Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)(22)

“One at a time, Marcy,” she repeated twice.

“—kay, I am,” said a voice he could only describe as pipsqueak-esqe. And just about everything inside Vaughn seized up, rendering him immobile on the sidewalk outside the factory. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of a spoon hitting a bowl, a giggle following fast on its heels, and River’s warm laugh. The sounds of home. Amazing that he could recognize them at all, considering he’d never had one. Crashing on an uncle’s couch, waiting for his parents to return while knowing full well, even at age ten, they were long gone? Yeah, that wasn’t home. That was hell. Everything now drifting down the line, curling into his ear, was a heaven he’d never had the balls to wish for. Funny how a man’s perspective could change after realizing there were worse places than hell. There was living without River.

On cue, her voice found him. “Vaughn, are you there?”

“I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “What time tonight?”

“Marcy eats early, so around five, five-thirty,” she responded, her voice getting lighter, elusive like smoke.

Vaughn could practically feel River second-guessing herself, so he rushed to end the call before that could happen, even though he could have spent the entire day listening to the nuances in her tone. “I’ll be there,” he said gruffly. “Thanks, Riv.”

“Wait.” Time suspended itself as he waited for River to continue. “Last night…we got carried away. This…if we’re going to do this right, it needs to be about Marcy, okay? Not us.”

“You’re telling me to keep my hands off you.”

A beat passed, giving him hope, despite her answer. “Yes.”

It was no less than he’d expected, but being cast into purgatory smarted nonetheless. But no way would he argue. Not with his family at stake. “See you tonight.”

Vaughn hung up before River could hammer home her new, unfortunate dictate, and stomped toward the factory entrance, his boots kicking up work dust thanks to the surrounding construction vehicles. Shit. It appeared the factory’s new owner wasn’t wasting any time making changes. The graffiti-stained, cinderblock wall that had surrounded the factory since Vaughn’s earliest memory had been bulldozed, a tasteful waist-level brick barrier already being constructed. New pathways had already been marked, waiting for concrete to fill them. The place already looked less like a prison and more like an office building.

Nodding with approval, Vaughn continued toward the entrance, fairly certain he would find the fancy new owner inside, being that a sleek 2016 Mercedes was parked along the curb. Definitely not a vehicle that belonged within Hook town limits, let alone to any of its residents. Turned out he was right. Just inside the door, a man whose three-piece suit was more appropriate for a corporate board meeting than a construction site stood conversing with a guy sporting a hard hat, going over plans.

Without pausing his stern instructions, three-piece suit gave Vaughn a bored glance over his shoulder—like some kind of overindulged king—and went back to his low conversation, giving Vaughn a moment to size the other man up. Built like a hockey player, but with none of the loose, easy-going energy, the new factory owner wasn’t what Vaughn imagined someone might find approachable. Kind of reminded Vaughn of a pissed off lion, actually. And yeah, his observations of the man’s appearance were influenced by River eventually being in the man’s orbit.

Three Piece didn’t address him until a full minute later, once he’d finished issuing dictates to Hard Hat. “Can I assist you with something?” He swept Vaughn with a cool glance. “Perhaps directions to the local watering hole?”

Once upon a time, Vaughn would have already stuffed that expensive tie down the *’s throat, but he had too much at stake. He only fought for things that mattered now, and this potential job was one of them. “The bar doesn’t open this early.” Vaughn crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall with a grin. “And trust me, I already know right where it is.”

Three Piece rolled up the plans he’d been perusing with precise twists of his cuff-linked wrists. “I find this news unsurprising.”

“Why?” Vaughn tilted his head, posing the question out of curiosity more than anything else. “Because I’m dressed to work, instead of ordering other people to do it for me?”

Hard Hat took that cue to leave, slipping out through the entrance, muttering about getting an early start. “Why are you here?” Three Piece asked, voice laced with impatience. “I’ve guaranteed everyone that their jobs are safe, which I assure you was not a condition of the sale.”

“Purely out of the goodness of your heart, huh?”

Three Piece spread his hands in the form of an answer. “I’m due at a meeting.”

Vaughn nodded and pushed off the wall. “Sounds good.” He turned in a circle, making note of the shiny new machinery, still wrapped with industrial plastic and cardboard. “I’ll just be here, determining the street value of all this sweet new gear.”

“Excuse me?”

Vaughn dipped his chin toward the entrance. “Who’s guarding this place? I just waltzed right in. I get the accessible vibe you’re going for—this place has looked like a death trap for too long—but there was a good reason for that cinderblock wall, man.”