Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)(12)

Vaughn lifted an eyebrow. “You sound pretty sure I’m here to stay.”

Duke started backing toward the packed bar, waving at Vaughn to join him. “You escaped Hook once. Don’t think it’ll let you get away with it twice.”

Vaughn didn’t question his friend’s sanity for referring to the town as a living entity that decided who stayed and who left. Hell, maybe he was right. Vaughn had never entirely let the town relinquish its hold, had he? When they bellied up to the bar, wedged in between men he identified as factory workers by the grease on their hands, Vaughn cursed under his breath. Of course the bartender that banned him way back when happened to be working tonight. Nothing ever changed in this town.

Except for River. She’d changed, hadn’t she? Gotten stronger out of necessity, because he’d left her to fend for herself. Strong enough to resist him physically, which she’d never been able to do before. Maybe it made him an *, but her lack of willpower around him had been a source of pride when they’d been together. After that afternoon, one thing seemed clear. She really didn’t want him, or need him around. Those weren’t just words she’d been saying—they were truths.

“I need something stronger than a beer,” Vaughn managed around the strangling sensation in his throat.

“Hearing you loud and clear, soldier.” Duke narrowed his eyes when the title made Vaughn flinch, but the mechanic must have correctly interpreted Vaughn’s mood, because he let it slide. “How long have you been back?”

“Since yesterday.” Vaughn cast a glance at the milling crowd. “Seriously, what’s the occasion? Is the pope in town?”

Duke propped an elbow on the bar, and Vaughn swore the damn thing sagged under his weight. “The factory got sold. New owner—some New York f*cker in a suit—just waltzed in today and gave a speech from the platform, while we all watched from the floor.” He drained his beer and made an ahhh sound. “So yeah, I guess you can say there’s a new pope in town. They’ve got the same level of importance around here.”

Vaughn was too busy processing the news to laugh at the comparison. The same man had owned the factory since they’d learned to walk. What did the changing of the guard mean for River? “Is he going to close the doors?”

“Only for two weeks—he’s going to replace some of the machinery. Wants to ‘make it green’ whatever the f*ck that means. He’s bringing along his important clients and their expensive contracts. Plus we all get to keep our jobs.” Duke pounded a fist on the bar. “Hence the impromptu party. We all just got two weeks paid vacation.”

Relief blanketed Vaughn’s alarm just in time for the bartender to reach them. “Fellas, what’ll it be—hey.” Recognition dawned beneath two scraggly gray eyebrows. “You here to cause trouble, De Matteo?”

Vaughn gave a single headshake. “Just here for the whiskey.”

The bartender pointed at Duke. “I can ban you just as easily, Crawford. You’ll be held responsible for any damages.”

Duke straightened from the bar, giving the salty older man an exaggerated salute. “I won’t let you down, captain.”

Two whiskeys were slid in front of them, the bartender walking away muttering about prodigal sons and insurance policies. Vaughn and Duke gave each other sarcastic, sidelong glances before draining the first halves of their rocks glasses. From Duke’s narrow-eyed scrutiny, it was obvious to Vaughn he had questions, so he set down the whiskey with a sigh. “What?”

“What?” There was enough disbelief and anger in that single word to power the factory. “You just blew out of here without telling anyone where you were going. Not even your uncle—and he’s long gone now, too.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I looked for your ass, man. There was, uh…circumstances. You kind of left a little something behind—”

“I know about River and the baby.” The words had to travel through a razor blade forest to get out. “That’s why I’m back.”

“Fuck.” Duke blew out a gust of breath. “I’m glad I wasn’t the one to tell you.”

“Yeah.” Vaughn drained the remaining whiskey from his glass, battling a fierce impulse to smash the object in his fist. Failure. You f*cking failure. “I appreciate you trying. I’m going to handle it now.”

“Is River aware of that? We know each other’s business around here. And it’s common knowledge River doesn’t even take charity from her brother who, no offense, could buy and sell us both.” The humor had returned to the mechanic’s voice, but he retained a thread of seriousness. “You know, half this town is in love with her, but everyone’s too afraid of you returning from the dead to ask her out. Were those guys right to be cautious?”

Jealousy sent a hot tremor coursing through Vaughn. “If you were one of those guys, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Nah.” Duke winked. “Women are too much damn trouble. Anyway, I never could see her with anyone but your ugly ass.”

Vaughn forced his fingers to uncurl, placing his palm flat on the bar. “No, they weren’t wrong to leave her alone.” His mouth dried up. “Even if I can’t have her back, I’d want to inflict pain on every one of them.”

Even if a second chance with River wasn’t a pipe dream, too many ghosts still floated around them. Too much left unsaid or unexplained. Communication had never been one of his skills. Even if he’d stayed, would he have told River about his battle to overcome the flashbacks? The survivor’s guilt from his time in Afghanistan? Or, hell…the fateful visit he’d been paid by River’s father the afternoon of the day he broke it off with her and left town?