Bullets & Bonfires

by Autumn Jones Lake

  A chill tingles down my spine.

  “Miss?”

  “Huh?” I turn and find the barista holding out a fistful of change.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, tossing it in the tip jar. “I’ll be right back.”

  Darting into the mall, my gaze scans everything. I’ve only made it a few stores away from Starbucks when I spot my prey. Chad’s brother, Chris, cowering behind a rack of clearance sneakers.

  I’m so done with this shit.

  I march right into the store. “Are you following me, Chris?”

  His face turns red as soon as he makes eye contact. “No. I’m following the order. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “What order?”

  “Oh.” He flashes a smug smile way too similar to his brother’s for my comfort and I back up a few steps. “Your boyfriend didn’t tell you? Yeah, he had me served at my parents’. So, thanks for that.”

  I’m beyond tired of people blaming me when their shitty actions get them into trouble. “Maybe you should have thought of that before sending me all those emails and leaving me nasty voicemails.”

  His gaze darts away. “I’m sorry, okay? He’s my brother. I was upset. He’s never been in trouble before.”

  “That’s because your parents always cleaned up his messes.”

  He grinds his teeth and doesn’t respond.

  “Just leave me alone, Chris,” I snap. Courage gone, I turn and run back to Starbucks. Grabbing the coffees, I hurry back to the salon.

  “Were they packed?” Aubrey asks, accepting the plastic cup dripping with cold sweat.

  I nod and hand a coffee to Celia and sit so I can sip my own.

  When it’s my turn, I tell Celia to go nuts. “Okay, not too nuts, I may be going on some job interviews soon.”

  She sifts through my long, thick hair. “A lot of my clients would kill for this.”

  “It grows back, right?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “I like your spunk, Bree. So, if you’re feeling brave, I think you could totally pull off a long, inverted bob that’s shorter in the back with longer layers in front.”

  “How short?”

  A quick grin says she’d expected that question.

  “Skimming your shoulders. A little higher in the back.” She touches a spot below my neck.

  “Do it.”

  With every snip, chunks of my hair tumble to the floor like all the bad years of my life falling away.

  When it’s finished and styled, Celia hands me a mirror and I admire her work. “I love it.” Totally worth it. I admire the long, sleek layers that seem to make my round face look thinner and more mature.

  “That came out beautiful, Bree,” Aubrey says.

  Feeling a little silly, I hold out my phone and take a quick selfie, then send it to Liam.

  While we’re ringing out, he replies:

  Wow.

  My girlfriend is hot.

  Can’t wait to see you later.

  I guess Liam likes it.

  “Is that the boyfriend?” Aubrey asks. “The one who’s friends with Sully?”

  “Yes.” I suppress my laughter.

  “Does he have any hot cop friends?”

  I’m laughing so hard as we step outside, I almost stumble, catching myself on Aubrey’s shoulder. She laughs with me for a second or two. “I’m serious. Don’t hold out on me.”

  “Probably. I’ve met Sully’s brother.”

  “Ooo, is he as hot as Sully?”

  My shoulders lift. “I guess. In a smooth-guy, player sort of way.”

  “No thanks. Had enough of those.”

  “His friend Keegan is a fire fighter, but he’s too old for you.”

  “I like older men. At least they know what they’re doing and have their shit together. Usually,” she adds. She glances over, big brown eyes, full of mischief. “You only have eyes for your man, huh? I can tell.”

  “Pretty much,” I confirm.

  I almost don’t want to drop her off at her house.

  “Thank you so much, Bree. This was fun.” She hesitates before sliding out of my car. “If you want to hang out, call me.”

  “I will.”

  There’s no sign of Liam when I return home. It makes me dread going back to school. We’ll probably never see each other.

  Kimber does her subdued version of a happy-doggy-dance at the door, her nub wagging so hard her whole rear end sways. After loving on her for a few minutes, I take her outside for a short walk around the back yard, then feed her a light dinner.

  Still no sign of Liam.

  Why am I obsessing over this? I think Liam made it clear this is more than a few rounds of hot sex. If it’s meant to be, distance won’t come between us.

  Still full from lunch, I end up in front of the bathroom mirror playing with my new haircut. Staring at my reflection isn’t as horrifying as it was when I first came home.

  My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket.

  LIAM: I miss you like crazy.

  Wow. Five simple words do a number on me.

  A few minutes later, I receive a follow-up from him.

  Send me another pic.

  I step out onto the porch for the natural lighting and snap a picture, sending it off to Liam.

  He writes back. Just made my night 1000x better.

  As I turn to go inside, something on the hood of my car catches my attention. Heart hammering, I push inside the house, locking the door. Kimber senses my anxiety and tries to nudge me over to the couch.

  “No, girl.”

  I clip on her leash for the second time and take her out the back door. We circle around the house, and in the driveway she puts her nose to the ground like she’s caught a scent. Once or twice she lifts her head to growl.

  When we reach my car, a line of fur on her back stands straight up. She lets out a few deep barks, scaring the shit out of me. “Easy, girl.”

  The command dies in my throat as my gaze lands on my car.

  Someone left four pink carnations on the windshield.

  I hate carnations.

  Especially pink ones.

  Just like the ones Chad gave me for our anniversary every year.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  All afternoon, I wait for Keegan’s call to see how Brianna did in the self-defense class. My phone finally rings as Brady and I are headed to interview Mr. Davis’s mother.

  “How’d she do?” I say into the phone.

  “Whatever happened to hello?”

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  I should know better. Telling Keegan not to be a dick means he’ll jerk me around for a few minutes before telling me what I want to know.

  “I’m working,” I prod, hoping he’ll hurry up.

  “Well, first, you’re welcome.”

  “For what?”

  “Sounds like you took my advice and finally pulled your head out of your ass since she’s calling you her boyfriend.”

  “I…” I stop and roll the title around. Realize I like it a hell of a lot. Love that Bree’s already comfortable describing our relationship to people.

  “That’s good.”

  “Second, Kimber’s surgery has been pushed back.”

  “Fuck. How come?”

  “The surgeon wants to take another look at her records and maybe do an MRI.”

  “All right. Just let me know when.”

  “I’ll take her. You two are already doing enough to help me out.”

  “It’s really fine. Bree loves her and I feel better knowing she’s there when I’m working late.” Like tonight. I have the feeling there’s a long night ahead of me.

  We talk for a few more minutes about the dog before Keegan finally shares the information I’m waiting for.

  “Bree did well today. I didn’t take it easy on her. She was nervous at first, but when she finally worked herself free of one of the holds on her own, she was pretty happy.”

  “Good.” That’s why I wanted Keegan to work with he
r. I trust him not to do anything inappropriate and I’m way too soft when it comes to her. One blink of her big blue eyes and I’d let her win every damn time. Besides, I sure as fuck didn’t want to play the role of attacker with her. Keegan’s detached enough to work with her and friendly enough not to freak her the fuck out.

  A deep sigh comes over the line and I realize he’s not done with his assessment. “One of the holds seemed to bother her—”

  “Which one?”

  Another sigh. “The chokehold. I tried not to make a big deal out of it, but you might want to talk to her.”

  Christ, I don’t even know how to start that conversation. “Thanks, I will.”

  “I got a call in downtown Empire,” Keegan informs me. “So that’s where I’m headed for fuck knows how long.”

  “I hear you. I’m out in East Bumfuck all day.”

  After I hang up, Brady glances over. “Did I understand that correctly? You adopted a dog with this chick?”

  “She’s not a chick.”

  “So, is this the girl Linda was all bent out of shape about?” he asks, unable to let anything go.

  “Yes. You want to maybe put on your cop hat so we can do our jobs?”

  He lets it go for now, but I’m sure he’ll needle me again at some point.

  In our large, sprawling, but sparsely populated part of the county, the weekends can either be crazy or so boring writing tickets seems like grade-A entertainment.

  After reviewing more medical records and trying to track her down for a couple days, Brady and I finally located Allen Davis’s mother and are on our way to question her.

  The supposed former ER nurse greets us in a gruff, no-nonsense manner.

  We go through a carefully crafted list of questions, circling back a few times when her answers are evasive.

  “Why didn’t you insist they go to the emergency room right away?” Brady asks for the second time.

  “They’re in debt up to their ears. He didn’t need another medical bill hanging around his neck,” she explains.

  “Mrs. Davis, your granddaughter’s injuries were pretty severe,” I say gently.

  Her shoulders drop and her mouth twists as if she doesn’t want to say the words forming in her head. “I warned them if they didn’t take her in, I was going to call child services on them,” she finally admits.

  This is new information.

  “I didn’t want my son railroaded by the system.”

  Something about her answer seems off, but I let the comment go for now.

  “Listen, I know he didn’t hurt his baby girl. It was either an accident or she did it.” Mrs. Davis hasn’t once used the girlfriend’s name and that deepens my suspicions of what actually happened. “I didn’t raise my son that way.”

  Although she suffers from an inflated opinion of her son, she seems to care a lot about her granddaughter.

  “Has Allison ever had any similar injuries?” Brady asks.

  She clamps her lips shut. My fists clench at my sides and I fight to relax my posture. The kid’s record was clean, but maybe we missed something.

  “No. Nothing this bad,” she answers after staring Brady down for a few seconds. She cocks her head. “Now, unless you two want to help me muck some stalls, I have horses to take care of.” Mrs. Davis doesn’t wait for us to leave. She simply walks past us and out to the barn without a backwards glance.

  “We need to dig some more,” I mutter.

  “Still like the girlfriend for it?” Brady asks once we’re back in the car.

  “Something isn’t right.”

  On the way back to the station we run over a few different scenarios.

  “He had to be, what? Sixteen when the daughter was born? Maybe there’s a neglect or endangering charge that was sealed. That might explain why he didn’t seek medical help right away.”

  He nods, drumming his fingers over the notebook in his lap. “Why cover for Nancy if she hurt his little girl?”

  “I’ve seen parents choose lovers over their children too many times to count.” Starting with Bree’s mother.

  “I’ll never fucking understand that,” Brady huffs.

  “Me either. Unless he really thinks it was an accident. He didn’t strike me as particularly smart.”

  “No way. Medical report was clear. She didn’t do that on the dresser.”

  “He’s not the sharpest crayon in the box. You really think he read a medical report? Maybe he took whatever Nancy told him at face value.”

  He shrugs. “Still nail him on endangering. That house was fucking disgusting. No way to raise a kid.”

  “Can’t argue with you there.”

  He scribbles down a few notes, then closes his notepad and sits back. “So, you’re still babysitting?”

  “I’m not babysitting. I’m helping out a friend.”

  “The friend you now have a dog with?”

  “We’re helping Keegan out by watching the dog. Not sure we’re keeping her yet.”

  “Do you realize how many times you just said we?”

  “No, please enlighten me.”

  He shakes his head, not offended by my sarcasm or deterred by it unfortunately. “You’re in deep. This girl’s why you haven’t been to your apartment in days?”

  “Stalker.”

  Brady snickers. “Ya live right next door. How am I not supposed to notice?”

  “I don’t know. Pay attention to your own shit?”

  “You should’ve tried fucking her out of your system instead of getting a dog.”

  My fingers clench around the steering wheel. “You’re lucky I’m driving or I’d punch you right now.”

  “Ohh, so you did fuck her.”

  “Is fucking your answer to all of life’s problems?”

  “Pretty much.” A little quieter he adds, “Next thing you know, you’ll be marrying this chick. Then who’s going to be my wingman?”

  “You’ll figure something out,” I answer, not bothering to deny his assumption.

  I’m relieved and disappointed to find Bree asleep when I return to Vince’s. I almost trip over Kimber, who’s stationed outside the bedroom door.

  “What’s wrong girl?” I asking, crouching down to scratch her ears. She pushes her wet nose into my other hand and lets me love her up for a few minutes. “Were you a good girl? Did you watch out for Bree?” Her short nub of a tail wags harder with every word I say to her.

  “All right, I guess you deserve a cookie.” I pad into the kitchen and grab the box of dog treats, pulling one out.

  Stems from a bunch of carnations stick out of the trash, catching my attention. I tug them out, wondering where they came from, then shove them back.

  I’ll solve that mystery in the morning.

  I toss Kimber her treat and close the bedroom door behind me. Exhausted, I slide into bed, pull her into my arms, and immediately fall asleep.

  Bree should never doubt how I feel about her because I wake up a few hours later with one of my hands under her tank top cupping her breast. Definitely the first time I’ve molested a woman in my sleep. Her nipple’s hard against the palm of my hand and she moans, turning toward me. My hand skims down her belly, dipping into her underwear. “Bree, are you awake?”

  She sleepily mumbles a few noises as my lips find their way to her neck, kissing and licking. Her legs spread and her back arches, inviting me to slip a finger inside. Christ, she’s so hot and wet it fully wakes me up.

  I drag her underwear down her legs, tossing them to the floor. We need to start spending nights at my apartment where she can sleep naked.

  My mouth finds her nipple, sucking hard until she gasps, coming fully awake. “Liam?”

  “Need you,” I mumble.

  She wriggles her tank top off, tossing it on the floor with her underwear. Next, her hands are at the drawstring of my shorts, yanking it loose and shoving them down my hips. We’re warm and hot, skin on skin. Tangled up in the sheets.

  “Bree.” Her name comes out ras
py and desperate which is exactly how I feel. It’s so dark I can barely make out her features. My hands do the work, tracing every soft, heated curve, helping me position myself between her thighs. I press my cock against her entrance, the tight, wet heat beckoning me to take her hard and fast.

  She wiggles under me and I drive inside her. “Fuck,” I breathe out, stopping to enjoy the feel of her around me. I gather her in my arms, holding her tight.

  My hips flex slow and steady, savoring this time with her.

  “Liam. Wait. Stop, stop, stop.”

  Her words come out in a scared rush and I immediately pull out and draw back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I can’t.” She’s breathing hard and sits up, scooting back until her body hits the headboard.

  I reach out and cup her cheek, trace my fingers down to her neck. It’s so damn dark, I can’t make out her expression, but her pulse beats wildly under my fingers. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. It’s not that.”

  I reach over to flick on the lamp, but she stops me. “Don’t. Please. Not yet.”

  The problem hits me like a freight train and all my rage roars to the surface. I’ve always suspected Chad didn’t stop at hitting Bree.

  I’m a fucking moron for not figuring this out sooner and being more careful with her.

  I knew it. Knew this was too soon. Too quick. She can pretend she’s okay until I do something to trigger her. I don’t want to be the one to ever hurt her.

  I knew damn well she wasn’t ready for this, yet I went ahead and did it anyway.

  “I need to see you, Bree.” This time she doesn’t protest when I lean over and turn on the small lamp on the nightstand. It throws off a bare circle of pale light, but it’s enough to observe her panicked expression.

  “Tell me,” I say gently.

  Her eyes squeeze shut and she ducks her head. “I can’t, Liam. Please. Not right now. Not here with you.”

  “Sweetheart.” I turn so I’m sitting next to her and throw the sheet over my legs, then pull her into my lap. She loops her arms around my neck and rests her head on my shoulder.

  “You don’t have to give me details.” Because fuck, if I hear them right now, in this moment when I’m drowning in my love for her, in my guilt, in my need to do anything I can to make things right, I might lose my mind. “But I need to know what upset you so I don’t do it again.”