Raining Down Release (Raining Down Series Book 3)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
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Raining Down
Release
BK Rivers
Raining Down Release
Copyright © 2017 by BK Rivers.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: April 2017
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-043-5
ISBN-10: 1-64034-043-2
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my Grandpa Dave, the brownie guru, who taught me that brownies made from scratch and with a wooden spoon are sooo much better.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
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Chapter 1
July
Stacey
It’s hot as hell and I’m sweating in places I never knew could sweat until moving here when I was twelve. Whoever decided to settle in Phoenix back in the day was a complete and utter lunatic. A hundred and thirteen degrees and we still haven’t hit our summer peak.
I hate the summers here.
I especially hate the fact that the apartment complex I live in doesn’t have a pool. You know what else I hate? My apartment and the neighbors who smoke more weed than is medically necessary, if you know what I mean. To top it off, the vents in my place are somehow directly linked to their pot-filled living room and I’m pretty sure I go to work every day partially stoned.
Which is altogether strange, because the few times I actually smoked pot in high school, it made me feel like I loved everyone. Can you develop an allergy to weed? One that comes with bitter rage that strikes at any hour of the day, especially when you least expect it?
Like today.
In front of my boss.
That was fun.
My neighbors’ pot addiction better not get me fired from my job. Speaking of weed, an actual plume of smoke just wafted through the stinking vent over my head. What the heck? This has got to stop before I have a freaking meltdown. Remote in hand, I press pause on The Walking Dead, jump to my feet, and climb on top of the back of my brown chenille couch and peer through the vent. I can seriously see right into their living room.
“Hey!” I shout, pounding on the dusty metal vent. Three sets of heads glance around the room trying to find the source of my voice. “Up here, jackasses.” One of them stands, turns, and meets me at the wall. Swallowing back a little bit of fear when I catch a slight glimpse of his tatted up face, I say, “You guys are smoking me out over here. Could you please move to another room to get high?”
The guy laughs, turning his head toward his buddies, who also burst into laughter. “Dude, give me the reefer,” scary tattooed guy says. He turns back to me, joint in hand, and brings it to his mouth. Before I have time to back away or process what he’s doing, he blows a long puff of smoke through the vent. It hits me square in the face, making my eyes tear up and my lungs constrict, sending me into a coughing fit.
The guy and his friends’ laughter sends chills down my spine as I recover. My head spins a little, so I sit back on the couch and press play on the remote. I have got to find a way out of this lease. On the plus side, the zombies on The Walking Dead are starting to look hot. So maybe I’m not allergic to weed after all.
Thank goodness I leave tomorrow. When I return from my trip to attend Reggie’s wedding, I will figure out how to move out of this hole. I can’t stay here much longer.
When I wake up the next morning, my head is foggy from the weed blown in my face. But remembering what day it is, I squeal and kick my legs under the sheet on my bed because in a few hours I’ll see my best friend and I can’t wait. Everything is packed and loaded into my car, and when I lock the front door, I can hardly contain my excitement. At the airport, the lines to pass through security are a joke. I barely have time to board the plane before they close the gate.
The airplane smells like sweat and dirty carpet, not great scents to have to deal with for the next two and a half hours. Though in some respects, it’s better than the weed from next door. I am definitely not going to miss that over the next ten days.
My BFF, Reggie, is getting hitched, and since I’m the maid of honor, I plan on living it up with her during her last days as a single lady. According to her, a group of us will be going dancing tonight, which loosely translates to couples plus Stacey. This should be interesting.
I mean fun. Tonight will be fun.
Staring out at the tarmac, my elbow is suddenly knocked from the armrest, making me toss my phone to the floor. “Shit,” I say, trying to lean forward in the cramped space to find it. Stretching awkwardly between the wall of the plane and the seat in front of me, my fingers finally wrap around my cell. Sitting up quickly, the back of my head smacks into something hard. Rubbing the sore spot with my free hand, I turn to the person trying to kill me.
“Sorry,” he says, slowly reaching his fingers toward my head. Um, hello, tall, not so dark, and handsome. The guy is wearing a pair of trendy jean shorts and a thick white t-shirt which shows off his muscular, corded arms and the intricate tattoo on his left bicep that stops right above his elbow. His icy blue eyes search mine and my mouth goes dry. His dark blond hair is longer on top and shaved close to his scalp on the sides. A thick, neatly trimmed beard lines his face.
“You okay?” he asks, leaning closer, allowing me to catch his scent of citrus, rosemary, and musk.
Pasting on a smile, because ouch, but hello, gorgeous, I say, “I’m good. How’s your elbow?”
Man Candy grins, though it fades quickly and never meets his eyes. There’s a depth to them, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. He carries something inside, tucked deep down, but that kind of sadness still seeps through eyes like his, like pale blue glass.
“Elbow’s good,” he answers, sitting in the seat next to me. This plane isn’t big, it has three seats on one side and two seats on the other, and when I booked the flight his seat was empty. Now he fills it—completely. His long legs barely fit in front of him, so his knees are bent, hips open wide, making it impossible for any personal space. My eyes travel down the length of his body and stop on his tanned and toned legs with a dusting of dark blond hairs. I’m wearing jeans, but I can still feel the heat of his skin through the dark denim and it rushes through me like a gust of wind racing through my veins.
“This okay? My leg here?” he asks, forcing my gaze back to his eyes. I flash a tight grin and nod my head. Rather enthusiastically, unfortunately. “I’m Ace.” His hand crosses the armchair, reaching for mine. Shaking hands is a dying art, and when done in the small confines of an airplane, it’s awkward. But I’m not one to deny myself the pleasures of a touch from a good-looking man. My hand reaches his and it dwarfs mine. Ace’s grip is firm, warm, and when he doesn’t release his grasp, I start to pull away but stop when his thumb moves over the back of my hand.
When the skin of his knee touches my jeans, it sends a pulse of heat zipping through me. And the graze of his thumb on my skin is like multiple lightning strikes. My entire body is on fire.
“Stacey,” I say, clearing my throat, trying to fight the heat rising to my cheeks. I’m a redhead, so when I blush, I blush everywhere.
Ace slides his hand from mine, pulls out his phone, and unlocks it. Just when I think he’s going to ask for my number—which I wouldn’t have given him…probably—he switches it to airplane mode.
“Nice to meet you, Stacey.”
“Yeah, you too.” For the next two and a half hours we banter back and forth until the plane lands in Warner, Washington. I’m eager to meet up with Reggie and give her one heck of a hug since it feels like we haven’t seen each other in years. In reality, it’s only been a little over a month since I watched her, Jordan, and their son, Micah, drive away. I cried. A lot.
As Ace and I walk up the jetway, it occurs to me that since he lives here, maybe he’d like to meet up later and go dancing. I’ve enjoyed his company and I could use the moral support since I’m the only single one going out tonight.
“Hey,” I say, stopping in the middle of the tunnel. “A group of us are going dancing later at some place called Club Beach. You wanna meet up?”
Ace’s lips part and then quirk to one side. His icy blue eyes drill into me, making my body flush with heat. I left the scorching temperatures in Phoenix only to come to Warner and practically get heat rash from this guy. We separate, letting other passengers through the jetway.
“Wouldn’t that be weird?” he asks, pulling his phone from the shorts pocket over his thigh.
“Um, no.” I laugh awkwardly, feeling the heat climbing up my neck. Calm the spaz, Stace. “The only weird thing about tonight is the fact that I’m going out with my best friend, her fiancé, and another couple. I’m the single one…hello, awkward.”
“So, it’s a couples thing?”
I shrug, letting a few more people by, and then start walking toward the gate. It was just a thought; maybe it would have saved me from feeling like the third wheel. Scratch that—fifth wheel. But he’s not into it, no biggie.
“Hey, wait up,” he says, wrapping his large hand around my elbow, turning me to face him. “I didn’t say no.”
“You didn’t say yes either.” Gently, I pull my arm from his grasp and plaster on a fake smile. “It was nice to meet you, Ace.” My purse slips down over my shoulder, so I return the strap and then rush out of the jetway into the terminal gate. Finding the signs for baggage claim, I make my way through the airport but stop at the restroom first. On my way out of the bathroom, I run—forehead first—into a firm chest covered in a thick white t-shirt that smells like citrus, rosemary, and musk.
Ace’s hands grip my arms to steady me, but really all they do is make my knees weak from the way my body reacts to his touch. What the freak?
“What time do I need to show up tonight?” he asks, running his gaze over my face, pausing at my lips before quickly returning to my eyes.
“I’m not desperate.” I shake out of his grasp and step back. “Don’t feel like you need to show up to put me out of my misery. I don’t need you to go.”
“Okay, let me rephrase that.” A muscle in his jaw ticks before he continues. “I would love to meet up later. What time and where can I pick you up?”
“It’s not a date,” I say, smiling and ducking my chin toward my chest.
“Are you going to let me take you out or not?” he asks, laughing and closing the small distance between us. His head drops level with mine, and his eyes drill into me. Ace brings his hand to my wrist and settles his fingers over my racing pulse.
I inhale sharply at how this touch feels so intimate, how it takes my wildly beating heart and makes the blood rocket through my veins. I seriously need to rein in these crazy hormones. Because that’s all this is—over-reactive, lust-filled hormones that will only end in disappointment.
“We’re all staying the night at the Parkview Inn. Do you know where that is?” I ask, unable to stop the heat creeping up my neck. He nods, offering me another grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Pick me up at eight?”
“Eight, got it,” he says, unlocking his phone. “What’s your number?”
I shake my head. “I’ll just meet you in the lobby.”
“All right.” Ace drops my wrist, winks, and walks away. This should be interesting telling Reggie I’ve got a date.
Once I pass by security, I see Reggie and Micah waiting for me and my heart swells. Space is what I wanted when I moved out of the apartment we’d shared for nine years, and space is what I got. Never would have guessed it would be a distance of fifteen hundred miles, though.
Micah runs to me, wraps his arms around my waist, and squeezes me tight. Reggie joins our hug and relief washes over me that I’m finally here. My best friend is getting married and I couldn’t be happier for her.
Chapter 2
Ace
“You’re doing what now?” Ethan asks incredulously from the doorway of my room. His shaggy brown hair hangs over his brows, which are raised high like he’s pulling his skin back too tightly. It’s a valid question, one I’m sure he’s dying to know the answer to. But the truth is I have no idea what I’m doing. The last thing I expected upon returning home from the National Sherriff’s Conference in Phoenix was to wind up with a date when I stepped off the plane. Especially with a girl from Arizona who is only here for a friend’s wedding.
“I think I’m going crazy,” I answer honestly.
“Nah,” Ethan says, petting Duke, my German Shepherd police dog, who still appears mad at me for leaving him for five days. “I think Mr. Willy finally got fed up with Mr. Lefty.”
“First of all, I’m right-handed, and second, seriously?” I glance up at him from the edge of the bed where I’m lacing up a pair of saddle brown oxfords. “Here.” Duke’s ears perk up and he leaves Ethan’s side to sit next to me
. So maybe I was a little jealous my dog has hardly given me much thought since I stepped through the front door two hours ago.
“He pouted for three days,” Ethan says, chuckling. “I think he thought you died or something. It wasn’t until I bribed him with some of those dog treats you keep in your bag that he finally stopped sleeping by the door.”
My jaw clenches while I take a few calming breaths and work through my irritation. “I’ve told you before those treats aren’t to give him freely. They’re for work and he knows it.”
Ethan rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Lighten up, they’re just treats. Besides, Duke really likes me now.”
“He liked you just fine before.”
“True.” He shrugs, smiling wide. “So you’re really going to go out on this date?”
“Bed,” I say, ordering Duke to his kennel. His brown eyes gaze up at me with longing. Actually, looking at him, I’d almost say he’s pouting. “Bed,” I say again with a huff. Duke turns and trots off to his kennel.
“You didn’t make him sleep in there while I was gone, did you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Ethan’s smile grows wider before he turns away from the doorway and I follow him as he pads barefoot down the hall.
This is what I get for living with a child—a twenty-eight-year-old child.
“Tell me about this girl who managed to snag a date with the non-dating Ace. She pretty?” Ethan pulls a beer from the fridge, pops the tab, and downs it in one long drink. “You want one?”
“You do know I’m a police officer, right?” I ask, shaking my head. Ethan shrugs, pulls out another beer, and drains that one just as fast. “You on a mission to get wasted tonight?” He doesn’t typically drink like this, at least not since the night Marley died. But I can’t think of that right now, not when I’m taking some other girl out. Even though I really have no idea why I agreed to do it.
“It’s been a rough couple days at the hospital,” Ethan says as he strides across the kitchen, heading for the couch in the living room. “And don’t think I didn’t catch the fact you didn’t answer me.”