by Fiona Archer
He and Flynn never walked into a fight empty-handed. And they sure as shit didn’t fight fair. Whoever had decided to fuck up their first Thanksgiving with Chloe was about to find that out—firsthand.
Chapter Eighteen
The smattering of snow crunched under Flynn’s boots as he turned his back to Noah and the fire chief, Floyd Harris. Their conversation on the crew’s doomed battle to save Chloe’s house played in the background, barely decipherable over the hum of the fire trucks’ water pumps and the heartrending crackle of fire.
Flynn had other priorities. Out there, somewhere, was the bastard who had torched her house. Watching them now, maybe? Didn’t the perverted live for witnessing the impact of their crimes? The need for revenge seared its way up his throat. Ten seconds with the bastard, that’s all it would take to gain a confession and a hell of a lot more.
One fire crew hosed the steaming ruins. The rest of the volunteers worked at gathering the now unrequired equipment. Flashes of red from the trucks’ emergency lights skittered over the faces of concerned neighbors and those simply curious to witness another’s home, and the detritus of a life, devoured by flames.
They were faces he recognized, a few better than others. No strangers. One more sweep and he’d—
An unnatural stillness overtook him. All noise faded as his gaze zeroed in on a figure to the side. Frank Jessop, leaning back against his rusted excuse of a truck, looked on in avid fascination. The unholy glee in his eyes, visible from a distance of thirty feet, set Flynn’s senses on high alert.
Were they wrong to assume Trent Young had started the blaze? The act seemed more out of spite or revenge than anything…Fuck!
“Noah.” The quiet urgency in his tone grabbed his friend’s attention. “Behind me, to our left. Jessop leaning against the truck.”
Noah’s gaze slid in that direction. His face remained impassive, but Flynn could see the shape of his fists clenching in the deep pockets of his coat. “This warrants further investigation.”
“Agreed.” Flynn waved to Sheriff Quilter, who walked over. “Sheriff, Frank Jessop seems interested in tonight’s events. There’s a possibility that interest is self-congratulatory.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pursed as he studied Jessop. “You might have something there. Deputy Williams and I will ask the gentleman some questions.” He turned to walk away then halted and swung back to face Flynn. “Son, if your assumption proves to be on the money, that ramps this thing up to a whole new ballgame. Jessop wouldn’t have come up with this on his own.” His sigh blew a plume of mist into the air. “I can’t help but hope you’re wrong.”
“Either way, there’s one sick fucker wanting to hurt Chloe. That’s unacceptable.” Noah bit out the words.
The sheriff gave a sharp nod. “True. We’ll let you know how it goes.” His gaze hardened. Flynn glimpsed the steely stare the sheriff no doubt used to great effect on drunken teenagers. “You boys need to go home. There’s nothing more you can do here, and frankly, you’re making my deputies nervous. Besides Caleb, Williams is the only one with military experience and even he’s minding his manners. You both look like you’re about to rip apart anyone who blinks twice. Go to your woman. She’s the one who needs you right now.”
Flynn took a step forward. “Maybe your deputies need to grow some fucking balls, Sheriff. If they can’t man up, Noah and I will do the job for them. There’s still—” Pain lanced up his arm. He snarled at Noah, whose fingers were making cookie dough of his triceps and silencing his protest.
“That’s a great suggestion. Thanks, Roy. We appreciate your help.” Noah nodded to the sheriff, who motioned for a deputy to join him and walked toward Jessop.
Flynn breathed through his anger. What the hell was Noah playing at? They needed to question the neighbors and search for forensic evidence. How were they expected to catch whoever was responsible if they were cut out of the loop?
Slowly, very slowly, Noah released his grip on Flynn’s arm.
“Noah, what the fuck—”
“Get in the truck, Flynn, and we’ll talk.” Noah’s icy glare smacked him in the face.
What? Now he was the bad guy?
Noah turned to Caleb, who’d watched the whole exchange from the sidelines. “Caleb, we’re heading home.”
“Good. I’ll call if I hear anything.” Caleb gave Flynn a hard stare then walked over to follow Sheriff Quilter.
Good? Now Caleb thought it was a good idea, too. Bloody brilliant.
Flynn stalked to their truck, his coat brushing against the few onlookers who didn’t break a leg to get out of his way. Let people stare. Why was he the only one who wanted to get this shit sorted? What the hell game was Noah playing?
He shoved open the truck’s door, threw himself into his seat, and jammed his seat belt into the slot. The cab of the truck shook as he slammed the door.
He kept his gaze pinpointed to the front as Noah climbed in and started the engine. Warm air blasted over his body.
“You’re losing control, Flynn.”
Flynn wasn’t sure what pissed him off more, Noah’s mild tone or the gigantic insult he’d just thrown in Flynn’s face.
“I’m the only one interested in tackling this shit head on.”
“No, you’re the only one going off half-cocked because you’re shit scared you won’t be able to solve the problem and keep Chloe safe. You’re fixated on protecting Chloe to the point you can’t focus.”
Flynn’s hands curled tight, knuckles pressed against the denim covering the clenched muscles of his thighs. He closed his eyes and imagined the crunch of bone as his fist smashed into Noah’s nose. Blood covering his mouth, dripping onto his shirt.
“Go ahead if you think it would help.” Noah’s voice sliced into his thoughts. “But we both know your demons will keep chasing you until you face them down.”
Flynn’s eyes snapped open. Cornered, he snarled, prepared to kick and punch his way past the threat. Ready with a sneer, he turned to glare at Noah, but the insult never found its way past his lips. It evaporated under the quiet truth reflected in Noah’s face. The face of the one man who’d stood by him for the last thirteen years, through triumph, laughter, death, and new beginnings.
He dragged in a breath and unclenched his hands. If he owed Noah anything, it was his honesty.
“What if I can’t?” He swallowed. “What if this is the best I can do, cope on a daily basis?”
“Jesus, Flynn, you call this coping?” Noah’s sigh rushed out louder than the air brakes on a semi. “We both know this goes deeper than some kid in Afghanistan refusing to follow orders. What happened to your brother wasn’t your—”
“Don’t.” He raised a hand. It trembled, and he shoved it into his coat pocket “Not tonight.” Nor any other.
“Why the fuck not? It colors everything that you do.” Noah gripped the steering wheel. “This compulsive need of yours to protect at any cost tracks right back to the assault on Sean. You were fourteen, Flynn. A fucking kid. What the hell were you supposed to do?”
Noah’s words cut sharper than a knife to the chest.
“Be there! I should have fucking been there for him. I could have stopped that bastard from touching him. He was ten, Noah.” Sean, a scared little bugger, shielding two younger siblings. And his foster dad. Tall. Brawny. Mean.
His hands shook and his muscles weakened. He was as powerless as Sean had been. The rage, the guilt were bitter bile in his throat.
Should have been there. Not stuck on a cattle station two days’ drive away, banished weeks before. You’re coming with us, son. Don’t make it harder. He’d screamed, kicked, hell, even bitten the two Child Services workers. It had been months till he’d seen his brothers again and years before he’d found out what had happened during his forced exile.
“Sean doesn’t hold you responsible, Flynn. He’s told you time and again to forgive yourself. Don’t hold onto this shit. You’re giving all your power to a parasite w
ho doesn’t deserve it.”
“Sweet Jesus, don’t go Oprah on me.”
The loud bark of their combined laughter twisted the cap off their bottled-up emotions and released the tension that had threatened to spill over.
Flynn gazed out the window. Few spectators remained. Show’s over. The second fire truck obscured his view of Jessop. Was he still being questioned? Did he have any semblance of an alibi? He clamped his jaw and scrubbed his palms against his jeans.
Noah remained silent, watching, waiting.
“What do you want me to do, Noah? Confess all my fears to Chloe? Write a letter to my brother’s rapist and say he’s an evil bastard, but hey, I’m moving on with my life? Too late, the fucker died back in ‘96.”
Before I knew what had happened.
“Bury your ghosts, Flynn.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then you run the risk of losing the most precious thing to enter our lives.”
Nausea rose from the pit of his stomach. Let the rabid demons of his past govern him and he would alienate Chloe further, pushing her away. Confide in her those demons and watch her run, horrified at his selfish stupidity. She would never be able to love him if she knew all the pain he’d caused his brother. Either way, his worst fear realized—losing Chloe.
* * * *
“No way, I am not going to jail!” Reagan stared at the playing card, her eyes wide in apparent disbelief.
Chloe bit down to hide her smile.
“Yes, honey, you are.” Mike picked up Reagan’s thimble and plunked her smack dab in the center of Jail on the Monopoly board.
Perched on the end of her seat, Reagan looked ready to fly right at the grinning Mike. “You switched cards on me, you sneak. You knocked over the stack on purpose.”
“Now, Reagan, nobody likes a sore loser.” Quinn’s eyes shone.
Chloe had to stop herself from shaking her head. What had happened to the badass SEALs?
“Uughh.” Reagan slumped back into her chair.
“Leave my friend alone, you two.” Chloe tried on her best scowl, but from the men’s combined grins, her order was as effective as throwing cotton candy at a brick wall.
What was taking Noah and Flynn so long? She rubbed her palms over her knees. Over an hour and no phone call. Quinn and Mike had done their best to distract her. When their gentle teasing hadn’t kept her from staring out the window, they’d resorted to outright cheating, which scored a bull’s-eye with Reagan. The normally shy librarian seemed unable to resist biting every sneaky baited hook the men cast her way. Chloe wasn’t sure what the heck to make of that development.
She lifted her cup for a sip of coffee. As the rich French roast warmed her taste buds, she huffed a laugh. If the guys were here now, they’d scold her for drinking caffeine so late at night. How many times had she told them she was a hardened coffee addict? They’d tease her and say they had far better ways of keeping her up at night. Noah would have that Dom toe-curling look and Flynn would hold her wrists—
The sharp ring of Quinn’s phone made her jump. Coffee spilled onto her hand and dribbled down onto the game’s playing board. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the mess, but her eyes stayed glued to Quinn. His face betrayed nothing as he listened to the caller.
“Here, Chloe, let me help.” Reagan’s soft words pulled her gaze. Her friend had retrieved a cloth, cleaning up the spill.
“Thanks, honey.”
“Right, thanks for the heads up.” Quinn ended the call. “That was Rex. The guys are through the gate.”
By silent agreement, the game was packed up and coffee cups taken to the kitchen.
The second Flynn stepped through the front door, unease washed over Chloe. The remoteness of his stance, the way his eyes flittered over her, refusing to connect with hers, set off alarm bells.
Noah, by contrast, strode forward and wrapped her in his arms. She clung tight, ignoring the stench of smoke that covered him. If she could hold onto him for a minute more, just for that moment, everything would go away and be just a bad dream. After a minute, she lifted her head from where she’d buried it in his jacket. His eyes clouded with regret.
So, she’d been right.
“It’s gone, isn’t it? Everything’s gone.”
His face tightened as he ran a hand over her hair, tucking a curl behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. The fire was too intense.” He shifted his feet. “The house is gone…but your things are safe.”
What? She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
One corner of Noah’s mouth curved up. “Chloe, the day after you came here, we sent a couple of the hands to pack up all your stuff. Everything is stored safe here on the ranch. We were going to tell you tomorrow, see if you wanted to start going through some things, but”—he shrugged one big shoulder—“events took over.”
Emotion clogged her throat. Her precious things from her mom, her grandmother, little treasures—all safe.
“Th…” She coughed and tried again. “Thank you.”
“You live here, with us.” The finality of his tone didn’t bear questioning, but he was one voice, and she had two men.
“Where’s Flynn?” Why wasn’t he here beside her?
“I’m here, luv.” From behind, he circled her waist, squeezing his arms between her and Noah. “I’m right here.” He kissed the shell of her ear. When she would have turned her head toward him, he pressed his against hers, forcing her to stay facing Noah. His lips trailed kisses down the side of her face, in her hair, everywhere but her mouth.
Something was wrong, terribly wrong. “Flynn?” How she managed to keep the panic out of her voice was a miracle.
“Honey, I have to update the guys. We need to chase things up with the sheriff. Noah’s going to take care of you tonight.” He hugged her tightly with a desperation that chilled her before he stepped away. Like a good-bye without the words.
“But, Flynn—”
“Let him go, Chloe,” Noah ordered, his eyes warning her not to push further. She tried to break away from him, but he locked an arm around her waist, holding her tightly to his side.
“Reagan, have you been shown where you’ll be sleeping?” Noah’s question failed to distract Chloe as the other men filed out of the room. Flynn faced ahead, never once looking back as he led the men. What was so important he couldn’t stay behind five more minutes?
Reagan nodded, her worried gaze trailing after Flynn before snapping back to Noah. “You bet. Chloe even fitted me out with a set of her pajamas. Mine are under my pillow at home.”
Her smile obviously meant to reassure Chloe. Somehow, it only added to the yawning void left by Flynn’s absence.
“I think I’ll go up to bed.” Reagan hugged Chloe, giving her an extratight squeeze before letting go. “I know there’s a whole platoon of scary special ops guys surrounding you, but for the estrogen crew, Purdy and I are here. We’ve got you covered, Chloe.” Reagan’s eyes were suspiciously bright.
Tears spilled over onto Chloe’s cheeks. “You don’t know how much…how much that means—” A sob robbed her of the rest of her sentence.
The ghost of a smile crossed Reagan’s face. “I do, you know.”
Chloe was struck at the quiet dignity behind her friend’s words. Reagan squeezed her hand then left for bed.
“Looks like you’ve got a good friend there, little one.”
“I know. Even now, with all this crap flying around me, I’m blessed.” She paused. How did she ask this question without sounding like she was panicking? “Noah, what’s going on with Flynn?”
Was that flash in his eyes anger? At her? At Flynn? His harsh sigh wasn’t reassuring.
“Chloe, you need to give Flynn some space tonight. He’s pissed as hell about the fire and trying to sort some details out.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “It will all come good, luv. Right now, we’re going upstairs. I need a shower.” He dipped his head and playfully sniffed her neck, his cheeks creasing. �
�Well, now that you’ve rubbed up against me, we need a shower. Flynn might join us later.”
“Might?” Flynn needed space? Her earlier unease magnified to all-out dread, turning her belly topsy-turvy. “Why does Flynn need space?” Was he having second thoughts?
The narrowing of his eyes and the tightness around his mouth were her first clue. “Sub, are you questioning me?”
Which she chose to ignore.
“Hey, we’re not in the bedroom, soo your superpowers of Domness don’t work out here, right?”
“Wrong.” He swept her up in his arms, carried her out of the room and up the stairs two at a time.
She curled her fists to keep from poking him in the chest. Reagan’s room was at the top of the stairs, so yelling was out of the question. Well, not entirely, but she didn’t fancy meeting her friend in the hall like this.
Harnessing her indignation, she put everything into a slit-eyed glare and held herself concrete stiff in his arms.
He arched one brow. Matched with the stubble shading his strong chin, it added an air of danger and dampened her panties. Okay, so Plan B? She sighed. Damn, no Plan B.
He shifted her in his arms and opened the door to their master suite.
Emphasis on the word Master.
After kicking the door shut, he strode into the bathroom and then set her down on her sock-covered feet. “Strip.”
Desire rocketed through her. Before she could question herself, she rushed to remove her clothing. Her panties slipped down her legs, and she scooped them up in her hand.
“Give them to me.”
She straightened. He wanted her to…oh, my. His gaze locked with hers, holding her mesmerized. He held out his hand, waiting with the sure confidence she’d obey. It never crossed her mind to disappoint him. She dropped the panties in his palm.
Without taking his eyes away from hers, he lifted the pink cotton to his face and inhaled.