Phoenix Aflame (Alpha Phoenix Book 2)

by Isadora Montrose

  Tasha didn’t mind. She liked walking like this. Just as if they were a family and Quincy’s daddy was also Becky’s. As Caroline had promised, the small-town celebrations were a treat, but the real treat was feeling like a family.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  He had cornered her in the kitchen again. The rest of the household had turned in after the excitement of the trip into town. She was on her way to bed herself. Harrison looked as stalwart as he had done all day while he was looking out for her and Rebecca.

  “We’re meant for each other,” he said casually while he filled her water glass at the tap. “You should marry me. I have plenty of money, and I can look after you and Becky. No one is going to hurt either of you while I’m around.”

  What made him think she would marry for money? Or sex? Did he think she was desperate for either? His face was harder even than usual. He looked grim and uncompromising, and his voice was in no way conciliating or entreating. But she knew, heaven only knew how, that her answer was terribly important to him. He wanted her to say yes. He needed her to say yes.

  “What about love?” she demanded. It was obvious to her that his feelings for her were not impersonal. Could she get him to admit it?

  He hoisted her up into the air and held her as if she was a featherweight instead of a rather heavy and plump woman. He smelled like sex incarnate, and his cock was a rigid column in his pants. But he didn’t savage her mouth, or grind his pelvis into hers. He sampled her as if he had all the time in the world to spend investigating the hidden recesses of her mouth.

  He was so much bigger than she was that he could have overwhelmed her. She had never cared for having a hasty tongue thrust down her throat, and the tension in his body, and the testosterone in his saliva, signaled that he was in the throes of sexual arousal. But he kept his desire under control and concentrated on pleasuring her. She felt safe in his arms. And loved – not just desired.

  He pulled away a little bit and kissed the corners of her mouth, but his voice was just as urgent and demanding when he said, “Marry me, I’ll make you happy.”

  “In bed?” she teased.

  “In and out of bed.” It was a vow.

  “Where would we live?”

  “Wherever I’m stationed. I want you near.”

  “But I thought that you were sent all over the place by Special Forces?” Tasha was genuinely puzzled.

  “I’m stationed in Arizona. But training takes place wherever the terrain is right for the particular mission. I wouldn’t expect you and the girls to pull up stakes every couple of weeks, but I would expect you all to live on base in Arizona.”

  “What’s wrong with your house here in Grape Creek?”

  He pulled her closer. “This. I want to be able to do this.” His forearm circled her waist and the other one found the hollow where her spine met her skull. His forefinger dabbled there and then his whole hand massaged her scalp through her curls before tracing the curve of her left ear. “And this.” He suckled her earlobe gently and before blowing on it softly.

  Tasha’s entire body went rigid and then began to shake. Lightning speared from that damp earlobe down the sensitive tendon of her neck to her breasts and from there to her clit. Was she going to come just from having her earlobe suckled?

  He spoke again. “I want to be able to this, whenever I’m home. Texas is too far away.” He let her slide down his hard body to the floor. He kept hold of her arms until her feet were steady on the tiles.

  She put her face up again for his kiss. He barely brushed her mouth with his. His hands gripped her shoulders a shade too tightly as he raised his head. “We have to be careful,” he said hoarsely. “We can’t carry on in my parents’ house with our kids just down the hall.” The tendons in his neck were rigid.

  The tight rein he was putting on his attraction made Tasha feel like a sex goddess. She glanced down. Yes, she was still a little plump, and her toenails still needed a pedicure. But this big buff man was having trouble holding onto his self-control. Maybe she was shallow, but a girl could get used to that kind of thing. She stared at him unable to speak.

  He moved her hair away from the ear he had been playing with. The hint of a smile moved his mouth. “Please marry me. I want to live again.”

  “What do I get?” Tasha asked.

  “A second child, a decent father for Becky, protection against accidents.” Harrison stopped. His cheekbones were stained with red.

  It took a moment for her to realize that for all his forcefulness, he truly didn’t think he had much to offer her. Her indignation died. She put a hand on his forearm. His skin felt hot and made her palm tingle. “Are you asking me to exchange sex for protection?”

  He swelled up. Literally. His shoulders got broader. His face hardened. “You and Becky will be safe no matter what,” he answered through clenched teeth. “We’ll make sure of it.”

  She believed him. Whatever was going on between them was mutual. It would be no hardship to spend the rest of her life in this guy’s bed. This was not just sex. But she had known him less than a week. She was lonely. Would she be lonely in Harrison D’Angelo’s house? He had admitted he traveled a lot. But you could be lonely living with someone who was there every night. You could be lonely sharing a bed and having hot monkey sex every night. The prospect of having hot monkey sex with someone you actually liked was enticing.

  Becky would get an instant sister. And a good father. And another set of grandparents. She was already fond of George and Caroline. Becky and Quincy were BFFs. What did she really have to lose? She was afraid to be married for her money again. She was afraid of giving in to attraction and repeating her foolishness in marrying Blaine.

  But the D’Angelos were richer than she and Cam were. Harrison D’Angelo didn’t need her money. Like all his family, he was heavily invested in his career in the Armed Forces, and he certainly wasn’t in it for the money. And he was a good man – everything that Blaine was not. Her heart said yes when he was near. But it was far too soon to make any such decision.

  “Well?” His face was stiff and so was his voice.

  Her mouth opened and although she meant to tell him no, she murmured, “I’ll sleep on it.”

  * * *

  “What the fuck did you do that for?” yelped Shawn. He cradled his hand against his body and backed away from Malik.

  Malik’s blotchy dark brown fur was matted with blood. More blood dripped from his teeth. Some of it was Shawn’s. Some of it was from the wild pig Malik had chased down and killed. He snarled at Shawn and went back to gorging.

  Dustin hovered, leaping uneasily from foot to foot. Shawn knew he wanted to take wolverine too and share Malik’s prize. Fucking idiot.

  “Get me something to bandage this,” Shawn demanded. “I’ll be lucky not to lose my fucking hand.” Malik’s massive molars had crushed tendons and bones. He needed a fucking doctor. Only he couldn’t take the risk of showing up in emergency with a weird wound and a tale that would be both disbelieved and remembered.

  They wrapped Shawn’s hand in an old T-shirt. It hurt like a bugger. “You’ll have to set the fire,” he told Dustin.

  “Mom said,” Dustin whined.

  “Fuck Mom.” He was tired of his family. Colleen needed a fucking reality check. “Dean Willet was no prize,” he told his brother. “No matter what kind of fucking spin Mom wants to put on him. He was a thief and a drug addict. And a fucking idiot. He rode his own fucking motorcycle into a car and killed two people and himself.”

  “Mom says he didn’t mean to kill himself.”

  As if that made his father’s stupidity less stupid instead of more.

  “She had the three of us to bring up on her own,” Dustin continued. “And the insurance wouldn’t pay out because he had crack in his system. And the Air Force pension was no big fucking deal.”

  “Get it through your fucking head, revenging Dean Willet ain’t our job. We are being paid to off the kid. That’s our only job. You do just like I
told you and we’ll get paid by the client.”

  * * *

  “What’s going on between you and the colonel?” Cam asked.

  Tasha could feel her face getting hot. “Nothing.” Her voice came out husky.

  “Okay, so don’t tell me.” Cam bounced away from the counter he was leaning against and started putting the breakfast things back into the fridge.

  “It’s complicated,” she said.

  “Looked pretty simple to me. He looks at you like he’s a starving dog and you are the only bone in Texas. I thought he was going to challenge his brother to a duel yesterday.”

  “Grant is just winding his big brother up.”

  “So it’s not just me who’s noticed.”

  “Harrison’s asked me to marry him,” Tasha conceded.

  Cameron whistled. “Excuse me, but didn’t you just meet the colonel a nanosecond ago?”

  “Little longer than that. And of course we probably met when we were children. But this thing – it’s complicated.”

  “Son of a gun. I take it you haven’t said ‘yes’?”

  “How can I? I barely know the man.”

  “And yet you don’t sound like you think it’s a crazy idea.”

  “We both know I can’t trust my judgment when it comes to men. He’s got me so wound up and turned around that it seems like the most reasonable thing in the world to suggest that we get married on a couple of days’ acquaintance.”

  “I would agree with you about the bad judgment, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m pretty sure Blaine targeted you. He picked you out because your name was Reynolds. And he set you up. The man is a lying, fortune-hunting sociopath. Whereas Col. Harrison D’Angelo has honor. He’s not trying to get your money – look at this place – the D’Angelos have more money than God.”

  “Because his folks have money, is not to say that Harrison is rich. But I know what you mean. He –” but she couldn’t continue. She couldn’t betray the emotional neediness that lurked under Harrison’s stoic facade. As desperately as she wanted Cam’s approval, she didn’t think she wanted to talk to him about the naked longing and grief in Harrison. Some things were not meant to be shared.

  “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” Cam said as he began to scrape plates. “Close your mouth and give me a hand, Sis.”

  “You think I should marry him? What? Are you bucking for promotion?”

  Before her eyes Cam’s pleasant features became a mask of fury. He set his big square jaw. “You did not just say that.” His voice was flat, low, and superficially calm. But he was livid. “Are you seriously suggesting that I would trade your happiness for a promotion?”

  “No, of course not. Bad joke. I didn’t mean to impugn your honor.”

  Her hasty apology did not have an instant effect, but after a few seconds he nodded curtly and his jaw relaxed. “For the record,” he said. “I could have had my promotion any time these last eighteen months. But if they make me a major, for sure they will reassign me.”

  Tasha knew Cameron did not want to leave his team. He did not want to kiss Special Forces goodbye. She should have known better than to tease him about such a thing. “Friends?” she asked.

  “Friends.” He pulled her into his arms and gave her a brief hug. “I think you would be safe under the colonel’s protection. If Blaine is behind your accidents, he’d have to go through a literal firewall to get to you.”

  “Literal firewall?”

  “Phoenixes have that whole blazing feather thing going.” He closed the dishwasher door. “Fire is their friend and their weapon. Col. D’Angelo would make sure that Blaine couldn’t get near you or Becky.”

  “It’s probably just a coincidence that I bought two lemons from the same company,” she said ruefully. “Now that my nerves have settled down, I think that was a little farfetched. Blaine wouldn’t know where to begin to reprogram a computer. Or cut a brake line. In his whole life, he’s never gotten his hands dirty. Escobar’s theory that I did it myself is less crazy than me thinking it was Blaine.”

  “Hmm. Do I turn this on now?” He waved a hand at the dishwasher.

  “Yeah. Caroline has been running it twice a day.” She looked sideways at her brother. He was always military neat. But today he looked even sprucer. Closer shaven or something. “So why is Frankie dodging you? Inquiring minds want to know.”

  He glared at her and then chuckled. “Are we that obvious?”

  “To me you are. Every time you two get within ten feet of each other, she grabs one of the girls and uses her as a shield. It would be funny if I wasn’t afraid Harrison would get pissed at the idea that Frankie is afraid of you.”

  His lips twisted. He folded his arms over his chest. “She isn’t afraid of me.”

  “Oh?”

  “And that’s all I’m going to say. Unlike your ex, I have honor.”

  “Forgive me?” She held out her hands. “I didn’t mean to suggest you didn’t.”

  He spun her around for a brief hug and briefer kiss. “Forgiven,” he growled in her ear. “Now let’s get some fishing done before I have to go back to base.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “You don’t have to come up,” Tasha said. “You can just drop us at the door. We’ll be fine.”

  Harrison shook his head once. By now she had learned that was Harrison code for, ‘No way in hell.’ She didn’t argue. Ever since she had left the D’Angelo compound she had been feeling more and more anxious. Not even Harrison’s stolid and imposing presence had let her recapture the feeling of security his proposal had given her.

  “Mommy,” said Becky. “Can Quincy stay the night?”

  Tasha swiveled. She smiled over the back of her seat. “Sorry, sweetie, Quincy and her daddy have to go home tonight. I have a bunch of stuff to do before I go back to work.” Like figure out how to rent a car. Why she had been putting it off was beyond her.

  “Aw!” The word was cloaked in despair. Both girls drooped. “Puleesze...”

  “You heard your mother,” Harrison said pleasantly. “Not for the first time either.” The girls caught his unspoken warning.

  Tasha stared gratefully at his profile. This is what co-parenting felt like. A woman could get used to this kind of back-up. He wasn’t exactly taking her eventual agreement to his marriage of convenience for granted, but he had begun to act like a husband and father. Or maybe just like himself.

  “There’s our building,” cried Becky as Harrison turned into their street.

  “Which one is it?” he asked, although Tasha knew he had that information filed away.

  “It’s the big white one with the black balconies,” Becky informed him. “You can’t see our balcony because it’s at the back. But we’ve got a million plants.”

  “Where should I park?” he asked Tasha.

  “You really can just drop us,” she told him.

  “Where?” His voice was implacable.

  “The visitor’s parking is the small lot in front of the circular drive.”

  “Meemaw Angel always parks beside the tree,” Becky put in.

  The sun was a mere stripe of orange and gold over the foothills. Harrison ignored the shady spot under the tree and parked close to the front doors. He unlatched the back doors and rounded the front of the vehicle to open Tasha’s door for her. He helped her down from the high seat and steadied her when she put her feet down.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “No trouble at all.” He sounded amused. He let Becky out of her car seat and swung her beside Tasha. “Hold your Mom’s hand,” he instructed. The Alpha Male making sure his little pack was safe. She felt cherished.

  “Why?” demanded Becky. Her bottom lip was pouty.

  Harrison looked down at her sternly. Then his face softened. He turned in a circle and indicated the entire parking lot with one arm. “This is a road,” he said. “You hold Mommy’s hand when you are in the road.”

  “S’not a road. It’s a parking lot.�
�

  “Anyplace cars drive is a road.” Harrison repeated his gesture. He pointed to the driveway. “That too.”

  “That’s not a road.” Becky shook her head stubbornly. “That’s a driveway.”

  “Some roads have different names. But a driveway is a road. A parking lot is a road. And so is the parking garage. What’s the rule about roads, sweetheart?”

  “Hold Mommy’s hand.” Becky kicked the asphalt.

  “That’s right.” He closed the car door and opened the hatch.

  While he was unloading their bags, Tasha made a production of checking the quiet lot for vehicles. Then she escorted Becky to Quincy’s door. Becky clutched a fistful of Tasha’s T-shirt which wasn’t exactly the same as holding hands. And then Harrison was there saying a quiet, “Good girl,” which wiped the pout from Becky’s face.

  “Do you want to press the button?” he asked in the elevator.

  “Yes,” shouted Becky and Quincy.

  “Becky, press the floor button. Quincy, you press the door closing button.” He winked at Tasha.

  The girls tore out of the elevator and raced down the hall to Tasha’s penthouse. Their feet were deadened by the carpets, but their loud voices would disturb the neighbors. Harrison winked at her again. “Pick your battles,” he mouthed.

  No door opened. No neighbors looked out to see what the shouting was about. The girls stood outside Suite 3 quivering with excitement. “I’m going to show Daddy Danger my welephant,” cried Becky.

  Harrison was looking around the spacious hallways with a vague look of distaste. The bronze and green decor was a shade opulent for her tastes, but surely it was not that ugly?

  “Daddy,” Quincy said, “It smells bad.”

  “Hmm,” he said.

  Tasha input the door code. Harrison’s fingers grasped her elbow holding her in place. “Let me go first. Girls, wait here.” Harrison spoke softly, but it was an order.

  He pushed the door open. Tasha was relieved that her place showed none of the turmoil she had imagined it would after her hasty departure last Thursday. It looked neat and uncluttered. Perhaps her sense of impending doom and disorder was only a reflection of the mess Blaine had made of her plans. Harrison’s face didn’t change. He still looked like he was smelling something nasty.