Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)(23)

Three Piece tapped the rolled up plan against his thigh. Tap, tap, tap. “I’ve thoroughly researched the town of Hook. It’s low income, yes, but there’s not a high rate of crime.”

“Sure, but what about one town over. And two towns past that?” Vaughn rapped his knuckles on one of the new massive steel machines. “These renovations won’t go unnoticed. You’re clearly upgrading technology, too, which means computers—”

“Sounds to me like you’re the one I should keep an eye on.”

Vaughn shrugged. “Maybe once upon a time. Not now.” The back of his neck tightened. “One of your employees means everything to me, and I’d like the opportunity to make sure her livelihood—and she—are protected.”

Three Piece narrowed his eyes at that, finally showing a spark of humanity, and easing the pressure in Vaughn’s chest. Jesus, job interviews were not his thing, and this one was beyond unconventional. “What credentials do you have?”

“A two-year tour with the Army.” Vaughn tugged his wallet out of his back pocket, holding out his Army-issued identification. “I’ve been working in Baltimore since then, doing private security for visiting business partners and their families. Even upgraded a few local industrial plants—ones like this—to keep the owner’s assets protected.”

After a small hesitation, Three Piece took the offered identification card, scanning it from beneath heavy eyelids. “If one of my employees means everything to you, what were you doing in Baltimore?”

None of your f*cking business, sat right on the tip of Vaughn’s tongue, but he swallowed his natural defensiveness, forcing a smile onto his face. “Haven’t you ever tried to do the right thing and found out it was wrong?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Three Piece answered briskly. “I assume you had some type of plan beyond walking in here and insulting my lack of security?”

There’s my opening. “Look, one person in Hook knows something, everyone knows it. Already there’s word you’re taking on bigger contracts, producing more lucrative items. No more license plates or plastic garbage. Maybe no one has had an interest in lifting the merchandise, but that’s going to change.” He waited for that to sink in. “You need night guards. Regular patrols. A sophisticated alarm system, surveillance around the perimeter…all of which will lower your cost of liability insurance—”

“Monday morning.” Three Piece handed him back the identification. “Bring me your ideas on paper, cost analysis included. I’m late now.”

Vaughn nodded once and stepped back. “Can’t have that, can we? We’ll talk Monday.” He stuck out his hand. “Vaughn De Matteo.”

“Yes, I read your identification.” With a stiff shoulder roll, the other man shook his hand. “Renner Bastion. Please don’t show up here in ripped jeans again. I’m not in the habit of hiring men who look like they’ve been accosted in an alley.”

“Welcome to Hook.”





Chapter Ten


When the doorbell rang, signaling Vaughn’s arrival, River was on the verge of dumping the spaghetti into the trash, turning off the lights, and hiding in the cupboard. That plan would have backfired, unfortunately, considering that Marcy’s caterwauling could probably be heard down the block. This state of domestic chaos was not the image she’d planned on projecting. Oh no. She’d actually envisioned herself answering the door in high heels and an unsoiled apron, hair twisted and coiffed, like some modern day June Cleaver, all while Marcy honed her grasp of phonics in the living room. Quietly.

Ha!

The reality of the witching hour—also known as the period of time approaching dinner and bedtime—painted quite a different portrait. The sheer quantity of marinara sauce splattered around her kitchen made it look like a staged Law & Order crime scene. Some of it had ended up in her hair—and that of Marcy, who was sitting behind her on the counter, screaming for chicken nuggets.

Judging from Vaughn’s comically raised eyebrows when she yanked the front door open, he’d expected domestic bliss to enfold him like a sugar-spun cloud.

“Hiya…” The hand holding a bunch of daisies dropped to his side. “Doll?”

She was forced to raise her voice over Marcy, who had decided now was the perfect time to sing her ABC’s at the top of her lungs. “Yeah. Yeah. This is what it’s like. It’s a freaking free for all. Okay?” Hearing the crack in her voice, River pinched the bridge of her nose and took a calming breath. “You’re thinking of running, aren’t you? Like, sprinting down the block at full speed?”

She’d meant it as a joke, but Vaughn’s face fell. “No. Jesus, no, Riv.” His throat worked. “I’m standing here praying you haven’t changed your mind. That you’ll let me in to…help. Can I help?”

She nodded and took the daisies with a quiet thank you, but neither of them moved. “It’s not easy, Vaughn. Do you know what you’re asking to take on here?”

“Yes,” he rasped. “But I’m not asking, I’m begging.”

Resisting the urge to massage away the tightness in her throat, River stepped back to allow him inside. It was different from the last time he’d been there. His stepping over the threshold seemed…symbolic. A changing over from before to after. And that observation was so terrifying and real, she shoved it to the back of her mind in an act of self-preservation.