6. Can Of Worms

6

CAN OF WORMS

I f it wasn't for the fact that Kelsey was laughing when she said the last few words he might be offended.

Then he realized she was probably a really good judge of character based on the fact she wanted to meet someone in person and the things she looked for.

Now he just had to decide what to say.

Might as well start with the truth of his career and how he ended up here.

She didn't need to know specifics.

"I was a detective. I told you that. I was in the position for four years. A year ago I was stabbed several times and left to die in an alley."

She stopped the nacho from going to her mouth and stared into his eyes.

No humor or smile.

He was positive he just killed the vibe of this date.

Her hand reached out and touched his, resting there on top. "I'm so sorry. That sounds horrible and had to be extremely stressful for you and your family."

"Yes to it all," he said. "Though the family stress part not really. It's only my father and me and we aren't close."

"I'm sorry about that too. Family is everything to me. But no reason to go into that. Do you want to talk about your injury and what happened? Obviously you didn't die."

"No," he said, picking up a wing. "Or yes, I did. So they said. I was gone about a minute. I don't remember much more than a white light."

"It's true about the light?" she asked.

"I guess. Could have been the moon too for all I know. I was in too much pain to analyze it."

All he could think about was the fact he was going to die in this nasty dirty back alley.

There were dumpsters everywhere, rats behind them and homeless people looking on.

It was a bust gone wrong. He'd been jumped and should have been paying more attention.

"Someone got to you in time though," she said.

"My partner," he said. "He was doing CPR on me. He'd seen the stabbing and came running and firing his gun. He killed the man."

"Good," she said.

No one had ever said that to him either. "Guess it made it easier to not have a trial to sit through. Not that I would have been of much use. I was stabbed five times. Four in the side and abdominal region, once on my arm when I tried to block him on the first strike."

Van always wondered if there was another way he could have gone about it.

If he could have found a way to shoot, but the gun was knocked out of his hand from behind.

She was looking at his arms and he turned his right forearm over for her to see it.

"Yikes," she said.

"It wasn't the worst of them, trust me. I had a lot of internal bleeding and was rushed into surgery. Spent a few weeks in the hospital. I was weak and lost a lot of blood. Then it was bed rest while my insides all healed."

"That sounds gross at the same time it makes me want to cry for you. I don't cry often either."

"I don't need pity," he said.

"It's not pity at all and I'm sorry you feel that way. It's sadness that anyone should go through that much pain. I've got cousins in law enforcement. I don't know how their spouses or parents could deal with that daily."

"My mother struggled with it. She died of brain cancer when I was twenty-six. I'd been on the force a few years at that point."

It would have killed him if his mother had been alive when he was stabbed and he would have worried her.

He remembered thinking it wasn't time to see her again, as much as he wanted to hold her in his arms.

"You've had a lot of loss in your life. I can't imagine. Life will be much slower on Amore Island."

"I'm learning. Not a lot of excitement other than some dogs stuck under decks and burned toast."

She smiled and pulled her hand away. "I'm good at adding excitement to people's lives. What brought you to Amore Island from Kansas? It doesn't sound as if it's family and I'm shocked a nine-one-one operator job did it. You could do that anywhere other than here."

"Actually," he said. "It was family."

He picked up a wing and bit into it and chewed. The spicy sauce hit his tongue while he tried to formulate the rest of what he was going to say.

"I do find family is always there when you need them."

"It's not like that for me," he said. "I never knew my grandfather. My mother's father. She left home after dropping out of college. While I was recovering four months ago, I get this letter in the mail that he passed and to call this law firm representing him for my inheritance."

"Wow," she said. "That's something you normally hear on TV and not in real life."

"I thought it was a joke, but I called and found out it wasn't. I was left a house here on the island. I'd planned on returning to my job when I was healed, but I was getting in my head."

"It's okay to say that you might have had nightmares about it," she said. "I'm sure I would have cried myself to sleep nightly while I slept with a gun under my pillow, chased by a knife, and a light on."

He snorted out a laugh. "Damn close. I did shut the light off."

The gun never left his side. He still had it next to his bed, but it wasn't under his pillow anymore.

The first thing he did before he moved here was make sure he had his permit.

When he was being interviewed for the job, Mac Bond, chief of police, had contacted him and asked if he'd be willing to take a part-time officer slot. They were struggling to find people.

He considered it and said he'd keep an open mind but needed to just settle in and it'd be easier with a straight eight-hour day where he could go home without thinking of his job.

He could easily shut it off when he walked out the door being the operator.

There was no trying to solve a case even during his off hours.

No worrying about being called in either.

Here he put his time in and came home.

The pay was shit, but he didn't care about that either.

He didn't need the money.

He had another potential career waiting for him, but all he had to do was pull the trigger on that too.

He didn't know the last time he was this scared of doing things in his life. Though his father would insist he was afraid of his own shadow.

This wasn't fear of the unknown as much as the can of worms he'd be opening.

But he knew moving here was only part of it.

When he was ready.

"I'm glad you're here," she said. "Maybe you can find some peace. Do you know about this island at all?"

He was humbled by her serious heartfelt words.

He felt bad that he might have judged who she was and realized there was more than met the eye.

"I know about the Bonds that founded it and built it. It's all anyone ever talks about around here."

"It makes for an interesting exchange at times," she said. "We are used to it."

"I also have been told about this silly lore and legend of love at first sight."

"Don't believe it," she said. "I've lived here most my life and am thirty-four and still single."

"I was led to believe it hits the Bond family more than anyone else," he said sarcastically.

"Again," she said. "I'm still single."

He paused before he picked up another wing. "You're last name is Bond?"

"No," she said. "It's Raymond. I'm from Patricia's side of the family. Why? Is that a problem?"

"No," he said softly. "Are you any relation to Kyle Raymond?"

"He's my father," she said.

Son of a freaking bitch. There was fate smacking him upside the head.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, laughing. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"No ghost," he said. "Just didn't expect that. I suppose it makes sense why you want to meet people in person. You might worry they'd want to get to your family name and all."

She waved her hand. "I've got radar for that shit. You're good. You didn't even know who I was, and unless you've been planning to secretly save my runaway pup, then it's fine."

"I don't want anything from anyone," he said. He didn't even want what he was given, but to him it was a chance and maybe that was what he needed the most.

That and answers.

He needed the truth more than anything but wasn't so sure how he was going to get it.

"I pegged you for that," she said. "In summary so far, you're from the land of Dorothy, you've been stabbed and seen the light, got saved, were left a house on an island and now have the pleasurable job of answering calls from hysterical women whose puppy might have found a hole to crawl into they shouldn't."

"That sounds about right," he said.

"Cool," she said. "What else do you want to talk about? Do you like sports? Got any hobbies other than running and sitting in a bar by yourself if you're not channel surfing?"

"I haven't had a lot of time in my life for hobbies," he said. He was too busy working his adult life and keeping his mother company when he wasn't out with friends as a kid.

His father wasn't always around, and when he was, Adam Harlowe was often being a dick.

Van couldn't imagine why his mother never left his father when she had a father with this kind of money.

He didn't know if he'd ever find the answers, but he had to start somewhere.

"The same," she said. "But I do like to sleep in on the weekends. Or I did before I got Frankie. Now it seems like I work or try to weed through dating sites that many tell me to get off of. It is kind of funny the people you find on there."

"I'm sure," he said. Which was why he stayed off of them.

They ate some more in silence for a few minutes. "Do you think you'd like another date or am I too much to handle? I should know if I need to freeze my dating accounts or not."

It was the grin on her face that had him saying, "I'm positive I can handle you just fine."

And when their date was done thirty minutes later, they were standing outside ready to leave and she yanked him by his shirtfront close to her and plastered a quick kiss on his lips. "You look like you could use it. I'm not sure what is going on with you, Van, but I'm a good listener. Don't make me wait too long to set up that second date."

He watched her walk to her Mercedes SUV and climb in, then pull away.

He liked she left it in his hands. As if she knew not to push.

But it also meant he had to figure out the whole "how long to wait" game that he hated too.