Holding Strong

by Lori Foster

  “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod...”

  “Are you okay?” He brushed Cherry’s hair back and in the process dislodged an enormous praying mantis that took flight. Luckily she didn’t seem to realize. “Cherry?”

  Face pale with shock, she looked at the car—and screamed again. Denver turned to see a brown-and-black snake, probably four feet long, slithering across the street.

  “Shit.” He gave Cherry a squeeze. “Go get me a rake or something, and maybe a garbage can with a lid, or at least a garbage bag.”

  She blinked big dazed eyes at him. “Your head is bleeding!”

  “It’s fine.”

  “But...”

  “Shh.” Again he squeezed her shoulders. “I’m sorry, girl, but I don’t know if those snakes are dangerous or not, so I need you to hustle up and get what I need.”

  Hand to her heart, Cherry closed her eyes as she nodded, sucked in a breath, then ran up the driveway to the garage.

  From the front door Merissa yelled, “I called Cannon.”

  Great. Just freaking great. “Thanks,” Denver called back to her. He searched the ground and found a small fallen branch that he used to corral the biggest snakes. There were maybe ten of them that were larger than the others, and they were testy and uncooperative. Denver barely kept them from getting away.

  Some of the smaller ones made it into the grass and down the street drain; nothing he could do about that. He didn’t want to kill anything, not even a snake, if he didn’t have to.

  Looking like she faced the gallows, Cherry ventured forth with the requested items. She held the garbage can lid in front of her like a shield. She kept whispering, “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” in a terrified litany.

  “Leave everything right there,” Denver told her, rather than have her come any closer.

  “I...I should help.”

  “No, I’ve got it.” He used his forearm to swipe the blood off his face.

  Still, she gulped and inched toward him. “Here. I brought you a washcloth for your head. Are you sure you’re not badly hurt?”

  His heart swelled, both with love and pride. Clearly the girl had some issues when it came to creepy-crawlies, but she forced herself to be brave. “The bugs flew off,” he promised her as he took the cloth and swabbed at his head. “And yeah, I’m fine. Just a split.”

  “I’m so sorry I startled you.”

  “You had good reason.” He accepted the rake from her and worked to keep the snakes together. One particularly aggressive snake tried to come at them, sending Cherry scurrying back with a frantic gasp. Denver pinned it with the rake, then put the lid over it.

  Luckily, Armie pulled up with Cannon. Both of them jumped from Armie’s truck, looking at the twisting snakes with morbid awe. “Damn,” Armie said after a peek in the car.

  “You’re okay?” Cannon asked when he saw the blood on Denver.

  “Banged my head.” He was so furious he could barely get the words out. “It’s fine.”

  “And you?” he asked Cherry.

  She gave a short nod. Denver didn’t miss the fear in her eyes, the paleness of her face, or her determination to help.

  With only a few more questions, both men got to work helping Denver get the snakes in the can.

  Over his shoulder, wanting her away from the proof of Carver’s obsession, Denver asked Cherry, “Would you have Merissa call the cops?”

  From a safe distance away, Merissa said, “Already done. I called animal control, too. They’re sending someone who’s a rodent expert or something.”

  With the majority of the snakes in the can, Denver went to check out Cherry’s car. Now that they’d been stirred up, bugs flew around inside, hitting the windows, clinging to the seats. The floorboards were alive with impatient, slithering snake bodies; he had no idea how many.

  Had this happened while she’d been at his house?

  Armie strode up beside him. “Totally fucked-up. They had to have brought in a shit-ton of snakes and insects.”

  “I’ll tow it,” Cannon said, and he looked more than pissed himself. “We can open it up along the river or something once we know if those snakes are poisonous.”

  “I recognized some of them,” Armie said. “The big boy was a rat snake. Intimidating, but not all that harmful.” Grim, he ran a wrist across his brow. “Pretty sure I saw a cottonmouth in there, though, and those suckers are scary.”

  Holding the lid on the can, Cannon frowned at the obvious movement inside. “Will they attack each other?”

  Denver shrugged. “Better than having them loose.” He wanted to rage. He wanted to find Carver and demolish him. But he saw Cherry standing back at the curb, Merissa beside her, huddled close.

  “There’s nothing else to do but wait. Why don’t you two head inside? We’ll be there in a minute.”

  Cherry nodded and started in. Merissa inched toward them.

  Low, so neither of the girls would hear, Denver whispered, “This wasn’t just a prank.”

  “No,” Cannon agreed, and the fact that it had happened in front of his sister’s house surely made it as personal for him as it was for Denver.

  Suddenly, Merissa shrieked and they all jerked around to see a massive bug buzzing around her head. Like a giant flying cockroach, it terrorized her.

  Cherry was already inside, thank God.

  Slapping at herself and making crazy noises, Merissa ran for her brother. The bug stayed in pursuit—and landed on her shoulder.

  “Ack!”

  That really set her off, and Denver winced in sympathy when she caught the back of Cannon’s shirt and almost jerked him off his feet.

  Since Cannon held the lid on the can and no one wanted the snakes getting loose again, Armie intercepted Merissa, hugged her tight to still her chaotic movement, and swatted the bug away. It dropped to the ground, kicked its many legs, and subsided.

  Clearly, Merissa didn’t realize the bug was dead given how she continued to yelp and high-step and flail her arms.

  “Rissy,” Armie said, drawing her away from Cannon again. “It’s gone.”

  “Where? Where?” Now it was Armie she tried to crawl behind, twisting and jumping.

  “Rissy,” Cannon said, his tone controlled. “It’s okay now, hon. It’s dead.”

  “How do you know? Did you kill it?”

  Armie grinned as he pulled her back around in front of him. “I think you screamed it to death.”

  She saw the bug, shuddered in squeamish distaste, and hid her face. Using the side of his shoe, Armie kicked it away.

  Indulgent, he cupped her shoulder. “Now you can’t even see it.”

  She peeked from between her fingers, saw it was true, and dropped her arms to glare at Armie. “Are you laughing at me?”

  He smiled, smoothed her hair, and said in a soft, husky whisper, “Just a little.”

  In the next second, awareness sparked between them.

  Denver saw it. Maybe Cannon did, too, given the way his brows slowly climbed up.

  And suddenly Merissa smooshed her entire body up close to Armie and buried her face in his neck. “Thank you.”

  Holding his arms out to his sides, Armie said, “Uh...”

  Cannon shook his head, gave Denver a look, and began dragging the can of snakes to the driveway. “I’m taking Rissy home with me tonight. I don’t want her staying here alone.”

  Denver didn’t want that, either. And since he was the one taking Cherry away, he offered, “I could stay here with both of them.”

  “No.”

  Understanding that Cannon wanted to ensure his sister’s safety himself, Denver nodded. “I’m going in to check on Cherry.”

  “All right.” They both looked back to see Armie slowly, cautiously, put his arms around Merissa. Cannon’s expression seemed more thoughtful than anything else. “I’ve never seen Rissy freak out like that before.”

  “It was a gargantuan bug,” Denver reasoned. “Most girls carry on over bugs.”

  “Rissy
isn’t like most girls.” Cannon continued to watch his sister and Armie, especially now that Armie wasn’t looking so uncomfortable, had in fact embraced her and was stroking her back. The arrival of a police car finally interrupted.

  Cannon told Denver, “Go check on Cherry, maybe patch up your head, clean up the blood. I’ll field this until you get back.”

  But it wasn’t the officer he headed to. It was his sister.

  And his best friend.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DENVER FOUND HER just inside the front door, leaning back on the wall, her arms tight around herself, her eyes closed and her lashes damp.

  Seeing her like that made the rage worse, turning it into a live thing inside him. He worked his jaw, sucked a slow breath in through his nose. Hoping to shield her from everything he felt, he kept a few feet between them. “I’ll fix your car, but from here on out I’m driving you.”

  Her eyes opened and she swallowed hard. “Thank you. I know I should insist on driving myself—”

  “Damn it—”

  “—but truthfully, I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back in that car.”

  Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded.

  “I have this...thing about bugs. Any bugs. But spiders...” She shuddered. “Things that fly...”

  “And snakes,” he agreed. “I’m sorry you were so scared. I should have checked the car first.”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  “I should have fucking checked anyway.” He breathed harder, the anger blossoming no matter how he tried to tamp it down. “You’re moving in with me.”

  She stared at him, her eyes flared.

  Well, hell. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out like an order. What he said sounded...permanent, not a temporary solution to a bad situation. But fuck it. He wouldn’t take it back.

  Actually, now that he’d said it, he liked the idea. “Move in with me.”

  “I—” She stopped. Shook her head and strode to the kitchen. “I can’t do this. I can’t let Carver twist your arm and make you do things you don’t want to do.”

  Still running on angry adrenaline, Denver followed close behind her. He wanted to deny that Carver had any influence, but they’d both see the lie in that. Instead he reiterated more harshly than he intended, “You’re moving in.”

  Indignation stiffened her neck while she dampened paper towels in the sink. “I can barely afford this place. No way can I afford both.”

  Jesus, he wanted to shout. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Going on tiptoe, she carefully cleaned the blood away from his face and temple, being especially gentle near the cut. “I split costs with Rissy, already.”

  He caught her wrist. “I don’t want your money!”

  Righteous with her own anger, she jerked free. “I don’t freeload!”

  From bad to worse. Denver ran a hand over his face. “I never said—”

  She pushed his hand aside and went back to cleaning on him, this time not so gently. “I don’t make enough to add anything else to my already strained budget. After being sick and missing work, things are tight already.”

  Now that really pissed him off. He stared at her, willing her to meet his gaze instead of focusing on a superficial injury. “If you need money, why didn’t you tell me?”

  She gasped so hard he felt it on his face. The wet towels got tossed at him. “I would never come to you for money!”

  He drew back from her vehemence. They stared at each other, her heaving, him reevaluating. He had to get a grip. Fast.

  It took an effort but he took charge of himself and the situation. “There are some facts we can’t overlook, number one being that Carver is getting bolder. You’re smart, Cherry. You know it’s not safe for you to be alone.”

  She rubbed her forehead, saying nothing.

  Denver drew her hand down, then held it. “I want you, not your money. Number two, staying with me doesn’t obligate you to invest.”

  “I pay my own way.”

  The desperation in that statement helped him to relent. Her pride was important to her, and right now so many things were out of her control. She needed to know she still had the final say over her life. “If it makes you feel better, you could pitch in on groceries and stuff. Whatever it takes, I want you safe, with me.”

  When she continued to scrutinize him, he had to swallow back a growl.

  “Call it temporary if that’ll make you feel better. But stay with me.” Always.

  And still she waffled. Denver had the awful suspicion that she tried to think of alternatives.

  “Should I go to my knees?”

  At his tone, confusion filled her expression. “You’re angry?”

  Damn. He picked up the discarded towels, finished the cleaning himself, and strode to the trash can to throw them away. He took a second to collect himself, then faced her again. “I’m sorry. It’s just...”

  She nodded stiffly. “Me, too.”

  “I care for you, Cherry.”

  Her gaze shot up to his.

  He drew a slow breath, wishing he could say more, but damn, given how she’d reacted to his invitation he didn’t dare start declaring himself. “If you’re not with me, I’ll be distracted when I should be focusing on my training.”

  She covered her mouth.

  He hated laying on the guilt when she already had too much of that, but he’d do whatever it took to see her secure. “So please, will you move in with me?”

  She stared up at him so long he started to sweat.

  Then she took his hands—and he realized he was shaking.

  She realized it, too. “Okay. For a little while.”

  Forever, if he had his way. But for now that’d do. Drawing her into his chest, he carefully crushed her close. “I’m sorry I shouted.” He held her back again. “You know I would never hurt you.”

  “Of course I do.”

  But she looked so emotionally brittle, so stoic. “I should be horsewhipped for losing my temper.”

  “Denver.” She smoothed her hands over his chest, then hugged him tight. “You had reason to get angry.”

  “I wasn’t angry with you.”

  She gave a shaky smile. “I know that.”

  He wasn’t convinced. He’d already hurt her once, shouting at the gym, embarrassing her. He was determined to never do it again.

  “I screamed,” she reminded him. “You yelled. Different reactions to the same upset.”

  Now he frowned. “I wasn’t upset.”

  “Is that word somehow insulting?”

  Damn straight. “I was pissed, girl. Not upset.”

  Patting his chest, she said, “Okay, sure.”

  Denver rolled his eyes in disbelief. “Now you’re placating me.”

  “Yes. Because you’re being silly.”

  “Silly?”

  That made her outright laugh. And once she did, Denver’s lips twitched, too. Seeing how quickly she regrouped again made him proud.

  God, the things she made him feel, most of them nice, some of them disturbing as shit. But he wouldn’t trade any of it. In fact, the feelings were growing on him.

  In direct contrast to the humor, he said, “When I get hold of Carver, I’m going to rip him apart.” He needed her to know that.

  Instead of replying, she gestured at the door. “I can’t go back out there just yet.”

  Denver held her to him. “You don’t have to.”

  Merissa opened the door and stepped in with Armie right behind her, his arm around her shoulders, the two of them in low, intimate conversation.

  Together, Denver and Cherry stared.

  With a sigh, Merissa stepped away from Armie, but immediately wrapped her arms around herself. Her gaze sought Cherry’s. “I am soooo creeped out.”

  Cherry nodded. “Me, too.”

  “I’m going to put on coffee.” Merissa started for the kitchen. “Then I’m going to pack. Until that jerk is gone, I’ll be staying somewhere else.”
>
  Denver leaned down to whisper to Cherry, “She’ll be staying with Cannon. He insisted.”

  Looking even more shamefaced, she joined her friend. “Rissy, I am so sorry.”

  “Why?” Merissa got the coffee from the cabinet. “You didn’t invite him here.”

  “But it’s because of me—”

  “No, it’s because he’s a certifiable lunatic.” Merissa looked at Armie, then pulled Cherry close to whisper. The two women stayed like that, huddled in close conversation, occasionally glancing at the men.

  Denver nudged a mesmerized Armie toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  With a lagging step, Armie went. “I’m fucked,” he muttered low enough that the women wouldn’t hear.

  “Or,” Denver said, “you could just go with it.”

  But Armie wasn’t listening. He was too busy trying to ignore what he felt. Denver could have told him that wouldn’t work, but he figured it was something Armie would have to work out for himself—hopefully before it was too late.

  * * *

  HOURS LATER, DENVER and Cherry finally got to bed. Neither of them said anything for the longest time. The evening had been grueling. The animal control specialist agreed it’d be safer to have the car towed before inspecting it for other pests, especially since, as Armie had said, at least one of the snakes had been venomous. Given the ability to hide up under seats and other nooks and crannies, it was determined that the interior might need to be dismantled to some degree.

  Denver had already decided she needed to replace it. Somehow he’d talk her into selling it, and letting him help with a new ride. That was a topic for another day, though.

  The cop had tried suggesting an elaborate prank, but he didn’t sound convinced, especially when they explained about Cherry’s foster brothers being in town. It helped that Cannon gave Lieutenant Peterson a call.

  Surprising Denver, the lieutenant showed up and then stuck around to talk to everyone. Cherry promised her that she’d let her know if any of them contacted her again.

  They couldn’t prove the brothers had anything to do with the latest harassment, but the lieutenant was more than willing to call it probable. Knowing she was on the case offered a little more reassurance. But since no one knew where to find the bastards, there was only so much the cops could do.