crash at Cloud Nine and let Allison financially support her even though Alison was in financial ruin and had only moved into the landing two weeks earlier. Chelsea's plan shouldn't have surprised Allison; her crashing at Allison's place was nothing new, but this move seemed particularly brazen, even for Chelsea.