One Lucky Hero (23 page)

Dean chuckled as he took the Raley Boulevard exit and made a left. “You don't say?”

“Sure, she can trip standing still,” he said.

“I'm not going to repeat that, for your safety and mine,” Dean said.

“Oh, she knows. Brings it up constantly.”

As Dean pulled down Casey's street and slowed to a crawl in front of his house, the kid's eyes bugged out.

“Wow, it looks so different.”

“Better, right? Think you can help your sister keep up with the yard?” Dean phrased it as a question, hoping that Casey wouldn't take it as criticism.

Casey didn't seem to, eyeing the yard thoughtfully. “What will I need to keep it up?”

“Some gloves, a lawn mower, and a weed whacker,” Dean said.

“Okay.”

Dean parked the truck in the driveway and killed the engine. “You don't have any of those things, do you?”

“We have a lawn mower in the back shed, but I don't think it runs. Our weed whacker disappeared along with some tools years ago, and we just figured Dad took them.”

“Do you ever miss him?” Dean asked.

Casey's face shuttered. “Wasn't much to miss. He was either high or off trying to score.” Casey cleared his throat. “He's back, you know?”

Dean was surprised that Violet hadn't said anything. “When? Have you seen him?”

“Not yet. Violet said he wants to see me, though.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I don't know. On one hand, I want to give him a chance because he's my dad, but all I remember of him was this scary guy who used to yell at us to be quiet. And I hardly remember my mom. The only real parent I've ever had is Violet.”

Dean debated whether or not he should ask Violet about her dad but decided that if she wanted to tell him, she would in her own time. “You should tell her that.”

“Tell her what?” Casey asked.

“That you love her and she's done a good job. Because I've got to be honest, I don't think your sister thinks very highly of herself. I think she worries you'd have been better off with a foster family.”

Casey said nothing as he stared mutinously out the window. Finally, he muttered quietly, “That's stupid.”

“Just repeating what I heard.” Dean climbed out of the truck and shut the door with a thud. Opening the back door, he took Dilbert's leash and waited as the dog hopped down. When he came around the front of the truck, Casey jumped out of the passenger side and fell into step with them as they crossed the walkway.

“Does she really think I'd have rather gone into the system?” he asked.

Dean glanced at him thoughtfully, debating on how best to answer. “I think she is afraid that she might have acted selfishly and that if she'd let you go, you might not have gotten into trouble. In my opinion, I think you're a good kid and that the graffiti was an isolated incident. An outlet for your frustration. Maybe even a call for help.”

“Geez, man, now you sound like my psychiatrist. I like art, that's it. I wanted to paint something on the school that people would look at and wonder who had done it, and I'd know it was me.”

“Why don't you just go to your principal and see about creating a mural? We had them when I was in school,” Dean said.

“Only seniors are chosen to do murals,” Casey said.

“Then when you're a senior, you can do it. Until then, you need to find some legal ways to explore your artistic side,” Dean said.

Casey paused on the porch, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I tried doing that. Violet set me up with art classes, remember?”

The bitter tone in Casey's voice drew a question from Dean. “So, why did you stop going?”

Casey finally met his gaze, and Dean could tell he wanted to tell him something.

Just then the door swung open, and Violet squealed when she saw them. “I thought I heard your truck!”

She went to Casey first, who accepted his sister's hug with a resigned look on his face, a far cry from the way he'd pushed her away only a month ago.

Violet pulled away and waved them inside. “Come on, I've got food all ready.” She paused as she looked down at Dilbert with a frown. “You again.”

“Still hate dogs, huh, sis?” Casey took Dilbert's leash from Dean and led him inside past Violet.

Alone for a minute, Dean pulled Violet toward him and gave her a long, slow kiss. “Hey.”

“Hi.” The word was spoken as softly as a sigh, and he didn't let go of her hand, just rubbed his thumb across the skin.

“How is Daisy?”

“She's resting.”

“Well, I haven't told Casey anything.”

“I better get in there then, before he starts hollering for Daisy and wakes her up.”

He let her pull away and followed her into the house. She looked adorable in a pair of jeans and a simple pale blue peasant blouse. Her hair was pulled back loosely in a ponytail, and he wanted to reach out and use it to tug her gently back into his arms.

“Daisy?” Casey called.

“Case, shh, she's resting,” Violet said.

“Resting? Daisy doesn't rest.” Casey's small face appeared paler than normal, and his voice trembled as he asked, “It's really bad, isn't it?”

“No, sweetie. It isn't good, but she's going to be fine. Believe me, it could have been worse.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Casey asked.

Dean watched as Violet made Casey sit down at the dining room table, scooting her chair around so she was basically sitting next to him. As she told him about the events of the night before, Casey became increasingly agitated, and she continued to run her hand over his shoulder and head, reassuring him that Daisy would be fine. Her entire demeanor was that of a concerned parent comforting her distraught child.

Because that was essentially what Casey and Daisy were to Violet. Dean wasn't sure why this was really just occurring to him, but Violet treated her younger brother and sister less like irritating younger siblings and more like beloved offspring. The actual title of who they were to each other didn't matter as much as the fact that they belonged to Violet and she to them. She had risked a lot to hang onto her family. She was loyal, compassionate, steady as an oak, and would protect her loved ones with the ferociousness of a tiger mom.

She was everything Dean wanted in his future wife.

Only Violet was here and now. And Dean had a hard time imagining there was anyone else who would ever challenge him or enchant him the way Violet did.

V
IOLET WALKED INTO
her bedroom to check on Daisy before dinner and found her sitting up in bed, holding her phone.

“What is it?” Violet asked.

“He won't stop texting me,” Daisy said grimly.

Violet knew exactly who she was talking about. The police department had warned her that Quinton would probably make bail, so they'd filed for a temporary restraining order. It was supposed to include calls and text messages, so Violet held her hand out for the phone. “You don't need to read them. Tomorrow we'll get you a new number, and in just a few days, you'll be a state away, starting a new life.”

“What if he follows me? What if he doesn't stop?” Daisy's voice was filled with high-pitched panic and tears. “I should have listened to you. You told me he was bad news, and I insisted—”

“Daisy, listen to me. You did what so many women can't. You got out. You told him it was over, and you are moving on with your life. You are strong and courageous and amazing. Whatever power trip he might try, you took back control the minute you chose to take care of yourself first.”

“But you never would have put yourself in that position,” Daisy said.

“Maybe not, but I've made plenty of bad decisions, handled things all wrong. That's just life, sweetie. If we don't fall down, how are we going to get back up?”

“Did you get that from a self-help book or something?”

“Actually, I think it was an Internet meme.” Violet heard the door creak behind her and turned to see Casey. “Someone else wants to see you.”

Daisy glanced around Violet, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Case!”

Violet got up, and Casey took her place, giving Daisy a gentle hug. She left the room just as Casey mentioned something about cutting Quinton's balls off, and as she read through the text messages, she had a hard time not siding with her brother on this one.

It's not over, bitch.

Violet gripped the cell phone and walked into the kitchen to find Dean cutting up the produce for the tacos.

She had no idea what expression she wore, but it must have scared Dean, because he immediately set the knife down and gathered her against him. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“I don't know how to protect her,” Violet whispered.

“Daisy? She's going to be fine—”

“You know as well as I do that a restraining order is just a piece of paper.” She pushed away to show him the texts from the unknown number. “He's harassing her. What if he decides to follow her to Oregon? Stalk her? I mean, I might just be paranoid, but it happens every day.”

Dean's large hands ran down her arms, and although his touch helped, it couldn't fully chase her fears away.

“It's not going to happen to Daisy, okay?” His lips brushed her forehead, warming her skin, and she sighed, closing her eyes. When his mouth covered hers, she held onto his arms, sinking into the hard length of his body.

Finally, she broke the kiss, breathing hard. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“A little. Is it working?” he asked.

“Yes, but if we don't stop, I'm afraid we're going to get interrupted and potentially scar Casey and Daisy for life.”

“I guess I'll just have to forgo the pleasure of this”—he kissed her once more before releasing her—“and fill the void with food.”

“Wow, I'm a little insulted that I am so easily replaced,” she teased.

“Oh, it's not easy, but the way I see it, I'm starving. The meat smells incredible, and even
if
you wanted a piece of me here and now, I couldn't give a peak performance without proper nourishment.”

“Counting your chickens a little early, don't you think? A kiss is just a kiss.”

“But it took your mind off your sister's ex-boyfriend, so I'd say it did the trick.” Picking up the knife again, he asked, “What else do you want chopped up for these tacos?”

“A couple of tomatoes from the crisper.” Violet put on her oven mitts and pulled the meat from the oven, where she'd been keeping it warm.

“What's a crisper?” he asked.

“Good God, did your mother teach you nothing?” She laughed as she came up behind him and pointed to the drawers at the bottom of the fridge.

“Hey, if you'd called it the drawer or even the tomb of rotten lettuce, I'd have known exactly what you were talking about,” he said.

She kissed his shoulder, patting it as she walked away. “Of course you would have.”

Violet pulled the lid off of the taco meat and scooped a chunk onto the fork. Holding her hand under it so it didn't drip on the floor, she blew on it before offering it to him. “Try it.”

He opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the fork. Violet swelled with pride as he chewed and moaned, closing his eyes.

“God, that is awesome.”

“Why, thank you.” She started to turn away, but he grabbed her hand, shocking her as he ran his tongue along the length of her palm, catching every stray drop of juice. The muscles at the juncture of her thighs clenched, imagining him using that tongue right where it ached the most.

“Hey, where's the food?” Daisy's voice rang out louder than necessary from the other side of the door, and Violet groaned.

“Yeah, what are you trying to do, starve us? Abuse!” Casey chimed in.

Taking the plunge, Violet said, “So, this might be a bad time to ask, but are you busy this weekend?”

Dean lowered her hand but kept ahold of it. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I need someone to drive the U-Haul while I drive Daisy's car up to Oregon State U on Saturday. I wouldn't have asked, but unfortunately, everyone else is busy. You could look at it as a mini vacation, though you'll probably have Casey riding with you, talking your ear off. And then on the way home, I'd be there, too.”

“Huh.”

“What does ‘huh' mean?” she asked.

“Hello, we are dying!” Daisy called in a singsongy voice.

“Hang on!” she yelled. “So?”

“Well, I was just deciding whether or not I should overlook the fact that I'm your last choice.”

“Oh, come on. I didn't want to ask you to do it because I didn't want to overstep whatever this is,” she said.

“So I can save you from short, annoying dudes and psychos, but I'm not the guy you think of to help you move?”

Violet caught his grin and scowled. “I can't believe you are messing with me right now.”

“Oh, come on, it's kind of funny. I mean, I bet that we could fit everything your sister owns in the back of my truck, and yet you didn't even think about using me for my vehicle.” He ran his finger down her nose and tapped the end. “I think that means you might like me.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?” she asked.

“ 'Cause you were afraid if you asked, it might scare me off. Am I right?”

Violet pursed her lips. “That would be presumptuous on my part, especially considering that this isn't supposed to be anything serious, right?”

Dean's hand cupped her cheek as his dark gaze held hers. “I might have been wrong.”

“About what?” She held her breath, waiting for him to say what she hoped he would.

“That casual is all I could give you. That we could be just friends who occasionally kiss and make out.”

“Oh, yeah? What could we be then?”

Forever.

His lips stole across hers as he whispered, “Everything.”

He couldn't have said anything more perfect, in Violet's opinion. Kissing him back, she ignored the door being flung open and the disgusted sounds from her sister and brother.

“Ugh, we're never going to get to eat now.”

S
EVERAL HOURS LATER
, Dean picked Best and Kline up from Best's place. Dean had left Dilbert with Casey and was relieved that Violet had seemed okay with the dog. She had asked him where he was going, and he'd merely told her he needed to take care of something. The less she knew about what he was up to, the better.

He'd sent Best and Kline a text that he needed their help with something, and without asking any questions, they'd said okay.

Now it was time to give them an out.

Kline climbed into the backseat of the truck, and Best grabbed shotgun.

“What's up?” Best asked.

Dean hadn't told any of his friends about last night, wanting to keep Violet's personal business private, but after reading Quinton's text messages, Dean knew that there was only one way to deal with the son of a bitch.

“Last night, Violet's little sister's ex-boyfriend attacked her and Violet,” Dean began. “He was arrested, but he's out on bail and won't leave Daisy alone. I want to make sure he gets the message.”

“Dude, we can't touch him. If we do, he'll rat us out, and it will not only screw us, but the program,” Best said.

“I'm not going to touch him. We're just going to have a chat.”

Dean caught Kline's hard expression from the backseat as he nodded. “I'm in.”

Best groaned and ran his hand over his shaved blond head. “Yeah, I'm in, too, but if we get fucked, I'm gonna be pissed.”

It was barely nine as Dean rolled up in front of Quinton's house. He'd asked Daisy for Quinton's address when they'd been cleaning up the dishes, and she had given it to him freely. From the look on her face as she'd written it down, he had a feeling whatever love she'd had for Quinton had been stomped into the ground last night.

Inside the house, the shades were drawn, but there were several shadows passing in front of the lit windows. Dean rolled down his car window, listening to music blaring from inside.

“Sounds like a party,” Best said.

“Does it make me old that my first reaction is to say it's a Tuesday?” asked Kline, the youngest of them all at twenty-six.

Dean climbed out of the truck without answering. Best muttered, “Shit,” before his passenger door slammed, and Dean heard the heavy fall of their footsteps behind him.

“So, what's the plan?” Kline asked.

“We're going to walk in, and as soon as I'm sure he understands where I'm at, we'll leave.”

“And if that doesn't work?” Best asked.

“It will work.” It had to work, because he wasn't going to let this asshole worry Violet or Daisy for another day. They deserved to be safe and happy.

And he was going to make sure that happened.

He turned the knob on the front door and walked right in. A few people looked up curiously, but the majority of them were too caught up in whatever they were smoking or drinking to give a fuck who they were. Dean singled out a skinny tweaker standing at the edge of the room and stalked toward him.

“You know where Quinton is?” Dean asked.

The tweaker's eyes widened at the three of them, and he looked like he was about to piss himself. “He's in the back bedroom.”

“Alone?” Dean asked.

“No, with a woman.”

Figures the piece of shit would be screwing another girl while he fucks with Daisy.

They headed down the hallway to the last door, trying the knob. When he found it locked, Dean knocked forcefully.

“Take a hint, fucker, we're busy.”

Dean clenched his jaw, resisting the impulse to break the door down, and knocked again, shaking the wood frame. He could hear movement on the other side of the door before it was thrown open, and Quinton stood there, all puffed up.

“What the . . . ?” Dean saw recognition dawn in Quinton's eyes a second before he tried to slam the door on Dean.

Swiftly, Dean barreled into the room with Best and Kline behind him, knocking Quinton back into the room. Screaming erupted from the bed, and Dean glared at the hysterical blonde clutching the sheet to her chest.

“Shut up, we're not going to hurt you,” Best snapped.

“You assholes are trespassing.” Quinton pulled his phone from his pants, holding it up. “I'm calling the cops.”

Kline stepped forward and snatched the phone out of his hand. “No, you won't, because half your party guests are loaded and in possession. If the cops show up, you'll be pissing off a lot of people.”

Kline handed Dean the phone, and he started scrolling through it, searching for the texts. Finding the first one, he stopped and read aloud. “ ‘I am going to make you sorry, bitch.' ”

Dean looked up at Quinton, who had turned sheet white.

“I'm really curious . . . Exactly how are you going to make her pay? You going to beat her up some more?” Dean turned to the woman on the bed and said, “Did you know you were in bed with a guy who put his ex-girlfriend in the hospital?”

“Shut up,” Quinton said.

“Oh yeah, and not only did he get arrested for it, he violated the restraining order in less than twenty-four hours by texting her threats. Is that really the guy you want to be jumping into bed with?” Dean asked.

The girl stood with the sheet and started gathering her clothes from the floor.

“He's full of shit—”

Dean placed his forearm across Quinton's neck and backed him into the wall. The woman screamed again and ran for the door.

“Hey, buddy, I thought you weren't going to lay a hand on him,” Best said.

“I'm not.” Dean waited until Quinton's face was beet red and released him. Quinton fell to the ground, sucking in air. “I thought that woman was going to attack him, so I was just moving him out of the way.”

“You're dead, mother—”

Dean squatted down. “Before you finish that sentence and hurt my feelings, let me tell you exactly what is going to happen here. You're going to forget about Daisy Douglas and move on. If you so much as breathe in her direction, it will be my new mission to destroy you in every way possible. That means tipping off the police to possible criminal activity. Right now you're looking at assault on Daisy and her sister, but one call, and maybe the cops find enough crank to tack on a dime or more to your sentence. Do you really think you're going to get off?