by Jo Davis
Shea suppressed a shudder and wondered what would bring such a terrible man here. For now, they’d just have to keep an eye open since Nick wasn’t saying.
Nick stood, signaling the conclusion of his visit. “I’ve got to catch a flight. Detective, glad you’re on the mend. Shea, Tommy, good to meet you both.”
“You, too,” Shea said, echoing her two men.
“Just pray you never have to meet me again.” With a wink, he turned and walked out.
After the agent left, Shea looked at her brother. “Well, that answers some questions.”
“And opens up a whole new batch,” he muttered. “What the hell would a terrorist group want with Sugarland?”
“With any luck,” Tommy said, “we’ll never know.”
Shane yawned and his eyes drifted closed. “Sorry. I can’t stay awake.”
“Sleep. Everything is fine now,” she said, patting his arm affectionately. “We’ll be back tonight or in the morning.”
She watched until his breathing evened out in slumber, and finally stood.
“Take you home?”
She leaned over to whisper in his ear, “And ravish me, if you’re . . . up to it.”
His lips curved up. “Getting there, fast.”
The drive to her apartment seemed endless, though it was only a few minutes. Tommy kept shooting her sultry glances from the driver’s seat of her car, sending her libido into hyper-space. When they arrived, he hurried her inside, dragged her to the bedroom, and shut the door in the cat’s face.
“Poor Miss Kitty,” she crooned.
He pulled off his shirt, went for the button on his shorts. “That cat is not going to watch me make love to my future wife.”
She yanked off her shirt and the rest of her clothing as well. “If that was a proposal, it gets a five out of ten for sucky delivery.”
“Hmm, let’s go for a better score.” He finished stripping, giving her an awesome view of his beautiful body.
The scratches and bruises stood out in stark contrast on his golden skin, made her shiver. But he was okay, and he was hers.
Angling his body, he leaned in to her, easing her back onto the bedspread. Following her down, he lay half on top of her, their legs entwined. Burying a hand in the tangle of her hair, he brought a curly strand to his nose. Inhaled.
His crystal blue eyes captured hers.
“Marry me,” he said, voice full of emotion. “Be my soul mate, my friend, and my lover, as long as we both live. Make babies with me that have curly hair and big brown eyes. Grow old with me, and we’ll watch the sun set together in the evenings. And when I leave this world I’ll be happy, knowing I was the best man I could be for having loved you.”
“Oh, Tommy,” she breathed. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes, streaked into her hair. She clutched at him, needing to crawl inside him. “Yes, yes!”
The wattage in his smile could power a small nation. She relished his weight on top of her. Solid, strong. She could feel his heart thumping in his chest, hard and fast.
“Love looks good on you, Thomas Wayne.”
“You look good on me. Underneath me, too.”
He kissed her. Not gentle, but hot. Hungry. Deeper, his mouth ravaging, tongue thrusting. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, hands splayed across his back, urging him closer, if that was possible. Loved the play of lean muscles under her fingertips.
How had she ever survived without him? What could have happened to him didn’t bear thinking about.
She drank him eagerly, his lithe, naked body sinking between her thighs. Heat unfurled, became aching desire. She lifted her hips, seeking. With a groan, he eased his cock between the lips of her sex and pushed inside, shooting spirals of pleasure through her limbs. He swiveled his hips in pure, animal rhythm, setting them both afire.
Elbows braced on either side of her head, he quickened the pace. Thrust deep, balls slapping her bottom. Again and again, withdraw and thrust, faster, harder. She came undone with a cry, held him tight, her orgasm shattering her senses.
Through a languorous haze, she watched as he threw his head back and stiffened. Blond hair fell around his face. His eyes were closed, dusky lashes feathered on his cheeks. Lost in ecstasy. The muscles of his biceps and chest corded, and his body shuddered until he was spent.
“You’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. The only one I want,” she said, stroking his face. Tracing his scar.
He smiled. “I’m glad, because as far as I’m concerned, I look like a beat-up alley cat these days.”
“You’re my alley cat.”
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Impossible.”
“What do you say we have a contest to prove the winner?”
“I’d say I adore your idea of friendly competition, baby.” He grinned at her.
“Let the games begin.”
EPILOGUE
The second weekend in October turned out clear and warm, with none of the stifling heat of several weeks ago. Tommy’s tennis shoes scuffed through the leaves that were just beginning to fall from trees splashed with oranges, reds, and golds. He had Shea’s hand as they walked along her property—it was still hard to think of it as his, too—and admired the stunning view of the Cumberland.
“This is it!” she squealed, hugging him. “Our house goes right here!”
“And you’re sure that Shane doesn’t want this tract as his half?”
“Nope. He’s fine with the other one. Come on, what’s wrong?”
He tried a smile, not wanting to bring her down. “I just want to be able to provide for us, cutie. Do my share, at least. I wish they’d give me some word.”
“Don’t worry, they will. I have faith.”
Personnel should have called by now. After resigning as an FRS—fire rescue specialist, better known as a firefighter—and enduring long subsequent weeks of physical therapy on his hand, he’d applied for a job in Fire Prevention. Mark McAllister had met with Tommy, toured him around and introduced him to the staff over there, including the AI guys and the fire marshall.
“What if they don’t want me? I’ll never have full use of my hand.” He flexed his fingers, doubting he’d ever get used to its limited function.
“Honey, your hand has nothing to do with your ability to teach classes or investigate arson. You’re going to get certified as an investigator soon, and you’re a damned fine, smart man. They’d be dumb not to hire you.”
“Always my cheerleader,” he murmured, giving her a kiss.
“You bet.”
Just then, his cell phone sang a tune. He dug in his shirt pocket and brought it out, checked the caller ID. Eyes wide, he looked at Shea. “I think it’s them.”
“Answer it!” She jumped up and down, even more nervous than he was.
Taking a deep breath, he flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Yes, is this Thomas Skyler?”
“It is,” he said, his tone friendly.
“Mr. Skyler, this is Gretchen Strauss in personnel, over at Fire Prevention. I have an offer for you to come on board as one of our Certified Arson Investigators, contingent on you finishing your state certification, of course. Are you still interested?”
“Um, yes!” He grinned at Shea and pumped his fist in the air. “I am. Thank you, Ms. Strauss. When do I start?”
“Come in Monday and we’ll get you oriented. Sound good?”
“Absolutely! I’ll be there first thing.”
“See you Monday morning at eight, Mr. Skyler. Congratulations.”
He hung up and grabbed Shea, spun her around. “Yes! Woo-hoo! I can’t believe it!”
“Well, you’d better, because you did it!” She kissed him soundly.
After a long, luscious minute, he pulled back. “It didn’t hurt that Bentley and my friends at the station put in a good word for me.”
“Don’t you do that, buster. You got this job on your own, and it’s time to celebrate. Shall
we?”
“Wouldn’t want to be late for my own party.”
She linked her arm through his and he smiled, at peace with the world. He had his lady, and his friends were throwing him a good-bye cookout at Kat and Six-Pack’s house, even though it wasn’t really good-bye. He’d see them around, and they’d still get together whenever they could. Now he just had more good news to add to the occasion.
They were a tad late, but no one seemed to mind. The celebration was in full swing, the Paxtons’ backyard brimming with their friends and significant others. He and Shea were quickly swept into the fun.
Tommy found himself surrounded by his old crew, all of them savoring a cold beer, except for Six-Pack, who didn’t drink. Tommy relished being able to hold the bottle in his right hand, a simple thing he hadn’t been sure would ever happen.
“So when’s the wedding?” Julian asked.
“I don’t know. We haven’t set a date. No rush, I guess. I’ve got the girl, so what does it matter?” They all laughed, and Tommy shrugged. “Seriously, she’s talking about New Year’s Eve, but I’m not sure if she’s decided.”
“Remember my motto,” Six-Pack said. “Happy wife, happy life. Just do what she wants.”
“You got that right,” Zack muttered, taking a big swig of his beer.
Tommy grinned at him. “Trouble in paradise already, Romeo?”
“Are all pregnant women hormonal?” he blurted.
“I heard that!” Cori, his blushing bride, yelled from across the yard, hand on her swollen belly.
Zack moaned. “Kill me now.”
Six-Pack slung an arm over his shoulders. “I’m in the same boat, my friend. Nine weeks to go until D-day, and I’m in hell. She cries if I raise my voice above a whisper.”
Tommy snickered. “We want kids, but I think we’ll wait a while for the drama.”
“Right,” Julian said, arching a brow. “I seem to recall someone saying he’d never fall in love, either.”
“Well, that’s different.”
“Sure it is.”
Just then, Clay Montana joined the group, and gave Tommy a hesitant smile. The former B-shift FAO clapped him on the arm. “Man, it’s good to see you. Looking great, too.”
“Thanks. These bozos treating you okay?” Tommy had no idea why the confident cowboy seemed so sheepish about taking his vacated spot on A-shift. Hell, he’d had to accept a lowering of his rank to do it, so he must’ve wanted to work with A-shift team awfully bad.
“Most of the time. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, I do. I’m going to miss their bullshit, but . . . I’m looking forward to my new career as a Certified Arson Investigator!”
“Whoa!”
“No way!”
“Shit, congratulations!”
Tommy soaked up the kudos, and he didn’t miss how this news seemed to greatly relieve Clay. Maybe the guy thought he’d taken Tommy’s job, but nothing could be further from the truth.
“Well,” he amended, “I’ve got to finish my certification first, but they’re going to work with me.”
“When did you get the news?” Six-Pack asked.
“Just a short while ago. Thank you, all of you, for putting in a good word for me.”
“Not me,” Jules said, a gleam in his dark eyes. “I told them you were a punk-ass kid, but obviously they didn’t listen.”
Everybody cheered and gave a toast. Tommy was so happy he felt light-headed. He floated on beer and laughs until Six-Pack took him aside a couple of hours later and spoke to him in private near the back gate.
“Listen, there’s somebody here to see you and it’s really important that he get to say his piece,” the lieutenant said, serious. “Promise me you’ll hear him out.”
“You mean . . .”
“Yeah. Just go through the gate. He’s waiting out front.”
Suddenly nervous, Tommy nodded and slipped away from the party, and walked around to the front yard. Sean was standing on the sidewalk, expression unreadable. But something had changed about the man, softened. As Tommy came to a halt in front of him, he thought Sean appeared younger. Less volatile, more approachable.
“Sean,” he said, offering his correct hand. The injured one. “It’s damned good to see you.”
Sean swallowed and gazed at his hand before taking it. “It’s good to see you, too, kid. You’re looking great.”
“So are you, and I mean that.”
Sean’s mouth curved into a soft, sad smile. “It’s amazing what a few weeks in rehab will do. No haze, no manufactured anger to hide behind. Just me, hanging out here, twisting in the wind.”
Tommy sensed he had more to say, and waited.
“I’m going to speak to the others soon, but I wanted to talk to you now, since you’re leaving.” He took a deep breath. “Tommy, I’m an alcoholic. I used booze as an anesthetic to deaden the pain of losing my wife and children, and in the process, I hurt a lot of people. You’re foremost among those I hurt, because I came to work hungover the day of the warehouse fire. I didn’t give the order for you and Eve to pull out in time, and your career as a firefighter ended. Because of me.”
“But Forrest Prescott had someone inside, and the bastard hit me over the head—”
“As far as my part goes, it doesn’t matter. I hesitated. If I hadn’t, the man never would’ve had a shot at you. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope you will.”
Tommy knew what Sean needed. And the words were so easy, because he meant them. “I do forgive you. Move on, Sean.”
The man pulled him into a crushing embrace, a shocking move because Sean had never been a very demonstrative man. Tommy patted his back and they parted, Sean’s green eyes suspiciously wet.
“Nothing will bring back Blair and the kids, but I’m trying so hard. I’m doing okay, except for my baby girl.” He hung his head, looked down at the sidewalk. “The witnesses said she died screaming for me to put out the fire. If I’d gotten there sooner, I might have been able to save her. Did you know that?”
Oh, my God. They’d never spoken about the accident, and it was unfathomable. He couldn’t imagine the horror this man carried inside him every day. “Yes, I’d heard. I’m so very sorry.”
Sean nodded. “That’s the part that still gets me, makes me want to slide back. To just let go and die. But I won’t.” He lifted his chin, looked Tommy in the eye. “I want to change, because Mia wouldn’t recognize what her daddy has become. She wouldn’t know me. I want to be someone she would’ve been proud of.”
“You will, Sean. You’re on the way. I totally believe that.”
“Thank you. Hearing you say so means the world to me.”
He stared at Sean. This is the man I wish had been my captain for the last couple of years.
But that thought would never cross his lips.
“When are you going back to work?”
“In just a couple of weeks. I have to be cleared by the department shrinks and the brass, and then I’m gold. No problem.” Sean smiled at his own joke.
Tommy grinned back, and gestured toward the backyard. “Come and join the fun.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Unless you’ll be too tempted to take a drink. There’s beer all over the place. Even some hard stuff.”
Sean cocked his head. “No, I’m not tempted. Not tonight. I’ve worked too hard to slide, and you know, I’m tired of my own company. I’ll take you up on the offer.”
“Great! Let’s go. Just be prepared for quite a reunion.”
Tommy walked with Sean into the backyard, and his prediction proved correct. Everyone was truly overjoyed to see him. Eve thrust a can of soda into his hand, and he took it in stride, the smile he gave her genuine. His gaze lingering.
The look a man gives a woman.
He was still watching the interplay between the captain and Eve when he felt an arm slide around his waist.
“Sean looks like a different man. A huge change from the first time I me
t him,” Shea said.
“Lots of things have changed for the better.” He pulled her around to face him, hugged her close, settled her between his spread legs. “Would it be rude of me to cut out early from my own party?”
“I think they’ll forgive you.”
“Want to hold another competition? I predict I’ll win this time,” he whispered seductively, kissing her lips.
“You’re on, gorgeous. Make our apologies.”
“Mmm. Happy wife, happy life.”
“What?”
“Nothing, baby.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Just something a wise man told me. A very wise man.”
Two weeks later . . .
Deep in the Smoky Mountains, Jesse Rose slid behind the wheel of his Range Rover and fired it up, aiming it in the direction of Nashville. Dark excitement coursed through his veins, better than meth. Better than anything.
He didn’t need drugs to get him high. All he needed was the culmination of years of shady deals, the correct contacts, backbreaking work.
All he needed was the promise of revenge and glory, his name in the history books. Both within his reach.
The media would say many things about Jesse Rose, but they would have to admit he was a man who kept his word. Once he set his boots upon a path, he never wavered from his goal. He would move mountains to see the task complete, even if it took a lifetime.
The smell of fruit assailed his nostrils and he glanced in the back. Laughed. One of his lieutenants had said he was crazy. The fucker had died with those words on his lips. Jesse had no patience for negativity.
The crates rode smooth as you please, innocuous. Fruit for his grandma to sell at her stand, should he be pulled over.
He wouldn’t be. Jesse was a conscientious driver.
Though he’d pay a fortune to see the expressions on the cops’ faces should they get a gander at what lay underneath.
That would be worth the price of admission.