Living Fast: Steele Ridge Series

by Adrienne Giordano

  Brynne's eyebrows came together, her lips slightly puckered. Dumbstruck.

  That crime against men line was a flipping flash of genius. But if she didn't get the humor in it?

  Fucked.

  And not in the way he wanted to be.

  She continued to stare at him. Time for a tension buster. He smacked his hands together. “I'll leave you with that thought. Give you some time to mull it over. I'm not going anywhere and since you own a business here in town, you're not either.”

  The corner of her lush mouth lifted. “You know, you talk a lot.”

  “Yeah. I'm told. My mother always tells me I don't know when to shut up. She doesn't mean it, though.”

  “Actually, she probably does.”

  Well, look at that, Brynne did have a sense of humor. He tweaked her nose. “Good one. I like it. I like it a lot.”

  Above the bar, a television was tuned to the local news station. The sound had been muted and subtitles scrolled the bottom as a peppy blond anchor's lips moved. Apparently an Asheville teenager had smoked some kind of synthetic hallucinogen, had a stroke, and died. A twisted version of an overdose.

  Reid shook his head, thankful once again that Evie had four pain-in-the-ass older brothers running herd on her. At twenty—their resident oops sibling—she wasn't even legal drinking age and he harassed her night and day about staying away from alcohol.

  And drugs.

  Chances were she drank while at school. He couldn't control that. What he could do was scare the hell out of her and make sure she understood that a pretty, incapacitated college coed was a prime target for a gang rape.

  After all, what were big brothers for if not to terrify their younger sisters into staying sober?

  “Excuse me one second. I need to harass my little sister.” He picked up his phone, searched for the news station's link on the teenager's death and texted it to her. Couldn't hurt.

  Randi appeared and slid his burger and a mountain of fries in front of him. “Here you go. Anything else?”

  “Nope. Smells great.”

  With that, she took off again and Reid went back to Brynne. “Can I stop at the store for the bracelet after I eat?”

  “Sure. That's fine. I'll toss some of the potpourri in a bag for you to give to your mom.”

  “Excellent. Thank you. And I get another opportunity to talk you out of this crimes-against-men campaign you have going on.”

  She dipped her head again and the upper curve of her perfect cheeks fired red. So damn sweet.

  What made him do it, he wasn't sure, but he leaned in, got another whiff of that amazing scent she wore, and kissed her on the cheek. The heat from her face poured right into him. “You're cute, Brynne. Even if you decide to break my heart and not go out with me, I'm glad we talked. You make me smile. I haven't done a whole lot of that lately.”

  * * *

  “Hey,” Nelson said. “Sorry I'm late. I went to the shop, but Jules said you were here.”

  Brynne swung away from Reid and faced Nelson. He wore khakis and a white T under an unbuttoned striped shirt.

  Going somewhere.

  Otherwise, this late in the day, he'd be in shorts and flip-flops.

  “Hey, you,” she said. “No problem.”

  Reid eyeballed Nelson, then held out his hand. “Reid Steele.”

  Right. Introductions. “Sorry,” Brynne said. “Reid, this is my friend Nelson. Nelson, Reid.”

  Hellos and handshakes were exchanged and Nelson cleared his throat. Clearing his throat? Really? What was that about?

  He jerked his thumb to one of the tables. “Sorry to steal her.”

  “No problem.”

  Nelson broke away and Reid focused on her for a few long seconds. Ignoring the inclination to curl her shoulders, she stood tall. “I'll hold the bracelet for you.”

  “Thanks.” He jerked his chin to the table Nelson had walked off to. “I don't want to hold you up.”

  “Yep.” She turned to walk away, but stopped and looked back. “It was nice talking to you.”

  That got her another panty-dropper smile and instead of whirling away, running from all that male heat, she let herself smile back.

  Flirting. Brynne style.

  It was a start. A scary one, considering she'd sworn off men.

  She made her way to Nelson, wondering what the heck had gotten into him. He'd practically told Reid to buzz off. Totally rude and totally out of character for her normally über-friendly buddy. She reached the table and he pulled a chair out for her. As she sat, she zeroed in on his puffy eyes, pale skin, and unkempt blond hair. Working too hard.

  “You look tired.”

  Which might explain his rude behavior.

  “A little.” He waited for her to settle in, then sat in the seat across from him. “Watch out for Reid Steele.”

  Brynne waved off Nelson's protectiveness. “He needed a gift suggestion for Evie's birthday. “

  “And to screw you?”

  Brynne pondered that one and gave the two sides of her brain—

  the man-hater side versus the they're-not-all-bad side—a second to battle it out. Those sides had been at war these past few months, each trying to convince the other to switch.

  As yet, there hadn't been a clear winner. Brynne still smarted from the rejection by her jerk of a husband, but each day her mood grew marginally brighter and her heart less stony.

  The recovery from the absolute bombing of her self-esteem lagged behind.

  Which might explain why, rather than agreeing with Nelson, who grew up with her and knew Reid's reputation as well as anyone else in town, she chose to reserve judgment on Reid's intentions.

  After all, reputations built in Steele Ridge weren't easy to tear down. Just ask her sister.

  But Reid had been…nice. In a backward sort of way.

  “He seems okay to me. It wasn't like he was all over me. Not smarmy.”

  Except for that staring-at-my-ass thing.

  That might have been a little smarmy.

  What did it matter? If she shot him down, he wouldn't have trouble finding another willing and warm female. Heck, even if she didn't shoot him down, he'd probably find someone else. Wasn't this her own little nightmare? He terrified her, but the idea of him turning those amazing eyes on another woman didn't appeal either.

  Lonely.

  That's all she was.

  Lonely and ruined by a rotten ex-husband. Enter Nelson. Since she’d left Kurt, Nelson had become her de facto rent-a-husband. She was more than capable of handling clogged sinks and loose screws, but the big stuff that required muscle? Nelson handled that.

  “Anyway,” she said, “what's up? I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow.”

  For their Friday night date. Nelson was living life as a bachelor and they'd been seeing more of each other as a result.

  Brynne didn't mind. It gave her male company and a night out of Steele Ridge.

  “I…um…” He turned back to the door, waved at it. “I have to go out of town. For work. Figured I'd come by and let you know.”

  A waitress swung by, took their drink order, and left menus. Already knowing she wanted a garden salad with grilled chicken, she set the menu aside. Although Reid's Gouda burger sure looked good.

  She shoved the menu away another inch. “When do you leave?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tonight? Wow. Is it an emergency?”

  Although, what kind of an emergency an insurance salesman could have, she wasn't sure.

  He shook his head. “Emergency?”

  “Yes. That you're leaving so fast.”

  Nelson shifted sideways, half facing her and half facing the door. “No. No emergency. It's a conference. The guy that was scheduled to go got sick. I'm taking his place.”

  Ah. That made sense. “Well, I hope it's someplace fun.”

  Nelson stared at her and she snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Buddy, you in there? Maybe you need to get some sleep tonight
instead of going on this trip.”

  “I'm sorry.” He whirled his finger next to his head. “A lot on the brain. Anyway, figured I'd come by and see you before I went. Since I'm bailing on you for tomorrow.”

  His phone went off and he stood to dig it out of his pocket and read the text. “Ah, damn.”

  “What?”

  “I need to go.”

  Go? Was he kidding? First he was late and now he was leaving? Without an explanation? She held out her hands. “We're about to order.”

  “I know. I'm sorry. It's this damned trip. I have to leave tonight and now I just got a text that I have something else to do for work before I leave.”

  Being a business owner, she understood the plight of a career-minded person. For some, work never left them. Or they never left work.

  Either way, she knew his dedication and as much as she wanted him to stay, she'd let him go.

  That's what friends did. They understood. She pushed herself up from the table and wrapped him in a backslapping hug. “It's all right. But you're stressed. Seriously, you need to take it easy.”

  “I know. I know.”

  He brought his arms around her, held her for a second and squeezed. Now that was definitely weird. They didn't do snuggly hugs.

  Not usually.

  She leaned back and studied him. “You're sure you're okay? Something feels off.”

  He snorted. “I'm fine. Really. Just a lot going on.”

  “Can I help?”

  “I wish you could. But, no. After this trip, I'll be fine.” He tugged on the end of her hair. “Don't worry.”

  “If you say so. Now go. Beat it. You have things to do. Call me tomorrow. Let me know you got there okay. And get some sleep!”

  “Will do.”

  As Nelson strode from the B, Brynne made eye contact with Reid, who still sat at the bar nursing what looked like the same beer.

  He held his hands out. “What happened?”

  “He had to leave. A last-minute business trip.” She slung her purse over her shoulder. “I'm heading back to the shop.”

  “Now, see, if I'd just waited a few minutes to eat, I could have tried to convince you to let me buy you dinner.”

  Ha. Good one. “Reid Steele,” she said. “Slayer of women.”

  And let's not forget master of the orgasm.

  “Well, don't get crazy. I'm good, but not that good.”

  Brynne burst out laughing. Couldn't help it. Perhaps, with all his other talents, Reid was a mind reader. “Five years,” she said.

  “Seriously? We're back to crimes against men?”

  She poked his rock-hard biceps. “You're funny, Reid.”

  “Funny enough for you to sit here and keep me company?”

  “In five years, maybe. Right now, I'm leaving.”

  He hopped off the stool, pulled some bills from his wallet and dropped them on the bar. “I'll come with you and grab the bracelet.”

  She glanced back to the cash. “Do you need to wait for change?”

  “Nah. I'm good.”

  A 30 percent tip. At least. He sure was good.

  Outside, the waning afternoon sun spilled shadows along Main Street and Brynne spotted Nelson approaching his car two doors down, in front of her shop. He stopped and checked his phone again as they headed that way. What was going on with that phone that was so important?

  She shook it off and looked back at Reid standing beside her, towering over her, even in her five-inch heels. The hem of his T-shirt caught on the grip of his sidearm, something that, in the South, didn't surprise her. Particularly from a former military man. “You were in the Army, right?”

  She knew the answer. Sure did. But she wouldn't admit it. Admitting it might imply interest on more than a friendly level, and with her whole dedication to swearing off men—even if they did look like Reid Steele—she wasn't going there.

  “Yeah. Blew out my knee and my tour was up. Rather than be a desk jockey, I came home. Now I'm figuring out what's next.”

  A desk jockey. Not exactly a glowing endorsement for a job. “Was that hard? Coming home?”

  He met her gaze, held it for a few long seconds and the answer was there. Right there, between them in a mutual understanding of just how hard it was to return to this tiny town, with all the gossipmongers and nosy neighbors, after trying to strike out on his own.

  “Immensely. But it's old news.”

  Didn't seem like old news. Seemed like it still bugged him. But he obviously didn't want to discuss it, something she understood all too well, considering everyone's fascination with her husband dumping her.

  So she'd give Reid a break, something she'd hoped for when first moving back, and not push him. “Change is hard. You'll figure it out. Give yourself time.”

  “I had a job offer the other day.”

  “See, there you go.”

  He flashed a smile. “I'm not sure I want it. The company is based in Georgia, but the job is overseas. Security work.”

  Ah. He'd be leaving again. Even more reason not to let him woo her into dating. One thing she didn't need was a man leaving her. Even if it was for a job. “Would you like that?”

  He shrugged. “Probably. But I don't know if my knee would like it.”

  Bang.

  Brynne froze. Was that…?

  Bang, bang.

  An engine roared and she swung toward the street where a black SUV stormed down Main.

  A huge force plowed into her, shoving her toward the front of a car and then down. Momentum snapped her head back and—ooff—she hit the ground. Her ribcage connected with concrete and a burst of air rushed out. Her chest seized and her head spun and…no air.

  “Stay down,” Reid said.

  Reid. On top of her. His massive body smothering her. He'd put his hands on top of her head, shielding her from the gunfire and no, no, no. Who the heck was shooting off a gun on Main Street? Probably some wild teenager looking to get the adults riled up. Idiot kids. The sheriff would have a fit.

  But when had that ever happened? The locals knew to keep their shooting confined to safe areas.

  Which meant…

  Gunfire.

  Someone was not shooting up Main Street and she was not going to die on a sidewalk. She began to shiver, her body systematically shutting down as fear took hold.

  “Reid? What's…hap…happening?”

  “You're okay,” he said. “You're out of the line of fire. Stay right here. Don't move. I'll see what's happening.”

  * * *

  Someone shrieked, a high-pitched wail—young—that knifed through Reid. His body, as usual, reacted all at once and blood rushed. His limbs shook and he forced his breathing to a normal rhythm.

  Go time.

  He hopped to his feet and ripped his .45 from his holster. He stayed low, protected by cars on either side of him in case the shooter was still on Main, but he'd seen that SUV fly around the corner just as he pushed Brynne to the ground. Jeep. Black. Older model.

  He peered around the back of a vehicle, scanned right, then left, searching for anyone else who might be firing or walking or running.

  But the street and sidewalks were empty. Across the street, Mrs. Hobbs had ducked between two cars and was on her cell phone. Probably calling 911.

  Good.

  One thing down.

  The street had gone quiet. No more screams, no traffic noise, no sirens. Just…nothing. Had the shooter been tackled by someone?

  “They turned off Main and raced down Buckner,” someone shouted. “Went north! Shooter was still in the car.”

  Goddamn. Whoever it was, they were gone now. No chance to catch them unless Mags or one of the deputies could intercept.

  Reid took the chance and stood up, .45 still at the ready as he stepped into the street and—holy shit.

  Nelson.

  Brynne's friend lay sprawled in the street right behind what Reid assumed was his car. A fucking drive-by shooting in the middle of Steele Ridge. Blood poured fr
om the guy's chest and Reid rushed over, reholstered his weapon and dropped to his knees to check for a pulse.

  Nothing. Shit.

  “Someone make sure an ambulance is on the way!”

  * * *

  An ambulance?

  Reid's warning to stay down looped in Brynne's mind. But if people were hurt she could help. She levered up to her knees, drew a quick breath, and concentrated on helping the injured.

  She needed to do something. She peeped around the side of the car and glanced across the street, where Mrs. Hobbs was talking on her phone. The woman made eye contact and pointed at her phone.

  Help.

  Brynne crawled to the edge of the car's bumper and still on all fours, dug her fingertips into the concrete as questions paralyzed her.

  What happened? Who fired?

  How could this be happening?

  In Steele Ridge.

  “Brynne!”

  Reid's voice. She pushed herself up, scrambling to her shaky limbs and slipping. She fell, her right knee banging hard, but she popped up again, ran between the two cars parked at the curb and found Reid on the other side giving CPR to…

  “Nelson!”

  She let out a small squeak, the panic ripping free, and she gasped as blood poured from the middle of her closest friend's chest.

  This couldn't be happening. Couldn't be. Even in New York she hadn't seen anything like this.

  She landed next to him, her brain still trying to lock in and form coherent thoughts. She had to help. Had to. “What can I do? I learned CPR in school.”

  “Mouth-to-mouth. I'm on compression twenty-five. At thirty, give two rescue breaths.”

  A siren came alive, but it wasn't close enough. The firehouse was on the west edge of town.

  Reid stopped. “Now!”

  She pinched Nelson's nose shut, sealed her mouth over his, and gave two breaths.

  “Good,” Reid said. “Now me again.”

  Brynne sat up, silently counting each compression as Reid worked. Blood seeped between his fingers and the metallic smell permeated the air.

  Mrs. Hobbs bolted toward them. “I called nine-one-one!”

  If the woman had been walking along the sidewalk, maybe she saw something. “Did you see the shooter?”