Raining Down Release (Raining Down Series Book 3)

by BK Rivers

  “Answer what?”

  “Is the chick hot?” The television clicks on to the Adult Swim channel, yet another tell that something’s bothering him.

  “Hillary riding you again about your survey results?”

  “I’ll have you know that ever since that crazy lady’s survey I haven’t had anything but positive reviews. All my patients leave thoroughly satisfied with my care.” Ethan chuckles from the couch.

  “Why was it again that woman rated you so poorly?” I love giving him a hard time about being a nurse.

  “Asshole,” he grumbles. He hates it when people make fun of him for being a male nurse. “You’re still avoiding my question. She must be really hot.”

  Stacey’s nice to look at with her fiery red hair, fair skin, and sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks. Her eyes are almost milk chocolate in color, yet they have specks of gold dotted around her pupils. And she smelled incredible—peaches and lilies. She was wearing a simple pair of worn jeans with holes in the thighs, revealing her creamy white skin, and a white, relaxed peasant top almost made it appear like we were traveling together. Like we coordinated our jeans and white shirts.

  “Okay, yeah.”

  “Yeah, what?”

  I’m going to kill him. “Yes. She’s hot. Happy?”

  Ethan’s lips curve into a smug smile. “Happy? Nah. I’m ecstatic that you’re going out. It’s about damn time.”

  “Well, don’t get ahead of yourself, she’s from Phoenix and it’s not a date.”

  “Are you picking her up?” he asks. I have no other choice but to nod. “You planning on buying her drinks or dinner?”

  “Naturally. It’s the right thing to do.” Shit. It’s a freaking date.

  “Then it’s a date.”

  “But she said it wasn’t a date.”

  “It’s a date. Get over it and get out of here.”

  Right about now I’m wishing I would have pushed her a little harder for her number—at least then I could have called and cancelled. Or even texted. Now I have two choices, stand her up or suck it up and go on the date that’s not supposed to be a date. Going out with a girl shouldn’t be difficult, it shouldn’t make my pulse race or my palms sweat. A decision like this would have been easier several years ago. But circumstances as they are have made me lose all interest in dating.

  Glancing at my watch, I realize if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late. I’d like to think I’m a stand-up guy, so pushing away the nerves, I grab my keys, mumble a goodbye to Ethan, and head out the door. Stacey had better be okay with a motorcycle, because when I’m not on duty, that’s what I drive.

  Twenty minutes later, I park and make my way into the lobby of the Parkview Inn. The double doors slide automatically and open to a grand lobby decorated in creams and golds with light aqua accents. Fresh floral arrangements adorn each flat surface and a massive river rock fireplace sits on the back wall.

  A group of five people sit on the couches laughing and talking, making my chest constrict. Stacey’s red hair stands out above them all and in the light of the lobby, it nearly glows a coppery color. Heads glance up as I approach, and when Stacey turns, her lips turn up in a warm smile. She’s put on a little more makeup, especially around her eyes. She looks gorgeous, and the shimmery gold top she’s wearing hangs off her right shoulder, making me suddenly hungry to nibble on her soft skin.

  “Ace?” says a guy I recognize.

  “Vic, been a long time, man,” I say. He stands, meeting me to shake hands. I glance down at his wife still sitting on the couch and tip my head. “Jemma. I didn’t know you’d be here.” Here in Warner, the police and fire stations are a tight-knit community—we all know each other.

  “What are you doing here?” Vic asks, releasing my hand.

  “He’s with me,” Stacey says, coming to stand next to me.

  My arm moves to pull her to my side, a familiar but misplaced gesture. I stop myself before touching her and smile tightly.

  “How do you guys know each other?” Stacey asks, glancing between us.

  “Ace and I work together. Indirectly, I guess. He’s a police officer.” Vic helps Jemma to her feet and twines his fingers through hers. Stacey glances up at me, smiles brightly, and threads her arm through the crook of my elbow. My heart squeezes in my chest, but I swallow back the urge to squirm away from her touch. It’s nearly too much…too soon. Maybe it’s too late?

  The other guy and his girl stand, and I immediately recognize him as well, but do my best to hide my surprise. He reaches his hand to me and we skip right to introductions.

  “Jordan Capshaw,” he says, smiling as he looks to the girl at his side. “This is Reggie, the future Mrs. Capshaw.”

  “Good to meet you,” I answer, shaking her hand. “When’s the wedding?”

  “Next Saturday,” Reggie says, glancing up at Jordan. I’m sure there’s a story there, but now’s not the time to get into it. How anyone can tame a rock star is beyond me. Especially one with a background like Jordan’s.

  “You guys ready?” Stacey asks, pulling me toward the door. “I’m starving and I can’t wait to see if this guy knows how to dance.”

  The six of us leave the lobby and part ways. Guiding Stacey to my motorcycle, I figure she’ll be hesitant to climb on behind me, but she turns to me, giving me an appraising smile. She waves me onto the seat and while I pull on my helmet, she grabs the passenger helmet, shoves it over her head, and climbs on behind me. Her black leather pants reflect the lights of the parking lot like a mirror and they show every ounce of uncertainty I’m feeling.

  Stacey’s arms loop around my waist, her fingers lace together, and she rests her chin on my shoulder. A chill erupts from where her chin touches me and it shimmies through my whole body. I can’t shake her off, but the desire is there. Like a lingering shadow of the past, creeping up on you when you least expect it. Except something always reminds me of the past no matter how much I try to push it down. The past is the lingering smoke after you snuff out a candle—no matter how much you wave it away, it still comes back to haunt you. Tonight, for the first time in five years, I wish I could have snuffed that damn candle out with cold water. At least then the smoke would be gone along with the memories.

  “Ready when you are,” Stacey says, squeezing me around the middle.

  I could laugh at that—ready? I hardly think so. But I’m here and agreed to this, so I lean the motorcycle, shove the kickstand back with the heel of my shoe, and start the engine. It revs to life with an ear-splitting growl, Stacey’s grip tightens around my waist, and we ride out of the parking lot.

  Chapter 3

  Stacey

  It’s hella-cold riding through the streets of Warner on the back of Ace’s motorcycle. It’s the middle of July—a jacket shouldn’t be required. I shouldn’t be shivering either. But here I am, arms wrapped tightly around Ace’s waist, trying to absorb as much heat as I can. Each time I scoot closer, he inches forward in the seat, like I’m making him uncomfortable. Okay, so inviting a guy I just met to go dancing with me and a group of others maybe wasn’t the brightest idea. In fact, Reggie made a point of telling me just that, twice tonight. Our conversations went something like this, “You can’t just pick some random guy to take you dancing. You don’t even know him. He could be a serial killer for all you know.” Her hands flailed a lot like they do when she’s stressed out.

  But I laughed and said, “No way, you have to see his eyes. They don’t look like the eyes of a serial killer. They’re more haunted, like he’s dealing with something pretty hard.”

  “Just be careful, and…don’t sleep with him.”

  I guess not being roommates for four months had made her forget the years living with her and my track record. Since high school, it’s been pretty clean. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said.

  Reggie’s shoulders fell, her eyes pleading with me, as though she was already asking for forgiveness for what she was about to say.

  “You ha
ve a really bad habit of helping out complete strangers, and one of these days it’s going to come back and hurt you.”

  Okay, yep. Ouch. I’m not sure if I’ve completely forgiven her yet, even though it’s been a couple hours. But I love her like a sister, and even if what she said hurt, I’m here for her while she counts down the days to her wedding.

  Ace pulls to a stop, parking his motorcycle alongside the club. Even from this distance, the thumping of the music reaches us. We remove our helmets and I do my best to tame my hair, hoping I don’t have helmet head.

  “Do you want to wait outside for the others?” he asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. The sleeves of his navy blue Henley are pushed up to just below his elbow, giving me a glimpse of the corded muscles of his forearms, and I realize I don’t know a whole lot about him. Sure, we chatted it up on the airplane, but the topic of what he did for a living never came up. He told me he had been in Phoenix for a convention, but I didn’t press for more information than that. I didn’t need more. He was just some guy who was nice to talk to, who kept me company for two and a half hours. Now I’m interested and want to know more.

  Which sucks because I’m only here for ten days.

  “They’re probably already inside,” I say, remembering how it took him a few minutes to leave the parking lot of the inn. “I’m sure they beat us here.”

  Ace jerks his head in a swift nod and flashes me a tight smile. “Shall we?” he asks, pulling a hand from his pocket and resting it on my lower back. He guides me through the blacked out door and into the club.

  There are tables scattered around the large room for dining and a dance floor off to the right that is already fairly crowded for being early in the evening. I spot Reggie and the others at a circular booth near the back and we work our way through the maze of tables.

  “Have you been here a lot?” I ask, speaking loudly to be heard over the music.

  “Used to, but it’s been a while.” Everyone scoots closer, allowing us to slide in the booth.

  “Thought maybe you two got lost,” Vic says, laughing. I like him, Jemma too. Apparently, Jordan met Jemma a couple years ago and she got him started on his sobriety. Now, he and Reggie live in Jemma’s old house in Torrance and they love it. I’ll be driving there tomorrow to stay with them to help with the wedding prep.

  Deciding to save Ace from whatever held him up at the inn, I jump in and say, “I had to get reacquainted with a motorcycle. Hadn’t been on one in a long time.”

  Reggie glances up from the menu, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “What?” I mouth to her, not understanding why she’s questioning me.

  She shrugs, shakes her head, and returns to the menu. Of all the people to be judging me right now, she shouldn’t be one of them. I held my tongue for a long time when she and Jordan got back together, she has no right to assume anything or question my motives.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask, trying my best to mask my irritation. Jemma and Vic point me in the right direction and Ace stands, letting me slide out from the booth. “I’ll be right back.” I wind through the tables, find the short hallway, and slip inside the ladies’ room. Other than checking my hair, I have no other reason to be in here. Well, that and so I can release the growing frustration I’m feeling toward my best friend.

  I know she’s stressed—planning a wedding will do that to the best of us. But I didn’t fly all the way up here to be lectured or judged for my actions. I just want to spend time with her before I have to go back home and return to the apartment with the weed problem.

  Now that I’m sufficiently calmed down, I return to the table to find a lively conversation taking place without me. Breathe, Stacey…breathe. Ace stands, letting me slip back into the booth, and then hands me a menu. My fingers graze his as I take it and heat rushes up my arm, making me gasp quietly and Ace’s back stiffen. This is crazy, nothing can happen between us because I live two thousand miles away. Tonight was only about having fun dancing with a guy who made me laugh.

  “Do you dance?” I ask suddenly, leaning close to him. “I guess I should have asked that before asking you to come out tonight.”

  Ace folds his menu closed, places it back in the center of the table, and smiles. Like a real live smile that touches his pale blue eyes, warming my insides. He has straight white teeth that would make any dentist envious. Heck, it makes me want to hide mine because I know they’re not as white or as straight as his.

  “No,” he answers, shaking his head.

  My jaw drops. “Then why did you agree to go dancing with us?” Now that I’ve asked, I really want to know. Ace’s smile turns into a warm chuckle and now the whole table is looking at us. More specifically, me. Giving up, and growing irritated at Reggie’s glaring and Jemma and Vic’s googly-eyes, I change the subject. “What’s everyone ordering?” I don’t even know what I’m going to get, but I’m ready to eat and let loose a bit. And by let loose, I mean have a drink or two. I’ll be respectful, though, and do it at the bar and not in front of Jordan. I know he says it doesn’t bother him anymore, but I wouldn’t want someone drinking in front of me if I were a recovering alcoholic and drug abuser.

  After we’ve all ordered, Reggie and Jemma start talking about the wedding and I have to struggle to hear what they’re saying. The guys talk about whatever it is guys talk about, and I get stuck between a fireman, a rock star, and a cop who hasn’t relaxed since he showed up to pick me up.

  By the time our food arrives, I’m so far removed from any conversation I inhale my food and excuse myself. I push my way through the tables, find a far corner at the bar away from Jordan and Reggie, and order a Fuzzy Navel—something a little sweet and tangy with just enough alcohol to help clear my head from the negativity I’m feeling. The bartender serves me up and in five quick slurps, I guzzle the drink and order another.

  “Wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” I cringe at the sound of Ace’s low voice behind me. He moves around me, sits down, and rests his elbow on the bar top. When the bartender brings me another Fuzzy Navel, Ace orders a water with a lime.

  “Nothing’s bothering me,” I answer, taking a long sip.

  Ace’s arm snakes behind me, stopping on the barstool. His body angles toward me; his wrist touches my ass and his breath sneaks through the veil of hair at my bare shoulder, reaching my skin.

  “That’s a lie and you know it. I hardly know you and I can tell something’s bugging you.” He makes no sign of moving away, and truthfully, I don’t mind. I like the heat flowing like waves off his body and crashing into me. It feels good, the proximity of him. But will it feel as good when he pulls away after I unleash the dam of emotions I’m feeling right now? I guess we’ll see.

  “You really want to know what’s bothering me?” Ace nods, a quick jerk of his head with a slight upturned lip. Sitting fully upright, I practically leap off the barstool, wrap my fingers over his elbow, and drag him with me across the floor and out of the club. It’s too loud and stifling inside to really talk, yet outside in the evening light, with the sun still on the horizon, the heat is just as bad. At least I won’t have to yell.

  Still gripping his elbow, I pull him down the sidewalk, passing a stream of large windowed shops that have long since closed for the evening. Cars pass us on the road, not paying us any attention, and when we round a corner, I breathe a sigh of relief to see a darkened alley up ahead.

  “You sure you want to go down there, sweetheart?” he asks, slipping from my grasp.

  I stop, turn around and fold my arms across my chest. “I’m from Phoenix,” I say bitterly. “I hardly think a dark alley in little old Warner, Washington has anything on what’s lurking around corners in Phoenix.”

  “How often do you go out alone at night? Do you carry any protection with you?” Lines of worry etch across Ace’s face, making me giggle. “It’s not funny. You shouldn’t be walking alone at night.”

  “If I had any question about you being a cop,
I sure don’t anymore,” I say, laughing while Ace’s jaw tenses and his head slowly moves side to side.

  “I’ll let it slide this one time, but we don’t like to be called cops. It doesn’t exactly have the best connotation.” His eyes hold an ounce of humor, but his tone suggests he’s pretty serious.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Officer,” I say with a mock salute. Okay, so maybe the alcohol is starting to kick in. I lean up against the cool bricks of the building, willing the heat in my cheeks to fade. I’m not normally a lightweight.

  “So, you gonna tell me what was going on inside?” Ace leans up against the wall opposite me in the alley and now there’s a good fifteen feet or more between us. The air is even thicker here and the sharp angles of Ace’s jaw and chin are blurred by the shadows crawling over him as the sun continues to set. He really is quite easy on the eyes, and thus far, dang good company.

  “You really want to know?” He nods and I unleash it all. And I mean everything. “I hate that I’m here for my best friend’s wedding and she doesn’t seem to really care. Ever since I told her you were going out with us tonight, she’s been giving me the evil eye and lecturing me. Then to top it off, I seriously think I’m going through pot withdrawals because I’m freaking all over the place with my mood. And when I get back to Phoenix, I have to put up with the shit even more and I hate it. I don’t want to go back to my apartment.”

  Gasping for air after I release the rant makes my head spin. Pacing myself has never been a strength of mine.

  “You’re coming down from a high?” Ace asks incredulously. His eyes are narrowed and his arms are crossed over his chest, showing off those tight muscles of his forearms.

  “What? No!” I say at the same time Ace puffs out a sigh. “My stupid neighbors and I share this weird vent in the wall of my apartment and they’re always getting high. Last night I yelled at them through the vent and all I got was a face full of smoke and I, uh…yeah, I got a little high.”