Deploy (21 page)

Declan relaxed a bit in his chair as a smug look rested in his expression.

The Sheriff turned beet red. “You want it on file your family hasn’t seen him in months, done. What else, then?”

“Report the truck stolen,” Chasen said.

“Are you seriously asking me to file a false report?” he chuckled. “I will tell you one thing, you Rawlings’ are bold.” He looked over Declan as he said his next words. “Crossing lines that are better left alone, intact.”

Declan was as still as death. The whole while he was thanking God above that what he had heard screamed at him for months was nothing compared to what this pissant was spitting out. Declan wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of knowing how hard he was pushing him, of knowing that Declan had thought of ten ways to the kill the old fuck in as many seconds.

It was just wrong. Who in their right mind elected this asshole? Was the system broken? Or did it just not exist anymore. Maybe it never did.

“I’m reporting it stolen,” Declan said. “It’s my truck and was to be returned to me yesterday, and it wasn’t.”

“And when I find your brother in it, with some girl, drunk or high, having the time of his life, am I to haul him in? Or will you mysteriously drop the charges?”

“My truck is missing,” Declan said as he crossed his arms.

The Sheriff went to say something but Dunn nudged Declan to rise. “We’ll be heading to the base, as well as working with the local officers there. I’ve already contacted them and others and let them know you and yours seem stressed in this department. I was assured they’d be in touch with you shortly and they would follow up to make sure all information was shared readily.”

The Sheriff didn’t bother to stand or say another word as he watched them all leave.

Monty didn’t like this one bit. Not only had Nolan and his son had a tiff in the past, but also Monty was aware that Jacks and Murdock had had a fight with both Nolan and Declan around the time Nolan vanished.

Monty knew as much because his insane wife at first accused a Rawlings of murdering Brent Rose, stating they must have showed up at the shop looking for Murdock and Brent defended him, tried to stop it and the Rose girl was covering it up.

The idea was absurd.

No, Monty didn’t buy the story that Murdock and Justice were snuggling up somewhere. Any fool could see that Justice had never really ‘seen’ Murdock. There was nothing but friendship, a strained one as of late.

At the same time, Monty knew his son was there, and the way it stood was Murdock was either side by side with Brent as he died, or with Justice. The latter won votes. The latter was the truth on record forevermore.

This shit right here, Nolan missing, it poked holes and double-checked a story that Sheriff Monty Souter wanted left alone. It was bad enough that his wife’s debilitating grief over Brent Rose’s death had people talking.

“S
on, say the goodbyes you need to,”
was what Chasen said to Declan before he went to tell everyone outside what they knew, or rather didn’t know.

Declan’s gaze searched those all around him, it was as if the entire Rally had been moved to the Sheriff’s office. Declan looked everywhere for the one face he wanted to see,
needed
to see.

A minute later he saw Bell with Missy, both of them had stacks of flyers with the family’s information. He gathered from overhearing them they were heading to the garage office to make more flyers, and gather more contacts from Nolan’s list of friends. Then they were sending out the information over social media, emailing everyone they could think of.

If any of the Rawlings’ had anything to do with it, within the hour this whole town and half the globe would know James Nolan Rawlings was missing. Justice would be right in the middle of the hunt. She was close with Nolan and wouldn’t take this well. Not after the summer she just had.

Declan at least wanted to give her one look that said he was going to find him, for the pair of them. Then again...he wanted to see the look in her eyes that told him it was going to be all right, this was nothing. Nolan was fine.

“Um, Declan,” Bell said. “I know you’re in a hurry and have a lot going on, but we put some food in the bed of your truck. Could you run it home for me? We were afraid it was going to go bad and your dad said you all were taking the back way out anyway.”

There was a confused glint in Declan’s gaze.

“Nod yes, son,” Missy said, without looking up from the notes she was writing.

Declan didn’t nod, he turned about face and all but ran to his truck.

He knew where she was now. And she had to be alone...

When he first pulled into Justice’s drive his gaze moved across the way into the shadows, to where he knew the shop used to stand. It was nothing but a dark mass now, but still Declan’s fist clenched the steering wheel as he crept down the drive lined with Georgia pines. Justice had lived through hell here and Murdock was with her, that he was still
always
with her. A fucking
Jody
if there ever was one.

For a moment he was sure Bell was mistaken, or that Justice had heard of the news about Nolan and left. There didn’t seem to be a light on in the whole place. When he pulled around back he saw one. The kitchen light glowed through the side screened in porch.

His protective side didn’t like this at all. Her out here in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, with the side door wide open, only a screen between her and whoever—no, he didn’t like it. When the loud rumble of Nolan’s diesel truck or his headlights didn’t bring her to the door he decided he was now concerned beyond reason.

He walked double time to the side steps then up them. When he reached to jerk the side door open he stopped.

There she was.

Her tank was a light pink, almost vanishing next to her fair skin, and it was thin, thin enough for him to know she had nothing on underneath. Her cotton shorts were so big she had the waist rolled down making them all the shorter.

All of the dark blonde curls of hers were free from the long braid she liked to trap them in and were wistfully falling over her shoulders. She had headphones in and was dancing in place...singing, as she baked. Brownies
. I fucking love brownies,
he thought. His mouth watered and he doubted it was the baked goods causing it.

When she squinted her eyes closed and sang a verse out, using her chocolate covered spoon as a microphone as she spun around, his gunmetal gray eyes glinted with amusement.

Sure he’d scare her if he she did happen to notice his looming shadow outside; he stepped inside in the middle of one of her dramatic, eyes closed, spins. A spin that caused her to crash right into him then scream holy terror when she did so. She jarred back and pointed the spoon at him like a vicious weapon.

A beat later, with a heaving chest she ripped out her headphones and stared at him with the wide blue gaze he had seen every night as he closed his eyes.

Chocolate had splattered across her face. With a ghostly smile he stepped forward, his thumb reached to wipe the mark from her cheek away. Her blush, the rose tint sliding down her body, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

***

J
ustice Rose was not confused, she was utterly baffled at how or why Declan was there. She had fought to get over her embarrassing afternoon, pushed every thought of him and that girl out of her head. She refused to cry, and grasped anger like a boss. Music had been her salvation, and where that failed, brownies prevailed—even though she was making them for her grandmother for his freaking family Rally.

Now this, now she could feel the heat of his hand near her face, could see the hunger in his eyes, a pain filled with want and too many emotions to name. She could smell the commanding aroma of his aftershave and cologne, a cool mint and hint of spice, along with a scent that was all Declan.

In a breath his lips were on hers and she welcomed the call. When his arms encircled her and she felt his body made of steel slam into hers she climbed into his embrace, wrapping herself completely around him.

In the next beat she was against the refrigerator. His kiss went even deeper as he pressed into her and she felt how eager he was to be even closer. Feeling his desire in every move he made, hearing that she was stealing his breath, feeling his strong heart thunder under her touch was...it was whimsical, everything she had imagined day after day, night after night. It made her realize her memory of how sensual he had been was not a hallucination at all.

She had never wanted him more.

Then all at once the anger she had been soaking in all afternoon decided it should make itself known.

Instead of her hands grasping they began pushing at him, but he was so lost in the taste of her, the rush only she could give him, he took it as her excitement. It wasn’t until she nipped at his lip a bit so brashly that he jerked away and she ducked out of the cage of his arms that he got the hint.

She sucked in a breath as she began to pace.

“What the fuck?” he roared, reaching for his lip. She didn’t draw blood but he was sure if he hadn’t pulled away when he did, she would have.

“I tried pushing you off,” she said and shrugged sharply, still pacing, and still fighting her heaving chest. This boy was going to be the death of her! No sane person could survive the highs and lows he dished out, much less how fast they came.

A sarcastic smirk came to him as the tip of his thumb reach to wipe the corner of his mouth. What was left of her scorching kiss had turned cold, and he was smearing the harsh reminder away.

“I’ll never get you,” he said, moving toward the door, understanding this was a mistake. He had no self-control around this girl. She took all the black and white of his life and flooded it with color.

“Me?” she yelled after him, pointing at her chest all but hopping in place like a boxer ready to go into the ring, charging forward only to step back.

He didn’t find her defense adorable, he found himself swelling with pride, and reassurance. She was strong. Bold.

Women leave. At the drop of a hat. But if he were to ever give the notion of keeping one around, be foolish enough of thinking of some forever, she’d have to be strong. He’d worry no matter what when he was gone, but having someone who didn’t have the mindset to stand up and defend themselves, in any way, for any reason—he wouldn’t be able to deal with.

Blunt and strong, those were things he knew how to respond to.

“Yes, you!” he roared back. “You go through fucking hell and don’t even think to tell me!” He pointed at her. “And don’t say I didn’t need the pressure. What I didn’t need the pressure of was you
not
telling me you’re all right.”

Some of the anger left her, but not much. She was back to her fast, short pace. The speed of her breaths were not from passion but from her doing her best to take in the adrenaline soaring through her.

“I needed to hear it from you,” he said in a less fierce tone. “I needed
you
to tell me you were safe.
Something
.”

She jarred forward and pushed against his chest only to pull back. “I answered you! The first breath of clarity I had I used to find your letters and tell you. Answer you!”

She grunted and in confused anger her hands clenched the thin air. “Then what?
Nothing
. Not one more fucking letter? Could you be any more confusing?”

His gaze rapidly rushed over her, reveling in the strength he saw but determined to state his point. “Over two months! You expect me to believe you endlessly grieved for your abusive, drunken father for that amount of time?” He stepped forward and ticked his jaw up. “Murdock keep you company? You cry on his shoulder?”

“No,” she said with a sick, pissed expression on her face. “I needed that long and then some to get over the fact I
killed
him.”

Declan jerked his head back, his gray eyes mixed with furious confusion.

“Yeah,” she said with a sneer. “I listened to you. I pushed back.” Her voice cracked then. Even though he was before her eyes, she didn’t see Declan but a flash of the last image she saw of her dad—the nightmare that would
not
die.

In a beat, she felt her face against Declan’s chest, felt his hand cradle the back of her head. She breathed it in for all of ten seconds then pushed back. She didn’t want his validation.

“I don’t need the sympathy. I didn’t mean to do it and more times than not it feels like a nightmare I’m trapped in.”

“The fire?” he asked, moving closer gradually with his hands up in a peaceful gesture.

She bit her lip when she felt it tremble. “He said they could hurt you...all of you.”

“Who said?” Declan asked as his brow tensed. He’d be damned if anyone hurt his own or threatened her—death was all but promised to the fuck that did as much.

She moved her head side to side. “He fell...I pushed back and he fell,” she said as her gaze stared into nothing, watching it all again. “I went down with him...then I ran...only stopped for a weapon, but when I...when I glanced over my shoulder he was still and—” She looked right at him. “I think I hoped he’d never get up again.”

Again he had her in his arms, rocking her. “You’re fine. You survived, baby. You did it,” his lips said with panted breaths. Emotion was ripping him. He wanted to dig up her father only to kill his ass again. Justice was trembling. Over three months gone, and the ass still had his clutches on her.

When she felt tears coming, sanity came and she moved from him and rushed down the hall to the bathroom to steal a second to compose herself.

Her escape didn’t work out so well. He was right behind her.

“Leave, Declan,” she said, half turning as she walked. “I’m not a charity case. And clearly you had other plans lined up tonight.”

He swayed back, dumbfounded.

“Don’t give me that look!”

“What are you talking about?” he yelled.

“That girl!”

He moved his head to the side trying to clear the absurdity she was saying. Way too much had happened from the last second he saw her until now, and even when he did see her he was on his way to talk to his dad about Nolan.