His wide starry eyes gleamed under the lights, the slight gape of his full lips lit into a boyish grin. “This is awesome. Which one do I get to take for a spin?”
“We’ll put you on Odie.” Joselyn pointed to the beautiful Tennessee Walker with a glossy bay coat.
“Aww, come on. That burnt red one with the black hair? He looks mean. In fact, I think he’s glaring at me. I’m much better with the ladies.”
“You’re so delusional, it’s cute. Odie’s a good egg. He’s strong and steady, great with first-timers, and has a real sweet disposition. Trust me. You get on that filly, LuLu, over there, she’ll buck you right off. She might be a beauty, but she’s a tough one to break.”
“Tell me about it,” Finn muttered, tucking his broad fingers into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. “And who will you be riding? Unless you want to double with me. But I must warn you, I like to be the big spoon.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.
Crossing her arms, she held her ground, not giving him anything this time. “It must be exhausting being so charming.”
“It really is.”
“And modest.”
His throaty laugh rang out to the rafters, resounding like church bells. “Which horse, Joss?”
“I ride this Arabian next to Odie, Heston. He’s my fella.” Making her way to Heston’s stall she swept her hand down his neck and nuzzled his face to her own, breathing in his loyal affection and strength.
“Heston?”
Pulling back she continued her loving stroke. Heston let out a soft nicker. “I had a thing for Charlton Heston growing up. Yia-Yia made me watch The Ten Commandments. I thought it was gonna be a drag, but Moses in that mini-skirt … totally hot.” Heston dipped his head and nosed her waist. Reaching to the nearby bucket she offered up a carrot stick.
“Should I be jealous?”
She turned, tossing a smirk and a carrot over her shoulder toward Finn before she strode to get the saddles. “Eat your heart out.”
After a brief tutorial they were on their way. Finn surprised her with his eagerness to learn and gentle approach with Odie, not to mention the rogue cowboy look he embodied on the back of the gelding. He’d already worked his way up to a decent cantering pace. They rode in companionable silence around the clearings and into the wooded trails before slowing to a walk.
“You doing all right?”
“Great. Thanks for doing this, Joss.”
His candor caught her by surprise. Sarcastic bickering had been standard fare for each line of dialogue they’d exchanged for the past ten years. With this new breach of territory her heart felt ridiculously fluttery. Her stomach just as uneasy. But her eyes, yeah, those were steady. Steadily stuck on him like bugs on a glue board.
And of course he caught her staring. Those eyes turning midnight blue in the overcast illumination, their earnest expression yanking her back to that rare vulnerable moment in the firehouse where the arrogant lady-killer persona had seemed like a smoke screen.
“Finn?” She eased the reigns until they walked side-by-side, her voice measured and tender, knowing she was treading on thin ice. “What was Wally talking about today?”
With one blink, she lost him—all that was loose and easy between them zapped with tension, from the instantly rigid plane of his body to the locked hinge of his jaw. But it was the bleakness in his eyes that scared her the most.
“Listen, forget it. I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.” She had to look away or she feared she might cry from seeing him that way. Which was stupid and irrational. But everything was at once as fragile as the frost crushing beneath Heston’s hooves.
It’s not like he owed her an explanation. He wasn’t really her boyfriend. This was all a ruse. Except now she’d caught a glimpse behind the curtain. And what she saw rattled the boards safeguarding her heart, somehow making them kindreds of a broken past, ashamed and desperate for redemption.
But before she let herself bond over their mutually concealed scars, a voice from the past stole her sympathy.
Oh, how easily you forget. You’re broken because of him.
Chapter 16
That freaking guy was always with her. And if it wasn’t the blonde meathead who was lusting all over her, it was that Hispanic FBI tail playing best gal pal. It was all so much more complicated now he wanted to burn them all, every last one of them, for stealing his moment of vindication again and again. He released his balled fists once he felt the blood wet his hands and then dug his nails in again—the self-inflicted wounds a physical outlet for his inner pain.
They’d all thought, because of the abuse he’d tolerated before, that he was harmless by nature. When the truth was, he’d become what they’d made him. A product of the deadly equation crammed down his throat. Each fraction of injustice had fueled the fire, layering on the rage until the weight of it would either crush him or detonate. The choice was obvious. Besides, watching things burn was fascinating. The way even an inanimate object seemed to curl inward as if seeking to hide within itself. He knew all about that. He’d hidden away in his own mind, tucking in to shield himself from the intensity of the grief and helplessness that burned away the skin of his humanity until all that remained was a twisted, bleeding heart on fire for vengeance.
Yes, someone had to burn for this. It was the only thing that made sense anymore. It was either him or her, and the agony festering within was enough torment for ten lifetimes. He would not be the only one infested with pain. She would suffer hers, a swift justice, and then the retribution would begin and the balance restored. Because if he couldn’t have love, if his reason for living was all but a dying ember of stolen memories in his soul, she would have her burning grave.
Chapter 17
Finn Carson
He hated to admit it, but he was actually having a good time. A really good time. Riding Odie had been the distraction he needed. And while Joselyn’s company kept him on the edge of his saddle in some ways—their past a proverbial wet blanket—she’d had him in stitches in spite of it all with her flirtatious quips and zany Yia-Yia stories.
Finn had never heard her talk so openly, and he’d never heard mention of her grandmother until today. The way she poked fun at herself bulldozed him with surprise. And when that girlie giggle snuck out he about lost his mind. Her presence more intoxicating than he’d ever remembered.
Come on, Carson. Don’t go down this road again. You know better.
But his heart was already galloping faster than Odie. And though he tried to pull on the reigns, he wasn’t sure it would do any good.
Dusk was settling in, night chasing away the light of day much too early in the winter months. Inhaling a frosty breath and releasing a huff of white steam, he relished in the serenity of the surroundings. The dips and veins of the land carving the intricate skeleton of a leaner hibernating season beneath the plod of hooves. The contented moments shared with his “girlfriend” warmed him to his core despite the blunt December chill.
A crunch of frigid twigs and leaves wove into his subconscious, intuition prickling against his neck. Whipping around, his eyes strained against the waning sunlight until he saw something. Someone. In a dark hunter’s jacket and jeans, sprinting away through the thick brush.
“Hey!” Yanking the reins to his left and digging in his heels, the horse responded and took off. Finn gritted his teeth and grappled with the worn leather straps, fighting to hold on against the severe pounding and escalating speed. Well off the beaten path, Odie slammed against the uneven ground, jerking Finn’s body in a wild bull ride.
“Finn! Pull back!” Hooves pounded behind him signaling Joselyn’s pursuit.
“Easy boy.” Finn’s efforts did little to abort Odie’s escapade, but at least he was still on the horse and still gaining on the runner. “Hey, you! Stop right there!” Odie chose that moment to halt.
And though the horse had stopped, Finn’s body kept moving. Freaking laws of physics. Joselyn’s scream shattered the still
ness, the shrill vibration bounding off every rock and tree, and echoed back in his ears with piercing clarity.
Time slowed. His body weightlessly launching from the saddle and hurling toward a very big, very solid-looking tree trunk.
Oh, God. Help.
His knees tucked in self-preservation, the move forcing him into an airborne somersault of sorts. Coarse bark clipped his shoulder and redirected him to the ground right next to the trunk with a rolling crash landing … on a surprisingly soft compost of leaves and mulch.
“Ow.” Blinking up at the canopy of naked branches and the dusk-darkening sky, he fed in the breath that had been knocked from his chest. He took a quick inventory with an overall wiggle and assessed no immediate protest save the slight twinge at his shoulder.
Mercy. Plain and simple.
A swift blur registered to his left. The guy was getting away.
Not on Finn’s watch.
Springing to his feet, he took off after the perp. Adrenaline fed his pace, and he fell easily into his old sprinting stride from his high school track days. Icy hot zings of oxygen burned his lungs as he heaved in the glacial air. This guy was fast, but Finn was faster.
Ten more yards. Five more yards.
Gotcha!
Finn snagged the runner’s hood and yanked. The horse-collar tackle sending the guy’s back on a collision course with the hard earth as Finn skidded to a halt a few feet past. Points for resilience because after a mere instant on the ground he was darting in a different direction with impressive agility.
Finn cut back toward him. A pang nagging his side as he closed in again. Almost there. Springing forward, Finn hurled his body the last two feet. His arms wrapping around broad shoulders as his weight and gravity surrendered the guy in a tackle.
Brute strength battled back, rolling Finn over, giving him his first glimpse of a face. But instead of violent intent, he saw panic reflecting back from conflicted hazel eyes.
Bringing his legs up in a WWE worthy move, Finn wrapped them around the guy’s midsection and whipped him onto his back. Fists flailed from below him, attempts Finn deflected until throwing a punch of his own that landed against a hard jaw with a crack.
The fight beneath Finn surrendered. And when the guy’s hands pressed to his wounded chin, Finn clenched the runner’s wrists in his hands, restraining any further backlash.
Joselyn was still perched atop Heston a mere ten feet away, frozen in horror. “Joss, call Archer or the cops.”
“Here! FBI. Keep your hands where I can see ’em.” Sal emerged from a clearing that exposed a back road, his Glock poised for a raid. Holstering his piece, Sal grabbed the moaning man off the ground and cuffed him. “Sorry guys. I followed you here, but I couldn’t keep track while you were gallivanting around on horseback. I’ve got backup on the way.”
Finn nodded, brushing away crushed leaves and cold powdery dirt as he pulled himself off the ground.
He looked up as Joselyn forcefully dismounted from her horse and propelled herself at him. She looked furious, so instinct should’ve had him girding up for a beating. But instead he opened his arms and caught her against his chest. Her face smooshed against his throat, her arms strangling his neck, revving his heart rate back to full throttle. Finn crushed her tighter, holding her like the strength of his arms alone could keep them safe.
Their displays of affection over the past week had been for show. Was she still acting now? Somehow it felt different.
He angled his head and inhaled a breath of her Christmas hair, mere seconds from pressing a kiss to her head when she brought her hands to his chest and pushed away. Hard. Shoved was a better word for it. The cocoon of fiery heat they’d conjured in the few short moments was instantly whisked away on winter’s icy breath.
“What were you thinking? Taking off on Odie like that and chasing down some psycho in the woods. You were thrown off a horse. A few more inches to the right, and I’d be picking tree trunk out of your skull! Don’t you realize you could have been killed?” She shoved again. “I wasn’t joking when I said you could break your neck you kno—” The sparks of anger in her eyes died mid-sentence.
“Stuart?” Her voice cracked with tenderness. She crossed to the man in cuffs, leaving Finn shocked by her fresh tongue-lashing and her odd preferential treatment for the bad guy.
What the?
“Joselyn. Are you okay?” This from stalker boy, who, by the way, didn’t look anything like Finn imaged would be a scrawny, pimple-faced weirdo with a hysterical crush.
This guy, Stu, was tall and muscled with dark, troubled eyes and a militant crop of brown hair. Intimidating, except for the gash now swelling on his granite jaw.
No wonder Finn’s hand felt like he’d decked a brick wall.
Joselyn’s voice emerged calm and velvety, not at all like she’d spoken to Finn. “Stuart. You’re not supposed to be here. The restraining order, remember?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw the house, and then Fabio here,” his head jerked in Finn’s direction, “started lurking around after the fire. I was worried about you.”
“Yeah, that or you burned her house down and tried to kill her.” Sal’s no-nonsense blurt interrupted the strange scene. He prodded Stuart toward the back road. “Either way, you’re under arrest for violating the restraining order and trespassing on private property. We’ll get to the bottom of this, Joselyn.”
“But, I would never hurt Joselyn. I love her. I was merely perched in my tree, never close enough to be in violation until that linebacker came after me.”
All three sets of eyes—aside from Stuart’s—looked up, scanning for the tree.
“What tree?” Sal asked.
Stuart huffed and ambled with his escort several hundred yards to a towering oak. Hammered rectangles of wood pierced the trunk in a make shift ladder to a small, fort-like merging of branches. A tripod braced on a large perpendicular limb and a plastic box rested in the crevice of the wide stump.
“What is this, Stuart? Have you been spying on me again?” Joselyn crossed her arms across her willowy frame, making her look both fierce and fragile at the same time.
Sal’s incoming call severed Stu’s grappling response. “Yeah Archer, what’s your twenty? We need to take super-stalker downtown for questioning, and we need the team to check out his creepy hideout. And since we’re all sufficiently wigged out,” Sal smirked with his perpetual good humor, “is it cool if I rough him up a bit?”
“I don’t care if they said we aren’t going. We’re going. I’m going. You can do what you want.” Joselyn stomped away from the retreating squad cars.
Stuart was on his way to the FBI, and the rest of the team had collected everything from Stu’s lair as evidence. Joselyn was set on going to listen to the interrogation from behind the observation glass. Something in her demeanor showed a protective instinct for her stalker, and it didn’t sit well with Finn.
“Where’s Odie?” Finn viewed the clearing where he’d abandoned ship and saw no trace of his wild stallion. Not that he was eager to saddle up after Odie’s joy ride, but now they only had one horse and were nowhere near the stable in Finn’s estimation.
“He’s a bit of a wanderer, but the property is entirely fenced. I’ll tell Erwin when we get back. He’ll track him down.”
Finn questioned with a lift of his brow, and Joselyn filled in the gaps about the live-in house keeper/grounds keeper couple that see to everything while Declan Whyte is off on business.
“Do you know how far we are?” Finn scanned the endless acres of barren trees.
“Yeah, not too far. But if we walk it’ll be pitch black before we get back.”
His lips curled into a self-satisfied grin. “Guess we’ll get to spoon after all.”
Finn couldn’t believe Joselyn had sweet talked her way into the observation room. She’d let him drop off Dodger at home first, and he had hoped to belay her intentions to subject them to a miserable viewing of the Stuart Show.
Another prime example of rich kids and their entitlement issues.
What Finn wanted was to be anywhere but here, listening to this lunatic rave about his love for Joselyn. But guys like Finn didn’t get what they wanted. It’s true what they say. Nice guys finish last. High school, a bitter reminder of that fact.
At least they’d drummed up a viable suspect from the whole ordeal. The sooner they booked this nut job the sooner Finn would be out of Joselyn’s life. Her rejection shelved once and for all.
The lab was already sorting through the contents of the tree fort. Mainly a camera with a telephoto lens and a bunch of empty protein shake containers. Long hours leering at Joselyn had necessitated meals on the go and apparently fueled quite the appetite. What a creep.
“Why don’t you explain to me why you are so fixated with Miss Whyte?” Sal’s interrogation hadn’t revealed any gems so far, only some sonnets and fanatical raving about Finn’s little ice princess who sat white-knuckled and motionless in the seat beside him. Finn, on the other hand, had raided the break room and was munching rather loudly. His slouched posture and propped feet seemed to aid in earning him a few peevish glares and snarls. So he kept on crunching and slouching for the sheer enjoyment of her aggravation.
“Stuart, I’ve got motive and a naughty little stack of evidence that puts you behind bars for a nice, long vacation.” Sal leaned forward, drawing Stuart in, preying on his fears. “Someone—maybe it was you—tried to kill Joselyn last Friday night. You better get real honest with me real fast ’cause my patience is not so good, comprende?”
From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two Page 12