Sins of the Father

by Winter Austin

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. It’s going to take more than a shove to hurt me.”

  “He’s such an ass. I never expected him to physically come after you.”

  Xavier shrugged. “He’s an overprotective father who’s had a shitstorm fall on his head.”

  “That’s no excuse. And I’m kind of surprised you’re defending him after what he did.” Jolie picked up her bag, dusting off the bottom. “Mom’s going to freak when she finds out about this. He could’ve caused another heart attack.” She met Xavier’s amused gaze. “What?”

  “You took my advice.”

  It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. “Oh, that. Yeah, well, in some cases I don’t apologize for other people’s rude behavior, and I stand up for those who can’t. Not that you can’t.”

  His chuckle cut her off. Shaking her head, she shouldered her bag once more and turned to the building’s entrance. His hand on her arm brought her to a halt.

  “Thanks, Jolie.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “Don’t shrug it off. Only a handful of people have ever stood up for me, and two of them are … gone.”

  She clasped his hand and squeezed. “I’m pretty sure there are more; you just have to realize it.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Xavier walked into the kitchen to find Ariel rummaging around in the cabinets. “Do you need something?” he asked, dropping his keys and sunglasses on the counter.

  She straightened and turned to him, five-foot-eight inches of Tasmanian she-devil. If she started spinning at twister speed and spitting and fuming, he would run. “Where the hell have you been?” Close enough.

  “Clearing my head.”

  “You’ve been involved in a murder in some way, shape, or form, concussed again, had a PTSD break in the middle of the night, and you just needed to clear your head?”

  “Ariel, look.” He crossed the wood floor in two strides and took hold of her hands. “I know you’re worried about me, and you have every right, as my sister. But you can’t fix this. You can’t fix what’s wrong with me. No one can. And as for the murder, the police don’t believe I did it—don’t ask me how, they just don’t. I’m helping them as best I can.”

  Her anger crumbled like a cement-block wall taking a mortar round. “X, we can’t go through what we endured after you came back from the war. You were drinking heavily and suicidal. All of this stuff going on can lead right back to that. Mum won’t bury a child, she just won’t.”

  Pulling his sister into a tight embrace, Xavier held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I won’t let it happen.”

  “You know how many times I hear soldiers and marines say that?” She pushed back, tears glistening in her eyes. “And do you know how many times they lose that fight because they think they can do it alone?” A few drops slipped free. She swiped at them, sniffing.

  Aw, frack it. He’d never been able to stand seeing his sister cry. “I’ll get help.”

  “Where?”

  “I’ll talk to Nic. She’ll know.”

  “How?”

  A knock on the back door reverberated through the house. His body did that involuntary jerk that always happened when there was an unexpected noise. He hated it. What was worse, Ariel was touching him as it happened, which deepened the sadness in her eyes. Giving her a squeeze on the shoulder, he moved to answer the door.

  He was greeted through the screen mesh by the sight of Jolie wearing a short pair of black athletic shorts and a purple running tank top, with her hair pulled up in a messy knot at the top of her head and a black elastic headband.

  She removed her sunglasses, a tangle of keys and bobbles clinking. “Hey.”

  Crashing back to earth, he cleared his throat. “Are you going somewhere?”

  Jolie glanced at her outfit. “Yeah, I was going to take a run. I wanted to stop and talk with you about something before I got all sweaty.”

  His head went light at the image of her covered in sweat and breathing hard, but not from running. Either she was doing it on purpose or she was totally oblivious to what she was saying and how it was affecting him. He peeked over his shoulder at Ariel standing in the center of the kitchen with an overly interested look on her face.

  “Uh, sure.” He pushed open the screen door, inching aside to allow her in. “Follow me.”

  Stepping up into the mudroom, Jolie gave Ariel a nod. Xavier skirted around the petite redhead and gestured for her to follow him down the basement steps.

  “Wow, it looks like a gym down here.”

  “Good place to work out my frustrations.”

  Jolie set her glasses and keys on a wooden shelf and then gradually worked her way from one piece of equipment to the next, until she reached the punching bag. “It explains how fit you are.” She poked a finger into the bag’s dirty canvas. “Did you box?”

  “For a while, then I got into mixed martial arts. It was a good release until I lost my leg.” Xavier gripped the rack holding his free weights. If he didn’t anchor himself to something, he would prowl the floor until he cornered her. His hands ached to touch and hold her. He wanted to know if her skin was satiny and trace the curves of her body.

  “But you didn’t give it up?” She looked at him as she ran her hand around the center of the bag.

  Holy … Damn it, she was torturing him. He swallowed. “No, I didn’t.” He couldn’t breathe right.

  Leaving the bag, she walked up to the hooks where he kept his array of gloves. She fingered a cracked, frayed, and bloodstained pair—the same pair he’d used while in Iraq in a special fight put together by the brass between the Marines and Navy. He’d won that fight, and several days later he nearly lost his life.

  “What did you want to talk with me about?”

  Jolie dropped her hand and faced him, leaning a hip against the shelf next to her. “I want to know how comfortable you are reverting back to your military police training.”

  “I’m afraid to ask why.”

  “There’s been such a focus on finding out why Clint was killed and proving whether you had anything to do with it or not that we’ve forgotten the real reason this is all taking place. Sarah. I want to find Sarah. I want to know she’ll come home to her mom, alive. I don’t want her to turn into another forgotten girl, like Grace was. I won’t stand for it.”

  Her impassioned speech lit a fire in her eyes, and in the midst of her talk, she returned to the punching bag. To drive her point home, she hit the canvas with her fist hard enough to make it swing.

  “So, what you’re saying is, you want me to help you look for her.” He joined her by the bag, catching it mid-swing and stilling its movement.

  “Yeah, I do.” She shook her head, red wisps flying. “I know it’s not right, and it’s not conventional, but you’re probably better equipped for this than anyone else in the county.”

  “What I did as an MP isn’t the same as this.”

  “But you did provide support to units as they went out to search for specific targets, right?”

  Xavier dug his fingernails into the canvas. “In a way.”

  “I talked with Con about it; he said it would be a conflict of interest, and he’s not even sure it would fly. But we have to try something. Both of our departments are spread thin doing too many things, and somewhere out there Sarah is fighting for her life. I can’t do any of this alone.”

  Chancing touching her, he reached out and grasped her forearm. “Listen. I agree we can’t let her slide into the realm of the forgotten. But I can’t just give you the answer you want to hear, Jolie. I’ve got to consider a lot of factors before I do anything.”

  She placed her free hand over his. “Look at it this way: if we find Sarah, maybe she can help piece together the last part of the puzzle—what happened to her father. You said you saw her in that car; she had to have been there when it all went down.”

  “You’re basing this whole thing off of my
faulty memory. Stay realistic here, stick with your facts.”

  “These are the facts, faulty memory or not. Have you tried to remember anything new? At the park yesterday you stopped at the point of reaching the tree.”

  “There’s no point. If I got hit on the back of the head, it’ll never come to me.”

  “But you have to try.”

  “Jolie, there’s nothing to remember. My brain isn’t like yours, and it never will be. I try any harder, and I could end up in the hospital for good.”

  “Better the hospital than prison. The facts are trapped up here”—she tapped her forehead—“so let them out.”

  He couldn’t hold back; he let the smile take over. She’d really taken his advice to heart. This was not the same woman who had stumbled upon him at the scene of a murder.

  “Still think I should have run when you gave me the chance?”

  Pink tinged her cheeks. “That was a stupid thing for me to even suggest.”

  “We all make mistakes. We just learn from them and move on.” He sighed. “Let me think about it overnight. Remember, I’m not exactly one hundred percent, and pushing it too soon and too far will lead to a worse outcome.”

  “Yeah, I guess I can live with that.” She backpedaled, bumping into the shelf. “Um, I should get to that run.”

  “You’re running to get back in shape, right?”

  Jolie hesitated before picking up her sunglasses and keys. “Did you not hear me huffing and puffing yesterday?”

  “I won’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.” He patted the punching bag. “I know a good way to get into shape without all the running.”

  “But don’t fighters still run?”

  “Yeah, that’s to help build up endurance. I also figured you’d like to supplement your defense training. It’s a bonus on the fitness side.”

  With a shrug, she left her belongings where they were and rejoined him. “Do I need gloves?”

  “Let’s start with warm-ups.” He showed her a few moves and stretches to warm up her muscles, explaining why each was done and how it aided in her muscle development.

  Once he was satisfied with her progress, he took her through the basics. Ten minutes in, he taught her how to use the speed bag. Sweat was forming along her hairline by the time he moved her to the punching bag.

  “It’s about technique first,” he explained, “then about how hard you hit. All the power in the world isn’t going to win the fight. It’s being smart and outthinking your opponent. A well-trained fighter will be doing the same thing, but emotions get in the way. I’ve seen great ones get KOed because they got pissed over an infraction.”

  “What about when it’s a job situation?” she asked, hugging the bag.

  “When it comes to someone resisting arrest, you need to have a quiet head and fast reflexes. A well-placed punch can drop a man in his tracks. You’re small and thin—use that to your advantage, because that suspect will misjudge you on your appearance, thinking you’ll be easy to take down.” He knocked his knuckles to the points on the bag he wanted her to imagine were crippling points on an opponent’s body. “No matter how strong he is, a man will drop to his knees with a solid punch to his clangers.”

  Jolie snickered at that.

  Xavier smiled. “I mean it. Hard kick to the nads, and as he’s grabbing them in agony, a swift right cross is going to lay him flat. You’re the perfect height for it.”

  “I’ll remember that the next time I’m in a fight with a man.”

  He demonstrated what he wanted her to do then let her go at it. Slipping behind her, he made adjustments to her posture. With each touch, his hands lingered, reveling in the feel of her until he found his hands resting on her waist. Jolie ceased her movements, grabbing the bag to hold it as a tremor shuddered through her. She stayed that way, her glistening shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Xavier bent forward, coming within a hairsbreadth of brushing his lips against the bare skin of her neck.

  She turned her head, her cheek pressing to his. “Xavier,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispered.

  Inch by inch, she turned in the circle of his hands until she was facing him and her back was pressed into the punching bag. She didn’t look up, keeping her head bowed. He placed a crooked finger under her chin and tilted it up. Her gaze clashed with his, and every muscle in his body went rigid at the heat and want in those brown depths.

  Damn it, she was too short.

  Swiftly, he gripped her waist and, with ease, lifted her. She gave a yelp of surprise when he carried her to a counter and set her down. Releasing her, with his hands bracketing her, he bent forward until their faces were centimeters apart.

  “What are you doing to me?” he asked.

  Jolie didn’t answer. Her hand came up between them, and she brushed her fingertips to his lip. He nipped one tip, drawing it into his mouth. She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed. The sound fueled the fire inside, turning it into a raging inferno. He released her hand, then after a second or so of attracting and repelling like magnets, he captured her mouth. Her sharp intake of breath drove him to deepen the kiss.

  Wrapping her up in his arms, he dragged her closer, wanting to feel every inch of her against him. She hooked her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his hair, nails scraping his scalp as she flicked her tongue against his teeth. He obliged to her prodding and groaned as she pillaged his mouth. The daring that came from this little package was a marvel. What would she be like if he got her out of these clothes?

  Pain radiated from the back of his head as her nails found purchase, but he pushed past it, wanting to taste more of this spitfire.

  “Xavier?”

  Jolting, they both jerked back. Jolie smacked her head into the shelf behind her. “Ow.”

  “Everything all right down there?” Ariel called.

  It had been—until she hollered down the steps. He grimaced. “We’re fine. What do you want?”

  “You’ve got a phone call you need to take.”

  “It couldn’t wait?”

  “Not if you still want a job tomorrow.”

  Jolie patted his chest. “I should go.”

  He backed away, helping her down off the counter. They did an awkward dance around each other until she gave him a shy smile and slipped past. Grabbing her sunglasses and keys, she jogged up the stairs. Xavier’s heart nearly stopped at the view of her tight ass humping it up those steps.

  He remained where he stood, trying to get his body under control, listening as she excused herself from the house, telling Ariel good-bye. Once the screen door clapped shut, he hiked up the steps. Holding out his mobile, Ariel gave him the once-over and then sauntered to the stove where she had something simmering.

  “This is Xavier.”

  “Hey, it’s Farran. I wanted to check if you were still coming in tomorrow. Our new guy is overwhelmed.”

  “Yeah, I’m coming in. Looking to be there early, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Perfect. I’ll let Mam know. See you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” He ended the call and placed the mobile on the counter. “What’s that dopey look for?”

  Ariel beamed. “I can’t believe it.”

  Had his sister gone completely nutter? “What is wrong with you?”

  “You’re seriously going to stand there and act like nothing went on down there.”

  His gaze slid to the basement entrance. He could still taste Jolie’s heated kiss, and his blood thickened in his veins.

  Ariel laughed. “You are so obvious. Was that pash worth it?”

  “Oh hell, were you spying on me?” His face burned hot. It would be like Ariel to sneak a peek while he was kissing on Jolie.

  Cupping his bearded face, she stared into his eyes. “I didn’t have to. It’s written all over you.” She gave him a light tap. “I like her.”

  “I’m so glad you approve.”

  “Don’t get snarky with
me, I’m serious. There’s something about Jolie that calms you.” Releasing her hold on him, she returned to the stove. “Don’t lose her.”

  “What makes you think there’s anything to lose?”

  The wooden spoon she held clapped against the stovetop. “Xavier Rivers Hartmann, you’ve wallowed in that muck of not being a man long enough.” She pointed at the empty doorway. “That woman has her eye on you, and she doesn’t see a man with a missing leg. She sees someone she could fall in love with.”

  “Whoa! Don’t start throwing the L word around. One kiss doesn’t love make.”

  “So you did kiss her?”

  Oh, shit, the gears were churning in his sister’s head now. “Whatever cockamamie idea you’re cooking up in that twisted brain of yours, you can just forget it. I’m taking a shower.” With that, he thumped out of the kitchen.

  “Don’t think for one minute I’m through with you,” she called after him.

  He’d done it now. He went and gave Ariel all the ammunition she’d need to bring him down. What a wanker.

  Yet when he remembered the feel of Jolie wrapped around him plunging her tongue inside his mouth, his body betrayed him. In a few short days, that woman had weaseled her way past his defenses and was beginning to systematically weave her healing touch into his wounds.

  This was wrong. So wrong. Because if he was charged with killing Clint Kruger, Jolie’s world would shatter. She already had a convict for a brother; she didn’t need to fall in love with one, too.

  No more. He had to stop this before it went any further. Even at the cost of his own heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  After that steamy kiss with Xavier, Jolie had to run off the pent-up sexual energy coursing through her. According to the running app on her phone, she’d run nearly three miles in thirty minutes, pushing herself to run a fast pace. With the added workout in Xavier’s gym, she’d feel it tomorrow.

  By the time she pulled into her driveway, she’d stopped huffing and puffing. If she kept this up, she’d be able to run down and catch the next person who tried to get away. And it could possibly save their life, unlike the poor soul who’d been butchered at the carnival.