by Chrys Fey
“But you have bruises.” Her hands slipped down his chest where bruises marred his skin from where the restrains had dug into him.
“A few bruises and a friction rash. That’s it.”
She moved around him, carefully sat down on his lap, and looped her arms around his neck. Her face was clean of makeup, and her hair was pulled into a ponytail. She wore her pajamas and robe. The fresh scent of her facewash still clung to her skin. “You worry about me a lot, but you know, you can let me worry about you, too. Your accident was scary. If those restraints hadn’t held. If a fire had started. If—”
He cupped her cheeks when her eyes misted and her voice caught. “Ssh.” He kissed her soft lips and tasted the fruity flavor of her lip balm. “None of those things happened, and I’m not hurt.” He smoothed a hand down her ponytail. “Not much,” he corrected when one of her eyebrows lifted. The corner of his mouth tilted up. He shifted his hand to stroke her brow with his thumb. “I’ll accept your worry if you accept mine.”
She smiled, too. “Those terms aren’t so bad. Deal.”
****
After breakfast, Donovan went back to the Orlando Police Department to talk to Thorn, who sat behind a desk piled high with files. “Hey.”
Thorn looked up and tossed down his pen. “Hey, man.” He rubbed a hand over his face and picked up his mug but found it empty. Groaning, he set it down again.
Donovan took the chair across from him. “Long morning?”
Thorn nodded. “And it’s shaping up to be a long day. I spent all day yesterday questioning your competition.”
“And?”
“Nothing. I couldn’t find any leads. None of them claimed to know a thing, and I’m inclined to believe them. I can usually tell when someone lies to me, but they showed genuine shock and concern when I said someone tampered with your truck and caused you to crash. They had no idea who would do it either.”
Donovan leaned back in his seat. “I’ve been thinking about who could’ve done it.”
“Any ideas?”
“Not really. My competition and their managers are the only ones I could think of with motive and means. They all had access to my truck. I can’t imagine a fan taking such drastic measures because I beat their favorite driver. It’s not like with football where fans from rival teams get into fist fights.”
Thorn scratched the stubble on his chin. “I asked if anyone saw someone hanging around your truck who shouldn’t have been, but no one was paying attention. There aren’t cameras in that area, so there’s no way to check.”
Donovan juggled his keys in his hand. “No leads, no proof…no justice.”
Thorn nodded. “Unfortunately. But we’re not done yet. We should get back the results of what they find, or don’t find, in your truck in a day or two. We may be able to pull some identifying evidence off that.”
Donovan peered at the keys in his hand and fiddled with the one that unlocked the door to his garage. “I’m gonna go to my garage, see if someone snuck in.”
Thorn’s eyebrows lowered. “If the brakes were cut in your garage, you wouldn’t have been able to compete in your first race.”
“No, but something was done to my steering. I think it was hijacked by a remote control. That couldn’t have been done in the few minutes I left to take a leak. The only other logical explanation is someone got to my truck before the competition. Then cut my brakes when I went to the bathroom.”
“Makes sense,” Thorn said. “I’d go with you but…” He waved his hand at the three open files spread out in front of him. “Let me know if you find anything suspicious.”
“Will do.”
****
At the gate blocking the dirt road to his garage, Donovan got out of his truck and inspected the lock and chain. Both were fine. He pulled the chain from the bars and drove through. On the other side of the path, he closed the gates. While clicking the padlock into place, he realized no one had to cut the chain to get through. All they’d have to do was hop the fence and walk the rest of the way. He scanned the dirt, searching for footprints. He couldn’t make out any, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t climbed over the gate and walked along the grass. If he were sneaking onto private property, it was what he would’ve done.
At his garage, he parked and knelt in front of the door to closely inspect the lock. Thin lines circled the keyhole. He ran his fingertip over it and felt the scratches in the metal. Someone had picked it and had a hard time of it, too.
“Son-of-a-bitch.” He slipped his key in and shoved the garage door open. He snapped on the light. His gaze swept over the oil-spotted concrete for a stray bolt or the colorful pieces of plastic from exposed wires. Nothing.
He stood in front of his tool bench, with hands on hips. When he first set up his garage, he had crafted a wall rack for some of his tools, such as saw blades and a sledge hammer. A wooden tool box he crafted himself when he was in shop class in high school sat on the bench. It held flat heads, screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, and wire cutters. A man of order, he always put his tools back where they belonged, but his Phillips-head and wire cutters were left on the table as if carelessly thrown there.
He took out his cell phone and called Thorn. “Hey, someone hacked at the lock on my garage door and made a real mess out of it. The same son-of-a-bitch used my own tools to fuck with my truck.” The culprit probably disabled the kill switches and planted the device while in the cover of his garage. Knowing that intensified his anger.
Thorn sighed. “Okay. Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there with a team.”
An hour later, investigators were taking pictures of the scratched lock and his tools, dusting for prints, and searching the ground for tracks. Donovan watched all of this with his arms crossed. He couldn’t believe someone had broken into his garage. Was nothing safe?
Thorn stepped up beside him. “They found partial tire tracks that don’t match yours on the road leading to the gate. They’re taking pictures of them so we can try to find out what kind of car we’re looking for.”
“Will that matter? I mean, it could be anyone in any car. Even if we figure out what sort of tires created the marks, there are probably hundreds of cars with those same tires in Central Florida. How will we know which one is our man? We’ve had this same problem before, remember?”
When a black Buick had smashed into Beth’s car repeatedly, they hadn’t been able to find it.
Thorn shrugged. “We may not know.”
Donovan let out an aggravated breath. “I don’t want to keep dealing with shit like this, Thorn. I’m tired of it, and so is Beth.”
“This doesn’t have to do with Jackson Storm,” Thorn said.
“How do you know?”
“Because we got everyone associated with him.”
“That you know of,” Donovan said.
Thorn held up a hand and shook his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re investigating. If we turn up evidence this was done at the hand of one of Jackson’s men, I’ll let you know. I’ll let you know either way.”
Donovan knew he had to take that for what it was worth, but it didn’t feel like enough.
“On another note, I know Beth’s birthday is tomorrow. I was going to stop in at The Fighting Chance tonight to drop off a gift for her. I figure you’re heading there now?”
Donovan had to admit Thorn was a damn good detective. He knew Donovan’s intentions without him voicing them. “Yeah. I wanted to tell her about all of this and—”
“Check in because you may not be the only one targeted?” Thorn finished for him.
He nodded.
“All right then. Let’s go.”
Donovan parked in front of The Fighting Chance and was getting out of his truck as Thorn pulled into the lot. He saluted him before stepping into the studio. The sounds of activity surrounded him—the thumps, thuds, slaps, and noises of people fighting each other. He leaned against the front desk to say hi to Corissa. Thorn joined them a moment later.
“Hey, Corissa,” Thorn said. “You killing that degree?”
“Sometimes I feel like it’s killing me.”
“Well stick it out, kid. Pretty soon you’ll be shrinking guys like us.” Thorn elbowed Donovan.
“I keep telling her I’ll be her first patient,” Donovan said.
“And I’ll have the appointment right after you.”
Corissa laughed. “The two of you would be my favorite clients.”
“But I’d be your number one favorite above Donovan, right?”
Corissa shook her head. “How Beth can stay sane with the two of you, I don’t know.”
Donovan grinned. “It’s a gift.”
“Someone needs to bottle it,” Thorn added and turned to Beth as she announced the end of the class. “Whoa. Who. Is. That?”
Thorn’s wide eyes and slack jaw told Donovan that a beautiful woman was the culprit. He shifted to get a view of Beth standing next to her new assistant. Amanda’s hair was tied in a messy bun. She had on a pink top and black yoga pants. Beth wore yellow workout pants and a white top, making them look like the Power Rangers.
“That’s Beth’s new assistant,” Donovan told Thorn’s stunned look.
“Since when?” The two words were spoken as if he were breathless.
“Yesterday. Beth fired Dave.”
“Good for her,” Thorn said without taking his eyes off Amanda.
“Yeah, well, Dave touched a student.”
Only now did Thorn stop gaping at Amanda. “What do you mean?”
Donovan met his stare. “He grabbed Maria between her legs.”
Thorn closed his eyes. “Son-of-a-bitch.” On occasion, Thorn would come to talk to Beth’s classes, especially the beginners’ classes. He told them about their options if they were ever in a domestically violent situation or in danger of any kind. He provided advice and even spoke to each student one-on-one, if they wanted. Many of them had confided in him about the abuse they experienced. Maria had been one of them. “If Dave were here now, I’d kick his ass.”
Donovan understood Thorn’s temptation to inflict bodily harm on Dave. He had wanted to do the same. Beth had wanted to do the same. Several students in the class had wanted to do the same. If Dave ever showed up, he’d be on the ground, in pain, within seconds.
“Did Beth crush his nuts?”
Thorn’s question made Donovan laugh out loud. “No, but she sure wanted to.”
Thorn shook his head. “The strength she must’ve possessed not to hurt him…”
They looked toward her as she came off the mat. Beth gave Donovan a quick kiss and Thorn a hug. “To what do I owe the pleasure of having my two favorite men here?” Her eyes flashed with humor.
“I wanted to tell you happy birthday,” Thorn said.
“Aw. Thanks.”
“I have a gift for you in my car. Donovan may not like it, though.”
“It better not be a bikini,” Donovan said.
Thorn winked.
Beth laughed.
Right then, Amanda called out Beth’s name and headed in their direction.
“Oh damn,” Thorn muttered under his breath. He looked down and shuffled his feet.
Amanda paused next to Beth. “I’m going to start putting the equipment away.”
“Wait up a minute.” Beth put her hand on Amanda’s arm. “I want to introduce you to our good friend. Amanda, this is Thorn. He’s talked to my classes from time to time. Thorn, this is Amanda. She’s my new assistant.”
Thorn rubbed the palm of his hand on his pants, as if it was damp, and offered it to Amanda. Donovan had never seen Thorn nervous around a woman before. He couldn’t believe the man who flirted with Beth, despite her married status, and hunted criminals on the job couldn’t face a sexy woman. But Donovan had to admit, Amanda wasn’t your typical sexy woman. There was something special about her, as there was about Beth.
“Nice to meet you,” Thorn said.
Donovan pushed down the laughter bubbling in his chest. When had he ever heard Thorn be so formal?
“Yeah. You’re the detective, right? You spoke to my class a year ago. You gave all of us your card. I…” She licked her lips. “I still have mine.”
Thorn had handed out his cards to Beth’s students and routinely left a stack on the counter in case any of them needed it. From what Thorn had told Beth and Donovan, those cards had come in handy three times.
Thorn nodded. He was speechless, a rare occurrence. He didn’t have so much as one word to say. Donovan wished he could slap Thorn in the back of the head. What is wrong with you? A beautiful woman is talking to you. Speak, you idiot.
Amanda looked between the two of them. “Are you brothers?”
Donovan turned to Thorn, who’s eyebrows lifted in humor. It was the first thing his face had done since Amanda came over, other than look awestruck.
“Absolutely not,” Donovan said.
“Hey, I would be a great brother,” Thorn protested.
Donovan considered Thorn a moment. They had met only because Ryan, Donovan’s real brother, had been murdered. When he lost Ryan, did he get a substitute brother in Thorn?
A sweet smile crossed Amanda’s face, conjuring dimples. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.” She turned to Beth. “I’m going to clean up.” Before she left, she gave Thorn one last glance. Her smile warmed even more. She walked away, and the three of them were left staring after her in bewilderment, but for different reasons.
“Damn,” Thorn whispered.
Donovan grinned from ear to ear. “Beth, I think Thorn is smitten.”
Beth crossed her arms as she scrutinized her best friend. Her mamma bear instincts were coming out.
This will be entertaining, Donovan thought.
“You.” She poked Thorn in the chest with her finger. “You better not do something stupid.”
Thorn frowned and rubbed his chest as if she had hurt him. “Define stupid.”
“It’s not my business to tell you her story, but she’s been hurt more than you can guess. She can’t take anymore. If you try to pursue something with her, remember that.”
Thorn glanced at Amanda as she collected boxing gloves. “I will.”
“And if you do something stupid,” Donovan said, “you won’t just have Beth coming after you. You’d have me, too.”
“Let’s get something clear.” Thorn held up a hand. “I’m not afraid of you, Goldwyn.” He pointed at Beth, who still had her hands on her hips. “But I am afraid of her.”
Thorn’s gift to Beth turned out not to be a bikini but a framed picture of the three of them taken a few months ago at one of Donovan’s monster truck shows. Beth stood between Donovan and Thorn with one arm around each of them. Right when the picture was taken, Thorn had snuck a kiss on Beth’s cheek. Neither of them had said a word about it. This was the first time Donovan had found out about it. It didn’t make him mad, though. Seeing Beth’s happiness at being able to witness that moment again made him happy, too. But he did feel he’d have to have another talk with Thorn about not kissing Beth.
Chapter Nine
In Beth’s dream, she saw snapshots of Donovan. They weren’t happy images but all the ones that had terrified her—each moment when he could’ve died since they met.
His car smashed into a tree. His forehead bashed into the steering wheel.
Concrete tumbling from the sky, hiding Donovan from sight.
A trash can, propelled by a great force of water, crashing into him at the same time as the wave plowed into her, stealing her vision and ripping Donovan from her grasp.
His monster truck lifted in the air and, as if in slow motion, tipped forward. Horrified, she watched it fall straight to the ground, nose-first.
The sound of it slamming into the ground snapped Beth awake. She turned her head and was reassured when she saw Donovan sleeping next to her. She touched her chest where her heart pounded frantically. The images from her dream replayed again and again. He had defied deat
h several times. As if he were a cat with nine lives, she wondered how many lives he had left. She watched him as he slept peacefully and hoped he had hundreds. At the same time, she prayed he wouldn’t face situations like those again. Never again. He may be an adrenaline junkie, and he may be tough, but seeing him hurt pained her, just as she knew seeing her hurt pained him. He didn’t want her to be in danger, and she wanted the same for him. Except, he raced monster trucks for a living.
By the time her heart rate went back to normal, sunlight streamed through the closed blinds. She looked to their bedside clock. It was almost eight-thirty. She rolled onto her side, facing Donovan. He let out a sound that was half sigh, half groan. A smile touched her lips. She pressed her lips to his temple, his cheek, his jawline. He turned his head. Their noses brushed. Her lips rubbed against his. She didn’t care if he had morning breath. And, unfortunately for him, she didn’t care if she had morning breath. Her lips molded to his. It was a soft kiss to awaken his senses and pull him out of his dream state.
“That’s how I was going to wake you up,” he said.
“Beat you to it.” She slid onto him, and his arms looped around her, hugging her like a child would hug his favorite teddy bear. She looked down at him. His eyes were still closed. “I might not be very good at it, though, because you’re still asleep.” Her lips pursed when he didn’t stir. “I’ll go and let you sleep.” She started to push herself off him when his arms flexed, keeping her firmly in place.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said.
“And yet your eyes are still closed.”
“I’m enjoying the feel of you.” His eyelids opened, unveiling his violet irises. He looked at her a moment, as if he wasn’t sure if she were a dream or real. “Happy Birthday.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“How long have you been awake?”
She shrugged. “A little while.” She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead. Then she moved down to his neck. Her nose rubbed against his Adam’s apple while she breathed in his scent. The lingering notes of his fresh, green cologne greeted her. Beneath it was the smell of his skin. She inhaled. “I had a dream,” she said with her lips against his neck. “About you.”
