Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls) (22 page)

“We will be significantly outnumbered. Drawing your weapon might get us both killed.”

Discarded cars lined up like vertebrae. A dog barked and a chain rattled. Two men leaned out of the rusted door of a black car. Next to the opening, smoke and flames swirled out of a barrel. One of the men wore motorcycle boots and a leather jacket. The other was decked out in cargo pants and a black zip-up. Their accommodations suited the homeless, but the men appeared fit and well-fed rather than indigent.

“Do you know them?” Grant asked quietly.

Mac shook his head. “No.”

The two men jumped down, their shoulders squared, backs straight, and postures aggressive.

Leather Man hung back and let his buddy take the lead. From under a black knit cap pulled low on his brow, the leader eyed Grant and Mac with suspicion. The men moved apart, covering Grant and Mac from both sides.

“You want something?” the leader asked, his tone suggesting they should say they were lost, then get the fuck out of there before they got hurt.

“Maybe,” Mac said. “Is Freddie around?”

Grant let Mac take point on the conversation. He stepped away from his brother to cut off the flanking maneuver and keep a collapsed freight car at his back. No one was sneaking up on them.

The leader leaned forward and tilted his head. “You know Freddie?”

“I do.” Mac kept his gaze on the leader. “Tell him Mac is here to see him.”

Interest glimmered. Grant scanned their surroundings. The hairs on his neck waved in a batshit frenzy. He could feel the weight of other eyes on him. They shouldn’t be out in the open while the enemy had cover. His hand twitched, but pulling his weapon was the wrong move. He had no idea how many armed men were watching. Damn it. He shouldn’t have let his brother talk him into this. They were in the middle of nowhere. Two shots and a shovel, and no one would ever find their bodies.

The leader turned and went back to the freight car. Two minutes later, he reemerged. The man following him was at least six foot six with a heavily muscled body that had to weigh three hundred pounds, none of them fat. A mix of blond and gray hair fell from a receding hairline to his shoulders. His bushy mustache and scraggly beard matched.

He strode toward Mac without hesitation. Mac’s eyes clouded with anxiety for the first time. Grant’s lungs locked down. He curled his hand into a fist to remind himself not to go for his weapon.

“Mac!” The giant enveloped him in a bear hug. With one hand still on Mac’s shoulder, Freddie’s gaze shifted to Grant and darkened. “Who the fuck is that?”

“My brother,” Mac said, relief softening his features.

“Brother, huh? I’ve met your brother. This isn’t him.” Freddie jerked a thumb in Grant’s direction. “He looks like a cop.”

“You met Lee. This is my other brother.” Mac shook his head. “Grant’s military. Been in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

Freddie nodded, his suspicion morphing into something else. Respect? “Man, thanks for your service.”

And that was the absolute last thing Grant expected to hear. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

“Let’s go somewhere more private.” Freddie looped an arm around Mac’s shoulders and steered him past the barrel fire to the rail car. They hoisted themselves inside. The interior had been fitted out with discarded upholstered furniture. A makeshift table held ziplock bags of pot and white powder. Two guys with assault rifles lounged behind the tables. A third man, nearly as large as Freddie, counted bags and stuffed them into a duffel bag. His blond hair was cut in a razor-sharp style that could have graced the cover of
Esquire
. Instead of the leather look favored by the rest of Freddie’s men, this man wore European casual: dark jeans and a white shirt open at the neck. Though they were dressed as complete opposites, this man had to be related to Freddie. His son, Grant bet.

He looked up as they entered. A smile split his face. “Mac!”

“Rafe, how the hell are you?” Mac gave Rafe a shoulder-slapping, one-armed man hug.

Grant looked away. He had no idea Mac had been involved with a drug dealer of this scale. Freddie had said he’d met Lee. Looked like Lee had kept the truth from Grant.

Mac dropped into a chair, far too comfortable for Grant’s comfort.

Freddie frowned from Grant to the drug display. “You sure he’s not a cop?”

“Positive,” Mac said.

“Dad, it’s Mac,” Rafe proteste
d. “He wouldn’t bring a cop here.”

Grant leaned on the wall, tried to look casual, and lied. “I could care less about your business dealings.”

“Then why are you here?” Freddie crossed massive arms over his chest. “I’d like to think you just came for a visit, but you look like you’re on a mission.”

“You’re right.” Mac leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “We’re looking for a guy.”

Freddie nodded. “What’d he do?”

Mac pulled the folded computer paper out of his pocket and handed it to Freddie. “He killed our brother Lee, the one you met when he helped me and Rafe out of that . . . predicament years back.”

Freddie unfolded the paper and frowned. He stroked his beard.

“Do you know him?” Mac asked.

“He looks familiar.” Freddie’s gray eyes remained impassive. He passed the paper to Rafe, who scanned the paper without exhibiting any tells.

“Can I keep this?” Freddie asked as Rafe handed the picture back.

“Yes,” Mac said.

Freddie refolded the paper. “I’ll get word to you tomorrow. Where are you staying?”

“Lee’s house.” Mac placed his palms on his thighs. “I appreciate your help.”

Freddie rested a hand on Mac’s shoulder, the gesture filled with fatherly affection. “Man, I owe you. You know that.”

“Actually, I owe him,” Rafe corrected. “It was my life he saved.”

Freddie’s eyes misted as he glanced at his son. He swallowed and turned back to Mac. “I will have something for you tomorrow. But we have one other piece of business to discuss.”

Grant tensed.

“Your dead brother owes me twenty grand,” Freddie said. “Money lending isn’t normally a business I engage in, but I did it as a favor because of how he helped Rafe out that time.”

“I assume the debt is transferrable,” Grant said. On the bright side, if Lee had borrowed the money from Freddie, he hadn’t stolen it. Lee must have been desperate to go to Freddie for money. Why hadn’t he called Grant or Hannah? Had he been too embarrassed? Or didn’t he feel comfortable asking his family for money? Either way, they’d failed him.

“This is business.” Freddie shrugged. “But since you’re practically family, I’ll waive the interest if you can pay the debt by the end of the week.”

“If we can’t?” Grant asked.

Freddie’s eyes darkened. “Penalties for nonpayment are steep.”

“Don’t worry. We’re good for it.” Mac slapped Freddie on the shoulder. “Thanks for your help.”

Rafe escorted them back through the freight car gauntlet. When they reached the fence, he offered Grant a hand.

Grant shook it. Yes, he’d been appalled at the drugs in the train. Freddie and Son Inc. were probably dealing guns, too. Drugs and arms went together like macaroni and cheese. And now they had to come up with twenty thousand dollars in the next week. But if it meant finding Donnie Ehrlich, Grant would willingly make a pact with Satan.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I hate waiting.” Ellie paced the tiny office.

Grant closed the laptop. “You need to
do
something.”

But mostly what they were doing was waiting. Waiting for the Hamiltons to return Ellie’s call. Waiting for tomorrow morning, when Mac’s friend promised them information. And waiting for her thirty-six-hour agreement with Grant to run out. “I would have gone with you this morning if I’d known where you were headed.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Mac’s friend doesn’t trust strangers. It could have been dangerous.”

Ellie stopped and faced him. “Please don’t lie to me again.”

“I won’t.”

But her trust was as thin and delicate as an eggshell. It wouldn’t take much to crack it. A betrayal from Grant would hurt. He was the first man to inspire faith from her since Julia’s father left.

“I can’t even run the vacuum.” Hands clasped behind her back, she pivoted and strode in the other direction. “We can’t make any noise.”

Faith snoozed in her baby seat in the family room. As they’d all learned the hard way, as backward as it seemed, being overtired or overstimulated aggravated the baby’s colic.

“I’m used to a full hour of PT every morning. Being cooped up is driving me nuts, too. The only exercise I’ve gotten lately is baby-walking.” Grant stood and stretched. “What do you normally do for exercise?”

Ellie watched his muscles ripple and flex under his snug T-shirt, her bundled nerves imagining a highly inappropriate outlet for her excess energy. “Renovations.”

“Construction as exercise?” Grant laughed.

“It would be great to accomplish
something
.” The case infused her with a sense of futility and helplessness. “I’m used to being busy. I can’t handle downtime.”

He smiled. “I doubt there are many things you can’t handle.”

At the moment, there was only one thing she wanted to handle.

Where did
that
come from?

Ellie coughed. She should get out of this small space, where his big, hard body was never more than a few feet away. He clearly hadn’t meant his compliment to be dirty, but her undersexed and overactive mind was on a roll. But sex was never simple, and with Grant, she knew intimacy would be even more complicated. She simply felt too much for him.

“I should go set the table or something.” Her mind was still focused on
handling
him, but she opened the door and headed for the kitchen. She’d already put the mac-and-cheese casserole together that morning, and there was a cold ham in the fridge waiting for dinnertime. Maybe two kids and her grandmother would be ice water for her libido.

“Wait. We have a little time before dinner.” He crossed to the window and peered through the blinds. “Do you really want to go work on your house?”

“Yes. That’s normally what I do when I’m not at work.”

“Come on.” He took her hand and tugged her out of the office. “There’s a cop parked in the driveway. We’ll let him know we’ll be next door for a while.”

They stopped in the kitchen. Hannah typed on her laptop at the table.

“Ellie needs to go to her house for a little while. I’m going with her. Can you manage things here?” Grant asked in a hushed voice.

Hannah glanced into the adjoining family room. Nan watched TV from the couch, her booted foot elevated on a pillow. Also within view, Faith snoozed in her baby seat. Mac, Julia, and Carson were upstairs playing a board game in Carson’s room.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Hannah whispered.

“Thanks,” Grant said. “The alarm will be on. Call me if you need anything.”

With her hand still held tightly in his, they walked out the front door. Grant pressed the fob to reset the security system. He stopped to tell the cop in the driveway then pulled Ellie toward her house. Inside he checked every room before they settled in the living room.

“What are you working on?”

Ellie stood in the center of the room and surveyed her progress. “I was filling holes in the wallboard and sanding the trim, but that’s nearly done.”

“What’s next, painting?”

“No, I’ll probably wait until the kitchen is done and paint everything at the same time.” Through the archway that led to the dining room, she eyed the sledgehammer leaning against the wall.

“What do you want to do next then?”

She walked into the dining room. Her hand closed around the handle of the sledgehammer. She returned to the kitchen. “I have hated this room since the day we bought this house.”

Surveying the giant yellow flowers, Grant winced. “It is a little dated.”

“Dated?” She snorted. “This was hideous when it was chosen.”

“What’s the plan for the kitchen then?”

Still holding the hammer, she went to a drawer and pulled out a folder. “Here are the plans.”

Grant looked over her shoulder. His body pressed into hers. “That wall needs to come down, but this is a nice design. Who drew these up?”

“I did.”

“I’m impressed.” His complement warmed her.

“This is the fourth house I’ve done.” Energy suddenly filled Ellie’s muscles. She fished two pairs of safety goggles out of her toolbox. Leaning the hammer on her thigh, she settled a pair of goggles on her face and tossed the other set to Grant.

Grinning, he put his on.

She walked to the wall that divided the kitchen and dining room, raised the hammer over her shoulder, and swung it like a baseball bat. The heavy steel head sank into the wallboard, splintering a stud. Bits of drywall scattered. Gray dust poofed. She slammed the wall again, satisfaction surging through her body. She’d felt so helpless about the danger to her family, so angry at the man who had been threatening her, that it was invigorating to finally have something to take it all out on. After a moment, she handed the sledgehammer to Grant. “Want to take a shot?”

“You bet. Is this a load-bearing wall?”

“No.”

His swings did considerably more damage than hers. But then, there was a lot of power behind his body. They took turns with the demolition. She enjoyed watching the play of his muscles almost as much as she appreciated the help with a job she usually tackled alone. Working with Grant made a difficult task enjoyable. An hour later, the wall lay in rubble at their feet.

“That felt great.” She set the hammer down and pulled off her goggles. “It would have taken me all day to do that myself.” Although one wall was only a tiny part of the kitchen demolition, the tearing down felt symbolic. The traumatic events of the past week had forced Ellie to prioritize her life—and commit to some positive changes.

“Glad to help. In fact, I enjoyed it.” Grant removed his goggles and handed them to her. Except for the rings around his eyes, his face was coated with dust. Sweat dampened the chest of his T-shirt. “It’s almost dark, so we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to haul this rubble out of the house.”

Ellie shrugged. “Actually, I have to arrange for a Dumpster.”

Grant laughed. “Did we get ahead of your schedule?”

“Yes, we jumped the gun, but that’s all right. I need to learn to roll with changes anyway.” The number of ways that statement applied to her life couldn’t be counted, but first on the list was Julia. Her daughter was growing up. When this was all over, Ellie had to let her.

Within reason.

She shouldn’t automatically assume her daughter would make the same mistakes she had at her age. Her sneaking out fiasco aside, she’d been an exemplary daughter.

Ellie could think of another thing that should make the top of her list. Walking close to Grant, she twined her arms around his neck. His eyes widened in surprise, then darkened when her intent sank in. “And it really felt good to let loose.”

“No argument here.” He leaned down and kissed her. His mouth slanted, his tongue sliding into her mouth for a tentative sweep.

Adrenaline buzzed through her veins as Ellie answered him. The kiss went wild. Grant broke the contact and slid his mouth down the side of her neck, tasting a path from her jaw to her collarbone. She tilted her head back to give him better access. A wave of desire heated her blood. A deep moan started in her boots, reverberated through her bones, and escaped her lips.

“I’m filthy,” she protested.

“Me too,” Grant gasped. “Don’t care.”

“We shouldn’t do this.” With an answering groan, he slid his hands under her shirt. His rough palms scraped up her rib cage.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Definitely not.” She pushed him away and ripped her shirt over her head, flinging it over her shoulder. Her bra followed. Cool air rushed across hot skin. Her nipples budded as if he’d touched them. She’d been holding back on her impulses her entire life. Baring her body to him was liberating.

She wanted him, and she was going to have him, even it was just for a couple of weeks or days or hours. Grant made her feel alive. And life was too uncertain not to grab a moment of happiness when it was right in front of her.

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Jesus, Ellie. There’s only so much a man can resist.”

“I don’t want you to resist.” She went to him and grabbed the hem of his shirt. Yanking it off, she threw it across the room. He’d been impressive in a snug T-shirt, but without the shirt, his physique was stunning. Her eyes sought every delicious inch of him from the chiseled planes of his wide chest to his rippled abdominal muscles. His jeans rode low on his hips. Ellie tracked the sparse line of blond hair that started at his navel and pointed south.

Grant’s gaze followed his shirt as it hit the floor next to hers. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He took a step back, his attention returning to her face, and raised his hands in surrender. “You know I’m not staying in town. I have to go back. This isn’t a good idea.”

“I know.” But Ellie cupped her own breast and raised a playful eyebrow at him. She brushed a thumb across her nipple and reveled as Grant’s mouth dropped open. She’d never been a bad girl, not even in high school. She’d simply made one mistake. But now she felt positively wicked.

It felt wonderful. Freeing. Exhilarating.

“Ellie.” Grant took another step back.

She stalked him. Stopping just short of touching him, she grabbed the front of his pants and pulled him closer. The skin-on-skin contact pumped more heat, more desire, through her veins. Their chests pressed together, the rough hair on his pectorals abrading her nipples. “I want you. I
need
you. Right here. Right now.”

Between their bodies, she wiggled her hand, stroking his lower abdomen inside the waistband of his jeans. A fingertip brushed the head of his erection.

He jumped. “Jesus.”

“Mm.” She tongued his nipple as she flicked open the top button of his jeans and carefully lowered the zipper. Her hand slid inside his pants and cupped him. “God, you’re hot.”

“I’m on fucking fire.” Jumping on board, Grant’s hands dove for her jeans. He had them down around her hips in two seconds. One big hand delved inside, a finger stroking the wet flesh beneath.

Pleasure weakened Ellie’s knees. She sagged against him. Releasing his erection, she shoved his jeans lower. She needed him inside her. “Do you have a condom? If not I have one upstairs.” A small package leftover from a promising series of dates that had ended in disappointment before she’d had a chance to use them.

Grant pushed her pants down around her knees and yanked one leg of her jeans over a boot. “Wallet. Back pocket.”

Obviously, if he was carrying around a condom, he hadn’t been that determined to stay out of Ellie’s bed. Unless he needed them frequently . . . no, she wasn’t going there. His personal life was his business. This was just going to be one pleasant moment seized in a week of misery.

“Here.” She opened the package with her teeth and sheathed him.

He was scanning the room, his expression almost desperate. Debris covered the floor. The makeshift worktable wasn’t strong enough. Guiding her backward, he shuffled a few feet to the opposite wall. One big hand caressed her rump, then slid between her legs. Pleasure surged through her as he stroked. Her hips flexed as he circled. She groaned. A finger entered her, then two.

The pressure, the stretching, it wasn’t enough. Greedily, she pressed into his touch, her legs separating to make room for him. “Need. More.”

Hands clutching the backs of her thighs, he lifted her and entered her with one steady, wet slide. The fit of their bodies was perfect, combining to make one whole being.

“Yes.” This was what she needed. Him. She clutched his shoulders. “Grant.”

The heat of his skin fused with hers. His mouth was on the side of her neck, his lips near her ear. He retreated and surged into her again. Her body responded with an electric wave of pleasure that started in her center and spread outward through her limbs.

“Ellie.”

She cupped his neck, and her mouth sought his. The slide of their tongues mimicked their lovemaking. Their pace increased. The grip of his hands on her thighs tightened. His fingers dug into her flesh, holding on. Her back slammed against the wall as he pumped into her. Tension built, her back arching to take every inch of him. Nearly desperate for release, she rocked her hips faster.

“Easy.” He wrapped a hand around the front of her pelvis. This thumb circled slowly until he touched a nerve that sent pleasure bursting through her. Finally. She clamped around him. His body responded with a final surge and a groan that sounded as if it were ripped from the soles of his boots. Which he was still wearing, she noted.

Giddiness rose through her chest and burst from her lips as laughter.

Grant lifted his head and frowned. “That’s not the response I was shooting for.”

Still giggling, she kissed him and looked down. His pants were around his knees. Her jeans and panties dangled from one of her ankles. They were both still wearing their boots.

He sighed. “Yeah. This is not normally how I like to make my first big impression.”

“Don’t worry.” She cupped his jaw and kissed him again. “You made quite an impression.”

“Still, if we do that again, I’m going to want some more room to maneuver.” He stopped. “But maybe that’s not a good idea. I just hope we both don’t end up regretting this.”