All Fired Up

by Lori Foster

  Instead they bludgeoned her with them. Jack was a little smoother about it, but still...

  “Are you not talking to me?”

  His head jerked up. “What?”

  Charlotte shrugged. “Seemed like you were mad and didn’t want to chat. I don’t want to bother you.”

  His brows came together in a ferocious look of confusion. After studying her face a moment, he shook his head. “I’m concerned, not mad.”

  Oh, good. Well, then... “Do you own this?”

  Almost against his will, Mitch nodded. “I haven’t had time to do much with it yet. Paint is bought, though.”

  Property meant he was settling in, and her heart rejoiced despite the pep talk she’d given herself about staying detached. “What color?”

  Resistance showed in every line of his body, but finally he glanced at her. “Slate blue. I’ll do the trim in white.”

  “That’ll be beautiful.”

  With a grunt, he said, “Anything would be an improvement, right?”

  “Homes need love and care.” Just as people do. “Give it time.” Until then, the surroundings would inspire anyone. “How much land do you have?”

  He pointed. “See that thicker tree line way out there?” He swung his arm in the other direction. “You can just barely see a fence bordering a farmer’s fields over there. I can hear his cows in the morning. You saw where we first pulled off the road—that’s the front of the property, and the back goes up to the train tracks.” He gave her a crooked grin and said, “Hear that in the morning too.”

  His smile could melt her bones but she didn’t know if it was seeing him happy that did it, or the fact that he was so incredibly gorgeous and the happiness only emphasized it. “You can pretty much hear the cows and the train whistle all around Red Oak. I like it.”

  “Yeah, I do too.”

  “Mitch...” She glanced around again, thinking how isolated he was here if something happened. What if Newman found him? What if he brought all three men here to hurt Mitch? He’d be completely alone.

  “What?” His brows pinched more, then rose high. “Did you just shiver?”

  “No,” she lied, because how could she explain that a sense of doom had chilled her? Deciding to tackle one thing at a time, she laced her fingers together. “What Brodie said...”

  “Which part?” His jaw ticked again. “Brodie said a lot.”

  Yes, he had—and then she’d said more, all of it unkind. “About...well, coming after you. Brodie would track you down, that much is true. But you should know, he wouldn’t actually hit you.”

  Wearing a mean smile, he leaned in, tweaked her chin, and said, “I wouldn’t let him.”

  His nearness rendered her mute and sent her heart into hyperdrive. She thought he meant to kiss her and anticipation spiked...but what he did instead was a gesture for a kid.

  As Mitch walked away from her, he called Brute over to his car, his tone light and easy.

  Jerk.

  Staring daggers at the back of his head, Charlotte accepted that in the most infuriating ways, he was too much like his brothers.

  Full of arrogance, he called back to her, “We should go.”

  That had her searching the surrounding woods as she hurried to her car.

  “Relax.” Taking pity on her, he promised, “No one is here now.”

  “How do you know?”

  Hands flexing at his sides, jaw working, he shrugged. “You develop a sixth sense when you’re in prison. If anyone was lurking around, I’d feel it.”

  “Oh.” How awful.

  More gently still, he explained, “I assume Brodie made those phone calls, and your family will worry if we don’t show up soon.”

  “Your family,” she stressed, and opened her driver’s door. “And they’ll worry about both of us.” Before he could reply, she started her car, ready to go.

  Shaking his head, Mitch called, “I’ll follow you,” then got behind the wheel.

  The return drive gave her more time to think—or stew, actually—until she pulled up to the house and found Ronnie on the porch swing, dressed in her usual black jeans with a pullover shirt, her fair hair highlighted by the setting sun. The second she spotted them, she stood and opened the front door, saying something that brought out Ros.

  Both women stood there as Charlotte and Mitch parked, locked up their cars and started in. Brute kept pace alongside them.

  “Jack called,” Ros explained. “I was already out so I picked up Ronnie to wait here with us.”

  Eyes narrowed against the hazy red sunset, Mitch shook his head. “You shouldn’t be outside. There’s no telling if Newman might—”

  “Let him come,” Ronnie said, her lip curled. “I’d feed him my knife.”

  Incredulity freezing him to the spot, Mitch stopped and stared. His mouth firmed. His gaze hardened. “You’re out here looking for him?”

  Ronnie shrugged. “Or for you two—whoever came first.”

  Dumbfounded, he started to speak, but came up blank. His jaw clenched and he glowered at Charlotte.

  How was this her fault?

  Maybe he didn’t know how deadly Ronnie could be with her knife—or how fearless she was when facing danger. She gave him a hard nudge. “Ronnie’s pretty badass. The stories I could tell...”

  Ros huffed a breath. “Yes, she is, but she’s not using her knife on anyone tonight—and we all know Jack is going to have a fit if he finds out Ronnie said that.”

  “Let him.” Ronnie kept all her attention on Mitch. “I want to know everything about this jerk who scared Charlotte.”

  Humiliation scalded Charlotte’s face. Compared to Ronnie’s courage and lethal ability, she was completely helpless against real danger.

  The comparison sucked.

  Low and mean, Ronnie continued. “I especially want to know why you haven’t demolished him yet.”

  At that, Mitch gave up his annoyance with a short bark of humor. “Well, at least you realize I could.” His gaze slanted to Charlotte. “She seems to think I’m afraid of him.”

  “What?” That wasn’t at all what she’d meant.

  “Charlotte,” Ros chastised before she could explain. “Of course he’s not.”

  Horrified by his assumption, Charlotte said, “I didn’t—”

  “He’s smart not to tempt the law for any reason,” Ronnie interrupted with a frown. “Not with a record.”

  “There is that,” Mitch agreed.

  “I didn’t—” she tried again.

  “But afraid?” Ronnie scoffed. “Don’t forget, he’s related to Brodie and Jack.”

  “Bravery by blood, huh?” Mitch shook his head. “Don’t you think we should discuss this inside?”

  “Go on,” Ronnie said. “I’ll stay out here, keep an eye out—hey!”

  Ros locked an arm through hers, urging her inside.

  “Jack is still my son and I love him,” Ros explained with calm insistence. “If you’re outside when he gets home, he’s going to rage, then you’ll rage back, and you’ll both be miserably mad at each other.” She shot Ronnie a stern look. “I don’t want my son miserable.”

  “Besides,” Charlotte said, hoping to help, “I’ll feel safer with you and Mitch both inside with us.”

  “Yeah,” Mitch said, deadpan. “I’ll feel safer too.”

  Charlotte glared at him. Clearly he didn’t yet realize that Ronnie, despite her petite stature, had enough daring and ability for three grown men. Jack and Brodie had learned, and eventually Mitch would too.

  For her part, Ronnie just snorted.

  They’d barely gotten inside when Charlotte felt compelled to explain. “I never thought Mitch was afraid of this Newman fellow.”

  “You thought it enough to ask me about it,” Mitch pointed out.

  “No, I—”


  With the patter of nails on wood floors and a lot of barking, Buster came barreling around the corner. He drew up when he saw Brute, ears perking, then charged forward again with renewed exhilaration.

  Typically, Brute tried to dodge him, but it didn’t dim Buster’s glee.

  Laughing, Mitch took his spot on the floor so Brute could crawl into his lap. With one hand on Brute’s collar, the other on Buster’s, he corralled the dogs.

  “Buster,” Ronnie said in exasperation, but he ignored her. “He’s so enthusiastic about everything now—especially other animals.”

  “It’s fine.” Mitch got Buster to sit long enough for Brute to warm up to him again. This time it didn’t take long.

  When Buster led the way toward the kitchen, Brute followed.

  Standing over Mitch, Charlotte crossed her arms. “You misunderstood.” She said it fast before she got interrupted again. “I meant that you were afraid...”

  Ros cleared her throat in warning.

  Okay, right, scratch that. “That is, I thought you might be concerned with the idea of a family. You know, relying on someone—”

  “Not happening.”

  “—and having someone rely on you,” she finished, deflated by his refusal to depend on any of them.

  “Rely on me?” he challenged, his gaze holding hers.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Who?” With lethal grace, he rose back to his feet to face off with her. “You?”

  Her thoughts went utterly blank. “I, um...”

  “Them?” he continued, nodding at Ronnie who admired her knife, and Ros who smiled as she watched them.

  “Yes.” Elevating her chin, Charlotte gestured at the other women. “Them, Brodie, Jack. That’s what family is. Give and take. Worry and encouragement. From both sides.”

  “She’s absolutely correct.” Pleased now, Ros nodded. “Brodie relied on you to see Charlotte home safely. Jack is relying on you to stay here until he returns.” She gave him her patented mother look—the one Charlotte had always found to be extremely successful. “We’re all relying on you to stick around.”

  He started to say something, but changed his mind. Lectures from a mother figure were likely a novel experience.

  Charlotte figured it was good for him. He needed to know that when people cared, they sometimes intrude—all with good intentions.

  To Ronnie, he asked, “When is Jack due home?”

  “Soon.” She put the knife in her boot. “Grab a seat, get comfortable, then tell me everything you can about Newman.”

  * * *

  WHEN JACK CAME in an hour later, Mitch released a long breath of relief. Dodging Ronnie’s interrogation hadn’t been easy. Bless Ros for insisting everyone eat. She’d gotten them all seated around the kitchen table with grilled-cheese sandwiches, chips, pickles and tea.

  The women ate a sandwich each, but Mitch devoured the two that Ros served him. Even better, there was a piece of leftover cake that Charlotte had made, and they all decided he should have it.

  It seemed to be a traditional method of coping for them—sitting together, eating, talking. Since the food was so good, and he was able to avoid a lot of the conversation, he didn’t mind too much.

  He’d just finished the last delicious crumb, along with a cup of coffee, when Jack came in.

  There were general greetings with Jack kissing Ronnie, then lavishing some attention on both Buster and Brute before he asked to be updated.

  Mitch left that to Charlotte as he helped clear the table against Ros’s complaints. The sooner he wrapped this up, the sooner he could get going.

  When he finished with the chore, he thanked her again for the food, called to Brute, and bid everyone a congenial good-night. Confident that he’d covered his haste to leave, he turned to go.

  Charlotte gave him a disapproving frown, as if he’d let her down.

  He probably had.

  Everyone else looked worried. Nothing he could do about it tonight. He had plans to make, and it’d be better if he got to them now.

  As he and Brute left the house, Jack said, “I’ll walk you out,” and Mitch realized there was nothing he could do about that either.

  His half brothers were pushier than he’d ever expected.

  Ros was more accepting than he dared to hope.

  But it was Charlotte who took him most by surprise—maybe because he hadn’t figured on meeting someone like her...and because he already liked her too damn much.

  The quiet closed in around them. A deceptively peaceful night.

  With new concerns at the forefront of his mind, he checked the surrounding area as he headed to his car.

  It was well lit, front and back. There’d be no chance for anyone to lurk in a shadow or behind a thick shrub. “You and Brodie install the security lights?”

  “And a top-notch security system.” Pinning him in his gaze, Jack smiled. “We don’t take chances with family.”

  A lot of uncomfortable meaning hung in that statement—uncomfortable because he knew Jack included him, and he wasn’t sure he deserved it. “You’ll stay the night here with them?”

  “That’s my plan,” he confirmed. “So what’s your plan?”

  “I’m working on it,” Mitch hedged, now undecided on what to do.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d consider sticking around.”

  Huh. A new tactic? “You’re actually asking?”

  Jack’s mouth twitched. “Let me guess. Brodie threatened?”

  “Pretty much, yeah—although Charlotte said he wouldn’t actually—”

  “Charlotte’s wrong. He would.” Jack put his hands in his trouser pockets and looked out over the road. “Don’t get me wrong, family is important to me. Very important. But Brodie and I have different approaches to things.”

  An understatement. “So I’ve noticed.”

  Jack accepted that with a smile. “Brodie’s always taken the role of big brother to heart, maybe because Dad was never here enough to round things out, you know? Brodie rolled with it and filled in where he could.”

  “Rosalyn doesn’t strike me as a person who needed a lot of help from her kids.”

  “No, she didn’t. But our protectiveness especially extended to her. The stuff Dad put her through...” Blinking away his frown, he explained, “Brodie forgave him, took Mom’s advice and just accepts him for who he is. Me?” He shook his head. “It still infuriates me. When Dad comes around, he spends his time, limited as it is, with Brodie because I want nothing to do with him.”

  Mitch understood that, and yet, Elliott’s visits had been like a treat for him, better than Christmas or birthdays since his mom hadn’t celebrated those occasions much. With Elliott, he had someone who talked with him, who focused on him, took him to lunch or dinner. It was nice—something he’d looked forward to.

  “Maybe Rosalyn’s right and that’s all Elliott has in him.” Mitch had long ago accepted that his mother suffered dependency—on drugs, on a man, on her own wants and needs. Was she born weak? He didn’t know, but for his entire life she’d been needy—just not needy of her son. For her, Mitch was an afterthought at best. “Very few people are like your mom.”

  “She’s definitely special.”

  And if Mitch stayed, she could be hurt. Hell, Charlotte had already been frightened, and God only knew what could have happened if not for her quick thinking. Scaring her might have satisfied Newman’s twisted sense of humor, but Mitch would never underestimate his capacity for violence.

  Rather than drag it out, he met Jack’s gaze. “Leaving is the best option to protect everyone.”

  “Actually, Brodie and I have another idea.”

  The front door of the house opened and Charlotte stepped out. “Grant called. He found Newman at Freddie’s. He said he’s staying in the hotel but isn’t there much
. When Grant asked him about...about his visit to the office, Newman said he didn’t mean to alarm me. He claims that when I locked myself inside, he thought something was wrong and just wanted to help.”

  “Bullshit,” Mitch growled.

  Charlotte shrugged. “I agree, but he didn’t actually do anything, right?”

  To Mitch’s attentive gaze, Charlotte now looked self-conscious and uncertain, prompting him to take a step toward her. “Don’t do that. Don’t ever second-guess Newman. You absolutely did the right thing.”

  Grateful, she treated him to a faint smile. “Well, regardless, Grant told him to stay away from the office.” She laced her fingers together. “He said he has personal business with you, Mitch.”

  “Yeah, I just bet he does.” Mitch rubbed his face. Before he and Newman had their confrontation, it would have been better to get him well away from here. That option was gone. “I’ll head to the bar right now.”

  He didn’t want anyone else to suffer collateral damage.

  “No.”

  Both he and Jack looked at her.

  In that now familiar way, she put up her chin. “Grant said he doesn’t want any trouble. He asked that you not go and start anything.”

  “It started today when Newman frightened you.”

  “Correction,” she said. “It started when he treated you badly. But that has nothing to do with you looking for trouble now.”

  Forcing his mouth into a smile, Mitch promised, “I’ll invite him outside. Hell, I’ll invite him to my house—”

  “Don’t you dare.” Coming down a step, Charlotte propped her hands on her hips. “Grant said Newman would probably take off now, and that’s what we should let him do.”

  “If Grant thinks that, he’s as naive as you are.”

  Her glare could have burned him to a crisp. “Naive?”

  Jack said, “Thanks, hon. I’ll be done here in a minute.”

  “No, Jack Crews. You do not get to dismiss me.”

  Mitch opened his mouth.

  “And you. Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? And so blind?”

  He had no idea what that meant. “Charlotte—”

  “Unless you’re staying, I don’t want to hear it.”