by Freya Barker
“See anything?” I ask right away, pulling the phone from my pocket only to realize it’s dead. Forgot to plug the charger in last night. Rookie mistake, but in my defense, I had a beautiful woman standing by my bed, so I was a little preoccupied.
“Nothing,” he says, just as fire trucks roll down the street. “I’ll have to check the feed after. Left my laptop shoved under front seat. I’d be surprised if it survives.”
The next moment a large explosion literally rocks me on my feet, and my arm comes up to cover my face against the flare of heat, even from across the street.
“Fucking hope that feed recorded,” I comment, as I watch embers float down in my front yard. Pretty sure his computer won’t make it now.
“Oh my God!”
Sounds like Ollie didn’t stay put. She confirms it when seconds later she comes down the stairs as fast as she can on one leg and her crutch. I’m about to tell her to wait for me upstairs when I note she tagged my T-shirt to wear. It falls almost to her knees, covering her well, but it’s still sexy as fuck. She doesn’t slow down her pace as she aims for the door and tries to dart by me. I hook an arm around her middle, pulling her close so her back is braced against my front.
I turn back to Dylan whose eyes are curiously taking in Ollie’s lower half, before they return to me. “Gonna talk to Fire and Rescue.”
“You do that. I’ll get dressed.”
“Fucking hell!” Ollie yells, struggling to get free. “Will you let me go? My fucking house just exploded!”
I swing her around and kick the door shut with my foot. “Settle,” I warn her with a squeeze of my arm around her middle. “You tried to run outside, for fuck’s sake.” I release my arm, but when she swings around, I grab her firmly by the shoulders. “Think, Ollie—someone could be watching. You run out there, you play right into their hands. You need to use your head. It was a gas tank on one of the vehicles exploding, not your house.”
Pissed as all hell, she squints her eyes and stabs a finger in the middle of my chest. “That’s my F-150 out there. I still have six months of payments left on it. My house, and I haven’t even made a dent in the mortgage yet!”
“Settle,” I repeat when her voice reaches ear-splitting levels. “Got insurance?”
“Of course I have insurance,” she spits, her eyes focused on the front door I won’t let her out of.
“Good. They’ll take care of it. We’ll deal with that tomorrow, but for now, you need to fucking settle down and lay low, so I can get dressed, go out there, and see what is going on. Can you do that?” I don’t get a real answer, just a glare and a huff, but I’ll take it as assent. “Stay away from the windows too,” I add.
“Fine.” The response is clipped, but her eyes turn bright.
I lean down to brush a kiss on her nose, and then her lips. “Hang tough for me.”
Two minutes later I’m back downstairs, fully dressed, only to find Ollie standing in the same spot I left her—in the hallway. She looks dazed but I’m happy to see she hasn’t dissolved into tears. Yet.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her, bending to give her another brush of my lips. “Lock the door behind me, yeah?” She nods and follows me to the door where I give her neck a squeeze and catch her eyes. “Get back in bed, Sweets, I won’t be long.”
I wait outside the door until I hear the locks slide home and then jog across the street. I join a huddle in front of the fire engine that includes Dylan, one of my officers, and Evan Biel. He’s a firefighter I’ve encountered a few times, mostly over a beer at The Irish, the local first-responder hangout.
“What’ve we got?” I ask, looking at the smoking remains.
All it took was a few minutes for Fire and Rescue to put out the flames, but the damage was already extensive. They’re now focused on the garage, which is going to need some work, and are making sure they keep the flames from the rest of the house. There’s little left of Ollie’s truck, and Dylan’s vehicle sustained enough damage it’s a write-off too.
All eyes are on me, but Evan’s the one to answer first. “Fire source looks to be the Ford. Can’t be sure until we get an inspector out here, but looking at the damage between the two vehicles, it’s a safe bet.”
“Any clue on what caused it?”
Evan looks at me with an eyebrow raised. “At this point anything from an electrical short to an incendiary device of some sort. You’re gonna have to wait with the rest of us. Once we’re sure the fire is out, we’ll get the fire inspector out here. But it’s not likely he’ll have anything for you until daylight.”
I nod. “Fair enough.” And then I turn to Dylan. “The feed?”
“Jasper’s on his way to the office. He’ll call when he’s had a look.”
“Good. I need to get back across the street, walk me to my door?” I ask him before turning to the patrol officer. “Call into the station. Tell them you’ll be stuck here ‘til the end of your shift and that I’ll get in touch later.”
“Will do, Chief.”
Dylan falls in step beside me as I cross the road. “I’ll make sure there’s eyes on the house. You need a place to crash for a couple of hours, you can come right on in; I’ll give you a key. Take the couch or one of the boys’ rooms. Far end of the hallway upstairs.”
“Don’t think I’ll be doin’ a lot of sleeping,” he says as we stop outside my door.
“Your call. Keeping a patrol car parked outside and I’m thinking come daylight, once we hear from the inspector, there’ll be plenty to keep you busy.” I unlock the door and take the key off the ring, handing it to him. I have a spare in my kitchen drawer I can grab.
He takes the key and holds it up before shoving it in his pocket. “Thanks. I’ll play it by ear.”
“Call me when you hear from Jasper.”
“Will do.”
I watch him jog down the path before heading inside.
Ollie
Instead of heading back upstairs, I stood behind the door—after locking it—and looked through the peephole, watching Joe jog over to my house. There was a lot of smoke, and I could see a stream of water hitting the roof, but no flames. I went to sit down in the living room. Despite the mild overnight temperatures, I was chilled to the bone and wrapped myself in the quilt tossed over the back of the couch. Bugsy came to lie at my feet. Not sure about his qualities as a watch dog, but it made me feel a bit better all the same.
I tried to stay busy; making a mental list of tools and other items both in my truck and in the garage, all the while hoping there’s no damage to the house itself.
The minute I hear the key turn in the lock, I look over my shoulder. A moment later, I watch Joe walk in, kicking off his sneakers in the hallway, before turning his eyes into the living room—spotting me. The dog jumps up and tail wagging, goes to greet his boss.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” he asks, giving Bugsy a scratch before walking over to the TV stand. He pulls a charger cord from the drawer, plugging it in his phone, before heading over and sitting down beside me.
“Don’t think I could sleep. How bad is it?”
He leans back, slides his arm behind me, and tugs me to his chest, pressing his cheek to the top of my head. “Truck is a write-off. Dylan’s too.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” I try to lift my head but he holds me in place.
“Insurance—remember? And more importantly, not your—”
“Still,” I persist, cutting in. “It’s a huge inconvenience and he was in my driveway, looking after my house, because my brother was stupid enough to piss off the mob.” I’m starting to work up a good head of steam. Better than the shakes I had earlier. The sound of that explosion was enough to have me break out in a cold sweat.
“Not yours to take on.”
“Gah! I’m so frustrated. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have your life totally turned upside down? Out of your control? Terrifying?”
This time I manage to lift my head but only because his hold loosened
. When I look at him, his eyes are closed and his lips pressed together. “I have a vague idea,” he says gruffly.
Shit. Nice going Olivia Valentina Rizzo. You lost a truck and maybe a garage, and your problems are hopefully of a temporary nature, but this man lost his wife—the mother of his children. Stood by and watched her die, unable to do a damn thing. Talk about putting your foot in.
Of course, most information on that I have from Trinny, who probably heard from the boys, which doesn’t necessarily make for a reliable representation, but Joe hasn’t really told me much about her.
I put my hand on his chest and lean forward. “That was a stupid thing for me to say. I wasn’t thinking, of course you know. I’m sorry.” His eyes turn to me and he slides a hand into my hair, cupping the back of my head as he touches his forehead to mine.
“Nothing for you to be sorry about.”
That’s a nice thing to stay, but still I feel compelled to push the issue. “Anytime you, uh…I mean, if ever you want to talk. About her I mean—your wife. I’m here.”
His eyes darken, and then he tilts his head to give me a soft kiss with just a brush of tongue, and then another. “Not my priority right now,” he whispers, his breath feathering against my lips.
That’s really nice.
The warm feeling radiating from my chest is short-lived when the phone Joe just put on the TV stand to charge starts ringing. Joe lunges up and in two steps crosses the room, snatching it off the stand.
“Talk to me.” His voice is all business but his eyes on me remain warm, but in the next moment they drift over my head and turn to slits. “Fuck.”
I jerk in my seat at the sudden force of his voice and even Bugsy, who went back to his bed, lets out a muted woof. My guess is the news is not good so I pull my heel onto the seat, wrapping my arms tightly around my knee while I listen to his monosyllabic responses to whatever he’s being told.
The instant I hear him say, “Later,” and end the call, I straighten my back.
“What happened? Everything all right?”
His eyes, still focused on a point somewhere over my head, return to me. “That was Dylan,” he starts, moving toward the couch and sitting back down beside me, his knee cocked so he’s facing me. The angry lines are gone from his face, replaced with concern as he reaches up and cups my face in his hands. “Looks like the fire wasn’t an accident. Someone set it.” I inhale sharply. It’s not that it’s really a surprise—it was actually the first thing that occurred to me—but hearing it confirmed is startling. “Unfortunately,” he continues, “the asshole stayed out of range of the cameras. All they picked up was a lit bottle hitting your driver’s side window.”
“I don’t understand, if they want to get at me, why set fire to my truck? Why not the house?”
This is when one of his hands slides through my hair and cups the back of my head, the hard lines back in his face and his eyes fierce. “Doesn’t look like they know you’re supposed to be out of town, but they sure as fuck know there’s security on your place. They can’t get to you inside, so they—”
“Draw me out,” I finish, whispering.
“Sweetheart,” he whispers right back. “I’m not gonna let them get to you, but you’ve gotta promise me not ever to go tearing out of the house like you tried to do earlier. Not for anything. You hear?”
My heart is beating in my throat, but still I manage to croak out, “I hear.”
He kisses me hard before sliding his hands down to my hips, adjusting my position until he has me back where I was before—hand on his stomach, cheek to his shoulder, and wrapped tight in his arms.
“Good.”
“Just to say,” I pipe up a minute later. “With all that, I think it’s safe to say I’ll never sleep again.”
This time he shifts to push me with my back to the seat, his large body stretching out half on top of me, a leg pulled up over my hip. His head dips low as he strokes the hair out of my face.
“You will. I’ll make sure of it.”
Chapter 20
Joe
Something hits my face with some force, leaving a sting.
It feels like the dog got onto the bed to try and get me up. Something he’s not supposed to do, but occasionally forgets.
I squint against the morning light, but instead of Bugsy, I see an arm flying through the air. My hand darts out and grabs it right before it would’ve likely smacked me in the face again. A mewling comes from Ollie’s side of the bed, and I turn to find her rolling her head from side to side, making these god-awful sounds.
Her arm still firmly in my grip, I use the other hand to brush the hair out of her face.
“Ollie, you gotta wake up, honey.”
Instead of rousing her, it makes her more combative. She’s fighting me now, and I’m having a hell of a time trying to hold her without hurting her. Finally I just roll on top of her, immobilizing her.
“Wake up. Come on, baby, it’s Joe, open your eyes. Just a dream.”
Her body stills and I can feel her take a deep breath in. “Joe?” Her voice is scratchy but her eyes are beautiful when she blinks them open.
“Must’ve been quite a dream.”
“I get them sometimes,” she mumbles, but turns her eyes away.
“How often?” I ask, but I don’t get those eyes back, they’re aimed at the bathroom. “Ollie?” A little more forceful now.
“Used to be often, at first anyway, but this was the first one in a very long time.” Her gaze comes back to me. “Jesus, Joe…did I do that?”
I’m not clear what she’s referring to, but she’s looking at my mouth so I touch my fingers there. It stings and my fingers come away with blood. “A split lip, that’s all,” I reassure her, rolling on my back and taking her with me so she’s draped over my chest. “What do you dream about?”
“Just…you know…”
“I don’t, so I’m asking,” I persist, tightening my arms around her a fraction, which makes her roll her eyes.
“You know, you’re very pushy.”
“Yup, and that doesn’t bother me in the least. Mason used to have the worst nightmares after his mother died, until I finally forced him to talk about them. Out in the open they hold much less power. He doesn’t have them anymore.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “So…what did you dream about?”
“Fine,” she mutters on a sigh. “It’s mostly a rewind of the accident, the loud bang, a hot burn, looking down at my foot which is no longer attached to my leg.”
“Jesus.”
“Nothing new, Joe.”
Despite brushing it off, I can see her eyes are still haunted. Fuck, what a gruesome experience. She may have had the dreams before, but she’s far from immune to them. Nor has she forgotten them, which I’m sure is why she refused going back to bed yesterday and had stayed on the couch with me, battling sleep, until the light of morning hit.
I ended up not going into the office. Spent most of the day on the phone while she was either in the kitchen baking enough cookies to last through Christmas—although she accurately pointed out the kids would probably make their way through them in no time, once they get home—or she was catnapping on the couch, dozing off while watching some Netflix show. We had a late dinner and even later—curled up in a lounger on the deck, watching the moon reflect off the Animas River—exhaustion finally won and she dropped into a deep sleep, her head on my shoulder.
“First off, it wasn’t an accident,” I correct her firmly. “You’ve spent too much time making that claim, but you and I both know it was a hit. And secondly, it doesn’t take much to figure yesterday morning’s fire triggered it, which makes it new.”
“Semantics,” she grumbles sleepily, causing me to grin.
I’m learning more about her in these unguarded moments, and so far, I have yet to find something I don’t like. Even being argumentative she’s cute. Although telling her that would probably land me a solid punch to the nuts.
“Come here.”
I glide a hand down her panties, covering her ass cheek, and with the other fist in her hair, guiding her closer. She doesn’t even hesitate for a second, opening her mouth the moment my lips hit hers. I immediately roll us, her back into the mattress, my body covering hers, and my tongue plunging inside.
The kiss is deep, wet, and about to lead us to a place I can’t go, because we’ve got shit to do. She groans when I pull back.
“Would much prefer staying in bed with you, but I have a desk that’s likely piled high by now, an additional officer to recruit, and a department to run. And you have a date with Autumn.”
Keith dropped in yesterday with the fire inspector’s report, took one look at the strain showing on Ollie’s face, and suggested a visit up the mountain. I was glad when she jumped on it. Guess there’s no resisting the draw of a teensy baby.
“I have a date with Autumn and Aleksander,” she corrects me, a smile breaking through even as she pushes me off. “Gotta figure out what to wear,” she mumbles as she hops over to her bags on the floor.
“Not sure the baby will care much, Sweets,” I offer, propping myself up on an elbow, but judging from the glare she throws me over her shoulder, that is not the right thing to say.
“It may not have escaped your notice, but I don’t have that many friends. Grace, of course, but she’s more of a mother-friend, than a girlfriend. Never had the time, never took the time. My focus was my daughter and getting my feet under me—” She stares down at the ground. “—my foot under me. Anyway, I’m getting the chance now and I wanna make a good impression.”
I can tell she’s nervous about this, so I swing my legs out of bed. Ollie is pulling every last item of clothing out of her bags, making a huge pile on my floor. “You don’t know Autumn, but I do,” I wade in carefully, “and I can promise she’ll care even less than the baby. That woman gives comfortably casual an entirely new meaning.” I watch as she straightens up. “Trust me, you want to make a good impression? Focus on comfort, and be yourself, because that’s what you’ll be getting from her.”
