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Argh!

  His voice mail kicked in. “Leave a message.”

  A delightful shiver cooled my heated skin as I heard his husky tone. “Seriously? I couldn’t be excited from a voice on the phone,” I whispered, waiting to hear the beep so I could leave a message. The beep never came.

  Oh no. I hung my head.

  “If you’re satisfied with your message, press one,” the nice lady on the other end said.

  Instead, I hung up. It was better to hightail my big butt over to the shelter.

  9

  Dillon

  Norma was typing away at her desk when I sauntered in after my drive back from the prison. Her lip ring shimmered as she ran her tongue over it, a habit she had when she was thinking and hard at work. She didn’t even look up as I waltzed in, which wasn’t normal. Her eyes always darted to the door.

  Angel, Norton’s spouse, glanced up from the couch. “Dillon,” she cooed.

  I pocketed my keys. “Your bruises are healing great.”

  She moved a strand of her sandy-blond hair from her face as she gently touched her left eye and cheekbone. “All thanks to you.”

  Angel, who had found the shelter through one of Norma’s friends, had been my first guest. She had to know about Norton. I couldn’t risk her getting hurt if she decided to return home. “Norton was here last night. You need to be careful, Angel. He was drunk but also carrying a gun.”

  Norma gasped.

  Angel paled. “No one got hurt?”

  “No. Rafe took him to a home for alcoholics this morning. Let’s hope he wants the help.”

  Color returned to Angel’s complexion.

  Norma’s shock over Norton morphed into irritation. “I called you.”

  I shifted my attention to the one person who had saved me when I was searching for an assistant I could trust. More importantly, I’d needed someone who could help the women as they came in, and Norma had been the perfect person for the job. She’d lived on the streets, pimped herself to put food in her belly, and she had a way of calming people down, me included.

  I checked my phone and saw I had two voice mails and one missed call. “What happened?”

  “That girl who came in last night took off. She doesn’t happen to be the one that the cops are looking for? Dillon, we can’t have any trouble here. You’ll scare away our guests.”

  Motherfucker.

  Norma rotated her computer screen before I could open my mouth. The headline blaring at me read, “Witnesses saw a redheaded girl flee the scene last night at a standoff on Bleven and Third.”

  I clutched the back of my neck and turned away from Angel so she couldn’t see that I was seething as question after question surfaced. I should’ve had Rafe and Josh watching Nadine instead of Norton. Then again, women who came to the shelter were free to come and go.

  Nadine’s situation was different, though. She was running from a gang and from the law. She could end up like that girl I’d seen on the table in the morgue.

  “I saw her sneaking out early this morning,” Angel said.

  I took in a breath before I pivoted on my heel, nice and slow and calm.

  Fuck calm. I wanted to throw that stapler Norma had her hand on. I should’ve stayed instead of running out to see Denim. I could’ve talked Nadine out of leaving.

  “Dillon.” Norma used her sweet voice that I’d heard her use on Angel and Debbie, who was probably up in her room. “You can’t save everyone.”

  Her last statement was like a blow from a sledgehammer, reminding me that I was a fuckup who couldn’t save his own sister.

  “Excuse me for a minute,” I said for Angel’s benefit more than Norma’s.

  Norma had seen me in a rage a time or two. Her patience was amazing. She’d watched me beat a punching bag I had in the basement until my knuckles were raw. I didn’t use gloves like Kross Maxwell did. Bareback was my motto, along with feel the pain, and see the blood.

  I glued on a fake smile as I crossed the room on my way to the basement.

  Angel hopped off the couch and caught my arm. “Thank you for helping Norton, and I’m sorry I put you in jeopardy.”

  I was dumbfounded. She shouldn’t be apologizing for him. “Norton’s actions aren’t your fault. Please don’t ever believe that.”

  Up close, the thirty-year-old woman seemed to have new life injected into her. A soft pink hue pinched her cheeks beneath the fading bruises. Her blue eyes were crystal clear, and her short hair was shiny. She’d made a hundred-and-eighty-degree turnaround since she’d arrived on our doorstep a month ago.

  “I’m working on it.” She let go of my arm. “I tried to stop the redhead since she looked frightened out of her mind. She said something like ‘I’m not safe here. And I don’t want to put anyone in danger or get Dillon in trouble. Tell him thank you for me, though.’”

  Man, I could have kicked myself in the ass over and over again. I should’ve done something more to convince her that she would be safe here.

  Norma rolled back her chair. The sound clicked along the wood floor. “Angel, can you see how Debbie is doing?”

  I whipped my head at Norma. “Did something happen to her?”

  Debbie had shown up a couple of days after Angel. Like Angel, Debbie had come to the shelter on the advice of a friend of Norma’s. Unlike Angel, Debbie hadn’t been beaten, but she had been sleeping on the streets.

  “I’ll poke my head into her room.” Angel regarded Norma then left.

  When Angel’s footsteps faded, I sat on the arm of the couch.

  Norma took my hand. “Debbie isn’t feeling well. We’re not sure if it’s the flu. Come on, you could use some coffee instead of the punching bag.”

  I followed Norma into the kitchen like a little boy following on his mom’s heels. I barely remembered tailing my mom as she promised cookies and milk right before bed.

  “The punching bag will take the edge off,” I said.

  She giggled. “I’m sure, but let’s chat first.”

  Norma poured coffee. I set my phone down on the wood-block island then slid onto a barstool. We had a modest kitchen with secondhand appliances that didn’t match, scratched-up stools, and a round metal table near the sliding glass door.

  “Where’s Rafe?” I’d spoken to him on my two-hour drive back from the prison earlier. He’d mentioned that he’d had no problem carting Norton over to Manny’s. I’d raised an eyebrow at that, although as the booze had vanished from Norton’s system, he was probably a different man. My father sure had worn a different persona the morning after he polished off a bottle of Jack Daniels—grumpy, quiet, and moving slowly.

  Regardless, I would’ve suspected that Rafe would have been back by now.

  Norma stirred sugar and milk into both cups, the spoon dinging the ceramic mugs.

  She carried them over and took a seat to my right. “Rafe stopped at the store to pick up some cold medicine for Debbie.”

  As soon as the caffeine hit my tongue, I sighed. Maybe the caffeine would kick the frustration and anger out of me. I didn’t think so, but I kept drinking as though the coffee was my bottle of Jack.

  Norma eyed me over her cup. “Slow down. You might get a little tipsy,” she teased.

  “If I ever get drunk, please dunk my head in ice water and then lock me up.” I wasn’t kidding.

  “You drink beer. Are you saying you’ve never been tipsy?” Her cute little eyebrows rose.

  “I don’t get drunk. I’ve only touched the hard stuff a couple of times, and I stopped. Drinking reminds me too much of my old man.” As boys, Denim, Duke, and I would steal bottles of liquor from the cabinet. We’d wanted to see what the booze was all about since our father was addicted. After puking my guts out, I didn’t go near liquor for a long time. “I’m worried about Nadine, the girl that came in last night.”

  “She’s the one that fled the scene?”

  “A girl I know brought her here. She ran into Nadine shortly after the standoff ended between the cops and a couple of ga
ng members.”

  Norma lifted her chin. “Who’s the girl you know?” Her tone was even.

  We’d never dated—my choice, not hers. She was a pretty girl, blond hair, but not exactly my type. I liked women with meat on them. Maggie was a perfect example.

  “Her name is Maggie Marx, and she’s a girl I knew from my days in a gang.”

  She held her coffee cup close to her mouth. “I’ve never heard you talk about your gang days or a girl from your past.”

  My childhood wasn’t something I reminisced about. “She’s a reporter, and she’s going to check her files for stories she’s written on girls. Who knows? Grace might be one of those girls. Right now, though, Nadine isn’t safe out on the streets. Anyway, you might see more of Maggie around here.”

  Norma’s face blossomed into a cheeky smile.

  I tapped in Rafe’s number then hit the speaker button.

  “What’s up, boss?” Rafe asked.

  “Nadine took off.”

  “Norma told me. Actually, I’ve been driving around the neighborhoods, looking for her. That’s why I’m not back yet.”

  “I’ll call Maggie. She might have some intel from her cop friend. Or maybe Nadine contacted Maggie.”

  When Rafe and I hung up, Norma grasped my hand. “Be careful. I mean with your heart. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “Where did that come from?” I felt as if I’d been hit from behind and had gotten whiplash.

  She stood then set her coffee cup in the sink. “Your voice hitched when you said Maggie’s name. Seems to me that you’ve had a thing for her since you were a kid.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “I’ve got work to do.”

  When she passed me, I latched on to her arm. “Thank you for being a big sister.”

  She rested a hand on my scruffy face. “I would do anything for you, even beat anyone who had the nerve to break your heart.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Now go release some steam. I don’t want you to get an ulcer before you’re thirty.”

  I already felt older than my twenty-six years.

  “Kelton Maxwell is supposed to stop by, and I called the Guardian. They’re sending Hunt Thompson over. He’ll be working with us for a while. Oh, and you should have Hunt’s contract in your email.”

  She gave me a cute smile. “It’s on your desk.” Then she sashayed through the living room and over to her computer.

  I grabbed my phone and headed to the basement. Once at the bottom of the stairs, I flicked on the light. The entire basement was a workout room. Mats were scattered around on one side, and weights and a treadmill on the other side. I had big plans for the shelter, and one of those plans was to show women how to protect themselves, which was why I’d moved all my workout equipment from my house to the shelter. Plus, expending energy was a great stress reliever for the women as well.

  I tore off my shirt and shoes then parked myself on the weight bench. I checked my messages before I called Maggie.

  The first voice mail was from Norma, so I deleted that. The next voice mail was car horns and heavy breathing for about ten seconds until the honeyed voice I had embedded in my brain from last night said, “Seriously? I couldn’t be excited from a voice on the phone.” Then the message ended.

  I listened to it again. I couldn’t make out if Maggie was talking to herself and didn’t realize the line had connected to my voice mail or if she was talking to someone else who had been with her.

  Nevertheless, I smiled as if I’d gotten the biggest Christmas present in the family. Talk about a voice to get me excited. My fingers were primed to punch in her number, when heavy footsteps shook the ceiling above me. Voices droned, Norma’s and Kelton’s.

  Then Kelton charged down the steps. “Hart, I hope I’m interrupting something with a woman down here.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  The sharp-dressed Maxwell triplet emerged with his infamous cocky grin, while his blue eyes searched every nook and cranny. “No woman?”

  “Why is your mind always on the opposite sex? Wait. Don’t answer that.” That was a dumb question on my part. Kelton Maxwell, former playboy, was now tied at the hip to Lizzie Reardon. She was beautiful and smart, the one girl who knew how to tame Kelton. She deserved an Academy Award for roping him in.

  He tucked his hands in the pockets of his navy-blue pants. “You need to find a piece of ass or asses.”

  “Says the man who is almost married.”

  He scowled. “One, I’m not married. Two, I need to live vicariously through you now.”

  I snorted. “You’ll be waiting a long time. So how goes the lawyer business?”

  Kelton was working full time for a law firm in the city while law school was out for summer break.

  He propped a shoulder against a support beam. “They got me working on simple cases when I’m not studying for the law exam. So what’s up? You said something about your brother, Denim.”

  “He needs a good lawyer. I thought of you.”

  He slapped a hand over his heart. “I’m touched. You think I’m good. Aw.”

  “I know you’re not out of law school yet. But can someone in your firm take a look at the case?”

  He pinched his chin with his fingers. “Didn’t you tell me no one would touch Denim’s case?”

  I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “I only talked to one lawyer. Maybe he didn’t look hard enough. Maybe the public defender didn’t either.”

  “Why now, man?” Kelton asked. “If I recall, you and your brothers aren’t tight.”

  A growl sat heavy in my throat. If I could have two wishes, one of course would have been to see Grace walk through my door, but the second one would have been to have a relationship with my brothers like the Maxwells had.

  When I’d first seen the family together, the four brothers in particular, I’d gotten so envious of how close they were. How they would die for each other. How they put each other first. How protective they were of those they loved. How their parents were sickly sweet and doted on each other.

  I wanted all that with my brothers and my family. But I would never have what they had, not with a brother in jail, a brother working illegal businesses, a sister who was nowhere to be found, and a father who thought booze was the love of his life. Oh, and a mother who had decided to leave her children behind.

  “If I’m being honest, I want a relationship with my brother. Plus, I’ve never believed Denim purposely set out to murder anyone.” I’d been so consumed with finding Grace that I hadn’t paid attention to Denim, and after seeing him earlier, I missed the relationship we’d had as kids.

  “For you, man, I’ll look at the case. I’m not promising anything.”

  “Thanks.” I could check another item off my to-do list. I’d accomplished a great deal before the clock struck noon. But the day wasn’t over in the least. Nadine weighed on me.

  Light footfalls prodded down the steps.

  Kelton pushed off the beam and slid over to stand next to a cabinet so he could see who was coming down.

  I glanced up, thinking it was Norma, but found Maggie with shock cascading off her as she fixated on Kelton.

  My first instinct was to shove Kelton out of the room. The man was a female magnet.

  Maggie’s green gaze bounced from Kelton to me then back to Kelton. “Maxwell?” Her throat bobbed as she played with her scarf.

  I wanted to vault off the bench and rip that flowery fabric from her neck. No, you don’t. You want to use Cory as a punching bag.

  One corner of Kelton’s mouth tipped upward.

  As I watched the silent exchange between Kelton and Maggie, it dawned on me. “You two slept together?”

  Maggie’s mouth fell open.

  Kelton ran one of his large paws through his styled black hair. “I swear on my sister’s grave that we didn’t sleep together. The question is how do you two know each other?” He wagged a finger at us.

  Kelton and I had been friends a long time, and I knew he was telling the t
ruth. But the tension between him and Maggie felt like a fist to my gut.

  Great way of deflecting, man. “Gang life.” My gaze slid to the woman who was doing things to my body that I couldn’t control. But the idea of Kelton and her, whether they’d slept together or not, tempered my libido.

  Fucking Maxwell.

  I would never forget the first time he’d shown up on my doorstep, looking for Lizzie. She and I had met through a cousin of mine because she’d wanted to purchase a gun. I’d offered her a place to stay and nothing more. Regardless, Kelton had had this bravado, which he still harbored, but that snowy day on my porch, Lizzie had all but brought him to his knees.

  Allie and Bee had watched their exchange from behind a curtain. I couldn’t help but watch too. I swore Lizzie had held a magic wand in her hand that day and waved it over Kelton, who had melted into a pile of mush in freezing temperatures. That was some power to have over a Maxwell brother.

  Still, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, even though I knew the man was madly in love with Lizzie.

  “I got to run,” Kelton piped up, shredding my trip down memory lane. “We’ll be in touch, Dillon.” He swaggered up to Maggie.

  I clenched my teeth hard. If you touch her, I will coldcock you.

  He nodded at her. “Nice to see you again.”

  She stood statue-still. “Maxwell.” She stole a glance at me with her lips slightly parted and her cheeks flushed.

  Whether she was embarrassed or shocked or both, she didn’t need to be. Her past was none of my business. Yet the idea of Maggie with any man, past or present, made my stomach knot in ways I’d never felt before.

  10

  Maggie

  I didn’t move from my spot at the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t even open my mouth to speak, which was so unlike me. But Dillon’s statement that Maxwell and I had slept together rendered me speechless. The tone in his voice screamed of jealousy, and that gave me mixed emotions. In one breath, I was all toasty inside, knowing that Dillon would fight for me. In another, his jealousy gave me reason to pause. Sometimes when men were fighting over a woman, that meant feelings were involved. Dillon couldn’t possibly have feelings for me. After all, we didn’t know each other well enough to develop any sort of feelings except for lust. Maybe I was reading too much into the situation.