From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two

by Amy Leigh Simpson

  A fresh batch of emotion spilled over from Shelby’s sweet and simple supplication. Wasn’t there a certain protocol for prayers? Could you really just talk to God like a friend?

  The words fell over her like armor, heavy, solid, and secure. But what about before? When she’d needed protection the most? Why was it only people like Sadie, or Shelby, and those lucky ones with families and support systems, people whose hearts had been nurtured in their faith, who had access to that kind of security? Blind as it may be?

  With every ounce of brokenness she possessed, she wished for it. Wished for the kind of hope to believe that somebody out there—anybody really—might show up to fight for her. Protect her from loneliness and fear and … fire. After all these years she was still casting pieces of her heart into that empty wishing well. And yet, the answer couldn’t be plainer. Nothing at present forecasted the kind of future where she’d find someone patient enough to thaw her heart and grant her wish. In fact, the thought resounded in her aching head; there was no forecast for a future at all.

  Chapter 26

  Finn Carson

  More waiting. And it was driving him crazy.

  It all started when that grungy EMT wouldn’t let Finn ride along. Even after he’d pulled his credentials. And since Joselyn was still unconscious when they’d loaded her up, she hadn’t been able to vouch for him.

  He’d been further delayed when a different incompetent and annoyingly googly-eyed medic took her sweet time extracting the splinters of glass from his hands with all the finesse of an epileptic with ADHD. That is until he plucked the darn thing from her hand and finished the job himself. And when he finally managed to get away from the crime scene to head toward the hospital he got stuck in traffic for an hour.

  Of course, that still wasn’t the worst of it. Sal was in the waiting room when Finn finally arrived. In his hot-headed, helpless panic, Finn hurled a barrage of accusations at Sal for not noticing someone planting a bomb in Joselyn’s car.

  Sal looked as distraught as Finn felt and didn’t even try to defend himself, which meant Finn got to feel like a royal jerk for endless snail-paced minutes that rolled into eternally long hours.

  When the doctor came in after the longest two hours of Finn’s life, he and Sal both erupted from their seats and pounced on the poor guy for answers.

  Once the Doogie Howser doppelganger could get in a word edgewise, he informed them one visitor could be admitted back to Joselyn’s room. Finn was prepared to fight for those visitation rights, but Sal graciously relinquished his bid.

  When Finn was halfway out the door, Sal blurted. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t know.”

  Finn’s mind was already racing down the hall to Joselyn’s room. But he turned back and saw clearly the weight of guilt the other man was carrying. Man, he might as well be looking in a mirror.

  “And I sure as heck didn’t know how deeply you felt about her, or I wouldn’t have messed with you the other day.” Sal’s gaze was earnest, and far too perceptive for Finn to attempt a convincing denial.

  He tipped his head to acknowledge Sal’s apology and then ran. Ran past incensed staff members and gawking patients until he reached Joselyn’s room, barely restraining himself from crashing through the door. “Joss.” Her name, broken and breathlessly uttered, betrayed the calm he’d wanted to portray. But since he’d already shown his hand, he took the room in two strides, collapsed to the bed, and pulled her gently to his chest, fighting back the choking emotion now flooding in his eyes. “Thank God, you’re okay.”

  Breathing deeply from her hair, he felt his nerves back away from the ledge. She let him hold her like that for a long, long time. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Wasn’t ready to identify or voice the jumble of feelings tearing through his heart, nor was he ready to relive the past few hours and give her answers—many of which he still couldn’t make sense of.

  So he held on, only allowing his mind to settle on the miraculous way her life had been spared. Again.

  “Sakes alive!” The strange expression was delivered on a gasp of a southern drawl and served to revoke Joselyn from his arms. She turned her face, smearing away the glint of moisture from her cheeks as the nurse he remembered from last time bounced into the room.

  “Joselyn, girl, you done snagged yourself that sexy hero after all. My, my.” She fanned herself with the clipboard in her possession. And paying no heed to the surge of crimson edging up Joselyn’s neck, the woman prattled on, “You know, I was thinking I might write one of them romance novels. Maybe I could base the story on you two? This is some good material. Oops, sorry. Don’t pay me any mind. Never could stop my silly words once they started. Slippery little suckers.

  “I came in here to tell you that an Agent Hayes and another pretty little gal, uh, Sadie, are here to see you. You’re not s’posed to have too many visitors, but I’m sure they need to go over some important things with you. So when you’re ready,” she stopped and winked at Finn, “I’ll send ’em in.”

  Joselyn cleared her throat, still not looking at him. “Ready or not.”

  “… was detonated by your ignition.” All of Archer and Sal’s words started to pound together in his head. Finn pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyebrows until the bones ached; the concentrated pain helping to bank his fury and rein his focus.

  The look on Joselyn’s face didn’t help matters. She was an ice sculpture. A beautiful, catatonic display of shock and fear.

  “Wait, detonated by the ignition? That sounds familiar. Isn’t that in a movie?” Sadie scrunched her nose, mulling it over to herself while the guys continued their detail of the CSU’s findings from the scene.

  They’d also contacted the U.S. Marshals to see if they could beef up security.

  “One thing’s for sure. This guy definitely wants to see her burn. Oww!” A right hook came from Sadie and connected with Sal’s shoulder. “What, Sadie? Ay dios mio, that hurt!” While rubbing his wound, Sal’s mood lightened and he smirked at Archer. “Lucky dog. This one’s a firecracker.”

  Chuckling, Archer pulled Finn’s sister into his arms. “You’re telling me.” Undeterred by their audience, the macho FBI agent turned to putty. He leaned down and stole a kiss.

  And though he had to look away because it was pretty repulsive to see his sister and Archer kissing, it tempted Finn to partake in a little PDA of his own. If for no other reason than to put some color back in Joss’s cheeks.

  Finn’s extraordinarily loud throat clear ended the nauseating display and brought everyone back on point. “O-kay, thank you for that,” he shivered, “but let’s get back to the attempted murder, shall we? Arsonists tend to be fascinated by their creations. Obsessed even. Might want to have a chat with some of the first responders and onlookers to see if anyone struck them as suspicious. It’s possible this guy doubled back to view his handy work.”

  “Well, somebody played cops growing up.” Archer smirked, “I’m on it,” and started tapping something into his phone.

  “And how are we on evidence?” Finn decided he might as well lead the meeting since Archer’s mental faculties were on vacation in Sadieland and Sal looked about as helpless and sad as a lost puppy. “If anything survived the fire this time maybe we can track the supplies used to make the bomb. There’s gotta be something left that will generate a lead, right?”

  “That’s what we’re hoping. Until we get the report back from the bomb and arson unit, and likely ATF as well, we won’t have a lot to go on because I didn’t see anything. Not sure how he got in and out without me noticing.” Sal tunneled his fingers into his hair.

  “This is not your fault, Sal.” Joselyn reached out her hand, and Sal took it. Finn could see her knuckles flush white with reassurance, unable to squelch the sliver of envy when the handholding persisted longer than seemed necessary.

  He needed to get a grip. Stat.

  Archer’s cell phone chimed in, and the scene scattered. Finn itched to fold in next to Joselyn, but becaus
e the only people in the room were already privy to the arrangement there was no need for show. So he hung back, not wanting to give the boys any more ammunition.

  “Okay. Keep me apprised.” Archer ended the call. “Got some bad news, guys. There’s a storm drain under Joselyn’s VIP parking spot at McKnight Grove. Must be how this guy rigged the explosives without being seen.”

  “The Pelican Brief!” Sadie shouted in a sort of “aha moment.” Her enthusiasm faded when she seemed to remember they were in the middle of something more important than her movie trivia. “Uh, sorry. Got caught up.”

  “It’s okay, Sherlock.” Archer winked, snuggled Sadie to his side, and resumed his recap of the phone call. “We’ve got guys down in the sewer system trying to track him. So far it looks like he got away clean, so we’re not gonna get much help there. But it appears he’s familiar with Joselyn’s routine, and he’s smart. These strikes are well calculated, and each scene is meticulously devoid of useable evidence. Might not be an ex-employee, might be a pro, but this seems personal. All I know for sure is that I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

  “Me neither.” Finn’s heart clenched, barricading all that felt fleshy and vulnerable. The discussion of the case continued around him, but he couldn’t bear to hear any more.

  The events of the afternoon cemented the fact that the threat still loomed. Only now they knew this guy wouldn’t stop until he completed his mission. Which meant eminent danger lurked around every corner, hid in every shadow. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, knowing how close they’d come to being blown up today.

  On every account it seemed that Finn was failing. Failing to keep Joselyn safe. Failing to protect his heart. And failing to trust his instincts. It dug up every old fear he’d been trying to hide, poked at the open wounds from the Monroe fire, and resurrected every doubt and inadequacy about his ability to be a hero.

  Maybe it should have been Sal—or someone else less likely to get Joselyn killed—to protect her. He’d thought this assignment would be an easy way to rebuild what he’d lost, but somehow he was still failing, and each failure stripped away another piece of Finn’s armor. Before long, he would be rushing into battle empty-handed.

  Uncertainty weighed on him from every side until it felt like his whole body might implode from the pressure. But there was one thing he knew for certain and it gripped him with an odd combination of foreboding and anticipation.

  This thing with Joselyn was far from over.

  Archer and Sal had insisted on seeing Joselyn and Sadie home before they headed back to the bureau to do some late-night digging. In their stead they had patrol cars cruising the area and two undercover agents stationed outside.

  Feeling left out of the group, Finn made a quick stop to pick up some supplies and ventured over to see Joselyn. He hadn’t gotten any time alone with her after Shelby had walked in. He wanted—no needed—to make sure she was okay.

  He called his sister to inform her that he would be sleeping on the couch as an added security measure and got clearance to bypass the guards. When Sadie let him in, she promptly returned to her spot on the couch beside Joselyn, staking claim to the only place Finn wanted to be.

  He felt like sulking. In fact, he probably was sulking when he trudged to the media console, inserted the movie he’d picked up on his way over, and sat by his lonesome on the cold leather chair in the corner.

  “Pride and Prejudice? Really? Wow, Finn. That’s Joselyn’s favorite.” Sadie’s eyes slanted with scrutiny—her x-ray glare digging to uncover his motive.

  Finn looked at Joselyn instead. Her eyes magnetized with his, the corner of her pretty lips lifting as if she too was remembering their little wrestling match in her room when he’d first glimpsed her secret stash of romance novels. The hours enduring the chick flick would be well worth it now.

  “I had a hunch.” He shrugged, grinning boldly back at Joselyn from across the room, and belatedly remiss to note Sadie had unleashed a fully loaded grin of her own.

  Trouble, that one. Finn restrained his huff of exasperation. Sisters were exhausting at every age. He watched Joselyn nibble at her luscious lip and amended that assessment. Women. Women were exhausting. And unfortunately, he was just restless enough to never tire of one in particular.

  After an hour and a half of what Joselyn informed them was “Regency-Era English” and the, yes, exhausting antics of the Bennett sisters, Finn was ready to pass out. Joselyn had been sleeping for the last thirty minutes, and Sadie looked about ready to nod off on the couch herself.

  With a yawn, his sister raised the remote and clicked off the TV. Finn rose from his isolated corner and crossed the room. The stark silence in the condo would make the quest for sleep excruciating. White noise seemed the best defense against nightmares lurking in the deafening silence, but the only sound softening the brunt of the stillness was the brush of his feet against the wood floor.

  He scooped Joselyn off the couch. With a slight stir, she relaxed her head against his shoulder and released a deep, restful shudder as he carried her to her room. She felt so small in his arms, but when he laid her down the loss felt too big.

  Stroking the hair off her face, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to her forehead, a silent prayer of gratitude for her safety overwhelming the jumble of emotions wrestling within him.

  But the tension in his chest made him realize that killer or not, he was anything but safe. As a firefighter, it had become instinctual to put others first. And as a man of faith, death didn’t scare him. He wouldn’t hesitate to give his life to protect Joselyn or anyone else, for that matter.

  Giving his heart, on the other hand, was truly terrifying. And judging by the reaction of his pulse to the melting ice princess, the danger was already here.

  “No, please. Stop.” Bathed in moonlight, her slim form thrashed beneath the covers. “Don’t.” Having released him from his own sleeping torment, the whimpering cry had propelled him to action. Many who suffered night terrors woke with no recollection of the nightmare. Finn knew that wasn’t the case for either of them.

  He knelt on the empty side of the bed. With a hand that still trembled from visions of fire and agony, he rubbed her arm. “Joselyn.”

  “No!” Her panic spiked.

  “Joss, it’s Finn. Wake up.” With a bit more force, he shook her.

  Without warning, she jolted up, her arms flailing, her breaths racing near hysteria. She lunged at him. It was too dark to fully prepare himself—and the last thing he wanted to do was scare or hurt her—but her arms swung frantically in the shadows until the flat of her palm connected with his cheek. Then fingernails raked over his neck. A hank of hair was ripped from the root. Swipes of her fists became glancing blows he struggled to restrain.

  Though he had stars in his eyes—and not the good kind—he managed to pin her arms down and shake her one last time. “Joselyn, wake up!”

  Chapter 27

  Joselyn Whyte

  “Finn?” Joselyn ripped her arms loose from his biting grip and flipped on the bedside lamp. The scarce illumination wasn’t much more than a night light, but it brought everything into focus—her nightmare, her tingling palm, her safety. She exhaled the panic screaming in her lungs.

  And when she saw his face, so sweet and caring—despite her crazed and misplaced abuse—and disarmingly handsome with the soft pour of moonlight draping over him from the window, she had no choice. Okay, maybe she had a choice. What she lacked in this instance was control.

  She launched into his arms. Again. This time for entirely different reasons. He adjusted against the impact to keep them from toppling over, and she burrowed her face into the warm pocket of his neck, breathed in soap and spice and comfort. Helpless to the need that was all-consuming, she parted her lips to taste him.

  With a catch of his breath, he nudged her with his chin and then let his lips do the talking. Slow, hungry wordlessness from behind her ear, over her jaw, across her cheek …

  He pulled her
onto his lap, and she wrapped her legs around him, turning his lips to align like the stars that must be shining down on this bit of madness as he kissed the living daylights out of her.

  Sinking one hand into her hair, and the other at the base of her spine, he used the strength of his arms to stitch them together in a seamless fit. His wild and sure ministrations scattered the last bit of sense in her head. It was too much. And not nearly enough. So she dove in, abandoning herself in the kiss that filled her love-starved heart to overflowing. Finn.

  She must have moaned his name into the kiss because he returned the sentiment, revving her to the redline. Her heart took off, a frenzy of tangled emotions shook and trembled from within like a dismantling rocket fighting for orbit. She changed the angle to further deepen the kiss, a searing frisson of electric heat setting her blood on fire at his eager response. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Was she frightened or elated, she didn’t know? Driven by a mindless instinct, she could do nothing but rub shamelessly against him, practically begging to drown in his bewitching kiss.

  He didn’t disappoint. His warmth seeped into every pore on her skin, freeing her from her frozen wasteland. Nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing.

  The truth of that fact was so dizzying her head started to spin, and she felt the room tilt around them. Some sort of logic suggested that the earth-moving kiss might not be solely responsible for the vertigo. But she didn’t want to stop. Didn’t care to breathe anything but the air she drew from his lungs. This was happening. After all this time. And she couldn’t … she couldn’t …