by C. A. Szarek
She was hit twice that he could see, and the darker—almost black—stain on her lower abdomen told him her liver was nicked.
Bran’s chest heaved as she struggled to breathe, but her eyes zoned in on his face. “J-J-Joe.”
“Babe. Don’t talk. It’ll be okay,” Joe choked.
Pop, pop—over and over—joined the heavier sounds of Moose’s gun, reverberating in Joe’s head, but he didn’t care.
“Joe…” Her hand shook, but Bran managed to drag two fingertips down his cheek. “Joe…”
“Bran, please.” He grabbed her hands, kissing bloody knuckles. Joe started shaking and bit down until pain shot into his gums, but he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t hurting as bad as she was.
“I love you. Always…loved…you…” Her eyes drifted closed. Bran’s body went slack in his arms, on his lap, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
Joe was crying like a pussy when he should’ve been trying to save his ass. He couldn’t move.
A gurgled grunt took his attention and Moose’s huge form landed in a heap next to the L-shape kitchen counter.
His buddy didn’t move.
Blood started to pool beneath him, half on linoleum and half soaking into filthy, torn carpet.
“Moose!” Joe gently pushed Bran off his lap at the same time the door of the trailer exploded.
Wood splinters flew through the air like the bullets that still hadn’t stopped.
“There you are!” Carter Bennett’s voice grated down Joe’s spine. “Lookie lookie, I got two traitors outta three the first try. Go me.” The voice was amused.
Anger boiled up from Joe’s gut. He grabbed his forty out from under his pillow. Aimed straight at Carter’s chest.
“Yeah, here I am.” He pulled the trigger of his Glock. Kept pulling it until the bastard dove behind the ratty couch in the living room of the mobile home. “Fucking. Coward.”
God, I hope I hit him.
His gaze darted over his fallen lover and friend.
Joe had to leave Bran and Moose.
Now.
Carter was alone, as far as he could tell. At least—there were no other guns being fired.
Joe sprinted to the door his former right-hand-man had kicked to smithereens. Pain in his chest threatened to cripple him, but he forced one foot in front of the other.
Bran would want him to survive.
Due to his ex-friend’s perpetual limp, he had a chance to get away. Joe would always be able to outrun Carter.
The man’s shout didn’t give him pause, but more gunshots did.
He tucked and rolled, sprinting low around the edge of the crappy trailer they’d been staying in.
Joe needed to move.
Faster.
The old mobile home park might be abandoned, but it wasn’t far from civilization—the gunshots would be heard.
Police would be called.
Jared.
Joe ignored his brother’s name bouncing around in his head. The name of this game was survival.
He needed to disappear.
Away from Carter and Jared.
Heavy footfalls made a tremor shoot down his spine until his teeth chattered. He cursed the quake in his limbs.
“Joe-Joe! Where are you, Joey-Joe? I know you couldn’t have gone far.” The asshole whistled as his boots crunched the gravel. The step was slow, meticulous. Carter’s voice was jovial, as if he hadn’t just killed Bran and Moose.
Joe’s throat started to close and his gut clenched.
No.
He couldn’t think of her blood covering his shirt and jeans. Or the light fading from her dark eyes. How her weight had become heavy in his arms.
Fuck.
His heart thundered, threatening to pop out of his chest, while blood rushed against his temples, making him dizzy.
She’s dead.
Maybe he should call to Carter, turn himself in. Beg for the bastard to finish him off.
Bran would want me to live.
The sound of Carter’s boots picked up speed, sprinting by. But he still only heard one set.
Where’re Rick, Mack and Rowdy? Did the fucker kill them, too?
If Carter had overheard Rick and Joe on the phone—or discovered it later, it didn’t bode well for his friends. It also explained Carter’s appearance in Texas. But Joe hadn’t told Rick exactly where they were. Obviously his ex-right-hand-man had figured it out.
God, please don’t let that be the reason Rick didn’t call.
“I’m gonna kill this fucker,” he muttered.
Joe slid under a ratty trailer that had a gap in the aluminum skirting big enough to fit his body.
Carter called his name a few more times, but the voice sounded as if it was moving farther away, instead of closer.
Good.
His friend was retreating.
He waited, knowing better than to come into view before he was sure Carter had left the area.
However, he didn’t have much time.
No doubt sirens—and uniforms—were imminent.
Joe crushed his eyes shut and lay on the cool concrete slab in the dark. He bounced his head off the rough surface a few times. All that resulted was a resounding throb in his temples.
He couldn’t calm his racing thoughts or his heart. His whole body still shook. Joe hurt more than he ever had in his life. Even worse than when that bastard foster father had molested him at age fourteen. He’d gone to the fucker over and over so Daddy dearest would leave then nine-year-old Jared alone. That had been their deal, and the bastard had agreed. His little brother had never suffered like that at the fucker’s hands—thank God.
Joe had never told a soul—not even Bran.
Refused to accept that particular headfuck was one of the reasons he hadn’t been able to take the Mannings’ love and hold it dear.
He’d had to get out of Dodge. At least he’d made sure Jared was safe with the people who’d eventually adopted him.
With a curse, he pushed himself up, splaying his hands. The concrete bit his palms, but Joe clung to the sting.
All his cash was in that POS trailer.
He could go back, right?
Grab the black duffle, hightail it away.
Bran’s…body…was in that shitty trailer. Moose, too.
Guilt ate at Joe’s gut.
He’d got her killed. Got his long-time friend killed, too.
He inched out from under the old mobile home, sticking to the far end and listening until his head hurt even more.
No Carter. No gunfire.
He had seconds. Joe needed to go grab the money.
The wail of one siren then two more, coming closer, changed his mind. He couldn’t see the cruisers yet, but he wasn’t about to wait around so they’d see him, either.
However, Joe was able to spot the refection of red and blue lights making the tree canopy look like it was spinning.
“Son of a bitch!”
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
Chapter Twelve
Her stomach fluttered when she saw the tall figure leaning on the huge black Ford truck, arms crossed over his impossibly broad chest.
So, he’d meant it when he said wasn’t going away. Crap.
Mel tried to ignore him, but she stole a glance at his long muscular legs encased in dark jeans.
Bad idea.
It only made her remember them naked and entwined. Something she’d been trying to forget about since last Tuesday.
Em and Val gasped collectively from behind her.
Rapid clicking of high heels shouted as they hurried to their vehicles.
Traitors.
Not even a goodbye as tires squealed their way out of the parking lot.
Jared cleared his throat when she put the key in her driver side door, but Mel still did her best to pretend he wasn’t there.
Of course, his truck was next to her SUV.
“Mel.”
Her real name on his lips made her whole body
flush. She sucked in a breath and tried to glare. “What are you, a stalker? I’m gonna call the police.”
Their gazes locked and her heart stuttered. Even the smirk on his face was gorgeous. She melted a little and couldn’t look way from the dark brown depths in front of her.
“Baby, I am the police.”
“Seriously? Is that your idea of a pick-up line?”
Jared was at her side in seconds. Grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Thought we’d established I didn’t need one of those with you.” His expression was sincere, despite his playful words. “Go out with me.”
“No.” A tremor shot down her spine.
“Why not?”
Because I’ll end up in your bed again.
Mel would never admit that to him. Not when he was looking at her like that. “We have nothing in common.”
His eyes bored into her until her core warmed and throbbed. She knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.
“I think we both know how wrong you are about that. The night we met proves how good we are together.”
In bed.
He didn’t have to add those words. Mel shivered anyway. “There’s more to life than sex.”
“Right.” Jared nodded. “Which is why I want you to go out with me.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest.
Mel squirmed, but her traitorous body moved into him instead of away. “No.” The stupid word exited her tongue like a half-moan.
“I can’t get you out of my head, Mel,” he whispered into her hair and her stomach flip-flopped.
Don’t say my name.
The demand was never born, and his words alone were enough to turn her into a puddle and make her beg for him. But she resisted. Wiggled for him to let her go.
When Jared’s mouth crashed down on hers, Mel stilled—her hands on his hard pecs—and kissed him back without hesitation.
She couldn’t help it.
Her whole body tingled, warmth spreading down her limbs and settling low in her belly. Her sex pulsed, begging for him.
Their tongues danced, twined and dueled. She wrapped her arms around him when her legs wobbled, but Jared held her closer, pinning her to his chest.
He kissed her harder, making her head spin. Desire melted her, and Mel squeezed her arms around his neck, needing to meld into him.
What is this man doing to me?
She’d never reacted like this to David’s kiss.
Breathing was difficult, but she didn’t want to stop kissing him. Couldn’t stop.
Jared reached down, squeezing her bottom with both hands, rocking his hips. His erection ground into her pelvis, and it wasn’t nearly enough.
She wanted to lift his shirt and run her hands over his defined lines like she’d done the night they’d been together. Touch him, kiss him then have him inside her.
Wait.
That’d been the alcohol, right?
She’d been upset about David and had had too much to drink.
No.
So it wasn’t the alcohol.
Jared’s kiss was just as potent sober.
Oh, crap.
Mel was in trouble.
She yanked away and slipped out of his arms, swiping her hand across her mouth. Tried to glare. “No, Detective. That is all you want from me, and it’s not going to happen again. Forget it.” She couldn’t bring herself to declare being with him was a mistake, because it hadn’t been.
Darn it.
Jared shook his head and reached for her, but Mel scooted back until her ass hit her SUV’s door.
His wide shoulders drooped, expression fell, but she refused to fall for it.
“That’s not all I want from you. I want to spend time with you, Mel.”
“No.” She didn’t buy it for a second. He was hot. He could have anyone he wanted. Jared was a cop, for God’s sake.
Mel wouldn’t be anyone’s booty call. David had made her into that, cheating. On her, but with her, too. He’d married someone else. Had a son and another child on the way.
She’d been the other woman and hadn’t even known.
“Yes. Seriously, Mel. I wanted to kiss you, and I won’t apologize. But I didn’t mean for things to get carried away like that.”
“Stop saying my name.”
“Why?” His dark eyebrows drew tight.
Because it melts me.
“Just…leave me alone. I won’t go out with you. What happened between us was a mistake. I-I-I won’t do it again.” She wrenched the Kia’s door open and climbed inside, not even taking a moment to fix her bunched skirt. Mel averted her gaze from the hurt in his brown eyes.
Hurt?
She shook her head as he stood, facing her car. Sucked in a breath and started the SUV, then drove off without hesitation.
Mel didn’t look back.
* * * *
Jared watched her go, his stomach twisting. His cock throbbed, but he ignored it.
Something that suspiciously felt like hurt washed over him.
She’d turned him down.
Since when does a woman turn me down?
Especially after he’d rocked her world the night they’d been together.
Mel.
Not Renee. Mel. Melody Renee Nash.
Kindergarten teacher. His partner’s kid’s teacher.
“No wonder she seemed innocent.”
He was torn between feeling like a skeeze for taking her home that night and aching even more because he still wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted a woman. Especially one he’d already had.
Was her rejection the appeal?
No.
Jared was dying to be around her. Not just for sex.
He shouldn’t have kissed her like that, but he hadn’t been able to help it.
When he’d seen her at the classroom doorway, he’d wanted to knock his partner out of the way to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him.
His one-time lover, whom he’d just discussed with Cole, was right before his eyes?
Ethan’s teacher?
No. Way.
Antioch wasn’t that big, after all.
She doesn’t want you, so it doesn’t matter.
Why did his gut ache?
Why do you care?
“You need to get laid.” But Jared didn’t buy the whisper even before it greeted his ears.
There were tons of numbers in his cell. Old lovers he could call if he needed a quick romp. If he’d wanted that—really wanted that—he would’ve made a phone call already.
For some reason, he wanted to empty out his contacts. Hit delete on every damn female name. But he wanted to add one number he certainly didn’t have.
Her kiss was just as sweet as before.
Mel’s body fit his, like they were lost pieces from a puzzle.
Jared closed his eyes, took a deep breath, forcing clean chilly air into his lungs. Maybe it would cool his ardor.
October and November had been unseasonably warm, but Mother Nature had embraced December with a vengeance. Unusually frigid for North Texas.
His cell phone screamed from his pocket.
“Fuck.” He jumped as he swiped his thumb across the touchscreen and put it to his ear. “Manning.”
“Hey, it’s me.” His partner’s voice was even, but had an urgent edge to it. Jared was familiar with that tone after working with Cole Lucas for the past two and a half years.
“What’s wrong?” He squared his shoulders.
“I need you to meet me and Carrigan at the old trailer park.”
“What happened?”
“We got two warm ones.”
“Okay, on my way.” His hand shook as he ended the call and dumped his cell back into his jeans.
God, please, don’t let one of them be Joe.
At least work would distract him from Mel.
Maybe.
Chapter Thirteen
Jared was twitchy the whole drive over to the old trailer park, and it ha
d nothing to do with stolen kisses from a certain teacher he couldn’t get out of his mind.
What am I walking into?
He should’ve pressed his partner on the phone.
Then again, he didn’t want to know.
He clenched his jaw and sucked in the hundredth fortifying breath of the last few hours. It did nothing to calm him.
Get it—and keep it—together.
Carrigan and Lucas were standing outside the trailer closest to the dilapidated old office, chatting with Sergeant Shannon Crowley on the small front yard.
Weird. Crowley’s not supposed to be on for another two hours.
Maybe he’d relieved the day sergeant because working a murder scene would take a while. Jared half-expected the shift lieutenant to show up, unless Cole had called Lieutenant Chloe Stein off. She’d been recently promoted and was in charge of the evening shift.
It was always up to the on-call detective—or whoever was working the case—to decide who ran the scene.
Crowley was capable, and Jared’s partner knew that.
He pulled his truck up next to Lucas’s blue Dodge Challenger, parked in front of the former office building. The modern-day muscle car was between two cruisers. There were two more marked police cars in the perimeter of the trailer lot.
Jared didn’t see Carrigan’s Impala.
She musta rode with Cole. Poor guy.
He frowned as he took in the rotting door of the office’s small structure. It was falling apart. It resembled a cabin, but the faux-wood façade was cheap siding and missing in multiple spots. Pieces even lay where they’d fallen on the sidewalk surrounding the place. The two small windows were boarded up, destroying any sign of welcome that might’ve once been there.
Jared stared at the curved, decorative door handle.
Has someone tampered with it?
It was too dim to tell, but the door looked as if someone had forced it open.
“Probably wasn’t recent.” He snorted at himself and filed the info away for later. He doubted it was pertinent to the murders.
Although he and Cole hadn’t caught a case out here in a while, two of his fellow detectives—Sully and Jamison—had chased yet another small-time meth dealer off the property a few weeks ago. They’d only been able to catch and arrest two guys, but the thugs had given them dirt on a bigger fish out of Dallas, so who knew. Maybe they’d be able to keep the trash out of here this time.