Protecting What's Mine(73)

She gave him a salute. “Yes, sir!”

Back to playful, he sent her an exaggerated wink. “Dinner tonight,” he called over his shoulder. “And don’t forget to meditate!”

About thirty seconds after the front door closed, Mack’s phone buzzed on the counter.





Linc: Thanks again. For Sunny. And the bj.





Mack: Don’t be weird.





Linc: Feel free to stay and take another shower. Wi-Fi password is 4AlarmFire. Move in if you want or wait for me to do the heavy lifting.





Mack: I see blow jobs damage brain cells.





34





Linc’s sister Rebecca—another replica of the Reed DNA—had been more subtle in her “what are your intentions with my brother” interrogation. Dressed in pajamas and a robe and clutching a cup of coffee, she invited Mack inside her neat and tidy two-story.

With her exit cut off, Bec quizzed her on how long she planned to stay in town and if she was enjoying small-town doctoring. All while telling her kids to turn the TV down and reminding her husband to take the car in for an oil change.

Mack brought Sunshine back to her place, and they spent the rest of the morning working in the flowerbeds in the backyard because apparently weeding once was not enough. While Sunshine ran back and forth between the yards bringing Mack every dog toy and stick she could find, Mack gave the open gate a few contemplative looks, still not sure what to think of it.

Presumptuous. Yes. Convenient. Also yes.

He was already systematically pushing back on her claims that she didn’t want anything serious or complicated. Which meant she was going to have to push back harder. Maybe after dinner tonight. After all, she had his dog. Obviously, she’d have to see him at some point.

Yes. Tomorrow she’d set firmer boundaries.

After lunch and an afternoon meditation, she took Sunshine for ice cream and laughed at the metronomic tick of the dog’s tail as she wolfed down a small dish of vanilla.

It was after three. And ice cream had been her one and only “fun” idea. The clinic was closed now, so there was no point stopping in unless it was to fall out of her chair again.

Maybe fixing dinner would be fun?

So she loaded Sunshine into her SUV and headed to the grocery store.

“I’m so lame,” she complained to the dog in the passenger seat as she steered toward home with steaks and veggies to grill. “I can’t even come up with something spontaneous besides ice cream and grocery shopping.”

Sunshine looked at her and blinked.

“No. A nap is not spontaneous fun.”

She was still trying to explain her predicament to the dog when she pulled in the driveway without noticing the rusty pickup parked on the street.

Sunshine gave a warning boof at the slam of a car door. Mack looked up as she unloaded the bags from the hatch.

He was tall, reed-thin in a way that suggested poor life choices. Early fifties if she had to guess. He walked like he had a purpose.

“You Doc O’Neil?” he said. His teeth were yellowed, fingers and t-shirt dirty. There was a nasty, swollen bump swelling on his right forearm. He smelled vaguely of motor oil.

“That’s right,” she said, dropping the bags at her feet to free her hands.

“My nephew goes to jail, it’s on you,” he said and spat on the grass next to the driveway.

“Your nephew is already in jail. And it’s on him.”

“He didn’t do nothing wrong.”

Sunshine gave another boof.

“He put his girlfriend in the ICU and broke my ankle,” she said.

She wasn’t worried about him in a physical fight. She was more than capable of taking on someone bigger and stronger. But if he had a weapon, well, she’d rather know it sooner than later.

“My kind don’t like it when people stick their noses in our business.”

“Are you armed, Mr. Kersh?”

He snorted and ignored the question. “The kid was high. He can’t be responsible for his actions while he’s on that shit.”

She sighed heavily. “We’re all responsible for our own actions, Mr. Kersh. Your nephew is an adult. He made choices. Bad ones. Maybe this will be a turning point for him.”

His laugh had no humor in it and ended in a hacking cough. She noticed that his left hand rubbed gently at the bump on his right.

“It weren’t no turning point for me,” he said. “It ain’t gonna do him any more good.”

“I’m not dropping the charges, Mr. Kersh. And if you care about your nephew at all, you’ll let the legal system do its job. Your nephew’s best shot at a better life is taking his lumps and doing the time. He can get clean in prison, take classes, learn a trade. If that girl lives, he’ll be out before you know it.”

“You can’t come after my family and not expect to hear from us,” he said with an almost mournful sigh. She wondered if his heart wasn’t in the warning.

“I’m not coming after you. I’m playing by the rules. How long have you had that boil?” she asked.

“Huh?”

She pointed at his arm, and he covered the lump with his other hand.

“It’s a boil, an abscess. Have you had it looked at?”