Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)(4)

He rolled his big shoulders, appearing to evaluate the approaching men in order to decide on his first victim. “Why is that?”

“I’m the one who cleans up the blood here.” She swallowed hard, feeling her mask slip a little. “And I need this job, Vaughn.”

“You clean up…” He trailed off, taking a long, shuddering breath. “Riv, I can’t let you stay here. You know that, right? You know two decades from now, I still won’t be over seeing you in this disgusting place.”

“Vaughn—”

His gaze was half apologetic, half uncompromising. “Either you quit or I take on all comers. Either way, the mother of my kid isn’t working in this place.”

Thank God her boss chose that moment to interrupt, because River could hardly breathe under the first acknowledgment of them having a child together. Two invisible pillows pressed against her ears, muffling the bar sounds. Vaughn must have experienced the same shift of gravity, because the intensity radiating from him was palpable.

Destructive.

But it had nothing on the low, brutal hum of guilt that had existed in River’s breast since the night Vaughn left.

Focus. She could make up for her impulsiveness if she just stuck to the course of action she’d laid out.

“I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend, River,” her boss said, in an unfortunate choice of words. At least the man staved off the encroaching wave of customers by holding up a staying hand.

“River having a boyfriend is none of your concern, now is it?” Vaughn massaged one his wrists, the tension packed around him like an aura, growing stronger by the millisecond. “Not that I wouldn’t mind hearing an answer myself.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” she sputtered.

Her boss huffed, pacing back and forth behind River. “It is my concern when that boyfriend comes in and assaults me.”

“Whatever we are, it’s past the boyfriend-girlfriend stage.” Vaughn ran a tongue along his bottom lip. “What’s it going to be, Riv? We getting out of here?”

What choice did she have? Standing back and allowing innocent—okay, that was pushing it—customers take a beating when she could prevent it would be petulant. With smoke about to whoosh from her ears, River skirted around her boss to retrieve her purse from behind the bar, leaving her apron beneath the register for the morning waitress. Walking back toward Vaughn, she felt time slowing, and molasses churned in her belly. Don’t you dare look at me like that, she longed to scream in reproof. His dark eyes took in every detail of her appearance in one swoop, that gaze heating considerably the closer she came, as if they were going outside to get sweaty in the Pontiac’s backseat, just for old time’s sake.

Not on your life, pal.

River could feel every customer’s eye on her back as she slipped out the exit, Vaughn close on her heels. “That worked, huh?” Vaughn asked, surprise living within his tone. “You’re really just going to leave with me.”

“No,” River answered, stopping at the driver’s side of her Pontiac. “But I thought it would be easier to have a conversation without the angry mob you incited breathing down our necks.”

Vaughn appeared thoughtful as he processed that. “So you were expecting me, huh? I guess I should be thankful you knew I would come…once I found out. I never get mail at the PO Box, or I would’ve been here sooner.” He took a step closer, his Adam’s apple bobbing, so much heart in his eyes that River’s breath suspended in her lungs. “Ah, doll—”

“No.” The endearment snapped her spine straight, set her heart galloping around the track of her chest. “I-I mean, yes. I knew you would come. But if I’d had a phone number for you, I would have called to tell you…”

His brawny frame stilled. “Tell me what?”

River forced a smile onto her face. “To tell you how unnecessary it was to travel this whole way.” She reached out and gave his rock-hard shoulder a playful shove, ignoring the zap of static. “Vaughn, I have everything under control. Marcy is—”

“Marcy.”

Chains rattled in her belly. “You didn’t know her name?”

She watched as he went back a few steps, resting against the opposite car. “No. The letter didn’t mention it.” The eyes from her dreams lifted, snaring her. “I like it, doll. You picked well.”

“Please stop calling me that,” River whispered, before clearing her throat and willing—with all her might—that positivity surround her like a cloak, hiding everything beneath. “As I said, you are in the clear. We’re getting along just fine on our own, and I wouldn’t dream of asking you to—”

“Just what the hell is this, River?”

“I’m sorry?”

Vaughn shoved off the opposite car and eliminated the distance between them. River ordered her hands to lift, to stave him off, but they remained useless at her sides, both elbows squeezing against her ribs. Her blood clamored, running with vigor for the first time since Vaughn left. Damn him. Damn him. “I’m in the clear?” He repeated her words slowly, as if trying to pronounce the name of a rare disease. “You think I would drive back to Hook at the drop of a goddamn hat because I want to be in the clear?”

“I wouldn’t presume to know your thought process,” River returned with a bemused expression, all the while dying and resurrecting on the inside, in a never-ending pattern. She hadn’t tried to find Vaughn upon learning she was pregnant, or even after Marcy was born. She had her reasons for shouldering the responsibility alone—reasons she’d housed inside in an uncrackable safe. They were one and the same with her motives for sending Vaughn packing, as soon as possible.