Spread Your Wings: Men in Blue, Book 4

by Jayne Rylon

  “Of course.” Jambrea hoped the other woman could sense her sincerity. “Thank you for everything. You’re our only lead. I hope we can be more than necessity calls for, though.”

  “I think that’s a pretty good bet.” Shari hugged her one last time, then surprised Matt and Clint by doing the same to them. “I’m so glad to meet decent people again.”

  “Same goes, Shari.” Matt patted her a little awkwardly on the back.

  Clint covered by taking her off his hands. “You know, one of the things that gives me comfort about my job is knowing if anything ever happened to us, our friends would take care of Jambrea. I feel like you’re part of our family too. John was. He had the same values. Hopefully you’ll take advantage of that support system. We’re here for you.”

  Unable to say more, Shari nodded and waved as tears streamed down her face.

  This time they hopefully were more about relief than mourning.

  They’d stayed at the main house talking with Shari long enough that even the gorgeous summer day finally faded toward twilight. The last full rays of sunshine streamed over them, lighting everything on fire as they climbed and climbed toward the site Shari had indicated.

  They remained quiet until they parked at the base of the hill Jambrea had seen in her dream that afternoon. The guys would probably think she was loony if she told them that little factoid. Or hell, that she’d found such a crazy connection with a soldier passing in the night.

  Except they didn’t.

  “He really meant something to you.” Clint squinted slightly as he observed her struggle to swallow her despair. She lingered at the foot of the knoll, afraid to approach John’s grave. No matter how hard she tried to bury the pain, she was sure they could see it. The two of them understood her like no one had before. Certainly not a man she’d only met twice.

  “I thought I loved him.” She cleared her throat and nodded.

  “I’m pretty sure you actually did.” Matt rubbed her back, his huge hand spanning most of her shoulders.

  “I guess. But not in the way I imagined.” She shook her head. “I never really got to know him. I just knew there was a connection there. Left unexplored. Forever, now.”

  Clint grumbled a little. “Much as I don’t like to see you sad, I can’t say I’m all that sorry it didn’t work out. Otherwise we might never have gotten a chance to investigate what’s between us.”

  “So you’ll understand when I say I don’t want to waste this.” She waved her hand between them, then her and Matt, more vigorously than she intended. “How many times can a woman find this in her life and not take full advantage?”

  She took a huge breath, filling her lungs with pristine air until they felt like they might burst, like her heart. Then she stared at Clint before shifting her gaze to Matt. “I know now that what I felt for John was real. And it could have become even deeper for both of us pretty easily, but…I know, because I love you too. Both of you dumbasses.”

  Jambrea spun on her heel, afraid they might not reciprocate. Even more, it terrified her that they might say they did to appease her or absolve any awkwardness between them. Kneejerk me too’s weren’t what she was after.

  Marching toward the only stone standing on the peak of the hill, she refused to slow lest she stall out completely. Death was a regular part of her life at the hospital, yet somehow this seemed different. So damn final. She imagined John’s corporeal form lying six feet below her hand, now pressed to the churned earth beneath her knees.

  To be this close again, and so very far away, stabbed her heart.

  From her pocket, she withdrew a lined sheet of paper she’d ripped from her notebook earlier. The one she kept to herself most times. If anyone else saw the stream of consciousness she’d jotted inside, night after lonely night, it wouldn’t be pretty.

  The torn and ragged edges seemed fitting. They matched the wound on her heart that had scabbed over though never entirely healed. Even her connection to Matt and Clint wouldn’t obscure the past. Not the beauty she and John had created or the damage that had been done. Hell, without these scars she never would have been bold enough to ask Lily to make her dreams come true. Fear was a decent motivator.

  They might have been stuck in limbo forever.

  She sank to the ground before John’s arched stone and petted the sparse grass beside her knees. Then she plucked a stone from the bare earth directly above his casket and placed it on top of the scrap that held her note to John. A quote from their favorite poet, actually.

  Jambrea wondered if anyone would object to her adding the line beneath his name.

  Permanently engraved, as he had been on her life.

  Death is the only pure, beautiful conclusion of a great passion.—David Herbert Lawrence

  “Thank you for your service to our country,” Matt whispered from where he sank beside her, clasping her hand as he spoke. And she realized the quote could hold many meanings. He leaned in and touched the cold stone header simply marked John. The respect inherent in all men of service, military or otherwise, for their brothers radiated from the stoic lines of his grim-set mouth. It touched her, drawing fresh tears to her eyes.

  “And for protecting our wild thing,” Clint added as he threaded his fingers with her free ones, kneeling by her opposite side. “We know it had to have been hell to stay away. Thank you.”

  Seeing her pair of guys honor the only other important man in her life broke her.

  Jambrea crumbled, weeping. Surrounded by nobility and strength, she let them carry her from the meadow. Into the light, out of the shade of the tree looming over John’s grave.

  Or maybe guarding it.

  Goodbye, she mouthed over Clint’s shoulder as John’s final resting place faded from sight. Sleep in peace.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They’d piled into the truck none too soon. The cheery day and the heat radiating from the earth had fueled an angry sky. As cool evening air rushed over the mountains, it towed a storm, which rolled in behind it. Before they’d reached the turnoff Shari had indicated, rain splattered in fat drops that echoed on the roof of the truck.

  Jambrea imagined even the clouds were crying.

  It’d been one of the best and one of the worst days of her life. So much progress after endless stagnation made her head spin.

  Physical and emotional exhaustion warred for top billing on her list of complaints. Clint didn’t ask and she didn’t protest when he carried her from the truck. Though he ran through the downpour, they were both soaked by the time he stood beneath the porch overhang and waited for Matt to open the door with the code Shari had instructed them to use on the keypad. She would know they’d gotten there without incident from the main house access center.

  “I still think the numbers in the medal box were a combination,” he muttered half to himself as he opened the door and flipped on the lights.

  “But to what?” Jambrea had believed Shari when she swore she knew of no safes on the property.

  “No idea. Gotta think about it more.” He stopped talking as he took in their temporary shelter. Dripping on the welcome mat, Matt paused. “Wow, this is nothing like my old man’s hunting cabin.”

  “No kidding, it’s actually got plumbing and heat and shit.” Clint nudged his partner aside so he could bring Jambrea in out of the elements.

  With the rain firmly shut outside, the coziness of the place began to seep into her bones. She hung limp in Clint’s arms. The interior of the log cabin was much more masculine than Shari’s house, but its rustic charm called to Jambrea. She could see touches of her super spy in the functional yet artistic lines of the Shaker furniture.

  Wondering if he’d made that too, she squirmed.

  Clint put her down, then proceeded to strip off her shirt in one motion.

  “What—” She glanced up at him, surprised to find he looked as tired as she felt.

  “I’m not molesting you or anything.” He shrugged. “I’m getting rid of these wet clothes. You ca
n’t sleep in them. Especially not with your arm.”

  “How is that, by the way?” Matt jumped in.

  If she didn’t squelch their concern quickly, they’d never leave her be. “It’s good. Seriously. I’ve had worse.”

  “When?” Clint looked at her like she was crazy.

  “Hell, it hurt more than this when I had my wisdom teeth out.” She failed to mention how all four had been full bony horizontal impactions that required an oral surgeon to drill those fuckers out of her skull or how she’d had an infection in her jaw five weeks later, which had her sucking down pudding for nearly two months.

  It had been a great weight loss plan, though.

  “Can we not go back to the no-fondling bullshit?” Jambrea looked up to her guys. She finished shimmying out of her pants and underwear, then turned so Clint got a full rear view. “Get that bra clasp for me, would you?”

  Contorting her arm behind her back would blow her cover. It’d hurt like a bitch.

  When Clint peeled off her polka-dotted cotton bra, he put her breasts on display for Matt, who whistled. “Are you asking him to reconsider? ’Cause I’m starting to think that might not be a half-bad idea.”

  “I just thought….with everything that happened tonight… Your memories. The John factor. The stuff we did this morning and yesterday, which you’re not used to. That you wouldn’t really be up for anything romantic with us.” Matt blushed a little at Clint’s description. She knew it was because nothing they did together anymore was about simply sex. Unless physical contact was a way to demonstrate their affection or the emotions running far deeper than their libidos.

  They’d definitely moved from stuff to romance somewhere in the past two days.

  That had to be harder to rationalize for Matt than when he’d allowed close contact with his best friend for the sake of jointly getting their jollies.

  Still, it reassured her that neither of them had bolted for the mine-filled hills when she’d busted out the L-word earlier. Even if they hadn’t said it back.

  Hmm…

  “I want to make this clear to you both. John’s my past. You guys are my future.” She bit her lip, cupping her hands over her breasts with her arms crossed as a sliver of uncertainty crept in. “I hope.”

  “There’s no doubt in my mind.” Clint didn’t leave her hanging long. He caught her in his embrace, then descended. His breath warmed her smile a moment before he pressed his mouth to hers. He sipped from her lips, kissing her until even the heat his touch infused her with couldn’t combat the persistent dampness of his shirt and jeans.

  “Sorry.” He chaffed her arm below the bandage before putting enough distance between them to shuck his clothes.

  “I’m not.” Matt ogled her hardened nipples.

  While Clint had kissed her, he must have been busy because he stood naked to match her. It didn’t take him long to close the gap between them. “I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life as I want you. Long term. I can imagine what it would be like. You, me, Clint—finding a place of our own. A house we could share and fill with laughter and the promises of a lifetime of tomorrows. I just didn’t want to scare you away. I know it’s only been two days…”

  “Is that really as long as you’ve been thinking about this?” She squinted as she tipped her head, trying to read his expression. When would they stop hiding behind half-truths and trust each other enough to admit what they had?

  “Shit, no.” He easily grabbed her ass and tugged her to his body. The furnace of his chest encouraged her to snuggle up. “I actually have a whole folder I’ve been keeping of places that could work for the three of us. A couple out near Mason, Tyler and Lacey’s house, sort of between the hospital and the station.”

  “You do?” Clint seemed equally as surprised as she was.

  “Yeah.” The shifting of Matt’s gaze between her and Clint was accompanied by the skip of his heartbeat beneath her palm. “Does that freak you out?”

  “Hell no.” The waver in Clint’s response cramped her gut. “I thought it’d be tough to convince you. You’ve seemed less open to this whole arrangement.”

  “I think because I want it so bad. I never guessed that’s what my life would be like. I’ve never wanted to do things with another guy. Things I’ve thought of compulsively lately, of trying with you and her together. Hell, I practically lost my mind this morning. What was I thinking letting you mess with my ass like that?”

  “That it felt good?” Jambrea stepped between the guys, wishing she could hug them both right then. “Why do we have to analyze so damn much when it comes to all this? Let’s do what feels good and worry about the rest later. I’m guessing it’ll all fall into place without so much drama. Nothing good happens when we try to work out all the possibilities in our minds. Life doesn’t conform to our plans anyway. So it’s better to adapt, no matter how uncomfortable it makes us to take a risk. We’re too much alike on that front.”

  “Is all this emo crap putting you off?” Matt winced as he looked to Jambrea.

  “Actually, it’s making me want you more.” She put a hand on each of their chests and shoved them toward the bed. Of course they didn’t budge. At least not because of her insignificant push. They waited for her to pass by. “I want to remember that I’m not alone anymore. And not because I’ve settled or compromised my priorities, but because I found the men I was always meant to be with. Better yet, I’d like to be sure that if I put everything I am into this relationship, that it means something to both of you too.”

  “Jesus, wild thing.” Matt took her with him as he charged the rest of the way to the bed. “How could you doubt that anymore?”

  “I guess because we’ve been in limbo forever and spent only a day—a really fucked up day at that—as the new us.” She couldn’t believe the sinful smile that curled her lips. It just happened, she wasn’t intending to be coy. They brought out all kinds of bad habits in her. She kind of liked playing dirty with them. “Maybe you should show me again what it’s like now?”

  “Not only for this minute either.” Clint brushed stray hairs from her forehead. “This is how it will be from here on out. Or maybe better, even. You’re not getting rid of us. Right, Matt?”

  “Damn straight.” He lifted her so Clint could strip the comforter to the foot of the bed. Soft flannel sheets caressed every inch of her back when he set her down as delicately as if she were an expensive vase.

  Though Clint was quick to join her—lying partially over her as he resumed his tasting of her mouth, teasing her with nips and kisses that had her toes curling in the tangle of linens at her feet—Matt hesitated.

  “Oh no, not again,” she mumbled into Clint’s roving lips before they meandered down her chin and onto the top of her neck.

  “What’s wrong now?” Clint paused his roundabout journey only long enough to shoot a don’t-fuck-this-up glare at his partner. “Get your big ass over here.”

  Though he actually responded without an argument, surprising her, Matt settled in with less disturbance to the plush mattress than Clint’s enthusiasm had warranted.

  “I feel kind of guilty doing it in John’s bed like this.” He reminded her that the Men in Blue were men of honor, like her ex-lover had been. Yet another reason she’d so thoroughly lost her heart and soul to them.

  People had often accused her of being too kind, too forgiving, too willing to turn the other cheek. But a positive attitude and consideration of others had always served her well. It was something she prided herself on, knowing she’d never allowed someone to drag her through the muck.

  So she really considered Matt’s objection. And how John might feel if he were still around.

  “I’m pretty sure he’d be glad that I’m finally this happy.” Her slow smile did a lot to lighten her heart and erase the bitterness that had begun to take hold after her string of relationship failures…or perceived catastrophes anyway.

  “I don’t know about that. He left you alone because it was the onl
y way to keep you safe. Both from his enemies and from the devastation guaranteed by his ultimate fate in such a high-stakes game,” Clint confessed. He studied the imaginary line the tip of his index finger drew in swirls around her belly button. “Not every cop comes home at the end of his shift, Jambi. If I was as good a man as he was, I’d walk away and let you find a nice normal guy who works in an office. We both would.”

  “And that boring fellow could get hit by a bus on the way to work. Or catch some rare disease. I see these cases every day at the hospital. Don’t tell me it doesn’t happen.” Jambrea rolled her eyes. “If you try to run…”

  “What?” Matt dared her to make a threat she could live up to.

  She leaned over, rummaged through the pile of discarded clothes he’d deposited there then held up some of his police accessories. “I swear to God, I’ll cuff you to my bed and never let you go.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a half-bad fate.” Clint laughed. “Especially not if you’re going to take good care of your captives.”

  “JRad and I are going to have a talk about what ideas his wife puts in your head.” Matt glowered, though she knew he wasn’t serious. “This is getting outrageous.”

  “Oh yeah?” She swung the cuffs around one finger. “You want to see outrageous?”

  Before he could answer through his laughing, she took her chance. She snapped one of the cuffs on his right wrist then grabbed for Clint’s left hand, since he now fondled her breast.

  In record time, she’d linked them together. Hopefully they’d get the point.

  “Hey.” Matt shook his wrist, though he had to know it was pointless. Clint’s arm jerked up and down on the other end of the chain.

  “That’s not funny.” Clint sobered pretty damn quickly. He lunged for the key, but Matt’s mass drew him up short. Jambrea palmed it.

  “What’s the problem?” She ducked beneath the chain and got to her knees, propping one hand on her hip. “You don’t trust me? Or is it being so inseparable with our guy that scares you?”