by Codi Gary
Grabbing the first aid kit from the trunk, he called, “Where did I tell you to be?”
He shined the light on the ground, frowning at her as she hobbled toward him. “Okay, I’m here. Geez, you’re bossy.”
Setting the plastic case and the flashlight on the trunk, he turned to wrap his hands around her waist and lift her to sit next to them. Her breath hitched, and he caught her expression as he slid his hands down, over her thighs and finally away from her body. Whatever mixed bag of feelings Deana was fighting, she was definitely attracted to him.
He could work with that.
Opening the case, he used the flashlight to search through the contents, even though the full moon coming out was shedding quite a bit of light on them. When he found the alcohol wipes, he opened one with his teeth and took her hand in his, palm up. The road burn was red and raw, and he knew the alcohol was going to burn like a son of a bitch.
“This is going to sting.” He gently wiped at the wound with the wet gauze, and when she hissed through her teeth, he bent over and blew gently on the palm. She didn’t say anything, despite the fact that his mouth was only a few inches from her skin, and he found her silence more unnerving than her anger.
After he wiped away all the dirt, he dropped the gauze back into the kit and pulled out the Neosporin. Dabbing a small amount over the wound, he spread it around before placing a large Band-Aid over her palm.
“If you wrap these up with gauze, maybe you could be a mummy for Halloween.”
“I already have a costume.”
His gaze traveled over her again, especially where the red ties of her hood nestled above the creamy mounds of her cleavage.
“I was kidding. I like your costume. It’s very sexy.” He took her other hand in his, examining the deeper gash in her palm.
“Thank you.” Her voice was so soft, he almost didn’t hear it.
A smile spread across his face as he grabbed another alcohol swab. “You’re most welcome.”
This time when he started cleaning, she tried to pull her hand back when he bent over to blow on the stinging palm. “Shit, I’m sorry. I know it burns.” Every time he wiped away a little more grime, he blew a warm breath across her skin. He looked up at her and asked, “Is that better?”
She nodded, and he continued playing doctor, moving on to her ripped stockings. His erection throbbed painfully as his hand trailed over the top where her garter belt held her stockings. Unclipping the black nylons, he rolled them down, exposing her scraped and bleeding knees.
“Poor knees.” He went through the same routine as with her hands: wipe and blow, wipe and blow. When he applied the ointment, though, he heard a soft intake of breath and glanced up to find her biting her lip.
“I’m sorry, these are gonna be sore.” With quick efficiency, he placed the Band-Aids and gently pulled up the stockings, clipping them back into place.
He straightened, standing practically between her legs, with her wide eyes watching him and that soft mouth beckoning. “And I’m very sorry I hurt you.”
“Which time?”
Finn reached up to cup her cheek. “All of it, except for this.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he covered her mouth with his in a hard, fast kiss, and the sweet feel of her lips softening under his was enough. Stepping closer, he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other cradled the back of her neck as he swept his tongue inside her mouth to touch hers. Her arms circled his shoulders, her hands running over the back of his head as she returned the kiss, her tongue and lips twisting and tangling with his. He pressed his erection into the soft center between her legs and felt her back arch, soft sounds vibrating against his mouth.
Dropping his hand down to glide across her back, over the fluff of her skirt to the top of her thigh, he didn’t really have a plan, except he wanted to touch her, test her.
Nipping her lip, he trailed his mouth down along the smoothness of her neck, pausing above the galloping pulse as his mouth fastened there and he sucked.
“Oh,” she whispered, grinding against him. He groaned as her movements inched his hand farther up her thigh. He was so close to the center of her heat, he could imagine how good she would feel. All he had to do was remove her panties and unfasten his pants; then he could slip inside her, make her scream his name as he took her, right there on the side of the road.
He heard the unmistakable sound of tires on pavement and, with a heavy breath, stepped away from her. She was leaning so far into him that she slipped off the back of his cruiser, and as her feet hit the ground, she cried out and fell against him.
He wrapped his arms around her to steady her. “What happened?”
“Stupid ankle.” Her voice strained through tightly gritted teeth.
“God, woman, you are a walking disaster,” he muttered, irritated at the interruption as a truck pulled up next to them.
Deana stiffened and jerked away from him. Before he could ask her what was wrong, the passenger window of the truck rolled down.
A red-haired man poked his head out and waved at them. Finn recognized Alfred “Red” Calhoun from when they went to high school together; all the Calhouns were pretty memorable with that hair color, but Red was also huge. Six and a half feet tall with linebacker shoulders, he had been a terrifying force on the football field. Eight years later, he still took up about half the truck.
“Everything okay?” Red Calhoun called.
Before Finn could say a word, Deana grabbed her purse off the back of his car and limped toward the other man’s truck. “Sure, Red, can you give me a ride to the festival?”
There was a pause before Red’s deep voice answered, “Sure, Deana, hop in.”
Deana opened the door, and Finn caught the shock on Red’s face in the dome light as he took in her appearance. “Holy—”
Finn couldn’t hear what she said to him, but it was sharp and followed by some irritated hand gestures. Red waved past her toward Finn, but Deana continued to face forward, ignoring him until Red put the truck in drive and pulled away.
Slamming the first aid kit closed with a curse, Finn was beyond irritated, bordering on pissed off. What the hell had he said to make her hightail it out of there?
God, he wanted to shake her. If he didn’t kiss her again first.
Chapter Three
Deana seethed in the passenger seat of the truck. How dare he call her a disaster? Him? The man who had just had his tongue down her throat, who hadn’t seemed to mind what a mess she was when he was fondling her on the side of the highway.
Men were stupid. It was the only explanation!
“So, you want to explain to me what kind of drugs you’ve been huffing?”
She’d almost forgotten Red was in the truck. “What?”
“I asked if you were high. ’Cause I can’t imagine you dying your hair pink if you weren’t high as a freaking kite.” Red gave her a good-old-boy smile, as if that would somehow ease the sting of his insult.
As much as she wanted to go off on him, there was no point in being mad at Red. Red was nice, and he was one of the only men in town who didn’t treat her like she was a walking time bomb of destruction. Even his father thought she was a catastrophe.
Sighing, she dropped her head back against the headrest. “I was trying to dye it red, and it came out like this.”
“Huh.” His gaze flicked toward her again, giving her a once over. “You know, I like it. It’s sassy and very—”
“Oh stop. We both know I look like a fruitcake,” Deana said with no real heat. She was so distracted, she forgot she was supposed to be interested and encouraging Red, who was a fine specimen of manliness with his red hair like his father, brilliant blue eyes, and wide, hunky shoulders.
Too bad being near him didn’t affect her the way Finn’s kiss had.
Damn him. She was still throbbing with the aftereffects of her first kiss in over a year, and she wanted more. A lot more. She wanted more kissing and naked, sweaty, sinewy
muscles wrapped around her, and a hard stiff—
“Hey, was Meyers doing something to you? ’Cause you looked really upset, and if he tried something, pulled some kind of authority crap, we can tell someone,” Red said, breaking into her desperate sexual fantasies.
She tried to fight her irritation at her vivid imagination. She shouldn’t be fantasizing about Finn anyway. Finn was a jerk. Finn was a douche. Finn was…
Finn was hot as hell and kissed like his lips were made of chocolate and lightning.
Absently, Deana ran a finger across her swollen mouth before remembering herself.
“No, Red, he wasn’t bothering me.”
* * *
Finn arrived at the tiny station and walked inside the small room where the chief of police was addressing the four other officers that made up Loco, Texas’s police force.
“Now, tonight’s going to be a lot of stupid teenage pranks and bullshit, but every once in a while, we get some crazy shit going, so keep a sharp eye. Meyers, you and Gunn will be patrolling the festival.”
Finn’s first thought after he said, “Yes, sir,” was that Deana was at the festival. His second thought was to eyeball Officer Gunn, whose buzzed head and straight posture screamed military.
After the chief concluded the meeting, Finn approached Gunn and stuck his hand out. “Hey, I’m Finn.”
After a beat, Gunn took his hand in a firm grip. “Chad.”
“So, you were a marine?” Finn followed Gunn out to where the police cruisers were parked, keeping pace alongside him.
“Semper fi,” Gunn responded as they reached their cars.
“How’d you end up here in Loco?”
Gunn’s wide shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Saw enough action while I was in. Just wanted a quieter life, I guess.”
Finn nodded. “I hear ya. You got family in town?”
“’Bout an hour away, plus two brothers.” As Gunn opened his car door, he turned and flashed Finn a wide grin. “Plus, you know, it helps that the girls around here are just so pretty.”
Finn laughed as he climbed into his car, but as soon as he started it, his smile faded.
He envied Chad Gunn, a man he barely knew, and all because he was lonely. His parents were gone, his sister lived in Florida and they talked, but she was busy with her kids and her husband.
He wanted someone to come home to. A smiling face at the end of the day. A warm, womanly body fresh from a bubble bath and a pair of arms to wrap around him; that was what he’d been dreaming about. What he’d thought he had found with Claira.
Claira hadn’t been interested in being a wife and mother, though. She wanted to be able to travel and explore the world, and Finn had wanted to set down roots, preferably somewhere with a low crime rate.
They’d been together since sophomore year of college, and somewhere along the line, they had drifted apart. They’d had a clean break, not a lot of drama, and when he’d taken the job in Loco, she’d been happy for him.
Only now that he’d moved back, and although he had a couple of old friends he was reconnecting with, he’d spent most of the last month plopped in front of the television with a microwave dinner. He’d gone to the Watering Hole a few times for drinks, but he wasn’t much for crowds.
No, what he wanted was a woman. Someone with a sweet smile, a take-no-crap attitude, and who wanted the whole enchilada: till death, two-point-five kids, and a dog.
Too bad the woman who flashed through his brain thought he was a world-class asshole and wanted nothing to do with him.
“Yo, Meyers, you gonna follow me, or are you too busy daydreaming?”
Gunn’s voice broke into his musings, and Finn hit the button on his radio. “Suck it, Gunn.”
Gunn’s laughter met his ears, and Finn smiled. At least his partner had made him feel right at home.
* * *
“Thanks, Red. See ya.” Deana slammed the truck door and limped away in her spiky heels. She ignored the shocked stares and whispers around her as she hobbled as fast as she could down the middle of the booths set up with games, vendors, and even the bounce house at the end shaped like a giant haunted house. The planning committee had decided to hold the Haunt Fest at the high school, setting up the booths in the quad and the actual haunted house in the school gym. When they’d asked the faculty to volunteer, she’d jumped at the chance to be a part of it. Everyone had been leery at first, but all she had to do was scream when the people entered her section. How could she mess that up?
It was insulting for them to treat her as if she couldn’t handle anything more than the scary woman with the slit throat.
She rounded the corner of the gym, slowing down to a walk as the back entrance came into sight. She pulled up short when she noticed a strange man wearing a hood over the upper part of his face. He leaned against the opposite wall, his face shrouded by darkness, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
“I like your dress.” His voice was raspy and rough, as if he’d smoked a pack a day for twenty years.
“Thank you,” she said, avoiding glancing his way. Something about the man made her skin crawl as if a thousand centipedes were marching over it. She was suddenly very uncomfortable with her too-tight costume and pulled her red cape closed over her breasts. As she came up alongside him, her mind kept rolling back to her self-defense instructor in college.
“Some men will come at you directly. A blitz attack. Always watch and be aware of your surroundings.”
The man moved like a great, dark monster in the blackness of the alley, and she was suddenly slammed back against the wall of the gym. Dazed for a minute, she saw the flash of silver.
He has a knife.
“Hello, Little Red. You sure are a pretty thing.” His breath blew hot and rank against her face, and she fought back the urge to gag. “Don’t make a sound. I’ve waited a long time for you.”
When she saw his large wet tongue snake out to run across his thin lips, a rush of bile filled her throat and bubbled up into her mouth.
Move! Fight! You know what to do!
Deana shook herself out of her daze, and her fight reaction kicked in. While his mouth moved toward hers, she brought her knee up into his crotch. When he doubled over in pain, she grabbed his hair and used it as leverage to slam her knee into his face before pushing him over and running back toward the festival, kicking off her high heels as she ran, pushing past the pain in her ankle. A string of vile curses erupted behind her, and she pushed harder. She was almost out into the activity of the festival…just a few more feet.
The rush of relief was short-lived as she ran into a hard chest.
Screaming, she started kicking and punching as rough hands tried to restrain her. Finally, a familiar deep voice snapped, “Fuck, De, it’s me! It’s Finn.”
It took a second or two for his words to penetrate her panic, and then her whole body sagged into his. She took large gulps of air, trying to keep the hysterical sobs from escaping. “I…I…thought…”
“What happened? Deana! Talk to me!” Finn’s large fingers gripped her shoulders.
“There was a man…behind the gym. He had a…a…knife,” she stammered.
He grabbed the radio on his shoulder. “Gunn, we have an armed assailant behind the gym who just attacked Deana Sawyer. I’ll meet you back there.”
Suddenly, his concerned face was in front of hers. “Stay here. I will be right back.”
Deana nodded and didn’t even protest when Finn yelled, “Jake! Jake Hansen! Get over here!”
When Jake Hansen came jogging over, he asked, “Hey, Finn, what’s going on?”
“I need you to stay with Deana until I get back.” Finn didn’t give Jake a chance to protest as he took off around the gym.
Jake’s gaze flicked from her to Finn’s retreating back, and he frowned. “Hey, you okay, Deana?”
Deana didn’t answer, just watched Finn disappear into the dark, worrying her lip. He has a gun and a partner. He’ll be fine.
When did she suddenly start caring what happened to Finn Meyers?
* * *
He’s gone.
Finn gritted his teeth as he hit the wall with his fist. “Damn it!”
“Hey, man, at least she’s not hurt, right? Knowing Disaster—”
“Don’t fucking call her that,” Finn growled, turning his back on his partner to head back toward where he’d left Deana. The fact that some lunatic had terrified her made him want to break shit. Preferably the bastard’s bones.
“Hey, sorry, man. Didn’t realize you were sweet on her.”
Finn heard the obvious smirk in his voice and growled, “I’m not sweet on her.”
Finn picked up Deana’s discarded heels, knowing he was lying through his teeth. When he turned the corner to find Jake, Red, and the third musketeer, Miranda Coleman, hovering around Deana, Finn regretted leaving her alone with the men. Finn didn’t like the way Red and Jake were looking at Deana. Especially Jake. The guy had always been easy on the eyes and good with women. Very good.
Finn came upon the little group and reached out. “Thanks, y’all, for staying with her. De, why don’t you come over here and give me your full statement?”
Deana stepped toward him, and he nodded at the trio as he guided her a little way away with his hand on her lower back.
“Okay, so you were heading toward the back exit when the man approached you with the knife?” Finn asked, pulling out his pen and notepad. He ignored Gunn, who stood off to the side with a smirk on his face.
“He didn’t approach me. He slammed me into a wall, and that’s when I saw the knife.”
“Did he say anything?” Finn asked.
“He said he’d been waiting a long time for me.”
The words were chilling, and Finn started to reach for her, to give her some comfort.