Ride the Fire

by Jo Davis

  “Is that what you’re suggesting? You want us to make a home, you and me?”

  “That’s exactly what I want. I love you,” he said quietly, heart pounding. Reaching across the table, he took her hand. “I want a total second chance, with you. Love, marriage, children. The whole deal. What do you say? Or do you need more time to decide?”

  “Y-you want to marry me?” she squeaked.

  “Smooth how I sort of slid that in there, don’t you think?” He chuckled. “You know me, Eve. I’m not a man who wants or needs a lot of fanfare.”

  “Well, perhaps I’d like a little bit of fuss,” she said, nearly bouncing in her chair. “At least a small party horn or a sprinkle of confetti.”

  “Forgive me. I’m an idiot.” Smiling, he rose from his chair and walked around to her side of the table. Got down on one knee next to her.

  “What are you doing?” With a muffled laugh, she glanced around at the other diners, who were starting to take notice.

  He cleared his throat. This was the last time he’d ever do this, so he’d better get it right. Loudly, for all in the vicinity to hear, he said, “Eve, I can be a bastard. I’ll probably fight against the bottle all my life. I’m hardheaded, arrogant, and I like to have my way. I like to get dirty, and then leave my muddy boots and clothes all over the floor. I snore. In fact, I don’t have much to recommend me at all. Hell, you’d be better off getting a dog.”

  This earned a few laughs from the delighted diners. Eve was beaming like the center of the sun.

  “The only thing going for me is that I love you more than my own life, and that won’t ever change. Eve Marshall, will you marry me?”

  “Yes, yes!”

  She threw herself into his outstretched arms and he caught her, standing and kissing her senseless to a round of applause. So much for taking things slowly.

  He pulled back, grinning. “Is that enough confetti for you?”

  “Until the wedding, yes. Oh my God, Mama’s going to be thrilled! She’ll invite half the countryside, her friends at church, and then there’s all of the fire department—”

  He faked a put-upon groan and she giggled.

  God, he was happy. At last.

  “Whatever you want, baby, that’s what you’ll have.”

  “See, you don’t always have to have things your way,” she teased. “You’re a softer touch than you like for people to know.”

  He actually felt his face heat. “Nah, I’m a porcupine.”

  The waiter came by and handed him their bill. After he’d paid, the movie theater was next. Outside, the weather had turned cold and drizzly, the sort of dampness that made his lungs ache. Determined not to complain, he drove them into Nashville for a change of scenery, stretching out the evening.

  The movie Eve picked was one of those tragic romances, the snively girl crap he usually avoided like the plague because just being in its vicinity might make his balls blacken and fall off. But Eve sniffed and dabbed all the way to the bitter end, heaving a sigh as the houselights went up.

  “That was so sad. They were doomed never to be together.”

  “What a melodramatic piece of crap,” he grumbled. “I prefer happy endings, thank you very much.”

  “Aww, you softy. Prefer the hero alive at the end, do you?”

  “If I was the hero? Not much of a contest.”

  “You’re my hero.”

  “And you’re good for my ego, you know that, lady?”

  “I try.”

  Laughing, he hooked his arm through hers and they headed out into the rain. When she jumped with both feet into a puddle and doused their jeans on purpose, he mock-growled, “You are so going to pay for that.”

  Around the side of the building and through the back parking lot, a game of puddle wars ensued, the two of them getting nice and soaked. Which was going to help his cold immensely, but screw it. He was having fun.

  “Isn’t that fucking cute? So precious I could hurl.”

  Snapping his head up, he stopped dead in his tracks. Leaning casually against the side of his Tahoe in the lamplight, legs crossed at the ankles and hands in his pockets, was Jesse.

  Pushing Eve behind him, Sean approached slowly, taking in the sight of the man who was once like a brother to him. The years had not been kind to his natural good looks.

  Jesse’s square face was lined with every one of his years and then some, his blond hair long and stringy. It was pulled into a ponytail, revealing the rose tattoo they’d gotten him in Thailand, in a lifetime he’d rather forget.

  “Why a rose, man? They’ve got all sorts of cool designs. Celtic, dragons, whatever.”

  “Besides my name? So my enemies will remember that if they touch me, I’ll make them bleed.”

  “Jesse.” He was shocked he had a voice, and that it sounded even. Calm.

  “Sean.” His name came out almost like a taunt. Jesse pushed his lean body from the SUV, strolled forward, his gait unhurried. “Good to see you, old friend.”

  “We haven’t been friends since the day you tried to murder one of our own men in cold blood.” Anger began to take over from shock.

  “He was going to rat me out, but you did that for him, didn’t you?” His eyes glittered like onyx. “But that’s ancient history.”

  “Why are you here, Jesse?” His muscles tensed, ready for a fight. He hadn’t had to engage an opponent hand to hand in almost twenty years. Some lessons, he hoped, were ingrained too deeply to forget.

  “You mean, other than to fuck your wife?” he asked pleasantly. “Blair sure was a wildcat in bed, but you know how it is with bored, unsatisfied wives.”

  “Did she know who you were?” He kept his anger in check, because he had to know for sure whether Blair had full knowledge that George Sparks and Jesse Rose were the same person. Blair had heard him talk about Jesse before and after their marriage, but she’d never met him—that he knew of. After Jesse’s court-martial, Sean had told her what happened and they’d never mentioned it again.

  “What if she did? Whoo-boy, that would be a real kicker, huh? To know your fancy wife threw in with me? That her knowledge got her killed?”

  A sudden surety settled over him, and gave him peace in this, if nothing else. “Blair might’ve slept with George Sparks, but she would never have knowingly put our children in danger.”

  “Know about George, do you? Guess you found the e-mails. Knew you would, eventually. That was part of the fun.”

  “I’ll repeat, what do you want?”

  “How’re those adorable kids, too?” Then he snapped his fingers as though just remembering. “Oh, my bad. I think I read somewhere they were toasted like marsh-mallows, along with your wife. Damned shame.”

  Did you ever ask yourself . . . what if it wasn’t an accident?

  The anger he’d tried so hard to keep in check flared into rage. With an inhuman roar, he charged, barreled into Jesse with all his strength. Dimly, he heard Eve shouting for help, asking someone to send the police. He didn’t care. All that mattered was tearing this bastard apart.

  Too late, he knew that was just what Jesse intended.

  They rolled on the asphalt, each struggling for the upper hand. Sean was losing ground, fast. Emotion clouded judgment, and his nemesis had a definite lack of feelings to get in his way. As a terrorist, he’d no doubt kept his fighting skills in prime shape, something Sean hadn’t done in years.

  Firemen saved lives; they didn’t take them. The very fact that had drawn him to the fire department after he left the marines.

  In brief, he had his ass handed to him. He got in a few good punches, but got back twice what he dished out. Head, back, ribs. Jabs and kicks landing with crushing force, honed by a rogue soldier who’d never given up the war.

  As Sean lay panting, the bastard whispered in his ear.

  “You’re going to die, soon. But it’ll be a shitload bigger than this. Nothing mundane for you, old friend.” He patted Sean’s cheek. “Until later.”

  Fo
otsteps receded and someone dropped to his side.

  “Oh, God! Are you all right?” Hands skimmed his face, his torso.

  Wincing, he struggled to sit up. “Bruised. I’ll live.”

  “You’re bleeding!” She tried to dab his mouth, but he pushed her hand away.

  “I’m fine. I just want to get out of here.”

  “Um, that’s going to be put off for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “The police are here.”

  “Dammit! This explanation is going to take too fucking long.” At her hurt look, he relented. “I’m sorry, baby. You did good, getting help. But our story is that a man fitting Jesse’s description demanded my wallet and I wouldn’t give it to him. Let me do most of the talking, okay?”

  She nodded, not appearing convinced.

  “Good. Soon as we get rid of them, I’ll call that FBI guy and tell him what happened.”

  This seemed to relieve some of her anxiety. “All right. Can you stand?”

  “Yeah.” Even with her help, it was easier said than done. He ached all over and was dizzy. Whether from his cold or the fight, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

  A Nashville cop pulled up close to them, got out. “Evenin’, folks. Got a call about a dispute? I’m assuming you’re the ones who called.”

  “I called,” Eve said. “A man jumped my fiancé and demanded his wallet.”

  The cop crossed his arms over his chest. “He jumped and then he demanded the wallet, or the other way around?”

  Eve looked to Sean, expression slightly panicked. Shit.

  “I can explain,” he said with an effort. “We just left a movie and came out to my SUV. We were almost here when a man approached, holding a knife. He yelled at me to hand over my wallet, but I told him to eat shit.”

  “It’s safer to just let those types of criminals have the wallet, sir,” the cop scolded. “You could have been stabbed.”

  “Yes, I know. In hindsight, what I did was stupid, but at the time I saw red. I didn’t want to let him walk off with my money and credit cards. I was pissed. We fought and he took off when he realized you were coming.”

  The cop sighed, as though this was the umpteenth time he’d heard a variation of this story lately. “Give me a description and I’ll file a report of the incident. If he’s picked up in the future for something else, your report could help put him away on more charges.”

  Oh, I think homeland terrorism is a tad out of your league.

  “Thank you, Officer.”

  He gave a description, answered a few more questions that didn’t tell the policeman any more information than before, and tried a smile when the cop asked if he needed medical attention. Like he was going to call in the paramedics and risk this spreading back to his own department.

  “No, thanks. It’s nothing a little rest and TLC won’t cure.” To get his point across, he put an arm around Eve’s waist and pulled her close, winking at the cop. Who finally cracked a smile.

  “Right. Wouldn’t turn down a little of that brand of TLC myself. You have a nice evening.”

  After the cop drove off, Sean sagged against Eve. “Would you mind driving?”

  “Mind? I’m not letting you. Give me the keys.”

  He handed them over and climbed into the passenger’s side, hissing in pain. The bastard had done a number on his ribs in particular. Taking out his phone, he left a message for Nick Westfall and hung up.

  “He must have been following us tonight for no telling how long, waiting to confront you,” she pointed out, sounding pissed. “Otherwise, how could he have known where we were?”

  “God, you’re right.” If he hadn’t been so caught up in their reunion, he would’ve noticed. “Honey, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think it would be best if you join your mother at your aunt’s house. Just until the FBI arrests Jesse.”

  Her lips thinned into an angry line. “Which will be when? Next week? Next year? He’s apparently been waltzing around playing his games however he wanted for as long as you’ve known him. What makes you think he’ll get caught now?”

  “He will. He’s been working toward a big finale, a horrible act that will put his name down in history, and this is it. One way or the other, his games are coming to an end. And I don’t want you here when he decides it’s showtime.”

  She was silent for a long moment. “I’ll think about going to California, but I’m not making any promises. That’s the best I can do.”

  “Knowing you’re safe would ease my mind, baby.” He knew when not to push Eve. If she said she’d consider going, she would.

  It was tough getting comfortable on the drive home, and he wished he hadn’t suggested going all the way to Nashville for their movie. But he couldn’t regret the wonderful evening they’d had, until Jesse ruined it.

  Christ, he was getting remarried. The idea was wonderful and scary. But he and Eve would make it work.

  “Sean? We’re here.”

  The road, the bounce of the Tahoe, must’ve lured him into a doze. He blinked to find they were in his driveway. “Sorry, I drifted off.”

  “You need sleep. Let’s get you inside and in bed.”

  “Sounds good.” No innuendo this time. He doubted he could get hard even if she stripped naked and straddled his face.

  Well, okay, maybe then, but . . .

  She prodded him upstairs and into the bathroom, made him strip to his boxer briefs and sit on the lid of the toilet. Wetting a cloth in warm water, she washed his cuts and bruises, her touch light. Gentle. It was so nice he almost fell asleep.

  “You’re really hot,” she said, feeling his forehead. “Do you have any Tylenol or cold medicine in here?” Setting the cloth aside, she began to rummage in his bare bathroom cabinets.

  “I’m not sure. I tossed almost all the medicine in the garbage when I came home from rehab, over-the-counter or not. I went overboard, I know. I don’t really want to take—”

  “You need something or you’re going to be miserable! Don’t argue with me on this—just get in bed and rest.”

  He wasn’t in any shape to argue even if he wanted. She marched him to the bed and tucked him under the covers, and he cooperated, docile as a lamb. He wanted to tell her not to expect him to take orders on a regular basis, but figured she knew.

  He was dead to the world before her footsteps faded down the hallway.

  Sweet Jesus, what a week.

  Sean was fast asleep, but Eve was tossing and turning. In the course of a couple of days, she’d been maybe pregnant, helped her lover through a terrible crisis, been not pregnant, then engaged, and overjoyed. And after that, two days ago, she’d been terrified her new fiancé would be killed by his archenemy.

  Eve threw on her clothes, tiptoed out of the bedroom to the living room, and flopped onto the sofa. If Sean had any wine in the house, she’d pour herself a huge glass. Just as well he didn’t.

  These were the times when a girl needed to talk to her mother. Problem was, she didn’t want to worry Mama with all the goings-on and she sure didn’t want to announce her engagement over the phone. If she called, Mama would employ her use of super radar and have her confessing every event of the past couple of days in nothing flat.

  Crap. So calling Mama was out. In a few days, perhaps things would be more settled and she could at least sound normal on the phone. Might as well get going to the store and pick up some medicine for Sean. He really needed some cough medicine for his nasty cold, and they were out of Tylenol for the aches and pains from his fight with Jesse Rose. She’d like to cut off Rose’s balls and serve them to him over pasta.

  Stuffing her phone into her purse, she fished out her keys and headed for the front door, glad Sean had given her a key to use, enabling her to come and go. She still needed to learn his alarm code, and that she didn’t know it yet made her nervous about leaving him here. But she’d be gone twenty or thirty minutes, tops.

  On the porch, she turned to slide the key into the lock when a s
craping noise made her start. Spinning, she peered to a spot at the edge of the porch where the light from the bulb overhead faded into the darkness. Another scrape. And a footstep.

  In a panic, she shoved the front door open again, her only goal to get inside and lock it before—before what, she couldn’t think. She scrambled, panting, slammed it closed.

  Pounding feet. Lots of them.

  Oh, God.

  And the heavy door immediately burst open, knocking her backward, to the floor. Her purse and keys skidded away and she looked up, eyes wide, as several men ran inside, dressed in fatigues. One reached for her and she screamed, the sound cut short as his fist connected with her jaw.

  Her head spun, vision going white as the pain exploded in her face. When the room came back into focus, a couple of men had her pinned. And Rose’s smirking face hovered over hers.

  “Where’s lover boy?”

  She glared at him, torn between screaming to alert Sean and trying to convince Rose that Sean wasn’t here. The latter ploy she doubted would work.

  “Fuck you, dirtbag,” she snarled. “Sean! Sean!”

  With a curse, Rose reached out, pinched a spot at the base of her neck.

  And the world went dark.

  Sean!

  He blinked, the fog of sleep wafting in his brain like cobwebs. What had awakened him? A scream. Just another nightmare.

  But the pounding of boots coming closer was definitely no dream. Bolting upright in bed, he didn’t have time to move as the door slammed against the opposite wall and four men rushed in, dressed in fatigues, M16s over their shoulders.

  “What the fuck—”

  Four pairs of hands dragged him from the bed, wrestled him to the floor. At one time he’d been trained to take on several men alone, but those days were past. He put up a good fight, got in some licks, to no avail. His struggles ceased when Jesse walked in, expression smug.

  “Now, that’s a shame, seeing such a good soldier come to this. Brought down in your underwear, no less.” Spying Sean’s jeans on the chest at the end of the bed, he grabbed them, tossed them onto his lap. “Put these on. We’re going for a ride.”