by Tina Leonard
Steel laughed. “I never thought I’d see that.”
“See what?” Declan pulled his head out of the window, looked at his friend.
“You eaten up with jealousy like that.” He grinned. “When did you fall in love?”
“I—” He looked at Steel. “Go to hell, Steel.”
Steel roared with laughter. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Let me buy you another beer, Romeo. Then I’ll give you a ride home, since yours just left town.” This made Steel chuckle to himself, but Declan didn’t care.
The truth was, he was in love, with a woman he’d always known wasn’t looking for love. And there was Michael to consider. What if Blair wanted to make amends with his family, stay here in Hell with Michael and Harper?
“You’ll have to suck it up,” Steel said, and Declan sighed.
“Believe me, Steel, I’m taking a page out of your book. If anybody can hang in there for the rough ride, I can. I learned everything I know from watching the best.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Steel warned him, and Declan said, “Who said anything about easy?”
He’d never signed on for easy in his life, but he’d also never quit at anything.
And he wasn’t quitting on Harper.
“All I know is we need everything to calm down in Hell for a bit,” Declan said. “We don’t want Michael’s dad deciding that Hell is no place for his kid, even if he never laid eyes on him before.”
“We don’t know that he never did,” Steel said, “just that he didn’t care to do much with him recently.”
“Yeah. He’s still a louse, though.”
“No argument there. We’ll just keep everything quiet until he’s gone. Hopefully he’ll leave.”
Declan glanced at him sharply. “What are you hinting at?”
Steel shrugged. “This is a great little town to settle in, for a man who considers himself something of an adventurer. Someone with lots of cash, and a sweet little baby mama, might find our town attractive.”
Declan stared at Steel. “You’ve investigated him.”
“I might have made a call or two. Pulled a couple of records,” Steel said, more casually than Declan cared for.
“And?” Declan demanded.
“On paper, seems like a dude with his shit together. On paper.”
“Oh, come on, he’s got annoying motherfucker written all over him, Steel. He’s got to be some kind of white collar criminal, ladies man, or, hell, I don’t know. Something.”
“My guess is they were young, and they fell for each other, and then being a father was more than he could handle at the time. He still had dragons to slay, maybe some family name to live up to.”
“Family name? Mitchell?”
“Mitchell Industries,” Steel said. “His dad’s a bit of a wheeler-dealer in fancy art and antiquities and stuff that international rich folk like to collect.”
“So you’re saying he’s well-connected. Michael’s world would be international and interesting, instead of backwater and boring.” Declan got up. “I don’t believe it. The guy was so oily he left a slick in the street.” He’d seen him touch his hand to Harper’s back—oh, so courteously, as he’d opened the door to Redfeather's for her.
“You’re jealous” Steel said, laughing.
“We have something in common then.”
Steel shook his head. “Let’s just stick to the plan. We keep everything quiet around here, keep the lid on everything good and tight, until he’s gone back to his globe-trotting, most-interesting-man-in-the-world lifestyle. I’ll have Frick and Frack drive some extra patrols, make our little town look nice and safe for anybody’s kid, or even the Pope, to live in. And I'll make you an honorary deputy until Mr. Mitchell puts the dust of our town in the rear view mirror of—what the hell was that thing he was driving anyway?”
“A dude-mobile.” Declan got up. “Keep me on speed-dial if you hear of any flare-ups. I can be wherever you need me faster than you can say trouble in Hell.”
“Agreed.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Where’s Fallon?” Micaela asked Winter as the team lounged in the silver trailer parked in a row with dozens of other trailers behind the Honky-tonk.
Winter shrugged. “He said we were on our own tonight.” She glanced around their new digs. Fallon had worked a deal with the traveling circus or whatever this thing was that had grown like a mushroom back of Ivy’s honky-tonk, and so they had their own trailer, the three of them squished in a little tight, but they’d lived in a lot worse conditions. This was good enough. “I’m in the mood to stir up some mischief.”
Cassidy laughed. “That’s nothing new. Are we going hunk-hunting? Or to visit Madame Griselda again?”
“No, been there, done that. All that crone said was that my future was in bulls. I wanted to tell her that her future, past, and present was in bullshit, but I didn’t want to piss off Ivy.”
They all laughed.
“Let’s go scare the newbs.” Winter felt really juiced about this idea. “It’s dark outside, and they’re thin-skinned. It should be easy to give them a welcome-to-Hell hazing.”
“What, we’re going to go howl outside their windows like ghosts?” Micaela asked, giggling.
“Maybe.” Winter got up, peered out the trailer window. “I know where Fallon keeps his fireworks.”
“Fireworks? That doesn’t sound very scary.” Cassidy stretched out long legs. “Stink bombs and malatovs, those are a little scarier.”
Winter considered that. “Plain old cherry bombs ought to do the trick for the little debutantes,” she said, which brought another burst of laughter.
“I’m in.” Cassidy got up, grabbed her stuff. “They’re going to squeal like little girls.”
“They’re going to crap their brand-new jodhpurs. Cherry bombs are loud.” Micaela pulled on her boots. “This is going to be awesome!”
* * *
The red doors beckoned, siren-colored and gleaming with a fine gloss, almost richly sinful to the touch. Dark Demon laughed at him as he went by.
“Be careful,” Demon said, “you’re in for the night of your life. It’s intoxicating. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Demon high-fived him, and then Fallon was past the doors, breathing the scent of something amazing, something so beautiful that for a moment he stood still, trying to take it all in, figure out what scented the air.
But he wasn’t here for the good smells; he was here for the magic. So he went on down the long, dim hallway lit only by sconces. Several black-lacquered doors were open, each inviting a look inside.
He only had one shot at this; it would never happen again, more than likely. All he had to do was destroy Harper’s new team, leave the new competition a thing of the past. That should be easy enough to do—although a tinge of guilt had started to sneak inside him that it was his brother’s girlfriend he was plotting against. Declan didn’t call Harper his girlfriend, but Fallon knew. He could feel Declan’s radar intensify whenever he was near Harper, whenever he talked about her. It was like electricity being amped about a thousand watts.
But this was his only chance at the mysteries of Ivy’s palace, and he wanted to choose the right door. Wherever the maximum pleasure was, he wanted to enter there, experience all the head rush life had to offer.
In one room he spied beautiful blondes, gorgeous redheads, dark-skinned ebony-haired beauties, a sight that made his heart pound like a drum. They shimmered, almost as if they barely existed. Fallon shook his head, trying to clear the mist stealing over him, relaxing him into a teasing call of mystery. He breathed in deeply, felt the perfumed air luring him to relax, let himself be swept into the magic. It was different here. He would be cared for, instantly he knew that. Unlike the home where he grew up, here everyone loved each other, cared about each other.
He found himself staring into the golden eyes of the most petite, darling brown-haired women he’d ever seen. For a fast second, he thought about Winter, which was odd, b
ecause Winter was a pain in his ass. She was tough, and she worked herself hard, but she was so beautiful she gave him an erection so rock-hard he could barely think about training the team. It was the saucy way she looked at him, the challenge in her dark, yet somehow hypnotic, eyes. It was the long almost-black hair that floated to her bra strap when she didn’t have her hair tied back; it looked so fluffy and soft he wanted to touch it to see if it really was as soft as it looked.
Of course he couldn’t. He couldn’t kiss her delicate lips, nor run his finger down her impossibly impish nose. He had to maintain distance, keep his mind solely on kicking this team up a notch. Several notches, until they were the best in the country.
The petite woman held his gaze fast with her amazing light eyes, put her hand against his chest. His mind screamed with lust, recognizing all the beauty making itself available to him—until he realized he was softer than a bird’s feather. No perk in his get-along whatsoever.
This wasn’t right. The adorable brunette smiled, slow and sexy, as if she was reading his thoughts as soon as he thought them. Which maybe only Madame Griselda could do, and maybe not even her, although she had freaked him out a time or two with some of her observations. He considered her a great friend; she said he was going to be a great man in Hell.
His mind jerked away from Madame Griselda when he realized that not only was the cute brunette smiling at him, but the whole roomful of women were giving him sexy smiles, and gliding close to him in various stages of undress. Perfect breasts under gossamer gowns, pert fannies with delicate thongs separating exquisite globes of derriere—Fallon felt himself go light-headed as he realized that all the women in the room were his, and every single one of them determined to please him.
Winter’s face flashed across his memory again, her sassy smile, know-it-all attitude. Her fuck-you-and-the-horse-you-rode-in-on laughter drove him insane. But the thing he’d recognized right off the bat was, she was him. He had a twin; he knew what it felt like to have another person on the planet connected deeply and intrinsically to you.
And that’s what Winter felt like to him. A spirit-meeting-spirit thing.
It didn’t matter. He was her instructor, and therefore off-limits—plus he didn’t need a full-time woman. What he needed was sex, something he hadn’t experienced in a long damn time.
The women wound themselves around him, led him to a soft leather chaise, undressed him. They swayed, their beautiful bodies captivating, moving to a soft, intoxicating music. He breathed deeply of the strange heady scent of the red palace, telling himself to let the magic take him over.
But damn it all, his pecker wasn’t going up, not even a slight jerk of interest rising at all the bare, astonishingly gorgeous flesh so anxious to please him.
He was trapped. Unfortunately, embarrassingly, trapped in the palace of his dreams, with women of any man’s fantasies eager to make him happy—stuck with a dick that not even the Pillsbury Dough Boy would brag about.
* * *
It was midnight, and the moon was behind clouds this evening, making everything especially dark. Harper had waited a long time for this meeting between her son and his father—but Blair seemed to have other things on his mind. Michael was asleep at the moment, but Harper was prepared to wake him as soon as Blair said he wanted to meet his son. Jael, Missy, and Holly had gone out to help Hattie clean some things out of the café, so the bungalow was quiet.
“So this is where you and Michael live?” Blair asked.
Harper sat at the far end of the sofa, trying to remember when she and Blair had ever been close enough to have a child together. It seemed so far away now, almost too long ago, so that they might never have had a relationship at all. He was a stranger to her—and all she could think about was how much she wished Declan was sitting with her right now.
“Yes, we live here with the team.” Harper got up to get them some water, not sure what to say to Blair. He followed her into the kitchen.
“Is this the best environment for a young boy?”
She glanced at him. “Why wouldn’t it be a good environment?”
“I don’t know.” He glanced around. “Your lifestyle seems itinerant, maybe.”
“My lifestyle is none of your business. As far as Michael is concerned, rest assured that this is a very safe place for him to grow up.”
An explosion rocked the small house. Gasping, Harper dropped the glass she’d been holding, her hand letting go from the shock of the huge boom. She ran for Michael’s room, knowing he’d wake up frightened and crying.
“What the hell was that?” Blair demanded as she checked on her son, who was, remarkably, still sleeping.
“I don’t know.” She hurried into Missy and Jael’s room, shocked to see a window blown out. A drape flickered with a sudden light, before flames shot up the wall. “Call the fire department!”
“What? 9-1-1?” Blair asked.
“Yes!” She grabbed Michael out of bed, helping him to his feet. “Come on, sweetie. Get your bear.” Thankfully, she hadn’t unpacked the things she’d brought from Declan’s; those suitcases were still in the truck. She snatched up Michael’s shoes, guided him out the front door.
“What’s happening?” Michael asked, rubbing his eyes.
“I’m not sure, sweetie.” Quickly she dialed Steel’s number. He answered, and she shrieked, “The Honeysuckle Bungalow is on fire!”
Steel said, “I’ll be right there,” and disconnected. She clutched Michael to her, kissing his head, weeping tears of gratitude that whatever had happened in Missy and Jael’s room hadn’t happened in the room she shared with Michael.
“What the hell was that?” Blair demanded.
“I don’t know. Maybe the sheriff will know.” She put Michael in the truck with his blanket and bear. “Lie down, Michael. It’s going to be all right.”
Of course Michael couldn’t sleep, not with the volunteer fire department showing up. He knew these men; he knew Eli, who rode the back of the truck, he knew Steel, and Trace and Saint. He knew Buzz who did his hair, and Dr. Jack the vet. Declan rolled up in his big truck and hopped out, heading fast to help with the fire. The sight of Declan electrified Michael, and Harper could tell her son was worried—and watching. Learning from a role model he admired. She felt a knot of fear in her stomach for the small house where she’d spent many happy hours with three teams—and for Declan.
It was too late for the Honeysuckle Bungalow, though. Harper stared as it went up, like so much old timber tossed into an inferno. “Poor Trace,” she murmured. “He liked his bungalow.”
“Poor you,” Blair said. “You have no roof over yours and Michael’s heads.”
“It’s all right. People in Hell take care of each other.”
“Fireball,” Steel said, shaking his head as he joined them. “Cherry bomb, most likely, a prank. Which just happened to catch on the drapes or something inside. They’re selling lots of fireworks this time of year. You don’t have to go far into the county to find them.”
“A prank?” Blair sounded incredulous. The years since she’d last seen him had put a lot of maturity and bearing into him, and he was no longer the shy young man from her youth. He sounded like a fire being a prank was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Why would someone play a dangerous prank on Harper? With a young boy in the house?” he demanded.
“Well, things happen in Hell,” Steel said, ambling off to talk to Jimmy Merrill when he drove up.
“Things happen in Hell?” Blair stared at her. “This is dangerous! Michael could have been seriously hurt!”
“I agree. But we’ve been here a few years, and nothing like this has ever happened before,” Harper said defensively.
“Nothing?” He clearly didn’t believe her.
Declan strolled up, and Michael jumped out of the truck, ran into his arms.
“Hey, buddy.” Declan gave him a big hug. “How’re you doing?”
“Fine. Good thing Toad wasn’t here!” Michael sai
d.
“Toad is safe in his crate, don’t you worry,” Declan soothed, his gaze finding Harper’s over the top of Michael’s head. “Gypsy’s keeping a close eye on Toad.”
“Gypsy? Toad?” Blair looked distinctly unhappy. He pointed around to the hot pile of burning house the volunteer department were working over. “I want to know who would play a so-called prank on you like this. It’s not a prank at all, it’s against the law.” He looked grim. “You both could have been seriously hurt, or worse.”
“Not now,” Harper said, “not in front of Michael.”
“Can we come back to stay with you, Declan?” Michael asked.
“Of course you can. The whole team can. I have plenty of room.” Declan ruffled her son’s hair. “Your room’s all ready for you.”
“Good. Because I don’t have a room anymore,” Michael said. “All my toys are gone.”
“It’s all right.” Declan held him close. “Don’t be scared. Toys can be bought again.”
“Okay,” Michael murmured.
“We’ll get a hotel,” Blair said. “There’s no reason for you to have to stay with a stranger.”
Harper’s gaze shot to Declan’s—and away just as quickly. “Declan’s not a stranger, Blair.” She wanted to say that he—Blair—was the stranger, didn’t put it into words.
Blair looked back and forth between Harper and Declan. “I see. Then Michael can stay with me. I took a room in Hawk.”
“I go to school in Hawk,” Michael said.
“Michael stays with me,” Harper said quietly. “I respect your right to see Michael, but he’s not leaving me. I’m sure you mean well, but I’m not handing my son over just because you’ve finally decided to come into our lives, Blair.”
“So you’d rather he stay with you and your boyfriend?”
“Yes,” Harper said, “although you’ve drawn an erroneous conclusion. But yes, Michael and I will stay with Declan. We’ll set meeting times for you to see Michael for as long as you’re in town. Supervised meeting times, until we all get to know each other again.”
