Vindicated (12 page)

"Nothing but good stuff," Ally assured him, which earned her another kick beneath the table. “Ow.” She laughed, making no effort to hide her amusement. "She was telling me how you’ve been helping her out. Weren't you, Karly?"

"Yep," she said. Randy shifted. His thigh rubbed hers again, followed by the brush of his hand over the top of her leg when she lifted her coffee cup to take a drink. She choked and sputtered into the cup. Summoning an air of calm, she set the cup onto the saucer and brushed his hand away.
Arrogant, assuming asshat.

"Why's that?" Jack asked.

"I towed Karly’s car over to Skeeter's garage. He's going to try and piece it together." Randy launched into a detailed report about automotive mechanics, while Jack nodded in understanding.

"Nice," Jack said. Were they still talking about the car? She’d lost track of the conversation, derailed by the brush of Randy’s fingers over the back of her hand beneath the table. "Skeeter will do you right. Does he think he can fix it?"

"I don't know. It's pretty bad. I'm heading over there in a minute." Randy turned to Karly. "Are you free? You can come with me."

Chapter 24

When they left Skeeter’s garage, Karly sat in the truck with her face turned to the window, depriving Randy of a way to discern her thoughts. Was she upset about the car or with his epic assholery after the movie? He frowned and tapped a finger on the steering wheel, brow furrowed in contemplation. She obviously had no idea how attracted he was to her, how his fingers itched with the urge to tug on one of her curls or caress the soft white skin beneath her ear. He cast a sideways glance at her and heaved a sigh.

When she’d kissed him the other night, he’d drunk her in like a man dying of thirst. The pouty softness of her lips on his, demanding and needy, had struck a spark inside him still simmering beneath the surface of his cool demeanor. Sensing his scrutiny, she glanced over at him and flashed a cautious smile. Warmth spread over his skin in immediate response.

“You want to tell me what that was back at the coffee shop?” Her question ripped him from his thoughts. Was she a freaking mind reader? He coughed and cleared his throat.

“What do you mean?” he asked and glued his eyes to the road in front of them.

“You know what I mean. Your hand on my leg?” The determination in her pretty eyes had him squirming behind the wheel. “You made it clear the other night that you weren’t interested.”

If only she knew how many times he’d considered turning back to her apartment after he’d left. Later, he’d awoken in the middle of the night with so much wood he couldn't get back to sleep. Even after taking matters into his own hands, he’d lain awake for hours. He licked his lips, still able to taste the sweetness of her mouth. This crazy attraction needed to stop before one or both of them got hurt.

“I never said I wasn’t interested. I said it was late and I had to go.” Tension tightened his brow.

She stared out the window, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. The heat of her breath made a circle on the window, receding with each inhalation, growing with each exhalation. His chest constricted. The air in the cab was thick with conflict, the friction between them palpable.

“So, do you need to go back to campus or do you want me to drop you somewhere?” The inadequacy of the question made him roll his eyes.
What a douche, Mackenzie.

“Um, you can drop me at the bus stop.” She pointed down the street to the telltale red bench and its glass enclosure. “I need to run a few errands before I head home.”

“I’m heading to the gym for a couple of hours. If you aren’t going to be too long, you can use my truck.” Where the hell did that come from? Even as his lips spoke the words, his mind reeled. No one was allowed to drive his truck—
ever
—and yet, he’d just offered it up to her on a silver platter. Christ, he really was losing it.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that,” Karly said, like she sensed his approbation. “I appreciate the gesture, though. I’m used to the bus. I’ve been riding it all my life.”

The words kept tumbling out. “No. Seriously. I don’t mind at all. And it’s just going to sit in the parking lot for the next few hours.”
Shut your mouth, Mackenzie
. They drove past the bus stop and turned onto the street leading to his gym.

Randy double parked across the street from Raoul’s Martial Arts Training Center and set the brake. “You can drive a stick, right?” Her head tilted to the side, and her eyes narrowed. “It’s got a full tank. Just pick me up at five, okay?”

She nodded and bit her lower lip, eyes still cautious. He opened the door and jumped out before turning to look back at her. She slid across the seat, looking small but incredibly hot behind the wheel of his baby.

“I don’t understand you at all,” she said. “Why are you doing this?”

“Everyone deserves a break now and then,” he said with a shrug.
And you really seem like you need a break
. A strand of her hair blew across her face. He brushed it back with a fingertip and grinned. “And if you put a scratch on it, I’ll kick your ass."

Karly sat behind the wheel and watched Randy cross the street, long legs eating up the pavement. Warm sunlight struck sparks on his auburn hair. The graceful stride spoke volumes about its owner—confident, aggressive, and focused. A girl passing down the sidewalk hesitated to admire him. He ignored her but stopped at the door to the gym and gave Karly a sexy grin. She sucked in a breath and put a hand to her stomach to quell the attraction there.

Give it a rest before this goes too far
. There was no point in wasting time and emotion on a guy who personified trouble. His kisses evoked her desire, but his words and actions made it crystal clear he was emotionally unavailable. His indecision might not be intentional, but she had no place in her life for mind games.

The sound of a car horn from behind her startled her into action. She shoved the truck into gear. Unaccustomed to the clutch, she accelerated with an awkward jerk, followed by two embarrassing hops, before reaching the next intersection. She laughed out loud and prayed Randy had already gone inside.

Determined to take advantage of the rare opportunity to drive, she made stops at the post office and convenience store. With plenty of time left to kill, she found herself driving toward her parents’ home. Their tiny two-bedroom bungalow rested in a blue-collar neighborhood among row after row of identical houses. The large truck rumbled along the narrow streets. Every block closer raised unpleasant memories of her family and childhood.

She parked the truck across the street from the house and stared at the tiny porch littered with bags of garbage and a broken toilet. There were no cars in the driveway, no footprints down the walkway, and nothing to suggest anyone had come or gone since the recent snowfall. The wind picked up and banged the screen door against the side of the house. Snow swirled in tiny torrents over the sidewalk.

A tiny niggling of panic tapped at her subconscious. Ignoring the warning bells sounding in her head, she opened the door of the truck and hopped to the snow-covered street. She clutched the collar of her coat tight about her throat to keep out the wind. The gate to the front yard stood ajar, jammed into the snow and frozen in place. She squeezed around it, heart tattooing at an alarming rate, and trudged through the drifted snow to the front door.

God, how she hated this place. The simple act of standing on the porch made her stomach turn with revulsion. A childhood home should be a happy place offering warm memories, comfort, and love, yet all she felt was anger and disappointment. She flinched at the vision of her father dragging her by the hair across the living room floor, his face contorted with rage and loathing, before shoving her out this very same door on her sixteenth birthday without a cent to her name.

“They ain’t there, honey.” The wavering voice at her elbow brought her screaming back into the present. She turned to find an elderly man on the steps, face careworn and lined, a tattered green felt fedora with a feather in the band set at a jaunty angle on his bald head. “Moved away about a week ago. Just left in the middle of the night, I reckon.”

“Left?” The word left her lips in a whisper. Moving aside the broken shutter, she peered into the window and saw nothing but empty darkness. “Are you sure? Maybe they went on a trip or something?” A ridiculous idea. They never went anywhere. Ever.

“Nope. Landlord came around here a few days back, asking questions and such. Said they skipped out on two months’ rent.” With two gnarled fingers, the old man tipped the brim of his hat up from his forehead. “Do I know you, honey?”

Emma.
Oh, God. Where was she? Was she okay? Panic swelled until it filled her chest.

“Do you know where they went? Did they leave a forwarding address or mention anything about where they were going?” She scanned the porch, looking for clues, desperate to find something…
anything…
to help.

“Nope. Not a word. Like I said, they skipped out all secret-like.” The old man cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing in contemplation. “You’re the other daughter, right? I remember you, child. Always such a pretty little thing.”

She cut him off with an upraised hand, pushing past him, and barreled down the sidewalk. With shaking hands, she opened the truck door and climbed behind the wheel. The scent of tobacco and leather hit her as soon as she opened the door, soothing in the midst of her panic.

After a few seconds, the shaking stopped and she was able to draw in a deep, cleansing breath. No need to freak out yet. There was probably a reasonable explanation. Before she went off the deep end, she needed to call Mitch. Maybe he knew something. They hadn’t spoken to each other in ages, but he seemed like the best place to start.

Chapter 25

Randy loved everything about Raoul’s new gym. The smell of sweat, the muffled grunts and barbs of sparring partners, the squeak of bare feet on the mats. It was the one place where he could be himself without worry. Framed photographs of former students and fight posters dotted the dark green cinderblock walls. The cage loomed in the back of the gym, waiting for him. Why had he stayed away so long? Without conscious thought, he ran a finger over the scar on his neck. The curious stares of his peers burned into his back. He should have been back months ago, and everyone knew it.

Raoul, his trainer, climbed into the cage. Randy followed him, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He wasn’t exactly in fighting condition, even though he’d continued to lift weights and run occasionally. Sure, he could still kick the average guy’s ass without breaking a sweat. But bare-knuckled, no-holds-barred cage fights were a whole other animal.

He shook his head to clear away the self-doubt and insecurity, touched gloves with Raoul, and gave him the nod to begin.

The first punch hit Randy in the jaw with enough force to twist his chin. With that one punch, Raoul set the tone of the session. Two more quick jabs to his face blurred his vision. He feinted to the left but was too late to miss the uppercut to his gut. The wind rushed out of him with a whoosh. Rage and frustration boiled up and clouded his vision. The way he’d bolted on Karly—not once, but twice. Memories of Pilar with Mitch…Caleb… He swung blindly, missed, and swore behind his mouth guard. Raoul laughed adding to Randy’s frustration and with a low sweeping kick, knocked his feet from underneath him. He landed on the mat with a thud and a flurry of curses.

“You suck, man,” Raoul chided with a huge grin on his lean face. Despite being American-born, his words carried a hint of Spanish accent. “You been out too long. You lost it.”

The respect he carried for the man was the only reason Randy didn’t knock him on his ass. Raoul had earned the right to heckle him. The taunting came from a place of concern. Forgotten muscles ached as he rolled over onto hands and knees before rising to his feet. Another twenty minutes of the same treatment had him sucking wind like an old man. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm and spit out the mouth guard.

“You let me get into your head, my friend. You fight like an angry little baby. Why you come back to my gym and waste my time?” Raoul shook his head in disgust.

“Fuck you,” Randy replied, more irritated with himself than Raoul. Why
was
he there? He’d been out of the ring for almost a year and hadn’t missed it.

“I don’t fuck little babies,” Raoul replied. The Velcro on the wrists of his gloves growled as he removed them then tossed them onto a ringside chair.

“Shit, man, I wasn’t that bad.”

“My mother has faster reflexes than you,” Raoul taunted, “and she passed away ten years ago.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here, asshole. I need you to get me back in shape.” He tore off his gloves and rubbed the sore ribs. How could he explain the wreckage of his life with mere words? Somewhere over the past year, he’d lost his edge and morphed into a drunken loser. He didn’t want to be that guy anymore.

“You need to focus. Watch what you eat. No more pizza.” Raoul gave Randy a playful slap on the stomach. “Run every day. And lay off the drinking. Garbage in, garbage out. You understand,
mijo
?”