Taking Fire

by Cheyenne McCray

  Natasha and Christie helped facilitate the day’s adoptions. This time, patrons adopted the dogs in record time, including a mutt with a missing leg. A young couple with an infant had fawned over the three-legged puppy and Christie’s eyes had welled with tears. It had been easy to see how much that puppy would be loved by its new family.

  After the last dog had left with its new owner and when the volunteers had finished cleaning, Christie and Natalie said goodnight. They bundled up, ready to go out into the freezing, snow-filled afternoon.

  Christie’s breath crystalized in the air. She snuggled into her thick white coat, feeling like the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters as she strolled down the street with Natalie.

  “I’m not going to miss this,” she mumbled from beneath the muffler wrapped over her nose and mouth. “Sunshine with a cool light breeze will be just what the doctor ordered.”

  Natalie rubbed her red nose with one gloved hand. “One of these days, I’ll have to go visit.”

  After Salvatore is put away for good hung heavy in the air.

  Christie nodded. “We’ll go together.”

  She let her mind wander but kept it from going places she didn’t want it to. Instead, she decided to enjoy the freezing February afternoon as they walked the short distance to the home she rented with Natasha.

  By the time they entered the mudroom off the garage, Christie’s teeth chattered and her nose tingled. “I’m going to lose my nose to frost bite.”

  Natasha laughed, stripping out of her clothing. “Come on, cuz. How about some hot chocolate to chase away the chill?”

  Christie could almost taste the cocoa. “Yum.”

  The afternoon faded into evening and Christie’s belly started to feel squishy, like the cocoa hadn’t sat well with her. Of course the cocoa had nothing to do with the queasy sensation. In the morning she’d be making the trip back to Bisbee.

  They ate pork tenderloin sandwiches and sweet corn for dinner and cleaned up. Christie headed to her bedroom so she could pack, Natasha on her heels.

  “Even the FBI doesn’t want you to go to Bisbee.” Natasha plopped down on Christie’s bed.

  Christie folded another shirt and packed it into her medium-sized suitcase. She let out a heavy sigh, not wanting to go through this same argument over and over again with her cousin. Even if Natasha was her favorite cousin and best friend.

  “You’re going to make my suitcase fall off.” Christie grabbed a stack of panties from her lingerie drawer and stuffed them into a zippered pocket of the case perched precariously on the edge of the mattress.

  “Too bad you don’t have some hot FBI hunk watching over you.” Natasha leaned on her elbows on the bed, her dark hair falling away from her heart-shaped face. If she’d had red hair like Christie, they could almost be twins. “A hunk like the one in The Bodyguard, that movie we watched forever ago.” Natasha fell back onto the bed, her hands over her heart. “Swoon.” She was the same age as Christie, but sometimes she acted like a teenager.

  Christie tried not to laugh. “You’re a nut.”

  “I’m a romantic.” Natasha pushed herself back up to her elbows. “And there’s nothing hotter or sexier than a lawman.”

  Christie shrugged. “Not interested.”

  Natasha waved off Christie’s response. “That female agent is nice and all, but you need a stud.”

  “Agent Stillwater is just my contact, more or less.” Christie shrugged. “Laura is the senior agent assigned to my protection, but I don’t want or need anyone watching over me.”

  Agent Laura Stillwater had helped take down Christie’s ex, but Christie was done with people telling her what to do.

  Christie shoved the suitcase back so it wouldn’t fall off the bed. “I’m tired of people dictating my life.”

  She’d lived with that for far too long—for the twenty-year duration of her marriage to Salvatore Reyes. She’d been under his thumb from the moment she’d fallen for the bastard, even though she hadn’t realized it at the time.

  How could I have been so blind? she thought.

  But she knew why. Salvatore had been so kind, attentive and loving. Thinking back, she could see how silly it had been to fall for a man just because he’d made her feel like a princess. He had given her gifts, told her how special she was, always reminding her in both big and small ways of how much he loved her.

  A fairy-tale wedding, honeymoon in Paris, and a beautiful home had been the icing on their cake. For the first few years, everything had been perfect. Now that she thought about everything, it had been too perfect.

  Natasha chattered on as Christie packed for the trip, but she barely heard her cousin talk.

  Christie thought of how everything had started to change when they’d found they couldn’t have children. She had been heartbroken, but Salvatore had been devastated. Not long after they’d received the news, he had started to make comments that had hurt her to her core. Shattered her, even.

  ‘A real woman can bear children.’

  ‘No, you cannot have a dog. Do you think a dog would replace the children you cannot give me?’

  ‘Fix your hair and put on some makeup. You look like a vagrant.’

  ‘You are wearing too much makeup. If you want to look like a slut, I will treat you like one.’

  The last comment had been followed by rough sex that had scared her to her core. She hadn’t thought about it as rape at the time, but later, much later, she’d come to realize he had forced her and had taken her in ways that had hurt and demeaned her.

  He had raped her.

  Afterward, he had once again been attentive and loving, then the cycle had started over again.

  “Christie?” Natasha’s voice brought Christie back to the present. “Are you okay?”

  Christie put her hand to her abdomen, feeling as if she might throw up. “I need to use the bathroom.”

  She ignored Natasha’s concerned gaze and fled the bedroom to the hall bathroom. She shut the door carefully behind her then braced her hands on the marble countertop and stared into the sink.

  Her stomach heaved and her dinner threatened to come up. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d vomited over thoughts of her ex and the treatment she’d gone through at his hands.

  Thanks to over a year of therapy with an excellent therapist, Christie rarely had moments like this. At the times they did, the memories and feelings came with a vengeance.

  She closed her eyes tightly and let her mind slip to her safe place, a sunlit meadow in a forest, where nothing could hurt her and where she could find peace. After nearly a hundred therapy sessions, it came easily to her.

  When she relaxed, she slowed her breathing. She pushed away the unwanted feelings and memories and drew on her true self.

  Christie opened her eyes and stared at her reflection. The freckles across the bridge of her nose stood out starkly against her skin that appeared even paler than normal.

  These past fifteen months, after Salvatore had gone to jail followed by prison for murder, rape, and other crimes, she’d found a new independence and strength she hadn’t known she possessed. Times like this were rare.

  She straightened. She would not let memories of the past affect her present and her future.

  A formerly repressed redhead temperament also came out every now and then. The intense counseling she’d been through had helped her find herself, but she knew she still had a long way to go to be fully healed.

  A light knock drew Christie’s attention to the door.

  “Are you okay?” Natasha asked, her words muffled.

  “Fine.” Christie knew she would be and her voice grew stronger as she pulled herself together even more. “Be right there.”

  Christie rinsed her face with cold water. The chill against her skin caused her to shiver, but calmed her.

  She opened the door, took a deep breath, and walked back to her bedroom. “Now where did I leave off?”

  “You were telling me why you didn
’t want to listen to the FBI,” Natasha said, sitting on the bed.

  Christie sighed. “Like I said, I’m tired of people controlling my life. Or trying to.”

  “They’re just concerned.” Natasha braced her palms to either side of her, her voice quieter now. “I’m concerned.”

  “I want to be in Bisbee tomorrow at the time they induce the birth.” Christie’s voice and heart softened as she paused and met her cousin’s gaze. “I want to be with Dylan and Belle when their baby is born.”

  “I get it.” Natasha’s expression turned serious. “But what if the cartel finds out you’re in town?”

  “How could they?” Christie took several bras out of the lingerie drawer before dropping them into the suitcase. “I haven’t told anyone. I use my middle name, so everyone knows me as Ann here and I’ll use it while I’m there. The cartel doesn’t know I dropped that bastard’s last name and it’s now Simpson.” Just changing back to her maiden name had been liberating. “Ann Simpson, that’s me.”

  “Still don’t like it.” Natasha frowned. “Dylan and Belle don’t even know you’re coming.”

  Christie shrugged. “I want it to be a surprise.” Not to mention, she knew they’d try to talk her out of it.

  Natasha picked a red lacy bra out of the suitcase and held it up, a mischievous look now on her face. “Planning on meeting someone in Arizona for a little recreation?”

  “You never know.” Christie’s cheeks warmed as she snatched the bra from Natasha’s hand and dropped it back into the case. She just happened to like nice lingerie.

  Truth be told, Salvatore had been her one and only sexual experience. Was she even capable of a relationship? She didn’t know if she would ever let a man get close to her again.

  Christie kneeled and pulled open a drawer filled with folded pairs of jeans. She took out a few then put them into the suitcase.

  Natasha sat on the edge of the mattress and swung her legs. She never could sit still for long. “Don’t know what I’ll do without you at the shop. You really should stay and help until you have to be there.”

  “Ha-ha. Nice try.” Christie rolled her eyes. “You’ll manage.”

  In spite of her nervous energy, or maybe because of it, Natasha owned a successful craft and gift shop in the small town.

  “I thought I’d give it a shot.” Natasha continued to swing her legs. “Are you nervous about the trial?”

  Christie hesitated, thinking about her court appearance, a matter of days away. “Nope. Not nervous.” Well, maybe a little. “Can’t wait to help send that son of a bitch to prison for good.”

  Her testimony would help the prosecution put Salvatore away for the contract murders of two of her friends in the Circle of Seven, and solicitation for murder for the rest of the CoS. Not to mention the murder she’d witnessed that Salvatore had committed himself. She would testify he’d raped her after he’d found her listening outside a door when he had been talking about the murders and ordering someone to execute the others.

  The evidence Dylan and Belle had recovered should get Salvatore convicted for money laundering, among other charges. Electronic data, handwritten ledgers, fake passports, and a video from the dead. Not to mention a key witness—Christie.

  In short, Salvatore was screwed—as long as nothing went wrong on the prosecution side.

  “I still think you need a hot federal agent for a bodyguard.” Natasha leaned her head to the side. “Yes, you definitely need one.”

  ‘Hot federal agent’ made her think of the agent who’d saved her life, Trace Davidson, a special agent with the Department of Homeland Security. He’d been the best man in Belle and Dylan’s wedding and Christie had been the maid of honor. She’d been in the process of getting the divorce from Salvatore and she had refused to be called ‘matron of honor’.

  Agent Davidson had not only saved her life but had taken care of her after the ordeal ended and while she’d been in shock.

  At the wedding she had managed to thank him for what he’d done for her, but she didn’t think she had done a very good job of it. The FBI had escorted her to the wedding, hung over her like vultures and swept her back to her hiding place before she had known it.

  She’d thought about Trace over the past months since she’d once again fled Arizona for this small backwoods Indiana town. Usually a near-stranger’s image would fade over time, but his never had. His flint-gray eyes, the cleft in his chin and the hard line of his jaw were clear in her memory.

  The night Agent Davidson and the other agents had saved her life and had taken down her ex-husband had remained as clear to Christie as if it had just happened. She could hear his Texan drawl as he’d checked on her and she’d seen the concern in his eyes when he’d helped her to her feet. He’d been the one to wrap a blanket around her shoulders and stay with her for a while as she’d started to go into shock.

  Christie dashed away the memories. “Sorry to crush your hopes about a hot federal agent watching over me, but it’s not happening. I’ll be in and out of there and back in Indiana before you know it.”

  “Please don’t go to Bisbee.” Natasha leaned forward, still for that moment. “Just wait and go to Phoenix when they need you.”

  Christie closed her eyes her mind whirling through the reasons she needed to see Belle, Dylan, and their newborn when he or she arrived. She’d never been able to have children and she’d wanted to be a mother so badly. At the time she never could have imagined being grateful she hadn’t had children with her now bastard ex.

  Christie opened her eyes again and met Natasha’s gaze. “Trust me. Okay, Nat?”

  “You are not the one I don’t trust.” Natasha had an earnest look on her features and concern in her tone. “That cartel is dangerous. Even though your ex is in prison awaiting trial, I still don’t trust him.”

  “Yes, the cartel is dangerous.” Christie pushed aside the suitcase and sat next to her cousin. “But they don’t and won’t know where I am.” She smiled at Natasha. “Thank you for caring and for being here for me.”

  “Of course.” Natasha put her hand on Christie’s knee and squeezed. “What are best cousins for?”

  “To drive me to the airport.” Christie grinned as she got to her feet and ducked when Natasha swatted at her. “We’ll need to leave pretty early to have enough time for me to make it to the terminal and get through security and to the gate.”

  “Okay, okay.” Natasha pushed herself off the bed. “But if something happens to you, I’ll kill you.”

  Christie laughed and stared at her suitcase. “Hope I didn’t forget anything.” She’d packed toiletries, shoes, heels, socks, nylons, panties, bras, and a big T-shirt and sweatpants to sleep in. She’d included shirts, jeans, a couple of skirts, and a suit with a skirt and blazer for court.

  “Curling iron and blow dryer?” Natasha pointed to Christie’s dressing table. “You’ve got that adorable haircut. I’d hate to know you couldn’t style it the way you’d like.”

  “Good catch.” Christie retrieved the items, including her hairbrush, and stuffed them in her case, too.

  When she’d been married to Salvatore, he’d forbidden her to cut her hair and it had grown to the middle of her back. He’d also used her hair to yank her head the times he’d raped her.

  Getting her hair cut had been one of the first things she’d done afterward. It had been cut short in the back, chin-length in the front and swung against her cheeks. She loved it. She’d thought about getting some blue or purple extensions but had decided she should stay on the conservative side for court to make sure the jury took her seriously. Afterward—

  Anything goes.

  “Chargers for your iPhone, iPad, iPod, and your MacBook?” Natasha listed them off on her fingers. “I don’t suppose you have any pippin, golden delicious, or granny smith products?”

  “Yes, I packed all of the chargers along with the devices, and I think I might have a pippin or two packed away.” Christie sat on her hot pink suitcase to mu
sh it down enough to zip it shut. “I think that does it.”

  Christie jumped off the case and her feet hit the floor. “Wait. I forgot something.”

  From the top of the bureau, she grabbed two packages wrapped in pale-blue paper with white storks carrying babies in yellow blankets. The bows around the packages were yellow, the contents soft and squishy. Christie had wrapped a baby blanket in one package and a small stuffed horse in the other. Christie had embroidered the blanket and a nice lady down the street had quilted it. The baby would grow up on a ranch, so the stuffed animal might be his first horse.

  She scrutinized the packages in each hand. “I should have waited to wrap these. The paper is going to get smooshed.”

  “Probably.” Natasha grinned. “They’ll fit in the outside pocket of your suitcase. The gifts are soft so they won’t get hurt.”

  Christie looked doubtfully at the overstuffed bag but managed to get the two gifts into the expandable outside zipper pocket. Even though the wrapping paper would no doubt be worse for the wear, it wouldn’t make a difference to the baby or Belle and Dylan.

  She swung the heavy suitcase off the bed and it hit the floor with a loud thud. Maybe she’d crammed too much inside, but she didn’t intend to stay in Arizona long and didn’t want to take more than one.

  “You miss home,” Natasha said softly. “I get that.”

  Christie glanced out of the window at the snowy landscape and the snowflakes drifting from a gray sky. Yes, she missed her hometown and her state. She’d grown up in Bisbee, but it held too many bad memories now. When she’d finished testifying, back to Indiana she’d go.

  “Yes.” She gave Natasha a little smile as she thought about her trip tomorrow. “It’s good to be going home.”

  If only for a little while.

  Chapter Two

  Trace drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he guided his Explorer onto the dirt road leading to Dylan and Belle Curtis’ ranch home. The mesquite bushes hid the house, but the tops of the trees surrounding the ranch were visible.