by TA Moore
Another car pulled over. The driver rolled her window down and peered out. Purple hair quiffed up over a pale, earnest face.
“Is everything okay?” she asked and pulled a face as the question left her lips. “Stupid question. I mean, is anyone hurt? What can I do?”
“Call the ambulance,” Cal said. He glanced over at Rosie, who’d hidden her face in her hands. “And the police.”
She nodded and grabbed her phone from the holder. Cal left her to it as he started back down the bank. Halfway there the fire coughed itself into life on the undercarriage of the engine. It bopped there for a second, blue and meditative, and then made hungry, yellow inroads on the rest of the car.
“Shit,” Cal muttered. He staggered back from the rush of heat, one hand up to protect his face, and then stumbled around the car. The metal had been warm before. It was hot now, and he could hear Joe cough inside the drunk.
He jammed the screwdriver into the lock, gave the handle a whack with the heel of his hand, and then twisted it to core the locking mechanism out by force. The boot held for a second and then popped open. Cal blistered his fingers on it as he pulled it open and reached in to drag Joe out and away.
Relief and fear and guilt caught in the back of Cal’s throat. He’d thought, for a few minutes, that he might never see Joe again, or that if he did, it would be in a box. There was probably something he could say that would cover that, explain it, but it was beyond Cal. Once they reached a safe distance, he dragged Joe into a rough, desperate hug and breathed in the smell of him mixed with smoke and old oil.
“You scared the fuck out of me,” he rasped in Joe’s ear. “You asshole. Don’t bloody do that again.”
Joe laughed. There was more wobble to the sound than usual. “I have no intention of doing this again. Once was enough.” He leaned against Cal and cradled his arm to his chest. Blood had soaked through the rough bandage he’d made of his sleeve and dripped slowly from his fingertips. “She cut me. I think I need a doctor.”
“The ambulance is on the way,” Cal promised. He stroked Joe’s hair back from his forehead, twisted his fingers in the soft, dark curls, and pressed a kiss to his scarred temple. “You’ll be okay.”
Joe nodded and relaxed carefully into Cal. He closed his eyes, clutched his forearm tightly, and rested his head against Cal’s shoulder as they waited to hear the siren of the ambulance. When they finally did, Joe lifted his head and glanced over at the crumbled Rosie.
“Don’t tell them what she did?” he said. “Say it was an accident.”
“Why?” Cal protested. “She tried to kill you.”
“I know,” Joe said as the ambulance pulled in and the paramedics spilled out. “But she’s my sister, and I think I’ve taken enough from her, even if I didn’t mean to.”
The paramedics pulled Joe away, his arm up and bundles of gauze pulled out of packets before Cal could promise one way or the other. In the end, when the policeman asked what happened, he shrugged and lied about wildlife in the road. He’d passed enough furry corpses on his drive up from Reading to expect that to be believable.
Rosie wasn’t his sister, but the sight of her huddled in the grass made him think she might actually have lost enough.
Although, if anything happened to Joe, he thought grimly as he watched the ambulance pull away, he’d have to rethink that.
Epilogue
IT TOOK two months for the doctors to finish the job on Joe’s hand, to stitch the damaged nerves back into place, to chase the infection out with handfuls of pills, and to eventually chuck him back out onto the street. The minute he was out, the first place he went was the cemetery.
This time to the one his real mother was buried in.
Cal loitered back by a copse of oaks while Rosie, muted and grateful they hadn’t told her lawyer girlfriend anything, showed Joe through the rows of the dead. It made Cal’s nerves twitch under the skin to watch, but Rosie’s breakdown at the scene of the accident seemed to have given her some peace. At the very least, she’d accepted she had a brother… like it or not. Cal didn’t trust her—that was why he was there in Edward’s place and with Edward’s scowl—but she was Joe’s sister. It was his call.
After a few minutes at the graveside, Rosie—she said she felt more like Rosie, that Daisy was the little girl at the fire—left Joe to it and walked slowly back to her new car. The insurance—after everyone had held firm on it being an accident—had paid out for her to replace the husk she’d left on the side of the road.
It was a good thing too, since she’d lost her job. Even without the full details, Abigail had enough information to decide that it was better Rosie get another position.
Cal waited until she’d gone. Then he walked up the hill to join Joe at the graveside. It was a small, simple gravestone with her name and date of death. Not much to tell you about a person.
“So, you found her,” Cal said.
“Yes,” Joe said. “I don’t know if it makes any difference now. I’ll never know her.”
“She loved you,” Cal pointed out. “She picked you over her own life. You know that. It’s more than some people get.”
Joe leaned into Cal and put an arm around his waist. “I guess.”
They stood and looked at a dead woman’s grave. Her given name had been Margaret, her middle name Jessica, but they didn’t know what she liked to be called. Rosie claimed that she didn’t remember. They all knew that was a lie, but Rosie had to live with the fact that she’d killed her mother, however accidentally. If it made her feel better to keep some secrets still, Joe had decided to let her.
After a second, maybe because Margaret had been brave, Cal finally asked the question he hadn’t wanted to face until then. Two days before he had no choice.
“What are you going to do now?” he asked. “The doctors said you could travel again. Are you going to… go back to California?”
He couldn’t imagine anyone would say no to that, and Joe didn’t surprise him.
“Maybe,” he said. Joe tightened his arm around Cal’s waist as he rested his head on Cal’s shoulder. “Not yet. I think distance is good for me and Dad right now. I know he meant well, that he wanted to protect that little girl from what she’d done and me from knowing what I’d caused—”
“You were a baby,” Cal objected.
“I still feel guilty. My birth was what started all this, I don’t know if I could have coped with that as a kid,” Joe poked his toe at a stray weed by the grave. “Still, he nearly got me killed. It’s easier to be kind from this side of the ocean.”
It was stupid to be relieved. Joe hadn’t said he’d stay forever, or even for very long. That didn’t seem to matter. All Cal needed to know was that Joe didn’t want to leave yet.
“And if I do go,” Joe added. “You’re coming with me.”
The statement caught Cal flat-footed. He stumbled over his answer and found objections instead. “I’ve never driven in America before.”
Joe lifted his head and gave Cal a wry look. “You know we’re dating, don’t you?” he said. “You’re my boyfriend, Cal Tate, and even I’m not asshole enough to expect you to still drive me to meetings and wait in the car. You did know that, right?”
Actually Cal hadn’t. But now that he knew, he… didn’t mind.
He pulled Joe into a kiss and smiled against his mouth. “I think you’re meant to ask me,” he said. “But I suppose you can text me later.”
It probably wasn’t the most respectful place to kiss, at the foot of Joe’s dead mother’s grave. In the end, Cal didn’t think she’d mind. Whatever she might think of Cal, she’d loved Joe.
So did Cal.
More from TA Moore
A Wolf Winter Novel
The world ends not with a bang, but with a downpour. Tornadoes spin through the heart of London, New York cooks in a heat wave that melts tarmac, and Russia freezes under an ever-thickening layer of permafrost. People rally at first—organizing aid drops and evacuating populations—
but the weather is only getting worse.
In Durham, mild-mannered academic Danny Fennick has battened down to sit out the storm. He grew up in the Scottish Highlands, so he’s seen harsh winters before. Besides, he has an advantage. He’s a werewolf. Or, to be precise, a weredog. Less impressive, but still useful.
Except the other werewolves don’t believe this is any ordinary winter, and they’re coming down over the Wall to mark their new territory. Including Danny’s ex, Jack—the Crown Prince Pup of the Numitor’s pack—and the prince’s brother, who wants to kill him.
A wolf winter isn’t white. It’s red as blood.
Divorce lawyer Clayton Reynolds is a happy cynic who believes in hard work and one-night stands. He also believes that being an excellent lawyer means he never has to go home to the miserable trailer park where he grew up and that volunteering at a women’s shelter will buy off the conscience that occasionally plagues him. So when Nadine Graham comes in with a broken arm and a son she desperately wants to protect, Clayton can’t turn down their plea for help.
Taking the case means appealing to investigator “Just Call Me Kelly” for help. That wouldn’t be so bad if Kelly weren’t a hopeless romantic… and the hottest man Clayton’s ever met.
Kelly has always had a crush on the unobtainable Clayton Reynolds. He agrees to help, even though he has enough on his plate with the motherless baby his widowed brother left him to care for.
As Nadine’s case turns dangerous and the two seemingly opposite men are forced to work together, they discover they have a great deal in common—but solving the case and saving Nadine’s life might cost Kelly everything.
Island Classifieds: Book One
His mother. His best friend. The barmaid at the local pub. Everyone is determined to find Nathan Moffatt a boyfriend. It’s the last thing Nathan wants. After spending every day making sure his clients experience nothing but romantic magic, the Granshire Hotel’s wedding organizer just wants to go home, binge-watch crime dramas, and eat pizza in his underwear.
Unfortunately, no one believes him, and he’s stuck with lectures about dying alone. Then inspiration strikes. He needs the people in his life to want him to stay single as much as he does. He needs a bad boyfriend.
There’s only one man for the job.
Flynn Delaney is used to people on the island of Ceremony thinking the worst of him. But he isn’t sure he wants the dubious honor of worst boyfriend on the entire island. On the other hand, if he plays along, he gets to hang out with the gorgeous Nathan and piss off the owners of the Granshire Hotel. It’s a win-win.
There’s only one problem—Flynn’s actually quite a good boyfriend, and now Nathan’s wondering if getting off the sofa occasionally is really the worst thing in the world.
Digging Up Bones: Book One
Cloister Witte is a man with a dark past and a cute dog. He’s happy to talk about the dog all day, but after growing up in the shadow of a missing brother, a deadbeat dad, and a criminal stepfather, he’d rather leave the past back in Montana. These days he’s a K-9 officer in the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department and pays a tithe to his ghosts by doing what no one was able to do for his brother—find the missing and bring them home.
He’s good at solving difficult mysteries. The dog is even better.
This time the missing person is a ten-year-old boy who walked into the woods in the middle of the night and didn’t come back. With the antagonistic help of distractingly handsome FBI agent Javi Merlo, it quickly becomes clear that Drew Hartley didn’t run away. He was taken, and the evidence implies he’s not the kidnapper’s first victim. As the search intensifies, old grudges and tragedies are pulled into the light of day. But with each clue they uncover, it looks less and less likely that Drew will be found alive.
Digging Up Bones: Book Two
Cloister Witte and his K-9 partner, Bourneville, find the lost and bring them home.
But the job doesn’t always end there.
Janet Morrow, a young trans woman, lies in a coma after wandering away from her car during a storm. But just because Cloister found the young tourist doesn’t mean she’s home. What brought her to Plenty, California… and who didn’t want her to leave?
With the help of Special Agent Javi Merlo, who continues to deny his growing feelings for the rough-edged deputy, Cloister unearths a ten-year-old conspiracy of silence that taps into Plenty’s history of corruption.
Janet Morrow’s old secrets aren’t the only ones coming to light. Javi has tried to put his past behind him, but some people seem determined to pull his skeletons out of the closet. His dark history with a senior agent in Phoenix complicates not just the investigation but his relationship with Cloister. And since when has he cared about that?
Readers love TA Moore
Skin and Bone
“…this book checks all my boxes. I could not put it down.”
—Love Bytes
“I would totally read the next book in the series given the quality of writing and emotional engagement I had with the first two books in the series.”
—Gay Book Reviews
Every Other Weekend
“It is nicely twisty and fun, with lots of excitement and unexpected elements that kept this one very engaging.”
—Joyfully Jay
“Ms Moore has written an interesting story, a great mystery, with a great deal of suspense.”
—Paranormal Romance Guild
Wanted – Bad Boyfriend
“This was a twist on an enemies-to-lovers trope that was quite entertaining.”
—Jessie G Books
“This was a fun read, and I totally enjoyed it! You guys should definitely check it out!”
—The Novel Approach
TA MOORE is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural seaside town fostered a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humor a mile wide. As her grandmother always said, “She’d laugh at a bad thing, that one.” Mind you, that was the pot calling the kettle black. TA studied history, Irish mythology, and English at university, mostly because she has always loved a good story. She worked as a journalist, a finance manager, and in the arts sectors before she finally gave in to a lifelong desire to write.
Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.
Website: www.nevertobetold.co.uk
Facebook: www.facebook.com/TA.Moores
Twitter: @tammy_moore
By TA Moore
Every Other Weekend
Ghostwriter of Christmas Past
Liar, Liar
Take the Edge Off
Wanted – Bad Boyfriend
DIGGING UP BONES
Bone to Pick
Skin and Bone
WOLF WINTER
Dog Days
Stone the Crows
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Take the Edge Off
© 2019 TA Moore
Cover Art
© 2019 Bree Archer
http://www.breearcher.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loane
d or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64405-180-1
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64405-179-5
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018914540
Digital published June 2019
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
