Devlin's Grace

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  “The truck’s out of control,” he said. “I wanted to get us out of the way.”

  Just ahead, the red taillights of the big rig swung in wild arcs and Devlin shouted. “No!”

  Gracie watched with horror as the truck caught up to a mini-van driving at the speed limit. Without ever slowing, the rig struck the back of the van and spun it around. The sound of the impact boomed loud, followed by the eerie sound of breaking glass. A woman screamed and as they stared, orange flames bloomed beneath the hood of the truck, now buried deep into the wreckage of the mini-van.

  “Shit,” Devlin said.

  A single figure climbed out of the passenger side, a woman in a dress hanging past her knees and hair piled high on her head. She screeched over and over something Gracie couldn’t make out, but apparently Devlin did.

  “Oh, fuck,” he cried. “She’s got kids in the van.”

  Before Gracie could say a word or react, Devlin thrust the car door open. He ran in a low crouch across the grass, over the pavement where other vehicles were just beginning to stop, moving straight for the accident. Gracie realized what he meant to do, and she cried out with wordless horror. “Don’t, Devlin!” She chanted it over and over. Tears streamed down her face, and she wrenched the door open so fast she almost fell out onto the grass.

  Black smoke streamed from the truck’s engine, and she inhaled the stench of burning oil. Somewhere Gracie smelled diesel fuel, too. “Devlin!” She screamed with all the volume she could muster. “Devlin!”

  He paused, fifteen feet away, halfway to the burning truck. “Stay in the car, Gracie! Go back!”

  “I can’t,” she hollered. “Devlin!”

  Devlin turned and sprinted toward the fire. She ran after him, the soles of her shoes slapping against the pavement. Fear devoured her, ate her heart and gnawed her belly until it hurt. By the time she reached ten feet back from the flames, the heat became so intense she didn’t go forward.

  Devlin donned a pair of heavy leather gloves someone handed him and approached the van. On the other shoulder of the road, the woman screamed about her children while two other onlookers held her in place.

  With shock and awe, Gracie stared at Devlin in full Marine mode, battle ready. His lack of fear was apparent and so was his sheer power. He could be a Viking, she thought, in full berserk, his focus not on death but on saving lives. Somewhere she caught the idea he did it in atonement. He couldn’t save the little Iraqi girl, but maybe he could rescue these kids. Dear Lord, let him do it, please, she prayed, but keep him safe.

  The rising flames lit the night, but the smoke drifted, blocking Gracie’s vision. Through the moving black shadows, she watched Devlin jerk open the back door of the van. He hauled out a little boy, maybe five years old, who ran to his mother. Devlin climbed into the rear seat as Gracie wept. She couldn’t find words to pray, and her brain refused to think coherent thoughts. Somewhere she heard a woman shrieking, and realized it was her. She was the one making the steam whistle sounds and tried to stop.

  “It’s gonna blow,” shouted one of the men standing safely at the side of the road. “That idiot better get out of there.”

  “He’s saving her baby,” a woman cried. “He’s a hero.”

  No, Gracie thought, he’s my Devlin and he’s going to die.

  Unable to bear the thought, she moved closer, face burning and choked on the fumes. Through the swirling smoke Devlin emerged with a crying baby clutched against his chest. He stumbled as he careened away from the vehicle and she wept with relief. He’ll make it, she thought, triumphant. He’ll make it.

  He wasn’t five feet away from the vehicles when the explosion roared through the night, the sound like the great cry of a wounded beast. The force of it knocked Gracie to the ground and she screamed. So did others and their cries filled the night with terror. By the time she sat up, the flames shot skyscraper high toward the clouds, and the red lights of a dozen police cars turned the scene crimson. Two ambulances skidded up, sirens blaring and stopped on the median.

  Gracie, knees skinned where she hit the pavement, came to her feet. She peered through the swirling smoke and the terrible fiery light, but she didn’t see Devlin anywhere. Someone walked the mother toward one of the ambulances, a blanket draped over her shoulders, her son clinging to her legs, the baby in her arms. People talked, their voices strident and shocked. She struggled to focus, to understand what they said.

  “Dead by God,” a man said. “Poor bastard never had a chance.”

  Snatches of conversations and stray words reached her in a jumble. “Hero…dead…brave…Marine…burned…died…” The disjointed words plagued her until she thought she’d die.

  If Devlin died, she’d die too, right here on this road. Gracie pushed through the crowd, which seemed to increase by the minute, but she didn’t see him anywhere. At some point fire trucks made the scene. She didn’t remember their arrival, but they spewed water over the flames, taming them down.

  In her confusion, she got turned around and ended up way behind where the car remained on the median. Gracie worked her way back, slowly, knees burning and the acrid smoke searing her throat. Tears blinded her and her heart clenched into a tight ball of pain. The more time that passed without finding Devlin eroded her hope, but she pressed onward.

  At the car, she looked inside but it remained empty. Gracie stood by the open door and stared at the burning wreckage, unable to breathe. Behind her, footsteps approached across the grass, but she didn’t move or bother to look. Devlin must be dead.

  “Gracie?” At the sound of her name, spoken in a hoarse, broken voice, she whirled around to find Devlin. His eyes reflected the hellish scene. Black grime coated his face, but clear tracks marked where his tears trailed down. Something didn’t seem right about his face, and she noticed his eyebrows were gone, singed away in the fire. He took a step toward her and limped, favoring his right knee. Bedraggled, injured, and dirty, nothing she’d seen could be as beautiful as Devlin in this moment.

  “Ohhh.” She moaned with wonder, and he opened his arms and folded her against him. Gracie clung to him, tight, and he held her in a viselike grip. He talked into her ear, his voice strained and smoke-choked, but she listened.

  “Jesus, I couldn’t find you,” he said. “Why in hell didn’t you stay put? Are you all right?”

  Trembling, she struggled to find her voice but when she did, it warbled, unsteady. “I skinned my knees but that’s all. Oh, Devlin, Devlin, you’re alive.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, with a grin breaking through his grim expression.

  Gracie pulled back so she could touch him. Her fingertips traced the curve of his face, outlined his nose, and followed his lips. As if she couldn’t believe it any other way, Gracie ran her hands over his body to find it intact. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  “Not much,” he said. “I thought I’d die when I couldn’t find you, but you’re here.”

  Relief turned to anger that he’d risked his life, then shifted to pride as she realized he’d saved the two children. Victory over death aroused her in a way she’d never known before. Every bit of her body charged with sexual need, and she grabbed him by the jacket. Gracie pressed her mouth over his, wild and needy. She bit his lip and kissed hard, her mouth devouring his in a celebration of life. His body responded and his hard cock pushed against her leg.

  “I want you, Devlin,” she gasped. “I need you, now.”

  He glanced at the emergency vehicles, the stopped cars, the blocked road, and sighed. “Babe, we can’t here. Get in and we’ll be home in a few minutes.”

  “How?”

  “Watch me.”

  Too roused to fuss, she did as he asked. They jumped into the car and he drove straight up the median, past the emergency vehicles and the smoking wreck. Then he pulled back onto the smoother highway and rocketed the car into Springfield. Devlin sped through the familiar streets and pulled up at the apartment in record time. She bailed out of the car, stumbled, and he
picked her up. Devlin carried her inside, unlocking the door and slamming it shut behind him with one foot.

  Gracie stripped away her clothing and threw it down. Her shoes flew from her feet, striking the wall in two directions. Devlin came toward her, removed his jacket and she attacked. Her hands clawed his shirt off and raked his back. Heat rose between them and he ripped off his jeans. As caught up now as Gracie, Devlin kissed her, savage and swift. His mouth bit hers and latched on with the force of a snapping turtle. He drank her mouth and his tongue forced entry. She tongued him back then moved her mouth to nibble his throat, her teeth bruising his flesh, marking him with ownership. Gracie’s long hair fell between them. She pushed it away, but Devlin’s hands caught in her curls and pulled her close for another long kiss.

  She savored it and when released Gracie brought her lips to suckle his nipples, first one then the other until they hardened. Then she fingered them, delighting in his moans of pleasure. Devlin suckled her breasts then and left love marks on the left one. His tongue zipped down her belly and flirted with the opening to her vagina. Her hands grasped his head and she said, “Go deeper.”

  Devlin dropped to his knees and plunged into her. He flicked her clit with his tongue, sending spirals of pleasure through her body. Electrified and turned on, Gracie screamed with delight as he used his tongue to bring her to climax. She wasn’t nearly through, however, and backed him onto the couch. She mounted him and rode him, her hips moving to the oldest rhythm between a man and a woman. Each movement pleasured her and from the look on Devlin’s face, he enjoyed it just as much. She teased and tormented until he flipped her onto her back to enter with the force of arrow to target.

  When she inhaled she could smell the rank sweat, the perspiration of fear mingled with the harsh fuel and fire stink, but beneath it Gracie caught his usual essence, the pure Devlin aroma. As he rocked her hard, she thrust back at him until their bodies moved to some invisible music, in tandem. His rock hard dick filled her full and as he wiggled, Devlin sent amazing physical bursts through her. He took her down into death, all the way to hell as he tormented her without allowing completion. Then he brought her up and took her into the heavens to fly among the stars in an explosion of orgasm so powerful it wiped everything else from her mind.

  Gracie screamed her pleasure in the last moments then stilled, throat sore and rested against him. Her breath came in short bursts and settled into a pace matching his. They reclined on the sofa with limbs tangled and fell asleep together.

  * * * *

  She woke around midnight, stiff and knees sore. Devlin stirred beneath her and awakened too. “Jesus,” he said as he sat up. “I’m so stiff I won’t be able to move for a week.”

  “My knees hurt.” She griped, but her smile cancelled out the complaint. “I need a shower. You do, too.”

  Devlin lifted one eyebrow. “I bet I do. But I need you more, babe.”

  Her mirth faded. “Oh, God, Devlin, you scared me to death.”

  “I saved the kids, though.”

  Understanding tempered her upset over the risk he took. “To make up for the little girl?”

  His sigh came long and slow. “Yeah, partly.”

  “People there said you were a hero.”

  “Not me,” Devlin said. “I just did what needed to be done.”

  “You were like a warrior,” Gracie said.

  This time his grin emerged before he spoke. “No, just a jarhead, babe. It’s like riding a bike, I guess. When the shit hit the fan, I knew what needed to be done and did it.”

  With his arms around her, she could admit it now. “When everything blew up, I thought you’d been killed, Devlin.”

  “But I wasn’t.”

  “You could’ve been and I would’ve wanted to die, too.”

  His arms tightened. “I don’t plan on leaving you for a long time, Gracie, and not unless I have to report to commander death.”

  At the accident scene, she’d wept a little and the age old fuck-death response vented her physical fear, but now Gracie cried against him, letting all her fear and angst go. Devlin held her and caught her turbulent emotions. His heart diffused and released them into a void, leaving nothing but love.

  After a long time, they stirred. “I’ve got to shower,” he said. “Hell, it’ll be time to go to work if I don’t get up now.”

  Gracie didn’t want him out of her sight, not yet. “We can shower together.”

  Devlin cocked his head. “In the tiny shower? Well, we can try.”

  As she gathered up her jeans, she caught the vibration of her phone tucked in the pocket. She answered it. “Hello?”

  “Gracie? It’s about time you answered,” her sister Faith said. “We’ve been calling for hours to see if you and Devlin are okay.”

  “Uh, sure, we’re fine,” she replied, wondering how her family knew about the accident.

  “Thank goodness. After we saw the wreck on the news, saw you wandering around like a lost soul and Devlin pulling the baby out of the van, we just about died.”

  Certain words stood out in the flow of conversation. “Wait,” Gracie said, sitting down. “You saw us both on the news?”

  “Yeah, ten o’clock on all the Springfield channels,” Faith said. “I know it’s late, so I’ll let you go. At least I can tell the folks you’re both okay. Tell Devlin when you see him, he’s a hero. The media doesn’t know his name, though.”

  “What’s going on?” Devlin barked. “Gracie?”

  Without trying to hide his presence from her sister, Gracie answered him. “It’s Faith. The wreck was on the news and the footage showed both me and you.”

  “Shit,” Devlin said.

  In her ear, Faith gasped. “Oh, Gracie. He’s there now? I’m not telling Mama.”

  Unimpressed Faith reverted to their baby name for their mother, Gracie frowned. “Thanks,” Gracie said, in a dry tone.

  “Oh I’m not surprised,” her sister said. “I could see how you both feel. ‘Night, Gracie.”

  Gracie stared at Devlin who glared back. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “I’m a hero?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but so far they don’t know who you are.”

  Relief brought back a half smile. “Good,” he said. “I hope no one finds out.”

  “Me, too,” Gracie said. “You’re my hero, but I don’t want to share.”

  Devlin’s dark eyes sizzled with intensity. “Good, babe, neither do I.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Black Friday came and went, launching a holiday season more frantic than festive. From that day forward, Devlin worked longer hours and had less time off. His watercolor of the young Iraqi girl earned him an ‘A’ in class and her painting of a silly kitten got her one of the few ‘C’s she’d ever earned.

  Gracie finished up her final thesis paper, turned it in, aced most of her finals and graduated without any fanfare. Gracie didn’t even attend the brief ceremony, but she’d finished her formal education and had a diploma to prove it. After New Year’s she’d start hunting for a job, but for now Gracie didn’t mind playing house.

  Unsettled weather dampened spirits citywide and the one thing Gracie enjoyed was each evening spent with Devlin. Since the accident and his burst of heroics, he’d grown quiet. For a few days after it happened, the media talked about the unsung hero and some benefactor offered up a cash reward if the hero would come forward. Devlin didn’t. She might’ve worried about his new stillness, but he acted pensive, not tormented. He slept longer and he acted happy. He came home with a smile despite his hours and the larger than usual number of shoplifters.

  Somewhere around the twentieth of December, Gracie cuddled up with Devlin on the couch to watch a holiday movie. With outside temperatures down to frigid levels, they shared a blanket and munched on microwave popcorn.

  “So what do you do for Christmas?” Gracie asked. At home on the farm it’d always been a festive day and season. By now, she knew her mom would have a big cedar tree cut from the woods in
place, decorated with strings of popcorn and cranberries. The old ornaments her mother and even grandmother made long ago would find a place among the branches along with candy canes still shiny in cellophane. Their handmade ornaments from childhood would be there and new ones from Faith’s kids would be right beside them.

  “Me?” Devlin asked. “Not much, babe. I watch movies. I used to get drunk, but I gave up drinking. It’s just another day, or it has been. Aunt Marla has a Christmas Eve casual dinner thing, but I haven’t been to it in years. I thought we might go, though.”

  “Aunt Marla?”

  “Lauren’s mom,” he said as if she’d always known. “She’s my mom’s sister.”

  The Devlin she met last August wouldn’t have considered it, too proud and too certain his wicked sin made him anathema. Hope stirred in her heart. Maybe Devlin’s new stillness meant healing. “Did she invite you?”

  A little color pinked his cheeks. “Well, yeah, babe, she did, a couple of weeks ago. I said we might. It’s really up to you.”

  Making a big deal over it might unravel everything, so Gracie simply nodded. “It’s fine with me. I imagine my parents expect us to come home on Christmas Day.”

  “I figured they would. I thought maybe we’d stay the night, too.”

  Images of sharing her childhood bed, a double once belonging to her grandparents, appealed and Gracie indulged in imagining waking up next to Devlin. Then she shook her head, “I’d love to, but they won’t let us share a room, Devlin.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I know they won’t.”

  Devlin turned off the television with a flick of the remote control. “Then maybe I should just give you your Christmas present now.”

  Since Gracie’s gift to him happened to be a new motorcycle helmet without horns, she thought she’d rather hold out until December 25th. “Oh, I can wait until Christmas.”

  He fixed his gaze on her and shook his head. “Call it a graduation gift then.”

  “I told you not to buy me anything,” she said in protest.