by Tessa Bailey
“I would have understood eventually.” Story still didn’t face him. “And a few more phone calls or e-mails per year wouldn’t have hurt either.”
“I know that and I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve tried to be involved…in other ways.”
“I guess I should thank you for the money you sent,” she said, feeling kind of numb. “I don’t think I have before.”
“Jesus, you don’t have to thank me. I was happy to do it.” His tone of voice made her turn from the window. “Your mother and I might not have worked out, but I would marry her all over again, deal with all the arguments, to get you. I just want you to know that.”
Her throat tightened. “Thanks, Dad.”
Jack cleared his throat, signaling an end to the conversation, and she felt grateful. Her emotions were on a permanent roller coaster today and it was time to get off.
“So how did you spend your night last night?”
Roller coaster stalled, hanging upside down. “Uh, my friend Hayden and I went out for drinks, did some karaoke at Quincy’s like you recommended. Nothing crazy.”
“Karaoke.” Jack cringed. “What a godawful pastime.”
Story laughed, glad the mood had shifted back to normal. “See, right now in the light of day, I can agree with you. But last night after a few drinks, it represented immortality.”
Jack adjusted the sensor clamped to his finger. “And what was the crowd like?”
“Oh…er,” she stammered. “Women. Tons of women.” I sound like a jackass.
“How unusual for Quincy’s.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. Maybe someday you can introduce me to Hayden.”
“Sure.” She walked to Jack’s bedside, picked up the pitcher full of water, and poured some into a plastic cup. “But I’m warning you, she’ll want to be fixed up with one of your officers.”
“I’m sure we can manage that. Maybe Daniel Chase? I’m told he’s reasonably attractive.”
Story choked on the sip of water she’d just taken, a decent amount trickling out of her nose.
Jack sat up in concern. “Hey. Are you all right?”
She nodded, holding up a finger as she coughed. “Fine.” Hack, hack. “I’m good.” Jack reclined once more, watching her suspiciously as she crossed the room and sat back in the chair. “So, um, what’s it like working with Daniel? Is he good at working?”
Oh, real smooth, you silver-tongued devil.
“He’s the best. Besides me, of course.” Jack grinned. “I found him in a negotiation class. He already had the aptitude required for the job and I suppose his past is what gives him the drive.”
Story frowned. “His past?”
Her father looked suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s not really my business to tell.”
“Tell me,” she said, unable to help it.
“I trust you’ll be discreet.”
She nodded mutely.
“Daniel was a foster kid. His mother couldn’t take care of him so he became property of the state very young. He moved around a lot between foster homes.” Jack turned to stare out the window. “When he was sixteen, he witnessed the murder of a foster parent by his foster sister. He tried to talk her down and was shot for his efforts.” Jack paused for a wheezing breath. “Not everything is a matter of record, but from what little he told me, she was an abuse victim who suffered a mental break. He did succeed, at least, in getting her to release three other children being held in the room.” He thought for a moment. “Most people find hostage negotiation as a career, but in Daniel’s case, I’d say it found him.”
Story nearly burst into tears. What a horrific thing for a young boy to experience on top of being alone, without a family to claim him. Is that what his nightmare had been about last night? If so, how often did he have them? The pain mixed with alarm in his eyes when she’d succeeded in waking him now hurt to think about. Minutes ago, she’d thrown herself a pity party over Jack’s absence in her life. Now, knowing what Daniel had gone through made her feel selfish. She’d had a loving mother and advantages while he’d been given nothing.
“Oh, God.” She looked up to find Jack watching her closely. “What a horrible thing for him to go through so young.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. I wouldn’t feel too bad for him, though. He’s just another jackass with a badge now.”
Story shot to her feet, feeling righteously indignant on Daniel’s behalf. “How can you say that? After everything you just told me he went through, look what he’s accomplished. He’s much more than that.”
Her father shrugged his big shoulders. “If you say so.”
“What…what was her name? The foster sister.” The words felt like they were being squeezed out of her throat.
Jack arched a blond brow at the odd question, but answered. “Nora, I believe.”
Oh, Daniel. She stood abruptly, in desperate need of something to do. “I forgot your coffee. I’m going to go grab us both a cup.”
“Extra sugar!” Jack hollered at her as she strode down the hall.
…
“You’re fucking late, Chase. Not all of us got laid last night, so I’m not exactly in the mood to wait for your pretty-boy ass,” Brent yelled out the window as Daniel jogged across the street toward his friend’s waiting car.
Daniel tossed his duffel bag into the trunk, closed it, and slid into the backseat. Meeting Brent’s eyes in the rearview mirror, he raised an impatient eyebrow. “We’ve still got plenty of time to make it, unless you feel the need to run your mouth some more.”
Brent shot a puzzled glance at Matt where he sat in the passenger seat. “You’re acting awfully surly after the night you must have had, my friend. Us two assholes went home alone.”
Daniel remained quiet, prompting Brent to turn around in his seat, his face a mask of disbelief. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t close that deal last night.”
His face turned to stone. “You don’t discuss her like that. She’s not a deal to close.”
With a slow whistle, Brent turned around and started the car. “Relax. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know, man. Sorry. I’ve just got a lot of shit on my mind.”
“Like what?” Matt asked.
Daniel’s hand dropped. “Hell if I know. This girl…she’s got me all…” He waved his hand around impatiently.
He watched Brent’s eyebrows shoot up in the rearview mirror. “Shit, she was that good?”
“Brent, knock it off or I swear to God—”
“Uh-oh.” Brent reached into the console and picked up his two-way radio, pretending to turn it on, then holding it up to his mouth. “This is car two-two-nine requesting backup. We’ve got an officer down. I repeat, officer down. Dispatch, please alert medical personnel that officer is whipped.”
“Please remind me why we’re friends.”
“Aw, you love me, you dick.”
Matt turned in the passenger seat to face him. “How does she feel about you?”
“That’s what has me kind of fucked up, all right? I have no idea. I usually don’t have to ask.” And he’d left before he could talk to her since she’d been sleeping. Warm and naked and delicious. Jesus.
Not to mention, on top of being completely unprepared with protection last night, he’d had a full-blown nightmare from which she’d needed to forcibly wake him. Then, just to round out the evening, he’d turned her around and screwed her brains out as if she didn’t deserve anything better from him. He’d given her hot, filthy, rebound sex. Plain and simple. Only, he didn’t like the idea of being a rebound to Story. In fact, he fucking hated it. A rebound could easily imply one night. And Christ, he needed to see her again.
He’d woken from the recurring dream as he usually did, mind reeling out of control. Unaware of his surroundings. But last night, his body had caught on long before his head could. The genuine concern on her face had only succeeded in disarming him further, her butterfly ki
sses on his belly and chest short-circuiting his brain. He’d hurtled himself at her before forming a coherent thought, using sex to regain the control he lacked in his dream. He’d planned on coaxing her to orgasm at least twice before allowing himself to push inside her. Sweet-talking her the whole way. But the damn dream had removed his filter, allowing every filthy thought in his mind to come pouring out.
If not for the fact that he’d satisfied her, he’d have already given up all hope of seeing her again. The way she’d screamed his name still echoed in his ears, making him crazed to hear it again. Loud enough for every man in the vicinity to hear it. He might be the one with experience, but she’d shown him last night everything he’d been missing. If he’d offended her with his language or roughness, he would find a way to make it up to her.
“Call her and talk to her. You can’t go into this training session with your mind somewhere else. That’s when accidents happen.”
“Oh Matt, I love it when you talk safety,” Brent said as they turned into the Lincoln Tunnel.
“Yeah, I’ll call her. When Brent isn’t sitting two feet away, taking notes.”
A snort from the driver’s seat. “I don’t need your tips.”
Matt raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, buddy. Hayden didn’t seem too impressed last night.”
“Oh, really?” Daniel leaned forward, glad to have the focus off him. “Now we’re talking. Let’s hear it.”
Brent shook his head. “It’s nothing—”
Matt cut him off. “The second you and Story left, he threw an arm around her shoulder and asked her if she wanted one more drink. Or maybe he called it a nightcap. She told him he was drunk enough. And…wait for it…he said, verbatim, ‘I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.’ She couldn’t get into a cab fast enough.”
Daniel barked out a laugh. “Oh, wow. You should write poetry.” He shook his head. “Seriously, have I taught you nothing?”
“Very funny, assholes.” Brent scowled. “I’m not into uptight rich girls anyway.”
Daniel and Matt exchanged an amused glance just as they pulled into the training center located directly on the banks of the Hudson River. It boasted three helipads that they would be making use of for the training exercise, and a massive warehouse containing a gymnasium, an Olympic-size swimming pool, and several obstacle courses.
As soon as Brent pulled into a parking spot, Daniel hopped out and dialed Story’s number. He didn’t have long before the session began and Matt had been right—he wouldn’t be able to concentrate with the possibility that she wouldn’t want to see him again hanging over his head.
She answered on the third ring, her voice stroking over his senses. “Hello?”
“Hey, sunshine.”
“Daniel.”
Good Lord, baby, Say my name again. I need you to say it in your sleep. When you touch yourself. To no one in particular. Just say it, say it, say it. “Did you get out of bed yet?”
Her breath caught at his gruff reminder that they’d been in bed together mere hours before. Good. He wanted her thinking about it. “Yes, I’m at the hospital visiting my dad. I’m in the lobby buying coffee.”
A subtle hint that Jack wouldn’t overhear anything they said. For some reason, that bothered him a little too much. “How is he today?”
“I had to read him the riot act about his corned beef consumption.” She sighed. “Also, he’s thinking of fixing you up with Hayden, so there’s that…”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Is that right?”
“Hmm.”
“Too bad she’s not my type.” He dropped his voice. “I prefer sexy little blondes who have tan lines hiding underneath their panties.”
He thought he heard her moan softly and his body responded without hesitation. Nothing ever went according to plan with this girl. Even as he’d dialed her number, his plan had been to apologize for being too physical last night in bed, but everything went out the window the second she’d answered. A flicker of irritation passed through him that he couldn’t refrain from making their conversation sexual, but the rest of him was too stirred up to care.
“Were you peeking while I slept?”
“I might have. Does that bother you?”
“It should.”
“But it doesn’t.”
A short, exhale of breath. “No.”
Daniel groaned into the phone. “God, why didn’t I take you again this morning? If I could do it over again, I would roll you over and suck on your nipples until you were wet enough for me. I’ll always have to make sure you’re slick, baby. You’re so tight…”
She gave a choked cough. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me while I’m standing in line for coffee. There are people around…”
“Would you say something dirty if no one could overhear you?”
“Maybe.” A deep breath. “Yes.”
Daniel hummed his approval at her honesty. “Good. Remember what you want to say and tell me later.”
Blowing out a breath he envisioned ruffling her bangs, she changed the subject. “What kind of training exercise do you have today? Anything exciting?”
He laughed at the unsteadiness in her voice. “We’ve got some choppers taking us out to Long Island Sound to do water rescues.”
“As in, jumping out of a helicopter into the water? That kind of water rescue?” He made a brief sound of confirmation. “Be careful, Daniel. I don’t want to miss my first baseball game tomorrow night.”
His brow furrowed. “Your first baseball game?”
“Yeah. Jack said you wanted to take me to a Mets game tomorrow night.”
“He did?” Did he miss something? He was a Mets season ticket holder and had planned on going to the game tomorrow night, but he hadn’t told Jack he would take Story.
“Was he…wrong?” Story asked, sounded unsure. “If you’re taking someone else—”
“No!” Wake up, idiot. “No. Sorry, I was just distracted. Of course I’m taking you.”
“All right, great.” He heard her order two cups of coffee in the background. “Oh, and Jack said to tell you something…what was it? Ah…he said, ‘If the Mets get anywhere near home base, it’ll be the last game they ever play.’” She laughed. “I don’t know a lot about baseball. Did that make sense?”
Daniel gulped. “Perfect sense.” In other words, touch my daughter and die, asshole.
“See you tomorrow, Daniel.”
“Bye, sunshine.”
Daniel hung up the phone and stared off into space. Obviously Jack was trying to kill him. Take my beautiful daughter out, sit next to her for hours on end, and bring her home untouched. The prom date from hell.
Matt and Brent came up behind him.
“How’d it go?” Matt asked.
“Oh, you know…perfect.” He turned to Brent. “I’m taking her to the game tomorrow night.”
Brent’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell? I thought you were taking me?”
“Tough shit. She smells better than you.”
Chapter Twelve
As Daniel rode the elevator to Story’s floor, he repeated the promise he’d made to himself countless times since Saturday morning. They were going to have a normal date. He could keep his indecent thoughts—and hands—to himself for the next five hours. And when they returned from Queens later tonight, he would wait until she invited him inside, not making any assumptions. He’d spent a lot of time thinking since last he’d seen her and he’d come to one conclusion. If he wanted Story to take him seriously, he needed to prove to her that sex didn’t rule his every waking thought and action. Right now, she viewed him as someone who played the field, someone only interested in her body. He hadn’t helped discourage that assumption and it was time to rectify it.
Furthermore, he owed it to Jack to act like a gentleman with his daughter. He’d failed in doing so up until this point, but it ended now. Going behind his mentor’s back was bad enough.
Five hours. He would charm her,
show her his thoughtful side. Brent insisted that women went crazy for men who were sensitive, though, Jesus, when the hell had he started considering Brent’s advice? He was usually the one doling out words of wisdom concerning the opposite sex. Maybe he and Story could discuss a book or something. He hadn’t read a book in a while, but he could wing it. After all, he worked best under pressure.
On Friday night, he’d completely bullied her. Dragged her from the bar, given her hell for her little onstage performance, and roughed her up in bed. Tonight, he would be Mr. Tranquility. Nothing would rattle him. By the end of the date, she’d see him in a new light. Daniel, the thoughtful, fun-loving Mets fan. He pulled off complicated negotiations on a weekly basis. He could absolutely pull this off.
He stepped off the elevator with a little extra bounce in his step. Then he saw the plastic-wrapped bouquet of red roses sitting outside her door. Roses he hadn’t sent. And just like that, his sea of tranquility turned into the perfect storm.
“Oh, hell no.” Snatching the arrangement off the floor so fast that one of the blooms fell to the ground, he searched for a note among the greenery.
For Story. —Fisher
Daniel pounded on the door, note crumpled in his fist. A few seconds later, she answered smiling. But it quickly disappeared when she glimpsed his expression. Dressed in the jean skirt he remembered all too well from their first encounter, and a white tank top, she looked mouthwateringly fresh and beautiful. For some reason, that only made his irritation grow.
Eyes landing on the flowers, she pursed her lips in confusion. “Okay, a puzzle. I like puzzles. You bought me flowers, but you’re clearly angry with me. Were they that expensive?”
“I didn’t buy them.” Daniel took little comfort in her look of surprise. He couldn’t think past the foreign emotions burning through his gut. “They’re from him.”
“Him…who?” Recognition dawned in her eyes. “Fisher? Why would he send me flowers?” She shook her head. “Roses, at that. He always bought me sunflowers.”
