Wilder Days

Her defiance was almost amusing. Almost. “You have no idea what you’re up against. I can’t just let you run out of here on your own.”

“What are you going to do, tag along?”

Del sighed, not at all happy with this turn of events. “Yeah.”

Del refused to leave, even when Vic reached the end of her rope and threatened to call the police. He said one night in the house would be all right. The television news had covered the explosion of the abandoned warehouse off of I-65, and while they hadn’t reported anything about discovering bodies inside, there hadn’t been much information at all. The fire had still been too hot for investigators to explore the building.

Maybe right now the kidnappers thought she and Del were dead. That incorrect assumption would not last long.

So come tomorrow morning, she and Del were headed for Gulf Shores to collect Noelle. Then what? Oh, it was not a good idea for those two to be together, not even for a short time. Noelle had Del’s black hair, his blue eyes, his way of finding and embracing trouble. Would he take one look at her and know?

Del finished making his phone calls in the kitchen and walked into the living room where Vic was curled up on the couch. She couldn’t help herself…she was taken aback by how beautiful he was, how unexpectedly tempting. Talk about trouble! Del Wilder was a criminal who had come back into her life with a bang. Literally. He couldn’t stay, and she couldn’t let herself be tempted by what she couldn’t have.

“I’ll hire someone to go with me,” she said, not sounding as confident as she wanted to. “A private investigator, maybe, someone who specializes in personal protection.”

“Still trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes.”

He ignored her, smiled and walked to the mantel where a collection of photographs were carefully placed. Vic’s heart almost stopped when he reached out and grabbed an eight-by-ten of Noelle at the age of nine. She’d been taking dance lessons then, and was wearing a ladybug outfit, complete with wings and antennae. Vic’s heart thudded too hard. What if he looked at Noelle and saw the truth?

“Pretty girl,” he said, smiling as he returned the framed photo to its place.

“Yes, she is.”

“So,” Del said, turning to face her. “What happened with Presley?”

“Preston,” she said tersely. “And what happened to my marriage is none of your business.”

“Just curious. Trying to kill a little time.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, the move making him look like a large, tense, restless boy. “Shock will come by in the morning and drop off a bag. I’d like to get out of here pretty early. By ten, anyway.”

“Del…”

“And don’t tell me I’m not going with you,” he interrupted. “You need me, Vic.”

Those were the last words she wanted to hear! “I do not need you.”

She didn’t need anyone to look out for her or Noelle. The only men who had ever tried to shelter and protect her had ended up betraying her, in one way or another. Her father; Preston. Even Del. These days Vic looked out for herself and her daughter. She didn’t need a man to play the hero.

“At least let me see you settled somewhere safe,” Del said, obviously trying to placate her. “I know of a few good places to hide.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Del grinned at her blatant insult. “You got tough while I was gone.”

He couldn’t possibly know what a nerve he’d touched on. “I didn’t have any choice.”

Shock was right on time, for a change, and he came bearing everything Del had asked for. Clothes, ammo, an extra pistol. And a file on Vic and her ex-husband.

Del enjoyed his morning ritual, coffee and a cigarette, and flipped through the file. There wasn’t much.

“Any luck finding Tripp and Holly?”

Shock shook his head. “No, man, they’re staying clear of their regular haunts. They’ll turn up sooner or later. They always do.”

Up until now, the Mayrons had been a minor annoyance, two pesky flies in the ointment. They hadn’t been this determined, violent or organized before. Besides, Tripp Mayron was a major screwup.

“And the other?”

“Most of the good stuff is up here,” Shock said, tapping a fingertip against his temple. “I made a few phone calls last night and dug up the real dirt.”

Del looked down at a photo of Vic, an impersonal and unflattering driver’s license picture. And still, she looked good. “Let’s hear it.”

“Six years ago Preston Lowell, who works for Vic’s old man, was caught with his pants down. Literally. Not a pretty sight, from what I hear. The guy’s apparently got a really tiny little…”

“Shock,” Del growled in warning.

“Old man Archard, his secretary and a new client walked into Preston’s office after hours to get some papers or something, and found naughty Lowell and his new secretary…dictating, right there on the desk.” Shock waggled his eyebrows. “Vic kicked him out and he got transferred to the Raleigh office, a demotion from what I hear. Vic had already been selling some paintings, but once she was on her own she really threw herself into the business. Now she releases several prints a year and makes a decent living doing it.”

Del stared at the grainy photograph. He wasn’t sorry that Vic was currently unattached, but he was incensed that any man would treat her that way. She deserved better.

“By the way, this is the Vic, right?” Shock’s long, thin fingers danced over his heart.

“Shut up, Albert,” Del muttered.

Shock clapped a hand over his heart. “Man, I do you a favor and you call me Albert. What’s gotten into you?”

Del lifted his eyes slowly. “Anything else?”

“Only that no one at Archard Enterprises likes Preston much, and that he’d been fooling around for years. Everybody knew, probably even Vic. Once the old man caught him, though, that was his ass.”

“But he was demoted, not fired?” Del shook his head. “The old man should have kicked his butt and then run him out of town on a rail, but instead he transfers him to Raleigh?”

Shock just grunted, in a familiar kind of acknowledgment.

Del took a long drag on his cigarette. “Okay, the old man is screwed up. I already knew that. But if Lowell had been fooling around for years…why would Vic put up with that?”

“Why don’t you just ask me?”

He and Shock both turned their heads toward the kitchen doorway to find an irate Vic standing there, her hair curling wildly, her thick white robe cinched tight. She stepped toward Del and he tried to close the file. Too late. She saw her own picture.

“Vic, baby…” he began.

“Don’t you Vic, baby me,” she snapped, reaching out and taking the cigarette from his fingers, tossing it into his coffee cup. “And don’t smoke in my house!”

Del glanced down at what was left of his cigarette floating in what was left of his coffee. What a waste. “Like it or not, you’re as much a part of this as I am.”

“Yeah, right.” She crossed her arms over her chest. There was fire in her eyes, color in her cheeks and pink nail polish on her toes. What a woman. “I’m an artist. No matter how unhappy someone might be with a painting I do, they don’t try to blow me up!”