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

by Amy Leigh Simpson

  Chapter 38

  Why wouldn’t she die?

  If ever a person had nine lives and fireproof skin, he’d found her. It’d make an interesting study if it wasn’t so maddening. So cruelly unjust. How some people, sturdy, strong, and vital could be snatched away against all odds, while other feeble, fragile souls just wouldn’t die no matter how much brimstone you threw at them.

  Well, hell was coming. And this time there was no stopping it.

  Chapter 39

  Finn Carson

  Inhaling a deep, fortifying breath, Finn slipped out the back door of the surveillance truck and scanned the perimeter. Craning his neck and adjusting the cuffs of his magnificently tailored Armani tux, his pregame jitters manifested in countless other nervous ticks he couldn’t quite shake. Dang it, he was no sleuth. And he definitely wasn’t as smooth as he pretended to be. Mooning over Joselyn the past few weeks had hardly been the farce he’d originally signed on for, but this … this was a whole new playing field.

  He turned toward his entry point, tugging at his lapels, needlessly tweaking his attire. One of the security guards at the Chase Park Plaza Hotel had agreed to give Finn clearance to enter the Whyte company Christmas affair via a back door at the request of the FBI. Finn got to avoid the assault of the media, and hopefully if Sir Burns-A Lot was spectating, he would think Joselyn was attending alone.

  Maybe this could all end tonight.

  The slightest scuff sound caught on the thin breeze. Finn jerked around, nearly crouching for his trusty .38 Special holstered at his ankle. He didn’t like it there, out of reach, but it was discretely stowed for the occasion.

  “Hey, you all right?” Archer stepped down from the truck.

  Finn raked in another calming breath to soothe away the start Archer had given him. “Yeah, I guess I’m a little edgy.”

  “I think we are all on edge since the whole world knows where Joselyn will be tonight. But I’m sensing there’s more.” Archer used that probing interrogation stare. Finn cracked a respectable eight seconds in.

  “What if something happens to her? What if I can’t stop it?” He jammed his hand through his hair, a power grid of nervous energy humming through his veins. “Lord knows my control when it comes to that woman is miniscule at best. As much as I want to help protect her she is far too distracting for me to pledge to you my A game. I mean you saw us in the safe room when we thought the killer was in the house. I can’t help myself. I get all heart and hormones.”

  Archer’s hand clamped on Finn’s shoulder. “Finn, we have half a dozen undercover agents in that building. We have uniforms at every exit. Eyes and ears inside. We are all working together to get this guy. I know it feels like this is all on your shoulders, but that’s a burden you were never meant to carry. Not in this. Not in anything.”

  Archer literally shook him as if to jar something loose. “If you need me to go over the emergency plan again, I will, but maybe you should let go. You’re not Superman, pal. You can’t save everyone. But we are all doing everything in our power to keep you both safe. You can take that to the bank, brother.”

  Finn’s nerves abated slightly. He knew Archer was right, but then again, knowledge and acceptance were miles apart in Finn’s mind.

  Like the Monroe fire. He could delve over every detail again and justify his actions. Had he known about and tried to rescue Kameron Monroe, it was likely they all would have died in the explosion instead of only Kendi’s brother. But accepting that heavy-laden truth was next to impossible when a boy had died in a burning coffin, scared and alone, on Finn’s watch.

  Archer’s appraisal stripped through the fancy suit and all the bravado Finn possessed, exposing his greatest weakness.

  Finn shrugged off the supporting hand and let his eyes wander the darkened alley behind the elegant hotel.

  The succession of street lights reflected off the rain-doused pavement illuminating a path to the entrance. Sloshing sounds of tires cutting through pocks of slushy water on the road provided the only soundtrack for the still, dark night.

  That and the thunderous pounding of his heart in his ears.

  “Okay, I’m ready.” Finn turned, his stiff shoes grinding the salt crystals to powder. Billows of ashen exhaust plumed from the vents of surrounding buildings, as if the streets of the Central West End had become a little slice of the Big Apple.

  “Hey.”

  Stopping in his tracks, Finn spun back to his friend—the heroic Special Agent in Charge for the St. Louis FBI, and soon to be his brother-in-law.

  “When you meet the right girl, I’ll admit, there’s a definite war for control.” Archer lifted a dark brow to leave no question to what he was referring.

  “Ugh. So not cool, man.” Finn shivered.

  A deep laugh echoed off the stone walls. “What can I say, your sister really lights my fire.”

  “Do you have a point? I really don’t want to throw up on this suit that could fund world missions. Though I suppose smelling like vomit might kill some of the chemistry tonight.”

  Archer chuckled again. “Sorry, you’re so squeamish I couldn’t resist. What I mean is, it’s not easy, but it’s not impossible. Comes with the territory, protecting her. And it’s worth it.”

  Deep down, beneath the emotions that boiled so hot, Finn felt honor-bound to do right by her. But the hauntingly personal knowledge of her past held a piece of his heart hostage. He wanted letting it go to be easy. It wasn’t. What he wanted still didn’t seem to matter.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Archer shrugged like the answer was so simple. “Grace, man. There’s no statute of limitations on it. No one is beyond redemption. Including you. Don’t forget, you’re no perfect prize either.”

  “Gee, thanks for the ego boost.”

  “Like you need one.” Archer drawled. “Now, go get ’er, tiger.”

  Vibrant colors and textures swirled all around him as if he’d fallen down the rabbit hole and entered into some twisted dreamland. The ritzy ballroom held hundreds of people dressed to the nines in elaborate gowns and sleek designer tuxedos like the one Finn was wearing. The one Finn was wearing that Declan Whyte had paid for, and for that reason, felt itchy and tainted.

  Finn curled a finger around the collar of his shirt, tugged at his tie, and wormed through the tight spaces between guests.

  Snippets of conversation about business ventures, vacation homes, and market shares were the talk of the day as he shouldered through the upper crust of all conglomerates of Whyte Enterprises.

  Instead of chandeliers, modern light fixtures threaded like a tapestry of branches with small twinkling lights across the expanse of ceiling, as if a blanket of stars hung over the room.

  And Finn actually spotted a few stars. Celebrities, rather. To prove how important a man like Declan Whyte was in the world.

  Muted whispers of recognition tapped into his ears, dubbing him “Joselyn’s man.”

  He decided he liked the sound of that.

  A stocky man with a Teddy Roosevelt-esque stache hurled his thunderous voice over the noise. “… can’t believe you ever let Tobin go. Heard he really lost it after what happened to his family. But he was our most valuable asset in R&D. And that paper tubing he invented showed real promise for several of our industrial plants.”

  “What about those twin blonde receptionists he canned? If you weren’t so successful I’d question your judgment on the exceptionally low company quota of attractive females. Not a lot to look at, am I right, Walt?” Another robust counterpart jumped in on the heckling.

  “—Finn.” A man in the group spun around. Declan Whyte, in the flesh. And he was none too amused evidenced by the way his thick brogue growled Finn’s name.

  His meaty hand extended between them, though not in a way that meant the Scottish giant was welcoming Finn into his posse of associates. Thank God.

  As tall as Finn, and solid, if not slightly overindulged, the man gripped Finn’s hand with an apparent intent to crush i
t to show the power was an extension of his very being.

  Meeting the challenge in the stormy gray eyes that matched his distinguished crop of silver hair, Finn reciprocated the crushing shake with vigor, taming a smirk at the man’s almost imperceptible wince of pain.

  “Mr. Whyte.”

  “It’s about time you arrived. Perhaps you should run along and find Joselyn.” His eyes hardened with an unspoken warning, a vein of displeasure pulsing at his temple. “I think I last saw her near the dance floor.”

  Finn bit his tongue and with a terse nod, pushed past the group of men now curious to his every move. He scanned the vast array of unfamiliar faces, desperate to land on the one that could stun.

  It had only been a day. The strength with which he missed her should have been alarming but instead buoyed a bit of happiness in his chest. He turned toward the sound of a familiar feminine giggle, his pulse leaping with anticipation. A crowd of men shifted to accommodate a passing waiter, and Finn caught his first glance. At that moment, somehow, she saw him too. Every last detail he’d catalogued from the room faded in an instant, leaving her.

  Only her.

  The breath-stealing beauty in a killer red dress. Subtly provocative but yet exquisitely elegant, the crimson confection poured ever so perfectly over her chest, melted over her curves, flaring below her knees to the floor. She glistened like the only diamond in a sea of pearls from the tiniest straps of her dress encrusted with sparkle, to the starry glimmer in her eyes.

  Without realizing it, he was parting the crowd, fixed by the beckon of her gaze. He shrugged past the mob of suitors surrounding her and closed in, slipping his hands around her waist, and ever so gently tasting her ripe cherry lips.

  “I thought I told you it was over,” she whispered against his mouth, and the contestants vying for the fair Joselyn started to disperse.

  “I wasn’t convinced.”

  She shivered, the little shimmy of contact testing the metal filings in his veins fighting the pull to magnetize against her every lovely curve.

  “Are you cold?” He loosed his hands from her back and rubbed her bare arms, keeping his forehead pressed to hers. “Because you look insanely hot.”

  That earned him a slight smile and a self-conscious shrug. You know what they say, “When in doubt, wear red.”

  “I’m serious. There are lots of pretty things in this room, Joss, but as exceptional as you are on the surface, and I mean, wow. There is more beauty hidden in here than in any other place on earth.” He moved his fingertips against the delicate thread of her collarbone over her heart before bringing his palm up to cup her face. “I see you, Joselyn. And what I see is so beautiful it hurts.”

  She gasped softly, then leaned into his touch. “You’re not so bad yourself. But it’s not safe. You should’ve stayed away.”

  “I can’t.”

  The dulcet strains of the twelve-piece band hummed something slow and melodic, and Finn stepped forward, flush against the exotic beauty in the fiery red dress, and held her against him. “Dance with me.” He breathed into her ear, nuzzling her neck.

  With a shaky exhale, she relaxed into him, her head snuggling against his chest.

  And heaven came to earth for the three songs that followed. Joselyn tucked in his arms, soft and yielding, trusting him with her life, her heart, as they swayed amid the bustle as if no one and nothing else existed.

  Finn felt her lips graze his neck, a spiral of fire rained down his spine. “Joselyn.” Her head came up, vulnerability adrift in those luminous eyes. “I know this didn’t start out right, but I want you. I want … us.” Forever. “Tell me it’s not too late.”

  He couldn’t tell if it was hope or heartache, but her eyes glowed with the faintest dew of tears. The slender column of her throat came alive, betraying the surging of her heart.

  “This is really about us? Not about money or anything else?” her voice emerged so fragile, so insecure.

  He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “What more could I want?”

  “Finn, I—”

  A burly guest with a crew cut and a solid black suit barged through the quiet moment. “There’s been a breach in security. You gotta move, now.” The thick vibrato of the threat stalled the blood in Finn’s brain.

  Alarm stole the warm glow from Joselyn’s face, vacated the life from her eyes as her hands slipped from around Finn’s collar and curled together against her chest.

  Without a beat of hesitation, Finn snatched her hand and fled the ballroom.

  All tenderness vanished in that moment, and the assaulting panic had him tugging her along to the stairwell. Finn could tell she was trying her best to keep up, but the shackles of her formfitting dress and the struggling clack of her heels on each concrete step slowed their progress.

  And then a wave of terror seized his chest.

  Footsteps.

  Someone was following them and gaining fast.

  Finn hauled Joselyn up in his arms. For a fleeting moment, he flashed back to prom night, the anguish he’d felt dumping Joselyn into Cody’s arms. Immediately shaking free, he vaulted up each flight of stairs.

  All of his training, the Combat Challenges, prepared him for this moment. But somehow, that did nothing to calm the frantic fear clawing at his back.

  Please protect us.

  Hard scraping echoed up from the floor below, and Finn risked a glance over the open railing.

  There were two men—big men—wrapped in black clothes. Finn couldn’t glimpse their faces, but their matching skin heads and their thunderous approach did little to negate the nefarious threat.

  Pulling ahead and reaching the eleventh floor, Finn slowed momentarily, easing open the door to provide a soundless escape. The sound of the thugs on their six seemed far away, but Finn knew, from the foreboding shiver of dread prickling the back of his neck, they were still coming.

  Chapter 40

  Joselyn Whyte

  “Where is she? He’s going to kill us if we lose her!”

  “She couldn’t have gotten far.” The other man wheezed. “Check that way.”

  Why did their voices sound familiar?

  Joselyn’s breathing stalled, the bludgeoning force of her pulse beating her lungs to a bloody pulp.

  Silence and the labyrinth halls of the Chase Park Plaza Hotel were their only allies, so she clamped down on her lip, drawing insufficient breaths through her nose, and curled tighter into Finn’s chest.

  He set her down, dug into his pocket, and unearthed a room key. His fingers slipped before fitting the key card into the door she realized they were now standing in front of.

  Once inside the soft click of the lock granted a gasp of renewed oxygen like a fairy godmother’s wish. But even then anxiety crashed like a riptide against her curdling stomach, yanking the bottom out from under her. Numb and motionless, Joselyn stood by the door, her knees threatening to release her body to the floor—or maybe just the contents of her stomach.

  Finn, on the other hand, was moving enough for the both of them—pacing the length of the room, checking his cell, and double-checking the hotel phone in the process. The pendulum effect of his rapid movements did nothing to assuage her vertigo.

  Then, out of nowhere, he calmed. Stripped off his tux jacket, then bent down and pulled a gun—a gun!—from his pant leg and set it on the nightstand. “You should sit; you look a little faint.” He leaned back onto the bed and crossed his ankles.

  Oh yeah, sure, let’s just take a load off. Pretend there aren’t people right outside the door hunting for her. Pretend Finn didn’t just whip out a gun!

  As if reading her mind, he said, “Relax, okay. This is part of Archer’s emergency plan. This room is reinforced, reserved for politicians and dignitaries. No one is getting through that door. We’re safe.” His voice lowered. “For now.”

  It felt like she was nodding in agreement, but everything in the room seemed to be spinning. Or maybe the room was still and Joselyn’s mind was on the tilt-a-w
hirl. It was hard to tell.

  Before she came to, she went weightless again. Finn had risen and scooped her up like a limp noodle, moving to set her on the bed. But for some reason she couldn’t signal her arms to let go.

  “Here you go, man. She’s all yours.” His voice from the past echoed in her mind, tearing her back to the first time she’d been someone else’s prey.

  “No!” Joselyn’s arms tightened around his neck when he made to move away, a convoluted mixture of past and present toying with her mind. “Please don’t leave me.” The words ached from her throat, cold seeping in from all around her.

  The mattress shifted, and she had to reach through the closing darkness to remind herself that this was not prom night. She was twenty-seven, not seventeen. The man now cradling her in his arms was not, and would never be, Cody.

  “Shh.” Easing down beside her, the tension from that horrible night was steadily stroked away with each tender brush of Finn’s hand through her hair.

  And then his hand stilled.

  She saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, a glossy gleam reflecting from his smooth, clean-shaven jaw. Uncertainty hovering in his gemstone eyes.

  Joselyn wasn’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly they were close enough to share air. Her heart skipped as his coarse fingers traced over her jawbone and locked behind her neck.

  Their eyes held with an intimacy that should have scared her, even as, with slow and steady deliberation, he crossed the boundary between them and brought her lips to paradise.

  The kiss started slow and savory. Thick with meaning and a riveting transparency, it rent a cry from the deepest part of her that longed to be known and loved. But a handful of heartbeats later her body quickened, responding as if every tickling nerve ignited at once.