Jared and Geoff were not at Whiskey Jacks on the night we butt heads with Dave Grant. On their own, they don’t have the tools to make the connection with the employee files that Mason Industries HR sent over, because those files identified Davison Walters as one of the handful of potential disgruntled senior managers.
Geoff spent hours of his time pouring over the video footage with an unknown face in shadow under that company baseball cap. Even now as I picture Dave’s face, there’s nothing about his features that would lead me to connect the video feed images to him.
I have all puzzle pieces, and I’ve been off work to take care of Robin, who was victimized by This. Same. Fucking. Dave.
I want to kick myself for not realizing it sooner.
Neither Jared nor Geoff takes my call on the first try, so I grab my keys and get into my personal car. Time to hustle my ass over to Robin’s parents’ house. They can hate me all they want, but Dave is the true enemy. Sure, it can turn out that he’s staking out one of the Mason Industries properties, but something tells me that he’s not done with Robin yet.
Robin has a fifteen-minute head start on me. I speed out of my condo’s underground parking lot, burning rubber as I merge into traffic like a madman. It’s a twenty-five-minute drive to Robin’s family home, and my theory about Dave’s next target is confirmed when she mentions at the end of the call that she and her sister are trapped.
I’m less than five minutes away now, but we’re dealing with a crazed idiot with a taste for blowing shit up lightning fast with crude incendiary devices. Police, fire and ambulance response times tend to be longer in the outskirts. I swear to God if he harms a hair on Robin’s head, I will kill the motherfucker.
Fear starts to creep in.
I won’t get there in time.
But someone else does.
I peel up to the sidewalk behind my SUV that Robins drove here. Mr. Sparrow, Robin’s father, is standing on his front lawn. A Remington twelve-gauge shotgun is cradled in his arms. He racks a load and points it at Dave, who’s on the man’s driveway.
Dave is trespassing, unarmed and looking up at the fire he started in the garage. He has a vicious, twisted smile on his sour face. I’m the one who should be smiling at the fact that Dave must have a death wish, given that the barrel of the shotgun trained on him is being held by a man who has the right to protect his property and his kin. There’s not an ounce of remorse in my mind as I hope that justice can be swift for a change.
I jump out of my car, snatch the tire iron in my trunk, and cross their paths in a run. It’s hard to get shot when you’re running. Taking the concrete steps up to Danielle’s apartment two at a time, I get to the landing at the top.
“Robin! If you’re still in there, I need you to step away from the door.”
It feels like déjà vu.
The adrenaline is flowing, so swinging the tire iron ends up crashing down so hard on the door that it breaks the padlock off the locking hasp and staple, and splinters the wood. I kick the door open at the same time that the gun goes off down in the yard. Ignoring the men, I rush inside to find Robin with one leg hanging out the window, and Danielle getting ready to follow her.
Robin pulls her leg back inside. “Reid, you’re here. Thank God!” she cries.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I tell them. “But keep your heads down. We’ll wait at the top of the landing until your dad puts down the rifle.”
“Hey Reid,” Danielle waves.
I’ve got nothing.
The three of us crouch down at the top of the landing and wait.
“Dad’s the one shooting?” Robin asks.
I nod. “Yes.”
“He never misses.”
I know it’s cold, but after what Dave has done to Robin, Mr. Sparrow’s track record had better hold up.
“Y’all can come down from there now,” Mr. Sparrow shouts calmly.
“Dad, are you okay?” Robin asks as we get to the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m fine. Mom’s out back. She’s safe.” Leaning the shotgun against the front door, he walks over to his daughters, stands between them, and pull them into his arms, ready to fuss over their wellbeing like a father should. “Did you two get hurt?”
“We’re fine, Dad. Reid is too.”
His eyes crawl over my face, and he gives me a nod. That’s good enough for me.
“Is Dave dead?” Robin asks.
“When I aim my rifle, I make sure I have cause to, and I shoot to kill, Robin. And you know that I never miss.”
A man after my heart.
The blaring sound of approaching fire trucks are like music to my ears. There was only smoke in the apartment upstairs, but downstairs, the contents inside the garage are ablaze. There will definitely be some property damage, but everyone who matters will live another day.
As for Robin and me, time will heal, and make way for more.
19
Epilogue - Reid
One Month Later
“I can’t believe we salvaged so many things from my place,” Robin says on our third trip from her rental house today. The fire investigators took close to three weeks to examine the evidence, but they finally cleared the scene for re-entry inside.
There are so few items for her to salvage. A handful of clothes, a charred part of one of her guitars and half of her song lyric book, some jewelry, two night tables, and most of her metal kitchen utensils. Geoff did take a look at her charred laptop and felt pretty sure that he could recover her data. What I’ve learned about Robins is that to her, the glass is half-full.
Robin had planned to move back to her parents’ house. The fire at Danielle’s apartment caused her to change her plans, as Danielle would also need interim shelter arrangements while the insurance for repairs got sorted out. Instead, Robin is renting a temporary place of her own in a tiny apartment motel just two blocks from the condo building where I live. I would say that’s a win-win.
I can’t say for certain what we are. It’s way too early to speculate. She says we’re dating. We’ve seen each other every day for the past month, and I still can’t get enough of her. To me, we’re way past dating.
But whatever.
I place the last box into the back of my SUV and shut the trunk door. “This should be it for this trip.”
“Nice. Thanks for letting me leave the big stuff in your storage locker while I’m in transition,” she adds, following me to the passenger side.
I open the front passenger door for her, and she jumps in.
“No problem,” I tell her, and get in the driver seat.
“I really owe you.”
I clasp my hand over hers. “No, you don’t.”
“You’ve been a big help to me. I can’t thank you enough.”
“If you keep it up, I’ll have no choice but to add to your punishment,” I say with a grin. Who knew that innocent little Robin was into spanking. It’s one of the many things that keep surprising me about how much we fit.
A playful smile lifts up on her face. “You promise?”
“You know I do. In fact…we’re leaving this stuff in the back and taking a detour.”
“Where to?”
“My place,” I announce. “And that ass of yours will be so raw when I’m done with you.”
She’s practically bouncing in her seat beside me for the entire way home. Before Robin, I never met a woman who enjoyed being spanked as much as I loved doling it out—for fun, of course. We both get a hell of a lot of enjoyment out of it.
I park in my underground spot. Robin hangs off my arm as we walk to the elevators, and for the ride up. She all but runs into my condo unit once I unlock the front door.
Then, she stops short. Her mouth drops open.
“Oh, my word!” she drawls when she sees the surprise waiting for her in the foyer. It’s a restored Fender guitar and carrying case, almost identical to the one that was destroyed in the fire. “Reid! When did you do this?”
I
grin. There are perks to running a business with my four closest friends. “Jared took care of it for me. It’s missing all the custom accents on your old one, but it was too close to pass up.”
“Thank you…it’s gorgeous.”
“You like?”
“Gosh yes! I love it.” She starts to fan her eyes with both hands. I’ve seen her cry a few times now. I won’t ever get used to it, but at least these are happy tears. “What can I say to the man who gave me the other half of my music back?”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just enjoy it. Aren’t you going to open the case? For all you know, I just got you an empty case.”
Robin steps up to the black hardshell case, picks it up by the handle with reverence, and carried it into the living room. Sitting on the sofa, she places it on her lap, and after an intense moment of soaking up the moment, she opens it. It’s more face fanning, and chirps of thanks. She helps me see how enjoyable life can be when we cherish the little things.
And the big things too.
“Check the back of the guitar,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen as she stares over at me. “There’s more?”
“Just one more thing.”
Robin lifts up the guitar, gingerly flipping it over. She catches sight of the envelope stuck to the back of it. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
The tears flow freely when she does. “Omagad omagad! Two tickets to Nashville, and a half-day, all-inclusive recording time slot at RCA Studios. Including a top producer? You did this for me?”
“Actually, the idea was mine, but the execution was by one of our clients. Consider it a thank you from Mason Industries for the part you played in stopping an arsonist.”
She closed the guitar case, and once it’s safely on the coffee table in front of her, she jumps into my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it. I think you’ll love Nashville when we fly out there.”
“Oh, I’m not going. The two tickets are for you and your guitarist.”
“What? Really!” she squeals, peppering my face and neck with more kisses.
“Of course. Just make sure you let Barclay know there’ll be hell to pay if he lets anything happen to you out there.”
“He’ll be good.” She jumps out of my lap and grabs one of my hands. “So…didn’t we rush back here to settle the issue of someone getting punished?”
I throw her over my shoulder and waste no time carrying her to the bedroom. Lowering her into my bed, she rolls over and gets on her hands and knees. Robin knows the drill. I smile and lean over her, releasing a hard, loud smack on one ass cheek through her jeans. She croons out a moan that tightens my balls and stiffens my cock.
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask with a groan.
She looks back at me and nods. “I love a good spanking in the morning,” she teases.
“I love doling it out on that ass,” I confess. “But if you ever stop enjoying it, you make sure and let me know.”
“Probably not until I’m old and shriveled up. Spank me, soldier.”
We’re perfect together. I don’t want to remember what my life was like before Robin sang that first chord about a month ago, and I’m certain that it would be holy hell without her now. Some may say we barely know each other, and if they were to ever say that to my face, I’d tell them they’re dead wrong.
She wiggles her ass to get my attention, and sits back on her knees to undo the waistband of her pants. That triggers a race to remove everything we’re wearing. I only win because the clasp of her sports bra gets caught in her hair. Getting in behind her, I help her out by cupping my hands over her breasts as she gets her hair untangled. Okay, I help myself.
Robin pushes her ass back into my groin, covers my hands with hers, encouraging me to massage and tease both nipples in synchrony while my dick gets a sample of what’s to come. I’ve been craving her since we left my place this morning. I’ll have to limit the spanking and part those ass cheeks in short order.
I slide one hand from her breasts, down her stomach and let it settle at her mound. She hisses out a sigh, and on her own, bends forward again, with her butt sky high, the invitation for me to do what she likes me to do. I crash my hand down on one ass cheek, then the other, and repeat about a dozen times until only scarlet handprints cover her backside. The sight drives me out of my mind, until I completely lose my cool. Fucking her hard is the only option. Grabbing her hips, I line up my throbbing cock at her tight, drenched folds, get a condom on, and pull her ass back, sinking into her. She’s just as ready, jerking her body back and creating an instant push and pull rhythm that we both love.
In no time, her inner walls pulsate and tighten around my shaft. She’s about to come. I thrust in and out of her, picking up the pace, and not stopping, even when she lifts up slightly, sticks her ass out some more, and reaches her hand up and back into my hair as she finds the angle that multiplies and expands her orgasm to its fullest.
Her muscles are out of control and her body is weak and trembling from pleasure. I continue to pound into her pussy, and when the tension in my balls builds up to an unbearable mix of pain and heat and pleasure, I take advantage of the proximity of her neck, clamping my lips to it as I spill into her.
Lowering her to the bed without coming apart from her, I close my eyes, bury my nose in her hair, and enjoy the calm ease of relaxing with my girl.
“You know I’ll be ready for more in no time, right?” she asks in a whisper.
“I sure do,” I whisper into her ear.
“You’d better, because my flavor of punishment involves lyrics,” she jokes.
“Trust me, I won’t cross you. No way do I want to hear another country western song about me.”
“Good. Because that last one was actually easy on you.”
“That was easy?”
“It was. Do you realize how many words rhyme with ‘Reid’?”
I kiss along her neck and suck her earlobe in between my teeth. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“Words like bleed, heed, need, plead, deed, feed, seed—”
“I think I get the idea, but you don’t need to brainstorm on a breakup song,” I whisper. “I plan to do right by you, my little songbird.”
She turns her head just enough to press a kiss on my lips. “I love the sounds of that.”
I smile. “And I love you.”
I didn’t intend to say that for a long time, but I’m glad I did. Robin is beaming. She’s happy, and to me, nothing else matters.
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His Ex’s Little Sister: Insta-Love on the Run, #1 Page 10
