As I work at it, I call out for help. Not even my head and shoulders can fit through this quarter of the windowpane. If I can get higher, I might be able to kick out the wooden sections, but there’s nothing in this room that can support my weight. Standing on the toilet seat cover doesn’t help either.
It’s no use. I’m really trapped.
I can only pray that someone is driving along the road in front of my place, and that they’re paying enough attention to notice my house is on fire. All the homes on this side of the road are so far apart that none of my neighbors will hear me unless they’re right outside. And it’s all desert fields, cattle, and tumbleweed on the other side of the road.
“Help! Fire! Help me! If anyone can hear me, please call 9-1-1!” I shout, using the curtain rod to make more noise as I bang it repeatedly against the wooden window frame.
If this is going to be the last few minutes I spend on earth, I won’t go quietly.
That’s when the sexiest, yet second most unnerving voice booms through the window from outside.
12
Reid
“Stand back, Robin!” I shout through the broken window at the back of the house.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Robin asks.
“Hopefully, saving your life. Get as far away from the window as possible. Completely out of its trajectory.”
“Got it.” She’s quiet for a second, then shouts out, “I’m in the bathtub!”
“Good.” I use the gutter’s downspout nearby to scale the wall. Bracing my arms and legs at the rooftop just above the window, I pump my legs out, swing my body down, and kick the wooden window frame. With a loud thud, the horizontal frame shatters. My legs dangle inside the window now, and I just need to hold on long enough for Robin to climb up, at which point I can hopefully teeter backward and drop to the ground outside. Neither of us can afford to have anything else go wrong, or we’ll both end up stuck inside the bathroom.
“I need you to climb up my legs now, Robin,” I tell her. “Make it quick. I’m not sure how long I can hold on.”
“Coming!” She steps up on the toilet tank. “Where am I supposed to hang on to you?”
“As high as you can reach on my chest.” I tighten my grip on the gutter. “Now, Robin.”
“I’m…just…trying to avoid…your junk.”
“Right now Robin! I’m losing my grip.”
“Okay!” She jumps up and clings to my neck, turning her body sideways.
Easing my back into a slight arch, I pull us out of the window. “Hold on tight and wrap your legs around my waist. I’m going to let go now.”
She does so with some hesitation, and with another slight kick backward, I let go. The fall isn’t too bad at all, and I manage to land feet first, but with the distance of the jump, the force pushes me backward, and I fall on my back, with her on top of me. I’ve never seen a woman scramble to get off of me so quickly.
“Thank you,” Robin says to me, dusting off her hands. “Did you call 9-1-1?”
“Yes. They’re on the way.”
She promptly turns around and heads to the front of the house in a jog. I pull her arm back when I realize she’s about to climb the front porch steps. “You can’t go in there.”
“But my phone is inside. Any my guitar, my purse and car keys… oh my God, my boss’s files!” She tries to wrench her arm away, but I pull her to the side of the house. “Let me go, Reid! I have to get some things.”
She must be in shock, or in denial about the blaze in front of us.
“We have to wait,” I insist. “The house is fully involved. Just look at it. Even your truck is damaged.”
Robin looks up and stares at the flames and smoke billowing up to the sky as though she is seeing it clearly for the first time. She looks up at me, takes my hand, and says, “Thank you,” like she means it.
Robin and I sit in my vehicle parked at the other side of the street while we wait for the emergency responders to arrive. The only three calls that she makes are to the boss at her day job, her insurance company, and her brother, Josh. She leaves a message for her boss, who is at a court hearing, and strangely enough, her brother was just redeployed from North Las Vegas where he works to support a forest fire emergency on the Carson Range spur of the Sierra Nevada. The insurance company takes some basic information to start her claim, and instruct her to call back once fire responders have had an opportunity to forward a report. Her parents, sister, and singing partner are all out of town at the moment.
“How did you know to come find me here?” she asks after some time, as I type out a text to let Leo know what I’m up to.
“After your ex-boyfriend got so worked up at Whiskey Jacks last night, I figured I’d pass by on my way to work to see if you’re okay.”
“I don’t understand how the fire started so quickly. There was a crashing sound in the living room, and then the smoke started seeping into the bathroom. I wasn’t even supposed to be here.”
“I saw. My SUV was a few vehicles behind you when you turned into your driveway.”
“So, wait. You saw me park? That means you must have seen how this happened.”
“Someone driving a dark gray, late model Honda sedan was following you. He parked a little way down the road, and I’m sorry, Robin. I wasn’t close enough to stop him. I saw him throw what must have been a homemade Molotov cocktail through your front window. The person was wearing a red baseball cap, but I’m almost sure it was your ex.”
Her jaw drops, and her lips start to tremble. “Dave? He did this? He tried to…kill me?”
“It happened so fast, I wasn’t able to stop him, not without leaving you inside.”
“So he’s still out there?”
“Yes, but the police will find him.”
If I don’t find him first.
I can’t stand witnessing her heartbreak on learning someone she was close to did this to her intentionally. I’m even more relieved to see an ambulance van and two police cars arriving on the scene in my rearview mirror, followed shortly by a fire truck. They all quickly move into action. A paramedic checks out Robin for possible smoke inhalation while firefighters set up to fight the blaze. The police direct the roadway traffic, and one of the officers takes Robin’s and my initial statements and our contact information.
We’re cleared to leave soon afterward, but Robin refuses to come to my place. She demands that I take her to her day job.
“You can’t go to work in this state.”
“I have to,” she tells me. “I just lost everything. I can’t just sit around.”
Her boss phones her back just in time. He tells her not to come in, thankfully, but that only fuels her need to remain outside her burnt up shell of a rental house. She won’t eat or drink. It takes a lot of coaxing to make her sip on a bottle of water to avoid dehydration. By the time the firefighters put out the last of the blaze, they come by and confirm what I expected. The structure is not cleared for re-entry until their fire investigators return to the scene to determine the cause. They’ve even cordoned off her truck.
Robin is shaking at the shock of the news.
I offer to take her to her parents’ place, but she can’t go there either. They’re out of town, and Robin’s spare key for their house is on her key chain—inside of her cordoned off rental house. She’s cried so much in the last couple of hours that she can hardly speak.
“You’re coming to my place,” I tell her. “It’s not a request. If Dave can do this once, he’ll try it again once he realizes he didn’t succeed the first time, but he won’t know to look for you at my condo. You’ll be safe. There’s lots of room. You can stay in the guest room until your family or friend gets back.”
Taking her nonresponse as consent, I drive her to my low-rise condo building and show her up to my unit. Robin uses the bathroom, drinks another bottle of water, and curls up on the spare room bed. I sit in the armchair beside the bed. After she drifts off to sleep, I go to my home offic
e and use the time to get some work done.
Leo phones me for an update, and I keep up with emails and other tasks I can handle from home. I check her room every so often, but with the exception of bathroom pit stops, Robin doesn’t move from that bed for the entire rest of the day, evening and night.
13
Robin
After the day that I had yesterday, I should be running for the hills and swearing off men altogether. I totally expected Reid to have made a move on me by now, but he has surprised the heck out of me. So far, he’s given me space. He was quiet all day yesterday. I turned down all of his offers to feed me lunch and dinner, or whatever he thought I needed so that I’d be comfortable. I couldn’t eat anyway. For the rest of the time, he’s been in his bedroom or his office.
I should be thanking my blessings for his hospitality and low-key behavior at his place. And thanking him from the bottom of my heart for being at the right place at the right time yesterday.
I do appreciate what he’s done.
I even value the space he’s given me. All night, and right up until I wake up long before the crack of dawn. At that point, I’m too wired to sleep a minute longer, so I use his spare bathroom to get myself a shower and throw on the clothes he laid out for me to wear. The t-shirt and cargo shorts dwarf me completely, but I’m not going to complain.
Heading to the kitchen, I do my best to figure out the coffee situation. It’s the least I can do after he’s opened up his place to me like family. While I look through his kitchen cabinets for coffee mugs, Reid saunters in.
“Good morning,” I greet him as he stands there in sweatpants.
“Morning,” he all but yawns out. “Did you have trouble sleeping, or do you have an early day today?”
“I slept okay. Couldn’t stay in bed anymore. Do you want some coffee?”
“Sure. So, you know it’s Saturday, right?”
I slouch my shoulders. The tragedy of yesterday starts to replay all over again. “I guess so… I mean, I should find myself a calendar or something. Now that I don’t have a cell phone anymore.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot. Give me a second.” He leaves the room and returns a little while later with a smartphone in his hand. “You’re more than welcome to use my personal cell,” he informs me, setting down the phone on the countertop. “I’ve got another one I use for work.”
“You don’t have to do that, you know?”
“I know. You should have a number other than your original phone to leave with your family, friends and other contacts. Otherwise you’ll have to constantly check your voicemail. Keep it for as long as you need it, at least until you get your bank cards and photo ID replaced. That can take a while, from my experience.”
I pour black coffee into a mug and pass it to him. “Don’t remind me,” I whine, leaning on the counter beside him.
That’s when I notice the scars on his arms and chest. There are dots of pink, and scarlet, and circular raised spots in his skin tone. Reid doesn’t react to my staring, but when my hand reaches up to touch one on his bicep, he clasps his hand over mine.
“What happened to you?”
“I’m fine. These are all from long years ago.”
“From your time in the army? I’ve seen pictures of people injured by IEDs, but these…”
“No. My three tours were like Disneyland compared to where I got these fancy little souvenirs.”
“What?”
“I have my old man to thank for them. They’re cigarette burns. Not many people knew he used me as his own personal, child-sized ashtray.”
I don’t even know what to say to that. “Christ, Reid. I didn’t know.”
“It’s over and done with. Ancient history.”
Talk about perspective. Here I am, feeling sorry for having had one bad day, acting like it’s the end of the world that I lost things I can replace over time, when Reid started off his life at the center of a tragically horrific home situation.
He takes a sip of the strong brew and shrugs. “I can put on a t-shirt if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No. It’s fine.”
“Sorry I brought up replacing you photo ID and stuff.”
“It’s okay. That reminds me…I have to phone Rusty at Whiskey Jacks.”
He turns to face me. “You’re not planning to show up for your gig tonight, are you?”
“Well, let’s see. I don’t own a single guitar anymore, but like I’m starting to see now, I’m lucky to be alive, and my voice didn’t go up in flames, so the singing will continue. I need the cash more than ever.”
“Don’t you have renters’ insurance for your apartment contents?”
“I do, but I’ve been squirreling away my tips in a jar at home. A couple thousand dollars down the drain, just like that. I’m an idiot, right?”
“No. You’re not.” Leaning one hip against the counter, his free hand wanders into my hair. It’s the first time that I welcome his touch by leaning the side of my face toward the warmth of his hand. “You just have bad taste in men,” he jokes.
“I deserve that. Just be sure to put yourself in the pile too.”
Reid flashes me a grin. “So…what are you saying?”
He pulls me into his arms. I don’t give him an ounce of resistance. There’s no fight left in me. I just want strong arms around me and a warm body to hold me tight.
I put my coffee mug down beside me again, burying the side of my head into his chest. “I’m saying…I don’t know.” It takes me a long moment, but I tilt my head up to look him in the eye. “Maybe I’m not saying anything at all. Maybe I’m tired of talking, Reid.”
He relieves himself of his coffee cup too, and runs his hands down my arms, wrapping them around my waist. His gaze is intense, like a laser that bores heat right through me as he takes it all in. My body temperature rises. I don’t care that he’s probably slept with more women than the population of Nevada—and my sister.
I’m about to break two cardinal rules. Never sleep with your big sister’s ex-boyfriend, and never get into bed with a scorching hot, sexy, womanizing manwhore. But rules have been broken in getting me here. Rules like never torch an ex-girlfriend’s place with a Molotov cocktail, never mess with an ex-girlfriend’s livelihood, never kill an ex’s spirit by destroying her means to make the music that calms her soul. And for Reid’s father, never harm a helpless child. Now, I’m ready to break some rules too, especially when breaking them can lead to some healing on both our parts.
I rationalize that it’s probably a good thing that Reid doesn’t want to put down roots.
I don’t either.
For the moment, all I want is a release.
Reid tightens his grip around my waist. He lifts me up until my feet are off the ground. I wrap my legs around his hips and tuck my head into his neck, soaking up the warmth of his chest and arms. With a half-turn, he starts walking. We’re out of the kitchen, in his bedroom and on his king-size bed in no time.
He gets into bed beside me. I can tell he doesn’t plan on rushing this. My guess is he wants to make sure this is what I want. Hell, I really do, and second-guessing myself is off the table now that my judgment is clouded, my knees are weak, and my core is screaming for him. Reid pulls me in closer. My foot instinctively slides up along the sinewy muscles of his calf. It moves higher still, to his dense, bunched, corded thigh muscles. I don’t stop until the back of my heel digs into the small of his back, with my mound pressed firmly at his thick, hardened groin area.
I tilt my head up to meet his darkened, half-lidded eyes. Licking my lips, I give him a subtle nod as my hand skims down his chest. Reid clamps his hand over mine when I make it past his abs to the waistband of his sweatpants. His eyes search mine, but he doesn’t speak. I nod again, smiling slightly at the raspy groan that escapes his throat. His other hand runs up my back and winds its way through my hair. With a tug on my hair that I don’t expect, he smashes his mouth to mine.
Parting my lips, I let the
moment and our bodies take us where they want to go. Reid rolls on top of me, pulling my hand that’s over his groin up over my head and pinning both hands to that spot with one of his. I sigh into his mouth as the searing hot skin of his chest rubs against my breasts through my t-shirt, causing my nipples to tighten until they’re hard, needy pebbles desperate for his hands to touch and his mouth to taste.
Without ending the kiss, he grinds his hardness against my mound. It takes all my will not to beg him to rip off our clothes and take care of the throbbing between my legs. But I don’t want to talk. I love our hushed breaths, sighs, hisses, groans and moans that fill the air around us like its own instrumental music. With a tug, Reid grips the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it over my head. He removes the rest of our clothes with an impatience that sends a thrill of need up and down my back. Soon his tongue is traveling from my mouth, down my neck and stops at one nipple with a rough, heated flick that makes me cry out with pleasure. He gently closes his lips over the nipple and sucks hard, so hard that I arch my back off the bed from the contrast in sensation.
I want him to bury his manhood deep inside of me right this instant.
Foreplay can be postponed, for Christ’s sake.
Postplay sounds better.
He must want the same thing, because he stretches a hand over to his night stand, returning it with a strip of condoms. I’m shivering with need. I want to be the one who rolls that condom up his shaft, but his hand shill has both of mine pinned above my head. Reid is not ready to let go of the reins just yet. So far, he knows all the right places to touch, so I let him continue, in spite of the grinding of my hips for more contact.
His Ex’s Little Sister: Insta-Love on the Run, #1 Page 7
