Chapter Four
The children left an hour later, convinced they’d met the real Redhawk. Louie had gone home with one of the other boys for the night, new watch strapped on his arm, swagger in his step.
George, with a dish towel held to his nose, had finally gotten the bleeding under control. Without saying a word, he’d glared at Anna before stomping out the back door. When she heard him drive down the street, she’d breathed a huge sigh of relief.
While she had no idea what he was going to say or do about the punch, at least, he was gone for the moment, and she could breathe a little easier.
It was barely afternoon, and Anna was already more exhausted than she would have been after a full day’s work.
“I’d love to stay and help you clean up,” Taylor said. “But I’m due at the hospital soon. It’s my weekend. I’m sure Redhawk can lend a hand.” She nodded in Clark’s direction.
“I’ve got it. There’s not much to clean up,” Anna said. “Thanks again. It would’ve be a disaster without you.”
Taylor hugged Anna. “It was a great party, especially the part where George finally got what was coming to him.” Her best friend loved nothing more than a dose of good, old-fashioned justice.
“He may have deserved that punch, but I’m sure he’ll stick me with the bill.” Anna wished she could stop being so scared of George, but she couldn’t seem to stop worrying about his next move. She’d lived in fear when she was married to him, and the same was true now. She hated herself for it.
Taylor placed her hand on Anna’s arm. “Don’t worry. George will be fine, and if his nose is broken, Clark will pay for the medical bills. He’ll take care of everything. He always does. He’s a fixer.”
“I’m not a fixer,” he said, a sharp edge in his voice.
“I’m just making sure Anna knows who she’s dealing with.” Taylor reached into her purse and pulled out two twenties. “Here’s the refund from Ronnie. I gotta bounce. See you kids later.” She closed the door behind her.
Now that Anna was totally alone with Clark, she didn’t know whether she was a little scared or a lot excited. He was still in his costume, and with the house cleared of impressionable kids, she allowed her gaze to linger on the way the material hugged the muscular lines of his body. Perfectly. She needed to be more concerned with the custody of her son than with a hired Redhawk, but her longtime fantasy was standing in front of her, and it was screwing with her head. She forced herself to stop thinking about how he might look without the bodysuit.
“I hope George doesn’t use the pre-party punch as a way to get custody of Louie. Even though he’s been threatening to take him away from me for years, he’s never really tried. This might be his chance.” Anna slumped into one of the dining room chairs and dropped the trash bag onto the floor. “What am I going to do if he takes my son?” She bent at the waist and dropped her head into her hands.
I’m sick of feeling so defeated.
She glanced up as Clark claimed the chair beside her and pulled off his mask. “I don’t know what came over me. I haven’t hit anyone since elementary school.”
Beneath his dark eyebrows, long eyelashes framed his bright-green eyes. While it was obvious that he and Taylor were related, his features were sharper and more angular. With high, chiseled cheekbones and the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow, the only thing that made his face less than perfect was his sharp, narrow nose. For Anna, that small detail made him even more compelling.
“I know you were trying to help, and in a fairy tale, it would’ve been the perfect solution. Too bad real life is so much more complicated.” She hated the way her voice cracked. George always seemed to have the upper hand, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she was just one step from falling flat on her face. “I wish it hadn’t played out that way.”
“I’m usually a mild-mannered architect.”
“Taylor says you’re a hermit.”
He shook his head. “I am not a hermit. Although, I might be a eunuch if I have to wear this costume much longer.”
“That would be a tragedy.” Anna blushed.
“I’d be forced to watch the women of Franklyn weep for weeks.” His lips spread into a lazy grin, revealing perfect teeth.
“Not if you don’t leave your house,” she countered.
“I see what you did there.” He laughed, revealing symmetrical dimples. “Maybe the costume made me brave. Maybe I went too deeply into character.”
I’d like to see him go even deeper into character.
The attraction flashed back to the surface, and her face heated.
“What a mess. Shit.” There was no doubt that Clark would be a very interesting distraction. Anna exhaled loudly. Her shoulders slumped, and she sank even deeper into the chair. “George has more money, a nicer house, and a hell of a lot more influence. He’s got every judge in town in his pocket. Do you even know who my ex-husband is?”
Clark sat beside her and raised one eyebrow. “Should I?”
Anna narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. “You live in Franklyn and you don’t know George Bishop?”
Recognition dawned on his face. “Just my luck. I couldn’t have punched a nobody. He’s a Bowling Ball Bishop ?”
“Yep. His parents own the factory just outside of town.” The company was the largest employer in the county and just about everyone had a spouse, a sibling, or a friend who worked for the Bishops.
“If that’s not irony, I don’t know what is. The scion of a bowling ball manufacturer with no balls of his own.” Clark couldn’t suppress the laugh. “Incredible.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t hit you back.” No, she wasn’t. Not really. If Clark had been a smaller man, George would’ve been more likely to punch back, but he didn’t like adversaries that had a chance. A classic bully, he preferred to pick on people hard pressed to defend themselves.
“With a punch like that, he recognized me as the alpha male.”
“Does the costume also come with the attitude? Or does that cost extra?”
“It must have been included,” Clark admitted. “I sound like The Rock, and I’ve never even watched wrestling.”
“It was nice to see him on the receiving end for once.” And it was. A big part of her wanted to jump up and cheer.
“I’m not sorry I hit him. He had that coming.” He placed his hand over hers and looked into her eyes. Electricity surged through her body, magnifying the attraction she already felt. “I am sorry that it caused you worry. But whatever happens, I’ll make it right. Whatever it takes to help you keep Louie, I’ll do it. You have my word on that.”
Anna shook her head. As generous as Clark was to offer, she didn’t want his help, or anyone else’s. While her life was far from trouble free, it was manageable. With someone else in the mix, that wouldn’t be a given. Far from it. “Louie and I are fine. On our own. While I appreciate your willingness to step in, it’s better if I handle him. I need to find some courage and stop being afraid of George.”
“I handled him pretty well.”
“Is that the Redhawk suit talking again?”
“No. That’s a man who doesn’t like to see a woman disrespected.”
“Bet you wouldn’t have done the same in a button-down and silk tie.”
“My principles are not dictated by what I’m wearing.”
“He’s going to find out it was you.”
“I hope he does. I’ll tell him myself.”
“That’s definitely the costume talking,” Anna said. She rose and picked up the trash bag. Cleaning helped her keep her mind off her worries. It always had, and it was the main reason she’d started her housekeeping business.
“The cape may be the reason I’m full of bravado, but I’m serious when I say I’ll take care of any fallout.” He tossed a couple of empty juice boxes into the bag and moved closer to her. The woodsy, clean scent of his cologne tickled her nose, and she inhaled, savoring the nearness of him. He placed his hands on her upper arms and looked into her eyes. The sincerity in his green eyes mesmerized her. “I won’t let him take your boy.”
The heat of his body blazed against hers, with their lips only inches apart. When she looked up at him, he tilted his head downward and, for a sliver of a second, she thought he was going to kiss her.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he stays with you.”
Anna nodded, trapped between trying to pay attention to what he was saying and forcing herself to ignore her hormones, which had clearly gone rogue. “Thank you.”
He released her arms and the tension in the room eased. “I’ll help you finish.”
If only.
They worked well together, and within half an hour, the dining room was clean and all the trash was in the can outside the kitchen door. Anna was just putting the vacuum cleaner in the hall closet when her cell phone vibrated. Taylor.
“His nose is broken,” Taylor whispered into the phone. She was calling from the hospital. “I shouldn’t even be telling you that much. Gotta go.” She disconnected.
Shit. Anna leaned against the wall and tried to keep her mind from racing in several different directions at once.
“What’s next?” Clark asked from the other end of the hallway. “Are you okay?” He moved toward her.
“His nose is broken. Taylor just called.”
“He’s not going to take your son. Simple as that.” Clark set his jaw.
He opened his arms, and before she realized what she was doing, she stepped into them and let him hold her while she cried tears of fear and frustration.
She pulled away. His arms felt too safe. Safe, when it came to men, was a big red flag, and she wasn’t falling for it.
Never again.
…
Clark was exhausted. He’d never been so hot. Or so damn itchy. Any dreams of being a real superhero had been crushed by the costume. The spandex just wasn’t worth it even if all the mothers had licked their lips every time they’d looked at him.
Not that I noticed anyone but Anna.
He’d be dreaming about that short denim skirt, and what was underneath it, for weeks.
He hadn’t been on a date in ages. Even though Taylor was constantly playing matchmaker, he was never attracted to any of the women she suggested. Anna was a whole different story, and the first time he’d met her, he was in metallic spandex.
Even if he’d been in his usual pressed chinos and button-down, it wouldn’t have made any difference. He wasn’t a family man. He couldn’t be. Clark had proven that he couldn’t be trusted to look after the people he cared about most, and the last time he’d checked the definition of “family man,” it included looking after others. Anna needed a man who could protect her, save her from her asshole of an ex-husband.
Clark wasn’t that man.
Considering what I did to Jake, I don’t deserve a family.
He sank down onto Taylor’s sofa and began peeling off the layers of the costume.
After a long, cold shower and changing back into his jeans and T-shirt, he felt like himself again, but the party had left him feeling restless, the attraction to Anna making him edgy. He hadn’t felt such a strong pull toward a woman in ages. If ever. He couldn’t get the memory of her smell out of his mind. The way her body fit perfectly against his. He was attracted to her in a way he couldn’t explain, even to himself.
Even though he hadn’t intended to break George’s nose, he wasn’t sorry. Clark knew regret better than most men, and the punch he’d thrown at Anna’s ex didn’t fit into that category. He’d deal with the fallout tomorrow. It would likely be a while before the bastard left the hospital, and the pain meds would keep him sedated for at least twenty-four hours.
After hanging the Redhawk costume on the back of the bathroom door, he locked up Taylor’s house and drove toward the east side of town. He needed to stop by Jake’s apartment and check on him. Make sure he had groceries. That he didn’t need any help.
Clark and Jake had been best friends since Mrs. Doyle’s kindergarten class. From the start, they’d agreed on everything. Legos, the sandbox, and Matchbox cars. Their friendship had persevered through mean teachers and heartbreaking girls. Their bond had even survived Jake’s transfer to public school in sixth grade when the Davis family fell on hard times. They were closer than most brothers.
Clark pulled his truck into the spot beside Jake’s big, white Chevy van parked in the handicapped spot.
All because of me.
He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath.
Eighteen months. Five hundred and forty days. He looked at the numbers on his wrist. Even without the tattoo, he’d never forget the date. The ink was a permanent reminder he was the reason Jake had lost a leg, a permanent reminder he was the reason Jake couldn’t make his living as a building contractor, and a permanent reminder that one piss-poor decision had nearly cost his best friend his life.
Clark had relived the night a million times. Would undoubtedly relive it a million more.
It was supposed to be a special occasion.
Clark had been the architect for a large manufacturing plant in nearby Asheville. Jake had been the general building contractor. The project had cost well over twenty million, and they’d both worked their asses off to make it a success. They’d cleared some serious cash and wanted to celebrate the completion of the project.
Jake had reserved the back room at Jack of Hearts, the local pub. A couple of kegs, platters of hot wings and celery, and a hundred of his closest friends. He’d even hired a cover band. In Jake’s words, it was going to be epic. Usually, Clark would’ve begged off, but he’d been excited about the finished product and thrilled about his inflated bank balance.
But the weather hadn’t cooperated. While there was mostly cold rain in Franklyn, the higher elevations were getting a dose of serious winter weather, making the roads slick and icy. When the band didn’t show up, citing the nasty road conditions, Jake had been beyond pissed. He’d given them a hefty deposit and wanted live music. If the band wasn’t coming, Jake, who’d already had a few, wanted his guitar.
Clark had seen how hot Jake’s temper was running, and he should’ve talked him down, shown him the Weather Channel app on his phone, and convinced him the country roads were dangerous.
But he hadn’t. The party had been so important to Jake. Clark couldn’t deny his friend. Instead of being the responsible man he usually was, he’d gotten behind the wheel with Jake riding shotgun, and nothing had ever been the same again. Even though Clark had been stone sober, he’d been no match for the roads.
Jake had clicked on the interior light, screwing with Clark’s night vision. Jake had been yelling into his cell phone, blasting the band for not showing up. Clark, trying to concentrate on the road, had gotten frustrated and tried to wrestle the phone away from Jake. Just east of Hot Springs, he’d lost control of the car and they’d tumbled down an embankment, leaving Clark with a headache and a few scratches and Jake in ICU.
The couple in the car behind them, the people who’d stopped and called for help, had seen them arguing and told police the accident must have been a result of the dispute over the phone. Clark had been charged with reckless endangerment, while Jake had gotten a life sentence.
Clark stepped out of the truck and leaned against the side. Seeing what the accident had done to Jake never got any easier. A sharp pang of guilt stabbed him in the gut, and he wondered for the millionth time why, when he’d been the one who’d been driving, he’d escaped with no serious injuries.
After a deep breath, he walked to the front door and pressed the bell.
Jake yelled, “Hang on. It will take me a minute.”
The deadbolt clicked, and the door slowly opened, the sunlight glinting off the metal of Jake’s wheelchair. He’d been waiting on a prosthesis for months, but the swelling wasn’t going down as quickly as expected, and he was stuck waiting.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” Clark briefly met Jake’s eyes and then quickly looked up. He would never be able to face what he’d done to his best friend.
“Pretty good. Come on in.” Jake rolled the chair backward and into the living room. The apartment, on the ground floor of a new complex just outside Franklyn, was perfect for Jake. Clark had been the architect for the project and had made sure Jake got dibs on the place.
The floor plan was open, giving plenty of room for a person in a wheelchair to maneuver in and out of every room with ease. Clark had had no idea when he’d designed the place that Jake would be living in the handicapped unit.
“What’s going on today?” Clark closed the door and walked farther into the apartment.
Jake rolled to a stop in the corner of the room. “Just watching a little baseball. The Braves look terrible.” He shook his head. “It’s almost painful to watch.”
“It’s always painful to watch.” He was surprised to see the place was messier than usual. Jake was a neat freak, and there were several wrappers and empty cans on the coffee table. Maybe he’d been too busy watching baseball to clean up.
“Shit. You know the Braves are the best baseball team in history. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“Braves, my ass. You only like them because they’re the closest team. The Cubs are the only team worth watching.” It was an old argument, as familiar and comfortable as Clark’s favorite pair of work boots. He’d never told Jake the whole story of why he hated the team so much and probably never would. It was ancient history.
“Call me crazy, but I like a team that wins the World Series more than once a century. You want a beer?” Jake was already rolling toward the fridge.
“I’ll get it,” Clark said, dashing to cut between Jake and the kitchen.
“Relax, dude. I may be in a wheelchair, but I’m not helpless.” He eased past Clark and pulled up to the door. “I can operate my own fridge, jackass.”
“I know. I was just trying to—”
Jake handed a Coors Light to Clark. “I know what you were trying to do. We’ve had this conversation a few times already.” He shook his head and looked up at Clark. “It’s not your fault. I’m alive. I’m learning how to live this way. Can we just drop it?”
If Clark hadn’t known Jake for two decades, he’d have believed his sunny outlook was real. But Jake couldn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his forced smile.
“It is my fault, Goose.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Jake repeated. “And don’t call me Goose.” He punched Clark in the arm. “Duck.”
Clark smiled. Duck and Goose. Nicknames from elementary school.
“Now, do you want to watch some baseball, or would you rather just wallow in your misplaced guilt?”
“It isn’t misplaced—”
“Gotcha,” Jake said, a devilish grin on his face. “Beat you to the living room.” He leaned the chair back and shot across the tiled floor.
Jake grabbed the remote from the side table and cranked the volume up three or four ticks past loud.
After four innings of a lackluster game, Jake switched off the television. “What’s the matter?”
Clark placed the beer he’d been nursing since he arrived on the table beside his chair. “Nothing. Why?”
“Bullshit. What’s the deal?”
It was impossible to fool Jake. Always had been. “Something happened this morning.”
Jake tilted his head to one side and cracked open another beer. “Is this like a guessing game?”
“I punched George Bishop and broke his nose.” Clark absently rubbed his knuckles.
Jake’s eyes went wide. “What the hell? That’s not like you. I’m usually the one with a hot temper who loves to talk trash. You’re the calm one, the voice of reason.”
“He was getting physical with Anna, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.” He clenched his fist and lobbed it into his palm, remembering the surge of anger he’d felt when George had grabbed Anna’s wrists.
“How do you know her?”
“I don’t. Not really. It’s all Taylor’s fault.”
“Isn’t it always?” Jake asked, grinning from ear to ear. “Start at the beginning.” He took a deep sip of his beer.
Clark told him everything. The costume, the satisfying crunch when he’d hit George, and Anna’s fear that her ex was going to get custody of Louie.
“You did the right thing. George is a sorry bastard.” Jake paused and looked out the window into the parking lot. “Anna deserves so much more than that son of a bitch.”
“You know her?”
Jake nodded. “She was in my American History class. She didn’t run with our crowd, but she was always smart, sweet. Not the kind of girl I ever expected to get tied up with George.”
“What was he like?”
“All brawn, no brains. A stereotypical jock who loved to talk trash.”
“Sounds like he hasn’t changed much.” Clark finished his beer and crushed the can.
Jake shook his head. “Too bad Anna has.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s whip-smart. She could’ve done anything she wanted, but she got pregnant right after graduation. She put everything on hold for her marriage and her son. Now she’s stuck cleaning houses to make ends meet.”
“I told her I’d take care of things. I’ll take responsibility regardless of what that means.”
“I’m shocked he didn’t call the cops,” Jake said. “He loves to use his clout.”
“The cops buy it?”
“How can they not? His family is the closest thing to royalty we have in Franklyn. They grease the wheels.”
“If they have so much money, why didn’t they send George to Lennox?”
“Legacy and all that. He wore the same football number as his dad.”
“Sheesh.”
“I hope he doesn’t sue you. That would be just like him.” Jake tapped his fist on the armrest of his wheelchair.
Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Louie’s party seemed days away instead of hours. “Shit.” Clark balanced his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands. He’d worked hard for every penny he had in the bank, and he didn’t want to pay a cent of it out to that bully, but he would. He wouldn’t put Anna on the hook for his mistake.
“He probably won’t though,” Jake said.
“Why?”
“You kicked his ass in front of Anna. He’s probably too embarrassed.”
“I sure as hell hope so,” Clark said.