by Jill Shalvis
“I’m walking in from around the corner. Or hopping rather.”
She hurried to let him in from the night. He wore a black T-shirt draped over his gun and faded soft Levi’s that were molded to his long, tough form, hunched slightly these days as he used the crutches to walk. There was a Lakers cap on his head and a deceptively relaxed air to him as he moved toward her.
He held out his hand. She put the cell phone in it. Wordlessly he shifted gears and looked at the display. His jaw was scruffy, unshaven, and she stared at it while he read the text message. She remembered all the nights he’d rubbed that sexy stubble against her body, remembering the things he’d said to her, done to her, the way he’d made her feel. “I really did miss you,” she whispered softly.
He looked at her for a beat. “I’m going to call this in.” He hobbled into the kitchen, murmured into the phone for a few minutes, then hung up and faced her. “We’ll go to the station in the morning to make a report. Do you have the accounting stuff you’ve been working through?”
“On the table.”
“Let’s look.”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“Let’s look,” he repeated stubbornly.
They spent an hour at it, Summer showing him how she’d put the deposit slips in date order, and had painstakingly matched each to the bank statements. They typically made a deposit every day, sometimes every other. In the past twelve months, cash had gone missing out of approximately one deposit a week, the amounts varying from three hundred and fifty dollars to two thousand dollars, for a total of thirty-six thousand four hundred dollars.
Just for the past year.
“Multiply that by all the years they’ve been in business…” Joe let out a low whistle. “Someone’s been getting a nice bonus. Let me see the employee schedule.”
She handed it over, but that was a problem too. There wasn’t, and never had been, a regular schedule. Tina and Camille kept it in their head, changing plans on a whim to accommodate all of them. And even if a schedule had been kept, it couldn’t be relied on because of how often it would have been adjusted at the last minute. So they went through the payroll records, through each individual time sheet, and began a new list, writing down the employees that had worked each day there’d been cash missing. It took a few hours, and when they were done, they had a new problem.
“Not a single person worked each of these dates,” Summer said.
“Except…” Joe looked at her, his face impassive. His fire marshal expression.
“My mother and Tina.” She picked up the phone and dialed her mom, then listened to the phone ring and ring. “It’s five in the morning, and she’s not home. She’s probably having another hot tub episode.”
“Hot tub episode?”
“Yeah, her and Tina—Never mind.” She dialed her aunt’s place and got a sleepy sounding Bill.
“I’m sorry,” Summer said. “I know it’s late. Or early, depending on how you look at it. But these accounting books have been calling my name all night. Are my mom and your wife boozing in the hot tub again?”
“No, sorry, Camille’s not here.”
Summer had forgotten. Her mother had taken the leap. “How about Tina? Can I talk to her?”
“What’s up, Cookie? Because I hate to wake her. She’s been having such trouble sleeping.”
“I know.” Summer chewed on her thumbnail. “Listen, I wish I already knew this because it makes me sound like a horrible niece and daughter for having to ask, but…”
“What?”
“Neither of them are in financial trouble, are they?”
Bill laughed. “Those two penny-pinchers? Are you kidding?”
When Summer didn’t laugh, he got serious. “Okay, what’s the matter? What did you find?”
“Nothing concrete,” she said, suddenly deciding this would be better done in person. “Tell Tina I’ll meet her at the store in a few hours.” She clicked off and sighed.
Joe was still sifting through the papers. “Let’s keep going.”
Half an hour later, with the sun coming up, Summer’s cell beeped. Startled, she stared at Joe for a long breath, then looked at the message.
Stop remembering. LEAVE. This is your final warning.
Joe stared down at the digital display. “How spooked are you?”
“Uh…” On a scale of one to ten, make that a twelve, please. “Not too much.”
“Truth.”
“Truth?” She dropped her head to the table with a thunk. “I think my mother is covering for Tina. I think Tina is covering for my mother. And that it could be either one of them is making me want to throw up.”
He put his hand on her back and stroked. “Your polite but terrifying stalker is trying to scare you out of here because you know something.”
“I don’t remember any more than what I’ve said.”
“They’re not sure of that.”
“I’m not afraid of anyone here.” She wasn’t. Her terror was bigger than that. Such as the reality of seeing someone she cared about go to prison. “Much.”
Joe sighed, then gathered her close. “Do you want me to stay?”
Being held by him was like coming home again. Shockingly good, shockingly right. “Yes, but it has nothing to do with being scared.” She pressed her face to his throat and inhaled his scent.
“Red.” This was a low groan. He let out another when she licked him. “Don’t.” His arms tightened on her in direct opposition to his words. “God, don’t. I can’t resist you. It’s like every bad diet out there, I’m good for a day or two and then I have this terrible, clawing craving that I can’t escape from.”
“So let’s satisfy the craving.”
“I can’t do this, Red. I can’t make love to you and then get out of your bed and go home to my cold one. I hate connecting with you like I do, and then waking alone.”
“Then don’t go home. Wake up here, with me.”
He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back so he could see her face. His eyes were dark, his body tense.
“Don’t go home tonight,” she said again. “This morning. Whatever it is. Stay with me.”
He cupped her jaw, ran his thumb over her lower lip. “Why?”
Leap. If her mother had done it, she sure as hell could at least try. “Maybe I want to try it on for size.”
“Try what?”
“You.” She smiled shakily. “Look, probably you’ve already realized, I’m a little slow at this stuff.”
“No,” he said wryly. “Really?”
She rolled her eyes. “I want you to be happy. I want to be the one to make you happy, but I have to go at my own pace, I just do. I can’t speed that up, Joe. Not even for you.”
He closed his eyes, then opened them again, and they were filled with things that caught her breath. He grabbed a crutch and stood up, reaching for her. “A bed this time,” he said. “Your bed.”
“Yes.” Turning, she put her shoulder beneath his, acting as his crutch for that side, and led him to her bedroom. The sky had just barely begun to change, lighten. A new day.
Sunbeams slanted in through the shades, creating bands of light over her bed and the soft sheets and blanket there. He sat on them and drew her between his legs. “I like your pj’s.”
They consisted of an oversized white T-shirt and boxers. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged his face to her middle, rubbing his jaw against her belly in a sweet, loving gesture that had her throat tightening.
She tossed his cap aside and sank her fingers into his hair. He took his hands on a leisurely cruise down her spine, over the backs of her thighs, then her calves. Given how hot and explosive their past encounters had all been, she’d have expected him to dive in. Wanted him to dive in.
He didn’t. He kept nuzzling her belly button, slowly bunching up her shirt until he could stick his tongue in her belly ring, then pressed a kiss to the curve of the abdomen she could never get quite flat, making her squirm.
He looked up. “What?”
“Maybe you could concentrate on a more flattering spot.”
“Are you kidding me?” He palmed her belly, his fingers just barely dipping beneath the elastic of the boxers. “I love this spot. It’s one of my favorites.” He pushed her shirt up further, exposing her breasts, which hardened just because he looked at them. “Here are two of my other favorites.” Leaning forward, he put his mouth on one nipple and his fingers on the other, tugging lightly.
She felt her eyes roll back. Then her T-shirt vanished over her head and sailed across the room. Joe kissed his way over to her other breast, his fingers hooking into the elastic banding of her boxers. “I do have a couple of other favorite spots,” he murmured, and tugged. “Want to guess where?”
Her body was both humming and throbbing. She couldn’t talk. She was halfway to orgasmic bliss from nothing more than his mouth and fingers stripping her naked.
“Mmmm,” he murmured, dipping his fingers between her thighs. She was already wet. “Here’s one.”
She managed to pull at his shirt. “Lose this.”
For a guy who was handicapped, he stripped down to his birthday suit so fast she got dizzy. Suddenly she was grateful for the bright slats of light because she loved looking at his amazing body. In fact, she could almost just look and be happy.
Almost.
She pushed him back on the bed and sat on him, bending low to brush kisses over his chest. With a groan, he tunneled his fingers into her hair and pulled her head to his for a long, hot, wet kiss that had her panting for more. Then in one fluid movement he rolled, tucking her beneath him. “There,” he said, and slid his hands up her arms, linking their fingers on either side of her head. “Now you won’t be able to rush me.”
“Rush you?”
“You have a tendency to race for the big bang.” He kissed her shoulder, her throat.
“I like the big bang.”
“You’ll get it.” He bit her jaw lightly. “Eventually.”
He wasn’t kidding. It took him forever. First he skimmed his hands over her, then replaced his fingers with his tongue, by which time she was writhing, begging, panting. He pulled her over the top of him, gripped her hips, and thrust into her with one stroke.
He held her like no other ever had, and when it was over, when she’d collapsed on his chest, gasping for air, sated and replete, he gathered her close and pressed his lips to her damp temple. They lay there for a long, relaxed moment.
“I can go home,” he eventually said. “If that’s what you want.”
Her arms instinctively tightened on him. She wasn’t frightened. She wasn’t lonely either, or under the influence. She just wanted him to stay. An entirely new and not entirely unwelcome feeling. “I want you to stay,” she said, and pressed closer.
Joe woke up with the sun fully risen, the smell of smoke stinging his nostrils and burning his lungs. He sat straight up, the remnants of an old nightmare claiming his senses.
He was alone in Summer’s bed, surrounded by thick, clinging, choking smoke, so dark he couldn’t see past his own nose. “Summer!”
He heard nothing but the ominous sound of flames fueling themselves up, crackling, growing in strength.
Diving out of the bed, he hit the floor, sparing a moment to writhe in agony because he’d forgotten about his foot. As the pain sang up his leg, stabbing into his brain, he lay low trying to get air for his already taxed lungs. “Summer!” he yelled again.
Still nothing but the popping of the flames. He crawled around the foot of the bed and saw the fire had overtaken the hallway and was biting at the bedroom door. He whipped around, back toward the bed, crawling over a shoe, which jabbed into his knee, reminding him that he was naked. Grabbing his jeans from the floor, he wrestled them on and then headed for the window. Up on his knees, he tried to push open the glass but the heat had stressed the wood, and it wouldn’t budge. Whipping around he snatched the blanket off the bed, wrapped his arm in it and punched the window. The fire was so loud behind him as it ate its way into the bedroom, he couldn’t even hear the tinkle of the glass as it fell to the ground outside.
He climbed out of the window and stood barefoot in the planter, surrounded by jagged glass and a burning cottage. “Summer!”
In the early morning light, fire trucks came careening up the street, lights and sirens flashing. Fast as he could, heart in his throat, Joe limped around to the front door. It was engulfed in flames, so he kept going, hopping on his one good foot until he got to the back door. He had to find Summer, but just as he reached for the handle, the door blew out, and he flew backward, knocked flat on his ass by pieces of glass and wood.
Before he could get to his hands and knees, there were three firemen there, holding him back. “She’s still in there!” he yelled. His head was spinning, and something trickled down his temple. “I don’t think she got out!”
“Joe!”
He whipped around and nearly sank to his knees with relief. Summer was racing up the beach. She wore running shorts and a tank, and was breathing as if she’d run miles. She probably had. He tugged free of the hands trying to hold him back from the fire and staggered down the steps, meeting her halfway.
“What happened?” she gasped, staring up at the cottage going up in flames behind him.
“I woke up surrounded by smoke.” He hauled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. She felt like warm, soft woman, and he didn’t think he could let her go. If he did, he was going to fall down. Way down.
She pulled back to see his face and touched his forehead. “You’re cut.”
Now he knew how disconcerting a panic attack could be. He couldn’t breath. “I thought you were—” He couldn’t even say it. Spots danced in his vision, and he had to squint to see through them. He was still shaking from just thinking about what could have happened to her. Or maybe that was from being hit by the exploding front door, but his world began to spin. “Christ.”
“We’ve got to get you to the paramedics.”
He was a little surprised to still be upright because his vision had narrowed to a tunnel. “It’s nothing. Jesus, Red, I thought you were—”
With a soft sound, she wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed close. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake you—I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Again she pulled back and gently touched his face. “I think you singed off an eyebrow.”
He also had a few burns on his bare chest, which had begun to send waves of pain to his brain. Each knee was fairly screwed up as well, but it was his foot that was killing him.
And those damn spots. Ah, hell. They were mingling together, so now his entire view was blurry—
She backed him to the curb. “Sit.” She whipped around to get help.
He opened his mouth to reassure her, but she threw her arms around him and hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe. Could hardly hear—
“I love you,” she whispered in his ear as his head began to buzz. “God, Joe, I love you so much.”
He opened his mouth but everything was spinning wildly. His vision faded. Oh, no. Hell, no. Not now. He wasn’t going to pass out now.
She was still talking to him. He knew this because her lips were moving, her eyes lined with concern and fear, but he couldn’t hear.
And then everything went black.
“Scared the hell out of me,” Kenny said, and sat on Joe’s hospital bed. “Don’t do that again.” He pushed up his glasses. “Not ever again.”
Joe blew out a breath and slowly, carefully sat up. “How long have I been here?”
“You don’t remember?”
The last thing he remembered was passing out in Summer’s arms. Had she really said she loved him? Or had that been just another fantasy? “Fill me in.”
“The cottage is gone. A complete loss.”
“Damn.” Joe shook his head, then groaned and held it on his shoulders. “Note to self, don’t move.”
“Not
with your concussion, I wouldn’t.”
“We’ve got our work cut out for us.”
“We? I’ve already started, on the way over here. Did you know the cottage was Tina’s? Not a business property either, but personal.”
Joe went very still, mostly out of necessity, but some out of shock. “Summer told me the place was Chloe’s roommate’s. I assumed it was owned by the roommate’s family.”
“Nope.”
“Shit.” It all clicked into place with a ferocity that made his head spin. His heart began to pound. “Where’s Summer?”
“Camille and Tina showed up just as you were being forced into the ambulance kicking and screaming.”
“Very funny.”
“Well you didn’t exactly go graciously. They were going to bring her here. They haven’t shown up yet.”
“How long ago?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Joe shoved his sheet aside.
Kenny leaned forward and put a hand on him, holding him down. “What are you doing?”
“Gotta go.”
“Whoa. The doctor said—”
“I’ve figured this thing out.” Joe put his good foot to the floor. “Crutches.”
“Your ass is hanging out—”
“Jesus! Get me some clothes then. Just hurry.”
To Kenny’s credit he did just that. “We’re going to have to break you out of here, you know that, right?”
“Did you hear me say I figured this thing out?”
Kenny handed him his crutches, his face impassive. “Yes.”
“It’s not Camille.”
Kenny stared at him, then let out a slow breath. “I knew that.”
“Get me out of here and I’ll tell you on the way.”
“On the way where?”
“To save Red’s life.”
Chapter 26
How ironic was it that she’d finally told Joe she loved him and he’d passed out before he could hear it? Summer couldn’t believe it. She had to see him, but she looked out the window of her aunt’s car and frowned. They were pulling into the burned-out warehouse instead of heading toward the hospital. “Where are we going?”
Tina got off her cell phone with Bill, turned off the engine, looked somberly at her sister riding shotgun, and then at her niece in the backseat. “I want to finish this first.”