Page 6 of Luck Be Mine (The Defenders #3)

She didn’t recognize the Black woman through the peephole, but the shape of her face and her smile reminded her of someone. She struggled to move to the side. Twisting the lock, she carefully opened the door, bowing to the inevitable.

“There you be, honey.” The woman’s big smile looked like Doogie’s. “Sorry to get you up, but I wanted to come introduce myself before those boys decided to do it for us. Never met a man who needed to be in the midst between two women. Adele Whitman Dugan.”

“Cait Michaels Hunter.” She shifted on her crutch to make room for Doogie’s mom to enter, trying not to wince at the pain from shifting a body not wanting to move.

Had she ever heard Hunt referred to as a boy?

Adele took it upon herself to shut the door and lock it before turning to Cait.

Her hair, swept into a tight braid, was wrapped into a bun on the top of her head.

Each ear held four pierced holes, dripping with silver and ruby earrings.

Her brown eyes popped behind long, fake lashes.

Red lipstick accented the red flowered shirt, white pants, and red flats.

A hint of Chanel No. 5 lingered. Cait recognized it instantly because her stepmother loved the same scent.

“Sit. Sit.” The tall woman ushered Cait to the recliner, her brown eyes going wide at the red sofa. She straightened to full height, hands going to her hips. “They did not.”

Cait’s eyes went from Adele’s disgusted surprise to the tufted red velvet monstrosity with the dramatic rolled arms. “They are suffering from Cait almost died syndrome. They thought they were helping. Hunt didn’t have any furniture. He’s never here.”

Cait eased carefully into the recliner. Adele gripped her good elbow to steady her. Doogie obviously had done a thorough briefing of her injuries to his mother.

“I objected when Warren bought that silly thing. It’s…”

“A statement.” Cait found herself staring at the deep red velvet. It shouted bold with theatrical flare and was unforgettable in a bordello kind of way. “I figured I could find a cover and make do until I can get my furniture shipped from Texas.”

“Let’s do that.” She walked to the kitchen and pulled one of the table chairs next to the recliner and sat. “This room needs help.”

“Don’t I know it. I want the kitchen organized, too. I need an outlet. Baking and cooking would help.” Especially if her subconscious kept drawing Rusty Dent.

“Girl, don’t mind me saying so, but you look like you need a bit more.” Her eyes went to Cait’s hair. Cait stopped herself from shoving her hand through it to disguise how tangled it was. Adele waved her discomfort off. “I can take care of your hair. I don’t go anywhere without my kit.”

“Your kit?”

“Did that son of mine not tell you I own a salon? I got this covered. You could stand a decent cut. It’ll help you take care of it better. We’ll get you fixed up right now.”

She went to the suitcase of a red purse she’d set by the door and rummaged.

She removed a small black box and travel-size shampoo.

“Not wanting to hurt you, so you’ll have to tell me how to get your hair wet.

” She slapped the back of the kitchen chair, silently asking Cait to move from the recliner.

Cait shifted so slowly she wasn’t sure she was moving, positive she didn’t have the energy for a full-spa day. “I usually shower with Hunt so he can keep me stable.”

“May I?” Adele dropped hands into her hair and shifted through the strands. “Head injury this side?”

Cait nodded, swallowing hard against a lump in her throat.

She tilted her head so Adele could see the scar. The act took all she had in her.

“You won’t be able to shower with Hunt after he goes out, so maybe try it on your own. Well, with me here to catch you. I prefer to cut it wet and clean.” She caught Cait’s eyes and held them in challenge.

She’d told Jackie she wanted more activity, more trying to get back on track. Was she going to fold at the first challenge? “My energy level is in flux, but let’s try. I have to be able to manage with Hunt gone.”

“I’ll be right here, and we can rest in between and plot our revenge on those boys for thinking that dang red sofa would be okay. Men.” Adele rolled her eyes.

Cait shifted her crutch to lever herself out of the chair again. Adele was there to help. Finally, back on her feet for the third time, she focused on how good clean would feel and to have her hair cut.

Somewhere she dug out more energy. “Doogie never told me about his father.” Maybe she shouldn’t ask.

Adele sighed, a pained yet dreamy expression in her eyes.

“God rest his soul, he died when Doogie was in middle school. We met in high school. Got married after I got my cosmetologist license. He was a taxicab driver for fifteen years. Got shot by a stupid scum of a man who now is serving a life sentence in Louisiana for shooting my Darrell.”

By the time they got to the bathroom, found towels, turned on the shower to warm, and Adele handed Cait the shampoo, she heard the whole crime story and how Doogie had been inconsolable for all of seventh grade.

“Not a lick of trouble with that boy, and I was so proud of him when he joined the Navy. Of course, I worry myself sick about him being in so much danger, but I try not to tell him.”

Cait propped her crutch against the counter and began unwinding her sling. Hunt usually did this for her. He was too easy to lean on.

Adele followed her progress and assisted where she needed it. By the time shedding clothes was necessary, she’d resigned herself to needing help from Adele. She was determined to achieve doing this alone. Adele had gone silent, lost in thought.

“Lordie, child, you do have some scars, don’t you? We’re gonna get you fixed up. I swear on my mama’s Bible.”

Cait’s eyes filled with tears, and she had to take a breath. “Thanks, Adele.”

“No problem, child.” Adele stooped to help her shed her yoga pants.

Cait touched her shoulder. “Doogie is really good at what he does.”

“He claims he is.”

“I’ve seen him. Saved my life. Granted, it’s one of the most dangerous occupations in the world, but he’s a savior when people are in trouble. Remember that when the worry gets huge. It’s what I do with Hunt. The man is the best out in the field, and the two of them take care of each other.”

Adele rose to her feet and helped her shed her T-shirt. She checked the temperature of the water. “That helps. We’re gonna be good friends, Miss Cait.”

Cait laughed. “I hope so. I’m naked in front of you.”

“Pshaw. Nothing I ain’t seen before. But I don’t like how skinny you are or the look of those scars. I’ve got just the cream for your skin, and we’ll get a good chat about recipes before the boys show up. We’ll talk about those after your shower. Holler if I need to help with your hair.”

Cait bowed to the will of Adele and stepped into the shower, carefully planting her good hand on the wall. “You should stay right there. I only have one hand to wash my hair with.”

“My hands are yours, sweetie.”

One thing was true. She did need to figure out how to do things herself.

Because she needed to reclaim her independence, and mission time would roll over them soon.

Hunt would be gone.

The struggle would be hers alone.

A hurtful hole opened deep down. She closed her eyes and shoved the pain away. She would never, ever confess the difficulty.

She’d find strength somehow because no one was coming to save her. She had to do it herself.