Phoenix Burning

by Maitland, Kaitlin

  He stopped scrubbing the bar with a towel. It was kind of nice knowing something about a lover that didn’t involve the color of their pubic hair or their bra size.

  “Your front door is locked.”

  Emory’s sudden presence left him silent with shock. The empty room dwarfed her petite frame. Her wild hair had been piled on top of her head, but most had escaped to curl over her narrow shoulders.

  “I got in through the back.” She’d wrapped a hoodie around her body, her arms clutched tightly around her midsection. “I came to talk about that stupid petition, but I think I’m in trouble now too, Alex.”

  His brain was slow but still functioning. He took in her pale skin and glassy dark eyes. Something had traumatized her since he’d left her shop hours before. There was only one likely answer to that. His anger at MacIntyre went from a slow smolder to a rolling boil. “What happened, Emory?”

  “He came to the shop.” She closed her eyes, rocking back and forth on her feet. “He was so mad about you and me, about us. He started saying crazy stuff.”

  Alex loved hearing her say the word “us,” but now wasn’t the time for that. “What happened, Emory? Did he touch you?”

  “Not like that. He just grabbed me.” She put her hands on her face, muffling her next sentence. “It was what he said about the future, about me belonging to him. He sounded like my father.”

  Alex dropped the towel and opened his arms to her. She walked to him with no hesitation, huddling in his embrace. Her body was trembling, and Alex held her as tightly as he dared. “You don’t have to be with him. You make your own choices.”

  “I sort of stabbed him.”

  “Wait, what?” Alex wasn’t certain he’d heard her correctly. “Did you say you stabbed him?”

  “Poked him, really. He wouldn’t leave. And he kept talking and talking like my daddy. I didn’t want to listen anymore. I grabbed the shears off the table, and he still wouldn’t go.” She gave a wild giggle. “So I sort of nudged him. Not hard. Just enough to get his attention.”

  “You better have a damn good reason for dragging me out of bed at this ungodly hour of the morning.” Connor grouched his way into the bar from the back hall. “Jessa said it was urgent.”

  Alex looked at Emory, still trying to digest her stabbing comment. “Did you call him?”

  “No, she called me.” Morgan sauntered in with Jessa one step behind. “I called Jessa. Who then dragged her hot, sexy, and cranky husband out of bed, obviously without the use of fornication as an incentive. Because if she’d screwed him, he’d be in a good mood.”

  “Damn right.” Connor grunted as he slumped at one of the tables.

  “Did we miss all the fun?” A tall, athletic man pushed his sunglasses onto his head as he strode boldly into the room. “Emmy, are you all right? You look pale! Doesn’t she look pale, Chris? If Alex did this, I’m going to bust his balls. You know that right?”

  A quiet man, Alex assumed it to be Chris, followed the drama queen into the bar. Alex recognized them as a gay couple who came in occasionally to have a drink. When Emory pulled herself away from his embrace to hug the quieter of the two, Alex decided it had to be her brother.

  “All right, Em, we’re all here. What’s going on?” Chris glanced from his sister to Alex and offered a smile.

  Gabriel ghosted quietly into a seat at the back of the room beside two men and a woman Alex knew by face but not name. They owned a restaurant, bookstore, and art gallery respectively.

  Alex didn’t know how protective or possessive her brother was, but Emory was literally shaking in her boots at the prospect of addressing everyone in the room. Without a thought as to how people might view it, Alex tugged Emory back into his embrace and held her close. With her back pressed to his chest, she seemed to relax just a little.

  “We all have a problem.” Emory took a deep breath. “The Donovan MacIntyre welcome train has officially gotten out of hand. How many of you have been asked to sign a petition to close down this bar?” Everyone but the Phoenix crew raised a hand.

  “I wondered how long it would take him to make a move against me,” Connor rumbled. “The little bastard tried to buy me out once last year, and then again two months ago.”

  Alex was stunned. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Didn’t figure it mattered.” Connor shrugged. “You’re never one to care about the day-to-day shit.”

  It was like a slap in the face. They’d known each other since grade school. Alex had always supported Connor’s decisions. When the big guy had met Jessa and acted like a love-struck lunatic, Alex had been the one to keep him from walking away. Hell, Alex had been the one to hire Jessa in the first place! Connor had been afraid of her, of what she could make him feel.

  The shorter man in the back of the room raised his hand like a kid in school. “MacIntyre tried to buy me out too. And my cousin who runs the deli around the corner? MacIntyre offered him the same deal.”

  “Where the hell does that little prick get all his money?” Morgan fumed. “How much does a pound of wings cost these days?”

  “I thought about that too,” Emory mused. “Then I remembered something weird he said to me the other day.”

  She had their full attention. She seemed utterly comfortable there in his arms. Alex marveled at the fact that he’d known her less than a week. He’d thought her nothing but a little girl. He’d been so wrong. She was a strong, capable woman. No matter how badly her past had battered her, she was standing up for what she believed in. She’d delved into everyone’s troubles even when she didn’t have to. She wasn’t afraid to invest herself in things that mattered.

  Alex was more than a little in awe of her.

  Emory looked at her brother’s lover. “Foxy, would you say that Mayor Strand is gay?”

  “As a football bat,” Fox quipped. “He plays the straight guy pretty well. But I’ve met him quite a lot at various city events, and if you talk to him for any period of time, especially after a couple of cocktails, he lets things slip.”

  “Yeah, I’m with Foxy,” Morgan chipped in.

  “You can’t tell that from a conversation,” the bookstore owner argued. “He’s always seemed very nice when he comes into the store. In fact, he’s a big fan of romance novels.”

  Fox shot her a droll stare. “Which ones?”

  “Well—oh, I see.” She blushed. “Still, you can’t tell that from just a conversation. That was all I was getting at.”

  “Point taken, Dacey.” Chris offered her a smile to dull the sting of Fox’s sarcasm.

  “I think MacIntyre has been blackmailing the mayor.” Emory steered the conversation back on track. “And if he’s gotten away with it once, we can’t rule out the possibility he’s doing it to the other aldermen.”

  “I’d bet good money you’re right, Em.” Chris’s face was set in an introspective expression Alex recognized from Emory’s repertoire. “In fact, I would lay good odds that he’s got something on the other alderman from this ward. Some of the zoning changes lately have been wildly inconsistent with public opinion, and MacIntyre isn’t the one who sits on the board.”

  “What committees does MacIntyre head up?” Emory asked her brother.

  “Parks and Recreation and Budget Oversight.”

  “So he’s just going to shut us all down?” The gallery owner looked around the room. “How can it help him to have no businesses downtown?”

  “He doesn’t want the businesses closed, Clement. He wants to be in control of them. He’s a control freak, plain and simple.” Emory’s hands closed tightly around Alex’s forearms, and he knew she was thinking about MacIntyre’s passes at her.

  “Hey, Connor! I’m coming in the back.” A familiar voice echoed in the hallway.

  Alex met Connor’s gaze. They both knew it was Officer Parelli. Neither knew what had brought him to Phoenix Rising. The bar wasn’t even officially open.

  Alex leaned close to Emory’s ear. “Love, did you call the p
olice and ask them to come to this little meeting?”

  “No, why?”

  “I’m wondering if MacIntyre didn’t take offense to your—um—poking him with the shears.” A lump of lead landed in Alex’s gut.

  She froze in his arms.

  “Well, now.” Parelli stiffened when he realized the bar was full of people. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. But I’ve got a bullshit warrant to serve.”

  “For who?” Emory’s brother uncrossed his arms and put himself between his sister and Parelli.

  “Miss Banks, do you have something you need to tell me?” Parelli’s tone told Alex that the cop didn’t believe she’d really done what she’d probably been accused of.

  “Actually, Parelli…”

  Chris’s hand shot out in the universal gesture for stop. “Don’t say another word, Emory.”

  Emory should have been terrified. She was going to go to jail because Donovan MacIntyre was a piece-of-shit liar who preyed on weak women and attacked the ones he couldn’t bully into silence.

  But she wasn’t afraid. She was done being afraid. Alex had given her courage. His acceptance had given her a piece of that fire he carried around inside him. She’d beaten back the darkness on her own. She’d held it off and faced down MacIntyre all by herself. If she could do that, she could handle this little bump in the road too.

  “Come on, Parelli. What are the charges?” Alex obviously knew the older policeman better than she did.

  Parelli sighed. “Donovan MacIntyre is alleging that she attacked him with a knife in her store.”

  Fox snickered. “Brava, Emory.”

  “Don’t be an ass.” Chris thumped him in the chest with a set of keys. “Go get the car and wait for me on the curb.”

  A chair scraped as Connor stood up. “Do you really need to take her?”

  “I do, Connor. Sorry.” The cop glanced at the group assembled. “What’s going on here? If you don’t mind telling me.”

  Emory had a flash of insight. Chris was going to kill her, but it was worth a shot. “We met to discuss the possibility that Donovan MacIntyre is blackmailing public officials and using the information, and the financial benefits, to push around the downtown business owners.” She was breathless by the time she’d spit it all out.

  “Emmy Lou, can’t you ever keep your damn mouth shut?” Chris rolled his eyes.

  Parelli looked intrigued. Very intrigued. “Do you have any proof?”

  “I think the mayor is gay.”

  “Emory!” Chris snapped. “As your legal counsel I’d advise you to be quiet.”

  “No, I think I see what she’s getting at.” Alex’s soothing baritone filled the room. “That was MacIntyre’s insinuation, right? And now we’re hazarding a guess, an educated one, but still. Does anyone here really care if Mayor Strand is gay?”

  Shaking heads and shrugs rippled around the assembled group.

  Morgan looked at the others. “He’s a confirmed bachelor in his early forties. It isn’t like he has a wife and kids he’s lying to. It’s kind of sad that he thinks we wouldn’t vote for him just because he’s gay.”

  Alex gave Emory a little squeeze and continued as if he could read her mind. “So maybe if everyone knew and was willing to openly support the idea, he wouldn’t be afraid to come out and admit that MacIntyre has been blackmailing him.”

  Parelli almost looked convinced. “And if you’re wrong?”

  “Well then, we just started one hell of a rumor,” Alex admitted.

  Emory had a burst of inspiration. “Is your jail down at city hall?”

  “Why?” Parelli looked taken aback by her sudden eagerness for lockup.

  “I just wondered if I might stop in and have a chat with the mayor before Chris bails me out.”

  “The more you open your mouth, the tougher my job gets, Em. Will you please shut it?”

  She gave her brother a cheeky grin. Sick as it was, she was almost enjoying herself. “Don’t make me beat your ass.”

  “Great, just make yourself look like a violent crazy person, why don’t you?” Chris grumbled.

  “You know, Miss Banks, I think I might be able to arrange a meeting for you.” Parelli looked thoughtful. “Off the record, of course.”

  Excitement thrummed through her veins, but when she went to step away from Alex, he held tight. Turning toward him, she reached up and cupped his face. The golden stubble on his cheeks tickled her palms. “You’ve got to let me go with them, Alex.”

  “I know.” He lowered his head right there in front of God and everybody and kissed her breathless.

  She locked her arms in the small of his back. His solid presence was the only thing keeping her on her feet. His tongue probed her mouth, rubbing against hers and making her body melt. Her head swam as the taste and scent of him enveloped her in a warm cocoon of desire. Had there been more time, she would have been begging him to take her then and there.

  He broke off the kiss, both of them breathing hard. “I shouldn’t have left this morning. I was being an ass and I’m sorry.”

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Her heart sang at his words. “I have no right to grill you about your personal life.”

  “Yes, you do, Emory.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You are my personal life.”

  “Kids, can we talk about this later?” Parelli pulled out his phone and looked at the display. “I really have to get back to the station.”

  Emory ran the tip of her tongue across her paper-dry lips. She hoped Chris wouldn’t take his time bailing her out, because she was in a hurry to get back here and show Alex how much he meant to her, too. “I’m ready. Let’s get this done.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was cold in what Parelli had called the “holding tank.” From summer outside to winter temperatures inside, the room’s sterile white tile floor and gray cinderblock walls even looked frosty.

  Emory sat still as a statue in the plastic chair in front of a metal table. She wondered if they were supposed to be “one size fits all.” Over the years she’d learned that phrase didn’t apply to people who were only five foot four inches tall. That was what made Alex so perfect for her.

  A guy like Connor or their doorman Gabriel would squash someone Emory’s size like a bug. Alex was just less than six feet tall and lean. Every inch of him was beautiful muscle covered in golden skin that begged to be tasted.

  I should really stop. If they have some kind of thermal camera in here I’m probably all red and orange by now.

  The door swung open. Emory instantly recognized the mayor when he walked in. She’d always liked him. He was built tall and thin like a runner, which he was. There were crinkles at the corners of his blue eyes, and his hair was a distinguished steel gray color. He lived in a renovated home just a few blocks away from Emory’s shop. He was a politician who actually lived with the people he represented even though he’d come from a wealthy family.

  The local grapevine always whispered about the millions he had tucked away in the bank. Emory didn’t know if any of that was true or not. She just knew a nice guy when she met one.

  Strand pulled out a chair and settled himself comfortably at the table. “Officer Parelli suggested I sit and have a chat with you, Miss Banks.”

  “You can call me Emory, sir.” A few nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She didn’t want to insult such a nice guy. What if she was totally wrong? “We’ve met before. You come into my shop to order flowers whenever someone in your office has a birthday.”

  “That’s right. I thought you looked awfully familiar.” He frowned. “You hardly seem the type to wind up in the city jail. What happened?”

  Emory figured it was now or never. “Donovan MacIntyre.”

  “I see.”

  “I suppose I might be somewhat at fault.” She wanted to be utterly honest. “I did go out with him twice. But after that I’ve tried to make it clear that I have no interest in pursuing any kind of personal relationship. He just seems
incapable of getting the message.”

  “Yes, he does tend to be rather—determined—when he wants to be.”

  Strand’s expression told Emory she was on the right track. “Pardon me, sir, but determination is a positive thing. MacIntyre has been rude, forward, and lately he’s been rather violent and frightening.”

  “Have you consulted the police on this matter, Emory?” Strand fidgeted, sat back in his chair, and stared at the tabletop. “A restraining order perhaps?”

  Instinct told her now was the moment to push. “It isn’t that simple with some people, sir. Take my daddy, for instance. He was mean to my brother while we were growing up, just because he was a little bit different. When my brother came out and admitted he was gay, and I stood by him, my daddy threw us both out on the street.”

  “That’s a horrible thing for a father to do.” Strand was riveted by her story. “What did you do?”

  She thought about the early years, of Chris in school and her working all hours at the bar. “We turned out okay. Mostly because we both felt better for being honest about who we were. It was more than that though. We realized that there are plenty of good people who accepted us. Chris met Fox.” She gazed right at him. “You’ve met my brother-in-law. He’s the author.”

  “That’s right. Chris Fox. And your brother is a local attorney.”

  “That’s them, and being gay has never affected my brother’s practice. He’s open and honest about it.”

  Strand brushed his fingertips across the metal surface of the table. “What about you? How have you done since leaving your father’s house?”

  “I just met the most wonderful guy. He’s a bartender at the Phoenix Rising.” She forced herself to stick with the conversational tone. “Lately though, MacIntyre has been riding us. He’s convinced I belong to him, and he’s dead set on shutting down the Phoenix. He’s trying to change the public indecency ordinances. He’s had a petition out and everything. Next thing you know he’ll shut down Dacey’s bookstore, Clement’s gallery, and Morgan’s boutique, and then he’ll own all of downtown. And that would be a disaster.”