Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
“Well, it’s dumpier than I expected.”
Lucy hummed in agreement at Ruby’s proclamation as they all studied the Stirling Stationery Store from across the road. Cormac had backed the car into an angled parking spot, so the front of the vehicle faced the stationery store. The squat brick building was shoved between a nail salon and an old apartment building. The Stirling Stationery sign was faded and flickering, and the windows were slightly grimy.
This was Lucy’s competition? In the past three years, she’d avoided coming down here because Aaron Phillips had succeeded in intimidating her, but now that she was able to take a good look at it again, she wasn’t impressed. Lucy had put hours upon hours into her brand. She’d designed a slick, functional website. She worked hard to find suppliers and printers who could execute her visions to the standard she required.
And this was her competition. No wonder Aaron was mad.
For the first time in a long, long time, Lucy sat straighter and felt like she deserved her success. She’d earned the meeting with Juniper and Sage. Aaron was right to be intimidated.
Before this stupid feud had started, she’d come to his store and asked him a few friendly questions. She’d thought the shop was cute. It was a little cluttered, and it smelled like paper and ink and everything wonderful. But now… Well. Things had gone downhill for Aaron Phillips, that was for sure. Lucy didn’t think it had anything to do with her little online store, but she could see how Phillips might want someone to blame.
Cormac hadn’t said much on the drive over, but he opened his mouth now. “There. You’ve seen it, and it’s closed. I’ll take you all home?—”
The back doors flew open simultaneously, and all the passengers exited the vehicle in a tumble. From the front passenger seat, Lucy watched the exodus before glancing at Cormac. “Sorry,” she said, cringing.
“For what?”
“I feel like this is my fault.” She waved her hand at the crowd of family members crossing the street to get a closer look at her rival’s store.
“I think it might be my mother’s fault,” Cormac replied, unclipping his seatbelt. He opened his door and gave Lucy a wry smile. “Or maybe my sister’s. Or your mother’s.”
“Getting them all in one room was probably a bad idea.”
“I don’t think we had much choice in the matter,” he answered.
Lucy huffed and watched her father study the building’s roofline with a critical eye. He leaned over and said something to her mother, who nodded, nose wrinkled.
Cormac sighed, watching his own mother try the door to the shop that was clearly closed. “I’ll just let them have a look and then get everyone home, and you and I can talk. I want to go over what Phillips said to you this morning. I keep getting the sense that we’re missing something.”
Lucy nodded and opened her door. Cormac jogged around the front of the car in time to close the passenger door for her, then put his hand on her lower back again. His touch was a comfort that Lucy knew she shouldn’t get used to, but she couldn’t help herself. She liked how steady he was, how confidently he did everything, even something as simple as crossing the street. It was addictive to feel that surety radiating from him. As long as he was around, everything would be okay.
“Oh, he changed the display on the left side of the store,” Dolly said, her hands cupped around the sides of her face as she looked through the tinted glass.
“How do you know that, Mom?” Lucy frowned as her mother turned.
Dolly shrugged. “Well, you know, when I’m in the neighborhood, and the store happens to be open, sometimes I stop in.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. “You stop in.”
“Sure.”
“Why?”
“Call it curiosity.”
Vicky snorted. “You pester him, don’t you?”
Dolly put a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “I do not pester anyone . I am a pacifist.”
Lucy arched a brow.
“You mess up the displays and never buy anything.” Vicky’s eyes twinkled. “That’s what I would do.”
Dolly’s lips twitched. She shrugged. “Maybe. Sometimes his carefully color-coded greeting cards get mixed up, but I wouldn’t have a clue who does it.”
Lucy gaped. Her mother preached acceptance and non-reactivity. She always told Lucy to let things go for her own peace of mind. Between the tomato misidentification neighbors and this, Lucy was beginning to think her mother had many hidden facets. How long had Dolly spent secretly antagonizing the villain in Lucy’s life? A strange mix of warmth and shock spread through Lucy’s chest.
Her mother had a spine of steel. Lucy might be able to learn something from her. She could be sweet and sunny on the outside, just like her mother, and then go and do whatever she pleased. A smile curled her lips.
Vicky guffawed, hooking her arm around her new best friend’s elbow. The two of them were cut from the same cloth. “I would do the same for my daughter.”
The daughter in question was peeking around the side of the building. Ruby glanced over her shoulder and said, “I’m going to take a look out back.”
“No,” Cormac stated, voice flat, but Ruby had already trundled off into the dark alley. The space between the buildings was barely wide enough for a single person, so the whole gang followed after Ruby into the darkness as Cormac looked on, a storm brewing on his brow.
Lucy arched her brows at him. “You want me to stay out here while you go wrangle them back around front?”
“No,” he answered, resigned. “It’s best for us to stay together.”
So, Lucy stepped into the narrow space between the buildings and joined the posse of busybodies heading for the back of the building. The narrow walkway spat them out onto a lane with buildings backing onto either side. It smelled overwhelmingly of ripe garbage. The only greenery visible were the stubborn weeds that had pushed themselves through cracks in the pavement.
The group had assembled in a semicircle, staring at the building where Aaron Phillips had made his living. It was as uninteresting from the back as it was from the front. Water damage stained the brick from a broken gutter in the top right corner of the building, a lone window interrupting the expanse of the back wall. The window was blocked with a sheet of plywood fixed to the inside of the frame, blocking it off completely. Otherwise, the building was utterly unremarkable.
“I can’t believe this guy blew up your car,” Ruby said. “What a turd.”
Lucy hummed in agreement. “All because of wedding invitations.”
“If he was losing business to you, he could’ve stepped up his game,” Ruby said, frowning. “Competition is healthy.”
“That’s the thing,” Lucy replied. “I don’t even make that many local sales. It’s mostly online. I’ve just been trying to break into the local business to diversify. I’ve barely stepped on his toes, but he just decided to puff his chest out and bully me.”
“A complete turd,” Ruby repeated.
Despite herself, a smile curled Lucy’s lips. “Totally.”
“There’s got to be something more,” Cormac said, scowling at the building.
“Maybe you can run him out of town the way you did the neighbors,” Vicky suggested to Dolly.
Dolly seemed to consider it, but before she could answer, Cormac stepped forward. “No. No running anyone out of town, especially not someone who has access to explosives and a vendetta against Lucy. You’ve seen the building. Now let’s get back to the car and I’ll take you all home.” Cormac gestured toward the walkway again. His neck was taut with tension, but Lucy didn’t think it was because he sensed danger. She thought he’d reached his limit of exasperation for the day and needed some time to cool down.
She couldn’t blame him. Their mothers together were a menace.
Even now, they were both ignoring him and inspecting the back of the building like they could coax Aaron Phillips out with the power of their stares alone.
“Let’s go ,” Cormac growled.
“Ooh, he’s using his scary voice,” Ruby said, lifting the lid on a dumpster to peek inside. She let it fall back down a moment later, and a waft of stink washed over them all. Gus wrinkled his nose.
“Ruby,” Cormac warned. “Mom. Mr. and Mrs. Barlow. Please.” He swept his arm toward the walkway.
“Guys, let’s go,” Lucy said, wanting to back him up. They weren’t accomplishing anything by staying in this stinking alleyway, anyway.
“That window is strange,” Dolly finally said, frowning. “I’ve been in that store a thousand times, and there’s no entrance to a storeroom on the back wall. And look, there’s no door back here.”
Gus frowned, following his wife’s gesture. Vicky tilted her head.
Cormac pinched the bridge of his nose. “Folks, please. Can we talk about the window when we’re in my car and driving away?”
Dolly nodded and marched back between the buildings, and the rest of them followed like little ducklings. But instead of heading for Cormac’s car, Lucy’s mom turned toward the windows and peered through them again. She clicked her tongue and pointed at the dirty glass. “Look! Metal shelving full of stacks of paper. There must be a hidden door.”
Despite herself, Lucy was intrigued. She looked through the glass and saw the long, uninterrupted shelves that ran almost the entire width of the shop. Pointing to the small room in the back right corner, she asked, “What’s that?”
“That’s a tiny powder room. It has no window, and it doesn’t go back any farther than the wall of shelves,” Dolly explained. At Lucy’s stare, Dolly widened her eyes and scrunched her shoulders, the picture of innocence. “I was curious!”
“Mom,” Lucy started, then stopped. Apparently, her mother had been playing detective for a couple of years, being a nuisance for Aaron Phillips for months on end. Lucy didn’t have the mental energy to chastise her for it. Instead, she peered around the other side of the building—the one they hadn’t walked down—and saw nothing but brick.
Frowning, she turned to Cormac, whose eyes were narrowed. He met her gaze.
“The window is strange,” Lucy admitted. “There’s no door.”
“They could have covered it over to install the shelves,” Gus noted.
“Wouldn’t we see the plywood? Why wouldn’t they use drywall? It’s just a smooth, blank wall behind the shelves.” Dolly had her hands cupped around her face again.
Cormac hummed, then pulled out his phone. “Elton,” he said a moment later. “Did you manage to get the plans for the Stirling Stationery Store? Yeah, send them through.”
“Yeah, a little more, a little more, stop!”
Lucy and Cormac turned in unison to see Vicky standing at the corner of the building, flicking her gaze between the walkway beside the building and the window. They shuffled over and saw Ruby standing a few feet from the end of the building, frowning at the wall.
“What’s going on?”
“The back wall doesn’t go all the way to the back of the building,” Gus cut in, seemingly catching the ladies’ excitement. “There’s a secret room!”
Lucy’s heart thumped. She watched as Ruby spread her arms to the back of the building, measuring the space that was unaccounted for.
“About four, maybe five feet,” she called back.
“Secret room!” Dolly repeated, hanging onto Gus’s arm. “What do you think it’s for?”
“That’s where Phillips builds explosives,” Vicky answered.
“The bastard!” Dolly exclaimed, shaking her husband’s arm. “Honey, call the police.”
“It’s probably storage,” Cormac cut in, but there was a frown marring his features.
Lucy touched his forearm. “What are you thinking?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he let out a long breath. “I’m thinking I want to get all of you out of here before someone comes asking us questions. Or before Phillips shows up and gets angry.”
Lucy nodded. “Mom, Dad, we need to go.”
Dolly turned and nodded. “Fine.”
Ruby reappeared in the sunlight in front of the building, wiping her hands like she’d just done a hard day’s work. “What are we thinking? Secret room?”
“Where he builds his explosives,” Vicky confirmed.
“We’re thinking it’s storage for his stationery store until we find out otherwise,” Cormac cut in, voice firm. “Now everybody, get back in the car. I’ll take it from here.”
Ruby opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the sound of a loud engine drew their attention to the street.
“Get to the car, now !” Cormac barked as the incoming car screeched to a stop in front of the stationery store. The car looked to be at least thirty years old. The boxy lines of the Crown Victoria were distinctive, square headlines shining as both front doors swung open. The car was a dirty tan color, with wood paneling running down both sides.
This was the getaway car the bomber had used.
Lucy’s blood ran cold.
Two men tumbled out, leaving both of the car’s front doors open. The vehicle was still running as the men lunged for the group. Vicky screamed.
Cormac shoved Lucy behind him and cut the men off, neatly dodging a wild punch before landing one in the first man’s gut.
“Look out!” Lucy screamed uselessly as the second man came barreling in like a linebacker. The rest of the group had run for the other side of the street, but no one wanted to leave Cormac on his own. It was two against one. Someone had to help.
But how? Lucy had never thrown a punch in her life.
The linebacker reached his target, but Cormac rolled, letting the man’s momentum take him past Cormac’s body. The man stumbled over the curb and almost lost his footing. Meanwhile, Cormac turned back to the first attacker, grunting as the man landed a hit that glanced off his cheek.
“Get in the car,” he shouted. “Lucy, get everyone in the car and get out of here.”
She wasn’t leaving him here on his own, but she did see the sense of moving the more vulnerable people—that is, everyone except Cormac—out of harm’s way. She waved at her parents, who hurried for Cormac’s SUV.
As she herded everyone inside the vehicle, the two men faced off against Cormac.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” the driver said. He was the wider of the two, his body slabbed with muscle. His hands curled into fists as he circled Cormac, trying to get Cormac into a more vulnerable position.
“Shouldn’t have shown your face,” the second man said. Taller and skinnier than his partner, he tried for another tackle.
Cormac bent his knees, caught the man’s attack on his shoulder, and lifted him up and over to body slam him on the ground. The man’s body made an awful noise as it hit the concrete, his head rolling to the side.
That’s when Lucy got a look at his face. Her chest tightened so quickly she let out a wheezing breath, because she recognized this man; he’d been the one to plant the explosives under her car.
Without a glance at his partner, the meaty man hit Cormac with a flurry of punches. Lucy stood in front of his SUV and watched Cormac dodge, block, and take every hit the other man delivered. The man on the ground rolled, trying to get to his feet. Cormac stumbled and let out an awful, pained grunt as Meaty landed a punch to his ribs.
Cormac was losing.
Blood streamed down the side of his face as the other man threw a wild punch, which Cormac just barely leaned back to avoid. But his attacker had predicted his movements, and a vicious uppercut was on the way to connect with Cormac’s jaw. He dodged at the last moment, but the hit made an awful noise when it connected with the corner of his chin.
“Cormac!” Lucy started moving toward the fight, wanting to help—needing to help. She’d jump on the other guy’s back. She’d rake his eyes out. She’d do something.
As the men battled, Lucy stood there, useless. For the first time since her career had imploded, Lucy wanted to get involved. She was no longer happy to be on the sidelines, to watch, to avoid any pressure or confrontation. Right now, as she watched Cormac fight for all of them, Lucy wished she could do something. Anything.
So she ran toward them, no thought in her mind except helping the man who had done everything to protect her.
Lucy only made it three steps before Cormac moved . He rolled out of the way of his opponent’s next hit. His fists blurred, they moved so fast. She heard the crunch of the other man’s face, and blood spurted from his nose. Meaty’s next punch went wide, and Cormac caught his arm, used his own as a lever, and neatly dislocated the attacker’s shoulder.
The scream the big man let out was high-pitched and horrible. His arm hung oddly when Cormac dropped it, and Meaty stumbled back, eyes glazed.
Lucy found herself leaning against the hood of the attackers’ car. It was warm beneath her palm, the engine still rumbling. Her breaths came fast and heavy, like her throat had been coated with cut glass.
“Who are you?” Cormac asked, his voice a rough, low growl. She’d never heard him speak like that before.
The lanky man on the ground sat up, wincing as he touched his leg. “This isn’t your fight. Don’t get involved.”
“It’s been my fight since you blew up my woman’s car,” Cormac replied, still in that terrible voice.
It took a moment for Lucy to realize he’d called her his woman, because she was distracted by the slow advance that Cormac had started toward the two men. He was like an oncoming storm, unstoppable, deadly, terrifying.
Meaty, clutching the arm with the dislocated shoulder, was red-faced and huffing. His eyes were fully black, betraying his fury. He snarled. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, rent-a-cop.”
So they knew who Cormac was—or at least they knew that he worked in security. Lucy’s heart beat so hard the sound of her pulse rushed in her ears. They needed to get out of there. Needed to get somewhere safe.
But Cormac wanted answers. “Who. Are. You.”
“We work for the Phillips,” Meaty said. “Aaron sent us here with a message.”
Cormac’s neck cracked as he tilted his head from side to side. In that moment, he wasn’t human. He was just pure, uncompromising death. Lucy couldn’t see Cormac’s face, but she could see the set of his shoulders. She could see the way his hands curled and uncurled, like he was trying to shed tension and failing. “What message is that?” His voice was low, but it had turned cold.
“Stay away from here, and stay away from Phillips.” Meaty’s gaze shifted from Cormac to Lucy. “And shut down that pathetic excuse of a business before it gets you in trouble.”
Cold seized Lucy’s muscles, but before she could answer, Cormac began to march forward.
Meaty saw him coming, because Cormac wasn’t moving fast. He was simply advancing like a tank or an invading army, telegraphing his intent.
And his intent was pain.
Meaty widened his stance, preparing.
Cormac dodged a slow punch and landed two of his own. Two rapid jabs to Meaty’s already broken nose, and the big man went down like a tree that had lost its battle against a chainsaw.
Cormac wasn’t even breathing heavily as he stood over the two men. “Look at her again, and I’ll kill you. Speak to her again, and no one will ever find your bodies.”
The way he spoke was icy and factual. Lucy inhaled in little sips, her ribs winched too tight to allow a deeper breath.
Cormac turned and met her gaze.
The side of his head was matted with blood. Rivulets of the ruby liquid ran down to his chiseled jaw, dripping onto his dark top. His entire body was hard and clenched, like he’d turned to ice.
And his eyes—his eyes were burning. She’d never seen them so dark, so utterly furious.
And then the door to the attacker’s car slammed shut. Lucy jumped back, meeting Vicky’s gaze through the windshield. Vicky, in that moment, looked nothing like the friendly, doting older woman she’d been since they’d pulled up to her house a few hours ago. She wasn’t warm.
She was ice cold, just like her son—and she hit the gas.
“Mom!” Cormac managed to yell the word, but it was too late.
Vicky jumped the curb, tore up the patch of weedy grass that separated the front of the shop from the sidewalk, and drove the car right through the front of the Stirling Stationery Store’s windows, narrowly avoiding Lanky’s leg on the way.
The car crashed through the glass as it stopped, sending shards and dust and debris raining down on the hood. Cormac ran over and ripped the door open, pulling his mother out of the wreckage.
Not a hair of hers was out of place. She shook off her son’s touch, sneered at the two men, and spat on the pile of broken glass at her feet. “You hurt my son,” she told the men, “and you deserve everything you got.” Then turned and strode toward Cormac’s SUV where the rest of the group waited.
Cormac jerked his head, and Lucy jumped to follow his unspoken command. She hurried to the front seat and clipped herself in by the time Cormac got behind the wheel.
Through the windshield, they watched the two men gather themselves together as Meaty made a phone call. Cormac started the engine and drove away, the silence in the car thick enough to cut.