Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2)

by Laramie Briscoe

  I’m quiet for a few minutes, letting what she says sink in. I try to think back to times I’ve seen Blaze do her job, hell she’s done it on me a few times, and there’s no doubt she’s good at it. She’s confident and never second-guesses herself. I would trust her with the care of anyone I love.

  “Let me put it to you another way,” my sister turns into the mall parking lot. “If you force her to choose again, do you know the decision she’ll make?”

  The answer hits me with clarity. “I don’t know her decision. I’m not sure whether she’d choose me or not.”

  “Then is that something you want to force her to do? Do you want to live the rest of your life wondering ‘what might have been’ with her? You’ve got to come to peace with what she does, Trev. If not, you’re going to lose her again, and I’m not sure if you’ll be able to get her back this time.”

  “I did before,” my voice is strong, confident, daring her to tell me I’ll lose the woman I love again.

  “But this time she’s been faced with the harsh reality of what your job can do to you – even if it was off duty. If you’re not ready to face hers head on – why in the hell are you going to ask her to face yours? That’s not love, brother, that’s controlling the situation. Do you really want to be that asshole?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Blaze

  I’m bored without Trevor here, although I have to admit this is the first time I’ve been alone in his house since I came to stay with him weeks ago. I’ve gone back to my apartment a few times to pick up clothing, check the mail, and make sure no one has broken in, but since he got out of the hospital I’ve been here with him night and day. It’s weird not to have him here, odd not to have him to take care of. I’m used to listening for him, trying to determine if he needs my help or if he’s trying to be stubborn and do things on his own.

  This morning, when I watched him doing things more easily, it shot a pain through my chest. He’s not going to need me much longer, especially when he gets the okay to bear weight. It’ll be time for me to go back to my own home, and I have to admit, I’m scared. Will we go back to ignoring each other the way we were before or are we really going to try and make this work?

  Times of great stress tend to bring people closer together, and it’s done exactly that to us. The emotions I feel for him are many times more acute and stronger than they were before Thanksgiving. With clarity, I realize I’ve broken my life into two sections. Before Thanksgiving and after Thanksgiving. It’s the benchmark I’ve used instead of saying before Trevor’s wreck and after Trevor’s wreck. Thinking of it as Thanksgiving doesn’t make my head and chest hurt, it doesn’t flash me back to the way Trevor looked inside that truck as we got there. Sometimes I wake up, haunted by the vision of how his head was cocked to the side, even after Ryan told me he was breathing, how I still thought he may have had a broken neck and Ryan was wrong. I don’t wake up as much as I did when he was in the hospital, but every once in a while, I can feel my heart pounding, my breath coming faster, and a panic attack coming on. It’s part of what you live with every day thanks to the job.

  I can’t stay inside this house right now, because the walls are closing in. My breath is coming fast, and I need some fresh air. Grabbing my phone and a bottle of water, I walk out onto Trevor’s back porch. Inhaling, I do my best to regulate my heartbeat and wait for the sweating to go away. One day I’m going to have to cry about what I saw, but today won’t be that day.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing, letting it take me out of my panic. When my hands have stopped shaking and my ears have stopped ringing, I open my eyes and take in the serenity of Trevor’s fenced-in backyard. Even though it’s December, the grass is green because of the rain and warm temperatures we’ve had. A fire pit sits in the furthest left corner, a hammock in the back right. As soon as he moved in, his mom planted flowerbeds and they’re blooming right now because of the warmth, dashes of color against the greenery of the yard. With a critical eye taught to me by my own mother, I see one of them is being overtaken by weeds. My upbringing won’t allow me to let that happen. Mommy dearest didn’t like weeds in her garden, as soon as one sprouted up, she’d get the gardener on that ASAP. Or the pool boy, whoever she had on speed-dial that day. Grabbing my bottle of water again, I march out, sink to my knees, and use all my pent-up energy to yank the fucking weeds out by their roots. Ugly things don’t belong here, and I’ll be damned if I let them stay.

  Tank

  “Do you know where you want to go first?” Whitney asks as she holds the door to the mall open for me.

  I breathe a sigh of relief as I see the mall isn’t busy this time of morning. I’d been scared it would be hard for me to maneuver on my crutches and I might have to ask my sister to push me around in a wheelchair. “I do. The first place I want to stop is the jewelry store up on the right,” I motion with my head.

  She claps her hands with a grin.

  “Don’t get that kind of an idea,” I warn her. “Blaze and I aren’t anywhere near ready to make anything official, but there is something I’ve been eyeing for a while, for her. I’ve seen her eye it too, but she refuses to buy it because it’s expensive.’

  Whitney raises an eyebrow at me. “With the money she comes from?”

  Not many people know about Blaze’s family life, and she prefers not to make it a focus of her day-to-day, but even I have to laugh at Whitney’s question. “She doesn’t live off her family money, it stays in a trust.”

  Whitney whistles through her teeth. “The Coleman money is a lot of damn money to let sit in a trust. I think I’d have to dip in, even if to just take a trip to I don’t know, the Maldives. Because with money like that, she can afford it.”

  “Right?” I answer, because I’ve thought about asking her before if we could take a truly ostentatious trip.

  Blaze’s family, once you know her real name, is one of the most affluent in this part of Alabama, the entire state if we want to get technical. She comes from old money, and if it were up to her family, they’d have a daughter like Whitney. One that wears her pearls, knows exactly how to act in polite company, and wants nothing more than to be the belle of the ball. Instead, they got the rebellious spitfire that is Blaze.

  “Did I tell you I’m going to her parents’ house this weekend for their annual Christmas party?” I make small talk because it helps me with the physical exertion of using the crutches.

  “Trev, are you for real? Please tell me you have something nice to wear. That’s like the party of the year. Even though I don’t do events, do you know what a feather in my cap it would be to plan that event? Just one time.”

  “Stop salivating,” I shoot her a look. “Yes, I do have a suit to wear. I’m hoping at my final physical therapy appointment this week they’ll give me the okay to bear weight.”

  “Wouldn’t that be early?” Her eyebrows come together, worry in the middle.

  “We’re only looking at a few days early in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Days that add up to a couple of weeks,” she points out, already acting like the mother she’s been for only a short time.

  “They told me I’m doing well, and we started a little at my last appointment. They took x-rays to see how the bone is healing, and if it’s healed enough, I’ll get a new cast, which is actually a brace, be able to bear weight and start doing some pool exercises which will help me build muscle up quicker and have much less impact. I’m doing good, sis.”

  She pats me on the back before she leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “You are, and I’m more proud of you than I could ever let you know.”

  My chest puffs out with that pride. There are few people in my life I worry about impressing and she’s one of them. “That means a lot.”

  We don’t say anything else as we make our way into the jewelry store.

  “Do you know what you want to get her?” she asks as we enter and say hi to the two associates working behind the counters.

&n
bsp; “Sure do,” I go directly to the watch case. “She’s been eyeing this G-shock for a while. It’s got everything anybody doing her job needs, and she broke her other watch last week. Win-win for me.” It’s navy blue and hot pink, water resistant, shock resistant, and has the second hand, which she uses when she’s checking someone’s pulse.

  I make my purchase, handing the bag to Whitney, super proud of myself. It’s both practical and feminine, which I know she doesn’t get to display very often. In her line of work, the only people who notice she’s a woman are the drunks who hit on her when they’re looking for a pretty face.

  “Is this all you’re getting her?” Whitney asks when we exit the jewelry store.

  As hard as I try, I can’t help the blood red I know my face turns. The curse of being a blond. “No, it’s not all I’m getting her. I have to go over here,” I point to a lingerie store.

  Whitney laughs. “You want me to let you do this on your own, Trev? There’s a children’s store right up there and I’d love to get Stella a Christmas dress.”

  “I’ll come find you,” I promise as I watch her walk away.

  Heading into the store, I have a smirk on my face. If there’s one thing Blaze loves, even though she’s not girlie, it’s to wear lingerie, and I have to say, I love seeing her in it. Usually she picks it out and surprises me with it. This time I’m going to get her exactly what I’ve been dying for her to wear. High-handed? Maybe, but I do love a woman who is sexually aware, and nobody is more sexually aware than my Blaze.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Blaze

  “Did you get everything you need?” I question as Trevor comes in with Whitney behind him, carrying wrapped gifts.

  “I did,” he greets me with a smile and a kiss, before he turns back to his sister. “Thanks for taking me again, Whit. We’ll be over sometime this week to see Stella, if that’s cool?”

  “Just text to make sure she’s not asleep. Do you need anything else?”

  She looks like she’s about to drop, and I pull her into my arms. If there’s one thing I know after seeing many new moms, it’s sometimes they need a hug. “Anything else he needs, I have. Take care of yourself and be sure to get as much rest as you can.”

  “I’m doing my best,” she closes her eyes as she sighs. “It’s hard, though. Hopefully, soon she’ll realize what sleeping for longer than three hours at a time is.” Her grin is rueful, and I know she wouldn’t give any of it up for the world.

  “She will,” I assure her. “Not that I’m a mother or anything, but you do learn a few things when you work in the healthcare industry. Do your best to get her on a schedule.”

  “We’re working on it,” she reaches in and hugs Trevor as he comes back into the room. “Will I see you all at Mom’s on Christmas morning?”

  My eyes meet Trevor’s. I want to be there, but he hasn’t asked me to come. When my parents do their holiday party, it’s not like we sit around a tree and open gifts, it’s never been like that. At least not that I can remember.

  “Yeah, we’ll be there,” he answers. “Eight in the morning for breakfast, right?”

  “Yup, I plan on getting there a little early to help,” a yawn slips from her mouth before she can cover it up.

  I find myself speaking up. “Then we’ll get there a little early, too. You just had a baby, no reason I can’t help.”

  We say our goodbyes, Trevor and I watching as she backs out onto the street and speeds away with a wave. It’s easy for me to believe this is the type of life I can have with him, but I know I can’t make plans, not until we deal with our issues. Those issues seem to have been put to the side while he recovers and I’m okay with it, but I’m not stupid either. Not talking about it doesn’t automatically fix anything.

  “I’m sorry if she put you on the spot,” he holds the door open for me with his crutch as I step inside, in turn holding it open for him.

  “On the spot for what?” My eyebrows come together in question. I’m truly confused as to why he’s apologizing.

  “Christmas morning at my parents’. I mean I know I’m going with you to your parents’ big party, but there’s a huge difference in attending a holiday party and a family Christmas. If you don’t feel comfortable, please tell me.”

  There’s a struggle with what I want to tell him and what I should tell him. Being transparent would probably the smart thing to do, but he and I have never really been smart and we’ve never really been transparent. Maybe right now is a good time to start. Nothing will change until one of us takes the first step.

  “The holiday party with my family? It’s like Christmas morning with yours. Mine have never been big on the quaint family life, though. They’d much rather get together and show off how much money they have.”

  He leans against the living room wall, letting the drywall take his weight instead of his arms and crutches. “You mean to tell me y’all don’t open gifts in front of the tree? You do nothing privately?”

  “Olivia Prescott Coleman – Prescott with two t’s,” I flash him a smart grin before continuing on, “never does anything privately, Trevor. Everything she does is manipulated and manufactured to further whatever agenda it is she’s working on at the moment. If it doesn’t further it, then at least she gets attention from it. All in all, it’s a win for her,” I stand in front of him, letting my fingers play with the thin material of his t-shirt. “Damon Coleman? Well, Daddy just likes his expensive scotch, cigars, and young secretaries who can keep their lips closed while keeping their legs open at the same time. It’s not exactly A Christmas Story at the Coleman mansion.”

  “Goddamn,” he makes a noise in his throat. “And you want to take me to this party?”

  I shrug. “I wanna take you wherever it is you wanna go with me,” I fight the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

  “Look at you, being cute and flirting with me.”

  Tangling my fingers tighter in his t-shirt, I tug against it, pulling him so he lowers his head toward mine. Our mouths are mere centimeters apart when he closes the gap, but I grin against the butterflies in my stomach, letting his lips chase mine. I hear one of his crutches fall to the floor as his hand snakes around my neck, holding me in place. When his lips capture mine – and make no mistake, it is a capture – my damn knees go weak.

  My fingers hold tightly to his shirt as he thoroughly kisses me. His tongue invades, swiping against mine as our noses rub against one another. I hear the other crutch fall to the floor as he brings me into his body, every part of us is touching. The whiskers of his beard rub against my chin as he breaks our kiss. His fingers tug the hair at the nape of my neck, forcing me to tilt back against my shoulders and expose all the space below my chin to him.

  “Trev, we shouldn’t be doing this,” I gasp as he nips at the pulse point of my throat. “Your leg,” I try again, digging my nails into the covered flesh of his amazing abs.

  “Is fucking fine,” he growls against me.

  But I worry. He’s a month out from a traumatic situation, and even though he’s talking to the doctor about putting him in a boot when he goes tomorrow, I hope he’s not rushing his recovery.

  “I’m fine, Blaze,” he assures me again as he laps at the tendons before smearing his kiss along the side and moving his lips up to my ear. “I’ve always been a fast healer.”

  “Batman,” I gasp. “Right?”

  His chuckle is dark and deep in my ear. “So you do listen to me sometimes.”

  “I listen to you all the time,” I dig my fingers in his hair, yanking out the band he’s used to pull it back today. “Following the directions you give me? That’s a different story.”

  The palm of his free hand snakes under my shirt, moving up along my stomach until it encounters the edge of my bra. Just when his fingers squeeze the satin and flesh rising above it, his doorbell rings.

  “Trevor honey, it’s me.”

  We jump apart, the intrusion scaring us to death.

  “Son of a bitc
h,” Trevor groans as he leans his head back against the wall with a thud. “I’ll be right there, Mom!”

  I giggle as he adjusts the front of his pants, bending down to get his crutches. His flat palm smacks the curve of my ass as I reach to get his right one, making me gasp.

  “Remember how that felt, because when I can, I’m making you pay for that giggle.”

  “I’ll be looking forward to it,” I wink, licking my lips as I strut over to open the door for his mom.

  Two can definitely play at this game.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tank

  Sitting in waiting rooms of doctors’ offices has become my least favorite thing in the world, and today I’m all by myself. Blaze had to go and meet with her supervisor to get put back on rotation. She insisted on making sure she’s available for me whenever I need her, but I’m hoping after today, I can become much more self-sufficient.

  That thought hits me in the gut, because I don’t necessarily want her to go. I like having her around, love waking up to her every morning, and look forward to the breakfast she always has waiting for me after I drag my ass out of bed. Running a hand through my hair, I realize how much I depend on her – not to take care of me – but to be my partner. What if she decides she’s done?