“Right.” His brother rocked onto the balls of his boots and bobbed. “That’s why this can’t go to trial. I can’t tell him. Not like this. We’d been talking about how to tell him, but we’re taking things slow.”
“You’ve been friends forever.”
“I know. Through thick and thin, she’s been the only one who’s kept me from surrendering to the darkness. It’s in me, you know.”
“It’s in us all.”
Griffin nodded. “Gannon, I can’t mess this up.”
“If you love her, you won’t.” Before the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.
“You know that’s not true.”
“I wish it were.”
“Yeah.” Griffin leaned on the sawhorse across from him and sighed. “So we’re really fixing this house?”
“We are.” Gannon tapped his boot on the wooden leg.
“You still know your stuff?” His brother’s eyebrow hiked to the top of the scaffolding.
“It’s only been twelve years since I’ve used my carpentry skills. How bad could it be?”
“Seems we’re about to find out. Are we starting in or out?”
“I need to assess the interior before I know for sure but probably out.”
Gannon stood and headed toward the back door and the key he’d found earlier. He’d have to have a talk with Margo about the security issue. Grif followed him with a lighter gait than he had earlier. A smile tempted to turn Gannon’s mouth on both sides, but the revving of an engine stopped him.
That stupid smile turned into a stupid tickle in his chest that had no right to exist. Yet there it was. Tickling. When he turned, his smile fell. The vehicle wasn’t the sexy little sports car of Margo’s he’d discreetly followed to the interstate. The long legs that flung out of it and stomped in his direction weren’t sleek and sexy either. Actually, the tall, muscled dude looked a hell of a lot like him. They shared dark hair, blue eyes, and a fuck-you scowl. Had Margo replaced him with this hothead?
“You know who this clown is?” Gannon growled.
“Nah. Never seen him. Looks like you’re about to find out, though.” Grif groaned. “Want me to tag him?”
“The last thing you need is more trouble. Start inventory on the interior damage. I’ll be in shortly.”
“You sure? He seems pretty pissed and pretty big.” Gannon opened his mouth to respond, but Grif stopped him. “Never mind. I just remembered what you do for a living. This fella hasn’t got a prayer.”
“I’m not going to hurt him.”
Gannon left his brother and met the man several yards from the house. Steam rolled off the guy, which only fueled his curiosity. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, leave.” Cocky rolled his shoulders and glared at Gannon. A ballsy move, considering the dude looked like Gannon before he’d left Combine for the Marines and packed on thirty pounds of muscle. Not to mention the extra twenty he’d added since joining Base Branch, the UN’s special operations forces.
“No.”
The guy’s face flushed vibrant red. It matched the Dallas Fire & Rescue logo on his shirt beautifully. So he at least worked with Margo. Foolishly, Gannon hoped that was the extent of their relationship. Before the hothead could blast him, he leaned in.
“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Gannon Lee.” He extended his hand.
“I know exactly who you are.”
Well, shit.
“I’m going to ask you one more time to leave.”
“And then?” Screw diplomacy. This guy had already hung him in the court of opinion without ever meeting him.
“I’ll make you.”
He gathered breath to tell the guy he might want to bring back his whole fire squad if he had a hope of success, but then his training reared its prestigious head. Defuse whenever possible. Don’t fight unless necessary. He loved the last part. If you fight, win.
Gannon thought about Margo and the kind of man she’d want as a woman and not as a lovesick teenager. An impulsive fist flinger didn’t seem her type. Then again, he knew little about her now, and why did he care about her type. Her type wouldn’t be him. Not ever again. But he’d changed. It was time to show Combine, Texas, what he was made of.
“Why do you want me to leave?” he asked in a calm, curious tone.
Tires on an approaching vehicle rolled up the drive.
“In all the years I’ve known Margo, I’ve never once seen her cry.”
That pulled Gannon’s attention from the arriving car. When he’d known her, she’d been free and open with her emotions.
“Last night”—dude bunched his callused hands—“she was a wreck. At first, I thought it had to do with the house. It took me all morning to get to the heart of the matter.” His index finger abandoned his fist to jab at Gannon.
It didn’t register over much. This pompous ass was about to get his way, but not because he was a commando. The guy’s words dealt the fatal blow. His presence hurt Margo.
“Dane!” Margo’s voice jerked Gannon back to the situation. Dressed in her uniform, complete with kick-ass boots, she stomped across the yard better than Dane—whoever the hell he was to her—had.
“I look out for what’s mine.” Dane faced Gannon—smart move—but stepped into Margo’s path, separating them.
Not so bright.
Margo dodged him and placed herself between him and Dane, but she didn’t look at him. She focused solely on her whatever-the-fuck-he-was, besides a dead man.
“I thought Lexi would’ve taught you better by now. Stop interfering in other people’s lives.” Margo punctuated her words with hand gestures. “It didn’t work with Skye, your actual sister, and it’s not going to work with me.”
“How do you know Gannon didn’t set the fire to show up and white-knight you?” Dane used his index finger again, connecting him to the fire.
“Look—” Gannon had had about enough of this shit. If someone thought he’d ever harm Margo, he’d lay waste to their notions and them too. Margo’s small hand cut him off.
“Gannon would never hurt me.” Her shoulders stood proudly.
If only it were true. He’d hurt her ten years ago. He hurt her now, according to Dane the Douche.
“I’m a big girl. I can stand up for myself.” Margo’s fight stance relaxed, mimicking Dane’s.
“So I don’t get to yell at Elise?” Dane shoved his hand into the pockets of his pants.
“What do you need to yell at my sister for this time?” Her hands fell lifelessly to her sides.
They hadn’t talked much about Elise, but Gannon got the notion the girl gave Margo hell far too often.
“Captain Stewart told me Elise and her worthless boyfriend were at the station before our shift yesterday, badgering the chief and arson investigator about the case,” Dane said.
“Why would they care about the investigation?” Margo rubbed the top of her head.
“That’s what I was going to find out.” Dane gave her an awe shucks expression that flew all over Gannon.
Margo fell for it, melting into a puddle of girlie goo. She rushed forward, kissed the asshole’s cheek, and looped her arm through his. Her steps pulled them away from Gannon and toward the driveway. Wise move since she rested her head against Dane’s shoulder as they walked. Her blond ponytail swayed against the man’s back, and the urge to maim or outright murder spiked his temperature twenty degrees.
Instead of focusing on the hatred coursing through his veins, Gannon eased against the sawhorse and steered his mind to those seldom-traveled dark waters. Most people didn’t know things gloomier than murder existed. Merry Christmas to them.
Not soon enough, Dane’s vehicle rounded the fountain and headed away. Gannon didn’t know how long he had spent in the sludge of his nightmares. From the subdued expression on Margo’s face, she’d done some shit-wading too. Silently, she propped herself on the makeshift bench across from him and let her gaze search his.
The brig
ht blond hair of his every fantasy held a darker, more mature hue. Faint creases between her eyebrows showed she worried too much and smiled too little. Her slender body had added an enticing number of curves and muscle. Yet the most noted change was in her eyes. An edge of haunt told him she’d seen more of the world than the naïve, small town, big-hearted princess he’d once known.
Around them, dawn bloomed to brilliant daylight. Birds sang their praise. Dew began to evaporate.
Her sweet lips flattened into a line, and Gannon drew a breath.
“I’m sorry,” they blurted in unison.
“Why on earth are you sorry?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with Dane’s overprotective BS. Why are you sorry?” She yanked on the collar of her uniform shirt.
“Why am I not sorry? There’s so much.”
“Gannon, don’t.” Margo bolted from her seat and brushed the sawdust from her backside. A show he’d thoroughly enjoy if she weren’t running away. “It’s fine.”
“Like hell it is.” He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from grabbing her and holding her to his chest. If he smelled her, touched her, kissed her, he’d never let her go.
“It’s behind us.” She edged back a few steps. “We don’t need to dredge it up.”
“Because you’re with him?”
The moment the words were out, he knew he had no right to say them. Between them, the air crackled with hurts and anger.
“He has a name. It’s Dane.”
“So he’s your friend, boyfriend, lover, fiancé?” The titles seared his throat because one he’d earned—once upon a time. Others were ones he’d wanted, needed. They had been ones they’d both needed.
Her retreat ceased and turned into an all-out assault. She cleared the distance between them in a flash and shoved her face brutally close to his. Jasmine and eucalyptus assaulted him with temptation. Even in an all-out sneer, her lips called to him.
“Listen carefully, Gannon Lee. Dane isn’t your business. I’m not your business. I don’t know why you feel the need to rebuild the house you hated so much, especially if your brother didn’t set the fire, but I’m grateful for it because I know you’ll do a good job.” She paused for a beat. “Before you start, you have to know I can’t pay you until the investigation is complete and the insurance pays me.”
“I don’t want your money, Margo. I never have.”
And here they were, tossing around decade’s old shit like sour swine.
“Oh, I know. But if you think you’re doing this job out of the goodness of your heart, you may as well pack up and leave.”
“Why, because you don't take charity?”
“You didn’t either, as I recall.”
They snarled and separated, two magnets, always attracted and always on opposite poles.
“I have to get back to work.” Margo shook her head as if she couldn't believe they were here again. Honestly, he couldn’t either.
4
Margo sat on her bunk and stared at the pile of dirty clothes. She could wash them at the station, but the detergent they supplied made everything itchy. A laundromat was located only a few miles away. A gas station here and there was bound to have better detergent.
“Go home, Margo.” Lexi plopped onto the bed next to Margo and bumped her shoulder. “You know you want to.”
“Which is why I can’t.” Margo shoved the pile, piece by piece, into her bag.
“Which is exactly why you should.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working or something?” Margo eyed the svelte brunette.
“No, not for another thirty minutes.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Sorry, I’m late.” Skye rushed through the women’s quarters, balancing a container of cupcakes in one hand and a large coffee in the other.
“Oh good Lord, is this an intervention?” She buried her face in her hands and moaned.
“Of sorts,” Lexi squeaked.
“But better. It comes with sugar and love,” Skye offered.
“Give me the coffee, and I might let you two live.” Margo kept her head down but reached for the coffee. Wisely, Skye shoved it into her hand. After two long gulps, she surveyed both women, who were stupidly happy in relationships of their own. The creamer started to curdle in her stomach. “Say it fast before I throw up all over you two.”
“You’ve loved Gannon Lee since you knew what you thought love was.” Lexi sighed like this story had a fairy-tale ending. Wrong movie. “But you never dated. You were friends, great friends, until you almost … you know.” Her brows waggled.
“Fucked,” Margo supplied.
“Made love.” Skye offered a cupcake.
The damn thing looked so good, but she couldn’t eat it. Just like she couldn’t understand the point of this talk. “Get to it.”
“Tragic events,” Lexi whispered, “tore you apart, but now, he’s back. He’s mending your house.”
“The house is not a metaphor for our relationship. Spackle and some two by fours aren’t going to fix what happened.”
“Why not?” Skye begged.
“I don’t know why. That’s the problem,” Margo blurted. “He left, and I know why, but I don’t know why he never came back. Horrible things happened to pull us apart, but I was there, still willing and wanting him forever. But he …”
She smacked at the tears free-falling down her cheeks. “We came from different worlds, but that never mattered to me, not to him, not to us—the friends us. Then we gradually became more. Senior year had such promise.” A laugh, bitter and cold, shot from her throat. She was almost thirty and still talking about high school.
“My drunkard father plowed his ritzy car into the driver’s side of a truck driven by Gannon’s mom.” It was the night they’d planned a candlelight dinner by the lake. It was the night they’d planned to make love. It was the night she’d seen her future ripped from her grasp.
“He didn’t blame me. Actually, he consoled me maybe more than I comforted him. The bitterness started when my mother offered to pay for his mother’s funeral arrangements and a scholarship for the boys to go to college. He refused it and tossed my family’s money in my face.”
“Oh, no.” Skye winced.
“And still, I loved him, wanted him and us, any way he’d have me.” Her tears abated. Now, it was just a story. Her story of loss and heartbreak.
“My mom spiraled in the months after the funerals. Gannon stayed away. Just days after my mom took her own life, he left Combine … until five days ago.” Margo zeroed back in on the women, whose eyes were wet and cheeks pink.
“We knew, of course, but hearing it.” Lexi wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
“Ask him why.” Skye—who’d found a seat on the floor in front of her somewhere along the way—grabbed her hands. “It’s your one chance to find out. If nothing more, you’ll have some closure and be able to move on.”
“I’ve moved on,” Margo snapped.
“Have you, really?” Lexi asked.
Hell, no. She’d found a career, taken care of her younger sister the best she knew how, and she’d dated … guys she knew she wouldn’t fall in love with.
“I love and hate you both. You know that, right?” She glared at each woman in turn.
“We love and love you too.” Lexi fished Margo’s keys out of her bag and handed them over. “Now, go home.”
During the entire ride, Margo quizzed herself. What could be the worst answer Gannon could offer? Could she live with it? What would be gained by hearing said answer? Would it give her peace or torment her? Would never knowing be better than knowing?
By the time she pulled in front of the house, her hands and stomach shook like a junkie with no funds. Before she could pull herself together, Gannon appeared out of nowhere and opened her door. His rough, paint-splattered hand wrapped around her wrist and ushered her into the house.
“I thought I was going to have to hunt y
ou down.”
“What’s wrong?” His touch and take-charge tone multiplied her angst. Gone was the reserved man she’d prayed would close the angry gap she created between them the other day and kiss her silly.
“We haven’t been able to start work on the inside. The fire ate through part of your closet, but I didn’t want to throw anything out without asking. And damn, if I’ve ever seen so many clothes.”
He didn’t stop until they were standing in her bedroom. Even then, he held tight to her wrist.
The décor had changed since she was in high school when she fantasized about Gannon being in her bedroom. Things hadn’t changed so much that she couldn’t appreciate the epic moment, though. It zinged up her legs, licked between them, and whirled over her torso and breasts.
“You were going to go to college for fashion design.” He opened her closet and pulled her inside.
“Yeah.” The close confines ramped every emotion, suffocating her in lust and heartache.
“Despite the looks of things”—Gannon’s powerful arm gestured to the walk-in crammed full of everything from ball gowns to cowgirl boots and every accessory in between—“paramedic suits you better.”
“Really?” She stared at him in awe. Helping people came naturally to her. By taking a laborer’s job, her sister and the people in town thought she’d lost her mind and jeopardized her social standing. Her father had already squandered away their fortune. If you couldn’t pay your utilities and manage to feed yourself, social graces didn’t much matter.
“Absolutely.” His grin would’ve knocked her on her ass had he not been holding on tight. “You were always tending to someone’s wound, worrying over our bruises, always caring for the people around you.” She knew he meant her dad but was thankful he hadn’t said it.
“I love it.” A hesitant grin pulled at her cheeks. “I never expected I would. There was a job opening, and Jax knew I needed a job.”
Gannon nodded sweetly. His thumb rubbed a small circle on her knuckles. Forget butterflies. Macaws flapped their wings inside her belly. It was too much of everything. Before he could speak or move, she squeezed his hand and then turned away. Her gaze locked on fresh wood slats, blocking out the fading daylight where charred ones and a hole had been.
Dallas Fire & Rescue: Relentlessly Mine (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Base Branch Series Book 11) Page 3