Page 83 of Average Joe

No hesitation. No awkward pauses. That man hugged me with steel-spined resolve like he wanted to absorb every sob, sniff, and tear, or shield me from every ugly experience. I’d gone from teasing to tormented in the blink of an eye, and when others would’ve run, he stayed.

Embarrassed because, again, I’d gone mental in front of the guy, I wanted to slink away, lock myself in the house for the rest of the day. Instead, I melted into his solid embrace, and I fell apart.

I sobbed for the little girl who had so desperately needed her daddy. I hated my father, yet I missed him terribly. I cried for the bitter woman I’d become. I mourned the boy who’d taught me the true meaning of love, only to slice me to the core, inflict unfathomable pain, and leave me ruined.

When I sucked in my last shaky breath and pushed away from my flesh and blood rock, Joe pulled a bandana out of his back pocket and helped me wipe my nose.

No probing. No halfhearted condolences. Joe waited until I was steady, then scooped Ginger into his arms and scratched Bruce behind his ear.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “It’s just… when you grabbed me like that…” I rubbed my arms again. “It brought back a bad memory.”

“I’msorry,” he whispered, stepping closer but not touching.

“I’m not a freak. I promise.” I sniffed, studied the ground, then mumbled, “We met at a bad time in my life, that’s all.”

“Or the perfect time.” Joe tapped a knuckle under my chin, urging me to look up.

For a moment, I believed him.

“You ever trust me enough to talk about it, I’m here.”

Joe

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, but first”—I flipped open the cooler—“beer.”

Con was the first to dive in, followed by Singleton. Frank had an afternoon shift, so he passed on the libations but stood at the grill, tongs in hand, wearing Alice’sKiss The Cookapron.

“All right, Kaine.” Marco snagged a Manny’s, popped the lid, and settled back in his chair. “What’s up?”

The guy was intelligent and protective of Lilly, and that was precisely why I’d invited him. Singleton, I suspected, had a thing for Marley, and he was an accountant, which would come in handy.

We hadn’t gathered for afternoon tea and gossip, so I laid my agenda on the table. “Marley’s in some shit. I know how to help, but I can’t do it alone.”

Marco chugged his beer, then shot Singleton a quick glance before he hit me with a stony glare. Jaw tight, he asked, “In some shit, how?”

Yeah, we were cut from the same cloth. “You aware Johan Harper pays our ladies a visit once a week?”

I could swear Marco’s jaw cracked. “Lilly’s mentioned he comes through.”

“Who’s Harper?” Singleton asked.

“Biggest piece of shit this side of the Cascades,” Frank growled over his shoulder while he flipped brats. “Slipperier than a greased weasel.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait.” Singleton waved his free hand in the air. “Johan Harper, that mob boss wannabe that shows up on the ten o’clock news every coupla months?”

“That’s the one.” I nodded. “He’s watching her stands. I suspect he’s got someone on her home, too.”

Con cleared his throat. “So, she’s got this Harper prick breathing down her neck. Have you asked her about it?”

“Tells me it’s handled,” I said. “Whatever the fuck that means.”

Marco tossed his empty bottle into the recycle bag and directed his question toward Frank. “What’s your take, cop?”

“Harper’s hands are in everyone’s pots. Figure he wants a piece of her pie.” Frank wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “He’s in business with her competition.”

“Dirty Dreamz,” I threw in. “They’ve been busted multiple times for illegal exposure and prostitution.”

“Suspected of money laundering,” Frank added.

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