The song died off, and Finn was ready to bolt. From the dance floor. From the prom. From this whole stupid mess. It was time to move on.
But when he turned to go, he saw her. His heart stalled out. She was a vision, almost angelic, as every light in the room seemed to spotlight her in a perfectly incandescent glow.
Man, it hurt to look at her. She was breathtaking. The ethereal white dress shimmied mercilessly over her slight curves, but that wasn’t where he was looking. What he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from was her face. Radiant with her sparkling eyes, dewy pink lips, and a silky pile of black curls gracefully swept up, framing her elegant features.
He pried his gaze away and saw Cody leading Joselyn out onto the dance floor. He was trying to say something in her ear, but she seemed to be preoccupied looking for someone until … her gaze found Finn’s, and everything crashed all around him, leaving his foolish eyes for her alone.
Cody tugged on her arm, and she stumbled against him. His hands clamped possessively around her lower back. Then he turned her, and Cody’s dark eyes met Finn’s across the expanse of the dance floor where couples were drawing together for the last slow dance.
It was that moment when Renee crashed into him. “One slow dance, cranky. And then we can go back to my hotel room, and I’ll turn that frown upside down,” she cackled in Finn’s ear. He was so disgusted he about turned away … but then Joselyn swiveled back into view.
So Finn got even. Grabbing hold of his awful date, he held Joselyn’s gaze to remind her of everything she had passed on. Okay, so maybe not passed exactly. But he’d all but blurted his love for her in grand sonnets every time she was near. Dropping hints and flirting every way he knew how to prepare for the moment he’d been dreaming about since the day he’d first laid eyes on her.
But before he’d gotten his chance—or maybe worked up the nerve—she’d stomped his heart and his self-worth beneath her designer shoes.
He struggled to keep a hardened look on his face as he watched her. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of witnessing his pitiful infatuation.
But she didn’t look happy. And she wasn’t smiling. Even still, the whole thing was like salt in his wounds. Well good riddance. He hoped she had a terrible time tonight.
By the look on her face, it seemed that wish was coming true.
Mindlessly flipping another burned batch, Finn came out of his agonizing flashback, making a note to himself not to meander down memory lane while making pancakes—especially when preparing them for others.
After dumping a few of the worst ones, and scraping the charcoal from the others, he emerged from the kitchen with the stack and some maple syrup, and joined the girls at the table.
“Sorry ladies. But if you ask a man to do a woman’s job you gotta prepare yourself for the consequ—Ow! Sadie, you have got to stop punching people!”
His feisty little sister smirked and stabbed at the top pancake with her fork. “I’ll stop punching people when you men stop staying asinine things that justify a beating. Deal?”
“Relax, Cujo. Just a bit of sarcasm.” Finn was getting his hide handed to him left and right between these two. While he had his hot buttons like anyone else, he was generally easy-going. Though admittedly his sarcastic talents hadn’t fully developed until after prom night.
Finn’s dad always claimed sarcasm was the lowest form of wit. He said Finn used it as a defense mechanism, but Finn didn’t much buy into all that psychobabble and embraced his new identity as a man of confidence. Even arrogance if that meant no longer being the nice guy who finished last.
Joselyn cut into his thoughts. “Oh, Finn. I forgot to thank you for the flowers. Though, you should know now—since we’re dating,” she fluttered her lashes teasingly, “that my favorite flowers are daisies, not lilies. But still, it was very thoughtful.”
Finn’s chewing slowed, and he spoke around a syrup-drenched briquette. “Sorry, what are you talking about?”
Her smile went cockeyed, and she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder to a grandiose bouquet of big white blooms. Lilies, she’d said. As if Finn knew the slightest thing about flowers.
“The flowers you sent me.”
Great, she’d probably gotten flowers from one of her many admirers. Now Finn was going to look like a jerk. Again. Why hadn’t he thought to get her flowers? Idiot!
“Uh, Joss, I didn’t send you those.”
She furled her brow, looking at him as if he’d been dealt a short stack between his ears. “But the card said it was from you.”
They all sat in silence for an extended moment, looking to each other for a simple explanation.
“Wait. Didn’t you get a similar bouquet after the fire?” Sadie set her fork down, that sleuthing look sparking in her eyes.
Finn’s stomach lurched, and air crawled sluggishly through his lungs as he too set the now bent fork in his hand down on his plate.
“Well, yes. I assumed they were from my dad. White lilies are his flowers of choice. At least, for funerals. Needless to say, the gesture didn’t exactly give me the warm fuzzies.” Joselyn sprang up from the chair and retrieved the card attached with the flowers, with Finn following right behind her.
I hope I am always there to rescue you. Get well soon.
Love, Finn
A growl emerged from Finn’s throat, and he used every ounce of his restraint to keep from ripping the note from her hand. “Sounds like a threat. To both of us.” He could scarcely articulate those words with the angry bind of his jaw grinding it shut.
“Hey, hey! Be careful with that.” Ever prepared, Sadie rushed to their side, Zip Lock and tweezers ready. “That’s evidence.” Bagging the note, she set it on the table.
Finn snatched up Sadie’s phone and dialed out.
“Morning, gorgeous. Missing me already?”
“Oh, yes, terribly.” Finn grunted, and Archer barked a laugh at the mix up. But Finn didn’t much feel like laughing at the moment.
“Arch, you better get over here.”
“I want every available hand tracking down where these flowers came from. That means local florists, grocery stores, online orders, anything you can think of. You find out where they came from we might get a description, a bank account number, or maybe a surveillance video. Don’t come back until you have something for me, we clear?” Archer’s orders were clipped and efficient, true to form for the ex-military sergeant he was. And with their assignments, the agents he’d brought with him scattered like ants, the local PDs on speakerphone chorused their agreement and signed off.
“Can I do anything?” Joselyn’s face blanched, her fingers clasping nervously in front of her stomach.
The thin fabric of her form-fitting sleep shirt had inched up around her waist, exposing a slice of smooth, creamy skin. Several of the agents that had been present a few moments ago hadn’t bothered to veil their appreciation for her figure, nearly tempting Finn to flare his nostrils and paw at the ground in warning.
Now only Archer remained and he only had eyes for Sadie, so the little peek of alabaster skin was for Finn alone.
Without lifting his eyes from his notepad Archer asked. “You don’t happen to still have those other flowers and the note, do you?”
Joselyn shook her head. “No. I guess I left them in the hospital room last week when I was released.”
“What’d the note say?”
She wrapped her slim arms around herself as if retreating into her shell. “It said ‘Sorry for your loss.’” The tension on the fabric from her hands fisting at her sides pulled at the hem of her shirt even more until Finn could see her tiny belly button.
He swallowed back a groan, and probably some drool, and forced his eyes away, trying to stay focused on the case and the very real threat of danger that should be front and center in his mind. But even with his best intentions, and his eyes occupied elsewhere, he couldn’t help but think about how beautiful and perfect she was to him—almost too intimidating to look at. Even now, with her
hair still matted from sleeping against his chest and not an ounce of makeup, she was flawless.
And that made each of his own flaws all the more repulsive in his eyes.
What did she see when she looked at him? Did she see the angry burned skin at the back of his neck from the Monroe fire? Or did she see the scarring that went far deeper?
Did she see an honorable man fighting to protect her or an arrogant punk she’d once rejected toying with her mind?
Finn supposed he’d been a bit of each of those things. But he desperately hoped to prove he was bigger than the man who’d manipulated her into tears last night. That he wasn’t going to keep holding a grudge, keeping one foot in the past to remind her what he’d thought of her all those years ago and all the years since.
He knew he needed to let it go. Needed to surrender all that rejection and hurt. And not only about Joselyn and how she’d once ripped his heart to shreds. But about all of it. Everything else that robbed him of becoming the man he needed to become to be worthy of her.
And worthy of grace for all his senseless mistakes.
Crossing the space between them, Finn stopped directly in front of Joselyn. Her eyes were weighted with worry, and she’d once again trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. Her arms wrapping ever tighter around her slender frame seeking comfort. He smiled down at her lovely face to put her at ease. She could use a distraction and he could think of a perfect way to do exactly that.
Though sadly, not with Archer and Sadie still talking flowers and strategy in the room.
He stood close enough to breath in the sweet and minty elixir that seemed to diffuse from her skin, filling his senses with something so much more tempting than revenge. After he glanced over his shoulder to check their audience, he touched his hands to her hips, barely breathing when his fingers treasured the forbidden boundary of the petal-soft skin before he gently righted the rising hemline.
Her arms loosened around her but stayed in place, and for several long moments Finn’s mouth wouldn’t cooperate. He wanted to kiss her. Hold her. Reassure her it would all be okay. That he’d keep her safe no matter what.
Instead, he pried his hands away from their newfound addiction and tried to smile. Might have even tried to wink, to lighten the mood the way he did best.
“I told you I don’t like to share.” Except, his voice shook when the truth in his sarcasm threatened to give him away completely. It was far too soon to lay all his cards on the table, but he was tempted to do just that.
“That’s a little possessive for a guy who’s only pretending.” He saw the challenge in her eyes. Too fierce for simple curiosity.
Leaning in until his lips brushed her ear, he whispered, “Who said I was pretending?”
“So … there’s nothing in this for you?” she whispered too and then leaned away to read the truth from his face.
The words were out before he thought better of them, so he wagged his eyebrows and covered with a smile. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”
Chapter 29
Joselyn Whyte
“So, you’re sure?”
Despite the seriousness of the task, Joselyn couldn’t help but snort a laugh. “Archer, are you kidding? I can’t see a thing from this. That could be anybody.”
After a full twenty-four hours of zero progress on the flowers, the eighteenth endless surveillance video proved her breaking point.
The grainy man on the screen—who may or may not be a killer—looked like any plain old average Joe. Like the last thirty or so guys on tape, from more than a dozen stores, that had bought lilies in that past two weeks. And that was only scratching the surface of the videos yet to be sorted through—or even come in.
Not to mention all the places that didn’t have surveillance. Or all the men that had placed orders online or by phone, or who didn’t walk out with a nice telling white bouquet, or whose faces had managed to elude the video feed. Like the man who had dropped the first arrangement at the information desk at the hospital, who’d worn a flu mask and had found a hole in the hospital’s security coverage.
The flowers could have been shipped in from anywhere. All they knew at present was that this guy in the video from Schnuck’s grocery store bought white lilies similar to the arrangements Joselyn had received around the same time—designating him as a new suspect.
“Facial recognition picked up this one.” Archer angled his pen at the screen. “Works for Parkway School District so we had him on file.”
Thus the poor guy was being picked up by Sal and brought in for questioning, while she sat scrutinizing the fuzzy images of strangers who might end up on the losing end of the lotto today. Dozens had already been questioned and dismissed. It seemed like a true needle-in-a-haystack impossibility, but Joselyn stuck it out—wanting to show her appreciation for the FBI’s diligence.
“I’ll stick around and see if I recognize him in person. But this all seems kinda crazy. I mean, we looked through all those order forms, but any one of those could be a fake name, right?”
Before Archer could answer, her worries started snowballing. “Didn’t most of those places say they don’t even make customers fill out forms with personal information? And so what if I don’t recognize him? It’s quite possible I’ve never seen my attacker before. And what makes us think this guy will slip up after creating a bafflingly brilliant, evidence-free house fire, car bomb, and whatever genius plan he has to roast me alive next? Like he’s gonna waltz right into the florist, look directly at the camera, and hand over his credit card?”
She shook her head, her heart anchoring to hopelessness and sinking faster and faster into a dark, drowning abyss. “Thank you for everything you’re doing, but I feel like I’m wasting everyone’s time.” Dang it, don’t you dare cry. She sniffled back a few tears and thought seriously about surrendering to her fate.
This guy was too smart. Too fixated. And despite his fiery signature, too unpredictable.
The words from the bouquet from “Finn” rushed back to her. She shivered. What if something happened to him? Or Sadie, Archer, or Sal?
Even the thought made her consider going rogue and sacrificing herself on the burning alter. While they chased down one dead end after another they became puppets in his little game. Would this next time end it all?
Every thought turned morbid and paranoid. She hated constantly looking over her shoulder, but she also knew that Archer wouldn’t give up on this even if she begged him to. Which, she didn’t think she possessed the nerve to do.
“The safe house is still on the table.”
“No, Archer. He’s motivated. And I can’t hide forever. We’ll lose any chance we have at tracking him down if I fall off the grid.”
They’d weighed the pros and cons already. Numerous times.
His hard hand came to rest on her arm, and she looked up into his eyes—eyes with deadly resolve. “We’re gonna nail this guy, Joss. I know it seems like a long shot, but you gotta trust. And let me do my job.”
Of course, he was right. The panic was very persuasive, but if she gave in to fear it would suck away what could possibly be the last days or weeks of her life. “You’re right. And I trust you.”
“Not me, Joss. I’m darn good at my job, but I’m not God.” Somehow this solid brute of a man seemed to fortify even more with his next words. “Most things are bigger than you and me. But you’re in good hands. Of that, I have no doubt.”
Joselyn drew in a deep breath, willing Archer’s words to absorb into her heart.
He had no doubts.
Well, that made one of them.
“Hi, Yia-Yia. How’re you feeling today?” In her attempts to avoid any discussion of the boarded entry of McKnight Grove and the nightmarish highlight reel of the car bombing incident looping in her mind, Joselyn’s voice emerged a bit too energized, catching Yia-Yia with a startle.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, just stopping in for a little visit.” Softening her voice, she searched her grandmo
ther’s vacant eyes for any sign of recognition.
“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind a little distraction from this ridiculous knitting nonsense.” Abandoning the knitting needles to her lap, she rolled her crystal-blue eyes. “They’re trying to bore me to death. That or maybe I’d turn one of those big needles on myself. Gave it a thought. Much rather play some hold ’em. Difficult game to play by oneself.” She lifted a manicured brow. “You know how to play poker, young lady?”
With a sinking heart, Joselyn lowered herself to the chair beside the woman who’d raised her, who taught her everything she knew—including how to play Texas hold ’em.
Today was not a day Joselyn could handle duking out the truth, so playing along would have to do. Striving to keep her voice unwavering in her disappointment, she said, “Yes, ma’am. My grandmother taught me. Great game. Shall I fetch some cards?”
Yia-Yia’s face lit up; the lines around her eyes and mouth crinkling with delight. Scooping up the knitting needles, she dropped them into a small trash can and dusted off her hands. “Ah, yes, my dear.” Batting her hand at the discarded scarf, she flashed Joselyn a sassy smirk and winked, “Sweet Moses, that was boring! You saved me. I will be forever indebted.” Placing her hand on her heart, she dipped her head in an amusing bow.
Now, there was the Yia-Yia Joselyn remembered. And though she didn’t seem to recognize her own flesh and blood, sharing some quality time with someone she loved was enough for today.
Jogging out to the supply room, Joselyn scrounged up a sleeve of poker chips and a deck of playing cards and went back to shuffle and deal to the card shark herself.
Yia-Yia had always loved a good poker game. Games of all kinds, really. Her friends would come over, and Joselyn would sit enrapt by all the strategies and rules of Yia-Yia’s weekly bridge, hold ’em, or bunko tournaments with a bunch of crazy old gamblers.
From Winter's Ashes: Girl Next Door Crime Romance Series - Book Two Page 21
