Tuck heard the second snap and was curious since he’d told her he didn’t want one. He walked into the kitchen and observed one empty on the counter, another half gone in her hand.
“You going to throw back the six pack all at once?” He leaned against the doorframe.
“Twelve.” She put the second empty on the counter.
“Do you drink—” How could he word this tactfully? He wondered if this had been a problem for her behind closed doors.
“This is the third beer I’ve had in as many months. I’m not an alcoholic.” She read his mind. “It would be the perfect time to become one though.”
She put the second empty on the counter.
Tuck crossed his arms. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” She wanted to grab a third Mike’s from the sting of that comment. She put her hand on the side of her neck and tried to stretch away the tension.
“Go to bed and get some sleep.” She glared back at him as though it was a foreign concept. “No one will hurt you. Me and my Glock will make sure of it.”
He grinned playfully. His presence eased her mind enough to make her want to attempt sleep, despite knowing what dreams might come. She closed the short distance that separated them and wrapped her arms around his neck. His body was as comforting as his words.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few weeks,” she said lowly, her breath tickling the side of his neck.
You wouldn’t be here to comfort at all. Tuck returned her embrace, conflicted further by the dynamics of their relationship. Those two beers she’d downed probably hit her all at once.
Chance became self-conscious quickly about her leap into Tuck’s arms.
“Sleep does sound good.” She pulled back from him. “I have a spare bedroom you can crash in.” Though I’d prefer you with me.
“I’ll take the couch. I’ll be up for a little while.”
“That couch is about as comfortable as a rock.”
“It’ll do.”
She walked into the living room and he trailed behind.
“If you change your mind, it’s the second door on the left down the hall.” She dropped a few blankets and a pillow on the chair next to the couch.
“Thanks.” Tuck sat on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table.
“Night.”
He watched her walk away to her bedroom. The view was not one he would complain about.
Chance dropped onto the bed and curled up under the fleece sheets. Sleep.
*****
“What the hell?” Chance walked around the perimeter of the plane taking it all in. An emblem of a squirrel adorned the side, the words Flying Squirrel written above it. It looked like it was from a different era. It belonged in a different timeframe, one before her existence. Though it looked ancient, it wasn’t weathered. It wasn’t rusted, or decayed. Maybe this was an antique plane used at shows and had an accident on the way? Would an antique plane be equipped with real guns though? These sure looked real. Chance knew nothing of these matters. What she did know was the scene around here was a paradox in every way.
Tiny holes peppered the side of the plane. Ash and soot covered the area around the stubs where the wings would have been. She looked at the cockpit trying to see inside, but it was too high to see anything inside the broken glass. Could there be people inside? She didn’t want to find dead bodies, but curiosity would get the best of anyone in her situation. Maybe the tree it protruded from could be climbed. Only one way to find out.
Chance put her tree climbing skills to work. Elevated more than ten feet into the air, she had a bird’s eye view. No bodies inside. THANK GOD. No clues in sight. So, from what she could see it appeared the plane had recently been shot down. No casualties. But, why would a plane get shot down in Maine in the 21st century? Even if it happened whenever the hell the era this plane belonged in, still, that possibility was null. Chance racked her brain dumbfounded at the plane.
Cigarette smoke wafted into Chance’s nose. Yuck. Nothing viler than the smell of second hand smoke.
Wait...
Chance was not alone. The cigarette smoke should have raised that red flag immediately, but it lagged. She looked down.
“What the—” She lost her grip startled by the sight of him and fumbled out of the tree. Chance had a knack for falling down, falling up, falling over…falling period.
*****
Credits streamed down the screen of her flat screen. Tuck wanted to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t shut off. It was 4:00 a.m., daylight would break in a few hours, and he couldn’t get himself out of guard duty mode to relax. It was hotter than hell in her house. She must not worry about oil prices to have it summer temperatures inside. He pulled off his shirt and laid it over the back of the couch. He’d take of his jeans and lounge in his boxers, but wasn’t going to make himself quite that at home.
Damn remote. He couldn’t figure out how to turn the cable receiver on. And when he did succeed there were very few options available. The top choices included a commercial for a Wonder bra and another for a Wonder knife that could cut through a sheet of steel. Impressive. An old episode of M*A*S*H was the best it would get.
A blood curdling scream echoed down the hallway. The sound sent Tuck’s adrenaline surging through his blood in reaction. He grabbed his Glock from underneath the couch and rushed down the hallway, stopping at her closed door. He put his ear to the door and listened. All he could hear was the sound of labored breathing. He pushed the door open a few inches, gun at the ready and peered inside. Chance sat upright in the bed, face buried in her knees. He scanned the room looking for the source of her terror. The windows were closed and intact. Nothing seemed amiss.
Tuck walked in cautiously. There was no one in her room, no foul play. She’d mentioned having nightmares in their discussions before. This explained why she never looked rested.
“Are you alright?” He set his gun on her dresser. She visibly trembled and her breathing remained labored.
“I’m fi….fine.” She didn’t move from her paralyzed state.
Tuck sat on the edge of the bed.
“Bad dream?”
She took her face out of her knees and looked away from him. “That’s an understatement.” She hugged her knees tighter.
“Do you have these every night?”
“Every time I close…my eyes.”
“What happens in your dream?”
“Exactly what happened…on the ridge.”
“Exactly what did happen on the ridge?” Tuck knew there was more to the story than she’d let on and hadn’t shared with him.
“I told you.”
“No, you’ve told me pieces. You haven’t told me everything.”
“I told you the truth.” She said defensively and rested her face against her thigh.
“Truth by omission is synonymous with lie. You know you can talk to me. We’ve already covered a plane crash, ghosts, and a possible conspiracy. How much more unbelievable could it be?”
Silence. She didn’t want to delve into this topic again. She wanted to hug her pillow and stare out the window awaiting the suns welcoming rays. But, Tuck wasn’t going anywhere and telling him nothing would only strengthen his resolve.
“What happens is…I feel a cold metal barrel pressed against the back of my head and I’m waiting for him to pull the trigger. Praying it’s a bad dream and begging God to wake up. The irony is, it was reality and now I dream about it every night. That’s what my dream is. Reality.”
She continued to look in the direction of the window, away from him. His point was moot. Tuck swung his leg onto the bed and sat closer to her.
“That’s the past. It’s a horrible memory.” He put his hand on her back. “This—now—this moment is reality.”
She turned her face and met his. Her eyes cut sharper than any wonder knife. “You don’t want to be a part of my reality, Tuck.”
“Too late.”
It certainly was. Their gaze upon one another stayed firmly locked.
Her light tee shirt was bunched up her back from tossing and turning about during her nightmare. Tuck’s warm hand wandered from her upper back to her lower back, caressing her bare skin. She was tense and on edge. Both physically and emotionally. She exhaled deeply trying to regain her composure, her mind further clouded.
“Tell me what I can do to help you.” Tuck said genuinely. He treaded dangerous water and knew it. His hand acted on its own accord without Tuck’s consent.
“Do you get this involved with all of your cases?” Change the topic, Chance thought. His hand was far too soothing.
“No.”
“Why me then?” She wondered.
“I’ll answer that when you tell me why I’m the one you called at 1:30 in the morning, not a friend, not your family, not Paul.” The last word he put heavy emphasis on.
“Because…” Chance considered her words carefully.
He waited for her to answer and continued to softly stroke her back.
“You are the only one who can make me feel this way.”
Tuck tried to read in between the lines, but failed. He had no idea what she referenced.
“You’re the one who makes me feel safe. You know all this craziness that is my fucked up life right now and you’re the one who is here for me.” She wiped her tired eyes. “The one I can depend on and trust. It’s not fair to you, I shouldn’t expect this and burden you, but there it is.”
He stopped rubbing her back instead held her uninjured side. “You’re no burden and I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
She felt those little fairytale butterflies romance novels always referenced. “Why do you care about case number 2029XB?” She threw out a random number having no idea what her case number was.
“That’s not the case number assigned to your incident. And if all you were to me was a case number, I wouldn’t be sitting on the edge of your bed at 4 a.m.”
“You didn’t answer the question.” She wasn’t letting him off that easy.
“You’re a tough one.” He smiled. “The difference between you and any other case I’ve handled is, number one, I was kicked off your case so you’re not my case, for the record.”
“Number two?” She enticed him.
“I care about you beyond a professional manner.” He pulled his hand away from her side. They had quite the Hallmark moment. Tuck didn’t know how she’d react from his boldness. And he shouldn’t have said such things. She had a boyfriend. Paul. Thinking the name caused him to roll his eyes. “But, you have Paul and I’m not going to try to cross that line with you.”
“Paul?”
“He’s your boyfriend.”
“Why would you think he’s my boyfriend?”
The indicators were rather obvious. “Ah, he’s at your house all the time. Brings you dinner. He’s the one who calls worried about you when you need rescuing all the time.”
Chance hesitated. “Hmm, by that definition you would be my boyfriend too. And to my knowledge you aren’t my boyfriend, are you?”
“Not yet.” He slipped. Shit. What the hell Tuck?
“He’s my best friend. And my boss. That’s it.” The previous comment from Tuck didn’t register.
“The way you two interact together, you act like you’re involved. Come on, be truthful.”
“I don’t need to defend my relationship with Paul to you.” She became defensive. “I told you he’s my friend. That’s what he is. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Okay. Alright, I do.” Tuck backed off. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you jealous?” She threw him an accusatory glare.
“Maybe I am.”
Jealous. Did he admit he was jealous? Chance wrapped her head around Tuck’s admission. She didn’t like the way he’d been so upset about Paul. Paul was an important part of her life and he was her best friend. She didn’t need to defend herself, her relationship, to Tuck and she didn’t lie. But, Tuck had also become an important man in her life. One she didn’t want to let go of. He’d been there for her when Paul was busy at work and she had no shoulder to lean on.
If she said she doesn’t have a boyfriend, you don’t have a reason to doubt her. Tuck thought. Oh, but he did have doubt, ABSOULTELY. He hoped for the best though. How could she not understand why he’d assume they were involved? Look at their dynamic. Tuck needed to recover from the boyfriend conversation, quickly.
“Back to the original topic of conversation. What can I do to help you?”
“Are you done interrogating me?”
“I didn’t mean to, that honestly wasn’t my intention.”
Chance settled her anger. She needed something to calm her mind from all of its confusion. She’d liked the way his hand felt on her back, comforting and warm. She wanted that again. No more talk about Paul, or their dynamic together. Tuck said he cared for her. And she did care for him. A little too much.
“I’ll chalk it up to being a side effect of your work and give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Thanks for being so easy on me.” He leaned closer to her.
“You’re hand felt nice on my back until you pulled it away.” She dared. She too wanted to recover from the horrible turn their conversation had taken.
“Is that your subtle way of asking me for a back rub?” He asked surprised by the request after their tense conversation.
“Maybe.”
“If it’ll help.”
“I think it will.”
“More than happy to oblige.”
She leaned toward him. Tuck slid his hands underneath her shirt and worked on the tension in her neck. There was no worry about her bra strap getting in the way as she had relieved it of its duty before she went to bed. The lack of her bras presence was a distraction to say the least.
Chance fell into a trance as his hands worked magic on her shoulders and the back of her neck. He gave better massages than the massage kiosks in the mall. Heaven sent.
“Scoot over.” Tuck patted the center of the bed. He sat behind her, continuing the massage where he’d left off. He tried to distract himself. She sat in between his legs, the only clothing she wore was a pair of tiny boy shorts and a tee shirt which was scrunched up and covered only her front at that moment. Her skin was unnaturally soft and smelled of fresh flowers. She was far too alluring. He was careful not to get close to her wounded side and cause her discomfort. He’d done enough of that in the past few minutes.
As he massaged the center of her back, Chance made noises that normally only came from a woman when eating chocolate, or having sex. She tried to repress the satisfied groans, but it felt so damn good she couldn’t help it. If his hands could work such magic on her back…her mind wondered to what other magical things he could do with them.
Tuck leaned forward resting his forehead against the back of her neck. What she was doing to him was torture. Pure torture. His hormones kicked into high gear and he had a hard time thinking one hundred percent with the head on his shoulders.
Chance was in no better state. She tingled from head to toe. She’d taken notice that Tuck’s breathing had become audible and hers had a mirror effect.
Tuck lifted his head and placed a lingering kiss on the back of her neck. He leaned his chest against her back, and pulled her into him. He wanted her. Now. The darkly lit room was conducive to his feelings and her throaty groans sealed the deal.
Those butterflies and tingles returned overwhelming Chance. She had no desire to push him away. She craved the opposite.
“Those groans your making are making it impossible to keep my hands on your back.”
Chance made another one of the throaty groans he complained about.
“Where is it you’d rather have them?”
“Everywhere.” He whispered into her ear.
Chance leaned her head back into the crook of his neck and he placed soft tactful kisses on the side of her neck. She closed he
r eyes and moved her hands down gripping the sides of his thighs. Tuck worked his way up her neck until he finally reached her lips.
Chance turned and faced him. She could see the lust in his eyes. She sat on his lap, straddling his center. Tuck supported her lower back. Chance stared down at the tight muscles that had been camouflaged under his casual clothes. Damn, his chest and abs were luscious. She put her hands against his chest and slid them down the length of his torso. She stopped at his lower abs and looked back up at him. He was a piece of art.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and Tuck took that as his cue. He claimed her lips sensuously. Their kiss sent further wanting jolting through them simultaneously. His hands moved south to her derriere. With her legs flexed around him, the shorts exposed her skin and he took advantage of their flawed design, grasping her bare behind. Each kiss grew more and more wanting. Tuck laid on his back, pulling her down with him. They never lost a beat. She sat upright, hands rested on his abs looking down upon him. She could feel his readiness against her. She ran her hands down his chiseled pelvic bones. He slid his hands up the front of her shirt and abruptly stopped his exploration when he reached her wound.
Shit. “I forgot.” He said and dropped his hand down to her thigh.
Her cheeks flushed and she became self-conscious at his reminder. She tugged her shirt down, climbed over him, and looked for an escape.
“Hey, where are you going?” He sat up and wrapped his arm around her, preventing her attempt to flee.
“There is nothing sexier than a bullet hole, huh.” She was such a fruitcake, how he wasn’t the one running away blew her mind.
“I don’t want to hurt you. For God’s sake you’re recovering from a gunshot wound. Don’t get so defensive.” He kissed her shoulder. “You’re absolutely beautiful Chance.”
Chance let out an exasperated sigh.
“You seem to be forgetting I have nearly a dozen staples in my head. Out of the two of us, I’m the ghastly one.”
Chance had forgotten about them. He normally sported a hat of some sort to cover them up. She’d felt them on his head in the prior moments of their interlude, but it didn’t deter her. Didn’t even register.
Truth Avenged (Green Division Series Book 1) Page 11
