Fury on Fire

by Sophie Jordan

  Turning away, he grasped the bar of his cart in a white-knuckled grip and left her standing in the aisle.

  Home was still the last place he wanted to be. Bumping into Faith at the store only reaffirmed that.

  He stayed only long enough to drop off his groceries. Sticking the cold stuff in the fridge, he exchanged glares with his empty walls before pushing off the counter. “Forget this,” he muttered to himself.

  Grabbing his keys, he hopped back in his truck. Without thinking about it, he found himself pulling into the gravel parking lot surrounding Joe’s Cabaret.

  For midweek the place was hopping. He stepped inside the smoke-laden space to the raucous cheers of patrons waving money for a pair of dancers dressed like pink bunnies.

  He assessed the crowd in one sweep. He spotted Piper weaving through tables. She looked harried even with a smile etched onto her face. Her big doe eyes looked tired with shadows underneath them. He knew Cruz hated that she had to work so hard, but there was little else she could do with no parents around, a brother in prison and a fourteen-year-old sister to raise. With her day job and picking up shifts here at night, she was burning the candle at both ends.

  Her face lit up when she spotted him. She waved him toward a vacant table near the back. Naturally, all the tables near the stage were occupied. Fine by him. He wasn’t here to stuff money in G-strings.

  He seated himself with his back to the wall, settling in until Piper could get to him.

  He was still waiting when the main door opened again and an officer stepped inside, the dark blue of his uniform with its glinting brass bits unmistakable. There was a noticeable shift in the air as everyone became aware of the new arrival. He stepped deeper into the room. The red stage lights cast him in a glow and revealed his face. North released a low, mirthless chuckle.

  Why the hell not? He’d already run into one Walters sibling tonight. Why not toss in another one? Maybe Tucker Walters would show up, too.

  Sheriff Hale Walters slowly navigated the room. Several of the waitresses and dancers eyed him and it wasn’t out of trepidation. North guessed it didn’t hurt that the guy had the kind of face women liked. Not that he was any judge, but if the girls who worked at Joe’s—the girls who saw men all day long in every shape, size and flavor—were eyeing him, then he was better than average. He was impressive. Taller than North at several inches over six feet and built like a tank. North recalled that when he was in high school Hale Walters basically was the Sweet Hill football team’s defensive line.

  As it became clear that he wasn’t there to break up the fun, the customers relaxed and resumed their catcalls. North kept his gaze fixed on Walters.

  Eventually, the sheriff came to stand before him. “Callaghan,” he greeted.

  He dropped his head back. Damn, Faith’s brother was a big bastard. “Looking for me?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “Well, you found me.” He didn’t even want to consider how the guy tracked him down. He’d either followed him or had an APB out for him. He wouldn’t put such things past him. The man had power and influence. Enough to make North’s life very complicated. He wouldn’t forget that. “Surprised it took you this long. You could have just knocked on my door.”

  “I thought it was a good idea for us to have a little talk someplace . . . neutral.” And by neutral he meant someplace where his sister wouldn’t see him hounding North. “I would have come sooner, but I was hoping to convince my sister that she needed to move.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Faith is headstrong. She believes in second chances.” He lowered himself into the chair across from North. “But you and I have been around. We’ve seen the worst that life has to offer. We aren’t so optimistic. Are we?”

  North stared long and hard at the man across from him. “You and I have nothing in common. Sheriff.” This last he added with a touch of force, spitting the word off his tongue as though he didn’t like the taste of it. He’d had enough exposure to lawmen to last him the rest of his life. The fact that he now lived next door to the sheriff’s sister was a major point of discontent. He was leading a law-abiding life. He shouldn’t have to deal with the man.

  Hale Walters glanced to the stage, where a patron was making an ass of himself attempting to climb the stage to reach one of the dancers. A bouncer emerged to grab him and cart him away.

  “We both know men don’t change,” he murmured idly in a voice that belied the tension lining his shoulders. “Not really.” His steely gaze drifted back to North as though waiting for him to reply.

  There was no point. For the most part, North didn’t disagree with him.

  “Sorry for the wait,” Piper’s sweet feminine voice said breathlessly as she arrived at their table. “We’re slammed. What can I get you, North?” Her dark gaze slid to the sheriff. “And your friend here?” She uttered the word friend in a skeptical manner. She might walk the straight and narrow, but she was a Walsh. North doubted there was a family member of hers that had not seen the inside of a jail.

  “Ice water is fine,” Walters said.

  Her lips thinned and he could imagine she was calculating a zero tip from him on that order.

  “I’ll take a beer. The usual,” North supplied.

  Nodding, she gave his shoulder a friendly pat before moving on.

  Walters’s gaze didn’t miss the touch. His eyes followed Piper as she moved away. “Cute girl,” he murmured.

  North followed the direction of the sheriff’s stare, noticing it followed Piper’s ass until she disappeared behind the bar.

  “She’s a good girl.”

  “You know her well then.”

  North heard the judgment in his voice. “Well enough.”

  The sheriff grunted. “Right. Seems like if you have that tasty piece on the line, you can leave my sister alone.”

  He smiled without bothering to correct Walters’s assumption that he was banging Piper. This man was determined to think the worst of him and nothing he said would convince him otherwise.

  “So we’ve reached the part when you warn me off your sister?” He crossed his arms across his chest. “Does it even matter if I tell you that your concerns are misplaced?”

  “No. It wouldn’t matter. I saw the way you looked at her.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “Like a wolf ready to eat its next meal.” He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. “Only you can forget about that. There are hundreds of girls for you to fuck with.” He stabbed a finger in North’s direction. “So hands off her.”

  North shook his head and laughed. The sad thing was . . . he couldn’t even deny wanting her. He did. He had.

  “Yeah,” Walters said smugly. “Thought so.”

  “We’re just neighbors. That’s all we’ll ever be.” That much was true.

  “She’s too good for you.” He gestured around the room. “Why don’t you stick with your strippers and bimbo waitresses and steer clear of her.”

  A bottle of beer clunked down in front of North. He looked up, startled. He hadn’t even noticed Piper’s return. “Oh, and here’s your ice water.” She plopped the glass down clumsily in front of the sheriff, close to the edge. Too close apparently. The glass toppled over and spilled all over Walters.

  “Shit!” He erupted from his chair, wincing at the icy deluge soaking the front of his pants.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Piper grabbed a napkin and patted savagely at his crotch, making him yelp. North covered up his smile with his hand.

  “Stop! I’m okay! Really.” Walters dodged her hand, backing away.

  “I’m so sorry, Deputy. I didn’t—”

  “Sheriff,” he ground out, snatching the napkin from her hand when she came at him again. “Sheriff Walters.”

  “Oh!” Piper’s enormous, Disney-princess eyes rounded in her face with exaggerated zeal. “Sheriff Walters. I’m so, so sorry!”

  “It’s quite all right—”

  “I’m so glad you can forgiv
e me.” She hopped a little in place, sending her rack bouncing as she grabbed a lock of her dark hair, curling it around her finger. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “But gosh . . . what can you expect from a bimbo waitress?”

  Hale’s eyes narrowed. He flung the napkin down on the table. He clearly understood then that the drink in his lap had been deliberate. She had overheard his remark and was having a little fun at his expense.

  “Exactly,” he retorted.

  Piper squared her shoulders and stared him head-on, not the least bit intimidated. In that moment she reminded North of her brother. That mean bastard fought like a rattlesnake. Multiple men. Bigger men. Cruz would take on anyone. Reid always said it would be a miracle if the guy ever made it to thirty.

  Walters wrenched his gaze back to North. “Remember what I said.” His gaze returned then, lingering for a long heated moment on Piper. Then he was gone, stalking from the table.

  “Piper,” North said warningly. “You don’t need to go making enemies with men like that.”

  She snorted in disgust. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “Maybe you should be. Your family doesn’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to the law.”

  Piper sobered and looked at him somberly. “I’m nothing like my family. Me and my sister . . . we’re different.”

  “I know that.” And she was. She might work at this unsavory establishment, but she wasn’t like the rest of her clan. She worked two jobs and took night courses and raised her little sister. “But Sheriff Walters is a powerful man—”

  “Him? He looks like he has a stick up his ass.”

  North released a hard laugh. Hadn’t he had a similar thought about the man’s sister?

  “I appreciate you looking out for me—”

  “It wasn’t just you, my friend. He insulted me. I heard that man call me a bimbo.”

  “He said bimbo waitresses. That doesn’t necessarily mean you specifically—”

  “Oh, he meant me.” She rolled her eyes.

  North shrugged, watching the fiery bloom of color in her cheeks and knew there was no talking her down.

  “Men like him are used to getting whatever they want and saying whatever they want because they think they’re superior.” She sniffed and picked up his empty water glass. Frowning down at the table, she said, “And he didn’t leave a tip.”

  North chuckled. “Big shock.”

  Shrugging, she strolled away.

  North’s laughter faded. He picked up his beer and took a long pull. Now that Piper had left, he was alone with the echo of the sheriff’s words. I saw the way you looked at her. Like a wolf ready to eat its next meal.

  If that was true, then he needed to stop looking at Faith Walters, because there would be no feasting on her. He finished his beer and lifted his gaze. Spying Piper, he signaled for another one.

  EIGHTEEN

  Shutting off all the downstairs lights, Faith moved upstairs and went about her bedtime routine. Washed her face. Brushed her teeth. Pulled her still-damp hair into a bun. She hooked her phone to the charger beside her bed and got under the covers. Sighing, she folded her hands across her stomach. This was the same routine she’d had most of her life. It hadn’t changed. Despite the fact that three nights ago she had bumped into North at the store. Her attempt to clear the air between them had gone abysmally wrong. He didn’t want to be friends. Or even friendly.

  He had kissed her right there in the paper-towel aisle. To punish her. To prove the point that she wanted him. Then he had told her she couldn’t have him. He’d made a fool of her. It was like he held out a cookie jar for her to take a cookie and slammed the lid on her fingers when she reached inside. Jerk.

  Forget I live next door. Forget you even have a neighbor.

  Fine. She would do just that. Difficult as it might be, she would forget all about him. Brendan had called and they’d finally nailed down the day for their next date. She would focus on that. And forget all about North Callaghan.

  Despite her turbulent thoughts, her lids grew heavy.

  Outside, she heard the distant rattle of wheels on a garbage can as it rolled toward the curb, and it jarred her from her state of semiconsciousness. Damn.

  Tomorrow was garbage day. They wouldn’t pick up again for another two days. Unless she wanted her trash overflowing onto her kitchen floor by tomorrow evening, she needed to take it outside now. She doubted she would be awake at five in the morning for pickup. Definitely not. Tomorrow she was sleeping late.

  Flinging back the covers, she hurried downstairs and pulled the garbage bag out of the can.

  Opening her front door, she was careful not to drag the bag over the concrete. The last thing she wanted to be doing at midnight was picking up smelly garbage.

  The rest of her neighbors had remembered to set out their trash, including North. Garbage lined the curb up and down the length of her street. The night was quiet. Various porch lights glowed in the darkness. Two houses down, the little boy had forgotten to bring in his bike. It lay on its side in the driveway. Hopefully it would still be there in the morning. Or maybe his mother would remember to bring it in.

  She deposited her trash at the curb and then turned to go back inside. Yawning, she scratched her elbow as she shuffled back to her house. A car door slammed shut. She glanced over her shoulder, noticing a man getting out of a truck parked across the street from her house. There wasn’t usually a truck parked there. The house had a garage and the lady who lived there always parked inside it.

  The driver of the truck started walking toward her house. It almost looked like he was walking toward her. She hesitated, her feet dragging to a halt. He was walking toward her.

  She squinted, trying to get a better look at him. His face was in shadow, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen him before. His lanky form ate up the distance between them with purposeful strides.

  She backed up several steps, unease filling her. “Hello?” Sweet Hill wasn’t exactly a mecca of crime, but it was late and a man she didn’t know was coming at her in the middle of the night.

  “Hello, bitch,” he greeted in turn.

  The profanity, the slur, wasn’t actually the thing that panicked her. It was the way he said it. The way he spoke . . . the absolute rage shaking his voice that clued her in to his identity. She knew his voice. This was the same guy that called her on the phone at work the other day.

  Whirling around, she sprinted for her door.

  She wasn’t quick enough. She had her hand on the doorknob and was pulling it open when he came behind her. He grabbed her shoulder, forcing her around.

  In the glow of her porch light, his features were no longer hidden. His narrow face was in perfect view. She didn’t only know his voice. She knew him. She’d seen this man before. He was Noah Grimes’s father. This was the man that went crazy in the courthouse the other week.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but his hand shot out to wrap around her throat and she gasped. It was the last bit of air she was able to draw through her lips as hard fingers dug like knives into her.

  “You’re up late. Having trouble sleeping, you child-stealing bitch?” His eyes were like ice. Cold and furious.

  Her lips worked, trying to form words. Speech was impossible. Choked, gurgling sounds spilled from her lips. She brought her hands up to claw at his hand around her throat. It did no good. She used her nails, scratching and digging at his flesh.

  Oh my God. This wasn’t happening. She was becoming a Dateline episode. She could imagine it now. The headline flashed through her mind.

  Woman Strangled to Death on Her Front Porch.

  No. It would not happen. Her life would not end like that.

  She let go of his hands on her throat. Giving up that battle, she attacked his face, sinking her nails deep into his gaunt cheeks.

  Grimes released her throat with a curse. She fell back, colliding with her door and sliding down. She struggled to rise to her feet, but he was back on her, his han
ds grabbing, bruising.

  “Mr. Grimes! Stop! Please!”

  “You didn’t think I would forget you, did you? You stole my boy!”

  “I understand your distress, but the court—”

  “Distress? You understand my distress?” Spit flew from his lips. He hauled her closer, his hard hands digging into her arms, crushing and painful. “You can’t talk your way out of this. I see what you really are. A cold vicious bitch who likes to destroy happy families.”

  All attempts at diplomacy flew out the window. He was delusional. “Happy families? Your family was not happy or even a family.”

  His eyes flared. He slapped her and gave her a shake.

  She kicked and struggled and screamed. Someone had to hear. Someone would come.

  She managed to wrest one arm free and land a blow to his face. He staggered and shook his head. When he fixed his gaze on her again his expression mirrored the same astonishment she felt. She had never struck another person in her life. Even with two older brothers, they had always been mindful never to be overly physical with her. As children, they never so much as shoved at her. She had never been forced to defend herself.

  Shaking off his shock, he came at her with a roar. She braced herself for further pain, turning her face sideways and jamming her eyes tightly shut.

  The pain never came.

  Suddenly she was free. Released.

  She fell back a step, falling against the door, her hand flying to her throat. Her eyes opened, searching wildly.

  Grimes was gone. A shirtless North filled her vision. He moved like a panther, all fluid muscle. Speed and force and fury.

  She hadn’t heard his approach. Not that she had seen much beyond the man attempting to steal the life from her.