by Jo Davis
Her brows crawled into her hairline. “Then you’ve had your eyes pecked out and eaten by crows, buddy.”
“Gross.” He made an exaggerated face. “My appetite is a goner.”
She couldn’t resist teasing him. “For a man who claims he’s always hungry, that’s quite a feat. Should we go?”
“Well, maybe it’s not completely gone.”
“Thought so.”
They fell silent and she basked in his company, content. A fleeting, uncomfortable thought that nothing was ever this easy flitted through her mind, but she dismissed it. They were due for a little fun, dammit.
“I’m sorry I wigged out on you earlier, when you said brothers don’t count.” His gaze dropped to the table. “I used to give my brother hell for nosing into my business, giving his opinion where it wasn’t wanted or needed. Now I’d give anything if he could tell me what he thought about anything at all.”
Oh, no. “What happened to him?”
“Donny was a Marine. He was killed in Iraq over three years ago.”
7
Shea’s eyes widened, and Tommy could’ve kicked himself. What the hell had made him reveal something so personal? So fucking sad?
“Christ, what a downer, huh? Please forget I said anything.”
But she laid her hand over his, her pretty face filled with sympathy and understanding. “Shane and I know plenty about how it feels to lose close family. Our parents were killed right after we graduated from high school, and while it was a different situation, I can relate.”
“God, that must’ve been so hard on you both, and being so young, too,” he said, taking her hand. “At least I had my folks, and they had me. We’re still pretty tight, in fact.” Except for the fact that he’d never be Donny, especially in his mother’s eyes.
“It was hard, but Shane pulled us through. Our parents left us a piece of property on the Cumberland and he sold a tract to keep us afloat while we figured out our careers. But what you went through . . . I can’t imagine losing Shane. Though I try not to, I think about how dangerous his job is. I could open the door any day to find one of his buddies there, telling me he’s sorry.”
He nodded. “I hope you never have to know how it feels.”
The dull horror, knowing Donny didn’t die quick. That he was tortured for days before being beheaded. Like a part of Tommy bled into the scorching desert sands, and died with him.
“Your parents, are they coping?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. They were so proud of Donny. He was in the military for the long haul, was convinced he’d retire a general. And I believe he would have.”
“What about you?”
“Me?” The question surprised him.
“Yes, you. You said Donny was in the military for life. What were you doing back then? Already planning on being a firefighter?”
Their sodas were set in front of them, but he barely took note.
“I was a star quarterback for the Alabama Crimson Tide,” he heard himself say. “I was up-and-coming, with NFL scouts salivating over the day I’d finally enter the draft. The whole works.”
And voicing it aloud, he was shocked by how bitter he was that his brother’s death had derailed his dreams. That his parents had been so cocooned in their own grief, they hadn’t noticed their remaining son floundering. That nothing I do pleases Mom, and hasn’t in three years.
Wasn’t that selfish? He felt like a complete bastard.
“Wow, being scouted by the NFL? Exciting stuff. What happened with that?”
“Life happened. I’d just started my sophomore year, and after Donny died, I went home to be with my parents. We needed each other.”
“And, what? Were you kicked out of school for being gone too long?”
“No, I just never went back.”
“Why not?”
“My brother came home in pieces. After that, not much else seemed important for a hell of a long time.”
The waitress brought their plates piled with burgers and fries, but suddenly Tommy’s stomach was queasy. He took a bite, all too aware that his brother could never enjoy such a simple pleasure again. Good food, a terrific lady. So much to remember never to take for granted.
Shea picked at a fry, regarding him with compassion. “It’s a testament to how strong you and your parents are that you were able to survive and move on. Look at you, a successful firefighter. I think that’s pretty special.”
So much for not taking any aspect of his life for granted.
“We survived. Moved on, not so much. There will always be this huge hole I can’t fill no matter how many construction workers I rescue or fires I put out. I think—no, never mind.”
“Please, tell me,” she said earnestly.
He almost delivered a lie to avoid the disappointment he was sure to see on her face. But if he hoped to gain her trust, she had to hear the truth.
“I think maybe I gave up football and became a firefighter for the wrong reason. I’d lost the heart to play ball because I thought it wasn’t worthy of Donny’s memory. How important is a game when there are guys dying for our country? I was determined to be as big a man as him, larger than life. Save the world, make a difference.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “What a joke, right?”
But even that wasn’t the whole truth behind why he’d given up his dreams of playing pro ball, and he knew it. How could he tell her that he hadn’t felt worthy in his parents’ eyes after Donny’s death, especially his mother’s? That he’d do just about anything if they’d think as highly of him as they did his dead brother?
Instead of disappointment in Shea’s eyes, he saw nothing but understanding. The knot in his gut eased some.
“You’re being way too hard on yourself. You do make a difference, every single day,” she insisted. “Because of you, that construction worker went home to his family, and that’s an awesome thing. As far as your football career, you did what you had to do at the time. How were you supposed to feel? To act? Give yourself a break.”
“Thanks, Shea. Nobody’s ever put it to me that way before.”
“Perhaps because you never talk about it?”
“Perceptive as well as beautiful.” He liked this, connecting with another person who got him. The glow loosened his tongue enough to voice his deepest secret, dragged from the darkest corner of his heart. “I wish I could go back, make those choices all over again. Be the man I was supposed to have been, before I threw it all away.”
“Haven’t most of us said the same at one point? But think of all the lives that would’ve been impacted if you’d gone back to school. That worker might’ve died the other day, and he’s only the beginning.”
Tommy thought of Eve nearly falling through the roof into the inferno below, and it chilled him to think what might’ve happened if he hadn’t been there. Not to mention all the lives that wouldn’t have touched his. “Maybe you’re right. I also wouldn’t have met my friends at the station, or you, which is unthinkable.”
A smile teased the corners of her sensuous mouth. “So if you had a time machine, you wouldn’t ditch me?”
“No, but I’d go back and tell my brother not to go out with his unit that day. To plead a stomach virus, anything to keep him from getting captured and going through the hell they subjected him to before he died.”
Her voice was gentle. “And from what you told me, this larger-than-life macho guy wouldn’t have listened.”
“Probably not,” he conceded. “The what-ifs are enough to drive me insane.”
“So you can’t go back, but you can go forward. If you’re not happy, make a career change,” she suggested, steering the topic from his greatest sadness.
“Just like that?”
“Why not? You’re young, and I mean that in a good way. You can still reinvent yourself, which is an opportunity most people don’t have or don’t take.”
He shook his head. “It’s too late for college ball.”
“Then go to
the Titans’ training camp as a walk-on next spring. Guys do it all the time.”
“Few are chosen, if any.” All the same, a thrill of excitement chased though him.
“Why not you? If you were as good as you claim . . .”
“Hey, I’m better!” He returned her impish grin.
“Well, there you are. What’s to discuss? Give it a shot.”
“I might do that.” Now that it was a real possibility, the thought scared him a little. What if he wasn’t as good as he was three years ago?
And what if he only wanted it because he couldn’t have it, like a child who’d broken his favorite toy?
“It doesn’t have to be football,” she said, as though reading his mind. “What are your other interests?”
He pondered the question for a few moments. “I like to solve puzzles. The mysterious, real-life kind. Like this suspicious fire we worked at this abandoned office building on Sunday. The power had been turned off months ago, so the odds of it being accidental were pretty low. Arson was called in to investigate and, sure enough, they found traces of gasoline used to start the blaze.”
“You sound really excited about the sleuthing part of it.”
“To me, it’s fascinating putting all the pieces together to try to come up with a clear picture of who broke the law and why.”
“Is Arson a special division of the police department? Since it involves criminal activity, I’ve never been too clear on that.”
“That’s an easy assumption, but no. It’s part of the fire department, at least in our city. The arson investigators are certified by the state and work under the fire marshall in the Fire Prevention unit.”
Shea nodded. “I’ve heard their cases will sometimes overlap with one Shane or his detectives have open, I just wasn’t sure where they were housed. They work together closely when necessary. Do you think that’s something you would enjoy?”
Suddenly his future seemed rife with possibilities. “I know so. It gives me a ton to consider. The thing is, I don’t have a clue what it takes to get into Arson, whether I have to be a certified peace officer or what. I know firefighters sometimes make the move, but it means applying for a whole new job.”
“I’m not sure, either, but if you want I can ask Shane,” she offered.
“That would be great. Thank you, sweetheart.”
“My pleasure.”
The word pleasure uttered from those sultry lips did things to his groin. Naughty things that took his mind completely away from sad memories and lost opportunities. Now his focus was fixed solely on the woman who made his world a brighter place just by being there, caring about him.
He wanted to hold her close and not stop with a kiss. Peel her down to the skin and learn what made her tick.
What made her scream.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Like what?” His tone was the epitome of innocence.
“Like you’re a cheetah and I’m an antelope—oh, never mind,” she said, blushing.
“Roowrrr.” He bared his teeth, doing his best cheetah impression.
She giggled and they settled in to finish their meal. After talking with her, the rest of his burger went down much easier. She made him feel damned good, warmed a place inside him that had been cold for years.
When they were done, Tommy paid the check and they left. He helped her into the truck and for a few seconds, considered driving them around for a while. Maybe he’d take her out to the land Julian purchased, show her where his friend and Grace planned to build their dream house.
Something told him that might be pushing things a little, appear as though he was dropping hints or something. Best to not wear out his welcome, leave her looking forward to this Sunday.
At her door, he cupped her sweet face and gave her the lightest of kisses. Allowed their bodies to brush just enough to electrify.
Since today was a day for truths, he decided to impart one more.
“Shea, I want you to know . . . I’ve never wanted to wait before, with any woman.” He brushed her lips in a soft kiss. “I never cared, before you.”
Grandpa had been acting strange.
Not that anybody but Will would notice, the change in the man was so subtle. Hell, he might be imagining the sideways glances, the frowns of puzzlement, the way the old man lingered around Will more than usual. Stayed up late, rose early. Might be.
But he doubted it.
Grandpa had that look he got whenever he told stories of his glory days in the service. Only he wasn’t telling any lately, a worrisome detail in itself.
Will sighed and booted up his computer. As the machine blurped and gyrated, he peered over his shoulder to where Grandpa sat in his favorite chair, remote in one hand, watching Wheel of Fortune. Will suppressed a snort.
How ironic. The old man could soak up that crap all he wanted, but Will had the real fortune at his fingertips. Or a fine fucking start on one, anyhow.
Blood money. The words curled around his throat and he shook them off.
Satisfied his grandfather wasn’t paying attention, Will opened the Internet and chose his bank’s Web site from his favorites. He started to log in, but couldn’t remember his damned password. These days, a person had to remember a zillion numbers, log-in names, and passwords to get by. Annoyed, he dug through his top desk drawer until he found the bank envelope he’d written the information on. There.
He laid the envelope on the desk and logged in, then chose his savings account, unconcerned that Grandpa might see the screen from across the room. The old man couldn’t spot a fly at two paces anymore. What did concern him was the idea of a double cross, always a hidden threat. If the deposit hadn’t been made—
“Yes.” Like clockwork, as usual.
Will stared at his balance, more money than he’d ever hoped to see in his sorry, godforsaken life. Six figures. At less than a quarter mil, it wouldn’t last long in the face of Grandpa’s eventual need for nursing home care and the astronomical cost of his own meds. But it was a good beginning.
Not wise to linger. He moved a bit to his checking account to cover bills, then closed the account. With nothing else to do, he distracted himself for a while with a few rounds of Minesweeper.
He didn’t know how long he’d been playing when his cell phone rang, vibrating on the coffee table.
“Better get that, Will,” Grandpa said, voice gruff. “Some pecker has been calling fifteen goddamned times a day, and he’s starting to get on my nerves.”
Alarm kicked him out of his chair, and he moved toward the offending instrument. “How do you know it’s a guy?”
Grandpa shot him an indecipherable look. “Figure of speech.”
“Oh.” Grabbing the phone, he flipped it open and strode for his bedroom. “Hello?”
“Baby’s got a new pair of shoes,” the man said by way of greeting.
“I saw.”
“Where’s my gratitude, Willie-boy? Especially since you fucked up by making the cause of the fire obvious.”
He hated that nickname with its snide double entendre, the way this asshole said it. “That will take care of itself. It will appear random and they can’t prove differently.”
“Lucky for you.”
Even though I’m doing all the work, prick.
From down the hall, he thought he heard a creak of a floorboard, the old man moving around.
“Was there something else you wanted?” he bit off.
“The next job. I want it done soon.”
“For double my fee. That one’s too dangerous.”
“Are you high? I’ll give you an increase of twenty large.”
Give? Fucker. “Seventy-five.”
“Thirty.”
“Sixty.”
“Don’t piss me off, Willie-boy. I know how bad you need that money for your precious medicine. Getting sick would be a bitch, huh? Who’d take care of dear old gramps?”
Oh, God.
“Fifty, or you can hire
someone else.” He almost broke into a sweat over the bluff, and the long silence that followed.
The man laughed, a nasty sound. “You keep telling yourself that. I doubt you’d want to find out exactly what becoming unemployed would entail. But you’ve got balls, Cinderfella, and I can admire that. As long as the bossman approves, fifty more on top of the regular for the next job and the one after. That last one’s going to be the biggest of them all.”
Something in the man’s tone made him shiver. “I fail to see how.”
“You’ll get the details when you need them. For now, just concentrate on doing the job.”
Before he could ask another question, the line went dead. Pompous fuckers.
But they were the fuckers with the money.
He laid the phone on the nightstand and was about to go get a shower, when suddenly he straightened. “Oh, shit.”
His log-in and password. God, he’d left the envelope sitting out on the desk, in plain view. Trying not to look panicked, he strode back down the hall to the living room—and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Grandpa’s chin was on his chest, eyes closed, the remote now dangling from his hand. Sound asleep.
“Thank Jesus.”
Quietly, he tiptoed to the desk and hid the envelope, far in the back of the drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. Better yet, after Grandpa went to bed, he’d move the paper somewhere safe.
He couldn’t afford to make a mistake like that ever again.
Joseph listened to his grandson move about the room, heard the boy’s soft exclamation. The desk drawer opened and closed, papers moved, something placed inside. Then the drawer slid closed again, the sound furtive.
When Will moved out of the room again, Joseph cracked an eye open, turned his head, and peered at the desk. His eyesight might be failing along with everything else, but he could see the white envelope was gone. Hidden from view, the log-in and password to his bank account was something Will obviously hadn’t wanted him to see.
“Too late, my boy,” he murmured. “When the war was on, I memorized more confidential data than there are stars in the sky. I’ve forgotten more shit than you’ll ever know.”
