Walk Through the Fire

by Calle J. Brookes

  It was one of the businesses he was going to rip down himself. With relish.

  Maybe even man the controls to the machinery as a symbol of progress for his section of Finley Creek.

  He hadn’t meant to enter politics. That had been a biproduct of protecting his assets. But Dennis Lee had found he enjoyed it. Who cared if he was as crooked as they came? He always had been.

  Jenny came in, dressed in a sedate blue suit perfectly appropriate for a lower-class community meeting. It had taken him a while to help her with her image. Make her see she had to be relatable to her constituents.

  He ran the north section of Boethe Street as part of his district. Jenny ran the south. That stick Buchanan bordered them both to the east. It was time for Carl Buchanan to retire to play chess in the damned park. Get someone younger—and more malleable—in his position. Dennis Lee had a nice little candidate in mind already.

  It was one reason he’d cultivated the relationship with Jenny a few years back. Things ran more smoothly when he had Jenny’s cooperation.

  It hadn’t hurt that she was a little fireball in the sack. The woman loved to be touched and touch in return. She craved it. No wonder dickless Wallace hadn’t been enough for her.

  A man liked a woman who knew what she wanted and went for it.

  Turner was at the front of the podium now, looking at the crowd. Dennis Lee couldn’t miss the bruises. He smiled.

  Hopefully, the boy hadn’t gotten the message and taken it to heart. He’d best just stay out of Dennis Lee’s way.

  Dennis Lee just sat back, greeting people every chance he could—he couldn’t get re-elected if no one knew his name—and watched.

  68

  Turner studied the crowd, trying to get a feel for the atmosphere quickly. His attention was half on his deputy mayor Carl and half on the people coming in to the small, midcentury brick building.

  A flash of jade green caught his attention.

  Scrubs. Familiar ones.

  Annie.

  Turner’s palms slicked and his heart rate picked up. He felt like a teenager, entranced by the pretty girl for the first time. Suddenly, the meeting, the people around him, didn’t bother him as much. Not with the thought that she was there.

  Now he just had to make certain he didn’t embarrass himself in front of the woman he wanted.

  Ridiculous. He felt like he was in junior high again.

  Turner wanted to make his way to her, but that didn’t happen. The director of the community center brought the meeting to order, and then Turner was up. And no one was very happy to see him.

  Elliot had four officers in plain clothes in the crowd and two uniformed on each entrance. They were there mostly to keep Turner from getting toasted. He didn’t expect an attack here. Not directly like this. But it could happen.

  Never had he felt more like a target. At that moment, he wanted Annie as far away from him as possible.

  It was time for the meeting to begin. He waited for Carl to say a few words. Everyone was aware of what had happened to Carl’s grandson. Carl had mentioned his recovery a week or so ago in the paper. He gave another quick update but was careful to keep Jason’s privacy protected.

  Carl had a way with the people. He was one of those people who were genuine in what they did. The crowd settled as Carl spoke.

  Turner mentally prepared what he was going to say.

  No one tonight was happy with him. He was the public face of a city facing horrible conditions for a while to come. Many other mayors had cracked under similar pressure. He’d discussed it a few times with the governor of Texas when their paths had crossed. No matter what happened out there, whether it was Turner’s fault or not, he was going to be blamed with it.

  It happened in politics all the time. He just had to be prepared for it. As he stepped up to the podium, his eyes landed on hers.

  69

  He was getting annihilated up there. But her neighbors wanted answers Turner just didn’t have. Answers no one could reasonably have right now. There just hadn’t been enough time to have the answers they wanted.

  No one in Finley Creek or Barratt County had been forgotten. Ninety percent of the people in the room were there because of damage from the storm. It had hit their neighborhood extremely hard. Most of the damage from the storm had occurred on the southern side of the town, including the hospital and the area directly behind it and just north of it. Her area.

  The Clean Up Boethe Street initiative had taken a definite backseat to the reparations from the storm. She understood it. He’d saved all but five houses from the initiative, after all. Shouldn’t that count for something? It had to.

  After Harley, a rude, obnoxious ass who had bluntly told her once he didn’t want boys of her kids’ type living in his neighborhood, practically blasted Turner as being responsible for the storm itself. The things Harley had said to her over the years were unprintable and unrepeatable. Only Jake’s regular presence was enough to keep him at bay. The guy had always been a jackass.

  When the crowd was getting restless and the questions were starting to repeat, and the hostility grew, Annie couldn’t take it any longer. Annie stood.

  Josie grabbed her hand. “What are you doing? Sit down, Ann.”

  “This is just getting stupid, Jo. Nothing is getting done. And people are running out of time. And he…Turner doesn’t deserve this. At all. He’s not like they’re making him out to be.”

  Annie raised her hand, and the deputy mayor looked at her. She recognized him from the hospital, where he’d sat with his grandson after a recent surgery. He’d seemed like a perfectly reasonable man. He was also on the board of directors of the hospital.

  She squared her shoulders. “I have something to say, and I’m going to say it.”

  The deputy mayor held up a hand and the crowd quieted reasonably well. Turner stood at the podium next to him. “Annie?”

  Annie pulled in a breath and tried to stop the shaking. What she was doing was crazy.

  Turner Barratt didn’t need her to defend him.

  Not by a long shot.

  There were others at the front of the community center. At least three were from the city council, she thought. And the deputy mayor. He was watching her with a kind expression on his face.

  All of them were watching her.

  But she had never let herself look like a fool in front of people. She was going to say what she had to say, and then she’d sit down, shut up, and never do this again.

  70

  So that was the little thing they were calling the Mayor’s Mystery Lover. How cute.

  Dennis Lee meant that.

  She reminded him of his Martina, with that brown hair and the pale eyes. She wasn’t any bigger than his Martie, either. Younger, by a good ten years, than his daughter. Probably just as unworldly.

  But the nerves were what got to Dennis Lee the most. The girl was about to shake apart.

  No doubt she wasn’t used to be in the limelight like this.

  The girl squared her shoulders and stepped up to the podium. She turned toward the mayor and looked at him.

  Turner betrayed exactly how he felt about that girl right then and there. If he loved her that much, the last thing he needed to do was broadcast it to whomever was watching.

  Didn’t see Dennis Lee all over his Jenny-girl like that. Fool.

  No. She was close to that friend Carl of hers. He would never understand the appeal of that dried stick. Carl Buchanan had always been a sanctimonious ass.

  It would do Carl some good to find a pretty lady and take a tumble or two. Or two thousand, make up for the lays he hadn’t gotten in the last forty years. Of course, that would cause his starched white undershorts to explode. Carl wasn’t exactly the type to attract the ladies.

  “I…” the girl said, drawing his attention back her way. Pretty girl. No wonder the mayor wanted her. “We have to be reasonable. All of us. For one thing, Turner Barratt didn’t cause the storm. And from the moment it hit,
he’s done nothing but try to make it better for everyone he could. I should know. Most of you are aware that he pulled me from the rubble himself. We’d been trapped together. I was in his office, trying to convince him to help us.”

  “I just bet you were!” An idiot in the front row called out. Several of his contemporaries laughed.

  “Sit down and be quiet, Harley Borlin. I’m not finished talking. And you will listen to what I have to say.”

  Dennis Lee snorted. So the little buttercup had some fire in her shorts. Good for her.

  “Yes, ma’am! So the mayor’s why you won’t go out with me, Annie?”

  More laughs.

  “She won’t go out with you because you’re just a stupid pig, Harley!” a young girl called out from across the room.

  Typical community meeting on Boethe Street.

  Dennis Lee sat there and laughed to himself as the woman in front of the room told them all how wonderful the mayor was, how he was doing his best to help them all.

  And that’s when Dennis Lee figured out how to keep the mayor in line the best he could. People were remarkably easy to manipulate, after all.

  No doubt it would work again.

  71

  Carl watched the meeting as it swirled around him. It was far livelier than the city council meetings usually were. There were nearly one hundred and fifty people present. A crowd that felt passionately.

  It took Carl a moment to recognize the lady now speaking. Turner’s Annie; that’s who she was.

  Annie had a lot to say, and he had to hand it to her. She’d handled herself better than he had thought she could. She was so quiet and shy; it was easy to overlook her.

  If a man wasn’t discerning enough to see her for the intelligent woman she was.

  From what he’d seen of her around the hospital, she probably was a good fit for Turner. A bit on the young side for the mayor, but a smart politician could make that work. Turner was idealistic in a lot of ways. A young, innocent woman would be more his speed than one who had been a bit more jaded by the world. Carl could understand that.

  She’d be a pretty thing, standing beside Turner as he campaigned again. Maybe with a few pretty babies playing around their knees. Turner would be a good father. That was something Carl was easily convinced of. A natural.

  And as a nurse, one who’d been injured in the storm, many of the Finley Creek citizens would relate to her just fine.

  If Turner even planned to run. Carl would have to ask him that.

  Carl had briefly considered vying for the top town position, but with what had happened to Jason and how his grandson needed help dealing with the trauma associated with his closest friend’s injuries, Carl just couldn’t justify the time the city would need now.

  Not with the storm and it’s aftereffects.

  Better a man unencumbered for now.

  Jennifer would just have to get over it.

  Or run herself. Like she’d been planning.

  It had been a nice evening they’d shared, after the dinner at which he’d told her he didn’t plan to run for mayor.

  She’d laughed and teased him about knowing she would be the better candidate. The two of them had always had a slightly competitive relationship. And it was truth; he had liked challenging her when he could. They were both cerebral people, liking the chess game that business ultimately was.

  It was a strong relationship, one that had lasted fourteen years now. But it would always remain competitive.

  They fed off it.

  Carl was worried about her. What her husband had done had greatly shaken her. How could it not?

  You didn’t sleep next to a man for thirty-something years and never realize he could kill. That had shaken her confidence in ways Carl didn’t know how to fix. Thank God Wallace hadn’t killed anyone.

  He didn’t think Jennifer would have been able to live with the knowledge of that.

  He wanted to fix things for her. Despite her slightly chilly personality and her manipulative ways, he loved her. He always would.

  He would give her time to get over what Wallace had done to her, give her time for the publicity to die down from it, then he would ask her to divorce her husband and be with him the way she should have years ago.

  Carl was looking forward to it. They’d take care of Jason together and have the sort of life she deserved.

  But first, Turner looked like he could use a bit of help with Annie. Carl stepped in to do what he could.

  72

  He held her hand as they walked. Through the neighborhood she’d grown up in. Without her sister. She thought it had been the deputy mayor who had arranged it all. Something about Turner grabbing another tour of the area to check progress.

  As soon as the crowd had cleared from the community center and Turner was free to leave, he’d taken her hand in his and led her right out of the building.

  Annie didn’t know how that had even happened, or why she had let it.

  By the time the meeting was done, Annie and the deputy mayor had made it clear that Turner had saved all but five homes. That mattered. The fact that he’d tried.

  Annie had pointed out herself that he’d been working on their behalf while also coordinating the city’s recovery efforts. He hadn’t had to do that. But he had.

  Now he walked at her side, a TSP squad car a few blocks back to give them privacy, at Elliot’s insistence. She couldn’t forget what had happened to Turner the last time she’d seen him.

  Annie was stupidly conscious of how hot his flesh was against hers. She hadn’t held a man’s hand since she’d been fifteen, and Evan Jenkins from four doors down had asked her to be his girlfriend.

  This was nothing like that sweet, childish day.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” She could smell him, that slightly woodsy and mint scent that she remembered from the storm. Every time she’d resurfaced, she would smell him first. Then her eyes would open, and she’d stare into his darker blue ones.

  “For speaking out. I thought I was going to get burned at the stake tonight. Your neighbors look like the type to have pitchforks in their pantries.”

  “They’re just scared. Most of the people in this neighborhood have lived here for decades. To suddenly need to move, to be forced into the decision—or to have had a natural disaster take that choice—everything switches around. It’s hard to just get through when you don’t know what it is you have to get through to begin with.” Annie stopped walking, right at the street sign before the last intersection that led to her home. “People hate feeling powerless, Turner. The storm showed us exactly how little control we do have over our own destinies. I know it did me.”

  His hand tightened on hers. “Annie...you were so damned brave that day. I don’t know that I would have handled it as well as I did, if you hadn’t been.”

  “Somehow, I don’t believe that.” She shivered as memories crowded into her head. As his scent surrounded her and reminded her of how it had felt that day in the rubble. “We...I’d probably be dead if you hadn’t pulled me close when you did. We both got so lucky that day.”

  “But we’re not dead. We’re here. And we’re together.” He pulled her to his chest, shocking Annie at how quickly the man moved. He smelled good, woodsy and male. His chest was hard and broad and strong. Reassuring. A woman could stay forever in his arms. “At first, I thought it was just the storm.”

  “What was?” She wasn’t paying attention to his words. Far from it. The feel of his body was far too distracting. It had been a long time since she’d been held like this, by a man she couldn’t get out of her head.

  “What made it so hard for me to forget you.” His fingers tangled in her ponytail. “I find it hard to forget you Annie-Belle Gaines. It may be the eyes. Or the way you smile. When you laugh, your lip tilts up just a tiny bit. Right here. A little lopsided, and a whole lot sexy. Has anyone ever told you that? Every time I see it, I want to kiss you. See if I can taste your laughter. I bet it taste
s sweet.”

  He stared at her mouth like it fascinated him. Her stomach clenched. The look in his eyes was one she recognized. It was just like Caine looked at Nikkie Jean. Or his twin looked at Jillian. Heat. Pure, unfiltered male lust for the woman he was looking at.

  And that woman was her. Oh boy. She wanted to be that woman with him. She did. Just how much she wanted it slammed into her. Hard.

  “I think you’re insane, Mayor Barratt. Completely and totally insane. Delusional.” She wasn’t exactly sexy in her frumpy green scrubs, her hair falling down from the band she’d put it up in hours earlier, and her sensible white shoes. Her only concession to vanity at all had been to pop a wintergreen mint in her mouth before the community center meeting. It was all she’d had the time for.

  Annie looked more like a dust mop than she did a sexpot.

  Not like him. He was well-pressed, well-groomed, and well-dressed. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, but his shirt and tie were in direct contrast to what most of the men had been wearing at the meeting tonight. The light wind ruffled the warm, dark brown hair, and pressed the light blue cotton of his shirt against his broad chest.

  The man looked like a living, breathing men’s magazine advertisement. He started walking again. He didn’t say anything until they were stepping on her porch. “Not crazy at all. I finally feel like I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  He tugged on her hand when she would have slipped her key into the lock. “Turner?”

  “Sit out here with me.”

  “I need to call Nikkie Jean and check on the boys and call the hospital to check on Izzie.” Anything. Anything to put some space, whether actual space or not, between them.