One Lucky Hero (9 page)

“And thank you for last night, and well, everything. I had an amazing time.”

Dean stayed silent, debating on whether to push her or not. It really wasn't his place to ask, he hardly knew her. Finally, unable to resist touching her, he reached out. Cupping her face, he smoothed his thumb over her cheek gently, holding her gaze with his, willing her to trust him.

Just because you've had your mouth on her body doesn't automatically give you clearance to her life story. Do you want her trying to divulge all your secrets?

But he wasn't the one hurting right now; Violet was. And even though it wasn't his right or concern, he didn't like to see her in pain.

“You sure I can't help?”

She covered his hand with hers and pulled it down with a squeeze before letting it go. “I appreciate the rescue last night, but I can take it from here.”

Dean grabbed a sticky note and a pen off the counter and scribbled his number down. Handing it over to her, he said, “Call me.”

“I will,” she said.

But as she leaned up and gave him a light kiss, he knew she was lying.

F
IVE MINUTES LATER
, Violet stared out the window of Tracy's car as the signs along Highway 50 whizzed past, still holding the sticky note with Dean's number between her thumb and forefinger. She didn't know why she hadn't just crumpled it up and thrown it away the minute she'd walked out his door, but despite all of the shit hitting the fan this morning, she couldn't shake to image of Dean's dark eyes watching her with understanding. It had been so tempting to unburden her problems on him, a virtual stranger, but it wouldn't have been fair to saddle him with all of her drama.

“He gave you his number?” Tracy asked.

Violet stared down at the yellow sticky note with a sad smile. “He told me to call him.”

“Like for another booty romp or . . . ”

Violet sighed heavily, leaning her head back against the headrest. Frustration coursed through her at the ridiculous question. “Does it matter? I'm not going to do it. My life is way too messed up to drag some poor guy into it.”

If there is no way you're ever going to call again, then why not just get rid of it?

Maybe because despite the reality that had crashed and burned all around her, she wasn't quite ready to let go of the beautiful night they'd had.

Oh, God, do you hear yourself? Get your mind out of the cornball fantasy clouds and back to the problems at hand.

“Besides, you gotta wonder what's wrong with him that he still wants to talk to me after I turned into a complete basket case.”

“Maybe he dug it. Some guys get off on crazy,” Tracy said, earning a dark look from Violet. “Just saying, the dude seemed into you. I pretty much pulled my crazy overprotective best friend gig, and he didn't even bat an eyelash. And you know how scary I can be.”

Violet could just imagine Dean smirking down at Tracy while she threatened him, and the image almost made her laugh. “Yes, I'm sure you had all two hundred and fifty pounds of him quaking in his boots.”

“I didn't notice any boots, but I gotta say, those boxers showed off a hell of a lot of sexy man cake. Mmmm . . . You have to tell me about his slice. Is he packing a full sheet?”

Violet choked at Tracy's crude euphemism.

“God, you are disgusting. I'm not telling you about his dick.”

“Why not? You told me how Joe Vance never trimmed his fingernails and—”

Just the mention of Joe Vance and his Freddy Krueger nails inside her body made her cringe. “He was nothing like Joe.”

“Ah, see, now we're getting somewhere,” Tracy said.

Violet slipped Dean's number into her tote bag and tried once again to get Tracy to take a hint. “In case you forgot, I've got more important things to stress about than your need for a play-by-play of my sex life.”

“So there was definitely sex going on?”

If Tracy wasn't driving a car at sixty-five miles per hour, she would have strangled her. “Trace, I swear—”

“Will you chillax? I am trying to get your mind off of all this shit with Casey.” Tracy exited the freeway and made a hard right, turning Violet's stomach. She really needed to eat something.

Violet leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “I know.”

But nothing would ever make her forget about Casey and Daisy. By the time she was eighteen, her siblings had become her world. Since then, she'd gotten a better-paying job, sometimes two, and taken classes when she could. But above all, Daisy and Casey still came first.

“I need to call Daisy and make sure she stays at Madison's until all of this is done,” Violet said as she pulled out her phone, which had been hooked to Tracy's portable charger for a bit, and waited for it to boot up.

“What you need to do is move those kids out of that neighborhood. I don't understand why you don't get an apartment and just take them with you. Why the hell do you stay in that creepy house?” Tracy asked for the thousandth time.

“Because I can't afford rent, school, and the kids.”

Besides, even though they couldn't afford all the updates the house needed, it was the only constant in their lives. Despite all the bad shit that had happened in that place, it was familiar.

So they stayed in the house. All she had to do was keep the lights on and food on the table—the rest she saved for their schooling and hers.

And in a month, Daisy would be going to college, and Violet would have only Casey to worry about. With the financial aid and scholarship Oregon State University had offered Daisy, she wouldn't owe a dime when she graduated. It was more than Violet could have hoped for. The most important thing was making sure Daisy and Casey would have a future.

Yeah, you've done one hell of a job, Ace. Your sister's dating a punk who is just like your dad, and your little brother is in juvie.

Violet dialed Daisy's cell and pressed her phone to her ear while it rang. Daisy's groggy voice came over the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, Dais. Do you think you could hang at Maddy's a little longer? I have to take care of a few things—”

“Whatever.”

The call ended, and Violet sighed.

“Little sis is a real charmer, huh? Makes me glad it was just me growing up, sometimes,” Tracy said.

Tracy turned into the juvenile center, and Violet got out before the car was in park with her wallet in hand. She knew that she probably looked like a mess, but she didn't want to leave Casey inside longer than she had to.

Upon entering, she walked through the security scanner and reached a large desk with a wall of glass attached. Behind it sat a rough-looking security guard who waved her forward.

“Hi, I got a phone call that my little brother was here—”

“ID,” he said curtly.

Violet rummaged through her wallet and pulled out her license.

He took the ID from her hand and, after glancing up at her briefly, handed it back. “What's the name of the kid?”

“Casey Douglas,” she said.

“Hang on.” Tapping away at a keyboard, he pursed his lips and squinted his eyes. “Kid's being held until later this morning.”

“What do you mean? I can't just post bail or something?”

“You brother is being charged with vandalism and possession of a controlled substance. He'll have a hearing today, but until then, he is going to stay with us.”

Violet's head swam, and she gripped the side of the desk. “Can I see him at least? Please?”

“After he is processed—”

“Please, he's just a kid.” God, she hated begging, but she had to make sure he was okay.

“Everything okay?” Tracy had come up beside her and wrapped her arm around her waist.

Violet saw the guard's gaze light up as he took in Tracy's dimples, and for the first time, the man smiled back. “I was just telling your friend that I'd be happy to let her see her brother for a minute. Why don't you ladies have a seat?”

“That is so nice of you,” Tracy said.

As the two of them sat down, Violet whispered, “Thank you.”

“I don't know how many times I have to tell you that a flirty smile will get you anything you want,” Tracy hissed back.

“Maybe if I looked more like you—”

“Please, I would kill for your legs. I got two stumps.”

Violet gave a choked laugh. “Have I told you I love you today?”

“All right, enough of that, or that man might hear you and get the wrong impression.”

“Miss Douglas?” the guard called from the open doorway. “Come this way.”

“I'll wait here,” Tracy said.

Violet stood and followed the man into an empty room. “Have a seat. They're bringing him down now.”

“Thank you so much.”

Once the door was closed, Violet paced the room, trying to stop the shaking of her hands and the racing of her thoughts.

This is all your fault. If you hadn't gone out last night, this wouldn't have happened.

The door opened, and a guard walked in, followed by Casey's lowered strawberry blond head. The minute he glanced up and she saw the dark purple bruise swelling on the left side of his face, she cried out.

“You have five minutes,” the guard said, shutting the door.

Violet didn't waste any time rushing to her brother and squeezing him tight in her arms. When he groaned, she released him swiftly. “What happened? Did one of the officers do this?” The thought of a grown man with a gun doing this to her five-foot-two, hundred-pounds-soaking-wet little brother burned through her.

“No, a bunch of guys jumped me,” Casey said sullenly, avoiding her gaze.

“Who?” Violet would tear their lungs from their chests, beat them to a bloody pulp . . .

“I'm fine,” he said.

“Casey, damn it, who did this?”

Casey looked at her with their mother's green-gold eyes, and she could see the pain and fear swimming in their depths. “Where were you last night?”

Violet's face burned. The last thing she wanted to tell her brother was that she'd let her phone die while she was screwing a guy she just met.

“I was at Tracy's; I just forgot to put my phone on the charger. I am really sorry, Casey.”

“Whatever, I'm fine.”

Violet could see that he wasn't fine, but she didn't argue. “At least let me see the rest of it.”

After a moment's hesitation, Casey lifted his shirt. The right side of his body was so discolored there wasn't a patch of natural skin tone left.

Violet's eyes blurred as she stared at the evidence of the beating he'd taken, and she shook her head. “Did they take you to the hospital? You might have a broken rib or something.”

“I'm fine,
Dr.
Douglas.” He let his shirt fall, and she bit her tongue, trying not to lose her shit.

“The guard said you were being charged with vandalism and possession. What happened?”

“Assholes set me up. Luis and I were painting at the school—”

“Wait, do you mean tagging?”

“It's not tagging, Vi,” Casey snapped.

Don't be combative. Just let him tell his story . . . Then, you can lecture.

“Fine, you were painting a mural without permission. How did you end up looking like someone took a bat to you?”

Casey's fists clenched, and his expression turned lethal. “Fucking Garret and his crew showed up, and they called Luis a rat because they think he told Principal White that Garret's been dealing at school. They jumped him, and when I stepped in, they started whaling on me. We heard the sirens, and they scattered, but Luis and I weren't fast enough.”

Violet made a note to contact the school and find out who this Garret was. She had to make sure Casey would be safe at school. “And the possession?”

“Come on, Vi, it was just one joint.”

Just the fact that he acted like it was no big deal after everything they had been through with their dad sent her blood pressure skyrocketing. “I'm sure that's the same thing Dad said before things got away from him.”

“I am nothing like Dad,” he said coldly.

Violet sighed and ran her hands over her hair. “I know, but you are in serious trouble, Case.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I kinda got that impression when they put cuffs on me and read me my rights.”

“Which wouldn't have happened if you and Luis had stayed home—”

The guard stepped back in. “Time's up.”

Violet gave Casey a gentle hug, ignoring the way he stiffened when she touched him. Lately he'd disliked anyone getting too close to him, even for a hug, and it twisted Violet up inside. He'd always been so affectionate, hugging her to the point that her ribs squeaked. Now he cringed if anyone tried to touch him.

“I'm going to get you out of here.”

“I know,” Casey said as he followed the guard out. He tossed her a cocky smile that didn't meet his eyes, and the door closed behind him.

Violet sat down at the table for a moment or two, trying to regain her composure. Finally, she made her way back out front, and Tracy met her with an almost gleeful expression.

“What's got you so happy?”

“Let's get outside first,” Tracy said, leading the way out the door. Once they reached her car, she continued, “So, I was talking to the guard, and he said that Casey's hearing will most likely be with Judge Gambit, since it's before lunch.”

“And he'll go easy on him?”

“No, apparently he's a hard-ass,
but
Casey will most likely get sent to this new military boot camp for the duration of his sentence,” Tracy said.

“How is that a good thing?” Violet asked.

“Because”—Tracy paused to climb into her car, and Violet did the same—“from what he said, it's way better than juvie.”

“God, he's going to have legal fees, and I'm sure I'll have to pay a fine.”

“You need a sugar daddy,” Tracy said.

“Don't be gross.” Violet couldn't stop the sneering face of Mr. Walker from flashing through her mind. He was a longtime friend of her dad's, but the guy gave her the creeps. She'd seen him around town a few times, and the way he watched her made her skin crawl.

“Well, you at least need a win. Because right now, with everything you do for those kids, you have a bigger heart than fucking Cinderella—and that bitch got a prince and a castle.”

“I gave up on princes and castles a long time ago, Trace.” Staring out the window, she pushed away the memory of Dean's dark eyes filled with white-hot desire. “Besides, I've been handling my business without a guy to rescue me. Why start now?”