Love Under Fire

by Frances Housden

  She’d been at a bad place in her life while he was in the hospital. She’d gone in regularly after her shift and visited the Intensive Care Unit. Dim and silent except for the rhythmic swoosh of air from ventilators and the rubbery squeak of the night nurses’ shoes, it had seemed a place apart from daily life. Standing there, in the half-dark with guilt churning in her gut, she’d felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. But gradually guilt had been overtaken by the peace of just being with him, and the certainty he would be all right. Would heal.

  The only occasion she’d seen him after that had been Maggie’s wedding and the atmosphere had hardly been conducive for telling Rowan how his being shot had affected her. All she could do was say, “Sorry,” and let it go.

  This wasn’t the place, either. Maybe one day she would tell Rowan how sitting beside him, holding his hand, had helped heal her, too.

  “I suppose we should make a move,” she said without looking at Rowan. She wasn’t used to letting it all hang out. Never had anyone she felt she could trust with her innermost feelings, until now. She’d told him she’d been looking for an honest man. And as her eyes scanned the bay, and beyond it the volcano that hid it from Nicks Landing, she realized she’d found one.

  “I guess you’re right, Bull will be sending out a search party if we don’t get back soon.”

  “That’s it for you now, isn’t it? You’ve got enough to make Rocky’s story sound believable, and you can hop off back to Auckland. Whereas I—”

  “Whereas you?”

  “I still have to find out who these people are, and to be honest, I could do with your help.” The solution had come to her in a flash. A lightbulb moment.

  Rowan’s brows lifted. “In what way can I help? If you’re talking about catching the members of the cult, why do you need me when you have Bull and Shane and a few other assorted cops back in town?”

  “You have the one thing they don’t. A boat. Besides, can you really see Bull and the others creeping stealthily through the bush? They’d hear them coming a mile away.” She stared up at him, considered batting her eyelashes, then decided against it. Sex wasn’t the way to get what she wanted. She’d only end up feeling stupid. Especially if he turned her down. “I just thought how much simpler it would be to come up here by sea on Halloween. Tell me you know how to drive it.”

  For a moment he froze with his hand halfway to his face, but only a moment. Then his fist supported his chin while his thumb brushed the corner of his moustache. She could tell he was considering the idea, but he still didn’t speak.

  “I’m sure I could get you a voucher for gas, so it wouldn’t cost you, but I don’t think I could up the ante to hire the boat. Would your boss object to you taking it out?”

  Rowan’s brows drew together and his eyes narrowed to green shadows. “That’s not the problem. I have the use of the boat and I can drive it. What I want know is how important is this case to you? Do you really need to nail these bastards? It could be dangerous.”

  A buzz of anticipation flowed through her, making her skin tingle with excitement. Rowan was going to help her. She just knew it. “It wouldn’t be too dangerous if we limited our contact to taking photos. Once we’re sure, I could warn Harry, and get some cars to meet them as they leave. There’s only one way out.”

  “How would we get up here?”

  She pulled at his sleeve, impatient now. “Come and look. This is what gave me the idea. If we anchored in the bay, we could climb up the landslip. There’s plenty of trees to hang on to but we’d need to wear gloves.”

  Rowan studied the slip for a few moments. His eyes measured its position and looked farther afield as if comparing a few others. “It’s a fair climb, we’d need a rope.”

  “If you think it’s too steep I could try it on my own as long as you got me here.” Straight off, she knew she’d put it the wrong way. Rowan’s mouth pulled into a narrow line and his hand squeezed hard on his day pack’s strap.

  “I’ve told you there’s nothing wrong with my leg, but we don’t want to go off half-cocked. No sense in getting killed before we can take any photos. And no more acting on impulse, okay? Sure and steady, that’s the way to tackle that slope. We’d better mark this in some way, so I can pick it out from the water.”

  “My parka.” Jo pulled the small bundle of orange nylon from her pack. “Will it be bright enough?”

  “Bright enough?” He rolled his eyes and grinned at her. “I should think they could use it as a beacon to guide planes flying back from the south pole.”

  She looked at her pack. “What can I say? They came as a set. Find me something to tie it on to.”

  They fastened it to a half-grown manuka, waving its arms like some half-pint scarecrow that would glow in the dark.

  “Howzatt?” he asked stepping back to admire their handiwork.

  “Perfect.” Jo slid her arms round his middle as if it were the most natural thing in the world now that they were truly in this together. A team. As for the buzz she got whenever he came near, like the one tingling through every nerve in her body, she had a feeling time would take care of that, now that they had some.

  “I never told you why this was so important to me. I know falsely, I’d been pinning my hopes on proving Rocky did this himself. But since it appears I was wrong, maybe I can salvage something from it. Like catching the real bad guys. A story this weird is bound to make the papers again. And who knows? If Bull takes me off the shoplifting circuit, I might be able to earn a few more brownie points and get back home to Auckland.”

  “I hope you make it,” he said, surprised to find he really meant it. He placed his hands on her shoulders, needing to push her away before she discovered just how much being close to her aroused him. He was rock hard and aching with it, yet his heart squeezed as she leaned forward, her hair brushing his wrist like a silk rope she used to bind him to her. He could feel her breath, damp and warm on the skin at his throat. Then her mouth as she kissed him. Once, twice, three times he felt the slow heat of her lips on him.

  And between each of them she murmured words so soft he had to strain to hear them. Words that almost tore asunder the bonds he had placed on his feelings for Jo.

  “I’m going to miss you when you leave, Rowan. It’ll be like leaving home all over again. Maybe I can visit with you when I come up to Auckland. I have some leave due.”

  How could he say no?

  Chapter 9

  W ere blisters on top of blisters possible?

  Jo did a mental calculation of how many Band-Aids she had in her pack and decided the way her feet felt, there wouldn’t be nearly enough. Gravel rolled under her boots as she quickened her pace across the parking lot, nearly embracing Rowan’s Jag with open arms as the remote key bleeped a welcome. Would Rowan think she was nuts if she kissed his car?

  She was halfway round the bonnet to the passenger side when he said, “You drive.”

  Jo stopped short in surprise, almost missing the keys he’d tossed casually in her direction. A shiver of anticipation snaked up her spine. Rowan trusted her enough to let her drive his car. Oh, boy! This car tempted her like the apple did Eve. All that power under the hood, just waiting to be released by the touch of a hand. Her hand.

  Shortening the distance to the pedals, Jo adjusted the seat, and straightened the back till it fit snugly against her shoulders. She shifted, easing almost sensually into the soft leather and took a deep breath. “Lord, I love that smell.” She took another sniff for good measure, and held it, allowing the earthy smell of new leather to seep into her—bone deep.

  A random memory, a scent, powerfully, muskily male, overlaid the other as the engine began to purr and found an answering echo inside her. Rowan and his car were a good match. They both stirred her senses. She turned and ran her gaze over him, letting the sensations she felt spill over into her smile.

  Rowan shook his head, the wry twist to his mouth reinforcing his words. “If you’ve finished drooling, maybe we could
leave.”

  “Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.” What would he say if he knew he made her mouth water every bit as much as his car? More…

  She put her foot on the gas pedal. The engine growled. She couldn’t resist. “Do you hear that?” She licked her lips wickedly, teasing him. “Hot sex on wheels.”

  His eyebrows rose, feigning an impatience that didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you gonna drive, or do I have to take over?”

  Jo took it easy at first, careful not to spin the wheels and send any gravel flying that might chip the paintwork.

  Her skin prickled lightly as if it glowed from an excess of static in the atmosphere. Not solely her doing. Something new proliferated the air between them. The attraction was a given, but an extra element had been added. The word trust popped into her mind. Yes, that was it. A new trust had grown between them.

  “I really appreciate you letting me get behind the wheel of your new toy.” She turned her eyes, hardly daring to take them off the road. Rowan looked large and safe. Safe to confide in.

  “No problem.”

  She’d opened up back there on the cliff top, told him stuff about herself, about her father. Stuff she’d never discussed with another soul. Not her grandmother. Not her brothers. And Rowan? Well, he’d listened, and he hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t said, “You’re just imagining things.”

  She thought back. The sharing hadn’t all been one-sided. He had told her he’d been brought up in Nicks Landing, and he was staying on a bit longer to help her. What more could she ask?

  Men couldn’t bare their souls as easily as women, but if ever there had been an opportunity to get anything off his chest, like a grudge he’d been holding against her, anything important, that had been the time. “What I really wanted to say, was thanks for trusting me with your car. I know how much these babies cost. And I wanted to say the feeling’s mutual.”

  “It’s what?” Rowan’s shoulders cut out the light from the window, increasing the space separating them. “What’s mutual?”

  “I trust you, too. You’ve always been one of the good guys, Rowan. Honest. Straight. That’s pretty unusual, these days. Believe me I know what I’m talking about.”

  He shrugged, but didn’t respond until she’d taken her gaze off him as they approached a T intersection. “You need to get out more, out of the station and away from the criminal environment. I’m just an average guy, don’t try putting me on a pedestal.”

  Yeah, sure. The average guy goes around saving lives every day of the week and twice on Sundays.

  Jo checked for traffic then took a left. As far as she was concerned his modesty was all part of the same package. And the slight dent in his comfort zone only needed a few gentle taps with a hammer to smooth it out.

  “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I’m not resorting to flattery on the off chance you might change your mind about helping me.”

  Her foot increased its pressure on the gas pedal and the speedometer needle inched closer to the speed limit. “Allied Insurance sure must think a lot of you. I’ll bet they don’t supply many of their employees with cars like this.”

  “Not many.”

  She should have stopped there, but curiosity got the better of her. “I suppose cops aren’t usually in the same league as the Stanhopes, but I guess you’ve known them most of your life.”

  “How did you know?”

  “An intuitive guess. From what I heard, the Stanhope brothers ran pretty freely around Nicks Landing when they were kids. You’re bound to be the same age with at least one of them.”

  Rowan shifted his hips in his seat. The soft leather made the kind of groan she had wanted to, following that denim-covered butt through the bush.

  “Got it in one. I’m the same age as the middle brother.”

  She couldn’t prevent a small, smug grin as a line from a song hummed through her brain. Her thumbs tapped out the beat on the steering wheel and her head moved in time to the rhythm. “I guess my detective genes haven’t completely seized up through lack of use, after all.”

  Under her breath she sang, “I feel good.”

  Only a jerk would choose this moment to disillusion her.

  Rowan felt the weight of Jo’s trust settle like a three-pound brick inside his chest. A weight that would take more than antacids to shift.

  “Where to now?” she asked as they came over the last rise and entered the outskirts of Nicks Landing.

  The small town looked almost beautiful from this distance, spread out before them like a block-patterned quilt. Hard on the heels of the thought, he experienced a moment of nostalgia. He’d stayed away from it for years, but it wasn’t the town he hated…only the memories of his last few years there.

  “We can go pick up your car, or carry on into town and your office. Makes no difference to me.”

  Jo had left her hair loose on the walk back, and as she turned to smile it skimmed her shoulders, sending a drift of evocative fragrance in his direction. He quieted an urge to reach out and twist the black rope of hair round his hand, just for the feel of it. Yeah, he’d like that, though he couldn’t deny it would bring that mischievous smile close enough to taste.

  “You know what?” she said with a naughty smirk. “I’m going straight to the station house. Bull and Jake might just catch a glimpse of me driving your car. Now wouldn’t that be something.”

  “You think they’ll care?”

  “Jake will. He’s always going on about fast cars and what he’ll do when he owns one. You wouldn’t begrudge me a little female chauvinistic one-upmanship, would you?”

  He couldn’t begrudge her anything. That was his problem. For the past two years he’d convinced himself he was doing great without her in his life. Well, maybe not great, but okay.

  He’d been back home just three days and already he’d given up an opportunity to escape to the city, back to where it was safe.

  One taste, one kiss and he’d given up the fight like a wimp. Hell, he’d been fooling himself back there in the bush. Fooling them both with tales of being bedeviled.

  The devil made me do it. What a crock!

  But he still wasn’t ready to admit what had driven him.

  Temptation…oh yeah.

  The word echoed. Temptation. Not from inside his head, but seated somewhere deep inside his chest. He tried blowing a sharp puff of air through his nostrils to clear his system.

  “All right, Jo. Let’s go make Jake jealous.”

  Entering the station house with Rowan following behind her, Jo felt happier than she had in a long time. A very long time.

  Even the knowledge that saving her father’s reputation had once more been put on hold, couldn’t dull her exuberance.

  On hold didn’t mean the same as giving up.

  From the look Seth slanted at her from behind the reception counter, he’d seen her drive up. And she knew that if Rowan hadn’t been there, he’d have pestered her with questions.

  Rowan was at her shoulder. She turned to look up at him, inches shorter in the comfortable sneakers she’d changed into. “Do you want to go straight upstairs and work out our plans, or would you rather check in with your old mate, Harry, first?” She punched the code into the lock.

  What Rowan might have answered was lost in the shuffle as Seth called her back to reception before they’d gone through the door.

  “Jo, Rocky Skelton left a message for you.”

  Rowan held the door open by pressing his palm against it at shoulder level, but kept watching her. As she felt his eyes on her, she realized this had long since stopped being her case alone; she no longer resented him being seconded to help her. They really had become partners, a team. And it felt good. Better than good, terrific.

  “What’s the message, then? Did forensics find some brimstone in the ashes of Rocky’s house?” She heard the sarcasm, heard the sharpness, residue from her grudge against the old scumbag. Two years of hoping to nail Rocky couldn’t be canceled just like that. Old grievances didn’t disap
pear overnight.

  What a surprise.

  The acid in her voice slid right off Seth. Working in reception on a regular basis, it took a lot to faze him. “Rocky didn’t say. Just told me he wanted to see you the moment you got back.”

  She turned on her heels. If she hadn’t been wearing sneakers they would have signaled her displeasure. Rocky had taken the edge off her good humor. Who was he to make demands on her time?

  Rowan took one look at her face and said, “Your prejudice is showing.”

  “You’re right.” Her nose twitched at the precise moment she realized her arms were folded across her chest. Swell, her ambivalence was crying out; her mouth said yes but her body language was on the defensive. “Are you gonna come with me? Or leave me to get uptight on my own?”

  Rowan read her like a book, a book in need of diversion. “I’m with you, partner,” he said with a wink, and took a shot at her with an index finger.

  It worked. She responded with a feigned cuff on the chin. “Well, at least I’ve got one on my side.”

  She studied the back of her knuckles where the scrape of his beard lingered. He already needed a shave. Her nostrils flared slightly. There was something utterly masculine about a man who needed to shave twice a day. She looked up at him through her lashes and studied his face covertly.

  That moustache. On a reflex, her tongue slipped out and tentatively feathered her top lip. Yeah, the jury was still out on that one. If it hadn’t been for the facial hair—and the kiss—she could have pretended nothing had changed. That they were both home in Auckland.

  Wrong.

  Remembering her old life, the way things had been. That was partly what had spoiled her stay in Nicks Landing. But right this moment, right now, she wasn’t sure if she’d swap.

  The time of day was late afternoon, but in the Hard Luck Inn, darkness drew itself around the interior as if night had fallen. They entered to the usual clash of heavy-metal music. It reverberated through the souvenir bike parts like wind rustling autumn leaves.

  Jo’s senses were at high pitch and as soon as they crossed the threshold, the buzz in the air prickled the hairs on her arms.