Page 6 of Two Hearts' Ploy

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’ll do,” she answered firmly.

“What do you want us to do with Vin?”

“That depends. How far did he go?”

“Not only did he break in, he began trashing the inside of the place. I suppose he had about twenty minutes inside before they responded. He had no idea he’d set off an alarm. It’s a shame we couldn’t have warned the cops.”

“But then he wouldn’t have been able to break in, and I couldn’t have had him arrested,” she said firmly.

“Really?”

“Yep,” she answered, feeling determined. “I’ve had enough of being taken advantage of.”

Marc barked out a laugh. “You’ve always been too generous for your own good. Do you still want to meet tomorrow? I can take care of the situation with the cops.”

She heaved a sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to go through the place for the insurance company anyway to see what kind of damage he’s done. I’d better get to it before Monday, since I’ll probably be pretty busy during the next month.”

“That’s right. You’re recording a new album. We’ll miss you.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere yet. I’ll see you tomorrow, Marc.”

“I’ll still bring boxes,” he said.

She snorted.

Chapter Two

The Following Day

Crystal Rock, Wisconsin

Jeff reached for one of the apples sitting in a bowl on the kitchen island, biting into it hard as he talked with his mom, who was insisting on making him lunch when he’d stopped by the family home for an unexpected visit.

“I thought you were going to start teaching your classes next week?” Mom asked, frowning at him disapprovingly.

“Not until September, Mom. Eve needs some help at the recording studio, so I’m going to be working there during the summer.” Jeff had always had an ear for music, so he loved doing the mixing, creating something unique for artists who sometimes, unfortunately, sounded rather ordinary. It came with the territory, Grammy winning vocalist Eve Loughlin had decided when she opened up the studio to any artist who could afford the recording costs.

Mom huffed out a breath as she studied him from head to toe. Jeff could tell how she hated his new look with his longish hair and scruffy beard. But while he’d had leave, he’d decided to just let loose before he’d begin teaching classes for the wounded warriors vocational training program this upcoming fall.

“You look like a beach bum,” she muttered. “When are you going to shave and get a haircut?”

When Jeff started laughing, it only made his mother more irritable. She was giving him the evil eye when she scooped a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches onto a plate for him.

“At least you’re not being sent back overseas,” Mom growled, pouring each of them coffee before joining him on a stool at the island. “First you lose a leg, and then you go back, this time to Iraq, to get shot at. You’re lucky that one of those bullets didn’t hit your heart.”

“I know, Mom,” he said gently, taking a break from eating. “But I’m good at it. And truthfully, it makes me feel good to be able to do something rewarding with my life. One of my biggest fears was that I’d be done with my career when I lost my leg.”

“And now you wouldn’t even know it was missing,” Mom said approvingly. “I can’t believe how quickly you were back on your feet, so to speak.”

“That’s why I accepted this teaching position. I’m not as agile as I was before I got shot. But I’ll warn you – if I do get called back, I’m going to go.”

Mom huffed out a breath, but Jeff could see the fear in her eyes.

“Maybe you’d at least consider giving up the motorcycle?” she snorted. “Who’d have thought that someone without a leg would still be allowed to drive one.”

They’d had this argument a million times before. He had a feeling that Dad probably agreed with Mom but would never say so. When Mom had tried to urge Dad to voice an opinion, Dad had simply shrugged.

“Don’t start that again,” Jeff answered, smiling widely. “My bike makes it easy to get around.” One of the first things he’d done while training on his prosthetic had been to look into adaptive equipment for both his bike and his truck. “Losing a legdoesn’t make me an invalid, Mom. You know, you still kind of treat me like one.”

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