Her cheeks warmed. A hint of relief melted slowly through her tense muscles like a drizzle of honey in hot tea. Sal was definitely attractive. About six feet tall, ultra-lean, if not a little wiry—or maybe he simply appeared compact compared to Archer and Finn. Sal, whose first name was actually Dorian, had Hispanic roots ensuring him an enviable year-round tan, offsetting perfect white teeth and yummy dark chocolate eyes. From their few short encounters Joselyn knew him to be hilarious and easygoing. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. Anyone would be better than one of her dad’s minions.
“No. I’ll do it.”
Her eyes snapped to the newest volunteer. Uh, oh. Something fired low in her belly, probably her ovaries bursting into flames.
Finn. He was a different sort of handsome—and he knew it. Too aware of his all-American good looks, he’d used his cover-model crop of tousled, sandy blonde hair, gemstone-colored eyes, and athletic physique against the opposite sex for as long as she’d known him.
But looks were deceiving. Under no circumstances would she fall prey to those sparkling eyes. Not again. She held his gaze hard, strengthening her resolve to stay immune to their mysterious allure.
But then why did it feel like she was surrounded by quicksand?
“Who’s going to do it?” Her dad’s puzzlement broke the stunned silence.
“Finn.” Sal answered, his eyes darting between Joselyn and the jerk.
“All right. Probably better it’s not a cop. Those vultures in the press will be all over that, and it might make it more difficult for you lads to quickly flush out the threat. Besides, Mr. Carson has what appears to be a Guns ’N Hoses boxing title and a concealed carry license to his name. He should be able to handle this fool’s errand until we put this nonsense behind us. It’s settled then. Finn, we’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead, and Joselyn was certain her ears had played a cruel trick on her. Sweeping her gaze across the silent room and taking in the numb faces, she settled again on a horrified and equally bewildered-looking Finn. Oh, crap.
Joselyn withdrew her thoughts about Gill and Royce. There was a worse choice.
And she was looking at him.
Chapter 5
Finn Carson
What. Just. Happened? Had he blacked out? Was that really his voice that volunteered to pose as Joselyn’s boyfriend for the next few weeks? Take it back. Act like you were joking! But before he could relinquish his asinine offer, Joselyn’s father had gone and a collage of suspicious and confounded faces had zeroed in on him.
Now what?
He didn’t even have time to sputter about when and why the mighty Declan had run a background check on him because Joselyn’s velvety calm voice somehow pinched his ear.
“Finn? I’d like a word with you in the hall.”
Wait, no. Oww. Not her voice. Her fingers pinched his ear. Helpless, his body bent, cartilage twisting, she hurled him—with uncanny force—out the door.
“Oww!”
“What on earth were you thinking?” Her eyes narrowed, claws resting on her hips.
He touched the flap of flesh to make sure it was still attached to his head. “I’m sorry, did you say something? I seem to be having problems with my ear!”
“Explain yourself?” She exaggerated each syllable.
Wish I could. “Uhh …”
“You have no idea what you just did. Do you know who you’re messing with?”
He fought back a smug grin, and failed. “Sorry, sweetheart. You don’t scare me. Can’t be more than a buck twenty soaking wet.” Although the force behind that ear trauma suggested otherwise.
“Not me, you idiot! My dad!”
“You wanna yell a little louder? I’m not sure the deaf lady in 5201 quite got that.”
Curious glances from the nurse’s station were now fixated on their display of what was soon to be front-page-gossip-rag material.
Joselyn grabbed his shirt and tugged him farther down the hallway. The harsh florescence ignited the white hot fury in her eyes. Her voice pitched lower, but her intensity held firm. “You don’t understand. You penned a deal with Satan. Declan Whyte stops at nothing to get what he wants. And right now what he wants—aside from his billion-dollar empire—is a seat in the Senate. As if our lives weren’t enough of a circus of speculation, now you can add another telescopic lens.
“He’s going to have a whole story about our relationship to the press before they get a chance to interpret it for themselves. Then, you and I are going to be spied on to confirm the slew of lies he fed to them. Which means that we will actually have to spend time together and act like a couple, or my dad will have both of our heads.”
If steam could shoot from a person’s ears, Finn would be witnessing the phenomenon at this very moment. She did still smell faintly like a bonfire. Who knew the ice princess could get so steamed? Finn wrestled down a chuckle of sudden amusement when he pictured Joselyn’s face a sickly shade of green as she chanted, “I’m melting.” And since she hadn’t slapped him, he figured he’d done an adequate job pretending to follow her rant instead of picturing her as the Wicked Witch.
“Dysfunction, arson, murderers, that stuff won’t fly, and he’s got enough muscle to make sure it stays hidden, for now. Nothing sells like a squeaky clean, happy family free of …”
His mind raced a 10K around her rambling thoughts as the situation weighed in. Okay. This was bad. It was obvious she needed a protector of sorts at her side, but was he really up for the job?
The chief had ordered Finn on a mandatory two-week sabbatical to clear his head and recuperate. He hadn’t taken any time off in the last two years, and even after the Monroe incident four months ago, he’d worked himself into the ground, refusing time away from the station. Punishing himself.
“Finn, are you even listening?” She rammed her fingers through her silky tresses and heaved her exasperation. “Look, you don’t like me.”
“Nope.” He fought with every word scrambling in his head, yet this one rose to the surface with certainty.
“Perfect! I don’t like you either, so on this we agree. What I don’t understand—”
“Can you shut your trap for one second so I can say something?” His voice snapped more than he’d intended, and he saw her flinch.
Her teeth scraped across the corner of her pouty bottom lip. Then she crossed her arms and waited.
He glanced around, and shaved the harsh edge off his tone. “Listen … I guess we’re going to have to grin and bear it. But I certainly don’t have to justify my reasons to you.” He lowered his gaze to where the soft flesh of her lip surrendered from her bite, inexplicably frozen there. A blush of the palest pink stole back into the tortured petal of skin, and he could almost hear the pulsation that fluttered at her throat. She swallowed hard. Finn followed suit, forcing a swig of oxygen through his suddenly parched airway.
“Dr. Vreeland to OR 3… Dr. Vreeland to OR 3.” The page over the intercom jolted him from the trance. The hospital halls came alive, beeps and murmurs emerged once again from the background.
“There’s a killer on the loose, and like it or not, your life is in my strong and capable hands.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Now, let’s kiss and make up and get this show on the road.” He threw in a wink, just to tick her off.
“Ha! Right!” In a huff she turned and took on a fitful strut back toward her room.
Man, she riled easily. This is gonna be more fun than I thought.
“Firefighter Finn, is that you?” The squeal came from a curvy blonde strutting down the hall.
Finn saw Joselyn stop dead in her tracks. Her head craned around like that crazy girl from The Exorcist.
“You never called me, mister.” Blondie’s overly glossed lips formed a petulant pout as she approached.
He made sure to catch the priceless dumbfounded look on Joselyn’s face before he turned and tossed his memory for the name of the vaguely recognizable “badge bunny” he’d
helped pry from her car after a wreck. “Oh, I … uh.”
Movement from Joselyn’s corner of the ring drew his eyes to her instead. Her gaze looked effortlessly sultry compared to the saccharine seductive looks batting from blondie’s heavily-lined eyes.
A devious smirk played across her lips. “Oh, Peanut, there you are.” Joselyn’s words escaped on a syrupy grin.
Reality buckled at its hinges as Joss closed the space between them, slipped her arms around his waist, pressing the front of her body flush against his side. A fire swirled in his belly right before his stomach plummeted to his feet. His befuddled senses left the rest of him frozen on the spot.
“Who’s your friend?” Joselyn spoke close, her warm breath tickling his cheek.
He looked down into her wide, innocent eyes. Oh, she’s good.
So good he was once again completely disarmed. And disturbed. He would have thought the uptight princess would be all stiff and twiggy with this little charade, but he was loathe to notice she was both very firm and very supple in the most unnerving way.
“Peanut?” The question from bystander Barbie whose previous advances he’d politely dodged and whose name eluded him.
“Oh, yeah.” Joselyn shrugged. “Our little nickname.”
She did not just wink!
Finn felt his jaw drop open, a mystified laugh escaped from his stricken lungs. “Wha—”
Before he could even attempt to defend his manhood an enlightened O formed on the blonde’s sticky lips and she released a snort. “Gotcha. I’m Nikki, by the way.”
Joselyn released one hand to greet Nikki, then promptly reset her trap. “It’s always nice to meet one of Finny’s old friends.”
Joselyn smiled up at him with artfully acted pride in her eyes while he struggled to loosen his shackled tongue. Small talk ensued for a mindlessly fast blur of what couldn’t have been more than a minute until Nikki disappeared down the hall.
Joselyn held her station, and Finn realized his arm was now wrapped around her tight little waist, his large hand spanning down over the curve of her hip sheathed only in the wispy thin hospital gown.
She lifted to her toes and leaned in an inch from his ear. “You are so going to regret this.”
Finn’s pulse spiked, his senses acutely honed in to her breath warming his previously traumatized cartilage and her fingers skimming across his low back in withdrawal. “I already do.” He matched her glare as she pulled her hips away, pivoted, and sauntered, a bit too smugly he thought, back toward her room.
“Oh, Joselyn, dear.”
She turned, triumph in her tight-lipped smirk.
“I know you are very proud of your assets, but doll, this is a public place, and you know I don’t like to share. Perhaps you should cover up, save that for daddy for later.” He bounced his eyebrows for effect.
Sheer mortification splashed across her face before she jerked at her gaping hospital gown and ducked into her room.
Ladies and Gentlemen: Round one, goes to Finn Carson.
“It’s okay. I’m gonna get you out of here. Hold on tight.” Finn’s lungs screamed to be heard over the hiss and roar of the fire. Flames slithered toward the full-sized bed tangled with blankets, cornering him to the back wall, further from the door.
Clutching the frail, trembling body in his arms, he felt her frantic, muted sobs vibrate against his chest. The options were dwindling. His mind raced against a ticking time bomb for an escape.
“Please, show me a way out.” The words were eaten up by the flames, and Finn wasn’t sure they’d actually escaped his pleading soul.
The room seemed to spin around him. Throbbing pain ricocheted from various wounds in breath-stealing pulses to his brain and back for maximum effect. But none could touch the blistering agony of the still sizzling skin on his neck wailing in his ears louder than the raging inferno.
Something crunched under his feet. Looking down, he strained to make out a scattering of LEGO’s on the floor near what used to be a Barbie Dreamhouse. Kicking the toys aside he tested his weight against the loose floor board. If he could keep the flames at bay for two more minutes it just might work.
Had to. Or this fiery grave would claim them both.
AC/DC called to him beyond the deep daze of sleep. Cracking open one eye, the nightmare fell away and he squinted against the harsh glare of sunlight. While he struggled to soothe his labored breaths and acclimate to the present, he let the phone call roll over to voicemail.
God, will these nightmares ever end?
A soft whine registered near his ear. Angling his head, he found himself nose to nose with his new roommate Dodger. His scruffy rescue mutt’s front paws were propped atop the mattress, his tail battering the nightstand in metronomic time as he rolled out his sloppy tongue in greeting. Finn wiped away the remnants of the kiss before giving his little Benji-lookalike’s ears a hearty scratch.
Rolling out of the torture chamber, Finn trudged down the narrow flight of stairs from the open loft bedroom to his kitchen and evaluated the meager contents of his fridge, the gust of cool air belatedly reminding him of his state of undress. He shrugged, took several long swigs from a carton of orange juice, and scratched his chest. Bachelorhood certainly did have its perks.
Licking sounds emanated from Dodger’s jowls.
“Sorry, pal. This jug’s mine.” He burped and replaced the carton. “Let’s get you some breakfast, huh, boy?”
If at all possible, his feathery tail flitted faster, causing his whole body to wag in opposition.
Wandering to the cabinet, he replenished Dodger’s stockpile and was pleased to find half a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch for himself. Knowing there wasn’t any milk he took the box to the couch and snacked on the dry, borderline stale, cereal while Sports Center informed him of the news.
His phone called out the classic rock anthem, echoing down the two-story ceiling from his bedroom. Not remembering anything pressing for the day, he slouched further into the couch. Months of restless nights made Finn’s body beg for complacency, yet his tireless mind spun toward distraction. This forced leave of absence might be the death of him. The empty days ahead a mocking reminder of his fears and failures.
Fortunately, it was Saturday, his favorite day of the week. The day he got to spend with Kendi, the only girl who’d ever truly owned his heart. Hopefully she wouldn’t be exposed to any of the media storm that would be following him for the next few weeks.
After getting ready, grabbing his phone, and procuring Dodger to his leash, Finn headed out to the parking garage to his truck. The growl of the diesel engine reverberated from the concrete walls. Dodger paced the bench seat, ready to ride.
The redundant ringtone beat out just above the old Ford F-250’s rumble, reminding Finn that he’d ignored his calls all morning. He regarded the screen: Private Caller, and answered it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Please hold for Declan Whyte.”
And so it begins.
Chapter 6
How in the hell had she survived that fire? It’d been perfect. Every last detail measured with inscrutable accuracy. He would know. He’d planned it for a year. It was impossible. Impossible.
The odds calculated in his mind, numbers scratching out like chalk against the deepening black. All the variables had been considered. It wasn’t possible he could have missed something. The unnatural heat of his handcrafted “Whyte” flame should have cremated her in minutes. And he’d been merciful enough to ensure she’d sleep through the incineration, imprisoning her in her own body. His rage blazed even hotter with the injustice of his failure; the poisonous hatred feeding the madness he was beginning to own, even appreciate.
The ghostly screams echoed in his skull, bounding around until he tasted blood from his cheek. He swiped the sting with his tongue; the tang soaked into his taste buds, awakening the empty ache in his stomach.
He pulled the car away from the curb near the blonde girl’s condo, knowing he’d need food
before he came back tonight.
All his careful planning had been decimated by an idiot, rogue firefighter with a death wish. Perhaps any plans he made were bound to fail. Plans were supposed to be reliable. But life proved to be anything but.
Maybe just once he’d try his hand at impulsiveness. See how that worked out.
Yes, a sense of rightness flowed through his veins. He’d try again.
The sooner the better.
Chapter 7
Joselyn Whyte
“Seriously, I’ll be fine. I do not need a babysitter.”
Sadie grabbed for her phone as Joselyn raked it out of reach. “I’m not leaving, it’s too soon. I’m calling to cancel.”
“You already said Sal would drive by later and check on me.” Joselyn held the phone above her head. Her five foot nine inches gave her a distinct advantage over Sadie’s five three. “Weren’t you just complaining about lover boy working so much that you’ve barely seen each other in weeks?”
Sadie opened her mouth, but Joselyn blocked her protest. “—That’s like a fourth of your entire relationship.”
Sadie stuck out her tongue and started poking at Joselyn’s underarms. “I still don’t like it. Just let me call Finn—”
“NOOO!” Joselyn giggled and swatted her best friend’s prodding fingers. “Stop that! Look, the doors will be locked. Plus, when Archer escorted us home from the hospital yesterday I could tell he had his eyes peeled for a tail. No one could possibly know I’m here. I’m fine. I promise.”
Joselyn was no stranger to Sadie’s condo so it was easy to feel instantly at home. The warm neutral colors, the tired wood floors, and all the soft, cozy upholstery made the space feel like a Pottery Barn-inspired retreat.
From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two Page 4
