by Beth Yarnall
Cora jerks me back. I stumble into her, knocking her down. She’s still got ahold of my pants. I pinwheel my arms, but it’s not enough, and I go down too, landing on top of her. She makes the sickest noise I’ve ever heard—a grunt mixed with the rush of air leaving her body and a crack that sounds like a broken bone. She pushes at me. I roll off and look down at her. Her hands go to her throat. In the dimness I can see the panic in her eyes as she tries to catch her breath. Just then there’s a loud swooshing sound. Light flickers in the open doorway, but it’s not the right kind of light.
Fire.
I scoop her up and run down the stairs. Bending, I lay her down in the grass. I take my phone out to call 911.
KABOOM.
The building explodes behind me, knocking me on top of Cora. Fiery debris rains down around us. There’s a burning on my back. I roll to put it out. When I’m sure I’m not on fire anymore I go to Cora. She’s trying to reach her pants leg. I pat her leg, dousing the ember. Running my hands over her, I check to make sure she’s not on fire anywhere else.
“Are you all right?” I ask her.
“No.” She winces as she tries to sit up. “You landed on me. Twice.”
“Did you break anything?”
“I didn’t.” She points to my hand that’s resting on her thigh. “But I think you might have.”
I look down. The middle finger of my left hand is twisted, pointing in the wrong direction. My head swivels. The next thing I know I’m falling, then black.
Chapter 25
Cora
“Leo?”
I push at him until I finally roll him off me. Which isn’t easy. He’s a big guy. Oh, thank God. He’s still breathing. I can’t believe he fell on me three times tonight. And not in a good way. I glance up at the office building. It’s fully engulfed. Flames shoot out of the agency’s door and window. If Leo hadn’t picked me up and gotten us out of there, we’d be toast right now.
I pat his cheek. “Leo?”
He’s out cold. Could he be more seriously hurt than his finger? I run my hands over him, checking for any obvious signs of injury. His head, his arms, his chest, his thighs—
“A little higher and more to the middle,” he mumbles.
“Idiot.” I laugh in relief at his perverted joke. “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“Just my pride for passing out. And the finger. It burns like a son of a bitch.” He eases up to his elbows and gets his first look at the building. “Holy shit. That could’ve been us.”
“I know. You saved us.”
“Focus on that and not the part where I blacked out like a wuss.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. What about you? You scared the shit out of me up there.”
“As long as you don’t fall on me again, I’ll be fine.”
Sirens wail in the distance.
“Did you call them?” he asks.
“No. Did you?”
“No.”
“Maybe a passerby called.”
“Maybe.”
“That fire was deliberately set.” I shiver at the thought that someone could do something like that.
He scoots closer and puts his arm around me. “Yup.”
“Most people would’ve walked inside right away. We might’ve been inside when the fire started if you hadn’t been so cautious.”
“Probably.”
“This is more than breaking and entering. It’s attempted murder.”
“Maybe.” He examines his finger. “Nasty. Thank God I’m right-handed.”
“You’re being very blasé about this.”
“Not really.” He stands, brushes himself off, then holds his good hand out to me to help me up. “I’m thinking this is more of a message. And a way to get rid of evidence.” He brushes the hair out of my eye. “Your box was in there with everything you have on your brother’s case.”
“And all of our new notes and info.”
“I’m sorry, Cora.”
“Don’t be.”
“But this’ll set us back.”
“Not really. I made copies of everything. Just in case. I have them stashed somewhere safe.”
“Damn, you’re clever. More clever than the asshole who set that fire gave you credit for.”
“I also have electronic copies of the notes we made. I backed up my backup. Beau is too important to me not to.”
“My dad will be impressed. Hell, I’m impressed.” He puts his arms around me. “You’re pretty damn impressive, Bluebird.”
“So are you. Not counting the fainting.”
“I didn’t faint. I passed out.”
“Same thing.”
“My finger fucking hurts. Look at it.”
He shows it to me. It’s already swelling. We need to get him to a doctor. The fire trucks round the corner, their lights slashing red across Leo’s face.
I reach up, put a hand to his cheek, and kiss him. “Thanks for getting us out of there. I’m sorry about your dad’s office. And your finger.”
“I need to call him. He’s going to be pissed. This place was his life.”
“I bet he’ll just be glad you’re okay.”
While we wait for Mr. Nash we watch the firefighters do their job. Whatever the office building is made of doesn’t have a chance against the flames. Before we know it the scene gets out of control. More fire trucks arrive. The police close the street down. News helicopters circle overhead. A crowd gathers. I try to get Leo to have one of the paramedics look at his finger, but he refuses.
“Your dad will have to get here on foot,” I say. “They’ve blocked the street in both directions.”
“Uh-huh.” He’s not paying any attention to me or to what’s happening with the fire. He’s too busy checking out the crowd that’s gathered.
“Who are you looking for?”
“The guy who set the fire.”
I glance around at the people standing around. Could Cassandra’s killer be here, watching? I move in to Leo, needing his warmth, his strength. Out of instinct or habit he draws me closer to him, even though his attention is definitely elsewhere.
“You really think he’s here?” I ask.
“On TV they say the perp sometimes stakes out the crime scene or goes to the victim’s funeral. He wants to see the chaos he’s caused. He wants to relive the moment, relish in the notoriety of his crime. He wants to watch the fire burn. It gives him satisfaction. It’s a part of the allegory. Almost like reliving the crime all over again. He’s here. I can feel it.”
“Where?” I can barely get the word out.
“I don’t know, but he’s here.”
“Son of a bitch!” I jump at the sound of Mr. Nash’s voice behind us. “What happened?”
Leo tells him about the break-in and our narrow escape.
“Are you kids all right?” Mr. Nash asks.
“Yeah,” Leo answers.
“No.” I lift Leo’s arm to show Mr. Nash the bent finger. Leo tries to pull it away.
“What the hell?” Mr. Nash grabs Leo’s wrist, turning his hand in the flashing emergency lights. “You need to get to a doctor.”
“It doesn’t hurt…much.”
“Leo’s car’s blocked in by the fire trucks,” I tell him. “I’ve been trying to get him to have the paramedics look at it.”
“Take my car.” Mr. Nash gives me his keys. I give him mine. “It’s parked around the corner on Third. I’ll stay here and talk to the police, see if I can’t get them to tell me anything.” Mr. Nash heads for an officer who looks like he’s in charge.
I can tell Leo wants to protest, but I grip his arm and tow him toward the car. I can’t believe someone blew up the agency office. We have to be getting close for him to do something so desperate. Thank goodness I’m militant about my backup and he didn’t succeed in destroying my files on Beau’s case. Something nags at me as we squeeze through the crowd. There’s something familiar about this scene, reminding me o
f the scene in front of Cassandra’s house after her body was discovered—the chaos, the crowd, the emergency vehicles.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch a familiar face, gazing up at the burning building. I change direction, causing Leo to stumble to make the adjustment.
“Dylan?”
He blinks, clearly surprised to see me. “I heard about the explosion on the news.” Grabbing me, he wraps me in a hard hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried when they said it was the agency’s building.”
I’m too stunned to do anything but let him hold me.
Behind me I can practically feel Leo’s irritation. “Hey, get off her.”
Dylan lets me go and looks past me to Leo. “Who are you?”
“Her boyfriend.”
“Her—” Dylan starts.
“He’s something, but not my boyfriend. Dylan Newman, Leo Nash. Leo, Dylan. Leo’s dad owns the agency. He’s helping me with Beau’s case for the summer.”
The guys shake hands, sizing each other up. If Leo was suspicious of Dylan before, that’s nothing compared to how he’s eyeing my brother’s friend right now.
“I’m sorry about your dad’s agency,” Dylan says, glancing up at the fully engulfed building.
“You really just came down here to see about Cora?”
Dylan’s gaze swings back to Leo. He doesn’t seem to like Leo any more than Leo likes him. “What business is it of yours?”
“Are you sure you didn’t just come down here to check out your handiwork?” Leo jabs a thumb toward the fire.
“What? You think I set that fire?”
“No,” I tell Dylan. “We don’t. Thanks for coming down to check on me. We’ve got to go.” I put my arm through Leo’s and drag him toward the car. “I’ll call you later.”
“The hell you will,” Leo mumbles, giving Dylan a backward glare.
“Not this crap again.”
“Come on. He’s a suspect, Cora. And he’s got the Forbidden Little Sister thing for you, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“What? That’s not a thing.”
“Ah, yeah, it is. He’s already ticked the Best Friend’s Girl thing off his list. You’re next.”
“No way. Even if I thought for a moment he had feelings for me he wouldn’t get far. I don’t think of him that way.”
“I bet Cassandra said the same thing at one point and he ended up banging her.”
I jerk to a halt. “He did not bang Cassandra. They just went out a few times.”
“Right. I’ve seen pictures of Cassandra. She was beautiful. There’s no way he didn’t try to get with her.”
“He might’ve tried, but that doesn’t mean he succeeded.”
“Zelda didn’t say it in so many words, but the gist I got was that ol’ Dylan back there slept over. A lot.” He makes air quotes around slept over.
“No.”
“You might think you know Dylan, but I know guys. And guys like sex. They especially like sex with hot chicks. You and Cassandra are definitely hot. I’m telling you he wants you.”
“You’re imagining things. He’s never made a single move toward me.”
“He’s working up to it with all that fake worry and touching. Lots of hugs and kisses. I’d put money on him making a move the next time you see him. If not, then he for sure will the very next time he sees you. You can also expect a phone call from him tomorrow.”
“Are you sure the pain hasn’t addled your brain?”
“My brain’s not addled.” We arrive at his dad’s car. He hits the unlock button on the remote and hands me the keys. “And we’re going to work out what exactly that something I am to you is.”
He climbs in the car, leaving me to sputter expletives at no one.
Chapter 26
Leo
My finger was only dislocated, no broken bones or torn tendons. The doctor said I was lucky. Right now the only thing I feel lucky about is that the pain meds haven’t worn off all the way yet and Cora is lying next to me in bed. She’s draped across my chest, one of her legs hooks over mine, and her arm is banded around me. I can’t move. I don’t care. She’s warm and good-smelling, with all of her soft parts pressed against me. She rejected my delirious half-pain, half-pain-meds attempt at seduction last night. I would’ve been shit anyway, so she saved me the humiliation.
This morning is a whole other story. There’s a throbbing more incessant than in my finger. She shifts, grazing her thigh across my rock-hard dick. I don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain or some perverse in-between that makes me want to roll her over, part her legs, and drive into her. Or at least play with her a little. I smooth my good hand up her thigh, raising her nightgown. Her skin is soft. I could touch her all day. The edge of her panties is little barrier. I slip a finger under, then another, circling around the edge of the fabric to where she’s hot and…wet. Holy shit. Sliding a finger into her, I stroke through her slickness.
She stirs. This time I know rubbing her leg across my dick is anything but accidental.
“You’re sure you’re up for this?” she asks, her voice still heavy with sleep. “Your finger.”
“Right now I can’t feel anything except what I’m doing to you and what you’re doing to me.” I turn us so I can look down at her. “Are you up for this?”
She widens her legs, giving me better access. “Mmm, I’m getting there.”
Staring down into her amazing blue eyes, I can’t believe what a lucky bastard I am. She’s warm and willing, and in this moment…mine. But she’s made it clear that I’ll get only a few of these moments and that’s it. There is nothing for us beyond this summer.
I kiss her, not giving a shit that my mouth reeks of morning breath or that my body probably stinks just as bad after running down the stairs carrying her. I want her. I want her to want me. Most of all I want her to want a future with me beyond September, beyond Beau’s case. I put everything I’ve got into making love to her. I use all of my tricks. She’s panting, practically begging me for release, but I won’t give it to her. I can feel her annoyance building right along with her need.
She sits up so I can pull her plain cotton nightgown over her head. It floats down onto the bed next to us. She’s naked, looking up at me like I’m everything she needs. But I know I’m not. I can make her come a thousand times in a thousand ways and it won’t change a damn thing between us.
She fists the front of my T-shirt and drags me down on top of her. I’m so fucking hard for her I can hardly breathe. The scent of her arousal permeates the air around us. I take her in with each inhale. She’s inside me the way my body demands to be inside her, to join with hers. I know what she likes now. I know how to make her beg. I try to make her as hot for me as I am for her, but no matter what I do to her I know she never will be.
She’s close. So damn close. Her head falls back, her lips part. She’s half moaning, half panting, and she’s so goddamned beautiful it makes the backs of my eyes sting. I push her over the edge with my mouth, just the way she likes it. I watch in amazement as her orgasm slams into her. Her whole body goes taut. She grips the sheets, twisting them as she cries out. I pump my dick once, twice. It takes nothing for me to come with her, spilling onto her stomach on a barely suppressed growl.
I’m empty afterward. In every way. I leave her to get a washcloth to clean her up. I can feel her confusion. She expected to lose her virginity. I expected to take it. I told her I would. When it came down to it I just couldn’t.
I can’t take what’s not mine. She’s not mine.
I don’t look at her as I clean her off. I don’t entirely understand the way I feel. She’s going to have questions I have no answers for. The one thing I know for sure is that it has nothing to do with finally getting to have sex with her or making her a trophy like Savannah accused me of. I could have her. In ten or so minutes I could push her back onto the bed again, get her hot for me, and push inside her the way my body cries out to do whenever I’m with her.
It has nothing to do with me being freaked out about being her first. I’m not weirded out by her virginity and it doesn’t add a sick twist to my desire for her either. It’s a factor in that I want her first time to be something she looks back on with good memories and no regrets. It’s a part of her, the way her blue eyes and her chewed-down pinkie nails are.
I need something from her that I can’t express. Until I figure out exactly what that is or if it’s even possible I can’t have sex with her the way she wants me to. And that realization scares the shit out of me because I think I might need her to love me the way I love her. No. It’s more than that. I think I might need her to marry me.
God, I’m such a girl.
If I told my friends any of this shit they’d give me never-ending crap about it. And if I told Cora…Hell. I can’t tell Cora. She’d run so far and fast from me that I’d never recover. She may have already ruined me for anyone else. If she left now, that would be some shit I’d never get over.
I rinse the cloth out in the sink and throw it in the laundry room next to the other jizz-soaked washcloth. At this rate I’ll have to buy Mike a whole package of new washcloths. When I get back to the bedroom, Cora is sitting up in bed, talking on the phone. She pulled her nightgown back on. Her knees are drawn up to her chest underneath the gown and she hugs them, staring out the window at the ocean. She doesn’t acknowledge me or even turn to look at me as I pull my boxers on.
“No,” Cora says into the phone. “I can’t.” There’s a pause. She rocks back and forth. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Yeah, I’ll let you know if I change my mind, but I doubt I will. I just don’t think of you that way.”
That son of a bitch Dylan. I knew he’d call her.
She finishes the call and tosses her phone on the bed. “That was Dylan. But then you probably already know that.” She looks at me then, and there’s something I’ve never seen before in her eyes—insecurity. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You turned that asshole down, so no.”
“I mean here.” She gestures at the bed. “I saw the box of condoms in your bag. Did you have them that first night?”