Walk Through the Fire (Finley Creek Book 10)

by Calle J. Brookes

  That was all she had to do.

  Get through.

  She was three yards away from the time clock when he walked in.

  Annie stopped walking and almost fumbled the bag in her hands—in a way she hadn’t since her first week in the ER. The man seriously had the power to disconcert her just by his mere presence.

  “Turner!”

  He turned to her, and that’s when she saw the damage.

  Annie took quick steps toward him, putting the bag down on the counter in front of Wanda. “What happened now?”

  It had only been four hours since she’d seen him at Mel’s.

  “I rescued him,” another man said to her. Annie shot him a quick look. He was around her age, slightly taller and heavier than Turner, but with the same brown hair and blue eyes. He smiled at her, a look of appreciation in those eyes. It wasn’t hard to figure out who he was. He had to be a Barratt. “I’m Tucker…his younger, richer, better-looking—”

  “And much more modest?” Annie inserted. His grin widened. But there was real concern in his eyes when he looked at Turner.

  Annie liked him immediately. Just like she had the Indiana-Jones look-alike at Mel’s.

  Were all Barratt men larger-than-life like this? If so, it was no wonder most of them were listed in the Garlic as Texas’s most eligible bachelors.

  Only Houghton and Clay were exempt now.

  Her friend Bailey, an officer with the TSP, was now engaged to that cousin of Turner’s. The Garlic had been going nuts about the two of them since the storm.

  “Younger brother. Also known as the pain in the ass. Hey, Annie, honey…” Turner pulled her attention right back to him.

  “Turner, who did this to you?” She helped him into a wheelchair. He didn’t protest or insist he could walk. No, he sank into the chair almost gratefully. “What happened?”

  Annie forced herself not to act like an idiot. She was a professional, and in her work environment. And he had come to the hospital for help. He didn’t need her being an idiot over him. But every thought that could ran through her head.

  “Is everyone at Houghton’s ok?” she whispered. He nodded, his darker blue eyes meeting hers. Annie straightened. She looked at Wanda, who was watching her with suspicion in her own gaze. Annie tilted her head toward the time clock. She wasn’t about to leave him. Not yet. She’d just clock out if she had to. Annie turned back to him. “Let’s get you into an exam room. Allen and Nikkie Jean are here tonight.”

  “I’m good, honey. Just a little bruised. Send Al in here when he gets a chance.”

  “You sure you want to wait? Nikkie Jean’s just as good.” She led the way into the nearest exam bay. Turner and his brother were right behind her.

  “I’m sure she is. But I want out of these bloody clothes—and Al’s already seen me naked.” Turner shot her a wicked look. “Unless you want to stick around while I change…”

  Annie’s cheeks burned. His brother said his name, chiding.

  “Turner, don’t be an idiot. I’ll send Allen in here when he gets a chance. In the meantime, I’m sure your brother can keep you in line. I was just about to clock out, but…”

  “Well, it was worth a shot.”

  The typical flirting tone he always used with her was there, but he was obviously hurting. Worry slammed into her. If she’d had a long day today, so had he. Only for it to culminate in this.

  Annie pushed it away. She wasn’t going to let him get to her. No matter what. She hid how she felt with small talk, when all she wanted was to demand those answers. “The flowers and fairy you sent Izzie were perfect. Thank you.”

  “I was happy to do it. I like Iz. She didn’t deserve what happened.” His eyes were on hers, saying things she didn’t know how to interpret.

  “I know.”

  “How is she? I was planning to swing by tomorrow and check on her. Keep her company for a while. Hate for her to be stuck in the hospital all lonely. I know her uncle’s still…away.”

  There was something in his tone that had her attention sharpening. Something that told her more than he probably realized. “Do you know where Jake’s at?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I know where he was going, and why, but I haven’t found him yet to give him the message about Iz.”

  “Is it related to…that other…business?” she whispered near his ear. She didn’t know how much the man knew about what was going on.

  Turner nodded.

  “Wait a minute, you two really do know each other?” his brother asked.

  “Yes,” Turner said, just as Annie spoke. She hadn’t realized she’d gotten so close to Turner, or that the hand he wasn’t favoring had landed on her waist. Heat hit her cheeks.

  She was still on the clock. Annie knew better. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking.

  “Turner and I were in city hall together when the storm hit. He…saved my life.”

  “No, I didn’t. We saved it together.” Turner shot her a look, one she would need a few days to interpret, Annie thought. “And now she’s stuck in my head and won’t get out. And I don’t want her to get out. But Annie is playing hard-to-get.”

  “Seriously? Just because a woman tells you no, bro, doesn’t mean she’s playing hard to get.”

  Yes, Annie did like Tucker Barratt. She’d have to introduce him to Izzie. Even though his suit was even more stuffy than any she’d seen Turner or his cousin Houghton or even Rafe wear, he seemed to be reasonable. Steady.

  No doubt Izzie would like him, too.

  “I like your brothers, Turner. Tucker reminds me of Houghton. Trevor, not so much, but I liked him, too.”

  Trevor had taken one look at Delancey and promised he’d stick close, to add another non-TSP barrier between her and whoever would hurt her.

  “So she’s already met the family? And she hasn’t gone running?” Tucker asked, as she started cutting Turner’s shirt away. “So…when’s the wedding?”

  “What?” Annie pulled the sheers back and looked at the man next to Turner.

  “Geesh, Tuck, way to rush her right out the door. Or make her freak while holding scissors next to my skin. I haven’t quite gotten that far with her…yet.”

  “I think you should just pull a Houghton then. Once you aren’t all bruised up and useless, anyway. She’s small and light enough. Just toss her over your shoulder and take her off to Mexico. I’ll even help. I’ll drive you to Houghton’s private jet.”

  Ok, maybe she didn’t like Tucker Barratt all that much after all.

  63

  Turner didn’t know if Tucker was helping his cause with Annie or making it worse. She had a rattled look in her eyes that had him forgetting the pain—mostly—and wanting to cuddle her right onto his lap forever. She looked tired.

  No doubt today’s events were the primary cause of that. And she’d been at the hospital for hours. It was time she went home. “He’s kidding, Ann. I promise. Mel would never let us borrow the jet to spirit you away to Mexico. And it wouldn’t work, anyway. Do you and the boys have your passports?”

  Annie shook her head. “No. I’ve never been able to take them out of the country, even if I could afford to. Not with them in the custody of the state.”

  “After the adoption is final, you should let me take you to Houghton’s estate in Mexico when they’re down there. The boys would love it. Houghton has a waterslide in the back pool.”

  “Seriously? Isn’t he a bit old for that?” Although it didn’t surprise her a bit. He’d spoiled her boys rotten when he’d had them—he was a big kid at heart.

  “It doesn’t look like a waterslide, and there’s a floating river around it. He had it installed as a gift for Mel and her nieces and nephew a few months ago. Mel can float down the river without tiring out. But they are part of the landscape, and you don’t notice it,” Tucker said. Turner watched his brother for a moment. “If you don’t want to go with the doofus here, I’ll give you a lift.”

  Tucker found her attractive;
it was obvious in the way his brother was watching her. And his brother, a full ten years younger than he was, had a way with women that Turner just did not.

  Big jerk.

  It was far too easy for Tucker sometimes. Rich, good-looking, a music executive, Tucker could have his pick of the most glamorous women in the world. But Tucker, like every other Barratt male out there, preferred women with substance.

  Like Annie.

  Nope. That wasn’t about to happen. Annie was his.

  What he was thinking wasn’t lost on him. Turner knew the truth—this was the woman he wanted in his life for a very long time to come.

  Until his last day on earth would be a good place to start with that. “She’s mine, Tuck. I found her first.”

  Annie’s blue eyes widened. Turner shot her a grin, letting her think he was just teasing.

  But he wasn’t.

  As his brother’s gaze sharpened, he knew Tucker understood that, too.

  Tucker nodded. “I’m going to go to the restroom now that this schmuck is in good—and very pretty—hands. I’ll be right back.”

  Like a good brother, Tucker left him alone with the woman Turner wanted.

  “What happened?” Annie asked, softly. There was swelling and contusions forming on his otherwise very nicely sculpted male chest. “Were you in an MVA?”

  His expression tightened. “No, honey. I’m getting Elliot Marshall here. Tucker will call him for me.”

  “Someone did this to you.” She wasn’t stupid. He didn’t want to tell her what had happened. She had no doubt about that. “I’ll get Allen. Leave you alone.”

  She wasn’t certain she wanted to know any more details than she already did.

  His hand rose to her cheek, startling her. “Stay.”

  “It’s none of my business. I’d prefer it that way. The less I know about anything you’re involved in, Mayor Barratt, it’s probably better. Trouble seems to be following you right now.”

  “Isn’t that the truth.”

  His finger brushed the corner of her lip. Annie thought about moving away. They were in her place of work—someone could walk in at any time.

  This was the first time since the storm that he had touched her like this, with the notable exception of the night Izzie had almost died. His arms around her had been just about all that had kept her sane that night.

  Just like the last time she had needed his arms around her. That thought had her rocking back on her metaphorical heels.

  Turner Barratt had turned into her only port in the storm during two of the most life-shattering moments of her life. She’d walked through the fire those times, and he’d been beside her the whole way. Annie forced herself to step back before she did something stupid. Like let him in even more.

  He wanted that; she knew enough about men to know when one was seriously interested. She wasn’t naïve or stupid at all.

  She just couldn’t handle a man like the mayor of Finley Creek.

  Annie knew her own limits. It was time she remembered that.

  “I can’t deal with any more trouble right now, Mayor Barratt. I…just can’t.”

  Annie did the only thing she could do. She turned and walked away.

  64

  Carl took one look at Turner when the younger man came in around ten that morning and bit back a curse. “What in the world happened to you?”

  “Someone around Finley Creek doesn’t like my particular type of politics.” Turner was bruised, with a nice shiner on his left eye and a few stitches in his lip. “You’ll need to be the public face for a while.”

  “Who did this? Did you report it? What did they say?”

  Turner hesitated. “Last night. It’s related to that corruption ring going around now. I’m supposed to keep my nose out of things and focus on getting all the power and water back on. Stay out of their way, and they’ll stay out of mine. At least that’s what the message on my cell said this morning.”

  Carl bit back another curse. This was getting serious, then. Richard used to get threats like that every so often. Carl never wanted to think about it, but he was almost certain the previous mayor had given in to those kinds of demands. In exchange for other favors when it was necessary. Richard probably hadn’t had much choice, considering the world of corruption they’d lived in during that time.

  They were just now on the tail end of that, hopefully. If Turner and men like him could keep cleaning up Finley Creek day by day.

  “What does the TSP have to say about this?”

  “They’re working on it. They aren’t too happy with the reports of people getting intimidated on the streets. Elliot Marshall is working on it.”

  “In the meantime—”

  “Watch our backs. Get things done. No one is going to tell me what to do when it comes to the benefit of my city. And no one is going to play these games with the people of Finley Creek.” There was real passion, real zeal in the boy’s words.

  It had Carl worried. Turner was just one man. Anything could happen. It had to the Marshall family all those years ago. Murdered in their own home when the father had tried to fight corruption in the TSP. Turner’s own aunt had been murdered under mysterious circumstances, as well.

  Turner was just one man. And he’d already become a target.

  “What do you need me to do, son? You don’t have to do this alone.”

  65

  Annie had pulled a brush through her hair before she’d left the hospital, but the wind destroyed that effort far too easily. She’d walked to the community center, where the meeting was being held, the night after she’d left Turner in the ER and run away like a coward. She’d been beating herself up about that since—and dealing with Wanda and Cherise and Lacy and everyone else who had questions.

  Parking was scarce at the center, and she’d walked the path between her home and the center six blocks away more times than she could count. The landscape had changed some, thanks to the storm, but the sidewalk still had the same cracks as before. Half of the trees were still standing. They’d had two houses north of hers be leveled by straight-line winds when the storm had surged up one more time. She’d been lucky; the storm had lifted for a few moments after destroying the TSP building before sitting back down north of the community center. After that, it had destroyed almost everything in its path until it sputtered out somewhere in Oklahoma.

  It was one of the longest tornado paths for a multivortex tornado in Texas and Oklahoma history.

  The death toll stood at sixty-eight, though she knew there were at least a dozen people still in the hospitals dealing with bacterial infections or severe injuries. Some of them probably would add to the total count.

  Just how lucky she had been wasn’t lost on her.

  She would have been driving home with the boys at the moment the storm struck, had she not been with Turner that day.

  She and Izzie had spent many, many hours in the community center, studying together in a place of peace, talking, playing board games, and watching TV. Annie had cried when she’d seen it and realized the damage it had taken had been minimal. Had it been destroyed, it would have been one more horrible blow.

  Now Annie and Izzie were on the list of a dozen volunteers that kept it open for the next generation. She was as familiar with the Boethe Community Center as she was her own home. Her own boys had played with the toys in the preschool area a thousand times since she’d been given them.

  It was as home to her as her house.

  That didn’t mean she wanted to be walking there tonight.

  People were angry, and that meant stupid.

  Mob mentality was a real thing. And not anything Annie wanted to be a part of. But she had neighbors who had asked her to be there, to represent their interests, too.

  It wasn’t just the evictions now. Many of her neighbors were still without consistent utilities as the city worked to rebuild the infrastructure. Boethe Street ran beside all three of the hospitals and most of the commercial areas of the city.
Sometimes, there just wasn’t enough power to go around right now. Same with water.

  They’d been under a boil advisory since the night of the storm. She’d had to boil water before she could boil water for macaroni and cheese three dozen times now.

  Her neighbors wanted answers.

  It wouldn’t surprise her at all if some of her neighbors weren’t ready to take the offers from the city that had come before the storm and just start over somewhere else. If they combined that money with insurance checks, it might just work. For some of them.

  For some of them, it probably wouldn’t.

  Annie still didn’t know what she wanted to do.

  She didn’t have the money to hire a private attorney of her own. Not with her hiring her own attorney to ensure the adoption went without a hitch. The adoption was far more important than a settlement from the city. At least for her.

  There were vehicles everywhere in the community center parking lot, from utility trucks to TSP cruisers. It was now or never.

  Annie’s breath tightened as she opened the door and stepped inside.

  66

  Annie hated crowds. Especially crowds like this. Even though she recognized a good portion of the attendees, she wanted to be anywhere but where she was. She’d been elected to be the voice of her neighborhood by the community center staff—and her neighbors. She would do a good job.

  But she had a new appreciation for Turner, and for Marcus Deane, and for every elected official everywhere. The eyes of people who were counting on you to be their voice could burn holes right through you. At least, if you were doing it for the people in the first place. Annie never wanted to be elected to anything ever again.

  She probably should have made that clearer when the committee was meeting. If she hadn’t been called in to the hospital on an emergency all-hands call, she wouldn’t be the one faced with doing this tonight.