Hold Me Cose: Ryker Falls Series

by Vella, Wendy

  “You’re serious?” Fin shook his head. “You’re actually debating with me about a note when you have no clue who wrote it or why? This A.J. sounds like he wasn’t convinced anyway.”

  “You can’t know that. Maybe he needed some time, and this note would have arrived and he could see that she really loved him.’

  “As it’s a wallet, and I’m not saying women don’t carry those, but it’s likely it belonged to A.J., chances are he read it.”

  Maggs exhaled. She hadn’t thought of that.

  “I can see I’m wasting my breath.” She looked at the note. “That writing, the hearts and the squiggly tails, look familiar to me. I told Miss Marla and Miss Sarah that.”

  He moaned. “So now they will tell everyone else about the note and that you recognized the writing.”

  “I said maybe I recognized it.”

  “No difference to them. Where have you seen this writing before?” He waved the note at her.

  “I have no idea, but my memory is good. I’m sure it will come to me in time.”

  “It could just be similar to someone else’s writing.”

  “There is that. I’ll give the wallet to Chief Blake. He’ll know what to do with it.” Maggs folded the paper gently and put it back in the wallet, then placed it back in the pocket of her jacket.

  “It could also have something to do with Simon Linbar’s murder, Maggs. That needs to be discounted too.”

  “What? Why would you say that? That’s a huge mountain with people tramping up and down it constantly. It’s a slim chance it is linked to Simon’s murder.”

  “I said it could, but it’s doubtful. Now go on in. The fire is on.” He waved her through the doorway.

  The living and dining area were open. A half wall hid what she guessed was a kitchen, but it was the view through the big windows that drew her: the mountains capped with snow and blue sky. “Wow. That’s even better than my view.”

  “Pretty cool, right? I never tire of it. The land I bought off Ted will be pretty spectacular too.” He came to stand beside her. “I could never live in a big city again.”

  “London was awesome, and there are really nice places to see there. Buildings, too. They have amazing history, but this place….” Her words fell away. “There’s something magical about these mountains.”

  “They become part of your soul.”

  “They do.” Maggs investigated the room while Fin went to the kitchen and made the coffee. She studied the artwork he’d hung on the walls. Found the oil painting he’d bought from her, then the sculpture she’d delivered the day he’d found Simon Linbar’s body and his family had arrived.

  Next came two watercolors, and the view was the exact replica of what she saw through the cabin window. The second was of the main street of Ryker Falls.

  “Where did you get these paintings, Fin? I don’t remember selling them to you or seeing anything like these before. The artist is unfamiliar to me,” she said, leaning in to check the name in the bottom right-hand corner. Everything in her froze as she read the small gold writing.

  “Here.” She didn’t move to take the mug he handed her.

  “You painted these?” Shock had her staring at him. The look on his face told her he didn’t want to discuss the paintings.

  “I did.”

  “Wow. They’re really good. I mean, really good. I can paint, and I’m not bad at it, but these are really, really good, Fin.”

  “You said ‘really’ four times just then. Here, have a donut.” He thrust a plate at her, clearly uncomfortable.

  “How come you never told me you could paint?” She took one and bit into the soft dough.

  “You never asked.”

  “Okay, that’s true, but then you know I like art, and clearly you know your stuff. These are—”

  “You going to say really again?”

  The words fell away as she turned back to the paintings. With her coffee in one hand and a donut in the other, she studied them. Maggs knew art; it was her thing. She understood it and what made a great piece. These were really good.

  “Got anything else?”

  “Some,” he grunted.

  “Want me to sell them?”

  “No.”

  Maggs lowered her cup and dusted the sugar off her hands.

  “I could sell them, Fin.”

  “I do it because I enjoy it. I don’t do them to sell.”

  “Where did you study?”

  He’d lowered his cup too. His hands were now jammed into the pockets of his pants.

  “Nowhere. It’s just something I’ve always enjoyed.” His shrug told her to let it go. “I don’t talk about it.”

  Maggs wasn’t passionate about a whole lot of things, but art was one of them. Rarely, if ever, did she let anything to do with that go.

  “Are you one of those people who just decided to paint one day, so you did?”

  “I am.”

  “When did you start?”

  “I remember that about you now.” He moved closer, and Maggs stood her ground.

  “What?”

  “You’re pushy when you’re passionate about something. I haven’t seen this side of you since you returned.”

  “I’m trying to be a better person.” Maggs dug her toes into her boots to stop from backing up a step. He smelled good. Outdoorsy and sexy.

  “Don’t change, Maggs. I like the feisty redhead you are. Beautiful, strong, and loyal. I’ve always admired those traits in you.” His thumb touched her lips. “You have sugar on your mouth.”

  He leaned down to kiss her, and Maggs tried to hold in the low moan.

  “Christ, Maggie.” His lips brushed hers once, twice, and then he took the kiss deeper.

  Her arms went around his neck, and she held on, angled her head to take more. The hand that slid under her layers was warm as it touched the skin of her back. Maggs shuddered. She’d known this was where they were heading, had to have known it when each kiss and touch they’d shared had ignited them both.

  “I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you, Maggie Winter.” He whispered the words in her ear as the hand slid upward. “Wanted to touch your soft skin. Stroke, explore, and kiss you. Since you came back, that need has grown.”

  Maggs wanted to purr as his hand moved to her stomach, touching her side on its way. She stiffened, realizing, but it was too late. He’d felt it.

  “What the hell is that!” He hauled her clothes up and off her body before she could stop him, his eyes hot coals as he looked at the ugly scar he’d uncovered.

  Chapter 22

  Maggs backed away from him, fumbling for the clothes he’d just pulled off her body. Suddenly the wonderful warmth had gone, and she was cold. Icy cold.

  “You were shot that day in London, weren’t you? That’s from a bullet.” He grabbed her as she tried to dive back into her shirt. Wrenching it from her hands, he held her arms out. “Fuck, Maggie, you could have died!”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Let me go, Fin.”

  “Oh, hell no! You are not leaving here without telling me what happened! How could you have kept this from us?”

  “Stop roaring at me.” She wrenched free. Grabbing her clothes, she did what came naturally and ran.

  “Maggie!”

  Finding the bathroom, she sprinted inside, slammed and locked the door behind her. Fin was soon pounding on it. Maggs backed away and began dressing.

  Damn it, what the hell had she been thinking, doing that with Fin? That was the problem; she’d lost the ability to think when he’d kissed her.

  “What are you going to do, camp out in my bathroom for the remainder of the day?”

  Maggie ignored the deep words, hearing the anger and frustration in them even through the wood of the door, and finished dressing. She then threw cold water over her face before looking at herself in the mirror.

  “You’re an idiot, Maggs.”

  Everything was such a mess. She’d not told anyone what had really
happened because she’d thought it was best to protect them. She’d thought she’d tell them sometime, when the panic had gone. But the problem was, it wasn’t going anywhere, and she didn’t know if it ever would completely.

  “Get out here now!” Fin roared as a fist pounded on the door. “I’ll break it down if you don’t.”

  Looking at her pale face, she thought about the man who stood outside the door. Did she start with him? Tell him what had happened? Especially now he’d seen the scar.

  Drying her hands, Maggs pulled the band from her hair and ran her fingers through it before retying it. She then left the room. He was leaning on the wall opposite looking like a thundercloud.

  “In the lounge, now.” He pointed in that direction.

  “I’m not a dog.”

  “Don’t push me, Maggs. Seriously, I’m really angry.”

  She walked because she wanted to. “I can leave, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “You could try, and I’ll call Bailey and Joe and tell them about the scars you have on your body and my thoughts as to how I believe you got them. If that doesn’t work, I’ll drive out and tell your family.”

  Maggie exhaled. “I’m all right, Fin.” She said the words because she knew his anger stemmed from worry for her.

  He didn’t speak, just urged her into a chair at his small dining table. He then went to the kitchen and poured two more mugs of coffee. Hers, he lowered before her with a definite snap.

  She sipped and felt his eyes on her.

  “I was out for a meal one evening with two of the people I worked in the gallery with. I did some part-time hours there in between art classes.” Her eyes went to Fin’s paintings. “Not that I’ll ever be as good as you.”

  “We’re not talking about me.” He sat there as big and unmovable as the mountains outside.

  “It was a Friday night, and we decided to try out this new restaurant that had just opened down the road.”

  She sipped her coffee, easing the dryness in her throat.

  “It wasn’t late, about 7:30 p.m., but we ate early and were going on to meet some of their friends at a pub somewhere. I remember the door to the restaurant opening as I stood to pull on my jacket. He must have aimed at me first. I felt the burn in my side and fell to the floor. I don’t remember much from there. I had a short-sleeved top on, and shattered glass showered me as they opened fire. Amber, one of the girls I was with, fell on top of me.”

  She was back there then, remembering everything. The smell of the food cooking, the screams of the people. The blood from Amber seeping into her clothes.

  “It’s all right. You’re safe now.” Fin’s hand took hers where it lay clenched on the table. He held it clasped in his. “Tell me everything, Maggs.”

  “I-I thought I was doing the best thing not telling anyone. Thought it would be over, and when I came back I would tell you about it one day, and you’d all be pissed, and upset for me, but move on just like I had.”

  “But you haven’t moved on, have you?”

  “No.” The word was a whisper. “Damn it, Fin, I’m better. Being here has helped, and I sometimes feel stronger. Like that night in the bar.”

  “When you waded into that fight?”

  “Yes. But then sometimes I’m so scared I don’t want to leave the house.”

  “Okay, we’ll get to that. Tell me the rest of your story now, Maggie.”

  His voice was slow and steady, and his hand warm around her fingers, so she did as he asked and plunged back into hell.

  “I played dead.”

  “Lying under your friend?”

  Maggs nodded. “I thought if I pretended to be dead they wouldn’t come and finish me off.”

  “Christ.” The word hissed out of Fin’s mouth.

  “I lay there until they left. Then I rolled Amber off me. I knew she was dead. There was no pulse; I checked. I grabbed a handful of napkins and pressed them to my side.”

  “Surely someone in there helped you?”

  “Of course. To be honest, I don’t remember much after that. My injury wasn’t life threatening—”

  “Bullshit! Anytime you’re shot, it’s life threatening.”

  “Okay, yes, you’re right, but compared to some in that restaurant, I was lucky. I couldn’t move far, but managed to reach the man who’d fallen beside me. I stopped the blood flowing from his leg using his tie.”

  “Your country girl training coming in?”

  She looked at him, saw that the anger was easing slightly and in its place was something softer.

  “We all learned first aid and had refresher courses. Our parents ensured it. So yes, I helped him. Then I passed out, because when I woke I was in the hospital.”

  “Your parents don’t know.” It wasn’t a question, just stating facts.

  “No.”

  “You had no right to keep this from any of us, Maggie. Someone would have come over to you.”

  “I told you I thought it was the right thing to do. I called my parents as soon as I could, told them I was okay. Shaken up. Nash said he’d come over, but I told him no.”

  “You should have said yes.”

  “I know that now.” Maggs exhaled. “I’m not sure why I didn’t, actually. I was out of it for a while, and then I thought, life goes on, I’ll be sweet. Until then nothing had really shaken the foundations of my life. There had been no major event to rock my confidence. I’d believed this wouldn’t. I was wrong.”

  “So the panic attacks, the ‘don’t let them shoot me, Fin’—this all stems from what happened?”

  Maggs nodded.

  “And that was over six months ago, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not long to recover from a trauma like you suffered. Why didn’t you come home sooner if you were struggling?”

  “I was okay to start with. I took some time to recover, and then when I started leaving the flat, I could feel the panic. I thought everyone was out to get me and wanted to shoot me.”

  “You should have come home sooner!” He slapped his other hand on the table, making her jump. “How could you believe that life would simply carry on like nothing had happened after something like that? You can’t expect to return to normal in a handful of months, when in all likelihood it will take you a great deal longer.”

  “Don’t yell at me.” Maggs glared at him. “I thought I was strong enough to get over this without help.”

  “You are not that dumb.”

  “Asshole.” Maggs tried to tug her hand free, but he didn’t release her.

  “You spoken to anyone?”

  “I’m not talking to you about this anymore.”

  “Think again. Now answer the question.”

  She clamped her lips together.

  “You look about five. I have a vision of you annoying your brothers with just that look on your face.”

  “Believe me, they deserved it,” Maggs snapped.

  “I want to help you, Maggie. Talk to me.”

  Her sigh was loud. “I spoke to a doctor, and she told me to come home.”

  “At least someone showed sense.”

  “You don’t get to speak to me that way when you are carrying around all this emotional baggage with your family. That crap with your father.”

  “That’s different.” He glared back at her. “Suggesting that my family circumstances are in any way similar to what you went through is ridiculous.”

  “Really, how do you figure that? It’s shaped you, made you make choices you wouldn’t have if you lived in the perfect family unit.”

  “I doubt there’s such a thing,” he muttered.

  “Maybe not, but I had close to it.”

  “And still you’re screwed up and clueless.”

  “If you’re going to insult me, I’m leaving.”

  “There will be a lot of hurt people when this comes out, Maggs. Starting with your family.”

  “I don’t want it to come out yet.”

 
; “But it will.” He looked determined. “But not right now. Are you scared of me, Maggie?”

  “What?” She looked at him. Something was lurking in those blue eyes, and it made heat simmer in her belly. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because I’m taking you to bed, but I won’t do that if the thought of having sex with me scares you.”

  “What?”

  “You heard.” Fin got to his feet and tugged her to hers.

  “I—ah, I could never be scared of you, Fin. But we’re not doing that.” She jerked her hand free and backed away. He stalked her.

  “What’s between us terrifies you about as much as it terrifies me, but it’s been simmering for years.”

  “Nothing is between us.” She made it to the kitchen. A few more steps, and she’d be at the door in the small laundry area.

  “Maybe, but then maybe not.” He lunged at her. Maggs shrieked. He gripped her waist and boosted her onto the countertop. “My pick is the first maybe.”

  “This is not a good idea, Fin. What we have will be jeopardized if we do this.”

  He slid his hands under her clothes again and moved upward. Maggs made a half-hearted protest and attempted to stop him. But the heat from those big warm hands felt so good on her skin.

  When she was left only in a bra, he looked at her, his eyes tracing the swells of her breasts, cupped in simple cotton.

  “I hate that you suffered and I didn’t know.” He leaned down as he said the words and kissed the scar on her side.

  The skin was sensitive, his lips warm. She shivered.

  “Hate that you cried and I couldn’t hold you.” He picked up her wrist and kissed the scar there. “But next time anything hurts you, you won’t be alone.”

  “Fin—”

  “Sssh.” He leaned in and kissed her. “Enough now.”

  The kiss was soft, gentle, and held so much passion Maggs wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t melt and slide right off the counter.

  This was wrong, she thought. So wrong, and yet it felt so right. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she opened her legs and pulled him closer.

  Chapter 23

  She felt like sin, her skin soft and warm as he stroked her back. Fin had known she had a lovely body; he’d spent years watching her, fantasizing about her. But the reality rocked him figuratively back on his heels. The simple bra held her lush breasts, and he wanted them in his hands. Her skin was pale and smooth. Hers was a classic beauty—statuesque, he’d heard it called. Fin thought her a goddess.