By the Book Page 6

  “Have you talked to him since this morning?”

  She shook her head and blinked at the sting of tears. “I haven’t. I’m not sure how or what to say. I mean…what do you say?”

  “It has to be addressed, Claire. That’s violence. Abuse.”

  “I know. It’s just… I have to figure out the best approach. One that isn’t physical,” she added, pursing her lips.

  “I think I got my point across.”

  He stated it with a twinkle in his eyes and she found herself shaking her head. “I suppose instead of yelling at you I should be thanking you. If Dad hadn’t said— Oh! Lunch. I totally forgot. Dad’s making sandwiches and wanted to know what you like on yours.”

  “Anything’s fine,” he said. “I’m not picky. Claire, are you going to be okay?”

  The question gave her pause, but only because she wasn’t sure of the answer. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

  Denz lifted his good hand and tapped his injured shoulder.

  “Might be a little messed up but it’s here if you need it.”

  Sweet. That was all she could think as she stared at the handsome man across from her and the air left her lungs. Today on the beach, she’d wanted so badly for someone to lean on and shoulder the burden and responsibilities, and here Denz was volunteering.

  He’d taken a bold step where her son was concerned, but after talking with him, she realized it was out of fear for her and who Tommy could become if he continued on the way that he was. She reminded herself Denz was the type of man who ran into the burning building, not away. And he’d done just that with Tommy. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I-I should go. Come and eat when you’re ready.”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  He moved to the door and opened it for her, and she felt small and feminine as she walked by him. She’d always been attracted to tall guys, but Scott had been lean whereas Denz was more solidly built.

  “Claire?”

  She paused on the landing and turned, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she waited for whatever he was about to say.

  “You’re a good mom. Don’t let this thing with Tommy make you think differently.”

  “How do you know what kind of mom I am?” she asked, reminding herself as well as him that it had been a whole twenty-four hours since they’d met. Granted, a lot had happened in those hours, but still. She couldn’t let a handsome face and kind offer change her perspective when it came to his job—or his interest, if he even was interested in her.

  “Sweetheart, you were fit to be tied when I opened this door, ready to defend your baby boy. That’s what a good mom does. What she doesn’t do is back down. Understand?”

  Chapter 12

  Claire waited until that evening to approach Tommy. Her father had left the house to take his evening walk, so she used the opportunity for what it was. “Turn off the television.”

  Tommy’s face turned red and his mouth immediately set into a hard line, but he did as he was told. Small victory that was. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  The words were softly spoken but firm, and she watched her son simply shrug. “Really? Nothing?”

  “It’s my game.”

  The air left her lungs in a loud ha that left Tommy flinching. “Your game. Who paid for it?”

  “You,” he said begrudgingly.

  “And who got it taken away because of his behavior and, I might add, illegal actions?”

  No response once more. She shook her head, her entire body trembling from the force of her emotions. From the upset and anger and frustration of not being able to break through the shell he’d built around himself in the last year. “Tommy—”

  “I’m sorry. Happy now? I didn’t mean to— I just didn’t want you to take my game.”

  “So you hurt me?” She yanked up one sleeve and moved toward him. “Look. Look!” she said again when he avoided doing what he was told.

  The bruises had really formed now, dark and ugly against her skin. “Is this who you want to be? Someone you’re proud of?”

  She thought she saw the glistening of tears in his eyes and steeled herself against the way the sight made her mother’s heart soften. “Are these the actions of someone your father would be proud of?”

  “No! I’m sorry. I just got mad.”

  “And I got hurt because of it and that is not acceptable. We are responsible for our actions and reactions, no matter how angry we get.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  “I just wanted my game.”

  “And you would have had it soon had you not behaved the way that you did. Actions have consequences, Tommy, and sneaking into my room and taking it when you know—”

  “I just wanted to talk to them!” he shouted, hands fisted.

  Talk to them? “What?”

  Another lift and shrug of his bony shoulder.

  “Oh, no. We are discussing this with words and you are going to use them. Talk to whom?”

  A tear rolled down his cheek and he swiped a fist over his face.

  “The guys.”

  “What guys? Kids from school?”

  He shook his head and then—

  “No. The… The guys. Dad’s guys. From his unit.”

  The news nearly took her to her knees. As it was, she had to swallow hard and hug her arms around her front just to stay on her feet. “You…play with them?”

  He nodded.

  “H-how long have you… I mean—”

  “Always. Some of the guys knew Dad and I played together before so…when they can, we play now. I have to log on to see when they’re there, though.”

  She closed her eyes and fought for the breath seizing in her lungs. “Tommy, you could’ve told me.”

  “I thought it would make you sad.”

  “What makes me sad is that you’ve been doing stuff you shouldn’t and getting in trouble for it, when all you had to do is be honest. And the anger and getting into trouble?”

  “I’m sorry. Really. They yelled at me for that, too. Said I had to stop. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Mom. I was asleep and then you were yelling and I just… I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

  “I’d like to believe that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Tommy, you are your father’s son. You’re tall and strong and handsome,” she said, her voice breaking. “But with that physicality comes responsibilities, and that means not hurting those smaller and weaker than you.”

  “I know.”

  She squared her shoulders and forced her arms to her sides as she walked over to the couch to sit beside him. “What did Denz say to you earlier today?”

  Once again, Tommy’s face filled with color.

  “That it better not happen again.”

  She imagined that was the mild version of what had transpired given what Denz and her father had told her, but she accepted Tommy’s version at face value. “And you said?”

  “That I understood and it wouldn’t. He has the system now,” Tommy said, his tone bleak. “He saw me hide it and he took it.”

  “Well, considering your penchant for sneaking into my closet, maybe it’s best if Denz keeps it for now.”

  “But—”

  “No, Tommy. I understand you’re grieving for Dad. I am, too. Some part of us will always grieve no matter how much time passes, but grief has to be dealt with properly, and behaving the way you’ve been… That’s not the right way. Those boys at school, the suspensions… I’m going to make some calls. See if I can’t get you back into counseling.”

  “No. I don’t want to go.”

  In that moment, she remembered Denz’s words about how mamas don’t back down, and she straightened her spine. “Too bad. You’re struggling, whether you’ll admit it or not. And as your mother, it’s my responsibility to help you or else I’m not doing my job. Understand?”

  He didn’t agree, but he didn’t protest, either.
“Grandpa will be back soon. I thought maybe we could see if he’d take us for a golf cart ride, just to check things out since it’s been awhile since we’ve been here.”

  “Does he know?”

  The question was asked in a small, thready voice that carried the weight of the shame Tommy felt. It made her feel better, knowing that he at least seemed to grasp the gravity of what he’d done and was regretful. “I haven’t told him. And I won’t, unless you force me to.”

  She started to get up when he stretched out a hand and pushed her sleeve up a bit. She watched as he swallowed hard and his lower lip trembled when he saw the black bruises.

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “I’m glad. Now it’s time to prove it by never touching someone like that again. Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, so watch TV until Grandpa gets back. I’m going to go sit on the porch swing.”

  Claire left the couch and Tommy and made her way through the quiet house to the back door. Just as she pushed open the storm door, she heard the television click on again.

  She softly closed the door and leaned her forehead against her hand after it latched. The porch smelled a bit musty, and she knew it came from the heat and humidity and years of storms.

  But right now, it smelled like home and safety and memories, and she struggled to battle the fear and uncertainty rising up inside of her when she thought of the future and Tommy and all they had yet to face.

  This too shall pass.

  It was something her mother had often said whenever worries abounded and problems became troublesome. This too shall pass.

  Even if it passes like a kidney stone, Claire mused.

  Chapter 13

  During the next week, Denz shared a couple of meals with Claire’s family in the evenings after work. He found himself looking forward to that time, sitting there at the table and talking about their day.

  Claire and Tommy were pitching in with Tom’s business and working a few hours every day on set in hopes of spotting a celebrity, and Denz teased her about her fascination.

  Denz had quickly lost the rose-colored glasses he’d first worn after joining Guardian Group and being assigned to guard celebrities. He’d been responsible for a few—not all but a few—who were a lot more trouble than he felt they were worth.

  But maybe he’d head to the location anyway? See what was happening there?

  Denz left his PT appointment and celebrated the fact he could lose the sling for good when his cell buzzed. “Denz,” he said after looking at the face and seeing Eliza’s business listed.

  “Hi, it’s Eliza Hayes. I just wanted to double-check that you are planning to attend Mac and V’s wedding?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you have a plus-one?”

  “I do.”

  “Oooh, the woman you mentioned?” she asked.

  “Yes. Claire Simmons.”

  “Hmm. Doesn’t ring a bell. Oh, and nice going the other day when you kept changing the subject whenever Marsali tried to steer you back to dating.”

  Denz paused outside the SUV he’d rented for his stay. “Thanks. Do you and Marsali know everyone on the island?” he asked with some amusement.

  “Pretty much. Hey, it’s a fairly small town when you boil it down, and we grew up here. Did your date?”

  “Yeah. And she knows Marsali.”

  “Really? Well, I should know her then.”

  “Her father is Tom Blanchette.”

  “Oh, my gosh, you mean it’s Clairey Blanchette! I haven’t seen her since high school!”

  Denz held the phone away from his ear at Eliza’s excited squeal.

  “Wait until I tell Marsali. Does she know?”

  “Uh, I don’t think so since you just made the connection.”

  “Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker so I can text her right now. Oh, it’ll be good to see Claire. Is she as pretty as ever?”

  Denz unlocked the door and tossed his gym bag inside before he got in, leaving the door open to combat the growing heat of the day. “She is,” he said, picturing Claire as she’d been this morning, sitting on the porch swing with her laptop and a concentrated frown on her delicate face as she’d worked on whatever it was on her screen.

  “What’s she doing these days?”

  “She’s at the location shoot with her father in craft service. I’m actually heading over there. Oliver gave me a pass to get by security.”

  “Ha! Like you’d need a pass. I bet you could get on past security if you set your mind to it, couldn’t you?”

  He smiled but didn’t answer. Trade secrets were secrets, after all. “Want me to give Claire a message?”

  “Yes, tell her we can’t wait to see her.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell her.”

  “Denz?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That comment you made at dinner about your relationships being brief?”

  “What about it?”

  “Claire’s sweet. Be nice, okay?”

  “I hear you.”

  “She lost her husband.”

  “I am aware.”

  “Are you…dating?”

  “No,” he said. “She’s coming to confirm I’m actually a bodyguard.”

  “What?” Eliza asked, laughing.

  Denz related the story with a sheepish grin and a shake of his head. “I think she’s more interested in potentially rubbing shoulders with a certain celebrity we know.”

  “Ah,” Eliza said, a smile in her voice. “Clairey always did follow that sort of thing. We all did in high school because we thought it was so cool that Marsali actually knew Oliver as he made his rise to stardom. Okay, well, I’ve got you both down and I can’t wait to see you. And if Claire has any questions or wants to chat beforehand, please give her my number?”

  “I’ll do that. I think she could use a few friends right now.”

  “Oh?”

  The moment the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back.

  “What’s going on?” Eliza asked.

  “I’ll pass along your number, okay? I’ve got to get going or I’ll hit the lunch traffic.”

  He heard her disgruntled sigh through the phone.

  “Fine. But have her call me.”

  Denz tucked the phone away and finally closed the door of the rental, making the turn to head out to Ft. Fisher and the end of the island. Today’s shoot was a series of beach scenes that were scheduled to last most of the day.

  He parked and made the long walk toward the barricades, flashing the credentials Oliver had been kind enough to provide. Security let him through, and Denz made his way behind the area where cameras, tents, and all sorts of equipment had been set up.

  While everyone watched the goings-on, Denz searched the crowd for any sign of the woman who’d been on his mind a lot the last week. Maybe it was because of the mama bear way she’d come to take him on in protection of her son or the quiet sadness and worry he saw in her sky-blue eyes, but whatever it was, he’d become uncomfortably aware he felt as hooked as the shark Tom had helped him land that fateful day.

  He finally spotted what looked to be the craft service area and headed that way. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Tommy lugging a bucket of ice in the same direction up ahead of him.

  The kid’s growing muscles bulged and reminded him of the idea he’d had today while doing his PT at one of Mac’s many investments—the gym. A tired kid had less anger, after all. And if a few hours a day and some proper training got the kid into something productive, all the better.

  Denz followed Tommy toward the van and noted the open windows on either side. Inside were Tom, Claire, a young girl Denz didn’t recognize, and another man who looked to be in his forties. Tommy joined them. “Starting to look like a clown car in there,” he teased. “Think you can fit in a few more?”

  “You volunteering?” Tom asked, grinning.

  Denz shoved his sunglasses up on his head and felt it the moment C
laire met his gaze. “I have a message for you.”

  She frowned. “Me?”

  “Yeah. I confirmed you as my plus-one for the wedding and got a squeal of excitement from the wedding planner. You guys also went to high school together. Eliza Hayes, maiden name Bellefonte?”

  “Oh, yeah. I remember her.”

  “She said to tell you she can’t wait to see you,” Denz said.

  “You’re going out?” Tommy asked. “Like a date?”

  Realizing his mistake far too late, Denz cringed and met the kid’s gaze. “Not exactly. Your mom agreed to accompany me to a wedding so I wouldn't have to go alone like a loser, that’s all.”

  “No one likes to go to weddings alone,” Claire told her son. “And”—she lowered her voice—“I might be able to meet Oliver Beck.”

  Someone called the scene via a bullhorn and people slowly began streaming their way.

  “Give me your number and I’ll text you her info,” Denz said, ignoring Tom’s fatherly stare.

  Claire recited it while people began forming a line and placing orders, and Denz took a step back to give them room. “Okay, sent. Text me if you need anything.”

  Denz met Tom’s gaze once more and nodded.

  He lifted his hand and backed away, knowing he hadn’t heard the last from his landlord when it came to his daughter.

  Out of the crowd and over by the tents once more, he spotted Oliver talking to another member of Guardian Group. The man was built like a tank and stood out like a sore thumb, especially since he was dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, his gun in the shoulder strap he wore. Thankfully Bruce had removed the matching suit jacket considering it was an eighty-five-degree beach day.

  Bruce spotted Denz and lifted his chin in greeting. Oliver turned and looked relieved.

  “Oh, thank God. Perfect timing,” Oliver said.

  “What’s going on?”

  Oliver eyed Denz like a specimen under a microscope. “Something going on, Mr. Beck?”

  Oliver ignored Denz’s question and turned to look at the woman standing several feet away wearing a headset and hugging a clipboard to her chest.

  “What do you think?” Oliver asked.

  “Perfect height, size is off, but from a distance it won’t matter. Looks are a great match, though,” she said. “Yeah, he works.”