ten
VIVIAN WAS FINDING IT VERY HARD to convince herself that staring at Ryan was a bad idea. It is a bad idea. Very bad, considering the erratic beating in her chest. He was just there helping her out. Doing a favor. Being neighborly. Only Ryan technically wasn’t her neighbor, and she could’ve easily taken the screen into the hardware store to be fixed. But then I would have missed the way Ryan’s broad shoulders pull taut the Captain America T-shirt that so appropriately fits in more ways than one.
Ugh. She needed to get a grip. Now was no time to start entertaining whatever it was stirring her heart. Vivian watched Ryan lift the repaired screen back into the window. It might be easy to ignore his hunky transformation, but it was difficult for her to dismiss the tender way he teased his sister or how he hadn’t thought twice when he offered to fix her screen. He was kind, protective, genuine—and who was she kidding? Those ridiculous blue eyes and the tilt of his lips when he smiled . . . impossible to ignore.
“Done.” Ryan stepped back, appraising his work. “That should keep your house free of any more feral intruders.”
“Thank you.” Vivian shook her head, bringing clarity back to her thoughts. “I really appreciate it.”
Ryan looked at his watch. “And just in time. You ready?”
“I think so.”
Vivian grabbed her purse, then they walked to the front door and out onto the porch. Ryan waited for her as she locked the door behind them.
“Have I mentioned that you look really nice tonight?” His cheek pinched into a smile. “Living in the South becomes you.”
“Thank you.” Vivian assessed her outfit. A silk tank, linen shorts, and flip flops were nothing to write home about, yet her heart hungrily took hold of the compliment. From the corner of her eye, she looked him over. Out of his uniform, he was more relaxed. His thick reddish-blond hair fell over his forehead, giving him a charming look, and the dusting of afternoon stubble lining his jaw—she needed to stop.
Ryan’s compliment distracted her. He distracted her. They started down her driveway in the direction of Pecca’s house. She had taken great efforts to minimize her interaction with the town of Walton. She kept it professional because she knew full well the consequences of letting things get personal. And if she wanted to get her career back on track, she needed to keep her distance.
“So, Captain America?”
“My sister got it for me.” Ryan smiled. “She’s in love with, like, every Marvel superhero.”
“She could be in love with worse.”
“I’d prefer her not to be in love with anyone right now. She’s too young.”
“You sound like her father.” Ryan blanched at her comment and regret curled over her shoulders. She didn’t know what the story was with Ryan and Frannie’s dad—only that there was one. “Sorry. I’m sure Frannie hasn’t made it easy to keep an eye on her.”
That brought a smile to his lips. “She’s not the only one.”
“Are we back on that?” Vivian teased. “It’s not my fault trouble finds me.”
Ryan gave her a look that said he didn’t believe that for a single second, and it filled her with a delicious, warm feeling that set off an internal alarm. She was getting a little close to the line she’d drawn in the sand long before coming to Walton. This attraction—or whatever it was—buzzing inside of her had to stop. Now. Thankfully, they were standing in front of Pecca’s door.
“It’s about time you two showed up.” Pecca’s infectious smile greeted them. She pushed open the screen door and stood to the side. “Come inside.”
Vivian followed Ryan and Pecca inside. She heard the playful squeals of kids drifting from the front family room. Unlike Vivian’s small cottage, Pecca’s expertly updated house had three bedrooms with an open floor plan.
“Maceo, Noah, come get your plates.”
“Noah?” Vivian’s pulse skipped. Noah was Lane’s little boy. And right now his mom and her new husband, Charlie Lynch, should be on their honeymoon.
“He and Maceo are in the same Sunday school class, so he’s here for a sleepover.” Pecca’s hips had a way of sashaying when she walked, like her heart beat a happy tempo within her, as she led them into the kitchen. “I hope you guys like tacos.”
“Tacos are my favorite.” Ryan high-fived Pecca.
“Ryan!” Two voices echoed in unison from a pair of boys scrambling around the couch.
Vivian recognized the sweet blue eyes of Noah. He was looking more and more like his mom, and Vivian’s heart tugged at the loss he’d already experienced in his young life. The second little boy maneuvered around a chair, not letting his prosthetic slow him down, and Vivian couldn’t help but smile. Maceo had the same black hair as his mom, as well as her dark, thick lashes and an ear-to-ear smile that never seemed to waver.
“Ryan, Vivian, this is Sergeant Elizabeth Reynolds.” Pecca introduced them to a woman sitting at the kitchen island. “She’s a—”
“Army sniper,” Maceo yelled before he and Noah began making shooting noises, using their arms and hands to mimic guns.
“Really?” Vivian took in the woman she shook hands with. The sergeant wore black yoga pants and a T-shirt, along with running shoes. Her short, curly black hair was pulled back with a headband, showing off dark, clear skin. She looked far too youthful to be a sniper.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ryan flashed a grin. He leaned in and whispered, “Are you going to tell her not to call you ma’am?”
“Are you kidding?” she whispered back. “She kills people for a living.”
Ryan snorted.
“Okay, you two, let’s eat.” Pecca handed the little boys their plates before stepping back. “We eat casual here, because who has time to get fancy? Plates are there”—she pointed to the stack near the tortillas—“cups are in the cabinet next to the sink. Drinks are in the fridge. There’s plenty of food, so don’t hesitate to get up for seconds. Or thirds.” She shot Ryan a glance.
Once everyone was seated at the table and enjoying the delicious meal Pecca had prepared, Vivian began to feel herself relax. She liked the jovial conversation and the way the little boys hung on every one of Ryan’s words. The whole atmosphere was warm and inviting and reminiscent of the one time in college when Vivian last experienced such a familial setting. She hadn’t realized she missed it so much.
“The tacos were delicious,” Vivian said, helping Pecca clear the table. She could hear the boys, Ryan included, trying to pick a game from the closet. “Maceo seems to be doing well.”
“Just like my patients, he has good days and not-so-good days.” A sadness always seemed to dip Pecca’s mood a little bit lower when she talked about her son. “He’s going to have to get a new prosthetic soon, and those always lead to harder days.”
Pecca was amazing. She didn’t speak much about her past, so Vivian only knew that the single mom moved here from Texas with Maceo and not only provided all the care her son needed but also devoted countless hours to her patients at Home for Heroes. And she did it all with a smile on her face.
“We’ve got it,” Ryan announced, sliding a game across the table. “Trivial Pursuit Superhero Edition.”
Pecca groaned. “Not fair.”
“You said we could pick, Mom.” Maceo pulled out a chair and hopped in it, his prosthetic leg clinking against the metal.
“Yes, but you picked a game you know you’re going to win.”
“How about we make this interesting?” All heads swiveled toward Vivian. “Guys against girls. Whoever loses has to do whatever the winner chooses—no questions, no grumbling, no matter what.”
Pecca frowned and Elizabeth, unconcerned, lifted her shoulders.
Ryan arched his brow. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not worried,” she said, taking her seat between Pecca and Elizabeth.
“You should be.” He winked and she knew he was right—but not because of the game.
Two hours later, the game hinged on a single question. Ryan held the card in his hand with the boys already giggling excitedly about their win.
“I’m going to make my mom eat a mud pie.”
“With worms,” Noah added.
“Yeah, with worms.” Maceo smiled.
“Please tell me you know the answer to this.” Pecca looked worried and a little sick at the prospect that she might have to follow through with Vivian’s bet.
“I’ve had worms,” Elizabeth said. “They’re not that bad.”
The boys went wild.
“Should we start a countdown?” Ryan tapped his watch. “For the win, ladies. Or you could just declare us menfolk the champions.”
“We are the winners!” Noah lifted up his arms, flexing.
“Not so quick, little man.” Vivian looked at Ryan. “Read the question again.”
“Name the two goats that pull Thor’s chariot.”
“Is that even in the movie?” Pecca asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No.”
“I’m going to be eating a mud pie with worms, aren’t I?” Pecca sat back, resigned.
Vivian reached for the final colored wedge. “The names of Thor’s magic goats—dear, sweet menfolk—are Toothgnasher and Toothgrinder.”
Ryan’s eyes about bugged out of his head and Vivian laughed.
“Wait? Did we just win?” Pecca grabbed the card from Ryan’s hand and whooped. “We just won! We beat the boys.” She danced around the table, squishing each boy’s little cheeks. “Who’s going to eat mud pies with worms? Not this girl!”
“As much as I’m enjoying this, I should probably get back home.” Elizabeth pushed back from the table. “If you want me to teach you how to cook the worms before you put them into the mud, let me know.”
“Ew.” The boys wrinkled their noses and ran away from the table.
“I should probably head home too,” Vivian added, though a part of her didn’t want to leave. She hated herself for all the times she had come up with an excuse to turn down Pecca’s invitations. What had been so wrong with coming tonight? It was fun. A lot of fun. She hadn’t laughed so much in a long time. She looked around the room until her eyes finally landed on Ryan’s face and realization settled in. That line she’d set up all those months ago about keeping her distance . . . somehow, between a feral cat invading her home, tacos, and Ryan’s insanely attractive knowledge about all things superhero, the line had blurred. Was it really so bad to stick her toe across the line? Test the waters? What was the worst that could happen?
“I’ll walk you home.” Ryan found his voice. He still wasn’t sure how Vivian knew the answer, but it only reminded him how little he knew about her and how the burning desire to know more was growing with every minute he spent with her.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Actually, it is. My Jeep’s there.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Ryan and Vivian said goodbye to Elizabeth and Pecca and the boys before he led her back down the street toward her house. “That was a lot of fun. I’m glad you decided to come.”
“It was.” Her voice sounded wistful. “Reminded me of when I was in college.”
“Oh yeah?”
She nodded, her eyes reflecting in the moonlight. “I’m not a fan of holidays and usually stuck around campus. There was a lady from a local church who invited students unable to get home over to her house, and one Thanksgiving she convinced me to go.” Vivian chewed on her lower lip. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, and I didn’t want to be the only stranger there, so I planned on stopping in and then coming up with an excuse to leave early.”
“But you stayed.”
“I did,” she said. “When I got to her house, I realized there were other students, church members of all ages, and neighbors. It was like this hodgepodge collection of people all gathered together, and after dinner we played games. It was fun and reminded me of what I thought families should be like.”
Ryan’s eyes drifted to Vivian. It sounded like there was something painful tucked in her words and she’d let him in. He didn’t want to push her for more, but that tiny glimpse only drove his desire to know more about her.
“So beneath that beautiful exterior, you’re just a geek like the rest of us.”
Vivian glanced up at him. “You think I’m beautiful.”
Her tone said she was being playful and not at all fishing for a compliment. “I also said you’re a geek.”
She laughed. “More than meets the eye.”
“Seriously?”
“How could you not love a toy that transformed from a tank to a robot?”
Ryan squinted at her. “I think you’re a bit young for that generation.”
“Yeah, but you gotta admit Mark Wahlberg makes it easy to be a fan!”
He rolled his eyes at her laughter but memorized the sound. She was nothing like he had imagined her to be. The woman walking next to him was down-to-earth, playful, and yes, if he had to admit it again he would—she was beautiful.
“What made you decide to become a journalist?”
Vivian pressed her lips together and gave a firm shake of her head. “Nope. My turn. From one geek to another”—she winked— “what’s keeping you from taking one of the many jobs being offered to you by the federal agencies?”
The muscles in Ryan’s shoulders grew tight. “My sister talks too much.”
“She’s proud of you and doesn’t understand why you’re settling.”
His pulse ticked up a notch. “I’m not settling.” The words came out harsh. He took a breath. “I don’t see anything wrong with staying here.” He held out his arms. “It’s past ten at night and it’s quiet. You lived in DC. Tell me how many nights I’d be able to experience that there.”
“You have a point.”
Vivian’s house came into view and Ryan hated the disappointment filling his chest. “Do you think I’m settling?” He wasn’t sure why he was asking, but part of him wanted to know her opinion.
They made it to her front steps before she answered. “Truthfully? I kinda think you are. Part of what makes a journalist good at their job is the ability to listen and observe.” She sat on the steps, surprising him, and waited for him to join her. He did, their shoulders brushing, but Vivian didn’t move.
“Last year, thanks to your stubborn friend, Charlie, I was forced to observe. A lot. But I wasn’t just watching him. I was watching you.” She gave him a bashful look. “You’re smart. Sydney Donovan’s murder was solved because of your skills.” She held up her hand as if to stop him from protesting. “Sheriff Huggins said as much. What I’m saying”—Vivian turned so she was angled toward him—“is that there’s a lot of junk happening in this world, and in my job I feel like I’ve kinda seen it all. Wouldn’t you want to use your . . . your, I don’t know, superpowers to, like, stop evil?”
“I’m not a superhero.”
She poked his chest, sending a burst of heat racing through him. “That’s not what your shirt indicates, Cap.”
“I could do that here. Stop evil.”
Vivian pulled her hand back, leaving the spot cold. “You said it”—she swiveled so they were side by side again—“this place is quiet. Hardly in need of a hero.”
Ryan forced himself to look around and not at the woman whose compliment was making his pulse surge. When he was up in Quantico, he took trips into the city and there wasn’t more than a few minutes between the sound of sirens penetrating the air.
“Think of how bad our world would be if Cap, Thor, Hawkeye, Iron Man, and Hulk kept their powers to themselves?”
“Hulk?”
“Bad example, but you know what I mean.” She pressed her shoulder against his. “Don’t hold yourself back.”
Was that what he was doing? Or was he afraid? After that fateful day with the FBI, Ryan started to dream about what it would be like to work for them—or the CIA or NSA. Sheriff Huggins said God gave him a gift, but it needed to be used wisely. Was it wise to chase after the dream? Ryan wasn’t sure. His dad had a dream and it chased him away from Walton—and away from his family.
“Ryan, if I tell you something, do you promise not to get angry with me?”
He took her in. The porch lights haloed her silhouette, softening her features. Even in the shadows she was beautiful, but he could see tension pulling at the corners of her eyes and it made him nervous. “I’m not sure there’s anything you could tell me that would make me angry with you.”
“Hold that thought.” She rubbed her hands over her knees. “I have need of your superpowers.”
“What?”
“Your genius computer-hacking skills.”
“For what?” he asked, unsure he really wanted an answer.
“Okay, first, remember that just like you, I have a job to do.” Yeah, he did not like where this was going. “And I’m not trying to get in your way, but that sorta comes with the territory—”
“Does it?”
She gave him a look. “Yes, it does. Anyway, you know how you were asking if maybe whoever stole Harold’s laptop might’ve wanted it for a specific reason?”
“Yes.” Ryan thought about Otis Jackson sitting in the holding cell. “I’m not sure that’s the case anymore.”
“Oh?”
She waited for him to tell her more, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. It was an open investigation. “Go on.”
“Right. The other day I got an email with a video link in it. I think whoever sent it didn’t know Harold was dead and might’ve come back to steal his laptop.”
Ryan frowned. “Say that again.”
Vivian took a breath. “Harold’s emails get forwarded to me if he doesn’t answer them within a week. Sometimes he got a little distracted and it helped me make sure we didn’t miss anything. I forgot about that until I got several of them forwarded to me. Most were general newspaper stuff, but there was one that wasn’t.”
“What was it?”
“Well, first you have to promise me that you won’t jump to conclusions.”
“Vivian, just tell me what’s in the email.”
“Let me show you.” Vivian pulled her phone from her back pocket and tapped the screen a few times before handing it to him. “Just watch.”
The email was unnerving. Someone named the Watcher was asking for money, but it was the attached video that chilled him. Harold was talking to a woman who appeared to be upset. Harold reached for her . . . was he consoling her? Or—
“I don’t,” Vivian said. “And I’m glad that was your first instinct as well.”
“Let me guess, that’s Lauren Holt.”
Vivian nodded.
“When was this?”
“The afternoon before Harold died.”
Ryan set his elbow on his knee, still staring at the video. Just like in the Donovan case, pieces of information were beginning to form a picture . . . a very frightening picture.
“There’s more. See the link at the bottom. A payment was supposed to be made to the Watcher so that he wouldn’t release the video, but by the time I got the email, the link was no longer active. And as far as I know, no one else has seen the video but you, me, whoever sent it, and a friend of mine.”
“A friend?”
“A source, really. He’s pretty computer savvy, but he said whoever set up that link made sure he couldn’t be found. Even set up a virus in case anyone tried. I was hoping maybe you could try.”
Ryan handed her phone back. “I don’t want you working this story.”
“What? Why?”
“Vivian, there’s more to Harold’s case. I need you to let it go.”
She stood, her posture stiff. “Let it go? Harold was trying to tell me something the night he died and I think this”—she held up her phone—“has something to do with it, and you know I can’t let that go.”
“It’s an open investigation.” Ryan stood. “If you interfere, there could be legal issues—”
“Legal issues?” Betrayal lined Vivian’s forehead. “I shouldn’t have mentioned anything to you.” She started up the steps. “I’ll take care of it myself.”
“Vivian.” Ryan reached for her hand, her foot stopping on the final step, putting her eye to eye with him. They were impossibly close—close enough she could probably hear his heart beating in his chest. But the increase in his heart rate was due to fear. For her. For what she might get herself into if she kept pursuing the case. “If I promise to check out the link, will you promise to stop digging into my case?”
Her eyes searched his face, and before the words left her lips, he knew the answer.
“I’m sorry, Ryan.” She withdrew her hand. “It’s my job.”