Fourth Down

by Desiree Holt

  Again the men just stared at him and shrugged.

  “We are just poor fishermen,” one said in heavily accented English. “We are trying to share our catch with each other. No trouble here.”

  No one from the other boats said a word.

  “Stay alert,” Chase told his men.

  Two of his men were preparing to lower a small boat over the side when something caught Chase’s eye on the closest boat. This was always the trickiest part. He lifted the bullhorn again.

  “We will be gone in minutes if you do not impede the inspection.”

  For a moment he actually thought they might get away with it. They might not find drugs, but they’d have the boats. Then he spied the glint of sunlight on steel from the open window of the small cabin on the closest boat.

  “Do not draw any weapons,” he called to them.

  The words had barely left his mouth before a shot came from the cabin. Chase felt a burn on his arm, but he was too busy ducking and giving orders to check what it was.

  John signaled the gunner on the top bow, and he peppered the boats with a string of shots. The objective wasn’t to kill the men, unless necessary, but to let them know the Coast Guard meant business.

  Chase retrieved his bullhorn.

  “The next shots will be fired into the cabins. Toss your weapons overboard, all of you, and prepare to be boarded.”

  With the helo flying low overhead, gunners perched in the open door, and Chase’s boat ready to spray them with bullets again, the firefight was over almost before it started. The so-called fishing boats were boarded and the men subdued and restrained. The drugs that were, stupidly, in plain sight in the cabin were inventoried, and radio messages were sent to the base. The helicopter made a run to pick up more men, who they dropped onto the fishing boats, men who would pilot the boats back to shore. Heavily armed men, who would not hesitate to shoot if necessary. The fishermen were tied up, and men from Chase’s crew boarded each boat to stand guard.

  “Okay,” Chase said to John. “Let’s drag them all in.”

  They were underway when John said, “Hey, you’d better get that arm looked at.”

  He glanced at his upper arm and saw blood running down toward his wrist.

  “Holy shit, Commander,” one of his men said. “You’ve been shot.”

  Now that somebody had mentioned it to him, he realized it hurt like a motherfucker. He’d been so focused on the takedown, his adrenaline so high, it hadn’t registered.

  “It’s just a flesh wound,” he said. “I’ll go below and wash it off.”

  “Shit.” John frowned at him. “You’ve got quite a gouge. Let one of us take care of it before it gets infected.”

  Over his protests, one of the men grabbed the first aid kit and did some emergency work on it. It would last him until they reached port and got their business taken care of. Then he guessed he be off to the clinic. He knew if he didn’t go under his own steam, John would drag him, and probably rightfully so. As if he wasn’t in enough misery already.

  But as they headed back to San Diego and the burning pain increased in intensity, it hit him with shocking clarity that he could very easily have been killed out there. He was lucky only his arm got hit. And the cold fact made him rethink his situation with Holly. Had he really jumped to a conclusion? Was it just a friendly hug and kiss? If not, had she been participating or trying to extricate herself?

  He admitted at last that the reason he’d been so hurt and so angry was because he was well and truly in love with her. What he felt for her surpassed anything he’d felt for the other women in his life, including Cheryl. He’d been so sure she felt the same way, even though they had yet to declare those feelings. If so, didn’t he owe her at least the chance to tell him what happened? Answer his questions? If he was right in what he’d seen, the pain would be unbearable but he’d recover. But if he was wrong and he lost her because of his bullheaded attitude, that was a pain he might never get rid of.

  He recalled the final championship game they’d played at Granite Falls High School in his senior year, playing for their third straight title. The situation had been fourth down on the other team’s thirty-yard line, with one minute left to play and they were behind by four points. A field goal would do them no good. Coach Fenelli had huddled with them on the sidelines.

  “It’s fourth down, guys,” he’d said. “We need that touchdown. This is the play of the game. We pick up this down, we’ve got enough time to get it in the end zone. Otherwise we can kiss that title good-bye.”

  They’d made the fourth down and two plays later scored the touchdown.

  Wasn’t that where he was with Holly? Fourth down with the goal just out of sight?

  By the time they reached port, ready to hand over the drug dealers and their merchandise, he had made up his mind. Life was too short not to go after what you wanted. He needed to clear the air with Holly and not act like a jerk with a stick up his ass. He believed in her. He kept repeating that in his brain. They’d get this straightened out.

  He tried calling her while John drove him to the base clinic to get his arm tended to, but her cell went straight to voicemail. Had she blocked him the way he had her number?

  Shit!

  By the time the doctor was through patching his arm and giving him a shot, he was nearly wild with anxiety.

  “Do you have Cliff Randall’s number?” he asked John. “You guys have been back and forth about the softball games, right?”

  “I do.” John frowned at him. “Why?”

  “Holly’s phone keeps going to voicemail. Maybe he can find out what’s wrong?”

  John grinned. “You mean if she’s blocked your number? Which, of course, is what you deserve.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I need to get hold of her.”

  “Sure, I’ve got it.” He pulled his cell from his pocket. “I’ll tell him my dimwitted friend needs help.” He punched in the number, listened, and frowned.” Huh. His goes to voicemail too.”

  “If they’re on a callout, they won’t have their phones with them.” He blew out a breath. “I need to get to the firehouse.

  “Come on, I’ll drive you. In your condition you might wrap yourself around a telephone pole.”

  Chase agreed with reluctance, but only because he was afraid John might be right. When they got to the firehouse, he leaped out of the car before it had come to a full stop and ran inside looking for Chief Carey. Remembering where the man’s office was from the tour, he hurried down the hall and knocked hard on the open door.

  Carey looked up. “Hey! DeMarco, right? Holly’s, uh, friend?”

  “Yeah. Where is she? I need to see her right away. Is she on a callout?”

  Carey came out from behind his desk and shook Chase’s hand. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks, but I’d just as soon find out about Holly before I do any sitting.”

  “Sit,” Carey insisted, and urged Chase into a chair. John had followed him to the office and now stood against the wall.

  “Where is she?” Chase demanded again.

  “First, let me tell you she’s okay. She’s—”

  “Okay?” he interrupted. “Is she hurt? What happened?”

  “Chase.” John’s voice was firm. “Let the man talk.”

  “Thanks,” Carey told him, then looked back at Chase. “She’s on the crew I sent up to the northern part of the state to fight the wildfires up there. She—”

  “Wildfires?” Chase’s heart galloped in his chest. He knew all about wildfires, and how out of control they could get. If they were bringing in crews from other areas, it had to be bad. “What—”

  “Damn it.” John had moved up to stand beside him. “Will you just shut up and listen before I have to deck you?”

  Carey gave him a smile. Then he turned back to Chase. “The crew she was on got caught digging a firebreak when the wind changed. But they had their insulated blankets with them a
nd got out of it with minor injuries. No burns,” he hastened to say. “The fire’s under control now and the extra firefighters are being sent home.”

  “So when will she be here?” If he didn’t get something definitive soon, he’d probably self-destruct. The thought of the danger she’d been in and how it might have ended scared the shit out of him.

  Carey looked at his watch. “I’d say in about thirty minutes. A chopper is bringing them back. How about a cup of coffee while you wait?”

  “Thanks, but I think caffeine is the last thing I need right now.”

  Carey pointed to his arm. “Accident?”

  Chase gave a hard laugh. “Yeah, with some drug dealers out on the water. It’s just a flesh wound. I’m okay. Can I wait for her out front?”

  “Sure.” Carey grinned. “Don’t wear out the concrete pacing.”

  It was the longest thirty minutes Chase remembered in his entire life. He checked his watch every few minutes. With each passing moment he was aware what an absolute ass he’d been. So he’d seen Holly in a clinch with some guy. He hadn’t even given her a chance to explain who he was or why she hadn’t told him she was meeting someone. Instead he’d just taken his wounded pride and hurt feelings and slapped her in the face with them.

  The moment he accepted the fact he really loved her he also knew he’d fight to have her in his life. He’d never done it before, but maybe because none of the woman had ever been worth making the effort. The thing with his mother was beyond his control. The others? Forcing himself to take a good look back, he didn’t recall feeling this depth of emotion for either of them. Certainly not his high school sweetheart. They had just been kids, for fuck’s sake.

  But now he had a real woman, and he was going to lose her because he was such a stiff-necked prick. Because he hadn’t seen, with everything she’d done and the way she was with him, that she was different. Real. Well, he’d correct that the minute he laid eyes on her. Which he hoped would be pretty damn soon. He’d take her home, pamper her, cater to her, and show her just how much she meant to his stupid self.

  John waited with him, leaning against the frame of the door to one of the bays and grinning. By the time the big van with the crew and their equipment pulled up to the firehouse, Chase was nearly out of his mind. He raced over to the vehicle, and the moment Holly climbed out he pulled her against him, turnout gear and all.

  He kissed her breathless, unconcerned with her face still bearing the vestiges of smoke or the scent of the fire still clinging to her. Ignoring everyone standing around with curiosity stamped on their faces, giving friendly catcalls, he kissed her within an inch of her life. He only lifted his head when he needed to breath, but he still kept his arms around her.

  “It’s fourth down, Holly.” He looked hard into her eyes, trying to convey everything he was feeling. “Walking away—a field goal—won’t win the game. I want a touchdown. I want you. I love you.” He touched his lips to hers again briefly. “Do you hear me? I love you?”

  She stared at him for so long he wondered if she was ever going to say anything. At last her lips curved into a tired grin.

  “I hear you.”

  When she didn’t say anything else, he went on. “I have a lot of groveling to do. I’ll even start right here, with an audience, if that will make you happy.”

  “You could start with an apology.” She looked around at everyone watching the scene with avid interest. “If you don’t mind doing it with an audience, that is.”

  “I’ll do it in the middle of downtown if it makes you happy. I’m sorry, Holly. I was an ass and I deserve every name you want to call me. Just please give me another chance. Don’t walk away from me.”

  She reached up and stroked his cheek. “How could I walk away from you when I love you too?”

  “Thank God,” he breathed. He took her mouth in another scorching kiss to another round of catcalls.

  “Okay, okay.” Chief Carey’s voice barely penetrated. “Show’s over, folks.” He clapped Chase on the shoulder. “She needs to turn in her gear and give her report and then she’s all yours.”

  “Damn straight she’s all mine,” he agreed. He lowered his arms with great reluctance and took a step back. “But I’m waiting right here for her.”

  “I won’t be long,” she assured him. Then her gaze dropped to the bandage on his arm. “Ohmigod, Chase. What happened?” She looked over at John. “How did he get hurt?”

  “I’ll let him tell you. Go do what you have to do. I think his patience is about at its end.”

  Chase was grateful for John’s company while he waited for Holly to finish. When she walked outside at last, she was minus the turnout gear, dressed in jeans, her firefighter T-shirt, and sneakers. Her ponytail was sloppy, she still had streaks on her face, but to him she’d never looked more beautiful.

  “I delivered him,” John said, “and if you’ve got your wheels here, I’m taking off. My work is done.”

  “We’re good.” Holly walked over to him, stood on tiptoe, and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for everything.”

  He grinned. “I didn’t do anything except tell him what an ass he was. He’s your problem now.”

  “I think I can handle it.” She winked.

  “Can we go now?” Chase was impatient to be out of here.

  “Yes.” She linked her arm with his. “Now we can go.”

  * * * *

  Holly was so exhausted from the days of fighting the fire and the effort it had taken she could barely move. She was relieved when they got it under control, but it had taken a lot out of everyone.

  “I want to hear all about it,” Chase told her, “but after you’ve rested.” He paused. “And other things.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Other things?”

  The smile he gave her was both emotional and hungry. “Yes. Other things.”

  She asked him about the wound on his arm, and he told her that, too, was for later.

  He insisted on drawing a bubble bath for her, then insisted again on bathing her and washing her hair. She could have done it herself more efficiently, but she loved having the attention lavished on her, and loved even more that Chase wanted to do it.

  He seemed intent on showing her by his action what she meant to him. She had never felt so pampered in her life. He showed her exactly how sorry he was and how much she meant to him. Lying back in the tub was the height of decadence, especially when he squeezed each breast with his hands, hefting their weight, and rubbed the soapsuds onto her nipples over and over again until heat streaked straight to her core.

  His hands were gentle on her shoulders and arms, stroking her curves and massaging them. Before turning to the rest of her body, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, exposing his hard chest with his dusting of curls. She lifted her hand and sifted her wet fingers through them. She couldn’t resist scraping her fingernails over his hard nipples, rewarded with a harsh intake of his breath.

  “Hey,” he said. “This is supposed to be my show.”

  “Maybe,” she teased. “We’ll see.”

  “Just close your eyes and lean back, sugar. Enjoy the moment.”

  She hid a tiny smile as she followed his orders, resting her head on the bath pillow and closing her eyes. Chase’s hands were like magic, stroking her body and soaping every inch of her. She startled when he slipped a hand between her thighs and probed her sex.

  “Can’t leave any area undone.”

  His voice was teasing, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw blazing heat and so much emotion it nearly undid her.

  “Eyes closed,” he reminded her.

  She followed his directions, sighing in ecstasy as his expert fingers stroked every inch of her folds and the tender skin of her pouty lips. With featherlight strokes, he coaxed a response from her, brushing her thighs, teasing her sex, and rubbing a slick finger over her clit. Over and over, gentle and easy, stroke after stroke. By the time he mov
ed on to her knees and calves desire had risen so intensely inside her that she was shaking with need.

  The orgasm crept up on her almost without warning. One minute she was lying in the hot, bubble-filled, scented water, the next the walls of her core were pulsing and her body was shaking with the need for release. Chase slid two fingers inside her, moving them in and out and riding her through the spasms. When they finally subsided, she was as drained as if she’d had the most powerful climax.

  She felt weak and pampered and riding the edge of sleep when Chase urged her to stand up. He opened the stopper to let the water out of the tub and braced her while he turned on the shower, making sure to adjust the temperature.

  “Shampoo,” he said.

  She pointed to the bottle on a built-in shelf.

  When he was sure she could stand upright, he stripped off his own clothes and stepped under the shower spray with her. Again he stroked every one of her curves, but when she tried to return the favor, he moved her hands away.

  “This one’s for you, baby. All for you.” He nipped the lobe of her ear before grabbing the shampoo.

  At last she was showered, her hair even blow-dried, and Chase carried her to the bed. He stood over her for a long moment, his eyes taking in every inch of her naked body.

  “I have to have you.” His voice was thick with need and passion.

  Somehow a condom appeared in his hand—when had he removed it from his pocket?—he rolled it on and moved over her.

  “Open for me, Holly,” he urged. “Let me in.”

  Then he was inside her all the way, filling every inch of her, her inner walls clutching him. He moved, slowly at first, then faster and faster, his gaze locked with hers. They reached the pinnacle together, his balls slapping against the curve of her ass, his cock flexing and pulsing inside her. The climax was so explosive it shook them both. Everything fell away except the joining of their bodies. Finally it subsided.

  Holly had never had an orgasm as intense as this. She wanted to tell Chase, but she had trouble catching her breath. With his cock still inside her, he caught himself on his forearms and framed her face with his hands.